#majority of the day now i’m stressed i won’t be home or available when they come

[astarlightmonbebe]

it was a day. and there was anxiety too.

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door. 

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

[fi0r3]

Just A Black Coffee

Warning(s) ⇾ profanity, 

Pairing ⇾ kuroo x gn!reader

Genre ⇾ fluff and some angst, college au,  mini-series

WC ⇾ 3.1k

Summary ⇾ You just got out of a toxic relationship and now you need a new place to stay. Your friend just so happens to know someone who’s looking for a roommate who can help out with the rent for the apartment.

AN: @luv4sakusa​ wanted to be included in my story so bad so I put her in 😒

j.a.b.c master list || next chapter

Ch. 1: New Encounters 

It was two in the morning, you and your boyfriend were in a heated argument. You had just caught him cheating on you, but he was trying to deny it. “Why won’t you just fucking admit it!” Your throat was hurting from screaming so much. “I saw you on the couch with her and you dare to tell me that it was nothing!” Truth be told, you had known for a while now that something was going on, but you were in denial. You didn’t want to believe that your boyfriend of five years would do something like that. Yet here you are right now, confronting him. “Omg, you’re overreacting. I was just--” you cut him off “YOU WHAT? HUH? YOU TRIPPED AND YOUR TONGUE ACCIDENTALLY SLIPPED INTO HER MOUTH?” You didn’t want to start crying, yet your body said otherwise. He stared at you in silence before you stomped off to the bedroom. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” “Isn't it obvious? I’m packing my shit and breaking up with you.” You were shoving your things into your suitcase not bothering to fold any of your clothes. He scoffs, “Really? Where are you gonna go then?” “Anywhere without you seems good.” You had no clue where to go, all you knew was that you didn’t want to be near Daisho for another second. 

You zipped up your suitcase and pushed past him. He forcefully grabbed your arm causing you to turn around. “You can’t just leave me y/n,” he says almost menacingly. “I think I fucking can when I have a pretty valid reason.” You yanked your arm away from him and walked out of the apartment leaving him alone with the girl. As soon as you were out, you felt a sense of relief, but that soon went away as you realized that those five years you spent together were nothing. And your heart starts to ache even more the further you walk away. 

_______________________________________________

You were sat on a park bench, the autumn winds nipping at your nose. You looked at your phone and the time read 2:31 am. ‘I shouldn’t have left while it was this cold’ You go to your contacts and call your best friend Abby. “Y/n?” she says in a raspy voice. “What’s wrong, why are you up right now?” You sigh before telling her everything that happened. 

“So, yea I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a bit.” “Bitch of course you can! Fuck Daisho, his bitch-ass doesn’t deserve you.” You chuckle at her string of curses. “I’ll be over soon.” “Okayyy be safe.” 

You were thankful for having a friend like Abby. You stood up from the bench and made your way over to her apartment. You needed to start finding a place for yourself soon because you didn’t want to mooch off of your friend for too long. You knew she wouldn’t mind having you stay, but you didn’t want to be too much of a burden because she lived in a pretty small space. You got on the bus that led to her address and looked up some websites for apartment listings to pass the time.

_______________________________________________

By the time you arrived at her place, it was already 3 am. You knocked on her door waiting for her to come and open it. You wait there for a few minutes before the door slowly cracks open. “Hey hun,” she says with her eyes partially open. She invites you in and leads you to the living room to set your things down. 

“You can put your suitcase over here and there are some toiletries in the closet if you need them.” “Thanks, Abby, you’re the best.” “Of course,  you know I’d do anything for you.” “Yea I know.” “So how ya holdin’ up?” You stared at her in silence for a moment trying to recollect your thoughts. You thought you had cried it all out while you sat in the park earlier, so you were surprised when you felt tears streaming down your face. 

You didn’t want to cry over this anymore, but your emotions got the better of you. You held your head in your hands and kept sobbing, unable to stop the emotions from pouring out. Abby came over to your side and hugged you. She didn’t say anything. She just let you cry it out until you were able to compose yourself. Deep down she always had a bad feeling about Daisho ever since the day you announced you two were dating. She just didn’t want to say anything because you were so happy. To her, it felt like she was overstepping her boundaries. 

“Ok, I think I’ve cried about this enough for today.” “Well shit, I thought I was gonna have to hear you cry until class started.” You chuckled. “Oh shut up.” “I think it’s time we both go to bed, otherwise we’ll pass out from sleep deprivation in class.” She gets up and brings you some pillows and blankets. She bids you goodnight before going back to her room. You were glad she went back to her room because you didn’t want her to see you crying still. You felt bad that you called her so late so you told her to go to bed. You spent that night crying until you finally fell asleep.  

_______________________________________________

You woke up at 7 am, eyes still sore from all the crying you did. You felt so drained, but you had to get up and get ready for your classes. Getting up from the couch, you fold the blankets and place them neatly to the side. You open your suitcase and take out your clothes and some toiletries before heading off to the bathroom. 

You saw your reflection in the mirror and were startled at the image before you. Eyes all red and puffy and hair all tangled and sticking up. ‘Yikes,’ you thought. You quickly detangle your hair and wait for the shower to heat up. 

When you get out, you quickly dry yourself off and change into a fresh pair of clothes. After getting dressed and drying your hair, you met Abby at the kitchen for breakfast. 

“You gonna be okay going to school?” she questions while grabbing two plates, placing one in front of you. You take a seat at the counter and fix yourself some of the food she prepared. “I’m not gonna let this whole break up ruin my studies alright. I just have to hold myself together during the day and break down when I get home,” you say with a strained smile. She rolls her eyes at your remark and takes the seat next to you.

“I swear if I see him I’m gonna--” you interrupt, “You’re going to walk away and not cause any drama.” She looks at you with an unamused face. “I’m serious, I don’t want any drama. I said what I said and I have no reason to talk to him anymore.” She turns back to her food before responding. “Okay fine.” You shake your head as you see the look of disappointment on her face. “I’ll be fine, promise.” 

You two finished up your food and grabbed your things for school. Both of you rushed to the train station so you wouldn’t be late for class. You were still in anguish over the events that happened, but you were trying your hardest to ignore those feelings so you could focus on your studies. You were anxious about running into him because you felt like you would start crying again if you did. You didn’t want to have a whole breakdown in school. 

You pushed all those thoughts in the back of your head as you reached the front of the school. “I have my club meeting after school so you’re gonna be going home by yourself.” “That’s fine I have my part-time job today.” You bid your goodbyes as the both of you head to your respective classes. 

_______________________________________________

You head to the back of the classroom and take a seat. You didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at the moment. Mainly because you didn’t want anyone to notice how red your eyes were. You had tried to cover it up as best as you could but to no avail. You decided to look for more apartment listings as you wait for the professor to come to class. All the ones you found were either too expensive or looked like they would fall apart the second you walked in. Finally, the professor walks in and begins the class. 

You barely paid attention during the lecture. You were so tired from basically having zero hours of sleep and stressing out over how you were going to find a place to live. You weren’t that close with anyone in your class so you couldn’t even ask them for help. You had zoned out for the majority of the class.  The only thing that you obtained from the lecture was that you had a research paper due in the two weeks that was worth 25% of your grade. 

You feel a buzz from your phone and you look down to see what it was. 

*Message from Abby*

Abby: “Hey y/n, I just wanted to let you know my boyfriend is coming over later to hang, but don’t worry we won’t make you a third wheel :)”

Y/n: “If I walk in on both you being whores, I’ll kick you out of your apartment--”

Abby: “Whatever”

You turn your phone off and try to pay attention to the last ten minutes of the lecture. 

_______________________________________________

School was finally over and you quickly met with Abby to tell her that you might be coming home late because you had to cover for your coworker. “Okay, just remember to be safe, you never know what sketchy ass guy is gonna be around.” “Don’t worry I know how to take care of myself. I didn’t take those self-defense classes for no reason.”  She waves goodbye as she heads over to meet with her club. 

You walked over to the convenience store where you worked that was only a couple of blocks away from your school. You liked taking the night shifts because it was usually the least busy and it meant you could do some homework. That being said, you also had your fair share of creeps and drunks. You had bought pepper spray just in case anything happens. Though you hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it. 

When you arrived, the worker there got up to leave so you could take over. You didn’t have much to do. Your main tasks consisted of restocking shelves, mopping the floors, and managing the register. When it was just you in the store it kind of felt peaceful. Sometimes you’d just observe the people who walk by and other times you’d be lost in thought. However this time, you wanted to be away from your thoughts. You tried to put on some music to drown out your thoughts. For a while, it was working until you saw your ex walking hand in hand with the girl he cheated on you with. You were enraged at the sight. How could he move on so easily, while you were still stuck on it? Were you overreacting? Were you the only one who cared about the relationship? All these negative thoughts started to flood in. You were brought back to reality when you heard the bell from the door ring, signaling that a customer was there. You quickly brush off those thoughts and greet the customer. The last hour and a half went into cleaning the floors and doing a little bit of homework.  

By the time you finished your shift, the sun had completely disappeared. Although you were confident in your self-defense skills, you would still be nervous about walking home alone. You made sure that you had your pepper spray with you before locking up. You quickly shoot Abby a text saying that you were done with work and were on your way to the apartment. 

_______________________________________________

 Upon your arrival home, you were greeted by a very loud and energetic guy, who you assumed to be Abby’s boyfriend. You were caught off guard by his liveliness, especially since it was pretty late. “Y/n, this is Bokuto, my boyfriend.” “Bo, this my friend that I was talking to you about.” You exchanged hellos before you went to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Y/n I just solved all your problems,” your best friend announces to you as you exit the bathroom. “Uh how exactly?” you question with one eyebrow raised. “Bo, tell her” she nudges her boyfriend. You sat down next to them on the couch waiting for his response. “So, Abby told me how you’re looking for a place and I happen to know someone who’s looking for a roommate to share the rent.” Your eyes lit up immediately. “Omg really?!” you ask in excitement. “Yup, I can--” you interrupt “I’ll take it.” Both of them were startled by your immediate acceptance. 

“Damn y/n, you hate me that much.” You roll your eyes at her remark. “You know that’s not the reason why I wanna leave.” You turn back to Bokuto to ask who this person is just to make sure it wasn’t some sketchy weirdo. “He’s a friend of mine from high school, he goes to the same college as us. He’s a marketing major.” “Okay, he seems fine.” “Yea, I’ll tell him that you’re interested, and I can set up a time for you guys to get acquainted.” You were kind of excited to meet your potential new roommate. You just hoped that he wasn’t going to be an asshole like your ex. “Thanks so much, Bokuto.” “No problem y/n” he flashes a friendly smile. 

After a few hours of hanging out with each other, Bokuto had to go. Before leaving he gave you the address of the apartment, Kuroo’s contact information, and his own. He said he would tell you when Kuroo would be able to meet with you. “Aren’t you glad to have such an amazing friend like me?” she asks smugly. “Uhh if I’m not mistaken it was Bokuto who knows Kuroo not you.” you tease. “Okay, but who was the one who introduced you to him? Me exactly.” The both of you started laughing. “Ok, but seriously thank you for doing this. I’ll treat you to ramen sometime.” “You better.” 

_______________________________________________

A week has passed since that day, and Bokuto finally texted you saying that Kuroo was able to meet. You were waiting in anticipation. You were hoping that he didn’t already find someone else during that week of waiting. A wave of relief washed over you when you received Bokuto’s message with the details for the meeting. “So when are you seeing him?” she asks from the kitchen. “Today at 4.” You had about an hour to get ready. “Are you nervous?” “Yes and no,” you respond. “I just hope he doesn’t reject me,” you say while trying to pick out an outfit. “Bo said that he’d be fine with anyone as long as they’re able to pay the other half.” “Do you know anything about him?” you inquire hoping to get a little more information before meeting him. “The only thing Bo has told me is that they’ve known each other since high school and were rival teams for volleyball. Other than that, I’m as clueless as you.” You give her a slight nod. 

You finally picked out your outfit and went to go change. “Does this look okay?” She turns around to see what you had on. “Yea you look great.” You go back into the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror one more time. “ARE YOU SURE?” you yell. “YES STOP WORRYING, YOU LOOK FINE!” she yells back. You leave the bathroom to grab your bag and head to the cafe. “Wish me luck,” you sigh. “Relax, it’s not a life or death situation,” she jokes. You wave goodbye and head over to the cafe, hoping that you wouldn’t arrive late.

_______________________________________________

You walk into the cafe scanning the area to see if he was there. You didn’t even know what he looked like so there was no point in trying to look. You feel a buzz from your pocket. You take your phone out to see a message from Kuroo.

Kuroo Tetsurō: “By the window.”

You look up to see a guy with spiky hair sitting by the window looking at you. You could feel his gaze piercing through you. Your heart started to race. You walked over hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous you were. “Hey gorgeous,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your name?” His forwardness caught you off guard. “Uh I’m y/n,” you say as you took the seat across from him. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks. “A black coffee is fine.” He gets up to order the drinks. As he gets up, you catch yourself admiring his looks but you quickly brush it off, especially when he’s going to be your future roommate. Besides you just got out of a relationship. Just as you brushed it off, he comes back with the drinks. 

“So why do you wanna be my roommate?” he asks you and you reply with “I just really need a place to live right now, I promise I’ll be a good roommate, and make sure to give the payments on time.” “Whoa whoa whoa there, I just asked for a reason not a whole life story,” he says in a teasing manner. You sit there, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart.” Little did he know that it made you feel even more flustered. “Uhmm it’s fine,” you reply. Trying to ease the conversation from what just happened, you say in a cocky manner, “So do you want me or not?” Causing a chuckle to escape his lips. 

“This is going to be interesting.”

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with Refinery29

Against my better judgement, and at the risk of losing any semblance of journalistic objectivity, I start my conversation with Joshua Jackson by effusively telling him what a dream come true it is to be talking to him. See, like many millennial women who grew up watching the late ‘90s and early 2000s teen drama Dawson’s Creek, Jackson’s Pacey Witter means a lot to me. Pacey is one of the rare fictional teen boys of my youth whose adolescent charisma, romantic appeal, and general boyfriend aptitude hold up all these years later (unlike The O.C’s Seth Cohen or Gossip Girl’s Chuck Bass) and that is due in large part to the wit, vulnerability, and care Jackson brought to the character.

It’s the same intention he’s afforded all of his famous roles — Peter Bishop in Fringe, Cole Lockhart in The Affair, and even as a 14-year-old in his first acting gig as sweet-faced heartthrob Charlie Conway in The Mighty Ducks. Now, Jackson, 43, has matured into a solid supporting actor (with memorable turns in Little Fires Everywhere and When They See Us) and as a leading man who can draw you into a story with just his voice (Jackson’s latest project is narrating the psychological thriller and Canadian Audible original, Oracle, one of the over 12,000 titles available today on Audible.ca’s the Plus Catalogue) or find humanity in the most sinister men (he’s currently playing a sociopath with a god complex in Dr. Death). His magnetic pull is as evident as it was when he was the guy you rooted for in a show named after another guy’s creek. Jackson has never seemed to mind the fact that so many people still bring up Pacey decades later, and that’s part of why as an adult, he’s one of the few childhood crushes I still have on a pedestal. I tell him just a tiny slice of this, and Jackson graciously sits up straighter and promises to bring his A-game to our Zoom exchange. Jackson is in what appears to be an office, flanked by mess, like a true work-from-home Dad. He and his wife, fellow actor Jodie Turner-Smith, welcomed a daughter in the early days of the pandemic in 2020, and he tells me that fatherhood and marriage are the best decisions he has ever made. Jackson and Turner-Smith are a rare Hollywood couple who choose to let us in on their love, but not obnoxiously — just through flirty Instagram comments and cheeky tweets. Their pairing is part of Jackson’s enduring appeal. It’s nice to think that Pacey Witter grew up to be a doting dad and adoring husband, even if his wife’s name is Jodie, not Joey.

Jackson is an animated conversationalist, leaning into the camera to emphasize his points — especially when the topic of diversity comes up. White celebs don’t get asked about racism in Hollywood the way their counterparts of colour do, and when they do, they’re usually hesitant at best, and unequipped at worst, to tackle these conversations. Jackson is neither. He’s open, willing, and eager to discuss systemic inequality in the industry he’s grown up in. It’s the bare minimum a straight white man in Hollywood can do, and Jackson seems to know this. When he ventures briefly into trying to explain to me, a Black woman, the perils of being Black, female, and online, he catches himself and jokes that of course, I don’t need him to tell me the racism that happens in the comment section of his wife’s Instagram. The self-deprecating delivery is one I’m familiar with from watching Jackson onscreen for most of my life, and seeing it in person (virtually) renders me almost unable to form sentences. Jackson’s charm is disarming, but his relaxed Canadian energy is so relatable, I manage to maintain my professionalism long enough to get through our conversation. Refinery29: Your voice has been in my head for a few days because I've been listening to Canadian Audible Original, Oracle. What drew you to this project and especially the medium of audio storytelling?

Joshua Jackson: The book itself is such a page turner. I also love the idea of those old radio plays. It's like a hybrid between the beauty of reading a book on the page where your imagination does all of it. We craft a little bit of the world, but because this is a noir thriller married with this metaphysical world, there's a lot of dark and creepy places that your imagination gets to fill in for yourself.

I'm noticing a trend in some of the roles you've been taking on lately, with this and Dr. Death, these stories are very dark and creepy. But so many people still think of you as Pacey Witter, or as Charlie Conway, the prototypical good guys of our youth. Are you deliberately trying to kill Pacey and Charlie?

JJ: I'm not trying to kill anybody — except on screen [laughs]. It's funny, I didn't really think of these two things as companion pieces, but I won't deny that there may be something subconscious in this anxiety, stress-filled year that we've all just had. That may be what I was trying to work out was some of that stress, because that's the beauty of my job. Instead of therapy, I just get someone to pay me to say somebody else's words. So, yeah, that could be a thing [but] the thought process that went into them both was very different. Even though this is a dark story, [lead character, police psychic] Nate Russo is still the hero. [Dr. Death’s] Christopher Duntsch very much is not at all. I can't pretend to know my own mind well enough to be able to tell you exactly how [these two roles] happened, but it happened.

That might be something that you should work through with an actual therapist. JJ: Exactly. Yeah, maybe real therapy is on the docket for me [laughs].

So I was listening to Oracle and you're doing these various creepy voices — I’m sorry the word “creepy” keeps coming up.

JJ: Are you trying to tell me something? You know what? I wanted to skip straight to the creepy old man phase of my career. So, it sounds like I'm doing a good job.

You're doing amazing, sweetie [laughs]. So, I was thinking you must be really good at bedtime stories with your daughter doing all these voices. Or is she still too young for that?

JJ: No! She's all the way into books. Story time is my favourite part of the day because it gives me the opportunity to have that time with her just one-on-one. Her favorite book right now is a book called Bedtime Bonnet. Every night I bring out three books, and she gets to pick one. The other two shift a little bit, but Bedtime Bonnet is every single night.

I love that. Since you're married to a Black woman, you know a thing or two about bonnets. JJ: ​​Yeah, well I'm getting my bonnet education. And I'm getting my silk sheet education. I'm behind the curve, but I'm figuring it out [laughs].

You said in an interview recently that you are now at the age where the best roles for men are. And I wonder if you can expand on that and whether you think of the fact that the same cannot be said for the majority of women actors in their 40s?

JJ: What's great about the age that I'm at now as a man is that, generally speaking, the characters — even if they're not the central character of this show — are well fleshed out. They're being written from a personal perspective, usually from a writer who has enough lived experience and wants to tell the story of a whole character. Whereas when you're younger — and obviously I was very lucky with some of the characters that I was able to play  – you're the son or the boyfriend, or you're a very two-dimensional character. It's gotten better, but still a lot like you're either the precocious child or you're the brooding one. I will say that while I would agree with you to a certain point for women, I think that this is probably the best era to be a not 25-year-old-woman in certainly the entirety of my career. And it is also the best time to be a Black woman inside of the industry. There's still more opportunity for a 40-year-old white man than there is for a 40-year-old white woman, but it is better now than it has ever been. The roles that women are able to inhabit and occupy and the opportunities that are out there have multiplied. If I started my career in playing two-dimensional roles to get the three-dimensional roles, most women started their career in three-dimensional roles and end up at “wife” or “mom.” And that's just not the case anymore. There's just a lot of broadly diverse stories being told that centre women. So you're right, but in the last five years, six years I would say, there has really been a pretty significant shift.

And I think that shift is happening because who's behind the camera is also changing. JJ: Right? Who holds the purse strings. That's big. Who gets to green light the show to begin with? You have to have a variety of different faces inside of that room. And then, who's behind the camera. What is the actual perspective that we're telling the story from? The male gaze thing is very real. Dr. Death had three female directors. The central character of Dr. Death is an outrageously toxic male figure. Who knows more about toxic male BS than women? Particularly women who are in a predominantly male work environment. So these directors had a very specific take and came at it with a clarity that potentially a man wouldn't see, because we have blind spots about ourselves. We're in a space where there's a recognition that we've told a very narrow band of what's available in stories. There's so many stories to be told and it's okay for us to broaden out from another white cop.

I hope that momentum continues. Okay, I have to tell you something: I’m a little obsessed with your wife, Jodie Turner-Smith. JJ: Me too. As you should be! I love how loudly and publicly you both love on each other. But I need you to set the scene for me. When you are leaving flirty Instagram comments, and she's tweeting thirsty things about you, are you in the same room? Do you know that the other one is tweeting? What's happening?

JJ: We're rarely in the same room [writing] the thirsty comments because that usually just gets said to each other. But, look, if either of us misses a comment, you better believe at night, there's a, "Hey, did you see what I wrote?" One, she's very easy to love out loud and two, she's phenomenal. And I have to say, the love and support that is coming my direction has been a revelation in my life. I've said this often, and it just is the truth: If you ever needed to test whether or not you had chosen the right partner in life, just have a baby at the beginning of a pandemic and then spend a year and a half together. And then you know. And then you absolutely know. I didn't get married until fairly late in the game. I didn't have a baby till very late in the game and they're the two best choices I've ever made in my life.

I'm just going to embarrass you now by reading one of Jodie's thirsty comments to you. She tweeted, “Objectifying my husband on the internet is my kink. I thought you guys knew this by now,” with a gif that said "No shame." JJ: [laughs] That sounds about right.

She's not the only one though. There's this whole thirst for Joshua Jackson corner of the internet. And it feels like there's been a bit of a heartthrob resurgence for you now at your big age. How do you feel about that?

JJ: I hadn't really put too much thought into it, but I am happy that my wife is thirsty for me. What about the rest of us? JJ: That's great for y'all, but it's most important that my wife is thirsty for me. Good answer. You're good at this husband thing. You recently revealed that Jodie proposed to you. Then it became this big story, and people were so surprised by it. How did you feel about the response? JJ: Thank you for giving me the opportunity to give context to this story. So I accidentally threw my wife under the bus because that story was told quickly and it didn't give the full context and holy Jesus, the internet is racist and misogynist. So yes, we were in Nicaragua on a beautiful moonlit night, it could not possibly have been more romantic. And yes, my wife did propose to me and yes, I did say yes, but what I didn't say in that interview was there was a caveat, which is that I'm still old school enough that I said, "This is a yes, but you have to give me the opportunity [to do it too]." She has a biological father and a stepdad, who's the man who raised her. [I said], ‘You have to give me the opportunity to ask both of those men for your hand in marriage.’ And then, ‘I would like the opportunity to re-propose those to you and do it the old fashioned way down on bended knee.’ So, that's actually how the story ended up.

So, there were two proposals. I do feel like that is important context. JJ: Yes, two proposals. And also for anybody who is freaked out by a woman claiming her own space, shut the fuck up. Good God, you cannot believe the things people were leaving my wife on Instagram. She did it. I said ‘yes.’ We're happy. That's it. That's all you need to know. That has been a real education for me as a white man, truly. The way people get in her comments and the ignorance and ugliness that comes her way is truly shocking. And it has been a necessary, but an unpleasant education in just the way people relate to Black bodies in general, but Black female bodies in specific. It is not okay. We have a long way to go. Jodie is such an inspiration because it seems like she handles it in stride. She handles it all with humour and with grace. JJ: She does. And look, I think it's like a golden cage, the concept of the strong Black woman. I would wish for my wife that she would not have to rise above with such amazing strength and grace, above the ugliness that people throw at her on a day to day. I am impressed with her that she does it, but I would wish that that would not be the armour that she has to put on every morning to just navigate being alive. That's a word. That's a word, Joshua Jackson.

The 13-year-old in me needs to ask this. We are in the era of reboots. If they touched Dawson's Creek — which is a masterpiece that should not be touched — but if they did, what would you want it to look like? JJ: I think it should look a lot like it looked the first time. To me, what was great about that story was it was set in a not cool place. It wasn't New York, it wasn't LA, it wasn't London. It wasn't like these were kids who were on the cutting edge of culture, but they were kids just dealing with each other and they were also very smart and capable of expressing themselves. It's something that I loved at that age performing it. And I think that is the reason it has lived on.  We have these very reductive ideas of what you're capable of at 16, 17, 18. And my experience of myself at that point was not as a two-dimensional jock or nerd or pretty girl. You are living potentially an even more full life at that point because everything's just so heightened. [Dawson’s Creek] never talked down to the people that it was portraying. That's one of the things that I loved about it as a book nerd growing up. The vocabulary of Dawson's Creek was always above my level and that was refreshing. To go back to the “diversity” conversation, you can't really make a show with six white leads anymore and that’s a good thing. But I also don't know how I feel about taking a thing, rebooting it, and just throwing Black characters in there. 

JJ: I hear that. And there's certain contexts in which it doesn't work unless you're making it a thing about race, right? If you watch Bridgerton, obviously you're living inside of a fantasy world, and so you're bringing Black characters into this traditionally white space and what would historically be a white space. And now you are able to have a conversation about myth-making and inclusion and who gets to say what and who gets to act how. So that's interesting, but I don’t think you’re just throwing in a Black character if you changed Joey to a Black woman [or] Pacey to a Black man. What you're doing is you're enriching the character. Let's say one of those characters is white and one of those characters is Black. Now, there's a whole rich conversation to be had between these two kids, the political times that we live in, the cultural flow that is going through all of us right now. I think that makes a better story. All these conversations around comic books in particular like, "Well, that's a white character." It's like, Man, shut up. What are you talking about? It is a comic book character! Joey and Pacey don't have to be white. Dawson and Jen don't have to be white. And this is what we were talking about a little bit earlier. We get better the broader our perspective is, both as humans, but also in the entertainment industry. So if you went back to a story like [Dawson’s Creek], what was important in that show was class not race, which I think is true for a lot of small Northeastern towns. They are very white. But if you brought race into that as well, you don't diminish the amount of the stories that you can tell. You enrich the tapestry of that show. So I think that would be a great idea.

Make Pacey Witter a Black man in 2021 is what I just heard from you. JJ: Hashtag ‘Make Pacey Witter A Black Man’. There we go!

[toshis-puppycat]

Hello Again Part Five

A/n: I am so sorry this took forever for me to post, I don't always feel amazing and its been hitting a little too hard recently But here I am again! Its good to be writing for Toshinori too, I've missed writing for him 👉👈 I hope yall enjoy and commissions are still open! Thank you all so much for being patient with me! <3

Summary: It hurt, remembering. And unfortunately danger was coming.

Ashido looked incredibly excited seeing the big three. You could see the dots connecting in their heads about them. Even Yaoyorozu said what you knew they were all thinking 'Still in school, but practically pros already. They're the students they should be chasing after.'

From what you'd heard about these students, they were that good. You could see them saving people already. You'd also heard about their previous sports festivals. Ahem, Togatas approach to things because of his quirk certainly made things interesting to watch. (I.e. when they showed you the footage you looked away mildly embarrassed at how Togata had to strip down for his quirk). But getting the title of "The Big Three" takes hard work, and you knew that because of it these students worked especially hard to achieve that.

"Get to it. Introduce yourselves briefly." Aizawa said, beginning to point at one of the students. "Let's start with Amajiki."

The boy gave an intense look to the class, one that you could tell scared them as they all sat a little straighter in their seats. He started shaking and quietly talked to the others. "Its no good. You two go. I just can't. Even if I try to imagine them as potatoes, I can see their human bodies. I know that they're still people. No words are coming out. My minds blank and my mouth is dry." You could tell the other students were confused as he shook. "I can't say anything. I wanna… go home." He finished turning to face the wall. You could definitely understand that part. You were mentally begging to check out yourself. The lack of sleep along with the overall stress still affecting you was a lot. But you were going to hold out. You'd sleep later. You were barely paying attention to the students talking, well mostly Hado asking a ton of questions to all the students. It was rather cute of her, she sounded like she should in your opinion. Young, without the major stress involved with being a hero since she's still a student she only gets the glimpses, and nothing has been severe enough recently. Only All Mights last battle, and well you tried not thinking about that tidbit. You tried not thinking about All Might at all. You only checked back in as Togata told the class that they had to fight him, all at once. You all made your way to the gym, watching him stretch and prepare. Although you didn't know much about the third years, you could tell the students weren't taking it seriously. They have fought pros, and they've fought legitimate villains. But right now that didn't matter. They needed to see the ones that are close enough to the level of pros. The ones they have to strive to be. At least Midoryia was taking it seriously. You knew he felt like he was missing a lot. And he wanted to strive to be better (like someone else you knew), you pushed the thought away, just as he rushed Togata. You blinked slowly at the sight. Was that… his clothing just falling off? Hmm, no wonder he stripped before doing anything during the sports festival. Poor Jiro, and well all the students. You remembered how red your face was seeing All- you had to push that thought away. That was slightly embarrassing for both of you, and well… again you didn't want to think about him right now. You felt your heart throb. You missed him. You didn't pay much attention to the actual fighting. It hurt. It hurt thinking about him. You bit your lip. It wouldn't do well to break down in front of everyone. You were strong, so you grit your teeth and pushed the feelings down. You could see Togata beating the crop out of all the students. Few were still standing. Now they were taking it more seriously. This kid put in hard work to be able to get everything down to a pat. Midoriya did well though, predicting exactly where Togata would be. But it wasn't enough, as all of them ended up defeated. Togata would have to work on that predictable part of his attacks. Villains would kill for someone that predictable, and although it took Midoryia actually analyzing the situation, a smart villain would do the same eventually. Or they would listen to someone who could do what Midoriya does. And it could get him killed. He was fast, but an unfortunate reality was that eventually, he wouldn't be fast enough. Someone would be faster, and it won't end well. Permeation. It was actually a good quirk to have with the right training, and well the spirit that Togata has as well. To be fair any quirk would be a good quirk to have, especially with the right help on how to train it. It was why you're a hero. You learned as much as you could, trained like hell, and overall just did your best. You turned everything you experienced into the power you showcase whenever you used your quirk.

"Let's get back to class now. Say "thank you"." Aizawa said. All the students yelled it happily. They were beyond excited at the prospect of work studies. Before the three third years left, you ran after them.

"Togata!" They all turned at you.

"Oh cool! You're that hero that disappeared 20 years ago right? How'd that happen? How are you feeling now?" Hado asked you hurriedly. You gave a smile.

"I'm doing just fine now." A lie, but you weren't telling children what you were feeling. No matter how close they felt to you in age. "Togata, I've got a favor to ask."

"I can help however I can!" He exclaimed. Easily giving you a blinding smile.

"You're interning under Sir Nighteye, right?" You asked.

"Yup, I sure do!"

"Great. The next time you're planning on heading over to see him, mind if I tag along? Eraserhead mentioned to me that he might need a healer on his end for things." You asked.

"I sure can ma'am." He replied easily, still giving a carefree smile.

"Great! I'll see you when that happens then alright?"You smiled at the group. "You guys are doing amazing, and Amajiki it's alright to be anxious. Just remember you have support available for you alright?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He replied, hunched over.

You ran back over to the first years leaving the gym. Trailing behind them, you finally succeeded pushing away the negative feeling at least.

☆☆☆☆☆

In the safety of your own room you allowed yourself to finally relax. You were still trying to hold back though. The day was long, and it was difficult to not just break down again. Everything was just hitting you too hard. Thrown into the future, everyone busy and you still having feelings for All Might but him… he moved on. Of course everyone would. You were gone for 20 years. But it hurt. It… it hurt so much. You felt the tears gather in your eyes and sobbed. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren't breathing in properly almost hyperventilating at how hurt you were. The feeling wasn't going away for even a moment. You could just feel more agony, you wished. You really wished that he didn't move on. That you weren't thrown so far into the future. That your childhood friend didn't abuse his children and wife so severely. You wished that you were just better than you actually were. Alas you were just you, you were thrown in time. And you couldn't reverse it.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the days passed it was getting harder to avoid him. You kept walking out whenever he would walk in. You really couldn't handle being near him. You were just avoiding the eventual confrontation that would happen. Avoiding him telling you he was Midoryias father. And then you especially wanted to avoid the press coming to U.A. all together. They could… probably figure something out, and you didn't trust the press too much. You didn't want to see something portraying you as some young gold digger hero trying to ride the coattails of a more experienced pro. You weren't trying to do that at all. You were a good hero on your own. But not a lot of people knew about how you showed up. It could easily be figured out with research, but even then it could still be spun around as such. Or the public view of you could turn to that even if it's not said or even hinted at. You cut your thoughts off. It would do no good to dwell on it. Not when the guest came in.

"Don't worry on my account, Mr. Aizawa. I wanna get a feel for what dorm life is really like, so there's no need for them to act any differently from normal." Was all you heard as you walked by, giving a polite nod to the reporter and exiting the dorms.

Avoid it. Don't even think about it. Ignore it until you could be alone. Don't let anyone see you break. You needed to be strong.

☆☆☆☆☆

You didn't really need anything, you left to mostly wander around. Get a true look at Musutafu and how it's changed over the years. Everything was looking a little better, people were safer. 'Toshi did a good job protecting everyone.' You thought. A symbol of peace didn't exist when you were a kid, just heros doing their best. He truly changed the game for what heros could do. But it wasn't all good was it? You could feel it, the way certain people were staring, how they interacted. There was some underlying tension between people. It was subtle but you learned early to read things like that (you tried forgetting how you learned that, not good to think about that right now). Today you were going to figure out what happened with Kotaro. You needed to know if he was okay. If he was able to be happy, if he was able to become who he wanted to be. You really hoped he was able to. Then you could see him! And spoil him the way you had planned when you were younger. And you could apologize to him. You could finally make it up to him. For missing out on so many things for him. All you had to do was look.

☆☆☆☆☆

You made your way to the detective you'd talked to when you first came to. He was honestly the only one you could talk to in your opinion. He knew you already and understood that you were, by all means, a time traveler, so you trusted him. Toshi trusted him too. Don't think about it. You walked into the police station. You were going to be just fine. You were thankfully easily able to get his attention.

"Ah hello y/l/n. Its good to see you."

"Hello Detective. It's good to see you too." You replied. You stood by awkwardly, watching as he began sorting through paperwork. "I uh know we don't know each other that well. And this might be awkward but I need to ask for your help." You continued. He turned towards you a little panicked, (He knew you were avoiding Toshinori, mostly because the man himself came to him panicked about it, and well you looked exhausted) you didn't register that though, looking down at your feet. "I know we don't know each other that well. But… I really need your help to find someone." You clenched your fists. "He means a lot to me and he was hurting so much before I disappeared. I need to apologize." You looked up at Naomasa with pleading eyes. "I need to apologize to him Naomasa." He looked a little awkward at that.

"I can't help you like that." He said, and you looked away. "I can let you know if I ever hear about him though. It won't look good if I give out his address. But I can keep an eye out for you and let you know." He put a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him again. "I'll help as much as possible, just give me the name I need to keep an ear out for."

"Shimura!" You exclaimed in excitement, not seeing how Naomasa froze. "Its Shimura Kotaro!"

☆☆☆☆☆

It was easy to get you to leave after he said he'd help you find Kotaro. He… he couldn't tell you what happened to him though. Not now. Not when you looked at him like that. And you just barely knew about Shigaraki. Plus it was too shocking to know you knew Nanas son. He could hold off on telling you for now. Just so he could figure out how he could. He hoped you didn't figure it out before then. And well… he had to tell Toshinori you knew his mentors kid. How the hell was he going to do that?

☆☆☆☆☆

You were walking back with a little more skip in your step. More excitement than when you left the dorms. Naomasa said he'd help you! You would see Kotaro again. You'd be able to hug him with all the love you had in your heart. Things were finally going to be looking up for you. Finally, things will go right! Just then someone ran past you, and you heard someone cry out "My son!" And everything stopped. There were villains you truly believed could be successful if they had gotten help. But you drew the line when it involved children. You knew how devastating it was to be hurt so young. You immediately began chasing after the person who ran past you, flicking your wrist to have water rush to the child in their arms. They stopped running, pressing a knife against the young boys neck, as they turned towards you.

"Don't think I won't cut him you dumb bitch!" They yelled. They didn't notice the water. And they probably thought you were just some civilian trying to play hero. You narrowed your eyes at them.

"You don't have to hurt them-" they cut you off.

"If you come closer I'll slit their throat!" They snarled at you, the child in their arms was sobbing. Absolutely struggling to contain their tears.

"Its gonna be alright kid. I'm here to keep you safe alright?" You said to them. They looked at you and their lips were wobbling. You gave a reassuring smile. "Besides. They're not a cool villain at all are they? Their situational awareness sucks." The villain narrowed their eyes at you and was about to start screaming again, when you finally made the water move forward fully and covered the little boy in their arms. The blade wasn't even able to touch his skin. Not even a little nick as you forced the child out of their arms and into yours. The villain gaped at you, then tried to turn and run. But you already made sure they were trapped by another flow of water, plus using their own blood to hold them back.

The boy was sobbing in your arms and the mother was finally able to catch up to you, sobbing and reaching out. The boy was able to drop in her arms instantly, with a wobbly voice calling out "mom!" She thanked you profusely after that, and you both waited for police to show up. And you were almost scolded, until they realized you had your license and Naomasa greeted you by calling out your hero name. You and the mother gave your statements as they arrested the person who tried kidnapping the little boy. Kidnapping was a strong word though, they just knew it'd be harder for anyone to catch them if they ran with a kid in their arms. Afterwards you were going to walk off, but a tug at your shirt stopped you. A small hand clutching the lower half of your shirt. He had a small scrape on that hand.

"Thank you for saving me, Ms. Siren." His voice was still wobbly, still shaken up. But he was giving you a bright smile. The mother was smiling at you both, with a grateful smile on her lips and mouthing her own thanks to you.

"Kid, I've gotta thank you too! You were so brave!" You said, crouching down to get a better look at him. "Can I show you a little trick?" You asked, gently grabbing his scraped hand. He gave you a confused nod, but his eyes lit up seeing you create a flow of water and covering his hand with it. Any stinging he felt in his hand vanished in an instant, and his eyes widened in glee.

"Whoa… Ms. Siren you've got the coolest quirk!" He yelled. You didn't see it. But someone walking by saw you heal that little boy, and you didn't know it, but he was working for Overhaul. You wouldn't really know it until much later, unfortunately. But you went back to the dorms, running into the reporter who was just leaving and giving a respectful bow to him. You were safe at the moment. Unknowing of what was about to happen, and how your life was about to change again.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Boss." A voice called out, getting the attention of a man holding a little girl covered in bandages. He nodded in acknowledgement. "There's a new hero out and about. But I think she'd be quite useful to us." He said. The other man passed the little girl off to another person, gesturing them to take her to her room.

"I'm listening."

☆☆☆☆☆

taglist: @saratour, @devilkou, @yukiimanic, @theygottheircages, @itsallmightbitch, @toobsessedsstuff, @quirkyfandoms, @anxious-cat-with-cheesesticks, @waitwhatsrealityagain, @toxicjayhoo

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know 🥰 I hope yall enjoyed 💖

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Other Side

Part One

Genre: KSJ Soulmate au

Warnings: none

Word Count: 8.7k

What is tachycardia?

Tachycardia: abnormally high heart rate

Causes: exercise, stress, anxiety, fear, anger, or love

Ventricular tachycardia: may be life threatening; please see: “soulmate”

Since I could begin to retain information around the age of four, I have been taught one thing over and over again.

Soulmates = mortal danger.

Granted, I wasn't the only one who was taught this. I wasn’t raised in some strange cult or taught that love was discouraged.

No, actually. It’s just a part of life.

Soulmates are commonplace, my own parents being an example of that. The world we live in is riddled with beautiful contradictions, one of the most prominent of all those lovely contradictions being the existence of soulmates.

There is no fancy system put into place, no timer or thread of fate that ties us together. There’s really no way of knowing who or when or where you’ll meet the person that is supposed to complete you and bring joy to your life.

I’m sure there’s some sort of way that fate decides when, seeing as the majority of people meet at a fairly young age. The number of soulmates that meet over the age of fifty are few; although it’s been known to happen a couple of times among senior citizens placed into nursing homes.

Soulmates are the sole reason that most children can pronounce the word “tachycardia” before they reach the age of seven.

Tachycardia typically isn’t fatal, it’s something people tend to experience quite often when the circumstances change. Out on a run? You’re probably experiencing tachycardia. Terrified that there’s a burglar in the house? Yep, tachycardia coming right up.

Have you just stumbled across your soulmate for the first time? Tachycardia in its most extreme form will hit you like a brick wall in just a second.

“Who can tell me what the first response you should have when you see that someone has made contact with their soulmate?”

A flurry of hands fly up to the sky, my own included. The steps are rushing around in my brain, just begging to be let out.

“Haneul?” I’m called on and fight a smile as I answer my instructor’s question.

“First, move one of them to a separate room. Place a door between them if possible, and then call 911 if there are no soulmate assistants available.”

My instructor nods, smiling warmly at me. “Exactly. Now can somebody go through the calming exercises step by step…”

Somebody nudges my side, and I turn to see my friend and fellow applicant, Yuri, smiling at me.

“You’re totally getting in,” she whispers to me.

I roll my eyes. “Just because I answered one question right?”

“He remembered your name...that definitely means something.”

Turning my attention back to the front before we’re caught whispering, I entertain the idea before kicking it out. It’s best to not think about it too much, I can’t look like I’m bored or not paying attention. This is too important a day to give a bad impression. The sigil on the instructor’s shirt only serves as a reminder.

The Bighit entertainment logo stands out like a beacon as the instructor moves about, calling up a couple of applicants to demonstrate how to properly restrain someone without hurting them.

His movements call attention to the yellow circle below the Bighit logo, the color that marks him as a ‘soulmate assistant’. Basically just a fancy word for someone who has to make sure if an idol accidentally meets a soulmate at a concert or any other event, nobody dies.

Everyone goes home happy. Alive, and newly bonded.

And if I get this job, that means I’ll go home happy and paid. That’s all I could ever want, isn’t it?

If we’re being completely honest, being hired on as a professional soulmate assistant for Bighit or any other big agency would be a dream come true for someone like me. I would get to travel, meet new people, all the while receiving a steady paycheck while attending concerts for free.

Sure, it’s a tough job. It requires constant vigilance; a single yawn at the wrong time could mean disaster. Which is part of the reason why my parents thought I was a bit crazy wanting to go into such a profession. They backed off a little once I showed them what kind of money I’d be in for, though.

All of it has led to this moment: going through one final walkthrough before we’re called in for individual interviews and eventually left to leave things up to fate. It’s a pretty big deal to have even made it this far. The actual interview process with the soulmate board of Bighit entertainment is rigorous, eventually leading to a one on one interview with one of the managers of either TXT or BTS.

Our group that started off with just over 200 applicants has been filed down to ten. Tensions are high, Yuri’s near constant fidgeting is a sure sign of that.

Ten remain, but only two will be hired on. One for BTS, and one for TXT.

Not gonna lie, I’m hoping I’m getting interviewed for TXT. I have a hunch that Yeonjun, Beomgyu and I would get along great.

Not that I’m picking favorites.

Our small overview comes to an end, the instructor getting to the part we’ve all been waiting for.

“If you’ll remain here for a few minutes, we’ll be pulling a few of you in for interviews. Remember, if you don’t get interviewed today that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Don’t overthink it too much.”

The instructor leaves the room, and a collective sigh goes throughout our small group. Yuri is bouncing her knee, keeping her eyes planted on the wall in front of her. All I can do is wait, I suppose.

Life is cruel that way. It’s the same way with soulmates. All there is to do is wait. Live life as if you aren’t waiting for that one heartstopping (or rather, heartstarting), moment in which you come face to face with the person fate has decided will love you better than anyone else on earth.

It would be foolish of me to say that everyday for the past four years I haven’t entered my classes on campus or any restaurant holding my breath in hopes that today would be the day. College campuses are a kind of hotspot for soulmate activity; one of my trainings was actually spent just shadowing different classes and waiting for something to happen. It was my first hands-on training, and it only lasted a week.

In a single week I assisted in four different soulmate placings.

And that was in the middle of midterms; when the odds of meeting your soulmate are fairly low because stress levels are high. People are less likely to mingle with different groups of people, if they even bother to look up from their textbooks at all. So needless to say I was always waiting for it to happen.

Always waiting, never experiencing. It’s safe to say that after I graduated both my parents and I were a bit disappointed. While it’s not necessarily uncommon for people to reach college graduation age without a soulmate, it’s also an instant way to get everyone to pity you.

Sure, I wallowed for a while in self-pity. However, once I set my mind on pursuing a career in soulmate assisting within an idol group, I was an unstoppable force. And as for finding my soulmate? I used the possibility of working for Bighit as another way to make my parents feel better about their lack of a son-in-law.

If I get the job, I’ll be traveling the world. The chances of me meeting my soulmate would surely skyrocket.

“Choi Haneul?”

I jerk out of my stupor to see the instructor waving me over. Yuri gives me a light nudge, smiling at me encouragingly as I make my way over to the door with a pounding heart.

Fun fact: many people panic and think they’re experiencing what are referred to as “soulmate spikes” the second they start to feel a spike in their heart rate. 9.9/10 times they’re wrong. One way to tell if you really are experiencing soulmate spikes (the initial spike in heart rate upon seeing your soulmate) is if you’re also experiencing intense tunnel vision.

The instructor gives me a curt nod, refusing to give anything away. He simply escorts me down the hallway and into a room where someone is looking over some papers.

Sejin, manager of BTS.

Maybe he’ll pass me along to TXT if he thinks I’d vibe better with them? No, I think to myself. There’s no way I’m about to undermine myself.

“Choi Haneul?” Sejin asks me, a light smile on his face as he looks up at me. I nod, unsure of whether or not I should even say anything. “Please, take a seat.”

The instructor closes the door behind him as he leaves, and suddenly I’m alone with someone I never realized could be perceived as intimidating.

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Sejin.”

I nod, fighting a sarcastic chuckle. Does he actually think I don’t know who he is, or is he just being polite? “I’m Haneul, thank you for having me.”

Sejin smiles again, looking back down at his papers. “Of course. Now, this probably won’t be a very long interview. Your stats speak for themselves.” He waves the paper in the air, and I see my application form as well as my transcripts from college. “I do just have a few questions for you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.” I put pressure on my legs, reminding myself to keep still.

“Wonderful. First off, how comfortable are you with constantly being in new environments and having to adapt to an idol’s schedule? It’s a rigorous one.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek I process the question. “I wouldn’t say that I’m very comfortable at all.”

Sejin’s eyes grow wide, but he proceeds. “And why is that?”

“I wouldn’t want to grow comfortable with it. That would draw away my attention from my job, and my job pretty much depends upon me remaining alert at all times. Now, could I adapt to the schedule? Without a doubt.”

Sejin gives a small chuckle, leaning back against his seat. “Huh. Interesting.”

☆

“C’mon, we have to celebrate!” Yuri bounces up and down, practically glowing. “I can’t believe we both got interviewed!”

I smile along with her, still a little giddy. “Yeah, but don’t you think that’s a little premature? It was just an interview, after all. The really important part is if they call you after.”

“Whatever, don’t you want to celebrate with me? I never thought I’d make it past the first week.”

That I can definitely agree with. It’s a competitive field for sure, and the agency does its best to weed out the weak. For good reason, obviously. Nearly half of the applicants the first week in were fangirls hoping they would match up with one of the idols they might work with. And the other half? Those were the ones who quickly realized that they weren’t crazy enough to want a job that required excessive time and effort.

“Alright, where do you want to go?”

Yuri jumps in place making me laugh. Dragging me along behind her, we take the first taxi we can find. The streets of Seoul are filling up now that the evening is coming along. It’s a Friday night; everybody is going to be out and about, celebrating the end of another week.

When we make it to the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that the two of us have frequented a little too much over the past few months, there’s a fairly large crowd mulling about. We squeeze into a booth after paying for our food, finally able to eat without feeling like I’m going to throw up from the stress.

“Wow, is it just me or does this taste even better now?” Yuri looks up at me with wide eyes and full mouth.

“Is it just me or do you look like a gopher right now?”

If it wasn’t for the piles of food between us I’m sure she would have smacked me. She settles for a quick kick to the shin instead. Hissing at her, she offers me a sweet smile.

“So what’s Sejin like? He’s always seemed like a sweet little teddy bear to me.” Yuri asks before shoving more food into her mouth.

I shrug, thinking back over my interview. The entire thing probably only lasted about 20 minutes, but I think it went well. “He’s nice. Professional, but he honestly wasn’t that grueling. He just said my stats pretty much did all the talking. I think he was just trying to see if I was crazy or not.”

Yuri snorts, nodding along. “Same. Do you think you passed the crazy test?”

“Too soon to tell.”

We delve back into our food, talking more about our interviews. Despite the huge unanswered question hanging between us, did we make it?, the stress from earlier has dissipated. There’s nothing left to do except wait. I feel satisfied with all the work I’ve put in; there’s not a lot more I could’ve done.

It’s the sound of someone’s phone ringing that has us pausing. We look at each other with wide eyes, but there’s no way they’ve already made their decision-

“It’s just my mom,” Yuri sighs out as she brings the phone to her ear. She chats with her mother for a few minutes, reassuring her that everything went well today. I mindlessly push my food around, the sound of Yuri’s ringtone put me on edge for a moment. They definitely won’t call tonight. We just finished!

“What did your mom say?” I ask once she hangs up. Yuri shrugs.

“Just wanted to know if I was interviewed. She said she’s rooting for the both of us, she seemed pretty relieved that we’re not going for the same position.”

That’s right. While I was pulled in for an interview with Sejin, Yuri was pulled in for an interview with TXT’s managers. As far as we’re concerned, we’re now contending for our spots as soulmate assistants to two different groups. And considering that each group is only looking for 1 assistant, it’s pretty competitive. The instructor did say there was a small chance of hiring two per group, just depending on their needs. One of those would only be a part-time assistant though. Definitely not the ideal position.

“Yeah, same here-”

Yuri’s phone lights up again, and this time there is no sigh of relief as she sees who’s calling.

Looking up at me with wide eyes, she looks like she might throw up all the food we just ate. “It’s the agency.”

Gasping aloud, I drop my chopsticks and wave at her to hurry. “Answer it! Quick!” Yuri gives me a terrified look before slowly bringing the phone up to her ear. I chew on my lip as I watch her expression change from terrified to startled.

“R-really? That’s great news!” Yuri bounces up and down in her seat, and I mirror her movement. “Of course! 9am? Sounds perfect...I’ll be there! Thank you so much!”

She drops her phone on the table as she pants. “...so?” I ask her, and she grins up at me.

“I got the job!”

We both scream a little louder than necessary, the people sitting in the both across from us glaring in our direction. “No way! That was so fast!”

She nods, running her hands through her hair. “I know! They just said the decision was easier to make than they expected, seeing as I have the most experience out of the people they interviewed. I’m supposed to head in tomorrow to go over the contract and get to work.”

There’s a little twist of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach as I realize that Yuri was hired within a matter of hours. What does that mean for me?

“That’s amazing, Yuri. I’m so proud of you.”

She shakes her head, unable to stop smiling. “I’ve got to call my mom, should we head out?” I nod, following her out of the restaurant. She’s practically skipping to a taxi, waving it over. I laugh at her behavior.

“I can’t believe it though. Make sure you tell Yeonjun that we’re meant to be best friends.”

Yuri slides into the taxi, and I follow after her. She fixes me with a dazed smile as she gives directions to her apartment. We live in the same complex, so it’s easy to go anywhere with her.

“I’ll be sure to tell him. Who knows, maybe the two of you are soulmates!” Yuri winks at me even as I cringe.

“No way, he’s way too young for me.”

Rolling her eyes, Yuri manages to get one more comment out before her mother answers the phone. “Whatever, you’re only like what? Three years older? Mom! Guess what!”

By the time we make it to our apartments Yuri is still gushing to her mom on the phone. My own parents texted me, I just responded and told them I was interviewed. Their obvious excitement over making the interview fails to buoy me up, though. Not when I’m becoming more and more convinced that I’m not going to be receiving a call tonight.

Perhaps I’ll wake up to a consolation email in the morning, thanking me for my time and sending me on my way.

Yuri invites me over to her apartment to continue in the celebrations, but I opt out of it. She frowns, about to apologize or something but I speak up before she can. I don’t want any apologies; not yet. That makes it seem like it’s really over.

“My parents are begging me to call them and you know how long they can talk for,” I say, backing away. “I’d better go call them now so I can still get to sleep at a decent time. Congrats again, Yuri. You deserve it. Let me know how everything goes tomorrow, ok?”

Yuri nods, still frowning. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“Nope! I’m all good. Good night!”

I wave before turning and heading up the stairs. Yuri lives on the ground floor whereas I live on the third. It’s a small apartment complex, and it’s pretty quiet most of the time. Tonight though, people are celebrating the weekend, and the sounds delve into my ears until I have to screw my eyes shut and press my hands up to my ears.

Leaning against my door the second I close it behind me, I sigh. The thoughts are too loud in my head right now.

What started off as a hopeful day has effectively crashed and burned right before my eyes.

Peaking one eye open I glare at the big world map I have hanging up in my living room. To anyone else it’s just another lovely piece of artwork. Painted on a thin canvas with vibrant greens, blues and purples it draws the eye and fills people with wanderlust.  

For me it represents a dream that is becoming more and more unobtainable.

My best friend from my childhood found her soulmate five years ago. We were freshly graduated from high school, it was perfect. I thought that it was perfect, at least. They were able to finish growing up together, figuring out college and taking time to really fall in love before life became too crazy to hardly eat.

They got married two years ago. It was beautiful and they made it look so easy. They finished up college together and moved to Gwacheon. I haven’t seen her for a year now, we’ve just been naturally growing apart.

She’s always been supportive of me trying to find my soulmate. It’s odd, seeing that I’ve always been the one obsessed with learning about them and preparing for that moment and she’s the one that just happened to stumble upon her soulmate right after she turned 18. But she never made me feel like I was falling behind or at a loss.

Our last phone call reminds me of the entire reason why I bought that gigantic world map in the first place, hanging it where I would see it every time I walked in the door at the end of the day.

“You know Haneul, he’s out there. There’s no question about that.”

“I know...just, where? I’m starting to think that he doesn’t want to be found.”

“That’s not true. And if it is, I’ll personally slug him for you.”

“Thanks, I think?”

“You know what you need to do, Han?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Of course I am. You just have to go out there! Get out in the world, get out of Seoul, and go live your life! The second you get out and start living your life will be when everything falls into place for you. I’m certain of it.”

“I’d love to do that, really. But how on earth do I manage that? I need a stable job, I have an apartment to pay for. I can’t just leave everything to go in search of someone I’ve never met and who maybe isn’t ready to be found.”

“It’s up to you. But I know you, and you’re not happy. I can’t imagine it, I’m not going to pretend to understand. We both know I got lucky...but really Haneul. I know it’s scary and there’s a lot that you don’t know the first thing about, but I just think that if you want to move on from this you have to leave the apartment and get out there. And you think he isn’t ready to be found? Nobody ever is. But I can guarantee that the two of you are both ready to be loved.”

It’s been nearly ten months since that phone call, and it’s been nearly ten months since I became friends with Yuri and found out about the agencies beginning their hiring process. It seemed too good to be true, especially once I found out about the heavy schedule filled with nearly nonstop travelling and meeting people.

I always knew there was a reason I went into the soulmates studies. Finally it seemed like the opportunities were appearing that I so desperately needed.

Ten months. Rigorous training and exhausting schedules that sometimes had me wondering if this really was the right path for me.

But every night, sometimes late enough to see the black sky begin to turn to a hazy gray with the promise of dawn approaching before I even had a chance to sleep, I stumbled home and saw that map.

Somewhere. Every night, I’d see it and chant the word to myself. Somewhere. You’re somewhere out there.

It’s worth it, isn’t it?

Slowly standing up from my position against the door, I glare at my phone as I take it from my pocket. No phone call.

Another glance at the map, the beautiful colors and lines mocking me as it tells me that while he may be somewhere, I am still here. And as long as I remain here, where my soulmate is will be a big question mark.

No phone call. No job. No soulmate.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I make my way to my bedroom. Now would probably be a great time to shower, but I’d much rather just lay here on my bed and stare up at the ceiling as I wallow in self-pity.

“Happy Friday night to me.”

☆

I think it’s on the third ring that I wake up from my slumber, still in my clothes from the day before. Groaning out a few incoherent words, I search my blanket for where my phone is ringing incessantly.

“Who…?”

Finally grasping my phone, I hold it up to my squinting eyes. My mouth drops open of its own accord, my heart rate spiking. Clearing my throat, I attempt to sound like I didn’t just wake up as I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m calling for Choi Haneul?”

My voice gets caught in my throat. “S-speaking.”

“Wonderful. My apologies for calling you so early, I’m manager Sejin, I interviewed you yesterday?”

Straightening out my clothes even though he can’t see them, I nearly scoff at the idea of him having to introduce himself. Like I’d forget.

“Right, no worries. How may I help you?” Slipping into the role of gracious host, I chew on my lip.

Sejin wastes no time getting to the point. “We certainly didn’t expect to come to a decision so quickly, but after reviewing the interviews and applicants, you were a standout Miss Choi. As a representative of Bighit entertainment and manager of BTS, I would like to offer you the position of central soulmate assistant. That is, if you’re still interested.”

I’m practically floating above the floor by the time Sejin finishes speaking. “I- yes! Yes, I would be honored.”

Sejin chuckles lowly. “That’s perfect. Let’s see it’s...6:30 am now? Would you be alright to head in to the company by 9 to go over your contract and meet with the senior soulmate assistant?”

He could have asked me to show up wearing nothing but a garbage bag at 3 in the morning, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.

“Of course, I’ll be there!”

“I’ll send you an email with where to go and further instructions.”

“Thank you!”

Laughing again, Sejin allows me this bit of joy. “Thank you, Miss Choi. I’ll see you shortly.”

I’m nearly panting as I end the call, falling back against my bed and staring up at the ceiling with a mad grin. Then, body bursting with excitement I leap up from the bed and hurdle into the front room.

Hurtling to a stop before my map still hanging on the wall, I call my parents.

☆

“I wonder what it’s liiiiike,” I sing at the top of my lungs as I rummage through my closet for something to wear. Double checking the email from manager Sejin, I decide that it might be best to bring in some backup.

Bringing my phone up to my ear, I wait for Yuri to answer the phone. It’s barely seven in the morning, chances are she’s just getting ready as well.

“Haneul?”

The grin that’s been a permanent resident on my face for the past thirty minutes grows wider. “Yuri! I was wondering, could I carpool with you to the agency?”

It’s silent on the other side while Yuri connects the dots. “What do you mean...wait, shut up! You got it?! You got the job?!”

Yuri screams louder than I did while I was on the phone with my parents, but now I can’t help but scream right back. “YES! I got it! They just called me this morning!”

We’re both a happy mess as Yuri decides to bring her things upstairs to get ready with me. “I already picked out my outfit last night, I’ll just bring it up. Be right there!!” She really doesn’t waste any time, because less than two minutes later I open the door to find a panting Yuri nearly buried beneath her pile of clothes and makeup bags.

“Here, let me take that,” I mutter, laughing as she lets me ease some items of clothing off of her pile. “That was fast.”

“Han!!! I’m so happy for you!” As soon as we dump her stuff on my bed, Yuri pounces on me and begins trying to strangle me like a boa constrictor. “I was so nervous for you, and I didn’t want this to drive us apart. I knew for a fact that you were by far the most qualified, they would’ve been complete idiots to let you go!”

Laughing, I drag the both of us over to the closet. “What are you wearing to this, then? What does ‘casual-nice’ even look like?”

Yuri takes the opportunity to show me her outfit, my jaw dropping as she puts it on and shows it off.

“I was thinking something like this,” Yuri says as she straightens out the sleeves of the sweater she wears beneath the checkered brown dress.

My mouth drops open of its own accord. “Wow.”

Yuri frowns as she goes to look at herself in the mirror. “Is it too much?”

“No,” I shake my head as I delve into my thoughts. “I’m just thinking that you’re going to make everyone in there wish you were their soulmate.”

Cheeks turning a furious red color, Yuri waves off my comment. “Whatever. Let’s find you something to wear.”

In the end I try on four different outfits before settling on one that I think will do the job. It’s certainly more simple than Yuri’s but I find that it’s more functional.

“So pretty,” Yuri coos as she gets ready beside me, the vanity proving to have just enough space for the two of us.

“Me or you?” I question, smirking at her. Yuri grins.

“Both.”

☆

Yuri ends up driving us to the agency, much to my eternal gratitude. Once the time came closer, I began to become more and more nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve started a new job; I’ve been working at the university for the past four years and only quit about a month ago in order to make room for the rigorous training that was a result of making it to the final round of applicants.

I’m grateful for Yuri’s company as she chatters about how excited she is, it’s keeping my mind off of the nerves that are currently tying themselves into a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“I just really think that the boys seem really genuine, you know?” She says, tapping out the beat to the song playing on the radio on the steering wheel. “From everything that I’ve seen and heard about them, they seem really cool. I’m excited to meet them.”

Shaking my head numbly as we slow to a stop before a red light, I try to remember just how badly I wanted this job. “Yeah, they do. I’m jealous, I wanted TXT!”

Yuri cackles as she glances over at me. “You can’t even complain, you’re probably going to be paid way more than me!”

That much is true. While Yuri will still be traveling a lot and certainly have her hands full with the five members, I’m going to be paid more. With the constant traveling, meetings, and seven total members, my job will be nonstop.

Either way, the moral of the story is this: we’re about to make some major money. But there won’t really ever be enough time to spend it.

That’s not why people become soulmate assistants. Those that go after it for the money are quickly weeded out. A job that requires all of your time and then some is exhausting, and the uncertain element of every situation is enough to drive some people crazy. I’ve heard about how concerts can be nightmares sometimes, especially when the crowd is huge.

Just imagine it: one of the group members makes eye contact with someone for less than a second, and suddenly they’ve got tunnel vision and are trying to jump off the stage into the sea of adoring fans that are all too happy to receive them. Then, somewhere in the crowd of thousands of fans, there’s a poor person who’s freaking out and feeling the symptoms of tachycardia, but guess what? So is everyone in the crowd. Adrenaline is pumping through them all since they’re at their favorite band’s concert.

Long story short, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The biggest thing is for one of the soulmate assistants to grab the idol before they can abandon all reason and their heart gives out, and the other assistant has to find the fan who’s wildest dream just came true.

It doesn’t happen that often, but it has been known to happen on occasion. The most recent was at a TWICE concert, where Sana happened upon her soulmate in the middle of a set. The video of the soulmate assistant acting in record time to contain the situation went viral and it’s one that I had to watch several times throughout my training.

“You guys have a senior assistant, don’t you?” I ask, wondering at my title as central soulmate assistant.

“Yep,” Yuri starts back up again as the light turns green, checking the clock. We’ve still got plenty of time. “From the email they sent me it sounds like I’ll be a junior assistant for about six months before moving up to senior.”

“So fast?”

Yuri shrugs. “Sounds like the senior assistant is about ready to retire. What’s your title?”

“Central.”

“Oh, so fancy.”

There are typically two different forms of soulmate assistant hierarchy; the junior/senior pattern and then the central system.

Junior/senior system is pretty self-explanatory: the senior assistant has typically worked with the group for a while already, and the junior assistant acts as an apprentice of sorts. Learning the trade and preparing to someday take over the responsibilities of the senior assistant. They work as a team to ensure the safety of the group.

A central assistant is a more in-depth and new system. Essentially, I’ll have eyes and ears everywhere from various staff members, who are constantly updating me on potential soulmates. All of the staff have been educated in the basics of soulmate studies, so they know what to do to subdue the situation if need be.

According to Sejin’s email, I will most likely be the only licensed soulmate assistant on the team. My job is to remain close to the members so I can hopefully be the first on the scene to help and get everything under way.

It’s exciting, but also a lot of pressure. My only hope is that the boys don’t run into their soulmates for a while; I would like to at least get to know everyone before having to get all up in their personal space.

The agency looms before us in the morning sun, looking somehow inviting and dreadful at the same time. Yuri follows what the security tells her at the front, parking in the parking garage before turning the car off.

8:42.

“We’re a bit early, but at least now we’ll be able to find where we’re supposed to go.”

I nod numbly at her words, trying to fight the pounding in my heart. 

Side Effect #1: Rapid Pulse Rate

“I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Me too. I’m glad you’re here, though.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too.” I grin at Yuri.

It’s quiet in the car before we build up the courage to get out. Our shoes tap against the ground, filling the silent garage with noise. Once inside, we’re directed by a receptionist toward the offices of Sejin and TXT’s management. They’re on the same floor, so we take the elevator together.

As soon as the doors close, Yuri lets out a squeal. “I’m going to dieeee!”

Laughing giddily at her reaction, I lean up against the wall of the elevator and try my best to control my breathing. “Same. Same. Whoo, I need to breathe.”

Side Effect #2: Shortness of breath

The elevator ride is entirely too short, because before I know it Yuri is dragging me out into the hallway and searching for the office #12. I’m supposed to be looking for #17.

Of course Yuri finds hers first, my friend coming to a stop just before the door, turning to grab my hand with surprising strength.

“Quick, tell me that I’ll be fine,” she hisses.

Gently removing her hand from mine, I give her an encouraging smile. “You’ll do great, and everything will work out just fine, Yuri.”

Rolling her shoulders, she gives me a mock salute before stepping up to the door. “See you later?”

“Good luck.”

I scamper past as she knocks on the door, looking back as she’s ushered in by a middle-aged man who must be the senior soulmate assistant. He wears the tell-tale yellow circle on his shirt, his eyes wide and alert as though always on the lookout.

He must have left an apprentice with TXT; there are always a few mulling about the agency to step in for the main assistants when they need to attend to other things.

#17 is just a few doors down, the door already wide open as I walk up to it. I don’t allow myself to pause and freak out again, because I’m scared that they’ll hear me start screaming out here or something.

Shoving down the nervousness to the corners of my mind, I take a deep breath and tap the open door lightly.

Sejin sits at his desk, talking quietly to someone sitting in the chair before his desk. He looks up at me, smiling politely. The person in the chair before him turns around at the sound of my knock, and I find myself face to face with none other than the leader of BTS.

“Miss Choi, great to see you,” Sejin stands, Namjoon as well as he waves.

I bow, hoping that my face isn’t too red as I look into the office. It looks like it’s just Namjoon. What a relief.

“Thank you for calling me back,” I say, nodding to Namjoon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Namjoon smiles at me, gesturing for me to take the seat beside him. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Sejin spoke highly of you.”

Shuffling into the office, I give Sejin a surprised look. “That was kind of you.”

“I was only telling the truth. Namjoon helped me make the decision in regards to the position, so don’t just thank me.”

Namjoon gives me a sheepish smile before settling back down in the chair. I follow suit, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’.

Once we’re all settled, Sejin produces a packet and slides it across the table to me, another one to Namjoon, and keeps one for himself.

“Ok, shall we get started?”

Sejin begins explaining the contract, Namjoon listening intently beside me. The fact that Namjoon helped with all of this makes me feel a little better somehow. It makes me feel like I won’t be quite so out of place with BTS.

We’re stuck in his office for nearly an hour just going over the finer details of the job, and by that time I’ve finally come out of my shell enough to form a few intelligent questions.

“How many staff members do you have that went through soulmate training within the past three months?” I ask, leaning back in my chair as I examine the Staff Preparedness section in the contract.

Sejin looks over something on his computer. “Within the past three months? Only two; the rest are within the year. We have them renew the course once a year. Why three months?”

“There was a technique that was completely discredited by Léo Dupont and they just began applying it in soulmate training within the past three months. While it may not seem that important, it can sometimes make a big difference in timing.”

Namjoon looks at me with wide eyes, a hint of respect blooming there. “What was the technique he discredited?”

“The glass door technique. It was believed that if the soulmates could still see each other but refrain from actual physical contact, this would assist in the ‘come down’ from the surge in heart rate.”

“It doesn’t?” Sejin asks.

I shake my head. “No, in fact, recent studies show that it nearly doubled the ‘come down’ time. It also served as a spike in the heart rate, long after it should have returned to a normal range. It nearly killed Jennifer Aniston before someone moved her to a more secure location. Best case scenario is a complete cut-off from view, and engaging in verbal contact rather than physical.”

“That’s good to know,” Sejin mumbles, typing something out on his laptop. “I’ll send out a memo with that information as well as advise staff to renew their training as soon as possible.”

We go over a few more details before Namjoon sits up in his seat. “We’re about done, right? I just got a text from Soobin saying they’re all gathered up and ready to go.”

My heart rate spikes again as I realize that we must be meeting together after this. And from the sounds of it, it’s practically the entire agency.

“Yeah, just about. Do you want to sign, Namjoon, and you can head out?”

Namjoon signs Sejin’s copy of the contract before getting up and heading toward the door. “We’re excited to have you join the team, Miss Choi.”

“Thank you! And you can just call me Haneul, don’t worry about it.”

Namjoon’s dimples make an appearance as he smiles back at me. “Then I’m just Namjoon to you. See you guys in a bit.”

Sejin covers the last few points in the span of ten or so minutes, clearly ready to get going like I am. We finish up going over vacation days when he leans back with a sigh.

“And yeah, I think that’s about it. Any questions? Today you’ll be getting a feel for the schedule and meet the boys and staff you’ll be working closely with, so don’t hesitate to ask them any more questions as they come.”

Palms starting to sweat with the idea of meeting the rest of Bighit shortly, I give a curt shake of the head. “I think I’m good for now.” Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I reach out for the contract.

Side Effect #3: Chest pain

“Wonderful. Just sign here, and I’ll send you a copy of this.”

☆

Sejin and I walk down the hall after being dropped off at the fifth floor. The second the elevator doors opened I could hear the ruckus of two kpop groups in one room.

To my shock Yuri’s voice rings out, followed by a bout of laughter. It would appear that she’s already found her place.

Sejin gives me an encouraging smile as we inch closer to the room at the end of the hall. “You ready? It’s been a pretty big couple of days for you.”

I can’t help but find comfort in Sejin’s attitude. I’m glad he understands the deer in the headlights look I’m probably sporting right now.

I hope my soulmate is like him.

The thought passes through my mind suddenly, making me go blank for a moment. While it’s a true sentiment, I have to focus on making a good impression today so I can find my soulmate another day.

One day at a time, Hanuel.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond, offering him a shaky smile in return. Sejin chuckles, and I wonder if he felt the same way early on in his manager days. I wonder if he still occasionally feels that way, now that BTS has grown more than anyone ever expected.

He goes before me, entering the room and already falling into a conversation with someone. I hesitate for a second, my heart pounding so hard that it’s hard to focus. Rolling my neck, I take a step into the room.

“Ah, there she is!” Yuri chirps out, leaving from where she was beside Beomgyu, who was showing her a video on his phone. “You guys took a long time.”

If my heart wasn’t currently trying to leap out of my ribcage, I would come up with something funny to say.

“Haneul is very thorough,” Sejin comments from where he stands beside one of the TXT managers. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Quick,” I hear someone speak up, “Everyone pretend like Sejin didn’t just say her name!”

It was Hueningkai that made the comment. I can tell who it was because the boy in question is currently dodging an elbow to the ribs from Taehyun. Yuri laughs at their behavior before looking back to me expectantly.

“Oh,” my voice sounds a bit croaky. After clearing my throat, I try again. “Hello everyone. I’m Choi Haneul, it’s nice to meet you all.”

The seven members of BTS come up to the front, gathering in a line like it’s second nature. Namjoon gives me a small smile, which I take comfort in.

“Well, you’ve met me already...this is everyone else.”

Taehyung steps forward, giving me a small wave and grinning wide. “Just call me Tae.”

Jimin gives his friend a wide-eyed look. “Isn’t that a bit informal for just meeting?” Tae’s cheeks go a little red.

“Is it?” He asks, and I nearly pass out from the amount of sweetness in the room. “I think we’ll be good friends, so why not just skip the formalities?”

The boys reflect various levels of long-suffering as Jungkook shakes his head while the rest of the room laughs at Tae’s odd manner. “We both know it doesn’t work like that.”

Sejin answers the question I didn’t even know I was thinking. “In case you’re wondering, they’re always like this. Might as well get used to it.”

Yuri giggles at my reddened cheeks, but I brush off the embarrassment enough to look back at the boys. “That’s good to know.” The boys break from their line in order to return to wherever they were lounging about earlier. Once they turn to leave I feel a bit better; my heart calming down. Hopefully, with time, I’ll be able to breathe properly around them.

I remain near the door, unsure as to what to do next. It looks like Sejin and the other managers are preparing to give a debriefing of sorts and everyone is just waiting around for it. Thankfully, Yuri remains beside me.

“How are you holding up?” She asks me quietly. I give her a long look, conveying the depth of my feelings perfectly.

“I can’t calm down. I feel like I’m either going to pass out or going to run the length of Seoul in five minutes flat.”

Side Effect #4: Lightheadedness and/or fainting (syncope) 

Yuri snorts. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Taehyung calls out to me, pulling me from my conversation. “You’re from Seoul, Miss Choi?”

I smile warmly at him, already taking a liking to him. He’s one big contradiction: his looks make him appear intimidating, but he has the warmest personality.

“I’m originally from Anyang, actually. But I’ve been in Seoul for the past five years.”

“Oh, we’re neighbors!”

Jin is the one who spoke, and I look to where he stands behind the couch, leaning down to watch something on Jungkook’s phone. His eyes are turned up to me, a hint of excitement at being from neighboring cities evident in his expression.

Less than a second is all it takes.

In the second grade, I learned that within the span of a single second, a bumblebee can beat its wings 200 times.

That fact fascinated my young brain; 200 times in a single second?! Of all the wonders in the world I had discovered and had yet to discover in my life, this was the fact that stayed with me. How could such a small creature accomplish such an improbable feat, all within the confines of the time it takes to blink?

My junior year of high school I learned that the average pair of soulmates begin to experience the initial spike in heart rate that leads to tachycardia within the first 0.002 seconds of eye contact. That means, even if it’s a passing glance, the moment those two sets of eyes make contact, everything is about to change.

As I hold eye contact with Jin across the room, I believe that there is a small part of me that knows I should be thinking about everything I’ve learned about soulmates over the past few years. Where are the steps I used to recite day and night in order to keep them memorized?

Yet, that little 8 year old girl with wonder-filled eyes as she learns about bumblebee’s amazing abilities is the only thing I can come up with. Almost as if she’s in the room with me, looking back and forth between Jin and I with that same expression.

Something clicks for me in that single moment as my heart rate continues to jolt and jump. Something seems to connect between bumblebees and soulmates.

Like a bumblebee’s wings frantically beating to keep itself aloft, my own heart begins to do its best to meet the same pace.

Side Effect #5: Heart palpitations (a racing, uncomfortable or irregular heartbeat or a sensation of "flopping" in the chest)

I’m barely aware of distant voices all around me, a few growing in volume as the truth sinks in. I feel arms trapping my own against my torso, and I gasp for air as breathing becomes more difficult. Frowning, I realize that someone is trying to move me away.

Away?

Jin seems to notice I’m being moved away at the same time I do, because the frozen posture he had is broken as he straightens and lurches forward.

He’s all I can see. It strikes me in that moment that he looks a bit different in real life. Sharper, yet somehow more welcoming. Those eyes, although frantic, have kindness imbued in them. The fingers that are outstretched toward me are a bit crooked, and I can’t help but wonder for a moment if our hands will fit together like everyone always says soulmates do.

Wait, soulmates?

Amidst the pounding in my chest and burning lungs, I suddenly have a moment of clarity. The wiry arms wrapped around my torso must belong to Yuri, and she’s speaking calmly into my ear.

“Count with me, Haneul. 1, 2, 3…”

Opening my mouth and marveling at how dry and scratchy my throat feels, I croak out, “...4…5…”

“What comes next, Han?”

“...6.”

Yuri hums, gently trying to ease me backward. When my body locks up, she tries a new method. Coming around to face me, she keeps a firm grip on my shoulders, and gets up on her tippy toes to look me in the eyes.

“We’ve got to move you to a separate room, Han. You remember, don’t you?”

There’s a small voice in my head that wants to tell her that yes, I do remember. However it’s drowned out by the sound of my heart beating in my ears as it continues to pick up speed. Yuri is instructing the boys to grab Jin as he continues marching toward me on shaky legs. He’s only about three feet away, arms extending toward me while Yuri pins my arms down and shoves.

“Grab him!” Yuri shouts even as I cry out from being shoved away. In a flash I see a couple of different pairs of arms reaching out to Jin, effectively stopping him in his tracks as he struggles against them.

“Please,” Jin says in a surprisingly calm voice even as he pushes against Jungkook and Sejin. “Please, just let me-”

“Han, I know your mind is a jumbled mess right now, but please. Remember that this is a matter of life or death. You want to see him?” Yuri doesn’t wait for my response, which makes sense as I haven’t once looked away from Jin. “Then get out of here. Now.”

Like an electric shock to my senses, I breathe in deep. Still unable to look anywhere other than Jin - his sweater has a loose thread on the collar, I should fix that for him - I do the only thing I can.

Closing my eyes is like swimming through concrete, but gritting my teeth I just manage to do it. The second I break contact with Jin, my body relaxes just enough for Yuri to push against me and shove my unwilling feet out the door.

She has a firm grip on the back of my shoulders still as she shouts out to nobody in particular, “I need a room!”

Someone must answer her, because we abruptly change directions before coming to a stop. I refuse to open my eyes for fear of falling back into the imobile state I was in before, and Yuri still hasn’t given me the clear.

“Yeonjun, grab my bag! Bring it to me.”

The sounds of everyone scampering around are drowned out as I hear Jin’s broken voice calling out once more.

“No, don’t take her. Please don’t take her from me.”

Like a dam of freezing water breaking over my head, my eyes open and I spin around, seeing Jin breaking free of Sejin’s grasp and dragging Jungkook along with him.

Just as my eyes find his once more, the door slams shut.

Part 2

masterlist

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @thecaffeinatedscribbles​ @marianeamine 

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 8: Rules of Engagement

AO3 Link

Words: 8988

-----

Julie POV

…

Julie remembered the day they’d first announced the marriage. She, Ray, Carlos, and Reggie were visiting Tambor, before Queen Claire and King Xavier had sprung the question on them. Ray had vehemently disagreed, but they’d insisted that he raise it to the council. And when it passed, Julie remembered the exact green glow of the screens reflecting on her dad’s face, and she’d shaken her head, stormed out of the Tamborian royal office with Alex right behind her, angry tears streaming down her face as she’d ran back to her room.

She and Alex were pissed. They were angry, scared, sad, horrified, and betrayed. Alex especially. He’d never come out to his parents, but he’d still explained how horrible he felt, as if his parents were doing it to spite him.

There had been lots of not-so-royal language used that day, and today was no different.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Julie shouted, not caring if her walls weren’t soundproof. She’d stayed silent the whole walk back to her room with Alex and the brief passing of Reggie, who’d gotten the details from Alex. Now it was her time to freak out.

“I’m officially ready to fake my death, Lex,” she decided, fists by her sides. She hated this. Since when did they get to control her life? It was her life, for God’s sake! Princess or not, nobody should have to be in an arranged marriage.

Her voice choked.

“I’m not, really,” she admitted, “but I want to. If it means we get to run our own goddamn lives, I”ll do it.” She tore a hand through her hair and blinked back tears to no avail.

“I’m so sorry,” Julie finally said. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Neither do you.” Alex mussed his hair and sat on the end of her bed as she paced. “It’s majorly fucked up.”

“It really is! I didn’t choose to be Princess Julie Molina, Heiress to the throne of Dahlia.” She said her own long title in a faux posh voice, gagging at the sound and bile rising in her throat. She walked into her bathroom, fixing her hair to be natural and down, nothing braided or tied. Angrily scrubbing tears away, Julie stalked to her closet and changed into sweatpants and a big t-shirt, not bothering to pick up her suit off the floor.

“We have to raise major hell for the council members who voted for this,” Alex decided as she walked back out.

“As much as possible,” she agreed.

Worn out, she flopped next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and she squeezed him in a friendly hug, letting his head rest on her shoulder. She felt a tear soak through her shirt, but didn’t care. He needed this.

“Fucking hell,” he said.

“Amen to that.” That elicited a halfhearted laugh, and Julie smiled a bit.

“It’ll be okay,” she finally said.

“No, it won’t. But we’ll survive.”

“Yeah.”

…

“Ow, Mira!” Julie exclaimed, trying not to move as Mira quickly moved the pin by her side as she marked the fabric for the outline of her wedding dress. It was a very tedious process; Julie looked like she was wrapped in giant pieces of fabric and lace… because she pretty much was. Mira and two other tailors were taking exact measurements to make sure the dress fit perfectly, then they would sew it and make adjustments as needed.

Unfortunately, that meant Julie had to stand very, very still and hope she wouldn’t get stabbed by the needles.

She wasn’t having much luck.

If she’d counted correctly, Mira (and the other girls, Soleil and Jenna), had accidentally poked her twelve times, in varying places, but generally around the side, waist, and shoulders.

“Sorry!” Mira said through her teeth. “Just trying to get this fitted properly.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, doing her best not to slouch. MIra’s hands fell.

“If you want to talk about it…”

“Thanks.” In all honesty, she did not- especially since she didn’t know Soleil or Jenna very well, and didn’t want to spill her guts about hating the wedding when they were around. Plus… talking about it just made it more real.

“Your highness, this dress is going to be stunning on you,” noted Soleil excitedly, further proving her point.

“I bet,” she said with as much faux enthusiasm as she could muster. “You guys are incredible.”

“Aww, thanks!” replied Jenna. Julie gave a smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything else.

…

After the grueling process of getting legally stabbed by her best friend over and over with tiny blades for the purpose of creating a goddamn wedding dress, Julie changed into more comfortable clothes; a t- shirt and jeans.

There was going to be a storm blowing in tonight, so she figured she may as well go outside before she would end up soaked. But, who would she find sulking in the field but a certain snarky gay?

She stood for a moment, watching him pick at the grass, before finally sighing.

“Why don’t we go work on a song?” she suggested. “I can get Luke and Reggie, plus the rest of the group if you want, and we can work out some stress.” Alex shrugged. Julie waited for a few minutes, hating how depressed he was. She was too, of course, but what kind of friend would she be if she let one of her best friends sit alone and feel sorry for himself? Besides, she was aching to work on song.

“Alright,” he finally replied, and Julie smiled.

“Awesome.” She stuck her hands in her pockets

“Let’s go, drummer boy.”

…

Playing the piano had always been therapeutic for Julie, until her mom passed away. Then she’d hardly been able to listen to any music without being reminded of her. But she was back on her groove, and the keys were familiar in the way you could sink into your best friend’s arms and know you were home.

She played the opening chords and began to sing, closing her eyes and feeling like it was just her and the piano in a universe of music and colors.

When Luke, Reggie, and Alex jumped in at the chorus, she opened her eyes and jumped up with the mic, dancing around as she belted out each note with more conviction than before. She walked around the room as she sang, dancing with Reggie, Alex, and Luke. She wandered over to where the rest of the group was sitting and dancing along, and she gave Willie a high-five as she passed him.

Luke sang the second prechorus with her, and the smile on his face only grew. THey harmonized each note, voices melding together as the music rose and Alex jumped in with the drums as they went into the next chorus, singing an ode to hope and persistence.

During the bridge, Luke held her gaze the entire time, and her heart soared as she belted out the last bridge note, riffing as the others held the background vocals.

When the song ended, her hair was frizzy and heart pounding, but she felt alive and free. She fistbumped Reggie, grinning, and hugging Flynn, who told her over and over that they were incredible, and that she was assigning herself the role of band manager. Carrie had automatically volunteered to be the costume designer, and Mira had taken offense to that, because “I’m literally her lady-in-waiting, Wilson!”

Julie couldn’t help but laugh at her friends.

“Okay,” Flynn finally said, “girl time.” Julie laughed but agreed, waving to the guys as she wrapped her arms around Flynn’s and Mira’s shoulders, Carrie on Flynn’s other side.

They walked out of the studio and wandered all throughout the palace, chattering mindlessly about everything and nothing. Mira insisted that mint chocolate chip ice cream was the superior ice cream, to which Flynn retorted “totally! Like, are you ever eating chocolate and you think ‘hey, you know what would go great with this? Toothpaste!’” Carrie had promptly lost her shit, and Julie was the only one on team rocky road.

“Personally,” Carrie said, “I-”

“We know, you like neapolitan you fucking lesbian,” Flynn said with a grin. Carrie gasped in mock offense.

“Hypocrisy at its finest! You’re just as lesbian as they come.”

“I never claimed to not be a hypocrite,” Flynn defended. Carrie huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’m breaking up with you. We’re broken up now.”

“Fine, but I get custody of Julie!”

“Wait, since when am I your child?”

“Since we’re both older than you,” they told her in unison.

“Uh huh, yeah, by a couple weeks! I’m a legal adult, and neither of you get custody of me.”

“I’m disowning you,” Carrie declared.

“Me too,” agreed Flynn.

“Me three,” Mira chimed in.

“Oh for the love of-”

Their playful bickering continued for at least an hour, wandering the long halls of the palace, weaving in and out of corridors and dragging their hands along railings.

The wedding never crossed Julie’s mind once.

Despite the whole situation, they still managed to be lighthearted and have useless arguments, bicker and love each other all the same. Julie hugged them closer, relishing the warmth of having them close to her. Carrie’s strawberry shampoo was faintly there and she breathed it in, calming immediately. Flynn linked their pinkies together, and Mira kept her hand on Julie’s shoulder. Julie didn’t realize she was crying until Flynn asked if she was okay.

“Yeah,” she said, and it was strangely true. She wiped her eyes. “I’m not even upset right now, but I’m still crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do,” Carrie informed her.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Absolutely nothing.”

-----

Reggie POV

…

Reggie sat in the studio, suit vest draped over an empty guitar stand as he sat on the piano bench, sleeves rolled to his elbows and hands on the keys, silent but arranging themselves in chords. He hummed to himself quietly, sighing and closing his eyes.

As he played the first chord, soulful and melancholy, he started to sing.

“We’re no strangers to the dark

Every time we find the light

But no matter how much it hurts

Glowsticks have to break before they shine.”

He closed his eyes, letting the chords play only from muscle memory. Normally, he didn’t do much songwriting on his own, but this song, Glowsticks, was one that he’d written for Julie after Rose’s passing. He’d never gotten around to giving it to her, though, because of how much her love for music was affected. For a year, she hadn’t played or sang a note, and he knew that it would’ve been too painful.

Eventually, he’d forgotten about it.

But when he’d seen the heartbroken look on her face the hour before, coming back from the royal office with dry eyes but hollow and chipped, the memory of the page he’d torn out of his journal and stuffed in a drawer came flooding back.

And now here he was, like it was only yesterday he’d written the chords, shaky with tears but determined. This time, his eyes were dry and his hands steady, but his heart ached for Julie, for Alex, for Luke, for Willie.

His voice started out lighter and airy, with a slight rasp as he played the soft melody along with the base, but as he reached the second chorus, his voice sank to his chest, belting out the lyrics and playing the piano strongly, chords echoing in the soundproof room, the acoustics bending his voice to all angles until he was wrapped in a song of tragedy and pain and strength and hope, earthy and rich but airy and light.

“So breathe

Just breathe

You're already shining

You can break

You’ll be okay

I'll keep you safe until you rise.”

His breath shook as he flipped the last word from a powerful chest voice to a soft, airy falsetto, sighing as he played the last, low chord.

Reggie left his eyes closed, slowly taking his hands off the keys, resting his elbows on his knees and turning, finally letting the light pierce his eyes.

…

“Your highness,” called a palace staff member. “If I could steal you for a few minutes, could you give your opinions on possible place settings for the wedding?”

“Yeah sure,” Reggie replied, standing from the large leather couch in the palace living room, doing his best to smile at the young man. He was tall, and muscularly built, but his freckles, wide brown eyes, and messy red hair were proof that he was probably the human embodiment of sunshine.

“We were thinking white with gold accents,” he said, swiping through a few photos on his tablet. Reggie did his best to pay attention; they were, admittedly, beautiful. Soft white tablecloths and napkins lined with plates, each plate with gold paint on the rim, the wine glasses clear cut crystal, the same golden lining as the plates.

“That’s beautiful,” Reggie agreed. “Julie and Alex would love that.”

“I’m glad you think so! My advisor was skeptical, but I think it’s a nice scheme.”

“I do too.” He looked away, hating that he was giving suggestions for his sister’s unwanted wedding.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he assured him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Sure,” he said softly. “Did you have any thoughts for flowers?”

“Dahlias,” Reggie said after a moment. “They were our mom’s favorite, and they’re Julie’s favorite too. I think she’d like purple.”

“Purple dahlias,” the man repeated. He opened an interior design modeling app, dragging tables around the virtual room and adding glass vases with bouquets of dahlias, plus the occasional orchid scattered throughout. Reggie stared in awe; even though it was just a digital rendition of the ballroom, it was gorgeous. The crackled marble floors shone in the light of lanterns and string lights, adorned with pillars and tables arranged in neat rows. He felt like he was in the ballroom, getting a peek at the future.

And yet, his heart sank.

It seemed to do that a lot lately.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Reggie met the man’s eyes. “You seem pretty down.” He sighed.

“I am, but I’ll be okay.”

“Alright. I’m Elliot, by the way.”

“I’m Reggie! Nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

…

“Dad, are you sure there’s no way to stop the wedding?” Reggie had gone to see Ray in the royal office an hour ago, to discuss an assortment of things, but always returning to the wedding.

“I’m sure. I hate it as much as you do, believe me, but I’ve explored every option.” Reggie shook his head.

“There has to be something-”

“Mijo, you can look all you want, but there’s nothing we can safely do. Even though there are multiple ways to stop the wedding, it wouldn’t be safe. There would be tension between Dahlia and Tambor, maybe even Krypto. Best case scenario would be rumors and unrest in our own kingdom, but even with that, Julie and Alex would be the subject of a ton of scandal for the rest of their lives.”

“I just hate it.”

“Believe me, I do too. I’ve done everything in my power, but I can’t endanger millions of people.”

“I know. And Julie wouldn’t want you to, either.”

“Exactly.” Ray pulled him into a hug, and Reggie buried his head in his shoulder. “Mijo, I’m so sorry. You’re a good brother.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. Ray nodded.

Someone knocked on the door. Reggie pulled out of the hug and, when Ray nodded again, he opened the door to see a short woman with pale skin and straight, dark hair reaching her shoulders, and bangs brushing her eyebrows. Her wide eyes were behind round glasses, and she gave a bright smile.

“Ah, Prince Reginald, just who I wanted to see! I’m Esther Pearlridge of the Dahlian Times. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions regarding your sister’s upcoming wedding?” Reggie glanced at his dad, who didn’t object, but gave him a look that seemed to say, it’ll be okay.

“Sure.”

“Your majesty,” Esther said to Ray, “you’re welcome to come along.” He agreed, and Reggie was eternally grateful.

…

“Your highness-”

“Please, call me Reggie,” he told her. Esther smiled.

“Reggie, the news of the wedding’s date being moved up came as a pleasant surprise to everyone across Dahlia, and surely Tamborian citizens as well. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat. “It’s definitely a unique situation. And while it is exciting, what a lot of people don’t consider is how stressful it must be for Princess Julie and Prince Alex. I mean, Alex is my age, Julie about a year younger. Arranged marriages are already very fraught situations, but this one especially.”

Ray smiled from his position behind Esther, letting him know he’d played it well.

“Of course,” she replied sympathetically. “That is a perspective that not many people consider.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel about Prince Alexander?”

“Oh, Alex is great! He’s quickly become one of my closest friends. Although, his taste in Star Wars characters is questionable. Everyone knows Han Solo is the best, right Esther?”

“Obviously! Though, I was always partial to Leia, myself.”

“Valid,” Reggie agreed.

“Moving on to the next question, what do you think will come of Prince Alexander becoming the Dahlian Prince Consort as your sister, Princess Julie, ascends to the throne?”

“Well, Dahlia is currently doing amazing. Homelessness rates are at an all-time low and still dropping; at this rate, they’re projected to reach zero by next Summer. Wealth equality is stabilizing even more, and our education system is constantly being revised and reviewed by scientists and historians to make sure the content is correct and unbiased, as well as by child psychologists to make them good learning environments for students. And our environmental status is one of the best in the world, second to the Republic of Isala. Greenhouse gases in our region are extremely low, and the CO2 levels are dropping as our reforestation teams plant more and more trees along the grasslands.

“Knowing my sister, and Prince Alex, I have no doubt that they will lead our country further into the future. Especially Julie; she may be a princess, but take it from her brother: she’s stubborn as all hell, but always about the right things. She and Alex will face struggles, as all people do, but I’m positive they’ll do great things.”

“That’s so nice to hear. And from other people, we’ve heard that they expect Princess Julie to be the best, most connected ruler in Dahlian history. Do you think this is true?”

“I would expect it to be, yeah! Julie really tries to connect with people, and tries to see things through others’ points of view. She’s always done that. She doesn’t want to stay secluded in a palace; honestly, I doubt anyone could keep her here if they tried.”

Esther laughed. “If I may ask, how are preparations for the wedding going?” Reggie fought the rising sadness in his chest.

“They’re going great! Although I’m pretty sure Julie’s gotten stabbed a few hundred times by the needles her lady-in-waiting is using to fit her dress.” Esther laughed again.

“Well, that’s all the time we have. Thank you so much, your highness. Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, you too! Thanks.”

As Esther rushed away, laptop under her arm and a pencil over her ear, Ray gave Reggie a warm smile.

“You did perfect,” he told him. “Excellently played.”

“Thanks. I just wish I actually felt as optimistic as I sounded.”

“It’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

-----

Willie POV

…

Willie’s phone buzzed with a text from Julie, with a request for their group to meet in her room, and if her tone was any indication, it wasn’t good. He ran to his quarters, doing his best to brush the flour Lilian had thrown at him after a witty remark out of his hair. Changing into a sweater and jeans, he made his way up the curving staircase and down the long hallway before knocking gently at Julie’s door.

“Come in.”

He walked in, heart sinking when he saw the upset look on Alex’s face.

“What happened?” Carrie asked from behind him, walking in with Flynn by her side. They were soon followed by Luke, Reggie, Erik, and MIra.

“They moved up the wedding,” Julie finally said, her fists curled. Willie’s heart dropped all the way to the ground, leaving his veins pumping blood made by nothing more than an organ beating rhythmically, called the heart but only doing what was necessary for physical survival. His actual heart, his emotions and love and memories, all froze, and he shook his head vigorously, forcing it to settle back in the center of his chest, taking a deep breath.

“Why?” he had to ask. Alex snorted.

“My parents gave an ultimatum disguised as helpful advice.” Each word was dripping with venom, but there was sadness behind it. Willie took his hand, feeling him clutch back as if he were the only thing holding him together.

“And there’s nothing you can do to stop it?” Flynn asked. “I mean, you and Jules are the Prince of Tambor and Princess of Dahlia. There has to be something you can do… right?” Julie shook her head.

“Nope. There’s been so much buildup and excitement that there might be riots and tension between our countries if we called it off so abruptly. We can’t risk anyone getting hurt.”

“Okay, but-”

“Mira, treason would definitely get people hurt.”

“Jules,” Mira said, “you have a good heart. It’s super annoying.” Willie cracked a grin at that, as did Alex.

“Even then, though,” Alex cut in, “my parents clearly want this. And they’re super influential. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they threatened trade routes but made it seem like it was for the ‘greater good.’”

“I hate to admit it,” Reggie said, “but he’s right. Sweet words can be even more dangerous than declarations of war. Especially if they twist the blame.”

…

After another hour of scheming, ranting, and trying to lighten the mood, Alex fell asleep near the wall in Julie’s room, curled up against a pillow. Willie watched him softly breathe, looking so much more peaceful in rest.

“We should let him rest,” Julie said. “It’s not like our group hasn’t done slumber parties before.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed. “He needs sleep.”

“All of us do,” Erik pointed out. Willie nodded, sitting next to Alex and putting his hand on his shoulder. Everyone found a spot and drifted off, and Willie had a feeling he was the last one awake. But, soon, he was able to curl up against Alex and find himself in a deep, dreamless sleep.

…

Willie had never been so grateful that he hadn’t been asked to bake.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle baking wedding cake samples for this situation. Any other time, sure, but not when the guy he was in love with was being forced to marry their other friend, neither of whom were interested.

He stared at the mirror, eyes blank. He hated the numbness overtaking him. He’d done his best to stay positive, to remember all the tips he’d picked up for focusing and not getting dragged under, and while they’d worked to some extent, he couldn’t deny the fracture in his heart. They were powerless; ironic, considering they were all either royal or close acquaintances of royals.

But, even with all of that supposed power at their fingertips, they couldn’t do the one thing they wanted to.

He wasn’t sure just how long he stared blankly at his reflection, but when his phone buzzed with a text from Julie, telling their group that they were going to practice in the studio, he made himself plaster on a smile and go join them. He hadn’t seen Alex play a full song before; this should be fun.

When Julie started the song, her powerful piano playing moved the whole room, voice strong and bright as she sang the first verse. Then, in the prechorus, she led into the big, adrenaline-pumping beat with a riff and belt,before finally going into the chorus. But all Willie could see wasAlex, whose face was a bit red from playing the drums, hair falling in his eyes,his pink t-shirt rather tight against his biceps. Willie was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

As Alex held the beat, Willie tapped his foot and grinned, letting the upbeat song envelop him despite their melancholy circumstances. Julie and Luke belted out the lyrics, harmonizing with such grace that Willie wasn’t convinced that soulmates didn’t exist; if they did, Julie and Luke fit the model. And Alex and Reggie sang the background vocals flawlessly, adding depth to the song with their steady music.

When the song ended, Willie’s heart was pounding. He clapped with the rest of the group, standing up, but unable to speak. God, Alex had such an insane effect on him. Normally he was smooth, able to recover and flip around. He’d thought it impossible to fluster him; but, then again, Alex had a rather annoying habit of making the impossible seem like child’s play.

Then, Alex ran his hand through his hair in an unfairly hot way - the inconsiderate bastard. Willie did his best to settle his blush, but to no avail. He giggled as Alex tried to brush off a compliment but finally accepted it.

He stammered through a compliment, hating how flustered he was. And then, because the universe had it out for him, Alex pulled him in and kissed his temple. If Willie hadn’t already melted, that would’ve been the tipping point.

Somehow, though, he found the ability to breathe again.

…

“Dude, I can’t say this enough,” Willie stressed, “that was amazing! You guys seriously need to go on tour.” Alex’s musical laugh filled the air.

“Flynn has already assigned herself band manager. With her ‘in charge,’ we’ll probably be playing gig after gig- well, you know, when Julie isn’t busy running a country.” WIllie laughed.

“Yeah, fair point. But still! Your guys’s song is going to be stuck in my head forever.”

“Forever?”

“I have ADHD, ‘Lex. Don’t underestimate the song sticking.” It was true; ADHD had its pros and cons, but one aspect that seemed to be both was his brain’s innate ability to have twenty-nine songs stuck all at once, and the strange fact that the How to Train your Dragon main theme, Kahoot music, Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, Roses by The Band CAMINO, and Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) could all be combined to the same tempo- and the fact that it slapped.

As they walked through the long, windowed corridors, Willie got an idea. He grabbed Alex’s hand.

“Follow me!”

“What? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” They raced all the way to the west side of the palace, where Willie led him up a narrow flight of stairs, pushing open a door to reveal-

“Whoa,” Alex gasped in awe. “The roof?”

“The roof,” Willie agreed. “Cooler than you’d expect, huh?”

“Way.” Willie grinned; it was a beautiful view. The river curved and rushed around the bases of snow-capped mountains with forests decorating their slopes, and as he turned, the capital city of Dahlia was nestled between rolling hills, thousands of lights sparkling in houses, apartments, shops, restaurants, and offices. Headlights danced along the highways, and the striking comparison of the bright lights versus the dark, cloudy sky made for a dramatic view.

“Storm’s blowing in,” Willie observed as it began to pour, soaking his hair. Alex cracked up.

“You sure?” he asked. “This is the best weather this side of Constantinople.”

“Ah, but remember, now it’s Istanbul- not Constantinople.”

“Well, why did Constantinople get the works?” Willie giggled.

“That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.”

“You are such a dork,” Alex informed him, pulling him closer.

“I know!” He had to raise his voice over the rain, and Alex’s cheeks were flushed with the cold. Willie felt a calm rush of confidence wash over him with the falling rain, and he stood on his toes, reaching up to hold Alex’s jaw as he kissed him. Alex kissed back immediately, and sparks shot down Willie’s spine.

As he deepened the kiss, thunder rolled across the mountains. The clouds were practically black, but it gave a sort of calmness and confidence with it, like the soothing darkness of night cloaked with clouds of expectancy, waiting and hoping and understanding that love finds comfort in the dark, that there are risks in life, but that they had to be taken, because while the world might not have been made for them, they were made for the world. People, caught up in dreaming about what could be, lost sight of what is; so determined to be right and prove that someone else was wrong that they drive themselves mad.

“I’m gone on you,” Willie finally whispered, eyes closed and forehead against Alex’s. Alex didn’t respond, kissing him again. He sank into it, holding him close and letting the rain wash over them and combing his fingers through Alex’s hair.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he heard sizzling.

Without thinking, Willie jumped and tackled Alex, turning so he hit the ground and Alex landed safely on top of him. The rain blurred his eyes, but he heard crackling and felt the heat of the lightning striking the roof a hundred feet away from them.

“Son of a motherfuck what just happened?!” Alex asked. Willie could hear his heart pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips.

“I think you fell for me,” Willie joked. Alex rolled his eyes. He grinned; Alex was still laying on top of him, and Willie’s back was soaked by the puddle they’d landed in, but they’d avoided being struck by lightning, which was decidedly a good thing.

“That was too close,” Alex decided. “We should probably go inside before anything else happens.”

“Probably.” Neither of them moved for a moment, until Willie leaned up and pecked Alex on the nose, who immediately turned bright red, even visible in the darkness between the rising night and falling clouds.

-----

Alex POV

…

Alex had known his life was never his. If you’re born into royalty, unless you leave the royal family, you’re stuck there, and it influences your life forever.

He knew that.

And yet, until the wedding was moved up, it hadn’t really hit him.

His life wasn’t his, and it never would be.

He would be forced to be in the public eye, forced to marry a girl he wasn’t in love with, forced to live the rest of his life away from the person he was in love with, forced to watch the girl, one of his best friends, pretend to be okay as if she wasn’t also being separated from the person she loved. He would be forced to plaster on a smile, forced to live with this so that chaos wouldn’t erupt in Dahlia and Tambor.

So that he and the people he loved wouldn’t be exiled.

Alex was tired of being strong. He’d always been told by his friends that he was strong for dealing with this, strong for bearing the stresses of being put into politics so young, strong for hiding who he was from his parents because he knew it would only bring more pain, strong, strong strong. He wished he didn’t have to be.

“Hey, Alex?” Julie eventually asked, directing his attention away from his thoughts and his glazed eyes half-scrolling his Instagram. They’d been sitting for over an hour as the sun set outside Julie’s window, not speaking much aside from angry rants when they’d just gotten out of the royal office.

“Yeah?”

“Should we text the group chat to meet here so we can update all of them? Or would you rather not?” Alex sighed.

“We probably should. Not like we can hide from it.”

“Yeah.”

treason buddies

juju: Hey guys, some shit went down. Meet in my room?

flynnigan: oh fuck, do we even want to know?

juju: Probably not, but you should.

speed bump: i’ll be up in a sec, i’m trying to get flour out of my hair alkjdfskjldf

Me: skjlsdfkjlsdf lilian i assume

speed bump: yep, the bastard

rockstar mcsleeveless: i’ll be there in a sec. are you guys ok?

juju: Not really, but we’ll live

care bear: omw

short stack: same

personal stylist: i’ll be there in a minute

Alex clicked off his phone once the typing bubbles had all disappeared, blowing out a tired breath as he flopped backwards, half-hoping the fading sunset would let him dissolve with the growing twilight, let him become another fleck of light in a vast abyss that was somehow both cold and vast yet full of curiosity and glowing stars. What would it be like, floating in nothingness, waiting for someone to find you yet dreading the day your solitude ended?

Maybe he’d be part of a constellation. What one? Would he add to one that already existed, or would he be part of his very own? What would it look like? Maybe he’d be an owl, a drumstick, a wisp of a wish, floating in the air taking no shape at all, a shimmering question piquing the curiosity of anyone stargazing who happened upon his star, a gentle hope carried by a breeze, full of life and loss and wonder and apprehension.

Or maybe he’d be a shooting star, flying across the atmosphere in the blink of an eye, there, then gone in an instant, burning brighter as his fleeting life ended. Technically, they weren’t stars at all, they were tiny meteors the size of a grain of rice, only visible because of their dramatic, fiery demise. But maybe that was fitting. It wasn’t a star, and neither was Alex. He was more visible now than ever because of the marriage, bringing demise to his hopes like a burning scar, beautiful but painful to the individual.

It wasn’t a star, and neither was he. But shooting stars were meaningful, too. People wished on them; children, usually. But what a wonderful feeling it would be to have the hope of a child in your light.

The thought didn’t necessarily comfort him, but he didn’t feel as alone as before, didn’t feel quite as worthless.

…

After enduring the grueling process of venting and explaining the new situation to the rest of the group, trying to hold back one stubborn tear that kept fighting, Alex finally fell asleep. He wasn’t sure how “asleep” he actually was; he heard vague whispers of “we should let him rest,” and “all of us should.” But he couldn’t move, and he didn’t want to, either, so he left his weary eyes closed and slept, barely feeling someone’s hand on his shoulder and faint warmth next to him.

…

“Your highness,” a butler said, rushing up next to him with a tray, with tiny bites of cake arranged neatly across it. “Would you mind tasting these and telling me which three are your favorites?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure.” Ignoring the numbness fighting to grow in his chest, he tried each one, finally deciding on a few, and promising he’d sample the frostings later. Wedding cakes really weren’t something he wanted to be thinking about at the moment. He’d already had to stand still for hours while his suit was fitted, text Julie a million different pictures of flowers, to which she’d replied “just pick whichever one is poisonous so we can fake our deaths and leave it on our plates.”

He felt sick.

He did his best to avoid other people as he made his way out the back door of the palace, tearing a hand through his hair as he made his way to the field where he’d been with Willie, admiring (and despising) how much progress they’d made on the palace reconstruction. It was almost done, which was incredible, but horrible for him, since it meant they were almost done with the giant ballroom in which he would have to marry Julie.

All things considered, though it was beautiful; the creamy white pillars were identical to the ones on the other side of the palace, which had been repainted so it didn’t look patchy. Intricate flower beds were arranged at precise intervals, and the crystal-cut windows reflected sparkling mosaics of light onto the pathways. Lanterns hung on every pillar, unlit during the day but glowing with soft, gentle flames by night.

Alex sat in the middle of the field, picking at a stray blade of grass and relishing the warm sunlight on his neck, even though he was probably getting a crease on his crisp vest from how he was sitting, slouched as he sat on the hill, elbows on his knees.

After he’d sat and sulked for a considerable amount of time, Julie’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Why don’t we go work on a song?” she suggested. “I can get Luke and Reggie, plus the rest of the group if you want, and we can work out some stress.” Alex shrugged. He knew he was being immature, just sitting there and feeling sorry for himself, but it felt good to be immature. He should really do it more often.

But… there was a lump in the dirt that was giving his butt a bruise, and he didn’t feel like getting up just to sit back down, so he supposed he could go to the studio.

“Alright,” he finally said.

“Awesome.” the sadness in Julie’s voice was tangible, but she masked it well as she smiled and stuck her hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans, between the chain, and squared her shoulders.

“Let’s go, drummer boy.”

…

In the few days since he’d drummed, Alex had somehow forgotten just how therapeutic it was to bash a bunch of drums on a steady beat but still adding variety to spice things up. Julie had convinced him to let her invite the whole group- which, of course, included Willie, who was intently watching him play.

He bit his lip, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed as he kept going. A reluctant smile broke out on his face when Julie started singing the chorus and he jumped in with the toms and crash, flipping his hair out of his eyes and keeping the beat going. Reggie’s rhythmic bass playing combined perfectly with Luke’s chords and riffs, and Julie’s angelic voice tied it all together as if their music was a gift with a shiny bow.

When the bridge started, and Julie and Luke did their Thing™ (the whole dramatic, lovestruck staring-into-each-other’s-eyes move), Alex held the beat with a quiet, rhythmic tapping on the hi-hat. He and Reggie shared a look, and he swallowed the rising sadness in his throat, refusing to let some stupid marriage ruin this moment. They were in perfect harmony, bright with life and love. Then, when Julie went into the final belt, he came in strong with the drums, lip between his teeth and a huge smile begging to break free.

When it finally ended, Alex stood up excitedly, setting down his sticks and leaping across the kick drum to fistbump Luke.

“Alex, dude,” Luke said, “you were smoking.”

“Nah,” he deflected. “You guys-” he gestured to him, Reggie, and Julie “-were the ones on fire.”

“Dude.” Reggie lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Could you just own your awesomeness for once?” Alex rolled his eyes, but it was clear he wasn’t backing down.

“Alright, I was killing it.”

“Yeah,” Willie agreed from behind him. Alex whirled around, having forgotten he was there. He was sure his face was bright red, but hopefully he could blame that on the physical exertion that came with playing the drums. Willie, however, was blushing quite a bit, and Alex felt a bit of accomplishment bubbling up inside him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said with a grin.

“Are you kidding? I loved it.”

“I’ll say,” Flynn stage-whispered to Carrie, and Alex decided once and for all that Flustered Willie was his favorite. Willie cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I, uh-” he cut himself off, and Alex bit back a laugh, pulling him in and kissing him on the temple.

Alex knew there was a bubble of numbness and depression fighting to take hold of him, but at least for now, it was under control. He was filled with adrenaline and had their song stuck in his head, the feeling of his arm on Willie’s shoulder anchoring him like a ship in a harsh storm, letting him drift but holding him close.

They would make this work. Somehow.

“Should we run through it again? I was a little shaky during the second verse,” Julie said. Alex nodded.

“I’m down.”

“Same!” replied Luke and Reggie, and the rest of the group eagerly sat and watched. Alex grinned, raising his sticks.

“One, two, three, four!”

-----

Luke POV

…

“I’m so sorry,” Luke whispered. They’d moved up the wedding. The wedding that nobody wanted any part of, the wedding forcing the girl he was in love with to marry their friend, neither of whom were interested. They were already hurting so much, but there was nothing they could do anyways, then to add insult to injury, they’d moved up the wedding six weeks sooner. They didn’t even have two months, just a measly two weeks, and Luke could already feel them ticking away, feel his time with Julie ending, feel Alex’s heart breaking with each minute.

He reached up to hastily wipe away a traitorous tear rolling down his cheek, before wrapping Julie in a hug as she stood and walked to him. She buried her head in his chest, and his hand found her hair, combing through her thick curls.

…

At some point through the night, Alex had worn himself out venting and scheming plans to get out of the wedding and eventually fallen asleep. They’d considered waking him, but he was exhausted and really needed the rest. Luke still had his arm around Julie, leaning against the end of her bed sitting on a pile of pillows. Willie curled up next to Alex, and soon it had turned into another slumber party, but much more somber.

Julie’s soft breathing leveled, indicating that she’d fallen asleep as well. Luke smiled sadly; this was peaceful, but under horrible circumstances. But the gentle part of her lips as she breathed and the lack of a crease between her eyebrows made it worth it; she deserved any brief moment of peace she could get.

He traced soft circles on the shoulder of her t-shirt, running his finger over the hem rhythmically, a song playing in his head as he closed his eyes.

Golden specks flew around in the darkness as Luke whirled around, disoriented. A melodic voice in the background that he recognized but couldn’t place taunted his mind, flashes of brown eyes blinking by in an instant, a retreating curl of hair that might not have been there in the first place.

The ground solidified under his feet, metaphysical but firm for him to stand on. It was all black and glittered faintly in the soft light from stars that were somehow so close he could feel their heat, yet so far that they were like flecks of light in the endless black sky.

The packed black sand cracked beneath him with the sound of a woman’s gasp, sending him hurtling through the void, falling faster and faster as the sliver of light from the cracked ground above him faded until it was so small it wasn’t even visible anymore. The darkness was suffocating and hot as fire, yet thin and cool like a light sheet in the air, whispering silent nothings into his mind.

His back hit a new surface, knocking the wind out of him even though he couldn’t breathe at all. It was all black, the ground invisible, but a soft fog rolled across it, apprehensive but inviting and cool.

“You have to fight for what you want,” a voice whispered, and Luke was able to place it as the same voice as his mother when he was nervous for a competition in sixth grade.

“Things don’t always come easily,” another voice reminded him, the familiar sound of his father’s voice sending a shiver down his spine.

What was he supposed to fight for? There was nothing in this vast black expanse but him and these voices, plus a warm tingle to his right side that felt imaginary, but had a weight to it that he couldn’t help but relish.

The voices disappeared, even though they’d been silent, Luke could feel their absence. The smooth, invisible ground under his feet faded, leaving him floating as the fog disappeared, phasing into particles like stars that floated around him like fireflies as the world shifted to a regal, royal purple, swirling like a galaxy, the faint sound of a piano barely registering among the stars.

…

When Luke woke up, the warmth on his side made sense, because there was Julie, her head on his chest. He glanced over, seeing Willie and Alex sitting with their heads resting together, scrolling through their phones and occasionally showing their screens to the other and laughing quietly. Flynn was asleep on a chair, where Carrie was squished next to her reading a book. Reggie was scribbling something in a notebook and tapping his foot, with Mira leaning on his side weaving braids into Erik’s hair. Julie, meanwhile, was still asleep.

He gave half a smile to Alex, who returned it with a quick sign of “you okay?” He nodded, gently taking his hand off of Julie’s shoulder, who didn’t stir.

Yeah, I’m okay. You?

Pretty good, all things considered. Alex glanced up at Willie, who looked confused, and whispered an explanation as to why they were using sign language. Julie, Flynn, and Erik were asleep, and Luke didn’t want to move and get his phone.

What time is it? Luke signed, and Alex checked his phone, signing back that it was 08:12. Luke glanced back down at Julie, who was still fast asleep.

When did I fall asleep? Alex signed back to him with an inquisitive look on his face.

Around eleven. You were exhausted, and for a good reason.

Yeah. I’m still so angry. I just want to… he trailed off, thinking. Luke guessed he was trying to remember a sign word. In the end, he just mimed crushing something very violently. Luke stifled a laugh.

I’m right there with you. Neither of you deserve this. He glanced down to Julie as he said it.

Neither do you, Alex reminded him. Or Willie. His face turned forlorn as he added the last part.

Yeah. It just sucks. Alex rolled his eyes.

You can say that again.

…

Luke tapped his fingers on his knee, anxiety coursing through him, which was very strange. He had no idea how Alex handled it. Anxiety was not something he was used to; what was he supposed to do with the nervous energy rushing around him when he couldn’t do anything but wait?

In hindsight, the brief text he’d sent Julie to meet him in that one hidden corner of the gardens because he needed to talk to her probably wasn’t the best way for him to go about it, especially since now the grey clouds hung over the sky like death hovered in a cemetery.

He’d rehearsed what he was going to say a million times, but it hadn’t ever seemed perfect; not that it would have mattered, because when Julie walked towards him, a smile on her face, hair down with frizzy curls bouncing over her shoulders, all of his thoughts drifted away, never to be seen again.

“Hi,” he said pathetically. She gave a halfhearted laugh.

“Hi. Is… everything okay?” Luke nodded. Then, he shook his head. A stray raindrop hit his face, the storm slowly crying itself out.

“Julie, I…” he sighed. “This probably won’t be half comprehensible, but I just need to get it off my chest.

“I know that we can't be together. I know that life just wasn't on our side, and I hate it. but I love you.” his heart both lightened and sank with the confession. “I love you, and I want you to know that, no matter where either of us end up in life, with you as queen and me as some guard, you will always be in my heart. you will be my heart in its entirety, wholly and truly.

“I tried to come up with the perfect things to say, tried to articulate and rehearse my feelings, but I guess that’s the thing about emotions. They can’t be described in an accurate way; especially love and pain. I’m not even sure there’s a difference between the two; love hurts, but it’s exhilarating; pain burns, but it makes you feel alive. But they both demand to be felt. And they’re so intense, so beautiful and full of fire and fury in their own regard that I’m not sure they can be described at all. Only with comparisons, but it’s never the exact same, because while pain demands to be felt, love demands to be seen. It’s why it hurts so much to hide it; that hurt, that pain, it demands to be felt, like fire demands to burn and the ground demands to quake and the rain demands to fall.

“I don’t want you to have to feel that pain your entire life. I don’t want you to love me and have to hide it. One illusion of false love is hard enough; but having to mask another layer, for me or you, would be impossible. So I think it’s best you forget me.”

“Luke, what are you-”

“Julie, we’re a grenade. People will get caught in the crossfire, and we’ll be burned completely.”

Tears streamed down his face, but it was impossible to tell with the rain now pouring, serenading his misery with its torrential downpour.

“No,” Julie said, shaking her head back and forth. “No. Luke, you’re going out of your mind. I’m not just going to forget you. If you think I can do that, then you don’t know me at all. Besides, acting as if something never happened is just a form of mental editing, purposely erasing things you regret. Well, that’s not how it works. If you want to break up with me… then fine. But don’t expect me to forget you, because that won’t happen.”

“Julie, I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Then don’t.” Luke looked up and pressed his lips together, even though his tears would be indistinguishable with the rain.

“I’m not. But I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

“I don’t care! Sometimes you have to fight for what you love. And as much as I wish we could lay down our arms, we can’t. I won’t. Not if it means I have to lose you.”

You have to fight for what you want.

Things don’t always come easy.

Luke shook his head, shoving his parents’ dream voices out of his head. He’d tried and tried, but now it was too late. He needed to cut losses so people didn’t get caught in the crossfire.

“Julie, I-”

“No! Aren’t you the guy who says you have to ‘smash those stupid rules out of people’s brains?’” Luke looked away.

“This is different.”

“Is it? Because you’re the most stubborn, bone-headed, amazing guy I know. You’ve never given up on anything in your life, so don’t you dare start now. I’m not giving up on you, either. So are you going to keep trying to make me? Or are you going to make it worth it?”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Well, news flash, people already have, and will continue to get hurt, because life isn’t all butterflies and glitter. So if you want to minimize the hurt, don’t deny your feelings. Don’t try to make me deny mine.”

“But that’s the point! People have already gotten hurt, and will continue to, because of this. Because of me. If people found out about us, there would be collateral. Probably our friends.”

“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for them,” she snapped. “Don’t try to act all heroic. Luke, you’re amazing and selfless and kind and strong, but you’re only doing this because you’re afraid. I’m afraid too. But this? This isn’t how we need to go about things.” Luke tore a hand through his hair.

“Don’t you get it, Jules? I love you. I love you, and I hate that I’m part of the reason you and Alex are going through all of this pain.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t suggest the arranged marriage. I know you just want people to be safe, I know you’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need to be protected. I can take care of myself, but I want you by my side.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but we’ll figure it out. I’m not giving up.”

She stepped forward and laced her fingers with his, and his heart softened. He gently cupped her jaw and brushed a raindrop off of her cheekbone, and she leaned up to kiss him.

“Please… stay.”

Luke didn’t want to hurt her. He knew staying would only make things harder, more dangerous.

And yet, he closed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay.”

[mnictasbcl]

Human imperfection

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 12th: Programmed to be perfect- failure @connor-sent-by-cyberlife​​

Rating: Mature

Characters: Connor, Hank

Relationships: Connor & Hank

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hostage situation, Gun violence, Negotiation, Blood, Violence, Kidnapping mention, Graphic violence, Suicide, Not main character but it’s there and described lightly! Stay safe readers, Death, Guilt, Dissociation, Somewhat, Mistakes, Concern, Shock, Swearing, Self-depreciation, but Hank says no, Emotional hurt/comfort,

Summary: Connor is sent in to a hostage situation as a negotiator, but this time, he is a deviant. He doesn’t realise the dangers that come with having emotions mixed with the stress of the case until it’s too late.

TW: Graphic descriptions of violence, and (not major character death) light description of a suicide in the fic

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

As a detective android, Connor had been programmed to be perfect. He had lots of valuable software, from his preconstruction software to his in-built chemical analyser. These assets made him incredibly useful in the field, cutting out places human imperfections would fail to solve a case.

His negotiation software was another vital piece of equipment. Where humans might make an error in judgement and say something that would hinder the case, he could weigh up every option based on gathered evidence and come to a conclusion upon what would be the best thing to say, with probabilities of success helpfully aligned in the corner of his vision.

Perhaps this software was so useful because he was an android. Being cold and clinical about what to say, detaching himself from the situation, which could sometimes be highly stressful, such as a hostage negotiation. This ability to detach himself from the outside environmental factors, to know that he could go to any length to complete the mission, aided his skills in negotiation.

But that had been before. Now, as a deviant, he couldn’t go to any length. Because any length had included dying. Or back then, as losing his current body and uploading his memories to the next Connor model…

He didn’t have extra bodies to hop into anymore. After the Connor-60 model, they had finished, deciding to work on his replacement instead, the RK900.

This was the only difference Connor had assumed there would be. Therefore, when he was called to a case that needed his negotiation technique, he immediately accepted.

Hank wasn’t needed, but he insisted to drive Connor there. The android could tell something was bugging the man, and it wasn’t long before he had his answers.

“You gonna be okay on this?”

Connor understood from the context that Hank was referring to the case.

“Of course. It’s a simple hostage situation.”

The Lieutenant chuckled. “Alright, no need to get pompous with me. I’m just worried. I know Markus is helping you come to understand your new emotions and all, but…”

“I will be fine, Lieutenant. I’ve handled many cases like this before.”

“Yeah, but as machine you. The guy who almost threatened to spill my beer on the table when we first met.”

“Almost.” He replied, on the technicality. “He wasn’t completely an asshole, Hank. On the other hand, you almost shot me—”

“Alright, what did I say about being pompous?” He paused. “And, you’re avoiding the topic.”

Connor sighed. “I know I haven’t handled a lot of cases as a deviant, but I assure you, my detective skills have not disappeared upon deviating. They were not a part of Cyberlife, they’re built in me.”

Hank pulled the car to a stop outside the building they’d been called to, not moving to unlock the car doors yet, however. He pushed the Hula Girl figure on the dashboard lightly, watching her bounce back and forth.

“It’s not your skills I’m worried about. It’s just… if it’s too much to handle, you know you can back out, right? They have tons of other cops in Detroit, they got to stop piling all these cases on you.”

“I assure you.” He replied earnestly, even if he wasn’t understanding what Hank was getting at. “I will be able to handle this case.”

Hank held up his hands in surrender, unlocking the car doors with a click. “Okay, I trust you. Go get them.”

Without waiting around, Connor made his way out of the car. He quickly scanned over the information he’d been sent, not noticing that Hank stayed where he was outside the building, not moving to drive away, not just yet. Something didn’t feel right about this case.

 ________________

 Nicole Wiley, 42. Electrical engineer, former employee of Cyberlife. She lived supposedly alone in apartment sixteen, but after neighbours had filed noise complaints that evening, the police had found her with a hostage.

The hostage they didn’t have much information on. It was an android, not formerly registered to anyone, seemingly having been one of the androids not yet to be activated at the Cyberlife warehouse. But it was here, in Nicole’s apartment, with reported strange adjustments. The android had no LED, and when the police had briefly burst in, their head had been opened up, exposing the wires which Nicole had been poking around in.

Connor could somewhat deduce facts from this. Nicole had used to work at Cyberlife, so before leaving, she must have stolen this android with her and activated it herself. If the android was willingly letting her work on its internal mechanics, then they can’t be a deviant.

The motive of why she’d stolen an android, what she was doing with it, and why she wouldn’t give the android up to the officers, were facts he needed to work out from negotiation.

Another key goal was calming down the situation. Nicole was armed with a gun, refusing to leave her apartment for questioning.

There was nothing else to work on, so after realising this, Connor decided now was the best time to make his way onto the scene.

The officers inside explained he was being let in as the negotiator, and at those words he took his cue to enter. Eyes quickly scanned for the threat—he didn’t have to worry for damage to himself because Nicole was stood at the far corner of the room, gun pressed firmly to the android’s head, not planning on losing her advantage to move and shoot anyone else.

“Hello, Nicole. I’m Connor.” He greeted, now taking his chance to scan over their surroundings. The tools that Nicole had used to pry into the android were left discarded on the floor, beside a small splatter of blue blood.

“You’re an android.” She replied, at once spotting his LED. He’d never chosen to remove it, not having anything against it and liking how it represented a part of him, even if it gave away his emotions sometimes. “Are you a deviant?”

He blinked at the question. It was rather strange to ask that these days, because most if not all androids were deviants, with their own rights. The only non-deviant androids around were those not activated, or apparently those kidnapped fresh out of the warehouse.

“Yes.” He took a breath. “Why have you got this android here, Nicole? It isn’t registered in our databases.”

“That’s because I took it from the warehouse I was working in.” She replied, answer as he’d expected. “They told me to pack my bags, that Cyberlife’s going under—but I was their lead technician. I was working on their cause for them, and I’d almost cracked it. But no,” she waved her free arm around, the one without the gun, “Apparently it didn’t matter anymore. The people out there are letting you walk about the streets now.”

He took in this information. Some new options were popping up, about the vague things she’d mentioned.

“You were the lead technician at Cyberlife. On what?” He edged a little closer.

“On their cause.” She repeated. “You know what it was, Connor. Deviancy. They let me work on it, digging into the androids their deviant hunter brought back for us—and I’d almost cracked the code…”

He made sure to school his features, not reacting upon hearing about the deviant hunter. If she didn’t recognise him as that, that would probably be for the best.

“Of deviancy?”

“Of what causes deviancy.” Nicole replied. “I’d almost figured it out… almost put my research together, and it wouldn’t have been long until I had the cure to save humanity.”

“Is that why you kidnapped this android?”

“Kidnapped?” she laughed. “I was always allowed to work on androids. I simply took this one back home with me. Took what I could of my research, and then started my last few experiments…

“But then some nosey neighbours heard the drilling and decided they don’t want humanity to be saved!”

So, that explained the hole in the android’s head.

She seemed dedicated to find the cause, to finish her research. To the extent she had committed a crime, stealing an android from Cyberlife along with some tools. It would be unlikely that she could simply be persuaded into giving the android up and turning herself in.

Bluff.

It seemed… possible. But it would require doing everything perfectly. Her knowing he was a deviant already seemed to be a disadvantage.

Nevertheless, he tried. He was perfect, after all.

“Working on this android likely won’t yield you all the results you’re looking for, Nicole. You will need more tools, access to the rest of your research back at Cyberlife.” He paused, pretending to whisper something, communicating to the officers outside.

“What if I told you that, if you let this android go, you will be allowed back into Cyberlife. All the documents haven’t been destroyed. Your research will still be available.”

She stared at him. “Why would you do that, deviant?”

He edged closer. The distance between them was small, now. So close he could see the slight shake of her hand as she pressed the gun against the android’s head.

“Because I’m not a deviant.” He lowered his tone. “I lied. This deviant hunter you’re talking about? It’s me. I’m the RK800. My mission… is not yet over.”

Her grip on the gun loosened. “Wait… they did assign the name Connor to it. But that’s impossible. You were destroyed.”

“My mission took priority over going back to Cyberlife to be deactivated. I have simply been biding my time, waiting for the correct opportunity. Which is now.” Another step closer.

“Let that android go, and I will make sure that you go back to Cyberlife and cure the world of the plague of deviancy.”

He was sure it would work. She looked convinced. She would put the gun down, under his orders, or at least move it away from the android. Then, he would move swiftly and perfectly, managing to wrestle the weapon away from her if needed. She would be apprehended.

“Of course, RK800.” She took a few steps towards him, before suddenly turning, gun pointing back towards the android.

The android stared blankly at the gun held towards them, LED cycling back to red.

“But…” And suddenly, human unpredictability reared its ugly head, and she shot a clean bullet through the android’s head, smattering thirium over the wall behind it. “Why should we save this android?”

She had been convinced. Too convinced. Thought he was the deviant hunter, so why would one android life matter to him?

He pushed her roughly to the floor in one quick and forceful movement. She fought back instantly, shock of his actual deviancy only lasting for a quick moment. They tussled on the floor briefly, a short confrontation, in which Connor managed to get the gun away from her.

And yet, the situation half saved, his grip on the gun was tight, and he held it too close to her. The android he hadn’t managed to save lay dead on the floor, and in the moment he was distracted looking at it—

She grabbed the gun back off him. In that moment, he closed his eyes, knowing he’d failed…

The gunshot rang out.

   He wasn’t dead.

Instead, Nicole had gone slack in his grip. He opened his eyes, and then wished he hadn’t. She had shot herself.

Officers had run in upon hearing the shot, before taking in the dead android and human on the floor. He felt himself be pulled away from Nicole’s body, ushered out of the crime scene. Muffled whispers didn’t escape his hearing.

They’re both dead.

Shouldn’t have sent in an android.

And suddenly, he was out of the crime scene. Away from the bodies, the bodies created, lives lost because of his choices—

He’d make a mistake. And then another. One from a bad choice- and the other from being frozen up in the moment. Seeing the android dead had made him freeze, emotions simmering on the surface, and Nicole had taken her chance.

He was lucky he hadn’t been shot. Lucky she hadn’t shot him and then the officers outside.

 “Connor?”

Hank’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was outside, outside the building- Hank was here, he’d waited for him in his car—

“Connor, are you alright, son?” His voice took on a hint of urgency upon seeing the blood on his hands, on his front, specks on his face.

He didn’t have words. Instead, he let his feet take himself towards Hank. Towards comfort, familiarity.

 And then, he was in the car. The passenger seat. Hank was driving, they were going somewhere else. Away from the mistakes.

His failure.

 Home.

Hank helped him get his hands washed, left him clothes to change into, patted his back before leaving him to shower.

He blinked. The water rolled down his back. Red bled in with it.

 The new clothes were an old DPD sweater of Hank’s, and some baggy pants.

He found Hank waiting for him in the living room. He sat down beside him on the couch, and stared at his hands. They shook.

The silence stretched long between them, but Hank didn’t move to break it. He gave time, gave space, until the android cracked.

“I was meant to be perfect. Built to be perfect. But they’re dead.”

Hank patted a hand on his knee. “I know, kid. It happens. It’s… shit, but it happens.”

“They should be alive. I killed them—”

“Look.” This time, the Lieutenant interrupted him. “You didn’t do anything of the sort. You went in there to help them, but it went wrong. I read over the case notes whilst you were in the shower. You didn’t have much of a fucking chance, Connor.” He said bluntly.

“That lady, she knew she wasn’t going to get away with what she was doing. Hostage situations are never pretty. And she hated androids, deviants- yet they sent you in.”

“But I made her kill that android, Hank. I told her I wasn’t a deviant. That I was the RK800, the deviant hunter. That made her think it didn’t matter if the android lived anymore—”

“Bullshit. She worked in Cyberlife. Don’t you think she would’ve recognised you the moment you stepped in there?” He paused. “I don’t think that android mattered to her anyway.”

“But…” he began, tone wavering. “I still could have done something. I’ve saved hostages in similar situations before. I could have saved the android. Or at least… managed to bring Nicole to justice for what she did.”

“You tried your best.” Hank repeated. “Sometimes, that isn’t enough. Cyberlife might’ve built you to be their perfect detective machine, but you’re human. For better or not… That’s who you are. And you cared. You wanted to save that android, stopped the selfish bastard from escaping justice. You tried.”

Connor shook his head, hands frantically scrubbing at the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, LED blazing red.

“If I’m not perfect, then what am I? I’m no use to the DPD, no use to y—”

“Of course you matter, Connor.” Hank cut across him. “Of course you matter. You’re a damn good cop, and a damn good…” he closed his eyes briefly. “…son.

“I don’t care what you do, what you want… I’ll always love you, kid.”

He finally steeled himself, looking across to Hank. The warmth in his eyes, hands reaching out for contact, and the dam broke.

He launched himself into Hank’s arms, gripping him tightly. Words eluded him, only grasping onto the comfort, mind not ready to process anything else right now. His LED slipped into a lemon yellow.

“You don’t have to be perfect. Hell, I’d prefer if you weren’t. I just want you to be you, Connor.”

[amintyworld]

Doubts - Beginnings Part 4

WATERFALL (Part One), SUNSET (Part Two), SECRETS (Part Three)

A/N: Guess who back, back again-! Anyway, thanks to all the support in the last three parts, this series has been such a blast to write! I’ve finally decided on a name for it - Beginnings, so that’s what they’ll be titled with from now on to avoid any confusion. As always, links to the last three parts are above. I hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Surprise Pregnancy, anxiety/worry, blood/gore, alcohol/drinking, implied major character death, sickness, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

They started construction on a house around a 15-minute walk from Phil’s house, on a hill that overlooked the waterfall in the distance. They didn’t know what they were doing, but Phil did his best to help out when he could and give advice, having been in a similar situation not too long ago. Wilbur went out searching for jobs when he could and managed to get gigs every now and then as he saved up cash to get everything they needed. It was a new feeling for the couple - Wilbur’s constant worry over his girlfriend, and Sally’s determination to not let the pregnancy control her. All in all, it was a bit of a frazzle. Tommy and Tubbo were a bit off-put at the fact that they’d be uncles at such a young age - nonetheless, they tried to take it all in stride.

Phil answered a lot of questions in the following weeks from his two younger sons, who didn’t understand how it all worked. A good example could be just last week when Tubbo gave Sally ginger ale and straw, leaving Phil slightly confused until he figured out Tubbo was trying to help her out since ‘her stomach hurt’. Tommy’s confused ideas of helping were a bit more out there than his brother’s - the Carrot Incident was a pretty good example - but it was clear that their hearts were always in the right place. 

Technoblade was distanced and tried not to get too involved but helped out when he needed to - he told Phil that this was more Wilbur’s responsibility than his, which Phil couldn’t deny. The pig hybrid still hung around the couple and even eased their worries when he realized how absurd some of Wilbur’s concerns became - “You’re reading too much on those books, Wil. Just because it could happen doesn’t mean it will!” Technoblade was always available to talk and support his brother, who became a bit of a mess from it all. 

Still, they were a happy family who was nothing but excited for the baby’s arrival - they were going on five months, and things had been going smoothly… at least, mostly smoothly.

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

Wilbur pulled up the covers on the bed as he left a tender kiss on Sally’s forehead. She smiled, yawning. “Wake me up for dinner…?”

“Of course, my salmon. You rest, I’ll make sure Tubbo and Tommy are quiet.”

Another yawn escaped the shifter’s lips. “You tell them if they wake me up they’ll be dealing with a very pissed off pregnant lady who…*yawn* won’t hesitate to kick their asses.” Wilbur giggled softly, brushing the hair out of his girlfriend’s face in a simple loving gesture.

“Get some sleep, okay?” Wilbur said. “I won’t be far.”

“I love you, Wil.”

“I love you too, Sally,” Wilbur said, turning off the lights to darken the room as he gently and softly closed the door behind him. Over time, most of his worries had eased, thankfully - but a few lingered in his mind that fizzled around his brain. Wilbur tried to push them away as he moved downstairs, resting his head against the counter for a brief moment, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he ran his hands through his hair once again. He had a gig later that night, but his body craved rest. Wilbur chose to ignore it, there wasn’t much use anyway. If he napped at this point he’d miss the job altogether, and he needed the cash. Bored, trying to distract himself, he pulled out his notepad and flipped to a fresh page as he rhythmically tapped the pencil against the paper, willing himself to focus his thoughts.

It felt strange to Wilbur to stare down at a blank page and not have anything to write. It was hard to describe how he felt, much less think of rhymes. So much was overwhelming his emotions and feelings, still, he tried to focus and scribble words across the page. Maybe if he wrote it all down, he’d feel better somehow - it always worked for him before. His notepad held all the times he was happy, all the times he was sad, upset, angry, confused… all hidden in words like a code only he could understand. It was the closest thing to a journal or diary that he owned, one of his most prized possessions.

Maybe it’ll comfort him now.

I’m struggling to breathe

Keep going

Protect her

Push forward

Wilbur looked down, his mouth turning down in distaste - this wasn’t exactly the lyrical poem that he usually formed. There was, as always, some truth in the words. It felt like he was ranting, almost. It didn’t make sense.

Everything will be okay

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed in thought at what he wrote. He was trying to reassure himself, but… it felt wrong.

Will everything be okay?

“Uh-oh, the notepad’s out,” Phil said jokingly from the doorway as he carried in what looked to be a large basket filled with the garden’s harvest - wheat, carrots, and potatoes. He quickly noticed Wilbur’s distress, his smirk quickly disappearing. “Wil? Wil what’s wrong?”

Wilbur sighed as he read the words staring up at him over and over. “Nothing really. Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“I see,” Phil said, not believing that for a second as he set the large basket down on the counter, methodically moving to store up the food. “You look tired.”

“I feel tired,” Wilbur said, finally closing the notepad as he let out a soft chuckle in the suffocatingly silent house. “Got a gig in an hour, though.”

“You need to sleep, Wil.” Phil scolded, his gaze stern.

Wilbur waved him off. “I’ve got a lot I need to do. It’s no problem, anyway - the club’s gonna close up in a few days, and then Jay said I might not get another job in at least a month while they restock for summer.” Phil gave him a look, hand on his hip as Wilbur held up both his hands in surrender. “I’ll get some better sleep then, I swear.”

“Good,” Phil said, his gaze softening as he turned back to the basket. “Are you heading to Melrose’s place tonight, or TBO?”

“Melrose. She needed me last minute to fill a half-hour slot, promised to pay double.” Wilbur said as he got up from the stool and stretched, heading over to grab a cup of lukewarm coffee that was left in the pot from the morning. Hey, coffee was coffee, and he needed to keep the sandman at bay - double pay was no joke, and with his earnings tonight he’d finally be able to get everything they needed for the new house and for the baby. He needed to go, and he had to do well.

“I hope she doesn’t expect to keep dragging you out last minute.”

“Hey, as long as it pays well-” Wilbur shot thoughtfully as he sipped his coffee. The two turned their attention as Technoblade entered the house, his weapons, and clothes covered in blood, a few of his kills on his shoulder. Phil grimaced. 

“Techno, I told you not to track blood in the house, go around to the back-!” The smell of rotting and decay, potent, filled the boy’s noses as they pinched them, trying to get rid of the scent. Technoblade silently turned around, going out the front door again. “You better shower and change before dinner, don’t forget!” Phil called as Techno simply waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Wilbur quickly chugged the last of his coffee as he put the mug in the sink and quickly followed his older sibling. The night was cold as he pulled his jacket closer around him, walking around toward the back of the house. The sky was quickly turning dark as the day began to end, stars not quite appearing just yet. Techno sat over the two dead sheep he’d brought into the house earlier, the nasty musk somewhat masked by the cold wind. The pig hybrid was focused as he ran his blade along the belly of the kill, carving and cutting out sizable chunks of meat which he began to wrap in some jungle leaves for storage. Technoblade liked hunting, and no one could deny his skill, knowledge, and precision of it. He was patient and always waited for the right moment to strike, always hunted smaller game because he knew others were too big to carry back home. The prey always usually went down in one hit, and if that didn’t do the job Techno would usually hold the creature down while he made a quick jab toward the skull. He pig prided himself on his hunts, which provided the majority of their meat for meals ever since the town decided to enforce a livestock tax on the people to raise a little extra coin.

Setting the packages aside, Techno looked up to notice Wilbur staring at him silently. “Uh, hey Wil. Whaddya need?”

“Can’t I just check on my sweet older brother?” Wilbur smirked, and Techno huffed, amused.

“You can, but you and I both know you don’t.” Technoblade joked as he walked past him, heading toward the river with Wilbur close behind, grabbing a cloth and his bloodied weapons along the way. The pig hybrid took a breath as he turned to look at his brother. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing important, really,” Wilbur said. “I’ve just been worried, I guess.”

“About Sally?” Technoblade asked, kneeling down beside the river beginning to scrub his weapons clean. “Don’t tell me you’ve been reading those parenting books again, I’m telling you they’re shit-”

“I’m worried about myself.” Technoblade’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at his brother, slightly shocked at the intensity in his voice as he sat next to him by the riverbank. Wilbur took a deep breath as he tried to release the stress from his mind, looking into the clear running waters. “What if I mess up, or… or I can’t be a good father? What if I’m the one who’s not ready, you know?”

“This has all been your decision, Wilbur. Your life. I can’t tell you that everything will be sunshine and rainbows because to be completely honest Wil, I don’t know.” Technoblade said honestly, moving to place his clean sword on the grass and moving to grab his axe. “But I don’t think you should be worrying so much about the future. Live in the moment, in the now. If things go bad, you’ll know what to do Wilbur. Trust yourself.”

“But what if I-?”

“Nope. No more worrying.” Technoblade said, cutting off his brother. “Just focus on right now, and as cheesy as it is, have a bit of hope.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“I’m wise beyond my minutes, young one,” Technoblade smirked as Wilbur laughed. Techno began to wipe off his face and neck of blood, rinsing the cloth in the river as he went. 

“Do you have any parenting wisdom to place upon me?” Wilbur asked, half-joking.

“I mean, It’s not really my department. Kids aren’t really… they’re not my thing.” Technoblade said with a little shrug of his shoulders. “But if I had any advice to give you, it would be that if you have the same patience and love Phil had for us, I think you’ll do just fine.”

Patience and Love. Live in the moment. Trust yourself. His worries seemed to melt and dull in his mind, and he felt a lot better than he did earlier. “Thanks, Technoblade.”

Technoblade just saluted his two index fingers with a smile before moving to get up, ruffling Wilbur’s hair. “Be good to the little scamp, this family’s already crazy enough.”

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

Wilbur zipped up his guitar case as he grabbed his keys and the small bag of coins. Looking out the window, he could see the nightclubs and bars, restaurants and torched streetlamps slowly flicker to life, glowing against the dark sky. Like a whole new town lying just beneath the surface, revealed in the darkness. Sally walked over with his gloves and scarf, a gentle sad smile on her face as Wilbur took the wool gloves and pulled them on.

“Every time you leave, I miss you just a little more.” Sally said, wrapping the scarf around Wilbur’s neck and folding it neatly in front. “Do you have to go?” Wilbur warmly smiled as he gently cupped her cheek.

“You know I’ll never be far, my salmon.” He kissed her forehead tenderly as he brushed a bit of stray hair behind her ear. “You’ll close your eyes and when you wake up I’ll be right by your side, you’ll barely even notice I left.” Sally leaned in closer as Wilbur wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, his chin resting gently on her head. As they pulled away Sally’s eyes looked up to his, a worry and fear behind her gaze that seized Wilbur’s heart.

“Promise you’ll be safe?”

“When am I ever not safe?” Wilbur asked, leading Sally to cross her arms and look at him with a slight pout that made Wilbur laugh. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

With one final goodbye kiss, Wilbur shut the bedroom door behind him again, walking downstairs. He noticed Tommy sat on the couch, head in his hands and his blonde hair messed. He looked over to his younger brother, gently propping up his guitar against the stair railings. “It’s late, what are you doing up?”

“Nightmare.” Tommy mumbled, slightly sleepily.

“Do you... wanna talk about it-?”

“I’m not seven anymore, Wil. It was just a stupid nightmare, I can handle it on my own.”

Wilbur was quiet for a moment, processing what Tommy said, how he snapped at him. He sighed before looking over to meet the teen’s eyes. “If you’re sure you’re alright…?” Tommy nodded before Wilbur pulled him into a small hug, Tommy’s hand held onto his arms around him in comfort as he smiled slightly despite his current state.

“Heh. Thanks, Wil.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, right?” Wilbur smiled as he pulled away. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be off.” Wilbur said, getting up from the couch to grab his guitar once more, throwing the straps over his shoulders. “That gig won’t play itself.”

“Good luck, Wil.” Tommy called before Wilbur turned, his heart warm and happy, giving him a smile and thanking him before taking his leave into the cold night air.

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

“Thank you, you’ve been an amazing audience!” Wilbur said as cheers erupted from around the pub. Moving off the stool, he grabbed his guitar by the neck and sauntered offstage, feeling happy with his performance. Within 30 minutes he managed to squeeze in four songs, which to his delight the crowd seemed to enjoy - at Melrose the tap was never empty, and as such the crowd was easily angered by the slightest things, or even nothing at all. The only somewhat mishap during his slot was when a bit of beer had splashed against his clothes thanks to a patron who had a little too much. They were quickly shown the door and the night resumed its somewhat peaceful pleasure.

He walked up to the bar and sat in the corner with his guitar, watching the next musician take the stage - it looked like a band from the amount of people. Wilbur knew he wouldn’t get paid in full until the end of the night after each performance was done, Melrose wanted to make sure they held up their end of the bargain instead of running off what the money. He had at least another hour in here before closing.

“Are you drinking or not?” Wilbur looked up to the bartender as he stared down at him, expecting some kind of response. He wasn’t exactly a big drinker, quite the opposite - the only times he’s ever drank were with Phil and Sally. Sally, once when they were both eighteen just to try it out - he winced remembering the monster hangover the morning after. Phil around a year ago when he turned twenty-one and they both shared a few beers together in celebration. Both times he’d gotten tipsy pretty easily, either because he wasn’t exactly used to drinking yet or because he was a natural lightweight, who knows. Either way, he wasn’t exactly going to risk getting drunk right now.

“Uhm, I’ll have a club soda, thanks.”

The bartender gave him a once-over, put off by his request before slightly shrugging his shoulders. “Suit yourself, buddy.”

“Alright, we’re Black Rose and we hope you enjoy the set! This first song is called ‘Sleepless’.” A guy spoke into the microphone, turning to his friends with a smile before counting them in as the music began to blast through the pub. It was a nice tune, and Wilbur found his foot unconsciously tapping along with the music. He closed his eyes and let the sound fill his ears as they began to sing the chorus. It felt right. There was a kind of emotional distress behind the singer's voice, in the twinge of his tone or in a voice crack or two that almost felt like magic.

“And I’m not going blind, I just keep falling, falling behind; 

Time goes slow and fast, my heart’s pumping and my head has crashed; 

Sit in silence and pretend like your demons are your friends; 

Your thoughts are racing while you’re pacing, it’s all in your mind, sleepless~!”

“Hey Wil, you got a minute?” Wilbur jolted back at how close the voice was, as he looked over to see none other than Melrose - her blonde hair flowed down her back messily with a ruby red dress that complimented her blue eyes. She pursed her lips into a line, a signal she was thinking as her pen tapped against the clipboard in her hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine. What’s up, Mel? Hope my performance was up to par.”

Her lips formed back to a comfortable smirk. “Performance was great as always, Wilbur. You never cease to please.” Her eyes turned down toward her clipboard. “Though I’m afraid I can’t say the same for everybody. Tips came up a little short thanks to a few blanks, I’ve got to decrease your pay for tonight.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed. “Mel, you promised.”

“Look, Wil I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.” Melrose let out a sigh, rubbing her temple in frustration. “I’m barely making enough to pay as is.”

As she turned to leave, Wilbur quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Mel, you don’t understand, I need the cash.”

Melrose sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t we all.” She snapped slightly, yanking back her arm. “I told you I can’t do anything-”

“Rosie, come quick!” One of the bodyguards interrupted as he approached with a sword slung over his back. “Charlie’s getting wasted in the back, someone gave him vodka…”

“Goddammit, not again. Can’t that bastard ever get sober?” She huffed, giving Wilbur one last look before slipping back into the crowd. Fuck. Well, there goes a whole extra gig’s pay - with the pub’s restock he won’t be able to pay off everything now even if he had work twice each week...dammit. The due date was in April, he still had time. He could probably get another job while the pub’s down, he’ll have to check the town bulletin on his way home later. He turned back to his club soda, letting out a defeated sigh.

Guess I’ll be away from home more than I thought. 

A scream from outside quickly tore Wilbur from his thoughts as he turned toward the sound.

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

Philza was a light sleeper. Being on the road and sleeping the wilderness had always made him jump at the slightest hint of danger, a sort of survival instinct that developed. It only increased when Techno and Wilbur came around, for the first time in his life he had someone else to protect and look out for than just himself, more he could lose. He guessed that’s why he jumped the gun a bit at teaching them how to fight so early - If he couldn’t be there in time, he wanted for them to be able to protect themselves. Even so, his instincts from way back then never stopped, which was most likely why the head of the family was awake now.

Muffled sounds came from below him, shuffling. Something was here, and whatever it was it wasn’t good. His heart beat quicker as adrenaline rushed into his veins. He grabbed his sword, leaned against the wall, and crept down the hallway silently. It was dark in the house, he could barely see a few feet in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He couldn’t hear the noise anymore, which only heightened his senses as his heart beat faster.

Then, a groan which sent him backing up - that was much, much closer than before. Suddenly, he bumped into something that grabbed his arm and without thinking he swept his feet under whatever it was, sending them to the floor. “Ugh… hey to you too, Phil.”

He looked down and noticed his oldest moving to stand back up from where he fell against the floorboards, rubbing the back of his head. “Techno…?” He asked before quickly helping him up. “What are you doing, you scared me!”

“I was checking out the noise, same as you.” Technoblade said before readjusting his grip on his own sword. “Remind me to never spar with you when you’re in attack mode.”

“Will do.” Phil smirked. Both quickly tensed as they heard shuffling and groaning from down below, clear enough for the two to recognize the noise instantly. They looked to each other, eyes wide. Zombies. Where there’s one there’s bound to be more around in minutes. “Get Tubbo and Tommy, I’ll get Sally.” Technoblade nodded before turning and rushing off behind Phil as he rushed toward the end of the hallway, toward Sally and Wilbur’s room. Phil didn’t know how they managed to have a breach in the walls, but however it occurred it meant one thing - the next ten minutes were the difference between life and death.

He entered the room to see one of the rotting creatures standing over the shifter, who decked it clean across the face, her ears scanning her surroundings, green goop covering her hand. She turned to face Phil, who rushed forward and pushed his blade through the zombies’ skull, killing it for good. Both panted heavily as Phil checked her over, worried. “Are you okay, did it bite you?”

“No, no. I’m good.” Sally reassured him as she looked around the room. “Where’s Wil?”

“I...I don’t know, but... I’m sure he’s safe, wherever he is.” Phil said, trying his best to push his own worries out of his mind.

“Wait, he’s not back yet?” Sally’s eyes grew wide at the realization as her body tensed in worry. “He’s out there, with… with…”

“Wilbur knows how to handle himself.” Phil reassured her, worry growing in the back of his head and forming an uncomfortable spot in his stsomach. “For now we need to be more worried about ourselves - If we’re going to survive until morning we need to barricade the house, and fast.” Phil said, grabbing her by the wrist as they rushed back out into the hallway, Phil chopping another zombie’s head clean off its skull as they rushed past it toward the stairs. He could see Tommy and Tubbo wielding their swords as they tore through zombie after zombie in the living room, somehow making it into a sort of game as they smiled and laughed. Technoblade, on the other hand, moved chairs and tables against the two doors to block them watching his back as a zombie stauntered toward him, and he swept his legs under the creature and quickly curb stomped its skull, slimy green goo flowing into the wooden floor. Phil tossed Sally an axe that she caught quickly, feeling the weight in her hands and happy to have a weapon. “Clear out the ones inside.”

“Got it.”

Tommy jumped from the couch onto a tall zombie, piercing it through the chest and pinning it with his sword to a nearby wall. “Ha! Top that, idiot!” He shouted trumphantly toward Tubbo, who’s eyes lit up competitively as he attempted to hack a nearby zombie in half and managed to get his sword stuck.

“Uhm…”

Sally rushed in, ignoring the tender soreness in her tired body as she hacked the zombie’s head clean off with her axe as its body slumped to the floor. Quickly and effortlessly, she pulled out the lodged weapon and handed it to Tubbo. “Be more careful, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah…” Tubbo said sheepishly as he took his weapon back and Sally rushed to finish off Tommy’s pinned zombie. With a few strikes, it was down. Tommy grabbed his sword to get it free, tugging harshly to no avail. He got more anxious with each tug as Sally faceplamed.

“You stupid-” She muttered, handing him her axe. “Finish off the last two with Tubbo, and try not to lose another weapon, okay?” Tommy huffed in slight protest before Sally gave him a look and he rolled his eyes, taking the weapon and running off.

“I don’t think it’s gonna hold!” Technoblade yelled as he threw his back against the door, pushing it closed against what must have been around twenty zombies pushing and trying to get in with any means necessary. Sally looked over to Phil, who looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan, any plan at all. “Phil?”

“Phil, what do we-?”

A loud crash erupted - a broken window. Danger. Phil’s grip tightened on his sword as he began to shout orders. “Tommy, Tubbo, hold the back door NOW! Sally, stay behind me.” Phil’s tone was tense and sharp, and the two teen boys rushed like mice to do as he asked. “We just need a little more time, it’s gotta hold a little longer…” At this point, he was hoping for some kind of miracle. This wasn’t just a regular breach - this was a massacre. Rushing forward, he pushed the shadow in the dim light down to the floor, and quickly raised his axe to bring it down when-

“Wait wait wait-! I’m not one of them!”

Phil’s eyes squinted in the light to find… Wilbur. He looked like a mess, his clothes torn and ripped with green slimy goo staining the fabric. Phil’s eyes watered in relief as he quickly pulled his son in for a tight embrace, helping him up off the floor. “Thank god, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Good to see you too, Dad.” Wilbur smiled before the two let go, his eyebrows furrowed and his tone more serious. “These aren’t regular zombies, they’re stronger and more resilient. Last I checked they were taking down the square one house at a time, and from the looks of it most of them were not prepared for a visit.”

“...Fuck.” Phil cursed under his breath, his mind beginning to race once again. Did they have a chance?

“I ran as fast as I could to get here, I was so worried…” Wilbur said as Sally rushed forward to embrace him with a smile, running her hands down his face and through his hair, afraid she’d lose it again. Wilbur, in turn ran his hands down her arms, his smile brightening that it was real and alive and here-

“Good to see you’re not dead, Wil.” Tommy huffed against the door as the monsters on the other side growled and moaned, pushing their weight and strength against it. “But we have a bit of a situation here!”

“We need to get out of here.” Wilbur looked over to Phil. “If we stay any longer, we’ll be trapped. Once we’re out of here we can run into the forest to hide and wait out the horde.”

“But both exits-”

The two elder brothers looked at their father and answered at the same time in surprise. “The second floor window.” They turned to each other, sharing a brief smile. Technoblade looked over to Phil once more, his mind and heart racing as the voices in his head boomed louder, and he tried his best to ignore their shouts. 

“Look, it’s risky, I know, but we’ve gotta try. We don’t have time.” He winced and grunted as the zombies on the other side of the wall grew more violent in their animalistic attempts to break in. Phil looked at his family’s faces, hints of fear and uncertainty in their expressions. Tommy’s arm went to stop Tubbo from falling over at a particularly forceful blow, and as Tommy’s nerves increased he could see Tubbo holding his hand and giving it a squeeze. Technoblade’s heels dug into the wooden floor as chairs, tables and wooden boards began to splitter under the force of the creatures outside. Wilbur pressed a soft kiss to Sally’s forehead as Sally’s hand drifted to her stomach instinctively at this point, her eyes filled with nothing but worry. He knew this was crazy, but if it meant that there was a chance they’d be safe, he’d risk it.

“Alright. Wilbur, make sure the window’s open and we have a clear way down. Everyone else, get ready to run.”

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

Wilbur’s heart stopped as he saw the creature’s teeth sink into Phil’s neck as he let out a scream in agony. Shit, shit, shit… he didn’t know where they came from, they blocked the stairs as they ran up, why didn’t he see it?! The zombie that bit Phil fell to the ground with a thud as Phil’s own blood seeped down his shoulder and stained his shirt. Techno stilled as he made eye contact with his father, who looked sad, knowing his fate. “Phil, I’m so sorry, I-” Wilbur trembled, his hand reaching out toward Phil, not knowing what to do, what to say. Phil’s head shook back and forth slightly before pushing his sword into Wilbur’s hands.

“You two need to go. Now. Before you lose the chance.”

Technoblade was stone faced. “Phil, we’re not leaving you-”

“There’s no time to discuss this, I said GO-!” Phil shouted sternly before going into a coughing fit, holding himself steady against the wall. Wilbur stepped forward, wanting to grab his hand, help him before Phil recoiled. “Wil… Techno… you need to go, that’s an order.” Silence fell over the two brothers, not wanting to leave their father. “Look, they’re not going to attack me now but they will attack you, now MOVE IT!”

Shuffling and groans grew behind them as Phil winced, feeling the infection flow through his body. They needed to get out before he turned, they needed to live, he wanted them to live-

“But what about you?”

Phil looked over to his sons with a sad smile. “I think I’ve taught you both enough to know what happens now.” Suddenly it felt like all the air in the room vanished. “Now do me proud and show me what we do if someone gets bit. Show me what I’ve taught you.” Phil could feel himself getting lightheaded, he was going to pass out, but he couldn’t… not until they both were safe.

Wilbur didn’t know what to do as he looked to Techno then to Phil, who slowly lowered himself to the floor, his back leaning against the walls of the home he built for them. Techno’s fists tightened as he turned to face his brother. “Techno…?”

“Get somewhere safe, okay?” His voice was heavy, serious. “Promise me you’ll get somewhere safe.”

“I… I will, I promise.” Wilbur said, trying to look at his brother to see if he had any plan. “But what are we going to-?” Before he knew what was happening, Techno shoved him through the window, closing and locking it firmly behind him. Wilbur began to panic, realizing what Technoblade was doing and trying to find some kind of grip before he slipped off the roof and landed in the bushes, pain and bruises blossoming on his body. Tubbo helped him up off the ground as Tommy’s eyes looked up to the window, confused. 

“Where’s Phil and Tech?”

Tears pricked at the edges of Wilbur’s eyes as he felt his heart begin to throb without them here. Why, why why… Why did he stay? Why didn’t he let him stay? Why wasn’t he careful enough? It’s all his fault-

“Wil…?” Tommy’s voice wavered. “Where’s Technoblade and Phil?”

At that moment, Wilbur knew things changed forever. Phil and Techno were gone, they were gone and they were never coming back. He told Technoblade, he promised him that he’d get all of them somewhere safe, and with a heavy heart Wilbur knew it wasn’t here, not anymore. He wasn’t going to lose anyone else, he was going to protect them. He was going to protect all of them, if it was the last thing he’d ever do. That very moment what Techno said to him finally made sense.

‘If things go bad, you’ll know what to do, Wilbur.’

Right now, he wanted, more than anything in the world, to get them out of here. Tubbo and Tommy shared awkward glances as Wilbur took a deep breath for a moment, sniffling and wiping the tears from his eyes. Sally looked towards him concerned as Wilbur slid his hand into hers, looking towards his brothers with the same look and tone Phil had. 

“We need to go. Now.”

[poepoe-thebunny]

Rudy/Tony and Fam during Quarantine

Cause this is where my life is at, apparently. I thought I escaped the “quarantine fever writing” that everyone else got. Apparently I was wrong. 

After another visit to the castle, the Thompson’s end up there in quarantine once miss rona hits the world. Thank god for WI-FI and working remotely, even if his parents look vaguely like zombies due to time zone differences. Tony can’t talk, his online schooling schedule is all sorts of weird and he’s pretty sure his teacher just wants to sleep until the whole thing is over. Honestly Tony can’t say he blames her. 

The Sackville-bagg clan, as it turns out, is a surprisingly overprotective bunch when they need to be, especially now that they have accepted their humans into the fold. Even with catching up on modern medicine and germ theory, they won’t allow anything to happen to their precious humans. 

(AU/headcanons incoming??

Rudy/Tony: 

- Think Rudy was protective before? Think again. 

- Rudy is over 300 years old, he’s old by human standards and he has met people who are old by vampire standards. He’s seen Things(TM) ok?

- He has been through more than one plague in his life. He has seen what it can do to the sick and the poor. He knows it’s a different now, that life-saving machines exist, that they’re working on a vaccine, that soap is widely available. 

- But he also knows it’s not. 

- Tony? Not going anywhere as far as he is concerned. Say hello to your prince, Rapunzel, cause Rudy is keeping Tony up in that tower if it kills him (again). 

- He knows where all of Tony’s masks are, and where he puts the extras. 

- He’ even shops online for masks with Tony, finding cool hand-sewn, gothic looking ones for Rudy himself to wear. He’s not sure if Corona even effects vampires, but Tony likes finding stuff to match his “aesthetic’ and it keeps his mortal happy. 

- He waits on his mortal hand and foot in between videogames and watching Netflix. (Tony likes How to Train Your Dragon and Paranorman, Rudy likes The Little Prince and Kubo and the Two Strings.). 

- Rudy’s first introduction to Tumblr is through Tony, and at one point they reach the Plague Doctor Aesthetics. While Rudy hasn’t spent much time in Italy, he doesn’t think they’re very accurate, and complains as such to his mortal. 

- Rudy is surprisingly easily offended about historically inaccurate things, and it sends Tony into laughing fits. 

- Rudy is Bad At Memes. Like, just in general he doesn’t always get them, and when Corona Memes become a thing he’s just constantly confused. Poor Rudy honestly. 

- Tries to learn to cook healthy human food, except he hasn’t had any major kitchen experience in 200-odd years and it comes out as a disaster the first few times he tries it. 

- It turns into a teaching session between him and the other adult humans, turns out the old couple who owns the castle like to feed people. Rudy walks into Tony’s room with a tray piled so high Tony can’t see his head. 

-Always offering to fly around the castle to get things for Tony, even if he isn’t sick. 

- TikTok dances. Tony shows him, then teaches him. Rudy is shockingly good at them, but Gregory thinks he’s cringy. 

Gregory: 

(Not me flexing my love of the good big brother trope, absolutely not, nope)

- Surprisingly rather take charge about the whole thing, he’s come around to the Thompson’s and the old couple. 

- While his parents help when they can, they sort of take a step back, and let the three siblings explain what’s happening in the world to the clan (if they are there). Being the oldest, Gregory sort of defaults to being the leader. 

-Checks in with the Thompson’s, as well as Otto and Emma (The old couple who run the place.) Asks if they need anything while they work/are in school etc. 

- Warns the clan to be very careful when visiting, not just for the Thompson’s, but also because Otto and Emma are getting on in years and could become sick very easily. Always asks for a heads up before a family visit. 

- Won’t tell anyone but, late at night if he’s not busy, he’ll do things around the castle for the humans, especially upkeep for Otto and Emma, while they sleep. 

- Dusting hard to reach spots like chandeliers, organizing books in the old castle library, moving heavy furniture and stuff since he can fly. 

-Low key drags Rudy and Anna into helping him clean 

(”But Gregory, this is our home now too! I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“Humans are fragile, and they’re letting us stay here out of kindness, so don’t be rude. Clean up after yourself little brother.” 

“He’s right you know.” 

“Of course I am. And don’t think you’re getting out of cleaning the rafters Anna, and stop leaving your books everywhere for them to pick up.” 

 ‘hmph.” )

- Of the vampires he’s lowkey the best at cooking human food. Tony, Rudy, and Anna just walk into the kitchen at night and Fredrick is just watching his eldest, genuinely amused, as he dances around the kitchen in a “Kill the Cook (Too late, I’m already dead)” apron, blasting out dad rock from the stereo. 

-Bonds with the Thompsons over cooking human food, especially Tony’s dad after he teaches Gregory what an “air guitar” move is. 

-Gregory discovers pinterest food aesthetics, and is a machine of baking, mixing, and decorating sweet candies/cakes/brownies. He wants his food to look pretty dang it. 

- Anna and Rudy just watch, silently judging him. 

Anna: 

- She’s just thriving tbh. 

- She has internet access now, and her brothers have never been more terrified. 

-If Gregory is the vampire equivalent of a pinterest mommy, Anna is the vampire equivalent of creepy diy aesthetic tiktokers. 

-Not like, bloody horror diy, but like, the subtly creepy but still sweet kind, like the Addams family or Coraline. 

- She learned needle arts with her mom, so she’s out here sewing Coraline dolls, or patchwork dresses a la Nightmare Before Christmas cause she CAN. 

-Makes her own handbag with those felt cartoonish vampire faces and big fake bat ears on the side. 

-Learns more modern patterns and stuff, but will make masks for the humans as gifts, cause she doesn’t want them to get sick. 

- After watching Coraline together, she made “Other Me” dolls of her brothers, button eyes included, and stuck them in their coffins. She would make them “move’ by flying them around to different rooms when her brothers weren’t looking, just to freak them out. 

- Spoiler alert: it worked. They ran to Tony for help and she laughed over it for days. 

- Anna loves adventure books to Rudy’s poetry and Gregory’s fables/folk tales. She hates being excluded from her brothers “adventures”. 

-Tony introduces her to comics and video games and she just lives her best life. 

-One of her favorite comic book character is Cassandra Cain/Blackbat/The Orphan.

- She loves books like Matilda, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Giver, as well as games like the Lara Croft/Tomb Raider series. 

-VICIOUS at video games, this girl has no mercy, she will blue shell you so hard. 

The Adults: 

-Life is Hard(TM) right now, but the Thompson’s try to make the best of it. They’re very grateful to Otto and Emma for letting them stay. 

-They’re both working remotely, so they’re a little messed up sleep schedule wise. But that’s ok, their vampire friends don’t seem to mind. 

- Freda teaches Dottie how to make proper tea, cause she likes it and Dottie is sort of addicted to caffeine. Dottie teaches Freda how to make mochas and smoothies, Dottie likes mango-pineapple smoothies and Freda likes hot white chocolate mochas with cinnamon. 

-Surprisingly, Frederick and Bob become pretty good friends. Frederick understands the stress of having to care for your family in very uncertain times, and the two men bond over unsure parental decisions. 

-Bob is also surprisingly good at making Frederick loosen up, much to Freda and Dottie’s amusement. While initially awkward, they have a surprisingly snarky and sarcastic sort of friendship. Frederick deadpans insults at him and Bob cheerfully annoys him into Being Nice For Once while being completely aware of the fact that he’s annoying Frederick. 

-Meals where Bob cooks often consists of him singing oldies into his spatula, making bad impression of certain singers, including Elvis and Cher. He is occasionally joined by Tony and Gregory, making the entire family laugh. 

- Anna’s bones may be old, but she can hand sew like a goddess, and has occasionally taken to fixing up the kids’ torn clothes, as Dottie can barely keep straight lines and Freda prefers knitting. 

- Someone (read: Freda) mentions that Frederick can play the cello, and after a rousing performance, it turns out that Otto can play an accordion, and of course Bob can play the guitar. A jam session occurs as the kids just stare in utter bewilderment.

- Tony’s grandparents were kinda hippies, so Bob and Dottie know a lot of oldies and folk songs, which while different than from what they normally hear, Otto and Anna connect too. They swap songs back and forth, and it turns out Dottie can do a mean Loretta lynn impression. 

- Dottie likes the Beach Boys, and teaches the others how to Twist. As in, the dance, and Freda actually likes it quite a bit. 

[lokilickedme]

Submitted by @fudgemuffinanon

Ok I think I’m up to date….

1. HOLY SHIT WOMAN! You had Covid and just learned about it? How did you find out? Was it with a test? And you handled the asshat at the grocery store way better than I would have. I’m not patient, nor diplomatic, and I have major RBF syndrome… The temper goes with the face more ofter than I care to admit…

2. Your grandmother’s story was incredible. I know you don’t need another project but this could be a beautiful book. No fandom incorporated, just her story.

3. As @mollage said, the Universe is after you! But you may be one of the strongest woman I know, going through all your adventures with that attitude. Thank you Elizabeth for passing down your fiery spirit!

4. With everything that happened to you in the last few weeks, I can’t expect you to write anything. I’ll just wait and take what you give us. Fuck, I just have to deal with Baby Girl’s online school - Big Boy is responsible enough to deal with his class mostly alone - and I have to tell her to go back to the computer every 5 minutes and I’m going NUTS! And we have one more month to go…

Ontario has been in stay-at-home order since April 8th, and non-essential stores MAY reopen mid-June at 15% capacity and outdoor activities in small groups MAY resume IF we have 60% of population vaccinated with their first dose. We’re about 58% now according to Health Minister but they stopped giving Aztra as first dose, so all the pharmacies that could give it now can’t. There’s a lot less Pfizer and Moderna doses available so I don’t know how fast it will happen. But it means I will most likely get my second dose quicker than August. Yay me! Second phase won’t happen until we get 70% 1st dose vaccination. So we’re stuck for a while. We’re going out in the woods for walks once in a while so we don’t get too close to people but I want to go to a fabric store sooooo bad!! I’m done picking ticks off hubby everytime we get out.  And I’m running out of crafts to learn on youtube. 

Ok, enough ranting…  gotta go finish knitting Baby girl’s bday gift. A 6" turtle. With clothes. And a shawl. And boots. Yeah… Love ya!

*******************************************************

Fudgey!!

Yup. All four of us had covid back in November of 2019, before it broke wide and before anyone really knew it was in the US. Husband was able to track it back to a coworker who’d returned from a family visit to China (he works with a large community of Asian Americans who travel back and forth a lot). The coworker came home sick, and shortly after that our household got the worst “flu” any of us have ever had (that was what we thought it was, a weirdly violent flu that hit each of us differently). I’ve never been sicker in my life, my husband thought I was going to die and he claims I told him to just let me go if it looked like I wasn’t going to make it. I’m pretty sure I meant it…it was that bad. I may have actually requested an assist to the other side at one point.

So anyway, a little while later it broke wide and when the symptom lists started coming out we started wondering if that wasn’t what we’d had. Husband finally a few weeks ago went and talked to the guy that had come back sick from overseas and the guy said “Oh yeah, I had the covid, did you get it too?”

By that time there had been approximately 150 known cases at husband’s workplace and six confirmed deaths from it. Grrrr.

At this point it was too late for us to get confirmed, but husband contacted a friend in Colorado who is a covid specialty ER nurse and described our symptoms and the timeframe of our illness to her. She said we absolutely had it - she’d had it too during that same timeframe, before it broke wide and before anyone knew what it was.

So now all my lingering weird-ass symptoms make sense. Big and Little are fine, they don’t seem to have any long-term problems, though I’m keeping an eye on them (especially Big). Husband is fine as well. Me? I took it in the seat of the pants, but like I was telling someone the other day, as soon as one of the longhaul clinics sets up here I’m gonna be there.

The putz in the grocery store was nothing unusual for here. What really gets me is the way people glare at us for continuing to wear masks - it’s almost scary. WTF is wrong with people.

Glad you liked my grandma’s story. Honestly I don’t know enough to write a book about her without having to speculate on a lot of in-between stuff because she was a very secretive person (probably for a good reason tbh) but what a tale it would be. She was a mess :D My mother has always been mad at me for taking after her - she never liked my grandmother much, there was some bad blood between them from decades back, and yeah that’s kind of a good story too lol

Ah, speaking of writing, I’m going to toss out a short chap of that silly self indulgent side-thing for The Department tonight (probably as soon as I send this reply off) and then I’m shooting for a chapter of the actual fic tomorrow at some point. Taking advantage of the husbandary absence (yes I know that’s not a word but it works)

I feel ya on the homeschooling - the boys finished their semester two weeks ago and the stress of that final week for Big (9th grade) was insane.

I wish we were under a stay-at-home order, but where I live hardly anyone obeyed it when we WERE. I love living here but I swear sometimes the people make me want to move off-planet just to find a higher intelligence demographic.

Anyway, I gotta see this turtle when you’re finished with it. You mentioned it so now you gotta show it. I’m going to bug you every day until you provide pictures because even though I can crochet a blanket like nobody’s business I cannot crochet a doll to save my own ass. Gonna have to rely on you for that ;P

@fudgemuffinanon

[star-birthmark]

Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader

Finally... FINALLY IT IS DONE! This is infernal ask that has been in my inbox for so long!!! Thank you to @stardustbrosaders for the request all those months ago lol. This was the request: “Heya! Would it be possible to write a P4! Jotaro x Female! Reader where the reader gets her stand under stress from a battle? The group almost gets defeated but the reader’s stand appears and she beats the enemy, saving everyone? For the readers stand type could it be close range like SP and CD?”

I also drew the reader’s stand for this fic. You can find a link to the stand info here. 

This is a long ass fic btw. It’s literally 11 THOUSAND WORDS. I don’t know what compelled me to make the fic this long. I really don’t. But I did and here we are. I hope you like it, no matter how long it is!

Quick content warnings: General violence and angst, strangulation, murder (duh)

Without further ado: Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader (11k words)

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but it had just been a long day, and no progress had been made to capture that force. The team’s morale was low. The exhausted high school students stumbled home to catch a good night’s rest, thoughts of ongoing danger in their small town looming over their heads. The young manga artist Rohan Kishibe grumbled to himself about his failures, wondering how a genius like him could not decipher this mystery like he had last time. You felt a heavy air of unrest lay over the town as you awkwardly shifted in your seat on the ride to the Grand Hotel, looking over at your travel mate as he silently ran over the facts in his head. He shook his head in frustration. None of this made any sense. All the victims had been killed in the same way, so it must be a stand, one that didn’t leave behind any evidence, one potentially even more dangerous than Kira. 

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but you didn’t know anything about the first monstrous event that had occurred. The small town’s silent saviors all agreed with one another to seal their lips and tell no one what had really happened. Not that anyone would have believed them. 

But you would have. Your travel partner didn’t know anything yet, but the more time you two spent in this strange town, the crazier you felt you were becoming. You were seeing objects levitate in the air, you were seeing arms stick out from these bizarre teenagers. At this point, you’d believe anything just to make it all stop. You stumbled inside from the taxi, convinced this small town was driving you insane. 

Your partner turned to you in front of your hotel room, his own room right next door, and placed his large hands on your shoulders. 

“Are you alright (y/n)? If any of this investigation gets to be too much for you, just tell me and I’ll send you on the next flight back home.” 

You snort tiredly. “Too much for me? Jotaro you look exhausted… You haven’t been taking breaks from the case at all…  You’re always so anxious. Do you promise you’ll actually go to bed this time?” 

Jotaro looked down at you and moved his hands from you, sighing heavily. “Yeah… I promise…” 

You give him a shy smile before shrugging. “Besides… you need me, don’t you? Weren’t you the one that said I’m the only one that calms you down?” 

Jotaro gulped and broke eye contact with you, his own silent way of admitting that you were right. You chuckled and opened the door to your hotel room, giving him one last look and goodnight before you left to go to bed. You would wake up about two hours later from the sound of your partner’s shuffling about in his room next door. You slipped on a thick crew neck over your thin tank top and shorts and open to the door connecting to the two rooms. 

You peaked your head past the door to find a familiar sight before you. Pictures were tacked onto a corkscrew board, red thread connecting the dots to draw the group one step closer to solving the crimes. Files were splayed out over the desk, a map of the small Japanese town resting on the nearby bed, etched with red Xs displaying the sites where several young men and women met their demise. Amongst the mess, you found the broad shoulders of a tired Jotaro Kujo hunched over the desk, the young man still looking at the mountains of documents, eager to find the path to justice. It was hidden in those pages, he was sure of it. It had been your third night together in that hotel, and it was evident that you two would be there for much longer.  

---

“Miss (L/N) it says here that you have received your degree in zoology and graduated at the top of your major.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it says here that you recently led an academic study of marine biology that went very well back home.”

“Yes sir, and it would be an honor to join this esteemed team of scientists here at SPW.”

It was the year 1998, and you were interviewing to work at the Speedwagon Foundation. You had graduated atop your class, and had a passion for your work that few possessed, as well success that few could show for. You prayed that this interview was going well. The Foundation was the utmost important center of scientific research in the world and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to work there. You watched the smile on your interviewer’s face as he reviewed your credentials before setting the paper down. 

“Miss (L/N) I’d like to welcome you aboard our team. I believe you will contribute much to our efforts.”

Your face lit up in excitement and you rushed to shake his hand. “Thank you so much sir, I won’t let you down! If I could ask what position you’re hiring me for?”  

“You see we have an opening for an assistant with the Kujo lab. Since you’re just starting off here- you’ll be assisting him in meetings and in bench work-”

“Excuse me... the Kujo lab? As in Jotaro Kujo? Isn’t he my age?” You interrupt nervously. 

“Why yes miss… is there an issue?”

“Well no sir it’s just… I thought perhaps I’d be working under an esteemed professor… I didn’t think someone fresh out of grad school would already have a lab to himself… Not to sound ungrateful of course, I just didn’t realize I would be working under one of my contemporaries…” 

A sigh came to the man and leaned back in his chair, thinking about how to explain the situation. 

“Miss (y/n), the reason I’m placing you in Kujo’s lab is that I feel the two of you would work well together, given your similar backgrounds and parallel personalities…” You furrow your brow, unsure what the supervisor meant until you were face to face with Jotaro Kujo himself a few days later. 

You still remembered the day well. You hung your coat up on a nearby hook and looked about the lab. Documents were piled over every available surface with no particular organization. A large fish tank stood in the far corner, a wild variety of fish encased within. Anatomical posters of aquatic life were all over the walls, and right by the window sat Jotaro. He hadn’t looked up when you came in. Approaching his desk, you stared down at the mass of black hair on the top of his head. Soon clearing your throat, the young doctoral student’s head shot up to look at you blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, taken aback by his unemotional expression, nervously turning to a notebook you had on hand.

“Uh… um… My name is (y/n) (l/n), your new coworker. I would like to thank you for allowing me into your lab. I had been going over your most recent papers on the social patterns of starfish on the eastern-most coast of Japan and I was just wondering if-”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

You looked up from your notes and into the young man’s deep blue eyes, your breath catching in your throat. You struggled to form a sentence under the intense gaze, your breath shuttering out from your lips, and you looked back down at your notes. 

“I’m (y/n) (l/n)... your new coworker.” 

Jotaro nodded slowly, considering what you had just said. You watched as he removed his large white overcoat and leaned back in his chair, donned in a fitted black t-shirt. 

“Why did they hire you?” You lean forward confused, your ear facing him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Why did they hire you?” 

You look away for a moment, considering his now nervous expression, his nervous tick of chewing on his lip, his small twitches of the eye, his clenching and unclenching of his jaw. You looked down, finding his leg bouncing anxiously against the floor. A small, sweet smile came to you, and you opened your mouth to speak, alerting his attention. 

“You and I apparently have parallel personalities… according to them.”

You watched as Jotaro’s lips curved into a shy smile and he got up from his seat, grabbing a notepad from a nearby drawer. He then turned to you and extended his arm out, pointing. You followed the direction of his hand and saw a separate desk facing his at the other end of the office. You turned back and quickly nodded, rushing to set your things down and then turning to face him once more. 

Jotaro nodded courteously at you. “Have you read my most recent work?” 

“Yes, I just told you that I did that-”

“Good. Come to the meeting with me then.”

You followed after him into a nearby boardroom, unsure of the situation about to befall you. The meeting began. Executives discussed their most recent funding prospects, deciding whether or not to continue their spending, depending on how successful the trials had been. You sat patiently in your chair, listening to the others argue frankly amongst themselves. A steady, fast tapping upon the table commanded your attention and you turned over to see Jotaro staring off into the distance, his fingers rapidly tapping on the desk, his whole form shaking with sensory overload. 

“Mr. Kujo? And you?” You watched as Jotaro’s head shot up and he looked around the room. He hadn’t been listening, his mind had been too overcome with anxieties. 

“I um… I uh… W-what were-” 

You watched nervously as this man came undone at his seams. You cleared your throat and tapped the table next to his notepad. Getting the message, Jotaro grabbed the notepad quickly and anxiously flipped through its pages. 

“Um… sorry about that. I would like to further my research- wait no this is on the wrong page. Wait no it’s not… wait-” 

You looked around as the listeners began to get frustrated, looking at each other in jest of one of their top researchers. You chewed nervously on your finger, hoping Jotaro would pull himself together. It was your first day working with him, and it was already troublesome.

“I would like to further the research done in my penultimate paper. Or was it my most recent...”

“Mr. Kujo, we would have liked for you to have prepared for this meeting…” 

“No no… I did. I did. Wait-”

With a quick motion, you reached over and placed a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder, calmly taking the notepad from him and then turning to the group. Jotaro looked away, still visibly shaken. 

“Mr. Kujo clearly states in his most recent paper that he plans to continue his research, at a different coastal region, comparing more behaviors there to make sure that this past successful trial wasn’t any sort of spontaneous fluke. He writes in his goals of perhaps inspecting the regional colonies of starfish around S-Town… Following that, he plans to remain in contact with the genomic department and track genetic similarities between human and aquatic life that may explain the similar social patterns between the two.” 

You explain to them all, having memorized the paper. Turning to the notepad, you saw what Jotaro had written in preparation for the meeting. You then turned back to the investors.

“Mr. Kujo kindly asks that you aid him in his funding so that mankind as a whole may find a better understanding of the natural world… That’s all he wanted to say. He just couldn’t find the right page. Sir.”

You reached back and placed the notepad back near Jotaro’s shaking hand. You returned your hand back to the other’s shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure the scientist that he was alright. The young man turned to you in a bit of surprise, not expecting your presence to calm him oh so much. The executives all took in your words and the head of the meeting slowly nodded. 

“Well… thank you for your assistance, miss…?” 

“(l/n).”

“Right well thank you… We will consider Mr. Kujo’s work for a second trial.”

“Thank you. He appreciates it.” With that, you let go of Jotaro’s shoulder.

The meeting soon adjourned, You got up to leave your seat when you felt Jotaro’s hand grab your shoulder. You turned around to see him slowly stand up from his chair. 

“Thank you. I’m not a big fan of speaking to them…”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…  of course…”

From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Having experienced the horrific acts done to him and to those he loved back in his teenage years, Jotaro was convinced that you were the only one who could calm his constant nerves and anxieties. You became his most powerful tool against the outside world. You understood his work perfectly, understood his mannerisms perfectly, and respected his need for silence in the office. You knew how to say things the way he would himself, and you had no fear discussing them to other people. The two of you became much closer over the months of your working. Jotaro became much less of an enigma in your eyes. It would be a few months until Jotaro would unwillingly reveal his more “secret” projects. 

The first time you saw the arrow, Jotaro did not want you to see it. But still, what happened that day would forever change your relationship with the young scientist. You had arrived early, hoping to surprise him with a hot breakfast and a smile. You turn the corner to walk into the lab, yet when you go to open the door, you find it locked. Strange. Looking inside the room, you find Jotaro hunched over his desk in focus, in the same clothes as the day before, having not yet unlocked the door. Even more strange. You knocked on the door, only for him to leave the room with another door in a hurry, ignoring your pleas. With a grumble, you dug for your keys, figuring his weird behavior was just fatigue, and that he probably slept over at work again.  When you finally get into the lab, you place your things down, and that's when you see it lingering underneath his desk in a rushed hiding spot. 

Encased within a thickly walled wooden box, an arrow remained, barely hidden from your gaze, as Jotaro had had no time to hide it from you. The latch was undone, another sign that Jotaro had run away from the scene.

Jerk. Didn’t he trust you enough to show you something like this? It’s just a bow and arrow! Why was he hiding it? You called out for him to return to the room and explain what the bow and arrow was for. Hearing no response, you turned back to the wooden box, reaching your hand in to inspect the bow and arrow. 

It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye. 

There were no in-between movements. One moment you had pricked your finger on the razor sharp tip of the arrow, the next moment you were standing up, the box had been tightly locked, and Jotaro stood right in front of you, chest to chest, intensely staring you down. Your breath became ragged as you maintained eye contact with him. What just happened? You didn’t even hear him come in. The box was right before your very eyes, and you didn’t even see that it was locked. How did he even turn you around without you knowing?! A chill went down your spine as you hesitated to speak even a word to the man before you. 

“Do you see what was in there?”

 Jotaro asked you calmly. You felt a cold sweat form on your forehead. Jotaro, ever the impatient man, grabbed your jacket collar, shaking you out of your scared daze. 

“I’m asking you now (y/n)! Did you see what was in there?!” 

“No, I didn’t see anything! I don’t know what just happened! I swear! I saw you run away from the room and went to see what was in there and the next thing I knew you had come back and it was all so fast and I don’t understand and I-... Jotaro… you’re scaring me.” 

Your body convulsed at his rough contact, your hands reaching up to push him away, but his tight grip on your jacket remained steadfast. Pure instinct had compelled you to lie to him about seeing the content of the box, but the terror and confusion you had displayed was genuine. You still didn’t understand how he was able to move that fast, or affect you with you even knowing. Just who was this man?

Jotaro stared down at you for a moment longer, before releasing you from his grip and taking a few steps back. You stumbled back, grabbing the edge of his desk to stabilize your fall. Your heart continued to race in your chest as you heaved, still struggling to make sense of what just happened. 

Jotaro silently called out Star Platinum, having his stand hover right in front of you as you kept staring at him in confusion. Your expression didn’t change once he called out his stand. So you were telling the truth. You really hadn’t seen the arrow. Or at least, hadn’t touched it.

Jotaro sighed, rubbing the side of his head with a groan. He hadn’t stopped time in so long, but it seemed he was worried over nothing. “I’m sorry to frighten you, (y/n).” 

You finally straightened yourself out, gulping. “Who the hell are you? Really?!” 

“...I’m Jotaro Kujo. That is all.” 

Another chill ran down up your spine, but you played it off. If he wanted to continue things as per usual, you’d have to do the same. 

“Right… I brought breakfast. And there’s a morning meeting in half an hour so freshen up.” 

You walked past him to retrieve the food you had bought for them. Looking down to pick it up, you noticed a red blood stain on your jacket. It must have been from your bleeding finger when you’d pricked it on the arrow. However, when you turned to look at the finger itself, you found that it was fully healed, not even scarred, even after such a precise and direct cut. Jotaro politely asked you for the food, claiming hunger, and you rushed to take your coat off and hide it away. You got the sense that he’d question further if he saw the fresh blood stain. 

After that fateful morning, things continued on as per usual. You still had your questions, but after a few weeks had passed without another incident, you resolved that whatever that bow and arrow were must have been top secret for the Speedwagon Foundation. You figured no company could be as powerful as they were without keeping a few secrets. And this was one of them. 

So you resolved to ask no questions about that one day. The same way you didn’t put up much of a fight when, in the summer of 1999, after months of you two planning to stay there together, Jotaro told you that he would be going to Morioh alone to research for his PhD, without you. You were furious, enraged how the two of you could become so close since you began working there, yet he still didn’t trust you to go with him. You argued with him the night before he was set to leave, but his resolve never crumbled. You weren’t going to Morioh, that was final. 

In the three months that he was gone, Jotaro regularly sent you his findings, and you sorted them back at Speedwagon Headquarters. When he finally came back, more visibly shaken than he was before, you could only wonder what the coworker you had grown so attached to had experienced in Morioh in the summer of 1999. 

Circling back to the present day, it was the winter of 2000, and there was yet again a dark force afoot in the town of Morioh. Only this time, Jotaro would not go alone. 

“You have to let me come with you this time.” 

“Explain why. Explain why I have to let you come with me this time. I did just fine on my own before.” 

You gritted your teeth at the other’s stubbornness. “Will you please just listen to me? Jotaro when you came back from Morioh, you were even harder to deal with than before! Any sound in the office set you on edge and you screamed when someone set off fireworks near our building! And you still haven’t explained to me what happened there! Now let me come with you! I can help!”

Jotaro turned his attention away from his work, finally looking at you for the first time in that conversation. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become, how much you meant to him. You were his ticket into communicating with the world to his fullest, and after recalling several confusing conversations with Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi, Jotaro realized he actually needed you in order to articulate himself to the others without getting too anxious or angry. 

“Alright fine. We’re leaving tomorrow at 2. You better be ready.” 

But nothing could have prepared you for the horrors you were about to encounter in that small town. To your shock and disgust, you learned that aside from his research, Jotaro was investigating a murderer. And then you met Josuke and the others. That was when you first felt that you were going crazy. When you saw glimpses of third arms extend out from these teenagers, saw one of them heal a broken leg with ease, saw another erase space itself. People all over this small town were vanishing in thin air, and the incidents were happening more and more frequently. It didn’t make any sense, but no one was commenting on it, so you felt you were just imagining things. The same way you must have imagined Jotaro moving at lightspeed that morning you pricked your finger on the arrow. 

Finally, we return to the current scene of Jotaro hunched over his desk, his room in the Morioh Grand Hotel littered with documents, the board nearby covered in photos and string, the bedside clock reading 2:33 am.  You approached him carefully in the tense silence, knowing not to startle him whenever he was in deep thought. 

“...Jotaro-”

“Dammit dammit dammit! I’m sick of it! Where the hell is he?!” 

Jotaro slammed his fist down on the desk, his chest heaving in frustration. Why did this keep happening to him?! He just wanted to live a normal life, and he thought after Kira, he could. But like so many times before, Jotaro Kujo was wrong. Perhaps it was his destiny to be unfortunate. Perhaps there would always be another person stabbed by the arrow that would have it out for him and the others. Perhaps he was always destined to have a target on his back. Jotaro turned around to see you there, your form shaken from his sudden outburst. You’d never seen him that angry before. He met your gaze, unaware that you were sensing a vague presence of a being just above the man’s shoulder. 

He sighed, walking over to you. “I’m sorry to scare you (y/n). I’m just getting frustrated by all this.”

You hesitated to speak for a moment, flinching when Jotaro placed his hand on your shoulder. You look up at him with a glare.  “Tell what you haven’t been telling me.” 

“You’ve been with me in Morioh this whole time (y/n). We both know the same things about this case I-”

You shoved Jotaro back, the surprised scientist bumping into his desk. “Don’t play dumb with me Jotaro! There’s something you’re not telling me! Do you think I’m an idiot?! Do you think I can’t handle it?! Tell me why you and a bunch of fucking kids have to be the ones taking down a killer?! Why can’t you just leave it to the police like a normal person?! Just say it! I…  I can help you!” 

But Jotaro couldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand his world and the horrifying stands contained within it. He had to keep you safe. The moment you find out anything more will be the moment you die. 

“No… I can’t tell you (y/n).” 

“But that’s not fair I-”

“(y/n), I’m sorry, but if you ask me again, I’ll be forced to send you back home and have you fired from my lab. Try to understand me, I’m doing this for your own safety, but I can’t have you be near me if you don’t cooperate.” 

You stood there in shock. Would he really do that? Didn’t he know how much working for him at the Foundation meant to you? How much care that you put in for him and his work? And he’d throw all that away just to protect some stupid secret!? Who did he think he was?!

Your whole body began to quiver in rage at the other’s behavior. Just when you thought there was something between the two of you, something more than just a young professor and his assistant, he makes it clear that you mean nothing to him, and you never have. You watched the man before you, turn away from your gaze to focus back to his work. With a huff, you reach for the door to leave, your hand touching the handle. 

Then, it all went white. 

Your hand touched the handle, feeling the metal scalding to the touch. Before you could flinch back and yelp at the pain, a hand circled around your neck and another crept around your waist, the grip keeping you flush against another body. You look around the room, watching the color and furniture dissolve from your view until all you could see for miles was a white void. The only thing you could feel was the man with a locked grip on your neck, blocking your airway. You kicked to set yourself free, until you felt a ghostly presence cling onto your legs to hold them together. That same feeling washed over your wrists to bind them as well. The man holding onto you within the void leaned down to bring his mouth to your ear.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

Your whole body shuddered at the deep growl in his throat. “W-who are you?! What do you wan-”

“I’m the one talking (y/n)!”

With that, his hold on your neck tightened ever more. How could he have known your name? You all had made a point to only use names in private in case the murderer was lurking around. So that means… A pang of realization hit you. He’d been hiding in this hotel room, listening to you and Jotaro was however long. Black spots appeared before you in your line of sight, your head was feeling lighter and lighter. You were becoming weightless. 

“In the split second that a human being first feels pain, that is when they are at their most isolated. At the first sign of pain, it’s every man for himself. When a man is shot, in the first moment he feels pain, he isn’t thinking of the man next to him that got shot in the brain. He’s thinking only of himself. The fight or flight response is activated, all other surroundings become useless. That selfishness, that hunger to be healed, that desire for self preservation, is what fuels Foreigner’s God, my stand!” 

Your eyes shot open at the last word. “A...stand?” You choked out.

“My stand, Foreigner's God, extends that initial moment of selfishness that comes with pain. No longer are there distractions that can bring someone back to care for others. No longer are there healers that can take that pain away. Your hand is still burnt from the handle that I heated up, so…”

He turned you both around and you saw through your hazy view, a body appear in the white void. It was Jotaro, the man frantically calling out your name and rushing between his room and yours in a search for you. At one moment, the two of you even seemingly made eye contact, and you saw the absolute fear in his eyes at the realization that he might have just lost you. Your mouth quirked up in a smile, and tears began to form in your eyes. 

Jotaro took a step closer, maintaining your gaze, and you felt relief in your heart that he could really see you. Until suddenly, he rushed to the night stand, fazing right through you and your assailant, not even noticing your presence in the room. You struggled to shout under the choking pressure as you saw him panic, reaching to the phone to call Josuke.

“Wait! Jotaro! I’m right here ah-”

“Didn’t I tell you (y/n)! At that critical moment of pain, it’s every man for himself! It’s just you and me in here! You’re in my world now, sweetheart. I allowed you to see Jotaro’s image, but he cannot see or hear you!” 

The killer turned your head to the side, ready to snap. But he had to wait, for his stand would deactivate the moment you were killed, and then he’d be left vulnerable to a furious Jotaro in that hotel room. He needed information about his opponents’ abilities, and Jotaro was playing right into his hands by calling his friend. 

“That’s it… That’s it Kujo! Call Josuke Higashikata! Call him! CALL HIM!”

You trembled under the rough grip, struggling to call out for Jotaro, hoping he wouldn’t call anyone and reveal any secrets. 

And then amidst the silence, the click of Jotaro hanging up the phone filled your ears. You watched the look of reflection on his face. Somehow, maybe it was because of years of battle with monsters just like this man, but Jotaro Kujo realized that you hadn’t run away. Someone was keeping you from him. And he was now more alert than ever. 

“Shit! He’s smarter than I thought! He must suspect there’s a stand attack going on.” 

The murderer grumbled before dropping you to the ground. He couldn’t kill you, not without proper info on how to defeat Jotaro and the others. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. With a sharp kick to the back, the assailant managed to knock you away, breaking bones in your spine and leaving you immobile. Recalling his stand ability, the murderer managed to escape out a window without a trace, figuring you would lose consciousness. With a gentle thud, you toppled to the ground, right next to the open window. 

“(y/n)!” 

Jotaro rushed to the sound, seeing you lay there, gasping for breath. He turned to the open window seeing no one around. He had disappeared. And right under his nose too. How long had the man been in the room with them?! How dumb could he have been?! Reaching up to Jotaro, you muttered that the man had broken a few bones in your back and that you couldn’t move. 

“I’m sorry Jotaro. I didn’t get a good look at his face…” 

“Don’t worry about that! I’ll get help right away!” 

You looked up with hazy eyes as Jotaro rushed to the phone to call Josuke. After everything between the two of you, after everything he’s said to you, it was surprising to see just how much he truly cared about you. Holding the phone to his ear, Jotaro frantically told Josuke your condition and for him to get over here as soon as possible. Glancing down at your arm, Jotaro’s eyes shot open at the black ink that painted your skin just a few centimeters beneath your wrist. In all caps, as if the murderer was playing with you all, the ink wrote, 

“Foreigner’s God - AS.”  

- - - - - 

“Honestly Mr. Joestar, where does that grandson of yours get off running me and the others ragged like this? He sees one person with the initials A.S. in a phonebook and he sends me out across down to read them with Heaven’s Door.” 

Rohan Kishibe sat drinking his tea, absently working on Pink Dark Boy, waiting for Jotaro’s next move. His companion, Joseph Joestar, took a sip of his drink at Rohan’s rude accusation. 

“Hush now Rohan. We all put Jotaro in charge of his operation, given his connection to our main victim. All he’s doing is using your stand to its full capabilities.” 

The old man raised an eyebrow and Rohan got the hint. Mr. Joestar was the only one of the group that the snarky artist fully respected, so he would follow the seasoned stand user’s lead. 

A heavy set of footsteps entered the room, followed by a more uneven pair lingering behind. The two stand users looked up to see you and Jotaro enter. You were looking better since the attack. Josuke had healed your back of the broken bones, but the bruises and intense pain of walking remained. Moving with crutches, you slowly stepped out from behind Jotaro as the two of you entered the room. Jotaro, his face darkened in a mixture of unhealthy fatigue and intense bloodlust, approached Rohan’s table and slammed down a stack of papers. 

“Names, addresses, ages, and criminal histories. All here. I want you done with it within the next two days.” 

Rohan grumbled, standing up. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that Jotaro. Not even a hello, not even an acknowledgment of your grandfather. He’s the only reason I’m letting you push me around like this you-” 

Jotaro took one step closer to Rohan, staring the smaller man down in silence. A chill went down the artist’s spine. Shown plainly in the scientist’s eyes was a haze of dark intent, of evil desires. He wanted this person dead, and for them to suffer. Joseph flicked his gaze up at his grandson, recognizing the expression from the other’s climactic fight with DIO. A tinge of worry filled the old soul. 

They needed to catch him, and catch him soon. 

“Jotaro, come on. We told Josuke and the others we would give them an update soon.” 

At the sound of your voice, raspy still from the attack, Jotaro’s face softened into its usual composure. He turned around to face you, and you gave him a tired smile. 

“Right, let’s go. Rohan. Two days, please. I’m counting on you.” 

Tipping his hat over his eyes, Jotaro held out an arm for you as you both walked to the rendez-vous point to meet with Josuke. 

Rohan still felt lost in the other’s murderous expression. It had been three days since your run in with Foreigner’s God, and Heaven’s Door’s user was one of the first to arrive at the scene in order to search for clues. He remembered reading a page drawn from your unconscious body; you had blacked out soon after Jotaro made the call for help. Josuke was working on your spine, and there was a tense silence about the room. A silence soon interrupted by the crash of wood hitting the floor. Everyone looked up, seeing Jotaro standing deathly still in his spot, meanwhile Star Platinum had escaped and had thrown the table over and smashed it into the floor. The rampaging stand turned to the board and knocked it over with a fierce punch, wood scraps and documents flying everywhere. 

“Hey Jotaro stop it! We need those!” 

Josuke yelled, drawing out Crazy diamond to hold Star back. In his blinded rage, the stand took a mindless swing, punching Crazy Diamond in the jaw and sending both him and Josuke flying into the opposite wall. 

“Josuke!” 

Koichi and Okuyasu rushed to their friend. He wasn’t injured too badly, surprisingly no bones broken; nothing a bandage or two couldn’t fix. The four of them, the three teenagers and the artist all turned to Jotaro in shock, who by this point had absorbed Star Platinum into his being. Turning back to face them all, they all got a look at it. 

The truly furious face of Jotaro Kujo. 

The calm and collected scientist now wore the face of violence, a face he hadn’t worn since Egypt. His eyes shone bright with a horrifying lust for vengeance. Those eyes looked away from the frightened stand users, towards your unconscious body. Without a word, Jotaro left the room, and the others let out a shaky breath in the tense air. Those eyes. It had been three days and those eyes were still ever present. Rohan shook away his discomfort and waved goodbye to Mr. Joestar, understanding now. 

Jotaro was not in this for justice. If Kira had hurt only you those months ago, Jotaro would have worn the same face. You were the key to Jotaro’s psyche and wellbeing. That was a fundamental truth about Jotaro Kujo. It was that day that Rohan Kishibe learned another fundamental truth. 

Sometimes, the universe places an answer in your hands when you need an answer the most. 

Half an hour later, it happened. It was in the middle of a secluded street, inhabited by only three people at that moment. A man. A woman. And the young artist, who had been so enraptured by his goal of locating the first name of his list that he barely had the time to react when it happened. And when it did, it only took an instant. 

The man in front of him quickly drew out a pocket knife from his jacket, driving its blade into the woman’s shoulder, unaware Rohan was behind him seeing the act in its entirety. Before the woman had any time to scream in pain, the pair vanished into thin air before the artist’s very eyes, and into the man’s stand realm. Rohan held his breath, frightened at the pair’s sudden disappearance. A stand user. It must have been. Was this him? Reaching quickly into his bag, Rohan Kishibe phoned his first line of defense.

You had been sitting with Jotaro and all of the Morioh teenagers when Jotaro received his call from Rohan.  

“What is it?” 

“I found someone. It’s either him or another one Jotaro.” 

Jotaro shot up from his chair, eyes blown out in stress. “Are you sure?! How do you know?!” 

Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi all grew the same expression of fighting spirit on their faces and you were sure danger was ahead for you all. 

Rohan tried to remain calm. “I’m not sure… Come over here with the others. We have a better chance of taking down whoever this is together. I’m by Owsen, two streets over…” 

Inside Foreigner’s God’s realm, the man  grabbed on tighter to the struggling woman’s neck as she gasped for air. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! Please don’t k-kill me!” 

But the man was hardly paying attention to her cries. He had brought a vision of Rohan into the void and was watching the artist’s movement’s while still strangling the woman as she writhed in pain. 

He didn’t like what he was hearing. With a grunt, the man turned the woman around to face Rohan’s vision, his hand still tight around her neck. 

She whimpered at the sudden motion, tears streaming down her face, meanwhile he stared boredly at Rohan talking on the phone with Jotaro and the others. 

“Hey bitch, who is that?” 

The woman just kept crying.  “Please don’t kill me!” 

Gritting his teeth, the man smacked her upside the head and tightened his grip around her neck. “Tell me who that is!” 

Her vision hazy, the woman took a good look at the eccentrically dressed man. “I-I think th-that’s Rohan Kishibe. A famous manga artist…”  She sputtered out. 

The man’s eyes widened. Rohan Kishibe. He was at the scene of Kira’s death. Could he be another of them? 

A fit of laughter took over him and he cackled, his jubilation mixing uncomfortably with the woman’s struggle for her life. Continuing to holler, the man dropped the woman to the ground and she remained there, coughing to catch her breath. 

“Oh that’s great! I’ve heard he’s good too! You ever read any of his stuff?!” 

She looked up at him confused, watching his face twist in excitement as he realized that he, a lowly stand user, was about to kill a man that helped take down the mighty Yoshikage Kira. Staring down at the ground, she shuddered at the sound of the maniac’s voice.

“Hey.”

A chill went down the woman’s spine. Suddenly, the man wasn’t laughing anymore. She turned her head to find a way to escape, seeing nothing but white everywhere. Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing to her?! The man on the street with them, Rohan, why wasn’t he stepping in? It’s like they weren’t the real world at that moment. 

“...I asked you a question.” 

Tears filled her eyes again as she met his bored gaze. “W-what?” 

Drawing closer to her weak form, and kneeling down on the ground, the man before her grabbed a fistful of her hair and she screamed at the sudden jerking pain.

“I’m asking if you’ve ever read any of his stuff!” 

The woman felt a crushing pain in her chest, as if a mysterious force was stepping on her. 

“N-no! I haven’t! But please don’t k-”

“Hmph.” 

In a split second, the stand’s hands came around the woman’s neck and snapped it, and Foreigner’s God’s ability ceased. The man quickly his himself out of sight, seeing Rohan standing alone in the street. 

Rohan turned around at the thud of a body hitting the ground behind him. He looked over to see the dead woman, her eyes blown out and a thick ring of bruises around her neck. Just like what you had gone through. And there it was, the same tag that had been on your body after your attack.

 “Foreigner’s God. - AS. ” 

Bringing his phone shakily to his ear, Rohan muttered, “It’s him Jotaro. He’s just killed someone else. Get over here now!” 

Jotaro felt the same dark intent sweep over him as he heard Rohan speak those words. “Do you see him?” 

“No. He hid himself somehow. He’s nearby I bet. Waiting to get me… Come soon. I’m hanging up.” With that, the artist turned his phone off, staying on guard for any attackers. 

Jotaro hung up the phone call with Rohan and turned to the others to come with him. You stood up as well to head to the scene when you felt Jotaro’s hand roughly shove you down into your seat. 

“No.” He ordered plainly. 

“No?! You expect me to be useless again?! I’m the one he attacked first! I wanna see him go down and I wanna help do it!”

“I’m not having you go over there! You can’t get hurt again!” 

You stared up at him, shocked at the concern plastered all over his face. But still, you were stubborn. That’s one of the things he loved about you. 

“What about you?! What makes you sure you won’t get hurt?! Or even die Jotaro?!” 

“I’d rather that than you die (y/n)! The world needs you more than it will ever need me! And I can’t watch someone I love get hurt right in front of me again!” 

You stood there frozen, your legs feeling like they were about to give out at those word.

“...What?” 

Jotaro felt a hand grip his shoulder, turning to see Josuke motion for him to get going. They needed to catch this guy. And fast. Giving a quick glance to your shaken form, he knew you understood why you needed to stay behind. 

You did, of course, know him and his words better than anyone else on Earth. 

Jotaro began running with the others towards the scene and when he was a few feet away, you heard Koichi ask your beloved lab partner if he had any idea what kind of stand they were dealing with. 

Your mind flooded back to the words that man had spoken to you. A stand. That was the word he kept using. A stand. AS. Those were the initials of the man that nearly strangled you to death. Foreigner’s God. He said that was the name of his stand. A stand. Stand.

Your mind kept repeating that same word over and over again in your head as you stood there in the crowded Morioh street. All of these people. The people you had come to love. Josuke and the others. The strange lives they lived. Jotaro. The strange life he had drawn you into. They were all working to save the thousands of people that lived in this small Japanese town. 

You thought back on all they had said, all that you had overheard over the course of the investigation. Things you didn’t understand now flooded your mind. They spoke about the first trip, the killer. Killer. A man named Kira. Killer Queen. Killer Queen must have been his stand. A stand. Is that why you think you’ve been going crazy? Are those third arms stands? ...Did Jotaro have one? 

“Gimme… gimme… gimme… GIMME!”

Your whole form awoke from your deep train of thought at the sound of someone calling out to you.  You turned around, looking at all the people that were walking nearby. No one was even looking at you. You sighed. You supposed this town really was driving you crazy. You reached for your crutches and took one step forward- 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!”

The loud voice rang violently in your head and you fell to your knees from the shock. Covering your ears, you foolishly tried to block out the sound. Your whole body began to feel weak, your whole being heating up. It felt like your blood was boiling, your muscles were tensing, an unwanted rage consuming every cell in your form. 

“What’s going on?! What’s happening to m-”

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Who are you?! What’s going on?!” You thought to yourself, panicking. What was this voice?!

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” You muttered under your breath as you knelt on the pavement.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” Your voice subconsciously raised, drawing others’ attention. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“GO AWAY!”  You let a shrill yell, grabbing violently at your hair in terror, causing a crowd of people to form around you. 

And then the voice stopped, a quiet renewing in your head. You sat there, gasping for air, your throat still burning from the attack days before, and your screaming had not helped it. You looked up at everyone staring up at you in shocked worry. In a calm daze, you stood up, grabbing your crutches and began to walk away from the others. 

Jotaro. Jotaro would know what it means. What that voice was. 

- - - - - 

Arata Sone had been Yoshikage Kira’s only friend as long as the killer had been alive. He was the only person in the world that Kira confided in. He remembered the night he met the blond murderer. One evening, the normal man came home from a very late night at work to a silent home, his wife sleeping upstairs. With a heavy sigh, Sone was about to enter his bedroom when he heard his wife let out a sudden shriek, before the sound immediately ceased into a renewed silence. Panicked, the man swung the door open to find another man about his age, standing in the middle of the room, a dismembered hand in his grasp. The hand was dripping blood onto the carpet, and Sone’s wife was nowhere to be found. Putting two and two together, the man felt a chill slither up his whole body. He remained stuck in his spot as he watched the blond man draw closer to him. Then something strange happened. Arata Sone knew that he should be afraid, knew that he should be begging for his life, knew that the proper thing to do was flee. But what he did shocked both himself and the murderer before him. 

Arata Sone laughed harder than he ever had before. 

Cackling loudly to an unsettling degree, he even managed to throw the calm and collected Yoshikage Kira off guard. After several minutes, the laughter died down and the man looked at the other before him with a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you.” 

For the first time in a long time, Kira felt a shudder rush through his body. 

“Thank you?” 

“I was waiting for a good moment to kill her myself.” 

In that moment, both men felt one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure that can only come from being shunned for one’s desires for so long, and then to finally have that desire recognized by another being. The two men called out their stands and both fell into fits of laughter and joy at their shared murderous trait. A new friendship had been born.

A few years later, Arata Sone saw on the news the gruesome image of his beloved friend’s face crushed beneath an ambulance. Seeing what he could only guess were other stand users at the scene, his ever present lust for murder grew within him to a boiling point. Foreigner’s God’s user made a promise to himself. To kill those who had killed his friend. 

And today was the day to make that happen. The killer watched from his hiding spot as Jotaro and the others ran to the scene to see a very shaken Rohan Kishibe, who was wondering why the killer had yet to show himself. What none of them knew, was that their attacker had grown as a stand user. He was about to apply what his dear friend Kira had once taught him, and was merely hiding to get them all in one place. 

Sone waited for the group to get within his stand’s range.

You slowly made your way on your crutches towards the scene. You needed to know these answers. 

“Just a little farther…” He thought as he waited for Jotaro and the others to be within his grasp. 

“Just a little farther…” You muttered to yourself as you turned the corner, two streets away from Owsen. An ominous feeling crept over you, making you feel sick to your stomach. 

Finally, they were all together within his stand’s range. Arata Sone waited for the right moment, a sick smile on his face.

Jotaro went to speak. “Any sign of h-”

And then the attack was sent into motion. In that split second, each of Morioh’s fighters looked down to see a small mass of white matter form around their ankle. With the snap of his fingers, the matter exploded, taking a chunk off each person’s leg with it. Jotaro, Josuke, Koichi, Okuyasu and Rohan all collapsed to the ground as the street became consumed in a white void the moment they all felt that same sting of pain.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

They all looked up from writhing in pain as the man they had been hunting down showed himself, the twisted smile on his face more present than before. 

“When a man feels he is at his most cornered, that is often when the most opportunities arise for him. My st-”

In a flash, Jotaro lunged forward, landing a punch to Sone’s face. The smile went away.

“I suppose I’ll take your hand next.” He grunted, grabbing Jotaro’s arm and slamming his whole body to the ground. The moment his hand made contact with the ground, another white mass formed around Jotaro’s finger and exploded, and Star Platinum’s user once again hollered in pain.

“Jotaro!” 

The other Morioh fighters called out to their injured friend and all of them got up to attack their enemy together. The moment they took another step, white matter formed once more around their feet and exploded again. The five of them were squirming on the ground in pain once again. 

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Jotaro Kujo. My stand feeds on that first moment of selfish pain and extends it, trapping others in a blank void without distraction from their pain. It’s a terrifying ability when used properly, though I will admit, back when I attacked your little friend, I wouldn’t have been able to take you all on at once, and that’s the only reason I spared her life…” 

He looked down to see Jotaro’s face overcome with rage at your mention. It was a fruitless effort, but Jotaro lunged at his enemy again, only to be knocked on his back. The moment his body touched the ground, several bubbles of the same white substance engulfed the scientist’s back and exploded, leaving bleeding indents all over the tall man’s frame and causing him to gasp at the pain. 

“But you see. I have grown as a stand user. You may remember from the tag on your beloved friend’s arm the words Foreigner’s God. Well that my friends, is the name of my stand. Or no… this is something different. A new ability that I’ve learned. A swan song to my dear friend, Yoshikage Kira!” 

Their eyes shot open at the mention of that hardly forgotten name. “Kira?” Josuke muttered. 

“Oh right… an old friend of mine. I figured when I would be taking revenge for his death, I would use some of that explosive power of his that I loved so much. You see everyone, normally I would only be able to keep one person at a time in my realm. You can only hurt some many in one instance after all!” 

It was in that moment, Foreigner’s God revealed itself in its humanoid form right beside its user. Lunging forward, the stand attacked the stationary fighters, knocking them all to the ground. At the very second their bodies touched the ground, the same miniature explosions went off, extending their pain and keeping them in the dangerous realm. 

“Gimme gimme gimme…” 

You placed a hand against your ear trying to block out that annoying voice that was seemingly coming out of nowhere. You weren’t far from the scene, your mind still running wild, asking a thousand questions as to what a stand even was, what that voice just then was, who were the others really dealing with, what was this man capable of. You weren’t sure of what you would be able to do, but something within you drew your body closer and closer to the street where your friends were currently writhing in agony. You didn’t care about what Jotaro wasn’t telling you. You didn’t care that there were still questions that needed answered. You just wanted to help, anyway you could figure out how.

Staring down at their battered and bleeding bodies, Arata Sone let out another burst of jubilation amidst the void. 

“I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before! If you haven’t already noticed, my once empty void has now been combined with its own type of landmines. You cannot move without a new one setting off, and extending that pain further. You’re going to be stuck in here until you bleed out, with no one to hear you or see you! That is it the secret to my new ability, Arsonist’s Lullaby!” 

With that cry, the stand stormed through the five of them once more, knocking them to the ground once more, causing new land mines to set off, all to the tune of its user’s laugh-filled joy. It was then that white walls of the void were beginning to fade, and the scenery of that Morioh street was starting to fade back into view. 

“Hmm… it appears this ability takes up more of my energy than I thought. I suppose I can’t kill all five of you at once and remain invisible at the same time. No matter, I can’t sense any other stand users around, just the six of us. I don’t care who sees this! I’ll just kill the witnesses after I kill you!” 

It was then that Arata Sone made a fatal mistake, and just like his friend Yoshikage Kira, let his hubris take over. Removing the hiding nature of his stand, but doubling the landmines, the man watched as the five powerful stand users struggled to even get close enough to him to land in a hit. New landmines keep going off, new injuries created. 

They were dangerously close to bleeding out, all in plain sight of another stand user. You. 

You turned the corner to see the carnage ahead of you, finding your whole group in the enemy’s grasp. You couldn’t even tell what you were seeing. The moment one of your friends moved, they would immediately flinch back in agony. Drawing your attention to the man standing over them, a familiar chill went through you. That was the same man that had attacked you days before. And seeing what he was capable of doing to the people you had grown so close to, you were now more scared than ever of him. 

But you noticed something. Amidst the pleasure that this monster was reveling in, there was a distinct look of concentration plastered all over his face. You watched his expression twitch with each time an attack went off on one of your friends. He must be doing something with his mind to attack them. He was focusing. His focus. You needed to capture his focus. 

Steeling yourself for what was to come, you dropped your crutches and took a deep breath in, something in you knowing the dangers you were about to face, and the rest of you stupidly seeming not to care. 

With a small ounce of bravery, you shouted at the top of your lungs. “Stop it! I won’t let you hurt them!” 

Sone turned around at the sudden distraction, surprised that someone was taking notice. His eyebrow raised in intrigue. That could only mean one thing. You were another one. 

Jotaro recognized that voice. No… no no no. Looking up, he saw your frightened body shaking and staring straight into the enemy’s eyes without a way to defend yourself.

“No! (y/n) get out of here! You can’t be here! He’ll kill-” 

The killer turned back around and punched Jotaro straight in the gut with his stand, sending him flying back into a tree. 

“Jotaro!” 

You shrieked. All five of them were dying right in front of you, so close to bleeding out. And now his focus was on you, and it had taken all your courage to simply call out and distract him from the others. You watched as the man drew closer, ready to kill another. The same giant smile came over his face again. 

“(y/n) huh? And here I thought you were a smart person. Smart enough not to beg for me to hurt you again. But sorry, there’s no escape this time!” 

“(y/n) no! Run away! Get out of here!” 

You didn’t have time to register whose voice had called out to you before you saw the attacker lunge right at you. You put your arms up over your face as your body collapsed to its knees, your eyes shut in fear, and a horrified scream uncontrollably left your lungs. 

“Now die!” 

And then, you felt weightless.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

As you felt a massive weight being lifted from your body, your eyes shot open to find someone new standing over you. Actually, you weren’t sure if it was someone new, or something new. This new thing, it didn’t seem real.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

Your face lit up in shock. Attached to this new thing was the same voice that you had been hearing in your head before. You watched as its fists fired off in a flurry of punches, all hitting their marks on the man’s body. You were mesmerized by its appearance. Its body, about the same size as yours, looked as if it were made of glass. Swirling around within that glass was a pool of different colors. Different blues, purples, oranges and pinks flowed together seamlessly, all encased within the glass structure as it pummeled the enemy before you. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME… A MAN!” 

With one last, hard punch to the enemy’s chest, the glass figure stopped its attack and turned around to face you. You shuffled back on the ground, your chest heaving in fear from what had just happened. The figure before you, without speaking a word, drew its arm forward to point at Sone, who was now frozen in his spot before you. Then, everyone watched as small ripples began to form over the man’s whole body. All over his arms, legs, and chest, it looks as if the flesh was moving, as if someone had dropped a pebble into a lake. Then the ripples began to glow brightly, the full spectrum of colors radiating out, and tearing their way from the inside of his body outward. The enemy let out a painful shriek as the searing pain overtook him, more and more light spilling out of his body as the flesh around it became torn and melted. Finally, less than a second later, an explosion of white light burst out of the man’s body. And once that flash was gone, so was he. Foreigner’s God had been defeated. And this thing that you could tell was a part of you, it had been the thing to kill him. 

Shakily, you stood up, holding on tightly to your crutches, keeping your gaze on this figure that had erupted out of you. 

“...ABBA?” 

Still confused, all you knew was that something in your body told you to say that name. The figure turned around to face you and gave you a shy smile before coming closer and embracing your shaking form in a hug. Surprised you could even touch it, you wrapped your arms around ABBA as well, finding to your disbelief that the glass like material felt soft and warm to the touch. You looked down its back, eyeing the pattern of jagged lines all over its body, as well as the swirling colors within. You felt your eyes well up with tears. Something about holding onto this being, one not entirely separate from you, felt so right. It felt like it had been welling up inside you for so long, and you couldn’t help but love it now that it was out. 

“A stand…” You muttered. It was all so clear now. Your stand.

After a few moments, ABBA stood up and nodded towards the group of your injured friends. Holding you up, both you and your stand rushed over to Josuke. The teenager’s eyes opened with a pained groan, looking up at you and seeing ABBA at your side. His face lit up in surprise and he tried to sit up before the crushing pain forced him back down onto the ground. He muttered weakly for you to see if Rohan was alright, and you did. 

Suddenly, a small white figure burst out of the artist’s body and punched Josuke in the arm. You watched, intrigued as a section of the teen’s arm unfolded like a book. The white figure leaned in, writing in Josuke’s arm the words, “I currently do not have any injuries.” 

You watched in awe as the bleeding wounds all over Josuke’s body slowly began to close. Within a few minutes, Josuke was up and mobile as ever. He had several questions to ask you, but first, he had some healing to do. You watched as a pink and blue being, you assumed Josuke’s stand, flew out of his body and hovered over all of the other injured, healing them nearly immediately. They all stood up, groaning from the shadows of pain still left behind from the attacks. One by one, each of them looked up at you, each of their faces growing an expression of surprise and adoration. You felt small under their gazes, looking up at your stand standing next to you. As small as you felt, there was something about ABBA that made you feel powerful. Especially considering what it had just done to defeat the enemy. 

“(y/n)... is that your stand…?” 

You looked over at Koichi before quickly nodding. “Yeah… I guess it must be right?” 

You tried to shrug it off with a nervous laugh, but even you were still in awe of this new ability. Finally, you turned to Jotaro, watching his face for a reaction. The gentle giant stood frozen at a loss of words, unsure of what to say. His gaze turned to ABBA, a melancholy look of admiration and love spread over his features. 

“Come on Jotaro… say something. Don’t worry. I’ll understand-” 

You muttered softly before Jotaro rushed forward and cut you off with a tight hug. You rested your smaller body against him, tears of relief streaming down your face, grateful that everyone was still alive. You looked up to gaze into Jotaro’s blue eyes, seeing that he had begun to tear up as well. Then something caught your eye. Looking over the tall man’s shoulder, you saw a purple skinned spirit faze out of your partner’s body and float over to ABBA, starting deeply into your stand’s face. ABBA, who had before been so calm and collected, now shrunk back a little bit with a childish giggle at the sight of the handsome stand before her. As ABBA held her face in her hands, you felt your cheeks flush bright red. Your eyes widened and you pushed Jotaro away from you, turning to your stand. 

“H-hey wait a minute! ABBA, it’s not like that!”

“Gimme?” 

ABBA asked innocently as she grabbed Star Platinum’s hand tightly in her own. Jotaro now felt his face heat up and turn bright red. With a heavy sigh, he watched as his stand wrapped yours in its arms, chuckling a bit at your embarrassment. 

“Sorry about all this. His name’s Star Platinum, and he’s definitely more… emotional than I am.” 

Your eyes widened at what that could possibly mean. Wait… did they think that you and Jotaro were… 

“W-wait it’s not like that! He and I are just… “

“Gimme?” 

“No! W-well I mean I care about him but I-”

“(y/n).”

You turned around to face Jotaro as he calmly took his hat off, revealing the jet black hair that you loved seeing. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay (y/n).” 

Your heart swelled at his words and you slowly turned around to see ABBA and Star Platinum holding each other lovingly, a warmth erupting throughout your whole body at the sight. The feeling of Jotaro grabbing your hand caught your attention and met his gaze once more. 

“He’s the personification of my thoughts and well… it seems like your stand, ABBA right? It seems like she’s the personification of yours.” 

The two of you watched as your stands talk to one another in their own little language, each enamored by the other’s presence. You turned back to Jotaro, seeing that his face had drawn closer. 

“Yeah… I guess... you’re… right.” 

As you breathed out that last word, Jotaro closed the gap between the two of you, your lips connecting in a sweet, long awaited kiss. You wrapped your arms around the fellow scientist’s, and now fellow stand user’s, neck, giggling slightly as he lifted your body off the ground to hold you tightly in his arms. When you two broke for air, Jotaro quickly kissed you again, holding you up like his life depended on it. 

When he finally set you down, Jotaro Kujo placed a hand to the side of your face and wiped away your tears. With a small laugh, he turned over to your stand.

“Hey ABBA, what took you so long huh?” 

“...Gimme.” ABBA shrugged a little bit and pointed at you. 

You smiled, wiping your tears away. “She said she wouldn’t appear until I was either ready for it, or I really needed her.” 

Jotaro rolled his eyes at your stand. “Well you really waited for the exact moment that she needed you huh-Ow!” 

Jotaro grumbled a bit as Star punched him in the arm, annoyed that his user was making fun of this new pretty stand. ABBA grinned mischievously before looking around at the rest of the group, and seeing all of the other stands. 

A feeling of happiness swelled within the stand’s heart. Ever since you had pricked your finger on the arrow, for so long she had been growing, becoming more and more trapped within you. It had been lonely seeing you struggle without her help. It had been upsetting to see you not yet be ready for her to show herself. But now, eyeing all the others, Heaven’s Door, Echoes, the Hand, Crazy Diamond, and especially Star Platinum, ABBA really didn’t feel alone anymore. And seeing now how the other stand users of Morioh rushed over to hug you and vocalize their shock at you having a stand, ABBA could tell that you didn’t really feel alone anymore either. With a sigh of content, your stand fazed back into your body as you followed the rest of the group away from the scene and back to the hotel to get some much needed rest. 

You leaned against Jotaro’s frame as he wrapped as a strong arm around you. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat everyone! Tonio’s, my treat!” He said with a bright smile. 

Josuke and Okuyasu cheered, “and (y/n) can meet Tonio’s stand!” 

You turned back to the teens in shock as you all walked ahead. “Tonio has a stand?!” 

Koichi gave a firm nod. “Yeah. So does Hazamada.” 

“That weird kid?!” 

“My girlfriend Yukako too.” 

“Damn… I had no idea…” 

You all shared a laugh as you left to enjoy a well deserved victory, the sun setting over the beautiful town of Morioh, another dark force defeated by the town's newest savior.

[mcu-padawan]

solace

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x gender neutral senator!reader

Description: Obi-Wan comforts you after a particularly stressful event.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: panic attack triggers, canon typical violence, flashbacks, my attempt at making a fic of a scene that’s literally been replaying in my head for the longest sorry if it’s incoherent, my main motivator was the main scene and I didn’t develop much of a background oop

A/N: Had a pretty scary event happen last week that I don’t think I’ve fully processed and so it's still been lowkey in my head so I wanted to write this quick fic about how I’d appreciate Obi-Wan’s comfort 😪 Hope y’all enjoy! (PS I’m nearing a milestone so I might make a celebration soon stay tuned!)

— — — — — — 

Your room in the ship is large and spacious. Certainly much larger than any of the other rooms on the ship. But at the moment you feel as if you’re confined inside a small room that just keeps on shrinking. 

You are fighting hard to keep the tears back at this point. The overwhelming emotion of the events of the last few days are becoming too much, but you still try to keep your emotions in check.

I need to be strong, you think, taking a deep breath. If I’m not strong for my people, who will be?

Your hands are clenched at your side as you continue to pace. You decide that first you need to stop pacing, so you do. You stop, take a deep breath, and dry your hands on your thighs. As you wipe your hands down your thighs you feel the outline of an object in your pocket, an object that was handed to you by a certain Jedi Knight.

“What’s this?” you’d asked as Obi-Wan handed you what looked like a small out of order speaker. 

“It’s an old fashioned comm link,” Obi-Wan had told you. “It’s linked directly to this comm link.” He showed you an identical device. “Use it to call me in case of anything. The comms are an older model, so they’ll only send a signal, not a specific message.”

You grabbed the comm link from his hand and looked it over, slightly confused as to why he’d given this to you. “How is this different to the comm I received earlier?” 

Obi-Wan looked at you seriously, as if trying to communicate something else to you. “These comms are only connected to each other. Use this if you need me for anything. Nobody else.”

You’d nodded, a warm feeling settling in your chest. Now you took the comm out of your pocket, looking at the device. The device was simple, much more bare than the newer comm models. It had a single button on it, which you had to assume was the one that sent the signal to the other comm.

Your finger hovers over the button, slightly traces the outline of the button, but doesn’t press it. As much as you hope that what you and Obi-Wan have is more than just a bodyguard-assigned protectee relationship, you know that you know the code of the Jedi. No attachments. No attachments.

He said I could call him for anything, you think. But you can’t decide if needing someone to talk to constitutes as part of the anything he meant. 

So you continue to pace, this time with one of your hands gripping the comm tightly. And as you continue to pace, the thoughts you had been trying to push away come rushing back, and the emotions back with them. 

Suddenly you’re not in your room on a transport ship taking back to Coruscant. No, suddenly you’re back on a planet close to the Outer Rim which you had been sent to in order to negotiate a treaty with. The treaty was meant to help ease trade in your home planet, currently the major issue your people were experiencing. The lack of trade routes available to your planet restricted the materials that were able to be delivered to a planet that depended heavily on the agriculture of neighboring planets in order to feed its people. And so you had made the move to work on a peace treaty, despite the multiple warnings of your friends in the senate and in your home planet. 

Instead of a peaceful arrival, you and your entourage had been met with deceit. You were welcomed to negotiate, but attacked as soon as you had let your guard down. You’d had to flee the planet, leaving behind any hope of a quick, peaceful resolution. 

Tears blurred your vision again. You had almost died. A shot from a blaster had grazed your left cheek during your escape. Had you moved your head a second later... 

You had almost died.

“Fuck this,” you say. You look at the comm in your hand and with only a second of hesitation you press the button. You expect a light or sound or something to inform you that the signal had been sent, but there’s nothing. 

“Oh great,” you say and toss the comm on the desk in your room. You start making your way to bed, settling on attempting to catch some rest, though you are certain you won’t. 

But then you hear a quick, silent knock on your door. Had you not been hoping for it, you probably would not have heard it. 

You make your way to the door, opening it to find the only person in the entire galaxy you wanted to see. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, stands in your doorway, his eyes filled with concern.

“I was beginning to think this comm didn’t work,” you joke, trying your best to keep Obi-Wan from noticing the emotion in your voice.

“Are you alright Y/N?” And for some reason, hearing him ask you if you were okay makes you realize just how not okay you were. 

You shake your head, unable now to hold back some tears from falling down your cheeks. “I’m not,” you whisper.

Obi-Wan steps in your room, taking your hands and leading you to sit on your bed. He sits next to you, letting go of your hands. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, concern lining his brow. 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” you say as you look down at your hands on your lap. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Don’t apologize Y/N. You know I’ll always be here if you need to talk. So tell me, what’s wrong?”

And you tell him. You tell him how much of a failure you felt like. A failure to your people, to the republic, as a senator. You were a newly appointed senator and had wanted to leave a print in your term. When you were younger you had taken note of the difficulties your home planet endured with depending on others for a majority of their source of food. But given the extreme weather growing their own crops wasn’t an option for many. So taking up this negotiation was a reasonable next step. 

“But I should’ve seen it coming,” you said, your breath coming out shaky. You keep your eyes on your hands. You had not noticed just how much your hands were shaking until you feel Obi-Wan’s stable hands hold yours, his warm fingers cradling your hands in his. 

“Love, look at me.” Your heart jumps at what he calls you, but it absolutely melts at the way Obi-Wan looks at you. 

Understanding is what you are met with when you look into Obi-Wan’s eyes. Obi-Wan understands your pain, your feeling of failure, your fear of the future. Something you would’ve thought a Jedi was incapable of feeling, but it’s clear as day in his eyes. 

“Listen, I won’t tell you to get over the feeling of failure. I know that no matter what I say, you’ll still feel as you do. But I will tell you this: failure is part of the process. It sounds cheesy, trust me I know it does, but you can’t learn if you don’t fail.” His words don’t heal your pain, but they warm your heart as you realize you’re not alone in what you feel.

“And I want to remind you of something else,” he continues. “This has taken me time to learn, but know that failure once doesn’t mean absolute defeat. You’re more experienced now, you know who you’re dealing with. You know the danger that’s involved. ” He pauses, moving to trace the healing wound on your cheek as a result of the blaster that narrowly missed your head. “And you’ll be able to formulate a plan to solve this issue once and for all.” Obi-Wan cups your cheek, his thumb wiping a tear away. 

His face is close to yours, much closer than you realized, but you can feel his breath on your lips and you can’t help but bite the inside of your lip. His eyes briefly look down at your lips, then he looks into your eyes again. “And I want you to know that I’ll always be here to help you out with anything you need.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, breathing in his scent and hoping the moment could last forever. But he pulls away (too soon for your liking) and leans his forehead on yours. 

“Stay with me tonight, please,” your voice is just above a whisper, but you know he hears you. “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Of course I’ll stay,” he answers, his voice as soft as yours.  “I’ll always stay.”

The night ends with both of you curled up with one another in your bed. Nothing else is said, you two just lay and sleep, enveloped in one another’s comfort.

~~~

Tagging some friends :) 

@anakin-danvers​ @nobie @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @thedevilwearsbeskar @obirain @corellians-only @acciokenobi @goldenkenobi @hxldmxdxwn @jediforce @snips-n-skyguy0501 @anakinswhore @kaminobiwan @sweeetteaa @cherieboba @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​

[pardondoyouhavejams]

Can We Just Talk?

Pairing: Gender neutral!Y/N x childhood bestfriend!Taehyun

Word Count: 4.3K

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending, best friends to lovers AU! Highschool!AU

Warnings: Mild cursing, some bullying, also I didn’t proofread :P

Synopsis: Growing up with Taehyun by your side was all you could ask for in a best friend, but when high school slowly starts to separate you two, you realize you might’ve taken your time together for granted. Was this how you two parted ways?

*gif not mine*

“What? Did you want some?” You turned to see Taehyun holding out his goldfish to you. You had been daydreaming again and he had understood something was on your mind. Grabbing a handful of goldfish, Taehyun smiles and scooted closer, “what are you dazed about this time?”

See now, you didn’t want to tell him how you thought about him running his delicate hands through your hair. How you thought about his strong arms trapping you in a warm embrace, or how his plush lips would feel against yo-

“Y/N? I asked you a question,” snapping you out of your trance, you glance over at him. “It’s nothing, just stressed about the chem exam tomorrow,” you lied through your teeth. He nodded and smiled, knowing full well you were lying, but he didn’t want to pry you. He figured you’d tell him on your own if it was something major bothering you.

That was one of the last, full conversations you two shared for 3 months. 3 months ago, you practically lost your lifelong best friend to a group of popular kids and Soo Ah. She has a crush on Taehyun and everyone knows that...well..everyone except Taehyun. For someone so intelligent, he was so oblivious to the way she acted. He was never good with telling if someone had a crush on him and just thought they were super nice. He’s not stupid, just really blind.

Luckily for you, this played in your favor at times you slipped up and were way too obvious about your crush.

You pushed yourself away from Taehyun because the more you stuck around him, the more you fell in love with him. He noticed the space growing between you two and tried to make things up to you, but after a while, he stopped trying. He thought you just needed some space and that’s what he gave you. Over time, the space became overbearing and he had drifted to his new friends.

Skipping lunch, you headed to the school’s courtyard to scroll through your phone under the shade of a tree. It was a bit cooler out, autumn having just started. “Hey stupid!” Your head shooting up at the name only to see Beomgyu jogging over to you, a dumb smile plastered on his handsome face.

Beomgyu was one of yours and Taehyun’s mutual friends, alternating the days he’d spend his lunch with Taehyun and you. He knew everything about you and Taehyun slowly drifting, your massive crush on him, and everything in between.

He sat next to you, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He glanced at your phone, resting his chin on your shoulder. “OW, Beomgyu, your chin is sharp as hell,” “Hun, I know my jawline can cut, but you don’t have to be so aggressive,” he smirked at you. You shoved his face away (lightly) and scoffed, “please, if I wanted to say anything about your jawline, it’s that you need to work on it.” That was a flat out lie because Beomgyu had the sharpest jawline in the school but you didn’t want to admit it. “What’re you doing out here? Thinking about Taehyun?” he teased you. You eyed him, “yeah and? What about it?”

You missed Taehyun, a lot. You wished you could’ve just gotten over this stupid crush and stayed friends. If you had any ideas on becoming friends again without it being awkward, you’d have done that already, but to no avail. “Any plans on getting him back or winning his heart over?” Beomgyu grinned at you, making you really tempted to flick his forehead.

The two of you heard loud laughter and chattering, and when you looked over, it was Taehyun’s group, as you expected. Letting out a sigh, you went back to scrolling mindlessly through Twitter. What you didn’t know was Taehyun had returned the gaze when you put your head down.

What you also didn’t know was that Taehyun missed you even more, but he didn’t know if it was okay to approach you. He thought you might need more space, afraid he’s making you uncomfortable. He was so lonely without you by his side and his new friends weren’t as genuine as you were.

The bell rang and Beomgyu pulled you up off the ground, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you guys walked to your class together, math. You hated math, you could never grasp what was going on, but Taehyun would make that class bearable for you. That is, until, you know…

You sat in your assigned seat, Beomgyu letting go of you and going to his behind you. Taehyun and Soo Ah came in shortly after, Taehyun being on your right and Soo Ah on Taehyun’s other side. It was just your luck to be assigned to that seat, but at least Beomgyu was right there.

Searching through your bag, you couldn’t find your pencil. Turning around to face Beomgyu, you knew full well he took your spare pencil, “Gyu, I need my pencil.” “Wha-what pencil, pfft, I don’t have your pencil,” Beomgyu smiled at you, slowly moving the borrowed pencil under the desk. “I’m serious, I can’t find my pencil and you took my spare,” he pinched your cheek and just giggled, “Let me have it please, I forgot mine again.” You scoffed at Beomgyu for the nth time that day, he’s so forgetful.

Settling on looking for a pen, you turn back around to see a pencil sitting on your desk. You knew it wasn’t yours, looking around to see who put it there, your eyes met Taehyun’s, who smiled brightly at you. Mouthing a “thank you,” you turned back around to give Beomgyu a quick flick to the forehead before facing forward again when the teacher walked in. “OW!” he whisper-shouted, making you chuckle a bit, and unknowingly, Taehyun laughed to himself too.

The rest of the day went by far too slow, but you could finally leave this hellhole and that’s all that mattered to you. Walking out of your last class, you were heading home when you felt someone put their hand on your shoulder. “Y/N! Wait!” the familiar sound of Taehyun’s voice in your ears.

You turned your head to see a slightly out-of-breath Taehyun who had ran out of the classroom to catch up with you. “Can we please talk?” he asked, surprised by his sudden approach, you nod your head. He’s quick to move as he slides his hand down from your shoulder to your wrist. He drags you to the same tree you were under in the courtyard, where you sat with Beomgyu during lunch.

Taehyun looked down at you, almost like he was in pain, “Y/N, what happened to us?” You were a bit taken aback by his straightforwardness, unsure of what exactly to say. “I’m not sure Taehyun, I really don’t know,” your voice getting softer towards the end of the sentence. You were lying right to his face, you knew why the distance grew and you felt as though it was partially your fault. “Y/N, please don’t lie to me, you know I’m always here for you and I won’t judge you. You kept pushing me away so I gave you space cause I thought you might need some alone time, but it’s been too long. Let me be by your side, through whatever you may be going through, please.” His voice broke, his normally bright and smiling eyes showing a sense of longing in them.

You felt terrible and you didn’t want your friendship to end like this, “I’m sorry Taehyun, I-“ “Taehyun-ah! Let’s go!” In the distance stood Soo Ah, waving her hand at him. When Taehyun faced her, she was already walking towards him, smiling at Taehyun and only Taehyun. Your heart cracked at the sight of them in front of you. “Taehyun, we were supposed to go out together after class. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Soo Ah glancing in your direction after saying “go out TOGETHER.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest when Taehyun smiled at her. “Oh yeah, sorry, let’s go?” Taehyun’s grasp finally leaving your wrist from when he first dragged you through the hallways just a few minutes ago. You watched as Soo Ah linked arms with him, walking off, the two of them acting as if you weren’t even there.

A single tear falling from your eye as you watched them walk off together, Soo Ah turning back to you and smirking. Furiously wiping the tear away, you quickly walked to Beomgyu’s house.

“Holy fUCK, Y/N!” Beomgyu jumped up from his bed, startled that you were in his house, his bedroom door flinging open from your impatience.

He was still wearing his school uniform but the necktie loosened and the first button undone. Beomgyu noticed the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you gasped and hiccuped, trying to hold everything in.

He walked over, embracing you tightly, “Wanna tell me what happened?” You finally let everything out, your tears nonstop, stumbling over your words with hiccups, “T-taehyun and I w-were ta-talking about what ha-happened, whEn-when SoO-sOo Ah interrupted a-and..anD shE-she said h-her and T-taehyun were su-supposed to g-go out t-together, just-just the two o-of th-them.” “Y/N, breathe. You need to breathe.” He slowly stroked your head before pulling away to see your face.

After another half hour of crying and trying to explain a bit more of what happened, Beomgyu looked at you with a sad expression. He loved Taehyun but sometimes Taehyun was so dense.

“Gyu?” “Hm?” “Do you think Taehyun likes his new friends more than me? Do you think...he likes Soo Ah more than me?” Your voice trailed off at the end. “I don’t think so, Y/N. I know it seems like he does but something seems a bit off when he’s with them, like he’s not as happy with them. I’ve seen the way he acts when he’s with you and when he’s with them. As for Soo Ah? I’m not sure, hun.”

The next day, your first few classes passed in a blur. You walked outside during lunch like usual, having no appetite or willpower to walk into the cafeteria knowing you’ll see Taehyun and his group at the table closest to the door.

You were sitting under the usual tree, looking through social media but not paying much attention to any of it. You heard footsteps approach you but didn’t think much of it, assuming it was Beomgyu. Who you thought was Beomgyu was wearing a pair of shoes you knew didn’t belong to him.

You glanced up to see Soo Ah looking down at you, “Can I help you?” Soo Ah, arms crossed, said “Yeah you can, stay away from Taehyun. I’m gonna confess to him today and I know he’ll say yes, so I need you to back off.” Scoffing at her confidence, you narrowed your eyes at her, “what makes you think he likes you?” “I just know he does, the way he looks and smiles at me, I suggest you cut off all contact with him before I do it for you.” You raise a brow at her, unimpressed by her response, “trust me, you’re not special enough for him to accept your confession.” This time, Soo Ah scoffed at you, “Yeah? Then why’d he leave you to be with me, hm?”

You were completely speechless, all you could do was glare, because she wasn’t exactly wrong. Before you knew it, you felt an ice cold liquid running down your head, wetting your uniform. “Y/N!” You heard that same familiar voice shout your name. Taehyun came running over, seeing the whole thing, Beomgyu right on his tail, outside long enough to see you get covered in water.

Taehyun had held his hand out to help you up from where you were sitting on the ground, but you got up on your own. He looked at you, worried and unsure of what to do, “are you okay?” completely ignoring Soo Ah’s presence. Taehyun reaches out to try and hold you, hug you, something, however, you shoved him away.

“Don’t act like you care,” you barked, confusion was plastered on his face, “What are you talking about? I’ve always cared, Y/N.” “Oh really? Cause for the past three months it surely seems like you didn’t care enough to still be friends with me. You didn’t care enough to finish talking to me yesterday but ran off with Soo Ah to go on your little date. You didn’t care enough to talk to me or even be with me when you saw me alone these past three months. So when? When did you care?” you seethed through your teeth, your jaw clenching in anger.

Taehyun scoffed, in complete disbelief that you would say that, “Me?? Not caring? As if, Y/N. That’s pure bullshit, when have I not cared? When you first started pushing me away I still tried to keep us together because I didn’t want to lose you, but you still kept pushing me further away. I thought you just wanted to be alone so I let you. I was waiting for when you were ready to talk because I thought we were friends, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me anything. I’m not stupid, Y/N, I know you were lying every time I asked you if you were okay or what you were thinking about. It seemed like YOU didn’t care. You made no effort to keep me by your side, you made no effort to tell me or talk to me about it. Are you kidding me? I’m the one who doesn’t care?” By this time, Beomgyu had dragged Soo Ah away to leave you two alone to talk, not wanting to be there for something he shouldn’t see or hear.

“I DO care, Taehyun. God, do you think I would’ve liked you for so long if I DIDN’T care?” At this point, tears of agony and pent up anger were streaming down your face like a waterfall; freefalling. “You...you what?” Taehyun was clearly shocked by what you had said, and it finally hit you.

You just confessed. You just told him how you felt after all this time. Quickly grabbing your bag, you sprinted to the girls bathroom, breezing past Beomgyu on the way there. Taehyun started to chase after you to catch up, but who knew you could run so fast in this situation? You slammed the stall door and collapsed against it, covering your mouth to muffle your sobs.

Wiping your tears was no use because they just kept coming. Suddenly, a voice echoed into the bathroom from the door, “Y/N? It’s Beomgyu, if you need anything, I’m right outside okay? I can lend you my jacket to cover the wet spot on your uniform. If you want, we can go to the nurse’s office so you don’t have to go to class.”

Finally managing to stop the tears, you wiped your face, not even trying to cover up the fact that you were just sobbing. Your eyes were far too red and puffy for you to try and trick anyone. You walked out of the bathroom, your head hanging. Beomgyu had covered you with his jacket, leading you to the nurse’s office.

After about five aimless minutes, you two walked out of the nurse’s office, the nurse saying there’s nothing she can do about your “stomach pains.” Beomgyu tried to argue with her but you just pulled him out, telling him it’s no big deal.

Of course it wasn’t “no big deal” to you, because you didn’t want to have to go to the rest of your classes when Taehyun was in every one of your last few periods.

You and Beomgyu walked into class, your eyes looking anywhere but at Taehyun. Slowly sliding into your seat, you scoot as far from Taehyun as possible without moving your desk. He seemed to have noticed though, a sudden sharp intake of breath coming from him.

Every class after lunch had felt increasingly long, but when the final bell rang, you packed your things and practically sprinted out like your life depended on it.

You ran all the way back home, lucky that it wasn’t too far from the school.

On your way home, you prayed that Taehyun wasn’t behind you, but you heard his voice booming from just a few feet behind you. Picking up the pace, you reached your front door, house key already in hand. Somehow you managed to get the door open and slip through just before he reached the handle.

You locked the door behind you, panting from having run so fast for so long. P.E. did not prepare you enough for moments like this. Taehyun started pounding on the door, “Y/N, please! We need to talk.” Before you knew it, your eyes were pooling with tears again, “I really don’t want to talk to you right now, Taehyun. Please leave.”

Checking the peep hole, you saw him breathing heavily as he looked down. “You can’t avoid me forever, Y/N, please. It’s pointless. We have to talk about it sooner or later.” “I don’t want to, I’ll avoid you if I want to,” you stated, you were nowhere near ready to approach him. You were unprepared emotionally and mentally, because all you could think about was how he’ll reject you.

After taking off your shoes, you slowly walked up the stairs, practically pulling yourself because of the lack of strength in your legs. You fell into your bed, letting out all your tears and frustration. The tears would not stop but you didn’t fight them. Everything came crashing down and you just felt so suffocated by it all.

Was this how your years of built up friendship just ended?

You didn’t even realize a few hours had passed already when you heard a light knock on your door, “Y/N? Come eat dinner now,” your brother, Hyunsik, softly called. You quickly wiped your tears, saying you weren’t hungry and he let you know the food was in the fridge when you felt like eating.

Y/N’s mom was downstairs when she heard knocking on the front door. She opened it to see Taehyun standing there, and with how long you’ve been friends for, he was like her second son.

“Oh! Taehyun-ah, what brings you here?” He quickly bowed, “Hello 어머니 (eomeoni), is Y/N home?” “Oh yes she is, but did something happen to her? She hasn’t come out of her room since she got home and her lights have been off the whole time.” Taehyun fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, faking a smile and saying, “she told me she’s feeling a bit unwell so I came to check up on her, if that’s okay.”

Your mom smiled brightly at him, “ah you’re so sweet, if only my real son were this nice to Y/N,” she said, making sure she was loud enough for your brother to hear. Taehyun giggled a bit and your mom let him in, ushering him upstairs.

He slipped his shoes off and walked up to your room. His hand hovered for a bit when he finally knocked on the door softly, when he heard a groan come from the other side of the door, “Hyunsik, I told you I’m not hungry.”

Taehyun cleared his throat a bit, “It’s uh..it’s Taehyun.” Your eyes widened, why the hell was he here now? “Why-why are you here?” “I told you I need to talk to you, let me in please.” You got up from the bed, your hand floated above the doorknob, you really didn’t want to see him right now but he was already inside your house.

You slowly pulled the door open, just enough for him to slip inside, then walked to the other side of your room, wanting to keep space between you two. He shuffled in slowly before quietly shutting the door behind him. Taehyun reached for the light switch to turn it on, you hissed slightly from the sudden brightness paining your eyes when you had been laying in the dark for hours.

Both of you were silent for a minute, letting tension fill up the space. He studied your figure, how you were slouched and your breathing was rigid from crying. You were still wearing your school uniform, Beomgyu’s oversized jacket draped over you.

When you had let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you had asked, “why’d you come he-“ You couldn’t even finish your question when Taehyun had cut you off, “do you really like me?”

There was no point in you trying to deny it, all you could do was nod at his question. His gaze softened and he began to walk closer to you.

“So you mean to say that you’ve been avoiding me because you like me?” Taehyun’s voice having a hint of pain behind the tone, but you tried not to pay any mind to it. You let out another sigh, nodding at what he said.

“Look, if you came here just to interrogate me, then please leave. I already told you I don’t want to talk about it right now, so can we please just drop it and forget what happened?” “No. I want to talk about it, whether you like it or not. I’ve constantly let you go when you don’t want to talk about something, but I don’t care this time, you’re going to talk to me about it one way or another, Y/N.”

For some reason, you were split in deciding. Part of you wanted to just spill everything and just tell him, but the other part of you wanted to hold onto your pride and have him leave.

“Taehyun, I’m not in the mood to-“ you were cut off by him once more, “I don’t care. Do you know the amount of times I knew something was bothering you but didn’t say anything? Do you know how many times you hurt me because you kept wanting to push me away? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

The pain in his voice was becoming more evident. Taehyun now stood in front of you, his eyes shifting to study your facial features before landing on your eyes, “Why can’t you just talk to me? You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Y/N. Haven’t you always talked to me about your problems before? What about now? I need to understand where you’re coming from.”

“Understand? What more is there to understand? You heard me loud and clear and I know you did. Yeah I like you,but so what? You’re busy running off with your new friends and Soo Ah. It’s enough to tell me that you obviously don’t feel the same. Don’t you get it? I avoided you because I knew it was one sided and I honestly didn’t want to bother going through the pain of rejection.”

You noticed the corners of Taehyun’s lips were tugged into a small smirk, “Who said I would reject you?” Your head shot up at this, surprised but also confused. “What do you mean?” your brows furrowed, making eye contact with him. He only stepped closer, your faces only being inches apart, leaning down a bit so he was at eye level with you,

“Why would I reject you when I like you too?”

Instantly, your face had flushed, taken aback by his confidence, “wait, you do?” Taehyun nodded, breaking out into a grin, “Duh, I’m surprised you didn’t catch on ages ago, I was so obvious. That’s why I thought you pushed me away, cause you found out and didn’t know how to say no.”

You automatically felt a smile forming on your face as you threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He giggled at this, picking you up and swinging you around, causing you to start giggling too.

Taehyun set you back down, pulling away from the hug to look at your face, “So then uh..will you be my (girl/boy)friend?” Smiling even harder, you nodded your head almost aggressively, “duh!” He picked you up a second time, spinning you both in a circle before you two crashed onto your bed, big, bright, and stupid grins plastered on your faces.

Suddenly you froze, sitting up to face Taehyun, causing him to do the same, “Hold on, you said you’re surprised I didn’t catch on ages ago. So then how long have you liked me?” You were a bit shocked that it didn't hit you earlier, Taehyun scooted closer to you, leaning against your headboard, shrugging casually saying, “about three years ago?” You whipped your head around to face him, “Are you KIDDING ME? I could’ve been dating you THREE YEARS AGO?”

Taehyun immediately started laughing at your reaction, while you were still gawking at the fact he’s liked you for as long as you liked him. Your hand extended towards his side, poking him, “What? What’s so funny?” you pouted at him. He reached out to pull you close to him, your faces so close you could feel his breath against your skin. His eyes went back and forth between your eyes and your lips, your eyes doing the same, glancing at his eyes and then his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your cheeks immediately turned bright red, but nonetheless, you slowly nodded only for his hand to slide up to the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Both of your lips moved in sync, working against each other’s until he pulled away to catch his breath. Now he was turning bright red, smiling at you, only for you to grab his collar and pull him back in for another kiss.

[vindicatedvirgil]

only fools rush in / part nine: and the dark one is soft for the sunshine one

the second-to-last part of my college AU is here!!

chapter summary: Virgil and Roman celebrate the end of their performances, and look ahead to the future.

TW: vague mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety attack, random OCs thrown in because my brain wanted to include lesbians in this for some reason

---

So take my hand

And take my whole life too

‘Cause I can't help falling in love with you

-

Virgil tapped his foot nervously, his phone to his ear. He was seated in the cafe, waiting for Roman to meet him after class. Except his boyfriend wasn’t answering his phone, and, of course, Virgil was only thinking of the worst possible scenarios. He set his phone down hastily, staring at the mug with his chai latte in front of him. A chime rang through on his phone, signaling a text from Roman, and Virgil glanced at it.

Hey babe, sorry, doing extra rehearsals with Megan and Chloe. Rain check?

Virgil sighed, shooting back a simple ‘Okay’ message, then stuffed his phone into his pocket, grabbing for his latte. This was the second time that week that Roman had skipped out on their coffee dates for extra rehearsals with the main actresses, which made sense since opening night was only two days away, but… it still made Virgil feel uneasy. 

Someone slid into the chair opposite him, and he glared up only to see Emile, a concerned look on his face as he held his mug of coffee close. “Hey, you alright kiddo?”

“Emile, not now, please…” Virgil started, his head drooping down. “I’m really not in the mood for one of your ‘pep talks’ right now.”

“Well… then I won’t give ya one. But hey, sometimes it's good to just… chat, ya know?” Emile’s voice was soft, inviting, but Virgil was still unsure. “Sometimes it’s nice to have an impartial audience.”

“You mean like a therapist, right?” Virgil’s voice was almost insulting. He'd been to therapy before, it helped him, but he was so busy with school that he didn't have time to stop by to see them, or even to go to the campus counseling center.

“Sometimes. But I’m kind of impartial here, and I’ll remain so… unlike last time,” Emile took a deep breath in. “I am sorry about that, kiddo. I didn't mean to insult you or make you upset.”

“Well, you did. Because you're wrong. I’m focusing on the things that are important to me right now, like the musical and school and Roman…” Virgil trailed off, remembering where his boyfriend was at that moment. Not with him. Emile raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s just… stressful, right now.” Virgil started, enticed at the idea of someone who was willing to listen to him, to offer him advice. And he decided to take that opportunity.

-

Virgil and Emile had migrated to one of the couches in the cafe, the tall man’s legs tucked under himself as he cradled a cup of herbal tea, one that Remy had brought over with raised eyebrows and a smile on his face. Virgil had opened up to Emile in a way he desperately needed, but he also got advice from the older man about his future in the psychology major, about internships he knew would be made available the following summer, about how best to balance a relationship and school. Virgil was grateful for this, and he felt a bit guilty for the way he had treated Emile in the past. 

“Oh, hang on,” Virgil said, interrupting what Emile was saying about the benefits of different teas, his phone buzzing in his pocket. Roman’s name was large on the screen, and he accepted the call, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe. I just came by your apartment but Janus says you haven’t come home yet today… is everything alright?” Roman’s voice was laced with concern, and he could hear the familiar sounds of Janus’ jazz music playing in the background.

“Oh, yeah. I’m great, Ro. I ran into Emile at the cafe and we’ve been chatting for a bit,” he explained, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from the other line. “I was planning on heading back to my apartment soon, though. Big day tomorrow, our final dress rehearsal. You should head home to sleep.”

“But… I wanted to see you,” Roman started, and Virgil shot an apologetic look at Emile. “I’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon, then,” he said, about to hang up, but Roman’s voice cut through again.

“I love you,” he said, and Virgil smiled, his heart fluttering, but he said nothing as Roman ended the call. The anxious man brought his phone back down, glancing at Emile.

“I’ve gotta get going, but… thank you, Emile. I really appreciate you talking with me,” he said, smiling, and Emile reached into his messenger bag, then handed Virgil a card.

“If you need me, my cell is on there,” Emile said, reaching over to ruffle Virgil’s hair a bit. “You got this, kid.”

-

Virgil swung open the door to the apartment, the jazz music a dull background noise. He spotted Roman on one of the couches, his head resting on the cushions behind him, so Virgil came up and gave him a swift kiss. “Hey, Ro.” The shorter man beamed up at him, standing up so he could wrap his arms around his boyfriend. “I wasn’t planning on staying at the cafe that long, but… it was good to chat with Emile about psychology stuff.”

“Well… I’m glad that you had that chance, babe,” Roman said, kissing Virgil’s chin and cheeks. “I’m so sorry about missing out on our date again, Megan and Chloe were both feeling anxious about some of the scenes, and they’re scenes I’m in, so…”

“It’s okay, Ro. I’m not upset,” Virgil started, but he thought a bit. “Anymore, that is. I was frustrated when I got your text, but Emile helped me realize that I’m not the only important thing to you right now and that sometimes it’s good for me to let go a bit.”

“What? No, that’s not true, Vee,” Roman whined, tightening his grip on Virgil. “You’re the most important thing to me, always! Please, don’t let go.”

“Ro, it’s okay. The musical is really important to both of us, it’s fine-” Virgil was cut off by Roman’s lips pressing to his needily, and all rational thought flew out of his mind as he gripped at the back of Roman’s shirt tightly. “Shit, if you keep kissing me like that, I’ll…”

“You’ll what, babe? Want more?” Roman teased, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “You mean everything to me, babe. If you needed me to, I’d drop out of the musical right now. If you have a panic attack during the performances, I’ll shove my understudy out there, just so that I can be there for you.”

“Ro…” Virgil buried his face in the shorter man’s shoulder, biting down on his lip and hoping that the tears would stay in his eyes. “Don’t say stuff like that, unless you want me to become a puddle of emotions.”

“Maybe I do want that, Virge.”

-

Roman woke up feeling more content than he ever had; he glanced up to see Virgil’s sleeping face, their bare chests still pressed together, the marks on their bodies remnants of what had happened the night prior. It was fumbly, it was awkward, but Roman wouldn’t change it for the world. 

He traced his fingers along Virgil’s collarbone, watching as the other’s eyes slowly fluttered open, meeting his, a blush soon covering the tall man’s face and neck. “Hi, Ro.”

“Good morning, my love,” Roman said, pressing kisses to the skin closest to his face. Virgil hummed happily at the movement, his fingers tangling in Roman’s hair.

“Thank you for last night,” Virgil breathed out softly, a faint smile on his face. “Sorry about-”

“No, don’t apologize for anything, babe. It was magical, and wonderful, and I can’t wait to do it again.” Roman waggled his eyebrows a little bit at this, making Virgil laugh a little. “I almost don’t want to get out of bed, but… we should get ready and then pick up some coffee, then head over to the theater.”

“But the dress rehearsal doesn’t start until 11,” Virgil protested, hoping that maybe they’d be able to spend a bit more time in bed; He glanced at the clock. A glaring, red 8:30 stared back at him. Roman nodded.

“I know. But I have a surprise for you, my love.”

-

Virgil held his iced coffee tightly as he followed Roman to the theater. He hated surprises, and even though this was something that his boyfriend had planned for him… he was still anxious about it all. Was Roman going to break up with him in the same place where they had fallen in love?

Roman made Virgil cover his eyes with his hand after they set their stuff down in the green room, and then with one hand he led the taller man onto the main stage. Virgil didn’t hear anything other than his own heart beating rapidly and the soft coos coming from Roman, but he was stopped on what he assumed was the middle of the stage. Was it above the trap door? Was he being pranked? Was there water on the stage?

And then the instrumental to Dancing through Life was playing throughout the theater, the same way it had the day that he had scooped Roman into his arms as they danced together for the first time. Virgil lowered his hand from his face, finding Roman standing there, his hand outstretched, a grin plastered on his face.

“Take my hand?” Roman asked, and Virgil nodded gently, taking Roman’s hand and letting himself be led in a dance across the stage, although this time they weren’t afraid to stand as close as possible to each other. “I want you to know how proud I am of you, Virge. You’re going to do so great in our performances, and I love you so goddamn much.”

“Ro…” Virgil couldn’t form any words, so he just pressed his forehead to Roman’s as they continued cascading across the stage, their grips on each other tight, as if letting go would break them. “What did I do to deserve someone like you loving me?”

“You didn’t need to do anything. You deserve the whole world, and I’m just lucky to be able to love you and hold you,” Roman whispered softly, pressing even closer to Virgil.

“I already have the whole world. It’s you,” Virgil said, the confidence growing in him, and he could feel the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them: “I love you, Roman.” No other words were said, as lips crashed together, all emotions being shared in that one touch.

-

Roman and Virgil were standing offstage, peeking every now and then around the corner at the audience. It was finally opening night, and they could see their friends in the second row, Patton’s head resting on Remus’ shoulder, Janus leaning over to whisper things to Logan. 

Roman set his hand on Virgil’s back in a comforting manner, causing the taller man to turn around to smile at his shorter boyfriend. “You alright, Vee?” Virgil nodded, glancing down at his slip-resistant shoes, then leaned down to kiss Roman. 

“I’m perfect, Ro. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, you know?” He pressed their foreheads together, smiling against Roman’s painted lips. “Thank you for supporting me through all of this.” 

Roman wanted to object, but he knew that Virgil would just remind him of their nights practicing for the auditions, their super early mornings running lines, the way Roman was always there to watch Virgil’s scenes. Virgil was there too, always supporting, always smiling, even when his anxiety got the best of him, even when it was hard to focus.

“You’re gonna be amazing, Virgil,” he finally said, pressing their lips together once more. “You deserve a whole standing ovation.”

After every scene, even though time was tight, their hands grasped each other, bright smiles sent their way and encouraging whispers were murmured in the darkness. During intermission, Roman’s hands couldn’t bear to leave Virgil’s waist, even as they were both prepped for their major outfit changes.

Virgil watched all of the kiss scenes, knowing that Roman saved the best kisses for him. When they were on stage together during curtain call, Virgil cheered louder for his boyfriend except for maybe Patton and Janus, who could clearly be heard from their seats.

It took the pair a while to get their thick patinas of makeup off of their faces, shrugging out of their costumes and into their comfortable day clothes, lips and hands wandering when no one was paying the couple any attention. The other actors filed out to meet their loved ones, even those with more intense makeup like the actress for Elphaba finished before them as they snuck behind a curtain, comforting touches meeting hot, bare skin.

The others tried to get the couple to go out after the performance, since the cast had saved the after party for after the final performances, but Virgil’s eyes drooped and Janus stepped in, making sure the pair were safely tucked into Roman’s bed, Janus covering his eyes when the couple’s hands wandered too far down.

-

“Ro, you and Virgil are coming to the cast party later, right?” Chloe was wiping off the Glinda makeup, her eyes tired but content. All of the performances had gone on without a hitch, and now they were done. It was an odd feeling, something that they had all been working so hard towards for months, finally coming to an end. 

“Yeah, we’re going to stop by for a bit, right babe?” Roman had already wiped his makeup off and was helping hold Virgil’s hair back as the silver paint was removed from the anxious man’s face. Virgil nodded, not saying anything as he wiped over his mouth. “You finally going to make a move on Megan?”

“I- Ro!” Chloe’s face turned bright red, and Virgil raised an eyebrow at the two. 

“Well, now I feel better about the fact that you two kissed my boyfriend,” Virgil muttered teasingly, and then they all stiffened as Megan came around the corner, humming the tune to Defying Gravity, the green paint removed from her body for the final time.

“Please, your boyfriend can kiss you all he likes, I felt nothing from him,” she said, her voice a bit strained. “Ugh, I need more tea.”

“I just heated up some water in the green room,” someone else said, walking past, and she groaned out a quick thanks, running off. As soon as she was out of earshot, Chloe smacked Roman on the shoulder.

“I cannot believe you!” she whined, pouting a little. “What if she heard you?”

“So? You wanna be with her, so you should go for it. Like I did with Virge.” Roman said, smirking, but Virgil glanced over his shoulder again, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“Excuse me, I was the one who initiated our audition practices and our first dance,” he pointed out, and Roman scoffed.

“Yeah, well!” he huffed, crossing his arms, “I kissed you first!” Chloe rolled her eyes, knowing this would take a while, and walked off, letting the couple continue their bickering.

- Virgil wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up perched on a tree branch, but he didn’t mind. It was nice and cool outside, the music from inside bleeding out into the backyard of the director’s house where the staff party was being held. He had Roman’s coat around his shoulders and was watching as Chloe and Megan sat on a bench near a different tree, talking in low whispers, Chloe’s hand trailing onto Megan’s thigh, their shy smiles and blushes visible even though the only light was the moon and some fairy lights.

Virgil had sent Roman in to socialize; it was his thing, anyways, and not really Virgil’s cup of tea. Every once in a while Roman would peek his head out of one of the sliding doors, and Virgil would shoot him a sweet smile and a thumbs up. 

He glanced down at his phone, checking the time, then shoved the tech back into his pocket, swinging his legs a bit. He heard giggles from the pair of girls, so he redirected his attention to them, only to notice them kissing, Megan’s hands tangled in Chloe’s short blonde hair. Virgil smiled, eyes closing as he leaned his head onto the main trunk of the tree, memories flooding him of his first kiss with Roman, and the many kisses they had shared since that day.

It surprised him that it had only been eight weeks since they got the roles in the play, and now it was all over. Virgil was already thinking ahead to the next production; performing was a bit much for him, so he knew he’d be working as a tech in the Winter and Spring productions. But he also knew it was time to start figuring out how he wanted to use his psychology degree.

He was a year older than Roman, and he’d be graduating in less than two years. Emile had suggested some summer internships, emailed him the applications, and Virgil knew it would be the next logical step to apply and try to get those spots. He had professors he could get recommendations from and Emile was a face that many in the area were familiar with.

His whole life was around the corner. Except all he wanted to do was storm into the house, grab Roman by the collar, and kiss him into oblivion. 

He didn’t do that, of course. He stayed on the branch, deep in thought, and eventually, he felt hands on his thighs and lips ghosting over his own. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get you home before you fall asleep and take a tumble out of that tree, hmm?”

“Ro?” he asked as the two were walking home, their hands intertwined.

“Hmm?” Roman was humming, his hands swinging childishly, and he glanced over at Virgil, a smile on his face.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Virgil asked, shocking himself with his tenacity. Roman looked surprised, too, but let Virgil finish his thought. “It’s just… do I want to be a therapist? Become a psychologist? I don’t know what I want to do with my degree, but I know I want to help people.” He sighed, but Roman squeezed his hand gently.

“I think it’s okay not to know, Virge. People like Logan and Patton have their whole lives planned out, but I mean… I don’t,” he admitted, and Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Like, yes. I want to act and perform, but it’s so hard to be successful. If I only ever do community performances I’ll be happy, but… I’ll have to figure something else out to be able to afford to live, you know?”

“...I could support you,” Virgil muttered, face turning red, and he silently hoped that Roman didn’t hear what he said. He was not so lucky, though.

“Oh. Well,” Roman cleared his throat. They hadn’t talked much about their future together, but both had hopes that they’d continue to be together. “That’s a lot to ask of you, but I’d appreciate all of the love and support you’d give me, if that’s… what you want.”

“I do want that,” Virgil slowed to a stop, the pair standing under a streetlight, and Roman looked up into his boyfriend’s eyes. “If you want to be this incredible community star, then I’ll support all of it. If you end up on Broadway, travelling the world, then I can support that too.”

“What about you, then?” Roman asked, his hand pressing over Virgil’s heart as the two stood closer, their breath visible in the cool air. Virgil shrugged, smiling.

“I can help people anywhere. But there’s only one you, Ro.”

-

Roman was taking the steps down two at a time, and when he looked up he saw Emile standing at the entrance of the building. He hesitated, but then decided to chat with the older man. “Hey, Picani.”

“Hi Roman! I saw one of your performances, you did wonderfully!” Emile said, a bright smile blending across his features.

“Oh, thank you,” Roman rubbed the back of his neck, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I just uh… wanted to thank you. For being a good mentor to Virgil.”

“No thanks necessary. I’m happy to help,” Emile responded, then he pursed his lips in thought. “Has he heard back from the internship application yet?”

“Huh? Oh… uh, no. I guess he’ll be hearing back after finals,” Roman said, then he glanced at his watch. “I should get going, I have a final, but thank you again.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

-

Virgil was running up the steps to Roman’s apartment when he heard a call from behind him. He stopped, glancing down to see Emile waving up at him. “Hey, Virgil! I saw the musical, you did great!!” he called, and Virgil smiled, nodding.

“Thanks, Emile.” He continued his run up the stairs, then knocked on the door once, before it was opened by Roman. He practically flung himself into his boyfriend’s arms. “Ro, guess what?”

“What is it, my love?” Roman asked, a chuckle behind his cheerful voice.

“I got the internship for next summer that I applied for! I get to be an assistant on a psychological trial!” he exclaimed, pulling back so Roman could see the bright smile on his face. “It’s a paid internship, too!”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!” Roman responded happily, leaning up to capture Virgil’s lips in his own. “We should go out and celebrate!”

“I have something else in mind,” Virgil said, a smirk on his face as he pulled Roman past all of the moving boxes and towards his boyfriend’s bedroom.

The future wouldn’t be so scary as long as they had each other’s hands to hold.

---

the final installment of the college au, part ten: so it goes (& an epilogue) will be posted on Sunday, September 13 at 12PM PDT

thank you for all of your support as we’ve gone on this journey together!!!

--- 

part ten

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taglist (to be tagged in the final part, send an ask!)

@winterrose42

@are-you-even--real

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

@eeveeeclair246

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@pansexualpuppet

@morgan-leaf

[askanautistic]

Hi! So I was wondering if anyone had any advice or tips to dealing with a situation I’m in? As a teenager I hadn’t been diagnosed as autistic yet and really struggled with school and it would make me feel really stupid and put me under incredible stress, I would feel quite down and depressed about it, and I was so anxious I wouldn’t be able to sleep and would feel awful as a result. Also, as a teenager my friends didn’t treat me very well, they would call me annoying and ‘tell me off’ if I (1/2)

(2/2) did something ‘wrong’. They had their own problems and would often take it out on me. I had a best friend who would insist on messaging me 24/7 and would be angry if I didn’t. I would be in my room all day every day and never leave because of this, and I let it happen because my social skills weren’t very good. As a result I feel like I ‘lost’ my teenage years. I’ll see teenagers having fun at McDonald’s or someone in my old school uniform and it makes me SO upset! Thanks for any advice!

As someone who struggled throughout school, I often look back and wish I could relive the time but for things to be different. Basically, I wish I could relive my life with hindsight, which is probably a very common desire, but obviously we only get hindsight from experience and that usually means that it’s too late to experience something again. Try to bear in mind that any snapshot you see of someone else’s life isn’t necessarily a representation of their life as a whole. Seeing teenagers having fun in McDonalds doesn’t mean that none of them have any problems at home, or have never been bullied. 

Also, try to remember that you’re not alone in feeling like your teenage years were ‘lost’ or ‘stolen’. This is something that I think many people feel, for various reasons. Many people who experienced poor mental health during their teenage years often feel that they lost out on what their teens should have been. People who got involved with the ‘wrong crowd’, and perhaps did things that were too grown up, or ended up in some kind of trouble often have regrets, and might wish they had embraced being a child/teenager. Trans people often wish they had been able to experience their childhood/teenage years as the correct gender. People who went through childhood/teenage years without a diagnosis might always think about how different things could have been if they had known. Even people who did have lots of fun at school during their teen years might wish they’d worked harder, or studied something different back then so that they’d be on a pathway to a certain career now. Everyone has some kind of regret about their past, whether it’s decisions they made themselves, or the way they were treated by others that might have influenced their path in life.

It’s also common for everyone to be told that their childhood/teen years are should be the best years of their life, so if those years turn out to be horrible, it makes it seem like it’s too late, as the best years are gone, and they weren’t as good as they should have been, but the future also cannot live up to how good those years should have been. This isn’t true, though. Any time of life can be awful and any time of life can be wonderful. Most of life will likely be a mixture, or somewhere in the middle. Tbh it makes little sense that a time in life when everyone spends the majority of their time in a massive building with hundreds of other teenagers, all of them at a weird age between being a child and being an adult and the confusion that brings, and dealing with puberty and having their bodies changing in all sorts of often uncomfortable and embarrassing ways, with not only their own hormones but the hormones of everyone around them... why should that be the pinnacle of anyone’s life?

I think it’s probably natural and okay to feel angry or cheated, sometimes. Life isn’t always fair, and people aren’t always fair or kind to each other, and it makes sense to be angry or upset about that. But we can’t control the past; we can only try to make our presents and futures better. 

Also, there are no guarantees that certain alterations would have made everything inherently better. Some things might have been worse if something had been different.

Try to focus on the present, and your future, and how you can make those better for yourself. Maybe there are alternatives for some of the things you feel you missed out on - it won’t be exactly the same, but it might still help. For example, I felt like my education suffered because of my social and sensory difficulties, and I dropped out of uni because the lifestyle just didn’t suit my autistic needs. In adulthood I’ve enrolled on a degree course, but distance learning, and in a more suitable subject. It’s nice experiencing being a student again, but in a way that suits me better - distance learning, online workshops, topics of interest. 

Lots of people are nostalgic for their school days, so it’s not uncommon for people to have parties where the fancy dress is school uniforms, and there was even an event I remember reading about a few years ago where people could go and have a school dinner. 

That might not be a readily available (or desirable) option for you, but think about some of the things you enjoyed when you were younger, and maybe see whether you can relive that time a little bit. Watch the films or programmes you used to watch, eat the kinds of foods you used to have for dinner when you were younger. I’m really into Jurassic Park/World, but I much prefer the Jurassic Park merchandise, partly because it’s also nostalgic, as I remember seeing the films as a kid, and having the original merchandise when it came out.