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stayndays · 4 years ago

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𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

my gift to @wingkkun for @kafenetwork‘s holiday treats event!

genres & tropes - fluff, minor angst, comedy, misunderstanding(!!!), magical boarding school au (hogwarts but not really), dorm neighbors au, best friends to lovers au, shy!chan, extroverted!reader, gender neutral reader, chan’s pov

disclaimer - the entire fic is based around the fact that the reader was kinda accidentally drugged with a potion, two swear words, chan likes an unnamed female character (but hey in this case he likes everybody!!)

word count - 5.1k (uhm?? what the fuck?? this is coming from the blurb writer guys what the hell happened)

summary - bang chan does not have a crush on you. actually, he has a crush on his partner in potions class, and decides to do something about it… until it goes all wrong, and the liquid of a love potion is running down your throat. now, chan has to deal with your lovesick antics for a week while trying not to become infatuated with you himself. spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it looks.

a/n - it is i, penguin anon, the dude who made that survey for stayblr writers, a friend of your own friends, yes hi lol KJFSKDF honestly, this could be a very confusing fic to some people, as some things don’t line up, i will admit that! that’s mainly because i frantically put this together in the last two weeks while preparing for midterm exams, so not all the ideas i had in mind lined up correctly. regardless, i hope you enjoy this, especially you kai ^^

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨, 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

Bang Chan does not have a crush on you.

You’re his best friend, his next door dorm neighbor at the boarding school he goes to. He comes to you for one subject, while you come to him for another. You’re the person he sits next to at lunch, and the counterpart to his timid personality. You are anything but his crush.

He does, however, have a crush on the cute girl he’s partners with in potions class, aka, not you.

“So,” you start off, tapping your feet repetitively on the wooden floor of Chan’s dormitory, the chair you’re sitting on face away from the desk it accompanies. “Let me get this straight.”

Chan nods for you to continue, playing with the blanket threads on his bed to anxiously wait for your response.

“You’re going to make a love potion for your crush to drink?” you confirm with him, to which he nods, lips pressed together tightly. Chan can easily tell how flabbergasted you are at his simple, yet elaborate idea, wheels turning in your head. “But this could go wrong in so many ways! How are you going to get her to drink it anyways? How are you even going to get the ingredients to make the potion?”

Chan scratches the back of his ear, which is slowly growing red by the second. A nervous grin slowly growing on his face before he answers you. “You see... that’s where you come in.”

He notices the deadpan on his best friend’s face and winces.

“...You want me to steal the ingredients, don’t you?”

Chan nods timidly.

It’s not Chan’s fault really, Chan believes, as you’re known for being a master at being sneaky. Not only can his own clumsy hands barely lift up a pencil before dropping it onto the ground, he has to be a role model to the younger students! It’s only right for you to do the job instead.

“Fine!” you throw your hands up into the air in exaggeration. “What do I get in return, though?”

“Hmm...” Chan ponders on your question, tapping his chin in thought. “Banana milk for a week?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Bang Chan has made a huge mistake. It’s the kind of mistake that’ll affect his entire school year, undoubtedly. The kind of mistake that he’ll scream out at 2 am into his pillow, not only because it’s highly embarrassing, but also because it could ruin everything.

It all starts with a carton of banana milk.

The plan, originally, was quite simple. Chan had seen his crush fold open a carton of banana milk in class and gulp it down right in front of his eyes. Well, while he pretended to be busy looking up something in his textbook, at least. By gifting her banana milk, that was actually drained out and replaced with the love potion he brewed, not only would he seem like a nice person to her, she would be infatuated with love for him.

Two birds hit with one stone. Simple as that.

Until you came in, strolling down the hallway Chan was leaning his back on, eyeing the pastel yellow carton in his hands. He knows that his first period is potions class, he knows that you greet him every morning with that same smile on your face while he waits outside for the classroom doors to open. However, he should’ve known that openly holding a container of banana milk in his hands for everybody passing through the hallway to see was not a good idea.

And that’s how Chan ended up where he is right now.

“Hey, Chan!” You approach him with a grin, hair thrown back messily. “First of many banana milks you got for me there?”

Chan’s breath gets caught in your throat while you look up at him expectedly. His eyes continue to shift over from the paperboard box in his right hand to your bold eyes.

“Um- Er- I-” His fingers curl tighter around the drink, but his voice just so happens to fail him out of all the times in the world.

And then his head fails him, and he nods out of pressure.

He watches your eyes light up, and your hands lightly touching his own as you snatch the drink from his possession.

You rip open the opening to the carton. Pressing your lips against the entrance, you pour the drink into your mouth and down your throat, all in one go, right in front of Chan. His mouth is slightly agape at your bold actions, his head screaming at him to tell you what you just did in hopes that you’ll snap out of it before it’s too late, yet he stays silent.

“Hmm, the liquid is more like water than milk, but at least it still tastes like banana!” You gently crush the carton before patting Chan on the shoulder. His eyes widen when you pause, and then laugh in a dazed manner. It’s almost as if he can see the hearts forming in your eyes.

“Thank you, Channie. See you at lunch!” You wave him off in a flirtatious manner, something he’s never seen you do to anybody in all the years he’s known you, and his heart pounds faster with worry.

Soon enough, he falls out of his stunned trance and presses his back against the wall shamefully, slowly sliding down it. He’s too anxious to care about the weird stares he’s getting from other students going down the hallway, curling himself up into a ball.

“WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat-”

“Chan?”

Chan’s head shoots up from his position on the ground, only to lock eyes with his crush’s worried eyes. He gasps quietly before rocketing up from the floor, brushing himself off, startling his crush. “Y-Yes?”

“Why were you slumped down on the floor like that?” He watches her scanning his face while he bunches up the sweater he’s wearing with his hands. “Your face is really red too… should I take you to the nurse’s office?”

“Oh! Uhm, no, it’s okay. I feel fine. Class is starting in a minute, regardless,” Chan reassures her, and fortunately to him, she doesn’t question it any further and changes the subject of their conversation.

Yet, his back of his mind sends him flying back to what happened previously. The flashbacks of you drinking that love potion right in front of his eyes sends a pit down his stomach, churning it to make him feel sick and lightheaded. He ponders about how much he screwed up this time, thanks to his stupid brain and timid decisions.

That love potion you drank was not meant for you.

You are not his crush.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Bang Chan is a fool, a dunce, the embodiment of stupidity.

At least, according to his two closest friends besides you: Lee Minho and Seo Changbin.

“You’re such an idiot, Chan!” Minho cackles as he bangs his fist repeatedly on the wooden table of the school’s dining hall, accidentally sending his hot chocolate flying all over the place as he flinches.

“I have to agree with Minho on this one,” Changbin, who’s passive behavior is the opposite of Minho’s wild personality, tells the oldest boy. “You really messed up on this one.” He continues to flip through the pages of his textbook after cleaning up Minho’s mess with his wand.

Chan groans, letting himself fall onto the table pathetically, head first. He covers his eyes with his hands and shouts in agony, making Minho laugh even harder. Eventually, once the rowdy student calms down, he shakes Chan’s shoulder to get him to sit back up again. “No, but seriously, what are you gonna do now? They’ll be completely obsessed with you for the next couple of days.”

“A week, actually,” Changbin corrects, flipping to a specific page of his potions textbook and displaying it to the two. “A love potion's lasting effects depend on the amount you give the drinker.”

“And a milk carton holds like, a liter of liquid? So if you multiply those numbers, it’ll for sure last an entire week, which started yesterday,” Minho points out with his finger, directing Chan’s eyes to the info on the page.

Chan lets out a deep exhale, scratching his scalp as he processed the information. “So, do any of you have advice for what I’m supposed to do?”

“Don’t look at me-”

“I know, Changbin, you’re too focused on your studies to find a partner. I’m mainly asking Minho, our designated player in our year.”

“Well,” Minho cracks his knuckles before answering. “I’ve never accidentally drugged somebody with a love potion before, so unfortunately you’re all on your own. Fortunately, however, Y/N’s coming right your way!” Minho points cheekily to behind Chan, making him whip his head around.

And there you are, walking right towards them.

“Channie!” you stroll on over to the trio of boys with a pep in your step and a grin on your face. “Let’s go to Insanis!”

Chan’s ears perk up at the name of his favorite cafe near campus, always serving the best scones and cinnamon rolls he’s ever had, and the fact that you know his love for the place. However, he comes back to the realization that you’re under the effects of a love potion, so he shakes off the blush that’s threatening to appear on his cheeks.

Slowly starting to feel under pressure at the fact that you’re waiting for his response, he nods his head repeatedly with a shrug, packing up his belongings spread out on the slightly dirty, wooden surface. Your face lights up at his agreement, and you eagerly wait for him to stand up. Chan waves off his two friends, ignoring Minho’s snarky smile and Changbin’s desire to laugh right then and there, and exits the dining hall with you holding his hand.

You’re going to be hard to deal with these next few days, he thinks.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan thinks you’re going crazy.

You’re acting like a drunk person whenever you see him, completely helpless of your own mind. Then again, you’re the one who drank the love potion a couple days ago.

He just didn’t realize how strong of a potion it was.

“Channie!!” you holler out to him from behind, crunching snow beneath your feet as you try and keep up with his pace. “Let’s go into the snow! Come on!”

He turns around to your grinning face, eyes drifting over to the bobble on the beanie you’re wearing that’s covered in snow. You point excitedly to the thick snow next to the outdoor path you two were walking along. “But we have astronomy class in half an hour, and I have to meet up with my potions classmate during that time, remember?” Chan objects, giving you an uncertain look.

You whine dramatically with a pout, stomping to him and grabbing his wooly coat, yanking him with you. “It’ll just be for five minutes!” Leading him off the pathway, the two of you entered the snow covered grass field. Chan shakes his head at your childish, yet heartfelt actions, watching you turn back and fall onto the snow back first without hesitation.

“You know I’ll get sick if I-”

“You’re underestimating my healing skills, Bang. Now get in the snow and freeze your ass off with me,” you point to the snow below you, slowly feelings your fingers become numb despite the knitted gloves you’re wearing.

Chan breathes out a laugh at your desperate attempt to get him to join you, shaking his head as he finally accepts your offer. Unlike you, he slowly sits on the ground at first and then lies down on his back hesitantly. The cold feeling of the ice on his back makes him shiver, and you giggle at his reaction while making a snow angel.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, taking in the sudden silence of the campus grounds and the snow falling on each other’s faces. Chan’s body is as stiff as a board by now, but he endures it for the sake of your enjoyment. That is, until he finally decides to get up after checking the analog watch on his wrist.

“Hey! Do we really have to go now?” you yell at him with wide eyes, making Chan roll his own.

“Yes, Y/N,” he pulls you up from the snow, turning you around so he can brush off the snow sticking onto your back. “Now I have to meet my classmate in just a few minutes.”

“Why her?” you whine once more. “Do you like her more than me?”

Your sudden question makes Chan pause for a few seconds, before shaking off the feeling of his heartbeat slowly gaining speed. “D- Don’t worry about it. Now let’s go.”

“Hey! Answer my question!”

You realize that not even Chan knows the answer to your question.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan is a shy person when it comes to affection.

This day, however, he realizes that you are the exact opposite of him.

You and him have a routine every Thursday where you’d come into his dormitory at 7 O’ clock sharp to study until his brain was filled with herbs and spices he has to memorize for his gardening elective. It’s not his fault he didn’t get into the magical musics class like he wanted to, and got stuck with becoming a botanist instead. You, on the other hand, usually had trouble with your spells class, always pronouncing the Latin words slightly off. The two of you would study until it’s pitch dark outside, and then Chan would walk you back to your own room.

However, Chan already anticipated how this study session would be different.

He flinches slightly when he hears a set of knocks on his door already, checking the clock on his studying desk. Chan shakes his head out of disbelief, and opens the door without even checking the peephole.

“Y/N, you’re ten minutes early, why are you-“

“Chan!” Your face lights up and wraps your arms tightly around Chan’s torso, catching the boy off guard. “I missed you.”

“You- You saw me yesterday though,” Chan tries to tell you, checking the hallways just in case other students were around to possibly witness this. “and the day before, and the day after that, and-”

“Yeah, yeah, but even if I don’t see you for a couple hours, I still miss you,” you admit with a sudden, shy tone, burying your face into his chest. Chan feels himself flare up at your actions, catching him off guard. Not once have you ever expressed affection like this towards him, always settling for high fives and fist bumps, possibly even a side hug if you’re feeling nice.

“Just uh, come in. I heard from my potions classmate that our upcoming quiz for spells is quite hard,” Chan makes you let go of the hug against your will, and awkwardly guides you inside of his dorm.

“Ahh, why do you always mention her?” You question him with curiosity flowing through your voice, sitting down on his bed casually and tossing your schoolwork next to you. Meanwhile, Chan goes back to his spot on his desk chair. “It’s like you’re obsessed with her.”

Chan’s ears flare up at your remark, but at the same time, he fights the urge to call you out on your antics for the past few days. Thinking about it, it definitely wouldn’t do any good for you, and you needed his help for your upcoming quiz. “Nothing you need to worry about, Y/N.”

“But-”

“Let’s get to studying,” he urges for you to start with him, to which you roll your eyes at, but place your textbook in your lap regardless. Chan smiles softly at your willingness, and gets to work as well.

Typically, the statement “study until it’s dark outside” applies for at least three fourths of the year, especially since you two tend to stay on campus for the summer simply because you both liked the area. However, once winter rolls around and the snow starts falling, the sun is up for a lot less time, sometimes even disappearing by dinner. Chan knows this well, so the two of you instead set a timer for two hours and pray that you won’t get distracted by each other’s antics.

What Chan did forget is how jumbled up you get once the sun goes down.

“I’m already sleepy...” you mumble out behind Chan’s back, rubbing your eyes with your index fingers.

Chan scratches his head, contemplating his next move. To be fair, it’s quite difficult to get a love sick person to do what you want, even if you’re the person they’re in love with. “But Y/N, we’ve only been studying for an hour and a half.” He decides to move his stuff to his bed to join you, his joints already becoming stiff from sitting on such an uncomfortable chair.

“Yeah but I’ve had a long day-” you lean over so you can rest your head on Chan’s shoulder. “Even though I wanna spend more time with you, I kinda just wanna sleep...”

Chan freezes up, cursing you for being so sleepy at times like these, cursing you for being so affectionate towards him these past few days, cursing you for being so-

“Fine, you can sleep.”

You smile with a daze, closing your eyes. Mumbling a small thanks of gratitude, it’s the last words Chan hears you say before you drift off. Chan finds himself not being able to focus with the weight on his shoulder, twirling the pencil in his hand back and forth. He lets out a sigh, at last realizing how he’ll never get another word written down in his situation, and uses his wand to place his work away and close the light. Pulling up a spare blanket for the both of you to share, he finally closes his eyes as well.

Until Chan realizes that if his crush did the exact same gesture to him, he wouldn’t treat her nearly as well as he did for you.

You don’t know that, though.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

Bang Chan is not good with love.

If it hasn’t already been clear enough. Although he’s had quite a few crushes in his teenage life, including the one he has right now, he’s never had the confidence to confess or god forbid ask somebody on a date.

So why not ask the person who’s under the spell of a love potion for advice?

Sure, it’s a far stretch, even Minho agrees, but maybe, just maybe, Chan could get something good out of this week.

He catches you off guard one day, bright and early before class, while the two of you were heading to your locker.

“Hey Y/N,” Chan asks you out of the blue while waving through classmates left and right. Thinking about it, it was a miracle that nobody was talking about Chan’s mishap and spreading it around. “Would you consider yourself... good at love?”

He watches you almost choke on your own spit with a worried look. You turn to him after clearing your throat with an almost offended expression on your face. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, uh, I wanna try confess to somebody..”

“What?! Who? Tell me,” you blurt out without a second thought, staring at his side profile with wide eyes. “Is it your potions classmate?”

Chan is quick to notice the gazes of your fellow classmates after you raise your voice, motioning for you to keep it down. “It’s nothing for you to worry about! I just need some advice on how to do it, you know?”

“Hmm, well...” you take a pause to think, resisting the urge to pout. “You realize you’re asking somebody who’s never confessed either, right?”

“Still, you’re more.. extroverted? Than me, so you must know more than me,” Chan shrugs, feeling his neck grow hot while he tries to explain to you why he asking you, not anybody else, without telling you the actual reason.

Your shoulders slump down in defeat, “Fine. Just- uh- ask them on a date first? If you just confess straight away, you’re most likely to be rejected because they may not like you,” you explain to him, your voice getting shakier and more quiet as time goes on. “At least if you ask them out first, they can start to like you at the date.”

“Okay.. I can do that,” Chan scratches his red ears, already feeling the queasiness in his stomach just at the thought of being rejected. “Right? Hopefully? Probably?”

You simply hum in response, looking down when Chan turns his head to get a look at you. He holds his breath out of instinct, afraid of a sudden outburst coming from you, but nothing comes. Most likely, Chan thinks, you’re more than upset because you’re not the one he’s confessing to.

It’s a poor idea, and was a poor idea in the first place.

You’re jealous, and Chan can tell.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱, 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan tends to forget instructions.

So when he’s left out in the snow after his crush rejects him, your words from the previous day only then come back to him.

“I’m sorry,” his crush frowns once the words leave her mouth. “I don’t see you the same way.” She shakes her head, and Chan’s shoulders slump down as she turns her heel to walk away.

The feeling Chan experiences is neither his heart shattering into a billion pieces, nor the emotion of relief. It’s in between those two, for a reason Chan can’t figure out straight away.

It’s somehow not heartbreak, yet Chan still wants answers.

“Oh, uhm, one last question,” Chan perks up at the last second, his crush whipping around at the last second. “Why? Why do you not like me?”

His crush stares at him for a few moments, lips slightly apart. Then she laughs.

“It’s because of Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

“I can tell you both like each other. This week, I’ve noticed that your friend has been acting different, and although I saw that you were kind of uncomfortable with it at first, I could see you warming up to it,” she smiles. “Chan, you and Y/N have something that I will never have with you, it’s a given. I hope you come to realize that, if you haven’t already.” She nods one last time, bidding farewell to Chan for the day, and drifts farther and farther until Chan can’t see her anymore.

Later that night, when Chan reflects on his crush’s explanations, staring at the ceiling, he wonders if it would’ve been different if he listened to you more carefully. Maybe he should’ve slowed down, and instead of practically shouting at his crush that he likes her, he should’ve spoken more properly and asked her out on a date like what you said. Maybe then, he’d take her to Insanis, which happens to be his cafe of choice that you and him go to almost every week. And maybe, him and his crush would play in the snow and make snow angels happily, like how you two did a couple days ago...

No. Chan’s crush is right.

His head’s thoughts are slowly being all about you.

You, on the other hand, believe that you’ve lost him.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan loves you.

No matter how hard he tries to diminish his feelings for you that has grown in the only the past few days, he can’t stop himself.

From your happiness when playing in the snow, to the way you become cuddly when the moon comes up, to the explanation his own crush gave him.

It all lines up.

“Dumbass,” Changbin speaks up bluntly when Chan reveals his realization to his two guy friends while walking to the dining hall for breakfast. Minho laughs in response as Chan rolls his eyes.

“I gotta admit,” Minho swings his arms around the two, bringing them in closely. “You only just realize now? It’s impressive how dense you are.”

“Dense? Am I really?”

“Yes,” Changbin and Minho both say at the same time, and for once, Chan can only laugh. The trio approaches the dining table, while Chan scans the room standing up for your familiar face.

Minho, takes notice of this fairly quickly, “So, what’s your next move? It’s still a gamble, though.”

“Hmm? How come?” Chan genuinely asks his friend.

“Did you fall in love with the Y/N you’ve known this entire time, or only the Y/N you’ve seen this past week?”

Minho’s question makes Chan silent for quite some time, sitting down slowly on the dining benches. His two friends patiently wait for his answer, Changbin in particular already digging into his breakfast when Chan finally responds.

“I think I’ve always liked them, I just never realized it.”

To Chan’s utter surprise, they both nod their heads in agreement. Changbin swallows the food in his mouth before commenting. “I think you’re right. Maybe you just had that crush on your potions classmate to state that you and Y/N are just friends to everybody, without even meaning it yourself.”

Minho elaborates further, “And she said that you and Y/N have something between the two of you that’s unique? Then she must’ve implied that you guys have this bond that makes you two inseparable.”

Chan simply hums, taking in the information. He’s glad to know that he’s right for once, finally having a plan on what to do next. He sighs in relief, grabbing the nearest plate of food and stacking it onto his own plate, digging in. Yet, Chan still wonders where you were that morning, and how he only saw you later in the day hanging out with your other group of friends. Not even talking to him once.

You simply weren’t sure anymore.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan has not seen you for the entire day.

It’s supposed to be the day that the potion wears off from your body, and you can finally go back to your normal self (despite Chan’s wishes), but Chan has yet to see you. Not once at the dining hall, or the hallway potion’s class is in, or even with your other group of friends who join you in history class.

Fortunately, though, he’s able to overhear your dorm roommate, who says that you’ve refused to go to class today for reasons they don’t know. So Chan takes matters into his own hands, considering that nothing eventful ever happens in herbology class on Mondays, he decides to skip the period to head to your dorm room and approach you, with the help of your roommate giving him a spare key to enter.

The moment Chan walks into your room, a sudden chill goes down his spine, most likely because of the cold air. The lights are closed, with only the morning sun’s brightness seeping through the cracks of the window. The curtains that hang over your bunk bed, as you sleep on the bottom, are blocking his view from where you are. He closes the door gently, but makes sure he’s loud enough to alert you that he’s there. Peeking through the curtains, he sees your body covered in heaps of blankets, smushing your face into your head pillow.

“Hey,” Chan takes a seat at the foot of your bed, taking in your mellow appearance. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

It takes you a minute to answer, and Chan starts to wonder if you’re actually awake right now, until you speak up.

“It’s not like you to skip class, Channie,” you choose to say instead of answering his questions. You appear from your spot in your pillow, gazing up at him with a tired look on your face. “What’s that in your hands?”

“Oh, it’s- uh- banana milk. It’s for you,” Chan extends the hand he’s holding the drink out for you to take, but you don’t budge.

“Are you sure that one doesn’t have a love potion in it instead of milk?”

Chan gets taken aback at your sudden theory. “You knew it was a love potion?”

“I could tell, even through the effects of it,” you state, finally sitting up and gently taking the milk from his hands. “Don’t feel bad though, since you’re here, I might as well tell you something.”

“During that entire week of being under that spell, I learned that-” you pause briefly. “If you already love somebody, your love for them basically strengthens by ten. It becomes something unstoppable, and you start to unravel your feelings for that person instead of hiding them. Originally, I wanted to kept those feelings inside of me forever, but because I accidentally drank that potion, look where I am now. Have you caught on yet?”

Chan could only stare at you, even after putting the puzzle pieces together. You tense up at his reaction, only fearing the worst to come out of this.

His next words surprise the both of you, however.

“That’s the best side of you, though,” Chan admits without a second thought, and you have to do a double take to see if your best friend, known for being shy and timid, really said that.

“C-Care to elaborate?” you stutter out through your shock, a light tint of red spreading throughout Chan’s body.

“The best side of you is the one you showed me last week. The one where you let your guard down instead of keeping up your confident persona,” Chan explains hesitantly and slowly, gripping his fingers tightly with each sentence. Then, he suddenly smiles, then grins, something you rarely ever see coming from him.

“That’s the side I fell in love with.”

“Love?!”

“Mhm.”

“Really? You’re not playing with me right?”

“Mhm!”

You groan loudly once it finally hits you, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Chan starts giggling at your reaction, the both of you finally feeling at peace with one another. It’s as if all the awkwardness and tension from the last week drifted away slowly, with Chan’s now ex-crush leaving his field of vision, only for you to come in at the right time. He wonders how Minho and Changbin will react once he reveals that he finally got into a relationship, and how the rest of the school year will pan out with you by his side.

“So,” Chan starts to snicker uncontrollably. “You really are infatuated with me, huh?”

“Ya, Bang Chan! That’s the first time you’ve ever teased me. Ever!” your eyes widen in utter surprise, punching his arm slightly as Chan laughs harder, you joining him soon after. You nudge him one last time, coming up with something to make him as equally flustered as you are right now.

“But doesn’t that mean you’re infatuated with me too?”

@skzwriternet @stayracha-net pls reblog my fic for once i beg u

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the-final-sif · 5 years ago

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Actually, now that I’ve talked about my headcanon that Katsuki was kidnapped several times as a child, let me talk about a complete random scene/story arc inspired by that and the fact that Katsuki + Izuku + Shouto are all interning with Endeavor now.

Overhaul breaks out of jail and gets his arms back somehow. He’s gone quite a bit nuts. A lot nuts. He’s surpassed ‘focused villain trying to do one thing that he sees as right’ to more of a ‘just want to watch the world burn’. To that end, he sets about getting a team together to catch a certain group of meddling heroes, and to rekidnap a certain child.

A second hideout raid of sorts is planned and goes down, only this time, it was a trap. Izuku/Shouto/Endeavor/Hawks/Kirishima/Tamaki/Fatgum/Tsuyu/Ryuko/Ochako were on the raid team and were caught. Aizawa who was watching over Eri while she had a playdate with Tsuyu’s younger sister, Satsuki, are all also captured. Overhaul had a very specific team set up, knew about them in advance and planned out counters for each person. Alongside that, he used his quirk to create a giant beast like robot that’s made of metal able to withstand even Deku’s punches and Shouto/Endeavor’s flames. Said robot is roughly modeled/made to take on the LOV’s nomu, but non-organic. Notably, Katsuki wasn’t on the hideout raid team (or aware of the raid), because he had a Obligatory Family Trip planned on the same day and so wasn’t at the internship then.

Izuku had managed to put in a distress call before he was taken down, but all the heroes + victims were moved to a different location afterwards in an old long abandoned hideout in the middle of the woods, and there’s about no chance of anyone tracking them down any time soon.

So that leads us into the main scene. The heroes are all captured/restrained up near Overhaul whose ranting on about using Eri to destroy the world/destroy quirks once and for all and then rule over it with a robotic army which is the only thing he considers “clean” anymore. Meanwhile, Eri and Satsuki are down in a different location in a cell of their own (to prevent the heroes from comforting the children), and there’s a camera system in place so the heroes can see the helpless children.

Overhaul demands Eri be brought to whatever Evil Machine he’s devised, and one of his goons goes to get her, but Satsuki fights back against the goon and actually does a pretty damn good job of it. Which leads to Overhaul demanding that the goon kill her.

There’s nothing any of the heroes can do. Satsuki fights back as best she can, as does Eri, but they’re both only 6 years old and Eri’s quirk isn’t working. They struggle, but it’s looking hopeless, and Aizawa tries to tell Tsuyu to close her eyes because he knows what’s about to happen next.

And then the entire dungeon the two girls are in shatters.

Everything is chaos for the next minute as Overhaul tries to figure out what the hell just happened, getting his cameras back in order until finally he gets a visual and contact with one of his goons just before they get taken down and it’s Katsuki.

He’s in a flannel, regular pants and his combat gloves, very clearly confused/pissed off/not prepared for whatever the hell is going on here, and it takes them awhile to figure out what’s going on.

As it turns out, Katsuki has been hiking a trail near this hideout since he was 4 years old. His family drags him up to a nearby location to visit some extended family, he has 0 interest in doing that, so he goes and hikes/camps along a trial instead. Every year he hikes this fairly long trail, and every year he sees this weird abandoned building that he’s gone to explore a few times, and every year the first thought in his mind is ‘Man, that place looks exactly like a villain hideout’.

Then this year, he comes up on it, minding his own business with his headphones in, and he sees the building active again with people with weird masks running around in it, and he’s got a super bad feeling in his gut that just slams into him and he goes ‘Alright, fuck it.’

So now Katsuki is here, he grabs the kids and gets them to a semi-safe location, getting info from them and trying to understand what’s going on. Once he gets it, this turns into a game of him keeping the kids safe from Overhaul, taking down his goons as he goes and working his way towards where the other heroes are. Only, we’re going with the aforementioned headcanon that Katsuki has been kidnapped a bunch of times as a child and never realized that wasn’t normal. This leads to the heroes watching him on the cameras with an increasingly pissed off Overhaul as he walks the two children through how deal with being kidnapped as if these are normal everyday life skills.

Overhaul really, really wants him dead, but unfortunately his team was handpicked to counter the heroes who he’s already captured, and he wasn’t counting on Katsuki showing up. Katsuki’s quirk is flexible and very destructive + Katsuki’s combat skills means he’s pretty much a worst case scenario for Overhaul. Even worse, Katsuki successfully took down the com lines so there’s no communication through the scattered goons, and Katsuki played in this abandoned hideout as a child so he knows his way around it.

Ideal things happening during all of this:

Aizawa torn between being overjoyed that Katsuki saved Eri and then horrified/so done with this child as he walks Eri and Satsuki through how to use knives and grenades.

Katsuki being confused that neither Eri nor Satsuki know how to use a knife.

“Okay, did I have a weird childhood or did you two have a weird childhood. I can’t tell.”

Katsuki gives both children knives, and gives Eri a second knife when she loses her first one (and by loses I mean it ends up embedded in a bad guy’s shoulder)

Izuku keeps pulling notebooks and pencils out of seemingly thin air since Katsuki is openly discussing his quirk/aspects of it with the kids as they make their way through the base and by god he needs to write it down. Overhaul keeps taking his notebooks/pencils but the moment he looks away Izuku somehow has another set.

Katsuki keeps mentioning offhandly things from his childhood and the more things he mentions the more all the other heroes are like “????????”

Finally, Overhaul realizes there’s no chance of his guys taking down Katsuki as Katsuki finishes off the last or second to last one, and so he unleashes The Robot.

By this point, Katsuki already called for backup, but it’s at least half and hour out. He sees the robot and he’s like “Ah fuck.”. Eri and Satsuki already told him a little bit about it and particularly that it’s built to withstand anything short of a nuclear weapon. Not to mention it’s decently fast/agile.

And then when Eri is hurriedly relaying all this to Katsuki, she mentions that Overhaul built it himself.

Katsuki: “Wait like, he actually designed and built it. Overhaul’s the guy with the weird purity/evolution obsession right? He made this? Not somebody smarter?”

She confirms and Katsuki is suddenly No Longer Worried: “Okay, you two chill here, I got this.”

So then he goes to fight the weird beast robot, and nobody’s really sure what he’s planning. As he starts fighting it, he seems to be blasting it’s head into stuff a lot/slamming it around, but that’s not doing any actual damage, right?

Wrong.

See, Overhaul’s somewhat of a moron who put all of the robot’s processing/”brain” into the head area, because that’s how things are supposed to be in his mind. Katsuki figured the guy would probably pull something like this, and so he gives the robot a bunch of repeated strikes to the head area/knocking it around. Because even if the outside is super tough, that kinetic energy still travels through and can do damage to delicate circuit boards.

In layman’s terms, he gives the robot a series of minor concussions until it adds up.

The robot starts to malfunction, going somewhat rouge/pausing/getting stuck places/etc. But it’s still not destroyed and the heroes aren’t sure what Katsuki’s planning next. Katsuki is quite sure of what he’s planning next though. He lures the robot outside and then traps it in place with some large rocks or some rope or something. It’s not going to hold it for very long, but it’s enough to keep the weakened robot in place.

Then he takes aim with one arm as if he was doing an AP shot.

Everyone (heroes and Overhaul included) are kinda like ‘okay what the heck’ because even Katsuki’s strong blasts aren’t enough to really damage the robot’s exterior. Why would trapping it change that?

Then blue starts to spread up Katsuki’s arm along his veins, his hand starts to crackle and there’s 1-2 seconds of “wait WHAT” before Katsuki unleashes a blast on par with that of a small nuclear weapon. The explosion is bright blue, narrowed down to a fine point like Katsuki’s regular AP spot, but once it hits it’s target, it explodes outwards disintegrating the robot and taking out a good chunk of the surrounding land. The whole hideout is shaken to it’s foundation. Windows shatter, some cameras crack, and when the dust clears, Katsuki’s standing tall.

His left arm is still covered by that spiderweb blue though, and it’s hanging limply at his side.

Okay, so this is 90% me making up science but shhhh

So as the heroes quickly learn as an exhausted/barely on his feet Katsuki stumbles back to the kids who of course have questions, this is apparently something Katsuki has been able to do since he was 6.

He calls it “Blue Core”, and it makes his explosions super powerful by pulling nitrogen from the rest of his arm/blood stream/flesh and stocking it all up.

However, he basically never uses it because it comes at a really high cost, namely it takes several seconds of charging, does a ton of collateral damage, and by using it it takes whichever arm he used out of commission for at least the next 24 hours. He can still use his quirk a little with the other one, but it’s heavily weakened.

Obviously he can’t use this in training either, so he never thought to mention it to his teachers.

The heroes + Overhaul just watch stunned for like a solid minute as he starts making his way towards where the heroes are being held hostage with the kids because what the fuck.

Finally though, Overhaul snaps out of it and goes to fight the weakened Katsuki. The kids hide when Overhaul comes out and he throws Katsuki against a wall or something b/c he’s heavily weakened and can’t really fight with his quirk anymore, and then he struts over to him monolouging and ready to claim victory as Katsuki is laying there, slumped over and barely breathing.

And then the moment Overhaul gets close to him, Katsuki is up in a flash and the heroes can hardly even see what happened, but the next thing they know Overhaul is on the ground screaming bloody murder clutching his eyes and Katsuki is holding a blood stained knife. Then he gives Overhaul a curb stomp and he is OUT.

It should be noted, this is not any of the knives that he gave to Eri/Satsuki.

Someone, maybe Aizawa: “How many knives does he have???? I thought he was hiking????”

Shouto: “Oh yeah, at one point during the remedial courses we were babysitting kids together and he mentioned to me that he had 7 knives that day, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he brought more or less knives than he normally carried because of the children. Still not sure actually.”

Izuku: “I know he usually carried around 4 knives when we were kids but part of that was he had limited areas to hide them back then.”

Fatgum and Tamaki are both completely baffled and trying to fit this guy they’ve just been watching with the person that Kirishima described Katsuki to them as.

Anyways, so then Eri & Satsuki get the keys and go to free the heroes which are fairly close by while Katsuki guards Overhaul to prevent him from pulling a ‘gotcha’ on them. And also because the heroes are up a flight of stairs and Katsuki physically cannot walk up them right now.

It’s very emotional as Eri rushes to Aizawa and Satsuki rushes to her big sister who is now crying. And then the group heres a noise and all eyes go back up to the camera screens which are still somewhat up and running, currently focused on where Katsuki and Overhaul’s battle went down.

Turns out, before this whole mess started, the LOV sent Dabi to go take care of Overhaul because He Cannot Be Allowed To Have Arms, Goddamnit We Were Making A Point With That.

But then Katsuki went ahead and did Dabi's job for him, so Dabi radioed back to Tomura and Tomura changed his objective to "You know, while you're there anyways and he's weak, might as well grab the kid."

There’s two endings to this:

The door to the room Katsuki is in swings open and fucking Dabi waltzes in probably saying something like

"So, is this a bad time?"

Katsuki turns to look at him and in the most done, tired, angry, voice: "You asshole."

After drugging Katsuki somehow (because unlike Overhaul, Dabi is not stupid and isn't getting with 10 feet of Katsuki without being damn sure he's down for the count), Dabi kidnaps Katsuki for the second time and the two of them are teleported out of the area about 10 seconds before Aizawa/the other heroes are freed just barely too late to do anything about it.

This ending would mostly be because I'd want Dabi and Katsuki to have back and forth banter of Katsuki being so 110% done with everything and Dabi being like:

"Yeah, I'll admit, this is kinda a dick move and the universe definitely has it out for you today."

"You don't get to say 'the universe has it out for me' when you're the one kidnapping me asshole"

And also because it sets up some serious hurt/comfort.

or, ending 2)

Katsuki stumbles his way over to a doorway on the other side of the room to go grab some rope so he can tie Overhaul up. He opens the door, and Dabi's just standing there, having been about to open the door so he could capture Katsuki.

They just stare at each other wide eyed for several long seconds before

"Is now a bad time-"

And Katsuki slam's the door shut.

"N o !"

He takes five seconds to just stare at the door being pissed and then is like "No, fuck this, I have dealt with enough today." Then he proceeds to barricade the door as he goes through various forms of the words 'No, nope, fuck that, not happening', still exhausted and beaten up and done but 100% N O T H A V I N G T H I S.

The heroes get down there to help and and they search for Dabi only to discover on the camera footage that after Katsuki slammed the door on him, he apparently thought it was so funny that he just kinda shrugged, turned around and actually fucking left. Because, you know, his main objective was already completed, and he didn’t really feel like going the extra mile today.

All of this is on camera too, so it quickly spreads as a meme, along with other choice moments from the whole hideout fight including several ‘vibe checks’, one of Satsuki throwing a grenade into the face of on of the goons that was harassing her before, and also ‘knife check’ becoming a thing.

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sailorfailures · 5 years ago

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ColourPop is dropping a Sailor Moon collab on Feb 20th and I have some Opinions

It’s the moment Sailor Moon makeup geeks have been waiting for - ColourPop cosmetics, noted for their affordable and colourful official pop culture makeup collaborations, has announced a Sailor Moon collaboration containing an eyeshadow palette, two liquid lipsticks, two lip glosses, two blushes, and two body glitters. Most likely this collab is being timed with the 25th Anniversary of Sailor Moon’s debut in North America to contrast with Japanese cosmetics from brands like Creer Beaute and Shiseido, which were released for the Japanese 25th anniversary.

Source: ColourPopCo on Twitter

After my initial excitement about the long-awaited collaboration died down, I was left with a somewhat disappointing realisation... this entire collab, over a total of nine products, was not about Sailor Moon: The Show... it was about Sailor Moon, the character.

When I imagine a makeup collection for Sailor Moon I immediately picture the rainbow of colours represented across the whole Sailor squad, or at least the OG Sailor Team five. But almost everything in the collab is quite warm, and either pink or neutral/natural. Exceedingly neutral/natural, in fact. One look at the names for all the product colours - “Shining Moon”, “Twilight Flash”, “Bun Head”, “Usagi” - make it clear that the products are intended to reflect Sailor Moon and Sailor Moon only.

The packaging itself is... interesting. I can appreciate that they were trying something new with the eyeshadow and blush cases, as they are all topped with different holographic pictures - not (just) the shiny kind of holo, but the old school kind that flips between two different images, all exclusively featuring Usagi and sometimes Luna. You can see the effect in action in this video review by TrendMood. Good concept but slightly awkward execution. I think they would’ve benefited from some kind of static frame around the images so that it didn’t look like I’d just hot glued a pog to my pencil case. The rest of the packaging features the same old redrawn clipart from every other piece of anniversary merch, so, yawn, though the prismatic elements are nice. The body glitter pots are cute, featuring Usagi’s first transformation brooch to mirror the round shape of the pots, but ColourPop’s “gliterally obsessed” branding seems out of place. I know that’s the name of their glitter gel series but maybe it could’ve been swapped out just this once.

(Screencap from above video by TrendMood)

The lip sticks/glosses are by far the most disappointing. Apart from the cardboard boxes they come in, the only branding visible on the tubes themselves is the series logo and a nondescript crescent moon pattern on the caps. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of subtle packaging. I don’t really want Sailor Moon’s face plastered all over a lipstick either; but I’ve also never been a fan of using random moons/hearts/stars as a stand-in for something more relevant to the show when that imagery is so generic and disconnected from the series. Why not little graphics of the Silver Crystal? If they’d thrown some rabbits, bows, and/or roses into the pattern then the combination would read more as “Sailor Moon” than moons on their own. (That said, splitting them into “Moonlight” for the liquid lips and “Daylight” for the lighter glosses with transformed vs. non-transformed? Brilliant. Genius. The perfect blend of nostalgic and practical.)

(Screencap from above video by TrendMood)

Here’s a photo of the palette taken from Temptalia’s website with everything but the shadows desaturated, so you can read the colours more clearly without being influenced by the packaging:

At first I wasn’t sure what this colour story was trying to tell me. I definitely understand going for a more neutral/“everyday” palette over something more glam, since the characters themselves are generally fresh-faced, but the AMOUNT of neutral shades here seem out of place for such a bright series. Tuxedo Rose and Love (the two pinks in the middle of the bottom row) are so similar for such a limited palette. Twilight Flash (top, second from the left) feels out of place; oddly saturated and just a bit too warm to play nicely with many of the other colours. Mare Serenitatis (the coppery-looking one) stood out as unusual but is actually more of a wine/plum under all the glitter, which is much more appropriate and reminds me of Sailor Moon’s transformation.

The more I looked at this palette, and the more I saw of reviewer's looks using it, the more I slowly realised that this palette wasn’t really evoking the character of Usagi herself, but rather the nostalgic, hazy, pink-washed aesthetic of the entire 90s Sailor Moon animation.

The dreamy not-quite-pastel quality of the 90s anime (half conscious design choice, half convention of the time) has received a lot of modern attention and praise. It makes sense that the palette feels like it’s being viewed through a rose-tinted filter when the entire show felt that way, or is at least remembered that way. It wouldn’t surprise me if ColourPop literally based some swatches on recurring colours picked from screenshots.

That being said... Does that make it a good choice for a makeup collab? Is this what Sailor Moon fans want and will buy? Is it versatile enough to warrant a purchase for non-diehard fans? Is it actually what casual fans, who might buy something like this out of pure nostalgia, are actually nostalgic for? Just because I see what ColourPop was going for, does it automatically translate to the most appropriate choice?

Ultimately, my judgement on that comes down to whether this is ColourPop’s only Sailor Moon collab. If this is them testing the waters to see if they can branch out into releasing products focused on the other girls, like a blue/silver mini palette for Sailor Mercury, a green/pink mini palette for Sailor Jupiter, etc. then I’m all for it. When perceived as a palette that represents the show itself, and not any specific character - not even Usagi, despite what all of the swatch names suggest - it really shines. But that’s not really ColourPop’s MO. Most of their pop culture collections are released in one big shining burst of products and then... nothing. And there are quite a few different products here.

I’d also be remiss not to point out that there are lots of indie Sailor Moon-inspired makeup collections already on the market, which makes sense for an almost-30-year-old series that literally repeats the words “make-up!” nearly every episode. Maybe ColourPop felt like they would be stepping on fandom toes or running the risk of copycat accusations if they strayed too close to any of the 2,348 red Sailor Mars-inspired eyeshadows online, though I assume they’d have the legal upper hand. In that respect, I do appreciate that this is a unique approach to a concept that has been nearly driven into the ground.

But ColourPop is not an indie brand and there are some benefits that come with that. They are generally more accessible, sometimes more affordable, can usually ship to more places in less time at a lower cost to the buyer, and can afford much larger runs that will sell out less quickly (though don’t be fooled, this collab will almost certainly start to sell out shortly after its launch). For many fans, especially younger fans, this is probably their only feasible option for Sailor Moon makeup. And some fans prefer the stamp of authenticity from an “official” collaboration, even if indie collections are often, well, better. So I think there’s an impetus for ColourPop to release a less specialised collection that’s reminiscent of more characters.

If this really is the only Sailor Moon collab ColourPop is planning to release, then the packaging, in my opinion, is an odd choice. I don’t know why they decided to focus exclusively on Usagi herself; if the colour story is meant to represent the entire series, then why not either have all the girls on the front in a rosey colour scheme, OR have none of them and focus on one of the cityscapes that clearly inspired the palette? I feel like there are lots of fans who aren’t necessarily fond of Usagi herself who may be put off by the overwhelming focus on her.

Overall: The lip sticks are nice but not super exciting, but I like what I can see of the lipglosses. The subtle glitter is very Sailor Moon. I love the Moonlight/Daylight concept but wish it were reflected on the actual tubes. The body glitters (Moonlight Legend, Moon Prism Power) are exciting and interesting, by far the most experimental part of the collab. The shape and colour choices for the glitters are very “Sailor Moon” and I can see them getting some use on the festival scene. The blushes also seem cute but a tad overpowering for the otherwise understated vibe of the rest of the collab, like the liquid lipsticks, and I love the Luna stamp in the blushes but would be sad to actually use them and see it get worn away. And while I like the gauzy backdrop-inspired looks people are making out of the palette, I feel like it’s extremely limited in the number of unique looks you could actually pull off.

So, in the end... am I going to be buying any of these? Hell, probably, if they’re not totally sold out by the time I get to them. My initial roller coaster of OMG COLOURPOP SAILOR MOON!!!! excitement dropped into “that’s it?” disappointment but has now leveled out at a respectable buzz of interest. I could see myself wearing most of these products, and the collector in me wants at least a piece of the collab for posterity. I just really hope that this isn’t the end of ColourPop’s involvement in Sailor Moon and that we might see some future products tailored specifically to the other girls, so that my collection isn’t just Usagi’s face staring back at me.

#Sailor Moon #ColourPop #Colour Pop #merchandise #long post #edit: just bc I have some questions about this collab I hope this didn't come off as overly negative #I'm still planning on buying a lot of it LOL #and the more I look at it the more excited I get #I think I wrote a lot of this when I was still in the disappointed downspiral from the initial announcement #bc I was thinking about what it 'could' have been based on my own biases #when i look back and see what it actually is I'm still very excited #the more I look at it the more I feel like these are uniquely 'sailor moon'

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skullrock · 5 years ago

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the partners, chapter nine - Steve x Reader

chapter nine - hand in glove

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve attempt to escape the base, which goes a bit easier - and a bit worse - than imagined.

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of blood, punching, etc

word count: 4.1k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. we have FANART NOW folks and I have literally not stopped crying over it!! pls go give Andy some love <3 please lmk your thoughts on this chapter! we are almost done bois! love u! also - phrases in italics = memories!

===

As if would turn out, sneaking around a secret Russian base with a concussion was not very easy.

You were taken out almost immediately just by the lights out in the Interrogation Hub. Steve kept watch as you bent over and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to find an angle that didn’t make your ribs ache. His hand stayed on your back the entire time, rubbing it in attempt to comfort you.

“I know it’s not fun,” he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, but Steve gently guides you to start walking. He knows if you don’t keep going, you’re not going to make it. And he’d like to take you on a date after all of this.

“We gotta find … walkie… first,” you remind, and Steve nods.

“I have the plan, just relax.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not totally helpless.”

“You’re on thin ice, Y/N.”

The halls are as deserted as they were when you arrived, much to your relief. It was easy to keep walking, but not easy to know where you were going. It felt like you and Steve were walking in constant circles, and Steve’s anxiety rose each time they walked into another stark white hallway. The sound of voices down the hall forced you both to take refuge in a random room, Steve’s fists raised to fight in case anyone was inside. But it was bare �� and full of everything you needed.

On the far wall was a control board, which was in front of a huge wall of screens. You could look and see all of the security cameras on them. This would be helpful if it weren’t for the fact that there were easily 75 screens, and each room looked exactly the same. In the middle of the room was a long table, and there sat your knife, walkie, and gun.

“This seems too easy,” Steve mumbles, fists lowering.

“Maybe the author is taking it easy on us,” you mutter, leaning heavily into him. Your head spins and hurts, your chest aches when you breathe. You don’t remember ever being so miserable, and you want nothing more than to break down and cry. And sleep. Thankfully, the adrenaline keeps your ass in gear, spurring you to keep going.

“God, you’re really concussed,” Steve says. He leads you slowly to a chair at the table and you slowly sit, reveling in the feeling of being grounded. Steve picks up the walkie and hesitantly turns it on.

“Uh, this is –“

He doesn’t even finish before a cacophony of voices scream from the box, making you groan loudly. Steve hisses and turns the volume down before growling, “One at a time! Over!”

“We thought you guys died,” you hear Mike say. “We thought you guys were dead! Over!”

“Steve, are you okay?” Robin asks. “Where’s Y/N?”

You reach up and pry the walkie from Steve’s hands. “This is Juliet. Have you called Owens?”

“Yeah, like, two hours ago,” you hear Lucas say. “Joyce is losing her shit.”

“Guys, please don’t forget to say over,” you hear Mike groan somewhere in the background.

“Is he on his way?” You ask. “We could really use the help.”

“Mom went to meet them at the station, we had to fill her in,” Will says.

“We’re here with her,” Dustin says. “He should be here any minute!”

Steve snatches the walkie from you. “We don’t have time to waste. We don’t know how to get out of here, and Y/N isn’t doing so hot.”

“It’s Juliet,” you say weakly. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at you like you’re an idiot – but there’s still some love in his eyes, too.

“Look, if Mike wasn’t so fucking sure that we should use code names, then I wouldn’t –“

“We don’t know how to get out,” Steve continues into the radio. “We’re in those tunnels that the Demodogs were travelling through.”

“The ones from last season?!” Max asks.

“Yes, those –“

A song of voices rings out again, this time sounding confused and shocked. You slip away as Steve attempts to explain everything quickly. You head over to the opposite side of the room, away from the screens, and find a series of desks. The desks have things like pencils and protractors on them, and you squint. One desk has what looks like a blueprint on it. Stepping forward, you grab the paper, revealing another set of plans underneath. They’re maps.

“Found something,” you say weakly, and Steve strides over. You hand him one of the more legible plans – architecture and design is not your forte, nor is it his. It’s staggering, the number of tunnels, the number of hubs, all running underneath Hawkins. There were miles and miles of them, and your stomach dropped. These tunnels had been fully functioning as a Russian base for more than a year, and the people put in office to protect you allowed it.

But another realization hits you after that, sending your stomach to your toes: If you’re not close to the exit, you won’t make it.

The rooms are written out in Russian, but you can get a sense of where you are, and you can tell where you had come from. The interrogation hub was clearly marked out, as it had about a dozen rooms within it. You had only gone maybe three hubs and hallways from it, and Steve points out a closet marked with a camera – that’s probably where you were. The exit is on the very far end of the tunnels, where the bar is on the other side of town. You were about ten hubs away from it.

“Closer than we thought,” Steve mumbles, and you scrunch your nose.

“Ten hubs is going to take like, forty five minutes to clear. And we are….” You gesture to yourself and then to him.

“Yeah, it’ll suck, but we can do it,” he says. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Congrats.”

“You get so mouthy when you’re concussed, you know that?”

“I get mouthy when I am about to die, Steve, thanks.”

Steve rolls his eyes and lifts the walkie-talkie back to his mouth. “We’ve got a map. We’re kind of close to the exit through the bar. We’re going to go for it and keep you updated. Over.”

You grab the walkie from him weakly. “Make sure they know we’re down here, yeah? Don’t want to get mowed down by bullets.”

“Got it. Standing by,” Dustin says.

“Going off walkie, talk soon, over.”

Steve takes the walkie back, which is good, because every word that comes out of your mouth makes your head spin and stomach lurch. You grab the gun and knife.

“Woah, hey,” he says, gently grabbing your wrist. “Don’t think you can shoot that in your state.”

“My gun,” you whisper. “Keeping it.”

Steve knows realistically he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. He’s keeping cool and positive on the outside, but he’s screaming bloody murder on the inside. He’s terrified to lose you. He knows you’re not doing well; he can see the miserable look behind your eyes, how you wince with each step, how labored your breathing is from the pain. He has no idea how you’re going to make it, other than through sheer willpower - which he knows you possess. Steve also feels like his heart is ricocheting through his body. Every look at you reminds him of things he should have said or did. Every look reminds him of how much he loves you, how much he fucked up.

Yeah, he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. Neither could you. But someone should have one. He makes a mental note of where it is on you, tucked into your waistband and sitting on your waist, in case he needs to use it on your behalf.

You carefully put the knife into your garter again and give a thumbs up. Steve’s hand grips the map and he clips the walkie to his uniform before sighing heavily and leading you into the hallway.

You’re met immediately by five people in uniforms similar to Steve’s. You both freeze, eyes wide. Steve’s about to grab your gun but the men simply nod and continue. Steve breathes out a sigh of relief and he takes your hands behind your back to create the impression that he’s taking you somewhere.

“They’re morons,” Steve says to you. “Idiots.”

You make it through two hubs carefully and without incident, but each step is starting to feel like a death march for you. You try to act strong so that Steve doesn’t freak, but you’re almost positive you’re about to collapse.

You enter the third hub. Steve lifts the walkie. “This is – us – we are heading into the third hub right n-“

He’s cut off by the lights turning red and an alarm blaring. You begin to drop to the floor at the noise but Steve grabs you around the waist, holding you steady. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” Robin asks through the radio.

“Is Owen’s here?” Steve asks. “Or –“

“They know we’re missing,” you answer for him. “They’re looking for us.”

Steve throws his head back, and if he had a free hand, he would run it aggressively through his hair. He straightens you with his arm still around your waist and lifts the walkie back up. “We’ve got company!”

“He should be here any minute!” Robin stresses, and you can hear the panic in her voice. “Hide, or –“

“Yeah, got it, Rob,” he says harshly into the radio. “Stand by.”

Steve clips the radio to himself and uses both hands to steady you, still gripping the map. He turns you to look at him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look so serious.

“I know you don’t think you have it in you, but you do, okay?” he says sternly. “We have to get out of here. I’ll help you, just –“

“I can’t,” you whisper, emotions rolling through you heavily. Your eyes well up with tears. “Please, just go –“

“No,” he says, gripping onto your shoulders. “I’m not leaving here without you, understand? You’re coming with me. You’re my partner, remember? We don’t leave each other behind.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears. “If we live through this, I’m going to kill you.”

He quirks a smile and quickly says, “I think you mean kiss,” before guiding you towards the next hallway.

The bad news – the hallway is stocked full of Russians in uniforms who are looking for you both.

The good news – there are so many of them that they cannot tell that you and Steve are, in fact, you and Steve.

The next bad news – you and Steve are split up almost immediately.

One guard shouts at Steve and grabs you from him – he must assume you’re another prisoner. The guard escorts you roughly down the hallway and you look back at Steve, eyes wide, matching his. He tries to shout after the man who has you, but the other shouting and chaos in the hallway drowns him out. You were expecting to get shot and killed, but this is somehow way worse.

Steve tries to push through the crowd, but he is physically unable; it’s a small hallway, after all. The panic rises in him and he tries to calm himself down, tries to watch where you’re being taken, but it’s so god damn dim and red and he can’t differentiate between anyone. Suddenly, he’s being pushed with the rest in the direction you both just came from, as you head the other way.

Luckily for you, you still have the gun. And although you are tripping over yourself, even though the feeling of the guard’s fingers digging into your bruised skin hurts, you can still remember how to use it. The guard takes you into an empty hallway and heads for one of the rooms off of it, letting go of you briefly to unlock it with his card. You move quickly, grabbing the gun from your waistband and lifting it.

This one puts up a fight, much unlike the young man you encountered before. A scuttle ensues as he grabs your forearms, attempting to throw you to the ground. You plant your feet though, and the sheer adrenaline helps you rip your arm from his grip and slam the pistol down onto his head. He drops and you lean against the wall, catching your breath.

If you didn’t feel like you were going to die before, you definitely feel it now.

You give yourself a moment to catch your breath and push off of the wall. You can slightly remember the path you had taken to get here, and you attempt to retrace your steps. You know there’s no point in trying to find Steve. Not only can he hold himself – probably – but there’s no way in hell you could take care of yourself andfind him. You walk aimlessly, using the wall for support, stopping every so often to steady yourself. You’re thankful for the dim red lights, even if they flash. It’s better than the stark white you were working with.

You’re also thankful that the guards are somewhere else, because the empty hallways help you navigate quicker than you would otherwise.

Stepping gingerly, you continue your path, simply hoping something familiar comes up or, by some miracle, Steve finds you. Your heart hurts that you didn’t get to tell him one last time that you love him. Fear grips you – what if he dies without knowing? But he probably does know, and he’s probably very smug about it, and the thought of that dumb, smug smile helps you continue to put one foot in front of the other.

You enter a new hallway. Stopping momentarily to catch your breath and rest, you lean against the wall. Your eyes close and you want nothing more than to just sleep. Just a quick nap. Just a –

Someone grabs you roughly and throws you to the floor before you can finish your thought. Your head slams against the tile and you see stars, nothing but stars against a black background. Your ears ring and you weakly reach up to protect yourself, but you’re lifted and slammed against the wall.

“Steve?” you slur stupidly, remembering what happened the last time you both found each other.

The laugh that answers confirms that this is not Steve – it’s Edwards.

“Got split up?” he asks, and he throws you against the wall again, making you cry out.

“A bit,” you reply weakly. You try to knee him, but your leg only lifts about two inches before it falls back down.

Edwards grabs your jaw and jerks it so that you look at him – or, well, face him. You couldn’t open your eyes from the pain.

“You kids have been a pain in my ass since you first started,” he says, and a punch to the stomach sends you careening backwards. You black out for just a moment and he throws you to the floor.

You’re pretty okay with your fate at this point. It hurts, you don’t have Steve, Steve could be dead – this is okay, you think. You’re at peace with it. You just hope it comes quick. You curl into the fetal position, wincing at the pain in your stomach and ribs, and wait for the fatal blow or bullet to come.

“Only wish your boyfriend could be here to watch,” he says, and you hear the gun cock.

He’s not my boyfriend, you think. Not yet.

“Any last words?”

Typical, you think. You open your mouth to respond, but someone responds for you.

“Go to hell.”

Steve’s fist makes contact with Edwards’ nose, a sickening crunch ringing through the air. In shock, Edwards drops his gun, before swinging at Steve. Steve dodges it and throws another fist, which collides with Edwards’ jaw. Edwards manages to grab Steve and throw him down, but Steve pulls him down, too. They struggle with each other, fists being thrown every which way, and you hear the contact from your position on the floor. You are impressed with Steve’s good timing, impressed with his sick-ass comeback, impressed with his punches.

But here’s the thing – you know Steve’s track record. You also know now that Edwards is a sick fucking sociopath with a few tricks up his sleeve. You need to help Steve or you’re both dead.

You pick yourself up off the floor with all the energy you have left and grab the pistol from your waistband.

“It’s simple, really,” Edwards said. “First, make sure safety is off.”

You click the safety off.

“Make sure your feet are planted firmly. Good position is key.”

You plant your feet, one slightly in front of the other.

“Have good posture. Keep your shoulders back and chin up. Don’t take your eyes off of the target.”

You roll your shoulders back and straighten as best as you can, despite the protests from your ribcage. You force your eyes open wide, focusing on Edwards, who is still scuttling with Steve. He’s a moving target, and you’re not sure if you’re going to hit Steve or him, but you still line the gun up with Edwards’ figure.

“Be ready for the recoil – it’ll hurt if you’re not prepped,” Edwards said, making sure to straighten your arms as you focused on the target. “Keep your arms straight as an arrow.”

You straighten your arms, gun held out in front of you, trained on Edwards’ figure. Steve shoves Edwards off of him and he flies backwards, giving you a bit of separation. You train the gun and your eyes on him.

“Take a deep breath,” Edwards had instructed. “And then shoot.”

You take a deep breath. Edwards flies back towards Steve and you force yourself to keep your eyes open as you shoot.

The shot rings through the air.

At first, Steve thinks he’s the one who’s been hit, and he gasps, eyes squeezed shut. He waits for the pain, but it never comes. He slowly opens his eyes to find Edwards on the floor, shot in the shoulder. He’s alive – and fine – but stunned into silence. Steve’s brows furrow, confusion surging through him, until he hears the gun hit the tile, you dropping right after it.

Steve runs for you, holding you tightly against his chest. You just saved his life, twice in one night. The appreciation, the adoration, the horror, the love all travels through his veins at once, and tears run down his face without Steve even realizing.

You are simply spent – there’s no way you’re going to keep going after this.

“You okay?” you whisper.

Steve is, miraculously, fine. None of Edwards’ punches landed, and he got Edwards pretty good, too. He laughs softly in disbelief. “Never been better,” he says dryly. “You?”

Your eyes meet his and the look in them tells him what you need to say. You can’t keep going. You have to stay back. You have to wait for Owens.

But Steve knows that can’t happen. If you’re left alone, you’ll fall asleep, and honestly, who knows what will happen after that? It’s not an option to leave you behind – it never was.

Steve quickly scrambles to get the map out of his pocket. He unfolds it and points. “Look, we’re so close, Y/N, so close. The exit is right there – we can make it, come on!”

He attempts to lift you, but you cry out, so he slowly lowers you back down. Edwards groans from behind you and Steve turns to him, snapping, “I’ll shoot you if you so much as twitch.”

Steve looks back to you, his eyes searching yours. You think he looks so handsome down here in the red lighting. Your hand reaches to his face and you cup it again. “Go ahead.”

“No.” Steve licks his lips and gently grabs your shoulders. “You didn’t owe me a damn thing, and you came for me, and you stayed for me. I will never be able to return that favor, but I can try, right now. I’m not leaving you. You’re not dying down here.”

“Steve,” you mumble.

“Y/N, you have to get up,” he pleads, voice cracking. “I only got to love you for a few hours, and I – I want to spend the rest of my life doing that. But I can’t do that when you’re dead, okay? Or – I guess I could, it would just be really sad –“

“Steve,” you repeat.

“I’m going to take you on the best dates,” he continues. “I’m going to take you everywhere you have ever wanted to go. I will take you to see the National Parks, I’ll take you to that stupid candy themed amusement park in Oklahoma. You always wanted to go to it, right? I’ll take you to the Empire State Building, I’ll take you to Hollywood, I don’t care. I’ll cook for you, I’ll bake you danishes every single day for the rest of your life –“

“I don’t like danishes.”

He laughs sadly and cups your face. “I know, I know, but you haven’t tried one of mine yet, remember? I’ll cookfor you, I’ll take you on picnics, just – please, please, get up. Please let me love you for the time we have left.”

As one of your coworkers had said before, Only love makes you that crazy – and that damn stupid. This apparently applies to near-death experiences as well, because you are able to pull yourself to your feet. The thought of loving you was enough to get you through the last few hubs and hallways. Steve made sure to kick Edwards on the way out, threatening him once more. He won’t die down there – he’ll die after rotting in prison, and that’s a better fate.

Steve carries most of your weight, one of your arms draped over his broad shoulders as he uses his free hand to hold the map. Every time you’d slow down or falter, Steve would promise you something else to keep you moving.

“They’re making a sequel to Back to the Future, and I’ll take you to every viewing.”

“I’ll buy a polaroid and take nice pictures of you every single day.” He pauses. “Well, try to, I don’t know much about photography.”

“I’ll buy you the coffee and pastries every Monday.”

Each promise sends a bit more energy through you. It’s not so much that you want these things to happen to badly that it keeps you going. It’s that Steve gives such a shit that he’d do these things with you. It’s that Steve loves you, and you love him, and he was right – a couple hours of love isn’t enough for you. You want more. You want the cuddles, the kisses, the fights, the sleepovers. You want it all – and that’s what keeps you going.

Steve’s talking into the walkie at certain intervals, keeping the gang updated on what’s going on. You block these intermissions out, instead focusing on how your shoes look on the tile. Before you know it, you’re pushed into an elevator, the same one you rode when you came for Steve. Your vision starts to falter now, and you hear Steve talking, but you can’t make it out.

“Almost there, we’re almost there,” he comforts. “Just a few more minutes.”

The bar is, at this point, deserted and closed down. Steve’s thankful of the absence of bodies as he exits the elevator, you gripping onto him for your life.

“Dustin, Rob, we’re out,” he breathes into the radio. “We’re –“

You decide to clock out right here. You made it – that’s all you could do. You made it out from the underground, and now you’re officially done. You give in to the comfort of unconsciousness and fall to the ground, Steve unable to catch you from how fast you moved.

Dates be damned. You’re out.

Steve drops beside you, his fingers immediately going to your wrist to check your pulse. It’s weak and slow, and he starts to lightly pat your face. “Y/N, come on, don’t do this, wake up!”

When you don’t stir, Steve goes into freak-out mode. He grabs the radio and begs for Robin, Mike, anyone to call an ambulance. His fingers don’t leave your wrist and he doesn’t leave your side for even a second. In only a few minutes, Owens and his troops appear, pushing past Steve and you on the ground and heading straight to the elevators. Joyce is with Owens, and she runs to Steve, kneeling and immediately wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her mother reflexes kicking in. “Are – are you hurt?”

“She needs an ambulance,” Steve cries, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Please, she needs to get to a hospital, I don’t know how much time –“

Robin and Dustin appear now, stress and worry gripping their features. They both lunge for Steve, who is now caught in a group-hug, while he holds your hand tightly. Two men with a stretcher appear next, lifting you off the ground, and Steve hugs everyone back for a split moment before running off to join you in the ambulance. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows there are questions he needs to answer, but his first priority is you, his partner, and he’s not leaving your side.

The medics ask him questions about his own state, and he gives one-word answers and shrugs. He’s fine, physically, but he’s pretty sure he will take up Owen’s standing offer for therapy after all of this. Steve doesn’t leave your side even as you arrive at the hospital, running alongside your stretcher.

A woman appears beside him, holding a clipboard. “Relation to the patient?”

Steve’s brows furrow and he quickly answers, “Relation? I – she’s my partner.”

You wake up momentarily just to hear that, and you let out an “aww” before slipping back under. Steve is stopped in front of two double doors, left with the promise that he could see you once they check your vitals and make sure you’re stabilized. He slides down the wall and sits on the cool linoleum floor, still in his authentic Russian uniform. The silence in the hall is deafening and startling for him.

He wishes he could hear your voice.

===

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 4 years ago

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@gingerreggg ooo the lore deepens

Heads Up- Part 10 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

With Joseph going to university every couple of days, and Suzi visiting often but still usually sleeping at her own home, there were days that Caesar was left home alone.

Joseph had invested in extra door locks to keep him safe, makeshift mini-elevators to help the bodiless bust get up and down the kitchen and living room tables, and put up canvasses and customized paint holders to encourage his fondness for painting to pass the time.

Caesar was a great painter-- especially for someone with no hands.

With much practice in holding a paintbrush in his mouth, something that Caesar found much easier as opposed to colored pencils that broke when pressed too hard, Joseph's artistic masterpieces had begun producing masterpieces of his own. Simple, abstract scribbles at first, but over time began to make art of the things he saw around the house. Still lifes of tables, furniture, windows, in his own crude, mouth-scribbly style.

Today was one such day. Joseph was away at the art school, working on projects of his own. And Suzi hadn't called for today, and probably wasn't coming for a while.

And so Caesar spent his time painting. But he was tired of the things within the confines of the apartment, and opted for a new medium.

Pulling the blinds of the window open with his teeth, Caesar exposed the view of the vacant lot behind Joseph's house. One that was somewhat still a wild region, overgrown with grasses, with a few sparse trees, and further into the horizon, the skyline of the big city with towering skyscrapers that seemed like mere toys from such a distance.

A smile crept across Caesar's face. This seemed like a perfect muse for another painting.

And as Joseph created art with a purpose, he wondered if this was his.

---------

Suzi looked over at the bag Joseph had given her.

She was in her own home, an apartment somewhat smaller than Joseph's. The post-graduate artist hadn't really done very much in the past year, and her house reflected it: it was quite a mess, with many boxes, items and inexplicable odds and ends cluttering every tabletop and shelf, a problem compounded by the artist's somewhat scatterbrained nature at times.

She sat on her couch, typing away at her laptop. She'd been very curious about the past few days about where exactly that design on the bag came from-- definitely a Mesoamerican influence, perhaps some sort of mystical trinket from long ago.

It had been the bag that Joseph had found in his attic, that had contained the lump of clay that had become Caesar. As Joseph had said before, it didn't seem like a particularly special material at first: yet now, given that it literally was alive, there certainly was something unique about it. Especially given that all other clay they attached to Caesar, in their failed attempts to give him a body, had invariably remained lifeless and cold.

And as she scrolled through pictures on her laptop, she happened upon something extraordinary.

A site cataloguing local folklore, with details that seemed oddly familiar.

Legends told in ancient Central America about sacred soils that could channel strange energies. One myth, in particular, caught her attention: a tale of a talented artist who, in her sheer devotion to detail in her work, managed to usher in spirits of inspiration to take new life into her work.

Idols that harbored the souls of the ancestors that led them to convene with their successors generations on.

Suzi scoffed. This seemed like strange superstitious magic, wasn't it?

Yet deep down, as much of a mature, rational woman as she was, a small part deep within her had always believed in magic, wished to believe. Perhaps it was the hopeful, wide-eyed child within her now enveloped in the shell of a responsible adult, that sometimes shone through when she was around people she was comfortable, like Joseph, and now, Caesar too.

Perhaps that was why she wasn't too surprised about Caesar when she first met the living sculpture in Joseph's apartment a couple of weeks earlier.

Because a bit of her had always believed in magic-- and Caesar's very existence served only to confirm it.

---------

Joseph strolled around the art gallery of the university, beholding in wonder at the vast, museum-like halls bearing the works of its many previous students.

Statues, sculptures, paintings and murals of all shapes and styles adorned the walls, platforms and shelves of nearly every corner of the building's interior. Everything was art, they said, and the masterpieces certainly reflected it.

And as much as Joseph was in awe of the beauty of the gallery, something made him uneasy, as he looked at them, especially the sculpted statues that resided in glass cases, carved in eternal repose with their lifeless eyes gazing blankly into empty space.

Would this have been Caesar's fate?

Joseph couldn't bear the thought of Caesar, his roommate, his friend and companion, spending the rest of his existence like this.

What kind of life would that be?

Joseph's disturbed thoughts were interrupted when he bumped into somebody, as he was too preoccupied with the art to look where he was going.

"Oh, I'm sorry, young man," said an old, throaty voice, with a prominent Italian accent. "You need to be careful around here too."

"Apologies, Mr. Zeppeli," Joseph said awkwardly, with an uncertain scratch of his head.

Mr. William Zeppeli was one of the oldest professors in the university, and had long taught the class on the subject of three-dimensional art. Instantly recognizable by his trademark moustache and top hat, Mr. Zeppeli had mentored Joseph in his first year in the university, and was quite familiar with him.

"I'm glad to see you've come so far, Mr. Joestar," Mr. Zeppeli said with a pat on Joseph's back. "I believe you would be graduating this year, are you not?"

Joseph smiled proudly. "I sure will be, sir!"

Mr. Zeppeli gave a warm chuckle. "That's the spirit!" he said. "So, the final project is due next month. What is your grand masterpiece?"

"A bust sculpture," Joseph said impulsively, before realizing he probably shouldn't have said it out loud.

A proud, yet solemn smile emerged on Mr. Zeppeli's weathered features. "Come with me," he told Joseph.

He led Joseph towards the hall of statues, where Joseph was amazed to see a vast array of clay figures, of people, objects and places, all impressively detailed even for him. Sculptures of birds in flight, each feather intricately carved in astonishing perfection. Miniature models of famous landmarks around the world, such as a replica of the Colosseum in Rome. Faces of people molded in clay, so expressive they seemed they almost could speak.

Something that, at this point, wouldn't have surprised Joseph anymore.

"He would have loved to meet you," Mr. Zeppeli said woefully. "I've seen some of the sculptures you've made before and they remind me of him so much."

"W-who?" Joseph asked, curious at the person Mr. Zeppeli had referred to.

"My grandson," replied the old teacher with a bittersweet note in his voice.

"He went to this school a decade ago, and was one of the best students this institution had ever known. All these, the figures you see before you, are his creations, and I...I am proud to call him my grandson," said Mr. Zeppeli, as he wiped away a tear.

The old professor gestured to a small sign next to the case displaying his grandson's masterpieces. "He was a jolly fellow, if not without a strange sense of humor. You two might have become friends."

Joseph looked closely at the sign. There was something very familiar.

And as its contents sank in, his heart nearly stopped.

"IN MEMORY OF ANTHONIO ZEPPELI (1983-2008), GONE BUT FOREVER REMEMBERED," said the caption.

But what captured his attention, and struck him to the very center of his being, was the picture of the late artist displayed on the sign.

He had no pink cheek marks, and he, of course, had a body.

But he was, unmistakably and otherwise identically, Caesar.

"Is--is this him?" gasped Joseph in disbelief.

"I guess you'd recognize that face," Mr. Zeppeli gave a faint laugh. "Remember that statue of Julius Caesar displayed here, several years ago? He based it off himself. That isn't even remotely close to what the real Julius Caesar looked like, he was a talented, if strange, boy who found it amusing to stick his own likeness onto his art."

Julius Caesar, Joseph thought. His reference.

He felt a strange sensation, as if his whole world was suddenly shattered, and was slowly piecing itself back together like a jigsaw puzzle, into a new reality that seemed way too fateful for his peace of mind.

"Uh...uh...I just suddenly remembered I have a class to go to," said a flustered Joseph, quickly conjuring up an alibi. "See you later, Mr. Zeppeli!" he said, and promptly dashed off in a hurry.

-------

"Jojo? You would not believe what I just found," Suzi said, as she entered Joseph's house later that evening.

"Well, you wouldn't believe what I found out today," Joseph replied, with a shell-shocked look on his face.

Suzi was taken aback. "Looks like you've seen some serious stuff," she gasped. "Y-you go first."

"Do you know a certain Anthonio Zeppeli?" Joseph asked her.

"As in...the student who died a while back?" she said. "I've...I've heard of him, he was talked about a couple of times by my friends one year ahead of your batch. And about...what happened to him."

Caesar, who at just the right moment, had been bouncing by, was intrigued. "Happened to who?" he asked, pausing in his tracks.

Suzi sat down on the sofa. "They say he was a student from a few batches prior. He was a talented sculptor who was great at working with clay, marble, concrete..."

"Yeah, I've seen his stuff," interjected Joseph.

"Well, the thing is, they told he had been commissioned to carve a mural into a hotel's front lobby, nearly ten years ago," she told. "He was perched up on a ladder, chipping away at the wall, when suddenly, he broke a support on a stone ornament, shaped like a cross--"

"--and he was so startled when it began to topple, that he stumbled right off his ladder, fell to his death...and then the stone cross fell and landed right on top of him."

Joseph winced. That sounded like a terrible way to go.

"Well, there's something you wouldn't believe," Joseph said, pulling out a yearbook he'd borrowed from the library. Look at his face."

Suzi leaned closer for a look, and gasped in shock.

"I'd never seen what he'd looked like, but...but..."

"Caesar. It's you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Caesar exclaimed. "I can't see anything from down here!"

Suzi picked up the bust with some effort and rested him onto the tabletop. He hopped over to the book to check out what all the commotion was about--

--and was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

"See, this is what I was gonna tell you," Suzi said. "I'd been reading on the design on the bag that you found Caesar's clay in. There were legends in ancient Mesoamerica that artists who were talented enough would be able to usher in spirits of predescessors into idols of a special sacred clay to serve as inspiration," she said.

"And maybe, just maybe, Caesar is alive-- because he is Anthonio Zeppeli's soul."

"So am I a ghost?!" Caesar screamed in terrified confusion, hopping backwards a few bounces from sheer terror. "I'm a dead man in a clay head?!" he cried, disturbed by the revelation.

"More like a reincarnation," Suzi explained. "The legends told that they became spirit guides to their creators, that they held the wisdom and knowledge of the past, but remembered little of their past lives-- rather, they carried over some traits, but were their own, unique person."

"Did they have bodies?" Joseph asked right off the bat.

"Yes... you were just unlucky to not have enough clay," she added.

Caesar groaned in frustration.

"You know, I honestly wouldn't have believed some ancient mythology," Joseph said, "but given I've been living with a talking, walking sculpture--"

"Not exactly walking," Caesar corrected.

"...er, bouncing, sculpture for the last couple of weeks, I'd take any explanation at this point." he admitted.

"I think he chose you, Joseph," Suzi said with a smile.

Caesar looked at Anthonio's picture in the yearbook, and saw only himself. The same green eyes, blond hair, unmistakable face. He lacked the pink cheek patches, however, which Joseph admitted he'd tacked on to Caesar just for kicks. Anthonio had a body.

Could he really be Anthonio Zeppeli returned from the dead? Caesar pondered. If that was true, he remembered nothing of being Anthonio.

The idea of having once been a living human unsettled Caesar.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel oddly vindicated.

He'd wondered often recently why he even existed, as just another of Joseph's art. What use did he serve?

But now he wondered, upon hearing of Suzi's tale-- maybe this was his purpose.

--------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #battle tendency #jojo's bizarre adventure #caejose #caesar x joseph #gingerregg #hands of life au #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph

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nxrthmizu · 5 years ago

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-Lordbug, Robin, and Kitty Noir- Chapter Nine: In Which Mari Begins To Suspect

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/Part One//Part Eight/

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Description: Exactly what the title says my dudes

Warning: Cursing! Beware, children under 13 (But it’s not like you’re going to listen to me anyways so)

[As always message me if error spotted! Wasn’t sure if I missed something while proof reading once (1)]

---

“Hello, Damian.” Sabine greeted warmly as the boy strolled into the bakery, an exasperated expression on his face. “The girls are already upstairs.”

Damian smiled politely and thanked the lady. “Thank you, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.” He nodded, already making his way upstairs, remembering his way around from the last time he’d been inside.

“Just Sabine will do, dear.” The short Chinese lady chastised, a smile on her lips.

The youngest Wayne only nodded in response before he headed up, hearing the voices of the two girls before he actually saw them.

“Try this one on!” Marinette’s excited tone caused a fond grin to flit over his lips, gone as he realised what he was doing.

“This is utterly gorgeous!” Chloe gushed, and he could already feel his oncoming headache at her narrow range of vocabulary.

Marinette squealed, footsteps sounding as the bluenette pushed her friend into the closet to change. Damian pushed open the trapdoor, looking around, wincing a little as he did so. Everything was just as... Pink as he remembered it. “Hurry up, Chloe! I want to see how it looks on you!”

Resisting the urge to laugh, Damian made himself known in the room by vaguely clearing his throat, catching Marinette’s sensitive ears. “Damian!” She grinned. “I’ve got the perfect thing for you. I drew it based on Robin after he saved our city the last time.” He blushed, feeling awfully honoured that she had created something after him.

“You created something inspired by Robin?” He inquired, his voice cracking with slight emotion.

He could hear her beam even with her back facing him as she shuffled through the shelves of clothes she had hung on the side of her room. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth cutely as she fumbled with the hangers, handling him a red, black, and green jacket, followed by some dark green jeans and a grey t-shirt with yellow lines along the sides.

“Try these on.” She murmured, half to herself as she nodded in approval about the combination. “Chloe’s using the closet, so maybe you could get changed downstairs?” She suggested.

Damian groaned. “After this, I owe you nothing, An- Mari.” He stopped himself before he slipped, but he cursed when he noticed her eyeing him suspiciously, having caught the slip-up he nearly made a moment ago.

“Yeah.” She mumbled, turning back to her table, where numerous sketchbooks lay open for her viewing. She twiddled a pencil between her fingers, biting her lip as she dug about with whatever she had.

He laughed softly to himself, making his way downstairs to get dressed in his alter-ego inspired attire.

---

“Chloe?” Marinette asked, needle and thread in hand as she flipped through her notebook furiously. “Would you prefer a running stitch or a slip stitch?”

The blonde sighed, standing in a pastel yellow dress, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m honoured that you think so highly of me, Dupain-Cheng, but what on Earth makes you think I know what either of those are?”

Marinette hummed appreciatively, observing the area she had to alter with a critical eye. “The running stitch it is.” She pursed her lips in concentration, threading in the black string she had in hand as Chloe made a confused noise in her throat.

“Don’t question it, Bourgeois.” Damian commented, leaning against one of the columns in Marinette’s room. “You chose to be friends with her.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “As if you know what those jogging stitches are anyway.”

Damian shrugged, entering the search on his phone. “As a matter of fact, i do. And it’s a running stitch by the way, not a jogging stitch. A running stitch is ‘a simple needlework stitch consisting of a line of small even stitches which run back and forth through the cloth without overlapping’.” He recited, a smug smirk on his lips. “Any words, Bourgeois?”

Chloe fumed quietly. “Marinette!” She whined. “You can’t possible let him win. I don’t lose! That’s utterly ridiculous!”

“Damian, say sorry.” Marinette hummed, not even looking up from her work. Damian made a strangled noise in his throat, an offended glint coming into his eyes.

“I didn’t even-!” He protested, his pose agitated as he stopped leaning against the column.

The bluenette hummed, shushing the both of them. “Shh.” She continued stitching the alters on Chloe’s dress as the blonde stuck her tongue out childishly at the green-eyed boy, who only pointed his middle finger back in response. Marinette rolled her eyes at their antics, concentrating on the stitch.

Damian, leaning leisurely against the pillar, fiddled with the clothing he had on, his original set of t-shirt and jeans stacked neatly, folded, in the corner of the room. The jacket fitted just nice- Slightly larger, the way he liked it. The jacket was primarily black, with red, green, and yellow linings striped against the ends and collars. The Robin logo was well-stitched onto the right side, concealing a zip along the circle, which revealed a cozy pocket. The inside of the jacket was a silky material, with plenty of little zips and pockets to store little tidbits. He noted a small embroidment of a robin on the left edge, next to a cursive Marinette DC.

The t-shirt was simple and grey, the material soft and slippery in his fingers. The jeans were well-fit yet they didn't restrain his movements. Overall, he liked the clothes she gave him- He still had the simple shirt and slacks that she had given him that rainy day. They sat in a precious corner of his room, where he could see them every morning.

After she finished fiddling with Chloe’s dress, she had the blonde try on another one- This one a beautiful pastel blue and white. The Mayor’s daughter was ushered into the closet as Marinette turned her attention to the dark-haired boy, who gulped at her critical gaze.

“I’m surprised it fit this well.” Marinette murmured under her breath, not intending to let Damian hear her. “They were tailored for Robin’s size.”

Damian glanced at her in surprise. He didn’t know that she’d taken his size on one of his nightly visits- She was slicker than he thought. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he had underestimated Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“So...” Marinette gestured at the things he was wearing. “How does it... Feel?”

He paused before he answered. “Soft...? Comfortable.” He added.

Marinette nodded in approval before she stepped back, scribbling some notes on her notebook. “They fit you well, but there still need to be some alterations.” After some thought, she added: “They were made for Robin, so I suppose the size doesn't exactly match up perfectly.” She pursed her lips, as if something confused her. “But overall I have a good idea of your measurements, so...” She flicked through her clothing rack. “Try these on.” She handed him a covered hanger of what he made out to be a dark green suit. “I’ll need to wash all these clothes before the show.” She said to herself, beaming as Chloe stepped out of the closet.

As Damian stepped into the toilet to change again, he snapped out of his daze. He had felt so... Weird that Marinette had made clothes for his alter-ego without him knowing. Perhaps she was keeping them in case it rained and Robin dropped by for dry clothes? Whatever her reason was, he was going to find out that night.

---

Marinette hummed, pleased, to herself as she set aside the four sets of clothing (Each) that she had finished altering for both Damian and Chloe. Plagg munched on a camembert macaron (He had insisted, she was disgusted), lounging in the little bean bag that Marinette had sewn for him.

“I must say,” Plagg munched on his macaron. “I’m pretty proud of you, kid.”

The bluenette smiled softly to herself. “I can’t wait. I feel a little nervous, and there’s a little of time constraint, but surprisingly I’m not that busy, and my homework was finished...” Marinette trailed off, it suddenly clicking to her why her schedule freed up.

She looked behind her, where her classmates’ schedule used to be- Now it was replaced by a board filled with design ideas, with sticky notes of appointments and places she needed to be, things and events she wanted to attend.

The moment her life started becoming about her, it was as if everything brightened.

“That’s why.” She murmured, Plagg stopping as he looked up, confused. Then he saw what she was looking at. “I’m living for myself now.” She said, smiling brightly.

“About time, kid!” Plagg grinned. “That’s the spirit! Now, can I get more of this delicious macarons?” (Way to ruin the moment, Plagg)

Marinette rolled her eyes, giggling. “I could go and bake another batch. You finished the last batch already, Plagg. What am I supposed to do with you?” She placed her hands on her hips, an exasperated sigh escaping her mouth as she dramatised her actions. “What shall I do with you?”

“Angel?” A soft knock on her skylight-trapdoor thing informed her of Robin’s presence. “Who are you talking to?”

Marinette swiftly grabbed a pastel pink sweater on her way climbing up to the trapdoor, Plagg quickly hiding in the hood, camembert macaron still in hand as he hid along the fur in the hood of the article.

“Robin?” Marinette looked out, seeing the bird-named vigilante squatting next to the skylight. “You’re early.” She stated, remembering the time on the clock, which she had looked at moments before he knocked. He hadn't been due for at least another twenty minutes.

Robin shrugged. “Bumblebee took over patrol.” He scrunched up his nose. “You smell like camembert.”

The bluenette hesitated in answer. “Yeah.” She answered truthfully. “I was baking camembert macarons.”

Robin looked at her weirdly. “Camembert macarons are a thing?”

“Apparently, some people like it.” Marinette shrugged, chuckling as the chaos god in her hoodie scoffed, offended.

Silence fell on the balcony as stars took their place in the skies, clouds clearing up to show the beautiful view.

“Can I ask you a question, Robin?” Marinette asked softly, the breeze brushing against her dark blue locks. “You don’t have to answer, but... If you do, I want you to be honest with me.”

Robin raised his eyebrows, but gestured for her to go on.

“I... I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but...” Marinette hesitated. The question was just on the tip of her tongue: Do I know you as a civilian? “Do you want hot chocolate?” She said at the last second. Are you Damian Fu? “I’ve got some downstairs.” Or Damian Wayne? She had remembered his name from the first day- The one and only slip up he made before he carried on with ‘Damian Fu’. Who are you actually?

Robin squinted at her. “Are you okay, angel? And yes, please. I’d like some hot chocolate.” Without thinking, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. By the time he’d digested what he was doing, it’s already been done. Marinette stared at him, stunned as he fumbled for words. “Sorry- I just- Um- I- Sorry.” He sighed. “I don’t know what- What went over me. I shouldn’t have um- Sorry- I-” He groaned. Why did he have to suck with words?”

She smiled softly. “It’s okay, Robin.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips as he froze, staring blankly at her stunning, shy, bashful smile. “I’ll go get that hot chocolate.”

---

What had she been thinking? Marinette groaned. Why on Earth did she kiss him back on the lips? Where was she hoping that would go, anyway? He was a vigilante- And while she was one, too, granted, still-!

“Bold moves, kid.” Plagg complimented as they made their way to the kitchen. Marinette shot him a dirty look, groaning as she heated to chocolate on the counter. “I approve.” He supposed Tikki’s kid would do for his precious kitten.

“What was I thinking?” She mumbled incoherent words following her rhetorical question, a palmful of her dark hair in her hands as she groaned.

Robin, hanging from the ledge above using his grappling hook, watched his angel make hot chocolate for the both of them, smiled lightly to himself.

Did he just fall in love?

Oh yes.

---

/Part Ten/

---

Hello! I’m not sure if this is progressing a little too fast but...? Aye amateur writer here (That doesn't do plot planning in case you were wondering). Any ideas on Chloe’s s/o? OC? Idk... :/ Anyways thanks for being so supportive, I love y’all <3 also Damian being a lovestruck little puppy just agrees with me a lot

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon @thebookwormfairy @crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid @serenacross200 @zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3 @resignedcatservant @sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @lunar-wolf-warrior @northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life @loysydark @sparkle9510 @erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach)

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #damian wayne mlbdc #marinette dupaincheng mlbdc #chloe bourgeois mlbdc #plagg mlbdc #mlbdc #mlb x dc #miraculous ladybug x dc #robin mlbdc #kitty noir mlbdc #bumblebee mlbdc #they kissed yooo

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nobody-wants-ice-cream · 5 years ago

Text

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 3, Extra Ordinary.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Usual disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

Vanya was clearly about to sell her violin. She looked dejected and sad and was detached from her violin case. This is in character for Vanya on her pills, who must have decided that she wasn’t good enough at one point. Sin for putting Vanya through trauma. +1

The Umbrella Academy comics are priced weirdly. The one on the right is $25.00 and the one on the left is $15.00. What makes the one on the right more expensive? It even says on the cover that the one on the right was supposed to be $0.50. So why the inflation? Taking a closer look, all six heroes are on the cover, so it’s not that either of them are pre-Five leaving and therefore more expensive because Five is on both of them. Though, the one on the right does have a picture of Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Reginald under where it says that the comic is 50 cents. To make a long rant short, the comics that Vanya looks at in the pawn shop window are confusing. +1

However, Gabriel Ba’s art. -1

The strange lack of technology means that Vanya’s book was written on a typewriter. +1

Vanya needed 6 pencils to write her book with. These are maybe supposed to symbolize Vanya’s 6 siblings, in which case, interesting detail, but still. Six pencils. As opposed to one pencil and a pencil sharpener? Why all the tools Vanya? +1

The six pencils (with two pointer up) symbolize Vanya’s six siblings, two of which turned around since the siblings they are supposed to represent (Five and Ben) are no longer around. -1

Vanya’s dying houseplant. Water that! +1

Vanya collects another houseplant and it looks relatively healthy. -1

The messy table garbage still has the same plate and same crumpled papers/napkins in the same position. Either Vanya was super lazy, or the set designer/director was. +1

Vanya replaced the dying houseplant with the fresh one. Poor houseplant. I will mourn you. +1

“Lost Woman” has some really on the nose lyrics. Playing the phrase “lonely woman” before Vanya starts narrating her book is ridiculously on the nose. +1

However, “Lost Woman” happens to be one of my favorite tracks from the series. -1

Luther should be part ape in this scene, (as it takes place five years ago, not seven), but he looks completely normal. This is a massive continuity error so I’m adding two sins. +2

“Starved for attention” is the line Vanya narrates over Allison reading it. On. The. Nose. +1

Diego is so pissed off at Vanya that he tapes her likeness to a punching bag and punches it. You know, like a rational adult. +1

Klaus is wearing birkenstocks and burgundy capris. +1

Also, Ben and Klaus work together to read a book. -1

But I have to ask, why did the rehab let Klaus read during group therapy. And shush his dead brother’s ghost. +1

Ben is pissed off by the line “and haunted by what might have been.” On the nose. +1

Five reads the harsh line “we all wanted to be loved by a man incapable of giving love” while next to Dolores, who is also incapable of giving love because she is a mannequin. Also, Five reads this book, full of vitriol and hate, as the last connection he has to his siblings, at age thirteen. +2

Reginald doesn’t read the book that his daughter wrote. As usual, Reggie is a dick to Vanya. +1

Vanya’s reaction to being late to rehearsal is so relatable. I swear I have done this a thousand times as a musician. -1

The Netflix captions (yes I watch with captions) say “Chamber music playing”. They have a conductor. +1

The conductor has the character of all conductors. Dick. +1

Vanya isn’t vibrating when the rest of the orchestra is. Late or not, you still need to follow the concertmaster, Vanya. +1

The rainy weather matching Vanya’s stormy mood. Foreshadowing. -1

Badass umbrella title screen. -1

However, why are all those people stopping in the street? It’s raining, get to where you’re going! +1

Allison and Luther watch the tape where Reggie dies over and over. This is weird, even if they are trying to figure out if Grace killed him. Who would want to watch someone die over and over? Not even I want to replay Reggie dying, and I genuinely hate him. +1

Luther says that Reggie thought people were out to get him. On the first watch, the audience can chalk this up to Reggie being a paranoid old man, however on the second watch we know that the Commission exists and that Reggie is probably not from this world. So either of those groups could have been out to get him. But who? This remains a sin until they explain it. +1

Training posters in the kitchen. The kitchen! Really, Reggie. +1

There’s this weird caterpillar thing with a face behind Grace in this scene. What the hell is that? +1

There was also a radio in the kitchen, which implies that Reggie either let them listen to tunes, or had training cassettes the same way he had training records. Either way, what the hell, Reggie? +1

There is a ridiculous amount of light sources in this one room. +1

Grace has a cactus full of toothpicks or skewers by the stove. Cute art project, whichever kid but likely Diego based on his fascination with pointy things. -1

The “your father was a great man” speech. Poor Grace. +1

Jordan Clare Robbins is an excellent actress. -1

Smiley face made of two eggs and a strip of bacon. -1

Diego doesn’t understand the chain of custody regarding evidence. Patch says that if he touches a piece of evidence, she can’t use it in her case. How many murderers have walked free because of Diego? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha use bullets from 1963. Dallas foreshadowing? Remains a sin until season two confirms the Dallas plot. +1

These bullets were found on the random local hires Five killed at Griddy’s. Why does the Commission use bullets from the early 60’s? Isn’t that a big red flag to their time organization? +1

Patch indulges Diego the Vigilante by asking for his help. You’re a police officer, you got this, Patch. Also, this foreshadows her death when she does things his way and gets killed for it. +1

Diego tells Patch to investigate Five. Oh, the irony. +1

“I do give a shit” is such a weird line to try to portray as romantic with the music, tone, and lighting, show. +1

Beeman, unprofessionally, brings up the fact that Patch and Diego used to date while at a crime scene. +1

Vanya washes her hands for two seconds and then goes to talk to Helen. Almost like that was the real reason why she was in there. +1

Vanya attempts to compliment Helen Cho, who is overall, not interested. Is this Vanya’s repressed way of flirting? Pick a better time.+1

Seriously, what is with Vanya and starting conversations at the absolute worst time. It’s like she wants to get insulted. +1

No way in hell would one professional musician to another be this bitchy, Helen Cho. +1

Helen straight up calls Vanya talentless. What an awful thing to say! +1

She softens, as if she just gave Vanya legitimate career advice, but she didn’t. She really just insulted the time and effort Vanya put into her instrument. As a musician, I can confirm that what Helen just said is the equivalent of saying something really, really nasty. Tumblr hate anons have nothing on what Helen just said. +3

Vanya takes a pill after being called talentless. Pill foreshadowing. -1

Cha Cha uses a curling iron to cauterise the wound Five gave her from the shovel. Where did the curling iron come from? +1

“The entire fate of the universe” oh Hazel. Thanks for the irony. +1

How did no one in the history of this shady motel notice the hidden panel? You would think at least one person attempting to have shower sex or someone cleaning or someone doing matinence should have noticed that, right? +1

Five stitches up his wound by himself despite the fact that multiple people are in the house that are capable. He’s going to pull a few of those based on the angle. Also, Five didn’t bother to clean the blood off his arm, so who knows if he bothered to sterilize the needle or his hands or anything. +1

The wound on Cha Cha and the wound on Five are eerily similar. However, what makes them interesting is that Cha Cha decided to cauterize where Five decided to stitch. Both are decent methods, but Cha Cha’s way is going to leave severe permanent scarring and Five’s way might heal. This could foreshadow the way they treat the end of the world. Cha Cha wants to end it, Five wants to fix it. Maybe not Cha Cha herself, but she does represent the Commission and their ideals. She is a stickler for their rules and uses her last moments to try to call them and get rescued. Point is. This is an English teacher moment full of symbolism, and I respect the show for this choice. -1

Billy the Choo Choo bandages. First of all, Five can never get away from the childishness of his current form. Second of all, Reggie let Five have “Billy the Choo Choo” licenced bandages??? +1

Or, Five chose to buy/steal these bandages. +1

Five puts a clean, white uniform shirt over blood that he still hasn’t cleaned up. At this point, that has got to be uncomfortably sticky. +1

Five didn’t bother to clean his wound until morning. “I guess I’ll go to sleep and bleed”???+1

Or, it took Five several hours to get the supplies. Bullshit. No way in hell did Reggie not have those supplies lying around. +1

Five still chooses to wear the full uniform ensemble even though he could at the very least get rid of the tie. +1

The teleporting kid gets the fire escape bedroom. It’s like Reggie was begging Five to sneak out of the house. +1

Dumpster Bagel: Do Not Eat. +1

“I’m done funding your drug habit” you never did in the first place? You didn’t pay him at all for that magnificent acting?? Unless Five did this before he left the mansion, in which case, Five funded Klaus’s drug habit. +1

Justin Min looks so incredibly creepy sitting on the dumpster. He has such a blank expression. Also, when did he move from the fire escape? +1

“I love you. Even if you can’t love yourself!” is a great line. -1

When Five drives away in the stolen van, he passes an absolutely bewildered guy. How the hell did Five function as an assassin? He can’t do subtlety. This contradicts “I know how to do everything”. +1

Was Aidan Gallagher actually driving in this scene? Because it kind of looks like the way a beginner would drive. This also contradicts “I know how to do everything” +1

There’s a lady passing Meritech that actually chose to wear a baby pink fedora. M’costume. +1

Five left his wife stuck in a bag and didn’t remember her. +1

He also left a bottle of some clear liquor on top of her. +1

“This is the place that it was made. Or will be made.” The delivery on this line was kinda bad. +1

Allison used her power on Claire. Claire was three years old. No matter which way you slice it, this is the shittiest thing Allison has ever done. She’s working on it, but the fact that it happened deserves a sin. +1

Emmy Raver-Lampman is a kick ass actress. -1

Allison has the most warranted case of impostor syndrome ever. Sin off because this is the one of the few scenes where two characters actually talk about their emotions. -1

Luther and Allison had that conversation sitting ridiculously far apart. +1

Leonard’s shop is called “Imperial Woodwares” Apparently, he delivers as well. How did Leonard get the business and woodworking skills necessary for running a relatively successful shop while in prison? +1

Leonard somehow knows that Vanya’s orchestra (which rehearses and performs in the Icarus Theatre) is far from Bricktown. At this point, he shouldn’t know that unless that is the only orchestra in the entire city. There is no way that that is the only orchestra in the entire city. +1

Leonard took up wood carving in prison. Is that allowed? +1

If a guy you just met makes a wood carving in your likeness you should run. Run like hell. Get a restraining order. That is so creepy. Obvious villain is obvious. +1

Also, I once read a fanfic (The Moon Laughs by Lady_Origami on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17959847/chapters/42417584) where a character is kidnaped by Leonard and tortured in this backroom where he’s showing Vanya the creepy statue. I can see where the inspiration came from. This back room has “place to keep the person I kidnaped and torture them” vibes.+1

Leonard stayed up all night to make the creepy woodcarving. He then insists that Vanya take it. And Vanya doesn’t recognize the creepy vibes. +1

And she does take it! +1

Leonard says that he made the carving for her and that she inspired him. Obvious manipulation is obvious. +1

Leonard is a dick to Vanya by using Allison’s successful career. +1

Leonard doesn’t like the Beatles. +1

Why did Allison go to Bricktown to find Vanya when that is nowhere near the theatre or Vanya’s apartment? Was she just wandering around hoping to find Vanya? +1

Allison is the Queen of actually talking out her thoughts and feelings. She just apologized to Vanya and explained why she was so angry in the last episode. Well done. I respect that. -1

Allison and Vanya sisterly bonding. -1

Five sees children playing and then immediately starts having an apocalypse flashback. This shows that Five lost his childhood as soon as he time traveled to the apocalypse. I’m sad now. +1

Aidan Gallagher plays this really well. -1

If you look closely, you can see Five/Aidan Gallagher laughing at Luther/Tom Hopper because he can’t fit in the van. I can’t tell if Five is laughing at Luther or if Aidan is laughing at Tom. Either way, that slaps. -1

However, corpsing. +1

No one has written Klaus/Dolores fanfic yet. They really hit it off in the van, y’all. +1

Five throws an empty can at Klaus for messing with Dolores. +1

Klaus’s expression after Five says “does it matter, it’s Klaus.” Sinning because Five is a dick to Klaus. +1

“Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to wax my ass with chocolate pudding. It was so painful.” I love this line. God bless Robert Sheehan. -1

Aidan Gallagher contemplates this line then starts corpsing. I don’t blame him. I’ve been trying to figure out how that would be possible too. -1

How can you use chocolate pudding to wax any hair? +1

Aidan Gallagher laughs at this line, meaning Five found this funny, but didn’t want to give Klaus the satisfaction of laughing. +1

Luther and Five are dicks to Klaus. They kicked him out of the van! Assholes. +1

Luther is sort of trying to connect with Five, but he fails miserably because it comes out really condescending. +1

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am.” Hubris much, Five? +1

Luther is already sick of Five’s “I’m better than you, I’ve done things you couldn’t comprehend” schtick and Five has only been back for three days. And we make fun of Luther’s moon thing. We get it, Five, you’re a badass. Actions speak louder than words, old man. +1

On the side of the Variety Store Klaus steals from is a billboard for Clever Crisp Cereal, which is the cereal that Reggie invented in the comics. I guess he did that here too. -1

Also, Klaus steals from the Variety Store and drops everything while running away. Why did you steal so much shit if you knew you were going to drop it all Klaus? +1

Ben’s reaction to this buffoonery must have been hilarious. Sinning the show for not showing us that. +1

“Now I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision.” What? Kicking Klaus out of the van or Klaus deciding to rob the store? Because both were pretty stupid. +1

Does Agnes own Griddy’s? +1

Agnes just gave some valuable baking tips when it comes to doughnuts. Thanks, Agnes. -1

Agnes and Hazel are really cute together. -1

The Hazel and Agnes theme is my favorite instrumental piece from the whole show. -1

There are still bullet holes in the walls. Attention to detail! -1

Hazel and Cha Cha pretend to be social workers or private detectives concerned for Five’s well being. Oh, the irony. +1

“I mean who lets a kid get a tattoo” Reginald Hargreeves. That’s who. +12

Agnes is indignant about Five’s tattoo, citing his age. This whole episode has a ridiculous amount of irony. +1

Agnes draws the umbrella tattoo a bit too perfectly for someone who only saw it once and at the wrong angle. +1

Diego straight up threatens Luther at knifepoint. +1

This family meeting is a complete shitshow. +1

The monocle is likely to become a s2 plotpoint because Diego put it in a place where anyone could take it. If you’ve read the comics, you know why I think that’s important, but I won’t spoil it for anyone who hasn’t. Either way, that was a dumb way to dispose of the monocle, Diego. +1

Diego is a dick to Vanya until she agrees with him. +1

They are legitimately talking about killing their mother. What the fuck. +1

Klaus references the van when only Luther, Five, and presumably Ben know about it. This makes no sense. +1

Votes to kill Mom: Luther, Allison, Ben +3

Klaus hisses at Ben and no one thinks this is weird. +1

Grace definitely heard Luther and Allison voting to kill her. After she made them breakfast too! Luther and Allison are dicks in this scene. (And so is Ben but Grace couldn’t hear him.) +2

Grace tries to prove her worth by making cookies. Fuck Luther, Allison, and Ben for voting to turn her off. +3

Diego and Vanya actually have a civil conversation. Well done for doing the bare minimum, Diego? -1

Vanya’s pills suggest that she was friendlier with Diego at some point. +1

Pogo for sure saw that whole thing and he saw Vanya take the pills. Dr. Complicit. +1

Reginald is a total soccer mom in Diego’s flashback scenes. This amuses me. -1

However, Reginald raised six child soldiers as “crime deterrents” so +6

Luther is casually working out in his bedroom while the mission alarm is going off. +1

“Where’s my knives” was a phrase Diego practiced. Also, Diego would never lose his knives. +1

Vanya’s room is a fucking closet. +1

“Thank you, Mother” Dante Albidone is a treasure. -1

“Boys will be boys” this is the only time that phrase is acceptable. When you’re putting out a fire your son caused for no reason. -1

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” -1

Reginald interrupts this. +2

Diego’s flashbacks were very unorganized, which makes sense. This is probably several years worth of mission flashbacks. -1

“It’s okay if you hated him” “I would understand if you wanted to hurt him”-2

David Castaneda and Jordan Claire Robbins nailed this scene. Two kick ass actors being incredible. -1

Did Five really sit there all day with no breaks? +1

Five is arguing with Dolores and losing. She is a manifestation of his subconscious. And she is winning this argument. +1

Aidan Gallagher looked directly into the camera. We made eye contact. It was weird. +1

Lance straight up sells those illegal prosthetics where anyone could see it. Lance is an idiot. +1

Agnes’s drawing led Hazel and Cha Cha to the Academy. +1

Cha Cha left the window down in the car. +1

Would that air thing actually work? If it wouldn’t then sin on Reggie for getting cheap locks. If it would, sin on me for not getting better locks sooner. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha don’t have their masks on. What if somebody saw them? +1

The portrait of Five comes back to bite the Academy in the ass. Why haven’t they gotten rid of it? Five has been back for three days. +1

Klaus has black nail polish on his toes. -1

No way in hell is Klaus able to have his eyes open in a soapy bathtub. +1

The ghosts are creepy. Sin because Klaus is traumatized. +1

“We’re Through” by the Hollies is one of my favorite songs to play on guitar. It’s a decent coffee shop piece and I like playing it live. Thank you show, for helping me discover it. -1

Klaus is taking a bath with the door open. +1

Luther has been eating his Wheaties, Cha Cha. If you call experimental ape drugs, Wheaties. +1

Luther describing sunrise on the moon. I like this bit of writing. -1

Where were Hazel and Cha Cha keeping their guns and masks? Special pockets? +1

Diego is the only person who could possibly bring knives to a gun fight and win. Diego is a badass. -1

Hazel and Cha Cha continue to have stormtrooper aim. There are so many times when either could have shot Diego, but magically miss because Diego has plot armor. +1

Reginald’s portrait gets shot though. Right in some lethal areas. This amuses me. -1

Grace is so out of it she doesn’t notice heavy gunfire. Reggie, you suck. +1

“Who the hell are these guys?”/”Who the hell are these people?” +1

Diego, Luther and Allison just saved your ass. Less arguing, more fighting the crazy people. +1

Reggie keeps convenient weapons everywhere like they’re lamps. +1

Vanya is still in the Academy hours after the meeting, and she doesn’t think to hide during all this crazy gunfire and fighting. Sigh. +1

Seriously, it’s like she’s trying to get killed. +1

But she doesn’t because she has plot armor. +1

“Hey, asshole” goes back to Five’s “hey, assholes” from episode one. So did Luther learn that from Five, did Five learn that from Luther, or did Reggie decide that that was an acceptable phrase to teach his children? I lowkey want to write all three in a crackfic. Nice. -1

Vanya probably has a concussion. Otherwise, she would have attempted to run, right? Please tell me she isn’t that stupid. +1

You know that b99 meme where shit is going down and Gina is just chilling with her headphones. Yeah. That. Klaus, get some situational awareness, please. Also, what are these magic noise cancelling headphones that can block out the sound of gunfire and where can I buy them? +1

Allison, I understand why you don’t want to rumor anyone, but your life is literally in danger. I think you can forgive yourself if you rumor Hazel and Cha Cha into not killing you and your family. +1

“You wanna rumor this psycho?” “I don’t need to because this bitch just pissed me off” These are both horrible lines. I can’t tell if it’s because of the writers or because of the actors, but both of these lines are genuinely terrible. +1

“We just want the boy”. Nice comics reference, Cha Cha. -1

Diego doesn’t attempt to fight Cha Cha and give Allison the upper hand. He just sort of stands there. What the hell, Diego? +1

And when he does fight her, he doesn’t use any long range weapons. Diego, this is your house. I’m assuming you know where the knife drawer is? +1

Ben attempts to give Klaus privacy. In this situation. That’s a sin. I would risk seeing my brother’s naked body if it meant he wouldn’t be shot. Just sayin’, Ben. Get all up in his face. Put your ghost hands through his head. Get his attention! +1

Luther and Hazel can go hand to hand as equals and the show never addresses why. +1

Vanya really is that stupid. There are plenty of doors. And the fire escape from Five’s room. Vanya, run!+1

Luther had plenty of time to get out of the way of the chandaller. Why didn’t he shove his siblings and follow one of them? The motion would have made sense. +1

This ape reveal makes no sense. It would have worked in episode one, but it’s weird in episode 3. Why didn’t they reveal this to the audience earlier? +1

The dinosaur footprint sound effect. +1

Why didn’t Vanya and Allison hear Grace humming? Also, why didn’t anyone hear Hazel and Cha Cha breaking in. It was established in episode one that there is no soundproofing. +1

Grace is cross stitching the moon exploding. Foreshadowing. -1

She is pulling the needle through her own hand though. +1

Who gave Grace that nice bracelet? That’s so adorable. -1

Diego killed his own mother. +1

However, it is a mercy kill. Who knows what Luther or Allison would have done to her if they had found out how screwed up Grace was. I’m really conflicted about this scene. On one hand, fridging, on the other, it makes sense. Therefore, it’s a wash. -1

What is this magic cloth that Allison gives Vanya to mop up the blood and where can I get it? Seriously, it cleans up blood ridiculously well. To the point where it doesn’t look like Vanya’s been injured. +1

Diego takes out his anger/sadness/frustration on Vanya. Also, Diego would be excellent at cinema sins. Vanya could have been killed and she was stupid to stay, but there is no reason to raise your voice at her like that, Diego. +1

“She is a liability”. And you are an asshole. Diego just said that line to Allison as if Vanya wasn’t even there. As if she was just some inanimate burden. Fuck Diego for this line. +1

Allison doesn’t even attempt to defend Vanya. Even if Diego made a good point, there is no reason to let him get away with that kind of emotional abuse. +1

The show kind of addresses Luther’s body image issues, but doesn’t let him talk about it. +1

When did Vanya get Leonard’s address? +1

“I didn’t know where else to go”. Home perhaps? To your apartment? And not into the arms of creepy Leonard? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t discuss what to do if shit went sideways. No wonder Five was better than them. +1

When would Hazel have kidnaped Klaus? We don’t see it happen so we should just assume that Klaus appeared there magically? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha have FRC 891 as a licence plate. Neverending Chaos. Google FRC 891 Umbrella Academy. -1

Overall Review:

I forgot just how important episode three really is. Here we learn just how harmful Vanya’s book was, that Vanya is in an orchestra, and more about Leonard. This episode carves out who Vanya is as a character before Leonard sinks his claws into her. We can see the effects of the pills on her ability to connect with others and her ability to play the violin.

We also get a lot from the other characters. The Claire reveal is a big one for Allison. So is the ape reveal for Luther, even if it should have happened two episodes ago.

As for acting shout outs, Emmy Raver-Lampman and Jordan Claire Robbins killed it in this episode. I can’t wait to see more of Emmy in s2 and I really hope that Jordan will return.

There was some excellent use of irony in this episode. Like a lot of irony. What killed me was the Griddy’s scene. Hazel and Cha Cha pretending to care about Five’s well being so they can murder him and Agnes being indignant about someone as young as Five getting a tattoo is just amazing.

As for plot things, this was really a Vanya-centric episode. It establishes a lot of things about her, which makes the twist at the end even more obvious. This is not my first, second, or even third rewatch, so I know what’s coming, but how did I not see it before? When I first watched it I thought that Five was the main character and that Vanya was a self-insert. Looking back, I can see that Five and Vanya had pretty equal backstory and screen time given to them. You could make the argument that they are the main characters. You could even argue that they’re the primary protagonist and antagonist, but to be frank, that discussion should be saved for episode 10.

Total: 133

Sentence: Eating a dumpster bagel.

#The Umbrella Academy #all in good fun #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #Grace Hargreeves #leonard peabody #hazel and cha cha

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fluffy-yoongi · 5 years ago

Text

Across The Sea

You had been in Souel for about a month now. You had taken a promotion for work that required you to move abroad for a year to project plan a new division. When you took the job, you thought you’d be staying in NYC, but a month before you were set to start, you found out that the job was actually moving you to Souel. You were absolutely terrified, but you figured you were young and unattached, plus is was only for one year.

You were settling in okay. It was difficult adjusting to the time zone and trying to still talk to your friends and family at home, and you were starting to get homesick and lonely. You knew enough Korean to get by, but you definitely weren’t fluent by any means. For work, it wasn’t too bad. Most of what you were doing was graphic designed based, so it was just a mater of making sketches, and adjusting. It was going out and having a social life that was hard. You were the youngest on your team, by around 20 years, and hanging out with 40 and 50 year old men wasn’t really your idea of fun. So during the week you worked, and on the weekends, you silently explored the city.

You set off on Saturday morning to go get a coffee from the cafe down the street from your apartment and sit along the river with your sketch pad. It was about the only way you’d been able to find comfort while half a world away from home. So you woke up around 8, showered and called your mom to talk while you were getting ready. After talking to your mom for about an hour, you said goodbye, packed up a bag with your sketchbook and pencils, then headed to the cafe. You ordered your usual, americano and a blueberry muffin, then put your headphones in, and left the cafe.

As you were heading to one of your favorite spots along the river, your phone dinged. You mom was sending you a picture of your cat cuddling with her dog. They had been fighting since you moved, and this was the first time they were getting along since your mom started taking care of you cat. You felt the tears in your eyes start to well up, completely taking your mind off the fact you were walking down a sidewalk. Suddenly, you can to an abrupt crash, your coffee going all over the front of you and phone crashing to the sidewalk.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. My mom just sent me a picture of my cat, and I’m sorry. Does you jacket need dry cleaned? Here, let me get some cash.”

The person in front of you began to laugh. “Are you okay?” A deep voice asked in the cutest accent.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Did my coffee get on you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

The strangers face was hidden by a mask as he bent down to pick up your phone. “Uh, your screen.”

You looked at you phone, and the screen was shattered beyond use. “Great, guess there goes my off day.”

The stranger in front of you chucked again. “Let me get you a new phone. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“No, I can’t accept that. I wasn’t even looking up. It’s fine, really. I should have been paying attention. I just live up the street, so I can run home and change and get a phone this afternoon. Really, it’s fine.”

“No, really. I wasn’t paying attention. I was daydreaming and lost in my own world. Now I insist. Let me get you a phone. Plus, now I know you live on this street, I can just sit out here and wait until you let me pay for it.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s really not that big of a deal. I can-“

“You can let me get you a new drink while you go change, then meet me back here so I can buy you a phone.”

“Okay, thank you, stranger.”

“Yoongi.” A hand extended out for a handshake.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You retuned the handshake, and it lasted a few seconds longer than it needed to as your eyes locked.

“It’s no problem, stranger. Now what do you want to drink?”

“Y/N. My names Y/N. And an iced americano, please.”

“Y/N. I like that. And you’ve got good taste. Now go change, and I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes, coffee in hand.”

You thanked the stranger, who now had a name, once more as you turned to walk back to your apartment. “Yoongi. What a unique name. And his eyes are so deep.” You thought out loud as you frantically shuffled through your closet looking for an equally as comfortable sweater and leggings combo as the one you had changed into. Thankfully, your jacket seemed to avoid the coffee, so you threw it back on, then set off back to the cafe.

You didn’t know if would still be there, so you didn’t get your hopes up, but sure enough, there he was, sitting at the little bistro table outside the cafe.

“That was quick,” He smiled as he stood up to hand you your coffee.

“Thank you. And yeah, I have to wear my business clothes during the week, so the weekends are reserved for the comfiest thing in my closet.” You let out a little nervous laugh, feeling your cheeks flush with color.

“I like your style. I called for a car while you were changing, it should be here soon.” A warm smile broke across his face. The mask he was wearing when you first collided was now tucked under his chin so he could drink his coffee.

“Really, you don’t have to be so kind. I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me this or something for my clumsiness.”

He let out a deep, raspy laugh. “I can see the car coming, so it’s too late to change my mind now.” A few seconds later, a black town car pulled up to the curb, and Yoongi went out to open the door for you.

“Oh, thanks.” You were shocked at how nice this complete stranger was being to you. You’d been living here for nearly a month, and this was the first time you’d talked to someone outside of work for more than a casual greeting.

Yoongi got in the car on the other side and gave the driver the address of a store on the other side of the town. “So, you’re obviously not Korean. What brings you to the other side of the world.”

“I work for a large company doing project planning. There’s a new division opening, and I’m the designer for the new infographics and displays. It was supposed to be in New York, but got changed at the last minute. The project is only for a year, so my mom is keeping my cat, and I’m living in Souel now.”

You could feel yourself instantly regretting everything you just said. You couldn’t read Yoongi’s expression as you studied him for a response.

“So, you do art?”

“Yeah, not as much as I want to. My major in school was fine arts, but not as many companies are looking for painters.” You leg was shaking nervously. Not at anything the person next to you was saying or doing, you just felt weird talking about yourself.

“Let me know if I’m asking too much. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or something.” He let out a breathy laugh that made you smile.

“No! You’re fine! I’m promise. I just get nervous talking about myself. I don’t think what I do is that exciting, but it’s still doing art, it pays well and I get to travel a lot.”

“Having a job that allows you to travel is the best. I feel like I’m always going somewhere new for work.”

“What do you do?” He looked almost surprised at your question.

“Uh, well. I’m a musician.”

“That’s amazing. I love music. I always wanted to play an instrument, but that was never my artistic calling.” He laughed at your comment. “What kind of music do you make?”

“Well, a little bit of everything. I’m in a group, so technically pop music, but we definitely go for more of an R&B sound than traditional pop.”

“So you sing?”

“No way. I produce, write and rap. I wish I could sing, but that was not my destiny.”

“Well, next time you guys have a show, you’ll have to tell me.”

“Well, if you want that, I guess you better give me you number.”

You felt you cheeks flush with color. That may have been the smoothest pickup line you’ve ever heard. “I..”

“Here.” The driver stopped outside of the phone storefront cutting your response short.

“Hold that thought.” He quickly ran out of the car to open your door before you could even process everything that just happened.

“Thank you.” You climbed out of the car still flustered by the conversation that had just happened. You tried to relax and walk into the store, but your mind was racing.

“Let’s get you new phone so you can read the next show flyer I send you.” Yoongi walked into the store, and you followed suit.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“Hi, we need to get a new iPhone. Whatever the newest model is. And plenty of storage for art and music. Thanks.” Yoongi had answered everything before you could even open your mouth.

“Really, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine with just the same one I have. I’ve got my credit card. It’s fine.”

“No, I ran into you. I’m buying you a new phone. End of discussion.” He reached for his wallet out of his pocket, grabbing a black American Express card.

Who is this man? A black card?

“Did we need any cases or screen protectors today?” The sales representative set the phone on the counter.

“We should probably do the screen protector.”

“Yoongi, at least let me buy that.”

“No, my treat. Besides, you think $20 is going make a difference?” You smiled, still feeling guilty about the kindness of the man who you didn’t even know an hour ago.

“Well, I owe you.” You stepped up to the counter to finish setting up your phone. Once you were finished getting everything set up, the two of you walked back out to the car, and headed back to your apartment.

“So, now that your phone is fixed, how about you text me so I have your number. Then, we can call it even.” Yoongi reached over to grab your phone adding his name and number to your contacts. “Just send me your name so I can save it.”

“Are you sure? Really? Can I at least buy you lunch or something?” You began to send a message to him.

“Hmmm, I guess it is getting close to lunch time. Fine, your number and hot pot. Then, we’re even.” His phone buzzed with the message you sent him, and he saved your number as he asked the diver to take you to his favorite hotpot restaurant.

“I’ve been here a month, and I’ve basically been living off ramen, coffee and whatever is in stock at the 7/11 on the corner. I don’t know enough Korean to try anything else. I’m so scared of ordering something I can’t eat.”

“What?” His face was taken over by a completely shocked expression.

“I know. I know. I’m allergic to eggs, and I’m scared of getting sick. I don’t know what I would do if I got sick without my mom. I still make her come take care of me when I have a cold.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “No eggs. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you arrived at the restaurant, and walked in for lunch. You had great conversations about family, pets and favorite artist. Before you knew it 2 hours had gone by. The two of you had finished eating about an hour ago, but you were just having a great time getting to know this new person.

“Oh, is it 1:30? Shoot. I have rehearsal in 30 minutes. Let’s get you home.”

“I can call a cab, it’s fine. Really. You’ve done enough.”

“You don’t even know where you are, I’m not leaving you alone. Besides, I have a car waiting outside.”

The two of you got up and left the restaurant, heading back out to the car.

“Well, did you like it? Better than ramen?”

You nodded you head in a laugh.

“I’ve got to get you out and eating more Korean food. Are you off every weekend?”

“Yeah. I usually spend my Saturday’s drawing by the river, and my Sundays sleeping.”

“A whole day devoted to sleeping. That’s my idea of good time.”

You both laughed, and continued to just get to know each other on for the next few minutes as the car neared your apartment.

The car came to a stop just outside the door up to your apartment.

“Seriously, thank you for everything today. You really didn’t have to, but I truly appreciate it so much. This is the best day I’ve had since I moved.”

“The pleasure was mine. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Okay.” You smiled, got out of the car, and headed toward the door to your building, pausing just before entering to wave goodbye. A soft wave met yours, as the car pulled away.

You walked into your apartment, sat on the couch , turned on the tv and tried process what had just happened over the past few hours. The next thing you knew your phone was buzzing, waking you up.

“New Message from Yoongi 🤴🏻”

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. It was nice to step away from life for a few hours.”

“I mean, you didn’t give me much of a choice. You did break my phone. 😉”

“Oh, I see how it is. Much braver now that you’re not with me. 🤔”

“I’m kidding! I really appreciate it so much. Next time coffee is on me. Well... not literally. I don’t need that again.”

“😂 Okay, I’ll hold you to it.”

“Pinky Promise. As long as it’s during the weekend.”

“Well, I have to check my schedule, but I’m sure I’m free the same time next week. This time, we can make it to the river, not the phone store. I can’t afford a new phone ever weekend!”

“😞😖 I’ll try.”

“Hahaha. Listen kid, I’m about to pass out. But seriously, thank you for today. I don’t get my mind off work often, so it was truly refreshing.”

“Well, I’m glad neither of us know how to pay attention when we’re walking. Talk to you soon?”

“That’s not a question, that’s a given. I’ll let you know my schedule next for next weekend soon. Goodnight.”

“Night!”

For the next few weeks, the two of you started to form a genuine friendship. You were surprised at how much the two of you had in common despite growing up on completely opposite sides of the world. Every Saturday morning, you’d meet at the cafe, get coffee and walk along the river. It just felt so good to have someone to talk to that wasn’t the same age as your mom, but your age.

“So, do you have any plans tonight?” Yoongi walked up to you, arm extended with a coffee in his hand.

“Well, I did have some big plans of watching Netflix and making instant ramen.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can top that, but we have a show tonight. If you weren’t busy, I was going to see if you wanted to come. It’s just a small fan fest show. You can come hang out with me and the guys backstage. I know it’s not nearly as exciting as Netflix, but we always have instant noodles.”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Netflix is pretty exciting, and I have been spending every Saturday night at home for the last 3 months I’ve lived here. I really hate to break that streak...” You let out a laugh as you finished the sentence.

“Well, If you can break up with your couch, I can have a car here at 7?”

“7? Let’s see, it’s 12:30 now. That gives me at least 4 hours to nap. I think I can do that.”

“Really? You’ll come?”

“Don’t act so shocked. We’re friends, or at least I think we are. And I’m getting a little bored with Netflix. I gotta tell you, there’s only so many sitcoms you can watch before they all start to seem the same.”

“I’m just excited for you to meet the guys. They all want to meet you. We usually go get food and drinks after the smaller shows like this, you can join us for that if you want, too.”

“That sounds great. I’m a little nervous about meeting everyone, but I think I need more than one friend.” You laughed as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

The two of you continued on with your Saturday morning walk for another half hour before you made it back to the entrance to your apartment.

“I’ll give the driver your number so he can message you when he’s here?” Yoongi looked at you with pure excitement in his eyes.

“Yeah! That works. 7, right?”

“Yep. And don’t worry, I’m the most intimating one, seriously. The other six are puppies.”

“Okay,” you could let help but giggle. “I’ll see you in a little bit then. Do I need to wear anything fancy?”

“You’re so cute. No, it’s just a small concert. Wear whatever you’re comfortable in.” He chucked at your question.

“I don’t know. You’re draped in mystery. Maybe.. I don’t know.” You laughed together for quick second before Yoongi pulled you in for a hug.

“I have to get to sound check, then get ready. The car will drop you off backstage.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” His driver was now staring at the two of you, clearly getting impatient.

“I think you better go, or he may not come pick me up later.”

“You’re probably right. See you later.” And with a soft laugh, he climbed into the car, and took off.

You walked into your apartment tried to process everything that just happened. In the time the two of you had spent together, that was the first time he’d called you cute or hugged you. I mean, it’s not like you mined it, but you also couldn’t help but overthink the situation. You figured a shower and quick nap would help calm you down, so you did just that.

You woke up around 4:30, giving you more than enough time to change. You threw on an oversized sweater and swapped your leggings for some skinny jeans, threw your hair up in a bun, did some soft and natural makeup and topped the outfit off with your favorite doc martens. You still had about 20 minutes to kill, so you walked down to the cafe for a coffee, then sat outside waiting for the car.

7 pm on the dot, a black town car turned the corner. You stood up to start walking down to where he was going to pick you up, but he stopped in-front of the cafe.

You slid into the back of the car, said thank you, and headed off to the venue. You never really talked to the driver much the few times you had met him, plus you didn’t even know if he spoke any english, so you sat in the back reading the book you kept in your bag. It wasn’t long until you were being escorted from the car to the backstage area. Everything was starting to feel like a blur and a rush. Was this really happening? A guy you had known for maybe two months was inviting you to his concert?

You walked in, and suddenly felt underdressed and incredibly nervous. There was a room full of people all just staring at you, and you didn’t know a single face looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a familiar voice coming up beside you, “Hey, kid.” It was Yoongi, looking completely different than how he did when you last saw him, or really from how you ever saw him. You were used to him in sweats and oversized t-shirt’s, beanies and usually a mask tucked below his chin. This Yoongi was in a suit, hair and makeup done, looking like a casual model.

“Hi. I’m.. Uh.. Sorry I’m not dressed better. I’m used to just, like, small bands and house shows. Like 200-300 people. And you said small show, so I figured, and—“

He cut you off with a hug. You don’t know why he chose to pick up that habit today, but you were complaining. He laughed as he felt you take a deep break into his chest. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys before we have to go out.”

He grabbed your hand and drug you over to a side of the room you didn’t notice when you walked in. There, sitting across 3 separate couches, were 4 other guys, all dressed similar to Yoongi, and all looking like they, too, were part time models.

Before you could even introduce yourself, a warm voice greeted you, “So you must be the famous y/n our hyung won’t shut up about. I’m Jimin.” A sweet hand reached out to greet you.

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.” You nervously smiled as you felt color rush to your face. What did he tell them about you? How clumsy you were? How he felt bad you didn’t have any friends?

You thought was cut short. “Come sit down, we have around a half hour before we need to go out. We’ll see if your all you’re cracked up to be.” The comment was immediately followed by a laugh and a slap on the knee.

Yoongi leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Please don’t take Jin seriously. He thinks he’s funny.” His warm breath and deep voice sent chills down your spine. You were still in shock, so you just smiled, nodded and sat down.

“I have to say, I’ve known Yoongi for 5 years now. I’ve never seen him want to bring someone around us other than his family. You must be pretty special.”

“And that’s Namjoon. You’d think with an IQ of 148, he’d be a little smarter.” You could tell Yoongi was nervous, and you kind of liked seeing this side of him. He always seems so cool and collected on your walks, it was nice to know he was still a human under his cool exterior.

“Hi, uh. I’m y/n.” You waved for some reason, and instantly regretted it. You must have looked so dumb, here you are, clearly out of place and from the other side of the world, waving to people in the same room as you introduced yourself. You could feel your cheeks start to turn red. Suddenly you felt a hand caress your back, and you looked over to see Yoongi raise his eyebrows and mouth “You good?” You nodded.

“Okay, guys. I didn’t bring her here for an interrogation. She’s new to Korea, and if I weren’t such a klutz, she’d still be alone in Korea.” You could hear him hold back his laugh at the bad joke he just made. “Now, let’s show her an actual good time, and not make her more nervous?” His hand still resting on your back, not low enough to make you uncomfortable but not high enough to be just friendly. Maybe you were just over reading the situation. Maybe he was just trying to make you comfortable. You mind was racing trying to process everything that had happened over the course of the last 12 hours.

Thankfully, another voice broke your racing mind. “Well any friend of Suga-hyung is a friend of me.” You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet smile from the man sitting across from you, before turning to Yoongi for clarification on who the hell Suga was.

“Suga?”

“Wait, you didn’t tell her that?” The same sweet smiling face from earlier, no rounded in surprise.

“Yeah, I guess it never came up. I don’t really introduce myself as Suga when I’m alone. Not all of us have the same name on and off the stage.”

“I do. I’m Jungkook!”

You smiled and said hi, then realized there were still two people sitting in chairs getting their hair finished. “Wait, how many are in the band?”

“Seven. Tae and Hobi are still getting their hair done, so you may not meet them until after. They only look intermediating, they’re actually big softies.”

“I think I’m noticing a trend.”

“Boys, it’s time to go.” Namjoon quickly gathered everyone up.

“If you go over there, the stylist will take you to the side stage. They’re all super sweet, and I told them you were coming. Don’t believe any of the stories they tell you.” Yoongi smiled before removing his hand from your back and standing up to go off with the group and get ready for stage.

You walked over to a group of 3 women, obviously nervous, but as Yoongi promised, they were all super sweet. You all introduced yourself before walking over to an area labeled “staff”. There you were giving a giant sticker that said “VISITOR” before being allowed into the area. What you were told was a small show, was actually a small theater of about 800 people. “This is a small show?” You turned to the stylist.

“Yeah, they usually do arenas.”

Your mind was back to that racing place, and this time you felt your stomach drop. Who was your new friend? Everything had been so casual and just fun. You never even fathomed that he was an actual celebrity. Was that why he always had on a mask and hat? Was that why he came over to the cafe on your side of town? Because it was mostly older people and business people? You tried not to panic, but your mind was racing. You wanted to get out your phone and google “Suga” but you also didn’t want to get caught by the stylist. You tried to enjoy the show, but you were visibly shaken.

“He didn’t tell you about any of this?” His stylist leaned over during a break in the show without music.

You shook your head no.

“That’s so typical of him.” She laughed, easing your worry slightly. “They’re a lot bigger here in Korea than they are over seas, so any of the guys have trouble meeting people who don’t gawk over them. When you came in, and I saw you were foreign, I figured you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, he told me a show, I figured like a small band. That’s what I’m used to seeing in New York. A couple hundred people, max.” You we’re still nervous, but somehow calmed by the stylist words.

“They tend to be pretty tight knit, Yoongi is probably the most closed off to the outside out of all of them. Honestly, he’s the last one I would have figured for a plus one. But you got to know Yoongi, not Suga, so don’t let all of this cloud that for you.”

“No, definitely not. I mean, it’s a shock for sure. But The man on that stage is like watching a different person from the one I’ve been spending time with over the last few weeks. It’s nice to know he’s a real person outside of all of this, and know that side of him first.”

“He really is one of the best people I know. All seven of them are, truly, but Yoongi just has this calming attitude about him. I’ve been with them since pretty much the beginning, before they even had a show or an album, and you’re one the first people outside of family or pre-fame friends they’ve let into this world. He must see something pretty special in you.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud base thump, and the show started back up. There were only a few more song, and you were relieved because your stomach was growling. As the boys all lined up for the final bow, you followed the rest of the staff back to the backstage area and waited for the boys.

“Hey! Just let me shower off and change, then we’ll go get some food. Just go back over to the couches, I’m sure Hobi and Jimin will be over there soon. They always like they sit for minute and cool before that change.”

You nodded your head and went back over the the couches, still kind of shaken by everything that just happened. You sat down, and before you could get your book out of you back, a hand reached out to shake yours.

“Hi. I’m Hoseok, but Yoongi probably called me J Hope or Hobi.”

You reached out to shake the hand, and look up to see one of the nicest and sweetest smiles you had ever seen in your life. “Hi, I’m y/n”

“I know. Suga has been talking about you for the last few weeks now.”

“Oh, I—“

“Don’t worry! It’s all good. He said you make really good art and tell funny jokes without trying. And you bought him hot pot.”

“He... He talked about that? I figured it was all embarrassing things.”

“Suga? Never. The only people he ever makes fun of are Jin and Jimin.”

“Oh.” You felt a smile taking over your face, completely out of your control. “I’ve really had a great time getting to know him, so I’m glad to hear he hasn’t been spending time with me just because he feels sorry for me.”

Hobi laughed and the two of you had light conversation for the next few minutes until Yoongi emerged back in the typical uniform you were used to seeing him in.

“You ready?”

“Yeah. Do we need to wait for the rest of the guys?” You remembered he said they usually all would go out after shows like this.

“No, I think it’s just the two of us tonight. Unless you’re too tired, I can take you home.”

“No! Not at all I’m starving!”

“Good, me too. Let’s go. My car is on the other side.”

“You drive?” You we’re shocked, all this time you’d only seen him with a driver.

“Yeah, I don’t like to that often, but I gave Hank the night off”

“Wait Hank. Your drivers name is Hank? I feel so bad! I didn’t say anything earlier, I just read my book on the way here. I didn't know if he spoke english, and I just...”

Yoongi could tell you were worried you’d upset the driver, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry. Hank doesn’t talk much. He was probably so relieved when you pulled out your book.”

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help but smile at you. “You’re so caring. It’s so cute.”

You felt a warm rush back to your cheeks again. There was that word again. I mean, this time he wasn’t directly calling you cute, but still. This was a whole different side than you’d been seeing. You didn’t mind it, it wasn’t like he wasn’t an attractive man, you just didn’t know if it was just how he talked or if you should read more into it. You tried to not let the thought consume you as you walked to his car with him. He opened the door for you before he walked over and got in the drivers seat.

“So, what sounds good?”

“I really liked the hotpot restaurant you took me when we first met. If you want that-“

“Say no more. I’m always in the mood for hotpot.”

You laughed at his eager response as he shifted the car into reverse to pull out of the parking garage.

“So, did you like the show?”

“Yeah, It was amazing. I guess I just wasn’t expecting something that big. You’re, like, really popular. And you’re all so talented.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about that sooner. I just didn’t want you to freak out and not come or something.”

“No! Don’t apologize. I had a really good talk with your stylist during the break.”

You could see his hand tighten on the gear shift, obviously nervous at what you may say next. “Hopefully all good?”

“Better than good.” You rested your hand on his on the gear shift. You figured you might as well shoot your shot. Try and figure out if he was flirting or just flirty. You tried not to smile when you saw him visibly gulp out of the corner of your eye.

“Since it’s Saturday night, they’re probably busy. Don’t worry, we can go in the back. I know the owner, and he always has a few private rooms ready upstairs.”

You nodded your head and he turned into an ally, pulling up to the back of what you assumed was a restaurant. “You’re lucky I trust you, or I would be a lot more suspicious about where we are right now.” Although it was dark, you could see his stoic face break into a warm smile.

“You don’t know, maybe I have a third name, and that one is a criminal.”

You both laughed out loud at the suggestion, and he shifted the car into park. You both got out of the car, and Yoongi draped an arm around your shoulders. “I would have opened your door, you know.”

“Maybe I wanted to get out and open yours this time.”

He smiled down at you before the two of you walked in through the back entrance of the restaurant into a storage room.

“Are you sure-“

Suddenly an older man greeted Yoongi with a warm embrace speaking only in Korean. The two of them exchanged a few words, of which you understood hello and table, then the two of you were lead upstairs to a much more intimate setting than the main dinning room you knew. You sat down in room clearly meant to seat no more than 7 or 8 people, as the older man bowed and left the room.

“That’s the owner. I’ve been coming here since I first moved to Souel. It’s the best hotpot in the city, seriously. I’ve tried them all.”

You smiled looking at the clean face you were more familiar with and smiled. You could tell he was nervous, but you weren’t sure what to say to make him relax.

“So that’s a small show, huh?” You instantly regretted it, but It was honestly just the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just didn’t want you to get nervous or think something different of me. A lot of people who meet me, well any of us, tend to treat us different. I didn’t want you to look me up or not come after you found out what I really did. It was just...”

“It’s fine! Yoongi. I don’t care.” You reached out and grabbed his hand. This time, he took your hand between both of his, softly caressing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Your stylist explained a little bit, and after going to the show, I see why you didn’t want to tell me. I probably wouldn’t have come if i knew Suga or BTS before. I would have been so terrified. I’m glad I know Yoongi.”

You could see his body relaxing as you talked. “You’re the first person I’ve met in the last two years who only knew me as Yoongi. It was just nice to have that again. No pressure to live up to a certain image.”He was still holding you hand, his eyes focused on his thumb making small circles on the top of it.

“Yoongi, the person I know, the person who I bumped into, the person who bought me a phone, the person who has talked about anything and everything with me, never been more than second late on Saturday mornings, that’s the person I’ve grown fond of. That’s the person I look forward to seeing every weekend, and that the person I came to support tonight.”

His eyes met yours with a soft gaze. “I have a confession.” You could feel your heart start to pound. What was he going to say? Was this Yoongi thing all an act? We he done spending time with me? “The guys all wanted to come tonight, but I told them the couldn’t.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“I don’t... I haven’t... I...” You could tell he was struggling for the words, something you’d never see him do. He was usually so calm and collected. “I just needed to tell you something, and I didn’t think all the guys should be here. I mean they know, and they know why I wanted to bring you here. I just... I just haven’t done this since I was a kid.” He took a deep breath, and you could feel heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. “I like you. Genuinely, 100%, haven’t felt this way about a person since I was kid type of feelings. After we started getting famous, I didn’t think I would ever be able to form just a genuine bond with someone like this again. And these last few weeks, between the coffee and the walks and the messages, I feel like I’m in school again. I just, I’m sorry to spring this all on you, I know it’s a lot. And if you don’t feel the same...”

You cut off his words by leaning over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“How could I not share those feeling with you? In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve treated me better than most of my friends, let alone any boyfriend I’ve ever had. I just didn’t want to say something, and have you think I was over reading your kindness. But the conversations we’ve had, we can talk about anything. It feels like I’ve known you for years.”

“Really?” His face lit up, leaning in for a more passionate peck this time. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Your moment was cut short by the food coming in.

“You remembered I cant have eggs.” You smiled as everything was sat down and there wasn’t even a smaller dish with eggs for him.

“Of corse. I can’t have you sick on our first date.”

“D-Date?” The word ignited a warmth in your stomach.

“Sorry, was that too forward? I know it’s not a proper date, and a little weird, but I just though...”

“No. I like it. Our first date.” You couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the meal was just the same conversation you’d always had, hobbies, family, favorite tv shows, everything. Nothing ever felt forced in conversation, the two of you just genuinely liked learning more about the other.

You finished up dinner, the stood up to leave. Before you left, Yoongi looked down at you and smiled.

“Do I have something on my face?” You started to lift you hand up to wipe your face when he let out a soft laugh.

“No, I’m just happy I can finally just study every part of your face without you thinking I’m weird.”

Your cheeks filled with color, as he smiled, grabbed your hand and led you back out to his car. He went to open the door for you, stopped to steal on more kiss before he did. “Seriously, You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to do that.” He smiled as his face lingered in front of yours for a minute before he finally opened the door for you. You’re whole body was taken over with a warm glow, and you stomach filled with butterflies. Everything was starting to feel like a movie.

Once you got back out to the road, he started to head back to your apartment. You laced your fingers with his, and he pulled you hand up for a kiss before placing your laced fingers gently to rest on you lap. You just stared at him, watching the way his eyes lowered as he drove, the way they slightly squinted when he read a road sign.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked with a smile, his eyes not leaving the road.

“No, I’m just happy I can finally just study every part of your face without you thinking I’m weird.”

“Ah, stealing my line, huh?” He smiled as his eyes still focused on the road.

“Maybe.” You both let out a soft laugh as the car turned on the your street. “You, if you want to I mean, You can come up for a glass of wine.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He parked the car along the street, before turning it off and leaning in for one more soft kiss before you both got out of the car and walked up to your front door.

You entered you apartment and immediately felt the urge to apologize for its lack luster appearance. “Sorry, it’s small and kind of plain. I really just have some pictures of my mom and my cat.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s perfect.”

You felt you cheeks begin to flush with color again. “Um, you can go sit on the couch, I’ll get the wine. Red or white?”

“Red. Unless you want white.”

“Red it is.”

You watched Yoongi walk over to the couch, and nervously rub his hands up and down his thighs. It was cute and also comforting to know you both were nervous as hell about this night that was turning into your first date.

You walked over with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, setting them in the coffee table. “I’m going to go take off my makeup real quick. You can put on a movie or something.”

He smiled and nodded at you as he reached for the wine bottle and began to pour wine in both glasses.

You came back out, and he looked at you, taking in every inch of you before you sat down on the couch. “You wear glasses?”

“Oh, yeah. I, uh, I usually wear contacts, but my eyes were hurting so I took them out.”

“I like the glasses. They’re cute.”

Your face once again flushed with color, Yoongi was good at making you blush. You sat down on the couch next to him, and he pulled you in closer with his arm wrapped over your shoulder.

“Oh, I forgot I was watching this earlier. We don’t have to watch it.” You we’re suddenly embarrassed at your favorite movie, Terminator 2, playing on the tv.

“Nope, I love this movie. I was shocked to see it paused when I turned in the TV. I didn’t take you for the action movie type.”

“Yeah, I pretty much only watch action and horror movies. This is my favorite movie.” You instantly regret the words you just said, feeling like a total nerd.

Yoongi smiled, placed a kissed on you head then rested his head on yours, softly combing his fingers through your hair. “I love it.”

You must have been more tired than you realized because suddenly you felt the sun peaking through your window onto your face. Your eyes fluttered open to realize that you and Yoongi had both fallen asleep watching the movie. You looked up and smiled at his sleeping face, then bushed his hair off his face, leading to a low hum from the chest you laying on.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His low and soft morning voice sounded so warm in your ears.

“Good morning, handsome. I hope you don’t get the wrong idea about me.” You let out small giggle as Yoongi’s hand rubbed you back softly. “I’ve never had a boy spend the night that wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm. Boyfriend. Are you asking me to make things official” His sleep voice vibrated in his chest below your ear.

“I just mean... I’m not...” He cut you off with a laugh and a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“No, I like the sound of it. You being my girlfriend, no one else’s.” His hand still rubbing your back. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I really don’t want to loose you to someone else. So, do you want to make this official? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

—————————

“I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I really don’t want to loose you to someone else. So, do you want to make this official? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

It’d been over five years since you said yes to that question, and you’d been happy you did everyday. By no means was it easy, and there were times you wanted to just give up, but Yoongi was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Over the last few years BTS had exploded, and they couldn’t go anywhere without being noticed by people. Every year the comeback grew bigger, so the tours grew bigger and the time apart became longer and longer. You loved and respected your boyfriends work ethic, but it was also making it harder to spend time together.

The two of you had certainly survived more than most relationships. When your contract in Seoul was over, you moved back to New York, and the long distance was so hard. long distance in the same country is hard enough, but you were on opposite sides of the world? Miserable. Trying to find time to talk between you both working constantly was hard, but you made it work. The boys also came to New York a few times for different events, and you took 2 trips to Korea during the year.

Around a year and half after you started dating, while you were in Korea for the new year, Yoongi suggested you moved in with him while laying in bed.

“I know it’s so far away for you, but I can’t keep doing this. It kills me not being able to kiss you or hold you when I want to. I love you so much, it’s killing me only seeing you for a week or two at a time.”

“Yoongi, what about work? I don’t have a job lined up here. There’s nothing more I want than to spend the rest of my life with you, but it’s just so sudden.”

“You don’t need a job, let me take care of you. You can stay home and do your art. Make the guest room into an art studio. Please, I don’t need anything from you other than you.” He was getting emotional at the idea of you leaving in two days back to New York.

“Yoongi... I ca—“

“Don’t say you can’t because you know I can support you and take care of you. Make art on your own terms and sell it on your own terms. You don’t need to depend on your art to survive, and you don’t need to make art you don’t love ever again. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone. Please, just think about it. Please.”

You pulled your boyfriend to your chest in a tight hug as he tried to hold back tears. It wouldn’t be hard to move to Korea, really. You’d lived away from your family since you were in college, only seeing them on holidays for the last 6 years. You had more friends in Korea at this point than in New York. But it wasn’t that idea that scared you. You’d love nothing more than spending everyday like this, melted into one person with your boyfriend. But the idea of not working and just becoming dependent on someone, regardless of how minor it was for him, it wasn’t something you were used to. You’d lived alone and supported yourself since you were 18. That was the last 8 years of your life. And now you have this man wanting to give you the world, and you were considering saying no?

You must have contemplated the decision longer than you thought because you went to tell him you wanted to move, and he was asleep on your chest. In a weird way, you were happy he was asleep and you couldn’t tell him. This moment just confirmed that he was your person, and this was where you were supposed to be.

The morning after he suggested you move to Korea, you woke up to an empty bed. You were slightly confused, you didn’t remember him saying he had to go to the studio, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot.

You walked out to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and there he was, making you breakfast. He’d even gotten vegan eggs for you.

“So, are you going to make me breakfast every morning when I move in, or is this just you trying to butter me up?

He turned around to tell you good morning, but then he suddenly realized what you had just said. “Wait... are you serious?”

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you last night, but you were already asleep. I hurts too much to leave, I can’t keep doing it. You’re my now and my future. It’s going to take some adjustments, but like you said, I can make art and sell it. That’s what I’ve want to do since i was a kid. So to not only have the love of my life want me to spend everyday with him, but to have him support me and encourage me to do what I love? You’re almost too good to be true sometimes.”

He left the food on the oven, and wrapped you up in a tight embrace. “I just wanted to make you breakfast because it was your last morning with me. But if you want breakfast in bed every morning, I will make you breakfast until I can’t stand up anymore. What ever you want, for the rest of your life, I will give it to you.” He covered your face with soft kisses.

“All I want forever is you.” You leaned into a kiss, this time feeling a little sweeter than usual. “I’ll start figuring everything out once I get back to New York.”

“Are you sure? Because I know this is what I want. I would have asked you to move in before you even moved back to New York when we started dating if I didn’t think it would have freaked you out.”

You laughed at the idea. “Yeah, you’re right. I definitely would have freaked out. But there’s nothing more I want in life now.”

He continued to kiss you, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, your fingers, you hands, just showering you in the sweetest and softest moments of pure joy. “I think I can move somethings around and come back with you to the city. Help you pack, get documents, tell your boss you quit. Whatever.”

“I don’t think I can get this handled in just a week. The visa process alone can be like 90 days.”

“Well, at least turn in your resignation when you get back. So you can start moving things until your visa gets approved. I’ll get you added on my bank account and credit cards before you leave. You can use them to pay for everything.”

“Are you sure? I have money. I have enough in my saving to live for six months without working.”

“Then keep it there. Or invest it. Please, this was my idea, you’re moving half way around the world for me. Let me take care of everything.” His face was so soft and sweet, you couldn’t believe this was the man that was in love with you. That wanted to be with you. That would do anything for you.

It took 6 months to get everything finalized for the move. And man, did those six months feel like forever. By some weird twist of fate, the paper work came through and the everything was finished on your two year anniversary. Yoongi was in New York with you for a few days to celebrate.

You’d spent weeks trying to find the perfect gift, and somehow, fate led to it falling into your lap. So that morning, you snuck out while he was still sleeping to go get a card and print off the email to put inside. When you got home, he was just starting to stir in bed.

“Come back.” His morning voice always made you smile.

“Give me 2 minutes. I’ve got something for you.”

“Mmm. I don’t need anything but you. Come back, I’m cold.”

“Trust me, you’ll want this.” You quickly folded up the printed email, signed the card and stuffed everything into the envelope, before crawling back into your boyfriends arms. “Here.”

He rubbed his eyes, before taking the card and giving you a nearly missed sleepy kiss. “What’s this?”

“Just open it.”

He shifted his weight to sit up a little more, and opened the card. He chuckled at the stupid little card you got him. The two of you had a history of getting the dumbest cards you could find, and this was no different. But it wasn’t about the card, it was about that piece of paper in the card. He unfolded it, and as he read it, his eyes tripled in size. “Wait, is this... Is this real? Everything is done? You can move?”

You nodded your head as Yoongi buried his face into you neck and began to cry. “Why are you crying? I thought you would be happy?”

“These last six months have been the hardest. From all the struggles and the long distance, and just waiting for you to come be with me. And now it’s happening. This gets to be my everyday. Forever.”

You felt the tears starting to swell in your eyes as you listened to his words. It had been hard being apart for so long, but to know it would soon be over, that was the best feeling in the world. You combed your fingers through your boyfriends hair, and the tears slowly turned to kisses.

“So this is real? We’re really doing this?” You knew it’s would make Yoongi laugh, and he quickly flipped you over, pouncing like a cat pounces on its prey.

“You’re stuck with me now, kid.” That morning quickly became afternoon, and you missed your dinner reservations that night.

So, now, here you were. Dating a member of the most popular Boy Group in the world. You’d been living together for nearly 3 years now, and the bliss never seemed to end.

Everyone told you the honeymoon phase would end, or how hard it would be dating someone with his job, but it just worked for the two of you. You had a mutual understanding of each other’s limits and needs, and he truly was your best friend and your boyfriend.

You both were so comfortable with each other, you could just sit in the same room and say nothing, but be happy. And you did that a lot. He’d watch you paint, and you’d watch him mix music. You’d lay on the couch together and read books the other picked out. Even just laying in bed together, scrolling through your phones together, it was all just comfortable and felt right.

So now, you laid in bed with your boyfriend of over 5 years, just paying with his hair as he lay asleep beside you. You loved these little moments with him more than anything. Life had become so hectic over the last few years, but moments like this reminded you why you feel in love with him. Whenever he started to stir awake, he would always pull you in closer to his body, and today was no acceptation.

“Mmmmm.” Am arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to his chest.

You let out a soft giggle as you rested your head on his chest. “We can’t stay here forever, kid.”

“Shhhh. Just five more minutes.” He nestled his head on top of yours.

“But it’s Saturday. You know what that means.” Somehow, through all the chaos and the fame, the two of you always took a Saturday morning walk. No matter the city, no matter the schedule, even if it was walking to the hotel lobby to get a coffee and walk back to the room, the only time you’d missed a Saturday was when you lived apart.

“The side walk will still be there in fine minutes. I just want this for five more minutes.” His hands softly rubbing your back as you drew shapes on his stomach with you finger.

“Fine. But any longer, and you’re buying coffee this week.”

“I’ll buy the coffee shop if that means we can stay here forever.” He somehow hugged you even tighter, still sending that same rush through your body that you got the first time he kissed you.

Five minutes came and past, but you’d both managed to fall back asleep for another hour. This time, you were woken up by a cold nose pressing your face.

“Okay, the kids need to go out. It’s time to get up.” You sat up and gave the two dogs laying beside you good morning kisses. When you moved to Korea, you brought your cat, Yoongi already had Holly, and after months of torture, the two of you adopted a second dog. Of course, that led to a second cat about 6 months later because your cat couldn’t be without a friend, and your bed now being occupied by 4 pets you both referred to as your children.

“Fine, Fine. Let’s go. But walk, then coffee today? I’ll make it.” Yoongi sat up, hair a mess and eyes still closed, but still just as perfect as ever.

“Okay, I’ll get the kids ready for their walk, you get the water?” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, leading to a soft hum and eyes slightly opened.

“One more?” You kissed his other cheek, opening his eyes a little more. “Okay, now one more?” You gave him one more kiss as you laughed, then stood up.

“Okay, kid. Let’s go. We can stay right here, just go around the building a few times. Then you’re making coffee.” You walked out to then entry room to get harnesses and leashes on the dogs, put on your shoes and wait for your boyfriend to get his. “Yoongs? You moving?”

“I’m here, I’m here. I had to get water.” He shuffled into the entry, eyes still half closed and water bottles in both hands. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Slip on some shoes, or you're making coffee and cleaning up the accident.”

He let out a groan that made you laugh out loud, slipped on some sandals, and followed behind you as you led the dogs out the door.

You’re walks weren’t nearly as talkative as the used to be, but you still loved them just as much. It usually consisted of going to the dog park outside your building, you chasing the dogs for 30 minutes and him laughing and recording it. Today, even the dogs seems extra sleepy, so you just took a little longer of a walk, then all headed back home.

You walked back in, and while Yoongi made coffee and a light breakfast, you got breakfast ready for your babies.

“So you know what today is?” Yoongi sat down a coffee and bowl of oatmeal in front of you.

“Hmmmm. Saturday?” You pretended like you didn’t know what today way, but you were fully aware. It was 2000 days since he asked you out. You’d managed to hide a card in the front pocket of your hoodie, and had it waiting for him when he sat down.

“And here I thought you forgot. You always amaze me, kid.” He opened the card and laughed at the stupid joke the bear on the front made. Inside was a picture of a painting you’d been working on of the two of you. “How’d you keep this hidden from me?” He studied the image before leaning in to a deep kiss.

“I have my ways. And Kookie is also a hopeless romantic with a half empty apartment, so he let me steal a room for a few weeks. We can go over and get it when ever you want.”

He leaned in for one more sweet kiss, “It’s so beautiful. I know just the place for it in my studio. Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed you one more time before he stood up. “Now wait here. I have something for you.”

He walked down the hallway and turned into the guest room. You had no idea what he was hiding or planning. Suddenly, he reappeared, holding what looked like a dvd case in wrapping paper. “Here.”

“You took the gift and unwrapped it to reveal it was a Terminator Two dvd. You couldn’t help but laugh. “We don’t even have a dvd player, plus we have it downloaded to the tv.”

“Just open it.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

You looked at your boyfriend confused, but followed his instructions. There, inside the case in place of a dvd, was a ring. Not just any ring, it was an absolutely beautiful opal ring, set by two diamonds on either side.

“Well, kid? Let’s make it official.” You looked up from the ring to see your boyfriend now kneeling in front of you on one knee.

The tears were filling your eyes, and you couldn’t even get any words out. You just nodded your head. He then slipped the ring on you finger, stood up and pulled you into the tightest huh you’d ever shared. You could feel him start to cry on you shoulder as the two of you just stood there, holding each other so tight you may just become one person.

After a few minutes, you both got two a point of where you could talk same, and the first thing he did was ask you if you were sure.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to feel any pressure or anything. I know we’ve both said were fine with not getting married, and this doe-“

You cut him off with a kiss that made him melt into you. “Have you ever known me to mix words?” You took his face in you hand, “Do you think I would move to the other side of the world, bring my child, adopt two more babies with you and put up with your schedule if I didn’t want this? If I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with you? I always told you I just wanted you. That’s it, for the rest of my life. This is just the perfect reminder of that. But I want you. Everything could end tomorrow, we could go back to working 9-5 jobs, and I’d still want nothing but you.”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a deep and long kiss. He then just studied your face for a minute before he said anything. “You know, I’ve spent 2000 studying this face, and Instill find things to love. I’ve spent 2000 days with your heart and your mind and your soul, and I never run out of things to love about you. From the freckles on your forehead, to the scar on your pinky. The mole on your shoulder, the way your knees turn in when you stand. The scar on your knee from falling in first grade, the way your left pinky is crooked from breaking it when you were 6. The way your hair curls when it rains, the color your eyes turn during golden hour. The way you know the constellations and drag me out of the city to see meteor showers. I even love when you crack you toes. The way you hum as you’re falling asleep, and you ears raise when you smile. How one dimple is deeper than the other, I know you think you only have one, but the second one just hides until you have a full body laugh. When you’re painting, you always forget you have paint on you hands and fix your hair, getting paint on your face and in your hair. I could fill encyclopedias about the things I love about you. I want to spend this life, and every other life with you.”

You’re eyes filled with tears again listening to everything he said. He truly knew you better than you knew yourself. “You’re so amazing and perfect. How’d I get so lucky?” You snuck in about her kiss before sitting back down to study your ring.

“Well, thankfully, you’re a pretty clumsy person.” He sat back down talking your left hand with both of his, studying the ring on our finger. “But I want to tell you about the ring. Because this has been a few months in the making.”

“What?” You looked up at him with rounded eyes, confused by the statement.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you wear a ring someone else my have. Everything about this is custom. Even the stones. Remember when I took that trip to LA for recording?”

You nodded your head, still confused about what he was talking about.

“Well, I went to the US, but I didn’t go to California. I went to Ohio. The diamonds are from your Grandma’s original wedding ring. And the chrysoprase, I know you’re not into diamond, so I wasn’t about to get you a big Diamond. But your mom said you loved it and she said it was your dad’s grandmothers necklace. That it was the only piece of jewelry she had when the immigrated during the war.”

Your eyes filled with tears all over again, you knew the ring and necklace he was talking about. Your mom had them in her safe at her house along with some other small things that had been passed down to you. “You really did all of this for me?”

“I know i could have bought you a ring, or even made some big fancy ring with a jeweler, but I know that’s not you. I started talking to you mom about it a year ago, asking what she thought, and she told me there was some old family jewelry if I wanted to look thought it. I saw the necklace, and I knew it was perfect. She suggested the diamonds from your grandmas ring, that you loved that ring. She also told me if you were going to wear it everyday, it couldn’t be too big, or you’d go crazy. I wanted to do some big date, or some special vacation, but that’s not us. I’ve had the ring for a few months, just trying to figure out what to do and last night it hit me. I couldn’t just keep it forever. I watched you sleep, with all of the kids down at our feet, and this is the family and the life I want for the rest of my life. Then I thought I would do it at dinner tonight, or I could sneak out and get flowers, or I’d take you on some romantic moon lit walk, but watching you kiss the dogs. Then seeing that painting. I think if I waiting any longer, I would explode. Sorry it wasn’t some big grand gesture, but I didn’t want a box. And I knew the movie would throw you off.” You could tell he was getting emotional talking about everything, so you cut him off.

“I love you so much it should be illegal.” Your eyes still filled with tears, over flowing on to your cheeks. “Now let’s call my mom and tell her.”

“Hold on. One last thing.” He stood up and took your hand, leading you over to the couch. “Let’s just enjoy this one little moment, just us.” He sat down, pulling you on to his lap. He studied your face for a minute before saying anything again. “I just want to study the face of my fiancé.”

#yoongi #suga #min yoongi #min suga #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi imagine #suga fluff #suga imagine #bts fluff #bts imagines #boyfriend yoongi #boyfriend suga

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bopinion · 4 years ago

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Book of the month / 2021 / 02 February

I love books. Even though I hardly read any. Because my library is more like a collection of tomes, coffee-table books, limited editions... in short: books in which not "only" the content counts, but also the editorial performance, the presentation, the curating of the topic - the book as a total work of art itself.

Phaidon Design Classics (001-999)

Alan Fletcher (and Phaidon Editorial Staff)

Encyclopedia / 2006 / Phaidon Press

I love design. On paper and in three-dimensional space. After winning the lottery, our home would look like a mix of a high-end furniture store and a modern gallery - Bauhaus meets Apple, Philippe Starck meets Eva Solo, Ligne Roset meets Alessi, Alvar Aalto meets Le Corbusier. And I would finally meet BoConcept ;-)

I tease my wife by crowing loudly "The chair!" or "The lamp!" every time I spot an Eames Alu chair by Vitra or a Tolomeo lamp by Artemide in a movie or series - because that's exactly how her desk is equipped. And I crow often, because after all, the set designers have at least as much style in their blood as I do. But significantly more budget.

To this day, I still weep for the Wagenfeld Lamp on the Eileen Gray Adjustable Table, which didn't end up with me after the divorce. Now they have found their destiny as ambassadors of good taste. There's so much "Gelsenkirchen Baroque" - as we call the Germans' favorite taste aberration - out there, most furniture stores are a scarier experience for me than the ghost train. There is a difference between cheap and inexpensive. So for the time being, I continue to dream of a Hardoy Butterfly chair and ottoman in black calf leather and stainless steel.

Phaidon, the British eminence for reference books, obviously understands me. And has documented the 999 most important designs of the last hundred years in a compendium: Three volumes with 3,300 pages of beauty. Already on the title, the claims are made clear:

Industrially manufactured objects of aesthetic value and timeless quality:

1) Definite Models of lasting influence and enduring quality

2) Objects that are innovative in their use of new materials and unite technological advances with beautiful design

3) Objects characterized by simplicity, balance and purity of form

4) Objects that are perfect in their design and have remained unchanged since their creation.

Wow - I'm in love!

Of course, the selection of design objects is subjective, but the compilation presented here can certainly be considered recognized and comprehensive. The product areas range from furniture and lamps to household goods, toys, tools, packaging and transportation. Among the icons considered are the Moleskine notebook, the Thonet Chair No. 14, the Peugeot Pepper Mill, the Swiss Army Knife, the Steiff Teddy Bear, the VW Beetle, the Tabasco bottle, the Mont Blanc fountain pen, the Rolleiflex camera, the Bialetti Mika Express coffee pot, the Model 300 telephone, the Savoy vase and the Slinky. A wealth of design highlights - and I only took the first volume "001-333" off the shelf for these examples.

The illustrations are of good quality as well as neutral and documentary in their simple pictorial language. Construction sketches and design studies are not missing and one or the other gag appears: for example, a picture from Martin Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" is shown for the famous New York Checker Cab. The depth of information in the accompanying texts is perfectly measured - one learns everything essential about the object, its design and its creator, all well in context.

We learn: Design accompanies all of our daily lives. Design transports functionality. Design positions the individual in the omnipresent. Design creates value. Design attracts and creates expectations. Design communicates with the viewer. Design builds the bridge from sober "form follows function" to animating marketing. Design has an effect. By the way, this also applies in reverse: the absence of design - whereby one should actually speak of "accidental physical manifestation" instead, because an actual absence would be invisible and intangible - also has an effect. But just negatively.

The lasting value of good design is demonstrated, for example, by Coca-Cola, whose lettering and typical bottle shape have remained basically unchanged since 1937. Anyone who looks at Pepsi in comparison will understand what this says about the quality of the design. And even such everyday self-evident things as crown caps, zippers or pencils were once created by designers.

Of course, a reference work on design must itself be appropriately designed. Thus, none other than Alan Fletcher is responsible for the layout of the three books. Fletcher was described by The Daily Telegraph as "the most highly regarded graphic designer of his generation, and probably one of the most prolific". Born in Nairobi, Kenya, Fletcher moved to England at age five, and studied at four art schools: Hammersmith School of Art, Central School of Art, Royal College of Art and Yale School of Art and Architecture. The Phaidon Design Classics was his last major work before his death in 2006.

By the way, the three volumes were delivered in a specially designed transport case. Created by Konstantin Grčić, a renowned Munich-based industrial designer of Serbian descent. And that, in order to get to the contents, actually has to be broken. I remember that I didn't want to believe it and even wrote to Grčić's studio - unfortunately without feedback. After a few days of patience, I then proceeded to the destructive work and have since wondered if this was meant to be a deliberate statement. According to the motto "Nature is the best designer - I'm only human". Who knows...

Here is the website of Phaidon Press - the section "Magazine" is worth more than one look:

https://www.phaidon.com

#book #book review #phaidon #coffeetable book #design #classics #alan fletcher #coca cola #konstantin grcic #artemide #tolomeo #Alu chair #charles & ray eames #checker cab #aesthetic #encyclopedia #timeless

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joaquinwhorres · 6 years ago

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Bottle Rockets (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: You don't need feelings. You don't need friends. You need to stop obsessing over the fact that Sweet Pea is spending his summer with Josie instead of lighting bottle rockets with you.

Based on Request: hello!! could you maybe write something where the reader was a northsider friends with sweet pea and he kind of ignored her while he was with Josie for the summer and now the reader is ignoring him and he's feeling miserable because he misses his friend (and maybe has actual feelings for her)? thank you 💚

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 14,976

Author’s Note: This goes so far beyond the original request, but I started writing it, and the story just took life. I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it. [Insert normal begging/plea for feedback in asks and reblog form]. Also, I tried to capture some of the Sweet Pea we saw flirting with Josie. Hopefully, there was some success.

Warnings: Language (there's always language). Underage drinking. Minor jokes about killing yourself (because of boredom). References to sex.

When it came down to it, it was all the Black Hood’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, the town wouldn’t have been so on edge and quick to shut down Southside High, ignoring years of hostility and prejudice and throwing over half of the student body into the already crowded halls of Riverdale High.

And while that itself was less than ideal, the situation would have at least been manageable if The Black Hood hadn’t murdered Midge. Because that changed everything.

That led to Fangs Fogarty getting arrested. Which prompted Ms. Klump to shoot Fangs. Which incited the riots and all of that wreckage. Which landed you in the seat next to Sweet Pea for the remainder of Physics.

The first day of the new seating arrangement came with little warning or fanfare—unless of course, you counted the fact that the trophy case was still cordoned off with caution tape and pretty much the entire student body all slipped on Southside Serpent jackets yesterday under threat of death from Veronica Lodge and Cheryl Blossom.

But still.

Walking into physics with your teacher mumbling “Your new seat is on the board—as if he knew he was about to cause the Riots - Part 2–was the first indication that shit was about to go down. Looking at the list of names, with you being placed towards the back right corner and seated next to a kid whose name you did not recognize should have been your second clue. Because you knew everyone who was supposed to be in this class. And maybe if you'd used a little bit of deductive reasoning, you would have known who you were sitting next to before the hulking mountain of flannel and leather dropped into the seat next to you.

"This is bullshit," he grumbled, slamming his books on the table and pushing them up out of his way.

It was Sweet Pea. Of all the people in this class, you were sat next to the angriest one of all. The one who hated Northsiders with every fiber of his being. So much so that he threw a trashcan through the trophy case.

And whose best friend was shot by his classmate's mom, a little voice inside your head reminded you.

You ignored her, as you normally did when she brought up irrelevant or otherwise inconvenient facts.

"What?" he growled turning to meet your gaze.

You blinked twice, unaware that you had been staring at him and shook your head giving what you hoped was a casual shrug. "I just didn't know that your name was--"

"Sweet Pea." His brow furrowed even more than it had a second ago making his face even darker if that was possible. "My name is Sweet Pea."

You rolled your eyes and looked back up to the front, your eyes landing on the projected seating chart once more.

The rest of physics passed by in silence between the two of you, Sweet Pea keeping his head bent close to his notes and you keeping your eyes trained on Mr. Flutesnoot so you didn't take note of any of the other empty chairs in the classroom.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern as the first day. You arrived first and took your seat. Sweet Pea arrived a little later and dropped angrily into his. The two of you would silently complete your work, pack up as quickly and quietly as possible when the bell rang and then dash off to your last class of the day.

It wasn’t until the second week of the new seating arrangement that things took a turn. When you walked into the class, all eyes were on you. You walked down the center aisle to your seat, still feeling the eyes of your classmates on your back. It wasn't until you took your seat and looked up at the board that you understood why they were staring at you.

On the board, in Mr. Flutesnoot's scrawling handwriting were two words: bottle rockets.

Your stomach clenched as you took hold of your pencil, opening up to a blank piece of notebook paper and staring fixated ahead, your face stony. Because of this, you noticed Sweet Pea enter the classroom and the way that everyone's eyes seemed to flick from you to him. "This is gonna be good," Alex Cabot whispered behind you. Hushed snickers dotted the classroom, and this didn't go unnoticed by Sweet Pea. He scowled at row after row of students as he passed them on his way to you. The look did nothing of course, not even dissuading the oggling as he dropped into the seat next to yours.

You looked over at him and then put your eyes back onto your paper as the bell rang. Mr. Flutesnoot came back into the classroom. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen," he grinned and you rolled your eyes. He always seemed like an announcer whenever he was starting class. "I hope you're ready for our final lab of the year."

"Unit-Bomber is," Cabot snickered. "She's been waiting for this day all year."

"Probably ready to finish off the school," his partner, Fletcher Foley, added and the two boys chuckled.

“And I bet her partner is just dying to help her.”

“They still haven’t repaired the banner he cut.”

You picked up your pen, grinding the tip down into your desk. Keep your mouth shut, you chanted in your head. They're not worth it. Keep your mouth shut. They're not worth it. You continued to chant it throughout Mr. Flutesnoot's instructions and mini-lesson on factors to consider during the design stage.

"Alright, talk to your partners and discuss. What materials are you going to use? Play with the simulators to design the nose cone and wings and any other modifications you may want to make. Yes, Mr. Cabot?"

"We can't make this into an actual rocket right. Like, substitute real gas for water?"

Mr. Flutesnoot narrowed his eyes in confusion as you pressed your pen tip even harder into the desk. "No, you can't use rocket fuel."

"Well there goes the Unit-Bomber's big plans," Cabot snickered. You slammed your pen down and turned to Sweet Pea.

"So, any ideas?" you asked, sort of breathless. He jerked a little in his seat eyeing you, as if suddenly aware that you were about to go off at any second.

He shrugged his shoulders with a small shake of his head, and you gave a tight-lipped smile, pulling a laptop in between the two of you. "Why don't you play with the simulation, and I'll research what materials will work the best?"

"She has to tell him what to do because he's too stupid to actually understand directions," the voice came from behind you.

You watched as Sweet Pea's face went suddenly white and then dark, a snarl growing on his face and his fist clenching. If he had been a bit faster, he might have threatened to rip their throats out if they didn't cut the shit or some other kind of barbaric and totally justifiable punishment.

But he wasn't as fast as you

"Hey, so, if you're going to talk shit about us, can you at least try to keep it down a little?" you asked, your voice a vitriolic sort of cheery. "Or, I don't know, make it vaguer who you're talking about? We just get kind of distracted by how bad you are at it."

The rage was wiped away from Sweet Pea's face, replaced with a suspicious confusion.

The two boys behind you looked at each other as if trying to decide who would respond to your constructive criticism of their assholery.

"Ok, you're confused. Umm, quick tips--" you started, hearing the classroom around you gradually grow quieter. "When you're talking about someone behind their back it usually means that they can't hear you. Not that you're literally behind their back."

Foley's face was now completely blank. Cabot looked kind of annoyed.

"And if you were trying to bully us, you usually don't target a gang member who can beat the shit out of you. So cliff notes version: shut the fuck up."

"Ms. L/N!" your teacher reprimanded.

"Sorry, Mr. Flutesnoot,” you apologized, turning back in your chair to focus on the work.

"Freak," one of the boys muttered.

"Just one more quick thing," you turned back around. "Your material's old. The whole Unit-Bomber thing is last year. This year I'm the weird bitch who does shit like this--sorry, Mr. Flutesnoot--and also, hating the Serpents and Southsiders died with the Black Hood. So if you can stop distracting my lab partner with your mediocre middle school bitching, that would be great."

Silence followed as the class waited to see if and how they would respond.

"Are you finished Ms. L/N?" Mr. Flutesnoot asked, crossing his arms.

"I think so. You got anything?" you asked, turning to Sweet Pea. He shook his head. "You guys?" Cabot flicked a finger. You swiveled back to face your rather put-out looking science teacher. "I'm sorry, I don't think it'll happen again."

Mr. Flutesnoot nodded. "Right, well. The next person who starts it back up is going to find themselves in Mr. Weatherbee's office."

"Ok," you agreed before turning back to Sweet Pea who was looking at you as if you'd suddenly turned into a werewolf or had just started speaking Dothraki or something. "So you're good with the simulator?"

"Yeah," he agreed, and the two of you began work.

To some extent, you expected there to be some kind of blowback from you snapping in class yesterday. Earlier in the year, a freshman had snapped on a group of juniors, and the phone footage had gone viral, spawning the hashtag #thehallsarenotyourplayground (which coincidentally had made quite the resurgence when the Serpents rolled into town).

So, you were fairly surprised that aside from a few whispers and the casual wide-eyed look from people who were in your science class, no one brought it up. It didn’t become a thing. The was no hashtag.

If you had to guess it was mostly because everyone else was sick of Cabot’s shit too and there were bigger and better things to whisper about.

Betty Cooper’s dad was the fucking Black Hood.

Veronica’s jailbird father was first gentleman of Riverdale.

Some weird shit had been going on in Greendale.

And Betty Cooper’s dad was the fucking Black Hood.

So, by the time you walked into science class at the end of the day, it was hardly surprising that Foley and Cabot glared darkly at you and the rest of the class watched vigilantly as you walked down the aisle to take your seat, only to find other things to direct their attention at when no words passed between you and Cabot.

You quietly went about drawing your notebook from your backpack, flipping the pages to find the notes you jotted down yesterday. Both you and Sweet Pea had made good headway on your specific tasks. In fact, so far Sweet Pea hadn't really needed any hints or oversight from you. You had given him control of the simulations primarily because you already knew exactly what shapes are the best, but he had come to similar conclusions on his own. One day and you were beginning to think that this partnership may actually work out; you wouldn't have to take over the project and do it all by yourself as per usual.

A stack of books dropped into the table signaling Sweet Pea's arrival.

"Hey," he greeted and you glanced up at him, your brows furrowed in slight confusion.

"Uh hey," you said still staring at him suspiciously. Greetings were not part of the normal. In all honesty, talking wasn't part of the normal.

He nodded before sitting down, looking as content as if the two of you had carried out a whole conversation as opposed to three words. Oooookay then, you thought to yourself, turning back to your notebook as Mr. Flutesnoot began class with the reminder that today was your last day of building the rocket and on Monday you would do launches. He finished his spiel, walking over to his desk to his usual hiding spot behind his computer.

You slid out of your stool without a word to Sweet Pea and walked to the front table, perusing the different materials and selecting the ones closest to what your research turned up.

"You know students used to set off real model rockets," Cabot said casually, sidling up beside you and grabbing the same material you had just grabbed for your fins. "Now they can't even trust us with matches because of you."

You rolled your eyes, picking up some masking tape. "I didn't use matches," you mumbled.

He snorted, bumping into you as he picked up some masking tape as well. "I'm still surprised they let you back. Then again, it seems like now Riverdale will let anyone walk through its doors. Bombmaker. Drug dealers. Gang members. I bet they'd even let that murderer back if Ms. Klump hadn't shot him."

You dropped the masking tape, picking up some duct tape instead as you glared at him. He smiled smugly. "Just stating facts," he said lightly, exchanging his masking tape for duct tape.

"Someday someone's going to kick your ass, and I can't wait to stand there and watch."

"Is that a threat?" Cabot asked, watching as you turned on your heel and headed back for your chair.

"Just stating facts," you threw over your shoulder. Besides, you thought to yourself. If I was going to threaten you, I would point out just how easy it is to torch someone's car.

You arrived back at your seat, slamming the materials down on the table. Sweet Pea looked up at you from his work with a questioning glance. "You good?" he asked.

"Fine. Ready to work," you answered, shaking off the comment and the strange feeling that came from Sweet Pea actually noticing your frustration this time. He nodded but didn't look entirely convinced until his eyes fell on Cabot making his way back to the table behind you. His face darkened, but you didn't have time for his anger issues. "Can I see what you've got?" you asked, pointing to the notebook. He nodded, pushing it over to you so that you could read it more easily.

As expected, all of his conclusions were accurate. "Good call with the fins," you said, nodding. "Not a lot of people think about making them different sizes in the simulator."

Sweet Pea furrowed his brow at you for a second before you scrawled onto the edge of his paper. Fucking with them. You drew an arrow pointing back at Cabot and Foley who had gone suspiciously quiet behind you, the same way they had all year whenever it came to listening in on your work with whoever your partner was. Sure, it was perfectly fine to treat you like shit, but you always listened to the girl who knew enough to get you a free day in science class. It wasn't incompetence that got you the name Unit-Bomber and everyone knew it.

Sweet Pea nodded, his lips quirking up into a distant relative of a smile. "Thanks."

"So, you cut these two the same size, and I'll cut the other ones into the short and the long one," you grinned back. Sweet Pea took the material from you and began tracing the shape he'd researched as you waited for the scissors and the pieces he was cutting to make them the same size.

You heard the whispers of Cabot and Foley behind you followed by the quick scratching out of something in a notebook.

"Perfect triangles?" Sweet Pea asked, holding up the fins for only you to see.

"Perfect triangles," you smiled. Taking one and using it to trace the pattern of the remaining two fins. There was more whispered argument behind you, and a devilish grin crossed your face. Sweet Pea shared the look.

Physics had just gotten fun again.

It felt like ever since they caught the real Black Hood, the student body of Riverdale High found any reason to party.

AP testing was over? Party to celebrate your brains no longer being molten lava.

Dr. Johnson went home sick today? Party to celebrate a sub tomorrow.

Kelly Gordon got a new haircut? Party to show it off.

Student Body President elections right around the corner? Party to influence the vote.

That was how you ended up in Cheryl Blossom's house at ten o'clock on a Saturday night with a beer in hand. You’d had a flyer shoved into your hand by Veronica Lodge, and with nothing better to do, you’d decided that after the Black Hood maybe you were someone who went to parties.

But even if you had suddenly become someone who went to parties, you still weren't the girl in the middle of the dance floor laughing and screaming and surrounded by a large group of friends.

You stood off to the edges of the dance floor, close to the speaker, attempting to give yourself permanent hearing loss and maybe destroy your liver while you were at it. It was easy to lose yourself in the base--to let it take control of your heartbeat and run through your blood along with the liquor. It only took half an hour for you to stop thinking about the sound waves and frequencies and to just have fun like a normal teenage girl out at a party.

You let yourself go until you finished your second beer, and you departed from the safety of your spot for a refill.

It would have been nice if you really had blown out your hearing.

Because maybe then, when you made your way out of the living room, you wouldn't have heard Ginger Lopez' not-so-quiet comment.

"She invited the Unit-Bomber?"

You paused, your grip around your beer can tightening.

"You know what they say," Tina Patel smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Every vote counts."

"I don't know, I think they could do without one," Ginger snickered and Tina laughed.

"Someone should keep an eye on her. The last thing Cheryl needs is having another house burn down."

You took a deep breath and started moving again, making sure to bump shoulders with a laughing Tina as you passed by. Based on the screams that followed in your wake, her drink had sloshed into at least one of them. You grinned, moving deeper into the house where hopefully the proportion of bitches was smaller.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was. While still heavily populated, everyone in the kitchen was for the most part too far gone or pre-occupied to worry about the black sheep in their midst. You headed over to the table where drinks were piled. On your way, Ben Button was pushed sideways, bumping into you so that you stumbled into the tall figure standing next to the drinks table.

"Shit, sorry," you mumbled, looking up at the figure who turned around and peered down at you. Your eyes widened slightly with shock, seeing Sweet Pea frowning at you. Taking in your face, his shoulders relaxed a little and his brow smoothed.

"Could have just said hey." It was hard to tell if he was teasing you or angry based on the look on his face. He wasn't smiling, and his eyebrows were raised.

"Hey," you greeted, tentatively, reaching behind him to grab another beer.

"Hey," he answered, turning to face you fully. The people next to him moved away a little and your gaze fell back on him. He looked down at you expectantly as if you really had run into him on purpose and now had to carry a conversation.

"So you’re supporting Andrews now?" you asked with an eyebrow raised.

Sweet Pea shrugged. "Toni invited me."

"Forced you to come, you mean." You immediately regretted the snarky and weird way the words sounded falling from your lips. He didn't seem phased at all but shook his head slightly with a shrug.

"What about you? Don't strike me as an Andrews fan."

"I came to be swayed. You know, see what my vote was worth," you nodded, taking a swig of your drink.

"And it's worth....this party?"

You shrugged. "Better than a cupcake."

He snorted and shook his head at you. A silence settled between you two, not altogether uncomfortable but not exactly companionable either.

"Well, don't let me keep you from your friends," you said, taking a step backward.

He rolled his eyes. "Topaz left with Blossom a while ago. I think they're upstairs." And Fangs was still in recovery. "But I guess you should get back to your friends."

You shrugged. "I came alone." There was a pause as his brow furrowed lightly and he gave a slight nod in response to the statement. "I don't need moral support to get drunk and dance," you added, punctuating the statement with a sip of your beer.

He snorted again, and you grinned, basking in the warm feeling of triumph. You had made Sweet Pea, The Angry Gangster, laugh. Twice.

This time, he fully nodded, his eyes running over your body. "So, since neither of us has any friends to get back to, maybe we should stick together? It might make this party a little less...shitty."

"This party is far from shitty," you scoffed. "Free booze. Decent music. And just enough jingle jangle to make most of the people here not assholes. This is as good as it gets on the Northside. Besides," you took a few steps away from him, heading back towards the music. "I'm happy being by myself. See you later."

He raised his drink as a goodbye, and you turned around, taking a sip of yours to try to keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

It took about twenty minutes for you to realize that Sweet Pea may have been onto something when he said the party was shitty.

It was a gradual shift. The music got louder, and the bodies got a little bit closer, pushing in at all sides until you couldn't help but brush up against somebody every time you danced. Everyone's eyes were glazed. Girls' voices got higher pitched, and boys spoke less. A bad feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach, but it wasn't until you felt the cool trickle of beer dripping down your arm from where someone had just sloshed their drink on you as they tried to pass that you realized this party was no longer the best the Northside had to offer. You turned your arm in front of you, looking down to assess the damage only to realize you didn't have a napkin. You heaved a suffering sigh, staring up at the sky before bringing your eyes back down to the party and catching Sweet Pea's gaze. You placed two fingers to your head, cocked the makeshift gun and pulled the trigger, your head jerking to the side with the force of the imaginary bullet.

A smile crossed Sweet Pea's lips as he tipped some of his beer onto the ground. You smiled as well before turning and heading closer to the speaker system and proverbial higher ground.

It was only fifteen minutes until the next hint that this party had taken a downward turn. While shattering your eardrums seemed inevitable, the earsplitting music seemed to keep most of the drunks away and provide you with a little room to breathe. You were even managing to enjoy yourself once again. And then your eyes landed on Sweet Pea.

Or rather, your eyes landed on the blonde girl who was writhing all over the front of his body. Every time he backed away she would follow, too far gone to process the rejection, judging by the way she couldn't keep her head up and her hips couldn't quite match the tempo of the music. He looked up with a face of disgust that melted away for the most part when he caught your gaze. Instead, he lifted a fist and pounded it into his chest several times before his head lolled to the side. You laughed at the brutal stabbing scene before dragging your attention away to continue dancing.

You managed to stick it out for almost another full twenty minutes before suddenly the song that was blasting out of the speaker next to you turned to "Shots."

You swore loudly. Not loudly enough to be heard over the dulcet does of LMFAO, but loudly enough for a drunk girl to look at you as if you were crazy. Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd and it seemed like his must have been too because you found Sweet Pea's gaze in record time. You threw back an imaginary shot before clutching your throat and slowly sinking down into the crowd. When you rose back up he was smiling. He jerked his head towards the kitchen, and despite the fact that you were moderately enjoying your time alone, you found your feet leading you off of the dance floor.

By the time you reached the kitchen, he already had two shots in his hand--courtesy of a wasted Reggie Mantle--and passed one to you.

"So maybe you knew what you were talking about when you said this party was going to be shitty if we didn’t stick together," you said, clinking your glass to his and throwing it back. The cheap Vodka burned on the way down, but it numbed you a little to the party.

“Of course I was.” He hadn’t even winced at his shot. He plucked the cup out of your hand, putting it back on the counter and grabbing two beers instead, passing one to you.

You cracked the can open, taking a sip—a watery chaser to the burning liquor. “Well,” you gasped slightly as you finished your drink. “At least you got the true Northside experience before it imploded.”

“Imploding isn’t the Northside experience?” Sweet Pea quirked an eyebrow.

“Aw," you put a hand over your heart. "You get us."

He exhaled a laugh, taking a drink, and a small silence settled between the two of you. “So, you still happy by yourself?" Sweet Pea asked.

You raised your eyebrows. "You know when you say it like that, it almost sounds like an innuendo.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just inclined his head towards you.

You offered half a smile, shaking your head. "I'm always happy on my own. Not sure if you picked up on this in physics, but I’m not exactly a people person.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was generous of you to try to help Cabot and Foley out with their rocket,” he offered straight-faced.

You smirked and gave a casual shrug as you took a sip of what was essentially alcoholic tap water. “Anyway, I think you’re better off without me hanging around. You seem like you’ve been having a pretty good time on your own.”

He stared at you blankly.

“I saw you having a blast with Heather.” His face dropped and you burst into laughter. “Not into Northside girls?”

“Not girls like that,” Sweet Pea answered flatly.

“Shame, she seemed to really like you,” you pushed. “You’ll break her heart.”

“She’s not even going to remember any of it tomorrow.”

“I mean, that is kind of the point of drinking at parties,” you said, toasting him before downing the rest of your beer. His eyes narrowed slightly as he seemed to give you an assessing kind of look. You slammed your can down onto the counter.

“Well, I’m going to take off. Leave before the cops come,” you announced.

"Need a ride?" He asked, and you tipped your head sharply to give him a questioning look. He was staring down at you with an almost challenging look. You squinted your own eyes attempting to size up the offer.

Accept a ride home from a Southside Serpent? Bad idea.

Accept a ride home from your lab partner? Not as bad.

Accept a ride home from Sweet Pea?

You shook your head. "I’m sure you can guess what I’m about to say.”

“You’re good on your own?” He guessed disbelieving.

You gave him finger guns and to be honest you weren’t even sure you could blame it on the drinks. “I can walk from here,” you said, straightening back up.

"By yourself at this time at night?"

"Survived the Black Hood, so I’m feeling lucky. Besides if someone kills me it saves me the trouble of the massive hangover I'm destined to have tomorrow."

Sweet Pea shook his head slightly, his lips quirking into his almost smile. "See you on Monday, then."

"Maybe," you threw over your shoulder. This time you didn't even bother to hide the smile.

Your walk home was uneventful. As a result, the weekend was swallowed up by a massive hangover on Saturday and rushing to do all of your homework on Sunday. By the time school came around Monday morning you hardly felt ready or rested and judging by the other zombies roaming the halls of Riverdale High, the rest of the student population was in a similar situation.

The day passed in a slow and dull sort of misery.

Until physics.

“Grab your rocket and then line up by the door, we’re going out to the field.” Mr. Flutesnoot greeted. The majority of your chemistry class was already along the wall, and you headed to the back to grab your rocket and join the rest of the class.

Scanning down the line you looked over the different versions of rockets. Some basic but functional and colorful. Others sleek and potentially good enough to give yours a run for its money. And a few were true disasters.

Among this category was Cabot and Foley’s. Because not only had they listened to every last sabotaged direction that you and Sweet Pea has given them, but they hadn’t even followed them well.

The thing had triangle fins of three different sizes and slightly varying shapes. The weight was focused in the bottom of the rocket and the nose cone was sharply pointed. Sweet Pea had tried to get them to cut holes in the rocket, but realizing that'd be taking it a bit too far and even Cabot and Foley weren't that stupid, you'd corrected him. That said, when he had them tape the whole thing with several layers of duct tape, you'd shrugged and let it go.

“Grab your rocket and then line up by the door, we’re going out to the field.” Mr. Flutesnoot said from the entrance of the classroom. You looked up from the line, your eyes falling on Sweet Pea who was scanning the line for you.

You held up, Ophiocus, and he caught sight of your green bottle, coming down to stand next to you.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you answered. He looked no worse for wear than usual. His hair curled above his eye in the way it usually did, and the dark circles that had been under his eyes ever since the riot seemed fainter if anything.

“How was your weekend?”

“Well, I’m here and breathing so you can guess how Saturday went,” you quipped. “You?”

“‘S fine.”

The bell rang and you waited for the sound to die down before you continued the conversation, but before you could get a word in, Mr. Flutesnoot started. “Alright, out to the field. Remember I expect you to walk through the halls quietly and respectfully.” You rolled your eyes but quietly trudged out behind the rest of your class.

“Did you see their rocket?” you murmured to Sweet Pea. He shook his head, stepping out from the line and craning his neck a little to see it. It wasn’t until the line turned to go out the side door that his eyes lit up and he fell back into step with you.

“You’re vicious.”

“I can’t wait to see it fly.” You flashed a crocodile smile.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait long. Their rocket was selected among the first ones to go, and when they brought it up for launch even Mr. Flutesnoot winced at the sight of it. When he backed up to set off the rocket you reached out and grabbed Sweet Pea’s bicep, squeezing it tightly in excitement. He looked down at you, and if your eyes hadn’t been fixated on the rocket that was about to go up, you might have noticed the warm amusement on his face.

“3-2-1,” you chanted along with the rest of the class.

The rocket made it up just a couple of feet before making a hard tilt and crashing down into the ground.

It was the worst one so far. And while the rest of the class giggled lightly at it, you roared with laughter at the looks of shock and confusion on their face, doubling over and clutching your sides.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Mr. Flutesnoot admonished.

“I’m sorry,” you straightened, wiping the tears from your eyes and shutting your mouth to keep the next burst of laughter in at the looks of sudden realization and anger that flashed across their faces. “I know they worked hard on it,” you added trying to suppress a smile. Next to you, Sweet Pea snorted.

“Alright, well, let’s see yours then,” Mr. Flutesnoot said, as if your rocket would be a similar failure and teach you how bad it was to make fun of other kids in class.

You strode forward, handing him the bottle to set up before stepping back slightly to watch it. Sweet Pea moved up next to you.

The pair of you counted down along with the rest of the class, watching as the water poured out and your bottle shot up into the sky soaring far out over the field.

When it finally landed, a slightly shocked Mr. Flutesnoot directed Sweet Pea to measure the distance the rocket flew. And as he stood there watching Sweet Pea run out, you took the opportunity to turn to Cabot and Fletcher, both of your arms straight out in front of you, middle fingers high, one for each asshole.

But that moment was nothing to when, after Dilton came back with the distance his rocket flew, it was determined that your rocket was the top performer.

“Yes!” Sweet Pea shouted, punching the sky. The rest of the class offered some halfhearted congratulations, and you beamed at him.

“Congratulations the extra credit is yours,” Mr. Flutesnoot announced. “Everyone let’s head back in.”

“That was incredible. Fangs would’ve loved that shit,” Sweet Pea said. A glimmer of something shone in his eyes before the look passed.

“You know,” you said, casually. “This experiment is entirely reproducible at home.”

“Maybe the rocket, but how’d you launch it?”

“Bike pump,” you answered, simply.

He nodded, the grin reappearing on his face. Which slid off as Cabot pushed past, shouldering you. “Fucking Unit-Bomber.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sweet Pea barked. Your eyes flicked up to Mr. Flutesnoot who was busy opening the doors to the school ahead.

“Why don’t you make me?” Cabot spun around stepping up into Sweet Pea’s face. Sweet Pea pushed him backwards, and Cabot pushed Sweet Pea. A few of the other Serpents in class noticed the scuffle and ran back to step in and crowd Cabot.

“Alright guys back in the building!” Mr. Flutesnoot called. Your attention snapped to him, seeing him craning his neck to see what was happening and who should be written up. Cabot held up his hands in the face of all the Serpents and under the scrutiny of your physics teacher.

Little bitch.

“Better a Unit-Bomber than a dumbass,” you remarked, walking past Cabot who was still held there by the rest of the Serpents until you and Sweet Pea were back in the building.

“You good?” Sweet Pea asked with a quick glance down at you as you rubbed your shoulder.

“Fine,” you shrugged, letting your hand drop.

His eyes remained on you, and you met his gaze, a strange and completely unwelcome flipping sensation in your stomach. You shook your head, stepping into the classroom, pushing the feeling down. You’d deal with this later.

The bell rang, signaling the end of physics and the fact that only one more class stood between you and the weekend.

“Hey, y/n,” Sweet Pea called out, stopping you on your way out of the classroom. You slowed down, waiting for him to catch up so you could walk out together. “I was thinking, do you come over to the quarry after school?”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at him suspiciously, ignoring the way your heart seemed to speed up a little at the offer. “Why?” You asked, drawing out the word.

“I got stuff to make a bottle rocket with Fangs. Thought we could use your expertise.“

You grew stiff and your face went blank. There it was. There was always something. “My expertise as the Unit-Bomber?”

Sweet Pea’s head snapped to you. “You think I’d say that?”

You gave a jerky shrug, looking straight ahead and continuing to your math class.

“Or do you just not want to be seen on the Southside?”

“Think what you want,” you said quietly, your throat feeling tight with disappointment.

Next to you, Sweet Pea bristled. “I asked because I thought you’d enjoy it but forget it,” he stormed off.

Guilt flooded through you. This always happened. Fuck. Things were easier when you just stayed by yourself. “Wait,” you called out, hurrying after him. “I’m sorry. I’m not... I don’t...” you ran a hand through your hair. “Can you give me a ride?”

Sweet Pea’s face remained stony as he looked back at you. You stood in silence until the warning bell rang. His shoulders didn’t relax. He didn’t ease up. Instead he said, “I’ll meet you out front after school.”

You were surprised when he actually pulled up and parked his bike out front at the end of the day.

You walked up to the bike. “Hey,” you said, softly.

“Hey.” The word came out short, and he didn’t offer anything else except for an intense stare.

Despite the fact that your skin tingled with discomfort, you refused to break his gaze. “Can we forget about how I was a touchy asshole who is apparently new to the concept of friendship?”

Sweet Pea snorted and visibly relaxed, shaking his head. “Get on the bike.”

You hauled yourself onto the back, wrapping your arms around his middle and trying to lose yourself to the feeling of the wind in your hair and sun on your face as he tore out of the parking lot and towards the quarry.

The drive passed mostly in silence. Slightly more comfortable than your other silences if only because you were fairly sure you’d have to lean up and shout in his ear for him to actually hear you. Instead, you occupied yourself by watching the landscape pass and ignoring the way your arms wound their way tighter around him every time he turned. Kind of like how, when you arrived, you fought to keep down the shock and outrage at his living situation.

He lived in a tent.

In fact, it seemed like most of the Southside now lived in tents. And it seemed like complete bullshit that the mayor or someone hadn’t spoken up to address the fact that half the town had lost their housing and were now living with minimal running water and plumbing.

If it weren’t for years of practice pushing things down, Sweet Pea might have seen it all on your face. But instead he looked at you and found only a blank sort of contentment. “Fangs!” Sweet Pea called, and out of a nearby tent popped Fangs Fogarty’s head.

He didn’t look like he’d been shot just a couple of weeks ago. His smile was bright and genuine even as he hauled himself up on crutches and hobbled out to greet you.

“Hey, what’s up?” He greeted, coming over to you. You moved a little faster to meet him halfway.

“Fangs, Y/N. Y/N, Fangs,” Sweet Pea introduced before disappearing into a tent. The introduction was hardly necessary. Everyone in Riverdale knew exactly who Fangs Fogarty was.

“Heard a lot about you,” Fangs said, reaching a hand forward and you shook it even as you cast a glance at Sweet Pea’s tent. Fangs chuckled at the look on your face. "You're one of the few Northsiders Sweet Pea thinks 'Isn't that bad.'" You snorted.

“Wow. High praise,” you said flatly, and Fangs full out laughed.

“For him? It’s about the same as declaring—“

“Shut up,” Sweet Pea cut him off, appearing with a couple of grocery store bags. “Or I’ll throw your crutches in the lake.”

“Whatever man I’m about to be off them anyway,” Fangs dismissed goodnaturedly but thankfully didn’t finish his statement.

“Sooo rockets?” you asked, changing the topic just in case Fangs decided he did want to make things more uncomfortable than they already were.

Fangs grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

You wished you could have blamed how bad Fangs was at building rockets on the fact that he was injured. But given that most of his tasks were literally groundwork, it really came down to the fact that he was too excited and a shit listener. Without your constant intervention and shouting at him, the rockets would have turned out similarly to the SS Clusterfuck you saw in physics. As a result, it took twice as long to build the damn things than it should have, but eventually you had your rockets, Cobra, Viper, and Galileo ready to go on the launcher you talked Sweet Pea through building.

And while Fangs was a shitty engineer, at least he was funny and a good conversationalist and had just enough of a saving grace personality for you to not want to drown him in the quarry like you would have for anyone else.

“Mine first,” Fangs declared, pushing Cobra into your hands. You rolled your eyes and set it up, looking back at the boys.

“Ready?” You called back, and they flashed a thumbs up.

“Go!” You shouted, moving back towards them as Fangs pushed down on the tire pump, sending the rocket up. It was fairly impressive the thing went up at all.

He let out a whoop as if he had actually been a part of a real-life rocket launch. Behind the three of you there was some clapping. You turned to see Toni Topaz standing with Cheryl Blossom.

“Impressive Fangs,” Toni commented with a smile.

“Wanna set one off, Topaz?” Sweet Pea asked, holding Viper out to her.

“Nah, we’re heading over to Cheryl’s, I just had to grab a few things,” Toni shook her head, disappearing into her tent. It was hard to miss the way Sweet Pea’s face fell.

“Teaching them all your tricks Unit-Bomber?” Cheryl asked, quirking an eyebrow with a smug little smile. You glowered at her.

“Why? Looking for new ways to set your house on fire?” You shot back.

“Shit,” Fangs remarked.

Cheryl stepped forward and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Toni who re-emerged from her tent. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, looking expectantly at Cheryl. The redhead plastered on a smile.

“No need to be here when y/n inevitably blows up half the tents.”

Well, shit. Toni was making her soft.

You watched as they climbed onto their motorcycles and pulled away.

“I’ll say it: that was incredible,” Fangs said, looking over to you. “You out bitched the bitch.”

You shrugged, feeling significantly worse than five minutes ago.

“Why'd she call you the Unit-Bomber?” Fangs asked, genuinely. Sweet Pea reached over and hit him upside the head. “The fuck?”

“It’s what everyone calls me,” you shrugged, sitting down on the ground next to Fangs. “It’s Riverdale. You do one thing and suddenly that’s all you are. You guys know that.”

A shadowlike feeling settled over the group as the three of you looked out over the water.

“What’d you do?” Fangs asked, breaking the silence. Sweet Pea hissed words you didn’t catch. “What? She knows what I did. Half the town knows about your anger issues—“

“I caused an explosion during a unit final last year in chemistry. By accident,” you added.

“You are too good at science for it to have been an accident,” Sweet Pea commented.

You rested your head on your knees. “Well, it was.” You simply hadn’t known that the reaction would go that wrong and be that big. It had nothing to do with the fact that your boyfriend just broke up with you because you refused to tell him you loved him, so you canceled class because you wanted to go home, not sit behind him in chemistry.

The silence once more settled over your group, each of you in your own thoughts and miles away from the quarry.

That was, until Fangs spoke. “Well let’s blow some more shit up. By accident.”

"What are we doing today?" Fangs asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in his excitement. You rolled your eyes, continuing to unpack the contents of your grocery store bag onto the bank of the quarry.

After the first bottle rocket experiment, Fangs had insisted you come back to teach other 'actually cool science experiments.' "You can homeschool me until I'm cleared to go back," he'd suggested. And like a sucker you fell for it. Even after Fangs returned to school, you always found yourself climbing onto Sweet Pea's motorcycle and riding down to the quarry with them.

Out of habit. You told yourself. Because that's definitely why you did it. Habit. Nothing else.

As a result, there was a direct relationship between the proximity to summer and the frequency of you exploding shit on the Southside.

"Well if Sweet Pea remembered to get the brake fluid this time, I think we're ready for a real explosion," you answered, your eyes darting up to Fangs just in time to see the look of absolute glee light up his face.

"I have it. Hold on, it's in my tent," Sweet Pea grumbled, disappearing into his tent to grab the supplies. Neither you nor Fangs had let it go for the entire week that last Friday Sweet Pea had forgotten the crucial part of your experiment. As a result, the three of you had resorted to sitting by the quarry’s edge and just talking for five hours. It was boring, uncomfortable, awkward, and the reason you were thoroughly convinced that these boys may just be your best friends.

"Fangs," you directed, holding out the Dr. Bob soda bottle.

"On it," he chirped, ripping the label off of the bottle before unscrewing the cap and beginning to chug down the drink. You watched him, counting in your head as the off-brand soda slowly disappeared, stopping when Fangs finally pulled away. Half of the bottle was empty.

"31," you announced. "Best yet."

"I can do better," Fangs said, punctuating the statement with a burp. He handed the bottle off to Sweet Pea who had reappeared with the brake fluid in hand. He reached down, offering the chemicals to you, and you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his. Your skin tingled at the contact, and as normal, you swallowed hard and ignored it. Sweet Pea did too, instead bringing the Dr. Bob to his lips and gulping down the soda quickly. By the time he was finished, only a little remained in each of the pockets at the bottom. You took it from him, careful to grab it at the top and away from his hand and finished it off.

You also pulled out the notably smaller plastic water bottle and finished that by yourself.

"Alright," you gasped, putting the water bottle down. "I need you to fill the chlorine up until here." You pointed to a groove on the water bottle and let your shoulders drop when Sweet Pea took the bag of chlorine from Fangs. As always he stopped right when he was supposed to, placing the water bottle back on the ground next to you.

You offered the soda bottle up to Fangs, and he took it, swapping Sweet Pea for the chlorine.

"Fangs, I swear you better listen to me," you warned, rising up from where you crouched to point a finger at him threateningly.

"I always listen to you," Fangs scoffed, rolling his eyes and stepping forward towards the bottle.

"I mean it. This is actually dangerous."

"I mean it too," he agreed, but that damn glint was in his eyes, and you knew you were in for it.

"So when I say stop, you're actually going to stop pouring it into the bottle."

"Relax. Trust me," he soothed.

"No." Both you and Sweet Pea spoke the word at the same time, and Fangs face split into a grin.

"Ok, I promise I'll stop after you say stop," he agreed, and you nodded so that Sweet Pea reached out the bottle for Fangs to pour the chlorine in. You kept a careful eye on the mark you set in your head, watching as the chlorine fell to the bottom of the bottle.

"Stop," you instructed a little before the mark. The chlorine continued to pour.

"Just a little more," Fangs stated, his lips twitching into a smile.

"Fangs, stop," you snapped as the chlorine piled up over the mark.

"I am--"

Sweet Pea yanked the bottle away from Fangs and some of the chlorine fell out onto the bank of the quarry. He held the bottle out with one hand and punched Fangs hard in the arm with another. Fangs swore as he laughed.

"Give me that," you said, taking the bottle from Sweet Pea and glaring at Fangs. "You're the worst science student. You know that right?"

"You're saying that because I'm from the Southside," he folded his arms.

You shook your head, turning away to place the bottles even closer to the water. "I'm saying that because you're a moron. Sweet Pea, can I have the brake fluid?"

"Sometimes you're just as mean as Toni," Fangs complained.

"She's meaner. That's what makes her such a good replacement," Sweet Pea corrected.

You looked over your shoulder at Sweet Pea, your eyebrows furrowing. "Stop saying that."

"What that you're mean?" Fangs teased.

You stood up straighter, crossing your arms against your chest. "No, stop calling me a replacement."

"What should we call you then? An upgrade?" Sweet Pea smirked.

You shook your head, maintaining your serious expression and ignoring the way your stomach dropped at his words. While he had been making fewer and fewer comments about Toni (maybe due to the fact that she and Cheryl stopped by less and less), there was always one or two about how they didn't need her now that they had you. And you didn't like them. You weren't sure why. "You can't just replace someone Sweet Pea, that's not how it works. People are different."

The smiles fell from the boys' faces. "We know that," Fangs said, earnestly. "It's just a joke. Right?" He hit Sweet Pea in the shoulder who nodded. His face had a new look on it. Something you hadn't seen before and couldn't quite trace to a specific emotion or thought. You decided you didn't like it though. It made you squirm.

"Ok," you swallowed, tearing your eyes from Sweet Pea and turning around back to the bottles. "Bring me the brake fluid.

You didn't look to see who pushed the container into your hand, focusing instead on pouring a proportionate amount of fluid into each container and swirling it to mix it.

"Alright, step back," you instructed, and the boys followed you back to stand a few feet away, all of your eyes glued to the bottles.

The three of you waited in silence. Fangs leaning on your shoulder and Sweet Pea standing so close that if he were just a centimeter to the left, his arm would be touching yours. You waited as a minute passed.

"Fangs, you fucked it up," Sweet Pea commented.

"No," you turned, tilting your head up to face him. "Chemistry takes time."

He raised his eyebrows and moved a fraction of an inch closer so that his arm bumped against yours. You turned your attention back to the experiment and shifted to your left, leaning more into Fangs.

A new silence enveloped the three of you, this one slightly less comfortable than the last. So much so that twenty seconds later you were stepping forward towards the bottles. "Maybe I should have shaken them more---"

A whoosh of fire shot up from water bottle, flames shooting up to five feet high. You jumped, but before you could step back or react in any other way the soda bottle burst into flame with a roar, pieces of chlorine shooting up out of the bottle and whizzing past you. A hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you back as the three of you scrambled away to escape the burning bottle.

To your left you could hear Fangs' uncontrollable laughter as you slowed to a stop, colliding with Sweet Pea. His arms wrapped around you to steady you, and you glanced up at him. "You good?" he asked, looking down at you with that face again. Your mouth seemed to go dry and the world seemed to spin, and one word rang through your head: out.

You stepped out of his grip, whirling on Fangs with your chest heaving, ignoring the way Sweet Pea's face fell.

"You almost killed me!" you shouted.

"I didn't tell you to step forward," he protested hands up, his eyes flicking from you to the smoldering remains of plastic. You opened your mouth to argue but instead laughter burst out. And then Fangs was laughing again. And Sweet Pea. And the three of you laughed until you cried and then you scavenged bottles from around the campsite to continue setting off explosions until it got dark.

You had taken to sticking around until it got dark after that. Most of the time the three of you would make dinner and eat together after the experiment, and then you'd talk until one of the boys offered to take you home.

Tonight, Fangs had let you know that he wouldn't be available to chauffeur you. "I have a rendezvous," he announced a little while after dinner, standing up from where the three of you had been stargazing.

"A rendezvous?" you repeated, leaning up on your forearms. "With who?"

"I don't kiss and tell, you should know that," he winked, and you rolled your eyes.

"Just make sure you don't get shot this time," Sweet Pea called out from his position on the ground.

Fangs flipped him off, turning to head over to the motorcycle, and you watched him go, a small spark of anxiety making it's home in your chest. You turned to look at Sweet Pea. "Do you know who?"

"Could be anyone," Sweet Pea shrugged, continuing to look up at the stars. You stared at him for a second longer, trying to figure out if he was deflecting or if he really didn't care before laying back down next to him.

It was tempting to push it. To see what he knew about Fangs’ love life. But something about the thought of continuing this conversation set off warning bells. Change the topic, the little voice told you.

"You know," you said, tucking your arms under your head. "I used to want to be an astronaut."

"Really?" Sweet Pea asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Mhmm," you hummed, keeping your eyes on the stars. "Back before I realized how much fun it is to blow shit up."

Sweet Pea snorted, returning his gaze back up to the stars. "Why?"

"They're so far away from all the bullshit," you whispered expecting to hear him snort again, but instead he was quiet. "And when I look at them, I don't feel so..." you trailed off, your chest growing tight with discomfort as you treaded close to the intimate. You abandoned the statement, taking a different route. "They just make you realize how small all of us are in the grand scheme of things. I like that." Sweet Pea was still quiet next to you and that tight feeling took hold of you once more. You'd shared too much. Gone too deep. You turned to him, fully intending to make a sarcastic comment--something, anything to alleviate the tension, but when you faced him you found that his eyes were on you once more, and your throat closed up, not letting any of the words that you'd planned get out.

"I like that too," he said. His eyes remained fixed on yours, and even though you desperately wanted to look away and back up at the stars or anywhere else, you stayed focused on him. Because dammit, you were going to keep this friendship. You would not self-eject. You would not break away. You would keep eye contact and continue the heart to heart even if it felt like you were being strangled by every prolonged silence.

"Can I ask you a question and you won't be on my shit for getting too personal?"

"Depends on the question," you offered a wavering smile before breaking your promise to yourself and staring back up at the stars, your eyes searching for familiar constellations, anything to separate you from the thoughts and the uncomfortableness of living in your own body.

"Do you really like being by yourself?"

You were somewhat relieved, and a wistful sort of sigh escaped you. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" Sweet Pea repeated.

"I can't do...I'm not a feelings person. It's easier to be by myself." You let a hand fall to the grass, twisting a couple of blades before tugging them out of the earth. "But it's not always...good."

Beside you, Sweet Pea started to laugh, and you swung out your fist, bringing it down to punch him in the stomach. The air left him in a quick exhale even as he continued to try to laugh. "You really are bad at feelings."

"Shut up," you grumbled, a prickly feeling on your skin. "I was being honest."

Sweet Pea attempted to pull himself together. "I know, just...you couldn't find a better word than 'good'?"

"This is why I don't do this shit," you grumbled pushing yourself up into a sitting position so you could get up.

Sweet Pea's hand darted out and grabbed your forearm. "Hey, I'm sorry, stay."

"Not unless we change the subject," you glowered.

The corner of Sweet Pea's mouth quirked up. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Tell me something embarrassing. Or don't. We can talk about motorcycles or movies or Hot Dog or anything else," you suggested, breaking from his grip and wrapping your arms around your knees.

Sweet Pea was quiet again, and you wondered if you could somehow disappear at this moment. You could just get up and walk away. Tell him that it was past midnight and you were tired.

"Can I tell you about this girl I like? Or will that make you uncomfortable?" Your stomach rolled, and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Instead you shrugged.

"As long as you don't expect me to tap into my romantic side and give some love advice, it should be fine." Your voice came out thankfully flat and sarcastic. You could practically feel Sweet Pea rolling his eyes.

"Like I need love advice from a robot," he scoffed, and you ignored the twinge of pain in your chest but didn't bother to hide the annoyance from your face.

If he noticed the fact that your spine straightened and you grew still, he didn't say anything. There was definitely no apology. Instead, he heaved a dreamy sort of sigh. A sound that quite frankly you should never have heard come out of Sweet Pea's mouth.

"Alright, Romeo, spill."

"She's just extraordinary," he stated simply. A part of you wished you had laid back down so you could sneak a look at his face, but you couldn't move. Instead, you picked at your nails, letting your science partner turned friend--probably best friend--spill his guts. "I don't know her that well...we just started talking a little in school, but I noticed her the first time I ever walked in Riverdale. She just has that sort of presence you know? When she walks into a room, people notice. And not just because she's beautiful. It's like, you can sense how confident she is. And she should be. She's the best at what she does, and I just know she's going to make it big one day, so I kind of want to take my chance now before I lose it forever..." he trailed off and you chanced a glance at him. He was staring up at the stars wistfully, and you looked back down at the ground, rolling a twig between your fingers. "I don't know. Even though she's a Northsider, she's kind of...intimidating. Hard to make a move on."

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. "If she's intimidating, she's probably used to guys keeping their distance and never saying anything," you murmured. "Maybe take it slow. Play the long game."

"You know that almost sounds like love advice."

You turned back at him, throwing the stick you were twirling so it bounced off his side and onto the ground. He smiled and looked back up at the stars. “I don’t know. She seems more like a bold move type of girl.”

You shrugged. "I'm just a robot."

He didn't say anything. And despite yourself, you could feel your hopes slightly raise.

"But you think I should take a chance?"

Your heart beat faster. "Yeah," you whispered.

He nodded, thinking it over. “Maybe I’ll ask her in math or something.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn't tell if it was in relief or something else. Because that would be wrapped up in your knot of feelings. What you could tell--what was factual--was that you and Sweet Pea did not have math class together.

That was the last time you saw Sweet Pea.

At least, it felt that way.

You started riding down to the quarry on the back of Fangs' bike, Sweet Pea meeting up with you later mid-way through the experiments. At first, you had made jokes that you needed him there in order to keep Fangs in line. After all, if he was gone, who was going to actually help you with the experiment?

But then he started coming just to watch the results of the experiments.

And then it started to take him hours to come back to the campsite, and he missed them completely, having to ask questions about just why there was rainbow covered foam everywhere or what had that charred out bottle even been originally.

And then he stopped asking about the experiments. By the last day of school he stopped coming at all.

It was the second week of summer before either you or Fangs talked about it.

The two of you sat by the edge of the quarry, covered in paint and the marks of your explosions littering the trees and the ground around you. It had been your most successful Post-Sweet Pea experiment yet. Presumably because Fangs was allowed to shake up the experiments and hurl ziplock baggies full of paint anywhere he wanted. The experiment was practically tailored to his destructive soul.

It was probably the post-chaos peace, the most disarming kind of quiet and calm there was, that made him ask.

"So," Fangs said slowly, looking over at you out of the corner of his eye. "How are you doing?"

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to face him. "Good?"

He let out an amused exhale, shaking his head. "I mean with the whole Josie thing."

"Oh," you responded, still confused. "Also good?"

"Good," Fangs said, turning his full attention back out to the quarry.

You followed suit, watching as the water gently moved, the sunlight reflecting off the surface so that the water glittered. You tried to keep your mind focused on how beautiful the day was. How nice it felt to feel the sun on your skin. How peaceful the quiet was and how you didn't feel suffocated in silence when you were next to Fangs. Being still next to him was easy in a way it just wasn't with Sweet Pea.

"Why?" The word escaped. Lulled out of you by the calm afternoon and immediately your stomach clenched. You could see Fangs shift to face you slightly, his eyes running over the profile of your face as you purposefully kept your eyes out on the quarry, staying as still as possible.

Fangs shrugged, joining you once more in looking out over the water. "I just thought the two of you would be a thing."

Your heart stopped. Everything stopped. You’d been expecting it to some extent, but still. Carefully, you pushed down all of the feelings and discomfort that rose in your chest, keeping your mind focused on the moment you were in now, not letting it slide back to the night you and Sweet Pea stared at the stars or any of the times you rode on the back of his motorcycle, your arms wrapped around his middle to get to here. You focused instead on the facts.

Sweet Pea and you had never been anything more than friends.

You had gone into this wanting to be friends only.

Friendship was easier.

Friendship was safer.

"We're just friends," you said picking up a rock and throwing it into the water. "It's cool."

"Cool," Fangs echoed. He didn't say anything else, and after a while you let yourself be wrapped up in the silence too, enjoying just sitting with him.

You meant what you told Fangs.

You and Sweet Pea were only ever friends. Just friends.

You believed it with every fiber of your being.

Until you saw him and Josie at Sweetwater River.

While you spent most of your evenings with Fangs, destroying shit, causing mayhem and laughing until you couldn't breathe, you enjoyed spending the long summer days by yourself. Sometimes it was reading. Other times it was gardening. And on days as hot as today, you would go swimming, regardless of the risks.

You pulled your car in behind a maroon sedan, throwing the keys into your bag with your towel and heading down to the secluded spot on the river you favored. The fact that there was another car parked by the river wasn't too unusual. After all, it was the best parking space, nearest to where the river was widest and most of the high school kids and college kids home from break did their swimming. Your spot was firmly in the other direction, a narrow section of the river where it was a little shallower and therefore not quite as dangerous to swim alone in.

Due to the trees and brush surrounding the path, it wasn't until you were most of the way down to your spot that you saw them.

Laying out on a blanket, Sweet Pea hovered over Josie as she wrapped herself around him. You snapped your eyes shut, turning quickly and trying to block out the breathy sounds that were escaping her as you scrambled back up the path. You felt dizzy and nauseous. Even after you climbed into the front seat of your car and slammed the door shut.

You held on tightly to the steering wheel. So tightly your knuckles were white and your elbows locked into place and your back pushed against the seat of the car. And then you saw it again. Sweet Pea's hands gripping at Josie's chest as he kissed at the underside of her jaw. The look of ecstasy on Josie's face as she gripped tightly onto Sweet Pea's shoulders, his hand moving and cupping the side of her neck as he dipped his head to kiss along her collarbone.

You collapsed suddenly, your forehead banging against the wheel as you choked out a sob. Your body shuddered and shook with the force of your crying as you beat the wheel with the palm of your hand, every now and then missing the edge and startling the animals nearby with a honk.

It took a few minutes before you pulled yourself together enough to sit up, shoot off a text, shift your car into drive, and start back onto the main road.

It was another twenty minutes or so before you parked at the edge of the Sunnyside Trailer Park campsite.

"Hey, Y/N are you ok?" Fangs asked, coming to meet you as you slammed your car door closed, brushing past him as you stormed down to the riverbank, the plastic grocery store bag swishing and bouncing against your leg.

"Let's blow some shit up." Your voice was still gravelly, and you were certain your eyes were still red and wet. You may’ve even had a red mark on your forehead

To his credit, he didn't try to make you talk. He turned on his heel and followed you down to the river bank, following your instructions precisely before standing back and waiting patiently as you poured toilet bowl cleaner into the different plastic bottles. You walked backward slowly, your eyes on the bottles, only stopping when you felt your arm brush against Fangs'.

You watched as the bottles slowly filled with white smoke, the plastic expanding and elongating before finally erupting loudly, one after each other.

Fangs chanced a glance at you, concern and hesitation obvious as he stared at the tear streaks running down your face. You wiped them off with the back of your hand. "It's just the loud noises," you mumbled weakly, and he nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stared at the smoking remains of your bottle rockets. You stood there completely still for a minute, maybe two before you turned into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, holding you close as you sobbed onto his shirt.

Neither of you talked about that day ever again.

You found other conversation topics to fill up your summer. From Archie Andrew's court case, to Fangs string of unnamed conquests, to new methods of creating explosions, and once or twice the proposition that you should join the Southside Serpents.

You didn't go anywhere besides your home and the Quarry, and as it turned out, you liked your summer that way. It was safer. Better. No anxiety that you might run into anyone you didn't want to see. Which was why when Fangs invited you to come to Cheryl's end of summer pool party with him, you declined.

Because everyone would be there.

Fangs didn't try to convince you to change your mind. Because he was the best friend you could ever wish for. He didn't even tell you how in one week you were going to have to face the facts whether you wanted to or not. He nodded and mentioned offhand that Jughead had asked him and Sweet Pea to meet here in fifteen minutes. Which coincidentally reminded you of the chores your mother had asked you to do at home that you needed to get to immediately.

And that was why you were entirely unprepared to find Sweet Pea by your locker at the end of the first day of school.

"Hey," he smiled.

You didn't say anything, focusing on keeping your hands still, keeping your face straight, keeping your shit together. You raised your eyebrows, silently moving to open your locker. Sweet Pea turned, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to you.

"You look familiar. Weren't we lab partners or something last year?"

"Or something," you remarked quietly, putting your books back into your locker.

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "How was your summer?"

"Good," you shrugged. You tugged your backpack out, slipping it onto your shoulder.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Fangs told me about some of the shit you did." You hummed, closing your locker door and ignoring the way his eyebrows furrowed. "We should do a repeat tonight."

You paused, keeping your hand on your locker. "I can't."

"Hey," Fangs greeted, coming up to the two of you and hanging an arm over Sweet Pea's shoulder despite the height difference. Both you and Sweet Pea ignored the greeting.

"Why not?" Sweet Pea asked, shrugging Fangs' arm off of his shoulder.

Your eyes found Fangs' and then darted back to your locker. "I have homework for my AP classes already. Sorry," you said firmly and with noticeably absent sympathy. "I'll see you guys later." You gave them a brief tight-lipped smile before turning around speed walking your way to the bus.

You thought that maybe after the first week back your stomach would stop doing that dropping thing every time you saw him.

It didn't.

You also thought that maybe after the first couple of weeks you wouldn't want to throw up every time you saw Josie.

You still did.

Even though you knew she and Sweet Pea weren't together, you could still hear those sounds in your head which almost made it impossible to not puke.

But it did get easier to not think about it over a few weeks. You changed your seat in all of the classes you shared together, sitting in the front of the classroom, closest to the door so it was easy to scoot out. You ate lunch in the band practice rooms, primarily because it was easier to hide there than anywhere else and the band teacher had long since given up on enforcing school rules. You started to remember why you loved being alone so much.

By the time it was almost the end of the third week of school, you had once again perfected the art of being by yourself. Only caving every now and then to respond to Fangs' texts.

Life was better this way.

"Y/L/N!" You had been on your way to English when suddenly someone had grabbed your arm, pulling you to a stop. You jumped a little, turning to see Sweet Pea holding you by your bicep. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to class?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him and attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart.

"No," he pulled you over to the side of the hallway and you stumbled a few steps before ripping your arm out of his grasp.

"Let go, shit," you mumbled, turning your arm to look at it as if expecting to see some kind of damage.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Sweet Pea demanded, folding his arms as he stared down at you.

"I'm not. I'm going to class. Trying to get an education," you rolled your eyes attempting to push past him.

He stopped you, grabbing you by the shoulders and bringing you back to face him. "Cut the bullshit."

"Get your hands off of me," you snapped, your eyes darting around him to see other students slowing down on their way to class to watch the confrontation. As if you were a spectacular car crash for them witness and assess the damage. Sweet Pea let go immediately, but his face grew darker.

"What's your problem?"

"No problem." You shrugged, keeping your face closed off and distant.

"So you're pretending I don't exist for....fun?" Sweet Pea guessed. "That's fucked up, Y/N."

Your eyes followed the students who were now blatantly rubbernecking, looking anywhere other than Sweet Pea. "Like you can talk.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

No emotion. No feelings. Nothing. Just facts. you chanted to yourself. Just state the facts.

"Just that it's pretty convenient you want to exist and be a part of my life now, but where were you this summer?"

"I was busy," he said exasperatedly as if you were some toddler who didn't understand why her parents went to work instead of playing with her all day.

"And now I am. Sorry I don’t fit into your schedule," you shrugged, moving past him and out into the hall. The warning bell rang. It was the surprising sound that made your eyes sting.

"I thought we were friends," his voice called at your back. You whirled around, finding him much closer than expected. So close that if you had wanted to, you could have easily stabbed a finger into his chest. But you didn't want to. You didn't want to ever touch him.

"Yeah, so did I. Until I sat by the quarry all summer with Fangs while you were busy fucking Josie all over town." You turned back around to head off to class. "Fuck off," you called over your shoulder.

"Did you have to yell at him?" Fangs asked, leaning against the locker next to yours. You looked up slightly startled from where you had been exchanging your books. "Because he's being a huge pain in the ass now."

"I don't want to talk about it," you answered, shoving harder on your binder to try to get it to fit inside.

"Of course not."

You glared at him but didn't rise to the bait.

"You told him you saw him and Josie?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I told you I don't want to talk about it." You rotated the binder, hoping to fit it in the new way, pushing it until finally it slipped past the edge of the door.

Fangs sighed. "We didn't talk about it all summer. Give me this one conversation now."

"No." You slammed your locker closed, starting to walk away.

"This is why," he stated to your back, and you turned to face him, shocked to hear any sort of annoyance pass Fangs' lips. The words weren't heated, more exasperated. "This is why you two are so fucked."

You crossed your arms and remained silent.

"Neither of you will talk to the other."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit." Fangs dismissed. "You like him. He likes you. Discuss."

"Sweet Pea didn’t tell you? I’m just a robot. Nothing to discuss"

"You’re not a robot. You may not like to talk about your feelings, but it doesn't change the fact that you have them."

You felt indignant. At least you tried to hold onto that feeling even as your chin began to quiver. Fangs' shoulders dropped as he stared at you, taking a few steps closer.

“It’s not fair.” Your voice came out petulant and broken. “Why do I have to forgive him and get over it, and he gets to do whatever he wants. He ignored me for months but I can’t do it for like three weeks?”

“Are you really that petty?”

“Yes," you answered. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to him, y/n. Tell him about the day you went to Sweetwater River.”

“No. Never.”

“Then don’t. Just stop making me watch whatever this is,” he said, and with that he turned around and left you standing in the middle of the hallway.

You got fairly good at avoiding both Sweet Pea and Fangs after that. If anything, the confrontation with Fangs was a reminder of why it was always better to be by yourself. Even friends got too annoyingly involved for their own good. Analyzing you. Evaluating your emotions and your actions. Eventually everyone expected too much out of you.

And you didn't need that bullshit.

What you needed was to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and carry on without them. Like always. Show them you didn't need their approval. You didn't need their advice. You didn't need their presence in your life.

You were happy alone.

You were fine alone.

You would be ok alone

As soon as you showed them you didn't need them.

And that was exactly the opportunity presented to you by Veronica Lodge's invitation to attend her new speakeasy's opening night. It was also the reason you got dressed up as requested and put more than a minuscule effort into your appearance for once in your life. Because you wanted them to see that you were thriving own your own. And he could just eat his heart out that he had to live without you from now on. They. You meant they.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, instead focusing on the details of the room around you. At how absolutely fabulous everything looked. The old-fashioned lighting. The velvet curtained stage. The classmates dressed in dazzling clothes. Everything exuded charm and class, and it was easy to lose yourself in the time capsule.

"Hey."

You turned to face the person who greeted you, ignoring the lurch in your stomach that you wished would vanish.

Sweet Pea stood there, hands in his pockets, staring down at you. He was dressed head to toe in black, his silky button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows and arms decked out with the usual bracelets he never took off. You couldn't help but notice the absence of his dog tags and wondered if he tucked them in for the night or left them at home. You hated yourself for noticing.

"Hey," you greeted softly, and he stepped closer, and now you couldn't help but notice that despite the fact he dressed up his hair was still a tousled mess, falling over his forehead in random curls.

Dammit.

"I didn't think I you'd come to this thing," he said with an exhale, stopping a few feet away.

"Why not? I like mocktails and music," you shrugged, swirling your own mocktail in your hand as if the action gave more authenticity to your words.

"Josie's singing," he answered simply. It took everything in you to keep eye contact.

"So?"

"I didn't think you liked her."

You shrugged, taking a careful sip of your drink. "I don't have any problems with Josie."

"Then why were you on my shit about this summer?" his eyes narrowed.

"Because it wasn't particularly fun being blown off all summer regardless of you were spending time with," you answered, tightly.

Sweet Pea crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow. "What happened to you like being alone?"

You paused, and his eyes glittered with triumph. Inside your chest, your heart constricted as if it recognized defeat as well, and the only honorable way out was through a sudden heart attack and death.

"Fuck this," you muttered, placing your drink on the bar and brushing past him to dart up the stairs.

He followed, pushing people out of the way in his haste to catch up to you. "Can you stop leaving every conversation I try to have with you?" he called at your back as the two of you rushed through Pop's and out the front doors.

You stopped and spun. "Why? There's nothing to talk about. I thought we'd hang out this summer; we didn't. Obviously we're not as close as I thought. We're on the same page now."

"Why are you so mad about this?" he shouted, stopping a few feet away from you.

"Why are you so mad I'm ignoring you now?" you returned, watching people scramble to get out of their cars and speed walk inside. As if they were running away from a bomb they knew was about to explode. Which might be appropriate.

"Because it doesn't make any fucking sense!" he held out his hands as if he wanted to strangle you but instead curled them into fists and shook a little.

"I missed you, you dumbass!" You blurted out, chest heaving as you stared at him. He took the confession in the same way you imagined he'd take a punch. A look of shock passed over his face as he stepped back towards Pop's and then seemed to regain his balance and took a step forward. Your shoulders dropped as the anger seemed to drain from you, leaving you with all of the feelings you'd been so careful to push down. "All summer. I missed you. And you didn't miss me because you had her," you continued softly.

"What?" He asked trying to follow your words as your face heated up like it was on fire, and you felt like you wanted to cry or throw up or explode into tiny bits. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep it in, keep it down. You offered a jerky shrug. "So what was this all some kind of revenge?"

You shook your head.

"Then why the hell were you ignoring me if you missed me?"

You looked away from him.

"Dammit, Y/N!" he shouted, and you turned back to him.

And in the next second you darted forwards swiftly putting a hand on his shoulder to help launch yourself up, standing on your tiptoes and leaning into him, pressing your lips to his. His hands caught your waist, almost reflexively, supporting you even though his lips didn't move. Didn't press into yours. Didn't open. Didn't do anything.

You pulled back, sinking down onto your heels. Sweet Pea didn't say anything. Or move his hands. Instead he looked down at you with an eyebrow quirked.

You had thought---You swallowed the thought, pushing it down with the other ones, and letting the feeling that you had taken a bad situation and fucked it up even more wash over you. Fucking feelings. Your lips moved, trying to make any sort of words, but every time you attempted to say something your voice caught in your throat. "I can't--" you finally whispered, attempting to take a step back and out of Sweet Pea's grasp, but his hands tightened on your hips.

His face still seemed angry. Maybe even more now than before you had kissed him. "You've been avoiding me because you have feelings for me?"

You looked down at your feet.

"How long?"

You shook your head.

"How long?" His voice was slightly angrier, and he gently shook you by your waist.

"Since we set off the rockets in class," you whispered, still refusing to meet his eye.

He exhaled a disbelieving kind of laugh. "And you let me feel like an ass for liking you? And then again for having a summer fling so I could move on from you since you were clearly not interested?"

It would have been nice if you could tell him that you had no idea he liked you. Tell him that you hadn't purposefully distanced yourself and tried to make it seem like you weren't interested. That you hadn't convinced yourself you weren't interested. Because then you wouldn't have felt like such shit in this moment.

"I'm sorry." Your voice was still quiet. "I wanted to save you from this."

"This?"

"Me. Being a disaster who can't feelings. This always happens. It's why I blew up a lab. It's why I'm alone. I'm broken, ok? Just let me avoid you, and you'll be better off."

"No." Sweet Pea said quietly, pulling you closer to him.

"No?" Your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to.

"Not this time. No," he shook his head.

"It'll just get worse."

"We'll work it out."

You felt the familiar claustrophobic panic rise in your chest. The one from the way he looked at you the first time you set off an explosion by the quarry. The one that had taken hold of you at the lake while you were gazing at stars with him all those months ago. You looked up into his eyes and found them fixated on you, and it all felt like too much. The fact that he knew you liked him. And he liked you. And you guys would be in a relationship. Together. And how could a robot like you ever deserve someone like him or even come close to making him feel as happy as you did when the two of you were running away from a soda bottle that was about to explode.

But the promise of more moments like those and not having to see him with someone else, the knowledge that to some extent he hated not being with you too, the feeling of having him stand close to you with his hands firmly on your body. Those things would be enough to push through this moment and maybe even the next.

"Ok," you whispered, looking up at him.

"Good," he nodded, bending over and capturing your lips into his. And it felt like bottle rockets. Not the thrill of setting one off and waiting too long to run away, but as if you were the water bottle expanding and expanding, full of longing and anxiety and happiness and other emotions you weren't sure the names of, and now, kissing Sweet Pea, you were exploding into a billion pieces, feeling everything all at once and enjoying every second of it.

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jojosbizarreadventur · 5 years ago

Text

Time’s Crusade: Chapter 4 (04)

also available on AO3 (under emih)

This chapter: Plane tickets, Polaroid photos, and yours & Jotaro's response to Noriaki's infertility.

warning (just in case): none, really

Summary: Yesterday in 2011, your husband Noriaki and close friend Jotaro were both murdered together just months before your university graduations. The day before yesterday, you discovered that your nerve-wracking IUI procedure was successful. Two months before that day, said close friend made a proposition to the both of you due to your husband’s recently-discovered infertility.

Today in 1988, you’re over 20 years into the past of an alternate universe, suddenly tasked with trailing after different versions of your late husband and close friend as they travel with unfamiliar faces to Egypt, determined to confront the man you now work for.

And in the following days, you discover how easy it was for your sentiments to change.

The Wife of an Important Man, Part 2

November 27, 1988

You… a Stand user.

At the very least, you manage to turn your head on its side.

The cold metal of the suit’s helmet hits against your cheek as your eyelids flickered, facing Dio’s bare feet. You were able to see due to the clear embedded shield over your face; apparently, it was durable enough not to crack when it came into contact with the stone floor. Gazing upward, your eyes almost cross as you focus on where the blood from your forehead started to dry on the shield.

Dio slowly turned to Enya, donning a matching expression of fascination. He feels Jonathan’s— his heartbeat getting faster. The sight of you surviving the Arrow shot and gaining a Stand… well, it made him intrigued. His plan— despite its unforeseen amendments— had worked as he predicted. Nevertheless, he kept his composure as he spoke to the old woman, ignorant of your current state.

“It appears as a suit of some sort on her,” Dio comments, glancing back at your downed metallic body. “I was not aware that a form of Stand exists.”

“It is exceptionally rare,” she elaborated, sauntering over to you. “I myself have never seen a user with one of that form. But based on her circumstance, it’s clear that she is not average, Lord Dio. That is why she was destined to meet a being as divine as you.”

That isn’t in the least surprising for him, Dio.

It seems that he had been rewarded for his own deeds himself. For nearly five years, it became clear to Dio that fate was in his favor. He’s had hundreds of men and women willing to serve him, either for a single night to fulfill temporary desires or indefinitely to aid him in various assignments. Any and every source of wealth that he managed to get his hands on is now his, and that flow of riches isn’t stopping any time soon. The small list of people that have piqued his interest enough gradually grows.

Since his awakening, Dio had spent the first three years recuperating alone. To pass the time, he would travel around the world and learn more about the new, modern society before his eyes. Compared to the era he once knew, it seemed that people were given much more liberty in doing what they pleased— something Dio took full advantage of. Of course, he’d come across the occasional person to unwind, which also taught him more about Jonathan’s body. There was that trip to Italy two years ago, where he encountered a young woman with prominent sideburns. Her looks were not up to par in his opinion, though his lower half apparently thought otherwise.

For Heaven’s sake, he could not refrain from staring at her, he couldn’t stop getting aroused at the sight of her face as he sat in the corner of the room, watching her dance with friends. And later that night, when she bounced on his cock and cried for his lordship, it occurred to Dio that her blonde hair and blue eyes must’ve somehow triggered a response of familiarity from Jonathan’s body. Needless to say, his scar hadn’t fully healed. Despite the hundred or so years, his upper and lower half were still two different entities, and it bothered him greatly.

He wouldn’t dare admit aloud that he hadn’t a fucking clue as to why that response occurred. Jonathan’s head had long been rotten at the deep depths of the Atlantic Ocean. There shouldn’t be any discernible link to his body left.

Dio’s next declared sub-goal, as a result, was to accelerate his healing.

Right now, he’s almost at that stage of full recuperation. The division between his head and Jonathan’s body has almost completely faded. He’ll be able to continue with his main objective with undivided attention afterward. But for now, it’s good to focus on what’s in front of him.

You.

It was ironic to him, really. According to Piper, you were not wed to the father— his friend, in fact— and yet here you were, carrying a zygote of future disappointment. But with what Dio has planned for you, you wouldn’t be burdened with that for long. You’ve linked yourself to a family that has no business in staying alive regardless of dimension. Sooner or later, you’d be regretting that procedure.

While lying face-down, you continued to take slow, deep breaths. The blood on the rest of your face started to reach a thin, matte consistency. Your throat and mouth throbbed in pain, and the metallic after-taste on your taste buds made your face scrunch up.

Again, you— an actual Stand user. It was quite surreal; never in a million years have you considered yourself having any potential for something of this level.

There’s information about the suit that starts to enter your thoughts.

The suit itself is a Stand, but to a non-Stand user, the suit is made of known materials on Earth. The body and helmet of the suit appears to be made out of nitinol— nickel titanium alloy. Likewise, the arms and legs are crystallized titanium. Inside the entirety of the Stand feels like ballistic mesh, which you can feel wrapped around your skin instead of your actual clothes. The exterior has a light coating containing some material— maybe carbon nanotubes— meant to reduce heat build-up. The sides of the helmet have small passages for air flow, but enough for the face shield to not fog up.

…your Stand’s ability is to tamper with most types of metal. There’s a locking mechanism on your helmet that can only be undone and removed with that ability.

You don’t have the capability of manipulating with larger objects such as vehicles or parts associated with such objects.

The ability can, however, be applied to smaller, intricately-designed or generally undetailed objects such as mechanical pencils, through-hole tech for printed circuit boards, or crowbars.

Everything else about the Stand can be learned from usage…

“Get up.”

The intrusive thoughts about the Stand stop.

Lord Dio watches you with hawk-like eyes.

With a swear, you shakily attempt to push yourself off the stone floor, still wearing your Stand. The metal on your palms clink against the ground as you raise your upper body, brows creasing at your effort.

Thankfully, the Stand didn’t add any extra weight on your limbs, but you lost a lot of strength due to… whatever Lord Dio did to your forehead, and the old woman shooting you with the peculiar-looking projectile.

Lord Dio’s fingers were still wrapped around its shaft, by the way. His forearm— the one you had scratched into bleeding earlier— reverted to its usually-smooth skin. There was absolutely no trace of you ever digging your fingernails in the alabaster-colored skin. It was strange, to say the least.

As you raised yourself up from the ground, you felt yourself tumbling backwards. You attempt to balance yourself despite your blurry vision and what feels to be nausea. This time, Lord Dio motions to help you, firmly grasping your shoulder as your senses settle down. Your eyes attempt to land its focus on the old woman, who looked to be nearly a foot shorter than you. Her eyes were filled with interest; it seemed as if there were a million answers she wanted out of you. But frankly, you couldn’t give a damn to give any right now.

You look over at the hand on your shoulder— Lord Dio hasn’t released his grip. That was the least of your worries.

“Enya Geil, was it?” you greeted in a drunken-like manner, flashing a genuine grin at her through the face shield. The feeling of light-headedness started to return.

When she nodded eagerly— still ignorant of your well-being— your attention abruptly turned to the towering man beside you. His golden eyes were locked with yours, curiosity glinting in them. You curtly nodded.

“It’s my pleasure to help, Lord Dio.”

He can’t wait.

——

Lord Dio cemented this into your mind after congratulating you: you are a prized possession of his. Maybe were you actually one of many, but you were part of that list and that was enough to be thankful for. You couldn’t be any more happy to oblige with anything he wanted out of you.

And yes, this included staying put in the largest guest room. Initially, you didn’t know that he himself ordered for you to be there. So when the masked and skull-faced Stand abruptly materialized beside you and Vanilla Ice’s face appeared out of its mouth to tell you, you weren’t happy in the slightest. In fact, you let out a lame attempt of a scream once he popped up. However, you have to admit your satisfaction due to finally knowing what his Stand looked like.

Both of you were standing directly in front of the double doors leading to said guest room.

“I don’t believe you,” you spat.

He grunted.

“If you don’t believe my words, which— by the way— are actually Lord Dio’s, then you may as well rest on this corridor rug for the night. These quarters will return to collecting dust as someone never cleans them properly…”

You ignore that last part. It also takes you a moment, but you realize that his Stand appears to be… consuming itself.

“Well, I’d rather do that then go wherever… this is,” you counter, gesturing to the double doors in front of you. “I’ve already experienced the illusions once, when I got shot with an Arrow in the middle of my ‘apartment’, okay? I think another Stand user created the room, so I don’t want you collaborating with them too and using my weaknesses to your advantage or something.”

Vanilla Ice blinked before eyeing you up and down with mild disgust. He doesn’t question the evident blood stains on your face and the shield. “Such as that gaudy armor of yours?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the clang of metal hitting metal resonating throughout the corridor. “It’s my Stand, apparently. I don’t even know how to take it off, but thanks.”

“For goodness’ sake, didn’t Piper tell you what a Stand is? It’s a physical manifestation of your ‘life energy’— you summon and de-summon it yourself. If you need them gone, the Stand will know. You must trust it as it trusts you.”

Mild surprise was written all over your face after he spoke.

His standards for you have lowered even further.

“…that has to be the only helpful advice you’ve given me so far,” you admitted.

In all honesty, Lord Dio nor the old woman had given you any unknown information. Though, one shouldn’t be mistaken— Lord Dio is the Everest of man. It simply must’ve slipped his mind, though that might be a rare occurrence for him. Regardless, you aren’t upset at all. You could even view it as an opportunity to teach yourself more.

“Only to get the new nuisance of the mansion out of my hair,” he retorted condescendingly.

Of course, he still dislikes you. But you bother to believe his words this time.

——

It would’ve been nice to know that the doors to this guest room only lock from the outside. After the heavy door shuts by itself, you reach behind your back to lock the door and discover the lack of any door handles. You doubt that anyone would hear you banging on the doors, much less bother to assist you in getting out. Rolling your eyes, you instead indulge in the sight of the guest room.

Simply put— it’s bigger than your entire fucking apartment.

The interior and its motif seemed to match the rest of the mansion, which confirmed the lack of illusions here. There’s an enormous bed that you saunter over to with your backpack, which you carefully set on the satin bed sheets. And, after pushing it a bit, you unceremoniously fall back onto the bed with your arms splayed out.

You were about to rub your face with your hands until you remembered the suit you were wearing. The metal alloy on your fingers came into contact with the clear face shield, which was still lightly stained with your blood.

If you need them gone, the Stand will know.

You blink and stare up at the high ceiling.

Will it— this suit— know?

…how will it know?

It’s a physical manifestation of a person’s ‘life energy’ or ‘fighting spirit’.

What Piper and Vanilla Ice told you made you scoff. Fighting spirit? Life energy— sure, that made sense to you, but fighting spirit? The notion of you having any semblance to a spirit for fighting just seemed ridiculous. Most of the ‘fights’ you’ve ever gotten in were verbal; physically attacking someone has never been your thing. Was a Stand supposed to represent that? Was it the Stand’s—and, thus your— innate desire to get into a fight? Were all Stands like that?

We’re bound to get into a little trouble from time to time.

You deeply exhale through your nostrils. Lord Dio found you and your Stand useful, so that should be all that matters, right? It’s best that you respect his thoughts and opinions.

Anyway, this weird suit just needs to get off of you. It fit fine— perfect, actually— but traveling while wearing metal seemed very unpractical.

The layers of titanium and ballistic mesh start to dissolve off of your body almost instantly, and you feel yourself lightly sinking into the bed. Your clothing quickly returned to sight; it’s as if they were never actually taken off. Instead of the shell of the helmet, the back of your head and hair comes into contact with the satin bed sheets. Wriggling your sock-clad toes, you remember that you took off your boots in the fake apartment.

Maybe if you… you don’t know, get out, you could get them back from that other room. Though, judging by the sheer size of the mansion, you might get lost in one of the corridors. You reluctantly back away from that idea.

Subsequently, you turn your head to your open backpack. Peeking out of its zipper opening was your laptop, which makes you realize there’s definitely something you can do to pass the time.

——

Strangely enough, you seem to grasp onto your Stand’s ability pretty quickly.

You’re sitting at the carved wooden desk placed far across the bed, taking the time to do heavy maintenance on your laptop. In order to do this, only the metal arms of the suit appear on your body.

Earlier, you took the time to clean yourself in the room’s connecting bathroom and accidentally summoned only the arms and helmet of the suit while being fully submerged in the bath. It only occurred to you then that it was possible to do that, so you decided to take full advantage of it.

The battery cable stayed intact and connected, but the chances of reconnecting the camera and Bluetooth cables back to the bent motherboard were low. And… well, the motherboard was bent, so the chances of this laptop actually functioning properly were basically nonexistent. You used the Stand to take out the cracked case of the lower half of the laptop— screws and all— to find this sad excuse. Your face was nearly pressed to it as your hand hovered over every screw and tab to gingerly pull out everything necessary and fix the display.

To better see the motherboard, the open laptop is propped on the DVD-drive side on the desk. As you place it this way, you hear the creaking from the double doors as they open rather abruptly. Your head whips around to face the intruder.

The arms of your Stand instinctively vanish.

Fortunately, he didn’t have the chance to notice them as he tumbles into the guest room. He pulls at his orange robing to make sure it doesn’t get trapped between the doors.

You blink a few times, ensuring that it’s really him.

“…Piper?”

What the hell was he doing here?

Was he going to let you out?

“Oh, you know my name now,” he observed, flashing you a quick smile before ‘discreetly’ kicking the carved nightstand beside the bed. “Yes, that’s… very fine, yes.”

One of his hands held onto a stem glass half-filled with red wine. Your eyes dart down to it.

…yeah, he’s probably not letting you out.

Still gazing at him, you reluctantly give him a small smile, which quickly disappears once he starts to tread over to you.

“Okay, no— you shouldn’t even be here,” you warn, whipping your head back to your laptop on the desk and back to his approaching form. “I… come on, you’re not even supposed to see this yet. No one is for over 20 years.”

Piper stood directly beside the desk. He pointed to the logo on the upper case.

“Interesting, Apple changed their logo? What happened to the rainbow apple?”

As you tightly grip the upper case and display, you glare at him. “Goddamnit, this is from 2011— stop looking. I’m trying to fix the display with my— yeah, I’m… trying to fix this shit…”

“What an atrocious laptop.”

…what?

You narrowed your eyes up at him for a second before your features softened.

“Oh, that’s right,” you remembered with a soft tone, “Laptops were already being built this decade, so… uh, are you familiar with the Kyotronic 85? That’s… the only one I know of that was built during this decade.”

He hummed in agreement. “Mhm, the Tandy Model 100, yes. A few years ago, I broke mine after I tried and failed to put those dental rubber bands under the keys to make typing quieter.”

You awkwardly nod and purse your lips.

Yes, this was the decade that ‘portable computers’ would start popping up— you remember the lengthy lectures and the times you helped… him… study for tests. But having knowledge of models that haven’t even been conceived yet, however, is something you find to be a bit dangerous. For once, you regret studying all of this.

Anyway, should you keep working in front of Piper? Is it even worth it?

You drum your fingers on the wooden desk, keeping your gaze down on the open laptop.

This starts to occupy your thoughts for a few minutes, and it reaches a point where you don’t even realize that he already left your side during that time.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes land on the Bluetooth cable on the motherboard. Since it’s 1988, and Bluetooth doesn’t become patented until the middle of next year, the cable’s existence is entirely pointless. Maybe you should just ignore that.

Or maybe you shouldn’t ignore that, and should remember that you just showed an invention from 2011 to a man from 1988.

Who knew what would happen if people besides Piper found out about this? Actually, what if he already learned, and decided to out the information to the wrong minds?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I broke a time-travel rule,” you grumbled to yourself.

“Indeed you have,” he confirms aloud. You immediately turn your head to find him distracted by the provided luxury-branded toiletries on the nightstand. Its ingredients seem to preoccupy his attention instead of… you don’t know, inducing him to leave.

So much for repairing your laptop in much-needed silence— away from him.

“You can name your Stand, you know,” Piper suggested, twirling around and gesturing his glass to you. The wine in his glass sloshed around.

You rapidly blink at him.

“You know about it?”

Okay, you didn’t even bring it out in front of him while he was here, so how…

“I may or may not have been eavesdropping between the floor and the rug in the hallway, while you were bickering with Vanilla. To call you the ‘new nuisance of the mansion’… goodness.”

Whatever that meant, you didn’t comment on it. Though, you did imagine Piper lifting the rug and casually sipping his wine from the innards of the stone floor, ogling at you and Vanilla Ice like a television drama.

You turn back around to focus on your laptop, which still desperately needed to be operated on.

“Well, I… can’t think of a name right now,” you admitted. “Honestly, naming my Stand is the last thing I’m worrying about right now.”

“Understandable,” he replied, shrugging.

“Does my Stand even need a name, anyway?” you ask, slowly turning around to face him again. “It’s literally just a suit.”

At your words, Piper slightly opened and closed his mouth in a fish-like manner before sighing and rubbing his temples.

“It’s expected for Stand users to name their Stands the moment they become aware of it. Unlike you, I got my Stand at birth, which was around the same time my father was listening to a cover of ‘Take Five’ that pianist Sadao Kujo did with his jazz orchestra when he started becoming hot shit. So when I found his old LP and was old enough to fully comprehend my Stand, I named mine Take Five after that wonderful—”

“—no offense,” you interject calmly, “But… can you get to the point?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. You know you have a Stand, so name it after something you’re fond of like music or… or movies or whatnot. But don’t get maniacal about it, or you’ll have a Stand named I Killed My Lesbian Wife, Hung Her on a Meathook, and Now I Have a Three Picture Deal at Disney. By the way, that’s by Ben Affleck, and your universe is the only one where it’s a smash hit and furthered his directing career only.”

Lightly snorting, you retort, “What, is he like an actor or something elsewhere?”

“Actually, yes.”

You blinked.

Hm.

“But my Stand is a suit,” you say, diverting the conversation back. “I don’t think it would care if it had a name or not.”

“But other Stand users need to know what to refer yours by,” Piper countered. “You know, Stand users like me— I brought you to this dimension, for heaven’s sake. We can’t just call you random nicknames like… uh, ‘Iron Lady’. And, well, that name’s technically already taken by British Prime Minister Thatcher, so we can’t use that anyway.”

You lean back in your chair and swear.

Piper did, in fact, bring you here. How could you forget?

To be fair, within a day, your life has literally done a full 180°. You’ve gone from a happily married, prospective university graduate to a moody widow with some magic metal suit. It’s done enough to distract you and make you temporarily forget how it all happened.

There’s a part of you that’s still convinced that this is a dream.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you complained, burying your face in your hands. “I mean… am I really going to believe everything you said earlier? You know, about how I’m in 1988 and in a different universe?”

Piper rapidly blinks at you. “Did you not believe it before? I was given the impression that you did.”

You reply in a bored tone, “I grew up reading and watching weird shit. I even married a guy who does… did the same. I believed it at first out of fear, because I didn’t know what you’d do to me if I didn’t. But now… I mean, I just want to know why I’m here in the first place. Whatever you’re doing to me right now is probably just some distraction or ruse.”

“And you… acquiring a Stand after getting shot… isn’t?” he asked with an amused tone. “You pledged your loyalty to Lord Dio, right?”

You don’t hesitate to respond.

“Oh— yes, of course.”

For a brief moment, Piper doesn’t speak right away as he appears to be taken aback at your response. He glances at your forehead before sipping his wine and nodding.

“Alright, then, alright. You mustn’t doubt yourself. And you’re here for a reason— we all are, you know. Nothing here that Lord Dio presents to us is deceitful— he has his reasons for letting us serve him.”

That seemed quite reasonable.

Again, you wouldn’t dare question Lord Dio— you’ll just have to trust him on whatever he wishes to acquire from you. You weren’t given any specifics yet, but you’ll happily wait for them.

After speaking, Piper sipped his wine again… and again, and again.

This definitely wasn’t his first glass today. Hell, maybe not his second or third either.

“You should probably know that the potential for having a Stand has stuck with you for a very long time.”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

He hiccuped and cleared his throat. “Well, you obviously weren’t born with one, but fate intended for you to be able to acquire one at some point in your life. If not from being shot with the Arrow, then perhaps from work that you do constantly and consistently in order to strive for perfection. You do wear a metallic suit— you don’t happen to be in any technical fields, by any chance?”

“Guilty,” you responded sheepishly. “Engineering.”

Piper snapped and pointed to the open laptop on the desk. “Ah— see. You’re even fixing that piece of junk without any instructions.”

You start to wonder if he has any sort of decency, but you realize that you already know the answer to that. He gladly shoved you twice, talked shit about cutting-edge technology in 1980’s terms (literally— you accidentally pricked yourself from grabbing a tab earlier), and is currently drinking alcohol in the early hours of the morning without much care. What a man, he is.

“Thanks,” you sarcastically appreciated.

Suddenly, he started to reach inside the inner layers of his robing. After a little fishing inside, his hand grabs onto a familiar flat device. Your eyes widen.

“Oh, and here’s your… phone,” he says, carefully placing it down on the satin bed sheets. “I don’t like it— too small, too bright, weird screen. I hope the phones in this dimension don’t have a build as ugly as that once 2011 comes around.”

You roll your eyes as you stand up and walk over to grab the familiar device. “As if 1988 brick phones look any better. Anyway, did you go through my phone, tamper with it, or anything?”

He snorted. “Do I look like the type of person to know how to do that? I’m from 1988. I’ve been hopping dimensions since I was in high school. Technology is not my forte.”

Entering the passcode, you search through the phone to ensure if he’s telling the truth. It takes about a minute or two to check, but none of the contents on your phone have been changed. By default, the phone continues to record the date and time in Japan Standard Time— technically, the wrong time zone— as it doesn’t require any sort of Internet or cellular connection to do so. Likewise, you don’t have any cellular service for obvious reasons.

Occasionally, you have to shoo Piper away as he tries to creep over your shoulder in order to see your phone screen.

You slide your phone into your pocket afterward, crossing your arms over your chest as you face him. You’re about to say something to him, but he interrupts.

“Anyway, I’m going to leave to get more wine— I met a sommelier from the capital of the Sasanian Empire back in the 7th dimension,” he announces, gesturing to his now-empty glass. You donned a deadpan expression, and you don’t question… whatever he’s saying.

He then uses the glass to point at your backpack, which is still sitting on the bed. “Also, I’d advise that you don’t lose your wedding ring here. It’ll be a pain to look for it later.”

As he strolls past you and over to the space between the stone wall and the embroidered curtains covering the tall windows, you turn away to glance at the piece of jewelry with wide eyes. While pulling out your laptop from your backpack, the ring and other small possessions of yours must’ve been pulled out as well. You lean over the bed to grab onto it. There’s a thin scratch on the underside of the ring, making you swear aloud.

During your research work, you normally took the ring off as a precautionary measure to avoid the small (but barely any) risk of it conducting electricity. On any other occasion outside of work, you always preferred wearing it to avoid any awkward or uncomfortable situations with anyone else.

Now that you think about it, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea to wear it again. But after you fix that pesky laptop of yours…

——

The dining hall became the only other room you could visit, and only during conventional meal times.

For most of the day you were locked inside the guest bedroom, occasionally getting visits from the butler Telence, who allowed you to call him by his first name. At the very least, you were still provided with basic necessities such as toiletries, first aid, and social interaction— something done sparingly all day due to the questionable personalities of the ones you’ve met.

Telence was friendly, though he liked to pry into your personal life and make comparisons to himself an uncomfortable amount (he visited the most; he was required to, anyway). Like Piper, he also happened to be American. Vanilla Ice always seemed like he wanted to off either himself or you every time you breathed in his direction (he never visited, but made sure to sit as far away from you as possible during meal times). Piper was just the personification of an acid trip (he didn’t visit anymore after the first time and never ate with any of you).

As of the early morning, all three became your colleagues. The diversity of this workplace is astounding.

“Hey, does anyone know if Lord Dio eats during the day?”

“You stupid girl. How dare you ask such a personal question about our Lord Dio?”

“…thanks, Vanilla Ice.”

Seriously was that long-haired maniac exhausting to speak with.

…it was a genuine question, alright? He’s always cooped up in his room and you never see him in the dining hall.

Reportedly, there were a few others living here in the mansion, but none of them had any business meeting you personally. Learning all of their names was a gradual process, it seemed.

It was only until tonight where leaving the guest room had a legitimate purpose besides eating. Telence had knocked on the double doors, prompting you to alert your presence by knocking back. He had a particular rhythm while knocking, so even before the doors opened, you knew it was him. Out of the colleagues that you’ve met, he’s probably been the only one you had positive opinions about.

The butler’s eyes widen at the sight of you clad in silk pajamas that he personally provided.

“Oh, were you just about to retire for the night?” he asked in an apologetic tone. He held his hands behind his back as he stood before you. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss…”

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping yet or anything. Is there something wrong, Telence?”

Sighing, Telence replied, “Well… Lord Dio requests your presence in the dining hall.”

…oh.

Glancing down at your pajamas and back up at the tattooed butler, you purse your lips.

“Immediately?”

“Immediately,” he repeated. You see him briefly glance down at your hands, your fingers… his eyes widen before the outer corners crinkle due to him smiling. “Don’t feel the need to get dressed up— I’m sure your presence alone will suffice, really.”

Was it that urgent?

What in the world would you speak about with Lord Dio?

…well, it’s not like you’re complaining.

Telence stepped aside to make way for you as you walked out of the guest room. You felt the cold stone beneath your socks, and the temperature made you stand up straighter. Deeply inhaling— and (still) smelling the faint scent of corpse— you step onto the never-ending runner rug with Telence at your heels and rambling.

——

“Really? It had to be you taking me to the Airport?”

Vanilla Ice took a second to glare at you through the rear-view mirror. Per Piper’s (drunken) suggestion before you left, you were blindfolded with a handkerchief of his to prevent you from seeing the exterior of the mansion and the route. To Vanilla Ice, you were surprisingly obedient about it. Nor was it a terrible idea, but he’d never openly admit that.

Once you arrive, you better get that handkerchief back from her!

Why so? It resembles a defecation wipe.

Are you fucking stupid? It’s over 140 years old— it’s quite dear to me.

“I’m not enjoying this in the slightest, either. It seems that as of tonight, we have both experienced a loss.”

Out of everyone in the mansion, Vanilla Ice was the only eligible driver.

Kenny G— the Stand user with the illusions, apparently— forgot to apply for an International Driving Permit. Enya was too old to see the nighttime road properly and had to phone her son anyway. Telence had to monitor the mansion and order that guy Nukesaku around to clean. Nukesaku was also not trusted because everyone believed that he’d accidentally kill you in a car accident. Piper was mildly inebriated from the glasses of wine he had. And Lord Dio said he never learned. Also said he’d never set foot near one until 1983… whatever that meant.

You purse your lips.

“You know, I didn’t even know you could drive.”

“I will sever your tongue.”

Rolling your eyes, you resort to staring at darkness for the rest of the car ride.

November 1988 || Tokyo, Japan

Tokyo is very different in the 80’s, which you fully process the second you pass through the terminal at Narita the next morning.

Granted, you’re coming from a different age— literally— though the sight of everything continues to overwhelm you. There hasn’t been a single thing that you haven’t been surprised by, including the lack of questioning from your now-forged passport and the contents of your luggage.

Back in 2011, surely you would’ve been detained due to possessing a passport with a changed birth year and expiration date. Surely the LCD-screened smartphone that was slightly bigger than a pager would’ve gotten you stopped, because not only is that not even supposed to exist yet, but it could easily be mistaken for some sort of explosive device in 1988. However, a simple nod was given to you each time you passed a checkpoint, confusing you.

It’s not like you wanted to get caught— no. The suspiciously lax restrictions from security just weirded you out more than anything.

Right after an hour-long taxi ride to Meguro-ku, you set out on foot with your duffle-bag backpack. Naturally, your clothing garners confused stares from locals as you passed by. Your old backpack did you no favors considering how half of your belongings became broken, so you ended up being given some durable expensive-looking bag from the mansion’s butler. He looked to be about your age, so it was… nice… to have another young contemporary working for Lord Dio.

After handing the new backpack to you, Telence had obliviously asked for tips on getting married at a young age— like you, he points out, as he wanted to propose to his girlfriend one day. This ended up pissing you off more than it normally would, especially as you realize that you stupidly left your wedding ring in plain view.

You were here in a different country, in a different continent, in a different year, in a different universe, and you were locked up in one of the guest rooms. Mysteriously, nothing built in that room actually had traces of metal. You were trapped— even during dinner before that, which contained actual food and not scraps like you assumed— and he had the nerve to bring up your husband. It still hasn’t been a whole fucking week yet.

Your subsequent argument with Telence unfortunately soured a beginning of camaraderie with him, which was a shame. He was probably the only person who tolerated you in the mansion, besides the old woman who shot you with the Bow and Arrow. However, you didn’t see much of Enya, nor did your colleagues. Lord Dio didn’t really count as someone you could befriend, as you were tiers below him and thus, weren’t worthy enough to do so.

But it’s not like any collective agreement was made to befriend colleagues in the first place. You could tell— based on the other servants— that carrying out tasks alone was preferred over collaborating. The same was expected for you, which explains your lack of accompaniment. You’re expected to do everything yourself, but that’s fine.

Hopefully, your work ethic comes back into play when finding Joseph Joestar and his group— whoever those people are.

——

You’re currently sitting in a room at a small fertility clinic a short drive away from the hotel. While you were still in Cairo, you brought up a desire to visit a fertility clinic again, prompting Telence to book an appointment for you here (pre-argument). Like everything else, Lord Dio had taken care of the expenses.

As you waited for the specialist, you patiently sat on the medical exam table in one of the rooms, fiddling with your fingers and staring at the open window. The clipboard with a long questionnaire had already been filled out and was set down beside you on the smooth table paper. Through the glass you see a large, strangely-modern building right across from the clinic.

SPEEDWAGON ☸ FOUNDATION

Huh.

Since it’s the late 80’s, they probably became defunct by the 2010’s or something. You’ve never heard of that company before. Though, their architecture definitely looked more like something you’d see back in 2011.

Anyway, your eyes avert from the window to the closed door of the exam room. The day of your previous clinic visit made you cry tears of happiness, as that was the day you discovered that your IUI procedure performed weeks before was successful. You and Noriaki went out for dinner that night to celebrate, knowing that you couldn’t really go to a bar to do that anymore.

That was probably the last of your good memories. Of course, you remembered what brought it along in the first place.

July 2011

This was only the second time you’ve been to Jotaro’s apartment. The phone call you had with him warranted a rare visit from you.

His apartment is a large studio, and you’re a little shocked by the sheer size of it. Near the television was a large shelf unit that caught your attention, so naturally you approach it with curiosity.

The large shelf unit contained various marine-themed trinkets, along with a few model ships and non-flying model airplanes. Rows of manga and American comics filled the top shelves, while Blu-ray cases of movies tightly lined the lower ones. As your eyes skim through each shelf, you notice the lack of anything relating to family, save for a total of… three frames.

One had a younger Jotaro— you’d guess elementary school-age— with his parents; his blonde and green-eyed mother gleaming while his black-haired and brown-eyed father giving a smirk reminiscent of his son’s. Another had Jotaro visiting Italy with his mother and maternal grandparents, though you could tell this was taken within the last five years. The last one had current-Jotaro with two other men; one you immediately recognized as that same grandfather in a dark button-up, a green tie, and suspenders, but the other you had no recollection of. With black hair that had a tint of blue, slightly outdated clothing, and muscle mass far surpassing the other two… yeah, you had no idea who that was.

Jotaro peers over his shoulder to find you standing in front of the shelf unit, preoccupied.

“Are you okay?”

You look over, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. You continue to stare at the photo, wondering if you’ve met that person before. He didn’t look any older than Jotaro’s parents; honestly, he was probably just an uncle of his. The resemblance to Jotaro and his grandfather (what was his name, again?) was a bit uncanny, after all.

Anyway, Jotaro notices what you’re looking at.

“Do you want tea?” he blurts out all of a sudden, sincerely hoping you’d place your focus elsewhere. “Or… eh, anything?”

You shrug, (finally) deciding to leave the photo alone. Not once do you notice his looming nervousness.

“Sure, ah… I’m fine with tea.”

When you’re not looking, Jotaro lets out a small exhale of relief as he heads over to the open kitchen to prepare a teapot. Just once more do you sneak a glance at the photo before heading to the dining table. Once you’re there, you either watch him make what seems to be green tea, or sit there daydreaming. You absentmindedly poke at his white hat, which sat on a textbook about marine invertebrates beside you.

It’s less than a month until summer break. You’ve been trying to study for finals this semester, which for the most part you’ve succeeded in doing so. However, since the first clinic visit, your concentration has started to falter. Most of the time, instead of focusing on exams for your 300-level classes, you’ve been focused on Noriaki.

He hasn’t been talking to you much since, and it worries you. For the past few days you’ve been trying to indirectly comfort him, from preparing food for him or doing other things— non-sexual, you might add— that were previously successful in making him happy. Such actions were indirect, because he seemed to react better when you weren’t in his presence. It hurt; every time he never responded to you or enacted in any sort of physical contact with you was like being stabbed multiple times, the knives getting slower and slower and excruciatingly more painful as it entered and penetrated through layers of your body.

You never went against Noriaki’s wishes. To betray him in such a way was unforgivable; it made you unworthy of being his partner. Though, being here in Jotaro’s presence already seemed like a red flag. Noriaki never mentioned his displeasure about it once, but to talk to Jotaro about Noriaki himself… well, you hope that it’s worth it. After all, it was Jotaro himself that had called you here.

And in that phone call, you both first realize that you’ve been having the same thoughts regarding the redhead. Then, Jotaro had talked about something that definitely warranted a visit from you.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

You whip your head to Jotaro, who towered over you while carrying the tea tray. His brows were furrowed; he was giving you a hardened look as he set everything down in front of you.

He sits directly across from you, minding how his legs no longer have space to stretch out. As he pours you tea, the only sound that resonates in the room is the sound of the tea being poured. Nothing else— you can’t even tell if he’s breathing anymore, nor you.

“Don’t take any of this the wrong way,” Jotaro demanded.

He legitimately looked angry, even when you both toasted out of instinct.

You slowly blinked at him afterwards. “I wasn’t intending to, I just…”

“It’s okay for you to be confused— pissed off at me, even,” the black-haired man assures as he starts to sip his tea. There’s a brief flash of contentment on his face before he continues to frown. “I…”

Jotaro finally took the time to look into your eyes.

“Listen— he’s absolutely heartbroken,” was how Jotaro was describing the incident. “…it hurts. It hurts to see Noriaki act like that… I mean, we took Ukon no Chikara beforehand— so mostly nothing wrong health-wise— but Noriaki still looked like he was going to drink himself to death.”

Your breath hitches. This is the first time you’ve heard about Noriaki drinking since the clinic visit. Usually, if he drank, it was with you or Jotaro or anyone he could trust to bring him home if he became absolutely wasted (which, to be honest, didn’t take long to happen). He’s told you in the past that if he drank by himself in front of you, then that was the time that he hit rock bottom. Recent events have sure been telling.

“I… I can tell he is,” you solemnly admit after sipping from your own cup. “He won’t talk to me—”

“— still?” Jotaro interjected, until it occurred to him that you had more to say. He cleared his throat, apologizing. “...sorry.”

“It’s okay, but yes … still. We’ve… I tried to talk to him, but I wanted to give him time to cool off and process everything because I know he… hasn’t.”

“How much time are you giving him?”

You shrug with genuine uncertainty.

“As much time as he needs, but… I hope it’s not something he shelves. We do need to talk about it— damnit, I want to talk about it as soon as possible.”

“You need to,” he agrees, sipping his tea.

“…yeah.”

For a minute or two, you and Jotaro sit at the table in silence, occasionally lifting your warm cups of tea to drink. There’s at least a dozen thoughts that travel through both of your minds, but neither of you vocalize them at all. Some of them are even about the same topic, but nothing comes out of your mouths.

“…not wanting a child is one thing, but… not being able to have a child is another… I’m so sorry…”

“Noriaki, please, let’s talk about this when we get home…”

“What is there to talk about? I’m a sterile, useless piece of shit. I failed you as your husband.”

“Don’t say that— why would you say that?”

You rest your chin on your hand, elbow rudely propped up on the table.

“I want to help you two,” Jotaro blurted out, which made you perk up. “It just got me thinking…”

“And… that’s why you called me here? To— to ask me about it…?” you stammered.

“Yes.”

His eyes avert from you down to the tea tray.

You slowly nod.

“Because you want to… donate sperm,” you clarify, expressionless.

Jotaro choked out, “…yes.”

When he mentioned discussing it with Noriaki during the phone call with you, you froze in shock. It’s rather… bold… for him to bring up this suggestion, especially during a time when you and Noriaki were experiencing a time of grief. It’s also not everyday that you get a call about your good friend giving sperm to you while you’ve been fully immersed in watching a game show on the sofa.

You had nothing against sperm donation or assisted-reproduction tech in general, but you didn’t think it would ever be necessary for you and your husband of all couples.

And… well, there’s a massive amount of legal considerations. Jotaro was close friends with the both of you, which introduces an issue of involvement with the child’s life— even if it’s expressed in a contract that he won’t have any sort of parental relationship with them once they’re born. It would seem outrageous to stop being friends with him in order to not violate that. Also, you trusted Jotaro to be cooperative with whatever is specified in a contract, but a court might not see him that way.

The child would obviously not resemble their legal father, Noriaki, either. There’s no telling that they’ll resemble you more than the biological father, Jotaro, to the point where no one would question otherwise. You cringed at the idea of you three at some get-together a decade from now, where nosy family members start to gossip and rumor about a possible case of infidelity between you and the child’s biological father. The rumor would be a terrible burden for all of you, and not to mention a headache. One day, either you or Noriaki would attempt to explain to the young child about why they didn’t inherit their father’s red hair or lavender-grey eyes.

“I’ve been friends with Noriaki for almost six years,” Jotaro explained, setting his tea cup down. “And… I care about him—”

“—do you really want to do this?” you interjected, eyes wide. “Jotaro, I know you’re not impulsive or anything, but… this will change… everything, you know. I don’t… I don’t want you to end up regretting this decision. You’ve got an entire future for you to experience, and… I don’t know, you might be at this stage of planning with whoever you vow to be with in that time. I don’t want all of this to complicate your life.”

It wouldn’t complicate his life— he thought everything through, even if he first told Noriaki in the spur of the moment. He was serious about this… about everything.

Jotaro had a stern look on his face.

“…but, do you want to do this?”

At that question, you turn away.

…did you?

You let out a shaky sigh.

Do you really have any other option, though?

“I love him, Jotaro,” you say, starting to sniffle. You bring a napkin to your eyes to pat them dry. “I… I love Noriaki so much. I don’t want him to think that… this… will make me love him any less, but I just… it pains me to see him suffering like this, you know? I’m his wife, and yet I feel so useless— I can’t even do anything to help him myself…”

“That’s why I want to help,” he told you with a soft tone. “I don’t want to beg or plead or any of that bullshit, but I want you and Noriaki to make the decisions yourselves. Like you said, ah… what I’m doing will change everything. I want you — the both of you— to think about this.”

You gaze over at him before hanging your head low.

“I… well, we don’t really have any other option,” you confessed. “Noriaki and I aren’t old enough to adopt here, so that’s out of the question, and…”

Trailing off, you try to think if there were other options in the first place.

Eventually, Jotaro cleared his throat.

“You— you don’t have to make this decision now, if that’s what you’re… ah, thinking.”

You rubbed your face with your hands, sniffling.

He’s right.

Why bother to pressure yourself with something like this at this very moment? There’s plenty of time for you to contemplate, for Noriaki to build up the courage to speak with you again, for the both of you to take the time to discuss this in whole…

Back at your apartment, Noriaki was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, mind wandering towards the topic that Jotaro had brought up to him on that night. He’s eating from a small bowl of cherries that you bought for him, which sits on his lap. His face is expressionless; there’s dried tears stained on his cheeks.

Of course, you don’t know that.

“Okay— no, yeah, I got that,” you finalize, nodding at Jotaro. You set your tea cup down rather loudly. “When, ah… when he’s ready to talk, I’ll… I’ll give you a call, alright?”

Jotaro nods back, the corners of his mouth upturning as he gives you a small smile.

November 28, 1988

They’re sitting patiently in another room beside the kitchen when the sound of a landline being slammed back into place is heard. Immediately, the three of them avert their eyes to the sliding door, waiting for the owner of the storming footsteps on the engawa. The architecture of the family home— along with the unfamiliarity on the walker’s behalf— seemed to be accentuating every sound he makes as he approaches the door and roughly slides it open.

Seeing the towering, old man slide open the door with such force makes the three inwardly cringe— particularly the two teens.

The frame continues to lightly shake as he firmly speaks in his aged voice.

“[We board the flight to Cairo at 8:30 tonight],” Joseph Joestar announces in English as he ducks under the door frame, steps on the tatami, and stands directly in front of the three.

“[Why so late?]” the taller teen suddenly questions in an annoyed tone. He’s glaring at his grandfather as his hands are shoved in his front pockets; the bill of his black cap is pulled lower than usual.

It’s not obvious, but he’s starting to become antsy. The last thing he wants, however, is for his grandfather and the other two to pick up on that underlying anxiety of his.

Joseph sighs heavily, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Trust me, Jotaro— I asked the same question,” he replies with a frown. “The Speedwagon Foundation says that that flight is the earliest one. It’s also likely that Dio knows about our connection to the Foundation, so there’s no way we can directly travel under them either. Besides, they’re already sending some of their best doctors from all of their branches to monitor Holly here.”

“Did they say when they’ll be arriving?” the Egyptian man, Muhammad Avdol, asked.

Frankly, he’s still quite shaken after seeing Ms. Holly unconscious on the kitchen floor. The green vine-like Stand— similar to her father’s purple one— continued to grow and wrap around her back as it attacked her from the inside. He, like everyone else, knows that there can’t be much time left until Mr. Joestar’s daughter succumbs to the illness.

“There’s one coming from the Meguro branch today, and a few others flying in from America between tonight and tomorrow.”

Jotaro tsk -ed.

“At least we’re having one coming today,” Joseph repeats, giving his grandson a pointed look before turning away. “It’s… better than nothing.”

He didn’t respond to Jotaro’s further actions, which included a roll of the eyes and a swear grumbled under his breath.

The other red-haired teen cleared his throat.

“Ah… so what will we be doing until then?” Kakyoin asked, resting his hands over a large encyclopedia. His eyes averted to the wood grain alarm clock radio, which oddly sat on the low table beside him. “It’s only after 9, and we board that flight several hours from now.”

“Avdol and I could go out and get some supplies for our trip,” Joseph suggested, gesturing to himself and Avdol. Avdol nodded and hummed in agreement. “You and Jotaro could wait for the Foundation doctor here and look over his mother in the meantime, maybe ready a bag of clothes, underwear, toiletries… whatever you need. But I recommend packing light— this trip to and in Cairo won’t be long.”

Kakyoin glanced up at Jotaro, who side-eyed him back. “I’ll just quickly drop by my house to pack some of my things, then. I don’t actually live that far from here.”

“If we’re driving, we can drop you off,” Avdol pointed out.

Joseph crossed his arms, nodding. “Yeah, just tell us the address. Luckily, these Japanese roads are like the ones in England— driving on the left side and all— except there’s not that much traffic here… one of the few good things about this place, I believe. But I almost hit a stupid cyclist the last time I was here, you know? Sheesh!”

“Maybe because you never needed to drive on the left side of the road for fifty fucking years and forgot how to.”

The old man whipped his head over to Jotaro with a glare before sighing in defeat. “That may be true, but watch your language! Again!”

Jotaro grunted.

Joseph turned to speak with Avdol about their remaining expenses, who crossed his arms over his robed chest. Kakyoin strolled over to his towering classmate as he attempted to adjust the tight bandage around his forehead. Once he approached a respectable distance from him, Jotaro’s eyes darted to the covered wound from the flesh bud; the amount of blood that bled through had been decreasing, and there’s barely any stain as of this morning.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m a little eager to leave for Egypt,” Kakyoin quietly said with a content expression. He switched to Japanese to speak to him. “I wouldn’t mind revisiting so soon, despite having some… unpleasant memories, now that I think about it. It’s nice there, though.”

After letting out a curt hum, Jotaro also replied in Japanese, “I’ll take your word for it, but I just want to see that bastard, Dio, get what he deserves.”

Kakyoin lightly snorted. “I feel the same way.”

The redhead swears he sees a glint of amusement in Jotaro’s eyes— a rare occurrence, it seems. Though, he doesn’t mind it any longer when he sees him turning away from him. Jotaro calmly went over to the sliding door and comically opened it with much less force than his grandfather did before. Kakyoin resorted to watching him for a second before deciding to follow him for a few minutes. He was probably going to the other room to where his mother was, passed out cold and tightly tucked into a futon in the middle of the room.

It was a scary sight, to be honest. Having your Stand fight you instead of it fighting for you— Kakyoin couldn’t even imagine how Mrs. Kujo was feeling right now. He didn’t know how long he’d be there to monitor her, as he had to leave with Mr. Joestar and Mr. Avdol soon to go to his house.

His parents both worked during the day, so luckily they wouldn’t be home to question his absence between yesterday and this morning. Somehow, the fight that he had with Jotaro during cram school yesterday felt like an eternity ago, and now here he was, planning to go on an impromptu trip to a different country.

“[I’ll— eh, Kakyoin and I— will be keeping an eye on Mom. Are you… all leaving now?]” Jotaro asked aloud in English to the two adults in the corner of the room.

His brows furrowed when they didn’t immediately answer, so he repeated his question much louder. Avdol was the first one to respond with a nod, so Jotaro was about to take that as the sole answer and leave. However, Joseph started to speak, and his abruptly soft tone made him and Kakyoin come to a halt. They stared at him in anticipation, but Avdol’s lips remained pursed. He must’ve already known what the old man was going to tell them.

“…I need to take another spirit photo,” he breathed out.

His head suddenly whipped around for any sight of a camera in the room. While his grandfather started to crouch and look under furniture, Jotaro already started to re-enter through the doorway and over to him. Kakyoin, on the other hand, stayed where he was at the front of the sliding door.

“So, you’re both not leaving now? Haven’t you taken enough, already?” he asked gruffly.

Joseph sighed as he pulled out drawer after drawer, opened container after container.

“Yes, and I’m not sure why, but… I feel like I need to take another one.”

——

It takes about twenty minutes, but Joseph finally manages to find a camera in the Kujo household that he hasn’t destroyed to pieces yet.

“Oi, old man. That’s my dad’s camera—”

“—perfect.”

“…good grief.”

He (begrudgingly) sits at the low table, carefully situating the black Polaroid camera in the middle. The Egyptian man and the two teens resort to standing around him, eyes narrowed at him and the camera. All they hear is the inhales and exhales from their breathing; Joseph continues to watch the camera in scrutiny, as if he’s devising his ‘attack’ on the camera. While Jotaro and Avdol have seen the old man’s Stand in action, Kakyoin only saw a blur of purple when the flesh bud was being pulled out of him. He must’ve used it then, but the redhead’s mind and senses were in such a shambles that he could barely tell.

Suddenly, Joseph slowly (and dramatically, in Jotaro’s opinion) lifts up his buff arm.

“…Hermit Purple!”

The incandescent purple vines flash to life around his hand and forearm, and his brows furrow. His arm practically slams down on the camera— obliterating it to smithereens— and the three of them feel the pieces of the device being thrown against their clothed legs. Yet, somehow, the camera still manages to produce a photo, which Joseph snatches.

Perhaps they couldn’t tell, but Avdol was always slightly amused at the sight of him destroying a camera with Hermit Purple. He’s sure that there’s another way to obtain a spirit photo without harming a camera in any form, but this will have to do for now. There isn’t much time to advise him how to use an ability of a Stand that wasn’t even his own.

The old man brings the photo up to his not-really-aged eyes, watching it develop. However, when it does, his eyes widen.

His back stiffens at the sight— what … what is this?

“Oh my God.”

Joseph rapidly blinks, hoping that his age didn’t finally catch up to him. Maybe he should’ve kept practicing Hamon if his eyesight was already going down the drain, because… uh…

…where’s Dio?

He doesn’t see Dio this time.

In fact, Dio isn’t anywhere to be seen in the photograph.

This has to be some sort of… absurd, bizarre joke!

It’s a woman.

It isn’t Holly (that would make no sense, to be honest), it isn’t Suzie, it isn’t even his mother for God’s sake, so who…

Joseph swears that he sees a hint of metal from her shoulder, despite her oversized clothing from the neck down. Whatever she wore was large enough that its collar exposed the lower portion of her neck. She’s only depicted from the side, but there’s a vignette in the photograph that makes it difficult for him to see her face. The background behind her resembled cloth; it was probably a blackout curtain. She had to be in some sort of room because of that, and Joseph wonders if Jotaro’s Stand will be able to identify the type.

If it matters, Joseph also notices the lack of a star-shaped birthmark behind her neck. At least she wasn’t another blood-related relative to worry about, but more questions start to arise.

Who is she?

“There’s someone else in the photograph,” Joseph said after a minute, astounded.

The other three’s eyes widen and dart from one person to another in shock.

How…

There’s no way…

“Who?” Jotaro demanded, snatching the Polaroid photo from his grandfather’s gloved mechanical hand. He swears out loud; the vignette obscures her face to the point where even he doubts that Star Platinum would be able to recreate her face on paper. Kakyoin cranes his head to take a look at the photo and he, too, sees the woman with the blurred face and the metal (what?) shoulders. Jotaro grunted before placing it in Avdol’s outstretched hand. The Egyptian man studies it without an ounce of recognition, even while he attempts to identify the background behind her.

Joseph scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. But it’s definitely not Dio.”

“Why did a woman appear in the photo instead of Dio? You should double-check,” Avdol advised, calmly handing the photo back to Joseph.

With the Polaroid photo in hand, he slams his hands on the low table. Pieces of the remaining camera shook and briefly jumped in place as he did so. Jotaro kicked the pieces that landed near his feet.

“Alright— Jotaro! Do you happen to have another camera lying around the house? I promise I’ll buy a new replacement afterwards.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes, watching his grandfather not hear his reply as he shot up from the ground and stormed out through the sliding door once again.

Meanwhile, Avdol’s eyes landed back on the low table, staring at the developed Polaroid photo. It was peculiar, to say the least— Dio had been showing up in all of Joseph’s spirit photos, yet only now was the subject of the photo different. This couldn’t be unintentional, though… they were able to derive an adequate amount of information from Dio’s photos— the fly, for goodness’ sake— so maybe they could do the same with this woman’s. Whatever reason Hermit Purple suddenly produced a photo of not Dio had to be important, but they’ll just have to figure it out on the way to Egypt.

“She must be another one of Dio’s servants,” Avdol suggested with a sour tone. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for a woman with similar clothing just in case.”

At that, Kakyoin narrowed his eyes.

——

Sitting on the foot of the bed in your hotel suite, you carefully twirl around the two SSDs from your now-scrapped laptop in your hand. You plan to warp the laptop’s hardware into indistinguishable pieces to prevent an early breakthrough from someone bizarre and smart enough to find it in the trash and rebuild it. The SSDs, on the other hand, had a large amount of files— photos— that you desperately wanted to keep in your possession.

You scratch the back of your neck.

It feels as if someone’s watching you in here, but you know you’re alone in the room.

——

…maybe you could take connecting flights?

You were strolling out of the travel agency building, dumbfounded. It just had to be today— it just had to be now where everything fucks up all around you.

“There’s only one flight to Cairo today, and it’s fully booked. Also, it’s actually… boarding in an hour. I, on behalf of Nippon Travel Agency, apologize… would you like to book the next flight to Cairo? It will be in three days, 14:00 or 2 PM.”

Three days? That’s… the 1st of December.

It doesn’t seem that far away, but to your boss, that must seem like an eternity. You’d be utterly fucked if you don’t take this flight today— Joestar’s travel group was leaving the country in an hour. Leaving to go to Cairo, arriving in less than a day without you pursuing them. Your boss would have your head if they manage to find the mansion the same day they arrive. If you aren’t at the group’s tails, even worse. Yes, he’d have your head— literally.

Goddamnit, what else could you do? You made the suggestion to fly out to one of the nearest countries to Egypt instead, but all of the flights to their major cities were scheduled after today. At this point, it seemed like Egypt or bust.

What would Lord Dio say, if he was before you right now? Maybe the other servants back at the mansion were tempted to treat you like a laughingstock now. You, the one who failed to complete the most basic task, and not to mention your first.

The hotel suite came with a fax machine. Unfortunately, you only discovered this after a message was sent to you, the sound of it going off alarming the hell out of you.

You were vaguely familiar with its mechanics; for some reason, a lot of Japanese companies in 2011 still required its usage and preferred it over Internet-based options. This included the company you worked at, which was slightly irritating to say the least. But since it’s 1988, and the usage is even more widespread, there’s a part of you that feels like tearing your hair out.

Anyway, it was a message from that fax machine that prompted you to check out from the hotel and head to the nearest travel agency.

There, Lord Dio had informed you that Joseph Joestar was going to leave Tokyo with his group today. He’s booked the very flight you were supposed to be on… and he and his group were going to leave in an hour.

Without you.

Yes, without you, to go after your boss. The audacity he— they — have to pursue Lord Dio with the intention to kill him. This was nothing you could excuse— you had to stop them. You knew that it was just to do so.

…now that you think about it, a connecting flight to Cairo doesn’t seem that bad. It’s better than not arriving in Cairo at all, to be honest.

However, that presents a gigantic issue. What if it’s too late, by the time you arrive? Once you fly from Tokyo to the next country, there’s no way to tell if that next flight will be delayed or even cancelled. You’d constantly have to check at or call a travel agency to get information because it’s not like you could search on the Internet on a computer here. You’d have to ensure that you still have enough money by the end of this shitshow; after all, airfare in the 1980’s was much more expensive than in 2011, and every hotel you’ve been recommended was unnecessarily luxurious. Luckily, that one was easily solvable, but there’s still everything else…

Enough of this thinking.

You’re running out of time.

Quite literally— that travel agency was closing its doors for the day in less than 30 minutes, and a result, would cut off any chance of you successfully completing Lord Dio’s task. And, as a result of that, your body would probably be thrown in a paupers’ grave somewhere near the mansion. Or it would even be left inside. There was that odd scent of old blood in the corridors.

You frowned.

Taking a deep breath, you hope this was worth it in the end.

No— what are you talking about? It would be. You’d just have to trust yourself, here.

In an act of impulsion, you come to a halt, spin around, and sprint back to the travel agency building.

—

--> To Be Continued -->

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