#i don’t support cringe culture I just couldn’t think of a better word after a few days without sleep

[a-mentally-ill-nerd]

I think it’s funny how much I used to see teen romances and be like, “no one is this “cringe” about crushes” and then I remembered when I found out I was gay and in love with my best friend at the time, I spent the next month having excessive panic attacks and vomiting about it, so you know what, those cringe teenagers in fiction should be more insufferable about it.

Good day.

[13uswntimagines]

Chanukah party (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

This isn’t a request but @literaryhedgehog​ and I thought it would be fun. The basic premise is that reader is at camp during Chanukah, and the team feels bad (especially Lindsey) so they throw her a party. (thank you @notmia101​ for betaing this for us). 

You smiled at Alyssa as she described her winter plans after training camp. How she was going to visit her sister and her family for Christmas. How they were hoping for snow and how they were going to kill an innocent tree and desecrate its body with lights for their amusement. Her words, not yours. It was a game she and the other girls played every year, trying to make their Christmas plans sound as horror-movie-ish as possible. It was a way of trying to make fun of themselves so you could share the amusement and join in laughing at them. 

But despite their efforts, a little piece of you always felt left out because you couldn’t (wouldn’t?) participate. See, you were one of the few who didn’t celebrate Christmas. You were proud of your Jewish heritage, even if your family wasn’t the most ~religious~. But you were proud of the culture you had been raised in. You held its traditions very near to your heart and weren’t AT ALL bitter that the rest of the team had time designated to visit their family during their winter holidays while you still had training camp through the third week of December.  

You were kinda zoning out because you could only take so much of their cookie baking, their stalkerish man that watched kids while they slept, and their hiding of a stupid stuffed toy you were sure would give you nightmares (who the fuck thought having an ‘elf’ stalk your family all month was cute?!?!? Capitalism was a weird man). (Though you may or may not have paid attention to Lindsey’s plan to dress Ferguson like a little elf…) 

“What about you kid?” Tobin asked, nudging you out of your daydream. 

“What?” You shook your head, making everyone around you laugh. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” Lindsey repeated, her smile showing off her dimples. 

“Oh, um. Chanukah started a few days ago. It’s cool, they have an app with a menorah and everything. My family has been face timing me most days, but it will be over before training ends.” You shrugged, hoping they couldn’t see how much being away from your family during this time of year sucked (though you were glad to be included on the camp roster). 

Most of the veteran's jaws dropped, how had they not known that you were missing something so important to you? How had US Soccer overlooked a holiday (and inadvertently given you an ultimatum- celebrate or make the national team). 

“Then why did they schedule training camp this week?” Tobin mumbled. Again you shrugged. 

“There’s 23 of you and only one of me… it’s really not that big of a deal,” you smiled briefly and gave the same speech you had given since middle school, “It’s not like the ‘Jewish Christmas’ even though it happens around the same time some years, my family doesn’t even exchange presents, so I’m really just missing the party they’re throwing on the 18th.” 

“That still isn’t fair though. I mean, we get Christmas off automatically, even if we don’t celebrate it!” Christen huffed, throwing her hands up. 

“I mean, this isn’t like a new thing. We’re always at camp during this time. And next year the holiday starts in November, so it’s not something that can consistently be scheduled around. I guess it’s just a sacrifice I have to make to be the best right?” You said earnestly, shaking your head. You knew all of the arguments, you had heard them for all of your life. 

“But-“ Emily started to protest, but before she could get the words out you cut her off. “Don’t make a big deal guys, it’s fine. Really,” 

The team stared at you for a few seconds, several women opening and closing their mouths several times. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone rang, glad to have an excuse to get out of this situation. 

“Ok so we’re totally going to make a big deal out of this,” Lindsey said turning back around to face the team the second you were out the door. 

“I’m guessing you have a plan to woo your girl?” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not to. No. We are doing this as a team to be supportive of our teammate who is part of a traditionally marginalized culture that we need to be more supportive of,” Lindsey grumbled sternly, smiling when Christen nodded in return. “I’m googling “Chanukah for Dummies” right now. 

They were going to make this camp different from the others (and if she got to impress you that was just a bonus). 

…..

“Umm, why does it smell like something is burning?” Becky asked, walking through the hotel corridor towards the dining room. 

“Because Latkes are apparently more difficult to make than I expected,” Kelley said, tossing what looked like a stack of burned hockey pucks into the trash. “I didn’t realize the whole room was going to smell like fried food- do you think they’re going to fine me when we check out?”

“If they fine you, they better fine Em too. The stench from such a little jar is kind of amazing,” Lindsey huffed. 

“What did she do, get her sardines or something?” Becky asked, shaking her head, remembering the smell that she couldn’t quite place. 

“No. Something called ‘Gefilte fish’”. 

“But isn’t that usually for Passover?” Kelley asked, looking up from where she was trying to scrape burned potatoes off her pan.

“They said it was traditional, isn’t that what we’re going for?” Emily huffed, pouting. Lindsey rolled her eyes at her best friend. 

“I’ve got music!” Chrystal called, walking through the door in a star-patterned sweater. “It turns out there are not a whole lot of Chanukah songs. There’s a Spotify playlist that’s only 3 hours long, or so, so I supplemented it with a lot of Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon.”

“And I brought the sour cream and applesauce as requested!” Sam called, walking in after her, “also some apple juice and honey bourbon. I know apples and honey are a thing for Rosh Hashana, so I thought maybe we could make some cocktails?”

“I won’t tell coach if you don’t,” Kelley said taking the bottle and pouring herself a shot. “Someone else needs to take over the latke making. My attempts have all either looked like lefse, hashbrowns or just burned.”

“Lefse?”

“I had an ex-girlfriend from Minnesota. It was a potato tortilla thing her family sent her at thanksgiving. The point here is that someone else needs to cook or we are just going to be eating sour cream and applesauce on their own.”

“We could make french fries?” Rose suggested tentatively. 

“With bacon and cheese! Those are the best,” Emily exclaimed, only to have Lindsey (gently) slap the back of her head. 

“No, Sonnett. She can’t have bacon and I don’t think she’s allowed to have cheese and meat on the same plate…” 

“I think if we just batter potato pieces in egg and flour and fry them it would taste nice with the apple sauce and sour cream. And we’ve made french fries before so it won’t be so much of a… learning curve. Though you did a great try, Kelley!” Rose said, patting Kelley’s arm.

“You guys are useless. Did you even look at a recipe?” Megan shook her head. 

“If you think it’s so easy you try it.” Kelley scoffed. Megan raised her eyebrow at the woman, stealing the spatula from the defender's hand. 

“Tasty made here we come,” 

*****

“Happy Chanukah!” came from all around as you walked in. Lindsey was very proud. Not only had she gotten the team on track and ensured that they had all of the stuff google said would make the perfect Chanukah celebration; she had also kept you off their trail until this moment. The shock on your face made all the work on their day off entirely worth it. 

The room was decorated in tinsel with a shiny plastic menorah in the center of the table. Several people were wearing ugly sweaters with different “decorations” taped on. A sign on the back wall said “We survived, let’s eat!” Lindsey had decided against hanging up the posters Rose and Mal made saying “Stick it to the (ro)Man!” and “MaccaBEe mine.” The first one because she wasn’t sure it was appropriate, the second one because she knew it wasn’t.

“Ooo who brought the hotdog of the sea?” You asked, biting your lip to suppress a giggle as you walked over to the table to see the food on display. 

“What?” Lindsey’s eyes tried to follow yours, utterly confused. They didn’t get hotdogs. They most certainly weren’t on the list that Chanukah for dummies had given her. 

You smiled softly and shook your head, pointing to the tan balls that Emily had provided. 

“That’s what my siblings and I call it during Passover. Gefilte fish is kinda a love it or hate it thing…” you trailed off, scrunching your nose just slightly. 

“And you’re not a fan?” Lindsey smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Umm, I plead the fifth,” You mumbled, shaking your head slightly. It wasn’t your favorite item in the world. 

“That was all Emily,” Kelley snorted, clapping you on the back, and you grinned devilishly back at her. 

“Well, it was very nice of her to be so thoughtful. She can try a piece with me,” 

Emily cringed at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. It was your party and if eating the smelly thing out of a jar made you happy, then that’s exactly what she would do. (She also stealthily shot Lindsey the middle finger while you were surveying the rest of the items on the tables). 

“Honestly the sufganiyot is my favorite,” you said, taking a step towards the platter, your lips ticking up at Lindsey’s adorable confused face. “sorry, the donuts,” you clarified, picking up one of the many powdered sugar-covered donuts in the stack, inspecting it to see what kind it was. The Jelly ones were particularly important for the celebration. 

Lindsey blushed a little. “We didn’t know if you wanted jelly or custard,” She said hesitantly, watching as your eyes got impossibly brighter. 

“Both are amazing, thank you,” You smiled softly at the midfielder, brushing a stay bit of powdered sugar off her pink cheeks. You held her gaze for a moment before seeming realizing you had an audience, and turning towards the rest of the team. “thank all of you,” 

It wasn’t the traditional Chanukah you usually shared with your family, but the friends who had become your family made it special nonetheless.

[franki-lew-yo]

I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”  

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

[willwriteforhugs]

the boy in the bookshop (part five; the final)

in which you meet a suspiciously handsome boy in your favorite bookstore- but are not cultured enough to know his true identity.

part one

part two

part three

part four

ateez scenario

yeosang x (fem) reader

word count: 1.3k

g: angst, fluff

some arguing and cursing (very light)

a/n: hello lovely people! i’m just here to give you all a big thank you for the support i’ve received on this series. i love to write, and i’m so honored to know i can make people happy by doing that. if you have loved this little series as mush as i have, thank you so much! more to come ;)

- allison

part five; the final

your breath comes out in short gasps as you hurry down the street. 

you can’t believe... yeosang.

your heart pounds, and you slow to a stop, looking up to identify the street you are on. you realize after a minute that you have no idea where you are. 

shit.

you reach down and dig through your bag, hoping to find your cell phone. sure enough, it lies at the bottom- it’s only at 12%, but you’ll have to make do.

the time on the (too bright) screen reads 11:56. 

...had you really been out that long?

you open the maps app and try to figure out how to get home. it’s going to be 20 minute walk.

a thought occurs to you: if you were twenty minutes away from your place- and the bar from last night- had yeosang really carried you all that way? you quickly shove the idea out of your head. nope, nope, nope. no more thinking about him.

you can’t even begin to decipher your own feelings right now. you aren’t mad at him- maybe sad? disappointed? you don’t care that he is a singer, and an idol at that- but you don’t understand why he lied. half-lied. twisted the truth. whatever.

what did he have to hide?

if anyone would understand, it would be you.

so, why?

- - - 

twenty-five minutes later, (the phone had lied) you let yourself into your apartment. you heave a sigh, kicking off your boots. you glance at your phone again.

yeosang had called. just once.

you’d missed it- you always had your ringer off- but you make no move to call him back. you simply dismiss the notification. you continue to feel nothing but empty.

you mope into the bathroom, seeing your reflection for the first time today. you cringe visibly. your hair is a damn rat’s nest, and what’s left of last night’s makeup is smeared across your eyes and cheeks. the people who you’d passed on your way home probably thought you were insane.

you wet a washcloth to clean up, and only when you lift it to your face to you see it.

this isn’t your sweatshirt. 

you can feel that you still have the original sweater underneath- so at least he hadn’t stripped you-  but the sadness continues to creep in. why? why would he give you his sweatshirt to wear? why would he treat you so well? bring you into his own home when you passed out drunk? 

you lean against the sink, pressing your forehead into the cool ceramic. 

too much. this is too much.

should you call him?

you decide not to, knowing not what you’d say.

for the next three hours, you mumble your way through life. take a shower. brush your hair. shoot back some advil. make some ramen. eat said ramen. take a nap?

no. you know you won’t be able to sleep. you head to your room to get your phone from where you’d left it to charge. you have a text, just one:

yeosang: y/n, please.

that was it. sent 49 minutes ago. your eyes begin to tear up again.

you: come here, yeosang.

y/n’s iphone shared a location.

- - -

you haven’t really changed since your shower. you’re wearing plain black leggings and yeosang’s borrowed (stolen?) grey hoodie.

so when you answer the door, you hope he isn’t expecting much. as soon as you see him, though, your body relaxes with relief.

to be honest, he doesn’t look much better than you. he’s wearing sweats, and his hair is mostly covered by a baseball cap. there are dark semicircles beneath his eyes. your heart twinges.

without a word, you step aside, silently inviting him inside. he follows your lead, entering without question.

a moment passes in silence, and finally, yeosang lets out a sigh, whispering your name. “y/n-ah...”

you turn to him, hoping he continues.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he’s barely whispering, and you almost feel the need to lean forward to hear him.

your voice comes out in a rasp. “for what?”

“for lying. because-” he pauses, looking away. “because i know you. and i know that’s why you’re upset. and you have every right to be.”

you nod, eyes, glued to the floor. your throat feels like you’d eaten carpet for breakfast. finally, you manage; “why...why didn’t you just tell me?”

he doesn’t say anything. you look back up at him. you wouldn’t know, but to him- your face practically breaks his heart.

his voice has completely changed pitch. it’s low, brimming with sadness and guilt. “i didn’t want you to leave.” his eyes visibly fill with tears. 

you make a broken whimpering sound. “you know i wouldn’t.”

“i just... i don’t know. you were kind, y/n. you didn’t know, so you treated me the way you would treat anyone. and i- i just loved that. i couldn’t risk losing that.”

“you risked losing it by not telling me, though...”

“well- i know that now.” he says in a strained chuckle. “but i couldn’t have known that four weeks ago. by the time i knew i cared-could trust you, it was just too late.”

you stay quiet.

“y/n.”

you look up, and the pleading in yeosang’s eyes almost breaks you. slowly, you take a few steps forward, closing the distance between you. you reach out, your fingertips brushing his palm. he hesitates, then closes the distance, gripping your hand with a strength you didn’t know he possessed. before anything can be said, you inhale and let your other hand trail up his back, pulling him flush again your chest.

yeosang’s breath catches. after a second, his left hand comes to wrap over your back, his hand entangling itself in your hair. his face meets your shoulder, and he sighs.

you giggle, surprising yourself- but your voice still sounds tear-filled. “i was never mad at you, you know.”

“i know,” he mumbles against your neck. “but you were sad, and that was so much worse.”

you inhale, considering your options. but at this point... is it even an option?

you pull away, cupping your hand around his cheek. his hand comes to rest atop yours. 

the room is so silent it hurts.

“y/n-ah...” 

a beat passes, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

“can i kiss you?”

you blink in surprise, but yeosang’s eyes are open and genuine. you nod lightly, before you can chicken out. 

his lips are soft and tentative. they brush yours so lightly that it could have been a dream. but you close the distance a second time, and yeosang leans into it. his kiss deepens, and you mumble your approval. now he pulls away, and leaves the lightest kisses on your cheeks, your nose, your neck. both of you are crying, just a little. who would have known how much a bookshop could change two people. could it create love?

you can see every inch of him up close. his birth mark...

he’s so fucking beautiful.

you reach forward and pull his face back to yours. you press your mouth to his again. he sighs, his hands reaching to rest of your waist. he slowly gets more bold- his lips part yours, and his tongue begins to explore your mouth. you meet his enthusiasm, hoping he never stops.

maybe he never will. you would both die happy, you think.

[shizazz420]

What are some of your favourite fandoms?

(This time i wrote it right insteas of somehow ending up with bloody shapes XD)

Just for good measure, I’ll put my favorite and least favorite fandoms.

FAVORITES:

1. Invader Zim - Like most old fandoms, the IZ fandom doesn’t house nearly as much drama. The IZ veterans immediately shut that shit down. Creativity and freedom of expression is heavily encouraged, and there’s usually never any problems involving “problematic” or “gross” (both words are words I hate) content, because the community as a whole has a thicker skin. It’s been through hell and back, so no petty call outs become problems. And cringe culture is dead here. draw what you want. The only fallback is the fact that the fandom is rather small (in comparison to other fandoms). But I don’t mind that. It feels much more friendly.

———

2. Undertale (including AUs) - dear lord I know someone’s gonna crucify me for this one. But hear me out. Everyone hates the “weird” shit (sanscest, aus, self-shipping, fangirls, etc.), but that’s what I love. People expressing themselves and drawing shit without caring what others think. People having fun. I love it! I couldn’t ask for a better experience in that fandom (other than some of the shitty people I met).

———

3. MLP - alright yeah someone’s gonna kill me. I love the friendly atmosphere of the fandom. The freedom of expression. And when people are like “but there’s so many bad people” DUH. There’s bad people in every fandom, and with a fandom as big as MLP, that’s bound to be the case.

LEAST FAVORITES:

1. Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss - DEAR LORD. I have never had an experience in a fandom worse than this one. Drama everywhere, constant policing, everything is deemed “problematic”, and there is no freedom of expression. No matter what you do, it’s wrong. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

———

2. BNHA - don’t even get me started. Quite possibly the most toxic, drama-ridden, hypersensitive anime fandom I have ever seen. Not to mention that the series isn’t that good imo. It’s like 40% flashbacks and it’s so repetitive. Listen buddy. There are over 7 trillion nerves in the human body, but it’s still not nearly as sensitive as BNHA fans.

———

3. Mari Mari Cutie - this is the most obscure fandom I had ever been in, and it was truly great at first. I loved it. It was the best community ever— until it wasn’t. Turned out to be hella drama-ridden and the creators were horrible people and the whole fandom came after me and supported one of the mods who doxxed and harassed me :) the fandom is basically dead now, and that’s the best thing that could have happened. Mari Mari Mii!

[onelamewriter]

Suga, Daichi, Tanaka, and Noya with a S/O who’s Great at Volleyball

Request: Can you do suga and daichi + tanaka and nishinoya with a seemingly lazy s/o that somehow turns out to be a very experienced volleyball player? Thanks!

A/N: This ask spoke to me on so many levels sjkjsksjsk. Hope that my brief days of volleyball but constant lazy mood serve for something (was that a pun???). I tried to make the reader gender neutral, failing if you squint. Enjoy and send requests!

Sawamura Daichi

Daichi was already very well aware of your reluctance to do, well, any physical activity. And while he tried to get you to do some exercise and accompany him on his morning runs, he didn’t pry much more.

So one day the team is in desperate need for practice due to a practice match with Nekoma approaching, but their gym is under maintenance and therefore unable to use.

And since the basketball team + girls volleyball gym is also under their use constantly, they can’t borrow theirs either.

Coah Ukai tells them to call it off and not to worry, that that’d do no good and it’d be better to not stress themselves out too much. Advised them to practice a bit on their own until the gym is fixed.

But Daddychi is stressedichi because they still have some things to tune, try new tosses and spikes and uughhh they can’t do that without a proper place.

Daichi comes home to you after the terrible announcement is made, looking very disheartened and glum as he repeated the news to you.

So you, being an amazing partner, offer him and his team a place to practice — a gymnasium no one uses anymore very close to where you live.

Daichi is just so happy that he doesn’t even questions how you know it, just to tell him a day and time to take the team there.

So the day arrives, you wait for Daichi and his team at the gates and right after school the volleyball team is following the ever leisure you like a group of ducklings.

After an uphill trek to the place, the boys found themselves in front of a large gymnasium with just a little bit of rust at the walls and some foliage, but otherwise in a good state.

You open the doors with the key (which should’ve been a clue) and once inside you turn on the lights, revealing a surprisingly clean training area, with nets, scoreboards and such. The team gaped, since the inside certainly didn’t looked like the outside at all, but you shrug them off and usher them to get started with practice, and so they do.

You just lean against the wall near the doors, arms crossed over your chest with a watchful eye on each of them as they do their thing, often dropping some tips and corrections here and there, and that’s when Daichi is like ??? cuz everything you’re saying is,, accurate and makes sense and the boys are getting better???

So as they’re taking a break Daichi comes up to you and asks you how do you know so much about volleyball, sure he’s talk to you about, maybe even tried teaching you a little, but none of the advise you gave were remotely similar to the simplistic stuff he’s told you.

And when you very nonchalantly tell him you used to be in a top team??

“Come again?” Daichi dumbly uttered, an absent smile on his face as though he didn’t quite understood.

“I used to be part of a team,” You repeat, an amuse smirk making its way to your face as your boyfriend’s eyes widen considerably. “We used to be real good too, almost a Shiratorizawa level in the rankings of Miyagi and all.”

“You— I— you were in a—” Daichi sputtered, eliciting a laugh out of you as he took a deep breath to recollect his thoughts, waiting until your laughing fit was done to squeak out a, “How?”

“Eeesh, you think so lowly of me? I’m kinda hurt, love.” You feign a hurt expression and press a hand to your chest to emphasize to fake whole in your heart. Chuckling as he tried to backpedal on his wording and scramble to spew apologies to you before you cut him off with a lazy wave. “‘S fine, can’t blame ya,”

Daichi breathes out a sigh of relief before actually asking something. “You... keep saying used to, why aren’t you playing anymore?”

“We got to nationals and that was it for me, I guess.” You answered, glancing at your shoes and missing his eyes widening once again. “That was kinda my one goal, and after that was done I guess I was too. Heh, the team’s still wanting me to rejoin them, but it’s too much of a hassle.”

“You don’t like it anymore?” his question came a bit too sharp, and it certainly hit a cord in you from the way you flinched slightly.

“That’s...” Seeing as you sighed wearily, Daichi took it upon himself to voice his thoughts, leaning on the wall right beside you where your arms were grazing each other. “I think you still do.”

“Huh?” You breathed out, eyebrows lifted

“You seem to know a lot, possibly more than I do, and you’ve gone to nationals, that’s one heck of an achievement!” He complemented, leaning forward so he was making eye contact with you and nodded to the court. “You can help us a lot, and I’m sure our advisor and coach would appreciate it. Plus, from the way you kept looking at our plays... I think you still want to play volleyball— and I get that!”

“But... If you decide to go back in court with your team, just know that I’ll be supporting you all the way!” He gave you a warm smile, one of those he reserves for you and you only, and you couldn’t help smile back, although understandably mellow, and nodded with a quiet okay. “I think we have to get back into practice, before Kageyama bonks Hinata on the head again,” he sweatdropped, snapping his head to you with a half-heartedly stern expression. “You have to tell me more about your sport days though. Everything in detail!”

You couldn’t help the joyous laugh that escaped your throat at his order, and waved him off. “Sure sure, now go save your decoy, Captain,” And as he went to separate the oddball duo, you smiled softly to yourself in thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

Sugawara Koushi

Sugawara’s another one who tried to get you to do some physical activities, but much more playfully than Daichi’s attempts. But after he noticed you wouldn’t budge from your position in bed or the couch (depending on he day) he very quickly gave up and decided to tease you about it and cuddle with you, because he is a man of culture.

The two of you got to Karasuno, so you were often waiting for him after classes either outside or inside the gym (depending on whether you felt like napping or not). He also told you many times to go home and eat something and not wait for him until three-thirty.

On this particular occasion you found yourself inside watching the boys (mostly your boy) practice, secretly taking mental notes about their plays and forms. You internally cringe at the horrible receives their current ginger boy has, and the salty french fry too. Huh, should I have fries today...? Oh, that sounds good... Ketchup and all...

You were so lost in your own world controlled by your empty stomach that you didn’t noticed Hinata missing a receive and the now stray volleyball coming straight at you.

Almost.

Because when you hear Sugawara’s call for your name and look up from the ground, eyes locking into the incoming ball it’s like if a switch just flipped.

You immediately stick your arms out, body lowered into a semi-crouch yet face blank as ever, the satisfying bang of the ball hitting your forearms resonated throughout the gym, and the familiar sting on your forearms becoming dull fairly quickly. You watch the ball bounce off your arms and into the woodplanks.

Suga (and everyone else) is just,,, w hat??? because you, the one person in PE who uses the excuse of “I stubbed my toe,” to not stretch, just did a perfect receive and like??? now you’re just picking up bag and leaning against the wall again like it didn’t just happened???

“WOAHHH!!! (L/n)-san!! How’d you do that?!” Hinata asks as he hops around you, stars in his eyes and pumping his fists. “The ball was like ‘whoosh’ super fast! But then it went like ‘bam!’ when you received it! And then it went ‘pom!’ when it touched the ground and then—”

“Hinata get off their face, dumbass!” Kageyama scolded the tangerine, holding him by the back of his collar. “Plus it went ‘pom’ first and then ‘bam’, boke!”

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing for almost hitting them, Shrimpy?” Tsukishima snickered, picking the ball you just received. However you cut off the ginger’s attempt apologies with a lazy wave and a yawn.

“Don’t worry. I’m used to receiving harsher stray balls than that,” You nonchalantly said, causing the him to comment a “So cool!!” while the older teens just stared at you bug-eyed.

“Wh-wha— (Y/n) how do you know how to make a receive like that??” Sugawara squeaked, he nearly had a heart attack at the thought of a volleyball hitting your unsuspecting form, but now he’s ????

“Oh, I sometimes go to a volleyball camp my uncle owns on summer break. Been going there since I was little.” You scratch you arm, the stink spiking up a tiny bit. “Is practice done now?”

Now Suga’s even more bug-eyed but soon practice is finished and you and your boyfriend are walking home alongside the team (since Daichi said he’d invite you guys some pork buns and— well, who are you refuse free food?). But the earlier events are still on their head, so they question you about it.

“Oi, oi! You should teach these two how to receive, see if they get better at it!” Tanaka exclaimed while poking the blond and ginger first years on the cheeks, the former swatting his hand away while the latter wholeheartedly agreeing.

“I don’t have the energy for it though... I’d get sleepy real fast.” You said, looking between you and Suga to your intertwined hands, swinging them absently as you went.

“(Y/n),” Suga got your attention while the others continued their shenanigans, fake teary eyes and a cute pout on his face. “Why’d you never told me you played volleyball? Of all the times I’ve asked you to do something with me??”

“I don’t play, I just know how to.” You shrugged, looking down and squeezing his cold hand. “Plus, cuddling seems more fun than playing that all day...” you muttered that last part with a light pink blush on your cheeks, and so he couldn’t stay ‘mad’ any longer, cooing internally at your bashful confession.

Suga then pecked you cheeks, “I guess we can do that once we get home then,” He watched in amusement as they only grew darker in shade at his affection, eliciting an awed sound from him as he pinched your cheeks.

“K-Koushiii...”

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

He finds out through a practice match! Your school against Karasuno!

So, Tanaka here, my boy, was really pumped for this match because both Ukai and Takeda have been hyping them about this top school they’d be facing, but through his elation the name of the school might’ve slipped past him, so he was unaware that it was your school.

You just leaned on your hand as he vividly explained you how he was gonna beat the other team, and since he was already used to you mellow and quiet reactions he didn’t think much of it and kept rambling on — sort of why the two of you were such a great balance to each other, your lethargic nature being dragged around by Tanaka’s energetic activities, his own boisterous persona  taking it down a notch by your gentle coaxing (read: kisses).

You see, you already knew your school was facing off against his —after all, you were the one to request it in the first place — but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise yet and kept quiet, inwardly laughing to yourself when Tanaka imitated a spike and kept with his demonstration.

The day of the practice match comes around and soon the rival school knocks to their door, bowing to thank them for having them and to have a good game. When they straightened their posture though, Tanaka stares at one of the players that looks oddly familiar.

Blinks one, twice, thrice... and then literally reels back in pure shock, mouth hanging open.

(Y-Y/N)?!?” He gasps loudly and dramatically as you give him a lopsided grin and a peace sign.

“Osu,”

“Buh — BUT HOW?!” He sputtered, earning a disapproving look from Daichi.

“You really didn’t know we were facing their school?”

“W-well, no! But — ugh,” Tanaka snapped his head to your still grinning form, you caught on quickly to his frustrated yet still shocked expression and put your hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” You stuck your tongue out. “As captain,I can’t gave all my cards shown.”

“CAPTAIN?!”

“This is so good,” Suga stifled a laugh, choosing to shake his head and place his hands on his hips. “I am a bit surprised though, didn’t thought (L/n) here would be a pro player— ah, no offence!”

“I really don’t think you can offend this bozo with anything, really.” One your vice captain said, nudging you with their shoulder as you stupidly nodded your head in affirmation.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it myself, but I guess the element of surprise is gonna make us wipe the floor with ya in your own turf.” Now that got him perked up and shoved his fleeting soul back to his body, and it also sparked the flame o rivalry within the other boys. Without further ado, the match started and Tanaka was left speechless.

You were a Setter and your skills were nothing short of spectacular, both a a player alone and as a captain, and it showed in the way you managed to get your Ace past Asahi’s and Tsukishima’s blocks in the first minute of the second set, simultaneously inspiring the rest of your team to fend off against their tricks.

The many times your Libero and blockers shut down Kageyama’s and Hinata’s quick attacks took its toll on the boys and morale. Tanaka might’ve gotten distracted by your perfect form and leadership skills a few times, all of which he had to be snapped out of by Daichi.

In the end, you guys played a total of three matched, with your team winning the first and last ones. At the end of it all the coaches allowed both teams to mingle and bond, while yours gave some pointers and corrections to Karasuno, which most of them took wholeheartedly (you felt Kageyama’s glare-like-stare on you while so), all the while Tanaka stayed by your side and followed you like an adoring puppy.

“What is it?” You questioned and finally directed your attention to him as you waited outside for any signs of your bus to pick you guys up.

“You’re amazing,” Tanaka breathlessly answered, sparks in his eyes as he stared at you admiringly. “Oh my god, my s/o’s amazing...” he repeated quietly to himself, as though not believing it. You laughed aloud, not surprised by his impulsive replied but nonetheless bemused.

“Well, I couldn’t really go half-assed when passion is in everything you do. Your team’s pretty strong, so I’d have to watch out for you guys down the road.” He nodded vigorously and kept gushing about your skills, you returning each compliment with one of your own in a more lax manner. Once your bus arrived and the teams were formally bidding each other farewell, you sneaked a quick peck to your boyfriend’s unsuspecting lips.

“We oughta chat a bit more later, ’kay?” and with a final wave to your blushy, swooning boyfriend, you boarded the bus.

Nishinoya Yuu

Also through a game, but this time it’s an official one! Qualifier of the Miyagi prefecture representative for Nationals, at that.

First off, you and Nishiyona? Definition of opposites attract. Like, I’m not joking when I say the boys vb team was shooketh to their core when you sluggishly arrived at the gym one day and asked for Noya, saying he was you boyfriend.

You were pretty surprised yourself when he confessed too, considering he didn’t seem to like your lethargic, lackluster attitude that much. But according to him, “The way your eyes light up when you speak about things you’re passionate for makes up for your lack of everything else!”

And you were like, “lmao ok, let’s hang”

But all that is beyond the point! The focus here is: Noya really, really, really wanted you to come see him play in the qualifiers, seeing as you’ve missed pretty much his other big games and most matches so far, under the same excuse that you already had a prearranged event that couldn’t be postponed nor that you could miss.

While very whiny and pouty, he understood and let it slide (under the deal tat you gotta pamper him in kisses before he departs and to wish him good luck every five minutes (tops), to which you agreed humorously).

So the qualifying day is here and, under a close call, Karasuno comes out on top and the team decided to stay and watch the other matches. They sat on the bleachers of the gym and watched the ongoing match in analytical silence as they ate a few snacks.

Honestly they were... worried about this. The team that came out the victor would be the team they’d face, and one of them was destroying the other in this last set. 10-24, that’s painful to bare.

However Noya’s eyes were glued to one player, who if he had to guess, seemed to be the Ace of the winning team and an Opposite Hitter from the amount of points they’ve scored. Zoning in their oddly familiar (h/c) hair, sluggish movements whenever they were in the back row, yet never switched out for the Libero.

Karasuno was sitting in their side of the court, so he couldn’t see their face too well, but as the Ace jumped to score the final point, and turned around to face their cheering teammates, he felt his eyes widen like saucers,

“(Y/N)?!” Nishinoya shouted over the cheering of the crowd the team, but it still caught your attention at the sound of your name in the familiar tone you’ve grown accustomed to.

Encouraged by the call, you turned to look over your shoulder slowly, half-lidded eyes widening a fraction as you locked eyes with your gobsmacked boyfriend’s, his team’s nervous inquiries falling flat.

“Yuu...?” You slowly twisted your body fully to acknowledge him. He must’ve won his match then...

That’s when it dawned on you; Noya had won his match, and you did yours, that means you will be facing one another for the last round before the finals. Neither of you were going to let up, you both knew that, you also knew the barrage of questions he’ll throw your way the second you’re free were just as impending.

So, as tired and sweaty as you were, you raised an arm and five fingers, duly noting the cameras following your movements, more focused on the way Noya’s eyes widened and said, “Five minutes,”

You allowed yourself to smile intimidatingly, shifting your fingers so you were now pointing straight at him.

“Good luck.”

[an-actual-angel]

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.”You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

Chapter Description: Collin and Connor have something important to ask you.

(If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, either dm or reply to this post <3)

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Next Chapter

Buy me a Coffee?

---

Chapter 24-

Your name: submit What is this?

You felt bad for having to divulge the slightly intimate conversation that with Collin to Connor but you honestly didn’t know what else to do. You thought that Connor would be a bit more equipped to help Collin with his issues. Them being closer and Connor knowing how to deal with situations like this a whole lot better than you. Hopefully, Collin wouldn’t be upset with you telling Connor.

 It was obvious that Collin had a lot of respect for Connor so you thought maybe he would be a good person for him to talk to. You guessed there was no way to really know. The next morning Connor had convinced Collin to go out on a jog with him, they left the apartment pretty early so you missed them before they left. They had been gone for a while.

You were eager to find out if Connor had made any progress with Collin but you were still incredibly nervous about the whole thing. Where they going to talk about you?

No, stop being so self-absorbed.

There were far more pressing things going on with Collin.  

You wished you knew a better way for you to help.

Being alone all day in the apartment had left you immersed in your thoughts. While you had become a little more used to being alone, you still hadn’t gotten used the intrusive thoughts that would creep into your head while there was a lack of distractions around. Thoughts that made you feel small. Like everything that was going on with the brothers was your fault.

You knew it wasn’t true but sometimes it was hard not to hear those thoughts. You needed a distraction, pronto. TV was boring as usual but it would do. You really should ask Collin or Connor how they got movies up, you never really learned how they worked their streaming service. You decided the news was as good as anything.

There was nothing super out of the ordinary on, just a lot of politician’s arguing about things you knew nothing about. Of course, the adoption centre never taught you a lick of knowledge about politics, wasn’t a human’s place. You did recognise the mayor, Markus as he began to address the issues of the feral humans that had invaded the city not too long ago. You rubbed at your palm thinking about the blast that day, thinking about how scared you were.

You thought again about how you could have run away that day but you knew you made the right decision in staying with Collin, didn’t you?

Of course, you and Collin had become so close.  Perhaps too close.   Nevertheless, you really did care for him.

As you continued to watch you saw Richard in the background of the scene, talking to another android. What was that slime doing there?

Well, he was the police Commissioner, perhaps he had a meeting or something at city hall? God, he was probably telling all the androids there about how humans had hurt his brother. Well, they did kind of, but you knew Richard would put his own spin on it.

Your attention was then drawn away from the TV as you heard the front door opening. You heard the distant chatter of Connor and Collin, you couldn’t exactly make it out but you did hear Collin mentioning he would be back in an hour or two before leaving again. Connor had barely even noticed you as he entered into the living room. He almost looked like he had seen a ghost upon spotting you, saying your name in shock.

“Hi, Connor.” You uttered quietly.

“Hey.” He smiled slightly in return.

“How’s Collin doing?”

“Yeah, he’s okay. We had a good talk. Thank you for letting me know about all of this by the way.”

“Is he mad at me for telling you?” You questioned, worried that perhaps Collin may have seen it as a breach of trust rather than you trying to help.

“Oh no, no, not at all.” Connor shook his head to dismiss your worry.

“So is everything okay?”

“Getting better. He’s going to try and talk to me more about this stuff and I’m going to try and make more time for us. I think going for jogs will be our new thing.”

Connor smiled at you more playfully this time.

“That’s good.” You finally replied¸ returning the smile.

Good, you made the right decision.

“Okay well, I got to clean up a little.” Connor exhaled out with a final smile before making himself scarce.

While he told you that things were going well there was something about Connor that just seemed, off? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Those intrusive thoughts began to creep up on you again. Maybe it was time to do something else.

___

You ended up back in your room, laying in your bed, you had settled down reading a book that Connor had previously lent to you. It had kept you busy for a while, that was until your attention was drawn to the faint sound of bickering outside your door. As you got up to investigate it had gone silent again before a knock was heard on your door. You opened it to find Connor and Collin both awkwardly standing outside.

“Do you mind if we come in?” Connor eventually spoke up.

“No, not at all.” You opened the door wider for the two androids to enter into your small bedroom.  

“Uh, here.” Collin said as he pulled his hand out from behind his back revealing a small bouquet of red roses.

You were completely caught off guard by it. “Oh wow thank you.” You exclaimed in surprise. “Um, what’s the occasion?” you asked as you held the roses up to your face to smell them.

There had to be something right? Why the hell would Collin bring you roses?

Collin's eyes widened and he looked over to Connor for support, he had no idea what to say to you.

“It’s just a small thank you, from both of us.” Connor explained, allowing Collin to gather himself again. “You’ve been nothing but wonderful both to myself and Collin. We really appreciate it, all things considered, we're just surprised you don’t hate us.”

“Hate you? I could never." Why would they even suggest such a thing?

“It’s just cause were androids.” Collin whispered out from under his breath. He then turns to Connor and both there LED's flicker. Watching them, you could swear they were having a conversation in their heads, perhaps they were.

Collin nudged Connor’s arm as if to insist on him doing something, Connor responded back to him by shaking his head. What was going on with these boys today?

Collin looked back toward your direction and blurts out “Connor wants to ask you something.” Pushing his brother’s arm, much like a child would.

Connor's face twists into disgust at his brother as he flinches away from his touch. Looking back towards you he lets out a shaky noise from his mouth as he tries to speak.

“Well, we were both discussing our um… mutual fondness of you and um.” Connor was struggling to find the words to say, something which Collin soon grew tired off. Getting fed up with Connors pathetic attempt Collin rolls his eyes and takes his turn to speak instead.

“We both like you.” Collin lets out a frustrated grunt as he speaks “and you like us.”

Connor holds his hand out against Collin as if to tell him that’s he’s got this.

“Listen, I…” Connor speaks softly before correcting himself. “We understand that this whole situation is a little unorthodox and we don’t want to put any type of pressure on you. If you don’t want to that’s completely understandable.”

“Don’t want to what?” You ask in a hushed tone. whispering out between the roses that you had held against your face.

They couldn’t be asking…

“Date the both of us?” Connor looked away as soon as the words left his mouth, almost as if he was ashamed he asked.

“Wha- really?”

Was this a dream?

“Only if that’s something you would want.”

Polyamory had become quite normal ever since androids came into power. There was far less stigma attached to it. In ancient cultures, humans used to all be polyamorous until monogamy was introduced which was more of a business transaction than a thing of love.

“Don’t worry, we won’t rush you into a decision or anything like that. Take your time to think about it.” Connor tried to soothe any worries you could have. He really didn’t want to rush you, he wanted you to make your own decision with this.

“But if you would allow us, there is a movie showing tonight and we would like to take you out.”

“I think I’d like that.” You lowered the roses down from your blushing cheeks to reveal the smile that had formed on your face.

“Really? That’s great!” Connor's voice had become a mixture of shock and glee which only made Collin's eye roll.

“Cool it, Con.” Collin whispered cringing at his brother’s overexcitement. You, however, thought it was quite cute.

“How are you feeling about all this Collin?” You ask wanting to make sure it was all sitting right with him.

“As long as we take things relatively easy and slow, I think I can handle it.” Collin replied with a cheeky wink and a smirk.

So it was agreed. Both Collin and Connor had planned to take you to an outdoor screening of ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, none of you had seen it before but Connor had heard it had somewhat of a cult following so it seemed interesting at least. The boys had packed a picnic and brought blankets and pillows for the old film that would be playing for a crowd in the local park.

Connor had laid out a picnic blanket under one of the trees far enough away from the gathering that it was private but close enough that you could still see and hear the film clearly. Connor had pillows set up for you all to be able to comfortably sit against the old oak tree which had been previously decorated with lanterns. The park sure did look gorgeous that night.

What a perfect spot for a first date.

Then the reality hit you. Holy shit. You were on a date with Connor AND Collin.

Collin must have mistaken your nervous shiver for you being cold and placed a blanket around your shoulders before poking through the picnic basket Connor had set up. He took out strawberries and some popcorn for you all to share, then eventually he pulled out a bottle of wine and some glasses.

“Uh, would you like some?” he nervously offered to you. “It’s the same one we had at the restaurant the other night. I remembered you said that you liked it.”

“Yes please.” You smiled and nodded to his cute gesture.  

Relief filled Collin’s face when you responded positively. He then proceeded to pour you a glass along with one for himself and his brother.

It could have been arguably weird that two ‘brothers’ were courting the same girl but you reminded yourself that Collin and Connor weren’t really brothers, yes they shared a face and had a type of kinship or familial bond but they weren’t related, not biologically anyway.

As the Movie began Connor relaxed back into the pillows he had set out and you followed along doing the same. You moved the blanket that was around your shoulders to sit across your lap, covering both Collin and Connor with it. Making yourself more comfortable you lay your head against Connor's shoulder. He responded by putting his arm around you.

The movie was quite enjoyable, it was wacky, campy and made you giggle throughout at some of the actors overacting. You felt a little embarrassed at a lot of the innuendos and sexual-ish content of the film, considering you were watching it with two guys you REALLY liked but Collin’s loud laughter made you feel a little bit more at ease.

Throughout the film, Collin had ended up resting his head in your lap which made your heart flutter at how damn cute he was. You began to play with his hair lightly and in response, he leaned into your touch.

Collin’s comments were perhaps more entertaining than the movie. Although the movie still was pretty great. He just kept asking every time a character showed up wearing something weird or kinky whether you thought he would look good in the outfits. You noticed Connor seeming a little embarrassed by it all but he didn’t really say much.

When the film ended Collin immediately announced, sitting up on his knees “Connor, what the fuck did you make us watch?”

Noticing how flustered Connor got as his cheeks tinged blue you snapped back at Collin to stop bullying Connor.

“Hey, I was told that this film was amazing I just went along with it.” Connor attempted to explain.

“You seemed to enjoy it regardless, Collin.” You teased, poking his chest firmly.

“Well…” he shrugged it off with a chuckle.

“Come on you two.” Connor laughed as he stood up. “It’s getting late, we ought to head back.”

____________________________________________________________

Chapter 25 -

You were joined by both of the brothers on the car ride back home. You's had come to the park in Connor's car, his being the only self-driving vehicle they had. Richard and Collin's were both cars that had required a driver. The brothers had agreed amongst themselves to take Connor's car so that they could both sit beside you in the back. Connors's shoulder had been pressed firmly against yours on the journey home. Collin, being slightly braver had reached out to take your hand in his as the three of you chatted amongst yourselves.

“We promise not to take too long to do something like this again.” Collin referenced the fact that they both admitted they had been a little weary to ask you out in the first place. Connor never could have imagined that you shared similar feelings to him, he didn’t want to scare you away, ruining your friendship. Collin on the other hand just needed some reassurance from Connor to actually do something.

Their little talk is what brought both of them to ask you out. When they confirmed they both had feelings for you Collin was able to make Connor aware of your very obvious infatuation with him, and Connor was able to give Collin the pep talk he so needed. They didn’t mind having to share you either, as long it was something you were comfortable with. The only reason Connor was so disappointed upon hearing that you and Collin may have had a one night stand was due to his lack of knowledge of Collin's true feelings, he would hate for anyone to use you like that.

Upon arriving home the boys were very courteous, holding doors open for you and being on their best behaviour. They had walked you to the outside of your room. Connor placed down the picnic basket he was carrying before giving you a small hug goodnight. Collin rolled his eyes before doing the same, he was hoping for a little more than a hug to end the date with but Connor had already set the tone.

Before grabbing onto the door handle, you planted a small kiss on both of their cheeks. “Thank you for the wonderful evening, goodnight boys.” Your parting words before entering into your bedroom.

Now alone in your room, you sank back against your closed door, hands covering your blushed face as you thought about the night you had. The boys must have still been outside your door as you heard hushed voices speaking through it to one another.

“Maybe we should have asked to stay the night?” you heard one of them speak, you guessed that one was Collin. He had a slightly smoother inflection in his voice than Connor.

“What happened to taking it slow?” The other voice spoke, Connor you guessed.

“Shut up!” The first snapped back, playfully.

You tried to contain your giggling as you called “Good night boys!” through the closed door, letting them know you could hear them quite clearly.

You then heard the both of them scurrying away.

Standing back up straight from the door you smile at the roses they had left for you earlier. You had the propped up in a vase on your vanity. Those boys really were sweethearts.

---

The next morning awakening from your sleep, your eyes were immediately caught by the bags of clothing Richard had bought for you for your evening out two nights ago. You still hadn’t gotten rid of them. Time to make a statement and show that you can't be bought. Pulling yourself from your comfy bed, you grab the bags.

Richard, like Connor, was in work again that day so you decided since you could not physically hand the bags to Richard, you would just leave them outside of his door.

So that’s what you did placing the bags down at the side of his door you proudly propped yourself back up with both of your hands on your hips.

“What ya got there?” A voice cut through the hall, causing you to jump. You turned around to see it was Collin who was exiting out of his bedroom at the time.

“Richard bought me a bunch of clothes.” You explained with a sigh as Collin made his way over to you for a nosey at the contents of the bags. “I leaving them back because I don’t want him to think he can just buy me things and then we'll be friends again.”  

Collin was down on his knees, pushing around the contents of the bags. “Some nice stuff in here. You sure you don’t want it?” He asks.

“Not if it's coming from Richard.” Your arms cross involuntarily. Collin stands up beside you, his hand placed lightly on the back of your elbow.

“That’s understandable.” He speaks, slowly directing you out of the hallway. “By the way, I think Richard is something we should talk about.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet.” Collin stops midway through the conversation. How did he even know that?

“Come on, we'll get you some food and then we can talk about it.”

So, sure enough, you both made your way to the kitchen. You had been hoking throughout the drawers for something to make, you opted for cereal to keep it simple.

Collin had been leaning back against one of the counters watching you move through the kitchen.

When you had your cereal poured and ready you plopped down at one of the counters with your drink of apple juice and began to eat.

“So…” You placed your spoon into the bowl. “Why did you want to talk about Richard?”

“Well…” Collin began. “It’s more about Connor.”

You dropped your spoon again, which fell with a loud clink against the bowl as you stared at Collin without a word.

“I know it's going to be awkward.” He spoke up again. “But we're going to have to figure out a way to break the news to him that you and Richard used to be a thing.”

“Are you kidding, Collin? Connor is going to be furious with him!”

“I know, I know. But we can't hide it from him either. And I know I said we'll take things slow but when it gets to it… are you really going to sleep with Connor without him knowing about, y'know?”

You looked away from Collin down to your bowl.

“I don’t like it either, believe me.” Collin sighed, moving closer to you and placing one of his hands next to yours, you both barely touching.

“You're not alone in this.” He speaks up. “we’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod a little.

“It’s no rush. It’s just something to think about.”

“I know.” You sigh.

Collin reaches his thumb out to stroke your cheek. You look up to notice his half-smile.

“He’s not going to be mad at you.”

“I know, I just don’t want to be the cause of any drama.”

Collin thought back on the day you, him and Connor had went shopping. “Listen,  I’m  not going to be the one starting any more drama.” That’s what he said to you at the time.

“Look,” Collin speaks up again finally grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry I was such a dick in the past. That day we were at the food court together, I was stupid, I hope you know I don’t think that about you.”

A small smile breaks out from your tensed lips. “It’s okay, Collin. I know.”

He nods a little looking down at your hands in his before letting go again. Pulling himself to stand up properly, he straightens himself out. “Finish up, I promise we’ll do something fun today okay?”

“Okay.” You nod.

When breakfast was over and you had gotten dressed, Collin had decided to take you into the city for a bit. He had noticed you and Connor talk about some books yesterday so he thought it might be nice to take you to a bookstore to pick something nice for yourself.

After that the two of you had just walked around some shops for a bit, Collin picked up some bits and pieces for the house. The two of you had stopped for some iced coffees on the way back.

“So.” He asks as you both retrieve your drinks from the barista. “You never really did tell me the nature of your relationship with Richard.” He began sipping through his straw as he linked arms with you.

“Oh.” You coughed a little on your drink. “Uh, we just used to sleep with each other, that was it really.”

“That’s all it was?” His tone seemed a little pointed.

“I mean… I thought there was something more for a while there but, obviously not.” Collin noticed your frown while recounting your story.

“Did Richard do something?”

“He was just trying to control me, I'm pretty sure that’s what the whole thing was with him, why he even…” You stopped midway through speaking. “He wanted me to stop hanging out with Connor. He told Connor a bunch of bullshit about how I didn’t want to be his friend.”

“Typical.” Collin sighed. “I’m sorry he put you through that. “And I'm sorry for not stepping in and stopping it sooner.”

“It’s okay, Collin. You didn’t know. Even if you did, Richard can be intimidating.”

You noticed Collin giving you a strange smile out of the corner of your eye as you both continued to walk throughout the city.

“What?” You asked.

“You're, just not what I expected.” He shrugged. “You're nice. Maybe too nice.”

“What do you mean?” You giggled a little.

“Humans, they just… they were never very nice to me.”

You raised a brow at Collin. “Do you think that has anything to do with the whole ‘treat em’ like animals’ thing you got going on?”

“No!” He shook his head with a guilty laugh. “Sorry about that all.”

You hummed sarcastically in response.

“I mean when I first turned deviant. I was always ‘Connor’s evil twin’.” He quoted as you both walked to the Car. Getting in you sat in the front seat next to Collin who began to start up the vehicle, setting the remainder of his iced coffee in a cup holder.

“Connor got a second chance, no one blamed him for what he did before deviating.” He shrugged as he manoeuvred his jeep from its parking space, ice rattling around in the plastic cup. “I was always ‘the guy that tried to shoot Hank.’”

You remembered Collin talking about it before, about how cyberlife had sent him out to finish what Connor had started. How he was meant to replace Connor, hurt hank if he didn’t oblige. Collin had ended up getting shot.

He had no idea why Kamski brought him back or why Connor ever forgave him let alone take him under his wing. He could maybe understand Hank not being super comfortable around him but why did everyone have to treat him like some cold-hearted monster?

Probably Richard coming along - or Nines as the humans called him, didn’t exactly help his case. Richard was a cold-hearted machine, it was two years before he deviated. Even upon deviating, he was never the warmest, but he always treated Collin well. Richard and Connor were probably the only ones to show him kindness. Maybe on occasion some androids they came across as well did, but never the humans.

When you had gotten home Collin mentioned about you going to get food with him and Connor later. Of course, you agreed, giving his hand a small squeeze before you went to settle down into your new book. Collin had wanted to catch up on some work that was being emailed to him that day.

______________________________________________________________

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Next Chapter

Tag list: @connorsdimple @crushedtincan @clussysposts

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch9

A slightly sadder chapter, but I hope you still enjoy it! Let me know what you think :) 

The smell of cinnamon greeted Loki when he woke up. Actually, there were a variety of smells the God could detect. Gingerbread, orange, chocolate, had he fallen asleep in the bakery?

 Determined to find the source of such a delicious aroma, Loki vacated his room and made his way to the kitchen. To his surprise, he found Y/N cooking up a storm. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few rogue strands framing her face as she worked. She was wearing an oversized apron, the sleeves of her jumper pulled up to her elbows. A light dusting of flower rested on her nose, as well as smears of chocolate running up her forearm.

 She was kneading dough when he approached her.

 “Good morning Loki.” She said quickly, not looking up from the job at hand.

 “Good morning…” He was about to ask what had inspired this need to bake when he saw the small crowd in the corner of the room.

 Vision and Wanda were there, hands covering their mouths as though they were afraid to say something. Bucky stood next to them, a concerned look on his face. Sam was sat down in the armchair, an arm draped over his eyes, like he couldn’t watch anymore.

 “Is everything alright?” Loki directed his question to the room; unsure Y/N would answer.

 After a short silence, Wanda motioned for him to come closer and Loki made his way over to the anxious looking group.

 “This is bad.” Sam whispered, looking at the situation before them.

 “Very bad.” Bucky agreed.

 “What’s bad?” Loki asked, concern growing.

 “She’s baking.” Wanda offered.

 Loki raised an eyebrow, still unsure of what the problem was.

 Vision decided to explain, “She only bakes when she’s panicking. It helps to distract her.”

 Loki looked back at the young lady currently putting her forth batch of cookies in the oven. He could see the panic in her movements; she kept her hands busy, grabbing this utensil and that utensil. She didn’t look up and kept a constant focus on the task at hand.

 “Why is she panicking?” Loki asked, genuine worry appearing in his voice.

 “It’s Peter’s birthday on Friday and he asked Y/N if she would come with us all to the carnival.” Bucky explained.

 Loki understood the situation but was confused by the panic, “She has said no before, can’t she decline the offer again.”

 Bucky shook his head, “Not this time. Peter is the closest thing to a brother she has, she never wants to disappoint him, especially on his birthday.”

 Sam interjected, “Usually Peter’s birthday is the one time she steps out of her comfort zone to celebrate with him. This is a bit bigger than she’s used to though.”

 Loki understood the situation. He had been in the tower a little while now, and he had still never seen Y/N leave with the other avengers, or venture to any of the local shops. A carnival must be frightening for her; big crowds, loud noises, it’s enough to make Loki cringe at the thought.

 Loki nodded in understanding and made his way over to Y/N. The small group separating and heading to their respective rooms.

 “So… the carnival.” Loki spoke up.

 Y/N stopped what she was doing but didn’t look up. “I can do it.”

 Loki noted the slight crack in her voice, “Peter would understand….”

 “No.” She said firmly, “I’m sorry, I just… It’s once a year, I can do it.”

 She continued to roll out the dough, methodically working it until it was thin enough to cut out the gingerbread men shapes.

 Loki was sympathetic to her worries. He understood that she was probably overwhelmed by a thousand thoughts whizzing through her head at a moment notice. How often had he been plagued by his own anxieties? How often had he wanted someone to be there? To reassure him? He’d never admit it though, his pride always got the better of him.

 “I’ve never been to a Midgardian carnival; I suspect it will be a new experience for both of us.” He said.

 Y/N hummed in acknowledgment.

 “It may make things easier if we go together, I’m still not overly fond of crowds…” Loki trailed off listing other issues he had with the carnival.

 Y/N stopped what she was doing and looked at the God in front of her. He was offering support. Y/N thought back to her father’s word ‘never trust the Gods,’ but what about this God? What would her father think of the trickster who had held her so tenderly, who had listened to her thoughts and feelings? Y/N couldn’t help but feel safe with him.

 “Okay.” She said, interrupting him.

 “Okay?” He asked, but Y/N knew he meant ‘are you sure?’

 “Okay.” She confirmed, more confidently.

 “Okay.” Loki smiled. “Now that that’s decided, shall we try some of your baked goods?”

 Y/N giggled at the trickster’s sweet tooth, but nevertheless served him a plate of sugared cookies and gingerbread men.

 She could do this.

   Friday came quickly and the avengers assembled on the ground floor, scarves, and gloves at the ready. Loki waited by the elevator doors for Y/N to arrive and she didn’t disappoint. At the ping of the elevator doors she emerged, A mustard yellow hat atop her head, with a matching scarf and gloves to complete the look. Loki couldn’t help but find her adorable in that moment, especially with her rain boots on. He scolded himself for thinking this way.

 Y/N instantly felt better when she saw Loki already there. She hoped she had taken enough precaution; wearing a hat to cover her hair would disguise some of herself, and they were going out at night so the darkness should obscure people’s view of her.

 Loki offered Y/N his arm and she took it gladly as they walked over to the rest of the group. Y/N was aware of the concerned look on her uncle’s face as he saw her with Loki, but her worries were pushed aside when she saw the genuine happiness on Peter’s face.

 Peter walked over to her, “Thank you so much Y/N. It means a lot that you’re here.”

 Y/N smiled, knowing that his happiness made all the effort worth it, “I wouldn’t miss it.” She spoke honestly.

 “Peter!” Tony called, “Lead the way birthday boy.”

 Everyone cheered as the birthday boy opened the doors to the tower and led everyone to the carnival.

 Although Y/N was nervous, she had to admit that a small part of her was excited. She would finally smell the popcorn and see the lights. She could ride the Ferris wheel and see the city without a glass screen in the way.

 Loki could sense that glimmer of excitement. And he too had to admit excitement. He held no emotional attachment to these Midgardian festivities, but they were clearly important to Midgardian culture; just to see her smile at having seen these things for the first time, that was enough to make Loki happy.

A few more steps and they had arrived, Y/N stood before the giant glowing sign with wonder in her eyes. She could hear laughter, feel happiness, the atmosphere was overwhelmingly good. Loki smiled down at her childlike wonder.

 The group decided to split up into smaller groups. Steve, Nat, Sam, and Bruce made their way to the arcade games. Vision and Wanda joined Tony and Pepper on the duck pond. Thor and Clint decided to compete on the high striker. Even Rhodey and Happy had made it for the trip, though they decided to hang back and laugh at Tony’s poor attempts to win Pepper a prize.

 To Steve’s surprise, Bucky opted to join Peter, Y/N, and Loki, the four deciding to go for food first.

 “Well Y/N, first time at the carnival, what are you going to order?” Bucky asked.

 Y/N hesitated, “Oh I don’t know…Peter says the corn dogs are good?” she said in an unsure tone.

 “I know!” Peter exclaimed then ran off, without further explanation.

 The three were left confused but nevertheless found a table where they could wait for the young spiderling.

 Eventually Peter returned, with a hoard of food in his arms.

 “Peter this could feed everyone at the tower.” Y/N laughed.

 “You’ve gotta try everything Y/N! Make up for lost time.” Peter explained.

 The four tucked into their meals, laughing and joking at Peter’s antics. Bucky and Loki got on very well; they both shared a dry, sarcastic sense of humour, and it was amusing to watch their jokes bounce off one another.

 Y/N felt real joy in that moment. She didn’t fear the onlookers or what people were saying behind their hands; she was present and in the moment.

 After finishing their meals Peter challenged Bucky to a shooting game to win a prize. The former soldier decided he would let the birthday boy win, but he wouldn’t make it easy.

 “Is there anything else you would like to tick off your list while you’re here?” Loki asked.

 Y/N considered his question but was too shy to ask what she really wanted to do.

 “Y/N?” Loki pressed with a tone of knowing.

 She smiled shyly, “I have always wanted to go on the Ferris wheel. It’s not the most exciting thing to do, but I’ve always been curious to try…” she admitted.

 Loki stood up and held out his hand, “Shall we?”

 Y/N took his hand without hesitation and gave him that beautiful smile he longed to see.

 Loki was surprised by how open he was with Y/N. He would willingly hold her hand, he dreamt of sleeping by her side again, and though ashamed to admit it, he would list in his head all the ways in which he had made her smile.

 They took their seat on the Ferris wheel, and as the music started to play, the ride began to move.

 Y/N took it all in, the smell of the candyfloss, the sound of cheering as another game was won. Was she right to be so scared of all this? Or had she only robbed herself of happiness.

 She turned to her companion, “Thank you Loki.”

 Loki looked to her, confused, “Whatever for?”

 Their carriage stopped still at the top of the Ferris wheel; the beautiful cityscape laid before them. The lights of the carnival below them shone bright; rich reds, warm yellows, glowing softly and illuminating the happy faces of passers-by.

 “Life on Midgard cannot be as interesting as Asgard, and I’m sure living in the tower is not the kind of life a prince is used to…but I want you to know that I am grateful you’re here.” Y/N said with a deep certainty.

 Loki was taken aback by her words, his silver tongue seemed to have disappeared in that moment.

 She looked up at him with those gentle eyes, “I like that you’re here.” She said a little more quietly.

 His gaze flickered to her lips, and unguarded he spoke, “I like being here.”

 They drifted closer to one another, the promise of something more hanging in the air above them. He wondered what those soft lips would feel like against his, would they taste just as sweet as he had imagined?

 Just as they were about to close the gap between them, the Ferris wheel began to move again. The movement shook them out of the trance they were both under. They separated, Loki clearing his throat as a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. Y/N blushed bright red as she tried to hide her burning cheeks in the folds of her scarf.

 When the ride came to an end, they left their carriage and decided to meet up with Bucky and Peter. They didn’t talk about what almost happened, but Loki did slip Y/N’s hand into his own, noting the small smile that played on her lips as he did.

 As they made their way over to their friends, Loki noticed more people looking at them and he overheard some of them talking.

 “Shouldn’t be out here… why do they allow it?”

 “I don’t think it should be allowed, what will people think?”

 “It’s cruel.”

 Loki had feared this. The people of New York looking at him with hatred in their eyes, disdain in their voices. He feared Y/N would overhear them and think the same. He couldn’t help but overhear their complaints.

 “…should have died with the rest of them.”

 ‘The rest of them?’ Loki thought, what did that mean? He scanned the crowd looking at the people watching him, only they were not watching him. He looked down at Y/N, she kept her eyes to the ground, hiding her face in her scarf. She looked scared. Loki realised in that moment that the looks of hatred were aimed at her.

 “Y/N?” He said softly, turning his body so that he was shielding her from their view.

 “I’m sorry.” She said, so quietly he could barely hear her, but he did detect the shake in her voice.

 Before Loki could speak someone yelled in their direction.

 “Lock her back up in the tower, we don’t need their sort here!” One man yelled, earning cheers from others.  

 Before Loki could respond he felt a strong metal arm on his shoulder.

 “Happy is getting the car, you should take her home.” Bucky said.

 Loki didn’t question his new friend; he wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and ushered Y/N out of the carnival.

 Happy was in the car waiting, a worried look on his face as he spoke on the phone. “Yeah Tony she’s here, I’ll take her straight home.”

 Y/N and Loki sat in the backseat, there was nothing to say. It was foolish of her to think people had forgotten, that she could go out without a care in the world.

     They pulled up to Stark tower. As they were about to step out of the car, Happy spoke up.

 “Tony is personally seeing to those idiots Y/N; it won’t happen again.” He tried to sound encouraging, but he knew Y/N wouldn’t be stepping out of the tower any time soon.

 Y/N nodded and vacated the car. Loki followed after her though he didn’t know what to do or say to be of any comfort.

 Her steps were quick as they walked to the elevator. The elevator ride to their apartment seemed to last forever. The ping was like music to Y/N’s ears as she stepped out and made her way to her room.

 “Y/N…” Loki began.

 “I’m sorry Loki.” She interjected. “I didn’t mean to cut your night short… I think I’ll just go to bed.”

 She gave him that sad smile, the one that didn’t reach her eyes and Loki felt his heart tug at the sight. She walked to her room without turning back and Loki felt completely useless. He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. He stayed in the living area; he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He just felt that if he went to his room that would be it for the night. The memory of the evening would hang off this sour note.

 He sat there for twenty minutes, an internal conflict going on in his head.

 Loki had been sensible when it came to his feelings towards Y/N. He accepted the comradery and enjoyed the company she gave him. Yes, on a few occasions he had slipped up, perhaps shown more than he had initially intended to give; but Loki always convinced himself that it hadn’t meant anything. The flutter he felt when she smiled at him was involuntary, he couldn’t control it. The time they fell asleep in each other’s arms was accidental, he couldn’t be blamed for his unconscious actions. He would tell himself this over and over again, but as time passed another voice would accompany these thoughts. No, he hadn’t intended to hold her that time, but he did voluntarily hold her hand at the carnival. He had happily suggested spending time together in the library.

 His sensible side, the one that had dismissed these sweet moments, told him to leave her be, give her the space she asked for. But that little voice was louder this time; the thought of leaving her in her room to think about what those people had said made Loki anxious.

 Without allowing himself a chance to talk himself out of it, Loki stood up and quickly made his way to the door of Y/N’s room. He was about to knock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle. All form of boundaries aside, he opened the door.

 Sat on the floor by the large window on the far wall was Y/N, wrapped in her blanket, wiping away her tears with the corner of her jumper sleeve. The only light in her room came from the fairy lights she had hanging from her shelves.

 She looked up at Loki as he entered the room, and the few scattered tears became a stream.

 “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” She said, wiping her face furiously, embarrassed by her tears.

 Loki took long strides to get to her, he picked her up bridal style and sat her down on his knee. She curled into him, resting her weary head in the crook of his neck.

 She continued to apologise but Loki shushed her as he rubbed his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

 Once she had control of her breathing she spoke, “I don’t want you to think I’m weak…tonight was just… it was…”

 “I know.” He said.

 He kissed her forehead and held her for as long as she needed.

 Loki noticed her breathing evening out, and her eyes growing heavy. He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to her bed. He was about to leave but she delicately took hold of his hand.

 When he looked at her face, she suddenly looked very unsure of herself. He was about to ask if she wanted him to stay when she beat him to it.

 “Would you stay? ... please.”  She said quietly.

 He smiled, “Of course.”

 They lay on their sides, Loki’s arm draped over Y/N’s waist, her own wrapped around his middle; she rested her head on his chest and Loki breathed out a sigh of contentment.

 Just as sleep was about to take him, he heard, clear as day:

 “Thank you.”

[whatusernameshouldieven]

✧･ﾟ:* You and I  *:･ﾟ✧*

Art by: https://twitter.com/cchaiart

Genre: fiancé au, fluff

Pairing: Fiancé!Choi San x Foreigner!Reader ;)

A/N: Hey~ This is literally my first tumblr post ever, lol. I’m still a newbie so this is unedited~ Thanks for checking out!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⇰ Chapter 1: Unexpected Date 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・・

“Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god!”, you squealed in pain as you suffocate your face in your favorite pillow, legs kicking like a newborn baby. You threw your phone across a bit, making sure your aim was not shallow enough to make the phone fall out of bed. The black sheets supported your body, as you rolled around in an uncontrollable way.

Your best friend was just sitting at the side of the bed, feeling like a bystander watching a scene. “Okay… what’s wrong with you?”

You stop dead straight on your as you spread out a bit, staring at the sky as if you were seeing stars. “Choi San invited me to a restaurant, he said he had something important to discuss.” Your heart hammered in her chest, you were awkward at social places.

Your best friend’s eyes widen dramatically as her expression falters to disgust, “My brother invited you to a fancy restaurant? YOU-- ARE YOU GUYS DATING?”

“No, what?”, You chuckled in disbelief at your best friend’s question, “We’re best friends, he has eyes for another girl, Emma. I think.”

Emma or your best friend wriggles her eyebrows, “Or...he invited you to a date… oh my god, is he trying to make things romantic so he can ask you out later? Oh my god, you’ll be my sister in law-Ah!”

Emma catches the sudden pillow attack, as she stares at your tomato shaded face. “It’s not like that, you know it. Why would anyone be interested in me anyways? I’m not even Korean like him.” Emma tilts her head, “So? I mean...you guys talk A LOT.”

You ignore Emma’s statement, “Whatever… you’re involved, you’re helping me with clothes and everything.”

“Oh, it would be my pleasure!”, Emma exclaimed, feeling the rush of excitement. 

______________________________________________________________

Time: 10 P.M

>>>FANCY RESTURANT

You now stood outside of a tall marvelous building with wide eyes. This was not what you had expected at all. Surely, you had been at various of fancy restaurants with your family before but this was just next level. The building in front of you was full white, architected marvelously with the elements of the Greek culture. The building stretched quite a bit and there was a huge golden door, with vivid colors of brown and grey used together to compliment the color of gold. The rushing water of the fountain could be heard, as you heard various children play around there and here. The giggles and laughters were the only thing that reassured your rapid beating heart. 

Your best friend had advised you to wear something elegant, and you finally knew why. You were grateful for your friend. 

Your hair was in a neat french hair bun, as you wore diamond diamond oval-shaped piercings accompanied by a three-layer collar diamond necklace. You wore a black off-sleeved dress, which you were personally shy about but couldn’t say anything since your best friend insisted. Holding your black wristlet purse with you, you entered inside the huge door.

You were met with a whole another world.

Outside of the gate was a simplistic city with workaholics walking around in a daily basis but inside the door was an Ethiopian paradise filled with the colors of joy and happiness. You had never seen something like it— nor even thought of.

A cathedral ceiling was above you with beautiful historical symbolisms of what seemed European. There was a huge chandelier made out of crystals in the middle, shining a light down on you. The walls were consistent with the colors of golden and had pillars. You were standing on a royal red carpet which led you to the receptor of the place.

“Hello, um… I was invited by a friend here.”, You shyly asked, feeling a bit out of place. The male receipt gives you a kind smile as he nods, “You must be Ms. Y/N. Mr. Choi has been expecting you.” You smiles back, awkwardly, not sure what to say. “Let me lead you to him.” 

The man nods in a bowing motion slightly signaling you to follow him. You watched his action as you begins to walk behind the man, looking around to admire the place as you go.

You both enter an elevator, as the man pushes a random button which you can’t comprehend since you are behind him. You hold onto your bag tightly, trying to ignore the awkward silence that has filled in. The man stays silent as you just stands there with your hands together at the front.

You examines the elevator, feeling quite of a honorable person since you were surrounded by golden tiles. The floor had the restaurants logo, a fancy T in a rhombus shaped surrounding. Now you realized, you had not even bothered to check the restaurant’s name.

“We’re here”.

Your thoughts are broken by the man’s voice as he steps out to a elevator hallway, while you gently follows behind him, in a wary way. You both are met with a huge golden door, you guessed it was an entrance to the dining place.

The man begins to lead her, opening the door wide open for you as you step in. 

There entered a peaceful night day like you would see in the movies. A huge hall-like room, almost an entire family could live in bliss and ease. A king-sized bed at the corner with greyish sheets with yellowish-brown blanket to cover the mood of the room. The same colored pillows were an accent. On the opposite side of the bed, was a huge sofa with a modern TV. For you, this seemed like a set that they would use in Hollywood movies, you had never experienced in person. 

But what caught you off guard wasn’t that the restaurant had an unusual hotel-like floor, but that beyond the white wooden doors in front of you, there was a beautiful balcony. Your face froze when your eyes fell on San, the one who invited you here to begin with.

San’s face broken into a small, gentle smile. His eyes squinted a bit, delighted to acknowledge that you had came after all. “You came.”, San gracefully walked over to you with a glass in his hand, the liquid slightly purple in color. 

You were mentally freaking out for two reasons. One, Choi San was towering over you as if he was asserting dominance with such a youthful innocent face, which also made you cringe in a way. Second, he looked hot.

“Uh, yeah. It would be rude if I didn’t.”, You got yourself together as you eyed the glass, “What are you drinking?”

San smiles wider as he glances at his glance, twirling the liquid in it mischievously, “Wine. Want some? This hotel has amazing beverage.”

Excuse me, hotel?

“Hotel? SAN? I THOUGHT IT WAS A-- I thought it was a restaurant. Oh my god, I-”, You mentally cursed multiple times, feeling betrayed, “You LIED to me?”

“Y/N, Y/N calm down. This is a hotel with a restaurant, so I technically didn’t.”, San reassured in a softer tone to reason with you. He sighs in relief to see you finally, once again, getting yourself together.

You massage your shoulders, with a vulnerable expression, “Gosh, I’m such an idiot. I thought this was some place for rich ones-- so I completely overdid it.”

San raised an eyebrow with a questionable expression, “Overdid it?” You scoff in response, as you sarcastically show-off your outfit. “Oh.”

“Yeah, see? I can't believe--”

“You look beautiful.”

“What?”, Your eyes widened, your mind going blank. 

“You look stunning, Y/N.”, San politely smiled as he held his glass still in his hands, “It would be rude if a man didn’t compliment a lady.”

You let go of your shoulders, as you show a disgusted face, “Are you showing off?”

“Shh...don't ruin the moment.”, San whispers, trying to ignore your words, “Come, let’s eat.”

You prayed inside that you would last in this awkward date, where you were constantly dying of San’s sweetness and tenderness. Could it be that he was taking this seriously? Hah, no way. You followed San to the balcony, and you are immediately greeted with a gentle breeze blowing, rhythmically. You sits yourself down on a white wooden chair, thankful that a cushion was there to support your butt. San does the same.

A smile rises upon your feature, as you are delighted to witness that a mushroom-sauce steak was in front of you. The scent was lovingly welcoming to you, as it seemed to be visually fresh. “I know you like mushroom steak.” Your eyes travel towards San’s soft ones, as you start to buffer for a moment. 

Getting yourself together for the third time, you speaks, “Yeah, we would often go out to eat it.” You softly chuckled, recalling a memory of San eating a hot piece of steak, him in pain after it.

“Y/N.” San’s voice suddenly becomes all serious and dramatic, causing you to stop at your tracks from approaching a knife and a fork on a table. You hum in response, as your wide excited eyes gleamed. San bit his lip. He felt terrible to suddenly cause the atmosphere to change, but he had to get straight to the point.

“Marry me.”

Silence.

Your mouth was agape, as you were frozen at the place, not even blinking once. San held his hands together, as he looked at you in such a determined and confident manner which did not make the situation any better. The words circled in your head, as you tried to control your rapid heartbeat along with your breathing.

“What?” Your voice came out as cold and ruthless, slightly piercing San’s heart but it was expected. 

“I know this is awkward...but I need you to listen to me…”

You knew what was going to happen due to the tone of San’s voice. You had noticed how San speaks excitingly, yelling a few times there and there. His expression would be awfully animatic but he still managed to keep his tender melodious voice. Right now, San’s voice switched from animatic to awfully tender and slow, as if he was telling a sad story. His eyes only guilt tripped you, since they were so considerate and lenient. 

“I’m listening.”, You nod.

“My parents had set me up to arrange marriage with the daughter of a huge CEO. I...I can’t stand to marry a girl that I have never met, I don’t want to associate myself to a corrupt family like hers. So, I thought if I had already told my parents that I am engaged with someone, they would reconsider and break off the plan.” San pleaded, “I know....I know I’m not the man of your dreams. Ugh, what am I even saying? I’m so selfish for asking you this...I’m sorry.”

You let out a long sigh which seemed to last seconds, “Okay, San. I understand.”

San’s eyes perk up, “You do?! Oh my god...you don’t have to.”

“Meh, I don’t mind. I don’t have anyone special in my life so.”, You shrugged. 

San smiles as he rubs his neck a little, averting his eyes, “Oh god...I need to do this better.”

“Better?”, You were confused. San stands up as he walks towards you in such a wary way that made you expect the unexpected. He crouches down as you slightly turns your body towards him. He takes out a box from his pocket, as he stares at you lovingly, “Will you marry me?”

This was so weird. Everything was so weird. So unusual. Did things like this even exist, such scenarios that are hard to experience? Tears started to appear on your eyes, without you even knowing. You felt touched, but why? Was it because some man had asked you to marry them when you swore you will never have a husband, or was it because you thought you would never experience such a beautiful moment?

“Ye-...Yes.”, Tears slipped down your eyes as you started to cry like a toddler.

San becomes horrified as he quickly sets the box on the table, holding your face, gently. “Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” The pure concern in his voice only made you more vulnerable, as you softly hit his chest. “You sentimental idiot!”

“What? Y/N...please tell me if I did something wrong.”, San ignored the soft punches on his chest, not even feeling them as he softly brushes his thumb to wipe the tears away. “I’m just touched, you doofus…”, you wipe your tears away, as you stare at the box.

San lets go of your face as he holds the box, opening it for you. Your watery eyes sparkled along with the oval-shaped diamond ring, a huge oval diamond in the middle while small shaped ones surrounded the big one. “San...thank you…”, you smiled, “It feels like an actual proposal.”

“I’ll be a rude man if I just used you for my own benefits...this is only a small thing.”, San says as he takes out the ring from the box. You both turn towards each other, looking at each other eyes for a moment. San holds your left hand, gently, sliding the ring up on your ring finger.

“Woah-- it looks good on--”

The sound of small kiss being placed on your hand seemingly echoed in your ears. The tingling sensation filled your entire body like electric shock, the sensation lingering right at the spot where the soft lips had been placed. She blinks multiple times as you blankly stared at San’s face, your heart rate once again beating fast, as a blush creeks up to your cheek. San stared at you with such love in his eyes, which was once again, unusual.

You chuckled awkwardly, averting your eyes, “Wow...um...you’re really doing so much for me.” You turn back towards San , involuntarily , whens you feel the grip on your hand tightening. “I’m doing this because it’s you...I chose YOU for this...because I trust you.”

“San…”

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you to get away. It’s not true at all. I chose you because I genuinely feel comfortable with you and I don’t mind experiencing a new life with you.”

You chuckled softly, “Sounds like a proposal.”

San presses his lips together, pressing them tightly together causing his cheeks to puff up. “Alright, I won’t tease you.”, you wished you could photograph his face.

“We should eat our steak.”

“RIGHT!”

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Warnings: None sfw

It turned out, Aizawa left a stupid duffle bag behind the corner of the restaurant so he could change and get to patrolling right away. I kind of find it oddly endearing despite how strange it was. I was currently walking with my tablet in hand on the way to Class 1-A; after the events of Friday night, Aizawa kept his word and sent me a list of concerns or things he's noticed about the students. So I decided it was best to take upon his request and help with training just this once to see how they really work under pressure.

As soon as I walked in, I saw the purple-headed student was tied up and hung up from the ceiling in... tape? I almost dropped my tablet in shock. The rest of the class were either sitting down and speaking to each other or yelling at the kid for being a pervert. And then Iida was just telling everyone to quiet down. Maybe I should just make a quick getaway; they didn't seem to notice me walking in. Sometimes it's good that I have my mom's height and good genes that I still look like a fifteen-year-old kid to some people. But too late, I was seen by one of the students. Midoriya.

"Good morning, Ms. Montoya! Aizawa sensei isn't here yet if you needed to see him." Midoriya bowed slightly and then raised his hand to wave at me. The rest of the students quiet down as well.

"Good morning. Ms. Montoya." They all said in unison.

"Bwahvowoand mthh monthouyaaa." And then there was Mineta, who was still tied up and had his mouth taped up.

I moved a piece of hair out of my face and straightened up, "Good morning, Class 1-A. I am here because Aizawa asked me to join today's lesson. Plus, I wanted to let you know that I will be making appointments to see some of you individually." I held my tablet tight in both hands and pointed in the direction of Mineta, "Can someone explain to me why Mineta is on the ceiling?"

Kirishima raised his hand, "He was harassing the girls, so Sero used his quirk and taped him up as a time out." The redhead smiled brightly that it was absolutely adorable.

"Oh... well, I'm sure there could've been other ways to get him to stop, right?" I smiled, despite the sentence giving me a bitter taste in my mouth. If I were them, I would've probably done the same thing. "Anyways, I'm a little too short to get him down, so can one of you boys do it and set him down at his desk before your teacher comes in and you get into trouble." Kirishima and a blonde boy named Kaminari got up immediately and grabbed Mineta.

As I walked to the corner of the room where there was an empty seat Midoriya went to ask another question, "So, since you're joining us for the lesson today, does that mean we're going to see you use your quirk?" The boy had nothing but excitement in his emerald eyes; they almost reminded me of Mic's eyes.

"That's what Aizawa told me. I have yet to decide whether I'll use it or not with you guys." I sighed and gave a small smile.

"Then why are you here if you're not going to use it." Bakugo rudely interjected.

"Well, since you asked so nicely. I am here to get to know you and your quirks to counsel you better. And it's best to show you that there is more than just knowing how to use your quirk that goes into your hero work." I opened my tablet and connected it to the board to showcase a list of heroes and their quirks. "I guess I go into a small lecture of my own before Aizawa comes in."

The first hero I showed was All Might. "I feel like this should be the first person I should go into. All Might has a lot of great qualities, which is why he's the number one hero. But there are still things he lacks. I know this better than anyone since I worked under him during my work-study and internship. You want to guess what that might be?" I raised my eyebrow at the students. "Bakugo, I've seen you've gotten the highest amount of points on your entrance exam and that you've had the highest grades in middle school. Do you want to answer my question?"

The blond hot head just blinked, and his arrogant demeanor faltered. I knew he wasn't going to expect me to call him out. "Uh, I'm sorry, I don't have an answer."

I smiled, "That's okay. It's good to know you're aware when you don't know anything." The boy huffed and crossed his arms, and averted his red eyes away from mine. "His one of few flaws is that he mostly goes off of instincts rather than strategizing his attacks or missions. He doesn't do it often but definitely has done it enough to make a difference. When you have such great power, you tend to forget how to create plans that don't revolve around them. Which is a large factor when it comes to saving people."

"She's right." Aizawa interrupted my short lecture. He had his hands in the pockets of his hero clothes and an exhausted face. His grey eyes were tinted in red due to his exhaustion and dry eye. "Montoya is one of the people I trust most to explain the importance of your relationship with your quirk. Whatever it may be. She has more than enough experience with that." I almost smiled. I was being praised by Aizawa, which annoyed me because I was for sure blushing because of it.

I nodded slightly at the man, "Thank you, Aizawa. It is important to have a good relationship with your quirk. If you don't embrace it like I didn't for a very long time, it's hard to control it and feel comfortable with it. That's mainly why I am here. To see if you guys need help with that." Most of the students nodded and looked more than willing to have my help. I noticed Shoto Todoroki was a little discontented, and Midoriya gave a nervous smile while sinking in his seat. "I will be honest and tell you all that it was a struggle for me to like my quirk. So if any of you have any concerns about your own, I will be nothing but open and supportive. I promise you that."

"I have a question." A girl student named Jiro spoke up.

"Yes?"

"You don't have to tell us why if you're uncomfortable. But why didn't you like your quirk? Midoriya said you just mimic other quirks? What made you change your mind about it?" Her voice was a little quiet and cautious, afraid if she crossed a line. She did a little. I don't really like talking about my past all too much, especially to kids. It's not the most kid-friendly Disney-like story.

Aizawa looked towards his right to look at me, probably worried about what I was about to say. I just turned my lips up in my signature smile, "I won't go into my reasons for why I wasn't comfortable with my quirk. At least not right now. It's too long of a story." I let out an awkward chuckle and scratched the back of my head, "The logistics to my quirk and how I got over my fear of it, I can explain. Think of Mr. Aizawa's quirk. But with extra steps. I can stop a quirk, yes, but I have the option to stop it forever or temporarily. Most of the time, I do a temporary pause on a quirk. But unlike Eraserhead, I also have the option to use the quirk I gained and mimic it. Or use its energy like how All Might focuses his strength and energy into his punches. It really depends on the situation." I scratched the back of my head again, "And really, I didn't start liking my quirk until I went to UA and met Aizawa and Present Mic. Since Aizawa's quirk worked similar to mine, I didn't feel so... I guess alone." I cringed when I said that; how fucking cheesy can I be. I covered my face in embarrassment, "Oh, that sounds so cringy and sad, ew. Forget I said any of that." All I heard were whole-hearted chuckles from the kids, and I swear I saw a hint of a smirk and pink on Aizawa's cheek through the slits between my fingers.

"So, you knew each other since you were our age?" Mina squealed.

I simply nodded. "Yeah. My mom got a job here when I was fifteen, so we moved, and I ended up at UA. I literally read all the books I could find to teach myself Japanese. But as you could see, it didn't help much."

Aoyama then asked, "Where did you live before, Musutafu?"

"Oh well," I put a hand under my chin, pretending to think, "Well, okay. So I was born in Tokyo, lived there until my mom was done with her Biology degree. Then we moved when I was two to Los Angeles where my family is from. Then we lived in New York and San Francisco over the course of two or three years. And then a year or two before moving to Musutafu, we lived in Paris because my grandmother is half French, so my mom had citizenship through her." As soon as I mentioned Paris, Aoyama's eyes twinkled, and everyone groaned. "What did I do?"

"Aoyama is a bit of a francophile," Aizawa mumbled in my left ear. The closeness mixed with the soft gruffness in his whisper left shivers that I had to ignore go down my spine.

"Oh, tu aimes la culture français?" I asked Aoyama, and the boy nearly fainted.

"You know, French!" The whole class screamed. Having both Aizawa and I squint.

"I also know Spanish and a little bit of Italian and Portuguese." A sea of woes was my response. "Anyways, enough about me, we have to go on with the lesson plan Aizawa had. So all of you get dressed in your gym uniforms. Chop. Chop." I clapped my hands as the kids rushed out excited.

I couldn't help but laugh. They all kind of reminded me of how my class was in high school. "They like you," Aizawa stated as a matter of factly.

"Of course they do. I'm amazing." I smiled cheekily as I made my way to the doorway. "You, on the other hand, you're alright after a while."

He chuckled. Yes, Shota Aizawa chuckled, I know, I'm shocked too. Then he leaned down to my right ear. His hot breath fanning it as he whispered, "You say that now, but a few minutes ago, you gushed all about me to the students." To say I was left paralyzed by the sudden change in Aizawa's demeanor was an understatement. Where was this fucking playfulness when we were kids? My legs felt like jelly; I was so surprised to see that I was still standing.

I had to act like it didn't affect me. But I'm sure my rose-colored face and wide chocolate eyes gave it away, "I was also talking about Hizashi. Don't go ignoring him." I turned to meet his face, and he just had this smirk. This smirk that was different from any other curl of his lips that I have seen before. And I was hooked. I wanted to see that smirk every day. As soon as it appeared, it was gone. He went back to his "I didn't give a fuck" frown and dead eyes and hunched over with his hands in his pockets. Completely different from the tall cocky devil from a second ago. "Come on, at this rate, we'll be late, and the students will be the ones waiting for us." He waved his hand at me to motion behind him. I couldn't help but gawk. What the actual fuck just happened?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay, Young Montoya?" All Might walked up to my desk with his lunch in hand.

"Hmm? Yeah, I am fine." I was reading over an email with an attached file on Aizawa's analysis of Midoriya. I noticed he was a little nervous about training today, but he didn't get injured, so I didn't see what he was concerned about. But something about his quirk seemed off. He didn't have a quirk until a few months before coming to UA. Almost as if he obtained it from somewhere.

"How are the kids treating you? I heard you trained them today." Toshinori sat at his desk next to mine. He passed me a pork bun, "Here, don't want you to have another late lunch."

"Thanks, dad." I gave him a fake annoyed look.

"Shut up. We can't let people know how old I really am." He joked and then coughed. "Sorry."

"I want to suggest wearing a mask, but I feel like with the blood being coughed up would defeat the purpose of it." I reached over to give him a tissue and rub his back, "I didn't technically train; all I did was tell them more about myself and then give them advice on how to better deal with Aizawa's training. With his permission to critique his teaching, of course." I stopped rubbing Toshinori's back and took a bite out of the pork bun. "He gave me a list of reports he made on the students, but so far, I didn't see any of what he told me today. I might have to come in again."

"But overall, they didn't give you a hard time?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, when I walked in, it was pretty chaotic, but overall they enjoyed me teaching them and were very enthusiastic." I went back to my laptop, "There's this one kid I tried to put my focus on, but he seemed to be pretty okay compared to Aizawa's report. Izuku Midoriya. Do you remember him from the entrance exam? He was the one that helped the girl Uraraka when the debris prevented her from escaping the robots."

Toshinori stiffened a little, "I remember. What about him?"

"Well, he didn't have a quirk before this year. And apparently, when he uses it, he breaks his bones. I saw that happen in the exam, but I thought it was a one-time thing. It kind of reminded me of how we met, you know? Using my quirk and then passing out." Toshinori nodded. It was a funny story about how I met the All Might. It was when I was still a student at UA. My homeroom teacher decided to give us a break day, so Class 2-A and 2-B went to the beach. I was hanging around Aizawa, Mic, and our friend Shirakumo when everyone was running and cheering. I was overwhelmed because I didn't know what that meant. For all I knew, cheers and screams were the same things. But then we saw All Might and Shirakumo explained to me who he was and why people were excited to meet him. Iris was there with us and forced me to take a picture with her and All Might. He was more than happy to take a picture with us. And to be fair, I grew pretty excited like everyone else. Toshinori hoisted us up on his biceps like they do in cartoons. And before the picture was taken, I felt pulsing energy go through my body, and then I met darkness. It freaked everyone out, including the symbol of Peace himself. I had to explain to everyone how my quirk worked and why I passed out that day, but it didn't feel forced or uncomfortable when I did it.

"I remember how nonchalant you were about it. 'Or don't worry. It happens, are you okay, though?' I feel like that freaked me out more than you passing out." He chuckled and shook his head. "You were always so careless about yourself."

"Gee, I wonder why?" I rolled my eyes, "Anyways, the way Aizawa describes this kid, it's like if my homeroom teacher was describing me." I point to the screen, "Look, 'His quirk allows him to channel energy into certain appendages and grant him immense strength.' That's kind of our quirks work... wait a minute..." I slowly turned my head to the gentle blond giant to my right. "Toshinori. You didn't."

He looked at me with blue wide eyes, "Did what?"

"Toshinori Yagi. This kid didn't have a quirk before the exam. Not only that, you and I both know how One For All works." I glared at him as he seemingly shrunk down in size.

"I can explain." He rushed and waved his hands around.

"You better." I felt my energy coursing around me as I stood up; I'm sure my hair was flowing golden locks in between the brown ones, and my eyes changed to an ice-cold blue with how angry I was. Thank god the lounge was empty right now. I can't believe how reckless he was. This poor kid probably didn't know what he got himself into.

"Um, what's going on that Montoya is in her Super Saiyan mode now?" Kayama and Iris walked in for their lunch break.

I took a deep breath and turned my quirk off, "Nothing, just got told the bad news about Gran Torino. You know me, I get emotional about the old man." I sat down and looked at Toshinori, "We're not done talking about it. Just explained everything later before we leave school." He just gave me a curt nod.

"All Might really need to stop making you use your quirk when he's around. It's like he wants you to pass out." Iris giggled. "I'm only teasing, All Might." Toshinori just smiled at her and went back to eating. "You mind if we squeezed in here and hang out with you on your break, Mai?"

"Yeah, Lily is with Vlad King right now talking about Class 1-B, so you can take her desk and pull up an extra chair."

"You didn't need to do that with Aizawa?" Kayama pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Nope, I came into class already, and he sent me everything I needed to know about the students." I go to grab my water bottle on my desk to see Toshinori snuck another pork bun on my desk while he checked his own emails and reports. Skeletor is really trying to butter me up right now with food... he really does know me too well.

"Wow, you guys aren't getting along and working ahead of Vlad and Lily. Don't make it a competition." Kayama laughed.

"Oh no, Lily and I already knew we got dragged in their rivalry. I'm already dreading it. I wish I could be like Toshi and be neutral." I nudged him, but he didn't budge. "But I like the kids, so I'm sure I can deal with the two of them being childish for their sake."

A slight tap graced my shoulder, "Aizawa asked me, and Thirteen is we wanted to join him in training the students at the USJ tomorrow. Did he mention anything to you?" I turned over to Toshinori, who looked a little nervous.

"No, I have to be in a meeting with Nezu, Toyama, and the other UA counselors to discuss the new mental health section of the school. But don't be so worried, you'll be fine with Thirteen there." I gave him a smile and pat on the head. The poor guy is intimidated by Aizawa, which honestly is so adorable. "I'm sure as long as you're not late to class, he won't reprimand you. Plus, the kids themselves aren't bad."

"You didn't have to give them the villain simulation assignment. Young Bakugo almost killed Midoriya." He let out a nervous chuckle.

"True, I wasn't there, but I did have to see them after class because of the outburst." I patted his head. "Nothing is going to happen tomorrow." I took a bite out of my second pork bun. "Now, stop worrying. You're acting how you do when Gran Torino calls you."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I shouldn't be worried." He gave a solemn smile. Iris and Kayama were both just snickering at the symbol of peace being a nervous wreck. Not a lot of people would have expected that he had that side to him.

For the rest of the day, I reviewed the points I wanted to make in the meeting for tomorrow while socializing with my colleagues. It was a relatively normal day. None of us would've expected that tomorrow would've made a complete one-eighty. If only I were actually right about tomorrow.

———————————————————————

My master list 😊

Tag list:

@inumorph @thatgirlwithcamera @mel-sanch

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 9

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 7.2K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which a diamond is a girl’s best friend.

You can find the first/previous chapter and AO3 links in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

Chapter warning: There is a fairly in-depth depiction of a dissociative flashback. Nothing I'd consider particularly extreme or deserving of a ratings bump, but I figured it'd be courteous to make a specific warning for it anyways.

_

Chapter 9: Symmetry 

On literally any other day, folding laundry would be relaxing.

There’s something comforting about falling back into predictable rhythms, hands running on automatic through assorted piles of clothes as her thoughts take a wandering vacation. Chores are boring, sure, but compared to the non-stop drive of the rest of her life Connie can at least appreciate how mindless they are. In a world filled with things like honors algebra and violin recitals and sword training, falling into the arms of subconscious repetition every once in a while feels nice, like a much needed mental break from the rest of reality.

The only problem is exactly that: it’s mindless. It doesn’t force her to use an ounce of brainpower. It doesn’t block her thoughts from waltzing down dark alleyways, or taking sharp swerves into territory unknown. It doesn’t distract her from obsessively checking her phone every other minute to see if she’s gotten any new calls or texts.

It doesn’t stop her from worrying about Steven.

Normally steady fingers twitch as she folds a sock inside its proper pair. Her pocket nearly feels like it’s burning. Groaning, she tosses the pair into her suitcase and pulls her phone out. The lock screen illuminates, showcasing a photo of a pretty sunset she took from the hill above the temple. Her mouth tightens. Once again, nothing. Giving in to the distraction, she unlocks her phone and taps to reach his latest message. Tired eyes gloss over his photo and those words for the thousandth time.

Accidentally got separated from gem—

I’ll call later, some kinda scary stuff happened—

Please don’t worry too much.

Well, too late for that. She’s not fooled by his blasé, chipper attitude in this text, or the forced grin of the concerningly pale-faced Steven (one of two! How can he claim he’s fine when he’s literally lost a part of himself??) at the forefront of the photo he sent. No, no. She won’t be convinced until she audibly hears it or can throw her arms around him in person, which is harder said than done when he hasn’t returned her calls and Mom won’t let her take the bus over to his place for the morning because she’s supposed to be “packing.” Ugh. As far as she’s concerned, visiting extended family in India can wait its turn. Something terribly wrong must have happened in Beach City last night, and the suspense of not knowing is nearly suffocating her.

But logically, she knows worrying about it nonstop won’t be of help to her or Steven. He’ll call when he calls. She just hopes it’s before she leaves the country. Her dad's a bit of a tightwad when it comes to the idea of upgrading to international call and text, to her chagrin. If she’s honest, it’s the one part of this trip she dreads— having zero contact with her best friend for a week.

Connie hastily breathes in and out, attempting to forcefully will the stress to dissipate. Let it go. Stop thinking about it. She gently tosses her phone on her bed where she can’t reach it, and pushes herself back into the dependable rhythm of laundry folding.

Licking her chapped lips as she works through the pile of newly clean clothes, she folds the turquoise colored silk choli bodice her mom arranged for a relative to hand weave for her on her last birthday and carefully places it with its matching saree. The decorative border running the length of the saree is embroidered with little flowers and swirls in gold thread. Connie smiles faintly, reverently running her hand across the smooth fabric. She’ll be wearing her typical shorts, overalls, and blouses for most of this trip, but she’s super excited to have the perfect excuse to bring this outfit out of her closet for once. It always makes her feel beautiful, with her hair pinned back and the saree draped around her, but she still can’t help but fear she’s ridiculously overdressed whenever she wears it anywhere outside of family events. A shame. Maybe she’ll build the courage to wear it one day when she goes to Steven’s house for sword practice. She’ll change into her usual training clothes during the practice itself, of course— she can’t risk tearing silk or restricting her movement— but it’d be cool to share a piece of her own family’s culture with him like that. Her cheeks heat up as she imagines his reaction. He’ll probably think it’s pretty. Pearl, too. Her teacher definitely has a flair for artistry, after all.

...but of course, that’s assuming Steven and the Gems are okay.

Her previously giddy thoughts wane like a withering petal. Sitting with her legs criss crossed on her bedroom floor, she hunches over with a heavy sigh, propping her chin into her hands. How long is this morning going to last?

Muffled amidst the cocoon of thick blankets adorning her bed, her phone’s ringer picks that very moment to blare into existence. Her nerves electrify in an instant, though whether that’s more a symptom of surprise or anticipation is anyone’s guess. Chest pounding, she shoots to her feet and scrambles across the room to pick it up. She sighs a breath of relief as her eyes skim over the caller ID. It’s him. And he wants to video chat! Without thinking twice she jabs her thumb against the screen to answer.

A handful of seconds pass as her phone attempts to connect over her family’s spotty wi-fi, heart twisting painfully in her throat as she steels herself for whatever potentially bad update about her friend’s life she’s about to receive, but then—

The video pushes through, and her friend appears on the screen. His hair is notably mussed, (more so than usual, that is), with wild curly locks sticking up from his head at weird angles.

“Mornin’, Connie,” he says, exhaustion evident on his face but besides that, appearing physically well. There’s actually color in his cheeks for one thing, unlike in the photo he sent before dawn.

“Steven!” she exclaims, subconsciously gripping the sides of her phone tighter in the absence of an actual hug. “You’re okay!”

“More or less,” he says in confirmation, the corner of his mouth turning up for a glimmer of a second. His expression quickly becomes tinted in shades of remorse, however, his voice on the brink of cracking. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call back earlier! My phone died on me, and then I forgot to plug it in, and then I got distracted by a bunch of crazy family stuff, and that’s probably not a good excuse, but—“

She tries to feed him a reassuring smile, pushing down the blatant depth of her worry for his sake.

“Hey, don’t fuss about it. It happens. And anyways, you’re here now, right? So all that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Her friend deals her a noncommittal shrug in response, and slouches against the rough hewn stone she’s only now noticing in the background. If she has to guess, he’s sitting on the beach, leaning against the sheer cliff walls where they first met almost two years earlier. Interesting, she muses, her brow furrowing. Usually when they do video calls Steven makes a point to stay in his house because he gets better reception there. On top of that, there’s an undeniable melancholy brewing within his eyes that would be amiss to ignore. He’s not even trying to mask it for once, which speaks volumes in and of itself about how heavy a burden it’s become, whatever it is that’s bothering him. Geeze, what on Earth happened over there last night?

“So, your gem,” she starts, edging towards the topic carefully. “Are you still—?”

He shakes his head, seemingly already catching on to what she’s gonna ask. “Nah, we’re together again! Turns out I can still fuse even without without him.”

“Hmm, I—“ Connie pauses, mind fixating for a second on the specific way he referred to his gem half, ascribing an undeniable sense of individuality to him— “well, I’m super glad you figured that out. But I still don’t understand, how can you get separated from your gem in the first place?”

“It’s, uh- a pretty complicated story, fair warning.”

“Pshhh, that’s no problem, I’ve got all morning,” she says, and props her phone against her bedpost so she can continue packing while listening. Freed once more, her hands seek out more unpaired socks to join.

“Only if you’re good with it, then.” The boy sighs deeply as he begins to prepare his words. The infamous drama zone kicking in, he lets his head lull backwards at gravity’s command against the cliffside’s face. She can’t help but cringe at the audible smack of his skull against smooth rock. “Ow!” he whines, immediately jerking forwards again. He rubs the back of his head in clear disbelief, softly laughing at his own folly. “Well, that was a pretty dumb idea.”

“Not gonna disagree,” she says with a giggle, glancing between her clothes and the screen in intervals as she folds. “Now, tell me everything. From the beginning. I still gotta pack, but I’m listening, I promise.”

A soft smile brightens his face, sunlight glinting off his dark brown irises. It’s enough to capture her stare, to make everything else in the world freeze to a stop. Just for one magic moment. Her heart almost flip flops at the gentle way he gazes at her, his eyes filled with a shy reverence that honestly, speaks volumes to his nature as a person. Because while he’s grown undeniably strong as a half-Gem, he’s far more than that. He's kind. He’s sensitive, and caring. So, so caring. More than anything else he tries his hardest to be extra empathetic about the needs of others around him, and she adores this about him, she truly does. Her only wish is that he could be this receptive about his own needs all the time, too. With her firsthand knowledge of the stressful stuff he and the other Gems deal with on a weekly basis, she can’t help but worry sometimes.

He breathes in, chest rising and falling as he prepares to tell his story. “Okay. So it all started yesterday morning when I was playing video games with the Gems…”

______

“—and then that’s when I figured out I could still fuse, right after I texted you. So we did, and- and well, that’s pretty much it,” Steven finishes with a bit of a waver in his voice, absentmindedly twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck as he adjusts his grip on the phone with his other hand.

With his story more or less complete, barring a few recent occurrences he’s hesitant to speak of right now, he pays careful attention to the minute fluctuations of Connie’s expression as everything he’s told her sinks in.

(He intentionally left out some of the more intimate bits, of course— like softly crying himself to sleep before Dad warped back, or having a near breakdown on the beach, or his conversation with half of himself. Some moments simply aren’t for others to know.)

Her voice wavers as she finally makes to respond. “Wow, that’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. And like, I wanna believe it’s over now, but everyone’s still acting so weird.”

“Mmm, and then there’s everything about your mom, and Pink Diamond…” She balls her hand against her mouth as she mulls over this information, her sobered glance shifting from him to some unspecified point in her bedroom.

And at seeing the subtle aversion of her gaze, he frets for a second. He squirms in the seat of the cold metal chair he’s made his temporary home in, toes curling inwards much like the creeping dread that’s trying to inch its way ever further into his heart, stifling any last hope of peace or calm. Replacing it with fear. Like, what if his real talk is too real? Too honest? What if he’s freaked her out, or overloaded her with the sheer weight of everything that’s happened to him, what if she’ll wanna keep her distance from him because of all this, what if—

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this,” she says softly, slashing the cord that’s restraining him within his frantic thoughts.

His shoulders relax, tension fading.

“I- is there anything I can do?” his friend continues. “To help, I mean?”

“Nah, don’t think so. Not right now, at least. Honestly, just having someone to talk to about all this means a lot.” He begins to slowly swing his legs back and forth, and leans against the coffee stained table top. “Normally I’d talk to one of the Gems, but. Well, y’know.”

His friend bobs her head in the affirmative. “Mmm.”

“It’s just…” he begins, pausing with a long sigh as he tries to organize all his jumbled emotions into something remotely explainable. His eyes drift away from his phone, focusing instead on the soft, tantalizing glow of the ice cream freezer across the shop. “I think I almost died, Connie. For real. I was shivering, a-and scared, and cracked, and- and yet they couldn’t stop fighting about whatever happened in the past. I don’t know anything about Pink Diamond, or what terrible things Rose apparently did, but now it’s like… even if they don’t mean to, that’s all they can think about when they look at me?”

Steven groans in exhaustion, slumping forward so the side of his face is pressed against the table. It’s comfy, never mind how dirty the surface probably is. He shifts his phone in his hands so Connie’s image is still parallel to him. “I dunno. I should’ve never popped that bubble in the first place. If I didn’t let Bismuth out, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Steven!” a loud voice calls from across the shop. “Are you gonna buy a donut or what?”

“Whu- huh??”

Startled, he shoots upright in the chair— knowing all too well from the faint thrum dancing under his skin that he’s on the brink of summoning his bubble on sheer impulse— before realizing that no, it’s only Lars, everything’s fine, I’m fine.

The surly teen is slumped against the counter next to Sadie, (who’s counting the money in the cash register on sheer compulsion, as if rifling through it one more time might cause the cash to magically multiply), both employees marinating in the boredom of yet another low traffic mid-September day at the Big Donut. He pauses to catch his breath, in retrospect feeling super silly for his near freak-out. His two favorite donut people have been here this whole time, of course. How he managed to become so sucked in by his call that he forgot is beyond him.

“Are you okay?” he hears Connie ask softly, obvious concern in her voice.

Lars on the other hand, apparently wasn’t finished calling him out.

“You can’t just- loiter here all morning and not buy anything!” he says. Brow threading together in perplexion, he whirls towards his coworker. “Right? Isn’t there a law for that? Sadie, help me out here-!”

She rolls her eyes so far they almost disappear back into her skull. “Oh, leave him alone, he’s fine...” “Yeah, I’m not loitering, I’m having a nice conversation with my friend!” he chimes, holding up his phone screen to them as proof.

“Hi Sadie, Lars,” Connie says.

The young lady behind the register smiles warmly despite the bags under her eyes, and pauses her task to wave to the camera.

Unimpressed, Lars leans his chin against his balled up fist, elbow propped on the counter. His tired eyes narrow into thin slits, exaggerated by the squish of his cheek against his bottom eyelid. “A ‘nice conversation?’ You’ve been sitting there for half an hour rambling about the misfortunes of near death,” he says, deadpan.

“I—“ His eyes grow wide as he combs back through the— now that he thinks about it— admittedly dour mood of everything he’s recently said. “Is that really what it sounded like...?”

Is he just being a killjoy to everyone? He thought it’d be okay to be real about it with his friend for once, since he usually keeps his deeper issues to himself, but perhaps...

“No, just ignore him,” Sadie says as she diligently sorts the coins, cutting in right before his mind can continue its downward spiral.

On the screen, Connie nods in wholehearted support. “It’s just venting, I don’t mind.”

And despite everything else he manages a smile at that, small and thin but filling him with a needed burst of energy all on its own.

“Huh,” Lars mutters, scrutinizing him closely. “Well, whatever it was, dark and brooding is a surprisingly good vibe for you. We’ll make a teenager of you yet.”

Steven blinks in confusion.

“But I already am a teenager,” he says, perhaps a bit more defensively than he ought have.

“Yeah!” chimes his friend over the phone.

“Wait, really? Aren’t you like, nine or somethin’?”

He squirms in his seat upon reference to his inability to physically age, feeling the flush touch his ears. “Uh, actually…”

“Dude, he’s been a teenager,” Sadie says. She stuffs the last of the quarters in their slot and securely shuts the cash register drawer. “He turned fourteen a few weeks ago, don’t you remember?”

“N- no… I just—“ Lars lets out a scoff, shooting her a moody sneer. “Whatever, okay? I don’t have the time or the patience to remember everyone’s birthdays in this dead-end town.”

“Only twenty-nine people even live here year round.”

“So? Your point is?”

“My point is that it’s kinda common courtesy to look up and pay attention to your surroundings every once in a while?”

He turns up his nose. “Ugh, well you know what—“

Steven purses his lips as he watches the two of them devolve into yet another round of petty squabbling. (Why all of these fights lately…? What’s wrong with everyone, what’s in the air?) Suddenly feeling very much like high tailing it out of here, he shifts in his seat. He and Connie share a knowing glance, one that quickly lets him knows they’re on the same page. Originally, he came here to use the store wi-fi since he didn’t want to be at home right now, but he can probably still use it just fine sitting at the table outside. Without any overt announcement of the fact, he stands and makes his way to the door. Lars and Sadie are too caught up in their spat to notice him leave.

Only when the cool breeze greets him outside can he relax. He kicks back in one of the chairs set out front of the store, adjusting his phone in his hand. Gulls call loudly from the boardwalk in their endless search for trashed food. A handful of people he doesn’t recognize— tourists!— splash in the water or play in the sand, a pair of young men holding hands as they cross the public beach. Sunlight is finally breaking through the cloud cover, brilliant blue overtaking dreary grey. He smiles faintly. Despite everything, it truly is a beautiful morning.

“Sorry about all that!” he says to his friend on the line, glancing back at the doors of the Big Donut. “They really are cool people when you got to know ‘em, but they kinda disagree about stuff a lot.”

Connie stifles a laugh, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I know you keep saying they’re probably dating, but I honestly don’t believe you.”

His skin grows clammy all of a sudden.

Don’t… believe...

He's frozen. It’s almost like he’s with Sapphire, trapped again in that old motel room shivering amidst her frost powers. And yet simultaneously he’s not, ‘cause… because he’s burning up, hand clutching at thin air. He’s terrified. He’s completely alone, he’s—

He’s back in the forge.

Bismuth’s there, looming like a reaper above him, arm shapeshifted into some sort of curved saw blade and held aloft. Thick, viscous lava boils angrily in the pool surrounding the platform he’s on, and more than anything it’s a warning, a constant warning, and he’s stupid, he’s so unobservant and stupid, he should have paid heed to it when he came down here in the first place, why didn’t he—

Heat blasts almost violently at him as he shuffles away on hands and feet, scooting backwards on the blistering stone. He heaves for breath amidst his panic. Meanwhile, the channels of hard light running parallel with his veins buzz alongside the rush of adrenaline keeping him alive. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticky and unnaturally cool.

No matter how hard he tries, he’s too weak against her. His shield isn’t strong enough.

He knows this for a fact now, knows that Bismuth can dissipate both it and his bubble with enough force, and that’s a super scary thought but it doesn’t stop the primal instinct pulsing insistently at the back of his mind, pushing him to stand back up, to summon his weapon anyways and try to defend himself. It’s nothing but a lost cause, though.

Now, his only true shield is his words.

“Wait, I’m not my mom!” he cries in desperation, shielding himself with his arms. “I don’t know what she did, but I’m sure she didn’t want to hurt you!”

The stark shadow obscuring the rainbow haired Gem’s eyes grows darker.

“It’s too late,” she spits, preparing to swing her arm down. “I don’t believe you anymore!”

And then with a shallow gasp he’s here again, here at this dingy plastic table sitting under the bright and blue hope of morning, his phone clutched in a vice-like grip. Breath passes through his lips shakily. What the heck was that?? Was his gem feeding him old memories like what happened in his sleep, or something? Whatever it was, he’s genuinely not sure how much time has passed during the vision, a realization which unnerves him. Seemingly not too long, as Connie hasn’t moved to speak yet. Yet still her too-familiar words echo in his mind, pulsing with the thrum of inflamed blood vessels at an open wound, and without the blessing of inhibition he blurts out the first thought that reveals itself.

“That’s fair,” he says, voice cracking. “I probably wouldn’t believe me about a lot of things right now.”

Her brow creases with obvious concern. “Hey... Hey, I didn’t mean that personally. I was just messing around with ya’. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I just feel... really on edge.” Jittery fingers card through thick curls as his chest softly rumbles in the absurdity of it all. “Geeze, I’m being a real sad sack today, huh?”

“Well, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but to be fair ‘near death scenarios’ are pretty much just an occupational hazard at this point. And I’ve handled that fine before, so…”

“Still doesn’t erase the fact that it’s impacted you hard this time,” she says softly, leveling her gaze squarely on him, her intuitive brown eyes disassembling his insecurities and then putting them back together like a puzzle.

He flushes, shrinking where he sits. He pulls his legs up onto the seat, clutching them to his chest. Intuitively he knows she’s right, he knows that all this has messed with him more than the danger of Gem stuff normally does, but he still can’t help but feel… ashamed? That he’s feeling this way in the first place? It’s bizarre. It’s completely dumb, and the more he fixates on it the more dumb it becomes. Eventually he decides he’s not in the right mental state to try and weave a halfway rational response to her and elects to swerve the topic.

“So there’s also another not-great thing that happened,” he begins, hugging his knees. “Should probably mention.”

“Yeah…?”

“Garnet unfused over all this. Maybe for good this time.”

She gasps, and in an instant her face shoots closer on his screen.

“Wait what? She- you mean that Ruby and Sapphire aren’t—“

“Yup.”

Connie covers her mouth in shock, eyes glistening. “Oh, no! Steven, I’m so sorry! And you don’t think they’ll be able to work it out?”

“No, they made it seem pretty permanent.”

“That’s… really rough,” she sighs in solidarity. “‘Cause I mean, at least since it’s fusion she’s still there in spirit, but- you grew up knowing Garnet.”

“Exactly,” he nods. “I love Ruby and Sapphire a whole bunch, but it’s still different, y’know? Like, it’s like I lost someone important to me. Maybe forever. And... it feels so awful,” he says, pushing past the lump in his throat that he wishes more than anything would go away. “All of it. It’s like everyone in my family’s falling apart. The moment she unfused, Sapphire immediately shut herself in her room, and then Ruby was so upset she ran away, and Amethyst and Pearl started yelling at each other about everything, so… I left. And called you,” he explains, gesturing at her. “And now I’m here, chillin’ at the Big Donut. And that’s pretty much it.”

“Gosh...”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. I mean, outright getting cleaved from half of yourself? I can’t even imagine…” She bites at her knuckles for a moment, deep in thought. “Makes me wish I had more than sympathy to offer.”

“Nah, just you listening to everything means a whole bunch. I really appreciate that,” he says. “I—“ his voice wavers a bit as he feels the heat of the blush blossoming across his cheeks— “I really appreciate you. A lot. You- you know that, don't you?”

She giggles, the sound a beautiful reassurance to his ears. “Of course I do! And anyways, you always take time to listen to me when I’m down. That’s what jam buds are for, right?”

“Right,” he says, the word reverberating in harmony in the deepest reaches of his heart.

“Steven!” a voice calls from the distance.

Connie’s brow furrows. “Is that…?”

He whips his head around, squinting in the sunlight to catch a clearer glimpse of the figure running towards the edge of the Big Donut’s patio, his long hair rippling behind him. At the sight of family, his eyes light up. He waves his free arm in greeting.

“Dad!”

“Hey, kiddo!” his dad says, crossing the last few steps to the patio chair he’s curled up in. Gasping for breath, he plops himself in the chair adjacent. “I thought I’d find you here. You doin’ better now?”

He makes a half grimace, and shakes his flattened hand in a so-so gesture.

Dad’s hopeful smile fades, quickly replaced with a compassionate sense of understanding that could only come from years of hard earned age and experience. “Yeah. Yeah, I getcha. Seeing people you love fight like that’s never fun. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He presses his mouth into a line as he contemplates. To be honest, after venting about everything to Connie, fixating on negative emotions more is the last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t wanna be rude to his dad. Thank goodness he has a valid excuse to avoid it altogether!

“Uh, I’m kinda on the phone, here,” he says, showing him his phone screen as proof.

“Oh, by golly, so you are! Hey, Connie. How are you hangin’ in there?”

She flashes a smile. “Hi, Mr. Universe! I’m okay, thanks.”

“Heh, Mr. Universe, huh?” he chuckles softly, scratching at his beard. “Such formalities! You’ve known me for what, how long? Please, you can call me Greg.”

“Thanks, but my mom says I’m not allowed to call grown ups by their first names.”

“Dr. Maheswaran has all sorts of weird mom rules,” Steven chimes in, nodding.

“Hoo boy, do I know about those,” his dad commiserates in a flat tone. He makes a big show out of mulling this over, humming as he taps at his chin. “Well then, don’t think of me as a grown up, but more of a big kid with, erm… slightly bigger responsibilities.”

“Uh, okay!” Connie says, hesitantly glancing between him and Steven. “If it’s alright with you, then, Mr. Greg!”

Dad‘s mouth turns up in a fond smirk, and then he glances back at him. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know that the Gems have cooled down. I had… a bit of a talk with them, let’s say,” he mutters, clear exhaustion betraying his otherwise content demeanor. “Should be fine to go back when you’re ready.”

“Did Ruby return??”

“Nah, she’s still MIA. But Pearl and Amethyst are on the case.”

He sighs, disappointment flooding his heart. He’s not sure why he ever dreamed otherwise. She’ll come back eventually, of course. She’s gotta. According to Garnet, Rubies are very social Gems, which means they prefer sharing in the company of others over being alone. And even when she’s not fused with Sapphire, she’s still a part of his family. He dearly hopes she knows that.

“I hope her and Sapphire will be okay,” he mutters.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine in the end,” he says with a shrug. “They’ve come apart before, after all.”

Connie hums in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes even my parents need some quiet time away from each other. That’s totally normal!”

Dropping his legs to dangle from the chair again, Steven watches an orange spotted butterfly flutter between the beach umbrellas set up on the patio tables, meeting with its other half before both journeying away in the wind. His cheeks lift at their attempts at reassurance, and boy, does it feel so much more natural than frowning pensively.

“D’ya really think so?”

Smiling softly, his dad affectionately musses his hair. “All we can do is wait and see, bud. Wait and see.” He stands to his feet then, grunting as he uses the table’s surface to help push him up. Gaze growing somewhat weary, he peers with purpose towards the far side of the hill. “Anyways, your old man will be over at the car wash, scrubbing soap scum off the floors. Eughh, right? But hey, if you need anything… a hug, an ear, some classic fatherly advice… come and find me, okay? Take it easy this morning.” Grinning, he turns back to wave goodbye to the girl mirrored on the screen. “Nice seeing ‘ya, Connie. Take care.”

“You too!” she waves in return.

And with that farewell his dad begins his casual jaunt down the sidewalk, leaving the two of them alone once more. Except, he supposes that’s not true at all, is it? Even without Connie, even without Dad, or the Gems. Because if he can take away one good thing from this whole messed up experience, just one hopeful message, it’s that he’s never been alone a day of his life. That’s simply the nature of fusion, you see. Even in the darkest, scariest moments...

I’ve never actually been alone, he marvels. I’ve just been me.

______

Once Steven’s dad leaves to scrub down the floors at his car wash, their conversation evolves considerably from its bleak beginnings. Enough about all this Gem stuff, Steven says, what’s new with you? Besides, uh- folding underwear, of course!

Connie laughs, rolling her eyes at the visible blush on his face as she pushes the aforementioned undergarments out of frame. She eagerly shares some of the finer details of her India trip, telling him all about when she’s leaving for the airport, (late this evening, on a red-eye flight across the Atlantic), what area of the country she’s visiting, (Punjab, where some of her extended family lives), and how long she’ll be gone (just a week!). From there, the topic shifts between a variety of themes, ranging anywhere from her anxiety and excitement at starting school again when she gets back, the pride of finally figuring out a challenging song she’s wanted to perfect for a while on her violin, to this super compelling Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic she found where Lisa discovers she’s secretly heir to the throne of the corrupt society she’s always been vying to escape from underneath the authoritative thumb of.

“Wow, this is the story I never knew I always needed so badly in my entire life,” Steven says, brown irises turning starry-eyed in the sunlight. He’s sitting atop the hill now, resting content on his belly in the grass in front of the lighthouse.

“I know, right?? I’ll send you the link,” she promises, dangling her feet in the air behind her as she lays on the carpet.

He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly. “Woo, free infinite books!”

“Well, keep in mind, it’s not finished yet. Apparently it’s supposed to update bi-weekly, but I think the author got a bit boggled down by life stuff recently.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hope they’re doin’ okay.”

“Same… But hey,” she says with a soft laugh, “at least it’s a long fic, right?”

“Y’know,” he interjects the current topic suddenly, rising to his knees. “I wonder if I can see your house from here! D’ya think that’s possible, ‘cause I wanna see if that’s possible!”

He switches his camera’s view from front to back, the image of his face replaced by the scenic vista of the cozy beach town below, ridged by the peaceful waters of the Atlantic and Rehoboth Bay. She can see everything, from the gigantic pastry shaped facade atop the Big Donut, to the water tower clear on the other side of the peninsula. Beyond, lush green grasslands— dotted with clusters of small residences, humanity’s touch on the Earth— stretch as far into the horizon as far as a young dreamer can imagine.

Connie picks up her phone from the bedpost she leaned it against and squints at the screen, trying to map out the precise scale of the countryside between them in her mind. “Hmm, probably not. I think my town’s pretty hidden by the surrounding hills.”

“No silly, not from right here, here! I meant, from up here!”

She yelps as the view of Beach City on her phone screen jolts in a burst of sudden, rapid movement, shrinking smaller and smaller as the seconds tick by.

“Steven!! What are you—“

But internally, she finds the answer to this question before she can even finish asking it. Clearly, he jumped into the sky, so… so he’s using his floating ability. Even though she’s never seen him utilize it to leap to this extreme, it’s the only possibility that makes any ounce of sense. Her mouth falls agape at the picturesque view below, the town beginning to looking more and more like a blurred watercolor painting. Distantly, she wonders what it would feel like to be up there with him, her hands clutched tight in his, the wind dancing through her long hair.

"Consarn it! Your house is too small to pick out. Hmm..."

Or even as Stevonnie, can they float too? she wonders. Maybe one day she can ask!

“Oh my gosh, this is just like I’m on the giant slingshot they used to have at Funland,” she says, averting her eyes as her best friend continues his ascent into the shimmering blue sky. She lets slip a slight grimace, finding the stark contrast between the movement on the screen and the still permanence of her bedroom dizzying the more she watches. “And I’m starting to think there’s a reason they shut that ride down…”

“Hey, my floating powers are way better than The Comet,” he chirps playfully, having finally reached the apex of his leap. “Hah, maybe that means I should start my own attraction at Funland!”

“Doing what?” she says, unable to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the very concept. “Bubbling people on the tracks of the rollercoaster like the day we first met? I’m pretty confident that’d be a major health and safety violation.”

“Aww, but those are the best kinds of attractions!”

She hears him grunt with minor exertion, and suddenly the aerial glimpse of the countryside she’s watching on her phone drops out of sight, replaced in an instant with a sweeping panorama of the boundless sky, the line of the horizon with the sea, the ground looming ominously hundreds of feet below. Rinse and repeat, over and over. Everything is spinning, she realizes in alarm, and there’s no end in sight.

“Whoa-oH, it’s the Stevencoaster!” he cries in childish glee as he somersaults.

His lighthearted joy is so contagious she can’t stop the grin stretching wide across her face.

“Careful, you doofus, you’re gonna make me motion sick and I’m not even there,” she giggles breathlessly.

“Nooo! And the Stevencoaster makes everyone toss their cookies! Words truly cannot describe the culinary carnage left in its wake.”

She rolls her eyes in fondness at his antics, and sits up on her carpet. “No, but seriously,” she reaffirms, “that’s making me pretty dizzy.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Soon enough she watches him level out from his spin, his camera focusing for a moment on the ground a hundred feet below his sandaled feet before flipping to show his face once more, framed by wild dark curls. His irises are shimmering an unnatural pink she’s never seen before. It's enough of an unexpected shock that her smile fades, ever so slightly.

“Better?” he says, beaming at her as he continues on his slow descent to Earth.

They’re still pink. And his pupils… She’s not just imagining it, right? She blinks heavily.

“Y- yes, much.”

“Connie? What’s wrong?” he asks, landing upon the grass. His brow furrows.

Even more notably, his eyes are just as normal and brown as they ever were. Connie balls her hand against her chin as she deliberates this. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

She shakes her head, silently mulling over how best to explain this. “Nothing, it’s just… I could’ve sworn your eyes were… different, for a second.”

“Different?” Steven‘s grin stretches so wide he looks like he’s about to burst at any moment. “Eye don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Well, if you become my pupil I could explain it to you,” she giggles.

“I’m listening,” he chimes eagerly.

“Okay, so honestly it could’ve just been a trick of the light, but… it’s almost like they flashed pink for a second. And your pupils were all funny, kind of, uh- slitted! Like a cat’s.”

“Pink?”

“Yeah.”

His face goes shockingly pale. “Connie, when was this?”

“Just a second ago,” she shrugs. “You were still floating.”

“Floating,” he repeats under his breath, seeming haunted by the very thought.

“Steven?” she calls, a sudden twist in her chest at the sight of his clear distress. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“I, I—“ he stammers, unable to even meet her glance. “I’m really sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll text you later?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks for calling—“

He hangs up.

“...back,” she finishes softly, shoulders sinking.

She sighs heavily, dropping her phone into her lap and sitting back against her bed frame. What did she say? What could be so scary about the idea of glowing pink eyes to make him react like that? Sure, it’s a bit strange, but it’s no more unusual than any of his other unique abilities. She only hopes she didn’t ruin his good mood all over again by bringing his attention to it.

Her mother knocks on the doorframe outside, signaling her presence.

“Come in,” she mutters glumly.

The door creaks open. Mom steps through, and leans against the wall with her arms crossed, glancing knowingly between her and the phone still clutched like a lifeline in her hands.

“Are you still worried about that boy?” she asks.

Connie can almost hear the capitalization inherent in her tone. 'That Boy.’ Even though she and Steven are just friends, she knows full well who her mother thinks he is to her. (Not that she’d complain if that were the case, but that’s simply not a thing with them, and really that’s fine, she’s fine, their status quo is comfortable how it is—)

“Yeah… I just got off the phone with him," she says, letting her head sink into the folds of the covers trailing off the side of her bed. "It sounds like he’s been through a lot lately.”

“Well, when a child spends all day fighting monsters instead of going to school like he’s supposed to, I can’t say I’m surprised,” her mom says under her breath.

“Mom, come on, this is serious!”

“Yes, sorry, you’re right,” she says wearily, pressing her hand to her temple. “Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean that it’s fair of me to say.”

She turns away, and hugs her knees to her chest. Like a storm on a late summer day, her mind brims with so many things she wishes she could admit, so many things that need to be released if she wants to find any peace about this. But how to start? How can she make her mother understand?

“I’ve really been looking forward to this trip, y’know?" Connie says, feeling oh-so vulnerable sitting on the floor just like she always would as a young child, eyes glistening as she calls upon her mother for support. "Really. And I know we gotta leave tonight, but just knowing he’s hurting and I won’t be able to text him at all makes part of me wish… that I could stay here."

Unable to dam it up anymore, a few tears spill over to roll unbridled down her cheek. Her chest quivers uncontrollably as her face screws up and she begins to cry.

"Oh, honey," she breathes, moving to kneel on the floor next to her. She rests her hand on her upper back, gently kneading the stress out of her tense muscles.

"He's always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to, o-or somethin' to feel better," she sniffles, wiping the damp from her eyes and nose. "A- and then- the moment he needs me, I can't be there for him at all, an' it's not fair!"

Upon seeing the trail of snot beginning to drip towards her upper lip, her mother grimaces. She reaches across her for the small square box perched atop her nightstand. "Tissue," she says firmly, passing her the box.  

She accepts the gift, pulling one out, and blows her nose hard.

As she's dabbing away, cleaning up the evidence of her tears, Mom's fingers shift to comb through the length of her hair. She twirls through long dark strands and pulls them out of her face. "Even if I don't get all this magic stuff you're both dealing with," she begins, voice brimming with compassion, "believe me, I understand more than most what it feels like to be cut off from the people you love. So... I’ll change your phone plan to international, how’s that? That way, at the very least you’ll still be able to contact him.”

Her eyes light up. “Wow, really?? But that’s super expensive!”

“Says your father,” she scoffs with soft laughter. “We can afford it. And anyways, I’d hate to see you miserable the whole trip.”

“That’ll be perfect!” she says, throwing her arms tight around her mother. And although she can’t see her face, Connie knows from the reassuring solidness of their embrace that every bit of the love she has for her is returned in full. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispers, her anxious heart finally finding a glimmer of peace.

[etherealblasphemy]

You Never Seemed So Tense, Love

(what’s this? some actual content? on my blog? it’s more likely than you think)

hello again, y’all! it’s been a while since i’ve posted any writing, but at last, i’ve finished another fic! i hope y’all enjoy this one, i found it really fun to write. (title from “gives you hell” by the all-american rejects)

Trigger Warnings For: mild language and mentions of alcohol

Summary: Logan Guiscard loves his simple, mundane life. He most certainly does not love his next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage.

Length: 7,476 words

Kudos are appreciated, reblogs are adored, comments are loved!!

Logan Guiscard loved his life. Honestly. He loved his little suburban house that looked like almost every other home in his neighborhood. He loved his shiny car that he had to wash every weekend because if it wasn’t shining then obviously someone would think something was wrong and wouldn’t take him seriously. He loved his job as an astronomy professor at the local university where nobody cared about what the constellations were named because the Greeks were all dead, and it’s not they couldn’t just Google the names, anyways. He loved waking in the morning to see a lawn full of native plants and a little garden, because he might live in the affluent suburbs, but that didn’t mean he’d give into lawn culture, the horrid thing.

The only thing he didn’t love was his unfortunately next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage. Everything about him was simply illogical. The first thing the imbecile had done after moving in was paint the house bright purple, a stark contrast from the pastel grey every other home sported. He had a rather irritating habit of playing music a decibel too loud for Logan’s taste. He had absolutely no sense of self-care; Virgil seemed to throw on whatever clothes were clean— they were mismatched and rumbled, as if he had just taken them from his floor—and his skin was dull and most likely caked with makeup, which could easily be fixed if the man would just wash his face in the morning. Virgil Savage also had the miserable mannerism of being at least partially nocturnal.

Logan first found out about this “lifestyle” within a week of Virgil moving in. At first, he thought his neighbor was simply having trouble adjusting to his new house. And then the music started. Had it been any other time of day, perhaps Logan would have learned to let it by, to continue with his daily life. But because it was nine-thirty on a Wednesday night and Logan happened to teach Introduction to Astronomy on Thursdays at seven a.m., he marched over to the Savage house with a glare that burned hot enough to set Pluto alight, and knocked three times on the heavy door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited for a response.

Virgil had opened the door with tired, bleak eyes the color of the Milky Way, full of enigmatic monachopsis that seemed to scream for human contact like an abandoned astronaut, and all arguments fled from the tip of Logan’s tongue. The music was even louder with the door open; the most prominent instrument was a piano that sounded like someone was slamming their fingers down on the keys in a desperate rage. Someone was screaming about friends and not wanting to leave, their voice raspy and broken.

“Do you… need something?” his neighbor had asked with a gruff voice, clutching at his elbows as if the sooner Logan left, the better. Logan had snapped out of his daze, pushing his glasses back up as he looked up at the man standing in the doorway. He couldn’t see much from where he stood on the porch.

“Yes, actually, I would like for you to turn your music down. It is impeding my ability to sleep, and I have to teach a class in the morning,” Logan explained crisply. Virgil looked him up and down, sizing up his new competitor with a smug smirk.

“Well, I dunno, teach.” Logan’s heart stopped for a full second at the nickname before his face morphed into a mask of contempt. “There’s a party going on right now, and what party is complete without music?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced inside. He couldn’t see much besides a very much empty living room. “Apparently, a pity party,” he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. For a quarter of a second, a single frame in the movie of life, Virgil’s face had contorted, full of hurt, before quickly losing its emotion, replaced with cool nonchalance. Logan had had half the mind to apologize for his unsympathetic behavior before the song grew louder and Logan was reminded that it was late at night and he was too exhausted to deal with this sort of tomfuckery.

He was about to launch into a full debate to convince this heathen to turn his music down to a respectable volume when another figure came careening through the living room by way of an unseen doorway, crashing into Virgil with raucous, drunken giggles.

“Broooooo…” the newcomer slurred, his arms wrapped around Virgil’s neck for support. “You gotta finish that assignment of yours. You wanna pass the class, donya? Come ooooon,” he wheedled. Virgil’s face flushed as the stranger whined.

“Roman, how much have you drunk?”

“…a bottle.”

“A bottle?! Dee let you drink a whole bottle?!” Virgil’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he turned, facing the living room that still held no-one despite the “party” raging on inside. “Dee! I’m gonna kick your ass!” he yelled as he unwrapped Roman’s arms from his neck. Virgil’s eyes glanced back at Logan. “Sorry about my friend.”

With that, Virgil pushed Roman further into the house, muttering in exasperation as he shut the door without another word to Logan. The teacher blinked before he regained his senses. He scoffed at the sudden cut-off from his neighbor, rolling his eyes. There was nothing else he could do now besides head back home and shove a pillow over his ears to muffle the music.

It was only when he finally slipped into bed that he realized he could only hear the sound of crickets and someone’s air conditioner whirring in the late August night heat.

The music had been turned off.

He hated himself for believing that it would end that night with a simple confrontation. The next week, the music was up again. Logan was too busy grading incomplete and frustratingly incorrect constellation maps to tell off Virgil, and let it be. But then it happened again the next week. And the next. It seemed to Logan that Virgil was just trying to get a rise out of him at this point. When he called his brother he ask for advice, the only promising words he got was “talk to him.”

“Patton, you don’t understand. I have talked to him, he just won’t listen,” he sighed as his brother listened intently over the video call, constantly adjusting his round glasses.

“Now, Logan, you know that everybody communicates in different ways. Maybe he is listening, but he just can’t communicate in a way you understand.” Patton adjusted his glasses again as he tilted his head, a thought striking him. “Maybe he’s trying to get your attention?”

Logan sighed, thinking about Virgil. Would he really be the type of person to annoy him just to get his attention? Virgil didn’t need to play music at an irritating volume for Logan’s consideration of him—those sonderous eyes plagued him almost as much as the music did.

Hold on. What did he just think?

“Are you alright, Logan? You’re making face you always do whenever I correct on your grammar. You know—like someone just ate all the second cookies,” Patton giggled. Logan heard someone talking in the background as Patton turned away from the camera, listening to the person off-screen. “Yep! Do you wanna come say hi to him?” Logan heard a sound of acquiescence and the pounding of footsteps as someone ran down the hallway of his brother’s apartment.

“Hiya there, Logan!” He flinched as Patton’s partner, Emile, popped up in front of the camera. “I heard you were in a jam!” The psychiatrist held up a jar of jam as Logan groaned at the pun, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know which is worse—your puns or Virgil’s music,” he grumbled goodnaturedly as the partners collapsed into laughter that sounded choppy in the low quality audio of his laptop. He ran a hand through his hair as he checked the time, cringing at the late hour. “I’m sorry, Patton, but I’ll have to sign off now. It’s getting late and I have the wonderful blessing of teaching a morning class tomorrow. I’ll see you next weekend, correct?” His brother nodded as he and Emile wished Logan goodnight.

As he turned off his computer, his mind wandered back to the original topic of his and Patton’s conversation—Virgil. He couldn’t possibly be engaging in this childish feud because he was, what, interested in him? Logan snorted aloud, shaking his head. Virgil was obviously only toying with him.

“Well, then,” he whispered aloud as he slipped into bed, ready to fall asleep. “Two can play that game.”

He wasn’t able to put his plan into motion until the following weekend, just before he had to pick up Patton from the airport. It was quite simple, in Logan’s opinion, but then again, he reminded himself, he had to be on the road by at least nine so he could pick up Patton from his eleven-o-clock arrival, so complex schemes were out of the question until he had the time and reason to do such. Thus, he found himself setting a heavy speaker down on the edge of his front porch, his phone already connected to it. He had deliberated for a while on what song to use before settling on the timeless classic of “Hooked on a Feeling”.

He was about to turn on the speaker when he felt his phone vibrating in his hand. He turned it on to see a text from Patton: “So… I might have told you the wrong arrival time…” Immediately, he called his brother.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong arrival time’?” he questioned as soon as Patton picked up.

“Well, I’m here now. At the airport. It turns out the flight isn’t as long as I thought it was…” He could hear incessant chatter in the background and could clearly picture the dismal little airport that never seemed to stop renovating one wing or another, resulting in utter chaos when it came to an orderly flight schedule. “If you’re busy, don’t worry. I can wait a few hours—”

“Don’t be silly, Patton,” Logan interrupted. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes if the traffic’s alright.” He was already grabbing his keys from inside, throwing on a jacket, and unlocking his car doors. “Have you eaten yet?” The silence was answer enough for him. “There’s plenty of options around. Just be sure to eat something healthy, alright? And remember to get your bags,” he sighed as he started the car, the engine a gentle thrum beneath him.

“Alright, Logan, I will. See you in a bit. Thanks for picking me up.” The call disconnected, leaving Logan in the silence of his car before he decided surprisingly that he couldn’t stand the quietude and turned on the car radio as he backed out of the driveway, unaware of the jet black eyes that watched him go sadly.

Logan made to the airport in forty minutes, actually. He found Patton sitting at the counter of a small shop selling dumplings and baobaos, giddily eating the delicious food. He watched with a soft smile for a moment as Patton snuck a bite of a dumpling to the golden retriever laying on the floor beneath him, her vest proudly displaying her role as a service dog. As Patton straightened, he finally noticed his brother standing several feet away.

“Logan!” he called excitedly, waving him over. Logan’s feet moved on their own, small steps turning into bounds as he ran to his brother and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, too, Logan. It doesn’t seem that university can end soon enough.” Logan’s grip tightened before he released his brother. He felt something nose at his leg and looked down to see Lola nudging at his leg, staring up at him with puppy eyes, despite knowing full well she was not a puppy, by size nor age standards.

He crouched down and ran a hand through her fur as Lola’s tail began beating excitedly. “Hello to you, too,” he said as Lola barked softly in greeting. “You’ve got your bags?” he asked as he stood up. Patton nodded, finishing the last dumpling, and clambered off his stool, thanking the shop owners as he grabbed the handles of his two suitcases in both hands. “I’ll hold on to Lola.” He grabbed the golden retriever’s lease, untying it from the chair’s leg, and began guiding the dog and his brother through the dim airport to the parking lot.

It was nine forty a.m. when they got home. The sun was glimmering, bearing down with no qualms onto the earth with a fierce intensity that seemed to rake across their backs with a near unbearable heat. Patton took one look at the speakers still set up on Logan’s porch and turned around, stopping in his tracks.

“Logan, what are you planning?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to listen to some music while I washed my car,” he explained, even though he knew his car was clean and it was pointless to try and wash it when it was supposed to rain that night, anyways. Patton’s eyes narrowed with a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

“You’re going to play music, aren’t you?” he proclaimed, twirling around and pointing at Logan with one finger and a sly smile as though he was a detective who had just solved the most difficult case ever presented to him. “Oh, I knew that look meant something! You looked so starry-eyed when we were talking about Virgil!” Logan blanched as he gasped in indignation.

“I did not look starry-eyed! He’s not even my friend, he’s just my neighbor!”

“A neighbor who you call on every Wednesday night,” Patton teased as Logan brushed past him with a groan of frustration, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

“It’s his fault, Patton, he’s the one who plays punk rock from the 2000s and 70s and 80s pop songs played on what I think might be an organ louder than a plague of cicadas at ten-thirty at night.” Patton could only laugh at Logan’s description as he made his way into the kitchen and opened the fridge, already making himself at home.

“Sure, Logan.” Patton’s brow furrowed as he surveyed the fridge and its contents. “How many jars did Mom give you last time?”

“I counted twenty—wait, don’t change the subject, Patton!” Logan chastised. Lola spoke—or, rather, barked—up, woofing at the brothers as if to say, “stop talking about your neighbor and feed me.”

When at last Lola was fed and Patton had dropped his suitcases down in the guest room, it was nearing ten a.m.; he was finally able to step outside and stretch in the sun. Out of habit, he glanced at Virgil’s house, half expecting to see strobe lights flashing wildly behind the curtains, and saw nothing. He paused, his thoughts turning to the speaker still sitting abandoned on his porch. Was Virgil still asleep? An evil grin split across his face as he pulled out his phone, finding the song easily.

“I hope you like the taste of your own medicine,” he mumbled as he pressed played. Immediately, sound poured out of the speaker, the lowest notes tapping a familiar rhythm on his heart. He could just barely hear the sounds of confusion in the other house, following by the door slamming open as Virgil stumbled out in his pyjamas.

Well, he couldn’t really call them pyjamas. Virgil was covered—thankfully, of all the bad habits Virgil partook in, sleeping in the nude was not one of them—but just barely. He wore grey boxers beneath a violet tank top at least two sizes too big for him, and not much else. And perhaps Logan blushed furiously at the sight of sunshine on Virgil’s lanky arms and pale legs, but it was just from the heat. Just the heat.

Not that any of that mattered. Logan was too busy watching Virgil nearly trip over his feet as he shambled about in his lawn, momentarily blinded by the sun, to think any more about Virgil’s limbs. As his eyesight adjusted, Virgil noticed Logan standing in his own yard, then saw the speaker blasting music, and put two-and-two together.

“Do you know what time it is?” Virgil groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Logan snickered.

“It’s nine-fifty-two a.m., which is a more reasonable time than ten-forty-five at night,” he shot back. Virgil snorted before covering it with a cough. “Even if you wake up late, you should at least go to bed at a reasonable time. A good bedtime is crucial to a healthy life,” he lectured as Virgil raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Oh, getting worried about me, now? Careful, teach, or someone will think you’ve caught feelings for me,” Virgil chaffed, his eyes bright now in the daylight, intelligent and unrelenting in their mirth. Logan spluttered, unable to form a proper response. “Beware, Logan Guiscard. You’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box now.” Virgil’s voice was deep and full of laughter—like Logan was missing out on the funniest joke ever told. “I hope you like punk rock.”

He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “It’s you’ve been playing, how could it ever get old?” This time, Virgil snorted for real, chuckling uncontrollably as he backed away towards his house. Logan knew he wouldn’t get that sound out of his head for weeks. Virgil paused as he reached the doorstep of his home, glancing back over his shoulder.

“…I was finishing a report for my theoretical astrobiology class, by the way. I finished a little past midnight. Sorry for wanting to sleep in. I’ll make sure to let my professor know next time that I wasn’t able to finish my paper because my neighbor cared about me.” Logan physically stepped back, stunned. Virgil was taking university classes? And astronomy-related classes at that? Sweet heavens. Somehow, Logan’s face grew even more heated in the August sun.

Too bad Virgil had already left before Logan could find out more.

It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t warned him. Logan could clearly recall him referencing Greek mythology (which another one of his passions that just so luckily gave him an advantage in astronomy) as he swore to wreak havoc on Logan’s life. Now, perhaps he hadn’t used those exact words, but it was exactly what was happening at nine p.m. on a Tuesday night in the middle of his late-night astronomy class. The class was too far gone now to be reigned back in, the music was still pouring in through hidden speakers, and all Logan could do was stare at Virgil like his whole world had been shattered as his neighbor laughed with his whole body, the sound loud and full of life and shaking Logan’s very core.

He had been in the middle of explaining which constellations appeared during which seasons—it was the beginning of the semester and he had learned the hard way to always begin with the basics—when the music first started. He had been so envirgorated in his explanation of the importance of the North Star that he hadn’t heard it until one of his students asked if whoever was listening to Fall Out Boy would please turn the volume down. Logan had stopped in his tracks, eyes snapping back to reality with a sinking feeling of déjà vu, and listened.

Unfortunately, his dread was well-met. The sounds of Fall Out Boy’s “Thnks fr th Mmrs” were pouring in from all sides of his classroom; Logan scowled, already searching for the familiar pair of inky eyes that bedeviled his dreams and late-night musings. “Virgil Savage!” he yelled, praying that the incident was actually Virgil’s fault and not some poor student who just happened to have the exact same music interests as his neighbor. “You better show yourself before I make you!”

The laughter was more of a giveaway than anything else. Virgil slumped in the doorway, his smirk so infuriating yet charming all the same. He gave a two-fingered salute to the professor as he held up his phone, waving in his trademark teasing manner. Virgil paid no mind to the students staring at the occurrence with rabid curiosity; his focus was on Logan as he bit his bottom lip and held out the phone towards the professor as though inviting him closer.

“You want the music off?” he asked, his deep voice gliding out of his mouth and wrapping itself around Logan’s body like venti of the ancient age. Logan nodded silently and unceremoniously, unable to think of a good retort. “Come and turn it off yourself.”

That was what had sent his class into chaos. One of them had yelled “Dance party!” immediately after, jumping up from his seat and flailing his arms around in what Logan could only assume to be dancing—an attempt at dancing, at the very least. Logan glared at Virgil as he stalked slowly towards the interloper, the sounds of students nothing but background noise at this point. He leaned closer to Virgil, his eyes full of wrath.

“Turn that music off right now,” he hissed.

“You’re staying up too late. If I can’t sleep in, you can’t stay out,” was Virgil’s only response. Logan stuttered.

“You—I—I am teaching a class!”

“And I’m not turning the music off,” Virgil continued. “I told you, if you want it off—” Virgil other hand grabbed Logan’s waist, pulling him into a dip as the professor yelped in surprise and the students cheered Virgil on. “—you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

It took a full five seconds to pass before Logan’s brain rebooted, shutting down the moment Virgil’s warm touch had met his starved skin. Once his reason returned, he wrangled himself out of his neighbor’s arms with several muttered swears and all but ripped Virgil’s phone out of his hands, turning the music off quickly and shoving the device back towards his neighbor. He glared daggers at the interloper for good measure as he retreated back into the comforts of his classroom with a scowl on his face.

“You’re not getting enough sleep either, teach. What was it you said? Yeah, I remember now: ‘a good bedtime is crucial to a healthy lifestyle.’” Virgil smirked as he watched Logan try to reign in his class, to no avail, those dark irises of his eyes holding something mysterious Logan would love to unravel if it weren’t for the classroom of fifty students in the process of losing their minds. “Of course, not letting loose every once in a while and refusing to humor your everloving neighbor really takes a hit on you, doesn’t it?” Logan glanced at Virgil as he paused from removing a recording phone from particularly stubborn student, focusing on the annoyance swirling through him instead of the rapid, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wave of warmth that overcame him at the sight of Virgil’s eyes, half hooded by his black-painted eyelids and full of curiosity—curiosity for Logan. That particular feeling he shoved back into the recesses of his mind.

“Virgil Savage, escort yourself out of this room or I will have security do so. We will continue this at a later date.” Virgil only grinned wickedly as he saluted once more and slinked behind the door frame, disappearing in the myriad of hallways.

“How about we continue it tomorrow at Bourbon Coffee? I hear they make great croissants!” Virgil shouted back. Logan stopped dead in his tracks, his head whipping towards the door in shock. But in true Virgil fashion, he was gone before Logan could find out more.

His only hope to gain another piece of the puzzle that was Virgil Savage was to meet him at Bourbon Coffee tomorrow morning.

He prayed he would survive their encounter.

Logan woke up to the mouth-watering smell of french toast the next morning, a smile already on his face. He found his brother in the kitchen, slipping Lola little bites of bacon as he cooked.

“What is all this for, Patton? Don’t you trust me to make my own breakfast?” he asked as he patted Lola, who showed off her canines with a beam.

“One of Emile’s former patients is one of your students. They told a little story on Twitter, and Emile found out and told me!” Patton swiveled around, almost whacking Logan in the face with his spatula. “How come you didn’t tell me you were going on a date?” Logan huffed, swiping a slice of bacon from the plate where they were cooling.

“It’s not a date,” he argued. “This might be my only chance to actually deal with Virgil besides throwing a pillow over my ears.” Patton chuckled, leaving the conversation as he finished cooking and slid two slices of french toast onto a nearby plate and handing it to Logan, throwing a smaller slice on the floor for Lola to wolf down. He continued his points as he ate. “Besides, I wouldn’t even call our relationship a friendship—”

“Alright, first off, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Patton interrupted as he maneuvered them both to sit at the dining room table. “Second of all.” Patton waited until Logan looked up at his brother, holding his gaze. “Do you want it to be a friendship?” he asked gently, knowing the look that was growing in Logan’s eyes.

“…Truth be told, Patton… I do. Virgil…” Logan sighed, unsure how he could ever explain his interest in Virgil if he couldn’t explain the greatest mysteries of the universe, which were far more comprehensible than the mind and soul of his neighbor. “…Virgil is unexplainable. I try to understand him. But I can’t… Am I wrong to want to understand him?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Patton’s lips as he regarded his brother. “No. Not at all.” Patton’s grin turned mischievous. “But date or not, I still get to be excited! You never go out, it’s nice to see you having fun for once.” For once, Logan did not respond to Patton, allowing himself to genuinely grin.

Fun…

It wasn’t a foreign word in his dictionary, but its page wasn’t dog-eared the way other words were. It didn’t have the significance of ebullience (bubbly enthusiasm—it reminded him of his brother), it didn’t have the importance of syzygy (the alignment of celestial bodies—he always found some way to weave it into his lectures), it didn’t roll across his tongue with the same effortlessness of hiraeth (homesickness for a place that never was or cannot be returned to—plus, it tied into his efforts to learn the Welsh language). Fun was not an unknown word, but it was not one mulled over like wine as he pondered his place in the universe.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t reintroduce it to his vocabulary, relearn the way it sounded, the way it felt running along his vocal cords.

Patton could tell what was going through his brother’s mind. He sat back lazily as he ate his breakfast, his smile just barely concealing his pride. “It’s almost nine, by the way,” he added. “You should get ready soon.” Logan nodded, only a little disappointed that they had to end their moment of peace so quickly.

Far too soon, he found himself ready to go, with the exception of a stomach that wouldn’t stop churning. Logan had no idea why he was so nervous—at best, he and Virgil would get coffee and talk without tearing each other’s head apart, and at worst they would just continue their feud like normal. It wasn’t like things going wrong would ruin his life irreversibly—so why did Logan feel the need to impress Virgil, to make things go perfectly?

He pushed those musings to the back of mind for later analysis. He headed outside to be met with the uncomfortable heat he was so used to yet hated all the same. Wearing a black cotton button down did nothing to relieve the suffocating heat against his body. Silently, he cursed the sun as he glanced about, wondering where Virgil was. It hit him that they had never agreed to a specific time. For all Logan knew, Virgil could already by at the coffee shop waiting for him.

Swallowing thickly—he didn’t know why, he had no reason to be nervous—Logan walked over to his neighbor’s house and rapped his knuckles against the door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited.

The door opened to reveal… not-Virgil. Logan vaguely recalled him as the drunken man who had popped up behind Virgil the first time he had given his neighbors a visit, though he could not remember the man’s name for the life of him. The man yawned, staring at Logan.

“You’re that teacher Virgil’s obsessed with, right?” he asked.

“…Yes?” Logan wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that, even if his heart did flutter a little bit at it. “Is he inside? We’re supposed to meet at Bourbon Coffee, but he failed to give a time. I thought it would be logical to go with him so we arrive at the same time.”

The man at the door chuckled. “Virgil’s got a date, eh?”

Logan flushed against his will. “Alright—first of all, it is not a date, and second of all, would you please just tell me where he is?” he pleaded. The man nodded with a lopsided grin, glancing behind him.

“He’s still asleep. Probably thought the date would be a late one,” he drawled, laughing at the way Logan grumbled at the continued use of the word “date.” The man stuck out his hand, at last (re)introducing himself. “I’m Roman. Nice to properly meet you.” Logan took his hand politely, shaking it as he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he looked inside the house to hopefully see Virgil.

“I’m Logan Guiscard. Pleasure to meet you as well,” he said, biting back his frown when he couldn’t see his enigmatic neighbor. He drew his hand back with an awkward sigh. “Well, please let me know when Virgil wakes. I would rather go with him to the coffee shop than wait for him.” Roman nodded, saying he would, and closed the door to leave Logan standing on the porch with a heavy heart, though he decided it was better not to analyze why he felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to see Virgil.

Logan felt his phone vibrate and saw a text from his brother. Are you there yet? it read. He texted back a quick response, smirking devilishly when a notification from his music service popped up, giving him a positively evil idea. He tapped on the notification, opening the app, and scrolled until he found a song Virgil would adore waking up to.

“Would you mind if I listened to some music while I waited?” Logan asked Roman as innocently as possible. The neighbor shrugged. He bit back his sly grin as he subtly turned his volume all the way, connecting to his speaker, which remained on the porch from their last morning encounter. He pressed play, and let himself smile at last as chaos erupted to the sound of My Chemical Romance’s “Planetary (GO!)”.

The first thing to happen was Roman bursting into laughter as he realized what was happening. The second thing to happen was a series of shouts from inside Virgil’s house. Two people emerged from the shadows—someone Logan had yet to meet, and Virgil. He felt himself smile without thinking at the sight of his neighbor. Virgil’s eyes were hooded and full of exhaustion, bent on the murder of whoever woke him up so early. They cleared upon seeing Logan, lighting up like fireworks, but quickly narrowed as he put two and two together and realized Logan was behind his early wake-up.

“Y’know, if it weren’t for the fact that I love this song, I would be throttling you, you damn player,” Virgil mumbled with a tired laugh. He was murmuring along to the lyrics, holding out a hand to the teacher. “Come on, aren’t you going to dance with me?” For a moment, Logan felt like he had landed on an alien planet, because in no galaxy would this ever happen, but the moment passed as soon Logan realized, foreign planet or not, there was no way he would ever refuse.

He took Virgil’s hand with a sheepish smile, a silent apology for his lack of skill when it came to the aesthetic movement of his awkward limbs. Virgil didn’t seem to mind as they danced—well, to call it dancing would be pushing it. It was more like what Patton had once described as “moshing”, a frantic but energizing thrashing of arms and legs with no regards of what others thought. It was fun. Logan found that he actually liked it—or perhaps it was only because Virgil was dancing with him, and in a few minutes they would be grabbing coffee together like a real couple… of friends.

When at last the song ended, both of them were gasping for air as they laughed like the idiots they were. Logan was grinning so hard it hurt, but he found he didn’t care. I like him. I really like him a lot.

For once, the thought didn’t scare him.

“I’m guessing you want to head to Bourbon Coffee?” Virgil was asking him. Logan nodded wordlessly, unable to speak as he regained his breath. Virgil smiled softly. “I’ll go change, then. I’ve shown up wearing pyjamas too many times, they’ll probably kick me out this time.” Virgil hurried inside to change out of his night clothes, leaving Logan alone with Roman and the new person.

“We haven’t met before, I’m Logan Guiscard,” he introduced, holding out a hand to them. Their eyes flickered over Logan for a moment.

“Desmond Inoni. Call me Dee. You’re the teacher Virgil’s obsessed with,” the man stated cooly, amused as Logan blushed furiously, spluttering incessantly. The teacher was unable to voice his objections further, as Virgil came running out, hopping on one foot as he shoved a black sneaker on. “You two have fun,” Dee called as they set off. Virgil flipped him off playfully over his shoulder as Logan motioned for him to get in the teacher’s car.

In ten minutes, they were sitting down in the cafe with their hot coffee. Logan had gotten a simple black coffee, with about a bucket of added sugar, and Virgil had ordered some complex drink the bartender seemed to have had memorized. They sat in a corner booth by the window, enjoying the company of some calming, though probably fake, spider plants. Logan tried his best to be inconspicuous as he studied Virgil Savage, the mystery himself. He studied the way Virgil bobbed slightly to the cliché electro swing, the way the sunlight lit up the dusk in his eyes, the way his lips curved when he smiled as he spoke about his short-lived endeavor to become a musician to pay his way through college.

“What about you?” Virgil inquired. “How did you pay for college?”

“I won a scholarship by writing about astronomy. Being a teaching assistant helped to pay for the rest,” he explained. “I had to work quite hard to keep my scholarship, so I never had as many chances to make relationships—platonic or otherwise.” He caught Virgil’s gaze as he mumbled, “This is actually the first time I’ve been out with someone besides my brother and his partner…” Virgil’s eyes visibly widened in disbelief.

“Never?!” Logan shook his head, less melancholic than the last time he had mused over the young adulthood he never had. Somehow, sharing his woes with his neighbor lessened their meaning. Virgil took a sip of his drink before continuing, looking out beneath his thick eyelashes. “…I’m glad you thought my company was worthy enough for you, Logan.”

Logan knew he would treasure the way Virgil said his name for eons, forever and ever until the final star burned out and left the universe dark. He would always remember the way his heart skipped a beat, something slotting into place. Even if nothing came of this experience, even if by some reason he never saw Virgil again, even if the world ended right that moment and he was the last being alive, he would know that he had fallen in love with Virgil Savage.

But his neighbor was not meant to be his soulmate. Virgil didn’t love him.

“Logan? You okay?” Virgil was waving his hand in front of his face, worry swimming in his eyes. “You kinda disassociated for a moment. Don’t worry, I do it all the time.” Logan almost chuckled at Virgil’s small blush. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he promised. “Just… glad you think my company is worth an early rise.” Virgil cracked a smile with a huff, shaking his head.

“Don’t think this changes things,” he warned. “I have a whole playlist you’re going to fall asleep to.”

“That would sound adorable and affectionate if I didn’t know what a scoundrel you truly are,” Logan fired back with a smirk of his own. “I promise I’ll have my own songs to share with you in the early morning hours.” Virgil laughed loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

They sat and talked for what must have been hours, trading anecdotes, questions, and life advice. He learned that Virgil had grown up half an hour away in the backwoods of suburbia, that his favorite color was violet, his favorite animal was a bird of paradise because their dances were beautiful and stupid at the same time, that his parents were divorced but were still friends, that his biggest wish as a young, dumb kid was to be an astronaut and die among the stars. In return, he told Virgil about himself, how his mother had died when he was nine but he loved his stepmother just as much, how his adoration of space began when an astronaut came to his school, how his favorite article of clothing was an old baggy sweatshirt from his first year teaching.

Yet all good things must come to an end, and eventually Virgil had to ruefully apologize that he had an appointment he needed to go to, and had to leave.

He watched Virgil leave wistfully, stirring what remained of his coffee with a cheap plastic stick as he let his thoughts wander over mountains and meadows. Somehow, by some chance, he was in love with Virgil Savage.

Even if Virgil never loved him back, he would make sure to cherish him. He would love and he would lose, yes, but he knew it would be better than to love and to imagine what could have been.

The climax to it all came about a week later, after many continued meetups. Virgil had been hinting at some big finale to it all for the past few days, and Logan was both incredibly excited and incredibly terrified of what his neighbor was planning.

It happened on a clear October night, just as Logan was winding down from a particularly tiring day. Patton was packed and ready to leave tomorrow morning, already sleep despite the early evening hour, and as much as his puns and jokes exasperated Logan to no end, he was going to miss his brother.

The teacher was sitting at the dining room table, finishing up reading a student’s paper. He rubbed at his fluttering eyelids, trying to keep himself from falling asleep as he took another sip from his water, determined to have all his papers graded before he went to sleep. He glanced at his watch every few minutes, chastising himself for checking so often as though he were waiting for something, quickly righting his course of focus back to his yet-to-be-graded papers.

He was about to call it a night and resign himself to an early morning finishing yesterday’s work when it happened. Through the window, which he had left open so he could enjoy the sounds of the night, came the telltale beginnings of trouble, a faint rumble Logan had come to recognize as a bassline emanating from his neighbor’s house.

As he began to hear the lyrics, he tipped back his head with a groan that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be exasperated or amused. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me…” he muttered as he pushed away from the table to stumble to the window and stand bewildered at the apparent absence of life in the Savage household. Not even a bedroom light was on inside, and it seemed either Virgil had fallen asleep to The All-American Rejects, or this was Virgil’s finale. He knew it was the latter.

Sighing, he pushed away from the table with a clatter of his chair. Running a hand through unkempt tangles of hair, Logan all but shoved the door open and walked out into the brisk night, letting the overwhelming intensity of the song wash over him and take all worries of the papers on his kitchen table away from his mind. Then he noticed movement from one of the windows, and Logan knew to prepare himself for an overly dramatic performance that would have cemented his love for his neighbor if the secret space enthusiasm and the wistful eyes hadn’t already done so.

Logan’s hypothesis proved correct when the bridge of the song began, and people poured out of the house, just like in the music video—which he had watched dozens of times, in a long playlist titled “virgil’s favorites -- memorize!!”, because if he was going to be in love with the man, he might as well know more about what he liked.

And, just like in the music video, they began chanting the ever-plaguing verse as Virgil, playing the role of Tyson Ritter, strutted slowly and calmly down the steps to the teacher’s driveway, where Logan was waiting for him, an exasperated smirk greeting his neighbor.

As soon as Virgil was within an earshot, Logan called to him. “Is this your finale, then?” Virgil’s eyes lit up with playfulness as he stood toe to toe with the teacher, his grin bigger than a full moon.

“Was it too predictable for you?” Virgil retorted with a glimmer of affection in his voice.

“Perhaps,” Logan replied in the same dramatic air as Virgil. “Though I’m beginning to think maybe it’s because I’m rubbing off on you.”

“And maybe it’s because I’m letting you rub off on me. Maybe I like it,” Virgil laughed as he stepped but an inch closer. Logan could see the little discolored speckles in Virgil’s eyes now, from how close they were. Almost close enough to kiss, his brain supplied (un)helpfully.

At once, Logan’s entire demeanor changed. They were close enough to kiss, weren’t they? He’d been fantasizing about it on more than one occasion, though Logan always classified them as nothing but. Nothing but fantasies to tuck away for reminiscing. But here, under starlight, with Virgil looking like a Lunar Queen, with those mesmerizing eyes trapping his, those fantasies seemed more like memories.

“Logan,” Virgil whispered. And like that, the spell was broken. Logan broke from his dreaming to hear a silent night once more, the song having ended without his notice. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Virgil beat him to it. “Look up.”

And, oh, wasn’t that a sight.

“I was wondering why you weren’t outside watching the meteor shower, and when I texted Patton, he said you were grading papers. Can you believe it? Missing the coolest thing in the world for a couple of dead trees?” Virgil was saying, his voice soft and gentle as a blanket.

Logan, of course, was too busy looking to hear him.

Not looking at the meteor shower—oh, no, no. As gorgeous as the black-blue-purple swashes of paint across the heavens was, as breath-taking as the falling stars were, as inspiring as the night sky captured in pure happiness was, none of it compared to the beauty he was so enraptured by—the beauty, of course, being the look of pure awe in Virgil’s eyes as he watched the meteors shoot across the sky.

Without thinking, Logan leaned over, and kissed him.

It was brief, but as soon as he pulled away, he said, “I think I love you.” Just to cement it, of course. To make sure Virgil knew.

The man in question stared at Logan, his eyes wide with surprise, and lips parted in an unspoken gasp. Virgil said nothing. He only grabbed the back of Logan’s neck and pulled him for a second, better kiss.

Two shooting stars crossed the sky together above them, as if in love.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

First Impressions

Summary: With the multiverse now in play, we visit an alternate universe where Steve Rogers is America’s first bisexual contestant on the ever popular and never lacking dating show, The Bachelor. Nick Fury is your illustrious host through the shocking announcement, contestant biographies, and the first night in the mansion. Only one question remains; who will get the first impression rose on what is promised to be the most dramatic season ever!? Pairing: Steve x Avengers Warning(s): Language. Kissing. A hell of a lot of cringe and bachelor/bachelorette tropes. Word Count: 3,238 Beta: The darling sweetheart @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: This is my entry to @revengingbarnes 10K writing challenge. My prompt was a Bachelor AU. Thank you so much for hosting this, Fatima! This prompt was honestly a challenge for me. I wasn’t sure which point of view and formatting I wanted. It’s certainly unlike anything I’ve ever written. Please no one hate me if I made your fav annoying. I just wanted to fit in as many bachelor personality tropes. The fic isn’t an actual representation of my thoughts on each character. 

Live Studio Audience: Intro

“Good evening and welcome to this exciting season of The Bachelor. I’m Nick Fury, your host for tonight.” The studio audience erupts into choreographed uproar. “Looks like Bachelor Nation is out in full force tonight. Are you all ready for what I promise is our most dramatic season ever?”

Nick commands the stage with a casual grace that only comes from years of hosting. “Last season you all watched as the beautiful bombshell Peggy Carter embarked on her quest for love; which she found with her now fiance. While we wish her the best of luck with her engagement, we couldn’t help be as heartbroken as you all were when a particular fan favorite was booted just before hometown dates. Let’s take a look at this season’s Bachelor!”

Broadcast: Steve’s Bio

“My name is Steve Rogers. I’m twenty-six years old. Born and raised in Brooklyn. You may know me from Peggy Carter’s season of The Bachelorette.”

The audience is treated with a montage of Steve at home in Brooklyn. He walks down the street to a corner bodega on a spring day; smiling and greeting the owner at the counter like they’re old friends. The old tabby cat sat on the counter near the register curls into his hand as he scratches behind her ears.

“A little known fact about me is that I really love cooking.” The next shot is him cooking a large family style meal in a stunning modern kitchen. The black hexagon tiles frame the close up of the saute pan as he flips the food; clearly practiced. The camera zooms in once more for a close up shot of Steve’s large calloused hands making deft work of chiffonading the basal to top his culinary masterpiece. As far as lusting goes, the depiction of Steve as the bachelor is a lot less macho and hits more boy-next-door.

“Things didn’t quite work out with Peggy and I. While we’re kindred souls, I think it just wasn’t the right time.” Steve’s no longer shown at home in his cozy apartment but in a carefully crafted video confessional booth.

The audience hears the producer’s voice off screen, “Do you think you’re over her? Are you ready for love?”

“Definitely. I learned a lot from Peggy. I learned who I am and what I need from a relationship. I’m ready for the whole damn thing. I want a partner, I want kids. I like pretty pedestrian, domestic things.” He looks down at his lap, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “I like ceremony. I wanna carve pumpkins and do the tree at christmas; all that.”

“Anything else you’d like to add to your intro?” The producers prompt. Steve’s broad shoulders straighten and take up much of the booth; his body tense with nervous energy which he masks with a radiant smile. He takes a deep breath before looking the camera dead in the eye.

“I’m Steve Rogers… and I’m the first bisexual Bachelor.”

Live Studio Audience:

The audience goes wild; homemade signs wave, men and women alike scream their delight. Nick Fury stands in the small center stage waiting for the crowds applause to dissipate.

“So needless to say, this season will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.” He smirks at the camera knowingly. “Before we jump back into tonight’s episode, would you guys like to hear from America’s sweetheart himself?” More incoherent cheering. “Let’s bring him on out!”

Steve appears from behind the crimson velvet curtain waving sheepishly. They’ve slicked back his locks doing nothing to detract from the classic bachelor look. He unbuttons the slim navy suit jacket as Fury gestures for him to sit on the small interview couch.

“Welcome, Steve. How ya feeling tonight?”

“Not gonna lie, Nick. I feel super nervous.” He fidgets in the seat a bit; rubbing the flats of his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Being the bachelor is one thing. Being the first bisexual bachelor is another.”

“Well I’m not sure about you guys, but I thought it was about time!” Nick’s enthusiasm draws more cheering from the crowd. “We got to know you on Peggy’s season and America just fell in love with you. You’re such a great guy; so genuine and compassionate.”

“Thank you, really, thank you. I honestly was terrified to be the first bisexual man on the show. Being the bachelor has always traditionally been typecast as a very specific type of man; one that I didn’t really see myself fitting into. So to be given this opportunity to find love and to have the support that I’ve gotten since the announcement has been beyond my wildest dreams.”

“You ready to jump into your season?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“While Steve may be our first bisexual bachelor, you can expect not much to change on the show. Each week contestants will be eliminated at a traditional rose ceremony. We’ll still have the first impression rose, hometown dates, and the always anticipated fantasy suits!”

Fury eyes Steve hoping to make him squirm a bit. Steve manages to make his sinful blush look composed while he chuckles.

“Without further ado let’s meet the delightful men and women vying for a spot in Steve’s heart.”

Broadcast: Contestant Bios

“My name? Tony Stark. Don’t worry about having your little design guys whip me a tagline; I’m certain no one needs it. Household name n’ all.” A smirking brunette stares directly into the camera and winks. He’s wearing rose tinted sunglasses despite the dimmed lighting of the interview space. “So what do you wanna know?”

The producers sigh before proceeding. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

The camera stays in the testimonial booth but now a blonde women occupies the seat. Unlike the previous occupant she isn’t slouching but sits with excellent posture and poise.

“My name is Sharon McCarter. I’m an agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I need someone who’s ready for a fast paced lifestyle. My job keeps me on my toes.”

“What did you think when Steve was announced as the bachelor? What did you think of him being bisexual?”

“Honestly?” Sharon pauses a bit buffudled. “He seems a bit more clean cut then the guys I usually go for.” She looks at the camera with a hesitant smile.

“What would you say your passion is?”

“Fitness. Fitness and health, for sure.” The booth is now overwhelmed with an exceptionally huge man. His long blonde hair falls to his shoulders with delicate braids mixed into his locks. “I’m Thor Odinson. I own and operate Odinsons Gym with my brother Loki.”

“How would you describe yourself as a partner. What could Steve expect?”

Thor continues in his deep voice. It carries subtle hint of an accent not from the states, “Steve could expect the rough sexiness of a pirate mixed with the pure innocence of an angel; the perfect boyfriend if you ask me.”

“What kind of partner do you hope to be for Steve?”

“An attentive one. I’m a scientist by profession.” The tagline on the screen says that the brunette with the tossed curls currently answering his interview questions is Bruce Banner. “A good part of my job is being detail oriented and focused. I’d like to think I bring that same level of attentiveness and sensitivity to my partner.”

Live Studio Audience:

“Welcome back, Bachelor Nation! It looks like Steve has a great batch of men and women who couldn’t be more excited to get their journey started. Let’s see how Steve get’s along navigating his first night in Bachelor Mansion.

Show Footage:

The camera pans across a gorgeous california night sky and comes to land on Steve standing in front of Bachelor Mansion. They have him perfectly centered between two backlit trees with the ornate floral fountain babbling as a soundtrack. He fidgets with his plain black tie waiting for the first limo to pull up. He stares into the camera and mouths a very endearing “What do I do with my hands!”

From that moment on, it’s a parade of individuals dressed to the nines. The women stun in their gleaming and silky ball gowns. The men glow in their crisp suits. Each give their cheesy one liners to Steve before heading into the mansion.

A man named Phil, who insists that Steve call him Coulson, gives him a red, white, and blue sash emblazoned with the words America’s Sweetheart on it while wearing his own sash reading Mr. America. A women named Wanda introduces herself in a thick, sultry accent.

“Where are you from, Wanda?”

“Sakovia. I’m so excited to meet you. I look forward to teaching you about my culture and getting to know you better.”

After Wanda, the next person out of the limo is Clint. He makes a qippy one liner before sauntering into the mansion. A woman named Carol strolls confidently out of the limo nearly glowing in her crimson and gold gown. Next comes a bird. It’s not actually a bird; but rather a man in an oversized mascot type costume.

“Did you know that eagles mate for life?”

Steve stares at the camera for half a second as if questioning if the producers are serious. “I didn’t know that. Any chance I can see the eagle’s face? Or at least know his name?”

“We’ll save the pretty face for later, but the name is Sam.”

Steve takes a moment to compose himself after the bird’s introduction. The final woman exits the limo. She’s in a simple black dress that hugs her body dangerously. Her flame red hair cascades down one shoulder. Her introduction is clipped and to the point. Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

Her face softens then. “It’s Natasha, but you can call me Nat.”

After the train of individuals Steve is looking more relaxed. He seems to have settled into his role with less nerves than when the show began. The final contestant steps out of the limo.

“Good evening, Steve. My name is James Barnes. You look so handsome tonight.”

Steve takes in the man across from him. He’s got equally broad shoulders as Steve; they’re nearly matched in height. He wears his silky brown locks at shoulder length with a dainty waterfall braid on one side. The baby blue of his pocket square matches his eyes.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, James.”

**************************************************************************************************

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, settle down. You all know who I am already,” Nick Fury is addressing all the contestants as they make themselves comfortable in the front living room at the mansion. “Steve! Why don’t you come on in here and get this cocktail party started?”

Steve enters the room gracefully. “I just want to thank you all for being here. I know that putting yourself out there in a new relationship is never easy; let alone in a situation like this one. It’s incredibly important to me that you all are your genuine selves. I wanna get to know the real you. Here’s to the start of something amazing!”

He raises his glass to a chorus of agreeing voices. There’s a half second of adjustment before Tony clasps Steve’s hand and tugs him away from the group.

“I’m gonna steal you first.”

Despite his depiction as an arrogant ass in his interview, Tony actually has a pleasant conversation with Steve. The audience is left wondering if Tony is the likeable wild card or this seasons possible obnoxious villain. Before Tony saunters off, he presses a deep kiss onto Steve’s lips.

“Had to get you first, handsome.” He winks and heads to the bar to refresh his drink.

Steve stares into the camera and states, “I guess we’re starting things off with a bang?”

**************************************************************************************************

Clint, being the critical observer, saunters over to the bar to find that Coulson is already posted up on one of the bar stools. It’s by sheer force of will that Coulson is upright as the lack of armrests and amount of alcohol he’s clearly consumed are working against him. Clint quickly surveys the situation and makes eye contact with the camera.

“How ya doin’ there Phil? Save some for us, huh?” Beneath the joke there is a hint of concern in his voice. It would appear the concern is warranted as Phil tips dangerously towards the edge of his seat before righting himself. The first stumble is corrected but the second lands him on the floor. “Whoa big guy. Can I get some help here? Producers? I think first night nerves may have lead Phil to throw back one too many.”

“No pro-hicc-ducers. I’m fine. I’m fiiiine,” Phil slurs. Despite Clint’s efforts to keep him upright he’s laying on the floor, cheek pressed firmly to the cold tile. “I just love Steve-hicc-so much. Ya know?”

“Sure you do buddy...sure you do?”

**************************************************************************************************

Steve speaks to Wanda, Bruce, and Thor in a series of rapid fire exchanges over the next couple of hours. After a warm conversation, Carol leaves Steve lounging on the plush chaise; promising that one day they’ll go stargazing together.

“No one told me these cocktail parties were so exhausting.” The camera crew chuckle. It’s endearing how much Steve utilizes them to break the tension. His unfiltered emotions only make him that much more of an approachable sweetheart. The makeup staff powder his face as Nick Fury approaches.

“We have about a half hour before the rose ceremony. Just a heads up. Any conversations you wanna have, have them now.”

Steve meanders through the expansive grounds. He’s clearly looking for something. He brushes off Thor asking for a second conversation with a polite excuse before take another turn in the winding paths.  He turns his head over his shoulder to ask the camera men which way back inside when he collides with something. Someone.

“It’s probably ill advised to get the attention of the man of your affections by knocking him on his ass, huh?” Bucky jokes. “I actually was coming to grab you for a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night.”

The two men are sat side by side, dress pants rolled up to their knees, while their legs swing gentle waves into the surface of the pool. Dusk has gone and night has come. They’ve been talking for some time now. They’ve both discarded their suit jackets but it’s done nothing to prevent the evening humidity from clinging their shirts to their muscles.

“I have to ask. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

“Is that you cheesily telling me you feel like you’ve known me for one hundred years?” Steve asks in a singsong mocking tone.

“No! Punk! I’m serious though.” Bucky thinks for a moment before exclaiming, “Do you go to that bodega on the corner of Clark and Henry with Mr. O’Sullivan and his cat Maevie?”

“See I was having a great time chatting with you but now I have to send you home cause clearly you’re a stalker.”

“I knew it! You look...different?”

Steve chuckles gently. “I bulked up a bit for the show. Had to fit the ‘look’ ya know?”

“I feel like such an idiot for not talking to you sooner but I hadn’t seen you there in a long time. I usually go super late though.” Bucky looks down at his hands; there’s more to the statement than he’s letting on.

“Chatting with Mr. O’Sullivan is always a good way to pass the time when insomnia strikes.” Bucky looks up at Steve in shock. He’s ready to explain himself but Steve jumps up abruptly out of the pool. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

In Steve’s haste to stand, he’s soaked most of his dress pants all the way through. He follows the twists and turns of the gardens and seating areas. Natasha sees him approaching the bench she’s sat at with Wanda. She raises her hand to grab his attention but before she can even get his name out of her mouth his jogged past.

“He’s disappeared for nearly an hour, no one could find him, and then he’s just not gonna talk to the rest of us?” Disappointment clouds her features as she sits back down next to Wanda with a plop.

“I’m so excited to talk to him. He’s just got great energy-” Sam’s discussion with Bruce is cut off by Steve skidding into the living room; wet bare feet nearly have him knocked on his ass for the second time tonight. “There’s the man of the hour himself. Can I steal you?”

Sam stands confidently looking rather hopeful; bird costume now discarded. Steve does a double take eyeing him top to bottom. He rests both his hands on the top of Sam’s shoulders before speaking.

“I would love to have a conversation with you. There’s just one thing I have to do first.” With that Steve takes off once more. He sprints to the small side table in the entryway. On the table sits a delicate gold tray holding a single rose. He quickly snatches it before dashing back out to the pool.

“Hey now. You may be more beefed up but I’m certain your probably still capable of cracking your head open. Careful now.” Bucky tuts laughing at the breakneck pace. His laughter is quickly stifled when he sees what’s in Steve's open palm.

“James-”

“It’s Bucky. Everyone close to me calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky… coming into tonight I was terrified. I know that sounds like the typical monologue speech I have to give but I was near ready to toss my cookies out front when the limo first opened. I had no idea what to expect and had convinced myself I’d made a huge mistake putting myself out here.”

Bucky takes a single foot out of the water and tucks it beneath his body to better face Steve. The hand that isn’t holding the rose is fidgeting with a fold of fabric from his pants. Bucky reaches out and plants his palm on top of the blondes ceasing the movement. His thumb strokes small circles onto the back of Steve’s hand; it seems to allow Steve to continue with what he has to say.

“My anxiety was at an all time high and then out you came. Speaking to you tonight has been the first time since agreeing to be the bachelor that I feel like I’m doing something right. I want to thank you for putting me at ease and being your true self.”

“You’re welcome, punk.” The joking nickname sounds more affectionate than insult.

“Bucky, will you accept this rose?”

“I’d be honored.”

Steve untwines his hand to pin the crimson rose to Bucky’s lapel. His hands hesitate once the rose is in place as if debating their next action. There’s a half second pause before Steve gently tugs on Bucky’s tie drawing the brunette into a kiss.

Bucky can’t contain the wide smile despite Steve’s lips still being against his. He breaks the kiss and places a final peck on Steve’s forehead.

“I know this isn’t going to be easy for you. But anytime during this experience you never need to doubt who I am with you. I’m here to get to know you, support you, and hopefully fall in love with you. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

[k-fiction-therapy]

Just Another Face In The Crowd

Moodboard by Admin Scar

Starring: Jeon Jungkook & Female Reader

Includes: Fluff, Cute Things & Heavy Petting

Rating: PG-13

~*.*..*--Don’t make me chase you all over the world, baby...because I will.*..*.*~

A/N: Originally, I wrote this fanfiction for a friend of mine that stans Jungkook so hard, her general reaction to seeing new idols was “Oh, but he’s no Kookie.” She has been such a loyal stan that I’m surprised her driving record isn’t spotless considering how well she stays in his lane. That said, this one goes out to all the Jungkook stans, and ARMY alike--Who wouldn’t want to meet their idol bias behind a venue, and experience love at first meeting? <3

Musical Inspiration: Love At First Sight - Kylie Minogue

Asks Open for Feedback, Comments, Kudos and Thoughts. <3

              If you were honest, you had never thought you would be here. Front row. BTS International Tour. You could feel the excitement course through you even before you reached the venue, but now as you stood there, you felt like you were on a whole other level of emotion. You wanted to laugh, to cry, to fall over and to scream until your lungs hurt. Honestly, you felt so bipolar in that moment that you almost convinced yourself to go see a therapist after—but, you knew you were just being silly. You could get through this without dying from happiness—or at least that’s what you kept repeating to yourself.  

              As the concert started, each pulse of the bass had you nearly sobbing, your eyes wide and brimming with tears as you watched the boys come out on stage. You screamed so loudly that your voice was almost immediately hoarse. You loved them all, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love Jungkook more than any other member. The moment you saw him, you confirmed that all the photos you’d ever seen paled in comparison. His chocolate hair, the curve of his eyes and the sweet, and simultaneously delectable, shape of his body, all called to you, making you feel weak in the knees—even as you jumped up and down to the beat of the music.

              When the ment came, you knew that you were going to get to hear his voice and see that brilliant smile some more, so you perked in your spot. Leaning up on the railing, pulling yourself up a bit to try and somehow get closer to the stage, regardless of the impossibility of that yearning. Your outfit rose up a bit against the metal, making you fall back a bit so that you didn’t look too disheveled, past the small bit of sweat on your brow from being so close to these other people. You had dressed cute on purpose, hoping that they would notice you in the sea of girls chanting their names.

              The boys walked back out on stage, holding their sweat rags to their foreheads, looking out over the crowd. The Army of Bombs went crazy, flashing in waving hands in a fluttering wave of light that danced across the arena and up both sides. They seemed so grateful for how energetic and happy you all were, so grateful to have your support. As most of these things went, the boys took turns speaking about their experiences on the tour, and you stayed quiet as you could, listening to them talk as best you could, shushing the girl next to you a few times when she screamed right in your ear.

              When it was Jungkook’s turn to speak, you had almost completely forgotten that you were in a huge room filled with fans. In your mind, it was just you and Jungkook, and he was speaking only to you. Without thinking, all politeness between cultures aside, you gripped the railing in front of you and smiled wide, your lips peeling apart before you could control yourself, “Jungkook Oppa!” You called out to him, with a terrible accent no less, your voice pretty much the loudest thing in the arena at that moment—and after it, you could have heard a pin drop. You knew he was embarrassed when other girls said it, and his reaction after your outburst clenched that fact.

              Jungkook shied away from your words immediately, turning bright red and laughing into the microphone, the sound of the air from his nose making a loud thumping sound that resonated in the venue. He laughed to himself and continued what he had been saying, the ment continuing despite your sudden regret. You blushed darker than he did and sunk down, in complete disbelief that you had just done that. Oh, it was probably going to be all over the internet by the time you get home. You could see it now, “International Fan Yelling “Jungkook Oppa” During Ment. #cuteblush #cutiepie #jungshook”, and your accent littered all over. Oh, God.

              For the rest of the concert you kept to yourself and didn’t do much more than sing along or chant with the other fans, trying not to call any more attention to yourself. You had to get through this. You also cursed yourself for not having had enough money to get VIP tickets for the pre-show fanmeet, but you thought him noticing you, even for something so embarrassing, was worth it in spades, although you had wished it hadn’t been so cringe. Oh well, he heard you. That’s the important part. Now you just hoped that none of your friends back home came across a video of the incident, that would be the death of you.

              When the concert was over, you were sure your life was complete. Perhaps you should just cease living, because you didn’t see how it could ever get better than this. You replayed the songs over and over in your head as you left the venue and headed outside. You had asked to be picked up around the back of the place as you thought that it would be less busy there, and as you rounded the large building and found yourself alone in a back alley, you quickly realized you were right—and for a second, you questioned whether or not you were actually allowed to be there, the fences making you think you might have been breaking a few rules.

              The sound of the BTS tour bus, and the boys boarding it, silhouette shielded by the dynamic curve of the alley, was drowned out by the sound of the city and the roar of the air conditioning units that were on the roof directly above where you were standing. In the wind of the city, you rose your shoulders up to shield your ears. Something about the wind, perhaps the direction, made you feel like they were tunneling. It was uncomfortable, so you shifted a bit. Where was your ride? You checked your watch and blinked—the concert had let out a little earlier than you had anticipated. You would be there a little while.

              “Great.” You whispered to yourself, kicking a pebble, it falling to the ground about two feet in front of your foot. Smiling to it, you let the higher points of the night flash through your mind—quickly followed by the ment, and your shout. You shook your head and chewed your bottom lip, “How could I say something so stupid…?” You whined, staring up at the sky before looking back down to your foot, kicking another rock, “He must have thought I was some dumb ugly foreigner, another face in the crowd…ugh…get it together, Y/N.”

              “Ugly, no.” Came a voice from behind you, just above a whisper, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, your eyes settled on the most handsome face you had ever seen. Jeon Jungkook. You must have been dreaming. Your face erupted in a blush and you blinked over and over, staring at him. He just smiled and stepped closer to you, his hands clasped behind his back. He noticed that you were slightly uncomfortable and he tried his best to interpret, “Sorry. I…scared you, no. Sorry.”

              You knew he couldn’t speak great English, but you also couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you right now. Your first thought was that he was going to scold you for calling him ‘oppa’ so impolitely, but you decided you would only speak of it if he brought it up first, “H-how long have you been standing there?” You asked, thinking it was weird that an idol would just creep behind you like that—not that you would mind having a stalker like him. You chuckled lightly to yourself, but hid it with a hand over your face, “W-why are you here?”

              “You, uh. You’re Pretty.” He said softly, something in the way he spoke making you realize his effort and blush darkly. You waved a hand in front of your face as if he was mistaken, or must not have seen you in actual light, but you didn’t open your mouth to disagree him. Jungkook would catch your hand by the wrist and tug you gently, “Come here Can I show you something?”

              You had no option, but to follow him. You just wanted to know why he had come, and where he was taking you. Turning down another area in the alley, you found yourself in a niche with him, and he gently backed you into the wall. Your hands trembled, but found his chest, resting there as you stared up at him, “J-Jungkook?” You asked, sure that he might have been mad or something, even as his hands raised to rest on either side of your head. He smiled softly and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours slowly, fireworks igniting in your mind the moment you were flush, your entire body aflame with tingling interest.

              The truth was that he in no way was angry about what you said, in fact, he had liked it—that is why it embarrassed him in such a way. Something about your face, and the sheer joy that was written upon it during the concert, pulled him in. You seemed honest, as if you truly cared, something that the superficial thoughts of other fans never touched. It was doomed, as he was forbidden to date a fan, but in that moment, he cared not past the locking of your lips.

              He kissed you deeply, and you melted into him, your lips warmed by his own. The wind around you no longer mattered, and your mind focused solely on his hand as he moved it into your coat and up your shirt, feeling over your rib-cage and up to your chest, touching gently. He seemed so polite, even in the way that he touched you, and you trembled under his grasp. Your hand dipped down, feeling over his groin, which immediately gave away how aroused he was, making him shiver hard, “Woah.” You said, and he chuckled, biting your bottom lip idly. Your fingers gingerly moved over the shape in his pants and he shook, biting his lip hard, his hand cupping around your breast, feeling it fully.

              He arched against your fingers and brought down his free hand, reciprocating the touch with a dip of his own against your heat, making him breath out heavily. He rubbed softly, just stimulating you enough to make you quake against the seam of your pants, the fluid gathering there making it damp. He knew he couldn’t stay and he cursed his time schedule. He kissed you again, and again, as if he was memorizing your taste. He grunted in frustration, his cock throbbing hard against your palm. He couldn’t continue. You had only just met, as well, and if he really liked you, he shouldn’t use you like this—plus, he was sure the other members were freaking out since he hadn’t come back, or told them where he was going.

              Jungkook broke your kiss, pulling back just enough to run his nose against your own, “I…gotta go. I have to.” He whispered in accented English, something about it the most endearing thing you’d ever heard. You dreaded that and wrinkled your brows hard. You didn’t want him to go. Not ever. Shifting, you dropped a hand, pulling a pen from your pocket so that you could write your number down on his hand. You were sure he’d never contact you—he wasn’t allowed to, but tonight had been so magical, you couldn’t let it go. You wanted so much more.

              He smiled as you wrote down your name and number, and would kiss your forehead when you were done, “I will. Our secret.” He said, putting a finger over his lips before dropping his hand and kissing you one more time, as deep as he could. From down the alley, he heard his name called and he would pull back, righting himself and sighing. Putting on a big smile, he held up a hand and waved gently, bowing after, “See you. Hwaiting!” He turned and trotted back to the tour bus, leaving you a quivering mess against the brick of the building. What the hell had just happened. You must have fallen asleep waiting for your ride. That couldn’t have just happened, could it?

              The sound of a car horn broke your focus and you pulled your shirt back down, heading towards the mouth of the alley where your ride waited. You slipped into the backseat, blushing from ear to ear, your mind whirring. You’d pretty much forgotten the concert, putting all of your focus on what had happened after. You sighed and stared out the window as the car pulled off and the city passed, putting a hand over your heart. You knew your love for Jungkook was deeper than fangirling, but who could have predicted that he’d actually be into you. Not you.

              Halfway out of the city, your phone would ding, the light of it illuminating the car’s backseat. You knew it was him, but you still felt like it had all been a dream. What if it was just one of your friends asking about the concert, and he never contacted you? Well, at least you had tonight. Closing your eyes, you held up your phone to read it, slowly opening them. A wide smile broke out over your face and you breathed out heavily as you read the texts, your fingers covering your lips. He was so cute.

“I learned how to use translate on my phone. -JK”

“I miss you already. -JK”

“This is Jungkook, btw. Save my #. -JK”

“I want to see you as soon as possible, Y/N. -JK”

“Don’t make me stalk you across the USA. Because I will. 😉 -JK”

Admin Death

[shipburner]

For the past week (or perceived week, she had only her watch to go by), Iris Henson had been using the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ as a base of operations. The room was easily refindable, the food was edible, the beds were safe, and the staff wasn't inimical to human life.

Iris just wished that it wasn't so aggressively Texan.

Her partner, Stheno, lacked the cultural context, and treated it as just another one of the Memory Palace's cavalcade of oddities. And to be fair, it was plenty odd, since none of the animal or plant life implied by the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ was native to Texas, or, in most cases, Earth. But the name – the intent of the food – the overall aesthetics – made Iris cringe harder than anything she'd seen yet.

To be fair, it wasn't all bad – the most requested jukebox tune was a passionate ballad of a truck's love for his man by a singer with a voice like a glass guitar, followed by a lot of mooing that allegedly translated to a song about rustlers having stolen all the singer's trucks. The staff appeared to understand human gender better than most humans did, and the Daisy-Dukes-and-close-tied-flannel uniform showed off a full spectrum of cheesecake, beefcake, cheeseburger, yeast block, singing mouth, and chassis. In fact, Iris couldn't remember ever having heard a mean word said in the place.

The biggest problem, flagrant Texaninity aside, was the floor show.

Stheno held a clear plastic umbrella in two arms, sporadically wiped it clean in a third, and held Iris' chocolate mousse behind them in a fourth, shielding Iris and her sketchpad from the spurts of blood and gore as the showpeople tore each other to bits. Iris was busy recording the anatomy of the most human-approximant staff members – glass skeletons intricately whorled to support their hydraulic muscles, nine cervical vertebrate clearly revealed whenever one got their skull pulled out, four stomachs in a familiarly ruminant arrangement … "Ooh!" remarked Stheno as something bounced off the umbrella; Iris shot out another arm and grabbed it before it fell to the sawdust floor. She turned it around and examined it. "Their hearts are wasps' nests? Huh. Not what I was expecting." "Just wood pulp," Stheno corrected, pulling it down to Iris' chest so she could see. "I'll be damned if wasps were involved in this." "Hm. Ooh, Nutella!" A hazelnut eye had ricocheted off a neighboring table and landed in the glass, shattering into fragments as it hit the adamantine pole of the tiny fancy umbrella. Iris handed her sketchpad to Stheno and stirred the fragments into her dessert, spooning it into her mouth. "I don't know how you have the stomach to eat this." "Like you know what it's like to have a stomach, Stheno." "Get fucked."

"YEEEEEEEE-ALLLLLLLL-RIIIIIIIIGHT, PARDNERS!" blared the sound system. "THAT'S A DE-CI-SIVE – AN' IN-CI-SIVE – WIN FOR MX. OPHELTEK! LET'S GIVE EM ALL A BIIIIIIIIG HAND! OOPS, LOOKS LIKE E'S ALREADY GOT ONE, AHAHAHAHA!" Mx. Opheltek held up the severed hoof-hand of eir last opponent over eir head. "WE'LL BE BACK AFTER THE BREAK! GET UP, GET ANOTHER DRINK, GO POWDER YOUR –" the last word sounded like "NOSE!", "MUZZLE!", and "GRILLE!" layered on top of each other. Stheno folded the umbrella gingerly as Iris got up to head over to the bar. "Jes' water fer the li'l misses, 'sright?" squawked the bartender. They were perhaps the least aesthetically consistent person in the place, being a swarm of parakeets inhabiting an articulated wire cage that Iris thought looked a little like Jimmy Buffett. "Mhm." Iris nodded, rubbing under her glasses. It had been a long day, especially when they'd had to brachiate through the ribcage of a Spearmint Hound carrying an unconscious lumberjack. Stheno squeezed her hand supportively and accepted the drink. "Heeeeeeeey y'all!" There was a heavy thump as someone slid onto the bar next to Iris, along with the squishy sound of body parts pushing themselves back together. "Whoof, I got splattered out there! Top me up, thank y'kindly …" A quiet snick noise accompanied the retraction of six glass claws as their owner held out a glass skull to be topped up with bloodwine. Iris turned to see a showgirl sitting on the bar, tall, tan, young, handsome -- Iris quelled the rising strains of "Girl from Ipanema" along with some unhelpful gay thoughts. The woman's hazelnut eyes took in the mutualistic partnership, flicking between meeting Iris' gaze and Stheno's. "Hey, how y'all doin'?" she said. "Saw the host here doin' some sketchin'; we puttin' on a good enough show y'wanna capture it?" She downed the bloodwine and wiped her lips, which Iris could now see were just lipstick painted around her mouth. Iris swallowed, voice suddenly ragged. "More … scientific interest. We're not … not from around here." "Ooh, you a bio nerd? I'm psych, myself. Workin' this job t' put myself through college." She took another long gulp and held out her hand. Iris shook it cautiously; Stheno circled a arm around them. "Annie-Mae, pardner; what're y'all's monikers?" Annie-Mae probably didn't notice the bit of Iris that died inside when Iris put together what her name sounded like. "Iris Henson." "Stheno." Iris reflected belatedly on the lack of differentiation between their voices -- clear enough to her and Stheno, but since they both had to use Iris' vocal chords, she wondered if Annie-Mae could tell who was which. "Nice t'meetcha! Am I gettin' y'all's grammar right?" Iris looked down at Stheno, who shrugged a pair of arms; Iris said, "… No, we think you've gotten the right take on our partnership." "Sweet! So what brings y'all around here?" "Stumbled through the wrong hole in space, both of us," said Stheno. "Now we're both stuck on this crazy-train of a castle." "Whoof! Sorry t' hear that, but y'seem like y'all're enjoyin' the show here." "I am," said Iris. "More … energetic than I'm used to, but I am interested." "Personally, I'm disgusted," said Stheno. "Well, ne gustibus te disputandum'n'all that!" Annie-Mae kicked a leg high in the air, which probably meant something like nonchalance in whatever body language her species had, but which caused Iris to suddenly become very interested in her water. "Y'all hangin' around here for the night?" "Think so, why?" said Iris. "Wonderin' if we can continue this conversation or if I'm keepin' y'all! Y'all're becomin' a regular; figure it's worth meetin' y'all, proper-like." She slithered down off the bar onto a stool besides Iris, resting her angular chin in her broad hands. "You two an item?" she asked, suddenly, voice sugary. Stheno's arms coiled, half under her own power and half under Iris', who stammered, "We're … uh …" "As romantically entangled as two people this physically entangled have to be, I guess," filled in Stheno. "We're a … package deal, at any rate." "Is this a deal y'all're offering?" Annie-Mae licked one of her eyes, grin glassy. Iris' throat stalled for several seconds.

Annie-Mae recoiled quickly, face falling. "Sorry, I can never judge how fast is too fast with visitants. I made y'all uncomfortable an' that ain't the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ way." Iris shrugged. "I think we're both filing it under cultural relativity, and I gotta say -- the 'Lone Star way' where I come from is a lot less courteous than it is here." "I ain't rightly sure if I should feel good about that." Stheno rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you'll need a lot more of that bloodwine if we're discussing Iris' homeworld. Or mine, really, but we already went through the section of the castle that's got my cultural baggage attached. All the evil in this place is dramatic. Overt." Annie-Mae hung her head. "I ain't no damn good with y'all plausibly evolved folks." Iris patted her shoulder. "Better than we are, ma'am." Annie-Mae laughed. Well, let loose a horrifying screech, but Iris had heard enough of her species laugh before. She took another swig of her bloodwine. "So! How's bio life?" "Art life, actually," said Iris. "Anatomy studies, y'know? I mean. I hope it's art life. I don't know how 'getting sucked into a memed-up Borges novel gone metastatic' is gonna affect my major." "I'm just a tech," said Stheno. "Biological, but I went into trade." "Oh, ain't that jus' a zmood. Time's a fluid; y' should get back fine, if I remember anythin' from physics when I was a scrap." "Thanks, that's … comforting." "May I offer a restrained yet supportive 'yeehaw'?" "You may not," said Stheno, the joke clear enough in her tone, and bumped Annie-Mae's proferred fist. "Yee haw!" Annie-Mae said, the bisection of the word groaningly obvious to Iris' ears. "Thanks," said Iris, "I hate it." Annie-Mae sprayed bloodwine out of her mouth, Stheno opening the umbrella just in time to deflect it humorously. Iris couldn't help laughing too as Annie-Mae contorted, dislocating several joints with the force of her screeches. "Your – your deliv'ry – ho-leee fuck, Iris – hoooooooo dawg-geez, I needed that." Two minds trying to speak in unison through one set of vocal chords tended to produce a fairly good Voice of the Legion. "What can we say, except, you're welcome …" The reference didn't appear to land with Annie-Mae, but that was par for the course; frankly, Iris (and Stheno, in the case of her references) was more surprised when one did. Annie-Mae wiped her face and leaned back. "So, how's the art and/or trade life, funnybones?"

They ended up chatting far longer than any of them had in truth expected. Iris and Stheno described their own consistently-weird homeworlds and attempts to break into the art world/museum scene, respectively, and as the subjective night wore on, pipe dreams, like unseating Mike Mearls and claiming his skull-throne, or winning the Abomination Foundry Ceremonial Brisket for excellence in species design. Annie-Mae described her inconsistently-weird homeworld – the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ and related rooms, and her efforts slowly working towards a psychology degree, and, later, her own pipe-dreams, about wandering through the mind of a long-dead god she'd found a few floors greenward and healing its hurts, or maybe just getting to rip her back off on Hellevision. The parakeethead behind the bar eventually had to shoo them upstairs, citing concerns about them turning the mops all "Sorcerer's Apprentice snuff film".

They told more stories, upstairs, of the time Iris and Stheno had faced the Xenomorph version of Billy Bob Brockali in rock-combat, of the time Annie-Mae had gotten a glimpse into what turned out to be an erotic baking show from Stheno's homeworld, and of loves lost and dreams deferred and huge old things seen when the viewers should have been asleep.

It would be nice to draw a curtain over the room, and praise darkness and creation unfinished. For indeed, Iris and Stheno had foes to face, friends to find, and, eventually, a way home, although for now we should perhaps send our well-wishes to Iris and Stheno not for homefinding but for overcoming the dour tentpole ghouls of Barthes' Necropolis, and for the assistance of the Warden Sueish, the only author who enacted his own narrative death. But before we send Iris and Stheno to go out deconstructing and to deconstruct, well-fed, well-rested, well-comforted, we have one stumbling block to place in their way.

Annie-Mae's hat hung on the bedpost atop Iris' pea coat; cowboy boots and sneakers lay jumbled together on the rug that might be called cowhide by someone who had never actually seen a cow. The room was dark, the air warm with breath and things that worked like breath. Stheno began to speak –

A squat, humanoid skeleton-creature poked eir cumberously-hatted head out of some fourth-dimensional space, hissing, "Niiiiiiiice…….." The words "CORPSE-GRADE QUICKLIME" flashed into Iris' eyes from eir shirt. Stheno lifted her bodily off the bed with all ten arms and sent Iris' feet plowing right into eir face. E made a noise like an EDM opossum and vanished with a puff of sand. "What'n tarnation was that?" Annie-Mae said, dazedly. Iris groaned. "That's … not far off. Eir name's Darnation, with a D. E's a skook. Skooks are the … Dante's Vergils of the Palace ecosystem, at least in our experience. E is a horrible little neman and we're probably being taught a really heavy-handed lesson by eir presence." "Yeesh. I can recommend a de-curser, if y'all think that'd help." Iris and Stheno turned all four eyes to her. "We don't." "Well, I can help y'all forget em." "We'd like that."

[This is my overwrought birthday present for @titleknown, inspired by the anon message posted above. What character, after all, is more a character than the fantastical Memory Palace?]

[Also, in the spirit of the thing, Annie-Mae, Iris Henson, Stheno, and Darnation are all free to use under a CC-BY 4.0 Vanilla License as you see fit as long as I, Nausicaä Harris, am credited as their creators when you do so. The Memory Palace, and the species I call skooks, are under the same license, as long as Thomas F. Johnson is credited as their creator. ETA: The anon on whose ask I built her character graciously gifted me with credit, and open-sourceness, for Annie-Mae.]

[And, while I don’t have designs for Iris or Stheno worked out yet, I do have a design for Darnation. Eir cheap trick is pocket sand; eir hat is meant to represent that e was born on a mountain, raised in a cave, and craves nothing but truckin’ and fuckin’.]

[jae-bummer]

Up to Speed

Request: Can you do 13 with jaebum

13) You find a journal belonging to your bias

Member: Got7′s Jaebum x Y/N

Type: fluff

“I’m just going to drop out,” you sighed, plopping on the bench alongside your best friend. 

“And abandon me? Negative,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “Thermodynamics can’t be that bad...can it?” 

“Did you hear the question you just asked?” you croaked. “How did I even end up in thermodynamics?” 

“Well, seeing as it has almost nothing to do with your desired field of study, I have no idea,” she hummed, patting your knee. “You can always drop it?” 

“Drop it?” you gasped. “Do you know how much I paid for it?” 

“I’m guessing it wasn’t necessarily the cheapest class,” she muttered. “Maybe get a tutor?” 

“That’s admitting defeat,” you spat. “I’m just going to soldier through and barely pass and complain about it the entire time.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” you friend nodded. “I have a class that is actually IN my curriculum to get to, so make sure to make good decisions while I’m away.”

“I’ll try,” you murmured, letting your face fall into your hands. You took a deep breath as you stared out from your fingers. The student union was busy that day, with flurries of activity in nearly every corner of the open area. Several clubs had tables set up and the student government looked as if they were handing out free food. You lifted your brows and sat up, attempting to examine that situation just as a heavy grunt sounded directly to your left. 

Glancing over, you noticed a handsome boy had sat down beside you, slinging his book bag near his feet. He had a bowl full of whatever student government had been passing out and you eyed it curiously. 

“I don’t know you and I’m not sharing,” he muttered, shoving noodles into his mouth without looking up. 

“I wasn’t asking to, on either counts,” you grumbled, crossing your arms, and looking away. What a prick. 

“Sorry,” he sighed. “Well, I mean, I’m not sorry for what I said. I’m just sorry for how it came across.” 

“Glad you cared enough to apologize,” you chuckled, lifting your brows. This guy was a trip. “What’s in the bowl anyway?”

“Black bean noodles?” he muttered, pausing his chewing for a moment. He separated himself from the bowl and looked down at it curiously. He scooted his chopsticks within the contents and tilted his head. “I think?” 

“Delightful,” you hummed, shaking your head. Maybe you wouldn’t go in for a bowl after all. 

“Good talk,” he nodded, finishing up his last bit of noodles before standing. He picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Wiggling his eyebrows at you, he smirked. “Later.” 

“Later,” you grumbled, shaking your head. Since you had begun college, the amount of strange interactions you incurred daily seemed to skyrocket. You had seen everything from students in t-rex costumes to full scale 18th century reenactments prepared by the theater department. At this point, boys like the one you had just talked to didn’t even make you bat an eye anymore. 

That was until you heard the gentle smack against the concrete. 

Looking over, your eyes searched the ground for the source of the noise and immediately found a small, leather-bound journal. You glanced back up to see the retreating body of the boy who had been sitting next to you and his unzipped bag. In that moment, you understood what had happened, and instantly jumped toward the notebook. 

“Hey!” you gasped, shouldering your own bag and jogging toward him. “Hey...um...guy!” 

Several students walking by looked up curiously, but you needed none of their attention. 

“Hey, you! Black bean noodles!” you shouted, navigating through the crowd of people. You glanced down at your phone, noting that it was indeed one of the common times for a class change and groaned.

“Hey!” you cried, at this point annoyed as the boy got further and further away from you. “Idiot!” 

Once again, several people turned, but not him. 

“Really? You people turn around when I yell idiot?” you cried, finally stopping and letting your shoulders fall. “Ridiculous.” 

You had had the mysterious, leather journal for two days and you still hadn’t caught the boy from the bench. Stationing yourself at the same bench, at the same time, had not yielded any results. You hadn’t even seen him in passing. 

Pacing around your dorm room, you eyed the notebook that you had positioned on your bed. Upon looking at it closely, you noticed two small letters were imprinted on the cover. JB. 

“JB...should I open it?” you murmured, continuing your pacing. “No, that’s an invasion of privacy...

...but what if his full name is in it? What if he left behind a phone number? So if someone were to find it...they could contact him....to return it?” 

You heaved a sigh, but continued to walk. Crossing your arms, you finally paused, and picked it up. “Is that still an invasion of privacy? Maybe if I just...”

Dropping the notebook from your hands, it landed on it’s spine and instantly parted it’s pages. You chuckled to yourself as you leaned down, crouching on all fours above it to study the open pages. 

“See, it fell open,” you whispered. “I didn’t intentionally open it. It just happened.” 

You glanced over the pages, and gulped. Secretly, you had hoped for a few To Do lists, maybe a shopping list or two, but no, you felt as if you had stumbled into something much deeper...

A complete stranger’s inner thoughts. 

10/4/16 It’s hard to accomplish anything on campus when music is so demanding. It’s not that I don’t enjoy being a musician, I just wish I had more of a chance to enjoy being a student. The dating ban has been lifted, but I’ve never felt less at ease around people. I wouldn’t know how to be romantic if I tried. It’s amazing what flows from my pen, but not from my mouth. I can be harsh and cold. I just want to be a better me. I feel like school just reminds me of what I should be doing at my age...and is working really it? 

“A musician,” you hummed, tilting your head. He looked vaguely familiar, but you were unsure of where you had seen him and didn’t know how you would ever place his visage. You weren’t necessarily the most pop culture savvy now that school dominated your life (specifically thermodynamics) and it wasn’t like he had ever been in any of your classes. 

You looked over the page, trying to keep your eyes from scanning over more words, but it was difficult. Smiling as you noted each margin doodle or random line that didn’t quite belong, an inner voice in your head pressured you to read more. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. At least not tonight.

But just like that, you were hooked. 

You took the journal everywhere with you; classes, mealtimes, out on the weekend. If you were to go anywhere, the notebook would be tucked firmly within your bag or under your arm. It was like a novel you couldn’t put down. Eventually it had become a bit of a secret for you, something you would reward yourself with on especially bad days. 

Particularly after your Thermodynamics class. 

You nestled up on one of the lounge chairs in the corner of the library and pulled your knees to sit below your chin. Cracking open the journal you took a deep breath as you flipped through a few pages. 

9/7/17  Tomorrow is a very important day. Yet again, I get to expose my soul to millions of people to receive criticism or acclaim. This is one of the first real times I’ve written something so deep and overwhelming. It was just Jinyoung and I for this and it will be just us in the end getting the feedback. I know our members support us, yet I still feel a great amount of anxiety. It was us in the beginning as well. I’m glad to be able to rely on my friend. 

“What’s up?” a familiar voice chirped, dislodging you from your thoughts. Your best friend snatched at the journal in your hands and looked it over casually. “What are you reading?” 

“Ah, give that back,” you groaned, launching from your seat and reaching toward her. She snaked away from your grasp and continued to read. 

“Are you...keeping a journal?” she muttered, scanning over the sentences. “But this...this isn’t your handwriting.” 

“Come on,” you whined. “Please give it to me.” 

“This is someone’s journal, Y/N,” she gasped. “This is someone’s journal who is not you!” 

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed. “Do you want the whole library to hear you?” 

“Who does this belong to?” she whisper-shouted. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper-shouted back. 

“How do you not know?” she grumbled. “You’ve been reading about this person’s life for....”

“Two weeks,” you cringed. 

“TWO WEEKS?” she hissed. “What the hell? Why are you being such a creep?” 

“I didn’t mean to be a creep,” you groaned. “It fell open and-”

“Oh, it “fell” open,” she muttered. “Likely story.”

“Okay, so I was nosey!” you argued. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same!”

“This isn’t about me!” she murmured.

“It is now! Quit being a turd!” you spat. “Alright, so I’m reading some guy’s journal. Now what?” 

“It’s a guy?” she hummed. “Like...a cute guy?” 

“That’s not the point,” you whined. 

��Why can’t it be the point? I like this point,” your friend muttered. 

“What am I supposed to do with the damn journal?” you groaned. 

“Well...you tried to find the guy?” she asked, beginning to pace. 

“Of course I tried to find the guy,” you hissed. “I lived in the student union for like three days after he dropped it.” 

“And you haven’t seen him on campus?” she continued. 

“Oh yeah, I did,” you spat sarcastically. “He told me to keep it. I had a few more chapters to finish.” 

“So...take it to the lost and found,” she said simply with a small shrug. “If you can’t find him, maybe he can find it himself.” 

“The...the lost and found,” you whispered, your eyes wide. “I uh...I totally thought of that too.”

“Right,” she nodded. “Of course you did.” 

“If...If I wanted to put it in the lost and found,” you hummed, now your turn to pace. “Where...uh...where exactly would that be?” 

Your friend grinned and shook her head, trying to keep a laugh from falling from her lips. “Come on.”

Your best friend navigated you back toward the union and into one of the adjoining buildings you were familiar with seeing student government members disappear into. She gave you quick directions to the reception area, which also doubled as home base for the campus lost and found. Grinning, she swiftly abandoned you to grab a scantron before her class. 

For some reason, you were oddly nervous as you pulled open the door to the small reception office, taking much too much time to shuffle toward the desk. You ran your fingers along the familiar leather of the journal as you walked, and released a sigh. 

“Goodbye friend,” you whispered as you finally reached the desk, looking over the edge to the attendant sitting behind it. 

“How can I help - oh, hey,” the familiar face of the man you had been looking for all along smirked. “What’s up?” 

You stared at him for a moment, incapable of making any move or sound. You knew almost all of his deepest thoughts and biggest life milestones up until this point...

...well, up until September because that was as far as you had gotten in his journal.

And he knew absolutely nothing about you. 

The feeling sent a shiver down your spine.  

“I...um...I found this,” you whispered, sliding the journal across the desk’s surface. You looked at the small initials on the front cover. “You’re uh...you’re JB?” 

“Jaebum,” he nodded, eying the item curiously. He took it into his hands and flipped it over. “And this...this is mine.” 

“I tried to find you,” you continued quietly, incapable of making eye contact. He was incredibly attractive which made the situation about ten times more uncomfortable. 

“You read it,” he deadpanned. His expression was unamused as he stared at you. It wasn’t an accusation, but a simple fact, a statement you both knew to be true. 

“I read it,” you squeaked, feeling extremely small. 

“Of course you read it,” he sighed, his cheeks growing brighter by the moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I read it?” you whispered with a wince. 

“Because it didn’t belong to you?” he muttered. 

“I thought maybe-”

“You’d find my contact information and return it, casually reading excerpts of my life by accident?” he asked, lifting his brows. “Isn’t that kind of cliche?” 

“Would you believe it if I told you that it fell off my desk to an open page?” you croaked. 

Jaebum groaned and tilted his head backwards, running his long fingers over his face. “This is perfect.” 

“Well, um...” you hummed. “I’m happy...that I could return it for you?” 

He lowered his chin and stared at you, an expression void of emotion on his face. You were unsure if he would begin shouting at you or start smiling. Feeling a heat begin to rise on your neck, you were deep within the throws of embaressment as you locked eyes. Luckily for you, he was blushing as well. 

“Look,” he sighed, searching your face. “I’m not going to lie, I’m annoyed. But you’re cute, so I’ll let you make it up to me over a cup of coffee. Then you can tell me all about myself.” 

“To be fair...” you whispered. “I haven’t caught up on the past month.” 

JB let out a loud laugh. You could tell he was attempting to keep it from turning into a groan. “Then I guess I’ll have to get you up to speed.”