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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked.

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Forward, huh?

An understatement.

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly.

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.

"Calculus I question?" was your response.

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face.

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back.

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed.

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

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because your kiss is on my list

alternatively: four times juke snuck up on each other for affection and the one time they didn’t have to | based on the achingly beautiful fanart by @lovelyrugbee

Luke was being manic again. And not in a cute: “Oh my God, he’s so passionate about music!”-way, but in a: “He might actually tear his eyes out from these infuriating lyrics that aren’t working”-way. Every once in a while, songs didn’t flow out as easily as they usually did. The topic was a bit trickier, or the instrumentals didn’t mesh, or something was just off. Julie wasn’t too stressed about it. They had plenty of time to rework and fix things before the gig in two weeks.

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have the same mindset.

He has been holed up in the studio all day, cramped on the windowsill to the point of submitting himself to a hernia and scrapping writing scrapping scrapping scrapping. The sound was infuriating, Alex being the first to poof out and Reggie following soon after when Ray became far more interesting than a guitarist going haywire. Which was sad, cause her dad was just unloading groceries.

Alright. She had to do something. Standing at the doors of studio with a somewhat amused expression, she took in as her boyfriend was oblivious to the world and her. In any other situation, he’d notice and compliment the orange dress she was wearing. She thought about calling his name, maybe singing or jamming her fingers on the piano, but then a better idea came. A fun one.

Quietly slipping closer, a mischievous grin crawled on her lips. Thank God she was barefoot, or else her sneakers would’ve squeaked against the cement floors. He still hasn’t noticed her, the pinch between his brow so deep and lost in thought.

Three, two, one...

“Ah!”, she cried out like a warrior, snapping her arms around him from behind and snatching the damned songbook from his grasp. Before he could react, she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and added a “Mwah!” for good measure.

The startled Luke began chuckling, trying to get his book back, her peppering more kisses on his cheek in retaliation. He had to get out of this funk! Breathe a little! Turning his cheek to look at her, he smirked. “Sneaking kisses now, Jules?”

Julie hummed against his skin, eyes sparkling. Whispering in his ear, she said: “Stop breaking your head over these lyrics and relax. We have time.”

His smile softened, gaze tracking the way she hugged him and then- “I like the dress you’re wearing.”

Ah, yes. There he was.

Julie Molina truly made the afterlife less boring and a whole lot more bearable. Which became really apparent whenever she had an avalanche of homework and couldn’t hang out. Luke loved his boys, but damn did he miss his girlfriend a lot now. If the situation were different (you know, had he not been head over heels in love with her), he’d poof up to her room and annoy her until she came to the studio. Alas, he respected his girlfriend and her interest in getting good grades, so he had to deal with it.

Bleh. “Dealing with it” was like a curse word to him.

He hasn’t seen her all day though. She left early for school and didn’t pass by the studio when she got back. All he needed was a quick look and talk and maybe a hug and then he wouldn’t be so antsy.

(What he’d give to wrestle her into cuddling right now. He was honestly blessed he found a girl who saw all of his need for affection and then gladly gave triple the amount.)

Yup. Screw homework. He had to see her. Without telling the boys, he stood up with a huff and poofed out. The offended “hey!” from Alex he ignored.

Dropping into Julie’s room, a smile instantly bloomed on his face at the sight of her. She was on her bed, textbooks and notes splayed out in front of her while her curls danced with each breath she took. Even when tired, his girlfriend was pretty as hell.

“Hey,” he grinned.

She didn’t look up and mumbled: “Hey.” A page turned. “What’re you doing here?”

Luke sat down on the edge of her bed, far enough so her pens wouldn’t roll away. “Haven’t seen you today. I missed you.”

This time she did look up, her weary eyes softening and smiling. “I missed you too. I have homework though, so...” The implication was there: please leave so I can finish. His hope for a hug quickly dwindled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not ready to go back and get slapped by Alex. “Uh...” His eyes fell on her right hand, slightly more outstretched then the other. It just... laid there. Teasing him. Freaking tantalising him when he knew how good it felt whenever those fingers brushed his cheeks or raked his hair.

It happened before he thought about it. Crawling onto the mattress, he snatched her hand and pressed soft kisses on the knuckles. Julie caught his gaze again, that smile he loved so much melting into an adoring puff - like she couldn’t believe this idiot was her boyfriend.

He didn’t mind being her idiot.

Sometimes, Julie was just that more adorable. Like now, with her hair spread around her shoulders and that small smile stuck on her lips and her eyes that seemed impossibly soft today. All for him, only for him.

Sure, it was probably because they were working on one of their personal songs, but the fact remained that his girlfriend still left him rendered speechless months into dating.

“What if we try it in a lower key?”, Julie proposed, nodding at his guitar.

The song in question was a song about them. It wasn’t so lovey-dovey that it would turn the guys off, but it was still blatant. Only they would write about ‘the sea glass green of his eyes’ and ‘the smile that put Mona Lisa to shame’.

He did what she asked, her singing the same verse again. It held more depth now, soulful and lively. The rasp in her tone made it playful and egged him on to join, like it was truly banter between lovers put to music. It was them. It was her. It was-

Luke abruptly stopped playing, pushed his guitar aside and grabbed onto her. She hardly had time to chuckle as he pressed his lips onto her forehead and held her as tight as possible. Warmth filled his chest, that strange sensation of being loved and loving back twice as hard, as she clutched his body. He almost got choked up. Here he was, in the sundrenched studio with the girl he adored playing the music they created together and she was singing it in such a quintessentially ‘them’ way. No one but them would ever truly understand the magic they conjured. How it was only explained through grins melting on skin and the giddy skip in his heartbeat.

“What’s that for?”, she smiled.

His hand trailed from her back to her cheeks with an elated shrug. How could he explain to her her ‘Julie-ness’ was dialled up to two hundred without sounding insane? Caressing the skin, he murmured instead: “I guess you’re just irresistible today.”

Her eyes squeezed shut at his words, like she was embarrassed how much delight it brought her, and pressed her face back in his shoulder.

Letting that giddy skip in his chest kiss her again, he gently pulled away to sent her a wink. “Let’s finish ‘Wicked Love’, yeah?”

“So, Flynn’s been thinking-”

“Mh-hm.”

“-about a new poster for the gig we’re playing. The old one is a little amateur and she made some new concepts. Wanna see?” Julie held her phone at his face, his hand leaving the strings of his guitar to gently push it back. Falling back on the bed, she frowned.

“Maybe later, I’m figuring out this progression...” His back bend over his guitar again, only giving her a view of the black muscle tee.

When Luke told her he wanted to hang out that Saturday afternoon, she had hoped it would be a bit more ‘Julie and Luke’ and not ‘Luke and His Guitar’ - alas, the girlfriend was competing with a piece of wood and some metal. While texting Flynn about graphic design was fun, it was time for Luke to start doing what he promised her.

Then again, she was a sucker for music talk. “Why don’t you try switching up the chords? Start with G instead of C.”

He tried it out, a grin crawling on his cheeks. “Yeah... yeah, that works. Thanks, Jules.”

“So?”, she sang.

“Hm?”

With a sigh, she grabbed onto the strap of his guitar and gave it a tug. Luke’s neck rolled backwards in surprise, catching her playful smile.

Chastely pecking his forehead, she said: “Your head is in the clouds.”

The teasing look of his matched hers. “You’re kissing my head right now.”

“Mh-hm,” she mumbled, loving the way his hair had that perpetual scent of apple and something inherently Luke. Kissing the locks, she added: “And you’ll be getting a lot more if you actually start hanging out with me.”

His book and instrument slid off his body just like that as he speared her into hug. Luke collapsed onto her body with the cutest grin and she knew she caught him. Their laughs chimed throughout the house for the rest of the day.

+5.

Luke poofed onto her bed with a grin, his girlfriend automatically snuggling into his side and finding each other’s lips with ease. For a beat, they’re cherished the quiet passion shared between them. They didn’t need to do a lot to feel loved by the other.

He pressed his nose into her curls. “How was school?”

“Good,” Julie whispered against his neck. “How was the studio?”

“Chill. Reggie scared a spider.”

She giggled, the sound making his grin widen and hide his face so she wouldn’t see how ridiculously giddy she made him. Turning her head so she’d see him anyway, her nose scrunched. “I know you’re smiling.”

“That’s my line, Molina,” he huffed, the teasing glint shimmering in his eyes.

A signature brow quirked. “You got that on paper?”

He didn’t miss a second. “I love you.” He didn’t need to ponder or linger or rewrite or scrap or workshop the thought. It wasn’t even a thought. It was a truth and he’d repeat that truth over and over again until the universe knew it too and kept it in their books for centuries to come. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

The smile that came was worth the truth, how her love for him broke through without a moment of hesitation. Now she’d say the same, over and over and over again, so the universe knew they were talking about each other and would always keep their names together in said books.

Julie kissed him again, long and sweet and as easy as breathing. Her utters were barely audible, but his heart caught it. “I love you too.”

Locked in their embrace, they shared earphones listening to their favourite music until they fell asleep. (How Luke could fall asleep, but only when in her loving touch, he wouldn’t question. Some oddities of the universe were best unsaid.)

@blush-and-books @unsaid-emily @bluefirewrites @willexx @ourstarscollided @alexjulies

#its after midnight so excuse if its a jumble #ophelia? using metaphysical similes? why of course its the libra in me #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better

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uncpanda · 4 years ago

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Blood is Thicker than Water: Part 1

Summary: You'd grown up around the SVU squad room. The members of your sister's squad had been your family and helped Liv raise you. You left them and your sister behind ten years ago for school and just never returned. When you get a call saying she's been kidnapped by William Lewis, you rush back without a thought. What you find is a very different squad, a broken sister, and a snarky ADA. When you decide to stay things begin to change, and maybe, just maybe you and your sister each find your own happy endings. ( Just a warning that there is a rape warning, for the usual mentions of it in the storyline. There will be no graphic descriptions here.)

Quick thing: Live is younger in this, mainly to make the timeline with the sibling relationship work. So yeahhhh….

Master List

You almost do a double take when you run into the building, it’s so vastly different from the station you remember as a child. You push those memories to the side and basically storm the building. The first person you run into is a familiar face, “Finn.”

There’s a hint of happiness behind the panic in his eyes. “Have you found her? Please tell me you found her.”

Finn stares at you for a second and you call his name, “Finn.”

“Sorry kid. Lost in a memory. You’re all grown up.”

It’s been ten years since you’ve seen him, ten years since you’ve left New York. You soften at the look of fondness in his eyes, and you throw your arms around him. He crushes you in a bear hug.

He leads you into the bullpen and gives you the details, “His name is William Lewis, and he’s a bad dude. I don’t want to scare you with the details.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, and allow Finn to escort you to Liv’s death. You sit down hesitantly, and he explains, “Everyone else is out looking for her. The Captain had me stay behind to be here to catch you up on everything.”

You run your hands over your face and into your hair, “I swear my heart stopped when he called. The moment I heard his voice I just went still. Do you guys have any leads?”

“We’ve followed a few. We’re getting close.”

“Do you think she’s . . . ?”

“Liv’s a fighter. She’ll get through this.”

Your mind flashes back to your mother; her drunken tirades, the slaps, Liv stepping in. Liv had raised you from the time you were ten. Liv was around seventeen years old when you had been born. You’d been the result of a drunken one night stand. Your father had been less than stellar, and your mother even less so. Liv had been your true parent. And now, she was being held by a sadistic rapist.

You stay in the precinct with Finn. He tries to distract you, he forces you to talk about what you’ve been up to. You tell him about school, your full ride. You tell him about your job, you’re a website designer, and you go into detail about your photography hobby. You talk about anything and everything, in order to keep your mind off of Liv.

Despite leaving New York ten years ago, you’ve seen Liv at least three times a year since you’ve left. She’s come to you, and you’ve met in other random places for vacations. On top of that you talk several times a week and video chat.

Eventually, Finn gets called out and you’re left to your own devices. You focus on the bullpen. It’s no longer dark, it’s more colorful, and much more modern. If you focus hard enough you can imagine Munch sharing conspiracy theories, or Finn threatening to hurt your newest crush if they hurt you, you can hear Cragen teaching you how to throw a baseball, and you can see Elliot helping you with your homework.

“Excuse me.” You’re drawn out of your thoughts, and you turn to face a new face. You don’t recognize him, “Can I help you?”

You study him for a second. He’s handsome, well dressed, older than you, but still really cute. The thoughts leave you when you remember why you’re there. You hold out your hand, “Y/N Benson.”

He takes it, his brow scrunching as he does so, “Rafael Barba. Are you . . .?”

“Liv is my older sister. You’re the ADA, right? She’s talked about you.”

“I’m sorry, she hasn’t said anything . . .”

You cross your arms against your chest, “She wouldn’t. She claims it keeps me safe.”

He looks away from you for a minute, before he approaches again. He gestures with his arm, and you follow him into a conference room. He closes the door behind him, “I wish I could tell you that she’s going to be okay.”

You shake your head, “This isn’t the first time something bad has happened on the job. She’s come back with bruises so many times I lost count. When I was in college she went no contact because she was undercover with the FBI. It’s all part of the job. I grew up with it. I understand.”

“Doesn’t mean the panic isn’t there. The intrusive thoughts.”

You nod. You’d done your best to keep those away, but one finally breaks through, “What if I lose her Mr. Barba? She’s the only family I have left. She basically raised me.”

He sits down next to you, and in a move that says discomfort he takes your hand, “She’ll get through this. She’ll come home, and when she does you’re going to need to give me some embarrassing stories that I can tease her with.”

He says it with a small smile, and he succeeds in making you laugh, but you can see the worry in his eyes. The two of you settle in, and as you sit there staring at him, your sister’s words come back to you. She’d talked about this man like a brother. She’d recounted his antics in court starting with the belt, and moved on from there. And then one day, she had declared him the best DA that Svu had ever had. It had shocked you. You’d known Alex and Casey. Hell, Alex had gone prom dress shopping with you and Liv.

At some point both Munch and Cassidy come in. You give the former a hug and glare at Cassidy. He had never been your favorite person. When you brush him off you swear you see Barba grin. You don’t meet any of the other new people.

It takes another day before you get the news that your sister has been found. You stay at the station the entire time, and Rafael Barba stays with you for the majority of the time. He goes with you to the scene.

You pass by a smiling Munch and Cragen and run to Liv when you see her. She’s broken, and bloody, but that doesn’t stop her from hugging you. It doesn’t stop her from clinging to you. The next few days are hell. They’re spent in the hospital, and it all passes in a blur.

“I need to go back.”

You plop down on the hotel bed beside her, “No. You really don’t.”

“It’s our home. I raised you there.”

“It's a crime scene. It compromised. I say we burn it to the ground.”

Liv rolls her eyes, “Really? I got that place on a uni’s salary in order to take guardianship of you.”

You nod, “It was the first place I felt safe, and it made mom somewhat get her shit together, but it’s not home.” you nudge her, “You’re my home.”

She pulls you into a hug. Despite your feelings on the matter, you help her clean the apartment. The two of you talk about your old memories, and you give the place the going away it deserves. The only things you take with you are sentimental items. The rest can be replaced.

You spend a week finding an apartment. And when you find a nice one with two bedrooms, and a lot of sunlight, you can almost see her exhale in relief. You stay in New York until Liv is ready to go back to work. Together, the two of you go to Serena’s grave.

You had never made peace with your mother, not like Liv had. You resented her in a lot of ways, and you’re eternally grateful to Liv for raising you.

You leave New York the same day Liv goes back to work. You hug for a solid ten minutes outside her new apartment building. You tell each other how much you love each other, you offer to stay, and she refuses. Cassidy is the one who takes you to the airport.

“Still hate me?”

You’re honest with him, “I think my sister deserves better.”

“Like Stabler?”

You shake your head, “Nope. She deserves someone who is going to love her. In the meantime you’ll do.”

He rolls his eyes, “Thanks.”

You turn to face him, “Are you seriously telling me that you’re willing to marry her? Maybe have a kid? Give her all the things she’s ever wanted?”

He goes quiet, and you leave the car without a word. On the plane you realize you never met any of the new members of the squad. Maybe it’s better that way. The memories you have in SVU are precious, do you really want to muddy the waters? Your mind flashes to Rafael Barba, and you grin when the answer is yes.

You’re home for three days when you get a call from Liv. Her voice is quiet, “How you doing kid?”

You shrug even though you know she can’t see it, “Frustrated. I’m building a site for an impossible person. What about you?”

“I’m . . .” not okay, you finish the sentence in your head.

“Do you need me to come back. I’m more than happy to. I can work from anywhere.”

Her voice is hoarse, “I know. I was counting on that.” You stiffen at that, you’d never expected her to actually take you up on it. “I was wondering if you’d like to come home . . . for good?”

No, you don’t. You like your little suburb city where you don’t have to worry about someone grabbing you off the street, and where the sounds of the cabs don’t keep you up all night. But this is Liv. This is your sister, your family.

You lean back in your chair, “You think Barba can get me out of my lease? It’s not up for another few months, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting these guys take anymore money from me.”

She laughs, an honest to God laugh, and you know you’ve made the right decision. “Barba’s the best. If he can’t do it, no one can.”

And with that reassurance the two of you start plotting your return.

#Olivia Benson #odafin tutuola #john munch #donald cragen #ada rafael barba #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #sonny carisi #Amanda Rollins #law and order svu #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu imagine #sisters

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adamwatchesmovies · 3 years ago

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Psycho (1960)

Even if you haven't seen Psycho, you know about its famous shower scene. You might even know how the movie ends. That doesn't matter. The movie is not about those individual moments, it's about the whole and unless you've seen this movie, you don't understand how good it is.

Marion (Janet Leigh) succumbs to temptation and steals a huge sum of money from her workplace. On the run, she rents a room at the secluded Bates Motel where she meets the proprietor, a strange young man named Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins). He takes care of the place while his old bat of a mother (predominantly voiced by Virginia Gregg) shrieks from her room. When Marion’s crime is discovered, private investigator Milton Arbogast (Martin Balsam), Marion’s boyfriend Sam (John Gavin), and her sister Lila (Vera Miles) begin looking for her.

You can imagine how shocking this would've been for the 1960s. Crimes committed by someone you couldn't immediately point to as evil in a crowd? Psychotic behavior? When had this seriously been considered as a possibility? It’s also pretty graphic considering the restrictions imposed on cinema at the time. There are many scenes of Janet Leigh in her underwear, undressing or naked - though the nudity is never actually shown. When the violence comes, it's sudden and without warning. Before then, the whole thing drips with suspense. The bloody scenes are cleverly executed to ensure no one could accuse Hitchcock of indecency but push this just a little further and you've got a full-blown slasher movie.

The tension builds from frame one with a masterfully orchestrated opening. Throughout, there's a persistent air of unease. The way the camera and the music work together to highlights little details makes you paranoid. You want that release of tension but you don't want things to end. If there’s any flaw with "Psycho" it's that you're so starved for an opportunity to catch your breath that it becomes slightly exhausting during the middle. It lasts only briefly as this marks the point where the picture's focus shifts onto another character. Your heart will begin pumping at full speed once again.

Technically, this movie is incredible. There are dozens of iconic shots that are pulled off in ways that'll make you scratch your head. The way it juggles all of the characters and also manages to remain frightening despite its best scenes being so well known parodying them is a hackneyed joke at this point.

I keep bringing up the film's place in pop culture for a specific reason. I think there’s a certain amount of resistance among anyone who's seen a movie parodied over and over. You come to resent it, to feel like it won’t have the impact critics say it will, or that it's no longer a piece of entertainment anymore, that's a bit of homework. I get it. I've always wanted to see “Psycho”, but never made it a priority. I now realize I’d been missing out.

I didn’t just like Psycho; I LOVED IT! My only regret is that I didn't get to experience it sooner and the way it was back in the day. Here's my advice: watch it with someone young, someone who hasn't heard of the movie before. No one will care that it’s in black and white - people at the time didn't and color had been available for 30 years. You'll get to see first-hand how unpredictable and shocking a movie it is. Then, you’ll be able to discuss all of the aspects that make Psycho a triumph, from the camera work to the twists, the music, the design of the opening titles, that final creepy scene, and - of course - the shower scene. (On Blu-ray, October 30, 2015)

#Psycho #movies #films #movieReviews #FilmReviews #AlfredHitchcok #AnthonyPerkins #VeraMiles #JohnGavin #MartinBalsam #JohnMcIntire #janet leigh #1960 movies #1960films

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cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago

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1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 8

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,407

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: alternate title: Virgil's very subtle epiphany. also Patton has a gay panic moment lol

...

Slam.

Monday morning. Mr. Berry was slapping a small poster on each student's desk like a stamp, one-by-one and painfully slowly.

"This," he began, "Is the official welcome to the schoolyear; audition posters for the Fall Talent Show." His bloated belly hardly fit between the desk rows, and students made futile attempts to scoot away from him before they were bombarded by his tyrannical tummy. "As a retired thespian and a life long supporter of theatre and the arts," he continued, bringing his pile of posters to his chest in his passion, "I highly recommend you at least consider looking into auditions. Everyone has a passion, or at least a hobby, and the talent show is a perfect freelance opportunity to show off your skills."

Roman rolled his eyes too dramatically. This was upsetting him more than he thought it would, and his eyes shot daggers up at his large superior as he slammed the next poster onto Roman's desk.

"Auditions will be held next week, on the specified dates. The show itself will be two weeks later, I believe on Friday night. Be there, and I will award you some extra credit points. All you must do is present me with your ticket, which must have your name on it," he eyed a few mischievous students in the room, "With a stamp on it from the Talent Show admissions booth, on the following Monday." As soon as Mr. Berry had given a poster to Virgil and moved on, Virgil quietly crumpled it and shoved it into a random part of his backpack, proceeding to fold his arms on his desk and put his head down. This caught Roman's attention, and his subconscious latched onto formulating a teasing remark for after class as a distraction from his own feelings about the Talent Show.

After class, the usual place where Roman and Virgil were shortly alone and had a short interaction - most often consisting of some insufferable tease from Roman or occasionally a debate spurred by Virgil making a witty side comment - the two met once again. After their first class of the day was usually the only time they were both at their lockers at the same time, as it happened, and Virgil was always thankful that it was the only time. Since their assignment to the Biology project, however, Roman had taken to walking with Virgil from their English class to their lockers and beginning his bouts of banter prematurely.

"Not a fan of the infamous talent show, are we?" Roman paced quickly over to Virgil, who had just made it outside the classroom door as they'd been dismissed. Virgil huffed in defeat as his attempt to escape before Roman could catch him had been fruitless.

"It's ridiculous," Virgil didn't slow his pace for Roman, and began essentially speedwalking down the hall. Roman was slightly taller than him and was able to keep up, but still got a little out of breath doing it. "Hey everyone, come and show everyone in the school something you really enjoy so they can all collectively judge you and make you self conscious about your interests and - oh no! you don't wanna do it anymore because you feel horribly inadequate? shoooot. Sorry man, no one could have seen that coming. Oh well, better luck next year when you'll just ruin a different passion for yourself!" Virgil flailed his hands at the end of his mini-rant.

"How can you stay that sarcastic for that long consecutively? I'm honestly impressed," Roman said, huffing as they arrived at their lockers. Virgil's permanent frown seemed to somehow deepen. "Though, I guess I really can't argue, Count Woe-laf. I see your point. The pressures of an impromptu performance are... undeniable." Roman focused his attention on the padlock hanging from the latch of his locker, while Virgil looked to him with widened eyes.

"Really?" He didn't look away from Roman until he would look back.

"What?" Roman defended.

"It's just..." Virgil focused on his own padlock now, "You never agree with what I say. It always becomes a debate," he pulled his locker open lazily, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and putting it on backwards so that he could more easily exchange things. When Roman didn't reply, he continued, "like... I don't know. Why is it any different now?"

Roman was exchanging things as well, and didn't have an immediate answer. Well, he knew the answer (or in this case, answers), but it wasn't one he was even ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and especially let alone Virgil. He just eventually shrugged.

This reaction only further alarmed Virgil. He opened his mouth to continue his flabbergasted interrogation, but the bell rang right at that moment. Roman slammed his locker shut suddenly.

"Well, that's our queue I suppose. See you tonight, Incredible Sulk." Roman elbowed Virgil in the shoulder a bit awkwardly and began skipping down the hall to his next class. That left a dumbfounded and nearly-panicking Virgil standing in front of his open locker in an almost completely empty hall.

He wished Roman would stop leaving him like that.

...

Roman had texted the Biology Project group chat that weekend, saying he had an important football practice on Monday that went until 5. they'd have to have their meet-up at Roman's a bit later in the evening. Logan simply waited it out by heading to the school library to get his other homework done, while Patton and Virgil shot the breeze, walking down random hallways of the school.

The two of them were grabbing a snack from a vending machine when Virgil checked his phone. It was 4:50. They got their respective snacks - Patton got a strawberry Pop tart and Virgil got a Sunny D - and made their way to the designated meeting place. It was a concrete bench at the front of the school. They expected to find Logan there, but he wasn't. The two of them simply sat on the cold bench and exchanged bits of each other's snacks, and continued talking until Virgil noticed someone approaching.

He figured it would be Logan, but this person was shorter and more filled out than Logan. He trained his eyes better and realized that it was Roman. Roman, who happened to have a towel around his neck and sopping-wet crimson curly hair unabashedly on display. A drip of water rolled down his cheek and along his jawline, and Virgil realized he was staring. Roman finally got within conversation distance.

"Like what you see, Charlie Frown?" He teased. Patton looked to Virgil, noticing his awe, and giggled.

"Hah, in your dreams, Meta Knight," Virgil deflected half-heartedly, still finding it hard to pull his eyes away from Roman's unfortunate perfection. It was only worse that Roman knew just how attractive he was.

"Why's your hair all wet, silly?" Patton asked, standing energetically to greet him.

"We rinse off after practice. I considered leaving my shirt off so i could just get a clean one when i got home, but i knew that might be a bit too much to handle for some of us," Roman elbow-nudged Patton, who just giggled again and pushed his glasses up. Virgil knew that was extremely forced, especially after their conversation on Friday.

"Well," Roman checked his wristwatch, "Where would my nerdy Wolverine happen to be? It's ten past, and if there's anything Logan certainly is, it's punctual."

"Quite right you are," a stern voice came from behind them, to reveal Logan's lengthy form approaching casually. "My apologies for my tardiness. I got quite engaged in a particular Physics problem." Roman turned to him smiling, and pecked him on the cheek. Virgil didn't need to look at Patton to feel his friend's heart sink through the floor.

"Shall we then?" Roman turned to lead the way on the five-block journey to his house.

...

"hmm, that reminds me," Roman said from his sprawled position on his bed, "what are all your sexualities?"

That sure caught everyone's attention. The clock beside Roman's bed read 6:28 PM. Logan was studying their plants and taking notes, Patton had been cooing quietly to Roman's pet turtle, and Virgil was sitting in Roman's spinning desk chair scrolling on his phone. They all looked at Roman at once, and then at each other.

"Heh," Roman sat up, "My apologies for blurting such an intrusive question, I was just looking up at my-" he gestured toward his ceiling- "glorious flag, and it made me wonder. No man must answer that which he does not desire to." Roman was blatantly referring to the Bisexual flag that was pinned to the ceiling above his bed. They all looked at it, and back at him. "I suppose it's obvious now, but yes, I am undeniably bisexual," He faux bowed.

The silence wasn't doing anyone good, so Patton broke it before it got too much more awkward. "I, I'm gay," he said sheepishly, continuing to observe the turtle. Virgil gave him a soft smile, and decided to offer himself up next.

"I'm pan," he seemed to recoil further into his hoodie, if that were even possible. Logan turned to the other three, adjusting his necktie.

"I'm not usually one to admit this to many people, but since you have all been so transparent and calm about such personal information," He started, "I am comfortable telling you that I am Asexual."

No one regarded this with much surprise, except for Roman. "Oh really?" He said, seemingly surprised and embarrassed. Virgil scoff-laughed at him.

"What, upset you can't make your sexual fantasies a reality?" Virgil teased. Roman gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in an offended gesture.

"Excuse me!" He exclaimed, a look of disgust contorting his face.

Before a classic Roman-Virgil debate could ensue, Patton decided to share his thoughts.

"Well, I, I mean, I'm not ace but I, I guess sex isn't really so important to me," he was fiddling with his ring yet again.

"W-well, it should never be the centerpiece of any relationship!" Roman declared. They all looked at him skeptically. "what? I mean, personally, I prefer grand gestures." As he spoke, he stood and walked to Logan. "In my opinion," he produced a pristine bouquet of deep red roses that none of the others had noticed anywhere in the room before, "they are the key to any person's heart."

Logan seemed tame, Patton thought. As if he were performing. If he were being his normal self, he would have been very confused by where Roman had hidden the bouquet, and how it looked so perfect after being concealed. Instead, he just took it with a very gentle sweet smile, and thanked him quietly. Instead of Logan, Patton was now the one confused.

Virgil's face was red, and his neck a blotchy pink; thankfully he was mostly hidden under his purple bangs and hood. He huffed and excused himself to use the restroom. Patton noticed this time, and grabbed his arm before he made it out of the room.

"You okay?" he whispered gently to Virgil. Virgil just looked at him, mustered a small smile and a nod. Patton knew exactly what that meant. Virgil was okay, he just needed a moment. He returned the smile, and released his gentle paternal grip on Virgil's arm, allowing him to leave.

There was the sound of someone calling Roman's name from another part of the house, and Roman excused himself, rushing off to find its source.

Logan slipped his phone into the pocket of his navy slacks. "Well, I must be going now," He began. Instead of reaching to gather his things, he trained his acute attention directly on Patton, who was startled by the sudden focus on him. "Patton, do you have a ride home today?"

"I, uh, well," He tried blurting out an excuse but none came to his mind. "No, not exactly..."

Logan was slowly approaching, and Patton tried to back up but hit the terrarium containing Roman's turtle after just one small step. "Would you like a ride? My parents would be more than happy to assist in your safe transport home."

"Well, well I really don't want to intrude, or-" He stopped dead when Logan placed a slender hand gently on his shoulder.

"I insist. It's no intrusion or burden to them. They appreciate being able to help others when they can, especially people whose company I enjoy." Logan didn't feel as though he was figuratively lying through his teeth, but he knew that his parents didn't exactly feel that way. The nature of the situation was more that they took kindly to those that Logan worked well with on academically related subjects, such as people from his study group or the like.

Patton caught himself before letting the thought "you enjoy my company?" escape his lips. He just smiled. He knew there was no way he could get himself to deny Logan's offer when his heart was taking the reins.

"I would.. really appreciate, a ride home, yeah," He said quietly. Logan was just looking into his eyes with a tenderness Patton hadn't seen before. He pushed away any thoughts that Logan may have looked at Roman the exact same way during their date. He hoped he hadn't, and cursed himself for hoping it.

"Wonderful," Logan pulled himself out of their shared momentary trance. "I will let them know. I'm sure they will find it a pleasure to become acquainted with you. They should be here in less than five minutes, so I suggest gathering your belongings." Logan's thumbs padded across is illuminated phone screen as he spoke, until he once again slid it into his pocket and began collecting his things along with Patton.

Virgil entered once again, hood off and face slightly red and wet. it was clear that he hadn't been crying due to the sporadic nature of the droplets of water across his face; it looked more like he'd just haphazardly washed his face in the sink and hadn't bothered to wipe the remnants away. Patton smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan addressed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, "It was pleasant to see you again. We are on our way out now. Are you ready, Patton?" He looked to Patton, who also slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yep! Logan's giving me a ride," Patton blatantly could barely contain his excitement in his ever-growing grin, so Virgil only returned it with a small thumbs up.

"Alright, ill see you guys in class tomorrow," He hugged Patton tightly, and half-heartedly saluted to Logan without making eye contact. Logan simply nodded to him, and the two left shortly, leaving Virgil alone in Roman's room.

#ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #prinxiety #logicality #logan x patton #roman x virgil #slow burn #high school au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 4 years ago

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APH College AU Headcanons: Sweden

Dw, I’ll finish the Asians before moving on to the Nordics, I just had an urge to write Swe first. Explanation post here, AU tag is #college au musings on my blog!

- Architecture and design major

- As a hobby, he makes decorative and functional wood and clay figurines and furniture designs in the Scandinavian minimalism style.

- He usually makes smol animal figurines like this because they are smooth and curved with no sharp lines, friendly looking, and add nice, subtle touches to interior spaces. (But mostly, I just really like this headcanon because of the juxtaposition between a tall, intimidating looking guy working very diligently and quietly on small arts and crafts that could even be considered cute. It’s a nice image, and I think it’s fitting for Sweden’s character.)

- Decided to open an Etsy for his crafts and stuff (might as well try to support himself with his hobby). For each piece, there’s usually only one in stock because he makes everything by hand, so there aren’t any duplicates and every item he sells is slightly different. His shop is actually a lot more popular than his freelance work (see next hc); he thinks it’s sadly ironic his hobby is more useful than what he actually plans to do for a living :’) but he usually just takes it in stride and often reminds himself that he’s lucky to even have a hobby he can support himself with, and he doesn’t mind pivoting and making a living out of his Etsy.

- Trying to work freelance as a logo/graphic designer (he is an architecture student, but I don’t think many people would hire a college kid to design their buildings yet…). He’s still building up his portfolio, so he doesn’t have many customers yet.

- Lowkey dream job is to be an IKEA designer. Before you laugh, there are only 20 designers who make ALL the products they put out each year, so I’m gonna assume it’s incredibly hard to get a spot in the club.

- Really good at focusing, even though he lives in an apartment with the other Nordics who are very cHaoTiC

- Does fika almost religiously (it’s a Swedish coffee break where you relax and talk with the people around you, catch up and stuff). He never forgets it, and usually asks or forces the other Nordics to join him. It might be because of having this daily habit, but he never gets highkey stressed.

- B+ to A+ range grades. He really picked a good major, because he has an eye for design and a knack for building things, which makes homework and projects come fairly easy. Not a big fan of essays and typing, so he usually uses the dictation tool/voice input even if it sounds like he’s talking to himself (Denmark teases him about this a lot). His English and science skills are competent, but not stellar (and he’s not really interested in those subjects either), and he’s better at history and math.

- Always finishes his assignments in a timely manner; if he’s cramming or staying up late, he’ll only need an extra hour or two to wrap up and then he’ll go to bed around 11:30-12:45

- Very healthy lifestyle. Doesn’t eat much fast food or ramen or snacks instead of actual meals, exercises moderately, usually gets enough sleep. Has his life /mostly/ together so far.

- He used to go to the school cafe for breakfast but now just makes a half sandwich from scratch: one piece of toast with vegetables and some cheese on top. For lunch he always goes to the same food place and orders the same thing every time: chicken salad without mayonnaise and a yogurt (ok I have very little knowledge of food so please suggest alternatives that are more in character)

- Eats wheat crackers as a snack (would eat Swedish crispbread instead if he could buy it)

- Knows all the tricks when using rendering and editing software, ex Blender or photoshop. Very skilled at working on the computer for digital assignments.

- He prefers to take notes by hand, and always has a couple smaller sketchbook/graph paper notebooks on him (for design ideas and structure studies) as well as a lined paper one for notes. His handwriting is rather thin and narrow but very neat (like this). Has sworn off using pen.

- He renovated the Nordics’ whole shared apartment almost right after he moved into it (at the time it was just him and Denmark in there). Remade it into a perfect example of Scandinavian minimalism, and it’s very pleasant even if the rest of the apartment building is kinda dingy However, all the Nordics have personally redecorated their bedrooms to fit their own aesthetic and Sweden has a bit of a seizure when he goes into Finland’s room and sees death metal/rock aesthetic everywhere

- Doesn’t speak often in class, but when he does, it’s a thoughtful, intriguing comment or a well planned burn

- Has a fairly good relationship with his professors; they like his work ethic, designs, and how he’s pretty mature (some of them also like his lowkey sass). He likes them as well because they aren’t very scared by his resting bitch face, and as a result he talks to them a lot and has gotten to know them well. He’s been highly recommended for internships by some of them

- He and Norway have roasting sessions as they look on at people (Denmark) doing stupid things (often while drunk)

- This has no canon context but I really want Sweden and Netherlands to be friends in this AU, so they are. They met through Denmark, and the three go biking together sometimes. Sweden is more uptight about stuff, being healthy and not being obscene in public and nOt SmOKinG NeD pls save your lungs, Ned does not care and goes right on smoking. But like, they both admire things about each other; Berwald likes Ned’s efficiency with money and how he can get along with many people (at least on a business level) and Ned is impressed with Berwald’s prowess in design. Also they are both tall and sorta intimidating and that is a good enough similarity for a foundation of friendship

- He hasn’t joined a club, but has been called by the art people, some theater people, and some other miscellaneous clubs to build props and things for them. He’s chill about it, and likes taking the odd jobs around campus (obviously he doesn’t get paid but whatever)

- Has a reputation for being intimidating and scary because he doesn’t talk much and his face definitely isn’t an open book for his feelings, but if people actually talk to him without being scared they quickly find out he can be very playful, or at least is gentle and very nice

- But he doesn’t spill all his secrets to friends obviously; he just gets more talkative and more willing to share about things he likes and is passionate about

- I mentioned before that he’s not highkey stressed much, but he does feel like his future is futile (alliteration!) sometimes and sometimes just gets tired of doing work and needs a hug

- Also, you can’t really tell if he’s angry, but his expression gets stonier and he gets more threatening. Usually happens when someone insults one of his brothers or when he sees something unfair happening

I have some more but I forgot my basic structure for these headcanon posts so take this. Taiwan is next! Thank you for reading, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!

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notbecauseofvictories · 5 years ago

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do you have any advice for a 19 year old college freshman? i'm excited for college and i love the freedom/being challenged, but i'm overwhelmed by the sheer workload that my course (graphic design) is giving us and i feel really skittish and unprepared when it comes to things like lectures, papers, and essays! i kinda wish i was back in preschool making potato stamp art :(

1. Get Organized

When I feel overwhelmed it’s because I don’t have a clear idea of exactly what I need to do and when. I’m usually thinking about everything at once, every single little thing I have to do, every deadline from here ‘til December, and every bit of life I have to take of in the meantime. When every single wheel is spinning in your brain all at once, it can feel suffocating—and the natural result is to be anxious and overwhelmed.

But it’s not a good use of your time to care about every deadline from here to December (especially if it’s keeping you from getting things done in the present.) So my first advice is always: Take a Step Back.

Step back. You are a human being and you cannot do everything all at once at one hundred percent. To try is to invite failure and misery. (You cannot properly focus on lectures if all you’re thinking about is the next paper; you can’t think about an assignment when you’re hyperaware that the laundry is all over the floor.) So take a step back, and figure out:

What do I have to do today?

What do I have to do tomorrow?

What do I have to do this week?

What do I have to do this month?

I recommend writing all of this down. Actually answer those four questions---in excruciating detail (include chores, laundry, extracurriculars, etc.) and do it in handwriting, if you can. Get a bunch of pieces of notebook/printer paper and write out all the various bullet points, with associated dates. Genuinely figure out what your days, weeks, and months look like. Maybe even transfer all those scribbled notes onto a calendar, so you know that when the clock strikes 12:01 AM on November 10th, you have to start thinking about your final project for Graphic Design 101.

And then---and this is the tricky part---worry only about those things that have to get done today/tomorrow/this week/this month. Once you have a plan, don’t let yourself get distracted by the panicky whirlpool of oh-god-I-haven’t-started-my-Graphic-Design-101-project-yet. Your problem for that day is just to get your laundry done, attend lecture and take lots of notes, and outline an essay for one class. Don’t get sucked into the Sisyphean nightmare that is “I could be doing more, and doing it better”---instead, focus only on what you can concretely achieve, being faithful to how you study and learn best.

No one can do everything all the time perfectly. Figure out what’s achievable for you, what positions you the best for success, and work from there.

2. Work Your Network

The beautiful thing about college is that there are a lot of people there who genuinely want you to succeed. You have professors who would love you to come to their office hours, grad student TAs who take immense pride in working with students, and classmates who would do murder for someone to commiserate and proofread each others’ essays with. Take advantage of all of them.

Go to office hours! Every single office hour, professors’ and TAs’, especially if you feel like you’re struggling in a class. Bring your marked-up homework, questions from the lecture (which includes “I didn’t understand X, could you explain it again?”) or even more far-ranging questions like, “I really admire you [and maybe secretly want to be you when I’m older], could you tell me more about the industry/your background/this article of yours I read?” Every person in the entire world loves talking about how they Made It, and nothing will endear you faster than asking them for advice. (Just make sure to take it with a grain of salt!)

If your college has other resources, I recommend at least trying those as well. My university had grad student “tutors” who basically hung out in the library waiting to help college students with essays and problem sets. In law school, we had “mentors,” where you would be paired up with an older student who could tell you about certain professors and share outlines with you. All advice is personal and should be taken with a grain of salt, but I bet there are a lot of human resources available to you---even just to freak out with.

3. You’re Still Making Potato Stamp Art (No, Really)

It’s easy, in the overwhelming rush and whirl of college, to forget why you went in the first place. You catch it only in glimpses: a professor whose lecture style makes you feel things; an assignment you feel particularly proud of; a conversation you have, halfway through the semester, where you realize you actually have been learning this whole time. The pursuit of knowledge, of learning and improving and making something new, gives the whole collegiate endeavor an electric feeling that in my experience isn’t present anywhere else in the world---but it’s always, always hard. (For all my problems with higher education as a system, I’ve never doubted the value of knowledge-for-knowledge’s sake. Much like art-for-art’s sake, it’s easy to espouse and yet somehow tremendously fragile, threatened, once you look closer.)

The thing is, it’s easy to look back on the learning and growing we’ve already accomplished and think that that was the happiest time of our lives. It was so easy! It must have been easy, because we’ve passed through it---it’s especially easy to think so now on the other side, where we’re presented with even harder challenges to overcome. So the challenges left behind...well, they must have always been easy.

But making potato stamp art was once hard. You once looked at your unevenly-cut potato, slathered with too much paint (so much so that it squished on the paper) and knew on some level that this was not the best art. Otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to improve---you wouldn’t be here, studying graphic design, unless there was a part of you that looked at your macaroni art, potato stamps, and “family portraits” painted in wet acrylic, and thought, not good enough.

You’re still making potato stamp art, it’s just more sophisticated than it was. As it should be: you’re much more sophisticated too. Growth, learning, making...these things are always hard at every stage, turn, and twist. So if you’re going to look behind you, then I’m going to insist that you do it in frank admiration of how far you’ve come, and how much further you’re going to go.

#sarah gives advice #girls go to college to get more knowledge #(that is....the college tag)(sorry anon if you do not identify as a girl)#long post for ts

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sincerelymarinette · 5 years ago

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A Recorded Life (27/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 2362 Chapter Summary: Adrien has seemed strong through everything since his identity was revealed, but what happens when it comes crashing down on him? Marinette is overwhelming herself with work, and waiting for an important phone call. To make a hard day even harder, the first Akuma after their identities were revealed comes with determination. Author's Note: Adrien's emotional vulnerability? Check. Marinette stressing about everything? Check. An intense Akuma? A CHECK. I love love love this chapter. There are so many emotions and I can see it so clearly in my mind, especially the end. I also...tried to draw something for the ending because I could see it so clearly. I included it, and it's very cartoony. I'm a graphic designer with very limited traditional art skills, but I still think it's cute and had fun drawing it. I want to do more, so we'll see if I can get better...I mean practice makes better!

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Birthday Girl

---

Marinette was freaking out. She sat at one of the tables by the window in the bakery, eating a croissant for breakfast and working on her computer. It was Saturday, so while some places were a dead zone, the bakery was still open, and Marinette had homework to get done. Jagged Stone told her they needed to talk later, and left it open-ended, and that did not help her stress.

As she continued typing answers for school, she looked up to see Adrien run into the bakery with a pant. He had a worried look on his face, maybe that he could even cry. Marinette stood up as soon as she registered his face, and Adrien saw her. "What's wrong?" Marinette asked.

Adrien came over to the seat across where Marinette was standing, collapsed into the chair, and breathed shaky breaths. "My father wants to pull me out of school," He said, close to tears.

"What?" Marinette asked, sitting down.

"He wants to pull me out of school," Adrien said, putting his hands over his eyes to stop himself from breaking down. "I won't see any of my friends, and I will be supervised the whole time...I might not even be able to be Chat Noir anymore!" He told Marinette, muffled behind his hands.

Marinette's face looked angry. "He can't do that. What did you say?"

Adrien shrugged. "I screamed no, then I pushed past him and Nathalie and ran here," He said. "I didn't want to hear anymore. If I got more upset, Hawkmoth could akumatize me."

"No, we don't want that. He can't take you out of school!" Marinette protested. "That's so unfair."

Adrien finally looked up from his hands, eyes red. "The other night he said that I'm missing class due to Chat Noir. But everyone misses when there's an Akuma! He just doesn't understand."

Marinette gave Adrien a sympathetic look. "We'll figure it out. You just have to plead your case and let me know if I can do anything to convince him," Marinette encouraged.

"So running out was not my best idea?" Adrien asked, only getting a shrug from Marinette. "Oh well, what are you doing?"

"Lots of homework. And waiting for a call from Jagged Stone. He said he had something to talk to me about," She said, trying to keep calm even though she was jumping to conclusions about what the conversation could be about. Before Adrien could reply, Marinette's phone rang. "And I guess it's time," She said, and answered the phone.

"Marinette! How are you?" Jagged asked, sounding very excited.

She looked at Adrien a little confused. "Doing great. What's up?" She responded.

"We are releasing the first single Friday!" He said. "I know you've had that one done for a while, there are a few revisions we have to have, but it's time! And I know you keep pushing away at all the other covers and you're almost done, so this is great! We might even have an album release date soon!" Jagged rambled, but now it was clear what his excitement was for.

Marinette's jaw dropped. "Seriously?" She smiled widely, almost unable to contain her excitement.

"Yes!" Jagged said, sounding like he jumped. "This is going to be great! Penny is going to send you the file, and the email has a few revisions, but it's not a lot. It's going to be amazing!"

Marinette could squeal and scream and do a hundred jumping jacks. She was beyond excited and wasn't sure how to react. "I'm so excited," She said, much quieter. "I'm at a loss for words!"

"Me too," Jagged replied. "And I'm sorry to go so quickly, meetings all day. But I had to tell you as soon as I could!"

"That's okay! We'll talk later," Marinette reassured him.

Jagged sighed, what sounded like a sigh of relief. "Of course. Catch you later!" He said, and the call ended.

Adrien looked at Marinette, worried that something was wrong considering the roller coaster of emotions he just witnessed. "What...happened?"

"The first single is being released Friday!" Marinette repeated. "This is going to be so awesome."

"That's awesome. I'm so happy for you," Adrien said. "We should get ice cream to celebrate. I'm already texting Alya and Nino," He told her before she could protest.

Marinette nodded. "Sounds great, Adrien. Then we can figure out how to persuade your dad to let you stay in school," She smirked. They stood up to get ready to meet their friends to get ice cream, but Marinette almost dropped her laptop when a large crash came from a car landing right outside of the bakery. "Guess we might have to postpone, though."

Marinette rushed to the counter to hand her mom her computer and waved as she and Adrien ran out of the bakery. "Be careful!" Sabine shouted as the door shut.

The two of them ran around the corner, hiding back up against the wall. They faced away from each other, still nervous about seeing the other transform, but also out of habit. At the same time, they both shouted their own words.

"Tikki, spots on!"

"Plagg, claws out!"

They smiled to each other after turning into their alter egos, and flung their weapons to get to the nearest rooftop. Before heading towards the Akuma, they looked to each other. Ladybug sighed. "This is Hawkmoth's first Akuma since he knows who we are," She told him. "This could be a tough one."

"Nothing we can't stop," Chat Noir smiled back. With one nod of encouragement, he started jumping towards the next building. "Besides, if it's as bad as we're feeling, we can always call Rena Rouge or the others for backup."

"Chat," She called after him, he quickly stopped and looked back. "I have to tell you something."

His face turned to look more concerned than before. "Is something wrong?"

"Fu has been calling. I've been too scared to answer and talk to him," She confessed.

Chat Noir nodded with a little sigh. "Okay, then I guess we've gotta beat this the old fashioned way."

The two of them offered small smiles to each other as they jumped off the roof to another one, going right in front of the Akuma. The girl was flying with rocket boots, and shooting blasts out of her hands. "Ah, Ladybug and Chat Noir, welcome to the party!" The Akuma cackled, flying up to them to only be a few feet away. "And you brought presents! What beautiful jewelry."

"Sorry, kid," Chat Noir said. The Akuma was clearly no older than thirteen, so she must not have gotten what she wanted. "These are ours. But I'm sure we could get you a replica."

"But, I want them!" She crossed her arms, a pout on her lips.

Ladybug chuckled. "You should learn to be grateful for what you have, uh-"

"My name is Birthday Girl," She announced. "And I always get what I want, so give me your jewelry!" She shouted at the superheroes. When they didn't react, she groaned and held her hands out in front of her, and shot at them.

She hit their legs, and it sent both of them propelling backward. Landing on their backs, Birthday Girl flew above them. "All of Paris will attend my birthday party, bringing me only the best gifts that I want. And right now, all I want is your Miraculous!" She shouted, and turned to the streets. She started hitting people with the blasts from her hands, and they started walking towards the building where Chat Noir and Ladybug were sat.

They both got up as quick as they could, their legs aching. Before the people could start coming up the building, Ladybug called out, "Lucky Charm!"

They still didn't know where the Akuma was, and the Birthday Girl was very determined. She was flying around, blasting as many people as she could into her army to get the Miraculous. The Lucky Charm item dropped into Ladybug's hand. "A mirror?" She asked when a mirror in the shape of a circle fell into her hands.

"Got any ideas?" Chat Noir asked.

"Not yet," Ladybug said as she looked around, trying to come up with a plan. "Just don't get hit," She told him, and put the mirror on her side, next to her yo-yo.

"Got it," Chat Noir replied. They both took off in opposite directions, trying to get away from the minions following Birthday Girl. Ladybug was still looking around for clues, when all of a sudden, Birthday Girl grew to twice her size. She was evilly laughing, and the mask on her face faded as she finished a conversation with Hawkmoth.

Birthday Girl stood in between the buildings where Ladybug and Chat Noir were. "Hawkmoth wants me to have everything I want for my birthday, so he agreed to help me. He made me even more powerful so we can share the jewelry you brought me!" She screeched, much louder now that she was bigger.

Her army continued to grow as she was now blasting people without a second thought. She was determined, and every time the heroes deny her, the angrier she would get, and the more people that would chase after Ladybug and Chat Noir. "Hawkmoth knows who you are. Do you really want to endanger everyone around you, Marinette?" Birthday Girl asked, trying to get inside Marinette's head.

And it was working. She didn't know what to do; she froze. "Just let it be over, give me your Miraculous, and you and your friends will be safe," Birthday Girl continued. It was now apparent to Chat Noir that she was granted another power: persuasion. It worked with her reasons; she wanted to make people give her what she wanted. "You wouldn't have to worry about your parents, your school, or Adrien," Birthday Girl said. "If you hand me your earrings, it will all be better."

Chat Noir jumped over to Ladybug's building, but he never landed. One of Birthday Girl's army members caught his tail, and pulled him down. He was stuck in the crowd, his arms held by many mind-controlled people. "Ladybug, don't listen to her!" Chat Noir yelled. "When Hawkmoth gave her more power, he also gave her persuasion!"

"Look at him. He could get hurt, poor Chat Noir. If you give me your Miraculous, I'll let him go," Birthday Girl told her.

Chat Noir watched as Ladybug raised her hand to her face. "You...you promise?" Ladybug asked.

"Of course, just give me the jewelry, and he'll be safe," Birthday Girl continued.

"Ladybug, don't do it!" Chat Noir shouted. "Ladybug, listen to me! If you give her the jewelry, no one will be safe!" He said. "Let go of me, cataclysm!" Chat Noir shouted, turning his hand down to hit the mountain of Birthday Girl's army. They collapsed below him, and Chat Noir was able to catch himself, and get up to the building he was on before.

"Ladybug," Chat Noir said, out of breath. "You're Paris' hero. If you give up your Miraculous, more people will get hurt."

She still wasn't listening. It was like she was in a trance to ignore Chat Noir, still contemplating giving her Miraculous up. Birthday Girl was continuously talking to her, keeping her stuck. "Ladybug!" Chat Noir yelled, as loud as he could, "We will work through this together. We will win!" He said. "More people will be safe if you keep your Miraculous, and all of your friends have told you they're not worried, because you'll protect them!" Chat Noir said. "Trust me, Marinette," He sighed as he did all he could to get her to listen.

Ladybug shook her head when she heard Chat Noir say her name. Quickly, she realized what was going on. Ladybug jumped back, and grabbed the mirror at her waist. She held it out in front of her, aiming the mirror right back at Birthday Girl. "Let's mirror that- you want to give me your Akuma."

---

Marinette and Adrien sat on top of a secluded rooftop, their Kwami's eating their food. Marinette was hugging her knees, head buried on them. Adrien sat next to her, much more relaxed.

"Marinette, why are you so upset at the Akuma?" Adrien asked.

She lifted her head slowly. "I'm not mad at the Akuma. I'm mad at myself. I let myself fall victim to Hawkmoth's persuasive ways, and I almost gave up my Miraculous," Marinette confessed. "My hands were on my earrings, Adrien."

"Don't beat yourself up over this. The important thing is that you didn't give them your Miraculous," He encouraged. "You were right; the Akumas were going to get harder."

Marinette didn't reply; she just looked out over Paris, quiet for a minute. "I almost failed them today."

Adrien shook his head. "You know better than anyone how persuasive Hawkmoth can be. He takes emotions and makes them so much worse. And now that he knows who you are, he was able to take your caring and emotional side and use it against you. It's a dirty way to play. And he tried, and he failed. He knows we're a force to be reckoned with, and as long as we're partners, he will never win."

Marinette nodded as she listened to Adrien talk. She released her legs and looked at him, a small smile on her face. "You're right. Ladybug is nothing without her Chat Noir, and we make a great team. We'll talk to your dad about school, because I can't lose my partner, and we'll make time to see Fu. We'll work through this."

"That's the Ladybug and Marinette I know," Adrien smiled. They locked eyes, staring at each other for a moment. Marinette had fully believed she had gotten over her crush on Adrien, but now, looking at him, she realized she was lying to herself.

And Adrien had never stopped loving Ladybug, even if he did push it to the back of his mind.

They both jumped when Adrien's phone rang loudly. "Agh," He sighed when he saw the message. "Gotta get home. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"Plagg, claws out!"

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries

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anchoredtether · 5 years ago

Photo

Title: The Ghost in the Machine

Chapter: 1/13

Series: Another Way to Die

Author: AnchoredTether

Rating: M [graphic depictions of violence, dark themes, slight horror]

Pairings: Pidge | Katie Holt / Lance [Plance]

Tags: Danny Phantom AU, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters (kinda), ghost!Lance, Pidge is slightly goth, Keith is also half-ghost, angst, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, disturbing themes, slight horror elements, dark, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, double life, angst and humor, body horror, graphic description

Summary: “So this is how I die. In some Holt laboratory device when ALL I WANTED WAS STRING CHEESE!"

Artwork: The lovely @numbah34 made several arts for this work and they are fantastic! Check out her art here! She also has more concept art which I will link once it’s posted~

A/N: Here is my contribution for the @planceminibang! A special thank you to @amicuscordis for beta-ing! Vague summary is vague.

Read below the cut or over here at Ao3 >>

001 || THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE

---

“We should probably get back to studying,” Pidge announced after both their characters died on the retro gaming system and the eight-bit funeral dirge played. “Since, you know, you came over here to study.”

“Yeah yeah, I know…” Lance sighed. He currently had a D in his physics class and Pidge happened to be a genius at anything related to science, so they started study sessions at her place a few weeks ago. “I needed a break though! All this talk of kinetics and energy was putting my head for a spin.”

“Killbot has killed us seven times in a row so I think that’s as good a time as any to quit while we’re ahead.”

“Seven times the charm?” Lance put down the controller and pulled his textbook back onto his lap, stretching his legs out onto the coffee table. “Maaaan, who studies on a Friday night??”

“Smart people who want all day Saturday and Sunday to themselves.”

He snapped his book shut again and stood up. “You know what? I’m starving. I’ll be right back with some snacks.”

She sighed. “You have the attention span of a magpie, Lance.” After five good minutes of studying he’d go on some tangent and she had to redirect his attention, or he’d want to do a video game break or a snack break or a bathroom break and she swore that boy drank water like an alcoholic downs free shots because he was constantly needing to relieve himself. When she called him out on ‘faking’ bathroom breaks to get out of studying he simply lifted up his massive water bottle and told her he drank six of them a day. He progressed on a long spiel about how great water was and she couldn’t decide whether she was impressed by how much science he had to back up his arguments or annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t shut up about water.

She called out to him as he started down the hallway. “Can you bring me some peanut butter cookies? They’re on the top shelf of the fridge.” He held up a hand to indicate he heard and she pulled out homework from one of her advanced placement classes to work on while she waited for his return.

The Holt house was confusing. The whole family was geniuses - Sam was a revered engineer and Colleen a brilliant chemist and botanist. Half the rooms in the house were labs or conservatories (or a combination) and so many parts of the house were added on or obscure extensions that made it a strange maze of plants and machinery. Lance usually had to ask Pidge to remind him which way was to the bathroom or kitchen but he didn’t want to bother her this time. It shouldn’t have been too hard to figure out, right? He had an innate sense of direction.

The other issue was the fact that Sam upgraded all their normal appliances. Their washer and dryer did not look like the standard because he invented ones that worked better. Lance found a room that might possibly be a kitchen but just as easily a lab. There were a few black knives left on one of the counters and some strange looking vegetables. Knives and vegetables were found together in kitchens, right? Then again, half the rooms had vegetables, but he figured a kitchen utensil and an edible looking plant had to be a good indicator.

He walked up to what looked like could be a fridge and tried pulling the giant red lever that could have been the door handle. When nothing opened for him, Lance let out a dissatisfied hum and walked over to some double doors that might have been a pantry or fridge and pulled them open. They were heavy and made a hissing and whirring sound as they slowly opened. The area inside was well lit and the walls looked like they were lined with drawers, but when he walked up and tried pulling on one of the panels it wouldn’t budge.

“Pidge distinctly said ‘shelf.’ So obviously whatever this is, it’s not the refrigerator.” He took one last look before turning to leave, but the doors just barely finished closing on their own without a sound. He let out a short yelp before rushing over and pushing on the thick metal doors but there were no handles and they weren’t budging against his weight. Suddenly the lights in the room snapped into an electric green and he could hear an ominous whirring of something powering up gradually increase in volume.

He pounded on the door, yelling Pidge and her parents’ names in a vain attempt to grab someone’s attention. He started to panic, looking around frantically for some escape latch or emergency button within the walls of the room. When he exhausted all his options he backed up into a corner and braced himself for whatever was about to happen, his limbs plastered against the walls.

“So this is how I die.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “In some Holt laboratory device when ALL I WANTED WAS STRING CHEESE!”

The lights turned off and he screamed, but his scream slowly died out as he realized he wasn’t being evaporated. Nothing happened except for a sudden nausea that overcame him and then his senses quickly faded into blackness.

---

When Lance came to, he was lying on the ground of the fridge-not-fridge, the hospital-white lights were back on, and the double doors were left open. He looked over his body and patted himself in random spots and let out a sigh of relief. He seemed to be alright and figured he simply passed out from fear and adrenaline. He stood up and quickly left the room, finding his way back to Pidge.

“You can’t find the fridge, can you?” she asked in a dour tone.

She didn’t seem concerned that he was gone for a long time, so Lance figured he was only passed out for a minute or so. It would have been logical to tell her what had just happened but a part of him hesitated. Nothing happened and he didn’t want to get in trouble with her parents. He didn’t want her to get in trouble with her parents when he was being an idiot. He’d seen the way Colleen and Pidge interacted and Mrs. Holt was a scary woman when she wanted to be. He let out a nervous laugh before answering. “No, it appears I’m helpless at your house.”

Pidge stood up as she finished typing something on her phone, her green-painted nails clacking against the touch screen as she led the way without having to look up. “Follow me, goofball.”

They acquired the snacks from the strangely designed fridge - which he could have sworn it did not look like that two weeks ago - and returned to the living room (and he tried to make a mental note of the directions they took through the hallways to get there). They resumed their study of kinetic motion but the only motion Lance could focus on was the swaying of the room.

“I think I need to go home,” he said in the middle of Pidge’s explanation.

“Really, Lance? We haven’t studied five min-” She frowned a moment as she looked him over. “You’re… actually really pale. Are you alright?”

“Um… I think… yeah. I think so.” His voice was starting to slur ever so slightly and he had a feeling it would only get worse. “I just need to… to lie down, or something.”

“You can lie down on the couch or I’ll get you a bed! I don’t think you should be walking home in the state you’re in.”

“No really, I’ll… I should go home.” He stood up and swayed, but Pidge quickly stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“At least let me walk you there,” she insisted.

His house was just a few blocks down from hers so the walk wasn’t long, but they still had to take a few rest stops for Lance to catch his breath and steady his nausea. Mrs. Villanueva kindly greeted them and took Lance in, thanking Pidge for her help (and referring to her as ‘Katie’). Pidge walked back home and wondered what could have overcome her friend. His constitution had gone from perfectly fine to on his deathbed within minutes. She made it a note to check in on him tomorrow if she didn’t hear from him.

---

Mama Villanueva put Lance immediately to bed, completely tucking the blankets around him and leaving him with bottles of water, a sleeve of saltines, and a throw-up bowl. He had a feeling that whatever was wrong with him wasn’t some kind of flu or virus, and a dread gained weight in his chest that he’d have to tell the Holts what happened to him in their lab if he ever wanted to get better.

What if he never got better?

What if he was dying?

After several runs of overthinking, Lance eventually passed out from mere exhaustion. Not even his worried, rambling brain could keep him from the fatigue that soon overtook his body. He had stressful dreams of things chasing him, as if the mysterious sickness was something he could not run from or escape. When he awoke in the middle of the night, he was fairly sure it was a false awakening and he was still in a dream.

Because he was floating above his bed.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened in his dreams but it started to get freaky when he saw his whole body was slightly translucent. And for whatever reason, instead of his sleepwear he was dressed in what he wore yesterday and his clothes were inverted in color. His jacket was now a pale frosted gray, the orange bands around his sleeves now a vibrant blue. His jeans became a light tan while his shirt and shoes darkened into a charcoal gray.

“Of course I’d dream myself as a ghost after worrying about dying,” he muttered to himself as he looked at his hands with a calm fascination. He also knew he was dreaming because the sickness that consumed his body before was magically gone. He knew if he had woken for real, he would have felt like death.

He tried moving to the ground and floated on down with ease, his feet touching the floor without a sound. He started to walk out of his room but then decided to try floating instead because if he was a ghost why bother using the energy to walk? He discovered he could do it without much thought, his feet hovering a few inches from the ground with knees relaxed as if he were making his way through zero gravity.

Lance was about to open his door but his hand phased through it, causing him to let out a startled yelp. He covered his mouth with his hand that wasn't halfway through the door and waited, listening to hear if he woke anyone up. He shook his head, realizing this was a dream and it didn't matter if he woke up his parents or siblings. Although for all he knew, in this dream world there might have been monsters or something equally as terrifying he did not want to awaken.

He returned his focus to his hand in the door. It didn't hurt but he could feel where the doorknob began through his wrist and where the door ended halfway through his fingers like a precise singeing upon his skin. It didn’t burn, exactly, but Lance didn’t want to linger through a solid object for too long.

"This is the weirdest thing…" He experimented by moving his hand in and out through the door through various parts, testing how it felt at different angles. He slowly made his way phasing his whole body through the door, pausing here and there with curiosity. It wasn't long after he passed through the door that a chilling sensation passed up his spine and caused him to let out a squeaky wheeze. Some strange feeling overcame him, urging him to go outside.

Now knowing he could phase through solid objects, he passed through the bathroom in the hall and straight to the outside of his house. He turned towards the street, completely silent and serene in the middle of the night, and saw a figure in the distance. Normally a stranger out in the street at three in the morning was a major red flag but Lance could afford to follow his dangerously unhealthy curiosity when it was only a dream. He might get chased and murdered by a serial killer with an axe, but he could phase through walls now so it might not be nearly as scary (at least that's how he justified it).

Upon hovering closer, he saw that the figure was semi-translucent as well, although the stranger had his feet planted on the ground like a normal person. Perhaps everyone in this particular alternate universe were ghostly. Lance must have spent way too long staring at the stranger because when he spoke it completely startled him.

"What are you doing out here?"

Lance struggled for a moment as his mouth worked but only sputtering came out. "B-bold of you to say that when you're out in the middle of the street in the middle of the night… in the middle of my dream," he added for emphasis, as if that mattered. "So what are you doing out here?"

"It's not safe out here, you should go back to your home," the stranger said in a kind but cautious tone. He was interesting looking and perhaps that's why Lance was staring so intensely before. The stranger had purple skin with darker stripes curving up his cheeks, his eyes an electric yellow with bright purple irises. Lance had to wonder if he looked just as strange but the color of his skin was its usual warm tone.

"My home is right there," he jabbed a thumb behind him. "So I might as well see what's going on."

"No, really." The stranger almost looked nervous. "You should go."

"Aww come on, do I really look that pathetic?" Lance scoffed, confident that he could handle whatever this dream verse would throw at him. He had played enough video games to improvise and figure out how to survive.

"Considering you no longer have legs, yes."

He stared at him in confusion for a moment, then dared to look down to see his legs were gone, a translucent ghostly tail curling down from his waist instead. "Oh! Wha… what does that mean?" This dream is turning out weirder by the minute.

"Either you're an emotional wreck or you have no control over your ghost powers. Or both," he answered flatly. "Don't you know you don't need your tail unless you're traveling at high speeds or maneuvering quickly through solid objects?"

Lance lowered his brows. "I- wh?- No. I have no idea how to be a ghost."

The stranger looked a hundred percent done. "You are a ghost."

"Yeah, just for right now in this weird dream. I always have weird dreams when I'm sick."

"This is real life. It's not a dream."

"See? That's exactly what someone in my dream would say!"

The stranger rolled his bright eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Die for all I care."

"Aren't we already dead? We're ghosts."

His eyes narrowed, his expression intense. "You… you aren't normally human, are you?"

"Of course I'm 'normally' human," he answered with air quotes. "What kind of a question is that?"

The stranger suddenly looked apprehensive. "You really need to go home. And stay there."

Lance placed his hands on his hips, his face turning into a frustrated pout. "You're not the boss of me."

He turned on him, his face only inches away as his voice tugged an urgency from Lance's chest. "Your kind are rare and there is a hunter out on the loose looking for ghosts like you. Believe me when I say you do not want to be caught. If you care at all about your own self-preservation you will run and hide. I can mislead him from your home but only if you promise to stay there."

Lance was silent a moment, his eyes wide as he tried to process the severity of his words, but something stuck out to him more than the imminent danger or the implication that he was no longer human. "Why would you want to help me?"

The other ghost hesitated but his answer felt sincere. "Because we're more similar than you think." His golden eyes moved to the house and back to Lance to indicate he should go back, and with that, he gave him one last look and flew away, out of the streetlight and into the darkness.

"… I guess that's one way for my dream to wake me up." He shrugged and hovered back towards his house, phased through the walls and went back to his room. As soon as he approached the bed, the same chill from earlier traveled up his spine except this time he felt it worse.

He had a feeling that whatever the stranger was running from had arrived.

And whatever it was, it felt like a horribly bad omen.

#plance #plance mini bang #plance au #plance fanfic #flirtyrobot #danny phantom au #plance danny phantom au #ghost au #fanfic #vld #voltron #voltron fanfic #voltron au #vld au #ghost!lance #vld lance #vld pidge #my fanfiction #anchoredtether

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seriestrash · 6 years ago

Text

Summer-Salt

Summary: A tyrus one shot inspired off Mount Rushmore or less. It follows the events during and after costume day. It wasn’t intended to be a ‘fix-it’ piece but I suppose it could be read that way :)

Word Count: 7330

read on ao3

■ □ ■ □ ■

Pre Summer:

It’s Wednesday afternoon and TJ sits at his kitchen counter doing homework whilst his mother Tess prepares dinner. TJ is interrupted when his phone buzzes. The basketball captain reads an email from the principal about costume day.

“This Friday?” TJ mumbles to himself.

“What’s that, hun?” TJ’s mother stops chopping vegetables and picks up her gaze.

TJ shrugs as he puts his phone down, “It’s just an email about costume day being this Friday.”

“That’s short notice.” Tess crinkles her brows. “Are you going to participate this year? I know you didn’t want to last year.”

“I think I might...” TJ nods his head casually. “But I already spent this weeks pay on the new video game I’ve been saving for.” TJ frowns.

Tess’ expression falls, mirroring her sons, “Teej, I can give you some money.”

TJ smiles almost guiltily, “I didn’t mean it like that-“ which was a lie, he did mean it how she took it. TJ hated taking money off his mom since she worked so hard as a single mother to keep things afloat for her three kids. “-I just like to be independent, I’m trying to prove to you I’m responsible enough for a dog, remember?” He adds with a smirk. His mother smiles too although she doesn’t believe his excuse.

“I’m sure we will be able to whip something up from things we already have at home.” She smiles happily, “Are you going to do something on your own or something with your friends?”

TJ thinks for a moment, things were strained between him and Reed -not that Reed was much of a costume day guy himself- and sure he could ask one of his friends on the basketball team but what TJ really wanted to do was ask Cyrus.

“I might see if Cyrus has anything planned yet...” TJ says with a slight shrug, his mothers smile picks up.

“That will be nice.” She affirms.

“You got any costume ideas?” TJ leans forward and rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

She purses her lips and then a look of delight sparks across her face, “At the work office party I went to a few months back a couple went as salt and pepper shakers, it was adorable.”

TJ scrunches up his nose as he turns that idea over in his mind. It also made him nervous that his mother suggested a couples costume.

“Well I don’t know, honey.” She laughs at her sons reaction, “What’s something the two of you have in common?”

TJ rolls his head around in his palm as he thinks. They weren’t a lot alike in the way of interests which was funny since they got along so well. It was more moments that bonded them together. They had the swings but that didn’t seem like a plausible option considering he didn’t have money to put towards the costume. There was of course the somersault but how does one dress up as that? Then it clicks in TJ’s mind. Somersault that was it.

“Thanks mom!” TJ gets up excitedly from the counter.

“What?” She’s confused, “You’ve changed your mind about the salt and pepper costume?”

“Not exactly,” TJ quickly scoops up his books from the counter, “I’m going to go work on my half of the costume-“ TJ was already halfway down the hall but stops, “Is our strainer still blue?”

“Well I’ve not purchased a new one..” She furrows her brows.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll switch,” TJ swats the air, “Do we have a beach ball?”

“Check the twins room..” Her look of confusion remains as her son disappears down the hall completely.

Pre Salt:

After Cyrus parts ways with TJ the afternoon TJ shared his costume idea, he’s picked up by his mom. She’s barely done asking Cyrus how his day was before he interjects.

“Can we please stop by the mall on the way home? I want to get a shirt for costume day.”

“I thought you only needed a sheet for Mount Rushmore?” Leslie is lightly perplexed.

“I’m not doing that anymore.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“Andi changed her mind?” She questions.

“No.” Cyrus wears a look of guilt. “TJ asked me to match and I’m more excited about his idea..”

“Fair enough, but is Andi alright with you pulling out of the group costume?”

Again Cyrus is hit with a wave of guilt, “I’ll talk to her.”

“Alright.” Leslie smiles trusting her son will do the right thing, “What kind of a costume are we shopping for?”

“I just need a white shirt, I’m going to get the graphic tee designers to print an S on it.” Cyrus says enthusiastically. “I should have the rest at home already.”

“An S?” Leslie questions.

Cyrus laughs as he realises his mother has no idea what he’s talking about, “I’m going as a salt shaker, TJ’s going in beach wear. Together we are somersault.. It’s an inside joke.” Cyrus smiles to himself.

“Very clever.” Leslie doesn’t push for any further information, instead she smiles at her happy son for a moment before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the mall.

Thomas Jefferson:

Costume day was officially over and Cyrus begins to walk home, blue in the face —or more accurately grey in the face— and he reflects on how drastically things can change in a few hours. Barely even 24 hours before, Cyrus had been texting with TJ about his costume coming together but now he found himself questioning their friendship. There was no other way to describe how Cyrus was currently feeling other than completely and utterly devastated.

Cyrus is still exiting the school grounds when he hears someone calling his name. It’s his fellow president —also still grey in the face— Buffy.

“Hey, Buffy.” Cyrus says flatly once she catches up.

“You still bummed TJ changed his mind?” Buffy asks gently.

“Oh no, this mopey walk home is because it’s my turn to wash the dishes tonight.” Cyrus jokes weakly.

Buffy wears an empathetic smile, she might have had a blast reconnecting with Marty as half of Mount Rushmore but she couldn’t ignore that the other half —consisting of her two very best friends— were not enjoying the day as much.

“I can’t believe TJ bailed without telling you,” Buffy seems angered, “After it was his idea!”

Cyrus just gives a weak shrug of his shoulder, “Maybe this is my karma from bailing on Andi without telling her.”

“Cyrus,” Buffy frowns at her friend, “You at least knew there would be someone to fill in for you with Mount Rushmore.”

“I still should have said something to Andi myself.” Cyrus mumbles.

“True.” Buffy answers honestly but she stops Cyrus walking and holds his gaze, “But that doesn’t mean you deserve this.”

Cyrus only shrugs. “It just hurts coming from TJ of all people, you know?”

“I know.” Buffy nods softly. “You really like him, huh?”

Another weak shrug combined with a tiny nod from Cyrus. His voice is soft and he stands so small and unconfident as he says, “The worst part is I let a tiny piece of myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could like me too.”

Buffy coaxes her head with a heartbroken expression, “Cyrus-“

“I guess that’s why they call it a crush, because that’s exactly how they make you feel.. Crushed.” Cyrus exaggerates a sigh as he wanted to try and end the conversation or steer it differently at the very least. “So TJ likes Kira, time to accept that and move on.”

“You think TJ likes Kira?” Buffy questions. “Are you sure?”

“He was willing to bail on a costume with me for her after knowing her all of five minutes so sure, I think it’s possible.” Cyrus nods, “If not I’ll have to entertain the idea that TJ got a better offer for costume day and doesn’t value our friendship as much as I do so he was willing to change his mind just like that.. and I’ve been disappointed enough today, so...”

“Cyrus-“ Buffy begins but Cyrus cuts her off again.

“I don’t feel like talking about this, I’m going to go.” And with that he quickly hurries home.

Cyrus thought about going to the swings to make himself feel better but there was the issue of being painted grey and looking strange in the park but the real reason he doesn’t go is because he wanted to distance himself from TJ as much as possible.

Once home Cyrus quickly tries to retreat to his room to continue his wallowing in peace but he’s stopped by his mother.

“Cy, your face?” Leslie stokes his cheek with her thumb, “What happened to your salt costume?”

“Jonah pulled out of Mount Rushmore so I subbed back in.” Cyrus lies to spare having to open up about his disappointment.

“Oh no,” Leslie frowns, “Was TJ okay with you changing last minute?”

“Yep,” Cyrus forces his smile although it felt terribly sad resting on his face, “he was perfectly okay with it.”

Dribble:

TJ was no stranger to self-loathing but never had he hated himself more than he did come costume day. And it wasn’t just that he had ditched Cyrus without warning —because it was that— it was why he did it and he is so embarrassed of himself for being such a jerk, to Cyrus of all people.

TJ was sure he had spent the day looking like a criminal. Guilt written all over his face. To make it worse, Kira had glued herself to his side any chance she could. The only escape TJ really got was class as they didn’t have any together and then he’d keep his jacket zipped up like he was trying to hide the evidence.

Final bell couldn’t come quick enough. All TJ wanted to do was get home as soon as possible but before he gets the chance Kira stops him and asks for a photo before they go. TJ tries to brush her off as he didn’t want to document today in anyway, he wanted to try and forget any of this ever happened. It doesn’t help that TJ hears Buffy call after Cyrus whom TJ had noticed changed costumes soon after TJ’s betrayal was revealed. Kira calls back for TJ’s attention and he makes an excuse to leave.

“I really have to get going. I’m supposed to pick up my brother and sister from preschool.” TJ shifts awkwardly on his feet.

“Kippen you are such a buzz kill.” Kira sighs, “Were still on for tomorrow right?”

TJ mumbles some form of agreement before Kira finally leaves.

TJ is halted again before being able to leave himself, this time by Buffy whom seems to be approaching with a rage bubbling and considering TJ knew she’s just come from Cyrus, he can only imagine the verbal beating he was about to receive. To try and lessen the blow TJ starts walking so they’d at least not cause a scene right in front of school.

“Is Cyrus mad at me?” TJ asks with a loud exhale once their strides were in sync.

“No, Cyrus isn’t mad at you- I’m mad at you.” Buffy says in a frustrated heap. “How could you do this to Cyrus. Why did you do this to Cyrus?”

“It was a last minute decision. I didn’t mean to ditch him.” TJ lies, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

“Yet amazingly,” Buffy throws a lot of sarcasm into her statement, “You managed to be one.”

“Yeah, I get it.” TJ huffs. He really didn’t need this right now —although he knew he deserved it— he didn’t want to feel like Buffy hated him again.

“And for Kira?” Buffy scoffs, “Do you even know her?”

TJ remains unresponsive.

“That just makes it worse.” Buffy grumbles. “I’m not beyond believing people are redeemable but Kira isn’t a nice girl. So the fact that you’d ditch Cyrus for a costume with her is infuriating.”

“Buffy, I get it.” TJ huffs again.

“I’m not sure you do.” Buffy folds her arms. “Did you see how upset Cyrus was today?”

“Yeah, I’m a jerk.” TJ shrugs.

“Do you know he blew off Andi to match costumes with you?” Buffy questions.

“He did?” TJ frowns.

“Yeah. He did.”

“Well I didn’t know.” TJ sighs. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble or upset Cyrus- You don’t understand. I just had to go with Kira.” TJ is trying to get the conversation over and done with.

“You’re right, I don’t understand.” Buffy states. “You had to?”

“I wanted to, same difference.” TJ scrambles.

“I’m not sure it is.” Buffy shakes her head.

“I really didn’t want to upset Cyrus,” TJ is genuine but his expression is defeated, “It’s just- complicated.”

Buffy softens. “I hope you know you can talk to me.. About Kira.. Cyrus.. Anything...”

TJ studies Buffy’s gentle and understanding expression and he had no doubt she knew exactly what was troubling him —well maybe not exactly but enough of the details to know he liked Cyrus— TJ suspected she’s known for at least a little while, he’s caught her trying to hide a small smile or side glance at the two of them when they all hang out which was enough to make TJ nervous about being obvious but he at least trusted Buffy was the kind of genuine person not to say anything, that’s why Kira’s forwardness scared TJ enough for him to hurt Cyrus in an attempt to protect himself.

“I don’t have anything to talk about.” TJ lies, “I didn’t want to wear a dumb costume so I changed my mind.” Being jerky was his easiest defensive mechanism, he hoped it would work enough to make Buffy angry and leave him alone.

Buffy knew TJ was deflecting to protect himself so even though his words angered her she remains calm, “When you finally decide to apologise to Cyrus for being a jerk, try and not call the costume dumb to his face, you’ve hurt him enough.” And with that Buffy turns on her heels and leaves.

TJ retreats home and ignores his mothers chirpy greeting. He’s also short with the twins and grumpily heads to his room. He very dramatically removes his dribble shirt and throws it towards his waste bin with a grumble.

TJ flops down on his bed with a sigh and pulls out his phone. He clicks on Insta and finds Buffy’s happy snaps with whom TJ now knows is Marty from the party. The last photo in her thread was a forced cuddly picture with Cyrus. It was cute even though Cyrus looked uncomfortable sandwiched between Buffy and Marty. Then TJ tries to convince himself that it wasn’t so bad he bailed because Cyrus had Mount Rushmore to fall back on but he knew that was a weak attempt at trying to make himself feel better. Not surprisingly it didn’t work.

TJ flips over to his texts and finds Cyrus’ thread close to the top. The last message he received from him was two emojis; a beach umbrella and a salt shaker. A text in which TJ ignored this morning after a whole lot of back and forth with how he was going to tell Cyrus he was bailing. TJ had committed to Kira’s costume idea out of fear but what he feared more was disappointing Cyrus so in an even more cowardly move he decided not to text him at all that morning. Much like he did that night —even though he spent hours wondering if he should text a simple ‘sorry’— eventually, he passes out for the evening.

Summer:

The following morning, TJ knocks on the front door of Cyrus’ home. Leslie answers with a smile.

“TJ, I didn’t know you were coming over today.” She welcomes him inside.

“I’m just stopping by, is Cyrus home?”

“He’s awake, he’s in his room. You can go back if you like.” Leslie says.

“Thank you.” TJ smiles but was growing more anxious knowing what follows.

“Oh and I’m sorry to hear about costume day.” Leslie says before TJ parts, “I hope Cyrus changing last minute didn’t spoil your plans.”

TJ furrows his brows for a second but ultimately casually brushes past her remark and makes his way to Cyrus’ room.

TJ gently knocks on Cyrus’ bedroom door and realised he was holding his breath.

“I told you I’m not hungry, mom.” Cyrus’ voice is muffled behind the closed door.

“Uh, it’s TJ. Can I come in?” TJ calls back.

“TJ?” Cyrus opens his door with a confused expression an expression that is even more perplexed when he sees what TJ’s wearing.

“Hey.” TJ says with a guilty look upon his face.

“You’re about a day late, summer.” Cyrus has a weak glare pointed at TJ’s summer themed ensemble.

“I know.” TJ frowns, “But since I didn’t know what an apology costume looked like I thought I’d come in this..”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Cyrus shrugs casually and sits back on his bed.

“Yes I do.” TJ frowns. “It was a jerk move and I clearly upset you yesterday-“

“You’re mistaken,” Cyrus forces laugh, “My down nature yesterday was because I got stuck doing Mount Rushmore. I love Andi but I wasn’t too invested in the idea.. so I mean sure I was bummed our costume plans fell through but no big deal.”

“Really?” TJ asks unconvinced.

“Yes. Chill.” Cyrus laughs. “Sure a text would have been nice but why end a friendship over it?”

TJ was so relieved by Cyrus’ response he let himself believe it. “So were good?” TJ asks for final confirmation.

“We’re perfect.” Cyrus forces his smile.

“Good.” TJ let’s out a breath of relief. “So you told your mom you were the one that changed your mind about costume day?”

“It was easier that way.” Cyrus says nonchalantly, “the therapist in her would have made it into a bid deal like we needed to spend forever talking about it.”

TJ nods mindlessly and an awkward moment passes between the two.

“So..” TJ —still standing in the doorway— swings on his feet, “What are you doing today?”

“Pretty much this.” Cyrus motions referring to him sitting in bed. “Comfort sweater and everything.”

“Your bash mitzvah sweater?” TJ raises a brow.

“Yeah I guess it is kind of dorky.” Cyrus frowns down at his blue hoodie that has his own face on it. “I guess you probably threw yours out. Anyway, forget it.” Cyrus shakes his head after accidentally letting his insecurities slip through. “You want to hang here too?”

“I can’t, I actually have- Work.” TJ frowns.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” Cyrus questions. “There’s a few good movies out I want to see.”

“Maybe we could just hang out at your dads? Play some ping pong, go in the pool maybe..” TJ suggests.

“Sure.” Cyrus bops his head. “See you tomorrow.”

Cyrus:

Shortly after TJ leaves, Cyrus drags himself out of bed. He didn’t feel like lying around anymore and not because their talk made him feel better. The talk made him feel worse actually so he wanted to do something to distract himself. Unfortunately his attempts are futile as all Cyrus can think of as he walks to the park is his how cowardly he felt for lying about his true feelings towards the costume day situation. The only reason he had done so was so TJ didn’t get weirded out by him being overemotional or catch onto his hidden feelings. Cyrus just wanted to protect himself from seeming too invested in the friendship.

Cyrus was planning on meeting Andi at The Spoon for a round of apology baby taters and he decides to take a detour through the park on the way.

It’s in the park where Cyrus quite literally bumps into Kira.

“Cyrus.” Kira says with a growing smile as she steadies herself.

“Kira..” Cyrus says awkwardly and he gives her a quick wave with the intention of brushing past her.

“Sorry about costume day.” Kira grimaces.

“Plans change last minute, no big deal.” Cyrus forces a casual shrug.

“I know but just because he was embarrassed doesn't mean he still shouldn't have called you about the change in plans.” Kira says.

“Embarrassed.. About ditching me?” Cyrus asks almost hopeful that was all TJ was worried about.

“Sure,” Kira stifles a smile, “That’s what he was embarrassed about.”

Kira’s delivery was enough to hurt Cyrus all over again and confirm his dreaded thoughts that TJ was embarrassed by him.

“Anyway,” Kira swats the air, “Personal jokes are fun and all for anyone involved but our costume was good for everyone. The guys on TJ’s team got a kick out of it- which is good considering they’re going to be my teammates soon.”

Cyrus must have looked somewhat perplexed since Kira continued with an explanation. Although Cyrus didn’t actually care for one since he was on a thought spiral about how hurt he was by TJ.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Kira coaxes his head, “Since Buffy won’t let me be on the girls team I’m going out for the boys team.” She grins from ear to ear. “TJ’s going to help me prepare for tryouts, actually, he should be here soon.” Kira says glancing at her watch.

“Oh.” Cyrus says quietly. “Well I’ve got to get going but good luck with everything.”

Cyrus was quickly trying to make an escape but as he sets on his way he meets the guilty looking expression of TJ. Instead of saying anything, Cyrus tries to continue past him in silence but TJ grabs at Cyrus’ arm to stop him.

“I didn’t know you got a new job as a coach.” Cyrus scoffs.

“I would have told you.” TJ says unconvincingly.

“How come you lied?” Cyrus questions, “Why say you have to work when that’s not true?”

“I thought it might be weird because of the whole Kira thing.” TJ looks past Cyrus and towards Kira who was still where Cyrus left her, looking at the two of them intently. TJ drops his grip from Cyrus’ arm. “I didn’t want it to look like I was ditching you again for her.”

“I’m not like obsessed with you.” Cyrus scoffs but it turns into more of a nervous laugh. “You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all..” TJ furrows his brows. “I just- I don’t know.” TJ shifts awkwardly on his feet before he looks back at Kira again.

“You better get going.” Cyrus says in a defeated way.

“Are we good?” TJ asks, already fearful of the answer. “We’re still on for tomorrow right?”

“You mean hanging out at my dads house where you don’t have to be embarrassed by me in public?” Cyrus asks after the emotions he was trying to squash got the better of him.

“What?” TJ’s voice is quiet but full of guilt.

“It’s all good, TJ, you don’t have to do me any favours pretending to be my friend anymore.”

“How could you possibly think I’m pretending to be your friend?” TJ is hurt by the suggestion.

“I know I can be over the top and persistent but you didn’t have to be my friend, you didn’t have to go along with it.” Cyrus frowns. “I was nice to you when you were awful to my best friend because I thought I saw something she didn’t. Something you didn’t even see.”

TJ didn’t know how to defend himself against what Cyrus was saying so he tries to make it about something else, “You’re clearly not over the costume day thing and that’s exactly why I was afraid to tell you why I really couldn’t hang out with you today. ”

“Of course I’m not over the costume day thing, I lied to try and spare all this..” Cyrus huffs. “But you’re changing the subject. You know what it doesn’t matter.” Cyrus lets out a defeated sigh.

“It does matter,” TJ says quietly, “I’m sorry about costume day and I’m sorry for lying today too.” TJ sounds sincere but his gaze continued to flick back to Kira every so often as she was still intently watching them just out of earshot. “You are my friend, Cyrus, you have to know that.”

Cyrus follows TJ’s gaze for a moment and his own sad expression lands on Kira for a second before pointing all his attention to TJ once more. “Okay I do know that.”

“Yeah?” TJ looks almost relieved but he still didn’t feel confident in how things were turning out.

“I tried to play the whole double dribble thing off like I was cool with it because I didn’t want you to think I was being weird or obsessive but I do value this friendship. A lot. And I know I’m that weird and half the people at school make fun of me because I’m different and that’s just whatever,” Cyrus shrugs lightly, “So you can be embarrassed by me, —god knows Andi and Buffy are half the time— but I cant be friends with someone that makes me feel like I should embarrassed about myself.”

“Cyrus-” TJ could barely even get his name out.

Cyrus interjects, “I’ve made it weird now. Weirder than it has to be. Just forget about it. No hard feelings, okay?”

TJ:

After Cyrus made a quick escape, TJ is left standing there at a loss for words. Once the whole encounter was over, Kira approaches the basketball captain.

“That seemed dramatic.” Kira chuckles softly. TJ tries to ignore her and walk away but she stops him. “Kippen, you're supposed to help me prepare for my tryouts?”

“You were the star player at your old school, you don’t need my help.” TJ rolls his eyes and starts to walk away.

Kira coaxes her head with a challenging look, “I guess Cyrus would agree with me that you’re not someone who follows through with their commitments.”

TJ stops in his tracks and spins back towards Kira with an angry look upon his face, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” Kira shrugs innocently before folding her arms.

“You know exactly what.” TJ grumbles, “Cyrus thinks I’m embarrassed of him because of you and he’s probably never going to speak to me again because of it.”

“I didn’t make you switch costumes, TJ.” Kira says without a care. “If Cyrus thinks you’re embarrassed of him it’s not because of me.”

“You're acting innocent, you know what you were implying when you bullied me into doing the costume with you.” TJ is hurt and his voice is shaky but he tries to hold it together.

“Bullied? That's rich coming from you.” Kira laughs almost hysterically. “I might be new around here but you’ve got quite the reputation.”

“That’s in the past.” TJ lowers his gaze.

“I know. You’re a real...softie...now.” Kira smirks.

“You're doing it again.” TJ's expression deflates.

“I’m not doing anything.” Kira insists, her innocent act unwavering.

“I have had my fair share of awful moments but using my feelings or anyones against them like this is- I literally don’t have words.” TJ lets out a frustrated huff.

“I haven’t said a single thing about your ‘feelings',” Kira uses her air quotes around the word, “You jumped to your own conclusion about what I meant, so this is on you, TJ, not me.”

TJ lets out another frustrated groan and he knows he has to remove himself from the conversation before she sends him into an anger spiral he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of.

“Whatever,” Kira rolls her eyes, “Have the weekend to mope over your little fight with Cyrus but I still want your help on Monday before my tryouts.”

After Kira walks away, TJ is wondering how Kira was still somehow manipulating him into spending time together. There was an anger bubbling inside of the basketballer and he storms home with no real idea on how to calm down. This whole situation sucked. He had Cyrus feeling bad about himself —which was crazy, TJ wouldn’t change a single thing about him— but was it easier to let Cyrus feel bad about himself because the alternative would be telling Cyrus the truth, thus causing TJ to reveal his hidden feelings. The Cyrus of it all was devastating and TJ had no idea what to do so he instead solely focuses on his anger towards Kira and how she was still playing coy about her emotional manipulation even after TJ called her out on it. But perhaps what angered TJ the most was even though he knew exactly what Kira was doing, he still didn’t have the courage to go against her out of fear of what others would think if they knew.

Once TJ arrives home he storms into his apartment ignoring his mother on the way through. Fed up with her sons grumpy attitude for the last two days, Tess uses TJ’s full name in a stern tone and demands him to stop but when her previously angered son turns around with a broken expression she immediately drops her hardened stance and throws unconditional love and understanding his way.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Tess asks full of concern.

“I don't want to talk about it.” TJ continues on to his room but Tess follows anyway.

“Something has been bothering you since you came home from school on Thursday.” Tess states, “I'm guessing it has something to do with costume day and why you changed your mind last minute.”

“I wish I never even tried for costume day in the first place. I hate that kind of stuff.” TJ hugs at a pillow on his bed whilst trying his best to avoid his mothers kind and understanding expression out of fear he’d crumble and tell her everything that has been bothering him lately.

Tess gently coaxes her head and corrects, “You used to hate those sorts of things.”

She was right. They both knew it. TJ looks up and he does meet his mothers loving stare and just as he feared, he crumbles and opens up about everything. Costume day, Kira and the Cyrus of it all.

TJ has always been a boy of few words, not exactly distant but he was definitely reserved when it came to his mother. Tess knew TJ struggled with his father leaving them a few years back and that made his behaviour spiral and she also was aware of how hard TJ could be on himself about his learning disability. Although TJ has come leaps and bounds in the past year in ways of his happiness and self acceptance, Tess still feared these things weighed on him. What Tess didn’t know was that there was a whole lot more to her sons distance than she originally believed.

So when her son of few words gave her an emotional ramble that just kept on coming she almost didn’t know how or when to respond to it all. Tess summarises the main points in her mind. 1) My son is gay 2) My son has feelings for his good friend Cyrus, and 3) My son feels pressured to come out or be outed. Although surprising, naturally, only one of those things upset her and deeply.

After TJ’s outburst fades into something less coherent Tess grabs her sons hand and forces his watery eyed gaze. Just as every parent should, Tess assures her son he’s loved and accepted unconditionally before trying to help him cope with the Cyrus and Kira situation.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of but no one should make you feel pressured to be who you are before you’re ready.” Tess says, “It’s your choice to share when you want.”

“I don’t want to now.” TJ shakes his head.

“Then that’s perfectly fine.” Tess nods. “Why don’t you talk to Cyrus about it?”

“I can’t do that!” TJ say frantically.

“I’m not suggesting you tell him everything, you’re not ready for that and you might never be and it’s okay-” Tess assures, “But Cyrus seems to be an understanding friend.”

“I don’t want to tell him about the crush and I don’t want to tell him about me either.” TJ shakes his head.

“Okay.” Tess nods, the last thing she wanted to do was force her son into anything. “How about just talking to him about the Kira situation then, remove feelings and just tell her how she was implying something?”

“So Cyrus can think I’m an unaccepting jerk?” TJ scoffs. “No thanks.”

“I don’t know, honey.” Tess wear a weak smile as she’s out of options, “You’re not ready to talk to Cyrus about it yet. That’s fine, you don’t have to, but you’ve got to give him something, hon because I know you’re not ready to lose him.”

“That’s the problem, mom,” TJ looks at her with sad eyes, “I don’t want to lose him but I don’t know how to apologise without opening up to him about it.”

“I think you can talk to him - not about the feelings - about Kira.” Tess says and before TJ can reject her again, she continues, “He knows the real you, Teej. He’ll know you’re not ‘an unaccepting jerk.”

“I don’t know.” TJ mumbles. “What if I say something and it makes him question my feelings. What if I stand up to Kira and she spreads something around the school?”

“Even if what she’s saying is true it’s just gossip coming from anyone but you.” Tess puts it simply, “The truest thing about this whole situation is that you and Cyrus are friends. If neither of you care about what people are saying then everything other than your friendship is just gossip.”

TJ really takes what his mother said on board. Maybe she was right, maybe he could explain to Cyrus that Kira was trying to make nothing into something and he handled it poorly. Who cares if people did talk about their friendship in a speculating way, if TJ could manage to salvage a friendship with Cyrus after the damage he has caused the last two day then that was all that really matter. TJ figures his mom was right, just because Kira’s silent accusations were true doesn’t mean they are true to anyone else, what was true was his friendship with Cyrus and that was more than enough to find some courage and fight for it.

TJ tries texting and calling Cyrus over the remainder of the weekend but all go unanswered. TJ considered going around to Cyrus’ house to try force him to listen to his apology but he didn’t like the idea of cornering the boy. Instead TJ devises a plan to get through to him at school. A way of making Cyrus understand that he had it wrong, TJ didn’t want to hide their friendship at all.

Cyrus:

Monday morning rolls around and Cyrus was dreading facing his problems. He had ignored all of TJ’s attempts to reach out. The last thing Cyrus wanted was to suffer through a forced apology from TJ. One he felt obligated to give because Cyrus had gone all overemotional on him.

After filling in Andi and Buffy about all that had transpired between them he asks his bodyguards if they’ll take an extra shift for the day. The two girls agree to shield Cyrus from the drama.

Cyrus makes it through his morning without a hitch but come lunch he couldn’t help but feel like people were staring at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” Cyrus asks Jonah in a panic as they walk towards the cafeteria.

“No- Not on either of your faces.” Jonah says but he’s not looking at Cyrus.

“What do you me-” Cyrus follows his friends line of sight and his gaze falls upon a very blue sweatshirt that sports a big picture of his own face hanging off TJ’s body. “Holy Bash Mitzvah sweater.” Cyrus says with wide eyes as he springs towards TJ. “Why are you wearing that?” He looks around at a few of their peers quietly chuckling.

“You assumed I threw mine out. I didn’t.” TJ jokes lightly trying to break through the tension. “You wouldn't answer my calls and since I couldn’t tell you I’m not embarrassed by our friendship I had to find a way to show you.”

“Well you’re embarrassing me now.” Cyrus says in a hushed tone, “Take it off, TJ!”

“Are you going to listen to my apology?” TJ asks.

“You can’t blackmail me into hearing you out.” Cyrus frowns.

“I’m desperate.” TJ shrugs.

“Fine.” Cyrus whispers, “but please take it off?”

“Fine.” TJ agrees and removes the blue hoodie on their way out of the cafeteria.

They stop in the relatively empty hall but before either of them could say something Kira interrupts.

“TJ, I’ve been waiting in the gym for fifteen minutes.” Kira huffs.

“I’d hate to interrupt your plans again,” Cyrus almost rolls his eyes but he doesn't, “I’ll leave you two be.”

“I should have known you’d be with Cyrus.” Kira scoffs. “I heard people talking about some dorky sweater you were wearing today but I thought it was a joke.”

Cyrus’ cheeks burn red with embarrassment.

“Kira, had you of gone about things differently I might have been happy to try help you get on the team, girls or boys but I’m not going to let you bully me into it.” TJ says firmly and his statement completely perplexes Cyrus.

Kira knows she’s lost her hold over TJ so she surrenders, “Whatever. I’ll get myself on the team.” Kira looks somewhat embarrassed although she tries to keep her composure in front of Cyrus but TJ could see her act was unraveling. “I hope you two are happy together.” With that she walks away.

“What just happened?” Cyrus is confused.

“I don't want you thinking that I’m embarrassed by you and even more importantly I don’t want you to think you should be embarrassed about yourself.” TJ says quickly like he needed to get it out before being interrupted, but when he’s met with Cyrus’ still lightly perplexed stare he slows down and continues, “I have not met anyone like you ever and I mean that in the best way possible. You are persistent and weird but I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I really need you to know that.”

“I do know that.” Cyrus says quietly. “That’s why I was so upset when I doubted it. You have only every encouraged me even when I’m being my most Cyrus-y self.”

TJ lets out a sigh of relief.

“So if you’re not embarrassed by me I still don’t understand how Kira fits into this. She said you switched costume ideas because you were embarrassed..”

“She did?” TJ furrows his brows. “Of course she did.”

“Now she’s bullying you into helping or hanging out with her?” Cyrus is still confused and almost unconvinced, “TJ, what is going on?”

“I didn’t want to do costume day with Kira at all, I really wanted to go as summer-salt with you.” TJ says.

“Then how come you didn’t?” Cyrus questions.

“Kira made me feel like I had no other choice.” TJ is still struggling to find the courage to explain things, even if he had talked himself into it over the weekend.

“I don’t understand.”

“She was making it out like people would talk about us if we did a matching costume together.” TJ says and Cyrus seemed like he still wasn’t following. TJ groans internally, this was a lot easier in his head after his pep talk.

“How’s it any different than doing a matching costume with-” Finally it clicks in Cyrus’ brain and Kira’s ‘I hope you’re happy together’ comment makes sense too. “So what?” Cyrus is upset and is defensive, “It’s not like we dressed up as Romeo and Juliet- and who cares if we did-”

This definitely went better in TJ’s head, he was supposed to be all ‘sorry, if people talked you might have been uncomfortable and I didn’t want you to be weird about our friendship because I value it’ but it was coming off more jerkier than that. Feeling cornered once more TJ decides to be a little more truthful with his friend out of fear of completely losing him because Tess was right, TJ wasn’t ready for that, he never would be.

“I cared.” TJ admits quietly, “I didn’t want people to talk because I wasn’t ready for them to.” It takes everything in him to control the shakes in his voice.

It takes a second for Cyrus to make sense of that and when it registers in his brain his expression flashes to wide eyed surprise.

“I forgive you.” Cyrus blurts out. “You didn’t want people to talk, I understand, you’re not a jerk. We're good and I actually mean it this time.”

TJ’s heart was racing at this point, he had more than subtly implied he was gay to the boy he has a crush on. “Do you even understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes I do. And I don’t want you to say it- or I do- I really do-” Cyrus speaks quickly and a little frantically so he tries to compose himself, “I just want you to tell me because you’re ready and that’s what you want, not because you feel cornered or pressured into it by Kira or anyone for that matter.”

“And you’re okay with that?” TJ asks surprised. “Just walking away from this conversation and pretending like nothing happened?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Cyrus nods. “This is your choice, who you tell and when.”

A smile creeps on TJ’s face, he already knew he was accepted by Cyrus without actually having to tell him anything but Cyrus was still giving TJ his choice back and that meant the world do him.

“Okay.” TJ’s smile remains as he nods, “But before we start pretending like we’re not talking about it, how will I know when I’m ready to say anything to you or anyone?”

“Okay, for example... Let’s say it’s us,” Cyrus begins, “We’re sitting in my dads basement like we always do and we’re playing ‘who am I’ and I guess something so ridiculous that you laugh so hard you squirt chocolate milk out your nose and naturally you’re really embarrassed and mumbling how you’re a stupid cow and apologising because I was in the splash zone but I say-”

“I like cows.” TJ jumps in with a look of light awe on his face and Cyrus smiles. This story was awfully familiar although in real life the roles were reversed, Cyrus being the milk offender.

“You’ll be thankful I said something so accepting, one of those moments where you feel truly accepted and you’ll think ‘there’s no better time than now’.” Cyrus continues, “And even though the moment was perfect you still might chicken out and that’s okay too, other moments will come up that feel right too.”

TJ was in shock about what Cyrus was now implying. “Cyrus are you-”

“Hey, I’m giving you your moment.” Cyrus coaxes his head. “Let me keep mine too.”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to hang out after school.” TJ chuckles lightly. “I hear there are lots of good movies out.”

Cyrus laughs softly too. “It’s a date-” As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widen, “That's just a saying, you know what I mean... buddy.” Cyrus playfully punches TJ’s shoulder.

“Sure.” TJ laughs nervously. “I know exactly what you mean...”

They might have an agreement to leave it unspoken for now - whether their moments arise tomorrow, the next day or months from now - but it might be a little harder than they thought to pretend things haven't changed between them. Fortunately, not all change is bad, not even slightly.

END NOTES: HEY FRIENDS! It’s been months since I’ve written something! As most of you know that’s because I’ve been travelling! But boy have I missed this. I actually started this one shot right after the episode aired but I never got time to finish it until now! At least the hiatus played in my favour and that this is still relevant lol.

Anyway! Sorry if it seems like I was super villainizing Kira in this one shot, what she did was nasty but I’m sure the show as a redemption arc coming up for her too and I’m totally open to it. Just wanted a little disclaimer that I’m emphasising her manipulation for the purpose of this narrative and not because of any hate I harbour for the character.

Sorry if you don’t like the ending of this one shot. I went back and forth about how to end it for a while, I didnt like that TJ felt like he had to come out to apologise so I wanted to give that back to him. I hope it works for you guys too x

#tyrus #andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #kira (andi mack)

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