#i miss having my summer motivation ugh

[ssoulphrase]

00. The Curiosity of Haku Shota

Pairing: alien!soul x fem!reader

Genre: Slice of life, fluff

Warnings: mentions of bugs (´-`)

Word Count: 2,159

👾 - I decided to write a small piece as a filler for the actual fic I'm writing with this concept. I realized it was gonna take me longer than I wanted, so l'm writing this to get me motivated T^T I wanted my debut to be the longer fic but oh well :) This can be read as a stand alone as it doesn't add much to the main plot :) The main fic wil be linked once it's finished!

Sorry in advance if there's any mistakes,l wrote this kinda fast ( ´～｀)

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚

💿 - Aya Hirano, Super Driver !!

“Y/n! Come on! Wake up! Don’t waste your summer lying around all day! I wanna do stuff!!”

Ugh…

It’s been a couple of months since Soul crashed into your apartment, him first arriving at the time when you were still in classes. He’s become accustomed to your way of life quickly, seamlessly blending into what is human society. However, it's now summer, and he’s been begging every day to do something new, saying that it’s all for his ‘research.’ You laid on your carpeted floor, limbs sprawled out in a starfish shape as the cheap fan you bought at a market once was blasting at full speed, squeaking as it does its turns.

“What is it that you want to do Soul…?” The grogginess in your voice made it evident that you had no intention of getting up at any moment. However, Soul continued on, ignoring your groggy state.

“I want to go on a bike ride! Oh! And have a picnic! And draw with chalk! And maybe go star gazing at night!”

“That’s quite the list you’ve got there…” Although these were pretty mundane things to you, you couldn’t help but entertain Soul and his shenanigans, his excitement lifting a small smile upon your lips.

“I know! I thought about it all last night! It's stuff I've heard humans do during their free time.” A proud grin made itself onto his lips.

“Okay,” you chuckled fondly, “come help me make some sandwiches then.” It was just like Soul to drag you out of your apartment to do something. Just yesterday, the two of you had gone bug catching, Soul having the brilliant idea to make it a contest to see who could catch the most. It was no surprise to see that he had caught more than you by the end of it, boasting about having done his research on the most efficient way humans catch bugs. Of course, you didn’t let him keep any of the bugs he caught as you didn’t want any crawling around in your apartment. He dejectedly let the bugs go, seeing them fly out into the horizon. You couldn’t lie though, the scenery was beautiful (minus the flapping of the bugs…), the sun was starting to set just beyond the horizon and if it wasn’t for Soul, you would have spent this summer alone in your apartment.

“You, know they might return the favor one day, since you were so kind to let them go.” You glanced to your side, Soul was staring at the sunset in awe as all the little bugs he caught flew away.

“Return the favor?” He ripped his eyes from the sight in front of him to look at you in confusion. You couldn’t help but admire how ethereal he looked under the sun’s rays, his sun kissed skin and deep brown eyes reflected the sun’s true colors as the bit of breeze that picked up swept his hair, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“C’mon,” you chuckled, “Let’s go back home.”

Cut back to now, you lazily got up off your carpeted floor, already missing the fan’s cool breeze against your face

“What type of sandwiches are we making??” Soul excitedly followed behind you as you slowly made your way into your cramped kitchen.

“I guess whatever we find in the fridge…” Luckily, you did have the correct ingredients to make sandwiches, having bought the stuff a couple of weeks ago. You spent the next thirty minutes teaching Soul how to make a simple ham and cheese sandwich, not because of his lack of experience but because of your lack of ingredients (which he didn’t seem to mind), his excitement over making sandwiches made the chore a bit more bearable.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

“C’mon! Hurry up! I wanna get to the park already!”

“I’m coming…” Soul had already reached the end of the steps, waiting beside your baby blue bike that you had gotten for your birthday. He had already placed the basket of food onto the bike’s built in basket, hands on his hips as he waited for you to ascend the stairs.

“You know, we’re gonna have to pass by the store to get the chalk you wanted, cuz I certainly don’t have any…” You finally reached the end of the stairs, Soul’s frown turning into a smile.

“I’ve got that settled already!”

There’s that proud smile again…

“What? How?”

“Your neighbor! I had mentioned it a while ago to her while you were out shopping, and she let me borrow some as long as we bring them back!” Soul boasted, you could only let out a sigh in response.

“So you had this all planned, huh? C’mon, get on the back of the bike.” Soul eagerly made his way on the back of your bike, holding onto your waist for security. The bike ride to the park was surprisingly peaceful. You half expected Soul to ask you about every little thing he saw on the way. Instead, he sat quietly behind you, squeezing you once in a while to hold on when the tighter turns came.

Soul honestly just liked being in your presence. He knew that asking you many questions tired you out, having once realizing that when your tone of voice turned into something less friendly by what seemed like his 500th question that day. Soul once again hugged you tighter, feeling only grateful for all you’ve done for him since he got there, a feeling he doesn’t experience often. Sure, he’s always experienced excitement ever since he arrived on Earth, especially when you comply to his wishes, however, sometimes he feels this inexplicable feeling in his chest whenever he’s close to you, almost as if he’s out of breath. He wonders if you’ve ever felt that before.

He might have to do some research on that later.

“Soul, we’re here.” Your voice broke through his thoughts as he eagerly jumped off your bike as you went to park it. While he was running off to who knows where, you looked for a good place under the shade to set the quilted picnic blanket you brought.

“Y/n! Come! What’s that vehicle over there???” You looked to what seemed to be an ice cream truck, you knew what he was going to ask once you told him, however, a good ice cream cone would be wonderful in this hot weather.

“It’s a truck that sells ice cream. You want some?” You weren’t surprised when he eagerly nodded his head yes, running over to stand behind all the other children who were begging their parents to get them ice cream.

“Do you know what flavor you want?” Once you caught up to him, you looked over the poster plastered onto the side of the truck, skimming through all the flavors they had.

“I’ll try what you have, I’m not particularly interested in any one of them. If I could, I'd try them all…”

Of course you would…

“Hmm, should we try the strawberry then?”

“Sure!”

The two of you had what seemed to be a feast for the both of you as you gobbled up every piece of food you had brought plus the ice cream, Soul seeming to be the one enjoying it the most. After the meal however, Soul ran off to chase some bugs again while you stayed seated in your spot on the blanket under the shade, having had enough of the ‘creepy crawlies’ since your small excursion the day before. Without noticing, an affectionate gaze landed upon your features as you looked over Soul who was carefully examining the grass beneath the (already) dirty sneakers you let him borrow. You couldn’t help but build a sense of endearment towards the alien that appeared in your apartment unannounced. It was only natural, right? You had spent several months together by now, Soul accompanying you through almost everything. You’d feel a little strange if he wasn’t there by your side bugging you about every ‘cool’ thing he saw. You wondered how you’d feel once his research period was over and he’d have to go back home.

“Y/n!”

There he goes calling my name again…

“Yes Soul?”

“Let’s go draw with the chalk!” He was already running off again, expecting you to be able to catch up to his speed. He led you towards the pavement pathway where previous chalk drawings were, some already being washed out due to age.

“What are you planning to draw?” Soul handed you a few chalk pieces before going a few squares away from you.

“It’s a secret!” You playfully rolled your eyes at his childlike nature, his nose scrunched as he turned away to scribble. You drifted your sight to the empty pavement square beneath you, sighing.

Guess I’ve gotta draw something…

Your artistic skills weren’t the best per se, but you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the cute but childlike drawing made out of the pastel chalk colors Soul had handed you. You were so engaged in your drawing, however, that you didn’t see or hear Soul walking behind you.

“That’s your drawing?” Soul’s soft but snarky voice came from behind you, eliciting another eye roll from you.

“Oh, come on! Show me yours then!” You stomped your way to his square on the pavement, a series of squiggles and lines as well as intricate shapes were drawn with the chalk.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“It’s the writing system we use in space! I was hoping that if I write it big enough, my friends and family up there will be able to see it!” He wore that proud grin once more, showing off his penmanship in his language.

“Oh! What does it say then?” You stepped closer to examine his work, intrigued by the intricate work that went into the writing.

“Um, just letting them know that I’m doing okay,” his right hand went to rub his chin in thought, “I wonder if I wrote it big enough though…”

“I’m sure they’ll see it,” you reassured him, “They’ll be happy to hear that you’re doing well.” You tried giving him a reassuring smile to ease the worry that was present on his face, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.

“You really think so? Okay then!” In the blink of an eye, his worrisome expression changed to his usual carefree smile that he carries.

That was fast…

“Y/n! Let’s go draw something together over there!” And once again, Soul was dragging you to another place to draw. You spent the rest of the afternoon drawing on the pavement with Soul, him claiming that this has to be the ‘best drawing to ever exist,’ meaning that he wanted to put in the extra time to perfect it as much as possible. What he wanted to execute though, was a ‘family portrait’ of you and him so that his family and friends in space would be able to see what he was up to. And as always, you obliged to his demands, putting in the extra elbow grease to draw it as he imagined it. As a finishing touch, Soul added the orange, tabby cat that hung out on your balcony at random times, Soul claiming that they’re best friends.

“Perfect! We’re done!” Soul looked over the drawing with pride, the sun had already set and the stars were starting to twinkle brightly.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh definitely!” he nodded eagerly “And we finished just in time to go stargazing!” Before you could say anything, Soul grabbed your hand to lead you to the picnic blanket under the tree, this time, a bit more calmer.

“Why’d you wanna stargaze anyway? I thought you lived amongst the stars based on what you’ve told me.” You sat down one last time on the blanket right next to him, Soul immediately laying his head right on your lap, your hand came up to rest on his multicolored hair.

“I wanted to see the stars with you.” The phrase touched you more than you thought it would, the meaning behind his words bringing a certain heavy feeling on your chest almost bringing you to tears.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch with you once my research period on Earth is over. You better keep in touch too!” You couldn’t see it, however you could almost sense that carefree grin he always carries forming on his face.

“Okay, I promise I’ll keep in touch too.”

I wouldn’t want to forget you…

👾 - bleep blorp zeep zorp

[rei-ismyname]

Do Not Fuck With Storm

As Scott Summers could tell you, Storm does not need her limitless control of weather to wreck your shit. I love Scott, but he got wrecked so hard in a duel for leadership of the X-Men that he moved to Alaska.

Callisto of the Morlocks learned the same lesson when challenging her to a customary knife fight to the death for Morlock leadership (Warren and Kitty were both hostage. She was confident at first until Ororo showed her Bruce Lee moves.

Kurt was wrong. She stabbed her in the heart. It was pretty sapphic, NGL. But I digress, my point is do not fuck with Storm.

Many Arakki learnt this lesson, such as my dude Calderak, the lava person.

There he is showboating, with colour commentary by Frenzy and Khora of the Burning Heart, two certified bad bitches.

Fire vs Ice. A classic.

Storm has better things to do, lol. Nobody told Tarn the Uncaring though, and honestly he wouldn't have listened. He's the biggest piece of shit on Arakko and he keeps goading Ororo during Great Ring meetings. He promised not to go to Krakoa (like Sinister, he's really big on stealing people's DNA.) He went to Krakoa.

This smug jerkoff. He is the Genomic Mage, Warden of the Abyssal Prisons. Up until quite recently, he oversaw the torture, murder, and imprisonment of much of the population. Most Arakki *hate* him. He's not even interested in governance, he holds his seat out of spite and cruelty. To hurt an already traumatized people.

Without missing a beat, Storm challenges him. Look at his petty motivation, he just doesn't like her. Because he can kill with a thought (or rewrite your DNA however he pleases) he has never been defeated. Storm talks a real good game here, conceding nothing.

Whoops, there goes her powers. A big dose of Cronenberg to rub it in too. Ugh, this guy sucks so much. He's so sure he's got this in the bag. What does she have left?

A knife, nay many knives. Storm always has double digit knives on her person. The ol' blade to the heart is a classic. You'll note Storm has been showing mercy to her foes, even Callisto lived. But that was a fluke, you mess with Ororo and you get the Storm.

Ovaries. Of. Steel. Do not fuck with Storm. Sadly, Tarn lived. Not for long though. His death is one of the most glorious moments of the First Krakoan Age. A whole other post.

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Can people give me recommendations for what book to do next? I'm currently on a spree making MCs lol and I wanna try to do as many books as possible while I have the motivation. Right now, I'm reading The Unexpected Heiress (which I made as a continuation of D&D in my head) and I really like it! Here is my current list of what I'll probably read next:

It Lives Beneath (CURRENTLY ON)

The Crown and the Flame

The Elementalists

Endless Summer

Red Carpet Diaries

A Billionaire's Baby (diamond mining)

A Courtesan of Rome

Guinevere

Murder at Homecoming

Finish Laws of Attraction 1 and 2

Rules of Engagement (This is gonna be long ik)

Crimes of Passion 2 I think objectively the original book was better but this one was more replayable/entertaining solely because of the Thorne siblings but i wish the mystery and the plot twist were handled better

Bloodbound UGH IT WAS INCREDIBLE!! It still had flaws and I would have added/rewritten things but it's definitely one of the best and most satisfying series PB has ever written

Crimes of Passion 1 I liked it more than I thought! And I like Trystan more than I thought too, I started CoP 2 and it’s getting really good I’m so excited!

Ride or Die IT WAS AMAZING A+

Nightbound IT WAS PRETTY GOOD i miss them already and want a sequel now. It's very replayable which I always appreciate

Feel free to send asks about these books (or others!)

[dahliasanddimples]

DAY 62::… We passed the two month mark on Mother’s Day but linked up before that. UGH. Didn’t even last a week. Selfish. Of me. To do me like that. Selfish of you.. for everything. The more we talk and argue the more I realize I’m not really missing out on anything. Todays argument was so… it’s giving over it. I literally had to put the phone down bc I just couldn’t even listen to you! Lol it was funny bc you could actually still hear you yelling. I had things to do, it was too early. You called to say “sorry” but not really. It’s weird bc you say things but your actions don’t prove it. Like IM CALLING TO SAY SORRY WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!! Idk, mean it? Tf lol it’s so weird to be actually over it. To the point where it doesn’t phase me. Get under my skin. I told you how I felt and it was instantly turned around. I said I needed you there and it’s being switched on me? I said I needed to just hear from you and it needed to be used against me but when I do it “it’s not the same” I tell you I needed you and you can’t pick up bc you’re out with your friends? You’re not about to leave them bc you’re out with them. Why does it matter bc I never pick up when I’m with my friends. I should’ve hit you with at least I text back but no. All of a sudden it’s “really? Really that’s all it would’ve took. No it wouldn’t have” meh meh meh lol I can’t. I couldn’t. And I didn’t. I tell you I needed you like I was there for you and all of a sudden it’s different, it’s not the same and I always bring up things I do for you. I shouldn’t ever do things and rub them in your face. It’s like projecting the fact that you couldn’t even do something FREE for me. Like I’m here asking you for something that costs! Being there for someone is free. If you cared even enough, even a little for me, you would’ve called me. And I was mad but now im sad. Bc as I’m writing this I realize I a lot. That I deserve better. That I should absolutely block you. That you really ain’t shit. That I don’t think I even wanna play these games with you.

For all that I did for you, I couldn’t even get a text back. For all I did for you, I couldn’t even hear back from you. And I give myself over and over and I sacrifice my time for you over and over. I lower my standards for you over and over. I come back to you, over and over.

What is it about you. I think it was bc you were fun. We had fun. We both like to drink and party. But you’re not fun anymore and this summer won’t be fun either. You have no money no job. Not even real sheets on your bed. I want my pillows back.

Scared of rejection. Scared to face the consequences of your actions. Scared. Just scared. And I think I’m tired of teaching YOU things. I think I’m tired of taking care of you. I honestly cannot even imagine a future with you. I can’t imagine anything past a couple years. I wanna travel. I wanna move to a different city, a different state. That’s not possible for you. And a part of me hurts knowing that you might meet someone when you’re in a better position in life. I think it hurts bc I was there for you when you were nothing. Literally nothing. But I know I’m not the one bc the way we argue, you always have to be right. The way we argue, it’s a power trip, for you. Whatever I said to you, got to you. And now, now it’s never gonna be the same. We tried it and I realized I don’t like you anymore. I see your true colors and I don’t like it.

You don’t brush your teeth everyday

You don’t shower everyday (&you actually smell)

You vape (like your life depends on it)

You have no job

You have no aspirations, no motivation

Not a good dad. (You are a once a week baby daddy)

You’re too skinny for my taste (you would lose in a fight)

Hairline receding (at young age)

Overly dependent on drugs

You’re a leech.

[emberlynnrayne]

8-1-24

I'm here because writing sometimes helps ease the weight in me, but I don't have anything specific weighing me down. A lot of life stuff is happening.

Bear was meant to start daycare on the 5th. Once again, however, staffing issues have become a problem. They put an indefinite delay on her care.

Summer is ending, so I have to find new work. That's a whole book in itself. It's not just securing new work. Once I get the job(s) I have to learn a new family, a new kid. I have to hope they're reasonable, that the work won't be too boring or too much. That they'll be happy with having a Nanny, having *me* as a Nanny. That they stay true to our agreements. So much more.

We'll be moving in a couple months. Hopefully. My brain isn't even beginning to process through that whole ordeal. I'm so fucking tired of moving. There's hoping the sellers fix the things, hoping they're fixed properly, I still haven't even seen the new place, the process of saving boxes, packing, organizing, moving, unpacking, reorganizing, every godforsaken thing that goes with moving. And with Bear. And more changes for her. My heart hurts for her. Maybe I should've started school for her this year because at least that's more of a guarantee in stability than fucking daycare has turned out to be.

Roommate and his (ex?)girlfriend. Roommate is still fucking around with the ex. Either lying to her or us. God only knows. They're both untrustworthy in this way. Roommate is playing puppeteer and has a problematic view of women as being naturally submissive to men. He's doing his thing and trying to get us closer? Partner just made their stance on the ex very clear to both of them, which was an unpleasant and unexpected surprise, but honestly I'm also jealous. I'm too afraid of the future to properly make my opinion known and act on it. Also torn because Bear and the ex's kid grew up so close, and Bear has already lost too many important people to her in very recent history. I'd do anything for her.

I'm still missing my spark. The thing that makes me feel bright and joyful and capable. I am a ship, floating atop the water, functional and clean. I am also the anchor, weighted and pulling. Stalling progression, limiting freedom, just sinking and staying there. Content in the cold and quiet.

Partner has been good. So very good. I could be (and have already been) processing this with them, but I'm repeating myself and they have their own stress weighing them down. 18 months in and I am watching. Waiting. Lovingly terrified for the day they may change. I'm not convinced they will change in any negative way, and I am certain they want to be Good and are willing to do the work to do so. They've only raised their voice to me once, in a moment of desperation and concern. They've pressured me only once, and it was an entirely reasonable ask in a very stressful time for them. I have some concerns about their defensiveness of folks that I am not fond of. I am a quick judge of character and very defensive of my peace. Their reservations in aligning with my judgement are fair and may turn out to be good for me. I'm not sure yet, but I remain open minded.

Ugh. Every future thing is uncertain right now. Divorcing my life of 12 years has changed me. The healing and hurting in the 18 months since has changed me. Will my heart forever feel so... Guarded? Fragile? Hollow?

Hollow. Cynical. Wounded. I used to feel so full of all kinds of love and trust. I had endless faith and connection in me. I would've done anything for the very same people that dropped me so quickly. Easily. What's the point of doing it all again? I know this is unhealthy, circular thinking, and I try to work through it, but especially when I'm feeling stressed and vulnerable, it's hard to feel motivated to take that risk in opening my heart and life up to other people. I don't know. I keep getting told that I'm putting too much pressure on myself and trying to do so much. Now I'm not trying to push myself in regards to people, and I guess that means I'm isolating? It feels like nothing I'm doing is landing quite right on the scale of mental health.

Now I feel like I'm walking along the side of a mountain. Not making progress towards the peak, but enamored, watching the steep slope beside me. I know that if I don't watch my step, I could go tumbling down, and yet... That slope has always been there, always near, always with me at my lowest. However painfully. And it always has a way out.

I am not progressing right now. Maybe this is maintaining? But I thought maintaining would feel better than this. This feels. Heavy. Slow. Precarious.

I don't know. Thats me. I feel like there is no right thing to put into myself to help myself right now. I am just wrapping myself up in my closest of loved ones. That is the only thing I'm finding that breathes warmth and life into me right now.

I'll be fine. Just gotta get through this. Watch my step, keep hiking, and eventually the path will lead upwards again.

[raeathnos]

.

[sunset-bobby]

HSMTMTS S3 Ep8

Finale!!!!

Happy Birthday Ricky!!!

Biggie??

“I’m Ashlyn’s boyfriend” not Ricky’s bestie 😭😭

EJ you good?? Ricky asks

Oooo Where is Gina

Val’s a college student so ofc her and Ash won’t work

“The right person”

Ricky thought she was talking bout him

Sir how have you not read the script….Ricky you mess up and ruin this for my baby i will disown you

Miss Jenn my beloved

awww yay solo for Emmy…she sounds great

What in the Glee is this (not my friend said EJ looks like Finn)

me: Jet better sing this ep my friend: or be kissing ricky

Ahhhh Maddox and Ashlyn

Ugh fuck off Channing

EJ tryna get him to leave and everyone else could not see this

But we’re theatre kids

He’s trying so hard not be too much and she thinks he doesn’t care

It’s not a show if miss jenn doesn’t sing

Nini !!!

We all know she’s leaving

Kourtney you got this 😭😭

EJ put a lot of effort into this production value

Yess Carlos

It got crazy…it’s you

What are they talking about???

Omg they’re both gay!!

What are y’all thinking

yess representation of black mental health issues

oh clearly they are not thinking the same thing 😭😭

Kourtney I believe you

If Channing ruins Kourtney’s moment I will physically fight

Callback moment to the flashlight

Also will be fighting channing

Fight him Gina!!!!

Yes costume change

The fact he tried to ruin her solo was racially motivated 😒 but she pushed through as she should

Not claps from Corbin

Nini’s here - Ricky okay one girl this summer

Fight him Ricky do it

“Just Friends”

Why everybody look like they’re having a im in love moment during ricky’s solo 😭😭

Oop he looked right at her and the only thing i’m here for is EJ angst

EJ angst like i asked for

The daddy issues

I’m crying he hung up on him

Oh i asked for him to cry i ain’t mean it 😭😭😭

Not he ain’t get one

There was no Jet solo??? what was the point of casting him

Not she was gonna leave w/o saying goodbye to Kourtney at least

Ahhhhh omg not he remembered her

Why did no one punch him

What team?! crying

If Corbin Bleu starts singing to you EJ knows you stop walking

I’m sobbing they’re so good

They’re trending

She remembered

Okay, Hair, okay outfits

What did he do to his hair

oh this is gonna be bad

Oh wtf

Nah cause Jet said that too quickly for that to be edited

Big red rlly came out so easily

Good for him

 continuously I asked for EJ to finally slap him, and he finally admits that he wants to slap him and then they’re brothers and then he almost starts crying

Oh

I’m sorry no we did all see this coming except for you apparently

Yay Rina but also like justice for EJ

dude can you at least kiss her

oh shit oh shit oh shit

This is not disney wtf

EJ casual is a better person than me because I would slap the shit out of Ricky and we all know if roles are reversed Ricky would’ve slapped the shit out of him

[somebodystoleme]

once you left// e.j + reader + j.k, act 1.1

masterlist + request info

song of the chapter: yours, conan gray

word count: 1039

warnings/tags: angst, y/n is kind of crazy, arson, highschool au, cursing, rivals to lovers, best friends to lovers, lemme know if i missed any!

author’s stage: im so excited! this was one of my old fics that i got pretty far into just lost motivation. but im super happy to get back into it! my requests are open btw :)

The night I burned down my cousin's barn, there was no moon at all. The stars looked as if they had burnt out. The smoke suffocated my lungs, my hair waving in the wind. The fire was bright and beautiful. It wasn't right that I had done this.

I stayed in the shadows of the woods watching the firefighters attempt to clean up the fire. But it was no use, it was gone. I tried to suppress my laughter, how does it feel? After you took everyone from me. All the screaming and crying, how does it feel?

I would hate to admit that this all started because of a guy. A guy who was obviously mine. But some people like to touch what's not theirs. I remember the day before this all started....

My pink low heels clicked on the tiles of my rusted school. As expected people turned to look at me. I'm not beautiful or anything, I'm quite average. But it's the way I dress and act. You don't see people like me in small towns. My friends were already stuck inside our homeroom class. I swung the door open and made eye contact with Jean. He winked at me. I could feel the butterflies, ugh already?

On queue, Eren started whispering a little too loud to his loser friends, "Look who finally showed up. It's the primadonna of the school." My eyes locked on him and I scowled. "Eren. It's the first day stop talking." I said. As I started walking to my desk; I could feel Eren's eyes on me. I grew up. He didn't obviously.

Homeroom went by quickly. Mainly cause I spent the whole time talking to Jean. We're best friends if you couldn't tell. Sometimes Eren would look back scowling at both of us. I winked back. When the bell finally rang, I grabbed my bag and turned my head to look at Marco and Historia. Historia smiled brightly at me, which means she and Ymir are still together. Marco was wearing his signature look, bright khakis, and a hawaiian shirt. It's not funny I don't know why he does it.

Soon, after going through grueling high school class we made it to lunch. We sit right in the shade, the senior spot. We sit in a circle. Marco, Jean, me, Historia, Ymir, (if she and Historia are dating that day) Connie, and Sasha. It's always been this way. I slip into my spot with my lunch box in hand. "Y/n.... can I have your macaron?" Jean asked as he put his head on my shoulder. I could feel the blush take shape on my face. "Fine. We can split it." I split the macaroon and handed it to Jean. Jean quickly looks around the table making sure no one looking at us. "Well.. Y/n I was wondering if you would like to-"

"Hey, Y/n how was the part-time job this summer? You didn't tell me about it!" My eyes flash to Marco. Who is sitting there completely dumbfounded by the fact Jean was talking to me. "Ah, it went well thanks, Marco. Someone on the other hand didn't even ask." I rolled my eyes and smirked at Jean. "Shut up. I was busy eating your beautiful macaron."

My AP biology teacher creaked open the door to the lab, and all the students waited for the teacher. Typical. "Today students because this is AP biology and I love making people's life suck. You will be taking an entrance exam. It's pretty quick, 30 questions. Let's see who will actually be passing my class." Dr. Ackerman scanned over the crowd and chuckled a little bit. He quickly made his way to his desk and grabbed that stack of papers. I felt like I was going to die.

After 45 minutes of taking a stupid test about stuff, I learned when I was at least a freshman. Around 10 minutes later, he started passing them back. I scanned over my test, 48%. I got a 48?! My wrinkled test is crumpled in my hands. I stride over to the trash can to throw my test in, until an arm snakes around my shoulders.

"Yo. Y/n. What did you get on the test?" I can feel him smirking, it's burning into my skin. It's testing my patience. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I sigh stuffing my test into my pocket as I unhook his arm from me and walk back to my seat.

"Why did you even walk to the trash can if you're not going to throw anything away?" Eren's eyes meet mine and he chuckles, "Come on Y/n. I know you better than that-" Eren is cut off by the entrance to the classroom slamming open as well as the bell ringing.  Both of our heads turn to see who just made such an entrance. It's Jean. His brown eyes find my eyes immediately. His stare quickly turns to a warm smile.

"Move over Eren. I gotta talk to Y/n." Jean says as he walks over to my desk with his hands in his pockets. Eren obeys but it's almost like hesitating as he looks back over at me. Then he walks over to someone else's desk probably bragging about his grade. "Let me take you out to dinner. Just like the good ol’ days.”

"W-what???" I let out a cough. We've been to dinner so many times together. But I've been dying for Jean to ask me out, is this even a date? "Uhm. Sure, just pick me up." I finally let out. "Good. I'll let you know." He winks at me and backs away from my desk to the exit. I might die of happiness.

[sodasback]

Let Go - Part 3

Reposting from my deleted acct.

Warnings: physical violence

That night you got a text from JJ’s number.

JJ: Hey Y/N, it’s Pope. I stole JJ’s phone and he’s trying to kill me over it right now. 

JJ: Anyway, he hasn’t stopped talking about you. Just thought you should know.

JJ: Don’t let him hide you from us. 

JJ: Kay gotta go, can’t breathe, bye

You laughed out loud at Pope’s texts and swooned over the fact that JJ was talking about you to his friends and that the Pogues, or Pope at least, seemed like he wanted to hangout with you.Then more texts came through. 

JJ: Sry pope doesnt kno wut hes talking about. ignore him. 

JJ: i cant let ur head get any bigger knowing tht im simping for u over here. I’ll have to put u in ur place again.😉

Y/N: Is that place on my knees in front of you?

JJ: ugh stop. ur gonna make me hard and wer on the boat

Y/N: Hey you started it

JJ: Yeah well I’ll finish it too when i see u tmrw pretty girl

Y/N: You better 😈

JJ: ur killin me smalls 🍆

You went to sleep that night blissfully happy. But you woke up full of dread knowing you had to breakup with Rafe. 

You texted him telling him that you needed to see him and talk. He seemed to know something was up, but he told you to meet him at your favorite park in Figure 8. 

Before you left to meet him, you texted JJ that you were meeting Rafe. And then you shared your location with him. You had a feeling JJ would end up being close by, but you frowned when he didn’t text back and thought maybe you should call him. No, it’ll be fine. Rafe doesn’t need to know what happened. I’ll just end it and it’ll be fine.

 You pulled up to the park and saw Rafe....

You had worn a hoodie, because it was the only thing you had that would really cover all the hickeys, that you also tried, pretty unsuccessfully, to cover with make-up.

“Hey beautiful” he greeted you softly from his spot seated at a bench and kissed your cheek as you sat down next to him. You were ashamed of yourself that you still felt a warm fuzzy feeling despite the fact that Rafe didn’t you treat you right and JJ already showed you more affection in such a short time.

“Hey doll” you greeted back out of habit.

You and Rafe were both quiet for a minute, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You and Rafe enjoyed the scenery and the nearby fountain in silence.

“It’s over huh?” He asked solemnly, still looking off in the distance at first and then to you.

“Yeah” You admitted with a sigh before continuing, “I think we’re just growing apart and maybe we’re not the best for one another.” You said slowly.

You hated yourself for saying it that way, for not calling Rafe out on everything. And you hated yourself for not being 100% truthful that you cheated. But a part of you still loved him and a bigger part of you was just trying to survive this without a screaming match or something worse.

Rafe nodded and offered a small smile.

“I’ll always love you though. You know that right?” He said, squeezing your hand gently.

You melted a little. Rafe really could be the boyfriend you needed ...sometimes.

“Me too” is all you said with a gentle smile.

Rafe sighed and stood up. He opened his arms out for a hug. You stepped in and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

That wasn’t so bad you thought as you breathed in his cologne one last time and savored being in his arms for a second.

You felt Rafe shift a little and playing with the hood of your sweatshirt.

“Why’re you wearing a hoodie?” He asked, with genuine intrigue in his voice. You felt your heart stop and you tried to stop yourself from sweating more than you already were. You swallowed hard and then cleared your throat, trying to act casual.

“Just was a little chilly earlier.” You stated simply, pulling away from Rafe. Who looked at you skeptically. 

“It’s July. It’s hot as fuck out. There’s no way you’re cold.” He said tugging at the hem of the jacket. You pushed his hands away. 

“Rafe stop. I wanna keep it on. I’m cold.” You said, trying to squirm away from him. He firmly grabbed hold of both your wrists and pulled you towards him a little, motivating you to look up at his now deeply disbelieving expression. The furrow in his brow, made you nervous and you bit the inside of your cheek. You could see the gears turning in his head as he registered your very guilty and scared demeanor you couldn’t hide.

“Why’re you wearing a jacket, Y/N?” He asked in a sternly dangerous tone that gave you goosebumps. Your breathing started getting heavy. 

“Rafe” You warned nervously. 

His jaw became clenched. And he forcefully ripped the hemline of your pullover upward and wrenched your arm out one of the sleeves. 

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled at him as you tried to squirm away but he manhandled you and harshly tugged your hoodie the rest of the way off and threw it on the ground, leaving you in your sports bra, completely exposing the hickeys on your neck and chest. You quickly tried to cover yourself and reach down for your hoodie at the same time, but Rafe grabbed your forearms again, hard enough to leave bruises. 

Fuck. Where’s JJ when you need him?

Rafe looked you up and down before tightening his grip on your arms. “You little fucking whore.” He swore through gritted teeth. 

“Rafe you’re hurting me.” You said with a whiny tone you couldn’t hold back.

“You’re just cold, huh? I can’t believe you fucked another guy, you cheating slut!” He spat as he throttled you.

“Rafe calm down.” You said, trying not to cry. God, JJ, please come. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?!” Rafe laughed darkly, before moving a hand to your throat, but not fully squeezing yet. “You cheat on me and all you can say is you’re sorry?!” 

“Rafe! Please!” You begged, tears now welling up in your eyes. 

“Who’d you let fuck you, Y/N? Hmm? Who marked you up knowing you were mine?”

“Rafe, please let go!” You cried. 

“Tell me who it was, Y/N!” He growled at you in a way that made your blood run cold and he started to squeeze your throat. You clawed at his hand and his arm as he cut off your airway. 

“Cameron!” JJ yelled as he ran over to you. Rafe was caught off guard and let go of your throat. You collapsed to the ground gasping for air. JJ immediately was at your side. 

“Y/N! Are you okay? Go to your car, now.” JJ told you. But you stayed in your position, mostly out of necessity, given the fact you couldn’t breathe. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Rafe said. “You cheated on me with this fucking piece of shit pogue?!” He asked you, as JJ stood up and faced him. 

“Leave. Now.” JJ told Rafe.

Rafe snorted, “Or what?” He challenged, stepping towards JJ.

Right then, police sirens went off. All 3 of you turned to see a Kildare County Sheriff SUV and Shoupe step out.

“Is there a problem gentleman?” Shoupe asked them walking towards the 3 of you.

Rafe and JJ were glaring at each other. You took the opportunity to put your hoodie back on.

Finally, Rafe said, “No problem here officer.” As he didn’t take his eyes off JJ, daring him to rat him out.

“Looks like you’re on the wrong side of town, Mr. Maybank. Everything okay Miss Y/L/N?” Shoupe asked.

“Yeah, JJ came to take me home. Rafe was just leaving.” You said.

By now, Shoupe had taken notice of the red mark on your neck and the fact you were on the ground with a defensive JJ in between you and Rafe. It was very obvious what had been going on.

“Mr. Cameron, I think you should head on home now.” Shoupe said. And you internally rolled your eyes. Of course, Shoupe would let Rafe just leave.

Rafe just glared at JJ.

“Rafe.” Shoupe said more firmly.

“I’ll see you soon Y/N, Maybank.” He promised in a dangerous tone before turning toward his car.

JJ watched him leave with his fists clenched. Once Rafe was driving away, JJ took a deep breath and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you need to see a doctor?” Shoupe asked.

“No, I’m fine.” You said from JJ’s arms.

“Alright. You 2 take care, now.” Shoupe said as both an apology and a warning getting back in his car.

Now, it was just you and JJ. He was still holding you tight. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, glancing down at you. You nodded but kept your head tight to his chest squeezing his waist and cried a little. 

You only let yourself cry for a second and then sucked it up and when you sniffled, JJ held you back a little so he could look at you. He checked your expression and waited for you to nod as he slowly and gently pulled the collar of your hoodie down a little so he could see your neck.

A pained grimace appeared on JJ’s face and anyone looking at him could have probably seen his heart break in front of them as he looked at your injury.

You might have JUST admitted feelings for each other yesterday, but you couldn’t explain it. You and JJ felt right. It was young summer love, a whirlwind romance where you both fell hard and fast. And the fact that he was partly at fault for the huge hematoma forming on your neck, the fact Rafe quite literally could have killed you made JJ feel like crumbling.

“I’m gonna kill him.” JJ said to himself more than you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N.” 

“JJ. This is not your fault. Okay? Rafe is the one who had his hand around my neck not you.” You said with your hands holding his face. 

“But I-”

“No! Stop! I’m telling you this isn’t your fault. And I’m fine. See? I’m in one piece.”

JJ almost had tears spilling out. 

“I promise.” You reassured him. He closed his eyes and nodded. 

“So you taking me out on a date or what, Maybank?” You asked, desperately just wanting to see JJ’s face free of anguish again. He smiled a little and sniffled. 

“Yeah, I’m taking you out. Give me your keys.” He said smiling.

“Uh uh” You tsked, “You think I’m gonna let you drive my Porsche? I’ve seen you take a turn in John B’s van on 2 wheels. I’m not letting you behind the wheel of my baby.” 

“Fine” JJ pouted. But then he snatched the keys from your hand and mimicked the shocked look on your face and taunted you. 

“JJ!” You shouted reaching for the keys, but he held them out of reach from you. 

“Ooh sucks to be short, huh Y/N?” He said as he stumbled to your car still holding you back from the keys. 

“JJ.” You said seriously. “Give. Me. My. Keys.” He just looked at you waiting for you to threaten something as he stood next to the driver’s door. “Give me my keys or I’m not sucking your dick for a month.” You threatened. 

“Pfft” JJ scoffed, “Like you could go a month without begging for my cock down your throat? Bet” He said, nodding his chin up at you. You contemplated it and you knew he was probably right. You furrowed your brow. 

“I swear to god, if you crash my car, I will kill you Maybank.” You said as you walked to the passenger’s. 

“Whoo!” JJ cheered before awkwardly crawling into your front seat. “Jesus, your seat’s so close to the wheel!” He complained throwing the seat back and fixing all the mirrors. 

“JJ! You are fucking up all my stuff!” You yelled at him and punched him in the arm. He ignored you and revved the engine. 

“Ooofff” JJ groaned, “this is making me so horny. Can we have sex later?” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re eating me out for at least an hour for stealing my car.” You folded your arms and looked out the front windshield. JJ leaned over and pecked your cheek. 

“My pleasure baby.” he said, throwing your car in drive and screeching the tires. 

“JJ!”

Taglist: @moniamaybank @hernameisnoell @moonrisebeach @abbyj1822 @october-cameron @railmerafe

[straighttohellbuddy]

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

----

The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?” 

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

[travelinglowcarb]

I'm still not doing great, but I'm still doing all the things - anyway. 🙃👍

Today: sunshine & cold therapy. That water is COLD 🥶 lol, but submerging my head really helps with the tremors & cognitive dysfunction. Plus an hour in the river just does me good! 🌞❣️💦

📲 I shared a new video chat & blog post last week in case you missed it...

Video Chat: Motivation vs Commitment

https://www.travelinglowcarb.com/30349/motivation-vs-commitment/

I didn't really feel like getting out today.

But I did.

I didn't feel up for working this morning.

But I did.

I definitely felt like having a long nap after both. And I did, lol. 😅👍

I miss summer already, but Tennessee gifted me with a beautiful week to enjoy some much needed outdoor therapy. 💝

Tuesday I had to go to the hospital for an ultrasound on my legs. That short trip & appt totally wrecked me. I've been resting & recovering since. But the results were good news, so yay! 🙌 But that leaves me with more "no answers" ha - ugh!

I know there are a lot of crazy things going on in the world, but hey... don't forget to:

#takecareofyourself ❤️

xo

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 4 Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Taglist!: @vicmc624

Read Part 1; Masterlist

The icon that marked where you were currently typing in your text blinked as you bit your lip. Looking back from where you were sitting at the kitchen table, you took stock of the open pantry once again. You were low on just about everything. With physical therapy exhausting your shoulder, it was hard to find the energy to lift any heavy bags. You had texted Sam for help, but unfortunately he was out of state.

“Bucky’s home, just ask him to go with you. He won’t mind” He had texted back.

You slouched back into the chair and groaned. You had only seen him in passing since he had helped you with the furniture. What was he, your live-in-caretaker? Was he just there to help you up and down the stairs and help you across the street? Sliding onto the floor, you made a small grunt as you felt your back straighten out and adjust to the floor. Resting a moment, you held your phone up and stared at the blinking bar. You hadn’t texted him before. Should you just call him? Or knock on his door? Ugh, why was this so hard. Whatever.

“Hey Bucky, I’m having trouble carrying stuff right now. Would you mind helping me out with grocery shopping sometime today or tomorrow? If not, no worries.”

Without a second thought, you sent it and set your phone down next to you. It was around 1PM, the only thing you having done up until then was getting dressed while sipping on coffee. Opting for a lazy look, you had worn soft leggings with an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. Two simple braids and a headband kept your hair out of the way for when you eventually practiced. Only a few more weeks until you practiced with the actual orchestra. You should probably figure out something to wear besides lounge clothes.

The buzz on the floor caught your attention and you took a peak at your home screen

1 New Message:

Bucky Barnes: Sure, is now good?

Shoot. You quickly got up and walked to the bathroom. Your hair wasn’t too messy. Why do you look so tired? Opting for some mascara, you texted Bucky back before digging around in your makeup bag.

Yeah, meet at my car in a minute?

---

Bucky pocketed his phone and took a quick look in the mirror. Should he shave? Scratching his beard, he made a face before deciding against. It would take him more than a minute. Why didn’t he just say thirty minutes from now? Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a jacket and walked out of the apartment.

As he walked over the freshly fallen leaves in the driveway, he opted for leaning against your car. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his head to look out over the water. It had been quiet lately, just chilly enough to silence the summer chorus of buzzing and croaks. Now all that was left was the occasional honking of geese flying overhead.

He had only been there for a couple of minutes when you came out onto the porch. You had hastily thrown on some brown leather boots, the left one still untied. The little bit of mascara and lip gloss you put on made you feel better about not looking like death. It was nice to do a little something, even if it was just the grocery store.

“Hey!” you said, slightly breathless as you bounded down the stairs, keys jingling in your hand.

Bucky echoed your greeting back to you with a small smile and wave.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You said, clicking the key fob to unlock the car.

“Oh it’s no problem. I didn’t really have much to do anyway.” He said, ducking his head to sit in the passenger side seat. He noticed how as soon as you closed the door, you clicked the locks shut. Then you brought your left heel up on the edge of the seat so that you could tie your shoe.

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. Usually, I don’t need too much help, but I need cases of waters and stuff like that. I was gonna get someone to help me at the grocery store but I realized I’d still be left in a lurch once I got home. I figured if you needed, we could just get groceries together this time,” you explained while double knotting the laces.

Starting the car and putting on your seatbelt, you looked behind you out of habit to make sure you weren’t going to hit anything as you backed out of the driveway.

“Huh. It looks like it’s going to rain.” You said, observing the darker clouds and the wind picking up. Putting the car in drive, you started down the driveway.

“Music?” You offered, gesturing towards the radio.

“I don’t really know what’s been playing these days… or for the last sixty years if I’m being honest.” At least it’s nice not to have to lie about it, Bucky thought.

“Well, we have a lot to catch you up on then.” You said, stopping at the end of the driveway and grabbing your phone. Scrolling through your music, you hit the bluetooth button on the console.

“This playlist has all my favorite classics on it. Feel free to skip anything you don’t like.” You said, handing him the phone and turning onto the road. The music started, prompting Bucky looked down at the phone. September- Earth, Wind & Fire.

---

Four songs later you were at the supermarket, grabbing a cart and discussing favorites.

“That last one was good too. Which one was that?” Bucky asked.

“That’s Stolen Away on 55th & 3rd. Dave Matthews Band. Now mind you, some of those are way older than others. The only thing they all have in common is that they’re all at least ten years old.”

“Huh.” He’s really missed out on a lot.

The two of you continued chatting as you went through the various sections. A couple cases of water. A bag of salad. Deli meats and cheeses. Bread. Ground beef. Pasta and pasta sauce. The topic turned to older music from Bucky’s time.

“I’m surprised you have heard of her.” He said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, I’m going to be honest, the only reason I have any knowledge of it at all is because I had to take a lot of Music History classes in college. For whatever reason, they thought that to play music, you needed to know every which way that it’s evolved throughout the years. Though, I have to say,” you paused, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, I’m kind of glad I did.” You looked up at him slightly, face just a tad warm as he met your eyes. You both looked away and he coughed awkwardly. Feeling embarrassed, you scan the shelves of snacks before hearing him quietly say behind you-

“… I’m glad you did too. It’s different. And kind of nice to talk to someone about it. Who actually knows what I’m talking about.”

Trying to keep your smile small, you continued to look at the array of cookies on the shelf. A hand passed over your shoulder to take a pack of shortbread cookies.

“Hmm. Shortbreads.” You say, holding your arms behind your back. “Verrry interesting.”

“What?” He replied defensively.

“You can tell a lottttt about a man by his snack preferences.”

“Well, what do shortbreads say?” Bucky asked, leaning his forearms on the handle of the cart so that he was now eye level with you. It was too late this time to hide your smile. You turned back around to grab a pack of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

“If I tell you what they mean, you’ll just pick the kind that you think has the best traits. You’re not fooling me anytime soon.” You said with a laugh before you whisked yourself around the corner.

“Hey, that’s not fair, come back!” He pushed the cart around the corner where he ran into you hugging Sarah. The boys were with her and they went absolutely ballistic.

“Uncle Buck! Uncle Buck!” They shouted as they bombarded him.

“AJ! Cass! Stop acting crazy in the grocery store!” Sarah said, reprimanding them. You chuckled at the sight of Bucky being slowly overwhelmed by the two boys. He pried them off his legs and crouched so that he was eye level with them.

“Hey, I missed you guys. I haven’t seen you guys since the last time Uncle Sam and I came back-”

“-from fighting bad guys, right!” AJ said, getting a little too excited and causing Sarah to give him the look. Bucky tried not to laugh and held a finger up to his mouth to signal that they needed to be quiet.

“Yes, from fighting bad guys.”

You turned towards Sarah with a grin and put your hand on her arm.

“We’ll have to have all of you over, come see the new house. Will you text me a day next week when you, Sam, and the kids are free?”

“That sounds great. I’m so glad you got to move down here. I’ll let you know about next week!” Sarah said. She also walked around the cart and gave Bucky a hug. He returned it but glanced towards you nervously; You were already looking away. When they pulled away from each other, Sarah glanced in your direction and then at Bucky, a knowing smile on her face and eyebrows wiggling. Bucky made a face with wide eyes, letting her know to cut it out. Sarah laughed slightly while saying goodbye:

“It was good to see you, Buck.” Sarah said, laughing as she rolled the cart away, AJ and Cass in tow, who were both shouting goodbyes at Uncle Buck.

“Good to see you too…” He trailed off in her direction.

“Man, those boys really love Uncle Buck.” You said teasingly, making him jump slightly and turn around. You laughed and walked towards the next aisle, leaving Bucky red in the ears.

---

It was just starting to rain when you parked the car in the driveway. You grabbed some of the lighter bags and ran up the steps, hurrying to unlock the door. Bucky was piling on the grocery bags as the rain got heavier. He hauled everything inside as you held the door open for him. He lifted the groceries up onto the kitchen counter and made his way down the stairs again.

“Still have to get the cases of water.” He explained in response to your confused face. The rain was still getting heavier. Hauling the two jumbo cases onto his shoulder and carrying the last one by the plastic in his hand, he made his way up the porch, slower this time. You held the door open, looking incredulously again at how easy it was for him as he passed.

By the time he had set the waters down, you had grabbed a towel for him, extending it to him while looking away at from his drenched shirt.

“Thanks,” he said, toeing off his shoes and drying his hair with the towel before draping it over his shoulders.

“Please, let me make you some tea. You must be freezing.” You said, already digging through the pantry for some.

“Well, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.” He said, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

“Yeah, hold on, it’s kind of dark. Let me turn on the lights…” You trailed off as the light switch did nothing. Flicking it a few times back and forth, you sighed.

“I’m so sorry, the real estate agent told me it’s pretty easy to lose power in this area since there’s so many trees. They usually have it back on pretty quick though I’m told.” You said, now digging through another cabinet.

“It’s completely fine, you can’t control that. I’ll just take a raincheck-”

“Found it!” You said, cutting him off and proudly presenting the gas-powered single burner. You set it down in front of Bucky who watched as you also grabbed a tea light and a lighter from in the drawer.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You asked while lighting it.

---

Three more tea lights and a kettle of hot water later, Bucky was sitting with the towel draped over his shoulders, sipping on the warm cup of green tea. The flames created flickering shadows as you added the pasta to the pot of boiling water.

“I knew this was going to come in handy. I’m glad I saved it.” You said, setting a timer on your phone as you leaned on the counter across from Bucky.

“Why do you have it in the first place?” He asked curiously.

“I kind of had to hop around for a little bit before I got down here. I would stay in hotels but I didn’t want to eat out every night so this came in handy. Ole reliable.” You said, looking down at one of the tea lights.

There was a moment of silence before you pursed your lips.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, setting the cup down.

“Has Sam told you… how I ended up here?” You asked, now looking straight at him. The look on his face told you the answer before he could respond.

“I see…”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I-”

You held up a hand to cut him off, soft smile on your face.

“No, it’s okay. I told him that if it ever came up, he could talk about it. I’m pretty open about it. How much did he tell you?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the cup to absorb some of the warmth.

“Just the basics. You two were together, then he got… violent. And you trying to leave.” He said, looking down into his cup.

“Yeah, that just about covers it… He kept following me after I got out of the hospital so I had to get a rental car and hotel hop for a while… When I got the house down here, I finally got my actual car and just booked it here. He’s never been to Louisiana before and he doesn’t know that Sam lives here now, instead of DC. I’m hoping he’s frolicking in city traffic, getting run over as he looks for me. Bucky snorted and tried not to laugh, which made you laugh.

“Sorry, it’s not funny.” He said, covering his mouth.

“Oh, it totally is.” You said, talking in a way where he could tell that you were smiling.

You both laughed as you grabbed a strainer out of the pantry. Draining the pasta, you both settled into a comfortable silence.

“Well, I’m glad you can joke about it.” Bucky said, watching as you poured pasta sauce into the pot to warm it up before chucking the rest of the pasta in.

“Some days are better than others. I’m just happy that I can stop running. Still, I do get a bit paranoid sometimes. I feel like I’m going to turn a corner and he’ll be right there.” You said, rubbing your arms as if you were comforting yourself. At that moment, Bucky looked at you and noticed for the first time how truly tired you looked. Dark circles underneath a sleep deprived gaze. Eyes clouded by worry and paranoia. Bucky’s seen that look on himself before. Before Steve found him in Bucharest, before he could trust his own mind. When he had to avoid being recognized, avoid being found, avoid falling back into Hydra’s grasp.

You exhaled as you uncrossed your arms, mixing the pot before sprinkling cheese on top. “Dinner’s all done.” Bucky sat peacefully, enjoying the aroma of the tomato and basil. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled before speaking up again.

“Well. I’m here now.”

“Hmm?” You called back, not quite hearing him over the clanking of the bowls you took out.

“I’m here now,” he repeated, this time with more confidence. “So… you don’t have to worry about it. If you ever get worried about it, just call me. Or text me… Or knock on the door… and I’ll talk to you or I’ll check it out, keep an eye on the house from the apartment, or just be in the house with you. It’s not a bother, if it’ll give you peace of mind. I’ve been through something… similar. With, uh, the whole Hydra… thing…” Bucky trailed off as you stared at him with a neutral face. He was getting ready to backpedal, hand reaching for the back of his neck out of nervous habit, until you spoke.

“You’d do that?” You said, face unchanged, eyes searching his.

“Yeah… Yeah, I would.”

You blinked a few times before looking aside and trying to clear the frog from your throat.

“I don’t even know what to say but thank you. That is such a big relief.” You said, voice wavering slightly, one hand coming up to touch your forehead out of relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nobody should have to go through that alone.” Bucky said softly.

You touched his hand softly, giving it a gentle squeeze before stealing your own back. You turned around to grab a drink when you paused, looking out the window.

“It stopped raining.” You stated, watching as the little bit of sunlight brightened the colors of the changing leaves. Bucky, on the other hand, was watching how the little bit of sunlight brightened you. He rubbed his thumb against where your hand had just been, trying to recreate the feeling of your hand on his.

[mxtcha-tea]

useless love letter with oikawa & kuroo?

Useless Love Letter.2

✎desc; when he receives a love letter from someone else and you’re unphased by it.

✎pairing[s]; kuroo x gn!reader (let me know if i miss any)

✎genre; angst, unrequited love (not proofread)

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; I ran out of ideas so I can't do Oikawa's part (my motivation istg smh)

It’s always been you, Kuroo and Yaku. You three all became friends a lot more quicker than anyone could’ve expected. And the friendship started the same way, from Kuroo annoying you two and becoming enemies when you first met.

Kuroo’s the one who bands you all together into this lump of mess and y’know, he’s glad that he did. High school couldn’t be even more exciting with both of you by his side.

But the more time passed, the more his feelings for you took a slight turn. It was the end of summer when Kuroo started realizing it. You came to his house because you forgot to do the homeworks they’ve given before summer starts.

Sure, it was a pain in the ass having to deal with your complaints and groan echoing every corner of his room. He thought about kicking your out right that instant but something in him told himself to just let you stay there longer.

Watching you from the corner of his eyes, freezing like a statue while squinting your eyes at your exercise book, a pen between your upper lips and nose. It’s not the prettiest image, he had to admit, but you look the most beautiful when you’re doing the most random poses.

Then, his mind drifted to every key memory of you, the way his cheeks would turn into a rosy color when your skin met or when his mind malfunctioned when you held eye contact with him. You drive him insane and Kuroo has no idea if it’s a good thing or not.

But it sure gave him butterflies and made him feel at home. So, maybe it is a good thing. He’ll always have sleepless nights where he can’t think of anything else other than you. He hates it when it happens because it made him feel like a creep.

Kuroo wondered if you felt the same. When he blushes, would you react the same? When he stuttered out, would you do the same? He wasn’t entirely sure, so he tried his best to be as close to you than he’ll ever be.

Even if it may take forever to let those 3 words out from his vocal chords, it’ll be worth it, he knows it.

The bell rang, signalling end of the 3rd period. Yaku sighed, cracking his knuckles before walking towards your desk. Kuroo can be seen sitting in front of you, probably annoying you yet again, “Hey, [y/n], have you written any notes during class?”

Yaku asked, reaching for the nearest chair and sitting on it, leaning his arms onto your desk, “A little,” “Only a little? I honestly thought that you’re not going to write anything,” You tch’ed, holding out your middle finger at Kuroo while the bedhead just snickered,

“It’s none of your business, Mount Fuji hair,” But at that, Kuroo snapped. Yaku tried to hold in his laughs and hitting the desk a little, “Oi, stop coming up with new nicknames for me,” “No, I think that nickname suits you the most, Mount Fuji hair, Mount Fuji hair,”

Now it’s your turn to snicker at him while mockingly pointing at his hair. Yaku finally releases his laugh while holding you for support. For some reasons, that action pissed him a lot more.

Who did he think he is to just touch you like that? But he managed to calm himself as he points at you, trying to figure out a better remark to counter your insult,

“How ironic hearing it from-” “UM, SORRY,” He got cut off as he looked to his left, finding a girl, probably from a different class standing next to him with a nervous face.

Both you and Yaku stopped laughing and also took your attention on the girl. With shaky hands, she holds out a letter to Kuroo. All three of you went wide eyes at that as the same exact words run across your minds,

‘A CONFESSION LETTER?!’

“Please accept this!” He slowly takes the letter from the girl’s hand, nodding, “Oh, um, okay,” And with that, the girl ran out from the classroom, face visibly red from being nervous and probably embarrassment.

It was silence before all of you looks at the letter in Kuroo’s hand, you look up at his face, who’s also looking at you and the same thing with Yaku,

“HAH! Look at who’s Mr. Popular right now,” Kuroo stated, pointing at you with a smirk plastered on his face, “Ugh, you’re so annoying, and so what? It’s only a letter and not tons of them,”

And after that very statement of yours, you hold Yaku’s face in between your hand like a sandwich with a small smile on your face, “But honestly, Yaku can get more love letters than you, I mean look at him, isn’t he handsome?”

Yaku blushed at that, slowly gripping your wrist and pushing your hands away from his face, “Hey, don’t do that, it hurts,” “Oops, sorry Mr. Handsome,” “Seriously, what’s with you and giving random nicknames?” “But that’s not random? I genuinely think you’re handsome, Mori,”

His blush deepened as he lightly hit your head, “J-just shut up,” “Ow! Fine fine, yeesh,”

Kuroo just stays quiet, staring at you two acting...oddly lovely with each other from his seat. He wanted to punch Yaku so bad but he can’t, he knows he can’t. But it doesn’t matter, cause you like him right? He’s sure of that, it’s just like a frenemies to lover trope.

He coughed, taking back both of your attention, “But I don't really see him receiving any, didn’t he? Then, I guess I’ll just keep being Mr. Popular, or even Mr. Handsome,” Yaku cringed while you snorted,

“You? Who in the world would even think that? You’re ugly, ugly baby, maybe that girl’s delusional or something,” “As if you’re anywhere pretty, and who’s even getting a love letter right now? I bet you’re jealous that you got none,”

You sighed, resting your head onto the palm of your hand, “Sadly, I guess no one noticed my beauty, “ Kuroo chuckled, “But serious talk here,”

That caught both Kuroo and Yaku attention as you continue, eyes looking down on your finger hitting the desk, “I don’t really mind getting a love letter from someone, whether it’s a prank or whatever, I think it’s neat,”

You look up at both of them, a small smile decorating your face, “ It makes me feel special,”

Kuroo could feel his heart beating faster, cheeks burning up at nothing but those simple words. It’s funny how the love letter in his hand doesn’t give him any reactions at all, but your mere words does,

“Stop saying it in that tone, you’re making me feel bad,” “Pfft, I don’t need your pity,” “Oh really~? Maybe I’ll write a letter for you to make you feel better then,” “Ugh, no thanks, Mount Fuji hair,” “Yeah, I- OI! SERIOUSLY, STOP WITH THE NICKNAME,”

You and Kuroo kept on arguing with each other, spitting profanities and so on. Yaku can just sigh, shaking his head and watching you two with a small smile.

“I’m going home now!”

Grabbing his bag, Yaku waved his hand as he walked towards the gym door, “Okay, stay safe!” Kai said, waving back at him, Kuroo joined his side, “I hope you don’t get chased again by those dogs,” “SHUT UP MOUNT FUJI HAIR!”

And with one last glare at the ravenette, Yaku stormed out from the gym after accidentally being reminded by that horrible and embarrassing memory,

“Mount Fuji hair?” Kai looked at Kuroo with a confused look, “Ah, It’s a new nickname [y/n] gave me, it’s stupid to be honestly,”

Kuroo explained, scratching the back of his head as he followed Kai to grab a broom and clean the gym.

Behind them are the 2nd years helping to clean the gym. Kenma sitting on the floor while rejecting Yamamoto’s request to put down the net with him and Fukunaga’s just watching them from a distance, sweeping the floor while snickering to himself,

“Kuroo, I hope you’re planning on confessing to [y/n], because you’re delaying a lot of time,” Kuroo pursed his lips, sweeping the floor a few meters away from Kai, “Nah, I think after a few more days then I can confess to them,”

And from that, Kai stopped sweeping as it caught Kuroo’s attention. Kuroo looks at him, his eyes show nothing but urgency. And somehow pity,

“I’m serious right now, Kuroo. You’ve what? Said that 3 times already and you still haven’t done anything. And…”

He stopped, sighing quietly before continuing, “...If you don’t take actions right this instant, [y/n]’s gonna be sweeped away by someone else,” Kuroo’s eyes went wide at that, “You...you don’t mean,”

“[y/n]’s going to be confessed by someone else today, at this time. I’ve heard it from a friend of mine,”

The broom in his hand falls down, echoing through the now empty gym and catching the attention of the 2nd years, looking at Kuroo with confusion. The male isn’t doing any better, he’s visibly shaking but he can’t move or do anything.

But then, his instincts started kicking in as his legs made the first move. He slammed open the gym door and started running towards the place he would think you would be at. Kai watching him with pity lacing his expression, taking the broom from the ground,

“I’m so sorry, Kuroo,”

‘I’m going to confess to [y/n] today and give them a letter because you know that I can’t tell everything inside my mind when they’re in front of me, they’re too pretty and it makes me nervous y’know. Oh, and also, keep this a secret from Kuroo, okay?’

His mind is going everywhere, his thighs burning from the amount of running he did from the gym all the way to the hallway of the first class. Kuroo has no idea where he’s heading to whatsoever but at the same time, he knows where it is.

The world around him started spinning as a pain shot to his head but he paid it no mind as he huffed, beads of sweat falling from his face and covering his cheeks.

And suddenly he stopped.

Kuroo watches from a distance, chest rising up and down. He can’t feel anything right now, he can’t hear anything. But the pain is still visibly there when he watches Yaku handing you a letter.

Your eyes went wide as you bowed to Yaku and took the letter from him. He can’t hear what they’re talking about, but whatever it’s about really makes you happy huh? And before he could process anything after that, you two kissed.

It was just a few seconds but it felt like an eternity to Kuroo. The way your lips touch Yaku’s, and not his. God, he dreamed of feeling it against him but now, he doesn't even have the chance to taste it.

Now, he’s thinking back to what Kai had said. Why did he wait to confess to you? The answer is quite simple,

Because he’s afraid. He’s afraid of rejection, he’s afraid that it’ll ruin the relationship you have with him now, he’s afraid of showing his vulnerability to you. It’s a simple task but a hard execution, and now Kuroo can’t do it anymore. Not now, not then.

Yes, he regretted not doing it earlier but it’s even more painful that he has to watch both of his friends fall in love with each other without him noticing. Actually, no, he did notice it.

Kuroo did notice how Yaku look at you, it’s also the way Kuroo looks at you too. But he didn't mind it because he can’t face the reality. That you like Yaku better than him.

So, he had to live in a fantasy world where you fall in love with him instead. How funny. A part of him wanted to stop it, just stop the painful visual that he had to watch, maybe that’ll be an interesting twist to the story.

But he didn’t, because he’s still scared.

And before Kuroo even knew it, you two are gone now. Probably going on a quick date or something. He weakly leaned against the wall, slowly falling down to his knees as he covered his face with his hands.

A few sniffles came out from him as he choked on his tears, each droplet falling down to the ground and soaking his sweaty hands. And now, he knows why Yaku asked to go home early today,

Kuroo hiccupped, a small smile appearing on his face as he laughed quietly to himself, “It’s okay, they’re a cute couple anyway. You’re strong, and you can find...better,”

It’s always been you, Kuroo and Yaku. And now, it’s only Kuroo left.

[bunny-hoodlum]

NaruHina Fic Concepts IDK when I'll ever get to:

Age Difference one-shots

20yo!Naruto/31yo!Hinata (leaning towards Hinata being a Landlady. Maybe Naruto is a college student that just moved in. Or maybe he's a squatter that catches her by surprise when she's doing a showing of the apartment, and then suddenly cancels, to the annoyance of her prospective tenants. And so as to not get him in trouble with police, she makes an arrangement with him and helps him get his life together. So one standard romance route and one that's pretty much genderbent Higehiro lol).

My "Jealousy" story expanded

A "during the timeskip" short stories series (only 2 good ones so far)

14yo!Hinata gets isekai'd into a Modern AU and Naruto is 20yos. They go on a road trip to try and get her back home. She plays off his assumption that she is a runaway who regrets leaving home in order to spend more time with him than she deserves, all because she was missing her own Naruto so badly. (I had a fic like this from Naruto's perspective but then deleted it twice and wrote Powerless in its place, because it wasn't working. Probably better to write it from her POV instead. Still thought if Hinata had enough chakra to perform ninjutsu in front of a normal Naruto that it would freak him out and be really interesting, but alas. Also she needs to conserve her chakra or she can't return home. Idk if in such a situation her chakra would fail to naturally resupply or not, but the obvs the stakes would be even higher if she couldn't.)

KonoGakuenDen!Hinata's love letter travels between dimensions and lands at 15yo Naruto's feet while he's still training with Jiraiya. (Has this been written? I just thought of this one).

Modern AU: Hinata's family runs a seaside inn and Naruto is a regular patron. She assumes his female friends are his girlfriends and that she has no business wanting to be wanted by him. (Loosely and indirectly inspired by "Goodbye Tsugumi" by Banana Yoshimoto)

Genderbent AUs

This is an oldie from 2010? Modern AU, RTN!Hinata is disowned from her family after trying to protect Hanabi from RTN!Neji. She sleeps around with other women who provide her a place to stay, eventually falling in love with Naruko who is also equally promiscuous. The next day Naruko is nowhere to be found, but there's a male lookalike cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Naruko never told her she had a male twin and Hinata's acquired hatred/distrust of men causes a lot of conflict between the two of them. (NaruHina = enemies to friends to lovers. I would make it NaruHinaNaruko but maybe that's actually weird, idk haha).

Another one I did a huge sketchdump on back in 2010: Modern AU, everyone canon but Naruko. Didn't even have a plot for this. Just wanted to write about a soft butch!Naruko chasing after the seemingly unattainable Hyuga Hinata. 😆

Secret Lovers AUs

Story No Longer Available: Okay, I originally wanted to write my own separate version of my Foster Sibling AU to be where they actually try dating in secret during High School, but I'm letting that idea go and hoping another excuse-- I mean premise comes to me. I'm still trying to write the Foster Sibling AU in adherence to the incomplete Secret Santa plot, so that version is still going to be a thing.

I guess this counts as Fake Dating as well, and I may have written a post about this last year already: Modern AU, Sakura, Ino and Hinata are on Summer break from college in the capital and roadtripping to visit Sasuke and Naruto in a coastal city. Naruto still likes Sakura, Hinata is still faintly interested in Naruto, etc. Sakura catches a cold during the trip and the 4 of them go have fun in another city without her. A regular daytrip concludes rauceously with drunken karaoke and a round of Punishment Games (aka Betting and the loser has to do this or that). When Hinata loses and has to make-out with Sasuke, the context somehow gets rewritten in Naruto's inebriated head and he thinks they have the hots for each other. All of a sudden he stops caring about getting with Sakura, and adopts a dogma to protect Hinata's virtue. The only way he decides he can do that is if he is the one dating her.

High Fantasy AU

Naruto is the half-blood son of The Captain of the Royal Guard and a Pagan Witch (the isle of Uzushio was obtained through conquest, their people assimmilated and seemingly tolerated by the Court, but otherwise distrusted by the common folk. An Uzushio Resistance Army hides in secret and are wanted by the Kingdom). The Uchiha are Wood Elves who used to serve the Kingdom but were betrayed and exiled. They only roam at night to trade with the Dwarves of Iron Kingdom. Sakura is a human travelling with her Venture-motivated Father and henpecking Mother. They settle in with the Dwarves in an Outpost town where her father has accepted a job. Sakura, being bookish and brainy, has no chance of fitting in with the brawny Dwarves. She eventually abandons her true self to prove her mettle, and when she shows off strength in the only way Dwarves care about, she's heartily accepted. Back at the Leaf Kingdom, Naruto's Knighthood training has only been going downhill since he began. When his flaring temper unleashes powerful magic and injures one of the boys harassing him, he's banished. Minato asks Kakashi to accompany his son into the wilderness, where his journey brings him to Sakura and then Sasuke. The Hyuga are High Elves and their first born Hinata is approaching her Coming of Age Ceremony. Royalty from all realms have been invited to attend. Naruto and his companions have by now fashioned themselves into a ragtag group of mercenaries. Knowing that his parents will be at the ceremony, Naruto worms his way into a bodyguarding job for an Acting Troupe that will perform in front of Royalty. He falls for the beautiful High Elf Hinata and attempts to visit her in her chambers. (I have 2 ideas for which way the plot could go. Ugh. Either she is married off to Toneri, or she has to devote the rest of her life to praying in front of the tree that seals away Kaguya. Either way, Naruto chooses to convince her to say 'fuck that' to her obligations, and when she gives in, a dark prophecy is fulfilled. And yadda yadda yadda, Hero's Journey and stuff).

That feels like everything I ever thought of. 😅 I can't be sure if I'm missing another Secret Lovers/Fake Dating concept, but oh well. I feel pretty satisfied with this list.

[snowboiwinwin]

The Boyz as my University Professors

Disclaimer: Some of my professors are evil bitches; none of the boys are truly evil and I am in no way implying they are or trying to make them look bad! I love the boys and I just thought it would be a fun thing to post :D

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

Sangyeon: 

the one professor that absolutely loves the topic of his class

super wholesome and smiley throughout the 90 minutes class time

getting super close to the camera (actually to the mic) because he is worried students won’t hear him well enough

always asking questions and encouraging students to interact

not offended when something isn’t clear and therefore students don’t know the answer

reading EVERY. SINGLE. MESSAGE written in the chat (sometimes students have mic problems or don’t wanna speak)

making everyone feel valid and appreciated

being super calm and relaxed

barely doing breakout-rooms cause he knows no one likes them

ending class always a little earlier cause “I know how stressful your life can get.”

just the cutest prof out there

Jacob: 

another sweet guy

never holds class at its normal timeframe

just uploads all the files students will need (although attendance is supposed to be mandatory)

“you guys are all grown-ups, I trust you to decide yourself when it is the best time for YOU to study.”

constantly uses smileys and is therefore super popular with students

doesn’t teach many classes, cause which good prof does that? ugh

gets right back at students when they email him their concerns

and no, you don’t get half-assed answers

you get a very detailed answer, which is rare in university life

THANKS STUDENTS FOR SENDING HIM THEIR HOMEWORK!!!!

“Dear [name of stundet], thank you very much! 😊”

offers students to call him by his first name

“I’ll call you by your first name too if that’s okay... creates a more comfortable atmosphere!”

the best <3

Younghoon:

he is a savage professor

his look is hella scary and students fear taking his classes

but he is actually the coolest and most laid back dude ever

the first time class is held, he comes in, stone cold expression and literally throws his bag on the desk - everyone is hella scared

then he says, in the scariest voice ever, “We can have fun here in class, no problem, but i AM YOUR PROFESSOR. NOT YOUR FRIEND. Remember that.”

*everyone scared to death*

“Welcome to class everybody! My name is Mr. Kim and I am very looking forward to teach this class in our summer term! Feel free to ask any question that might come up and don’t hesitate to reach out to me whenever!”

no need to be scared, he is a sweetheart

strict and has high expectations, but won’t overdo it with homework or assignments

constantly jokes around but then switches back to being serious

he creates a nice atmosphere where students want to learn something and do it voluntarily 

cares for his students and appreciates their hard work - especially during the pandemic

“I know this is not easy for any of us but I am so amazed by your guys’ work this semester. It was an absolute pleasure teaching you. I hope to see you guys again, but not in this class. Please don’t fail.”

I love him

Hyunjae:

omg, he is an absolute legend

class starts and he is doing his introduction part

the class i about british literature 

“Welcome to this literature class, you are in for a long ride!”

so far so good right?

“Let me just say, British Literature is an ABSOLUTE shit show!”

when I tell you, I almost died hearing that (no offense to anyone, pls don’t take my profs words to heart... he lives for british literature 🥺)

he definitely has his students hooked with this one sentence

“the teacher that taught this class before me... what was he even talking about! I mean, british literature is so much more than what he made it out to be!”

basically starts ranting  

teaches with so much passion

can’t forget the jokes here and there

also uses smileys which students seriously love (at least I do)

wants students to be informal with him as well

“moving on to this next topic... a little disclaimer before we start: I will go batshit crazy with this topic because I LOVE IT. So please tell me to shut up when I exceed the 10 minutes mark. Thank you!”

A savage legend that everyone loves

sadly only teaches a handful of classes as well

Juyeon: 

super laid back and chill

does never check attendance and just trusts his students

usually talks most of the time and doesn’t ask too many questions

is super happy when students contribute though

but he isn’t one to force them

“I know your day has probably been really long, so it’s okay. I’m not taking this personal.”

his class is not based on theory but more on experiences he made

shares funny stories, mistakes he made and what he learnt from them

always gives the smallest and easiest homework ever

“please just share your experiences with these types of situations in our forum”

and he does not want to grade students based on an exam

“I have a better idea. In order to understand a certain topic, I want you to write a portfolio about it. It should be detailed but I won’t give you a number of words. Do what feels right and surprise me! Be creative, nothing will be worth a failing grade as long as you put in some effort.”

does split classrooms

one half is in the main room with him, the others are in breakout rooms, working on a certain topic

super chill and just not as hard as some other classes

but students definitely learn from him!

Kevin:

oh boy, students either gonna hate or love him

he is very kind and nice but he is STRICT

take his class serious and work or you will fail

although he has very high expectations, he will make sure students will be prepared for all the essays, assignments and presentations he throws at at them

no half-assed instructions, you will get the full program (as every student should!)

you have to write an argumentative essay but have no idea how to do that?

Professor Moon (students are allowed to call him Kevin) will explain an argumentativ essay in detail, will show examples and will tell you exactly what to put in it

having trouble finding sources?

Kevin will help you, just let him know!

Also a very empathetic teacher

something happened and you can’t attend class? Absolutely no problem

whenever something serious happens (for us it was a shooting), Kevin will cancel class and spare his students cause their well-being is more important

he doesn’t throw out A’s and B’s easily but when you do get such a grade in one of his classes... dude, you did a really good job

so as I said, he is either your fav or least fav professor... choose your side!

Chanhee:

he is a bitch (not really, but he gives the impression)

at first, he is that nice, bubbly professor

super friendly and kind

and his classes are absolutely okay! no biggie

or so they THOUGHT

his exams and progress tests or whatever ARE HELL

he makes it seem as everything is so easy and not overwhelming at all

BUT nothing is easy and everything is overwhelming

50 pages for a damn progress test two weeks into the semester!

the grading is so strict, you need at least 65% to pass! (maybe I am a baby but 65% is a lot for a passing grade hahaha)

but he confuses students

he is so kind and soft spoken

constantly smiling and in a good mood

but the exams????

are you sure you were the one creating them Mr Choi?

and yes, he is one of those professors that wants to be addressed by his last name (nothing wrong with that)

as I said, he confuses students

they don’t know what to think of him

at the end of the day he isn’t a bad guy

just not the type of professor the students would want in every single class for the rest of their lives

Changmin:

changmin is not your ordinary professor

because he is a big fan of team-teaching

so all his classes are taught by him and his dear colleague Haknyeon!

YAAAAY

I love this duo already

he is the part of the duo that is EXTREMELY motivated

he is is so hyper and so ready for teaching

his classes are always fun but also slightly overwhelming?

juts imagine having too much caffeine in your body

that is changmin being able to teach something he loves

that’s just the passion jumping out of him

he is constantly talking and laughing and throwing jokes left and right

he is having a good time!

super understanding and empathetic

and although everything seems fun and games

you will definitely learn from him!

he has this natural and authentic way of teaching in his body

it comes... naturally and it all makes sense somehow

although the class is packed with inside jokes and changmin teasing haknyeon

haknyeon doesn’t even have time nor the chance to speak

this is changmin’s time to shine!

they love and hate each other

but the students definitely love this iconic duo

Haknyeon:

as I mentioned; haknyeon and changmin are a team

it wasn’t really something haknyeon wanted but... how could you possibly say no to baby changmin? 🥺

so yes, changmin’s cute face got him into this situation

he doesn’t even have to prepare anything for class - his lovely colleague does the talking anyways

he usually lays back and relax

he frowns into the cam cause he tries to intimidate students

but they know he is a soft guy anyways

while changmin is talking, he is chatting to students in the chat

as I mentioned earlier, not everyone wants to unmute themselves and therefore posts in the chat

so he is having chats with students, often not even related to the topic

“Please excuse me, I will be absent for a few minutes - mommy duties” -student

“Don’t worry Miss! I know exactly what you mean... children.” -haknyeon

whenever he tries to get a word in, he has to talk VERY LOUDLY

he literally has to talk over changmin

but changmin doesn’t mind, he just smiles, nods and listens

changmin is super proud whenever haknyeon speaks

and haknyeon thinks that’s very sweet

but that thought passes as soon as changmin makes a joke about him

at the end of the day, they love each other at least to a certain extent and students adore them

Sunwoo:

he is not an ordinary professor either

class time? virtual meetings?

nope, not with sunwoo

again, in the classes the boyz teach, attendance is mandatory 

mandatory? sunwoo has never heard of her

he doesn’t require students to attend meetings and homework is also something he does not expect from them

he uploads powerpoint-presentations with videos and audio of him explaining everything in the presentation

but the boy is clumsy

and he is not good with anything technical

so him dropping his glass and spilling his water all over his lap?

well, students will see this in the video

“... and it’s important to- YAAAAH OH NO....”

*awkward silence*

“I spilled my water... if you haven’t seen.”

*more awkward silence*

“Give me a minute”

*the video continues and sunwoo is nowhere in sight*

after ten minutes of an empty chair, sunwoo returns and continues as if nothing has happened

sometimes his kids walk in and dab in the camera without him noticing

“and then - Hey! I am at WORK.”

he loves it though

and he posts these “fail” videos on purpose

“I want to show you, that it is okay to not be perfect and to not be in control of everything! Stuff like that happens, especially with us being in home-office! And don’t worry, if your mom walks in or whatever, in my classroom no one gets judged! This is life and now that we have to do everything from home, the unexpected is unavoidable!”

Another students’ favorite

Eric:

I would love to imagine him as this savage prof I have in mind... but no <3

he is a sweet guy

also super obsessed with the class he is teaching

he is LIVING for it

usually experiences technical problems right before class starts

“oopsie daisy, sorry guys... might take a few minutes *giggles*”

and no, it’s not a creepy giggle but a really cute one, I swear!

constantly has a pen in his hand and clicks it absentmindedly while teaching

students constantly hear the clicking sound... or when the pen falls to the ground.... which happens every five minutes

he constantly forgets to mute himself whenever he wants students to work by themselves and all they hear is him chugging down his water or whatever drink he has prepared

also sends out super sweet emails

but due to him being a young dude, he wants students to call him by his last name

he also calls students by their last name but he does use smileys to lighten the professional mood that comes with honorifics

overall a very motivated but extremely kind-hearted dude

[lovelylogans]

the himbo chronicles

part i | part ii

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: kissing, underage drinking, kissing with consent while under the influence, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: roman/logan, offscreen patton/virgil

word count: 8,877

notes: i simply could not resist writing about these good good boys for a moment longer. i love them. this work takes place in the late summer/early fall between logan’s freshman and sophomore year of college, or almost four years after the main storyline. if you need a quick rundown of the characters (i know seven new characters might be a lot to digest!) here’s a quick guide to each of the boys. please enjoy! 

⁂

one had a certain expectation when it came to many college-aged boys living in the same house together. partying. general revelry. chaos. messy surroundings. the loud blaring of video games. more than just a touch of hedonism, certainly. 

logan sanders is a rather atypical college-aged boy. in his past reveries when considering college, he'd thought of the libraries he'd spend hours in, the books he'd pore over, the professors that would come to mentor him. perhaps the occasional errant thought of a party he'd be dragged to, but then his brain had moved to college newspapers and their framing on pieces when it came to excessive drinking and how to interview fraternity presidents concerning their unsettling hazing rituals. 

during his senior year, a fair amount of his fretting had transitioned into how to handle the distance from his father, patton, and pseudo-father, virgil, back home in sideshire, which proved itself solved quite handily; yale is close enough that it's not even a notably long drive. the other worrisome part, though, were how to visit his long-term boyfriend, roman, who was no longer even in the same state. but they'd made it work, over the past year, and logan is currently sitting in an armchair he'd dragged over to the front window of the house, trying and miserably failing to pay attention to some of his class reading.

once he'd gotten to college, though, those social expectations for the rest of his peers had certainly been proven, if simply by virtue of examining the rest of his classmates. his life, however, seems ill-contented to have left it at that; he can safely say that his social circle is not entirely like he'd expected his college friends to be.

for instance, as he hears the creaking of the old wood floors behind him—

"if you start making fun of me for waiting by the window for roman again i will take points from your good noodle chart," logan threatens, and adam scampers off with barely-contained snickering.

he had not expected to have to say that sentence during his college years at all.

there's a hastily-stifled laugh, and logan swivels around to see jordan, who is certainly paying very studious attention to his own class reading.

logan's eyes narrow at him. 

"you usually study in the kitchen," logan says, just barely keeping an accusing tone out of his voice.

"more natural light in here," jordan says, nodding to the window, his lip caught between his teeth.

logan scowls.

"...okay," jordan relents, "and—"

"i knew it."

"c'mon, none of us have met him before!" jordan protests, even as logan is calculating the chances of being able to kick jordan out of here. they are not particularly good; he can hear andrew, derek, and edward loudly talking about their SQUH-SQUH-SQUH SQUAT CHALLEEEEEENGE! in the living room, which is open to the kitchen. the counting of the squats they can do is very noisy, not even factoring in the trash-talk.

"privacy would be appreciated," logan says.

"in this house?" jordan says skeptically, which is a fair point; there are nine of them crammed into five rooms. logan's room is technically a single only by virtue of it being an attic that can barely fit a lofted bed with a desk and a dresser warring for space underneath. logan is fairly certain that janus's shared room with matthew in the basement was never intended for long-term human habitation, either.

"i knew i should have met him at the station," logan says, ruffling the pages of his book. 

"is logan talking about us?" matthew shouts from the living room. his feet pound against the hardwood as he poked his red head around the corner, his eyes going as teasingly pleading as jordan's. "you're not gonna make us miss meeting our step-daddy, are you, mom?"

the "mom" thing is somewhat new, too, and also an aspect of college life that logan had not foreseen. perhaps logan should have seen it coming when he started instituting a chore chart and a chart for good behavior with plastic dinosaur toys as rewards. for reasons that elude him, the boys named it the "good noodle" chart.

he had mostly started the chart after what might have been a joke from janus, in retrospect, but he certainly isn't going to stop now, not when it's been proven to be so effective. 

what he says instead of respond to matthew's question is "have you finished the dishes?"

matthew hesitates, looking back over his shoulder to the countertops.

"...yyeesss...?"

logan arches an eyebrow at him. "if i walk in there, will there be dishes in the sink?"

matthew attempts to model his eyes after jordan, widening them and trying to look innocent. he isn't as gifted at it.

"it would be a shame if you had to be demoted on the good noodle chart because you didn't finish your chores and—" he glances at a notecard— "chirped me about roman."

a pause.

"was that accurate?" logan says. "is it 'chirped?'"

"cory!" matthew bellows over his shoulder.

"yeah?" cory shouts back. 

"hockey trash-talk is chirping, right?"

"yeah!"

"thank you!" matthew shouts back and turns to face logan. "yeah, it's chirping."

"hockey," logan mutters, scrawling this onto the notecard. the influx of sports-related slang to his notecards is another unforeseen aspect of college life. "it's hockey-specific, that's what i was missing."

a beat.

"the sooner you can get them done you can pass it to the next person on the chart. do the dishes," logan adds severely, and matthew stumps off to the kitchen, grumbling something under his breath that sounds a lot like “ugh, mom.”

say what one will about the good noodle chart—it certainly is a successful motivator.

perhaps the plastic bag full of dozens of mini bubble-wands that the boys saw logan receive in the mail this week is doing more of the persuasion rather than the necessity of the chores, or logan himself, but it works.

“logan?”

“hmm?” logan says, distracted by wondering if derek vacuumed the living room or if he dragged around a dining chair make lines in the carpet again.

jordan, grinning, nods to the window, and logan whips his head around just in time to see a taxi pull into the driveway.

the sudden surge of excitement and happiness and eagerness is enough to make him stand up, because roman is right there, logan can distantly see him in a red shirt in the back of the taxi. logan hastily tosses his book onto the nearest table and goes for the front door as quickly as he can without running outright.

by the time he is near enough to roman to see the details of how he’s styled his hair that day, a piece of lint on his shoulder, the way he’s slung his bag on his shoulder, he’s paying the taxi driver. 

he turns around to face logan, and logan loses his breath.

god he’s so handsome.

logan doesn’t know if it’s a month’s absence, or if roman has indeed grown more beautiful by the day, but roman is so lovely. his skin glows in the late summer sun, grinning at logan wide and bright, and logan can’t stand there and drink in the sight of him, chronicling every single miniscule difference that he can, because roman grabs logan in a hug, pulling him close.

logan wraps his arms around roman as tight as he can, burying his face into roman’s shoulder and inhaling; the familiar scent of his cologne, his floral body wash, the gel he uses in his hair.

“i missed you,” roman whispers, breath warm against logan’s ear.

“me too,” logan mumbles, squeezing him tighter. usually, roman hugs him even tighter back, but today, he falters.

“um.”

logan pulls back enough to see the quizzical look on roman’s face. roman nods at something behind him.

“i think we have a bit of an audience.”

logan glances back over his shoulder in time to see all seven of the boys—plus a peek of janus in the back, surely egging on the chaos—jostling for the best view at the window where logan had just been keeping vigil.

“it’s not too late to call the taxi back and go somewhere private,” logan says, turning to face roman again. “i could show you the library.”

roman grins at him. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to see if you were exaggerating about them for ages.”

logan scoffs. “as if i’m the one prone to exaggeration in this relationship.”

roman’s grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “fuck, i’ve missed you so bad.”

what else can logan do but pull roman in by the waist and kiss him?

even muffled by the closed door and the thick glass of the window, logan can hear the boys hooting and hollering and yelling “GET IT, MOM!!!” and “ow OW!” and roman laughs against logan’s lips.

logan smiles into the kiss, and he thinks that roman’s weekend visit probably couldn’t have gotten off to a better start if he’d tried.

⁂

the first thing that someone says when logan and roman walk into the front door is “what the FUCK, mom, you didn’t tell us he was HOT!”

roman swivels to face logan, offended.

“of course i think he’s hot,” logan says, bemused. “i’m dating him. he’s obviously my type.”

“yeah, but,” adam says, and he gestures to roman’s body at whole. “he’s fucking hot, though.”

there’s a rumbling of agreement from the other boys—sans janus, who has obviously met roman before—and roman immediately preens at the attention.

because roman is undoubtedly hot. his brown skin is glowing—logan has seen him wearing facemasks on their video calls enough times that he knows it’s not incidentally clear, perfect skin—and he’s maybe not quite as bulkily built as, say, derek, who can pick up logan and janus simultaneously without breaking a sweat, but roman is strong by virtue of his profession and it shows. 

“thanks,” roman says, grinning.

“i mean,” adam adds hastily, “all respect to you and logan, i mean this in, like, the bros-appreciating-bros way, not the i’m trying to steal your man way.”

“i figured,” logan says dryly, considering that adam, notably lacking in a sense of impulse control, has never offered any romantic inclination towards men before.

“well, roman, this is—everyone,” logan says, and points at each housemate as he says their name.

“adam rothschild—”

“hi,” adam adds belatedly. 

“—matthew van doren—”

“'sup,” matthew says, with an upward nod of his red head.

“—cory hollingsworth—”

cory flashes a peace sign from where he stands beside janus.

“—jordan arlington—”

“nice to meet you, man, logan’s been looking forward to this for fuckin’ ever,” jordan says.

logan, refusing to blush, continues with, “edward morton—”

“shalom, bro,” he says.

“—andrew de loughrey—”

“hey, dude.”

“—derek carmichael, and you remember janus, of course.”

“nice to finally meet you all,” roman says, an arm wrapped comfortably around logan’s waist.

“you’re fucking yoked, bro,” derek says, appreciative. “what does your leg day look like? your quads are insane.”

“thanks, man,” roman says, extending a denim-clad leg with all of his typical grace. his legs are insane, to be fair. “part of the job—has logan mentioned i’m a ballet dancer?”

there’s a chorus of agreement, and so as they relocate, unspoken, to the living room. all of the other boys listen to some of the exercises roman discusses, and roman offers demonstrations of barre warm-ups upon request, his hand on the kitchen island, to great enthusiasm.

logan probably should have guessed that hearing about the workout regimen of a ballet dancer would go a long way in convincing this house full of “jocks” that roman was worthy of their adoptive, same-age mother. he’s pleased that by the time this line of conversation is winding down, it has been proven to be a very effective icebreaker.

even if he is a little grumpy to lose the warmth of roman’s hand where it had been resting on his knee.

however, once that conversation does trail off, logan gets to his feet.

“how about i take you on a tour of the house? i can show you my room.”

“ooh, mom, get it,” andrew says, to great whooping and a wolf-whistle which elicits more laughter from the other boys.

“remember, house rule, sock on the doorknob!” says someone who can surely only be adam.

“i’m making a bad noodle chart now,” logan says, attempting to fight the blush that’s surely creeping onto his face, “all of you have been demoted to the bad noodle chart.”

roman reaches out and takes logan’s hand. “you actually have a noodle chart? i thought you were kidding.”

“i am not kidding,” logan says sourly, directing a glare toward the boys.

jordan, mercifully, provides a very handy distraction by order of shouting out “MARIO KART TOURNAMENT I CALL ROSALINA,” which immediately descends into chaos as the boys fight over who gets peach, or yoshi, or else fighting over their “lucky” switch controllers.

janus meets eyes with logan, rolls his eyes, and promptly siddles his way into one of the four coveted spots to play as wario. somehow janus never has to engage in this arguing, even though logan, the house mother, has to fight with the boys to get to play with isabelle—

whatever. it’s fine. as adam launches himself at jordan to literally wrestle him to the ground for the honor of playing as rosalina, logan takes advantage of this to slip further into the kitchen with roman.

“we could probably make a getaway attempt now, it would be an ideal time,” logan says, a touch anxious; this is roman’s first time meeting the boys, and logan knows better than most people that being in the (boys-and-janus-dubbed) himbo house can be overwhelming. 

“no way,” roman says warmly, squeezing logan’s hand, and logan’s heart flutters in its chest. “show me the rest of the house, c’mon.”

logan shows roman the good noodle chart in its place of pride in the kitchen, taking a moment to detract a gold star sticker from adam for tackling jordan, writing unnecessary violence (mario kart) on the line beneath specifically meant for the reason for the latest detraction in red dry-erase marker. 

he adds a star for jordan without writing exactly why.

roman takes a moment to survey the chart and immediately barks with laughter at the bottom line.

“don’t,” logan grumbles.

“but c’mon!” roman says, delightedly pointing at the section of the chart that has special microscope stickers instead of gold stars.

it says logan workaholism 

and then, in different handwriting and a different colored marker, (and drunk shenanigans). 

“yes, well, you’ve seen the chart now,” logan says evasively, tugging roman along, and roman follows with a smile on his face that’s a bit too big for logan’s liking.

logan hadn’t even been on the chart. but no, he listened to adam’s recommendation for a drink one time (he should have realized that would turn out to be a horrible idea) and now he was on the good noodle chart, specifically so they could detract a sticker. he shouldn’t be on the chart, he runs it!

he still has the most stickers of anyone, though, so there.

logan shows roman their kitchen, which is more well-stocked than one would expect a stereotypical a college kitchen to be. there’s two mini-fridges so that edward can keep kosher. within the normal fridge, and in the cabinets, there’s an overwhelming supply of protein bars, shakes, and powders, in addition to plenty of fruits and vegetables. 

he slips with roman up the stairs, unnoticed by everyone screaming at the four lucky players of the first leg of the mario kart tournament. from a glance at their ridiculously oversized flat screen, janus seems to be swiftly overtaking the lead due to taking advantage of a secret passage.

logan gestures vaguely to the rooms leading off the landing, telling roman who occupied which, as well as the communal bathrooms, but as there are no common spaces on either of the floors that roman has not already seen, he essentially leads roman straight up to the attic.

his room.

he tentatively opens the door for roman to look in and behold it, which roman immediately does.

logan’s lofted bed is crammed against the wall that divides the attic at the apex of the roof, as the opposite wall slants with the angle of the roof. everything is lit by the window opposite the door; logan debates flicking on the overhead light, and decides against it. the afternoon sun does just fine.

logan’s bed is made, his indigo duvet tucked neatly over his white sheets. his desk is pushed beneath the bed, with his laptop, a notebook, and a mug from remy’s café full of pens resting on it, the shelves above the desk that the boys had helped logan install nearly toppling under the weight of all their books. logan’s backpack sits in his desk chair, logan’s dresser shut. the rest of the floorspace is overtaken by a comfy rug and a pitiful excuse for a beanbag chair, which roman promptly sits on, wiggling to get comfortable.

“i like it,” he proclaims. “it’s cozy.”

logan tries to smile at him. the room is cramped and logan knows it.

all the other occupants of the house come from, to put it in plain terms, the same world of wealth and status that his grandparents occupy. as a matter of fact, his grandparents had been incredibly pleased that logan’s roommates had been “up to snuff,” a roundabout way of saying they’re of an appropriate caliber for our ivy-leaguer grandson.

logan knows that it was no coincidence that his roommates offered him his “cozy” room and therefore a lower amount for rent, all of them reasoning that as he had the smallest and least convenient room and if he was not there to supervise the house would surely explode, as part of this offer was surely due to the fact that they knew that his budget did not stretch as far as theirs did. 

for one, he is the only roommate with a job. for another, he is the only one who knows how to budget. 

well, janus would likely be able to figure it out, but he’s never needed to, which is the point.

derek hadn’t even recognized what “those little slips of paper” in logan’s hands were when logan attempted to discreetly coupon during a grocery outing.

educating them on what coupons were was... an experience, to be sure.

logan’s musings are interrupted when roman takes hold of his hand and gently tugs at logan. logan obligingly sinks onto the ground to join him, settling practically on roman’s lap.

“hey,” roman says, voice husky.

“hi,” logan says, in a tone that strikes him as strangely shy.

roman reaches out and makes a grabby hand, to which logan rolls his eyes and settles more decisively on roman’s lap, unable to keep the smile off his face, which roman can surely see, given the way that logan is now directly facing him.

“better?”

“much, thank you,” roman says graciously, settling his hands at logan’s waist and gently squeezing. 

“i must agree,” logan says, resting his hands on roman’s shoulders and squeezing back. roman offers him a slanted smile.

“love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss,” roman says, pausing to pick logan’s hand off his shoulder and press a kiss to his palm, achingly soft, “what loneliness-in-motion, toward your company!”

“you can’t just quote neruda off the bat, it isn’t fair,” logan complains, despite the fact that his heart has been sent aflutter, but he is cut off when roman’s lips meet his.

oh, how logan’s missed this. he’s familiar with the pressure of roman’s lips against his, the warmth and breadth of roman’s hands wrapping around him, the way logan’s hands fit perfectly on roman’s shoulders, and missing it has been like an ache.

languid, unhurried afternoons in the summers by the town’s lake; inexperienced hands slipping up shirts in their childhood bedrooms; illicit kisses in the gazebo when they were both meant to be at home; his memories seemed to pale in comparison to having the real thing, right now. roman’s heartbeat and the rush of logan’s pulse in his own ears and the sweet, perfect slide of their mouths. they break to breathe, staying forehead-to-forehead.

“but you and i, love,” logan murmurs, “we are together, from our clothes down to our roots: in the autumn, in water, in hips, until we are together—only you, only me.”

“you skipped a few lines,” roman teases.

“i editorialized,” logan says. “taltal is not particularly applicable to our situation, is it?”

“and i suppose it isn’t raining,” roman says, mock-thoughtfully. logan smiles and leans in for more.

roman responds, sliding his hands down logan’s back and eventually coming to grip at logan’s thighs, and logan arches into the touch—

—"ow!”

—and logan leans back, careful to avoid the slant of the roof he’d just hit his head against, putting a hand on where his head throbs in complaint.

“oh, i’m sorry!” roman says frantically. “i’m so sorry, c’mere, c’mere, let me look—”

“it was just a bump, it’s not so bad,” logan says, but he squirms and twists so that roman can see the point of impact.

roman cautiously runs his fingers through logan’s hair, paying close attention, and gently presses his fingers down. logan winces.

“tender?”

“a bit.”

“i’m sorry,” roman repeats, now running his fingers through logan’s hair, careful to keep his touch light.

“i hit my head getting out of bed and getting up from my desk for a full week before i got used to the angle,” logan says with a shrug. “kissing you is the most pleasurable way this could have happened.”

“well, now, still don’t like that clever little brain of yours getting bumped around,” roman says, frowning. 

logan points to where, at this angle, roman can see the protective pool noodle secured to protect himself from hitting his head against his bed while standing up from the bed. janus had cut it for him with an exacto knife. logan is unsure where janus keeps this exacto knife. he hopes it’s hidden somewhere safe; sharp implements were just asking for trouble in this household.

“better now,” logan says, then, when roman’s still frowning, “i’m used to it, really. and besides, i’m the second-shortest in the house; no one else would take this room. well, janus would be the only other person who wouldn’t be constantly hitting his head, but i think he prefers the basement.”

“like an evil lair,” roman grumbles.

“precisely what he said,” logan says dryly. “can you imagine derek in here?”

they both take a moment to imagine derek, who stands at six feet and seven inches tall, slouched over at most points of the room.

“yeah, that’d be a bit of a tight squeeze,” roman acknowledges. 

“besides,” logan says. “there are plenty of ways to be comfortable.”

he adjusts to sit on the comfy, fluffy rug—bought specifically for floor-sitting in mind—and pulls roman along. roman, getting the idea, moves the beanbag to use as a pillow, and lies back against it. logan curls up on the ground with him, resting his head over roman’s heart.

roman takes a moment to switch to scratching his fingernails against logan’s scalp, and logan tries not to shudder with pleasure too obviously.

“i like it in here,” logan says. “i like that i can go out of the window to sit on the roof, if i wanted. i like that i have the clearest view of the night sky. i like that i have a single room. and—”

he points to the side of the rafters that would not be visible to someone standing in the doorway of the room; only from within it are the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars surrounding the photographs of logan’s loved ones are visible. the one most visible from here is himself and roman eating lucy’s at the winterfest where they had their first kiss. 

“—i like that there are unique decorating ideas i could only put into function in this room.”

roman kisses logan’s head, and, with that, curled up together on logan’s bedroom floor, they start talking about everything and nothing at all, and logan’s heart feels full and fit to burst with happiness.

⁂

look. matt’s fully aware that he’s cynical about love. it’s a bit hard not to when, growing up, his primary example of love was his dad and his revolving door of brides. 

he’s pretty sure he’s on stepmom number eight, by now, he isn’t really sure, he hasn’t met the latest one. 

(dad scheduled the wedding during peak crew season and matt’s dad, a yale alum himself, is all proud about him being on the team of the first rowing club formed at an american college. so matt didn’t go and his dad might have just assumed he had a regatta then. whatever. matt isn’t too fussed about it, seriously. he thinks her name might be tina? tara? fuck, he should probably work that out before thanksgiving break, shouldn’t he.)

(wait. goddammit. the last girlfriend was trisha. did he end up marrying trisha? he thought his dad dumped trisha because trisha got pissed at him for doing something in a dream of hers. fuck he seriously needs to do some googling before thanksgiving break.)

(wait. shit. it was tori who did the dream thing, because she was super into the astrology-dream-palm reading deal and she’d tried to figure out matt’s birth chart, so now he can flex that he knows he’s a leo sun taurus moon sagittarius rising to the girls he tries to pick up. that happened years ago, god damn it, who the fuck is his dad married to right now?!)

ANYWAYS. he doesn’t really have an optimistic view of love, especially at their age. so back when he’d first been getting to know logan, he’d been pretty surprised to hear that logan had a long-term boyfriend. logan didn’t really seem like the stereotypical college kid clinging to their high school sweetheart, like, at all. 

there had been a girl on his floor freshman year who woke up half the dorm during her kicking-and-screaming fight with her high school boyfriend that she’d tried to long-distance with and ended up dumping after a month. he’d kind of been expecting to hear that logan was going to break up with his boyfriend, because, like, how many childhood sweethearts actually make it?

but no, no screaming fights for logan—honestly, matt’s pretty sure if he heard logan actually yell it would be the scariest thing ever—and now the boyfriend is here.

who is, like, not exactly what matt had expected? he’d thought roman would maybe be a copy of logan, someone else crazy smart and crazy dedicated to school, and, in the kindest way possible, a major nerd. 

roman seems... cool.

like, first of all, he’d immediately understood and talked training routines with the rest of the house, which, like, respect to logan, who goes on runs and keeps his shit pretty tight, but he isn’t exactly the most gym-rat kind of dude. 

roman’s routine sounded really interesting. matt’s got pretty good legs himself—you kind of have to, to be on the rowing team—but roman’s calves and quads and glutes look unreal. man could probably beat them all in a squat challenge tournament without breaking a sweat. 

also, logan keeps himself looking like a eighteen-year-old tax accountant, with his polo and tie, but roman is dressed, like, suave. casual enough, sure,but his short-sleeved button down shirt looked like it was made of silk or satin or some fancy shit like that. it’s unbuttoned to show off the gold necklace he’s wearing. he’s wearing dark jeans at the exact right place on his waist.

logan has not exactly stepped into “going out” clothes, except for like combing his hair and wearing blue jeans. they’re going the pub that logan invariably picks on the rare nights he goes out with the rest of them—a coffee shop by day, a bar by night, and very unfancy.

logan is absently fixing roman’s collar so it sits straight as roman examines himself in his phone’s camera to check out his reflection. he flashes a smile toward logan in thanks. 

logan smiles at him, something in his eyes going soft that matt’s never seen him do before, and—

and, okay, if anyone he knows is smart enough to figure out how love works this early on, it would probably be logan.

⁂

"you sure, bro?” andrew says, leaning against the open car door, not yet sliding into edward’s bmw. “’cause i can dd this time, i think it’s my turn anyway—”

edward’s already shaking his head. “shabbat’s tomorrow, dude. gotta get up early to go to temple anyway, gramps would derail the whole service if i turned up hungover.”

andrew shrugs. “if you’re sure,” he says, and at last he slides into the car that is absolutely filled up with people over the legal capacity. 

usually, logan picks a fit about this, talking about things like seatbelts, but right now he’s perched on his boyfriend’s lap and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

janus, sitting beside them in the very back, is eyeing them like he’s ready to start elbowing them if they get too lovey. which like. logan, getting lovey? unlikely.

(however, the seven of them have made a pact to be as obnoxious as possible if the boyfriend gets too lovey. they didn’t include janus on this, because apparently janus and roman had a brief rivalry Thing in high school and it would probably piss logan off if they started fighting, but anyways. bros take care of bros.)

“are ya ready, kids?” edward asks as he starts the car.

“aye aye, captain!” the other six of his bros and, a little surprisingly, roman, call back. logan looks confused at this, as he usually does, and janus rolls his eyes, as he usually does.

“to the pub!” edward declares, and so they’re off as cory and jordan frantically play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the aux cord.

jordan wins and as such immediately puts on his playlist, a few of the boys starting to sing along to nicki minaj—oh, sick, it’s the pump-up playlist. hell yeah, that means that beyoncé is coming up. edward fucking loves beyoncé.

edward peeks into the rearview mirror, and he sees roman pressing his face into logan’s shoulder, like he’s hugging him, and logan smiles, looking very pleased.

and as edward drives on, everyone joining in when “love on top” comes on, even over the raucous performance of ther rest of his bros, he could swear he hears roman’s voice, floating up to the driver’s seat even from where he’s singing in logan’s ear.

“baby it’s you, you’re the one i love, you’re the one i need...”

damn, edward thinks to himself, impressed. he’s got a good voice.

logan’s cheeks go a little bit pink, and he smiles, ducking his chin; roman takes a moment from singing into his ear to kiss him on the cheek.

also, that’s cute as fuck.

⁂

“shots?” cory demands. “shots, shots, shots?”

“we just got here,” logan says, usually the sole voice of reason and also being boring, but he doesn’t seem to be standing as firm as usual. that might have something to do with his boyfriend, who has an arm going over his shoulder, saying “hell yeah, dude!”

“getting shots my treat!” cory says, and he rushes into the scrum in front of the bar before logan can protest and try to pay for himself.

janus catches his elbow and allows himself to be pulled along with him, which is cool. janus is probably cory’s closest non-sports friend ever, because he and jan are, one, roommates, but two, kids adopted from other countries as symbols of their white parents’ supposed generosity (he’s chinese, janus is haitian, they handshake meme over white people misunderstanding the culture and history of their countries of origin) so they tend to get each other’s deal more often than other people in the house.

they’re already planning their “oh so sorry we’re busyyy” excuse and activities so they don’t have to go home over thanksgiving break. 

cory leans down to talk into janus’ ear—it’s a friday night, so it’s as busy as it gets here—and practically shouts, “how long have they been dating again?”

“four years,” janus says back; cory has no idea how, but janus can always be heard in any crowd, he never has to shout. 

“are they, like,” cory says. “i mean. are they like. i dunno what i’m even asking. is their relationship, like, nice, i guess?”

janus arches an eyebrow back. “do you happen to remember my previous relationship?”

mm, yeah. asher fleming, resoundingly shady, but very willing to dole out the cash whenever janus so much as pouted at him. which janus seemed to like, so good for him, cory guesses, even though asher fleming was sketchy as fuck, in his opinion. dude could rest in fucking pieces.

“what about that makes you think i am a good person to ask.”

cory opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again.

“hey, what can i get started for you?”

oh thank god. “uhh, nine—wait, ten—ten shots of vodka? boyd and blair, if you’ve got it. and open a tab,” cory adds, forking over his card.

“you got it,” the bartender says, taking it, and then pauses, taking a moment to take stock of cory.

cory flashes a smile at her. she smiles back, and turns for the bar, going to hunt down ten shot glasses and a tray, her brunette ponytail bouncing as she goes.

janus nods after her. “she’s cute.”

“yeah, but she’s working,” cory says, turning to lean back against the bar and scan the pub to see where the rest of his dudes have gone. “i’m like ninety percent sure not asking out a girl when she’s trapped at work is part of bro code.”

janus follows his lead, leaning against the bar.

“they’re adorable,” he says abrubtly, his eyes fixed on the table that the rest of their roommates have claimed, jostling each other for space.

“huh?”

“logan, when he’s with roman. they’re adorable. it’s disgusting. he gets all,” janus’ mouth twists. “sappy.”

“really?!” cory says, stunned. logan, sappy? the closest they’ve ever gotten to sappy logan is after running the full gamut of logan’s stages of drunkness.

“bet you fifty bucks logan initiates pda within ten minutes,” janus says.

“i’ll take that bet,” cory says immediately.

as he approaches the table with the tray of shots, logan reaches over to squeeze roman’s hand and then just hold it on the table. he realizes what he’s started to realize every time he makes a bet against janus, which is that he probably shouldn’t have made a bet against janus. cory literally never wins.

⁂

"hey, man, they made this wrong,” andrew lies cheerfully, setting the glass in front of logan. “you like peach schnapps, right?”

this is a thing he and the other dudes like to do, and logan gets into a snit when they do, but c’mon. andrew has literally unlimited access to cash, why shouldn’t he use it to spoil his friends?

and then logan usually says something about taking care of himself, but like, it’s covering your drinks, dude, it’s not a big deal.

logan gives him a look, a i know what you’re doing here look, a i am about to throw a fit because you paid for me look, but before he can say anything roman breaks into the conversation.

“oh, damn, i was gonna pay for logan’s next drink,” he says, sounding a little disappointed that he couldn’t treat logan to his drink of choice. “how much was that? i’ll cover it and you can get my next one, l, like we’re on a date.”

andrew, skeptical, waits, because this kind of tactic doesn’t work with logan, but—

logan relaxes back into the seat, turning his eyes to andrew.

“oh,” andrew says, and turns to crane at the menu. “uh, since it’s wells night, five or six bucks should cover it.”

“nice,” roman says peaceably, and forks over a ten. “just to cover my bases for my next drink on the tab—hey, who opened that, anyway, and what’s their venmo? i wanna be sure i have it so i can pay my share in the morning.”

“cory did—i’ll pull it up,” logan says, taking roman’s phone from his hand and searching for cory’s venmo profile.

huh. crisis averted.

andrew gives roman a thumbs-up over logan’s head, and roman grins back at him.

⁂

look. there are certain stages of drunkenness, right.

derek could be called a party—what was that word janus said? cone-is-sour?—connoisseur. like, he knows these things, okay. he knows that people have certain telltale signs of what they do when they start getting drunker.

for him, he gets all overheated and red-cheeked first, then he kind of stops having the concept of volume control, then everything sounds like the funniest thing in the world, there’s a bit about hugging his bros and singing along to whatever song the bar’s playing super loudly thrown in there most nights, and then he gets really sleepy, and after that his memory gets blurry. easy, simple way to tell how drunk he’s getting.

logan’s stages of drunkness are... pretty wild. like, holy hell is logan a lightweight. he got, like, very past tipsy after drinking two wine coolers once. they’ve all kind of taken it upon themselves to improve his drinking tolerance, gradually.

anyways. derek thinks he’s got logan’s stages figured out by now, along with the rest of the dudes, and the stages are as follows:

rambling when he talks

Science!

I Love My Friends

wandering off, most likely to fall asleep in a weirdass location

it turns out there might be a stage 1.5, but this stage might only be unlocked when his boyfriend is here.

stage 1.5 of logan drunkness is cuddly.

they’ve been playing the “who can pay for the most drinks for everyone but mostly for logan” game, which means that they’ve been mixing their alcohol (careful to steer clear of beer, though, ‘cause that could turn to beer before liquor during the next round, beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear, derek knows his fuckin’ booze) and trying drinks of what everyone else is trying, seeing if they can come up with a new favorite drinks combo before the night ends.

with one hand, logan’s currently stirring his plastic straw in a cocktail called a bramble. with the other, he’s got his arm flung across roman’s shoulders, occasionally adjusting his stance, and any time he catches anyone’s eyes during a conversation he beams, like, this is my boyfriend, isn’t this so great?!

and, like, look. he knows it’s basically dude code to kind of haze each other a little bit, whenever a new significant other comes around, just to make sure they’re up to snuff, but c’mon.

their uptight, workaholic house mom, drinking on a friday night like he doesn’t have a care in the world? practically unheard of.

derek’s pretty sure he can pin the sudden lack of tension in logan’s shoulders and jaw on the man that logan is currently staring at. roman is telling a story about a drag show he and his girl friends went to see in new york, and logan’s looking at him like roman hung all the stars in the sky, grinning whenever roman looks over at him.

like. come on. how is derek meant to haze that. it’s too fuckin’ cute.

⁂

logan is putting in an order for waters at the bar because while the boys are good at remembering to hydrate for sports reasons, no one ever remembers to hydrate for drinking reasons. a hand gently touches his waist, and, with a whiff of familiar cologne, roman slides in next to him at the bar.

“hey,” logan says, a little too aware that this is the closest they’ll get to a private conversation for the rest of the night.

“hey,” roman echoes, loose and easy with alcohol. something low in logan’s belly thrums pleasantly at the sound.

“check-in?” logan requests. “i know that this can be a—a lot.”

to put it delicately.

roman grins at him. “your friends are cool, this bar is cool. you’re cool. i love you so much.”

logan, who would later put this decision down to being plied with alcohol, pulls roman in by the collar and kisses him hard.

roman seems surprised, just for a moment, before he responds in kind, pulling logan in at the waist and kissing him back, equally enthusiastic.

his boyfriend is visiting, he’s making out with him in a bar like a normal college kid would make out with a significant other, and everything seems wonderful.

roman, looking thoroughly kissed, handles the ribbing and joking the boys start as soon as they get back to the table with good humor, grinning at logan like it’s a private joke between the two of them.

god, logan’s so in love with him.

⁂

"hey, babe?” roman says.

logan hums around his straw, looking at roman with half-lidded eyes. fuck he’s so hot.

roman shakes himself a little, trying to focus, before he asks, “on a scale of one to ten, how chill would the guys be if i suggested we go somewhere we can dance?”

logan swallows, and roman’s eyes follow the of his bobbing adam’s apple.

“probably very chill about it,” he says dryly. 

roman smiles. “and how would you feel about going somewhere to dance with me?”

logan bites his lip, but still smiling.

“probably very enthusiastic about it,” logan says quietly.

roman grins at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

with a swiftness that probably belies how eager roman is at the very concept of holding logan close in his arms, roman calls out to derek, “hey, dude, is there a good club around here? i kinda wanna see y’all dance.”

derek puffs out his chest. 

“oh, bro, you are not ready,” he says gleefully. 

adam leans across the table.

“hey, wait, you’re, like, a professional dancer, right? maybe you can teach us a routine!”

oh, now roman has the perfect routine in mind.

⁂

adam has been known to get down at a party, okay. he’s a pretty decent dancer. his party trick is being able to swing around on poles installed into frat basements for “structural integrity.”

but, like, adam also knows that a literal professional probably has some tips, so he’d asked, right, which has now turned into—

“okay, again, from the start, ready?” roman asks, standing at the front of the group. janus and logan are at the edge of the room. adam’s pretty sure janus is recording this on his phone.

they’re also, like, in the center of most of the club’s attention, but roman seems very cool with it. which, likes, makes sense; dancing professionally, crowds come with the territory. the other six of his roommates are standing in loose lines, spaced out so they don’t kick each other in the heads.

“five, six, seven, eight,” roman starts, then, over the sound of six dudes who are all over six feet tall jump-kick then drop rapidly into what roman called a grand plié, which you would probably do slower for a stretch but this is CHOREO, sings, “now from the top, make it drop—”

⁂

logan, after trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of his boyfriend teaching tiktok dance choreography to what, ostensibly, looked like a group of typical frat boys, is attempting to catch his breath and hydrate at the bar. 

well. dehydrate, technically. a vodka soda is certainly working to dehydrate him.

“hey,” roman pants, appearing from the crowd, flushed, with at least two more buttons popped than he’d had when they entered. “hot over there—can i—?”

before he can ask, logan offers his vodka soda, and roman says “thanks” before he gulps down a good portion of it, fanning himself.

“i love dancing,” he says happily.

“i know, dearest,” logan says, perhaps not as dryly as he would if they were not both intoxicated.

“oh! and i love this song!” roman says brightly, as the dj transitions into a new song. 

logan smiles at him; the song is not a recent release, and logan thinks he might be able to place it.

“dance with me?” roman says, his eyes pleading. logan finds himself helpless to resist, and so he drains the rest of his drink.

roman smirks at him and takes hold of logan’s tie, gently leading him to a corner of the dance floor, rather than in the midst of the scrum of it, which logan appreciates; while he is perfectly willing to dance with roman, he is not so adept as to not make a fool of himself in the case of any impromptu dance circles.

there is, logan realizes once he listens to the lyrics, perhaps another motive of roman’s for dragging them into a less populated corner.

i’m telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe, but you keep frontin’, say what you’re gonna do to me, but i ain’t see nothing...

roman’s hands slide from logan’s tie to wrapping around logan’s shoulders, pulling logan so that they’re pressed up against each other, and logan grips roman’s hips, which are shifting sinuously to the beat.

“couldn’t dance like this at the chilton winter formal, could we?” roman says lowly into logan’s ear, and logan snickers.

“not unless we wanted to be lectured by mr. gardiner, no.”

“ugh, he was a fucker, i still haven’t forgiven him for being so strict about your math quizzes,” roman says, scowling. then, with a laugh, “no drawing lots to see who gets breathalyzed, no snooty rich kids to judge us—”

“i’m still surrounded by rich kids.”

“yeah, but your rich kids seem nice,” roman says thoughtfully. “‘cept for janus.”

“he’d take that as a compliment.”

“why did i bring up janus when i’m trying to grind on you,” roman mutters to no one in particular, and he then proceeds to handily distract logan by pressing impossibly closer. 

roman’s hands slide up logan’s shoulders to briefly cup logan’s face, then slide back down to squeeze his shoulders, using the movement to roll his hips against him, and logan’s world narrows down to the heat of roman’s body, the scent of roman’s sweat and cologne, the beat of the song thrumming through to his very bones.

roman twists in his hands, leaning forward, then standing back upright to lean against logan, swaying his hips all the whlie. he reaches a hand lazily back, dragging it down logan’s face before cradling logan’s jaw.

logan twirls roman back to face him again, his grip on roman’s hips tight and possessive, and logan leans in to devour roman in a kiss. he can feel the pounding of hearts against his chest, and they’re so close he’s uncertain whose pulse is whose.

⁂

“—I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHO TALK BEHIND MY BACK ‘CUZ A BITCH KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET ME HEAR!” jordan screams at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of his bros. all ten of them have piled back into edward’s car, and roman has taken over the aux, which is actually a phenomenal move, he has put on banger after banger. 

edward—the sole sober one in the car—is grinning to himself even as he turns into his parking spot near their house.

they all groan when he turns off the car, and therefore turns off the music.

“yeah, yeah,” edward says, good-natured. “everyone out, i wanna go to bed!”

everyone pours from the car, logan stumbling slightly when he jumps down from the suv.

“i’ve got you, my love,” roman says grandly, and squats before logan. logan snorts, slightly, but then proceeds to clamber onto roman’s back, accepting his piggy-back ride.

“onward!” roman declares, and jordan grins a bit, shaking his head, before he jogs ahead so he can open the front door for them. he watches logan giggle and mash his face into the side of roman’s neck, and he watches roman’s face glow.

the rest of the dudes kind of split off, from there. edward, true to his word, goes to bed; adam, derek, cory, and and andrew sit in front of the tv to start up a drunken game of mario kart; matt pours himself a glass of water and starts chugging it; jordan goes to grab his own water bottle from his room, because he has dish duty next and he doesn’t want to give himself too much trouble.

by the time he’s changed into more comfortable clothes and gotten his water, he runs into roman on the stairs.

“oh! hey, dude,” he says. 

“hey,” roman says. “uh, hey, do you guys have spare blankets and pillows and stuff, and where do you keep them? i figured i’d probably crash on the floor or the couch or something.”

jordan surveys him.

“yeah?” he says, in a tone that’s carefully neutral. they continue down the stairs together.

“yeah,” roman says casually. “uh—i know he’d wanna cuddle, but we’re both a bit drunk, so. got him some water, got him into bed, he fell asleep pretty quick.” 

jordan knows it’s the bare fucking minimum to take care of your drunk significant other, but he feels his respect for roman rise, even just a little bit. that’s a bro move.

“yeah, man,” jordan says. “uh—we’ve got blankets down in the living room, but some of the dudes are playing mario kart, so you might have a while to wait to free up the couch.”

roman brightens.

“oh, sick. does anyone play peach?”

jordan snorts. “you’re gonna have to fight someone for it.”

“bring it on,” roman says.

⁂

roman hums to himself, quietly, as he ascends the stairs. he has to take a couple minutes to juggle the plates in his hands to be able to open the door, but he succeeds eventually.

“rise and shine, nerdo,” roman sings, careful not to be too loud.

he sees logan stir, and, before roman can say anything in warning—

thump.

“fuck!” logan snarls, flopping back in bed with a hand to his forehead, glaring up at the ceiling that has grievously injured him.

“oh, baby,” roman says, setting down his plate on logan’s desk before he rises on tip-toes so he can see logan’s face. “lemme see.”

logan groans and pulls his pillow over his head.

“still a morning person, i see,” roman teases, before he nudges a plastic water bottle into the bed. “drink that, baby, it’ll make you feel better.”

“nerdo isn’t your best work,” logan grumbles, muffled by the pillow.

“yeah, well, i stayed up until three with the dudes playing mario kart,” roman says dryly. “birdo, nerdo?”

logan peeks out in time to grab the water bottle, squirm as upright as he can, and proceed to chug it as mechanically as possible.

“how’d you sleep?” logan says, once he’s drained about half of it.

“eh, fine,” roman says. “the couch is pretty comfy.”

logan frowns.

“it was couch or floor,” roman says, before logan can say anything. “i think we could maybe squeeze to fit up there, and considering we were, y’know—”

“i get it,” logan says.

“i was gonna make you a big breakfast, but,” roman says and hands over a plate with two pieces of toast sliced into triangles and slathered with crofter’s. “figured you’d like this better.”

logan smiles, taking the plate, and then leans wildly out of his bed in order to cup roman’s face and kiss him good morning.

the kiss is good. it’s very good. but—

“your breath stinks,” roman says, and logan chucks a pillow at him.

“you aren’t exactly a morning rose, either,” logan grumbles, and roman snorts, taking a bite of his own crofter’s with great fervor.

over their breakfast—logan in the bed, roman on the beanbag—they talk about their plans for the rest of the weekend; going on a walk around campus, going to see logan’s favorite spot in the library, getting tacos from the best little spot in town for lunch.

“granted,” logan says thoughtfully, “i have these ideas in place today, but we’ll see how the boys interfere with it.”

“i’d be fine if they did,” roman says.

“yeah?” logan says.

“yeah,” roman says. he grins up at logan. “wanna explain why they kept calling me step-daddy when i was making us toast?”

logan flops back on the bed with a groan, and, even with all of his theatrics, roman can tell logan’s very pleased that his boyfriend and his friends get along.

(they absolutely get along. roman has already promised to record a dance tutorial for them to “dancing queen” next.)

⁂

notes: major thank yous to @teacupfulofstarshine and @airiervessel for helping me flesh out the boys! songs in the order they’re mentioned: “love on top” by beyoncé, “wap” by cardi b. ft. megan thee stallion, “buttons” by the pussycat dolls, “thot shit” by megan thee stallion, “dancing queen” by abba.