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bluebuckstallion · 3 years ago

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the sun will rise again - mlp fic

part two this is part one! part two and so on will be updated/reblogged when they are out! contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!)

Big Mac shuffled his hooves awkwardly. Racing thoughts fought furiously, cluttering his hurting head, and he put a weary hoof against his temple in an attempt to clear the fog. No avail. It was as strong as ever, the rushing current of rip tide sweeping him in the more he struggled. He insisted he'd never felt this way before, trying violently to shake away the thought, it made him shudder. But deep down somewhere he knew, he couldn't hide this strong feeling he'd become so familiar with. It felt like home, but he was trapped inside with the windows boarded and the floorboards were so old they were making him fall through with every step, and there were thick dusty cobwebs everywhere he tried to rest his burdened hooves. He couldn't leave. Outside of his overflowing head, there was a faint knocking at his door, though he had tuned it out completely. His thoughts whirled, and everything was making *so* much noise, the ceiling fan, the electricity in the walls, the birds outside, even the trees being rustled by the evening wind. Everything was so loud, and so muffled and far away, so close and inside his ears, they twitched eagerly trying to bat the harsh noise away, all collected into one horrid ear-piercing amalgamation of staticy sound. His fur was disturbed by his blankets, and his teeth felt uncomfortable as they grit desperately in an attempt to relax, his eyes were dry despite how much and how hard he was blinking, it felt like even the smallest thing would throw him overboard in this thundering storm of unsettlement. -

The knocking got louder. "Big Mac!" The sound was lost in the chaos of it all, but it prevailed. "Big Mac!" There it was again. It didn't quite reach him yet, though. But my, was it there. Incessant. Pounding. Oh, the headache of it all. Just adding to the pile. It hesitated. "Big Mac." The gentle coo reached him, piercing through the overwhelmingly loud silence in the air, he felt this odd choking sensation in his throat when he registered the voice, so familiar and so loving. But would it continue to be after this? The thought scared him. Fear struck his spine in striking bolts, waves of dread sulked, creeping in and making their nest in his aching body. He was so tired of coming back to this again and again, but it plagued his mind like a cold. He realized his internal monologue had been ongoing - even though it hadn't really spoke - but alas he had been lost in his own downward spiral of paranoia again, and had forgotten to respond. "Yu- uh- eeyup?" he stuttered out like he was drowning, he felt and sounded like a silly foal learning to walk for the first time again. He pushed his hoof lightly against his throat, shocked at his own lack of voice. Usually he was calm and confident, knowing what he wanted to say, despite how little it ever was. However he feared this would give way to his sister finding out, that she would know something was awry with him. "Can I, uh, come in?" the voice questioned. He nodded, then processed he had forgotten to use his words, and managed a sheepish "Yup." "Uh, okay." She responded equally as softly, her voice leaving a tinge of confusion to be interpreted. Applejack trotted in, her hooves making the wood beneath her creak as the old house settled. She nudged the door shut behind her nonchalantly with her back hoof, not taking her gaze off of what was ahead of her. She made a gesture towards Big Mac's bed and tilted her head, knowing he was a horse of few words, moreso when he got this way. And goodness, how he could manage to get into his own head. Applejack understood the feeling, more than he was letting on. Applejack got up and sat down awkwardly, glancing at her hooves as they, too, dragged over one another slowly, she never did like eye contact. Big Mac was more fidgety - he was straight-up restless, as he clapped his hooves together ceaselessly, clicking them atop one another with a hard "Clink." The silence was substantial, but it wasn't like it bothered them, usually. It drove Big Mac up the wall, he was sweating buckets thinking about what Applejack could possibly say. *Did she find out? Does she know? Does she hate me? She hates you. She knows and she hates you. She'll never forgive you. She'll never see you the same-* his thoughts were cut off abruptly. "So, big brother," she chuckled stiffly, "what's on your mind?" Blunt and to the point. She looked upward briefly, catching a glimpse of his face, caught in an uncomfortable twist as his mouth hung downward and his eyes sunk, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them looked at the other, but this again, was not unusual. When she said 'brother,' the word stung like a mosquito bite. It was barely there, but just enough to irritate him. And it grew bigger the more he picked away at it and gave it the time of day. Maybe if he just ignored it it'd heal itself, he thought. Her words in general hung high above his head, and he had forgotten to respond with the way he was over-analyzing it a million different ways inside. What was on his mind, besides this scary, burning question gnawing him alive? He gave a lackluster response to divert any inkling of anxiety, "Oh, nothing," and with that he kicked his back hooves loosely up, and they swung back down heavily in the empty air. What else could he say? The silence sat for a couple of seconds. Too long for Applejack's liking, she was growing a bit impatient with his lack of answers. She looked up and moved her head upward in tune with her eyes, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other as her lips pouted and she let out a quick exhale. She looked down at her teetering hooves again. "Nothing..." she repeated, tapping her hooves together about three times, give or take, she wasn't paying attention. "Oookay.." she said in a quiet tone, and the cadence in her voice had shifted after this minute or two of waiting. She scratched the back of her ear. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself." She looked up and beamed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, which came out rather awkward. It fell just as awkwardly. She wasn't the best at conveying emotion, but neither was Big Mac. They had that in common. "Ok, I'll spit it out, rapid-fire," she said funnily, holding her hooves up and moving one in front of the other and back again in tune with the quirky enunciation of the last word. If nothing else, she was making an attempt to lift his low spirit. She inhaled, "Is it about me? About Ma or Pa? *Granny?* Baby Bloom?" and with that she exhaled overexaggeratedly. It took a second, but the half-smile she had faded from her face as he stood there saying nothing, simply folding one hoof over his other arm, rubbing it rigidly and looking away, and what she hoped was not true, had hit her. It was about himself. "Oh.. brother," she whispered to him, "You can tell me anything," she reached her hoof up toward him, pulling it back when it was halfway there as she winced at his lack of response, not even a lean-in to her gesture, but she continued anyway. She gingerly put her hoof on his shoulder. Becoming more confident with her comforting, she rubbed his back gently. "So it's about you?" He took a second, and nodded somberly. "Hey, that's alright. Tell me what's on your mind for real now, when you're ready. If, you're ready." AJ's voice, he found, was quite calming. Big Mac shot a glance at her timidly, then down at her hooves, and back up at her, but he couldn't look too long in order to stop the waterworks from coming. He gulped dryly and looked at the wall, and after the ceiling. He watched the fan dodder decrepitly, but so sure of itself, it's purpose, rotating on it's axis, again, and again, and again. He wished he could be so sure of himself, he wasn't sure if he ever could be, though. And here, he found himself envying the rotating of a ceiling fan. What an interesting moment, he thought sarcastically to himself. Was this really where he was at? He zoned out briefly, watching the blades go in circles, and then snapped himself back to reality with a hard blink, a downward motion of his head, and a squeezing of his hooves. "I..." he started softly and then trailed off. He sighed in dejection. "I- Well, I am me. But... I'm not. I look in the mirror, and it's not me looking back. I know that sounds... stupid, but it's not me. It's not like it isn't who I am, it's just not me. And I, don't know why. I mean I think I do, but I don't - sometimes-" He took a second to collect himself and inhaled, exhaling sharply after, he put his hoof firmly against his chest, as if almost trying to coax the words out. "I'm me, but I'm not. I'm not who I'm meant to be, I, I was born wrong. My body is wrong," he shook his head, like trying to shake the bad thoughts away. "It's not mine. I was born with something wrong about me, outside, inside I'm me, but outside I'm not. But - I'm not bad or anything, it's just that there was something different. And, you know that funny feeling of those butterflies in your tummy when someone you like says your name? I'll get that, but I won't recognize my name as mine, but I do get that feeling when...ponies accidentally call me what they call fillies, even though they don't mean to and fix 'emselves right after, and they act like it's so wrong, but I still get that funny feeling of, goodness. It catches me off guard in the best way... my heart skips a beat. And I know I'm s'posed to like girls, but there was something wrong about me lovin' 'em... it feels like. I feel real guilty-like when I start getting all lovey about one. It feels like I'm not allowed, like there's somethin'.." he teared up, "different. About me." He emphasized the last word quite significantly. He began to finish, not wordvomitting as much as he was before, instead saying it slowly, as if he was really trying hard to get his thoughts out. "I- I think, I think if I were born in the right body I'd be happier, but I don't want to change me, I just...want to change how people *see me."* Applejack raised her eyebrows and looked down, pushing her hooves together. She couldn't move, and she didn't. Big Mac's welling up had turned to a tear, gently rolling down his cheek. He held his breath, eyes darting back and forth from his sister's gaze - or lack thereof. Applejack held her breath as well. "Big mac, well - gosh." she let out staggeredly, anxiously chuckling, raising her hoof to her chest as she exhaled bluntly. Big Mac felt it coming, Roaring and Crashing. The water was surrounding him still, no matter how subtle it was before, it had been growing this whole time. Internal dread multiplying like a bilious bacteria, out to get him and cover him in it's killing spores. It must've been at least neck-high now. AJ chuckled, "Big Mac, I love you no matter what. You're my family." She looked him in the eyes, "It's gonna be ok." And there was the straw that broke the camel's back. It came through gently, like a soft breeze through his hair in summer, but it broke him so, so ruthlessly. He bit at his bottom lip and released, his mouth turning to a shaky U-shaped frown, and he bawled. Oh, how he bawled. He lunged for his sister's arms, which quickly opened for him to land in. Applejack huffed as the wind left her with his impact, but she regained control of herself and softly smiled, tenderly hugging him back. His head rested on hers, as hers on his. "It's alright big guy," she laughed. "In fact, I think I know exactly what's up." She pushed him off cautiously, and held her hoof against his shoulder. His tears subsided slightly, he wiped them with a trembling hoof. "Have you ever thought that maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body, because you're really a mare? I know nobody sees you that way right now, but I could start if that's who you really are." Big mac's pupils constricted, and he felt a leap in his chest. A mare? He tried so hard to push it out, but he couldn't. A mare. A mare! He let out a small smile, "A mare..." he then promptly shook his head. "But, I can't be. I wish it was that easy, that I could just be a mare, oh I wish so bad AJ," he put his hooves together and shook them, like he was pleading. He pushed her hoof off of him, sighing and speaking again, his voice cracking from the tears and raw emotion, "But I never could. I couldn't. I wish I could, but I'm not allowed to." he sighed defeatedly. Applejack chuckled, "Says who? All it takes is you saying you can. And I'll be honest, I feel like a lot of people don't give it much thought whether they want to be a mare or not - they just are." It all clicked. They, just are. He processed it for a second, and thought, and the thoughts slipped into words, "I'm a mare," he whispered. He smiled, the most genuine smile he'd ever shown. "I'm, a mare." He laughed, looking at Applejack. "A mare! I'm a mare!" His smile faded slightly, "But Applejack, am I still allowed to like other fillies? I figure now I'll have to like colts, that's what I've heard at least, and I really don't want to-" despite his concerns, he still looked quite euphoric. Applejack laughed again, "No, Big Mac, you can still like mares. It doesn't work that way I'm pretty sure." She rubbed the back of her head, "If it's any help, you can do whatever you want... What feels right." She closed her mouth and grinned, waving her hoof in the air dismissively of any negativity, her eyes in the other direction. Stopping, she looked at the ground and fiddled her hooves, "I, I actually know a lot about how you're feeling," she spoke nervously, cautiously, dancing around her words like she had something she didn't want to admit to herself as well. "I, know how you feel - about liking mares and, and the wrong body an' stuff. Feeling like your body isn't yours, it doesn't belong to you and never will, unless you make a big change, or somethin'. I get it. I feel wrong when people say I'm a girl, but I don't reckon I'd feel right with them callin' me a boy or something either - I don't think I really feel like either." She paused, cutting herself off, "I don't expect that to make sense to you, I know it's kind of weird and all." Big Mac thought for a bit, and then nodded, "No, I get it. I mean - I don't, but, I know you're you, no matter what, and I don't care who you are, you're still my sibling." Big Mac smiled nervously, trying to make sure he was doing the right thing. "And you're my sister, Big Mac," Applejack smiled back at him. "Now, how do you feel about me calling you by girl terms? Like, sayin' she, and stuff..." she struggled to think of an example. "Oh! Like, if I meet someone, I'll tell 'em "Oh Big Mac? She's my big sister!" Applejack let out a wide twinkling grin, feeling confident and proud with supporting her sister's feelings. "I, I like that." Big Mac said shyly, and she did. "Wait, how do I do the same for you?" she questioned. Applejack stalled, she really didn't think she'd get this far. "I think... I really like being called he, and brother and such. Although to be honest I'm not your sister and I'm not really your brother, and I still like other fillies - but I'm not one of them, or not in the same way, and - I don't know, it's a little confusing. I think the only way that I'm a filly is in the sense that I'm a mare who likes other mares. I don't really know what any of this is called," he voiced embarrassedly. "I wish I did." Big Mac smirked, "It's okay you don't, I don't know either. And we can learn together, little brother." She fluffed Applejack's hair playfully and her smirk became a toothy smile. Applejack laughed and joined her smiling. "Thanks," he said, quite gratefully. "To be honest, I've known this for a really long time, I just didn't know how to say it," he looked out the window longingly, "I wish I knew how to tell Ma and Pa, or Granny," he laughed a little, "and I don't even know how to tell a baby," he uttered, trying to lighten the mood a little after bringing it back down. Big mac grinned, "Why don't we go out to the orchard, little brother?"

#applejack mlp #big mac mlp #mlp fanfic #mlp fic #mlp writing #mlp au #mlp #applejack #big mac #trans applejack #trans big mac #my little pony #lesbian applejack #lesbian big mac #orchard blossom #trans au #the sun will rise again

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sickficsforthesoul · 3 years ago

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I’ve got a nice little prompt for you! (Actually two but I’ll put them in two separate asks).

This one is a character who may be out of your comfort zone but how about a sick Kuroo who has been sick for a while with what he thinks is something pretty mild so he takes a few days off but even though he’s not getting better he feels guilty about missing so much practice since he’s captain.

But then things go downhill and he gets a lot worse really fast.

Excited to see the things that come out of this blog!!

-Lu

Here's a surprise fic for you. I'm moving into my college dorm Sunday, so I'm writing as much as I can before then to make up for that and not posting much this week.

I hope I did Kuroo justice in this, so enjoy!

Captain Cat's Conundrum

Sick Kuroo and caretakers Kai and Yaku with a bit of Kenma for good measure

Word count: 2185 words

Tetsurou had a cold. He was curled up under heavy blankets in his bed, coughing, shivering, and aching for the past three days. Tetsurou had already missed the past three days of school and practice because his mother insisted that he rest and recover at home. Tetsurou knew she was right, and he also knew that going to school would spread his germs to other students. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over missing so much practice. Yaku and Kai had brought his schoolwork along with updating him on the team’s progress, but Tetsurou wasn’t satisfied. He was the team captain! He should be at practice with his team, not sitting in bed with a little cold.

So Tetsurou had snuck out the next morning, creeping out of the house with his school supplies and volleyball bag before his mother came to check on him. His mother would kill him when he got home, but Tetsurou would deal with that later. Tetsurou jogged to school to avoid being late for morning practice. He stopped at the gym doors to catch his breath, coughing lightly to clear mucus from his throat. Once his throat was cleared, Tetsurou entered the gym with his usual grin.

“Hey guys,” Tetsurou called to his teammates.

“Kuroo!” Lev and Shibayama shouted happily.

“Took you long enough, Roosterhead,” Yaku teased while walking over to Tetsurou. “Any longer, and I was going to make myself captain instead.”

“Liberoes can’t be captains, Yaku,” Kai chided from the bench. “How are you, Kuroo? Are you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” Tetsurou grinned, “my mom was just overreacting. You know how she is.”

“That’s true,” Kenma said quietly from behind Tetsurou.

“Gah!” Tetsurou jumped at his best friend’s sudden appearance. “Don’t do that to me, Kenma,” Tetsurou coughed. “I’m an old man. My heart can only take so much shock, you know!”

“You’re not that old,” Kenma muttered as he pushed past Tetsurou to enter the gym.

Kai looked at Tetsurou with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? That cough didn’t sound good.”

“I’m fine,” Tetsurou reassured his friend. “The cough will go away on its own. Haven’t you ever had a cough after you had a cold for a while?”

“I suppose I have,” Kai said, but his face was still doubtful. “You’ll tell us if you start feeling sick, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’m not that dumb,” Tetsurou scoffed.

“I sure hope you’re not,” Yaku eyed Tetsurou suspiciously. “If you don’t tell us, I’ll kick your ass for lying to us.”

“So violent, Yakkun!” Tetsurou sighed dramatically. “This is why you’re the demon senpai. Even the devil himself is scared of you.”

Yaku launched himself at Tetsurou with a shriek of fury. Tetsurou laughed and dodged Yaku’s attack, but the libero didn’t give up, opting to chase Tetsurou around the gym instead. Kai awkwardly watched the duo for a few minutes before joining in the chase too to catch the troublesome third years (“Wait, guys! We have practice right now. You can’t just goof off the entire time! You’re setting a bad example for the others!”).

Tetsurou made it through morning practice and the first half of the day with no issue, but by lunch, certain problems were beginning to emerge. The first was Tetsurou’s ever-growing headache. It pounded in his temples throughout lunch, distracting him from his friends and food. The second was his cough. It was stronger than that morning, and Tetsurou was struggling to hide his coughing fits from the watchful eyes of Kai and Yaku. The final problem was the terribly uncomfortable combination of chills and aches wracking his body. Tetsurou’s muscles ached as his body shivered despite the fairly warm air around him.

Tetsurou stumbled through his afternoon classes, feigning attention to hide how sick he was feeling. Thankfully, Yaku and Kai weren’t in his afternoon classes to witness Tetsurou’s pitiful acting because Tetsurou was sure they would have dragged him home on the spot. But Tetsurou can’t let that happen. He has practice after school, and he was determined to make up for all that he’d missed in the past few days.

When classes finally end, Tetsurou walked leisurely to the gym for practice. He somehow was the first to arrive, so he began an easy warm-up. By the time he was finished, everyone else was in the gym warming up too. Tetsurou also felt slightly better, the ache in his muscles dulled by the adrenaline now in his system. The cough and headache still proved to be a problem, but Tetsurou had become much better at ignoring the headache and swallowing back coughs before they could escape. Even so, Yaku and Kai stared at him for a minute, both his friends suspicious of Tetsurou’s health. They only stopped when Coach Naoi fussed at them to warm up instead of standing around.

The rest of practice followed a similar pattern. No matter what Tetsurou was doing, Kai and Yaku were never far away, always watching for any cracks in their captain’s façade of good health. By the end of practice, Kai and Yaku were starting to think that they might have overreacted at morning practice. Tetsurou looked mostly fine all practice. Maybe his cheeks were a little flushed or his breathing a bit heavy, but that could easily be attributed to the amount of exercise he was doing.

Coach Nekomata was unusually spartan with his training throughout practice. So far, the team had done sprints, flying falls, receiving drills, and blocking drills all in the span of an hour and a half, so most of the team looked just as disheveled as Tetsurou by the end of practice. Coach Nekomata dismissed them a few minutes ago, but the third years and Kenma remained in the gym with the coaches. The third years were supposed to help clean up, and Kenma stayed because he always walked home with Tetsurou.

With everyone else gone, the coaches went to Nekomata’s office to get their things while the third years cleaned. Kai and Yaku got to work immediately, but Tetsurou lagged behind his friends. The adrenaline in his system was fading, and the aches and chills returned with a vengeance as Tetsurou’s head continued to throb. His lungs twinged uncomfortably, a cough building in his throat. Tetsurou tried to stifle it, but his body was done obeying him. Instead, a loud hacking cough escaped Tetsurou’s throat and echoed through the mostly empty gym.

Kai and Yaku whipped around to face their captain, shocked by the nasty cough, but Tetsurou wasn’t done. His abused lungs were tired of holding back, and his body spasmed with pain. Another cough tore out of Tetsurou’s throat, and then another. Coughs wracked Tetsurou’s shivering frame, and the boy fell to his knees as the coughing fit deprived his lungs of much-needed oxygen. Tetsurou’s head spun, his eyes foggy and unable to focus on anything.

Coughs continued to come. Tetsurou’s body was screaming for oxygen, but his lungs couldn’t calm down enough to let any air through. Tetsurou wheezed miserably, body shaking with strain and exhaustion. What the hell was happening? Tetsurou was fine that morning (well, maybe not that fine, but not this bad either), so how did he deteriorate so quickly? Tetsurou’s racing thoughts did nothing to ease the headache, and Tetsurou was sure that if he didn’t stop coughing soon, he might end up passed out on the gym floor.

Someone rubbed his back. Tetsurou lifted his heavy head to see Yaku carefully but firmly rubbing his back. The pressure helped Tetsurou focus and relax, causing his breathing speed to decrease and his coughs to lessen. Another hand came to rest on Tetsurou’s forehead (Kai’s, Tetsurou assumed), most likely taking his temperature. Tetsurou also saw Kenma walking toward him, holding Tetsurou’s water bottle. Kenma offered him the bottle, and Tetsurou took a small sip, hands still shaky and unsure. After a few sips, Yaku and Kai manhandled Tetsurou until he was sitting on his backside instead of his knees. Yaku and Kai looked at him sternly, and Tetsurou knew he was in very big trouble.

Surprisingly, Kai was the first one to speak. “Kuroo, why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

“I was feeling b-better during practice, so I d-didn’t think it was t-that bad,” Tetsurou muttered, his words broken up by coughs.

Yaku raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Roosterhead? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

“...Yes…?” Tetsurou said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer, even to his own ears.

“...You can tell us, Kuroo. We’re still your friends, even when you’re acting stupid.” Kenma leveled Tetsurou with a flat but stern gaze, and Tetsurou knew he had no choice but to explain.

“I feel bad, okay?!” Tetsurou snapped. “I’ve already missed three days of practice for a stupid cold, and I can’t miss any more practice, or I’ll get behind!”

“You can be such an idiot sometimes, Kuroo,” Yaku sighed, eyes oddly soft. “You’re allowed to miss practice when you’re sick. We know you wouldn’t skip practice, and no one wants your nasty germs in the gym anyway.”

“Yes, Kuroo,” Kai chimed in gently. “Our coaches aren’t so terrible that they’d make you practice while sick.”

“I know that,” Tetsurou sighed, “but it’s different for me. I’ve already missed too much, and I can’t stand missing any more practice!”

Kenma tilted his head lazily. “Why’s it different for you, Kuroo?” Kenma asked calmly.

“Because I’m the captain!” Tetsurou exclaimed, coughing as air caught in his lungs. “I can’t afford to slack off. I have to set a good example. I have to…” Tetsurou was crying at that point, exhaustion amplifying his emotions to an extreme level.

“Kuroo…” Kai whispered as he wrapped a sobbing Tetsurou in a delicate hug. “You are setting a good example. You’re a wonderful captain, and everyone on the team knows it.”

Yaku snuck into the hug too, squeezing Tetsurou with his warm, comforting arms. “Kai’s right, Kuroo. You’re a good captain. You know I’d kick your ass if you weren’t right?”

“Yes,” Tetsurou mumbled through more tears.

“And since I haven’t kicked your ass, do you know what that means?” Yaku pressed as Tetsurou’s sobs become quiet.

“That I’m a good captain?” Tetsurou asked, voice rough from tears and coughs.

“Exactly,” Yaku smiled warmly. “You’re a very good captain, Kuroo, but do you know what else you are?”

“...An idiot?” Tetsurou guessed, reaching up to wipe away any remaining tears.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Got it in one. Now let’s get you home. I don’t think you have a cold anymore. Kai?”

“It seems more like the flu to me. That fever is far too high to be just a cold,” Kai agreed, helping Yaku pull Testurou off the gym floor. “What do you think, Kenma?”

“Flu, probably. His symptoms match pretty well,” Kenma answered, stepping back to give Kai and Yaku room to work. “He could have had a cold earlier and picked up a flu virus on top of that.”

“Man, Kuroo, your luck sucks!” Yaku snickered as he supported Tetsurou. “You’re lucky you didn’t pass out. Coach Naoi would have freaked out if he had to call an ambulance for you.”

“You’re so mean, Yaku,” Tetsurou whined with as much energy as he could muster. “No wonder Lev is so scared of you, you snarky little devil!”

“I’m not little!” Yaku huffed but continued to support Tetsurou to the door.

“You two are too much sometimes,” Kai sighed at their antics. “Kenma, can you show us where Kuroo lives?”

“Yeah. Follow me,” Kenma agreed easily. “Hey Kuroo, you know I’m gonna tell your mom everything, right?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened in horror. “Kenma, you can’t! She’ll never let me live this down! Please don’t tell her. I’m begging you!”

Kenma giggled at Tetsurou’s uncharacteristic behavior. “But if I don’t tell her, then she’ll fuss at me. I don’t like to be fussed at, Kuroo.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Tetsurou begged. “Just don’t tell my mom!”

Kenma’s face twisted into a mirthful smirk. “Okay. We’ll have a Super Smash Bros. tournament as soon as you get better.”

Tetsurou’s face fell instantly. “Smash Bros? But I suck at that game!”

“I know,” Kenma nodded sagely. “Kai, Yaku, you guys can come too if you want.”

“Sounds good, Kenma. Let us know when you pick a date and time,” Kai smiled at the setter. Yaku snickered and nodded in agreement.

Tetsurou groaned inwardly. These people were really his friends, huh? But they were taking him home after he got sick, Tetsurou reasoned. They were also helping him walk, and Tetsurou had no doubt that they wouldn’t leave his house until they had him feed, in bed, and drugged up on flu medicine. They were kind and caring when they wanted to be, and Tetsurou appreciated all they were doing for him right now. Maybe his friends weren’t so bad after all.

(No, scratch that. They were making fun of him for maining Kirby in Smash now. They were definitely assholes.)

#sickiesoul writes #sickfic #fever #coughing #influenza #cold #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #yaku morisuke #kai nobuyuki #haikyu!! whump #haikyu whump #haikyuu whump #haikyuu!!#anime whump

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jesus-otaku · 3 years ago

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Title: Peculiar Familiarity (part 6)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Marichat

Word count: 2241

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A long-overdue update for a giveaway prize for @kwiibi-blog. I feel so bad about this just sitting in my folder for so long. (I typed this part up like 2 years ago during the time I was away from Tumblr and completely neglected to post it.) I really hope the long wait has been worth it.

I mentioned this when updating the fic on AO3 so I’ll mention it here as well: I am no longer nearly as active in the ML fandom as I used to be. There is so much fandom salt and drama that it has been hard to find the same initial joy I had for creating ML content. Most of my writing lately has been for original projects rather than fanfic. But because I hate leaving things incomplete, and I think everyone reading my fics deserves to get the endings they’ve waited for, I am trying very hard to regain my lost motivation. My goal is to at least wrap up the multi-part fics I started, even if I don’t necessarily write the other fics I originally had planned. Any questions about this can be directed to my ask box!

“Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss.”

________________________

“You've been keeping secrets from me, Princess,” Chat Noir sang as he dropped through the trapdoor into Marinette's room.

She whirled away from her desk to look up at him, and her face was white as a sheet. “S-secrets? What secrets?” Her lips were twitching up in an attempt at a smile, but it was very obviously fake. “I—I'm not keeping any secrets, don't be silly! I mean, why would I not have told you that I was—I mean—that is, if I was—I mean—nope, no secrets here!” She broke into nervous laughter. “None whatsoever.” Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

Chat was a little taken aback. That was a much more…intense reaction than he had been expecting. He climbed down the loft ladder to join her at her desk. Leaning on the desk with one hand, he replied, “You never told me you and Ladybug were in touch with each other.”

Marinette gaped at him. It must not have been what she had thought he was going to say, because some of the color slowly started to return to her face. “That's—I—you never asked.”

“No,” he agreed, “but when you said I should talk to Ladybug about the whole hand-kissing thing, that—you could have just told her yourself.” It would have spared him a lot of embarrassment, that was for sure.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I think it was better that she heard it from you,” she replied. “Otherwise it might have made it seem like you were avoiding her.”

He hesitated. She did have a point there. And embarrassment or not, his conversation with Ladybug had cleared up a miscommunication he hadn't even realized they'd been having. “Still,” he said, “you could have at least said something.”

“You never asked,” Marinette countered. She leaned forward, propping her hands on her knees. “So, um, what did I—I mean, Ladybug say? About the hand-kissing thing, that is?”

Chat gave her a thumbs up with a smile. “She gave it the all-clear. Hand kisses are now exclusively yours, Princess.”

She grinned back at him. “Lucky me. But that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I never said you had to ask her permission,” she pointed out. She folded her hands in her lap. “I just said you needed to tell her you were going to stop kissing her hand. Did she say anything about you stopping?”

Great. Not only was Ladybug going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Marinette, now Marinette was going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Ladybug. He was so, so doomed. “She said I didn't have to,” he answered slowly, watching her to see her reaction. “She would have been okay with me kissing both your hand and hers. But I didn't want to do that to you after saying I would make it a you-and-me thing only.”

All of the color had returned to Marinette's face now, and if it hadn't been for the fact she had been so white just a minute ago, he would have thought he saw a dusting of pink on her cheeks. He quashed it instead as the act of an overactive, hopeful imagination. She'd been so pale that the natural flush of her face probably just looked overly pinkish by comparison. “Thank you,” she mumbled. A little clearer, she added, “It means a lot, you know. That you would change your dynamic with Ladybug just for me.”

Feeling suddenly very embarrassed, Chat looked around the room at just about everything except for Marinette. His eyes locked with the little black stuffed cat that perched on the shelf above her desk. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don't have to thank me for anything. It's not like things are going to change between me and Ladybug, not really.” But then he remembered that odd look of resignation that had been in Ladybug's eyes last night, and he had to wonder if things wouldn't change even the tiniest bit. She'd almost seemed upset.

As if she could read his mind, Marinette asked, “Are you sure about that? We—You two seem pretty close.”

“We're still going to be friends,” he replied, hating that word—friends—just a little less than he would have expected to. His friendship with his lady had always come first, no matter how badly he wanted to be something more. That priority had somehow become clearer the more time he had spent with Marinette. He waved a hand dismissively, as if her concern were a minor one. “A little thing like kissing your hand won't change that.” Oh, but that look in Ladybug's eyes last night…

A tiny smile made its way onto her face. “Ladybug is really lucky to have a friend like you. I would've been a lot more worried about things changing than you are.”

He braced his baton against the floor and leaned forward on it. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me, then, Princess. Since you're friends with her, too.” God, what was coming out of his mouth? He was going to be the end of himself, pursuing a conversation like this. But still, he couldn't stop himself from continuing. “I'm sure if you sing my praises, she'll reconsider my romantic advances.”

The statement startled a laugh out of her. “Okay, I take it back,” she giggled. “She's lucky, but she's not that lucky.”

Well, ouch.

Even though he knew Marinette meant it only in good fun, and that she would never intentionally say something to hurt someone else—out of all the people he'd met, she was one of the most well-attuned to preventing akuma attacks—her reply stung. So much so that his heart may as well have physically ached. The amusement he'd allowed to creep onto his face was gone in an instant. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Her expression dropped into horror. Had she not realized what she was saying? “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like that—I was just—you're great, but—um, you and Ladybug are—we're—I mean—ugh, I don't know what I mean anymore.” She buried her face in her hands, and there was a definite pink tinge to her cheeks now beneath her fingers.

Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss. He was stunned it had taken him this long to realize it. Chat Noir tucked away his baton and went to kneel in front of her chair.

“Hey, Princess,” he coaxed softly. She peeked out at him from between her fingers. That much, at least, was encouraging. “What's wrong? Forget about me and Ladybug for a second. Did something happen?”

Her eyes scanned his; for what, he wasn't sure. Slowly, her hands slipped away from her face, and she set them back in her lap. She sighed as if resigning herself to something. Her gaze dropped to the floor between the two of them. “It's just—well, I have this…friend. And he's a great friend, don't get me wrong,” she added hastily, before he could have even thought to comment. “I'd trust him with anything, no matter what.”

“But…?” he prompted. There was obviously a “but” coming.

She gave a halfhearted sort of shrug. “I don't know. It just feels like things are…weird between us right now.” Her eyes were still glued on the floor as she began twisting her fingers around each other in her lap. “Like he's…I don't know, distant?”

He hoped she wasn't talking about him as Adrien. He'd done his damnedest to get closer to her, to make her feel more comfortable around him, to see at least some inkling of the way she acted around Chat in her interactions with Adrien. Those attempts had so far only ended in more pronounced stammering and occasional awkward laughter. It wouldn't have entirely surprised him if she was referring to him as Adrien.

He just really, really didn't want to be the one she was referring to.

Marinette seemed to take his pensive, anxious silence as a sign to continue, because she kept talking. Almost like she couldn't stop herself. “And I guess I just can't help wondering if maybe there's something that I did, or if there's something else going on in his life that I don't know about, or if he's just sick of hanging out with me.”

Chat took one of her hands in his before she could wring her fingers white. Her eyes finally snapped up to meet his again. “If he's sick of hanging out with you, then he's an idiot,” he said, with far more feeling than he had originally intended to put into his sentence. “You're amazing, Marinette. Anyone would be lucky to call you their friend.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I know I am.”

That tiny little smile made its way back onto her face, just enough to lift the corners of her lips out of miserable worry. So gently that he almost thought he imagined it, she squeezed his hand back. “Thanks, Chat Noir.”

Kneeling there with her hand in his, he almost kissed her hand before coming to his senses and shooting her a wink instead. Even with both her and Ladybug's permission, he couldn't just go around kissing her hand willy-nilly. “Anytime. It's a knight's sworn duty to protect his princess, even from her own self-doubt.” The comment made her smile spread wider, and the weight of worry lifted from his chest.

And it was strange, how much this reminded him of another time, with another girl, begging her to believe in him and in herself when she hadn't thought she could be enough.

Then Marinette was getting to her feet, her hand was sliding away from his, and the moment of familiarity was gone. “So,” she said, “are you up for being walloped at Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tonight?”

He wanted to say yes so very badly. Wanted to prove that he'd meant what he'd said, that anyone who didn't want to hang out with her was an idiot. But curse it all, he had a photo shoot tomorrow morning at eight and he would never hear the end of it from his father if he showed up at his photo shoot with anything less than a full night's rest.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, trying to infuse as much regret into the words as possible. Her smile still dropped. He cursed the name of photo shoots everywhere in his head. “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement with my bed. I've got someplace I have to be early tomorrow, and I need my cat nap or I'll never make it through the day.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the prospect of getting up early during a weekend. “On a Saturday?” she asked incredulously. “That just sounds like some form of torture.”

Chat grinned. At least they were of the same mind on that point. “It probably will be, but a commitment is a commitment. I'm a cat of my word.” He stood and began to back his way towards the ladder to the trapdoor. “I can come back tomorrow night,” he added hopefully. He didn't usually visit two nights in a row, but since this visit was so short, maybe… “And you could wallop me then.”

“Bring plenty of fighting spirit, because I've been practicing,” she replied, smiling once again. He was struck for the hundredth time by how very familiar the teasing tone of her voice was, and not because he had heard it from her so often now as Chat. When he took another step back towards the ladder, she asked, “Aren't you forgetting something, Chat Noir?” Her smile had turned impish.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment of staring to realize what she was referring to. By the time he had put two and two together, she had already stepped closer to him and offered her hand. “Oh. Right. How foolish of me.” He took her hand in his and couldn't help marveling at how well their hands fit together. Almost exactly like his and Ladybug's did.

But Marinette wouldn't push him away from the gesture, not tonight and not in the future. That wasn't who the two of them were together. Marinette wasn't Ladybug, and he was a little bit of a different Chat Noir when he was with her. Not as flirty, not as hopeful, not as self-aggrandizing.

If he thought about it, maybe he as Chat Noir acted the way he wished he as Adrien could act with Marinette.

Minus the hand-kissing, of course.

He pressed his lips to her hand, lingering just a moment longer than was really necessary. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and there was the faintest scent of the bakery clinging to her. It almost made him not want to pull away.

He did still have to get up early in the morning, though, so he forced himself to straighten and release her hand. She had already agreed that he could come back tomorrow. This was only goodbye for a day. He'd survived longer than that without her before. Chat swept her a bow. “Until tomorrow, Princess.”

Her smile spread into that glimmer of sunlight that had nearly made his heart stop last time. It almost made his heart stop again now. “Until tomorrow, Chat Noir. And thank you.”

#drabble #drabble prize #kwiibi-blog #miraculous ladybug #marichat #otp #miraculous fanfic #peculiar familiarity

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 4 years ago

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Glitched [Change Your Passwords]

Hacker AU

TW: Implied Stalking, Language

Pairing: (NCT) Unknown x Reader

Genre: Choose Your Story, Thriller, Suspense, Mystery

(3/?) [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Glitched Masterlist]

Word Count: 3.9K

Notes: Sorry for the wait on this one! I’ve been studying for my classes, but don’t worry I won’t leave you all hanging haha. Also I’ve updated the video links to go to a video archive blog of mine because the private posts were just not working out for me so I hope this will be easier! I ask that you don’t follow that blog only for spoilers as I’ll upload videos/other medias there first prior to posting the actual fics so you might either get spoiled or just really confused lol. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idol(s) mentioned/written/implied would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to anyone mentioned in the writings of this story, nor do I wish any harm on them. The idols mentions in this work are meant to be acknowledged as no more than face claims and are not meant to represent the idols in any way.

You sat down first with Jaemin and Yangyang still in line for whatever it was they had decided to eat for lunch, you, meanwhile, decided on changing your passwords. Figure, you have since decided on calling him that since that’s what he told you to tell Instagram, seemed very adamant on it, and thus here you were, changing literally all of your passcodes and writing them down on the side of the paper bag you requested.

But as you did this the creeping feeling of being watched never left you. The security cameras were pointed the other way and no one, to your knowledge, was making an active effort to stare at you. It had to be related to that scare from earlier, you had nearly forgotten about it while in your lab. You finished changing the last passcode and looked down at your phone, the last passcode being the one to your Tumblr account, and you opened your messages, secretly hoping that maybe you’d receive another message from Figure, but none were presented to you. No doubt changing your passcodes might have disconnected you from the person as a whole. But, of course, right when you least expect it, things always turn around. Then in came a message from user011719.

https://videoarchivesatzml.tumblr.com/post/644877251145515008/glitched-change-your-passwords-video

You played the video again. Why did it just stop mid-sentence? You tried to play it again but the message, much like the one you received earlier, disappeared. Like it was never there in the first place. You wondered what could have happened, if you didn’t know what you did already you would’ve assumed that he cut the recording too soon or that he ran out of WiFi, but this couldn’t have been the case, it was too easy, too simple.

But you were more concerned about another thing Figure had mentioned. To your knowledge, no one had used your phone. The only person that it could’ve been was… Jaehyun. But why would he have done that? There was no purpose as to why he would do that.

“(Y/N)!” Seonghwa called out to you and you waved.

“Oh, hello!”

“Oh, thank god, you have your phone,” he sighs. “Did Jaehyun give it to you?”

“Yeah, he did,” you were surprised by how convenient Seonghwa’s timing was, but you had to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Why?”

“Bambam was looking through it.”

“He was what?!”

“Yeah, that’s why Somi isn’t around right now, she’s probably beating his ass. He’s been here the longest but Somi doesn’t really give a fuck,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Don’t worry, he didn’t open anything, he was just being a bitch.”

“How did he know my password?”

“You really should change your password from 0000, (Y/N), it’s too simple,” Seonghwa laughs.

“Oh god, don’t worry I already changed it. What did he want anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure he was just being stupid, Bambam acts like that but he’s not a dick, he looked surprised himself when he got your password, I figured I’d tell you because that was just out of line.”

“It was, yeah, thanks for telling me,” you nodded your head.

“It was the right thing to do, I’m gonna go head out now, I have to make sure Somi didn’t go too far, I’ll see you back in lab.”

“See you,” he waved at you again and walked out of the food court. You pulled out your phone and stared at it, people seriously have no boundaries. Bambam had already rubbed you the wrong way but this was honestly such a dick move, you shook your head.

You hoped that he didn’t see your Instagram, Seonghwa said that he didn’t see or open anything but still. You’d have to thank Somi later, but you still couldn’t believe that he was so shameless with it. The nerve of some people, if this were a cartoon you’d be certain that steam would be blowing out of your ears, you would definitely give him a piece of your mind back in lab later. You looked at the DMs, if anyone else saw this they would be more than just suspicious, no doubt, or they would think that you were crazy and laugh at you.

But looking at these DMs, you thought back to the video. Figure mentioned that there was someone keeping him captive, and with this knowledge, you felt your heart rate rise slightly, and you could only think of the worse. But, despite this, you were at least able to screenshot that one part that he asked you to send to not.here127, something that you were glad that you did because you hardly remembered what else he sent.

You left the app and opened your notes app, then you tried to type out the screenshot. You got pretty far until about the second sentence, at that point the keyboard started lagging until it stopped working altogether.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself and restarted the app, trying to type out the message again, but still came the same result. You even tried restarting your phone altogether, but still, the same result. Until your keypad started moving itself, and you gasped loudly enough for some people to turn their heads. You dropped your phone on the table. “Uh, sorry, just family news,” you said aloud. Many of the people seemingly understood this and turned back around. But when you looked down at your phone, the lone sentence on your notes app read:

“Don’t. - Figure”

It was like you could feel your blood circulating through you. You had no idea how to feel right now, nor did you want to take the time to figure it out. Then it started typing again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hacked into your phone but… something came up, and it would just be safer for you if I did this. I’d tell you what it was but it would be better if I didn’t. Just… tell him in person, okay?”

You nodded your head slowly and picked your phone back up, reopening Instagram. Part of you felt more awkward now knowing that this Figure was in your phone, probably watching you as you typed, but you wanted to give what limited trust you could. Then another foreign feeling came over you, one you’ve felt since entering this facility, actually, and when you looked to the corner of the room, you saw the camera focused right on you, then you continued the conversation.

You stared at the camera that was still trained on you, then at your phone’s camera. You wanted to cover the camera, to be honest, but two things stopped you. One being how you would make fun of your friends when they did so, and two being how Figure had mentioned that the whole reason why he hacked into your phone was because “something came up.” Now, you aren't stupid. You could put two and two together and no doubt this “something” was related to this new person that not.here127 mentioned, Connect.

“So how’s your first day so far?” Jaemin asks once he sits down. You locked your phone and placed it back into your pocket.

“It’s great, it’s everything I could’ve hoped for, I just can’t believe that I’m finally here, you know?” You answered. Jaemin had his usual lopsided smile on while Yangyang sat down, he looked between both of you and a sly smirk crawled on his face. You knew that look, you knew what he was planning and you stomped on his foot before he could think about it.

“You okay, Yangyang?” Jaemin asks.

“Just fine,” he winces. “But how’s the hell lab, (Y/N)?”

“Actually not that bad… so far. But I shouldn’t jinx it,” you shook your head. “How about you, Lab V, right?”

“I think my mentor has it out for me. He’s always pointing out the little mistakes I make, it’s so nerve-racking…”

“Who’s your mentor?” Jaemin asks.

“Sicheng…” Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, you’re fine. He’s like that with everyone.”

“What does your lab work on?”

“Uh, it’s kind of weird,” Yangyang hums. “Some biomatter stuff.”

“You don’t know what you’re studying?!”

“I mean I do! But like, it’s weird,” Yangyang shook his head. “Technically, it’s called Biomatter Space Compression. But like, it’s weird because like… I think there’s more to it,” Yangyang frowns.

“So like what space does to the body?”

“Yeah, but like… you know what, forget it, I have no idea how to explain it,” Yangyang shakes his head. “Give me like a week to make sense of it,” he laughs.

“I used to be in that lab, and that’s probably the best way to explain it,” Jaemin sighs. A loud beeping noise goes off and Yangyang groans.

“Shut up,” your jaw drops while you fought back a smile. Yangyang reluctantly pulls out a device probably twice his age. “Is that a pager?!” You started to laugh.

“Yeah,” he holds it in his hand and shows you. “As soon as my supervisor busted this out I almost laughed out loud,” Yangyang chuckles.

“Oh god, that’s old…”

“I know, looks like he’s calling us all back in early, so I’ll see you after then,” Yangyang waves goodbye and leaves the cafeteria, leaving you and Jaemin behind.

“Ah, I guess lunch is almost over,” Jaemin stretches his arms back and yawns. “I’ll walk you back to the labs,” Jaemin tosses the paper bag into the trash bin and stands up, waiting for you to catch up to him. You quickly followed suit and walked next to him. You both exited the bustling lunch hall and walked back into the outdoor walkway, the grand structure never failing to amaze you but to be fair it is still your first day. You were both making a beeline for the labs, and you, of course, noticed the cameras discreetly following you the entire time. You soon approached your lab building and you both stopped in front of it.

“Thanks…” you didn’t really have much to say, what do you say in this situation? You both had only known each other briefly and never on the level to easily make small talk. You were about to go back inside when he said something rather peculiar.

“No problem… You must be pretty smart if you got this internship, you know. If you feel like something’s off, then it probably is,” he says. Then he walks off without giving you a chance to answer. You walked into the locker room with a heavy mind, putting your equipment back on and begrudgingly placing your phone back into the UV chamber, feeling at least a little more secure with your now changed passwords, then you walked back into the lab.

“(Y/N)!”

“Bambam,” the name came out harshly from your mouth and he shoots an awkward smile.

“You guys told (Y/N)?”

“Of course we did!” Seonghwa glares at him.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), he grabbed it because it’s the same model as his phone and he ended up opening it since you both coincidentally had the same password,” Somi sighs. “0000, really?! You have important lab information on your phone and your password is 0000?!”

“I know okay? I changed it,” Bambam rolls his eyes.

“To what? 1234?” Jaehyun laughs.

“Well, when we’re done here, I’m gonna change it again,” Bambam crosses his arms. “Sorry about that, (Y/N), it was a genuine mistake, I didn’t open anything, promise,” he says. Your shoulders relaxed, you couldn’t help mistakes, and though this was an eerie coincidence there wasn’t much you could say anyway.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. Somi’s explanation made enough sense, you think. “Just be more careful next time, I’d rather not have a complete stranger going through my phone, mistakenly or not,” you said sternly. The other members of the lab group looked at you with a strange expression, maybe you said it a bit too harshly, and truthfully normally you’d shrug it off but with the whole thing going on with Figure, or Connect, or whoever the hell you were DMing on Instagram is just getting to you. Then there were those damn cameras, both around the facility and on your own phone.

“Sorry about that, I’m just a little stressed,” you shook your head and tried to play it off. Bambam starts laughing out loud and you flinched at the sudden outburst.

“Oh, don’t worry, we get it! Seonghwa was worse when he first started,” Bambam’s worried look is immediately replaced with a happier one while he clapped the other one’s shoulder. “You should’ve seen him, he snapped at all of us.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did,” Jaehyun chuckles and moves to the lab table. “But now, with all of that out of the way, we have to work,” Jaehyun says. Everyone moved to their stations quickly, picking up where you each left off prior to lunch. You were put on data recording, something not precisely fun but also the only thing you could currently be trusted with. You were amazed by how easily they all worked together, you couldn’t help but feel like you were just stepping on their toes really, but every time they’d call you over they’d be nice about it at the very least. You each moved around the clock nonstop, you walking around the rather large lab table with the rather large laptop to each station as the main researchers called you over to record something, and them occasionally overlapping in their stations as each of the trials were carried out and analyzed.

“Alright then,” Bambam stands up and stretches his back. “I’m going home.”

“Already?” You asked while you looked at the wall clock, it read 7:48 pm, about an hour away from clock out time. You then looked at the laptop in your hands and saw about 3/4s of the spreadsheet filled. “Don’t we need to finish the rest of this today?”

“Nah, the rest of the trials take about a day to develop, so we’re good on waiting, or at least I am,” Bambam says. “You did good, rookie, don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Oh, thanks,” you cleared your throat.

“Be safe on your way home then, Bambam,” Jaehyun says without looking up from his microscope. “Don’t worry, (Y/N), we don’t have strict clock-out times,” he says while turning the bulb off on the microscope.

“Heading out too?” Somi asks.

“Yup, you all stay safe,” Jaehyun waves at them and walks out of the lab, following close behind Bambam.

“I’m almost done here,” Somi twists open the pipette drip and watches the chemical drop into the solution. “Just have to finish developing these samples and recording color changes, if you want I can take it from here, (Y/N),” she offers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), you’ve been walking around all day, I’m surprised you’re not lightheaded from all the times you walked around here,” she says. “I’m serious! Jaehyun left so he won’t know,” she says.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Seonghwa shrugs while he closes the mice cage.

“You’re cleared!” Somi smiles.

“Thanks, Somi,” you had on a tired smile, it was true, your feet were killing you with all the walking you’ve been doing and you haven’t had a chance to sit down.

“Get home safe,” she says.

“Do you need a ride home?” Seonghwa asks.

“No thank you, I’ll just take the bus,” you said, hoping that Yangyang was still here.

“Okay, see you tomorrow then,” Somi waved at you while you left. You entered the empty locker room and shrugged your lab coat off and hung it in your locker, placing your goggles on the top shelf and grabbing your bag. Then you turned around and, with your breath held, opened the UV chest. You saw your phone resting undisturbed in the same spot you left it and you felt a wave of relief while you picked it up. Everything was still in order and you spotted the text from Yangyang simply stating that his team messed up an experiment and they had to redo the whole thing and told you to just head home without him.

“Well, great,” you shook your head and walked out into the darkened facility. “West wing…” you mumbled to yourself, following the signs quickly. You pushed open the double doors and walked out into the nighttime, the moon already in the sky. You opened Instagram and quickly read through the conversation again while you descended the steps, and you soon noticed the car parked in front of you, and as you walked over to it, someone stopped you.

“Oh, (Y/N)!” Jaehyun called out to you, he looked like he was just about to re-enter the building. “Perfect timing,” he says while holding up his phone.

“Oh, hello,” you said. He was the first person who came up to you out here.

“I forgot that you weren’t in our work group chat, we were planning on getting dinner together,” he shows you the conversation. You spotted Somi’s text saying that she forgot to tell you about it and asked if anyone had your number. “Want to come?” He asks. You quickly glanced at the car behind him, it hadn’t moved since you walked out and the windows were tinted.

[[Follow Jaehyun or Go to the Car]]

General Tag List: @vickylamore @hangsxng @mizzdivagirl7-blog @sehunnies-hunnie96 @roses09020617 @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @awesomei @raeincitizen @here-aeth

Glitched: @red-moon-dream @vinmylife @tyuningkai @fortrest @leesalts @tvehyungs-gf @gaiyofanfiction @lvvcky

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct x reader #nct u x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #wayv x reader #nct fics #nct u fics #nct 127 fics #nct dream fics #wayv fic #my writings #glitched

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years ago

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A Winter Night: A ROTTMNT Holiday story

Rating:G

Word Count;2358

for: @snakeeyesdraws

Characters: Donnie, Leo, Kendra

pairings: [takes breath, pulls out sword] LISTEN

update; i accidentally uploaded the draft the first time ^^’ i fixed though this is the finished version

An overtly saturated neon sign of a Santa selling sandals catches him in the corner of his eye. He uses his forearm to protect his aching eyes as he passed the sign. When he passes the blinding neon of Santa, the turtle takes a deep breath, a soft mist escaping his mouth. Honestly, he is grateful the streets aren’t more crowded. But not for his slowly numbing hands. He stuffs his hands into his unlined pockets and moves forward. Grateful more than ever that he had updated Shelldon with a heating unit so he didn’t have to weigh himself down with a heavy coat. It was making the walk to Hueso’s a bit more tolerable. He’d have to remember to update his brothers’ gear to include a heating unit like his. Course knowing them they’d probably use it to heat up marshmallows in their pockets and that was a mess he was NOT going to clean up for-

He is so wrapped up in the nightmarish scenario of having to clean marshmallows out of circuitry when a loud shriek of anger followed by a trash can flying past his line of vision causes him to jump on one foot with a shriek of fear

“Stupid AIDEN!!”

It takes Donnie a moment, and another trash can flying by his vision to realize he is not the source of anger, or in danger. He blinks and peers down the alley before having to duck in time for another trashcan to get stomped in the middle with enough strength to crunch it in half before, in a mixture of amazement he blinks. “Kendra?”

In a feral rage Kendra stomps a trashcan nearly in half before swerving around and glaring at him snarling. Her thick purple hair twisted in half ragged tangles, her beret lay on the ground as though she had thrown it to the ground before deciding that wasn’t enough to help vent her rage. Her half-crazed eyes narrowed at him. “What do YOU want?!” she bites and for a moment Donnie wishes he hadn’t stopped, “Are you here to ruin my day again?! Wreck my plans?!”

“Um,” Don blames his lack of ability to come up with a snappy come back on his even more urgent need to survive the next five seconds, or at least not end up like that trashcan. ”Are you doing something that should be stopped?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him. “NO.”

“Do you HAVE an evil plan that I should stop? Again?” With a snarl Don worries he might have said the wrong thing.

But then she lets out an angry sigh, “No, not now.”

“Um.” He really didn’t want to end up a Donnie shaped hole in the wall, “Then, no?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him, Donnie could barely see the little puffs of steam burst out of her nose like a bull trying to figure out if he was a matador worth charging. But then she lets out an angry growl, ”Fine, go away then,” she says, crouching down and yanking the trash can back into a standing position kicking at it a few more times to try and un-dent it. Donnie glances back at the trash cans in the road and sighs. He pulled off his gloves, cursing the fact that he didn’t bring any extra rubber gloves, and pulls one of the trash cans off the street. Kendra glares up at him before eyeing the trashcan in confusion, “What do you want?”

“To not see cars hit trash cans? Is that supposed to be a hard question?” he asks, again berating himself when Kendra narrows her eyes at him, but lets him stand his trash can next to the one she had ‘undented’, she doesn’t thank him when he drags by the other one too. But to be honest he doesn’t really expect it. But he does finally notice that, even though she traded out her leggings for sweatpants, she’s lacking her purple dragons' jacket and is wearing a dark grey sweater and boots. All signs indicated she had not been planning on being outside in December and is using all the anger she had been trying out on the trash cans to not shiver, “Where are you going?”

“What’s it to you?” she demands.

Donnie raises his hands in mock surrender. “Honestly? I was just trying to help but if you’re going to keep acting like a jerk, I’ll-“ he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish that thought. ‘Walk away?’ ‘Blog about it angrily later?’ But it ended with someone shouting ‘heads up’ and something hard slamming into the back of his head, his vision exploding in bright colors and the breaking of a snowball contacting with his head. Off balance he finds his world spinning and himself on his knees, hands holding his head trying to make sense of the pain and his disorientation.

“Hey!” Kendra’s voice was far away, but that could be ‘cause she had stormed over to yell at the kids who had thrown the snow ball. “The hells your problem?! That was basically an ice ball you weebs.” Don could barely make out their mumbled sheepish apology. He pulls off his hat and touched the soaking bandana underneath. Any hope that it had just been snow went out the window when he drew his bloody fingers off his head.

“Holy-“ Sounds like Kendra was back, his vision was spinning so bad that he assumed the spinning purple mass by his side was her. “Hey how many fingers am I holding up?!” she said holding out her hand. He could barely make out her fingers but gave a weak, “Four?” with strength surprising for someone her size, she took his arm and lifted him to his feet, pulling his arm over her neck, “Come on there’s a hospital nearby-“

“NO,” he answers quickly.

“Are you kidding me you’re HEAD is BLEEDING.”

“And I'm a giant talking turtle which do you think will matter more to a hospital staff?!” He often wondered how Yokai managed in the city without access to a hospital. He had been meaning to ask Hueso about-. He blinks, there was no way he could let Kendra take him home. But he was already close to the pizza place “I have a place I can go. But you can’t go with me-“

“Again, your HEAD is BLEEDING,” she snaps. “I’ll take you where you need to go but I won't get any closer got it?” Donnie knew she wouldn’t take no for answer and only answered with a sigh and a nod. She pulls harder on the arm wraps over her neck and took more of his weight. Despite their height difference he barely touches the ground which only added more to the feeling of being disoriented.

“Thanks,” he muttered weakly.

“Don’t thank me til we get there.” Donnie struggles to keep his eyes open but his swirling vision forces him to keep his eyes closed, a hand slaps his face lightly. “Hey stay awake nerd.”

“Pot calling the kettle-“ Donnie bit off the end of his statement as he tried not to dry heave. He could feel Kendras frozen bare arms through his coat and feels even worse for being out in the first place. “H-Hold on,” he says, stiffening his legs up to drag her to a stop. He manages to pry her arm off him long enough to peel his coat off leaving him in his long sleeved dark pink Atomic Lass shirt. “You’re obviously cold.” As callous as he is sometimes, he finds it’s better to be honest than to dance around the subject, “Shelldon has a heating unit that’ll keep me warm.” Though it wouldn’t help his arms, he could handle a few blocks though. Thankfully his vision is returning to some extent, enough that he notices Kendra looking to his pack and for a moment Don struggles not to shift to put the pack out of her sight, “That’s Shelly right? Is he still mad at me for tricking him?”

“Oh definitely. He has a stack of crayon drawings dedicated to his revenge on you.” He feels the shoulders on his back tighten as though Shelldon was reprimanding him for revealing his secret plans.

Kendra lets off a small shrug “Yeah fair enough, I’d probably do the same thing” before smirking directionally at the pack, ”But for the record little buddy, blue prints are a much better way to plot out revenge.”

Don tries to grin before dizziness settles in again. Kendra must have noticed since she ducked under his arm. “Hold on nerd, keep talking to me.”

He manages a nod, mentally keeping track of their location. “Wh-what were you doing out here kicking trash cans?” he asked. “And who’s this Aiden guy who has you so mad? Not that it's any of my business, but I’m kinda hurt there’s someone out there you currently hate more than me,” he says with an added offended tone that makes her glare at him in confusion. ”I mean not to brag, but I sorta consider it a pride and joy to have an enemy worthy of my intelligence.”

Kendra narrows her eyes. “Please, he’s not worthy of my time,” she says through her teeth. “There’s this guy in the robotics club with us, Aiden. A loser who couldn’t tell a snickers from a soldering pen. There was a contest to submit the best blueprints, and who ever won would to be our project for the semester.”

“I’ve seen you build stuff on your own though. “

“That wasn’t the point,” Kendra lets out an angry huff, “I won, like I knew I was going to. But he got second place, I checked the points and he was twelve points away from wining. Twelve! The loser pretty boy who had his private tutor help him.”

“But you still won-“

“-He shouldn’t have gotten that close. I did all my work by myself. Didn’t ask for help, spent nights coding and drafting. I should have left him in the dust a broken swaddled nerd with broken dreams. But no. I made sure he knew how I felt about it, but the creep tattled on me. Freaking snowflake got freaked out because his blue prints ended up on his front porch on fire. Since when is that illegal.”

“I mean,” Don pauses, “I think always.”

“Anyway, I got kicked off the club and that’s why I'm out here.” She shrugs. “If my Dad or step mom saw me getting this mad then they’d make me do the ‘breathing exercises,’” she said with air quotations, “Being all ‘Kendra we’re worried about you’ ‘Kendra we love and support you we just don’t want to see you go down a bad path’ and ‘Kendra where do you keep getting access to all this fire!?’” Her frustrations forced her to kick out at a sign they passed but thankfully not hard enough to knock it over, “So as soon as I’m done helping you, I’m going to see my Mom. She’s the only one who gets me.”

Donnie blames his concussion on being so surprised Kendra had a mom but tried to keep it off his features. But judging by the quiet scoff from Kendra he hadn’t done a very good job, "How about you Greeny? Why did you come out here if you already had a concussion? Don’t pretend like you didn’t have one, I saw the bandages when I was checking your scalp. You already had a head injury before you got hit in the head.”

Figures his hat would blame him, and his own disorientation for forgetting that Kendra had checked his scalp. “It's complicated.”

“More complicated then plotting revenge on a spoiled white boy in a Vanilla Ice t-shirt?” she says in a tone that tells Donnie she’s trying to make a joke. And despite his best efforts not to, he snorts slightly, “No, I'll agree it’s not that complicated.” But it still feels weird to share with a certified enemy who once tried to steal the Spirit of Labour Day (don’t ask can’t explain). Thankfully she doesn’t rush him as he tries to collect his thoughts. “I got into an argument with my brother.” He still doesn’t want to let her in on too much information. “My brothers are all protective of each-other but he's’ protective in a way that makes me nuts. He thought it was too soon for me to go out with this whole situation,” he said gesturing to his head bandage, “And I disagreed. Except I didn’t really do it in the best way.”

“I think I know what that means,” Kendra says. “Did you say something bad?”

For a moment, it takes all of Don’s remaining mental energy to not think about Leo’s face, watching his concerned features fade away to one of hurt. So hurt in fact he hadn’t even called after Donnie when he stormed out. He lets out a sigh. “I did. I wish I had a reasonable excuse for it, but to be honest I don’t like feeling like I'm depending on people. I don’t like feeling like he’s always concerned about me. I especially don’t like him being right about it.”

“Sucks when it feels like you’re under-appreciated huh?”

“Yeah.” He could make out a familiar sandal store that housed Hueso’s alley. “We’re here,” he says.

Kendra looks around, and for a moment Donnie is concerned Kendra is going to insist on taking him ‘inside’ but she ducks from under shoulder. “You sure?” she asks, “I can take you further.”

“I’m good, thanks though.” He tries to give her a confident smile but his lips only twitch in response. She gives a half shrug before she starts pulling off his coat. “Keep it. You have a long way to walk and I still have Shelldon to keep me warm.”

“Thanks,” she says pulling the coat back on. “I’ll catch you later Greeny,” she says. She looks like she's’ about to walk off when she pauses. “But for the record, it still must be nice to have brothers who have your back.”

“It is.” Don nods. “And honestly Aiden sounds like a little bitch.”

For the first time since their strange encounter began Kendra put on a full smile. “Thanks,” she says before walking off.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Leo didn’t snore.

So when his phone went off amongst his makeshift ‘pillow floor’ in the living room he did not ‘snort’ awake. He made a strangled noise before sitting up. Patting his sweatpants and hoody pockets before diving into the mass of pillows. Breaching a moment later like a whale with his phone in his teeth. Hueso’s ID is flashing across his screen. With a scoff he answers. “For the last time BONE man I don’t work today-“

“First of all, that is NOT how you politely answer a phone,” Hueso starts with a snap of his teeth. “Second that’s not why I'm calling. Your brother is here with me.”

Leo blinks, he blames his previous hibernated state on why it took him so long to remember which brother had left the lair. “Donnie? Is he ok?” he said already going to his room and looking for his sword under his bed.

“He is alright, but it looks like he got hit on the head pretty hard-“

That’s all it takes for him to charge out of his room, lingering only long enough to grab the toolbox he used for a first aid kit, and grabbing his portal sword from the kitchen (vaguely remembering he had used it to cut some cheese for his peanut butter and cheese grilled sandwich earlier) and slicing the sword down to activate a portal to Hueso’s office. Without saying bye, he hangs his phone up and jumps through.

The aforementioned skeleton, who had been glaring at his phone as though offended Leo had hung up on him, gave a shriek as the turtle appears by his side. “BAH! Leo, I hate it when you-“

Leo immediately tuned him out when he saw Donnie laying on Hueso’s couch with an ice pack over his forehead, he hurried forward and knelt down. “You ok buddy?” he asks.

Donnie looks up at him from under the ice pack with a weak smile. “I don’t know, are you really uglier than the last time I saw you or is that my head talking?”

Leo couldn’t help but grin. “I thought brain injuries were supposed to make people nicer,” he says. He turns to the toolbox and starts going through the first aid supplies inside. “Thanks for letting him rest. In your office,” he tells Hueso as he sets aside a pen light and some new bandages.

“Why wouldn’t I? Out of your brothers he’s most definitely my favorite.”

“Wait you have a favorite?” Leo looks to him. “Then who's your least favorite?”

After a pause, Hueso gives a wide and strained grin. “I will leave you two to it. If you need me just call me,” he says before ducking out quickly.

It’s only then that Leo turns his barely contained worried energy on Donnie “What happened? Who did this? Do you have their address and sleep schedule-“

“Leo,” Don starts in a pained voice, “Please, my head feels like someone tried to split it with an ax. It was an accident. Some kids hit me in the head with a snow ball.“

Leo was about to start on another tirade of questions when he forced himself to take a deep breath, “Yeah, ok, I'm sorry,” he says. Also trying to ignore Donnie’s missing coat. He looks back to his supplies and pulls out a pen light. “I’m going to check your pupil dilation, but only if you're up for it.” He waits for Donnie to give a slight nod before he lifts the pen and carefully pushes the ice pack away from his eyes. Using his thumb to cover Don’s opposite eye without actually touching him, with a flash the pupil constricts and dilates as it should. He does the same process to the other “Well that’s good at least,” Leo says. “How’s your vision?”

“Spinning, but I think that’s from the pain.”

That would make sense. The red slider turtle rose to sit on the edge of the couch, carefully unwrapping Don’s scalp as gently as he can, checking his facial expression for any signs of increased pain before he lets out a sigh of relief. “It's just a surface bleed. It doesn’t look like the actual injury itself reopened.”

“That’s good,” Donnie says with a soft sigh. “You’re doing a good job.”

“I had a good teacher.” Leo made sure to give Donnie a soft smile that the turtle barely returns. “Let me just change the bandages and we’ll head home when you feel up for it. Maybe we can order some pizza; I've had a monster craving for anchovy and chocolate syrup pizza for days-“

“I was wrong.”

Leo blinks, pausing from unwrapping the new bandages with his hands. It takes him longer than he should to realize what Don’s apologizing for and when he does, he only returns to digging through his kit. “You were a little right,” Leo says quietly putting aside a bottle of alcohol, “I mean it's kinda right, right?? You're usually right-“

“No, Leo.” Donnie tries to sit up but fails to get up more than a few seconds before Leo’s grip on his arm forces him back down. “Leo I was wrong. I was angry, my head was killing me I would have said anything to hurt you. You don’t mess everything up-“

“Except I do?” Leo lets out a soft laugh. “I mean I do. Between the minotaur's pizza and Big Mama I'm surprised I get anything right-“

Don’s hand grabs his shoulders and before Leo can stop him, the soft-shell forces himself into a sitting position with pure grit alone (judging by the pain filled grimace on his face, “Would you listen to me?!” Donnie demands shaking him by the shoulders, “I shouldn’t have even said it but I would have said anything. I was angry at feeling so helpless and dependent. I was angry because you were right for trying to stop me from going out. I did need your help and I shouldn’t have been so difficult. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“ his last sentence is interrupted with a sob that helps him notice the tears running down his face. Donnie lets out an aggravated huff as he presses the heel of his hands against his streaming eyes to help spare his dignity in some way.

He feels the couch shift as Leo shifts closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Ok, ok you were wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing Leo,“ Donnie manages to say from his brother’s shoulder. “I’m the one apologizing not you, idiot.”

“Alright, alright I apologize for apologizing. You were wrong I was right. Is that what you want to hear?” he asks. Don nods into his shoulder. Leo rests his cheek on Dons’ shoulder rubbing his shell for a few moments as Don’s erratic breathing finally starts to calm down.

After a few seconds Don lets out a small sigh, “Damn it, I was doing so good too. I can't even tell anymore if these are meltdowns or panic attacks.”

“As long as you don’t have to deal with them alone when you don’t want to, that’s all I care about.” Leo gives him a final squeeze before reaching up and taking Don’s shoulders, gently guiding him down to lay down again. “Ok buddy. I’m going to rewrap your head, and then I'm going to go order us some food and portal us home. You just relax ok?” He waits for Donnie to nod before Leo starts applying some alcohol to a cotton ball. “I’ll be honest though, I’m sorta surprised you made it here safely.”

Don for the first time since Leo entered Hueso’s office looks him with his tired blood shot eyes. A soft smile forming on his face as he relaxes. “Yeah,” he whispers. ”Me too.”

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo #donnie #kendra #christmas #gift #what a long year

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benlaksana · 5 years ago

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Coming Home

If there is one constant emotional response that my mind and body has conjured since coming back to Indonesia, it is anger. The reasons are plentiful. Chronic social and economic injustice, growing government oppression, sheer incompetency of many government officials, religious conservatism, as the proverbial saying goes, the list goes on.

And now with the coronavirus devastatingly consuming Indonesia and my government’s response has not only been weak and slow, lacking in coordination, but also simply at many times blatantly incompetent, anti-science and anti-expertise, resulting in the deaths of many including doctors and nurses, and with no full lockdowns initiated, no mass testing, just some half-baked government encouragement to physical distancing and good hygiene. I’ve observed that this time not only am I consumed with fervent anger but at many times deep sadness and crippling fear. An unholy trinity. In the name of anger, sadness and lingering fear.

Here’s some trivia and personal info for you folks. Did you know that Tuberculosis (TB) usually leaves scars on lungs it once infected and even though it’s been decades since my bout with TB, my lungs today, as you might expect, are not in tip-top shape. So that’s my pre-existing condition that at times, at many times, throws me into a panic and into a sudden cleaning spree. Wipe here, wipe there, disinfect door knobs, drowning recently handled money in warm soapy water. Irrational fear? On the contrary my beautiful friends. Indonesia has one of the highest Covid death rates in the world and with Covid patients on the rise but not at its peak, our already sparse healthcare system is already showing its cracks. Again, just to remind you, Indonesia is not even near the peak and we’re not even doing massive tests but everything is already hanging on a thread. Adding to this misery, the lack of some kind of social safety net has this climate of dread creeping up on me, this I acknowledge and I am trying as much as I can in keeping this at bay. Dread induced paralysis is not something I can to endure at the moment.

That’s some personal (slightly existential) rant right there.

But I understand that I’m lucky and painfully privileged to be able to work from home unlike so many others. So since at this moment my productivity rate is reaching zero and I’m basically pushing away work and other responsibilities as much as I can (which will probably come back and haunt me soon), let me just first reflect on life at the moment, updates on other things aside from this feeling of impending doom.

I’ve realized that I do not update this blog of mine as often as I would like to. Desires are kept as desires, and slowly wither away as desires. Yet as 2020 dawned on me and ages with uncertainty I spent my time re-reading old books that I have read many years ago and some of my old blog posts as well. Beginning with my first blog post which is now the ripe old age of 10 years old. One decade old. With the breakneck speed of change of today’s internet, 10 years is perhaps close to immortality in internet years. That being said, I still use Hotmail for my main email which I’ve had since 1998, the year I was introduced to the internet...and politics.

It was 13th of May 1998. I was at home with my dad as schools and offices were closed. The day before that soldiers opened fire at a student demonstration in front the University of Trisakti, Jakarta. Four students were killed, riots and demonstrations were happening everywhere the following day. So most people decided to stay home.

I remember my dad narrating the 1998 May protests as we attentively watched the event unravel through our old school CRT TV. My dad was thankfully percipient enough to refuse to go to his office during that week, but he did have friends in high places so it wasn’t much of a surprise if he received some kind of insiders info. I was about 12 years young at that time, on the cusp of teen hood. Puberty was on my mind, but that moment of watching a historical event unfold (which of course I did not understand it as something momentous) with my dad explaining with excitement of what was going on, even though I sure as hell did not understand the most of it, was illuminating. A father and son bonding session as result of reformasi. That sounded like a thesis topic: Family Relations and Social Change: Exploring Familial Relations through the 1998 Reformasi. (Hah!)

It did however shape my values and ideas that I still hold on to this day not only on politics per se but what I wanted or expected from this thing called the nation-state. I have to say that the May 1998 riots and demonstrations, the visualization of the riots on TV and my dad narrating in the background constantly interrupting the reporter, was the reason why I remember that day so clear. It made an indelible mark on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the impact to those who were physically effected by the riots, houses and stores burned down, people being raped and/or murdered..

About a week after the riots, on the 21st of May 1998 President Soeharto resigned after 32 years in power. I saw my dad cheering, again not fully grasping the reasons why, although he did try his best to explain. But it piqued my interest in politics, and being told that this this new thing (really new for me at that time) called the internet had much to offer about what was happening then, a few weeks after that, using my mom’s 36.6 kbps dial-up modem that I was awfully proud of, I registered for a shiny new Hotmail account. In hopes of joining mailing lists.

Wasantara-net, owned by Indonesia’s postal service, was my family’s choice for the internet service provider. I hated them as they were first-class in unreliability, but they were the only providers to be able to connect my house, on the edge of bogor, to the world wide web. My first few emails, if again I remember correctly, were chain mails about the May riots that I subscribed through questionable mIRC chats. Chats that start with A/S/L, age, sex, location, and either ends in hook ups, or being involved in something you’re too young or ignorant to fully understand.

Being young(er) and wanting to be part of something important is such a motivating factor in us actually doing and becoming something. With Carl Gustav Jung in mind, being young or old, we are but “modern man in search of meaning” and being part of something greater than ourselves does still give me meaning.

Fast forward a few decades, I’ve noticed that you get a raised eyebrow when you tell people that you’ve been using the same email for more than 20 years now, and you get double raised eyebrows and an instance of wincing, once they find out that said email is a Hotmail account. I am coming up with less and less excuses of why I haven’t migrated fully to other emails. But hey, you know what they say, habit brings comfort, repetition brings comfort, knowledge that arises from experience, from personal history, brings comfort. Although not always, the past brings comfort, while the future which is riddled with unpredictability is lamented and brings worry if not angst. Comfort though, I have come to understand, brings laziness and at many times dullness.

It is however always interesting looking at one’s own past and how it is intertwined with the past of others. I think I’ve written about this a number of times, and most of my writings are born from the act of retrospect. I often assume that I would not be able to talk about my future if I never look at my past, but what also happens is that I also end up talking more about my past or at the very most my present rather than talking/thinking about my future. Is that bad? Is that good? Am I shying away from discussions about my particular future? Maybe, I don’t have an answer to that now. But I know it’s there, tucked away in the back of my mind so I’ll probably talk more about that someday. And with Covid-19 destroying all of my plans in the near future that someday will probably come sooner.

Coming home to Indonesia, after a number of years abroad, I have also come to realize, sadly, that many of my social activities here in this space which I reluctantly call home, are more often than not, performative acts that I do not like performing for. I am basically faking it and I am doing this by fulfilling a cultural and social role that I necessarily do not have strong feelings for, or even just feelings for, but I have adapted myself into it. Somewhat. The reason why I do this is simply out of respect of others. Things that do not give meaning for me, has often been deeply meaningful for others and expressing it verbally does not bode well for maintaining relationships. I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind me when I have become too logical (I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind about many things in life) in understanding the meaning of culture for many. But it is, simply put, not without its personal struggles.

Being a son, being a son-in-law, being a younger and the youngest child in a family oriented, confuscianist-style, hierarchical, the-individual-is-constantly-attached-to-the-social kind of society. And then being a husband in a patriarchal society, where I am expected to fill a kind of leadership role that tires, bores and disinterests me.

(On a side note: for some reason, I have often come across this odd discussion of alpha/beta male/female amongst my peers here. Which I find interesting as it denotes a fixation to hierarchy and also the assumption of fixed temperaments/personalities of an individual across space and time. Are they basically saying that agency of one’s self perceived to be rarely possible? Is change and adapting to a situation impossible? )

Then without doubt as a citizen of a nation that I superficially identify with. How can I ever identify with a nation that happily and openly oppresses others for the sake of unity? And not only rarely admits it but even more rare tries to amend it. It is a simple rhetorical question.

In sum, I have to be honest with myself here, coming back home to Indonesia is not home for me and I don’t think it will ever be one. It is more of a burden than something that brings joy.

The food is great here and I have my family here which is also nice but life of course is much, much more than just culinary preferences or familial ties. I am losing my sense of self here, and it is destructive for me. I am losing myself.

Fully realizing this I was looking for a sense of direction when I reread some of my old already read books that once inspired and also my old blog posts these past few weeks. At the crux of it, this blog has always been for me. It is shared publicly in hopes of others sharing what they have learned through life and what I have done wrong in my life. And I have done many wrongs that have not been righted, some no longer even have the possibility of being righted.

Rereading my blog, I realize much like others, that our attempts in finding meaning, and our meanings when they are found are frail and delicate. It is constantly assailed and it is easily lost, and at times harder to find when lost. Life it seems always tries its best to rob you of meaning. Not because it is intent in doing so, but because the very nature of life is in its impermanence. Everything is impermanent including meaning itself.

Intellectually and experientially I understand this. But again like many, I’ve still tried to find meaning in others, and much like many I’ve lost these people in which I have found meaning in. This is the constant dillema as naturally social creatures.

It is perhaps in our nature to be contradictory, or to live in denial, to assume that meaning and the people or objects that give meaning is eternal.

Some of these people that I have acquired meaning from I have forever lost through death, much like so many people out there. I have also lost some rather unintentionally, such as due to spoken words that are not carefully thought out. Some by design, on purpose, with deep intent and thoroughly planned with precision execution, slowly letting go. At other times, a harsh break, a rude awakening on both ends, yet ending in a sigh of relief. As some relationships, although lush with wonderful memories, are never meant to last and can never be let to live in the future. Memories that remain as memories, stories of the past, that do not become worries of the present nor burdens of the future. Our understanding of meaning is often forced to change and to morph and at many times, to end. People and things that once provided meaning no longer do, as people and the things around us change. People including me.

I’ve changed, I know I’ve changed, I’m quieter yet more angry of the world, hopefully a bit more thoughtful of my words and actions. But one thing that hasn’t changed is how I am not done with grief, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be done with it. I’m not even sure if it’s actually grief. Because we all know that the tragedy of growing old, is the tragedy of unwillingly filling your life with regrets and maybe my grief is but a thin veil for my regrets.

One of my plants in my garden died today. A lush rosella bush that I was hoping to make some tea out of its beautiful red flowers. The days are drawing long, and hope is few and far in between.

Be well everyone.

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andtheyweredeskmates · 5 years ago

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Of Lattes and Lingerie- Adrienette Coffee Shop AU Chapter 3

A few quick notes about this, if you’re interested in being added to the taglist please let me know via replies or dm me. Its really encouraging when people tell you they actually want to keep up with your stories.

If you haven’t already, you should read the first two parts

1. and 2.

Also, if you’re on desktop, you should check out blog’s home page because I updated the theme (not my code but there’s a link that gives credit to the creator) and it looks dope as shit. I added links to all my original work (art and fics alike) so if you’re interested in that kind of thing, check it out.

I am gonna add a few end notes to this as well regarding the actual content so I’m not giving spoilers at the beginning. Please forgive me because it took a lot of effort to write this. I hate setting up plots (part oft he reason I’ve never really attempted to publish a fic) but I’m really excited to get into the nitty gritty which should start in the next chapter.

TAGLIST

@catsssmeow

Marinette thought she was going to fall over and die. Her face was blazing, her eyes were wide and when she opened her mouth, all she could manage was a squeak.

“WHAT?!”

She was back at the office again with Audrey and she had never been more thankful to be sitting down in a chair.

“Marinette, the fact of the matter is we don’t have enough models booked for the event and you’re the perfect size. We just need one and quite frankly I’m tired of the agency we’ve been using. So the obvious solution is to use you.”

“But I’m not a model! Audrey you know how clumsy I am! And I can’t wear lingerie! In Public! I’ll die!” Audrey rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a prude Marinette. You designed them; you can wear them. Besides. I’m not asking. You owe me for the fiasco that was yesterday. Don’t think I didn’t notice that your assistant is still here. Even you can handle walking down a catwalk for 2 minutes without falling over. We’ll practice.”

Marinette was now positive she would fall over and die.

…

The ringing of Adrien’s phone never surprised him. It was common for his phone to ring regularly throughout the day, whether it be work, or Chloe or Nino, there always seemed to be someone that urgently needed to talk to him about something that was never really urgent. No, the ringing was unsurprising. What was surprising however was the Caller ID when Adrien picked up the phone. Adrien nearly dropped it when he looked.

GABRIEL AGRESTE

Adrien paced anxiously around his bedroom, thumb hovering over the red button. He didn’t know if he was ready to confront his father. About anything. He had almost been relieved lately that his father had decided to just ignore him. It had let his anxiety just kind of creep around in the background where Adrien could pretend it wasn’t there. But Adrien knew that he had to speak to his father eventually and it had already been weeks. So with a sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and hit the answer button.

“Hello? Father?” Adrien winced at the frantic sound of his voice.

“Adrien. It’s Natalie. Your father would like for you to come home to discuss a few matters with you.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

“I don’t suppose he could’ve called me himself to tell me that.”

“Your father is very busy. He has a very important show coming up.”

“Yeah, yeah, when does he want me to come?”

“Tonight. 5:30. He’d like to have dinner with you.”

“I guess there’s a first for everything. Tell him I’ll be there.” The phone clicked. She had hung up. Natalie never had been one for pleasantries. Adrien groaned as he flopped backward onto his bed. Just like that, his anxiety had leapt to the foreground and bitch slapped Adrien, as if to say Don’t forget about me fucker.

While realistically, Adrien knew there was nothing his father could hold over his head, he still felt like his freedom was about to be yanked from his fingers as quickly as he’d grasped it.

…

“Alya, what the hell am I gonna do?” It had been four hours since Marinette had gotten the news and she was still frantic. Alya on the other hand was thoroughly amused.

“Think of this as an opportunity. You can show the world that you can do it all.” It took everything Alya had not to laugh into the phone.

“But I can’t do it all! I can’t just walk across a stage in underwear! I can’t even walk across a stage with clothes on!” Marinette was speaking in hushed tones. She had walked into Dunn’s and she was sure she didn’t want anyone to overhear her predicament. She knew all too well how easy (and fun) it was to eavesdrop in a small coffee shop.

“With a little practice, I’m sure you can pull it off. You just have to be in the right mindset! You’re the most stubborn person I know Marinette, if you tell yourself you’re gonna do it, then you’ll figure out a way to do it.” Marinette put her free hand over her face and groaned as she walked to the coffee line.

“This is a disaster.”

“I guess it’s a triple shot of espresso kind of day huh?” Marinette’s head immediately snapped up to see Tim staring at her expectantly from behind the counter. Marinette flushed as she approached, pulling her wallet out of her purse.

“I’m gonna let you go Alya, talk to you later.”

“Bye girl!” Marinette hung up the phone and looked back at Tim.

“It’s a little embarrassing how well you know me,” she grumbled, throwing a wad of cash onto the counter.

“You learn a lot about a person from their coffee habits,” Tim teased. He counted her cash and handed her the change.

“I’ll bring it out when its ready.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said unenthusiastically. As she walked back to her usual spot, she glanced around. She was disappointed to see that there was no cute blond boy in sight. Nothing to distract her from her thoughts. Not even a project. God, she’d give anything for a project right now. She was spiraling. Contemplating if she really needed a job. Maybe she could just be homeless. Live under a bridge. Beg people for money and then impulsively spend it on coffee. Maybe she could move back home and work in the bakery, forever a failure. That sounded nice.

When Tim handed her the coffee, she took it in her hands and leaned back in her seat with a long deep sigh. She had no idea what the hell she was gonna do.

…

Adrien subconsciously chewed on his lip as he stared at the gate in front of his father’s house. He was definitely not ready for this. He prayed to every god he could think of that at the very least, the night wouldn’t end with death. On second thought, maybe that was too much to ask for.

“Come in Adrien.” Natalie’s robotic voice emanating from the comm system brought Adrien out of his thoughts. He approached hesitantly as the gates opened. He paused at the front door, thinking for just a moment about running away. Locking himself in his apartment with Plagg and never leaving again. Living off Camembert and tap water. Becoming the reclusive cat lady of floor three. That sounded nice.

The front door opened, and Adrien sighed as he walked in.

“Hello Adrien.”

“Hi Natalie. Is my father here?” Natalie gave a curt nod.

“He should be downstairs shortly. He’s finishing up a conference call. He asks that you wait for him at the dinner table.” Adrien nodded and walked back to the dining room. He suddenly felt massively uncomfortable. He took a seat in his old spot at the table and glanced around with uncertainty. This wasn’t his house anymore. So sitting alone in a room, of a house he didn’t live in (or feel welcome in for that matter), made Adrien feel out of place.

“I apologize, I was taking care of some business.” Adrien looked up to see his father entering the room. He sat at the opposite end of the table.

“Oh, uh its alright father,” Adrien stuttered. This was so awkward. He had no idea what to say.

“Um, what did you want to talk to me about?” He finally said.

“I have a proposal.” Adrien stiffened a little. He did not like where this was going at all.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. Gabriel cleared his throat.

“I understand why you want to move out. You were right when you said you were an adult and you are able to make your own decisions.” Adrien was holding his breath. He had no idea where this was going but he was grateful at the very least that there was no yelling. That seemed like it should be a good sign.

“However, you still have a responsibility to your family.”

“What the hell does that even mean,” Adrien thought to himself.

“What exactly are you suggesting father?”

“I want you to publicly support the Gabriel Brand. You would appear at my events and conduct yourself in a way that upholds our public image. Understand that this means you’d still have to behave in any public setting, not just professional events. I will not hear of my son acting like a rebellious teenager. In return, I will respect the professional decisions and leave you to do as you please, within reason, without complaint. Put simply, respect my career and I’ll respect yours.”

“How do my actions affect your public image?” Adrien asked sourly. He crossed his arms.

“Because you are my son and whether you like it or not, everything you do reflects on me. And in my industry every reflection of me matters, whether it be my work or the actions of my son.”

Adrien sat in silence for a long time, contemplating. On the one hand, his father wasn’t really in a position to make demands. The only thing Gabriel really had to offer Adrien at all was his approval. On the other hand, Gabriel was still his father and as much as Adrien hated it, his fathers’ approval was still very important to him. It occurred to Adrien that if he wanted any kind of positive relationship with his father, this was really the best-case scenario.

As dinner was being served, Adrien began to weigh the pros and cons of “supporting” the Gabriel brand. For instance, since he was no longer modeling, he’d actually be able to enjoy the food at his father’s events, which meant that he might be able to actually enjoy the even itself. He wouldn’t really be working as much as socializing and honestly, Adrien could really use socialization. But Adrien didn’t like the way his father threw in the part about “public image.” He hated saving face for the sake of the media and one of the best parts about quitting the whole modeling thing was that he didn’t have to think constantly about every public decision he made and how the media would portray it. There was a little less pressure in this new scenario but not by much.

Gabriel ate quietly, glancing at Adrien every so often, trying to decipher his thoughts. Adrien had always worn his heart on his sleeve but the conflict in his face made it clear to Gabriel that Adrien was wrestling with his decision. After nearly ten minutes of silence, Gabriel spoke up.

“You don’t have to answer me today.” Adrien glanced up from his meal.

“Okay father.”

“But I’d like an answer soon,” Gabriel said. Adrien winced.

“How soon?”

“I have a very important show next month and I’d like to know whether to reserve you a seat by next week.” Adrien nodded.

“I understand.”

Next Chapter

I fuckin suck at ending chapters I’m sorry, I’m working on it.

Can you see where I’m going with the fashion show? Foreshadowing brings me great joy. Even if its not subtle.

I’m not sure if you guys picked up on it but I’ve decided to write Adrien as very anxious because I feel like thats what comes with having a dad thats super over protective in the way that Gabriel is. If anyone feels like I’ve written Adrien in such a way where I need to put trigger warnings please let me know. I don’t know if I’m going to go in a direction thats so dark that its necessary, but I also like characters with actual dimension so I guess we’ll see how it goes.

Anywhoo thanks for reading!

#mlb fanfic #my fic #miraculous ladybug #coffee shop au #fanfiction #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #mlb

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lovesickutau · 4 years ago

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You heard of triple baka, now here’s triple yandere!

So now that I’m rping three yandere’s(this blog @lovesickutau and my side blog @electriicangels) I thought I’d make a post explaining how these lovely ladies yandere style’s are different!

Tei’s Style:

Usually takes a more violent approach, finds her rivals name and usually rids herself of them in their sleep.

Has eyes only for her darling, usually the Kagamine’s and refuses to give anyone else her time and affection, the only way she’d move on from them is if they’re dead. (which i have a verse where they are, and open for other ships!)

Doesn’t mind her darling knowing what she does and her true nature

She believes she should be completely honest, because lying to her darling is one of the worst things she could ever do.

Despite her jealousy and violent tendency problems, she’s actually a very sweet girl, she genuinely loves the people she surrounds herself with.

If she’s rejected time after time again, eventually she will take the life of her darling, burn their body, and put the ashes into what’s called a Cremation Necklace, where she has them for the rest of eternity.(this is a last ditch plan, and will most likely never happen to anyone but the Len from my verse where it’s open for other ships)

The best song explaining her would be “Smoke and Mirrors” by LittleJayneyCakes

Mayu’s Style:

Usually takes a manipulative approach, only using more violent approaches as a last resort. She will poison, frame, spread rumors, torture, or trick her rivals in order to get them to back off. Also often calling her rivals “weeds”

She will NEVER revel her true nature to her darling unless her darling has been told, caught her in the act, (or in @kindcstguardian‘s miku case) their nature is similar to her’s and will understand.

in order to hide her true nature from others and her darling, she will act cutesy, innocent, and overall act like a whole other person when in reality she’s mean, manipulative, two-faced, and filled with a darkness dripped in poison.

She doesn’t care much for anyone other then her darling, while true, she may have like-minded friends that she’ll help if it benefits her, she will turn on them in a second to protect herself or her darling.

If she’s rejected by her darling three times, she will take drastic measures to secure herself, kidnaping them, spending hours and days torturing them so she can detach them from herself, feeling nothing for them, and then killing them. • Before any ship she has; she has done this at least three times. One of them being her “master”, the person who originally created her, explaining why she hasn’t been updated.

The best song to explain her would “ Milk and Cookies “ by Melanie Martinez

Kiku’s Style:

Considering that her darling is Taito Shion, a yandere just like her who is his darling; she doesn’t often feel the need to do anything, unless someone starts flirting with Taito, which she usually resolves by screaming at the person.

However, in a verse where her darling is someone other then Taito, she will often take violent approaches, usually not carefully however, and will frame another person she doesn’t care for with the murder.

She doesn’t bother hiding who she is from anyone, as her demonic and corrupted voice already creeps people out, so she figures “why hide it?”

Kiku is a violent person all around, she will often inflict harm to her darling and herself just out of the pure delight of blood, pain, and screams. Often laughing maniacally while doing it or if she sees pain and sufferings.

She won’t care if she’s respectively rejected, she will keep her interest and be very unwavering of her darling. The person can take all the precautions to keep her away that they want, Kiku won’t stop until she has what she wants.

The best song to explain her would be “Rotten Girl, Grotesque Romance”

#| Headcanons |#tw: murder mention #tw:death mention #tw: torture meantion #tw:self harm meation #tw:blood mention

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wolfpawn · 5 years ago

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 120

Chapter Summary -

And so the alum is released, how will Tom and Danielle act?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

I am not one to dwell on the past and those in it, but when Reputation was released in November, you know it had to be checked and reported to Tom regarding its content.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

‘Hey,’ Danielle walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face, which fell when she looked at the concerned look on Tom’s face. ‘What?’

Tom swallowed slightly as Luke cleared his throat. ‘The new album is out.’

‘And?’ She asked, folding her arms and bracing for the worst.

‘Well, there are a few references.’

‘Are they defamatory?’ Danielle asked.

‘No, but they are not pleasant.’

‘Well, she is hardly going to be pleasant, is she? That’s not her style, “I’m a victim, I am so lovely and the big bad men hurted me” is more her style.’ She put on a pathetic whiny voice as she spoke. ‘I bet Kardashian and the husband got it worse though.’

‘They did, and the press. Apparently, her songs are about no one and the press and people try to make it about her and people she is somewhat connected to.’ Luke scoffed.

‘Give me a line that proves otherwise.’

‘She references men with Jaguars and Range Rovers.’ Luke looked at some of the lyrics on the sheet.

‘What does Harris drive?’ Danielle already knew the answer.

‘A Range Rover.’ Tom confirmed.

‘Wow, shocking. “I reference things but don’t want to be accused of it being about anyone”. She really needs to grow the fuck up. Either say “Yes, I do sing about these things, and?” or actually keep away from it all, she comes across as a fool otherwise when it clear she is lying, but let’s face it, she was caught doing that before.’

‘Have you heard any of the songs?’ Tom asked.

‘No, I didn’t even know this pile of trash was out, why, should I have?’

‘The first song was released today.’

‘Please tell me it’s ridiculous. What is the album even called?’ She looked at the title on the page. “Reputation” Yeah, she’s building one of those alright.’

‘The song is called “Look What You Made Me Do,” Luke informed her.

Danielle paused for a moment, her eyebrows raised. ‘Is there a reason she titled a song after something abusive people say? That gives me the creeps. I have had to deal with a woman that had her jaw broken, her cheekbone broken and her eye swollen shut by a guy who yelled those words at her as he was being dragged away in a police car. She is mental. She is actually implying she’s abusive?’

‘I don’t think so. The lyrics are implying other people making her have to do stuff.’

‘Yeah, abusers do that too, imply the actions of others are why they do the shit they do. Highly narcissistic,’ Danielle growled, taking the groceries out of the bag she brought. ‘Where are the dogs?’

‘Outside, Mac is teaching Bobby in the ways of staring at birds hoping for them to fall out of a tree.’ Tom informed her. Seeing she was annoyed by everything, he walked over and rubbed her arms. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Annoyed, pissed off and angry that someone makes a living out of being an utter cunt to others. So many good songwriters can actually go an album without this shit.’ She growled before shaking her head. ‘I am glad this happened here, I just need to spit about it for a minute and I will go back to normal.’ She sighed before looking at Luke. ‘What’s the worst of it?’

‘Getaway Car.’ He stated getting to the page in question. ‘It’s a song that implies she is in an unhappy relationship and she uses another man to get out of it, but it was only a pitstop relationship, it was only to get rid of the first guy, it was only ever that from the start.’

‘Classy. So much for being a strong independent woman if you cannot even leave a relationship like an adult.’ She looked at Tom. ‘How many more relationships are you going to be accused of ruining?’ She scoffed. ‘I’ll have to keep an eye on you.’

Tom smiled at her attempt at humour, ‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Embarrassed, annoyed, as to be expected. Most of her focus seems to be on others, but it still is hurtful, to me, you Mum, Em and Sarah, we are all facing this now, I brought this on us.’

Danielle rubbed his arm. ‘She chose to do this, you took an adult approach to a break-up, she did not show the same courtesy.’ She then walked over to Luke with her hand extended, the publicist handed her the pages with the song lyrics on them, the parts suspected to be about Tom were highlighted. She scanned them and frowned. ‘She’s losing her touch, her whole chorus is literally “Look What You Made Me Do” no other words. Oasis, U2, Michael Jackson, and Prince she is not.’ She threw it down again. ‘I hope her voice is better autotuned this time. Would anyone else like a cup of tea?’ She asked.

Luke looked at Tom half in concern but seeing the other man smile slightly. Tom realised that Danielle was not overly bothered by it all anymore and was just moving on with the day. ‘Tea for me Darling, Luke is a coffee man.’

‘Okay. There are fresh hobnobs in the bag and I got a duck for dinner.’ She stated as she got the cafetiere out of the press for Luke.

‘Lovely.’ Tom smiled, going over to the bag to retrieve the biscuits. ‘We have been found to be house-hunting as well by the way.’

‘How many weeks pregnant am I?’

‘Not showing yet, but the winter jackets could be hiding it.’ Luke chuckled.

‘Good to know. I feel like almost going and getting a fake bump from a set to fuck with them. Nacelle offered and everything.’

Tom laughed. ‘That would screw with them alright.’

‘Please warn me in advance when you do that.’ Luke pleaded.

‘“When”?’ Danielle asked with a smirk.

‘You have a streak to you that I would imagine would cause you to seriously consider it.’

‘Aw, Luke, I believe you are actually getting to know me.’ Danielle laughed. She passed him a mug and the coffee. ‘Nah, it’s too much bother, it did cross my mind though. So what is the general consensus on that?’

‘That we are looking at a house worth four million belonging to Michael McIntyre.’ Tom grinned and folded his arms as he awaited her reaction.

Danielle stared blankly at him. ‘Four…..Four million? I nearly lost the plot at two million, I’d need to be anointed if you brought me to a place for that, what would you even buy for that, the Darcy house in Pride and Prejudice?’

‘A lot of the manor houses are in terrible condition, so they probably would go for that.’ Luke shrugged.

‘What the absolute fuck made them think that?’ Danielle asked.

‘Well, the “source” is a friend of mine that I apparently told, and they mentioned it.’

‘Did you tell anyone?’

‘Ben, Jeremy and Luke.’

‘Hardly three gossips.’

‘People hear titbits of our conversations and assume the rest.’ Tom dismissed. ‘It doesn’t matter in general, only I thought I ought to tell you.’

‘Well yes, given my current condition, I cannot risk the stress of not knowing and it being dumped on me.’ Danielle rolled her eyes. ‘Are people actually that obsessed with you procreating?’

‘It is my own fault, I mentioned watching Jungle Book with my kids someday in an interview and they all are mad about it since.’ Tom shrugged. ‘No pressure on you.’

‘Clearly not.’ She scoffed. ‘I am going to let you two gentlemen get on with whatever you need to do and I am going to be boring and get some stuff done.’ She smiled going to the back door. ‘Come on you two fuzzbutts, get in and leave that poor chaffinch alone.’ The dogs immediately rushed over to her. ‘Come on, into the living room with me.’ She took her cup of tea that Tom was holding out for her and smiled at him before going into the other room, the two dogs following after her, though Bobby stopped at Tom or a moment and sat, hoping for a rub, on receiving it, he rushed after Danielle and Mac again before Danielle went out of sight.

‘That went as well as can be expected.’ Luke commented.

‘She is fine, once she is allowed a minute to be annoyed, I said as much.’

‘Yes, it is odd she calmed so quickly.’

‘She is not calm, she’s very much annoyed, but she cannot bottle it in, if she did, she would probably be five times angrier later. If she hadn’t already gone running today, she would be gone out now.’ He informed his friend. ‘But she has work to do, so she is going to focus on that now.’

‘How is she doing with work?’

‘Busy as hell, but she is a business partner now, so that is par for the course, right?’ Tom smiled. ‘She insists on doing everything she can from here and is looking into getting a fax machine for here too to minimise what she has to do in the office.’

‘Is she here quite a bit then?’

‘Most days of the week, because of the dogs more than anything.’ Tom smiled. ‘Another reason we need a bigger place, she needs a proper office.’

‘I ended up with a one-bedroom apartment making my second one an office, it does make life easier.’ Luke concurred. ‘See if her company will okay it as an expense, she could get it for nothing then.’

‘I will mention that to her.’ Tom smiled. ‘Now, what was this about a schedule?’

An hour later, Danielle came into the kitchen with paperwork in her hand and went over to preheat the oven. It was only after she got the duck out of the fridge that she realised the two men were still talking. ‘I am not after walking in on private Infinity War stuff, am I?’

‘No, nothing private, just dates and premiers.’ Tom smiled.

‘Okay, nothing too bad so,’ She sighed in relief as she continued to prepare the meat, noting the sheer amount of pages and dates on them. ‘It looks busy.’ She noted.

‘It is, it is utter insanity how much of it there is.’ Tom commented, Luke nodding in agreement.

‘When is the first trailer hitting?’ She enquired

‘Soon enough apparently, again, they are not telling us, but around the end of this month, start of next month.’ Tom smirked.

‘God, this is going to be something else.’ Danielle smiled. ‘How many of ye are without further contracts so far?’

‘We don’t know, we are all not allowed say, even to each other. Chris wants to move on though, as you know, he said that when we were talking to him. The others, I cannot say for sure. Ben is still contracted.’

‘Well, they left the whole situation at the end with Baron Mordo that needs to be addressed in the Strange movie.’ Danielle commented as she cut up an orange. ‘Adding Iron Man to Spiderman would make things interesting too, but it depends on what happens in the next two Avenger Movies. Damn it, I hate waiting.’

Tom chuckled. ‘If it is any consolation, we don’t know what happens other cast members, only ourselves.’

‘And anyone who you witness die.’

‘True actually, yes.’ Tom conceded. ‘But let’s face it, Loki survived how many deaths now, others could do the same.’

‘Yes, we have Black Panther to go to soon as well, that will be great.’

‘I had not realised that you are an actual Marvel fan.’ Luke stated.

‘Yeah, DC and Marvel were huge as cartoons when I was a kid, Spiderman, X-Men, Batman, Superman, it wasn’t Saturday or Sunday morning without the TV on with them on it.’ She smiled.

‘True actually.’ Luke conceded.

‘Elle, how long will that take to cook?’

‘About an hour and a half, I’d say, why? Will you be done?’ The men looked at one another and shook their heads. ‘Have you dinner plans this for evening, Luke?’

‘No,’ He said unsurely.

‘Wonderful, do you like duck?’

‘Yes, he does.’ Tom smiled. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘I am cooking anyway, what’s a few more potatoes or a bit of extra vegetables. What I will do is get my stuff and the dogs out of the living room and you two go in there and that way you can talk more without the sound of me clanging pots and pans.’

‘Elle, thank you, Darling, but it is just dates and other such things.’ Tom dismissed. ‘Work away.’

She said no more and did as required to ready the meal. With only a short time to go before it was ready, Tom went to the bathroom for a moment. ‘You do not mind my being here, do you?’ Luke asked.

‘Not at all, you are more than his publicist, you are his friend.’ Danielle dismissed.

‘But you and I do not know too great a deal about one another.’

‘No, but surely the best way to rectify that is to actually spend time in one another’s company.’

‘That is again, true.’ Luke chuckled as she offered him a wine glass. ‘Red, please.’

‘You’re not driving, are you?’

‘No, Tom drove me here, I will get a taxi back.’

‘I am not going to drink, I can drop you if he decides to.’ Danielle smiled as she got a nice red wine and opened it for him.

‘You are an incredibly healthy mature person, do you know that?’ Luke stated out of the blue, causing Danielle to look at him with her brows raised. ‘I mean that in a good way, I swear. You trust and respect Tom’s space.’

‘He has never given me reason to not trust it. If he says he is going out and will be back soon, he is; if he says he needs space for whatever reason, usually work, he is never far away. He does not stay away overnight when “going out with friends”. He has never come home covered in lipstick and love bites, so I don’t care.’

‘Or perfume.’

‘No, he has come home with a smell of that on him, because people hug him with perfume on, that is just the nature of his work, it does not mean there is anything untoward going on.’

‘Do you know, there are women that all but stick to their partners at premiers and sets. It is fascinating to watch when it does not involve your clients.’

‘I would actually love to watch that.’ Danielle laughed. ‘But that is so incredibly unhealthy. That, I would imagine, does nothing but urge a wandering partner. Plus could you imagine being stuck in each other’s pockets all the time.’

‘Or making scenes at events.’

‘I couldn’t do it to you. You’ve suffered enough.’ Danielle smiled.

‘Thank you. At least you are considerate of my health.’ Luke grinned in return.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 120 #Tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

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Bloggin’ bout HS^2 Commentary from start to Mid-Jan-2020

Sigh. Time to pay the piper. Someone’s gotta extract whatever plot-important and plothole mentions get mentioned in this commentary, even though reading behind-the-scenes stuff about Homestuck makes me even more nervous than reading frontend stuff ever could so I don’t really want to. FYI, that’s what you’re going to get out of my posts on these -- anything regarding plot stuff and plotholes, things we would’ve misinterpreted or missed otherwise, not any of the other paid content such as sketches or full quotes from them about things.

TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS A MONTH!???!?? Is Andrew even seeing any of this cash? --no, not much of it I guess, he would want to make sure the WP folks get paid enough after the--

Yeah I’m not gonna even think about that.

Fuck it. I’m ponying up.

Alright, first commentary post on the Patreon, commentary and bonus sketches for Ghostflusters... whoa, this is long and extensive. Is it going panel by panel??

I guess I’ll give you a small quote just for a taste of how this starts...

Page 33: Not sure what any of this shit means. It’s pretty deep though. We were going for an echo of the beginning of the epilogue when John is dreaming in anime. Except here it’s Jake, and nobody is dreaming, at least not yet. Also an anime dream wouldn’t be a nightmare for Jake, since Jake likes anime. Or he used to. Now anime probably just reminds him of Dirk.

Good thing we’re never gonna hear from that guy ever again.

...because this commentary is sort of stylized. They’re kind of riffing on what they’re doing, and I get that -- when you have to write commentary you’re asking people to PAY for you can easily feel like you have to be entertaining. But they are describing the rationale for the shot choices they made and such. They’re also going for a sort of Andrew-recap sort of attitude, and I don’t blame them for that choice, either.

[Candy] Jade is...well, you’ll see.

GOD DAMNIT. Don’t remind me that Dave vanished on her forever while they were doing pro-revolutionary work and she’s probably going to be in a bit of a state! Stupid knowing author future allusions...

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here blogging about the commentary for you guys -- for me to relay Authorial Intent on Stuff That Happened That Seemed Plotholey and Hints About What’s Going To Be Relevant.

I just, uh... didn’t expect there to be that MUCH of it. And that casual phrasing for that Candy Jade Is Going To Be Seen And Or Relevant hint is... kinda indicating to me that there’s gonna be a LOT more of that here than I wanted. :|

Continuing... there’s talk of why they started with Jake here, being unused to writing for middle-aged characters in Homestuck terms, et cetera, but again, I’m only here to relay anything with plot impact or SERIOUS perspective on how we should / the authors are viewing this. The rest stays behind the paywall for whichever of you all think it’s worth $20, I don’t really have a choice. At least now I know why there was no one to tell me what details were actually BEHIND the paywall. Seriously, that’s steep.

Speaking of how stylized the commentary is here, I can get why some might read it and view the authors as slightly callous -- I’m giving them PLENTY of benefit of the doubt, though. Andrew was FAR from callous and he hurt us worse out of love of artistic intent with the Epilogues than the HS^2 folks could EVER hurt us. Real Dirk-like, actually. Dirk is practically half of a self-insert, as we well know. No wonder Andrew thought the right thing to do was to take his hands off the story, what with Dirk’s villainous action being putting his own hands ON the story.

We like to make fun of Jake English as much as the next guy, but he probably is actually pretty good at “doing things” if the need arises.

Mhmm; there are some jibes at how screwed up Jake has made his life, but I don’t believe these authors actually disrespect Jake at all. He was dealt a bad hand by the story leading up to this point (quite INTENTIONALLY by Dirk’s narrative control in the Epilogues, too) and HS^2 and its bonuses so far have been exploring the heap of merits and potential he’s still got in him.

It’s kind of sweet how he wants to clean out his ecto-son’s house, even if most of that is to prevent the slow creep of mounting existential dread and narrative relevance.

Huh. So they think Jake can sort of feel that narrative relevance is seeping in around him, to him? That’s not out of the question at all.

Continuing... they’re going on a bit about the same sort of things I mentioned about their choices in detail or detail-less-ness when depicting people in this new format, considering ages and the paired text descriptions and such. That’s the sort of thing you’d traditionally want to pony up for commentary for, so rest assured that all that IS in their commentary posts if you want to do that. I’m kind of extracting the plot stuff out of the paywall just on principle.

A lot of making this comic--and every other comic ever--is trying to convey as much information with as little space as possible.

Quite so.

From this conversation we find out a couple things. 1) that Brain Ghost Dirk knows about Ultimate Dirk, and he thinks he’s a dickhead. 2) Brain Ghost Dirk knows who Jeff Bezos is, and Jake doesn’t. This could be a sign of a couple things, all of which are probably stupid.

This is ALSO what I came here for: Legitimate “don’t worry about it” handwaves about stuff that shouldn’t matter to us. I never ascribed the slightest bit of relevance or inference to BGDirk making a Jeff Bezos reference, and I’m glad I was completely justified in ignoring it. So far I agree with this probably-plural-but-acting-like-a-singular author’s train of thought.

Come to think of it, it’s maybe strange that in this Cool Future Earth where all of our characters are rich as hell, none of them have bothered to have any sort of corrective eye surgery. Jane, Jake, John, and Jade all still wear glasses. I guess they do have “signature looks” to maintain in regards to their brand.

I had to include this, I was legitimately curious. Understood it was probably an artistic decision to stay on-brand a fair bit -- and losing glasses even temporarily has a lot of thematic significance whenever it happens in Homestuck Proper -- but it’s nice to have some confirmation that this was the understandable rationale behind the choice.

Here we find out what Dirk thinks about Jake’s behavior of the last few years. In other words, we find out what Jake thinks about Jake’s behavior over the last few years. [...]

[Brain Ghost] Dirk is manipulating Jake here, but he isn’t actually saying anything demonstrably untrue.

Again, most of this was obvious at the time, but it’s nice to have authorial confirmation on what was being brought across as per the strange divide between Brain Ghost Dirk’s independent will and his mostly-part-of-Jake status.

Seriously though, shoutout to the conceit that god tiers can just fly endlessly, with no visible effort. It’s a really excellent form of narrative shortcut that fits perfectly into the bonkers vibe of earth c as a whole. Oh there goes one of the Creators, just flying over the Wal-Mart like an asshole.

You know... who IS doing the commentary here? One of the authors, all of them? One of the artists?? This really is a COLLABORATIVE effort between the authors and artists involved here, I think, and it shows in their clear surprise and appreciation for each others’ work that only settles into a full understanding instead of just knowing what one intended off the bat.

It calls into question exactly how much of the Condesce’s mind control was actually mind control at all, and how much was just a lowering of inhibitions.

Right, right.

We see Jane greeting Jake here with open arms, which makes you wonder exactly what is going on here. If you’ll remember from Candy, Jane has already served Jake divorce papers. A mystery in need of solving, for sure.

HERE we go! This is the potential plothole we were concerned about that got me alerted that the commentary had something to add in the first place. John mentioned toward the trail-end of the Candy epilogues that divorce papers had shown up for Jake. (And we also saw an HS^2 update ago or so that Jane hadn’t actually KNOWN Tavros was “awol” at all until he was literally a part of this whole clowncorpse logistics business.) So in light of what this post continues to say:

It could be that Jane has put aside the nasty business of their divorce in order to have a strong chest to cry on. Can’t really say I blame her. Jake English has many flaws but he does seem like a good person to drape yourself across and really let loose on. And without Gamzee there, Jane needs another punching bag.

...it all finally fits as pretty logically consistent, although the author is being deliberately coy in a way that leaves it open for more to be revealed later about exactly how this is happening. Good! No obvious plotholes in HS^2 (yet). That’s an honest relief. The more often they have something in mind where I’d previously worried they’d screwed up, the more often I can give them credit and speculate properly on those gaps in story-logic expecting something there, like we so often got to with Andrew before the retconsplit made even THAT kinda fucky.

If you’ve ever had a friend or family member go evil, you’ll know that one of the hardest parts is there’s always still elements of them that you like.

I can definitely say that from nearly personal experience.

Also, at this point in the story there is no lingering doubt that Jake and Dirk have had a sexual relationship. There’s a familiarity there that wasn’t around when they were teens.

I assumed so, but I guess I never thought ABOUT how I assumed so. Huh.

Do any of the creators have a moral leg to stand on if all they’re doing is curling up into a ball and hoping the world gets better without them? Actually, does anyone have a moral leg to stand on if they do that?

Almost Riddley, there.

These posts are certainly interesting! Steeply priced for what they are, but interesting. Moving on to the second of four so far... this one’s about Catnapped Part 1.

Taking over Earth C's business world certainly would have required rubbing shoulders with the already-powerful on the planet.

--yep, which I never doubted even when brought up in the Epilogues is a large part of her supply-side government views.

Ah, looks like the bonus commentary is a good deal shorter! But that bonus section was a good deal shorter than the story section covered earlier too, so.

On to the next one, for Clown Logistics.

Page 58: If you love Vriskas, i hope you enjoy more Vriska content. If you hate Vriskas, well. Here is another one that is kind of different. Feel free to contemplate nature vs nurture and how best to apply this dichotomy toward emoting about the vriskas of your choice how you see fit.

I’m starting to really enjoy this author commentary.

Tavros being named Tavros sure was a decision. Go back and reread the commentary for panel 58 but stop before the nature/nurture thing, since they are not clones, or even the same species. They just have the same name, which, in this universe, means you at least type kind of the same.

Hmhmm.

Page 65: Sometimes you try and come up with something to say about a page, and you cannot, and so you wait 8 hours, and go see Knives Out, and then you have 2 white russians, and then you still can’t come up with anything to say, but oh well! Commentary needs writing. Tavros is experiencing an emotion here.

Now THAT’s a mood. I gotta go see Knives Out sometime soon.

...Alright, I can see why some people think MAAAAYBE this author might be being a little disrespectful to the audience, but if they’re going based on THIS, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. This comment could have come from Andrew’s fingertips any day of the week!!! I honestly wouldn’t WANT replacement authors who couldn’ comment like this in there for a page in paid commentary, especially in a lighter section of the story that doesn't need too much said about it.

And I paid $20 for this shit.

...Continuing, I’m loving all this commentary on Harry Anderson. Representative excerpt:

Again, direct your eyes toward the boy. What a fucking asshole.

...these commentaries are honestly improving my mood! I didn’t expect that, really.

Ah, I didn’t even notice that the flying cars appear to be self-driving. I think maybe the back of my mind MIGHT have noticed but only a bit.

Referring to the corpse-carry crew:

Page 82: Pokedex entry for Magneton in Pokemon Sun: When three Magnemite link together, their brains also become one. They do not become three times more intelligent.

Ain’t THAT a mood.

(...I just had an internal “Wait, am I using that right, it being a “mood”? Isn’t that the hip new term, how do I have any right to latch onto that however much I feel it? Ohhh gosh I’m so fucking old” moment.)

It’s clear from the commentator’s complaints that the crew never viewed this commentary ALONE as worth upping the pledge to $20, but that’s... not quite a bad thing? I think it’d have been more disrespectful to think that they COULD make the commentary worth that. I doubt there’s a single person on their team who feels quite right about the business model (besides the artists they have plenty of context to know how deserving they are of a living goddamn wage), but it’s what they have to live with and go with, here. I feel weird for honestly understanding ‘em, and more than slightly pitying for how many people will look at all this and read “these assholes don’t care about us”. I really can’t think that’s anywhere CLOSE to true from this without more context. (And I really DON’T want more context, don’t send me any. I’ve got to read HS^2 and I’m enjoying reading it so far so let me keep enjoying it please. Background drama details make me nauseous, DON’T give me any if there is any (which I wouldn’t know about in the first place beyond an opinionated friend or two dropping hints in a bad mood).)

Did you know there are people who I’ve seen honestly believing “Undertale is pretty good but the creator is an arrogant asshole”?????

Because they saw his tweet about the game score passing Kojima’s MGSV on metacritic briefly and misinterpreted his wide-eyed disbelief, disbelief honed to nervous laughter to maintain sanity by Toby’s insecurity about his unprofessional work and work product??? They thought he was SERIOUS without any of the context of the usual insincere little dog persona they should’ve read into the game of his they played??

Awh man. That just ticks me off.

Anyway where were we.

Page 91: This is a flashback so I didn’t write this one, which means I thankfully don’t have to say anything about it.

Wait. What?

Are they trading off writers between chapters, or...? Hm.

Whatever they’re doing, it fits together pretty darn well SO far.

Alright, that finishes that off, time for the last commentary post on the second bonus update.

I don't know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don't mean just in Homestuck's dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth.

Now that’s a mood.

I've been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you're making in 2019 has to either address what's going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus's sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

Now THAT is a god damned MOOD.

The author(?) goes in about why this is happening, why Jane is being confronted this way, why she IS this way, et cetera.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it.

That’s one of the biggest goddamn reasons for the inequality and political landscape we have today IRL, yeah.

She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

Jane's favorite comic, a noir-detective drama steeped in the pop-cultural trappings of pulp Americana, reflects this mindset.

So, our catgirl Seer of Light takes us through the looking glass, and we get to see an old friend.

Hm!

Nothing really to say, I just had to share this fitting context the author is giving. How things fit together even better than they seemed to, and this was all far from random.

I feel warmly ensconced in the womb of nostalgia, gently cradled on Norman Reedus's chest.

Pffffffff

Yep, more of what we already surmised and appreciated, how Swifer and Cliper were giving us some much needed perspective... the commentary post even has little traditional-Homestuck sprites for ‘em.

And... that’s it for the commentary so far! Again, I enjoyed all that more than I expected. $20 doesn’t sting for me as much as it does for others in general, but it stung a lot less after I was through reading all that honestly somewhat-entertaining stuff confirming a lot of the insights I’d thought the plot was having.

I’ll probably wait to check for further commentary posts until like... after bonus updates come out, in the future, and then just blog about whatever I’m not caught up on. Sound fair? I’m going to blog as often as a real or bonus upd8 comes out, but I’m not going to pop in more often than that for my own sanity’s sake. Have a good MLK weekend, y’all. :)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #Homestuck Commentary #blastyoboots

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gwentoryfics · 6 years ago

Text

Hot for Teacher, Part 4.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 9.8k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Cursing. Masturbation. Underage drinking. Mentions of smoking. Sexist assholes. Poor choices.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon AO3 | 1 • 2

Playlist | Spotify • Youtube

Note | Yay! First update on my new blog! Thank you as always for following and supporting me, you all have no idea how much it means to me every time I get an ask or a message. I love you all dearly. 💕 Also, I don’t currently have a playlist put together for this part but I will add links above when the playlist is ready!

You make it to the music building in record time, smoothly flashing your student ID and dashing up the stairs to the office. A somewhat familiar face sits behind the reception desk, but you can’t quite place him. He’s got dark hair that rests on his forehead, a thin nose, and a friendly smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” He greets you as you beeline for the desk. You recognize his voice as the one you heard over the phone.

“Hi, I think you just called me? I’m _____.” You throw on a grateful smile. “I asked for those excuse card copies.”

“Ah! Right.” He picks a few papers off of his desk and holds them out to you. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much.” You eagerly take the papers, gushing. “You have no idea how much this is going to help me.”

He laughs quietly. “Why do you need them so badly, if you don’t mind me asking? Your note sounded pretty urgent.”

You remember scribbling a note to him that may or may not have been laced with a few choice words. “Oh, sorry about my language.”

“No worries.”

“I’ve just got a professor who’s trying to make an issue of the fact that I missed a bunch of convocations last year. You know how they get.” You try to keep your explanation as vague as possible to avoid incriminating Professor Yang or yourself. Avoiding eye contact, you casually flip through the photocopies, frowning a little as they remind you exactly why you had to go home so frequently.

“Understood. Convocations are kind of a big deal. I’m glad that those copies will help.” His smile turned into a bit of a frown. “I’m sorry it took so long. They weren’t particularly easy to get access to.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave your hand dismissively. Sure, it had taken a little over a week (and that had resulted in you being quietly grudge-y in the back of the Physics classroom yesterday morning), but you have all of your evidence right here in your hands now. “I really appreciate you digging them up for me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The boy nods at you once and when he turns to his computer, you suddenly recognize his profile.

“Oh my God! Jazz band!”

His brow furrows and he laughs awkwardly. “Um, what?”

You shake your head to get your thoughts straight. “Sorry, I just realized why you look familiar. You’re the jazz band pianist!”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s me.”

A huge smile creeps across your face. You have so much admiration for the man sitting in front of you now, and you feel like an idiot for acting, well, like an idiot. “You’re such an amazing jazz pianist. It just, you’re just so good! You guys killed it at the first convocation.”

“Thank you! That really means a lot.” He easily accepts your compliment, as if he were used to being gushed over. But he doesn’t seem to be a dick about it - he’s just confident.

You explain yourself: “I play piano, too. I want to make it into jazz band next year, so I’m working really hard this year.” Why did you need to tell him that? He probably doesn’t care what a lowly sophomore like yourself dreams about.

He keeps a smile and a good attitude about it. “Ah. You know, there’s going to be a lot of competition for that seat.”

“Trust me, I know.” You’re sure that you’re far from being the best jazz pianist in the music department, but you try to stay positive. You’re at least good enough to be in the running. So why couldn’t you be the one to get the seat?

And then the pianist makes you an offer you absolutely can’t refuse: “Would you be interested in sitting in on a jazz band rehearsal sometime? I can chat with the director. I’m sure she’d let you.”

A rush of adrenaline bursts through your veins. “Really? Oh my gosh, that would be amazing. I would absolutely love that.”

“Awesome.” He smiles sweetly. “Can I save the phone number from your note? So I can get in touch with you.”

“Yes, of course. Please.” You nod a little too fervidly.

“Cool.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Changgu. It’s nice to meet you, _____.”

You shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Changgu.”

You feel surprisingly light as you make your way down the hall to Professor Yang’s office, but only because you’re now backed with proof of your innocence in the matter. Not that any of it is really that important, anyway, but you just need him to know that it was not intentional.

Well, that and the fact that you may or may not get to attend a jazz band practice. With Changgu, of all people. He’s everything you want to be - in a music sense, at least. You don’t really know much else about him. But hey, maybe you’d have the chance to get to know him a bit.

As Professor Yang’s office comes into sight, your smile fades and your steps falter. The music softly floating through the closed door catches you off guard - the sound of funk guitars and raw vocals.

It’s not just any music he’s listening to.

“Tell me something good…”

You freeze.

“Tell me that you love me, yeah…”

He is listening to the song you sang to him in the hotel that night. The song you specifically chose to set the mood. The song that, as far as you are aware, he had no knowledge of before you played it for him.

You remember coyly dancing and singing, remember the lustful look in his eyes as his gaze traveled down your swaying body. You remember the heat of his lips and the clutch of his hands - and suddenly you’re neck-deep in filthy thoughts of him.

Even worse, you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling all of those things right now, as he’s listening to the one song that truly tethers you together.

Leaning against the wall, you try to take a deep breath and calm yourself. Your mind is racing and your heart is beating way too fast. Should you even go in there? Maybe you should just come back some other time. What would he say if you walked in on him like this?

...and then you smile the most mischievous of smiles.

What would he say, exactly, if you caught him listening to a song that had to remind him of you? Mr. Not-At-All-Affected-By-You couldn’t act all high and mighty anymore, could he?

Now that is something you’d like to witness.

Professor Yang has to still be attracted to you, at the very least. You don’t necessarily want to encourage that emotion by bursting in and making him face his feelings, but it’s all part of proving your point - that this situation wasn’t a scheme of yours, and that you’re not the only one to blame.

Taking just a moment to compose yourself, you let your lips settle into a line and you knock calmly.

The music grows quiet and Professor Yang calls out, “Come in.”

Boy is it a struggle to keep your neutral expression as you open that damned door.

And it’s even harder to stay neutral when he very visibly reacts to the fact that it is you of all people entering the room.

His eyes widen for a moment as recognition flashes across his face, and then he immediately scrambles to turn off the music completely. But you both know it’s too late for him to pretend like he wasn’t just blasting your sex music, and the acoustic guitar in his lap tells you that he was possibly even playing along.

Smugly, you say, “Good song, huh?”

Professor Yang purses his lips, not amused. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually.” You approach him coolly, placing your excuse cards calmly on his desk. “I brought these for you.”

He picks one up and eyes it as you take a seat across from him. “And why do I need these?”

“Because, Professor, if you’ll remember, you blatantly accused me of intentionally getting us into this mess. So now I’m back to clear my name. Clearly I was not at any convocations last semester, so I didn’t even know you existed until I saw you at the wedding.”

Rolling his eyes, he stands and places his guitar back on its stand. “Congratulations, you’ve officially taken this way further than it needed to be taken.”

“Hongseok, I’m serious. I didn’t do this to you.”

He prickles, his fox eyes pinching shut. “It’s Professor Yang.”

“Professor Yang, sorry.” It’s an honest mistake, the way his name so naturally slips past your defenses, and you hope it doesn’t set you back on your mission to reach a neutral ground with him. “I just need you to believe me.”

He picks up the cards and sits on the edge of his desk as he examines them. “You really want me to go through and match all of these dates up with the convocation dates?”

You scoff. “Obviously you don’t have to do that. The cards all specifically say that I was missing a convocation, and you can see the department head’s signature on it and everything. See?” You stand, pointing over his shoulder at the scrawled signature. You suppose that it doesn’t really look like more than a squiggle, so it could be argued that you had done it yourself, but you’ll fight as many battles as you need to. You’re going to get him to acknowledge you.

Professor Yang’s thumb swipes over the page as he reads one, then another, and another, putting the pieces together and learning the unfortunate reason why you so frequently returned home. His voice is quiet, soft, when he finally asks, “How is your family?”

Your mouth dries up. “Better. My father is in remission now.”

All of the weekends you had to go home, you were going to see your father. His stage three lung cancer made it so that you could never be sure how long he would be around. Any of those visits could have been your last. By the grace of something holy, his treatments had been successful. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Professor Yang takes a slow breath, and you can feel empathy pouring from him. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’m sorry you and your family had to go through that. Cancer is awful.” He looks down at you, his gaze warm and sincere.

As you lock eyes, you suddenly realize how close he is. You feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the familiar cologne lingering on his collar - bergamot and cardamom. Your heart pulses with desire and your throat tightens, as if he were a living, breathing aphrodisiac.

If he feels anything similar, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he just takes a step away from you, returning to the safe space behind his desk. You also step back, bumping gently into your chair and absolutely hating the way he turns you into a bumbling mess.

Professor Yang is much more considerate with your excuse card copies now, tucking them carefully away in his desk drawer. He clears his throat once and takes a seat. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You sit, too. Sure, he had acknowledged (sort of) that the excuse cards are real. But you need him to verbalize your innocence. “Do you believe me now?”

He dismisses your question and repeats himself, a little less gentle this time. “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, an apology.” You really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he wouldn’t give in easily. “I’ll even settle for you admitting that you believe me when I say I had no idea who you were when we met.”

Professor Yang rolls his eyes in a rather childish manner, but damn it if there isn’t something hot about his irritation. “Fine. I believe you. Is that all?”

You know you shouldn’t ask; you shouldn’t string those words into an audible question. But, naive little thing you are, you do. “Why were you listening to that song?”

“It’s a good song,” he calmly answers, still looking away from you. You can sense that there’s certainly more to it than that, but you do believe that he does genuinely like the song.

“It is,” you murmur. You should really stop and leave it at that, but you can’t stand to let the air between you grow quiet. So you press on. “And you’re learning to play it?”

“Yes.”

Stop. Leave it there.

“What do you usually play on guitar? I know you’re not really into funk that much.” Your mouth runs all on its own.

Professor Yang doesn’t verbally respond - he just stares at you with a warning deep in his eyes.

But you can’t stop. Your anxious blabbermouth has taken hold and is making you ramble. “You like rock, right? I think you told me that, you know, when we-”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Professor Yang cuts you off, shutting you up more effectively than your own brain could. “Don’t try to talk to me about that night. I don’t want to have that conversation.”

You blush hard, embarrassed by the foolish route your mouth had taken you. “Okay, then let’s just talk about music. Who do you like?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, either. I don’t want to talk about anything with you, _____.” His gaze hardens. “I think it’s best that we don’t have any sort of relationship outside of the classroom.”

“Even small talk is off the table? It’s just a simple question.”

“Nothing is simple with you. If this were simple, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Answer the question and I’ll leave.” It’s a stupid bargain. It’s all so stupid. But at this point you feel like you have to make this conversation go somewhere, simply to save yourself from your embarrassment.

He purses his lips, considering whether he should give into you or not. Eventually he says, “Van Halen. Pink Floyd. The Rolling Stones. AC/DC.”

You nod stiffly, but you’re pleased that he responded at all. “Any Aerosmith?”

“Some of their early stuff.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I think that’s enough questions.”

You keep blabbing, almost like you don’t really want to leave. “You know, I went through an Aerosmith phase when I was a kid. Found my dad’s records and thought it was the best thing in the world.”

“Can we please be done here? I would like for you to leave.”

As you stand from your seat, you can’t help but feel the urge to lift some of the tension with humor, embarrassing though it may be. In an awkward imitation of Steven Tyler, you sing some of the lyrics from one of the most well-known Aerosmith songs - and of course, you throw in just a touch of air guitar. “Sing for me, sing for the years / Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears…”

And then, it all pays off as Professor Yang very visibly struggles to hold back a smile. He shakes his head, trying to regain his composure, but his voice is light as he says, “Nope. Get out.”

You start backing towards the door, but you keep up your act and go all-out for the biggest part of the song. “Dream on! Dream on! Dream on!”

“Oh my God,” he laughs, unable to hold it in anymore. He stands, chasing you out. “Get out of here! Go!”

As you hurry out the door, you jump up two octaves so you’re practically squealing, “Dream on! Dream on!”

All you get in response is a loud NO as he closes the door on you, but you still giggle. It’s so relieving to see him not pissed at you for once.

You smile to yourself. Absolutely worth it.

“I’ve got a quick question for ya. Maybe two, depending on your answer to the first.” Nailah hands you another freshly-cleaned dish to dry before dunking her hands back into the sink.

She is a fabulous cook and always makes sure to make enough dinner for both of you - as long as you help with cleanup and grocery shopping. You’ve offered multiple times to handle the cleanup entirely on your own, since the current arrangement still isn’t fair. But Nailah always insists that she can’t let you do it all by yourself.

“Sure, what is it?” You towel dry the mixing bowl and tuck it into a cabinet just in time to grab a clean plate from her.

“Are you friends with any Music Comp students?”

“Yeah, I know a few.”

“Do any of them have an interest in film scoring?”

You realize why she’s asking. “You need some music for a film?”

“Mhm.” She hums, scrubbing roughly at the cutting board in her hand.

“What’s this one about?”

“Well it’s not exactly a whole film, it’s just a scene for my directing class. The overall story is about a young woman who’s struggling to deal with the trauma of her past, and how that’s affecting her self-image as a queer woman.” Nailah rinses the cutting board and hands it off to you, looking dramatically off into the distance as she explains the story. “In this scene, she’s torn. She wants - craves - physical intimacy with her love interest, but she’s riddled with the guilt and shame that’s been instilled in her since she was a child.”

“That sounds exactly like something you would make.” You smile and dry off her hands, now that she’s done washing.

“Well, I am me.”

Nailah has always been open about her queerness since you met her last year. The day that you moved in, she was completely honest with you about her preferences and assured you that she wouldn’t hit on you or make you uncomfortable - she must have assumed that you might be bigoted, seeing as how you’re from such a small town. But believe it or not, you’re actually a decent human being who doesn’t give two shits about whether or not your roommate is lesbian.

Honestly, the weirdest part about your living arrangement is the age difference between you. Normally freshmen wouldn’t be assigned a room with a sophomore, but that’s how it worked out. Regardless of your ages, the two of you immediately struck up a friendship; you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.

She squeezes your hands as a thank-you and takes off towards her desk, releasing her braids from the bun atop her head. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

Right! You think for only a second, and a name immediately comes to mind. “You remember my friend Shinhye, right? She came over once or twice last semester.”

Nailah nods, stashing some supplies into her backpack and preparing to head out for class. “She’s in comp?”

“Yeah, and she’s really good. I don’t know if she’s ever done film stuff before, but I can ask.”

She shakes her head curtly. “I’ll ask. It’s more professional that way. Can I get her number from you?”

“Of course.” You get your phone out to read off Shinhye’s number (does anyone memorize phone numbers anymore?), and Nailah saves the contact info.

“You’re the best.” She pulls on her bomber jacket and slips into her combat boots. No matter how casually she dresses, she always manages to look fashionable. You may or may not be a little jealous of her look from time to time.

“You’ve got that right.”

Nailah snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!” You call after her, and you hear the door close as she exits for her night class.

You take it upon yourself to tidy up the kitchen area a little more, wiping down the stove and limited counter space. The kitchen is pretty small (you were still technically in a dorm apartment, after all), but you are lucky to have an apartment-style dorm in the first place. It is the perfect little space for you and Nailah, and you love the view you got every evening at sunset.

As you finish your cleaning, you feel your phone buzz multiple times in your pocket - it’s a series of texts from your cousin, Minseo.

Minseo, 6:54pm: Jiyoo finally put the wedding photos up on social, check it out! Minseo, 6:54pm: Honestly we looked so good. Minseo, 6:55pm: And so did your groomsman ;D Minseo, 6:55pm: How’s that going btw??

You groan. The last thing you need is to see him in that tux again, to see him on the exact night you stripped each other naked and screwed each other senseless. It’s a terrible idea to look at those photos and relive the night all over again.

But… despite your better judgment, you pop open your laptop and resign yourself to the bittersweet memories.

There are multiple photos that you don’t even remember taking during the reception, including one of you with the bride, her luxurious bouquet in your hand. But as much as you want to linger and admire your makeup and dress, your heart wants something else.

Hongseok shines brighter than anyone in the wedding party photos, his gorgeous smile drawing your eyes right to him. He looks just as handsome as you remember, with those sharp eyes and plush lips. And damn that tux fits him just right.

Your mind is filled with memories of that night, and you can’t help but notice the low burn of desire deep within you. You desperately needed to feel that good again… and Nailah just left for class, so you have the room to yourself for a while...

You slip into your shared bedroom and close the door (just in case). Luxuriously, you lay yourself back onto your bed, fingers sliding up beneath your shirt to cup your breasts as you remember his touch.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that you really shouldn’t be enabling your lustful attraction by masturbating to the thought of him, but at the forefront of your mind you honestly don’t care. A little fantasy never hurt anybody.

All you can think about is the warm press of his lips and the sheer strength of him - and the way he made love to you like nobody ever has. He filled you perfectly, and you long to feel the stretch of his cock in you again.

Hastily, you kick off your jeans and shove your panties down your hips, pleased to find your folds already slick with arousal. Just the mere thought of him has you so worked up - you can hardly stand the pure want that you feel, like he is a drug you’re addicted to.

You let your hands and your mind wander, your fingers rediscovering every curve and fold of your body, your thoughts drifting into dangerous territory as you fantasized...

What would the look on his face be if you dared to wear a sheer shirt to class one day?

Or better yet, if you conveniently forgot to slip on a bra?

He’d be furious of course, because it’s simply not fair for you to be looking so deliciously sexy when you both know he can’t do anything about it.

Maybe he would do something about it.

And what would he do if you burst into his office with no panties under your dress, just like that night? Your arousal dripping down your legs, the scent of your sex filling the small room and driving him to madness.

Maybe he’d do something about it then, too.

You would never, never, do any of those things. You’re not that kind of girl; you don’t flirt with - or seduce - your teachers. The consequences are much too great.

But… what if?

This is the only time you let yourself really consider the outcomes of those fantasies, the only time you can truly indulge in the pleasure you get just from looking at him.

You’re absolutely overcome with need for him as your fingers dive into your slit, curling against your favorite spot. The only thing you want is to feel his rough fingers instead of your own, to wrap your mouth around the girth of his cock and hear him fucking moan.

You whimper softly as your fingers ravage your hole, your thoughts geared solely on the mental image of him shirtless and glowing with sweat. You want to lick each drop off of him, want to bite his gorgeously soft lips, want to ride him so good that he can’t help but fill you with his cum.

It’s so easy to remember the way his hair fell in his face as he pounded into you, the intensity with which his eyes pierced yours with each thrust. God, he is the sexiest man to ever exist and the memory of screwing him pushes you over the edge.

Frighteningly fast, you reach your climax. Your chest tightens and warms as you explode with pleasure, wetness spurting forcefully past your fingers. For a moment, you imagine that it might be his hot, sticky cum dripping out of you, his seed coating your walls and making you feel beautifully filthy.

As your orgasm plays out, you lay there in ecstasy - but it’s bittersweet. Melancholic, even. Because you know you’ll never be able to experience it for real ever again.

And then the fog lifts.

The ecstasy fades, and you realize that you were just fantasizing about having unprotected sex with your teacher.

Not only had you fantasized about it, but you actually squirted as you thought about him.

...and damn, was it hot to think about him completely raw inside of you.

You’re not that kind of girl.

And you really shouldn’t let yourself get carried away like that. Because if you know anything about yourself, it’s that if you allow yourself to consider something even a little bit, you may actually end up acting on it. That’s exactly how you got into this mess in the first place.

So this is the last time you’ll let yourself consider it.

After you take a moment to calm down and make peace with your decision, you roll up your dirty sheets and take a quick shower. Once you’ve taken your sheets downstairs to the laundry room, you call Shinhye, looking for a distraction.

“Yello?” Shinhye answers almost right away.

“Hey. What are you up to this weekend?”

“Procrastinating, probably. Why, you got something planned?”

“We should find a party. I feel like I want to get slammed.”

Shinhye doesn’t respond immediately. “Is Nailah coming?”

“I haven’t said anything to her. Why?”

“She seems cool. You should bring her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You chuckle, remembering that Nailah called her earlier. “So start scouring campus for parties and let’s get wasted.”

“Hey, short stuff.”

You look up from your notes as Wooseok enters the practice room, only a few minutes late to your tutoring session. He was late last week, too. But you’re not the type to hold it against him, though, so you just shoot him a smile. “Hey.”

His hair is parted off to the side today, and it really suits him. He shrugs off his jean jacket and pulls up a seat across from you. “Those flashcards we worked on last week have been super helpful. But honestly, I’m still pretty slow at identifying the pitches.”

“That’s okay. It takes time.” You reassure him. “You’ll get it.”

After meeting with him for the first tutoring session last week, you discovered that he’s a surprisingly good pupil. He picks up on the concepts quickly, but the real issue is that he has trouble with retention. Hence, the flashcard and memorization exercises.

You spend the next forty minutes or so going over his theory homework and reviewing chord structures. Wooseok does well, but you can tell when he hits a wall and has to stop. The two of you call it quits and start packing up.

“Have you thought at all about how you’d like me to repay my debt to you?” He teases as he zips up his backpack. The smirk on his lips is so casual. What a natural flirt he is.

You ignore the suggestive look he’s giving you - you’re positive he’s just joking around. But he’s right, he does owe you since you’ve been helping him. You haven’t given it much thought, though. “I haven’t come up with anything yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Whatever you want,” Wooseok shoots a wink your way, and you laugh.

“Stop that! It’s not going to be like that, so calm yourself.”

He chuckles and pulls on his jean jacket, picking up his backpack and returning his chair to its original place in the room. “Suit yourself, little lady.”

Little lady? Short stuff? Where are all of these nicknames coming from? “You know I’m not actually that small. You’re just a giant.”

“I’m not actually that tall, you’re just bitty.” Wooseok playfully mocks you.

“Wow, I never thought of that,” you respond, sarcasm dripping from your words.

“And she’s got sass, too!” With an easy smile, he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for you. You respond childishly by sticking your tongue out at him, which earns you a bout of his bright laughter.

Once you’ve got your things together, you both head out. You don’t have too far to go, though, since your piano lesson is in about fifteen minutes. Wooseok walks down the hall with you.

“Any plans this weekend?” He asks, making small talk.

“Nothing set yet. You?”

“Just the usual, I guess. My roommate and I are throwing a party tomorrow night, so I’m guessing we’ll spend the rest of the weekend recovering.”

“You’re having a party?” His plans immediately catch your attention - and you knew exactly how to get your friends and yourself invited. “Okay, I think I know what I want as repayment.”

“Yeah?”

“My friends and I are looking for a party, so you should let us come over.” You shoot him your most charming smile.

“Totally. I’ll text you the details.” He splits off in the direction of the stairs. “But you don’t have to waste your repayment on that. You’re invited for free. So think of something better.” With that, he disappears down the steps.

Something better? You don’t know what that’ll be, but for now you’re just pleased that you found a party. You’ll settle his debt later.

After you and Kino get out of Aural Skills II on Friday morning (you will forever hold a grudge for the class, since it’s basically the only one in the whole school that meets on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), the two of you book a practice room to work on R&B Ensemble music. When you get to his solo, you notice that he likes to pace while he sings it.

“Do you think you’ll do some choreography for this song?” You ask him. “I mean, you are a dancer.”

He stretches his arms across his body one at a time and rolls his neck. “You know, I actually started choreographing some movements to the song just to see what I might want to do. Wanna see what I have so far?”

“Sure!” You answer excitedly. “I’ve never seen you dance before.”

“True, I guess you haven’t.”

“Do you want me to play for you?”

“Nah, I’ll pull it up on my phone so you can watch.” He picks his phone out of his pocket, and laughs to himself as he navigates to the music. “Although I have no doubt that you could play and watch me at the same time.”

“Maybe once I have the song memorized,” you chuckle.

Kino sets his phone on his music stand as it starts to play his Bruno song, and he dives right in. The movements are simple enough that he can effortlessly sing along, but they’re so precise that he really, truly looks like a professional. His footwork is sharp, and the way he pops his hips is very reminiscent of Bruno himself - but with a little Kino twist.

After the chorus, he stops and faces you with a shy smile. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”

“Kino, that was so cool!” You gushed, clapping elatedly. “You have to do that for the showcase. It’s perfect for the song.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you like it.” He beams, a little more confident now that you’ve boosted his ego. “Do you want to see more? That’s not the style of dance I usually do.”

“Absolutely.” You don’t even hesitate to answer. You’re so curious to see what else he has in store.

He chooses a different song to play - “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran. Almost immediately, you’re entranced by the way he dances. He’s really good, and the level of control over his movements is just insane.

It’s also kind of crazy to you how willing and comfortable he is to just drop everything and dance for you. The only time you feel comfortable dancing like that is after you’ve had a couple drinks. It’s really admirable.

He finishes his dance, and you start clapping for him again. “Did you choreograph that too?”

“Sort of. I just kind of made it up on the spot.”

“That’s absolutely insane. I had no idea how good you were!” You laugh. “I could never dance like that.”

“Sure you can.” Another song plays, and Kino gestures for you to get up. “Come on, I’ll show you a little something.”

He walks you through some cool footwork, and he’s so encouraging that you actually don’t feel awkward at all to be dancing in front of him. Even though you can tell that the movement doesn’t sit in your body as well as it does in his.

The next song to come on has a distinctly Latin vibe, and Kino reaches his hand out to you. “Alright, come on. You have to dance with me for this one.”

“But I don’t know how to dance to this music!”

“I’ve got you.” He smiles warmly as he takes your hand and pulls you toward him. He keeps some space between you so that you’re not flush up against him, and you both look down at your feet. “I’ll lead. So I’ll step forward with my left foot first, which means you have to step back with your right.”

You do as he instructs.

“Then you just step back together, one, two. Yeah, just like that. Then it’s your turn to step forward with your left - yes, exactly. Just a simple cha-cha.” You move together until you get the feet down.

“I’m too stiff,” you laugh, noticing the robotic way you move your feet.

“You have to loosen up your hips.” He lets go of your hand so both of his hands can secure themselves to your hip bones, and he does it so casually that you almost don’t notice the grip of his fingers. “So you just have to move your hips in time with your feet, like this.” He directs your hips from side to side. “Don’t fight it. Just feel the music.”

You hold tightly to his shoulders as he moves you, feeling unsteady under his hands. It isn’t until you look up at him that you realize how close he is. He meets your gaze, and like wildfire you see pink flood across his cheeks.

“Sorry.” Kino quickly releases you, taking a step back. “Dancers are just used to being manipulated like that, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by touching you like that.”

You blush, too, feeling awkward. “Oh, no, it’s totally fine. I mean, you were just showing me how to dance, it’s not like a big deal or anything.”

He lets out a short laugh, and it makes you smile. “Sorry,” he apologizes again. “I’m not always this weird, I promise.”

“You’re not being weird,” you reassure him. A moment of silence passes, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. You turn towards the piano. “Do you want to go back to practicing?”

He nods gratefully. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

As you resume your seat, you’re not sure what you’re feeling. Even though that was a somewhat intimate moment - and Kino is definitely a cutie - you can’t help but remember Professor Yang’s touch.

You’re such a lost cause.

You pick out your tightest jeans and a low-cut top for the party that night, and Nailah wears something similar. You don’t necessarily have the intention of meeting a guy tonight, but who knows. You could get drunk and hook up with someone, because that’s apparently what you do now. You’re just preparing yourself for that possibility.

You and Nailah meet Shinhye downstairs, and she’s wearing a ripped up pair of boyfriend jeans with a crop top - very nineties hip hop, but it suits her with her short hair and round glasses.

The three of you roll across the street to Plymouth and let yourselves upstairs. The security in this building isn’t as tight as your own, so it’s easy to slip into a throng of residents up to Wooseok’s room.

There must be at least fifteen other people in the room - which is a lot, considering that the apartment sized dorm room isn’t really that large.

It doesn’t take you long to spot Wooseok, since he towers over everyone there. He works his way towards you as you and the girls grab some drinks from the kitchen. You decide to start with vodka shots because you are NOT messing around tonight.

Wooseok throws himself around you in a gigantic bear hug, and you can smell the alcohol coming off of him. He slurs, “Shortie, you came!”

You laugh, giving him a pat on the back. “I told you I’d be here.”

He pulls away, a lazy smile on his face. “And you’re not so short today. Look at you bein’ all tall and stuff for once.”

“Yeah, heels will do that.” You giggle, showing off your three-inch footwear. “Wooseok, these are my friends, Shinhye and Nailah.”

He waves cockily. “What’s up, ladies.”

“This is Wooseok, my drummer friend.”

“Thanks for having us over!” Shinhye, your ever polite friend chimes.

“Of course, of course,” Wooseok brushes her off. “You girls get some drinks and get to dancing, okay?”

“Amen!” You reach for some more vodka, mixing yourself a screwdriver this time. Once Nailah and Shinhye have their own beverages of choice, you make your way into the living room to dance.

The music is probably louder than it should be, and it’s house music that you typically wouldn’t listen to, but honestly you don’t really care. You just want to get lost tonight. Besides, Shinhye and Nailah are having a good time dancing, so you have fun dancing with them too.

The three of you get lost in the booze and the music, and it’s exactly the distraction you needed. Just a fun night with the girls.

After a while, Nailah leans in closer to both of you and shouts over the music, “I’m gonna head downstairs for a smoke.”

“I’ll come with you!” Shinhye smiles at her. You know Shinhye doesn’t smoke, but whatever.

“I’m gonna stay here and get some more to drink.” You pat them both on the shoulders. “Don’t get lost out there.”

“We’ll be fiiiiine,” Shinhye drawls.

Nailah takes Shinhye’s arm. “We’ll be back in a few, okay?”

You just nod as they walk off, and then you make your way to the kitchen for another drink. There’s a group standing around in the kitchen all getting ready to do shots, and you join them, tossing back two more and mixing up another screwdriver for yourself. You’re certainly feeling the alcohol at this point, and you move back into the living room because the music is just calling you.

As you dance, you suddenly feel the warmth of someone behind you. Their hands come to rest on your hips, and you drunkenly look back to find an unfamiliar face. You stop moving, not really wanting to dance with this guy.

“Do I know you?” You ask, sass dripping from your voice.

“No, but you can get to know me if you want.” He pulls you tightly against him, grinding lewdly against you.

You cringe, trying to pull away from him. “I don’t want to.”

“Oh, come on. Just have a little fun.” His mouth is too close to your ear, and his grip is too strong. You can feel his hardness against your ass, and you absolutely hate it.

“No!” You protest, struggling. “Get off of me!”

Another voice speaks up. “You heard her. Leave her alone.”

You look up, simultaneously relieved and surprised to see who came to your rescue. “Yuto,” you breathe.

Still, the guy won’t let go of you. “Is she with you?”

Yuto doesn’t hesitate to lie for your sake. “She is, so I suggest you back the fuck off.”

Finally, the filthy hands release you. “You should keep a closer eye on your girl, man. She’s just asking for trouble.”

You turn around and spit at him. “I’m just enjoying myself, you perv! Sexist asshole!”

Yuto puts an arm around you, possibly to hold you back or maybe just to keep you from stumbling. But he doesn’t say anything else; he just stares the guy down.

The stranger huffs and leaves, and you relax into Yuto. You whine, “Why are guys such creeps?”

Yuto, however, doesn’t pay much attention to your question. He’s looking towards the entrance of the apartment, where there’s commotion. “Shit.”

“Really, what kind of sexist bullshit is that?” You continue griping. “I’m allowed to say no for myself, I don’t know why he’d only listen to you. Hey-!”

Yuto grabs your wrist and pulls you from the throng of people, yanking you into a narrow storage closet with him.

“What are you doing?” You buzz with anxiety. Is he going to try something? “Let me go!”

“_____, you’re wasted. Shut the fuck up.” He pulls the door shut, enclosing the two of you in darkness. “The RAs just showed up, so unless you want to get in serious trouble, you need to just chill and be quiet. Okay? Can you do that?”

You nod solemnly, noticing that the music is now turned off. You don’t want to get in trouble, so you suppose you’ll have to stay put. In a loud whisper, you warn him, “You better not try anything gross, Yuto. I’ve had enough of that for one night.”

“I won’t even touch you, okay? Now be quiet.” Yuto is expressionless as he presses himself as far away from you as possible.

The silence between you is endless as you hear the RAs moving through the room, writing everyone up. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid to look for an on-campus party, considering the rules forbidding alcohol.

Shit - Nailah and Shinhye!

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “My friends might be out there.”

Yuto glares darkly at you, bringing a finger to his lips to remind you to shush yourself.

Shit, shit, shit. You really hope that they’re still outside and that they didn’t come up in time to get busted.

This was all your fault, after all. You’re the one that wanted to go to a party, you’re the one that dragged them along.

All because of that damn Professor Dipwad.

God, what you wouldn’t give to be on him right now.

No! That’s not what you want.

Your cheeks flush. Why does alcohol make you so horny?

You peek up at Yuto, as though you’re concerned he might sense your thoughts. But he just looks towards the door, listening.

His jawline is particularly striking, and you’ve never noticed it before. His hands are surprisingly big, too, his long fingers curling around his biceps as his arms cross over his chest. Actually, he is pretty attractive. Or maybe it’s just that your vodka goggles are in full effect.

He may not have sensed your thoughts, but he definitely senses your stare. Yuto meets your gaze, his eyes firmly locking onto yours. The intensity of his stare makes your heart pound, and you find yourself unable to break away. Like you’re entranced.

Or you’re just drunk.

“You’re so-”

Before you can finish that thought (‘pretty’ is the word you have in mind), Yuto closes the gap between you, his hand covering your mouth to shut you up.

You return his glare with equal fire, but you don’t fight him.

It feels like an eternity before you’re able to leave the small closet, but eventually everybody leaves and Yuto determines that it’s safe to exit. The room is completely empty - not even Wooseok or his roommate are there.

“Wooseok and Minho must be with the RAs,” Yuto muses. “They’ll probably all be back to clean up in a few minutes.”

“That sucks,” you murmur, heading for the kitchen to get one last sip of something good.

“What are you doing? You’ve had more than enough.” Yuto grabs you by the shoulders and steers you towards the door. “Let’s get back to our building.”

“But I’m still thirstyyyy,” you whine as he guides you out the door.

The hallway is clear, and you’re able to slip downstairs without any trouble. You don’t see Nailah or Shinhye at all on your walk back to your dorm, and you hope they’re okay.

Yuto supports you whenever you stumble, your heels suddenly too difficult for you to walk in.

When you reach your building, he ushers you inside. “Just be cool, we have to get past security.”

You nod, and the movement makes you dizzy. He notices that you’re off-balance, and he places an arm around you, holding onto your waist to keep you from falling.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters as you both walk through the lobby, scanning your key cards at the security desk and making it over to the elevators. His arm is around you the whole time, and you relax into his warmth.

It’s a silent trip up to your room, and he holds onto you until you’ve reached your room. You open the door to an empty and dark apartment, meaning that Nailah still hasn’t made it back. Maybe she did get in trouble with the RAs after all…

You turn to Yuto, throwing a smile on your face. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Whatever. Just drink some water and go to bed, okay?” He rolls his eyes to seem unconcerned, but you still think it’s sweet that he’s taking care of you. He turns and heads into his room without another word.

You flip on the lights and collapse onto the couch, mind jumping drunkenly from thought to thought. Where are Shinhye and Nailah? Are they okay?

This is all your damn fault. If only Professor Yang worked at literally any other university, then you never would have crossed paths and he wouldn’t still be on your mind. Even now, he sits in the back of your mind, the memory of your night together resurfacing like it always fucking does.

The thing that’s really hateful about all of it is the fact that you have to pretend like you’re not still interested in him. That you have to just ignore that you’ve ever felt anything about him. It’s all a big lie, and you hate having to walk on eggshells around him.

Why can’t you just be honest?

And suddenly, you have an idea. It’s a terrible one, but let’s be honest - all ideas seem great when you’re drunk. So you pull out your phone and glide through your contacts, where you know you’ve saved Professor Yang’s phone number. It doesn’t even occur to you that it’s his office number and it’s also nearing midnight - all you know is you have to call him. You have to tell him.

You hold the phone to your ear, listening to each ring and hoping desperately to hear his voice on the other end.

No luck.

Instead, you get the generic voicemail greeting, and you should hang up. You should definitely just end the call and not blab. But… you’re drunk.

You’re quiet for a moment after the beep, not sure how to start. And then…

“I hate it. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate trying to hide the fact that I literally think about you every day.”

You’d like to think that your words are coming out smoothly, but in reality you’re stumbling and slurring.

“Literally… I just want you. I want you to touch me. I want to feel your lips and your hands and your body. It’s killing me that I can’t just… I want to get naked and fuck.”

And suddenly, you’re giggling uncontrollably. “That feels so good to just say it! Ugh let’s fuck, let’s just do the damn thing and screw everybody else. Nothing matters. Just you and me. You know I’ll be so good to you…”

Like vomit, every fantasy expels itself from you, about how you want to tempt him in class and feel him raw inside you. How you want to choke on his cock and ride his face. Nothing is held back.

You’re about to plead with him to give you just one more night together, but the phone buzzes in your hand, shutting itself off due to low battery. You just stare at it for a moment, grumpy about the fact that, 1) it turned off and 2) he didn’t answer. All you want is to just hear his voice. Maybe you should try calling again?

Nah… you’re tired, and you don’t know where your charger is. So you just collapse onto the couch, disgruntled, and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

You wake up in the morning with a churning stomach and a headache, but it’s nothing you weren’t expecting. Your neck is stiff from the uncomfortable couch, and you stretch carefully before peeking into the bedroom.

Thankfully, Nailah is snoozing in her bed. You’re glad she made it back okay. Your memory of last night is a little fuzzy, but you remember not knowing what happened to Nailah and Shinhye at the party.

You take a long shower to clear your head and fry up some eggs once your stomach is settled. When you sit down to eat, you finally plug in your dead cell phone. It powers on, and you’re flooded with texts and missed calls.

Nailah, 12:02am: girl where r u??? Shinhye, 12:03am: are you okay? Let me know when you get home Nailah, 12:05am: seriously answer ur phone Nailah, 12:06am: we’re looking everywhere but no one knows where u went

Shit. You start to remember some of the gaps from last night… Nailah wasn’t home when you came back, so she must have been out looking for you.

A couple more texts, presumably after they found you...

Shinhye, 12:24am: please don’t scare us like that again Shinhye, 12:24am: call me when you wake up?

And a few in between that seem a bit out of place…

City Boy (Kino), 12:16am: are you okay? lol City Boy (Kino), 12:17am: i think you must be drunk City Boy (Kino), 12:22am: maybe we should chat tomorrow lmao

What is that supposed to mean? You don’t have any record of texting him last night, and you don’t remember ever running into him. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

You try to concentrate and remember an order of events from last night. Yuto pulled you into that closet during the bust, and then… he walked you home? Right! And the apartment was empty, so you didn’t know where Nailah was...

Oh, shit.

You called Professor Yang. And you left a voicemail.

Shit shit shit.

What had you said? Oh God, it better not have been anything stupid…

Wait, was it possible that you called Kino, too? Maybe you were just call-happy. You do get pretty chatty when you’re drunk…

With nervous fingers, you open up your phone app and check your recent calls to assess the damage. But you only see one call from last night - an outgoing call to Kino.

Oh dear Lord you misdialed.

Your heart races and you feel queasy as the realization hits you. You had thought you were calling Hongseok, which means whatever message you left was absolutely addressed to him. And if you at all mentioned the night you shared…

Shit! Now all of that was on Kino’s phone! And he has clearly listened to it!

You throw your phone onto the carpeted floor like it was burning your hand. What were you thinking??

Jesus Christ you’re screwed. You are so, so screwed.

You actually dread R&B Ensemble on Monday. You had spent the whole weekend ignoring Kino’s texts out of sheer terror (and getting lectured by Nailah and Shinhye, but you totally deserve that). You don’t know how much he knows, but you do know that you cannot have that conversation with him.

As a result, you show up a few minutes late to rehearsal, which earns you a slight admonishment from your teacher. You mutter an apology and take your place behind the keyboard, and you feel Kino’s and Yuto’s eyes on you the whole way. Wooseok is missing, and you wonder where he is.

During the break in rehearsal, Yuto catches your attention. “You good?”

It’s a simple question, and you nod. “Thanks for helping me get home. Saturday was a little rough and I think my friends might still be low-key pissed at me for disappearing, but I’m fine otherwise.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “You should watch your limits next time.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t need him to lecture you. Obviously you took it too far this weekend. “Hey, do you know why Wooseok’s out?”

“Yeah. He’s banned from extracurriculars for a few weeks as punishment for throwing a party.”

“Really?”

“He probably should have been arrested, considering he was supplying alcohol to minors. Himself included. But the school doesn’t want that negative attention.”

Jeez. You make a mental note to yourself to check in with Wooseok later - partially to see if he’s still up for tutoring this week, but also to see if he’s doing okay.

And then Kino’s suddenly standing in front of you. “Hey.” He’s got his usual smile on his face, and it sends a nervous chill down your spine. “Can I talk to you after practice?”

You find it hard to breathe - you’ll never be ready to have the conversation, but you can’t avoid it forever. “Sure.”

Somehow you manage to get through the rest of rehearsal, and you and Kino head out into the chilly night together. He doesn’t start talking until you get outside.

“So…” he starts. “Good weekend?”

“Quite the opposite,” you confess. “I went to a party that got busted, but luckily I didn’t get caught. And then I think I may have left you an embarrassing voicemail. But Lord knows I don’t remember what the hell I said.”

Kino laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s definitely not anything I expected, I guess. You don’t remember it at all?”

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Do you want to hear it?” Kino fishes his phone out of his pocket as you both come to a stop at the street corner. “Just to know what you said?”

You don’t particularly want to - you wish you could just brush all of this under the rug. But you know that you need to; otherwise, you’ll stress about the what-ifs for the rest of the foreseeable future. “Okay, yeah.”

He pulls up the voicemail and hands the device to you, which you hold up to your ear. You’re relieved to hear that you don’t once mention the intended recipient’s name, but you hardly get to feel relief. The voicemail is full of filthy imaginings and you’re absolutely mortified by the sexual picture you drunkenly painted.

Your cheeks are burning when you finally hand the phone back, speechless, and you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“I’ll delete it now. I only kept it because I thought you might want to know.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you start walking again, and you can sense that he’s dying to ask more about it. You’ll have no choice but to answer.

“Um,” he laughs again. “So I guess my biggest question about it is… you know, since you were drunk and all, did you actually mean that?”

Your chest tightens, and you realize that his cheeks have grown pink, too. Of course he thought it was meant for him. You did leave the message on his phone, after all. But is it possible that he actually wants that message to be his?

Just rip the bandaid off. It sucks, but you have to be honest. You don’t want to lead him on.

“So… I was actually trying to call someone else. I didn’t mean for you to get that message.”

He nods briskly to seem unaffected. “You know, I kind of thought that might be the case.”

“I’m really sorry, Kino.”

He waves his hands to dismiss your apology. “No, don’t worry about it. And I promise I won’t get weird about it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks, “So, who is he?”

“Just an old fling. No one important.” You feel like he deserves a bit more info than that, so you continue. “There’s nothing between us. I just… I think about him sometimes, but nothing is going to happen.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that. You, uh, seem to be pretty into him.” He struggles to hold back a snicker, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Knock it off!” You start laughing. “Don’t start joking about that. I’m still embarrassed.”

“But it’s the truth,” he muses, laughing and nudging you with his elbow. His laughter warms you, genuinely making you feel more comfortable. You’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, but he already feels like a close friend.

This time an easy quiet falls between you as your dorm comes into view. How does he always manage to make you feel so relaxed?

Before you split off to go to your room, you turn to him and apologize. “I’m sorry I ignored you all weekend. I was panicked and embarrassed about the whole situation.”

“It’s okay. I totally understand.” Kino nods reassuringly.

You nod, too. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” he echoes. His eyes search your face and he wears a warm expression. “Do you maybe want to do something next weekend? Like, hang out somewhere that’s not a practice room?”

That actually sounds like a really nice idea. You really like spending time with him, so why not? “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Awesome. I’ll make the plans then.” Waving cutely, he departs for his own dorm. You watch him leave, finally starting to relax after such a stressful couple of days.

Thankfully, Professor Yang would never hear that message. And the conversation with Kino went better than expected.

Maybe things will be back on track now, as long as you’re careful.

When you see Professor Yang in class the next morning, he acts like his usual self. He is all business as he rolls up his sleeves and scribbles physics equations on the chalkboard, blissfully unaware of the way you spend the whole class admiring his striking profile instead of taking notes.

Seriously, how could someone have such a great nose?

Shinhye, however, totally notices your gawking.

She scoots her chair a little closer to yours and leans in, murmuring under her breath. “He’s exceptionally hot today, don’t you think?”

You immediately redirect your eyes to your completely blank notebook. “That’s inappropriate.”

“You’re inappropriate,” she sasses.

She doesn’t know how right she is.

“Don’t worry,” Shinhye pats your leg under the desk. “You can copy my notes later.”

“Any questions?” Professor Yang speaks up from the front of the room, capturing your undivided attention again. He carefully avoids your gaze as he peeks around the room. No one speaks up, so he moves on. “Alright, then. I’ve graded your labs from last week, so when I call your name please come up to collect your work.”

You’re certain that’s code for I-still-don’t-know-your-names, and you try not to smile. Why do you think that’s cute?

He starts working his way through the pile, calling one student’s name after another. And when he finally says your name, he looks directly up at you and your pulse skyrockets. You hold his gaze for a moment before Shinhye gives you a gentle shove.

“Don’t be so obvious!” She whispers, nudging you to stand. “Get up there.”

You hurry to the front of the room, trying not to make a scene. Are you walking too fast? Do you look awkward? Can everyone see how hot your face feels?

When you reach him, you accept your lab papers without looking up at him, but you think that you are literally going to die when your fingers accidentally brush his. You restrain your squeal and rush back to your seat.

Shinhye leans towards you, struggling to hold back her laughter. “Oh my God you are so awkward.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, completely overwhelmed by this sudden bout of anxiety. You need to get over this crush fast, because clearly you’re acting like a fool around him.

You distract yourself by flipping through your lab to see what points you missed. But something doesn’t quite add up.

It’s not a surprise to you that you got some things wrong - you and Shinhye had struggled a lot with getting accurate decibel readings, so you figured some of your calculations were off. But when you total up the points you received and the percentage he scrawled across the top of your lab, the numbers don’t match.

He gave you a higher grade.

...did he do it on purpose?

Normally you’d let it slide if a teacher miscalculated your grade in your favor. Why not accept the accidental grade boost? But with him… this is different.

You told him you want to be graded fairly, that you want to end the class with exactly the grade you deserve. How would it reflect on you if someone noticed you were getting higher grades than what was warranted? What would they think you had done to convince Professor Yang to boost your grade?

Sighing, you sink further into your chair.

You’re going to have to chat with him again.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 5.

Update | Read Part 5 here!

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