#might blow off the student and the lab meeting. i really need to go to that class tho

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[mcwriting]

A Science Project for the Ages

Big thanks to this anon for this request! Sorry it's taking me longer to fulfill my requests from when I was in quarantine but I'm trying to get those done soon!

This is a slight continuation of lab partners but can definitely be read alone :)

Ship: SoftNerd!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1883

Warnings: one blink-and-you'll-miss it bad word

⚛︎

There was a loud buzz as your phone vibrated against the wood table in the science library.

You quickly picked it up, trying not to disturb the few other students around as you looked down at the screen.

Tom.

Though you were together now, he very rarely called at this time. He knew you always studied here before dinner time and respected that.

You grabbed your notebook and bag and shuffled into the hall to answer.

"Tom? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, um. So sorry to bother you, but you've finished your science expo project, right?"

You furrowed your brows as you slid down the wall to sit and stuff your notebook back in your bag. You knew this conversation was going in a weird direction already. You could hear a faint beeping in the background.

"Uh, yeah..?"

"Right, and what was that project over again?"

"I did an analysis on light absorption of different common solutions and then compared them to the color they turned when I lit them on fire. I thought we already talked about this the other day..?"

"Yes, yeah, sorry. So one more question before I tell you what's up. Do you happen to know how to bake?" Tom asked quietly.

Suddenly you remembered what all his project was on.

He was doing a food chemistry project, explaining certain phenomenons that happen when you bake. He had hoped giving people baked goods would make them like his project more.

"I- Tom I told you I would help you but you said it would be fine," you said flatly."

"Well..... Now it's not fine, and Alex isn't here to help me. He went to his girlfriend's."

Tom's roommate. He was usually pretty patient with Tom's clumsiness, but sometimes he just had to get out and enjoy a day off, too. Tom understood, but now the burden fell on you.

"Fine, I'll be there in a little bit. Text me if you need me to bring anything."

⚛︎

You walked in to the smell of burnt. It was overwhelming and you choked as you rushed to the window to air out the apartment.

"Hey, sorry about the smell," Tom said nonchalantly from the kitchen.

You turned to see the situation at hand, which was definitely... a situation.

It was like something out of a movie. Messy bowls and utensils littered the sink. There was cake batter splattered across the counters. Finally, the culprit still sat in a muffin tin on the bar: a dozen very black cupcakes.

You sighed.

"Forgot to set the timer?"

"Yep."

"And let me guess. This was your first experience with baking?"

"That's exactly right."

"Of course," you muttered, but then clapped your hands together enthusiastically. "Well, then. Let's try and fix this, shall we?"

You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Tom's cheek, then brushed past him to grab the tray.

"First on the agenda, we are going to take off the papers and chuck these off the balcony to let out some frustrations, alright?"

You were lucky in that Tom's apartment was on the top floor, and his balcony faced a wooded area. The only thing he could hit was a tree and the food would eventually biodegrade into the soil.

You both tossed them, competing to see who could throw the farthest. It let Tom blow off some steam, and also gave more time to ventilate the place before you went back in.

After the last cupcake (if you could call it that) was tossed, you got started on cleaning everything up. He had used a lot of bowls for one boxed cake mix, but you didn't ask.

It took a while to make sure things were sufficiently clean, but finally everything was ready to make a new batch.

"Oh one other thing before we start. Have you ever made a meringue?" Tom asked as he preheated the oven, which you carefully supervised to make sure it was right.

"I mean, I've made some before. Why?"

"Well part of my project was talking about how egg proteins bind. They sound pretty easy. Just eggs and sugar, right?"

Your hand covered your eyes in disappointed surprise.

"What? No. Tom, meringues are like, notoriously one of the hardest things to get right. They land just before macarons, and meringue is one of the main parts of a macaron!"

"What are you talking about? How can something with two ingredients be that hard to make?" he tried to argue, but you weren't about to let him trick you into making something so difficult.

"Did none of your research explain how moisture, temperature changes, utensils used, and method of cooking affect the outcome."

"...Uh... no."

"Were you planning on using the Swiss, Italian, or French technique?"

".....I didn't know there was more than one."

"Well then you might go do a quick search to add to your presentation while I cover the cupcakes."

While he did that, you made up the batter and got the cupcakes in the oven (set at the right temperature for the right time), then got started making some frosting.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know you aren't supposed to make meringues in a plastic bowl?"

"Yep. Plastic can retain lipids which prevent proper binding. Same reason you can't whip the yolk."

"That's what this says! How did you know that?"

You shrugged.

"I like to bake. By the way, you better credit me as your pastry chef on the presentation."

"Will do."

He made some edits on the page and found a recipe claiming to be the easiest method, so you caved and agreed to help him make them when the cupcakes were done.

As you measured sugar and got the whisk attachment ready, you looked over and admired Tom as he meticulously separated the eggs.

You couldn't help but fall head over heels for him all over again seeing how he did each step carefully, all his focus on each little egg.

Sure, he was a little clumsy sometimes, but he was precious and cared about whatever he did.

It took what seemed like hours to get the egg whites whipped properly (and lots of arguing with Tom about what "stiff peaks" meant), but finally you had them in a piping bag and on a pan to bake.

You couldn't help but wait by the oven in anxious anticipation for the meringues to come out, even though they'd be in there for a while.

Tom sat right next to you on the (surprisingly) clean kitchen floor as you stared at the oven.

"Babe?" he asked softly, leaning into you.

You hummed a response, taking the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for coming and helping me. I know you value your library time."

You smiled and sat back up, looking Tom in the eyes.

"You know, I wasn't really studying anyways. I was watching youtube videos with my headphones in because I didn't want to go home yet."

Tom had a mischievous grin and furrowed brow.

"So you just go there as an excuse to get away from me?!"

You laughed and knocked into him slightly.

"No! I just got done with my homework and wanted to hang around campus for a while... and I had a feeling you'd call eventually."

Tom gasped.

"You didn't trust me!?"

"Now that I can answer truthfully..." you started, causing him to pout. "I'm not saying I didn't trust you at all, it's just that I had never once heard of you baking and figured I would prepare myself accordingly."

"Does this mean that Alex knew too?"

"I can't speak on his behalf, but I'm glad it was just us anyways. I like getting to spend time with you like this." You paused to peck him on the lips. "Want me to read over your project? I know those spelling errors can slip by sometimes."

Tom grinned, wordlessly getting up and offering you a hand.

⚛︎

The expo was in full swing and you nervously stood on the other side of the room as your project to watch people walk by and observe your findings.

You had already given your presentation to the judging panel and now the expo was open to the public, so you tried to avoid stressing too much as you talked with some friends.

Suddenly a pair of warm arms came around your stomach and Tom's scent enveloped you.

"Hey baby, how ya feelin'?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as your thumbs rubbed over his hands instinctively.

"You know me. A little nervous." You flipped in his arms to face him. "And what about you? The judges like our sweet treats?"

"They sure seemed too. Dr. Grand liked the meringues so much she asked for another."

You smiled.

"Well either way, I'm proud of us both."

"Thanks again for helping, I couldn't have done this without you. I made sure to emphasize how difficult meringue making is during my presentation thanks to you."

Finally your friends had enough of the cutesy bullshit and convinced you and Tom to rejoin the conversation, both of you with arms around each other as you conversed.

Time passed and eventually they gave prizes to the best projects of the expo. You knew you wouldn't win anything, there were some far better projects out there that included heavy research.

"And in first place, 'Science around us: the chemistry of baking' by Mr. Tom Holland! Congratulations! If all of our winners could come pick up their ribbons and get a photo for the newsletter, that would be great."

Tom stayed casually next to you, so you had to shake him and get his attention.

"Did you hear that Tom? You won!"

Tom blinked a few times, then gasped.

"I won!? I mean, we won!!?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him forward.

"Go on, get your blue ribbon, baker boy."

He excitedly rushed up to the table where his prize awaited (tripping a few times, but you ignored that) and bounced on the balls of his feet as someone pinned the ribbon to his shirt.

You could see the sheer delight on his face as the winners took a group photo, and he practically skipped back to meet you.

You and your friends gave him congratulations as he happily looked down at the blue piece pinned to him.

He then unpinned it and tried to hand it to you.

"Now, don't congratulate me, y/n gets all the credit for making everything."

"No, no. It was your idea and you did the research. You deserve that more than anyone else. And plus, you were right. Baked goods did give you an edge over the competition."

"Well I say it was a science project for the ages!" he exclaimed, holding up the ribbon. You and your friends cheered to that.

"How 'bout we go celebrate your win over lunch, hm? The cupcake I had isn't holding me over and I'm starving."

"Sounds perfect, darling. Lead the way."

You happily headed off towards the nearest place on campus, completely oblivious to the fact that Tom had pinned his blue ribbon to your backpack.

He quickly made up time and slipped a hand into yours.

If nothing else, he was the boyfriend of the ages.

⚛︎

A/N: thanks to the anon who sent the request for this! I really enjoyed writing it! I think I could've improved some things but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it, and I hope you are too!

Permanent Tag List

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

[sushireads]

yoongi fic recs

this is a list of yoongi fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

“Where’s my kiss?” by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.6K words

A Wish Out of Water by @jimlingss​

🍙, fluff, humor, fantasy | two shots

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

GENIE au

All I Want for Christmas by @hayjeon​

🍙 | one shot | 13K words

CEO, CHRISTMAS, SECRETARY, SINGLE DAD au

an out of bounds umbrella by @yoonsgiggle​

fluff | one shot | 10.2K words

you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.  

BASKETBALL PLAYER, COLLEGE, ENEMIES TO LOVERS au

aquiver by @floralseokjin​

🍙, fluff, angst, smut | series

Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

IDOL au

bad boys bring it to you by @yuengi

smut | one shot | 7.1K words

TATTOO ARTIST au

Black & White by @akinnie75

🍙, fluff, angst | one shot | 24.7K words

You finally confessed to Yoongi after he asked if you like him. His response is to give you a contract to sign. However, you soon realize that Yoongi manufactured your emotions and manipulated you to like him all for the sake of his senior project.

SLOW BURN au

Blackthorn Manor by @kpopfanfictrash 

one shot | 7.5K words

After becoming the assistant of professional recluse Min Yoongi, you begin to notice strange things. Noises which shouldn’t take place, shadows which shouldn’t move like they do. You’re almost convinced that you’re crazy - until something happens, something unbelievable to make you realize you’re not.

GOTH au

Blow by @inkofyoongi

smut, fluff | one shot | 5.5K words

Yoongi loves you, even if he’s never said it… but gestures sometimes speak louder than words.

BOYFRIEND au

budapest by @junghelioseok

smut | one shot | 11.1K words

over many years and across several dozen cities, you fell in love.

SECRET AGENT au

Clair De Lune by @yoonia

smut | one shot | 23K words

You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously. But at what cost? And will he be a part of the life you are leaving behind or will he be there for the next part of it?

—part of @bangtansmutcentral‘s In The Mood Project

ESCORT, MUSICIAN au

Cut Me Open by @hayjeon

angst, smut, fluff | two shots

—a spin-off from Cardio Palpitations

MARRIED COUPLE, SURGEON au

dancing with the devil by @minnpd

smut | one shot | 6.8K words

Easy Rebound by @ditzymax

smut, angst | one shot | 6.5K words

Yoongi is one of the star players on the college basketball team. You are the head of the cheerleading squad. The pair of you would make the most beautiful (if most cliché) couple on campus, except neither of you have ever wanted anything more than the frequent, casual fuck. Yet somehow Yoongi finds his emotions straying towards dangerous territory.

BASKETBALL PLAYER, CHEERLEADER, COLLEGE au

ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster

smut | one shot | 7.2K words

he was messing with you again. he was messing with you, trying to get a reaction out of you simply for his own amusement. but you refused to give it to him—refused to give him the satisfaction of playing right into his hands.

—an alternate universe of ego

COLLEGE, FRAT BOY, FUCK BOY au

eight by @cupofteaguk

🍙, fluff | one shot | 5K words

or, Eight times Min Yoongi tells you he loves you

IDOL au

First-Date BAIT! by @jimlingss

fluff | two shots

First dates are embarrassing. First dates are awkward. I’ve been through countless ones, sitting across from people who bored the living daylights out of me. It was less exciting than watching paint dry. Some dates were so utterly rude - I think you and I both know what it’s like to be on the receiving end on that. But now we both don’t have to waste our time anymore!

With First Date Bait they went out for me! Afterwards, they informed me if it was recommended to go out on a second date. It’s amazing with a 99.99% accuracy rate! That’s how I ended up meeting my husband!

First Date Bait.

Why waste your time with awkward first dates?

—part of the Service Series

Hades by @littlemisskookie

horror, smut, angst, fantasy | one shot | 9.4K words

You meet a rather dreamy- albeit annoying, new kid who sweeps you off your feet. Too bad it’s in the middle of a series of murders around town.

GREEK GOD au

heavy sugar by @kinktae

smut | one shot | 8K words

The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

—part of the rewind series

1920s, GANGSTER, FLAPPER, MAFIA au

i’m not your daddy by @scriptaed

🍙, fluff | one shot | 2.5K words

learning that his daughter no longer wishes to wed him but rather his now-arch-enemy jungkook marks the most soul-crushing day your husband has ever had to endure. no one, and he means no one, is more deserving of his angel than daddy min himself, and he’s willing to do anything to earn his daughter’s heart back.

DAD, PARENT au

Ink Nemesis by @scriptaed

🍙, angst, fluff | series

As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret. 

FAKE DATING, IDOL, PAPARAZZI au

La Douleur Exquise by @cinnaminsvga

ON-GOING | fluff, angst, smut, fantasy | series

in which you accidentally summon an incubus in the middle of your shitty apartment and he won’t leave until you agree to have sex with him. until then, min yoongi, incubus extraordinaire, is now your sexually promiscuous and grumpy roommate. aka, the incubus au no one fucking asked for.

INCUBUS au

Melody companion by @prisczero

fluff | one shot | 3.6K words

“A soulmate story where Yoongi can hear everything that you listen to, but only if it is music.’’

IDOL, SOULMATE au

Miss Dial by @versigny 

ON-GOING | 🍙, smut | series

[11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi

FRAT au

Mixtape by @jungblue

🍙, smut, fluff, humor | one shot | 15.6K words

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

COLLEGE, PODCAST PERSONALITY au

Next Door by @personasintro

smut, fluff | one shot | 10.3K words

Your neighbor doesn’t respect your complaints about him being loud, but you don’t let it slide so easily.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, NEIGHBOURS au

petals by @yoonia

🍙, fluff | series

IDOL, PARENT au

see you soon by @cupofteaguk

fluff, angst | one shot | 7K words

In which you live in a world where one stroke of a pen against your skin is a signage of forever, and Min Yoongi just has really good timing 

SOULMATE au

She’s Testosterone by @jimlingss

🍙, crack, smut | series

Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji?

YOONJI au

so i heard you like bad boys by @scriptaed​

fluff | one shot | 4.7K words

while others see min yoongi as the resident heartthrob of the school - quiet, resilient, and mysterious - you can’t see him as anything other than your dorky best friend since childhood; but what you don’t know is his long desire to be anything but that, even if it means becoming the bad boy in town… or at least try to.

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

stay high by @personasintro​

smut, angst | one shot | 16.5K words

You’ve to stay high to keep your ex out off your mind when he comes back into your life.

EXES au

Studio cuddle by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.8K words

Tired from work, you went straight to Genius Lab in the hopes of being able to cuddle with Yoongi. You did not hesitate to press the passcode of his studio, knowing he might get pissed off for interrupting him from his work.

IDOL, PRODUCER au

Sweeter than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga​

fluff, smut, angst | series

“You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.”

VAMPIRE au

the blue coat and cerruti 1881 (a flash fire) by @yuhdongsaeng​

angst, fluff, smut | two shots

that’s the thing about flash fires. they’re intense outbursts of flames that reach their maximum heat quickly and don’t last a long time. hell, they don’t even get to fade before they cease to exist. however, flash fires may be intense and short, but the floor beneath them is ruined forever.

IDOL au

The Truth Between Us by @jimlingss & @gukyi

🍙🍙🍙, fluff, angst, fantasy | series

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS and loads more aus— just stop what you’re doing and read this masterpiece!

want a taste by @suga-kookiemonster​

smut, humor | one shot | 18.3K words

pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

—part of the you never shop alone collaboration

FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SHOPPING MALL au

what you did last summer by @winetae​

smut | one shot | 33.8K words

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you)

TROPHY WIFE au

back to navigation.

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter Four

“Holy fuck!” Evan yelped, before running down the stairs and opening the front door. “Dude, you are fast!”

Ruth laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “It seemed like an emergency.”

“You’re not wrong,” Evan grumbled, before quickly ushering him inside. “I was going to apologise for the mess but I guess you’ve seen everything already.”

Ruth, to his credit, managed to look completely non-judgemental as he stepped over a pile of shoes and pizza leaflets. He waited patiently for Evan to close the door behind him before speaking.

"May I see it?"

Evan hummed and hawed for a moment, before sighing. May as well get this over with. He turned around and lifted up the back of his hoodie so that the tattoo was poking out over the waistband.

There was an intake of breath behind him. He felt a warm hand nudge his hoodie a little further up his back, being careful not to actually touch his skin.

"How bad is it," Evan said, full of dread. "Can you read what it says?"

Ruth hummed under his breath. When he spoke, he sounded like he was trying to be very careful. "Would you believe me if I said that someone put a curse mark on you?"

Evan laughed out loud, and looked at Ruth. The laughter died at the dark look in the other boy's eyes.

"Oh. You're serious."

Ruth nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, curses are..." Evan began, before stopping himself. There was no polite way to say "curses aren't real". "They're... Kind of spiritual, right? More based in belief than fact."

The dark look was still there in Ruth's eyes, but he did manage an amused smile. "You're a skeptic."

"I'm a scientist," Evan replied flatly. "Trying to be. Sorry. If you're one of those people who believes in magic and stuff, that's super cool, I'm not going to call it bullshit. But this is probably just a normal tattoo."

"Just a normal tattoo that appeared on your body without you noticing."

"I might have been drunker than I realised," Evan said hotly. "But even if someone was trying to somehow curse me by tattooing me, I'm not bothered about that. Curses are... um. Probably not replicable in lab conditions. I'm more worried about the fact that they managed to somehow jab a needle in me when I wasn't looking and do some of the chunkiest black work I have ever seen. So what does it say?"

Ruth's gaze skittered away. His pleasant smile was like glass. "I don't know."

"Damn it. You're sure?"

"..."

"So how do you know it's a curse?"

Ruth swallowed. He hesitated, before holding out a hand. "May I touch it?"

Evan said "yes" without really thinking about it. He realized his mistake as soon as he felt two warm palms come into contact with the small of his back, brushing along his skin.

Oh no. This was really nice. It had been quite a long time since he had been touched by someone. With a nervous laugh, he jumped away in shock at the electric feeling that rushed through him.

"Cold hands," he lied.

"Oh. Sorry."

That was his second mistake. There was the sound of Ruth blowing on his own fingers and rubbing them together to warm them up, and then the hands were back, except now they were hot and unignorable.

Idiot. Idiot fool stupid ass. He just invited this random guy over to his house and said "oh sure touch my back in a totally normal kind of way" and now he's making it weird, and poor Ruth was probably standing there like, what's this weirdo doing blushing like some kind of idiot because I'm touching his freaky new tattoo? His weird drunken tramp stamp? Just copping a feel of this guy's lower back like a spectacularly PG version of a freaky train groper?

God, he wished he could get his brain to shut up when he was nervous.

"... It doesn't feel like a tattoo," Ruth said after a moment. "It feels like a curse."

"A curse to do what?"

"It's a bad luck curse," Ruth said. His voice was strange. "Luck so bad it'll force you to..."

Evan stared at him over his shoulder. "To what."

"..."

"To what."

"But it is only triggered when, under certain conditions..." Ruth began before trailing off. "The conditions will not be met. There is nothing to worry about."

His smile was very reassuring. One of his dimples popped. It was incredibly sweet.

"You're sure?"

"I'm certain."

Evan tore his eyes away and sat down heavily on the couch, putting his head in his hands. "So some kind of spiritual nutjob has put a weird mark on my ass. Wonderful. That's really great."

"I'll fix this."

Evan looked up at Ruth in surprise, before shaking his head. "You can't just remove tattoos so easily. It's going to cost so much money to remove, and it might not even work. And it's going to hurt."

He sensed Ruth coming closer, close like he might reach out and touch. But he didn't. He was silent.

"... You think it was someone at the party."

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't think I had it before then, and I don't know when else I would have been drunk enough not to notice it happening."

"A curse mark can be placed with just a touch–"

"Dude," Evan groaned, throwing his head back, "it's not a curse mark, it's just a pain in the ass. It's a tattoo. And I have to deal with it. I wish I–" he groaned, and buried his head in his hands again. "This always happens. I shouldn't go to parties."

Thick silence again.

Ruth’s voice was gentle. His hand landed on Evan’s shoulder. "You didn't ask for this."

"But what if I did?" Evan said. "It's the not knowing that’s the worst. What if I did want this? But why would I... I never would, but who knows? Who knows?" He stood up suddenly. "That's why I have to find someone who was there and ask them."

“I can help you do that.”

“... you can? How?"

"I think I might know a couple of people who were there," Ruth answered. "I can ask them."

Evan stood up and grabbed Ruth's shoulders. "Please! Can you come with me to meet them?"

His expression turned sour. "I would prefer you didn't. They are... they're not good company."

"I don't care. I need to ask them. Please."

A long tense silence, and then:

"Alright. I will ask around."

Evan sighed and collapsed back on the sofa. "Thank you. Really."

"There's no need. Anything you want, I'll do."

He gave Ruth a weird look, tilting his head in curiosity. "Are you this charitable with everyone? You've been so nice to me."

Ruth's smile returned with a vengeance. Cheerful sunshine was practically flowing from every orifice. He said, rather carefully, "not with everyone, no. But you could say that it's something that sustains me. Being helpful, I mean."

"Huh. You enjoy being a good Samaritan, then."

Ruth nodded. In between talking about the curse nonsense, and the desire to help people, and the way he was a little – hm, intense, Evan wondered if he hadn't accidentally made friends with a very motivated missionary. Weren't Christians supposed to love thy neighbour?

Oh no, was Evan being indoctrinated into a fundamentalist cult? Was that why Ruth was being so nice?

"... Are you religious, Ruth?"

He hummed, seeming to think about the question. "That... is complicated. I guess so. But maybe it's more accurate to say that I... that I do my own thing. Are you?"

That did not rule out the cult side of things. Evan nodded, hiding his suspicions deep where they couldn't possibly offend this potential fundie.

"I do my own thing too," he said, deciding to be cautious just in case. "I just try to be nice and hope for the best."

"A good philosophy to have," Ruth said with a laugh. "Keep it. Well, I should probably go and track down the people at the party. If you want anything, you can call me whenever you like."

Hm. Way, way too nice. "I will," Evan lied, before guiding Ruth back to the front door. "Thanks again."

"It's nothing at all," were Ruth's last words before he left, bundling out onto the street and walking away.

Evan watched him go. Watched that bundle of curly blonde hair and a warm blue scarf grow smaller and smaller until it turned a corner and once again disappeared.

A few days later, Evan was waiting outside of his lecture hall, when someone suddenly stopped beside him. He squinted at them, finding their face oddly familiar. That long brown curly hair, the wide set of their shoulders...

Wait a minute, this was the person from the party who kept giving him shots! Sand! No - Ice?

“Rock,” said Rock, looking exceptionally nervous. Their eyes kept darting to the side. “From the party.”

“No, yeah, I remember,” Evan mumbled, feeling a little dazed. What the hell. They just suddenly turned up with no warning. “What’s... up?”

“You said you had questions,” Rock said quietly. They seemed completely different now from that night. Whereas before, they were loud and bouncy, projecting their voice across the music, now they seemed to be holding their arms close to their body as if trying to look smaller.

It was weird.

“Um. Yeah. Hey, let’s just...”

Evan stepped aside from the other students who were waiting outside the lecture, and Rock followed, until they were both in a slightly more private spot.

“Are you good?” Evan asked, because Rock looked very sweaty.

They nodded quickly. “I’m good. I’m chill. Look, whatever you wanna ask, please go ahead.”

Evan thought about it. This was his chance. He needed to make sure he didn’t mess it up.

“So... did I do anything weird?”

Rock stared at him in disbelief. After a moment, their gaze once again skittered around the place. “No. Not really.”

Okay. Good. He would just have to try and believe that. “Sweet. Okay. Christ, um. Did anyone at the party have a tattoo gun?”

Rock swallowed and shook their head. “No.”

Shit. “Are you lying to me?”

Rock’s eyes widened, and their back stiffened. “No. No, I swear. Nobody had a tattoo gun.”

“Were you upstairs with me when we were... playing a game?”

“I was.”

Nice! A witness!

“Did I kiss someone?”

Rock nodded.

“Who?”

“Ophelia,” Rock said hesitantly. “She kissed you.”

Ophelia... “Was she, by any chance, the girl with the black hair and the platform boots?”

“That’s her.”

Wow. Hot Goth Girl kissed him. Evan thought he would feel excited about that, but instead he just felt a little nauseous. He was so drunk. How could that have been enjoyable? Surely he was way too much of a mess for her to get anything out of it...

“Rock, can I have your number? I might have more questions if that’s okay.”

Rock suddenly looked a little panicked. “You’re not satisfied?”

“What? Uh, I guess? Look, you don’t have to, I just--”

“No, you can, you can,” Rock said, hurriedly pulling some paper and a pen out of their pocket and wrote down a number. “Here. And... please, look, tell him that I’ll do anything you want, okay? I’ll cooperate, I’ll behave!”

Evan stared at them. “Tell who?”

But Rock was already running away, visibly sweating.

Huh. Weird.

Evan kept throwing glances behind him as he finally trailed into his next lecture. He found it difficult to concentrate on the class.

Bad luck followed Evan around that week like a bad smell.

He dropped his phone while he was walking, and the whole screen shattered so bad that he could barely see what he was typing anymore.

Whenever he went walking, he ended up stepping in dog muck. He didn't even know there were this many dogs in the city. How come all the owners had suddenly decided to be lazy bastards who didn't clean up after their mess?

If he forgot his umbrella, it rained, and if he brought it, he lost it. And then it rained anyway.

But all of this wasn't so bad when he thought about it. At least he still had his health, and his lectures were still taking place, and anyway. He wasn't doing as much walking now that exam season was underway.

It was today. Exam day. One of the big ones. He had small exams all week leading up to this one, but this was the one he was most worried about.

Evan still wasn’t sure he believed in the concept of luck, but he figured that now was as good a time to start believing as any. He pulled out his favourite pair of socks from the drawer and decided that they were lucky. As he walked to the exam hall, he made sure not to step on any cracks.

He wasn’t sure that cracks would affect his exam score. Weren’t they supposed to break your mother’s back if you stood on them?

He didn’t take any chances. If he wanted to pass this exam, he couldn’t risk getting called out halfway through because of any back related medical emergencies.

He also avoided walking under any ladders, or seeing any magpies, or opening any umbrellas indoors. If avoiding bad luck was a game, he had the high score.

Evan was just across the road from the exam hall when he saw that strange flash of black in the corner of his vision. He turned on instinct to see the black cat he often saw around campus sitting on the pavement a little bit ahead of him.

The cat looked up and made direct eye contact. Evan stared. He stared so hard that he didn’t notice where he was putting his foot until it was too late.

There was a groan and the sound of old metal creaking, and Evan found himself stuck up to the knee in the rusty grating of a road gutter. He tried to pull himself out, but he was well and truly stuck.

Something honked. Evan looked up to see a truck racing towards him. It was okay - the truck was far enough away that it could brake long before it reached Evan. He hoped. He tried yanking his leg out of the gutter again, but it felt like something was holding onto his foot.

Lazily, he felt the swish of something soft against his hand. The cat jumped past him, before racing up the road towards the truck. It ran out into the road.

The drive had presumably already been stressed out by the sight of a kid stuck in the road. He was already honking his horn and slamming his foot on the brakes, making an awful screeching noise. The cat must have exacerbated the situation, because all of a sudden, the cab of the truck veered sideways as if the driver had just pulled a sharp right.

In horror, Evan could only watch as the side of the truck began to tilt. It leaned, and leaned, tires squealing, black smoke pouring from where they scraped along the tarmac. Cars beeped, people screamed, but nobody was close enough to help.

Evan was going to die here, he realised. The truck was rolling over, and it was going to squash him flat. He would die right before his exam and fail it. Why couldn’t this happen afterwards? Didn’t he study hard? Didn’t he spend all night revising his notes and memorising formulas?

All that hard work, wasted! If he knew he was going to die today, he would have spent last night doing something fun instead!

The sun suddenly broke through the clouds. Sunlight bounced off the wet tarmac and the muddy puddles at the edge of the road. Evan couldn’t even think. All he could do was watch.

A strong hand suddenly gripped his underarm and pulled. There was a horrible lurch as his leg was pulled free from the grate, his jeans getting shredded and a terrible pain running down his calf, and then Evan was being lifted up and out of the grate into someone’s chest.

A sudden flurry of movement, and Evan was out of the road. A mere second later, the side of the lorry slammed down on where he had been stuck. Someone screamed far away.

If he was still there, he would have been flattened into a pancake.

Someone laid him down on the pavement, gentle and kind. Evan looked up, dazed and dizzy with adrenaline, everything seeming too sharp and too clear. Above him, looking down with a sweet smile, was a boy with curly blonde hair. The sunlight hit him from behind and made his hair glow gold at the edges, his face cast into shadow.

Evan swore he saw two huge white wings spread out from the youth’s back, one tall and strong, the other held slightly lower as if it was injured.

“Ruth,” he gasped. “Ruth, you're...”

“Don't talk,” Ruth replied gently. “Just rest. I have you.”

“Hey... hey, kid! Are you alright?”

Someone was running towards him, one of the bystanders who had seen the accident. Evan closed his eyes for a second. The pain in his leg was unbearable. At least he wasn’t flat.

When he opened his eyes again, Ruth had disappeared. A random woman was hovering over him, asking him questions and sounding panicked, but he could barely pay attention at all.

Was that... real?

Author's note:

if you've managed to read this far, it's lovely to have you on board! i've had internet issues so i had to post this later than i wanted to :( but now it's here!

thank you and enjoy, see you soon :)

Previous Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter

[merakiclosed]

❀𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐲❀

- Part of the 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

》Pairing: Hufflepuff!Soonyoung x Hufflepuff!reader 》Genre: Fluff, supernatural!au 》Summary: Your best friend takes a sip of a truth potion and that might change your relationship 》Word count: 850 》Notes/Warnings: None. You can’t really tell that they’re from Hufflepuff but they’re still wizards.

Masterlist is in my pinned post because Tumblr is being funny with links | All messages and requests are open <3 All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. Do not repost, translate, or claim as your own

❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀

In the summer day, the pages of the book fluttered in the breeze. The brown cover was soft against your fingertips, you could say that it was comforting. Upon the softly golden pages, the words were written so deeply and so clear, it whispered the words that you long to hear. Leaning back against the bark of the tree, you smiled gently at the ambience. You watch as the green of the grass changes hues in the sunlight, patches of flowers scattered along the field outside of the university. Dandelions, white clovers and crocus flowers.

Glancing up, you smile as you watch your best friend squatting next to some flowers. You know he’s trying to find a four-leaved clover, he has been looking for 10 minutes already. Laughing softly, you shake your head. At the noise, he looks up at you before smiling and you can feel your heart pound as his eyes squint and you can see his gummy smile. Taking a dandelion, he shouts, “Y/n, watch this. I’ll make a wish!” Giggling, you watch as he blows it. Well, more like huffing as it doesn’t work. You swear you couldn’t fall more in love with your best friend.

Checking your watch, you suddenly remember that you have to pick up a potion for your next class. Gently, you tuck your book into your bag before standing up, picking up Soonyoung’s coat, “Soonie, I have to go to the lab to pick something up.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you.” He smiles at you once more before taking both his jacket and bag out of your hand, his yellow jumper so bright that it rivals the sun.

“Soonie.” you whined, but all he did was ignore your pleading and goes to walk on, heading for the entrance.

“What do you have to pick up anyway?” he asks, turning his head to look at you with a smile.

“I need to pick up one of the books, you know the one about flower potions?” he opens the door for you, letting you in first before following you behind. Luckily, your professor is nice enough to trust all of his students for the door to be open.

Going to the back of the classroom, you go to the bookshelf, your eyes skimming through all of the titles. Potions from nature, nope not specific enough. Potions from love, nope. Ahhh there it was, Potions from flowers.

Whilst sorting through the books, you fail to notice Soonyoung looking through the potions that sat on the side that was made by your class. You were trying to make a truth potion and unfortunately, they have to take time to set in and seeing as they haven’t been tested they have to be set on the side.

“Soonie, I’ve got - Soonyoung, don’t touch that!” turning around you find Soonyoung holding a glass of truth potion to his lips, the serum in a normal drinking glass but it was too late as you watch the liquid slowly start to go into his mouth. With wide eyes, he lurches the glass away from him, but you know that it has already taken effect. Neither of you say anything for a few minutes, both of you trying to process what he just did.

“Soonyoung! Why did you do that?” you shout at him, whacking him on the arm with your book.

“It looked tasty and it had your name on it” he whines with a pout, rubbing his arm, “that hurt”

“Do you feel any different?” even though this was probably a bad thing, your curiosity takes over you, wondering if the truth potion was made correctly. He shrugs, “not really, though it didn’t taste very nice. It sort of looks like bubblegum, don’t you think? I thought it would taste better, though it does look like syrup, like that stuff you put into hot chocolates. Though, I don’t know what type of syrup would be bright pink” he gasps, his hands going over his mouth.

“so the potion was correct. Hmm, what else can I get out of you?” you laugh, pondering for a moment before a light bulb switches in your head. Maybe, just maybe this could work in your favour.

“Sooo, Soonie. Who do you like?” getting close to his face, you fake confidence, wishing for a certain sentence to come out of his mouth. You watch as he struggles, the potion pushing him to answer.

“Y/n~ I can’t tell you that. I know you are my best friend and everything but I don’t want it to end. I’m in love with you and I have been for the past 2 years, you’re amazing and so kind and so loving. I’m surprised that you haven’t even noticed, everyone says that it is too obvious. Now, I can’t stop talking because I’m nervous for your reaction because even though you might not love me back, I’m fi-”

His words are cut off as your lips meet his, a small peck to his mouth is all he gets before you part away with a sly smile, “I love you too dork. Now, come on hufflepuff boy before someone finds out.”

[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 2

(Prologue and chapter 1 can be found on my profile)

Chapter 2

Friendly Faces

Barney Calhoun was a valued member of the Black Mesa Security Force. He did his job well and was particularly respected by the other security guards for his ability to passive-aggressively give a piece of his mind to some of the more pompous scientists who treated the security team as their inferiors, without ever directly disobeying their orders. He was the kind of guy you could grab a beer with after work – something I had been meaning to do for a long time before the… incident. I had always felt I had more in common with him than any of my fellow scientists: not only did we both have the bad habit of not being the most punctual, but he also gave a me a good run for my money when it came to my high scores on the Black Mesa Hazard Course. While other scientists were busy competing for grant money, I was out trying to one-up Barney at the shooting range.

I thought he was dead. That he had been lost in the aftermath of the Resonance Cascade, eaten by a bullsquid, or worse, turned into a grotesque zombie like so many others. And yet, here he is, standing in front of me with his arms spread as he cheekily grins at me, now sporting the black Metropolice uniform instead of the familiar BMSF standard-issue bulletproof vest and helmet. His face, previously hidden behind the white gasmask, looks older than I remember. The first hints of gray have started to appear at the base of his dark hair and in his 5 o’clock shadow. His face looks tired and worn out beneath his cheerful expression. The eyes are what give it away: I’ve seen the same exhausted eyes on every citizen I have encountered so far. They’re the eyes of a man who has been through hell. Well, I guess that’s one more thing we have in common.

“Surprised to see me?” Barney asks, noticing the probably visible confusion on my face. “Well, that makes two of us, Gordon. Where’ve you been? It’s been ten years, man!” Ten years. So the man in the suit was telling the truth. It’s really been ten years since Black Mesa. What happened in that time? “Sorry about the scare earlier, I had to put on a show for the cameras,” Barney says, pointing over his shoulder at the disabled scanner on the ceiling. “Listen, I know you have a lot of questions but I can’t keep you here too long. I’ve been working undercover with Civil Protection, we need to get you out of here before they get suspicious. All I can tell you for now is that if you thought Black Mesa was as bad as it could get, well… you’re in for a nasty surprise.” He turns around and starts fiddling with the console. Symbols flash on the screens, the same symbols that I saw on the Consul’s broadcasts and the red bands on the shoulders of the Metrocop uniforms. Whatever they are, Barney seems to understand them.

“Okay Gordon, we’re gonna try to get you to Dr. Kleiner’s lab. It’s not too far from here, in an old warehouse in an industrial part of the city.” Kleiner? Does he mean… Isaac Kleiner? Could he be alive too? “I can’t take you there personally unfortunately, I have a shift to get to if I don’t want to blow my cover. But I’ll let one of my guys in the streets know you’re coming, he’ll show you the way.” Barney walks to a small window that looks out over an equally small courtyard. He opens it and looks out. “Go through that door over there. You should be able to get to the plaza. My guy will meet you there.” He walks back to the desk and starts putting the front of his mask back in place.

I look through the window. It’s about an eight foot drop; nothing I can’t handle. The claustrophobic courtyard is empty save for a trashcan lying on its side on the mossy tiles. The door Barney was talking about is the only entrance or exit. I look back to the once again unrecognizable Barney. I briefly thank him, and he salutes me with two fingers. “I’ll see you later, Gordon. Try not to draw any attention to yourself,” his distorted voice sounds through the mask. I nod him goodbye and swing my leg over the windowsill, effortlessly jumping down and landing safely. I look up and see the window being closed. I guess I’m on my own again.

The rusty door takes me to a small boiler room, which leads into a short corridor. I let my instincts and the faint sound of the Consul’s voice guide me through the station and I soon find myself in the entrance hall. Like the rest of the building, it is a dilapidated remnant of former glory. What once were ticket booths have been transformed into some sort of dispensing machine, which slowly spits out featureless brown packages into the eager hands of the shabby citizens who form a long, patient queue under the watchful eye of Metrocops. Above them, the Consul spouts the same repeating message: “Welcome to City 17.”

A woman walks by, clutching her newly received package against her chest. I can now see some of the alien symbols on the brown, paper-like exterior, as well as some readable text: 4 rations. She glances at me but quickly directs her eyes back to the ground in front of her as she walks towards the exit. I follow her to the large, wooden double doors. She takes one hand off the ration packet to open the door, but in doing so looses her grip on the packet and drops it on the floor with a soft thud. She nervously glances around as she quickly picks it back up again, and I decide to help out by opening the door for her. I try to give her the warmest smile I can fake as she walks by. “We can’t be seen talking to each other,” is the only thing she mutters to me under her breath as she heads out into the daylight.

Although… daylight might be an exaggeration. The sight that greets me when I step outside is no different in tone than the station and the train ride before it, yet it still shakes me to my core. The plaza consists of a small, empty fountain surrounded by dead hedges and flanked by two tall pillars, each topped with a bronze statue of a prancing horse. Plastic bags, empty bottles and other kinds of small trash litter the otherwise empty street surrounding the plaza, and the only vehicle is a large armored car surrounded by a patrol of Metrocops. The few citizens that walk the street keep as close to the surrounding buildings – abandoned stores and boarded-off hotels – as possible. It is then that my eye falls on the gigantic structure that emerges beyond the buildings. It’s a looming spire of rust brown metal that forms an irregular shape I recognize from the various posters around the train station. Its exact height is impossible to tell as it disappears into the greenish clouds that obstruct the sky, but there is no doubt it is incredibly large – so large, in fact, that I’m amazed it took me so long to notice it. Several of the metal plates that layer the outside of the structure seem to move at very slow paces, almost as if the building is alive, and sometimes it looks like something flies in to or out of one of the many slits and crevices in the jagged exterior.

I tear my gaze away from the ominous sight and scan the plaza more attentively. Barney said he would have a guy tell me where to go once I got out of the station, but I can’t spot a single citizen not minding their own business like their lives depend on it – which they probably do. I walk down the stairs in front of the station’s entrance. I follow the citizens’ example and keep close to the buildings, heading the opposite way of the Metrocop patrol. I duck into a shadowy doorway to get out of their sightline and look around again when I hear a hushed “Hey!” coming from a bit further down the street that sprouts from the plaza. I see a young man beckoning me from another doorway. I glance around for Metrocops, decide that the coast is clear and hurry towards him. He is dark-haired, wears the same familiar citizen’s uniform and looks to be about my age… come to think of it, what is my age? Barney was about my age at Black Mesa, but the ten years since then are clearly visible on him, while the few times I’ve seen my own reflection since my ‘awakening’ hadn’t shown me any changes in my own appearance.

The man pulls me out of my thoughts when he grabs my arm and pulls me into the shadow of the doorway. “You’re Freeman, right?” I nod. “The name’s Jeremy. Barney told me to get you to Kleiner’s.” He looks at my chest, where Samuel had earlier noted the absence of an identity tag. “We won’t be able to get you through checkpoints since you’re not a registered citizen. Just follow me.” He starts walking down the street and looks at me over his shoulder. “It’s great to have you with us, Freeman. There’s no doubt you’ll be a great help in our fight against the Combine.”

I follow Jeremy through the abandoned streets of City 17. He seems to be excellent at avoiding Civil Protection, because we never cross them; I only ever see them in adjacent streets. Sometimes they are accompanied by an armored vehicle, sometimes they are stationed at a barricade of black metal, watching people get scanned before a gate opens to let them through. I guess these are the checkpoints we can’t pass through – or at least I can’t. While we walk, my guide confirms what I already knew: after the Resonance Cascade, Earth was invaded by an alien empire he calls the ‘Combine’, who laid waste to the planet and enslaved humanity. The otherworldly skyscraper in the middle of the city – called the Citadel – is their bastion. Apparently, every city has its own Citadel, but the one in City 17 is special in that it is also the residence of the Consul – Earth’s new leader.

He then tells me about a resistance group fighting back against the Combine rule. He says there are many resistance fighters outside of the city, but that Barney and Dr. Kleiner lead the more covert operatives within City 17. He remarks that I probably know Kleiner and I nod. I don’t just know Isaac Kleiner, he was my professor and mentor at MIT. I was one of his favorite and ‘most promising’ students (his words), and when I applied for the position of research associate at Black Mesa, it was Kleiner’s recommendation that got me the job, where I worked alongside him on the Anomalous Materials team until… Well, let’s try not to think about that too much now. It seems there are bigger issues at hand than regret.

Even though we successfully evade the Metrocops and their checkpoints, the Combine is visible everywhere in one way or another. For a start there is the Citadel always towering over the rooftops, a menacing silhouette on the dark sky. But the old, human-built buildings have also been corrupted by Combine technology. Large, complex locking mechanisms cling onto old wooden doors like tumorous growths. Smaller versions of the enormous wall I saw surrounding the city fill up gaps they themselves made, obsidian metal swallowing brick and stone. Watchtowers and other Combine structures have been planted on top of buildings, walls and roofs bending under their weight. Cables and pipelines run across and through walls like vines sprouting from concrete. There’s something almost fascinating about how the stoic, geometric order of the human city and the clean, essentialist order of the Combine tech overlap in a patchwork with chaos and destruction wherever they meet.

A rhythmic sound has been growing louder for a while now. Upon listening more closely, I realize it’s the sound of marching. An army marching. Jeremy rounds a corner and stops dead in his tracks. “Damn it… not good.” Down the street, at an intersection with a wide boulevard, I see dozens of soldiers walking in formation. They look a lot like Metrocops, but their masks are dark gray and they wear thick padding in camouflage colors instead of the black uniforms. They carry automatic rifles and their heavy combat boots send echoing thuds through the streets. I see several people standing by, watching the military procession walk down the street. My companion walks closer and I cautiously follow him. “Really not good. We have to cross this street, but this parade blocks our path.” He looks to both sides as if estimating its length. “I can’t even see the synths yet. This could easily go on for another twenty minutes. We can’t wait that long.” He looks up at the buildings flanking the street and points to a skyway that connects two apartment buildings on either side. “There.” I follow him down the street as he heads towards a large opening in the wall of the apartment building with the skyway. The opening is closed off by a cast iron fence, but its lock seems to have been broken for a long time and Jeremy simply pushes it open. It turns out to be a passage to a courtyard between the apartment buildings, with dark, vigilant windows and balconies looking out over it.

“Okay, you’re not supposed to come here if you don’t live here, so technically we’re trespassing,” Jeremy says to me as we make our way to the exterior staircase on one of the high walls surrounding the courtyard. “Then again, you were already illegal, so-” He cuts himself off abruptly freezes, seemingly listening. Over the still loud marching I can hear a soft, mechanical whirr with an occasional beep. Jeremy looks up and immediately grabs me. “Combot!” he shouts as he pulls me in the direction of the nearest door. I catch a brief glimpse of a floating drone with a single yellow eye before a bright, white flash blinds me. I stumble backwards and Jeremy, presumably also blinded, starts swearing with panic in his voice. The slow beeps of the drone turn into an alarm as I slowly regain my sense of sight, and when I can properly see again I find it’s still hovering in the same spot. By now I have seen enough examples of Combine technology to recognize that this so-called Combot is another one. Four metal flaps surround its eye, which has now turned red as it shines its flashlight onto us and continues its alarm.

Jeremy grabs me again and pushes me towards the staircase. “Look, it’s too late now. They know we’re here, there will be Metrocops swarming all over this place in half a minute. You gotta get out of here and get to Kleiner’s. I’ll hold them off.”

I try to object but am interrupted by a distant female voice echoing through the air: “Attention, Civil Protection team: unauthorized civil activity detected in residential block 67B. Investigate and report.”

Jeremy looks to the sky as if he’s looking for the source of the disembodied voice and then looks back to me. “Go through the residential block across the street, through the industrial district. Barney will meet you at the Manhack Arcade.” He points to something on the wall next to the stairs: between the various graffiti is a familiar Greek letter drawn in orange paint. “Follow the lambdas. They indicate safe routes for Resistance allies. Go!”

I hesitate for a second. I don’t want to leave him behind in the clutches of Civil Protection, but he doesn’t seem like he’s planning on going anywhere, so I give him a respectful nod before turning around and running up the stairs. I go as fast as I can, and I am almost at the top when I hear footsteps and the shriek of the broken gate. I look down and see several Metrocops run onto the courtyard with their batons ready. Jeremy puts his hands on his head before he gets grabbed by two Metrocops and forced onto his knees. One Metrocop steps forward. He looks different than the others, wearing a trench coat and carrying some kind of radio pack on his back. He asks Jeremy a question I can’t understand and when he doesn’t get an answer, he gestures to one of the Metrocops holding Jeremy down. A flash of blue as a stun baton is planted in Jeremy’s side. His body shakes a second before he falls to the ground. The trench coat-wearing Metrocop, probably an officer, barks a couple of brief orders. I can only understand a couple of words: “There were two”. I have to get out of here.

I ascend the final steps as quickly and as quietly as I can. There’s a wooden door at the top. I fidget with the handle. It’s unlocked. I open it, slip inside, and close it behind me. No time to rest. I hear the Metrocops coming up the stairs, and the Combot’s light seeps through the crack under the door. Got to keep moving. I scan the hallway. Apartment doors. Staircase. It’s dark: there are no windows and the lights don’t work, but there is daylight coming from around a corner down the hall. My footsteps echo on the brown ceramic tiles as I run past the closed doors and onto the skyway we had seen from below. Down in the street, the Combine troops are still marching. There are different units among them now. Hulking, mechanical figures, appearing to be almost eight feet tall, carrying enormous alien weaponry no human would be able to carry. These must be the synths Jeremy mentioned. Nestled deep in the armor between the bulky shoulders is something that doesn’t seem completely mechanical. I don’t stay to have a better look. Something tells me it would only disturb me.

I hear Metrocops banging on doors as I start making my way down the stairs of the building on the other side of the road, occasionally followed by a crash of splintering wood. The Metrocops bark orders at panicking citizens as they search the apartments. I use their preoccupation to put more distance between us, sincerely hoping my actions don’t get any of the inhabitants into serious trouble. I descend creaky stairs that wrap around the grating of an elevator shaft. A man stands in a doorway, curious about the noises that echo all the way from the other building, while a woman behind him urges him to go inside and close the door before they get here. I make brief eye contact with the man as I descend. My look must give away that I’m the cause of the tumult, because he whispers to me: “Go through the back door on the ground floor. I never saw you.” Another plea from the woman and he retreats into his apartment and closes the door.

I’m not sure I can trust the man. He might be leading me into a trap, or maybe he will point the Metrocops to where I went when they come knocking on his door. But right now, I have little choice but to accept all the help I can get if I ever want to reach Dr. Kleiner. When I reach the ground floor, there is an entrance hall with rows of mailboxes and a transparent door that leads out into a large street. I can see why the man told me to go out the back: it’s the street where the hordes of soldiers are still marching. I look around for a back door and find it in a windowless, unlit room filled with cardboard boxes. I have to move some of them to get the door open. Beyond the door is a courtyard much like the one where we got spotted by the Combot. The coast seems clear.

I can already tell which way I have to go. Amidst a tapestry of graffiti, there is another lambda drawn in orange spray paint next to a narrow passage. As I follow its guidance, I wonder why they chose this symbol for their ‘safe passages’. I mean, I can certainly guess where they got it from. Word must have gotten out about the Lambda lab’s part in stopping the Resonance Cascade – though, ultimately, it hardly saved Earth. Plus, no one at Black Mesa can really be praised for solving a problem we caused.

Having time to think again as I walk through the alleyway, I ponder exactly what happened to me during the ten years I was in the dark void. By now, I have come to the conclusion that I haven’t aged. My hair and beard haven’t grown, I haven’t gained or lost weight, my joints and muscles aren’t sore. But at the same time, my wounds and bruises from the Black Mesa incident seem to have completely healed. None of the clothes I’m wearing are clothes I have ever owned, yet my glasses are the ones I had on me during the Black Mesa disaster. The ones I managed not to lose throughout all the perils I faced and were cracked and stained with blood by the end, but now rest on my face clean and unscathed.

My memories of the void are a blur, like a distant dream. If it weren’t for the radically changed world I find myself in, I would think it never happened. On top of that, my memories from before the void have also gone blurry – or, rather, before Black Mesa. I can remember Black Mesa like it was yesterday, but my life before Black Mesa (MIT, high school, my parental home…) feels like a vaguely remembered childhood memory, even the things that happened when I was well over twenty. Is this his doing? Is he trying to erase the person I was, only to leave a mindless fighting machine in his stead? Or is it merely a result of the deterioration of a mind over the course of ten years of isolation?

I’m no longer walking between apartment buildings. The streets are narrow and the walls are all brick and pipes and steel beams. Steam rises from grates in the ground and mixes with the faint fog that hangs between the buildings. There is a constant whir of machinery coming from behind the walls. A train passes overhead on the elevated tracks while a lone Combot combs the empty streets. I try my best to stay out of its sight. The train sounds its horn. The Combot rounds a corner. I get the impression the sky has gotten even darker since I left the station.

A strange contraption stands lonely on the sidewalk. It’s a cylindrical tank filled with red liquid, cradled in a humming machine with green gauge lights and power cables running into the wall behind it. Like all other Combine technology, it looks extremely out of place, like someone just dropped it on the street and punched jagged holes into the wall to fit the cables. The Combine clearly plant their machines and facilities wherever they need them without a care for whatever was there before. It makes me angry, of course, but the irony doesn’t escape me. After all, it’s exactly what we did on Xen.

There is a silhouette in the dark liquid. Vaguely humanoid, curled up into a fetal position. I can just about discern a large red eye, half-closed, on the creature’s head. Even through the thick liquid, the shape appears… familiar. It seems impossible to believe, but it almost looks like…

“The Freeman.”

The voice behind me startles me and I spin around. Before me stands a green, hunched over figure with shackles around its long neck, wrists and ankles. All of its red eyes are on me and a vestigial third arm extends itself towards me. If there was any doubt about the creature in the tank, here it is unmistakable: I am standing in front of a Vortigaunt.

“At last, the Combine’s reckoning has come.”

Chapter 3

_________________________________

Yes, you read this right: chapter 2 of Anticitizen, which has been in production since July 2020, is finally finished! And boy, is it a long one! 4000 words, and yet we still haven't even gotten to Dr. Kleiner's lab! (Don't worry, we'll get there soon).

Anywho, here are the accompanying images:

Beta Citadel

Combot

Metropolice officer

Combine Guard synth

Industrial district

Vorti-cell

I'm very excited to finally have this done and ready to be read. I think (and really hope) the next chapter won't take as long. As I said in the last progress update, I have been doing a lot of overarching planning for the story which will make writing easier.

I have made a rough estimate of the story and predict it will be about 32 chapters long, though it's much more likely to be more than that than less, judging from the fact that it's taking 3 chapters just to get to Kleiner's lab. The thing is, you can't predict the length things will have in this story by looking at their length in the game. The opening requires a lot of describing and mood-setting so it's much longer than the short intro in the game. Story parts will be longer than they are in the game, while action parts will be shorter than they are in the game (looking at you, 'Canals' and 'Highway' sections).

By the way, I have started uploading Anticitizen to Reddit now under the name EthanLM427. Do with that what you want.

Anyway, that's it for me. I promise I won't take as long for the next one.

[star-anise]

Oh dear, I’m sorry to bother you, but I would like to ask for your advice on something related to several of your top posts- Are there any cues that one would be able to observe within themselves that could help with a diagnosis of, well, being gifted? I’ve been told as such my entire life, but due to the number of students that are superior to me, I’ve come to doubt what was previously thought of me; I fear I might become obsolete.

I feel the need to answer a different question than the one you’ve asked. I think it will still help. I’m going to use IQ here, for all that it’s an intensely flawed measure, because it’s well-researched and we can do math with it.

“Giftedness”, as most school systems define it, is more than two standard deviations (SDs) above the norm. Because of how bell curves work, that’s approximately the top 2% of intelligence. The higher intelligence goes, the rarer. Which is to say if people are randomly distributed, the odds are that every 50 people will produce 1 person 2 SDs above the norm. However, the higher you go up, the rarer it gets. Above 3 SDs is 0.01%, which is 1 in every ten thousand. Above 4 SDs is 1 in every thirty thousand. You would need to comb a randomly-populated city of a million people before you could come up with enough people to fill a classroom of 30 people–and they would be every age, from infancy to centennarian.

Which is to say: The smarter you are, the less likely you are to ever meet anyone else as smart as you when you’re young. This means that you’re very likely to define “being smart” as “always being the smartest person in the room”. And if your peers treat you as weird and your teachers fixate on your intelligence, you may come to associate “being smart” as “my entire reason for having worth in this world.”

So as long as you keep seeking higher education and greater challenge–as long as you keep going towards those magnets that draw other people of high intelligence–the odds slowly increase that someday, you’ll meet people as smart as you, if not smarter.

And for a lot of us there’s a really rude shock where suddenly we’re not the smartest person in the room, and the internal dominos start to fall: If I’m not the smartest, am I even smart? If I’m not smart, do I even have a use anymore? What do I even have to offer the world now that I’m stupid???

I hit that level in high school, when I sought out an IB school and met Matt, who would be my best friend for the next three years. Matt hit that level when he went to university to study physics, and realized he was the least-intelligent person in a professor’s lab. Occasionally I’ll meet people who appear not to have had that experience yet–who are either awkwardly humble about it, or deeply arrogant. For some of them, I am the first person they have ever met who’s smarter than them, and they generally either crumble into self-hatred and self-doubt, or they light up and go, “Oh my god! You’re like me!”

It is very definitely possible to remind yourself that you are still smart, still capable, and still worthwhile. But I would encourage you to use this as an opportunity to also branch out.

Most other kids, when they were very young, hit challenges they couldn’t master–and they learned how to feel good about themselves anyway. They might not have been the smartest, they reasoned, but at least… they made their friends laugh. They coloured pictures in a way that satisfied them. They tried very hard. They loved dancing to music. They liked to feed the family pet. They could define themselves by many different experiences and relationships, and find sources of self-confidence and pleasure that had nothing to do with school or intelligence.

If you’re using words like “obsolete”, it sounds like you didn’t get that. You missed out on the opportunity to get to define yourself as having worth and function in a variety of ways; to be complete and self-justified just for being alive. 

This is a really important thing. It’s essential to a world of human rights. We’ve tried worlds where people had to justify their existence–you have to be this hardworking to deserve medical care; you have to be this virtuous to deserve peace and happiness; you have to be this intelligent to be allowed to propagate your genes. And overwhelmingly? They result in human misery. To allow a world where you can be deemed “obsolete” and lose all right to community, happiness, self-worth, or meaningful work, is to allow a world where suffering is the default state. And, well–some people are, but I am not okay with that.

So I am accordingly not okay with the amount of pain, isolation, and self-hatred you’ve lived with. I think that no matter how smart you were or weren’t, you should have been treated as worthwhile and lovable regardless of you performance. I think you should always have had friends who understood you and didn’t think you were weird. I think you should have been given chances to try something you didn’t completely have the abilities to master, and been able to fail at it and learn to be okay with failure, in a way that reinforced that you were fundamentally good, lovable, and capable of doing good and worthwhile things.

It is a lot harder to go back and do that work now that you’re an adult. The same way it’s harder to learn a second language for a first time as an adult than as a six-year-old, it’s a lot harder to learn these emotional skills. Your brain’s emotional systems are hugely dominated by the formative experiences you had as a child. It might take pain, doubt, questioning, outside help, finding a counsellor who works with Gifted adults, or trying medical treatment for depression or anxiety to get there.

Anyway, to answer your original question: It can be really grounding to get out of the rarified air of academia and get in touch with adults who didn’t have to score incredibly well on tests to be there. If you go to something not selected for academic prowess–a general adult exercise class, or knitting group, or community group, or bowling league–you’ll see the incredible diversity of intellects, personalities, and life experiences. You might meet people as smart as you, who have great careers and blow off steam through this recreation; smart people whose life has led them down a non-academic path; people of normal intelligence, who nonetheless have robust lives and interests and concerns and are a lot less excruciating to talk to than carefully age-matched peers of your childhood; and people with cognitive impairments or developmental delays that mean they need special accommodation to be able to happily live, but do nonetheless manage it.

In short: Get out of your own head, because there are very few reference points, and find yourself in a wider social matrix that isn’t rigidly sorted by test score.

I was also immeasurably helped as a teenager by joining a nerdy hobby (medieval re-enactment) full of Gifted adults who would sit around the fire and tell me the unexpected stories of their lives (”I was a smart kid, but then in uni I discovered that being a graduate student in chemistry is awful, so I became a teacher. Then I met my wife and fell in love, so I moved to Canada to be with her, and Canada won’t accept my teaching license and I don’t want to go back to school and be poor. So now I’m the assistant manager of a bookstore”). These served as a powerful antidote to the message that if I wasn’t on a “30 Under 30″ list of blazing comets taking the world by storm, I was a complete failure.

I can’t give you my own experiences, but I can suggest some places to look for those antidotes: Late Bloomers by Rich Karlgaard, What Should I Do With My Life? by Po Bronson, and The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.

[foramomentonly]

38 for the meet ugly prompt 😉

@prouvaireafterdark I love that it’s you and it’s me and it’s this prompt, but I somehow managed to not make it smutty? I’m so sorry I failed you.

Prompt: I overhear you ordering your coffee in a coffee shop and I’m trying to place your voice when I realize that you’re the phone sex operator I’ve been calling on and off for the last few months but the realization startles me so much that I accidentally spill my drink on you and you’re pissed

"So, what did you do last night?" Liz asks, peaking ahead of the line. It's early, but the Student Center coffee shop is always crowded.

Michael smiles dreamily, and Liz rolls her eyes.

"Oh, no!" she cries, dropping her forehead against his shoulder and shaking her head dramatically. "Not again, Mikey!"

"I can't help it!" Michael laughs. "His voice, Liz!"

"You're gonna blow your stipend calling a phone sex line!" Liz hisses, hooking her arm in the crook of his elbow.

He scoffs and shakes his head, but she sort of has a point.

It had started with a frat party and a tipsy, handsy make-out session. With a guy. Michael has always been comfortable admitting that many men, as well as women, are, objectively, smokin’ hot. He’s an open-minded kinda guy. But that night, sucking on the bottom lip of a very cute, very male English major with striking green eyes while trying to slide his hand inexpertly down said English major’s pants, Michael had realized he might be a little more than open-minded. When he saw a tattered flyer at his bus stop declaring “Talk to Real LGBTQ Folks in Your Area!” he thought it was a helpline and shoved one of the little tearaway strips of paper in his pocket. Leave it to Michael Guerin to call a phone sex line by mistake.

The first time he’d called had been an accident. All the other times—thirteen, by his best estimation—were fate. Because Michael Guerin is in love with Operator 4647. Alex. At least, that’s the name he uses when he takes Michael apart piece by piece with only the low, rumbling heat of his voice that flows like liquid through Michael’s phone and drips down his spine, leaves him boneless and shivering on his too-small twin mattress. And it’s not just the sex. Alex lets details slip if Michael is patient and doesn’t press too hard too fast, and Michael is head-over-heels for the smart, witty, maybe a little haunted man Michael’s constructed from those crumbs. Sometimes Michael makes him laugh, high and breathy, and Michael’s glad he isn’t pursuing music after all because no instrument can produce a sound as sweet as that. Other times Alex is sullen, sticks to the script. 

“Oh, yeah,” he assures Michael on a good day, “there’s a script.” 

And Michael quickly replies, “Throw it out.” 

On those calls, Michael cradles his phone like it’s Alex’s cheek and whispers, “Don’t. We’ll just sit here. It’s okay.” He’s paid $45 to bear witness to fifty minutes of Alex’s heavy silence.

Michael listens to Liz chat excitedly about their upcoming biochemistry lab, ordering an iced caramel latte for himself and a drip coffee for Liz, and they move to the side to let the next customer, a tan, attractively boyish student with messy hair and dark eyes, approach the till.

“Chai latte to go, please,” Michael hears him order as Liz hands him his open drink.

He freezes. Michael knows that voice. He knows it from his dreams, waking and asleep. He knows it from every dirty fantasy he's had in the past month, when he's working himself over in the shower, leaning against the tile of the stall and biting down on his forearm to keep quiet. He knows it from last night.

He whips around and runs latte-first into the man—into Alex—and his cold, milky, syrupy drink explodes like a water balloon between them, soaking Alex’s tee shirt. When Michael looks up in horror, he even sees drops of it rolling down Alex’s chin and neck.

“What the fuck?!” Alex growls, glaring at Michael coldly.

“I’m so sorry, Alex,” Michael says, unthinking. “I’m so sorry.”

Alex pulls his shoulders back quickly, spine painfully straight, narrows his eyes, and speaks. But his posture draws Michael’s attention to the impressive width and strength of his shoulders and the way his nipples are hard beneath his wet shirt, and he misses what Alex actually says.

“Wha’?” Michael asks in a daze.

“I said how do you know my name?” Alex demands, and Michael bites his lip.

“It’s me,” he says. “It’s Michael.”

“Michael? I don’t kno-” Alex’s mouth drops open and Michael smiles at him hopefully, but Alex only pales and mutters, “Shit,” under his breath. The barista calls Alex’s name and Michael grabs his drink, holding it out to him and willing Alex to take it, desperate to share something tangible between them. Alex takes the cup by the mouth, carefully avoiding Michael’s fingers wrapped around the base of the cup. Michael is anxious to keep Alex talking, to extend the time that he’s standing right here, in front of Michael, beautiful and solid. 

"W-wow," Michael says. "You really don't have a face for voice work."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what they say," he babbles. "You have a face for voice work if you're-uh. If you're not. But y-you're. You're fucking gorgeous."

Alex stares and when Michael glances behind him for back-up he can't even catch Liz's eyes, the curtain of her hair hiding her face as she drops her head in her hands and shakes it slowly. 

Very, very hesitantly, though, Alex smiles, looking down into his open drink in what Michael desperately hopes is fond amusement.

“Wow,” he breathes, “You really are you, huh?”

Michael laughs in hysterical relief and even Liz chuckles.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she says, and points over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go. See you in lab, Mikey.”

Michael barely spares her a glance as he waves distractedly.

“Your name’s really Alex?” Michael asks in wonder. “That’s the truth?”

“Everything I told you is the truth,” Alex says softly, his shoulders lifting in a self-conscious shrug.

“Go out with me,” Michael practically shouts, and Alex jumps as though frightened. “Please.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you,” Alex says wearily. “That’s just a job. I got massive loans and full class load and work-study during the day.”

Shit, Michael didn’t even think about the implications of his question, of meeting Alex as the guy that talks him off twice a week and then asking him to fucking dinner the first time they meet in person. He raises his hands in the air in a gesture of innocence, the remnants of his spilled latte sliding messily down his arm from the sideways cup still in his grip.

“I won’t even try to kiss you,” he says.

Alex raises a skeptical brow and Michael puts his free hand over his heart.

"I promise," he chants, "I promise, I promise, I promise."

Wow, maybe he didn't need that coffee after all.

The corner of Alex’s mouth lifts in a small smile, and Michael shakes his head, eyes wide.

“I like you, Alex,” he says easily. “I like that you didn’t laugh at me when I called a phone sex line about my sexuality. I like that you actually talked to me about the universe of gender and sexual attraction for, like, twenty minutes. I think you’re funny and really smart, and, yeah, ridiculously sexy, but. That’s not even that big a deal.”

Alex quirks a brow, and Michael takes a slow step closer. Alex allows it.

“I mean, it’s not not a big deal,” he admits. “You know.” 

With a quiet laugh that to Michael sounds like the delicate trill of wedding bells, Alex takes his hand and pulls him towards the door.

“Come on,” he says softly. “You owe me a shirt. We’ll see where we go from there.”

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 14

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's fear raises its head at the worst possible moment.

A/N: Finally some (slight) drama after I've drowned all of you in fluff in the previous chapters. Also, it was pretty exciting for me to finally get to explore Leo's studying life a bit more in this chapter.

I also want to take this opportunity to advertise a future fic of mine that I /hope/ to finish by the end of this week. The past week I've been working on a post ToN Caleo one-shot which is already over 4000 words long and at this point mainly needs some heavy editing to be posted. So stay tuned for that too if you like this ship!

Big big thanks to Cris for helping me a whole lot with this chapter! I really needed your science knowledge :’)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! And remember that comments are the only reward I get so they would be much, much appreciated!!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo. Jason, Percy, Annabeth

Words: 3000+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Mister Valdez? Are you listening?”

Leo snapped out of his daze. He was at his engineering math class and for the past 15 minutes the professor had been explaining to the group a problem that had taken Leo about 2-3 minutes to solve. Usually he did something else while listening to his professors; finish more calculations (sometimes even ones they weren’t assigned to do), doodle blueprints and ideas for future inventions into his notebook, write down a new joke he had come up with, or text Jason that he was bored. Weirdly enough, doing all that other stuff helped him to focus on what was going on in the lecture.

However, this time his mind was elsewhere; it kept showing him images of a girl with shoulder length reddish brown hair, dark brown eyes that seemed a bit harsh at first but softened when she laughed at his joke, a couple of freckles on her light skin… He could also hear her laughter and smell the cinnamon scent that probably came from the shampoo she used in his head. The previous evening had gone so well but he had no idea what to make of it; even if he did like Calypso (which he wasn’t quite ready to admit yet), could anything ever happen? They were flatmates. Things would sure get complicated if they got together and then broke up and would barely stand each other’s company… Besides, who was to say she’d ever like him? Sure, sometimes she seemed amused by his jokes but what other reasons did he give for her to like him? Not much, he felt.

Leo started to get frustrated because he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head and he might have started to growl to himself if the professor hadn’t called him at that exact moment.

“Yes?” Leo answered unsurely, not having heard what the professor had asked.

“Good. Then you can tell me what the solution to this problem is.” The professor pointed at the long and complicated looking problem on the whiteboard.

Leo sighed of relief on the inside. They were still talking about the same problem that he had solved over 10 minutes ago. He could do this.

“X is 3,65, Y is 5,51 and Z is 7,24,” he said, sounding almost bored.

“That is correct,” the professor said, badly hiding his surprise. He had thought this kid who seemed to be living in his dream world would be utterly confused by his question. He turned his attention back to the rest of the class and continued: “Of course, the easiest way to solve this equation is to divide X with… Yes, Mister Valdez?”

“Actually, I disagree,” Leo said, now completely awake. “Why would you divide it when you can…”

“Which one of us is the professor here, Mister Valdez?” the professor cut him off. “You may think you know how to do this but there are plenty of students here who aren’t quite as advanced and that’s why it’s better to show them one way to do it rather than to confuse them by....”

“Yeah, right, my bad,” Leo said sarcastically. “If these students are so simple minded, then why don’t you give them more practical problems to solve? You know, things we might actually need in the work life instead of… that,” he pointed at the whiteboard.

A couple of people were brave enough to nod and hum in agreement to Leo’s comments but there were also a few that started laughing.

“Alright, that’s it, Mister Valdez. Leave my class.”

Leo obeyed gladly (that class was such a waste of time anyway). He packed his things and headed out of the room, grinning widely as he left to let the professor know he hadn’t won that battle. It was almost lunch time so he decided to already go to the cafeteria to wait for Jason whose class wasn’t too far either.

About 15 minutes later Jason showed up, and to Leo's surprise he also had company. Percy Jackson did occasionally join them for a game night or a sparring session but Leo almost exclusively saw him outside the university. From what he knew Percy was currently focusing on his swimming career and wasn’t studying anything. Now he had however joined Jason for lunch and that made Leo wonder if there was some specific reason for that.

“Hey, man,” Jason greeted. “You’re early today. Are they having enchiladas or something?”

“Nah,” Leo shook his head. “I may have gotten kicked out of the class.”

“What did you do this time?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, really!” Leo exclaimed. Jason kept looking at him suspiciously, though, so he had to add eventually: “Fine, I may have disagreed with the professor about some of his methods, but really, that’s all. Didn’t blow up the lab or anything like that.”

“One time when I was in the high school I told the teacher his pants were unzipped and I wasn’t allowed to participate in his classes for a whole week after that. Didn’t miss much, though, he sucked as a teacher,” Percy joined the conversation.

“That’s exactly what I thought about this guy!” Leo said and gave Percy a high five. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the pool at this hour.”

“Just checking the places,” Percy shrugged. Leo raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Fine, Annabeth thinks that at some point I should start thinking about my career after swimming so Jason said he could show me around today so I’d get an idea what it’s like here. Oh and, he promised me a free lunch.”

“Makes sense,” Leo said while already looking at the menu eagerly. “I’d come here for a free lunch too.”

“You pay for this one, though,” Percy pointed out.

“Back to the actual topic ,” Jason said, looking at Leo a bit worriedly. “You didn’t get into big trouble with that professor, did you?”

“I think he’ll go back to ignoring me again in the next class. “ Leo replied. “So no need to worry.”

“Good. It’s just that, after that last lab incident…” Jason started, referring to an incident that had happened in the previous semester, but Leo stopped him.

“I said no need to worry,” Leo said a bit louder. “I’ve got things sorted, OK? Just… let’s go to get that damn lunch now. Chili con carne, anyone?”

In reality, Leo knew that if he skipped one more lab class, the professors wouldn’t be that understanding. The saddest part about it was that he actually enjoyed the lab classes way more than the boring theory classes because there you got to try things out with your own hands, but… there was one big but. He couldn’t be there when…

“Leo?” he heard Jason’s voice somewhere nearby

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You were just totally zoned out, I was talking to you like a full minute and I don’t think you heard anything I said,” Jason pointed out.

“Oh, sorry. Lots going on in my mind. So, what did you say?” Leo asked.

“I was asking about when we should meet up on Saturday? I have soccer practice in the morning and Piper has a meeting with her theater group at 1 pm but we’re free after that.”

“I have to ask Cal but I think I can organize my work so I’d be free any time after 4 pm.”

“Alright, sounds fine to me,” Jason said, but Leo could sense that he was still wondering what had been bothering him that much.

“So who’s this Cal person?” Percy asked when the boys made it to the buffet tables.

“My new flatmate,” Leo said simply, currently more interested in filling his plate than elaborating on his living situation.

“OK. I was just wondering because Annabeth mentioned that she’d been at your place, and apparently she’d helped to give this flatmate of yours a makeover.”

“Oh, yeah!” Leo said, remembering that meeting quite vividly. “From what I’ve heard they’ve been hanging out quite a lot lately. That’s good because… well, she’s new here.” Leo was going to say that she doesn’t seem to have a lot of people in her life, but decided that he didn’t want to reveal too much to someone who had never even met her.

“Where is she from then?”

“I think she moved here from New York,” Leo said. “And she’s around your age. Who knows, you might even know her.”

“New York is a pretty big place,” Percy pointed out. “I guess Cal is a nickname? What’s her full name?”

Leo was going to answer when he spotted the chemistry lab professor in the crowd and he quickly hid behind Jason.

“Don’t let him see me,” Leo said hastily. “He’s gonna…”

Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when he heard the said professor say loudly: “Mister Valdez!”

Leo peeked from behind his friend.

“Hola, professor,” he said awkwardly. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yes you did, you were just trying to hide from me. I wanted to remind you that today is the test day which is 60% of the mark. And that means that…”

“If I skip that test, I will fail the class,” Leo added, looking down at his feet. He didn’t remain like that long, though. “I’ll be there, professor.” He put up a brave face and saluted him as the professor just ‘hmmph’ed and turned away from me.

“I thought you said you have everything in order.” Jason raised his eyebrow once the boys had paid for their lunches and started to look for a table. “That didn’t seem like it.”

“Take care of your own business, Sparky,” Leo grunted and pointed at one empty table not far from them. “Let’s go there.”

“I’m serious, Leo,” Jason continued once they got seated. “Something is bothering you. We are your friends and we do care. You can trust us on this.”

Leo let Jason’s words sink in. Friends. Care. Trust. Since his mother died, he had always been the oddball, the outsider until he got a family who actually cared about him, Jo, Emmie and Georgie, but he still got a bit overwhelmed every time he realized that he really mattered to someone.

“Thanks, man.” Leo said finally. “I’ll… keep that in my mind. Promise.”

“Good.” Jason smiled at him encouragingly. “You can talk to us whenever you feel like it.”

After that the discussion moved to other things. Percy was hopeful that he was fit enough for a new record in his next competition and he didn’t forget to praise her little sister as well. Jason mentioned having seen his father at the campus but he had barely acknowledged his presence. Leo threw a few sarcastic comments here and there to let the others know he was listening. However, he had lost his appetite after hearing about the test. He had barely tasted his lunch and was now moving the rice back and forth on his plate as it got cooler. If the others noticed that, they didn’t say anything, probably thinking that it was better to let Leo open up on his own accord.

The lunch time flew by too fast for Leo’s liking. After separating from his friends he started heading towards the lab where most of the other students were already getting prepared. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in, hoping for the best.

The lab class started with a brief written test that made sure the students were ready for the practice part. This time would be particularly important, though, because it was testing them about pretty much everything they had learned so far in that class, and would be graded accordingly.

The written test caused no problem to Leo. He’d be able to name the lab tools by heart even in his sleep and the calculations weren’t much harder to him. However, he was already dreading the actual practice part for a very specific reason…

In the practice Leo would have to mix a few compounds together to get a chemical reaction. That was the simple part. But unfortunately for him, these said compounds would have to be heated in order for them to react. And of course you’d need a flame to do that. Now that was the hard part for Leo. He hated the gas burners and it had become a habit for him to skip a lab class when he knew they would be used. Unfortunately for him, that was fairly often because apparently the university’s heating plates were used by some other group at the same time, and that was also why he was about to fail this class. But if he could handle using the burner just this once, maybe he’d be fine… He knew he couldn’t afford to fail it because if he did, it might be a sign that he wouldn’t be able to do the job he was so excited about, and that would be a huge slap in his face. Maybe even bigger than he was ready to admit.

He measured the compounds and was ready to heat them when he noticed that a fellow student nearby had accidentally mistaken two of the compounds with each other, ruining the mixture. That gave him an idea.

“Pssst. I can mix a new one for you if you heat this for me.”

“What?” The other student looked at him with confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“I just told you. I can fix that for you.”

“You just want to flex with your skills, that’s all,” the guy said, knowing Leo’s reputation as the genius who however refused to join lab classes. Probably because he felt he was too good for them. “May I remind you that this is a solo practice!” the professor yelled from the front of the class. “No talking allowed.”

“Yes, professor,” Leo said quietly, but rolled his eyes at him when he turned his back. He read the instructions one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and when he was double convinced that he was in the part that he had dreaded, he breathed sharply and picked up his gas burner and some matches. He felt his heart starting to race and his hands starting to shake as he took one match from the box and tried to light it.

He tried once. Twice. Took a deep breath and tried once more. At this point his hands were shaking so furiously that the match fell from his hand. Realizing that he still couldn’t do it, he made a frustrated groan, dropped the match box on the table and started shakily collecting his things.

“Mister Valdez? Did you finish your task?” The professor raised his gaze from his desk and focused on him. A few others turned to Leo’s direction as well.

“No, sir.”

“And why not?”

“I. can’t.” Leo said with a voice so deep and raw that you rarely got to hear it from him. He left his unfinished product on the professor’s desk. Then he threw his bag over his shoulder and doors banging left the class.

He didn’t make it far when he felt his knees going weak and he had to sit down on the closest chair, burying his face in his hands.

…

“Thanks so much for showing me that place! It feels so good to see some nature even this close to the city,” Calypso exclaimed happily to Annabeth as they were walking towards the dorms. Calypso loved nature and she didn’t really feel at home in the concrete jungle, hoping that one day she could afford to buy a house from the countryside. She had once mentioned that to Annabeth who also enjoyed adventuring in the less crowded areas and had promised to take Calypso to one of her favorite parks nearby. They both had had free time from their classes that afternoon so they had decided to take the advantage of that and go to explore a bit.

The park had been pretty, having a small river running through it and little trails circling the trees. Calypso, who had grown near the sea missed seeing bodies of water so even the river had made her feel a little less homesick. The girls had been there for a few hours, taking pictures and having a small picnic while talking about anything and everything that had come to their minds.

Now, unfortunately, it was time to return back to real life and the assignments that were waiting for them at home.

“No problem,” Annabeth replied to Calypso’s comment. “Honestly, I think this break was much needed. I do love architecture and history and all that but sometimes my ADHD kicks in and I just need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, it helps to focus again afterwards,” Calypso agreed. “Hey, do you have anything special to do this weekend? Leo, I, Piper and Jason are supposed to have a video game night on Saturday and I thought I’d ask if you want to join. You can ask your boyfriend too if you want, of course! I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind.”

“What time would it be?” Annabeth asked.

“I haven’t asked Leo yet but he does work on Saturdays so probably not very early. Sometime in the evening. I can inform you when I know more,” Calypso promised.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in my mind. My boyfriend has a swimming practice twice a day so he may not be able to join us but I might!”

“Great!”

The girls had reached the area where Calypso lived so they turned to their own directions.

“I’ll contact you!” Calypso said before Annabeth was too far to hear. She waved at her in response.

Calypso was still smiling when she entered her flat, but the smile soon melted from her face when she saw Leo hunched on the couch, looking utterly lost. Calypso approached him cautiously, asking: “What happened?”

Leo patted on the seat next to him, gesturing to her to join him on the couch. She did, but when he didn’t say anything for a while, though, Calypso decided to be bold and wrap her arm around his shoulder. Leo looked at her with dark eyes, still appreciating the gesture.

“I may have to start making new career plans.”

[starkerforlife6969]

Pre-Starker. Peter is Nat’s little Brother

It’s nice, Tony thinks, all of them living in the tower together.

It curls warmly in his heart, the sight of Bucky glaring at the coffee maker, or Steve watching some documentary. He likes seeing Wanda and Vision baking cookies, or Clint out on the balcony shooting tracking arrows at pigeons for one of Bruce’s migration studies.

It feels a lot like…(family).

Not that’d he’d ever say it aloud.

He feels like he knows everyone better now. Thor’s not there all the time, but he drops down for a few weeks every couple of months, with some new drinking game and stories about huge battles he won that Tony knows he must exaggerate.

In fact, he thinks he knows everyone pretty well- everyone except-

Natasha.

Which is ironic, considering he’s known her the longest.

But she’s a mysterious person, that’s her shtick. He’s prodded and poked at the facade, but like him, she’s very tightly wound, and every inch she seems to give, is actually a metre she’s taken to ensure she’s still guarded. Still protected.

Even after combing unashamedly through SHIELD’s files, Tony’s still not sure about her past. A lot of spy work, but no family on record, no real name on record. Sure, Russian ancestry she says, and he’s certain he’s heard her speaking it on the phone from time to time, but he’s not really sure.

He doesn’t mind too much, because he’s the same. No matter how much he loves Bruce, Tony will never let slip the nights he’d go out to that road and sit there and think of his mom. No matter how much he loves Steve, he won’t ever say that sometimes the resentment he felt as a kid over his dad’s obsession eats him up inside. He won’t tell Vision that losing JARVIS was one of the hardest things he ever had go through, or tell Thor that every time he leaves it aches deep.

He won’t divulge his need to succeed, to prove himself, to anyone. Not even himself.

So, he understands Natasha. He thinks that because they’re so similar- she probably understands him too.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Tony chuckles, knocking Bucky out of the way to sort the coffee machine out for him as the early morning sun shines into the penthouse kitchen.

Bucky grumbles but moves easily. There’s a bowl of cornflakes in a bowl, half eaten, and Tony feels warm again at the domestic ease of it all. “Coffee’s supposed to be easy,” Bucky mutters, not for the first time, still bleary eyed, but he mutters a thanks when Tony hands him a fresh brew, and hunches over his bowl as he makes his way to the couch.

Tony rolls his eyes, and pours himself a cup. “Where’s Nat?” He asks, because she’s the one who normally makes Bucky his coffee. She wakes up first, always, then Bucky, then Tony, and then the rest whenever they feel like it.

“Someone buzzed for her at reception, I think,” Bucky says around a yawn, losing himself to the Saturday morning cartoons.

But Tony freezes. Someone called for Nat at reception? On a Saturday morning before 8am?

He’s grinning and heading for the elevator before it’s too late.

“Nat with anyone down at reception, Friday?” He asks eagerly, as the elevator takes him down.

“Yes.” Friday says mysteriously, and nothing more.

Tony laughs in surprise, gesturing expectantly. “Well…gonna ID them for me? Anything other than that?”

There’s silence for a moment, before Friday replies: “They don’t match anyone on my database, Sir. I’m running an extended scan but I’m unable to find a match.”

Of course. The plot thickens. Off-the-grid friends? Ex-spies? A Nick Fury who’s found a way to hide his face from diagnostics? Tony’s keen to find out.

When he gets to the ground floor, there are only a few people around. His receptionist, a few cleaners, a few scientists and interns dotted around here and there enjoying a coffee for an early start, or stumbling home after an all nighter, and there, sure enough, the shock of red hair gets his attention.

Natasha’s standing near the revolving doors, talking to a-

Tony frowns.

It’s a boy.

A young boy, a college student if his attire’s anything to go by- he’s got a backpack on, and tight jeans with oversized pink flannel. He’s bathed in the white light of morning, and he’s beautiful. Loose curls, hickory highlights and eyes of honey.

Tony can’t quite piece it all together. Does Natasha have a young lover?

He saunters over; straining his ears.

He hears Natasha say: “I know you do, solnyshko, but Mr Stark is really busy.”

Which is weird because Nat’s never called him Mr anything. Moron? Sure. Pain in her ass? Most definitely. Tony Stank on one awful occasion, but never Mr Stark.

So, he smiles, straightens his shirt, and clears his throat.

She whirls around so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get a knife to the throat, but when she sees him- there’s something naked on her face. Something he’s never seen before- something she doesn’t quite school fast enough. The bare emotion of fear. It’s so painfully human that he suddenly regrets coming downstairs- regrets intruding on whatever this is-

“Oh my god! Oh my god! You’re Tony Stark!” Comes the ecstatic voice of the college student, and Tony doesn’t have time to say sorry, because the boy is stepping forward and gushing about how much he admires Tony, which is, you know, pretty great. The boy’s so pretty, with sharp cheekbones and long lashes-

“The very same,” Tony grins, holding out a hand. “And who might you be?”

Natasha cuts in smoothly, face back to fairly impassive. “Mr Stark, this is Peter, he’s a big fan of all your work- both scientific and Ironman-relevant.”

Peter and nothing more. How do they know each other? And she’s still calling him Mister Stark. Peter nods so forcefully it ruffles all the curls on his head. “I’ve ready everything you’ve written, Mr Stark! And Ironman- I have like- all the posters!”

Tony resists the urge to pull Peter closer where their hands are joined. He knows exactly what he’d do if he’d found this boy at a club, tug him closer and use that hero-worship to have quite the night but-

Natasha’s shifting. Almost imperceptibly. She’s uncomfortable. Her eyes are subtly raking over the lobby as if waiting for someone else to walk in-

Tony helps her out. “Well, Peter, any friend of Ms. Romanov’s is a friend of mine. Apply for an internship at SI and I’d be happy to look over your CV myself, I’m sure we have a position here for you in some department.”

He does mean to help, but the look he gets from Nat feels like he should be murdered on the spot for his generous offer. Well damn, he tried. He called her Ms Romanov.

“An internship?” Peter whispers, eyes-wide and jaw slack. “I will, Mr Stark! Thank you-“

“He’s very busy, Peter,” Nat reminds, voice gentle, and Peter nods, cut short from going onto another long ramble over how much he respects Tony. “You should go,” she urges softly, and Peter nods- but not before he tiptoes and throws his arms around her for a hug.

If Tony were drinking coffee, he’d spit it out.

Natasha ignores him, and wraps her arms around the boy, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers buried in the curls, and Tony might be seeing things, but he’s sure she kisses his forehead and murmurs something like: “Be safe. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you too,” Peter beams, not at all covert, so whatever it is she’s hiding, Peter doesn’t know it’s a secret, that much is clear. Or he’s just very bad at keeping secrets which seems…unlikely for someone who apparently loves Natasha. And, if the soft voice and worried eyes are anything to go by, is loved in return. “It was an honour meeting you, Mr Stark Sir!” And then he’s out of the revolving doors and into the city’s bustling morning.

Neither of them speak for a moment, they just breathe: waiting.

Tony breaks the silence. “A friend of yours?” He asks breezily, and Natasha squares her shoulders and turns to look him right in the face.

She feels taller than him. She must be wearing heels. Or Tony’s thoroughly intimidated. “Tony,” she mutters, shaking her head, “we have an understanding, you and I, right? That sometimes you leave well enough alone. That you trust me when I tell you- you don’t need to know anymore.”

He nods slowly, wondering if he’s being manipulated. It’s hard to tell with Nat. It’s one of the reasons he likes her so much. She’s as good as deferring as he is. Good at distracting people with irrelevant things to squirrel away the crux of the matter. As it is, he’s content to let it lie. “Fine by me. Does anyone else know anything?”

He’ll be a little jealous if they do. She shakes her head, eyes hard. “It’ll stay that way.”

He crosses his heart, and thinks no more of it.

* Oh sure fine, he scans everywhere for a Peter at any of the nearby college’s but there are thousands and Friday can’t seem to match anyone to the boy in reception from earlier. It’s like his face is scrambled and Tony’s sure Natasha’s protecting him.

For what? The boy had seemed harmless enough. Unless he’s some sort of ex-Hydra mind controlled operative, which seems unlikely, there must be another reason.

Family, is Tony’s first thought. You do for family.

But he’s not sure Romanov is her real name and Peter Romanov or even Pietro brings nothing up. Blank. Suspiciously blank.

Tony sighs, and decides to actually let it lie.

*

But then it happens again, another accident.

His muscles ache and it’s nearly three am when he leaves the lab. Sleep has finally demanded his attention, and he’s headed to his bedroom when he feels a cool breeze ruffle the sweaty strands of hair pressed against his neck.

He frowns and heads to the balcony, but all the doors are sealed.

The wind blows again, so he follows it up the stairs towards the roof and sure enough, lit by the light of New York, is Peter.

He’s sitting on the ledge, a bowl of cereal in his palm, spoon in his other hand, gesturing wildly about something or other, so milk sloshes dangerously around each side.

Natasha comes into view too, she’s in her pyjamas unlike Peter who’s wrapped up warm in a coat, and she’s carrying a box of Lucky Charms. She laughs; face unguarded, relaxed in a way Tony’s never seen. He watches, hidden by the shadows, as she pours more cereal into Peter’s bowl until it’s teeming with sugary tokens.

Peter laughs, gesturing her away. “I’m not that hungry!”

“You’re too thin is what you are,” she teases lightly, sitting right beside him.

Tony sees it then, in that moment. The sharp cut of their jawlines, the delicate slender slope of their noses- siblings.

Natasha has a little brother. He feels winded.

“And you’re sure Mr Stark won’t mind us being up here?”

She rolls her eyes. “No one ever comes up here. Besides, it’s one of the perks in being his personal assistant.”

Peter shakes his head in awe. “That is so cool. You have the coolest job ever.”

It’s like a heavy punch to the gut. His personal assistant? Natasha has never been that- not even when she technically was, she wasn’t really. Not for years. She’s lying to her brother.

Tony can understand why, of course. To keep him safe. It also has the double benefit of making sure that even if Peter were captured, he wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Tony thinks it’s probably more so for the former reason.

He heads back down, shaking his head and trying to picture it. Natasha with a little brother. As a protective older sister. Making sure he does his homework, inside jokes, beating up bullies, making sure he eats, texting him. All normal things. He struggles to piece it into one person.

* Over scrambled eggs on brown toast, Tony brings it up.

“What’s your brother’s major?” He asks innocently.

Natasha takes a mean bite out of the corner of her toast, as if she wishes the bread were Tony’s jugular. She chews deliberately slowly, and then swallows. “Tony.” She says warningly, and he shrugs, lifting up his hands in innocence.

But he’s never known when to quit. “Science? Engineering? Give me a hint.” The kid had gushed over everything Tony had written, he must know at least a little bit of science. Plus, Nat’s always been scarily rational. “Math?”

She sets down her breakfast, and folds her hands under her chin. She doesn’t speak. She just stares.

He refuses to sweat under her glower. “You know you can trust me, right?” He says, more softly.

Her face softens at that, and she returns to her breakfast, looking at is as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I know that, Tony. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Peter.”

“He thinks you’re my personal assistant.”

She doesn’t ask how he knows. Just takes it in stride, like she does with most things. “Yes.”

“You’re protecting him?”

Her eyes gleam. “Always.” She says fiercely, and Tony’s struck by the strength of it. He’s never had any siblings, any close friends like that. Someone to look out for him, always, something in his blood. He has Rhodey, but Rhodey’s never needed protecting. It’s different. He’s never known his whole life with someone loving him as ferociously as Natasha loves Peter.

“I could protect him too,” Tony offers, going for off-hand and light-hearted, even as her eyes, razor-sharp, dart to his face. He busies himself by sprinkling black pepper over his eggs. “You’ve done a pretty good job hiding him from the database, but I could add a whole other level of protection. Keep him off everything for good. No one could ever get their hands on him.”

She’s silent for a while. Pondering it. She’s not stupid enough to reject it outright through sheer stubbornness. “You would do that?” She asks tentatively, and Tony scoffs.

“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for you.”

The look she gives him makes him feel warm. Like maybe he’s her older brother.

“He would probably die for the chance to meet you,” she muses, before smiling in that way that says she’s given in. “If I introduced you, you could never tell anyone, Tony, I mean it. Not if we fight, not if you’re trying to get to me, I would destroy you.”

He thrums with excitement, even as his brain says: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

* For obvious reasons, Nat doesn’t want to bring Peter to the penthouse.

Instead, she and Tony find themselves on the jet to MIT.

“MIT, really?” He scoffs at her, “my terf! And you didn’t even tell me!”

“Don’t pout.” She hums, looking out of the window. “He’s very smart. Smarter than you, for sure.”

Tony blinks affrontedly. Before he shrugs her off.“You would say that. You’re biased.”

“He’s majoring in Aeronautics and Mathematics, and he’s averaging an A in Jefferson’s class.”

“Bullshit,” Tony gapes, “no one gets an A in Jefferson’s class.” He knows the old bullfrog wouldn’t give a student an A if his life depended on it. It was something of a legend back in Tony’s day to try. He’s not surprised the man’s still there. Like a statue, probably embedded into the building’s heart.

She smiles smugly. “Peter does.”

“Peter does,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. They enjoy silence for a moment, before he clears his throat to ruin it: “Your brother, he’s…eighteen?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Right, right,” he nods, phew. “He’s very…pretty.”

“Tony.”

“Of course, I wasn’t gonna try anything-“

“Jesus,” she rolls her eyes, but her tone is firm. “Do you have to try and get in the pants of everything that moves?”

“Not everything. Just very pretty things. And I never said I was going to try, I was just making an observation. Anyone could see it. You’ve got some great family genes.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to say it, Tony, but touch my brother, and I will kill you.”

He slouches in his seat and sighs. Beautiful and smart and completely off limits. He’s sure he’ll have no problem adhering to that rule.

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (7/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Public Enemies, Part 2}

“Okay, listen up!” Dash’s voice said and Danny followed it to a science lab. He peeked inside to see a bunch of students and school faculty watching as Dash continued, “Is everybody clear with the plan?”

“Yes, yes, it should all go down tomorrow after the town meeting,” Paulina said.

“Meeting?” Danny transformed then stepped in. “What town meeting?”

The group all turned to him with frowns.

Suddenly the door slammed behind him and he turned to see Kwan glaring at him.

“I’ve seen this one hanging around the girl. They’re dating.”

“Girl? Dating?”

Dash grabbed him, then Dash was falling to the ground and a white ghost was holding him.

“Walker!” Danny said without thinking.

“Oh, you know me?” the warden asked, leaning closer with a smirk. “You might just be the most useful one yet.”

“Useful?” Danny looked over the ghost’s shoulder and blanched as he saw the horde smirking at him with glowing eyes. “Oh no, you do not want to overshadow me, trust me. The last guy who did that did not enjoy it anywhere near as much as he thought he would.”

“We’ll see about that,” Walker said and dove into him before he could react.

A presence, pushing, pressing, trying to force him out. Out. OUT! GET OUT!

Danny snapped back into reality to find himself kneeling on the ground. He looked up and was relieved to see it was Walker sitting in front of him instead of himself. “Ha! Poindexter is better at possession than you!”

“How?” the warden growled, looking up.

“Dude, my family’s been ghost hunters for centuries. You think we haven’t built up an immunity to possession?” he lied.

Although, he supposed it might not be a lie. They didn’t know for sure why possession didn’t work right on Danny since neither Sam nor Tucker had been overshadowed before. His dad had managed to throw off Vlad for a short time though so maybe there was something in the Fenton genes.

Oh well, something to consider another time. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Danny ducked under Kwan’s grab and rushed out the door. He heard the overshadowed people take chase and let a little ghost strength and speed slip through. He glanced over his shoulder and grabbed a pistol out of the fold when he was sure no one was looking. Kwan had said girl, so they thought Sam was Doppelgänger. The longer they thought that, the longer the trio could use it to their advantage.

Danny hissed as something slammed him into the lockers.

Though, if it came down to giving up the ghost or dying, Danny’d transform.

He shot Lancer with the gun, knocking him out the window. He flinched as he took off running again, hoping his teacher couldn’t feel that.

“Gotta get away long enough to disappear.”

Ishiyama and Paulina dropped down in front of him and he fired on instinct. Paulina dodged, but the principal went flying.

“You can't get away from me!” the popular girl growled and Danny was hit by both her fist and the irony.

“Wow. I waited all of puberty for a girl to say that to me and now it's a complete bummer,” he groaned, rolling away from her grab and rubbing his jaw.

She snarled and made another grab, only for a blast of pink to throw her back.

Suddenly a hand was pulling Danny to his feet and dragging him down the hall. “Let’s go, before more of them come.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he realized Valerie had just come to his rescue. Where was this helpful attitude when you were trying to blow me out of the sky last week?

“Watch out!” Danny jerked them to a stop just in time to miss a grab from his history teacher, who flew past them and out a window as a result.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Thank you. I don’t think I would have lasted this long on my own,” he shot back as they both fired on the science teacher. “Nice gear, looks familiar,” he added as he saw the gun she was holding.

It was exactly the same as his, but with pink detailing.

“Nice aim. I didn’t think you were into this stuff,” she said as they ran down the stairs.

Danny shrugged and ducked a grab from Dash. “I’m not obsessed like my parents, but you can’t exactly live with them without knowing at least a little about how to fight a ghost.”

The two made it out of the school and Valerie summoned her board. “Get on. I can take you to your house.”

“Thanks, Valerie.” He climbed on and knelt down so he could watch their back.

The board jolted. “What? Who’s Valerie.”

Oops. “I-I just meant…” He glanced up and sighed. “You do realize you don’t change your voice at all in the suit, right?”

She cursed and dove around a cheerleader Danny didn’t recognize.

“It’s fine, I won’t tell anyone. I mean, Sam and Tucker already know, but they won’t tell anyone either. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“You wouldn’t mind telling me where you got all this stuff, would you? Some of it looks like Fenton tech,” Danny said, shooting Dash out of the sky.

“It’s not stolen.”

“Didn’t say it was. My parents do sell their stuff. I just didn’t think anyone in town bought it before today.”

“I have a benefactor. They’re worried about the ghosts.”

“I mean entirely no offense given the circumstances, but they thought a teenager was the person for the job?”

“I didn’t ask, for obvious reasons.”

“That’s fair.”

“What were you doing in the school anyways? I thought everyone had evacuated.”

“I did too. That’s why I thought it was safe to go grab something I’d forgotten in my locker.”

“Clearly you were wrong.”

“Clearly,” Danny snorted and used a lull in attacks to pull out his phone. He texted Jazz, telling her to turn on the ghost shield. “The ghosts were using the school as a gathering point. Apparently they’re planning to do something at a town meeting tomorrow. I overheard them plotting, hence the trying to kill me thing.”

“Noted. I bet that ghost kid is part of this.”

“You mean Doppelgänger?”

“Doppelgänger?”

“White hair, green skin, androgynous?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s Doppelgänger. They’re the one the ghosts are after. Not sure how they think trashing the town and overshadowing half the school is supposed to help.”

“Why are they looking for him?”

“Them. Androgynous, remember.” The trio had decided to just use gender-neutral pronouns for all their sakes. “And no clue.”

Valerie turned a corner, then slowed down at the sight of the shield.

“It’s fine, it will only stop ghosts.”

She nodded and flew through.

Once they landed, Danny turned to her with a smile. “Thanks again.”

He couldn’t see her face through the mask, but he could hear a smile in her voice. “No problem. Try to be more careful.”

“You too. And hey, if you need any help with your gear, just ask. I know my way around quite a bit of it thanks to my parents.” It’d also give him and his partners an idea of her arsenal.

“I might take you up on that. You’re… not so bad, Fenton.”

He smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself, Gray.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “You could use some work on your form. If-if you want, we can train together sometime. I have a black belt, so I could teach you a few things. I mean, unless you think your girlfriend would object. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Danny groaned. “Sam and I are queerplatonic. Same with Tucker. No romance involved.”

“Oh, cool.”

Danny blinked. Did she sound… happier?

“So, training?”

“Uh, sure.” It would make Jazz stop bugging him about spending more time away from his partners. And he’d get to see what Valerie was capable of while learning new fighting techniques. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Thanks, Valerie.”

They swapped phone numbers and agreed to meet up Sunday afternoon as long as the ghosts didn’t cause a problem.

“Why did you want the ghost shield on?” Jazz asked when he came in.

“Ghosts were chasing me.”

“You okay?” Jazz said, looking him over.

“Fine. I need to call Sam and Tucker.”

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

“Ghost kid!”

The trio froze and turned as Valerie flew towards them. Sam and Tucker got into defensive positions, but Danny tugged them back. “What do you want? You here to blame us too?”

“For once, no. I know the mayor’s overshadowed. I ran into a pack of overshadowed people last night saving someone so I was looking for the signs. I also found out they’re here for you. So spill. What’d you do to tick them all off?”

Danny scrunched down slightly as his partners went through his memories of the night before. He hadn’t actually told them about his meetup with Valerie.

We’re talking about this later. “Their leader, Walker, runs a jail in the Ghost Zone.”

“Are you a fugitive?” Her hand twitched towards her gun.

“Only because anything and everything is illegal in Walker’s book. The zone’s laws only apply lair to lair from what we’ve been told. Walker just likes to enforce his own laws on the entirety of the zone because all he cares about is locking people up. He’s a menace. We were locked up for duplicating. That’s pretty much our thing! And we were in someone’s private lair. He literally wrote a rule against duplication into his book right in front of us as we were being arrested for it! He didn’t have any right to lock us up! So yeah, we broke out. Now he’s turning the town against us as punishment or something.”

She looked between them.

“Look,” they said as Danny floated closer, hands up in a sign of goodwill. “You don’t have to believe us, but will you at least help us free the people they’ve overshadowed and get them back to the zone.”

“Fine. I’ll agree to a truce, for now.” She crossed her arms and looked them over again. “You know, the talking together thing is really creepy.”

They shrugged. “We can’t help it. We’ve tried.”

“Do you have to be split up?”

“We’re stronger this way, and there’s a lot of ghosts. Three’s better than one.”

“That’s true. So what’s your plan?”

“We can get the ghosts out of people by pulling them out or using a low energy blast.”

“You want to fire on random people and hope they’re overshadowed,” she deadpanned.

The three shared a look. “She’s got a point. It’s faster that way though and a blast like that wouldn’t hurt anyone. We’re trying to convince them we’re here to help. We don’t think they’d see it that way if we’re attacking people.” They turned back to Valerie. “We can get the ghosts out by pulling them out of people.”

She pointed between them. “Did you just have a fight with yourself?”

“Ever hear of talking aloud to work through a problem?” Danny elbowed Sam. “Can your suit detect people who are overshadowed? Human bodies block our ghost sense.”

“I don’t know. I can try when we get to the town hall.”

“Alright, so we’ll work on getting the ghosts out, and then you can knock them down. Agreed?”

“Fine. Just know, as soon as this is over I’m knocking you down too.”

They nodded and the four shot towards the town hall.

Danny grabbed Valerie and phased her through the ceiling so they could hover over the crowd invisibly.

“Order! Order!” the mayor was yelling and everyone quieted down. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say-”

“We… might be too young to vote, but we’re casting one anyway!” they said as Sam turned visible.

The crowd panicked.

“You people have to listen to us. We’re on your side.”

“You're not fooling anybody, ghost kid! You are going down!” Danny’s dad yelled, brandishing the still tangled fisher. “As soon as I untangle this thing!”

“I’ve got the mayor on my scanner, but I’m having problems scanning the crowd,” Valerie said.

“The Fentons?”

“No, they’re clean.”

“That’s bad.”

“Why?”

“Maddie Fenton’s a good shot.”

Sam dropped to the ground as Danny’s mom fired at her. A moment later the ghost girl was dragged through the floor.

The three followed to see the horde from before all standing over Sam, with the mayor leading the charge.

“Walker! I should've guessed you'd end up in the guy that makes the rules!”

“Shouldn't you be running?”

Sam looked up as Danny, Tucker, and Valerie turned visible. “Shouldn't you?”

Danny passed Valerie his thermos then the trio launched themselves at the ghosts. Knocking them free with punches and blasts while Valerie vacuumed them up.

Then Danny’s mom was there.

“I’ve got her,” Valerie said, tossing Tucker the thermos and intercepting the woman before she could blast one of the trio.

“Ghost!” she said, pointing the bazooka at her.

“Human,” Valerie countered, removing her glove to show her human skin. “A hunter, like you. Name’s… Red Huntress. The ghost kid’s working for me, for now. The mayor and a few others are overshadowed.”

“Ghosts can’t be trusted,” Maddie argued.

“I don’t trust them, but I’m willing to use them until we can solve the invasion.”

The woman hummed and looked to where the trio were freeing their classmates. “I don’t like it, but I see your point. You’re certain the mayor’s overshadowed?”

“Saw it for myself. He’s the leader and he’s got a grudge against Doppelgänger. The ghost kid. That’s why he was trying to get you and your husband to lead the charge against them specifically.”

Maddie nodded. “I don’t have anything on me to deal with possession.”

“Neither do I. That’s why I’m using them.”

Maddie considered her arsenal. “I’ll be back.”

She ran upstairs and grabbed Fenton Zapper. She was about to run back down when the mayor appeared, hauling the ghost kid with him.

“Let us go!”

“Not a chance.” He forced the kid’s arm around his shoulders then threw the front doors open. As Maddie ran closer, she heard him quietly say, “I’m making sure your prison is the town where you live.”

She aimed.

“Help. He-”

She fired and a large white ghost was knocked out of the mayor.

The ghost kid caught the mayor and lowered him to the ground carefully.

“You okay, Mayor Montez?” she asked as she ran up to their side.

“What happened?” he said, looking around.

“You were overshadowed by him,” she said, gesturing to the angry ghost floating in front of the town hall. She glanced at the ghost kid, who held up his -- her? -- hands and smiled awkwardly. “We’re just… going to go fight Walker now if that’s okay Mrs. Fenton.”

She glared at… them and turned to the white ghost, drawing the bazooka and firing.

“Or you can do that. That works too,” they said as the ghost disappeared into the mini-portal.

She turned back to find the ghost kid gone.

“Mrs. Fenton! Mrs. Fenton!” some reporters rushed up to her, waving cameras and microphones. “What just happened? Was the ghost kid really kidnapping the mayor?”

“Mayor Montez was possessed -- or overshadowed -- by a ghost attempting to frame the ghost kid for reasons we don’t yet know.”

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Red Huntress leading out a group of people.

“They’re all free, but the ghost kid took off while my back was turned,” she said, voice annoyed.

Maddie nodded and turned back to the reporters. “It seems we were wrong to think the ghost kid was leading the invasion, but they're still dangerous and we don’t know why they are here.”

“He saved me!” one of the teens shouted, flipping her hair over her shoulder and beaming as the cameras turned to her. “He’s totally a hero!”

“Yeah, she was awesome!” a blonde teen in a letterman’s jacket said as an Asian teen nodded along behind him. “You should have seen her blasting the ghosts out of us!

"It was like something out of a superhero movie! Awesome!”

Maddie tried to interject, but a few more teens joined in and the reporters turned all their focus on interviewing the victims.

“This won’t end well,” Red Huntress huffed and jumped into the air so a hoverboard could form underneath her. “It was cool working with you, Mrs. Fenton.”

“You as well.”

Valerie only made it out of sight of the town hall before she was stopped. Her hand settled on her pistol, but didn’t draw it. “You’re an idiot for sticking around.”

The ghost kid shrugged and rubbed their neck. “We just wanted to thank you for giving us a chance. And to apologize for what happened with your dad. We really are sorry we couldn’t stop Cujo before he reached the lab.”

“I thought the dog wasn’t yours.”

“He isn’t, technically, but someone has to keep him out of trouble and clearly no one else is going to do it so we kind of took him in after what happened to your dad. He’s actually really sweet when he’s not upset about being put down and losing his favorite toy.”

“Sure,” she said sarcastically. “Look, this was a one-time thing, understand. I just needed your help. I still don’t trust you.”

“We’ll just have to change your mind then.” They gave her a salute then disappeared.

She could have followed them with a scanner, but she let them get away. This time.

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

Sam and Tucker were scowling when Danny met back up with them in Sam’s room. Head ducked, he landed and transformed. “So…”

“What were you thinking?” the two said.

“You know what I was thinking,” he sighed, dropping into a bat-shaped bean bag chair.

“She’s trying to kill us,” Sam growled.

“Exactly. If we can get her to realize we’re not the bad guys then that’s one less person after us.”

“It’s dangerous, dude,” Tucker said.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sam crossed her arms and stood over him. “Just remember you’re not the only one at risk here.”

“I know.” He stood up and hugged her. “Like I said, I’ll be careful.”

[ghostspideys-moved]

We’ll Have Tomorrow

Chapter Nine

A/N: Alright, we’re hopping back into those fun school times, so this is going to be a ride honestly.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan  Byers x OC (eventually)

Summary: Now that the break is over, school is back in session. But that means River has to deal with controlling her powers around lots of people.

As fun as the holidays had been, they were over just as quickly as they arrived. Not much happened on New Years, but it was fun to celebrate regardless. And not long after that was done with, school was starting up once again. 

There was still plenty of snow on the ground, which made the walk a little chilly, but not in a bad way at all. River thought it was rather nice, actually. She got cold easily, but she still loved the cold weather, but only when there was snow on the ground. Cold weather without snow just felt like a cruel joke. 

At the very least, she felt a little less alone at school now. The only friend she’d really had was Jonathan, and that was mostly when he wasn’t trying to act like a loner. Not that she blamed him, but it certainly felt better when he actually interacted with her. It was like he could forget that people actually cared about him. She might not have been the best company, but she certainly tried her best to be as decent a friend as possible. 

She also now had Steve. Now that they were better acquainted, he would sit with her at lunch every day, and he typically offered her rides back home. As of lately, he’d also started showing up early before school to drive her there. River wasn’t quite sure why, but she wasn’t complaining. The company was much appreciated. 

He’d even offered to take Hawthorne since it was only fair, but her brother turned him down, claiming he enjoyed the walk, and some alone time would be nice before dealing with the school day.

Today, she’d taken a little longer to get ready, mainly due to the added routine of feeding Rex before she was on her way out. It was still fairly cold out, so she’d found a green sweater to wear, with a regular t-shirt underneath in case she decided she was a little too warm. 

Hopper was just on his way out to work at this time. He ruffled River’s hair as she was getting ready to head out. She only hoped Steve hadn’t been waiting too long. 

Closing the door behind her, she rushed down the wooden steps, careful not to trip over her own feet. As she hopped into the passenger seat, Steve started up the car again.

“How long have you been out here?” River asked. 

He got them back on the road before answering.

“Not long. Maybe a minute or two.”

That made her feel a lot better. She’d feel bad if he’d been outside a while. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t just come in while he waited.

“Oh. Well, if you want, you can study with me later.” They had about two classes together, so it would make sense to work together, right? She also knew his grades weren’t the greatest right now, and she thought he might appreciate some help if she could offer it.

“I will definitely take you up on that offer,” he said. “My dad’s really been on my ass about how bad some of my grades are, and I have to keep them up to stay eligible for basketball.”

She’d almost forgotten he played basketball. “Well, it’s probably not nearly as quiet at my place than yours, but we can probably get a lot done,” she added. “I’m sure I can come up with a system for you to retain enough information. I’ve been doing the same for Hawthorne. He sucks at math.”

“I can guarantee you, I’m nowhere near as smart as you two are. You guys are, like, super good at a lot of things, and I’m pretty dumb, actually.”

River gave him a stern look and hit his arm. “You are not!”

“I have like two F’s and a D. I think that’s proof enough.”

“And what are the rest of your grades.” Steve thought for a moment. “Mostly C’s, but just barely,” he admitted. “I seriously need some help.” He sounded almost defeated, and it really made her feel bad for ever thinking he was an idiot. 

“Well, now you have me, and I’m going to make sure you don’t fail. You deserve that much,” she claimed. And she was going to stick to that, because she was not going to let him hold himself back.

As they pulled into the parking lot, she gave him a reassuring smile and got out of the car. He smiled back, seeming to feel a little better about the situation.

Thankfully, they had science together during their first hour, so she could get a head start on helping him. Science in general was her best subject, and it had been for as long as she could really remember. 

It hadn’t really been easy helping him through the assignments. Steve was very easily confused, so she had to find roundabout ways of explaining the harder concepts.

Luckily, the actual labs seemed to go a lot better. From what she could tell, he learned a lot better when he saw what was happening. River made a mental note of that, keeping it in mind for their study session later.

Despite some slight setbacks, they made it through the lab just fine. That wasn’t counting Steve wanting to play with some of the equipment, of course. Not that she could blame him, with how easily distracted she was, so it would only be hypocritical.

Once class was over, he offered to walk her to her next class. Sometimes, she had to lean against him a little walking in the halls. Her leg had healed considerably in the last few months, but every now and then, too  much walking was still uncomfortable. Plus, for the most part, she had done as much walking except maybe walking Rex a little every now and then. It was probably good for both of them.

With Steve’s help, River made it to class okay. She took her seat, mostly zoning out as class was starting. She sometimes had a hard time focusing in class, but for some reason it was a lot worse right now. The worst part was, she could hear some of the other students’ thoughts buzzing in her head. Normally, she had a decent control over that kind of thing, but it was always a lot harder in school. Maintaining a power like that could get a lot more difficult with so many students in one room. Even worse was probably that this was her biggest class today. She often had headaches after this class.

It was annoying trying so hard to block everyone out. And for the most part, she did okay, but it was overwhelming more than anything. She really hated how loud some people’s thoughts could be. 

Feeling fed up with having to deal with how disorienting this whole issue was, she raised her hand and asked to be excused to the bathroom. 

The second she was free, she snuck outside, heading out the field where the bleachers sat. She huffed and sat down, her head in her hands as she tried to concentrate again. Centering herself—even grounding herself in reality, in the here and now—often made her feel a lot better. 

And it was working for the most part.

River felt like she wouldn’t be able to sit through the rest of the school day at this point. She was still a little too worked up right now. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be alone either. Having one person around might be nice. 

For a moment, she contemplated trying to get her brother to ditch with her, but she knew a lot of his classes were really important to him, and she didn’t want him to risk missing anything for her. The same could probably be said for Steve, but of the two, he’d probably be much more willing to ditch than Hawthorne.

Having decided that much, she decided maybe the best way to get his attention was to try using her powers to reach him. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea after she’d just had a little bit of a freak out, but it was the least risky method she had right now.

Taking a deep breath and concentrating, she did her best to project her thoughts to him, hoping he could hear her.

Steve? If you can hear me, I need you to meet at the bleachers.

There was a pause, and she almost thought maybe it hadn’t worked. 

Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll be there.

She sighed in relief and sat back while she was waiting. It was still slightly chilly out, so she hugged herself, rubbing her arms to stay at least a little warm. 

After a few minutes, Steve came out, quickly making his way up to the top of the bleachers where she was sitting alone. He took the steps two at a time and planted himself next to her. 

“You okay?” he asked, looking her over to make sure nothing was physically wrong with her. He sighed in relief when he found nothing, relaxing as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That didn’t worry him much less, though.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Mostly, anyways.” 

He nodded, not really pressing forward until she was ready.

“I just got a little bit of a headache. It’s not great being able to hear everything people are thinking all the time,” she explained. 

“But you can control that, right?”

“Mostly,” she said. “It’s harder around a bunch of people. That’s why I hate being here sometimes.” 

Steve nodded, not really understanding, but he got the gist of it.

“I guess that makes sense.” He noticed when she shivered a little, even with the sweater that was definitely bigger than her. He didn’t hesitate to take off his jacket and throw it over her shoulders. “Geez, you’re gonna get sick like this, Matthews.”

River rolled her eyes and pulled the jacket tighter around her. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company. Steve fumbled for something in his pocket before pulling out the pack of cigarettes he hid sometimes. He pulled one out, placing it between his lips before lighting it. 

River watched him curiously for a moment. “I didn’t know you smoke,” she said.

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah.” He was considerate enough to blow the smoke where it wouldn’t reach it. “Do you?” he asked.

“A few times I’ve stolen some from my dad,” she admitted. “He smokes a lot.”

She frowned a little at the memory, and he was quick to change the subject. 

“You want one?” 

He held the box to her, and she hesitated a moment before taking one. He lit it for her and they sat back, trying to relax for now. 

Admittedly, this was nice having some company. And maybe having Steve as a friend wasn’t so bad. If he even considered her a friend. She sure thought of him that way at this point. Maybe things started off rough, but she hardly thought they would be doing anything like this if they weren’t friends. 

The bell rang, sounding a lot more distant from out here. Everyone would be heading to lunch right now. 

It was then that Steve put out his cigarette and turned to her. “How about we actually ditch?” he proposed. “Instead of just sitting around here like a bunch of delinquents.” 

The grin on his face made her laugh a little. She put out her cigarette and nodded. “Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Steve got up, leading her out to his car. He opened the car door for her before going around to the driver’s seat. He started up the car, and River stared out the window, wondering where on earth he was even taking her.

She sat back and absentmindedly listened to whatever music he had playing (Queen, it sounded like), watching the outside world pass by in a blur.

It took her a moment to realize they were pulling up in front of the diner not far from Hawkins High. If there was food involved, she definitely wasn’t complaining. They got out of the car and found a seat in the back.

While they were waiting for their food, River drank a cup of coffee, feeling a little better now that they were away from the constant buzz of school and teenagers. 

“So, are we still on for studying later?” Steve asked. “If you’re feeling better, that is.”

River nodded, setting the cup down. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine,” she said. “We can study in my room, that way no one should really bother us.”

That stupid grin made an appearance again, and he wiggled his eyebrows a little. “Ah. You mean so we can ‘study’?” 

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “No, you know we’re actually studying.”

“I’m just saying. If at any point we just stopped studying-okay, ow. I’m kidding.” He rubbed his shoulder where she hit him. 

“Steve, no.”

“I’m just pushing your buttons, I promise.” Steve shook his head. “You hit harder than I thought you would.”

“We are studying, and that is it, Harrington,” River warned, giving him a serious look.

He sighed. “I know, okay? You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t do that to you. That and Hopper scares me.”

There that word was. Friend. It was enough confirmation for her to at least know where they stood right now, which admittedly made her feel a little hopeful knowing she had a friend. At least, one more friend than she’d started off with. 

Which reminded her.

“Shit, I’m gonna have to ask Jonathan for notes later,” she mumbled.

“Oh yeah, you guys have math together, right?”

River nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay at math, but it’s a lot easier keeping up with notes.”

After a moment, their food arrived, and they thanked the waitress before continuing.

“You can just ask him tomorrow, right?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I’ll have to. I can catch him before first period tomorrow, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“How’s he doing?” Steve spoke cautiously, quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear anything they shouldn’t. “You know, after...after what happened with Will.”

River sighed, thinking for a moment. “From what I can tell? Fine, mostly. They’re still worried about the poor kid, but I think Jonathan is trying to give him some room to breathe,” she said. “Will’s been through a lot, and Ms. Byers is already watching him like a hawk, so I doubt he’d feel much better with Jonathan fretting over him, too.”

He nodded in understanding. Will really went through a lot, so neither of them could really blame him for wanting just a little space here and there. 

River sat back, eating a few of her fries. “How about Dustin?” she asked. “I know they were planning on getting a new cat before I left.”

“Yeah, Dustin finally told his mom Mr. Mews probably just ran away, and she was definitely torn about it,” he said. “But she’s better, and they just got a new cat the other day, actually. I think they named him Tews.”

She hummed, taking a quick drink. “I kinda feel bad about lying, but I guess it would be a lot worse finding out your cat got eaten,” she said sullenly. 

“It sucks, but that’s just how it has to be.”

River knew he was right, but Claudia Henderson was possibly one of the nicest people she’d ever met, and she couldn’t help the heart wrenching guilt she felt knowing what really happened. But if there was anything she knew, it was that the truther could be more harsh than feeding someone white lies to spare them. If Mrs. Henderson deserved anything, it was at least some peace of mind that, for all she knew, Mr. Mews could still be out there living his life.

Or maybe not, but what did she really know about that kind of thing? She hadn’t had Rex long, but she supposed she might feel terrible if he’d run away.

“Yeah, I guess so. At least she has Tews now, so I guess it could be worse.’

Steve nodded. They ate in silence until he tried to steal one of her fries, which happened more then once.

“Steve!”

“What? Hey, I’m paying for lunch, so I feel like this is justified. It’s just one.”

River raised an eyebrow. “And the last three were just one?”

“Exactly. Glad you understand.”

She swatted his hand when he tried again, and he tried to pull a pouty face, but it didn’t do much for him. 

“Steve, you have your own food.”

“Please? Look, I’ll let you take half of my onion rings.” He scooted his plate over, giving her another pleading look. “That’s fair compensation, right? More than fair even.”

River sighed, shaking her head. “Fine, you dork.” Steve grinned and stole a few more fries. At this point, they ended up sharing most of their food, not that either of them were really complaining.

As soon as they were done, Steve paid for lunch and left a decent tip before he dragged her away again. They certainly had some time to kill before school would officially be over.

~

Later, after dinner, River and Steve head to her room to get started on some homework. When Hopper asked about school, they both made up something believable, knowing he would be a little upset to know that they skipped. Maybe he’d be little understanding knowing the circumstances, and it wasn’t like he had room to talk. River already knew he didn’t have the best track record in school, so she wouldn’t have hesitated to mention it. But, thankfully he seemed to buy it just fine.

Now that they had some peace and quiet, she was trying her best to help Steve with whatever homework he was struggling with. Which was a good portion of it.

And if there was anything she noticed, it was that Steve wasn’t stupid. He just needed some assistance every now and then, and once he got the hang of things, he had an easy enough time figuring things out on his own from there. 

Steve was typically pretty confident, but he seemed to hold the belief that he wasn’t smart, and she wasn’t standing for that. 

In fact, she made a few diagrams and flashcards, and she made him go through them twice. The first time, he missed a few, but by the second round, he got the hang of it.

“See? I told you that you could do it,” she said.

He smiled and shrugged. “Well, I have a pretty great teacher.”

Admittedly, she felt her face grow warm at the compliment. 

“If you keep this up, I think your grades will go up in no time,” she said. “And then you won’t have to worry about basketball.”

Steve smiled brightly, writing down a few things on his worksheet. He paused for a moment before looking back up at her.

“Speaking of, I actually have my last basketball game coming up in about two weeks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words a little. “I mean, that is, if you wanted to come.”

River couldn’t help but laugh a little at how nervous he seemed, though she couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t like she’d say no.

She nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

He sighed in relief. “Okay, good. I know you don’t really know anything about basketball, but it would be nice to have someone there.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I know fuck-all about it, but after everything you’ve done for me, I would be stupid not to go support you.” Steve smiled, and it might have been the most genuine expression she’d seen from him so far.

“Thanks.” The look between them lingered for a little longer than it probably should have.

He cleared his throat and turned to his paper again. “So, um, what about this one?” he asked, pointing to the next question.

//

Taglist: @bravest-at-heart @musicalytrashpanda @queenofthehairharrington​

[julemmaes]

My saviour

“I’m the kid who never pays attention in class and you’re the one who always gives me the answer when the teacher calls on me” AU

A Matthew Fairchild and Lucie Herondale Modern Day School AU

Okay this is the very first time I write something like this, but I really enjoyed writing it, so if you’d like to read more (because for some insane reasons you liked my writing) let me know and feel free to send me a ship and a prompt. It could be anything from shadowhunters to acotar to tog.

If you find any mistakes in the language PLEASE LET ME KNOW, because as you can say from my bio, English is not my first language and I’d really appreciate constructive criticism.

That’s all, now go enjoy Matthew being a dork:)

Word count: 2,994

“Mr Fairchild? Perhaps you would like to be escorted to Miss Fray’s classroom? Perhaps you would draw in a more comfortable position.”

Matthew’s head snapped at the name of his favorite art teacher. He sat up straight, realizing that the gaze of twenty boys was fixed on him. He smiled at the teacher, putting the pencil on the desk and shrugging, “No Miss Wrayburn. I was listening, I am so interested in your lectures that sometimes I get lost in historical stories and I like to illustrate them.” He ended with a sly smile, resting his chin on his hands. Miss Wrayburn, noted for her severity as a history teacher, smiled in return, placing her book on the chair and crossing her arms on the chest.

“So if I asked you what happened between June 19th and 20th, 1944 in the Pacific you would be able to answer me?” She asked her and smiled at him with the same sarcasm. Matthew began to sweat: he had already brought home two very bad grades that week, if he brought a third one, his mother Charlotte would surely have sent him to a private school, and it would have been a suicide. Think Math, think. 1944, World War II, Japan, Roosevelt. His thoughts were interrupted by the small voice of the girl beside him, “The Battle of the Philippine Sea”, whispered with one hand in front of her mouth to avoid being seen by the teacher. Matthew stilled on the chair, before coughing and repeating what his classmate had just suggested. Wrayburn seemed surprised and tilting her head asked him one more question, but he had completely lost the thread.

The girl who sat next to him was beautiful. A stunning beauty. The locks of dark brown hair fell on her shoulders like waves and surrounded her delicate white face. The eyes of a pale blue were moving frantically, looking first at him and then at the blackboard, where the teacher was writing three important events of the war between the USA and Japan. He collected himself, looking again at the girl, before the teacher called him one more time, asking him to put into chronological order the battles she just wrote down. He answered quietly with the help of the girl and when Wrayburn considered it sufficient enough not to put a bad grade, going back to explain to the class, Matthew could finally bask in the beauty sitting next to him.

Her writing was so delicate and at the same time… ferocious. Yes, he was going to describe it as ferocious, as if writing were something that she did very often and gladly. Plus, she seemed to be writing down everything the teacher said, without missing a single thing. He wanted to introduce himself, but he didn’t know how to do it without disturbing her. Because she looked like the kind of student who would bite your head off if she lost the theacher’s train of thoughts.

He looked around again for the answer, as if looking at the door or at thewindow, the idea would appear in front of him. And that’s exaclty what happened.

He took a blank piece of paper and started scribbling something. The design took shape and a golden retriver appeared (which tremendously reminded Matthew of Mr Oscar Wilde, his dog) with a blonde hair like his and a sparkling green leash. Satisfied with his work he made a small cartoon over the dog that said “Pleased to meet you, I’m Matthew, but you can call me Math. Thanks for the rescue, could you help me with one last question I absolutely need to know the answer to cause my school career could be at risk if I don’t?”

He moved slightly away from the desk to see the final result and nodded smugly, bent the paper in two, before sliding it slowly towards the girl’s desk. As expected, she did not pay him much attention before the ringing of the bell and even after, as she collected all her things and put them quickly in the bag, she didn’t notice the drawing, putting it together with the rest of her notes. Matthew was about to walk to her and ask her what her name was in person, but as soon as he got up, he found himself in front of Thomas Lightwood, his lifelong best friend and the kindest person he knew. He passed him without ceremony to see if the girl was always in the class, but by now the only ones left were the two of them and the students of the next class were already entering and sitting at the desks.

He snorted taking his stuff and starting to walk next to Tom, headed to the science lab. An nudge from his friend made him turn his head in his direction, eyebrow raised as a question.

“Don’t make that face, you haven’t lost her. She’s with us in science. Has been for years actually.” he said putting his arm around him. Thomas was almost twenty centimeters taller than him, he was close to two meters, and he was huge. Last summer, he had put on more muscle mass than he liked to admit, and it had gotten even bigger.

“I wasn’t thinking I lost her, I just wanted to know her name. She saved my ass earlier, I could always buy her a coffee, you know, to thank her.” He reached his locker, trying to end the conversation, but Thomas didn’t feel the same way, “Sure, and Kit doesn’t blow up his house at least three times a week”; he giggled at his own joke before bringing a hand to scratch his neck. “Although, I have to be honest, I’d like to see you on a date with Jesse Blackthorn’s girlfriend.”

Matthew snorted posing the never-used book of history, and taking the unharmed one of science. Obviously she had a boyfriend. And of course it had to be Jesse fucking Blackthorn. Turning to Tom with a whipped dog face, he asked him if he was joking.

“Oh no, not at all. They’ve been together for a while, but like, just two years, and the fact that you don’t know they’re together is worrying. The whole school knows this.” he answered him as soon as they arrived at Thomas' locker, where the same ritual was repeated for the billionth time.

“I have to remind you that I don’t really give a shit about the people who are in this building or do I have to connect the dots for you?” Math asked leaning against the wall again. He was dead tired and they were only at the second hour. Thinking he was gonna stay in that place till four o'clock got his stomach twisted.

Thomas laughed and the conversation ended there. They saw Christopher outside the chemistry labs, tinkering with giant tomes and test tubes, while Mr Fairchild, Matthew’s father, tried to help him as much as he could without dropping anything. They didn’t have the time to get close enough that from inside the classroom someone was shouting and they both rushed to rescue anyone who had made two wrong substances react.

Tom and Math entered the biology classroom, taking place in the second-to-last row. A few minutes later the girl of history class entered. She sat down at the desk behind Matthew’s, who was about to turn around when the teacher came in, blocking his every initiative. The lesson began immediately and the boy could hear her pen running fast on the paper. He took out the necessary to draw and got lost in his world again and again and again. Until Tom hit him on the arm and he turned to his friend, asking what the hell he wanted.

“What the hell do I want? Well, Mr Fairchild, if you answer this question correctly, I might consider not failing you at my subject.” He couldn’t believe it. Not again. Matthew turned slowly to the teacher, reducing his lips to a thin line, waiting for the question that would end his life.

“If the function of ribosomes is selectively blocked in a cell, what do you immediately stop, Mr Fairchild?” Professor fade asked severely. He was ready to say that no one in that cabbage class would know the answer, but the voice of his guardian angel was as clear as light behind his back, “The translation.”

“The translation, professor.”

“Translation of what, Matthew?”

“Of RNA,”; she told him, once more.

“Of RNA, sir.” he nodded, seemed convinced of what he was saying, and sighed with relief when the lesson resumed undisturbed. He turned slightly, smiling at the girl from above his shoulder. She was staring at him and in her left hand, reaching out to him, she was holding a folded piece of paper. He took it without the teacher noticing and opened it discreetly. In the corner of his eye he saw Thomas trying to spy on what was written on the paper.

When he saw it was his drawing, his chest swelled. Next to her dog there now was a little blue bird, with her wings folded on her hips, so she looked angry. It wasn’t as pretty as his dog, and it looked like it had been drawn in a hurry, but it was very cute, and above it the inscription “What, do I have to save you again?” was clear in her perfect handwriting.

He had to refrain from laughing, because the drawing was most likely done right after the history lesson, so this would be the third time that Matthew needed to be saved.

He started drawing again, this time making a kitten trying to catch the bird from below, with the phrase “Don’t worry, this is quite simple. What’s your name?” He could have easily asked Thomas and he would have answered him in less than a second. When he put his arm back and felt that the paper was being taken from his hand, he smiled, beginning to mind his own business once again. Only when the bell announcing the end of classes rang did he realize that the only color he had used during that time was blue.

“My name is Lucie, Lucie Herondale. But you can call me Luce.” He saw a thin, pale hand appear in his field of vision, and he almost jumped out of the chair. He raised his head and shook her hand. He smiled in the only way he knew, with his dazzling charm, and when he spoke, the voice came out like a shrill sound, “I am-” he coughed several times, while Lucie giggled and there, behind her, was Thomas, eyes wide open, holding a hand to his mouth to avoid bursting into laughter, “You’re Matthew, yeah, I already know.” she smiled at him.

“Yeah, yeah. The dog. It’s mine. I thought it’d be cute and wanted to thank you for all these rescues. My mother would kill me if she found out that I didn’t study anything and I-” he was interrupted by the voice of someone who had just appeared on the classroom door. A boy as tall as him, with black hair and the eyes of a spooky, pungent green, was extending his hand toward her, while with the other one he was balancing himself on the door, “Lulu let’s go, Jamie and Grace are waiting for us in front of your locker.” He looked away from her to Matthew and vice versa a couple of times before smiling shily at the two boys.

Lucie turned to Jesse Blackthorn and with a movement of her head made him understand that she would be there in a minute.

“Of course, there’s no problem. I’d rather help people than see them fail.” she said turning to Math again, “See you in class, I guess.” She smiled at him one last time and, putting her hands in her pockets, went out, following her boyfriend into the crowded hallway.

Matthew remained with his waving hand raised in the air until Thomas' laugh awoke him from his trance. He looked at his friend, pushed him sideways to pass him, and unceremoniously he told him to fuck off.

“C’mon Math. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. Humiliating. I can laugh sometimes, right?”

“Why? With me you don’t laugh enough?” Christopher asked by appearing at Thomas' side out of nowhere.

“Jesus Kit, where did you come from?” said Thomas bringing a hand to his chest.

“From the chemistry lab, of course. By the way, Math,” he said addressing the blond one, “your father wanted to know if you’d eat at home tonight and I told him we were going out. Cause we do go, right? It is Friday and tomorrow mom and dad won’t be here, so I can go back anytime I want tonight.” Thomas was already nodding, starting to think in his little head the worst ways to risk their lives. Matthew was trying so hard not to think about Lucie Herondale, and that kept him from not being able to do so.

What an idiot he was. And that sound? Where did that voice come from? He was sure she was telling her perfect boyfriend right now how this dumb classmate who didn’t know shit had trouble controlling his fucking vocal cords.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” Anna Lightwood. Thomas' cousin and Christopher’s sister, but also Matthew’s faithful friend, was dressed exactly like him that day, which made her pout, “Classy. But I have to say that they look better on me.” she smiled widely, taking him and Kit arm in arm, and heading for the next lesson.

Luckily, Matthew thought, we all have art together. That was his hour of leisure, even though he normally did nothing different, but at least he would get compliments from Miss Fray, or how he called her, Clary. He had met his art teacher outside the school, in fact it was he who had told her that their old teacher would retire and that there was a vacant chair. They had become close friends during a painting course and when he met her at school he had felt nothing but immense happiness.

“Our Matthew impressed some cute girl today.” said Thomas in the tone of someone who’s been around. Anna suddenly stopped in the hallway, staring at him with gaping mouth.

“And let’s hear, who would be the lucky one?” she asked, again walking. Christopher seemed interested, too, but not as much as his sister, who looked like a child on Christmas morning.

“Nobody.” answered Matthew at the same time as Thomas said, “Lucie Herondale.”

“Are you kidding? But you know he’s with Blackthorn, right?” She asked him in astonishment, as she glared him, as if he were the only fool in the world who did not know which couples were in this stupid school.

“Yes I know, and I didn’t impress, we just talked because she saved my ass a couple of times.”

They continued to speak even after entering the art lab and even during the lesson. Matthew was surprised when he noticed that the teacher pretended not to listen when she passed by them, but that she tended her ear to eavesdrop better.

The next lesson would be that of literature, without any of his friends, and thinking of having to spend a whole hour without Tom or Kit made him feel sick, but maybe today he could do it. A rest hour after all the comments and jokes Thomas made would have done him good.

He sat at the usual place and with a pleasant surprise noticed that on the other side of the class was Lucie. She was chatting with a redheaded girl who had little dark skin. Matthew remembered she was one of the newcomers and that she had a particular name, Carla… Carlotta perhaps. Consuela.

He began to stare at his hands with a thoughtful glare.

How was it possible that in all those years he had never noticed her? How was it possible that they had so many classes in common that they never spoke? He looked up once more to look at her and noticed that she had moved into the desk next to his and her friend sat right in front of her. He greeted them both with a broad smile.

“Hey Math, this is Cordelia. She’s from Paris. Cordelia, this is Matthew.” He smiled at him and Matthew’s world was once again a little happier.

“I’m actually from London, but I’ve been living in Paris for the last five years.” Cordelia explained before paying attention to Miss Loss, who had just entered. A strange fellow, Catarina Loss.

She had the skin of a cadaveric white, and the hair was of a sky blue so bright that sometimes Matthew would get lost staring at them by how much it was intense.

He heard a comment from Lucie about his memory-loss episodes and laughed silently, starting to scribble on the desk.

Twenty minutes passed before the obvious happened, “Fairchild, who wrote Songs of Innocence and Experience?” They can’t be serious, Matthew looked briefly in Lucie’s direction and she giggled before miming with her lips Wlliam Blake. Matthew almost laughed when he began to speak, but after that the teacher immediately left him alone. Cordelia also seemed amused, because she looked at him from above her shoulder smiling and returning to the reading shortly after.

He stared at Lucie, and thought that if anyone saw him they would think he was a pervert, because she turned to him, probably due to the intensity with which he was looking at her, and smiled at him.

Perhaps, to surprise her, he would start studying, so the responsibility would not fall on her alone, but in that moment, Matthew thought, it was enough to have his saviour by his side and everything would be fine.

Please leave a comment, even if you didn't like it, cause it would mean the world to me

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Sports AU, Highschool, Fluff, Poor Description of Tennis (I’m sorry lol), Pinning, Idiots to Lovers

Warning(s): None

Words: 9.4k

Summary: You’ve grown up with the boy across the street your whole life.  Even in high school, you were the first person to be called to rope in his tactless or rambunctious actions.  It gets worse when you get an appointed as Student Council President and now you’re forced to babysit and handhold the Tennis Team’s Ace Server: Jeon Jungkook.  There’s a reason he’s always causing you to show up; even further why he only seems to listen to you. 

a/n: this is my contribution for btsboulangeries Aug. 2019 au prompt lol. Sports!

“Y/n, can you come to the gym?”  You sat at your desk, reading whatever book you had picked up from the library when a member of the student council came and called you out of your room.  Murmurs echoed through the classroom like a loud rumble of thunder.  You didn’t even need an explanation as to why you were being called to the gymnasium out of seemingly nowhere.  It was always the same story with you and with him. 

You got up with a tick in your brow as you marched to the door and silently told the student that you were on your way.  You felt like you were bunching up your uniform with each annoyingly-charged stomp of your foot. You walked down halls, and downstairs to the gym where the squeaking of shoes and shouts along with dribbling balls echoed from inside.  

You stopped in the open, metal doorway as you way a small group of boys, shed of their school blazers- in all there obnoxious yellow glory- as they scampered around the gym courts.  Scattering back and forth dribbling a basketball, it wasn’t your average game of passing time basketball.  Instead of two teams competing, it was more of a revolution charging against one body who was smugly hoarding the ball and the stealing court. 

“Jungkook!”  You screamed, cupping around your mouth so it could be heard over the sound of the intense sports balls game. The game almost instantly halted.  From the crowd of overly sweaty and heavy breathing teenage boys popped out Jeon Jungkook.  A prodigy of anything and everything ever and a boy seemingly gifted by whatever God decided to play favorites. His face that was once slack and sweaty broke into a grin that remained just as sweaty.  

Jungkook was the little boy that you were forced into meeting with when you moved into the city of Busan when you were 4.  Your parents were firm believers of getting to know your neighbors and when they learned that the lovely couple across the street had a son your age, they just had to make you two meet.  

You wouldn’t call yourselves childhood friends, it was more like when you were 4 years old that’s when your indefinite job of babysitting the only Jeon began.  You were always trailing behind him, scolding him for being reckless or trying to be his voice of reason because he clearly always decided to ignore his conscience. You’d run after him- considerably slower- in your sundress your mother dressed you in and your bright pink crocs.  He’d be dressed in his small jersey and shorts with shoes as he zoomed ahead of you to the park.  

He’d climb trees that in comparison were like 6 story buildings while you stood on the ground at the base of the truck, pleading for him to come down before he loses his fight with gravity.  He did a few times, breaking his arm once and ankle another time- yet he still kept climbing bigger and bigger trees because the lesson was just never learned. That wasn’t all that Jungkook had going for him though. 

He was completely different when he was around other girls.  He would get shy in his kindergarten class that you two shared.  He would stick to your side or shift behind you when he was approached by a girl who wanted to play with him.  He would keep his words short and actions shorts as his little body shifted in shyness.  It was the only times you were able to act as a shield to him.  

He would also seem to put on a ‘big kid’ act when you were picked on.  You were often teased for reasons you still didn’t know.  You weren’t really all that different from all the other little girls in your class, but you were just a hot target on someone’s radar.  It was timed at recess that they were teasing you or kick rocks at you while you sat picking small flowers.  They even made you get stuck on the seesaw once, keeping your seat high into the air as they stayed on the opposite seat, keeping it down as you nearly cried.  It was way higher than you thought when you were 5. 

Jungkook would start petty, childhood fights with insults as high as ‘poo head’ and ‘infected brat’ and defended you when he saw it.  He’d tell the other boys off and would take you to the grass when you cried and pick flowers with you until you would feel better.  There was one day when Jungkook walked you from your bus stop, holding your small hand in his own and told your parents that you needed at least 3 cookies to smile again.  

The next day, Jungkook had come and given you a flower whistle to wear.  He told you to blow it when you were being teased again and he’d come and chase the meanies away.  You still had that whistle hanging in your bedroom beside your bed on a nail shared with the dreamcatcher Jungkook got you when he heard from your parents you had been having nightmares. 

Jungkook and you from then grew up and somehow developed a love-hate relationship.  You would get on each other’s nerves constantly, but you would still lend him your notes when he got behind or when he needed a ride to and from practice, you’d be the first to offer it.  In return, he’d always do favors for you like buying your lunch for a day or hooking you up with free tickets to whatever team he’s playing for the season.  Not that you cared that much for sports. 

When he saw you standing cross-armed in the gym doorway, he immediately abandoned the ball, bouncing it off to his side before he ran over to you.  The immediate relief the other boys had was almost tangible as they immediately divided up into proper teams for a friendly match. When he stood in front of you, he stood close enough you could feel the heat pushing off his body in waves.  

He was a sweaty, smiley mess as his dark, dampened bangs stuck to his forehead and his sideburns were matted down to his cheeks.  Hair messy in a tussled, brown birds nest. His collared white-uniformed shirt was wrinkled, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as his blazer lay among the rest in the bleachers.  Tie probably with his blazer, as he was now lacking one.  He definitely should have changed into his gym clothes instead of sweating up his uniform. 

“Good morning, Butterfly,” he greeted.  The nickname is a long-standing one since you two were 7. He and you went out butterfly catching in the summer when the two pairs of your parents met up for some random BBQ.  You being the only one of the pair to not catch a single one as Jungkook had easily captured at least a dozen in his mesh trap before releasing them that same afternoon.  

“It’s past noon,” you quipped as he just shrugged.  “Can’t you just sit down and read a book or something?  Do you always have to stir something up?  You know I’m trying to study and focus.”  You tapped your fingers on your bicep of your still folded arms.  Jungkook swung his left leg over his right ankle and tucked his hands behind his head. 

“Oh yeah, you’re running for something in Stu. Co., yeah?” He ticked his brow with a questioning waver in his voice, unsure as to what position you were actually aiming for.  You were already part of the student council and if all went well, you hoped to be the next president with elections right around the corner.  It wasn’t just the student body vote that decided your fate, but your GPA and scores in classes.  You’ve been in class, the library or home with your nose in a textbook for weeks trying your damnedest for that seat.  

“You know I’m running for president and your constant annoyances around the school aren’t helping.” You seemed genuinely upset that you were once again pulled away from your tasks as time dwindled.  You sighed as you rubbed your forehead, feeling that nagging of a nasty headache coming on.  You had a text in Trig. that afternoon not to mention the first half of a Science Lab that was literally half your grade for the semester.  Time away from your books and sheets were tally marks equivalent of failure in your pessimistic mind. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice shifted as he stood back properly and dropped his arms from his head.  Voice lowered as his face shifted from cocky and grin-split to one of what one might see as apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it kept you that busy.”  

You just held your hand out towards him to stop any further apologies or excuses.  Shaking your head, you took a breath and tried your best to wave it off.  

“Nonetheless,” you began again, looking back up at him, “I’m in the middle of studying, so please don’t make me chase you down again.  At least for the next hour.”  The conversation concluded with Jungkook agreeing to your terms- probably because of the short term agreement of an hour- and you turned to get back to your classroom to make up for your precious wasted time.  

When school ended that day, you groaned as you walked to the library to see it packed with student after student.  No empty tables, chairs or private coves left that would bring you any sort of comfortable study time.  You completed the public library, but it was so far and you road the public bus to school today because your parent’s needed the car. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder as you left the library and saw none other than the Jeon Jungkook himself.  After school in the library hall and not in the locker rooms for tennis practice where he should be. 

“If you need a place to study, you can sit on the bleachers at practice,” he offered. His voice heightening at the end of his statement to morph it into a semi-questions.  

“Study at your tennis practice.  On the bleachers.” He nodded.  “How am I suppose to work with you-”

“I won’t cause problems or distract you, I swear!” He promised.  “I’ll literally just walk you and then practice like you aren’t even there. Plus, some good ole vitamin C couldn’t hurt, yeah?  And if it gets too hot, there’s a bench not too far from the bleachers under some trees for some shade.”  

You ended up giving in as he was soon dragging you towards the track and field area that had the tennis courts directly next to it, separated only with a tall wire fence.  The same fence you know Jungkook had climbed and jumped in the dead hours of the night for some sneaky tennis training in his rookie freshman days. 

Slamming your back chock-full of books and notes down onto the cold, metal bleachers, you cracked open a book and got to work as Jungkook ran to the small lockerroom house to change.  

Tennis was a lot more intense than you originally thought.  It was probably 40 minutes into practice before they actually started grabbing racquets and practicing serves and returns.  The upperclassmen would purposely falt the court and wait to see if one would call it out.  They’d slacken the net line or watch for wrong stances in the players. 

When the team finally split into teams of doubles, Jungkook was the server of his team.  He had always been the first pick as a server for his powerful slams.  And since servers were servers through the entire game, it was an Ace for the team competing.  His stances shifted from open to closed and between flawlessly like a dance routine.  Skidding and jumping around the back of the court while his teammate stayed in no-man’s land by the net. 

Returning the ball with powerful underhand swing and the occasional overhead slam, he did a fairly good practice match.  He kept track of every ball he hit out or each time he skimmed the net and when he was switched out with another team, he would run that number in his head as exercises.  If he got 4 out, it was 4 sets of squats or 4 sets of swings of his racquet.  

You found yourself watching practice more than focusing on your studies.  It was interesting and more attention-grabbing than you thought.  You only focused solely on your work when Jungkook caught you watching with interest as he took a break to take small sips of his water.  Sending a shit-eating grin your way along with making his hand open and close like a butterfly, you stuck your nose back in your book.  Even turning your back on him and the courts for good measure. 

He lied when he said he wouldn’t be a distraction. 

“So, who was the girl?”  Jungkook, out of breath from practice had just peeled off his sweater tennis jersey when a teammate of his marched up to him.  He turned to the inquisitive member to see his Captain, a certain almost smug look on his face.  Jung Hoseok was the top player of the tennis team like he had tennis embedded into the routes of his DNA. Jungkook took his towel, rubbing the sweat off his neck as he stood shirtless in the locker room like half of his team did as they waited for turns for the shower.  

“You mean Y/n?” He questioned as she turned to sit on the stone bench, leaning against his shut- but unlocked- locker.  Taking a quick swig of his water bottle.  Hoseok plonked himself beside his golden teammate and friend with excited curiosity.  Jungkook just sighed.  “She’s a friend of mine, we’ve known each other since forever.”  He took another drink before he remembered something.  “She’s running for student council president,” he tacted on as Hoseok seemed to recall seeing some posters or something with her name on it for the upcoming election ballot.  

“Oh yeah, I think I knew that.” 

“Would you vote for her?” Jungkook asked tentatively.  He wasn’t interested in student council anything, to be honest, but you did. So maybe he could dock you a few votes or just spread your name around. 

“I dunno man, I don’t do votes through friends.  I don’t usually get involved in student council issues.  Not my scene,” he shrugged.  Jungkook cupped his chin in thought, thinking of the best possible course of action to try and persuade his captain into putting a single tiny checkmark next to your name when voting comes around. 

Hoseok watched the younger student sit in the privacy of his head and his thought.  He bit back a smile, rolling his lips over his teeth as he sucked in a breath.  Jungkook was a popular kid, attracting all sorts of attention and was his star player.  He could always throw him a bone to help his friend.  You looked studious enough as he watched you occasionally as you were always scribbling away on whatever topics you were jumping between. It was rare for Hoseok to see Jungkook tunnel vision focus on one person and their student council vote, something Hoseok knew the younger really didn’t care for. 

Hoseok heard a shower shut off before someone was calling him. “This one is all yours, Captain!” 

“Rock on!” He called back as he stood from the bench and stretched, his stomach flattening before he lowered his arms and stretched them over his sweat glistened chest.  “I’ll vote for her,” Hoseok said as Jungkook looked up to him.  Hoseok looked down at his sitting figure and slapped a smile on his face. “She was cute enough to earn a vote from me anyway,” he added with his thumb and forefinger under his chin.  

Jungkook ended up chasing his Captain into the showers and throwing his bar of soap at him, earning a high squeal in return.  Jungkook almost may or may not have dumped his half-full bottle of ice-cold water over the shower divide right onto Hoseok head. Making the boy scream in at least three increasingly different- almost feminine octaves- Jungkook booked it out of the locker room.   

“Jeon!”

You had just finished packing up your bag with tucked away papers and folders with the books you couldn’t afford to fit into the prison that is your bag held to your chest. Stepping carefully down and off the metal bleachers, you crossed the courts to leave, the team now all vacated.  You were hardly off-campus when cars from the team members started zooming past you- car way too flashy to be high schooler’s cars.  

After three had passed you, it wasn’t long before number four rolled up.  Instead of going past like the reason, this one pulled close to the curb of the sidewalk and stopped.  You in turn also stopping as the passenger side window rolled down revealing the driver.  

“I’ll give you a ride!” Jungkook who sat inside, leaned over his middle console shouted over the humming of his car. Contrast to his teammates, his car wasn’t looking as shiny and new but it wasn’t a lame car by any man’s standards.  It ran, got him from place to place and he acted like it was his unborn kin.  He even named the freaking hunk of aluminum. 

You just rose your brow towards him in the shelter of his car.  He reached over and unlocked the passenger door, unlatching it and pushing the door a few inches open.  “Come on,” he sung.  “We live across the street from each other.”  You sighed, giving in to his persistence as you slid in. 

The ride you were expecting to be quiet since it was only a ten-minute drive max was shockingly filled with conversation as Jungkook wasted no time in chatting as soon as you shut the door. Opening with topics of school activities to random weekend plans that all somehow lead to him bringing up the election. You looked skeptically at him, knowing he couldn’t care less about school affairs like student council. 

“Who are you even running against anyway?” He didn’t even know that?

“You don’t follow school functions at all besides sports at all, do you?” 

“Nah.” 

You sighed.  “Kim Namjoon is my competition.”  Jungkook whistled.  “It’s not like I’m expecting to win.  Honestly, I’d be happy with the vice-chair if all else.”  In reality, you halfway expected yourself to lose.  Namjoon was a legend in both academics and his popularity that only seemed to keep skyrocketing.  He was handsome and clever, even if his physical activities abilities were closer to zero. 

He can recite the alphabet backward but make that boy run a 100-meter dash and it was all over.  He’d tap out at meter 50 on a good day.  His coordination left much to be desired.  At least being student council president didn’t include the task of being active in sports.  He’d be doomed. 

“Don’t settle for less when you don’t have to,” Jungkoo told you.  “So what- Namjoon is competing- big whoop.  You’re smart too.” 

“Are you cheering me on?” You jested as he returned a shrug. 

“Uh, duh.  I feel obligated as your longest-standing friend to be objectively on your side. 

You placed a hand on your chest.  “I’m flattered,” you spoke with equal amounts of flattery and sarcasm.  He returned with a halfhearted ‘harharhar’.  “Really though, I’m willing to rack in some votes with my election posters.” 

“You’ve made them?” 

“Absolutely not.”  Jungkook just shook his head.  He pulled up at your house, sat by the curb as you unbuckle your seatbelt. Picking up your bag off the floor by your feet, you opened the car door.  Jungkook rolled down the window as you stepped out and shut the door behind you.  He leaned over the middle console again. 

“Hey, Butterfly~,” you looked back at him over your shoulder. “I’m pretty damn artistic, just so the general public knows.”

“What, so I’m the general public now?” 

“Well, considering your uber large communication circle-”

“Just say you want to help me with my posters and go.”  All he did was shoot you a shit-eating grin as he sat back up and moved to pull his car into his own driveway across the road.  Getting out and grabbing his bag from the backseat he heard you calling him. You were standing at your front door. “You coming or not you brain-dead jock?!”  You shouted, cupping around your mouth. 

Jungkook sprinted across his yard, the street, your yard and up to your door to stand at your side in record time.  Rolling your eyes at his gleaming smile at being allowed to help, he followed your back inside the house.  You called out into your home to whatever parent was home at the moment that Jungkook was with you.  

You avoid any distracting conversations that would pull Jungkook away, you scaled the staircase that was almost immediate to the front door, Jungkook following behind you.  In the safety of your room, you put your bag on the floor of your closet and ran back and forth between your closet, desk, and bookshelf for random things you just threw on your bed.  As you did so, Jungkook stood around, looking at your room.  

He’s known you a long, long time but he can’t say he’s ever really had the time to look around and get a feel for your room.  Your room was an extension of you, coated in your favorite colors, hobbies, interests and was a perfect summary of your life until this point.  Posters of bands and of your favorite movies were cluttered on the wall (some even tacked to the ceiling).  Framed photos of your family members sat on your desk by your shut laptop and 3 different hex-boxes.  One filled with pens, another with markers and the third with pencils. Your bed was tall enough to hit Jungkook’s thigh with the boxspring supported mattress and a dark wooden bed frame. He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from smiling at the bubblegum pink bedspread lay across it.  

He walked to your bed when he noticed that one dreamcatcher he bought you.  It was a gift because he knew you were having bad dreams and knowing you were being scared by yourself sucked, he wanted to help.  He smiled when he saw that small, metal whistle he gave you as a kid to help with bullying.  

“I can’t believe you kept these,” he turned, gesturing to the dreamcatcher-whistle pair on the wall.  You looked at him before you looked at the two items then returned to taking a package of 15 poster boards and slamming them onto the floor in a giant ‘schwoop’. 

“Of course I did, you gave them to me,” you said so nonchalantly, yet that one sentence made his heart lurch.  

“Oh, I see.”  He cleared his throat. “So, gifts from me are special, eh?  I’m flattered,” he sang as he joined your floor-seated body down on the carpet. Half an hour later, you were sat in awe at the almost caricature sketch of you that Jungkook had drawn. 

“Holy shit!” You yelled, a smile breaking on your face.  “That’s awesome, I didn’t know you could draw!”  He tutted as he sat straighter, obviously delighted from the praise.  

“It’s a gift, what can I say.”  he smiled as he simmered down.  “Honestly, it’s a skill I don’t flaunt around because I don’t draw often.  It’s more of a stress relief ability, you know?  Like how people doodle on notes or homework to help them remember or concentration on stuff.”  His sincerity was instantly replaced with the same ego he put on on the daily.  “I get enough attention from my flawless performance in sports already.  It’d be just so suffocating to also be idolized as an artist.”  You swore his nose grew four feet in boastfulness. 

“I can see it now,” you started, deciding to feed into his parade.  “Jeon Jungkook: prodigy of the Arts and Sports Balls.  Does the talent ever end?” You spoke in a faux-Shakespearian baritone. 

“Now, you’re getting it!” Jungkook and you worked on your posters for hours before your mother offered you both a seat at the dinner table before you both starve.  It was nice having Jungkook over again, and you never realized how much of a friend he actually is.  He and you have always been in a sort of frenemies relationship.  Now, though, he was just a friend.  He felt like your best friend; the best friend you’ve been fortunate enough to have since you were 5.  

No way in hell you’d tell him that though.  His ego would inflate so much he’d explode like a damn party balloon. 

It was 8 pm when you decided enough work was done and you could relieve Jungkook of his artist duties for the evening.  Honestly, he’s done enough art on most of the posters that you could probably finish them up yourself.  You should really pay him for his efforts and time.  Maybe slip a $20 in his wallet when he’s not looking because you know he’d outright refuse money from you. 

He picked up his bag and hoisted it on his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, careful not to step on the posters and down the stairs to the door.  The two of you stood on the front porch talking a moment in the sliver of remaining dusk.  

“If you want, I can take you out for Chinese or something to say thank you for your help today,” you offered.  You really did want to pay him back, and if he wouldn’t accept money then he’s got to say yes to a free meal.  And Chinese?  He’s weak against the offer of it; saying no was almost taboo. 

He leaned into you, a grin painted on his flawless, dumb face.  “Are you asking me out on a date, Butterfly?”  He teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows that almost made you laugh.  You just smiled and played along, throwing your hands up.  

“Well, if you don’t want to-”

“I never said no!” He quickly saved.  He just trotted back to your door as he left your porch to his own house.  When you marched back up to your room, you started cleaning up your poster mess when your phone went off, the piece of technology sitting on your bed.  

It was Jungkook texting you, only his contact name was Dreamcatcher. 

Dreamcatcher:  So, when’s our date?

You wanted to ask back if he really thought it could be a date before you stopped yourself.  Why on earth would you even care if he thought it was a date or not?  You floundered before you sent him back saying it could be tomorrow- if he wanted.  Your face felt hot when you got the okay from him back.  

You had a date with Jeon Jungkook.  

It was Saturday and as much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook had to go to weekend tennis practice.  They had a game coming up, so Hoseok wanted to squeeze in as much practice as he could.  If Jungkook had it his way, he’d skip altogether and get to the part where it’s just him, you and Chinese food steaming in front of him.  

Instead, here he was.  Lugging himself out of bed as Hoseok honked outside.  He offered to pick him up since his house was right on the way and Jungkook wasn’t going to pass up the chance to save on gas money.  So, with a mess of hair on his head and a wrinkled jersey and his duffle with his tennis uniform and shoes and racquet, he was out of his house and in the car with his captain.  

“Good morning there, Kook.” Jungkook just groaned at him, tossing his duffle in the back as he slouched in the seat.  “Someone’s grumpy in the morning,” he laughed as he ruffled Jungkook’s already unsaveable mess of hair.  As hoseok pulled out, Jungkook looked up and could see you from your window.  Moving to see better, you had pulled back your curtains (probably to see what dickwad was honking so early in the morning).  You looked tired, and as you saw Jungkook in the car looking up at you, you waved.  

He smiled and waved back before Hoseok was on the road. 

“That’s Y/n’s house, ain’t it?’ Hoseok voiced as he pulled to the end of the road to turn.  Since school grounds are closed on the weekends, the team meets as the public courts.  “You told me she leaves across the street from you, but I didn’t think it was literal.”  

“Yeah, it’s her house.”  Jungkook sat in his chair, pulling down the sun visor and flipping open the mirror to try and pat down his hair.  “How long do you think practice is going to run today?”  Hoseok tapped on his wheel a few time, thinking about the answer.  

“Hmm, dunno.  I would like to be done no later than noon.” Jungkook looked at the radio, the clock showing it to be just past 8 am.  Jungkook nodded.  

“Yeah, okay.  Noon is good,” he said more to himself than to Hoseok.  Pulling out his phone, he sent you a text. Telling you that a lunch date would be perfect if you were up for it since he wanted to be done around noon- and also bidding you a good morning because he's a gentleman. He smiled- giggled even- when you texted him back. 

Butterfly:  It’s way too early to be this excited over Chinese food.  Yes, a lunch date is fine with my incredibly jam-packed schedule.  Sweat out all that testosterone hitting those sports balls, Jock. 

“It’s 8 am,” hoseok started, pulling Jungkook from his micro-conversation with you, “what are you all giddy about?” Jungkook sat back, smiled as he bit his lip and bounced in his seat. 

“I have a date today.”

“All right, wrap it up!” Hoseok shouted after he blew his whistle slung around his neck as his team members fell to the court exhausted.  Contrary to his squirrel-like innocent face, Hoseok was absolutely ruthless when it came to pushing his team to get the results he wanted.  Drilling them on basics until their arm flew off or testing their reflexes by lining them up and bombarding them with back to back intense tennis serves.  Some freshmen swore they’d see Hoseok’s face behind a flaming tennis ball in their nightmares. 

A rightful description to be fair. 

Even Jungkook who had been training on the team with him since he became captain last year still got winded from Hoseok’s drills.  No one could say they were fruitless though, they always brought results one way or another.  That was his whole goal after all.  

Jungkook lay on the tennis court, eyes closed as he had his mouth open like a fish as he took deep, shaking breaths.  Exhausted and coated in a gross layer of sweat, he wanted nothing more than to shower in the public locker room.  Some members had already lugged their wobbly, jelly bodies to do just that- aiming for a cold shower just to get their body moving again.  The sun was high as Hoseok sighed in content. 

“Finished by noon, just like I wanted.”  He put his hands on his hips when he saw someone standing behind the mesh wire that surrounded the court. He smiled as he waved to the person in question.  He cupped around his mouth as he shouted to them.  “Hiya, Y/n!  You’re looking cute today!”  Jungkook’s eyes shot open when Hoseok mentioned you.  He shot up from his lying position on the blue court as he whipped to see you.  

Jungkook looked at you with his mouth hanging open, Hoseok laughing as he slapped his thigh at his friend’s reaction.  He wasn’t expecting you to show up at the tennis courts, so his open mouth reaction wasn’t uncalled for per se. Yet, there you stood in a Jungkook’s favorite pair of jeans and a tee-shirt with a bowl of ramen on it.  Your small purse with your wallet, phone and probably a bottle of ibuprofen hanging low at your waist. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook sat a sweaty, stinky tennis-abused wreck.  It didn’t stop him from smiling and hopping up to go greet you.  Standing in front of you on the other side of the fence.  “What’re you doing here?” He smiled as he asked.  

“Why else?  A Chinese food date is calling our name, and I don’t know about you why I would kill for some crab rangoon right about now.” 

“Oh, worry not, we’ll get them crabs.”  You laughed as you were soon ushering him off to shower and change.  Hoseok caught him in the locker room and took his chances to tease him again.  

“She’s looking pretty cute,” he told Jungkook.  Jungkook already knowing this obviously.  “I didn’t know she was your date, I’m almost jealous.” Hoseok continued as he stripped off his jersey shirt, Jungkook doing the same as he stepped into one of the showers.  Jungkook didn’t reciprocate most of Hoseok’s chides, however right before he left, he grabbed his friend’s shoulder.  Now fully dressed in jeans, a white shirt and his duffle with his hair slightly dripping from his shower, he smiled almost menacingly to his captain. 

“She’s cute, but she’s off-limits, Captain.”  

“Right,” Hoseok replied with a shiver and risen hands. “Message received.” 

Jungkook made his way outside and ran from the courts, pushing the fence gate open as he met with you who was sitting against the fence in the small patch of grass before the court.  Jungkook, helping you up, he was soon asking where you two were going to eat as Hoseok watched from the locker room’s door.  Smiling because there was nothing more natural than you two and Chinese food. 

You ended up taking Jungkook to a rather new Chinese buffet that opened just over a month ago.  He was shocked and almost refused you foot the bill for it yourself since- let’s be real- buffet prices per person are steep.  You wouldn’t yield and proceeded to hush him as you both stood at the counter, ready to be seated for two.  

Slid into a booth by a window that showed the street, you were both served your beverage of choice before the two of you were jumping up and loading up your first plates. You lost track of time between eating and talking with Jungkook.  Cracking stupid jokes, making everyday conversation and bringing up who was whose favorite teacher in school- as well as bonding over the one teacher everyone loathed for their cut-throat teaching practices. 

Jungkook flinched and the guilt crept up his neck when the bill was slipped to you with the recycled line of ‘no rush, take your time’.  You swiped the black book with your receipt inside and slide your card in with it, closing it back up and setting it back on the table edge for your server to return to take it and efficiently drain your bank account of money.  

“How bad was the damage?” He asked, arms crossed on the table with a stack of plates at his side; his Coke half drained of its second refill.  

You just shook your head. “It wasn’t awful,” you waved and dismissed, but you had to be lying.  The food was good, the service and catering weren’t something to sneeze at and the place was brand-spanking-new for Christ’s sake.  It surely wasn’t as cheap as you were trying to make him believe.  “Don’t worry about it,” you told him, leaning against the table with a smile.  “I told you I’d treat you for your work on my posters.  Now, we’re even.”  Jungkook just sat in a huffy pout as you just laughed at his whining.  

The bill was taken, returned and you signed off on the buffet’s copy of your bill before you were taking back your card, your copy of the bill, shoving them in your purse and standing up.  Jungkook following as you both left the restaurant with good reviews of the new place to eat. 

You both stood on the street corner, people buzzing around going to and fro.  You stood at a traffic light, waiting for the light to change and allow you passage across the road.  Jungkook knew that the plan was to actually walk home since nothing else was planned.  He had a different idea, however.  Before you could start walking when the red hand switched to a blue walking person, Jungkook grabbed your hand and dragged you off backward away from the crosswalk. 

“What are you doing?  Home is that way?”  You pointed behind you as you got dragged through people.  Jungkook stopped only when there was an opening between suits.  He smiled down at you, still holding your hand.  

“I know.  I’m just being selfish now,” he chuckled.  

You rose your brow.  “Selfish?” 

He nodded in confirmation, hand squeezing around yours and shaking it in confirmation.  “Yup.  Selfish.  Let’s not go home yet.  Let’s walk around some. Shop, get some tea or something.”  You had no particular plans for the day, so you had no reason to object.  You solely convinced yourself that the reason you nodded your head and why you allowed Jungkook to tow you around after eating was that you had no other plans.  It definitely wasn’t because you may accidentally have a crush on him.  No way. 

The two of you spent all afternoon shopping around from store to store, not really purchasing anything, but just eye shopping was a joy with the two of you in each other’s presence. Jungkook was glad that you were enjoying yourself as much as him (he made sure to always ask about every hour to see if you were still having fun).  He didn’t tug you around so that you wouldn’t have fun.  You didn’t get out much and had a small circle of friends, even if he teases you about how many people you know. 

Knowing people and having friends are complete differences, and Jungkook felt like he was the culprit behind it.  He was always the one to disregard rules or stir up trouble since primary school.  You were the only one able to control him and before he knew it, he acted out solely for that purpose.  He knew that someone would soon fetch you and he would be muzzled by his tamer.  Because of that, and Jungkook’s popularity, you made more enemies than friends.  He was selfish though, he wanted your attention and the best way he got it was by acting like a blundering fool.  

Now, with the past two days you’ve spent with each other, maybe that could change.  He was certain that now, he could call you without causing a ruckus. He could walk beside you and laugh with you as a just himself, not as someone who was just taking another lecture about being responsible in stride.  He wanted nothing more than to walk beside you. 

“Jungkook!” You called to him as you both stood in some women’s clothing store you were practically drooling over every time you both passed the window. He decided to make it the last stop of the day since it was getting late and you both needed your rest. Jungkook has another early morning practice he dreaded.  “Look, isn’t this ring neat?  It’s supposed to be anti-negativity.”  You chuckled as you showed him a simple, dark grey ring.  It looked like it was somewhere between metal and stone, and was simple to a fault. 

“Do you believe in that anti-negativity, anti-stress stuff?”  He raised an eyebrow.  You cupped your chin. 

“Well, I don’t not believe in it.  It’s not like I’d wear it and expect to be positive just because it’s on.  It’s a dual effort, or maybe I see it as more of a type of mental cushion.  A mind over matter type of deal.”  Jungkook nodded as he picked it up from your palm. 

“How much is it?” 

“Just a few dollars.  I think I’ll get one, just for chuckles.”  You told him as he nodded again and trapped the ring in his hand.  You gasped as you tried to snatch his hand to get the ring back, but he just held it above his head, a grin on his dumb face as it was far out of your reach.  He even pushed on your head to keep you that much further away from it. He was soon walking to the desk where he placed it down.  You peeked around his back, seeing what he was doing.  “Jungkook?”  You asked as he just quietly hushed you. 

The ring rang up as $3 something and you nearly slapped the $5 Jungkook handed the clerk.  He just pushed your hand away as she broke the change to hand back to him.  When it was all said and done, Jungkook took the ring from the counter and called for you two to be going home.  You chased after him in a fit of wanting answers.  

When you both got outside, he slipped the ring on your finger and pat your hand.  

“You didn’t have to buy it,” you mumbled as he just chuckled.  He lifted your hand and kissed where the ring sat. 

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, but that won’t stop me. You know that” he sent a wink at you as you stood speechless.  He laughed at your red face as he began to tug you home at his side.  His hand holding yours that held your new ring.

“Are you going to my tennis match this weekend?”  Jungkook who was once against loafing over at your home asked as you sat at your desk, scribbling down your math equations. You turned in your chair to look at him lying on his stomach on your bed, comic open in front of him.  

“I was planning on it.  Why?”  He smiled. Abandoning the comic and placing his cheeks in his hands, elbows pushing into your mattress.  You recoiled slightly at the look on his face.  “What’s with the face?” 

“You’re going to support and cheer me on, right?”  You rolled your eyes as you just turned back to your work.  He flopped onto his back as he stared up at your ceiling. “I really hope we win, I have a whole celebration planned out if we do.”  

“Oh, and what celebration plan is that?” You asked, not stopping writing the next step of your equation. 

“It’s a secret,” he sung.  

“That’s not fair, why’d you bring it up then!” You stopped, turning around again- feeling cheated.  He craned his neck to look at you, his face upside down and his bangs falling to expose his forehead onto your mattress.  

“It’s a secret because it directly involves you!”  He cheerily told you with a giddy smile.  

“I don’t have to buy you Chinese food again, do I?”  He shook his head, rolling back onto his stomach and planting his chin in the bed.  

“No.  You don’t, it's free of charge celebration for you.”  That was all he was going to tell you as you just returned to work and he was soon nuzzling his face into the bedspread.  It smelt of your perfume.  The scent calming, the repetitive scratching of your pencil in your book and the silence and comfort of your room and your presence eventually made the tennis player fall asleep.  

You were shocked at the surprising lack of conversation from the boy behind you.  When you turned to investigate, you smiled warmly at his sleeping figure surrounded by the pink of your bedspread.  The color complimented him somehow.  Quietly lifting yourself from your desk chair, you padded over to sit gently beside his body on the bed.  You pet at his hair as he moved to push his cheek further into the mattress.  

“You’re spoilt,” you chuckled in a whisper.  You leaned to kiss the cheek that faced upwards towards the ceiling when your mother called for you.  Not yelling back to her in fear of waking the overworked tennis player, you silently came to your mother’s call downstairs. 

Down the stairs, your mother stood in wait.  Drying her hands on the front of her apron.  

“Oh my, where’s Jungkook?” She asked. 

“He conked out on my bed.  I’m gonna let him sleep for a while.  What did you need?” She seemed to remember why she called you in the first place.  She had experimented on a new pie she hadn’t made before and you were volunteered as the taste tester.  You didn’t mind really- her baking was usually pretty tasty. 

Half an hour, two pie slices and a kitchen clean up later, you trotted back up the stairs to your room.  Walking in and seeing Jungkook laying on his side, but awake now.  He groaned at you to show he actually perceived your presence; to which you just shook your head at. 

“Have a pleasant nap?” He groggily nodded along your bed as you moved to sit beside him again.  He crawled to plant his cheek on your thigh, sighing contently.  He’s been a clingy sleeper ever since you two were children.  If you two were to take your afternoon naps in the same vicinity, he’d always end up clinging to you then too. 

“You smell nice,” he slurred.  

“Probably like the pie mom made.”  Jungkook just hummed and you both stayed in comfortable silence.  The sun kept teasing the horizon, signaling the nighttime and you tried convincing the sleepy boy on your leg to get up and go swagger himself back to his own home.  He kept denying you of this, however. “Jungkook, you need to go home.”  He just shook his head for the umpteenth time.  Soon, someone knocked on your door and your mom peeked her head inside.  Smiling seeing Jungkook half asleep on your lap. 

“Darling, dad won’t be home until late tonight.  The poor man got roped into another double.”  You nodded as you gestured to Jungkook’s head. 

“Alright, but can you tell him he needs to go home and sleep?  He won’t listen to me, but you’re an authoritative adult.”  You mother just giggled. 

“Jungkook, dear.  You’re more than welcome to stay the night.”  He lifted his head as he nodded pathetically.  “I’ll call your mother and let her know then, sweetie.”  Then she back out of the room. 

“No- wait. Mom!”  You looked down at the boy smiling winningly up at you.  You just lightly smacked his forehead with your fingertips.  “Spoilt jock. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”  He just rolled his eyes, wanting to get comfortable again. 

As Jungkook pretty much remained rooted to your bed, you showered and changed into a loose PJ crop off and sweats (foregoing the shirts matching pair of shorts as a whole).  Your mother brought some shorts and a tee for Jungkook to wear as he lay under our bubblegum blankets. 

You stood at your desk, straightening up as Jungkook watched you.  You flicked off your desk light as he spoke up. 

“You’re sleeping in here, right?” He questioned as you looked over your shoulder. 

“Duh. It’s my room.  I’ll just make some palette on the floor with some pillows or something.”  You shrugged as Jungkook shot up, shaking his head in protest. 

“No!  You can lay in your bed with me.  I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”  You just crossed your arm.  “Come on, Y/n.  Please?” You flinched as he clearly wasn’t against pouting to get his way.  In the end, you caved. 

Shutting off the light and moved to lay in bed next to him.  Your back facing him, you felt him shift in the bed before he slung an arm around you- true to his koala sleeping habits. 

“Is this okay?” He wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.  

“It’s fine, Jungkook.  Go to sleep.” 

“Okay.  goodnight.”  when he was sure you were asleep before he was, he turned you around- knowing not even Armageddon could wake you up.  He lifted and pushed your hair behind your neck and shoulder as he looked at you.  He was sleeping not long after. 

It was the afternoon of the tennis match.  Jungkook was more fired up than usual, prompting Hoseok to ask if someone sparked him or something recently.  Nothing specifically came to mind.  He’s practically been freeloading at your house all week long- something about being good luck for his game? You didn’t even try to start to understand him and his logic truth be told. 

When before game practice started, it was obvious to anyone that he was pacing himself.  Not wanting to wear himself thing before the game actually started.  He was instructing his members and strictly speaking with the teammate he’d be placed in doubles with. 

When the rival team showed up on the court, they were already well disliked.  Their held high attitude irked the home team, making Hoseok more compelled to have his team crush them under their bigoted egos. 

Throughout the series of games to be played, 2 sets in total (one for the senior players and another for the newbies), Jungkook would be in a double as well as a single.  The doubles would start out the matches as they would end in one on one sets- no doubt wreaking of testosterone. 

When the court spectators began arriving, Jungkook was drilling his serves when you slid into a vacant bench spot at the front.  Dropping your purse at your feet and pull your phone out.  If someone thought you weren’t going to take pictures of Jungkook playing- they were so wrong.  You were hoping to score a perfect serve photo at least on time to hand up on your wall next to your dreamcatcher. 

When he saw you, he smiled delightedly that you even showed up at all.  You had told him so, but a part of him was still worried.  He ran to you as he was a tad breathless from the practice beforehand on top of his jog over. 

“Ready to play your best?” you asked him. 

“Hell yeah.  Don’t fall for me too hard,” he said with a twirl of his racquet.  Hand on his hip and an air of confidence that wasn’t very egotistical per se, but very much adding to his tennis boy charm.  You rolled your eyes as you whisked his away back to the court. 

You were probably too invested in the games once they started.  Getting especially riled up when Jungkook played. When his double match began, his first serve had you- and a few other school go-ers- up and pumping at the sheer force he slammed the ball with.  Always serving perfectly without losing a serve or getting called for a foot fault.  His first serve was always met with perfection and flawless follow-through.  

His gameplay was a conversation of power that was released the moment he returned the ball by slamming it into the face of his racquet. He even pounded out a few kill shots, the rival team unable to even whisk the ball with their racquet and scoring a point because not once did his ball bounce out of court lines. Of course, his teammate did well also.  Placed by the net at the forecourt, he poached the ball to Jungkook any chance he got for some great offensive power.  

Jungkook and his teammate won his game with a 40-15 score. 

Through the other games in the first set, there were back to back deuces and a few love games as well.  The rival school may be arrogant, but they had game in them. Jungkook just barely finished his water when his single match was announced.  It was the final game in the second set, so this would finish off the sport entirely for the day before an overall winning team was announced.  

His approach to his game was different than his double.  As he stood at backcourt, he seemed to look at every corner and draw out where his opponent may return or backhand the ball at or away from him.  The umpire was more than accustomed to calling faults and outs by now. Taking into account that the field of playing for singles is far narrower than doubles- the sidelines make his width movement and return planning a bit tricky to get a feel for. 

Honestly, by the time it was all over, and he served his final overhand- his main goal to was land a putaway in the sweet spot of his racquet.  How he actually managed to pull that off, he wasn’t sure.  It all happened in a fit of adrenaline and when the game was called, all he did was cheer in a sheen coat of sweat and gasped breathes.  

A 30 to nothing game: 30-Love.  

After all was said and done, the home team was just barely able to claim the victory for themselves, Jungkook was whisked away in a flood of sweaty tennis men back into the locker room to shower.  You were ready to head home and expect him to barge into your home (again) when your phone buzzed.  

Dreamcatcher: Don’t go home yet.  I have to celebrate with you!

Sat on the hood of his car, you wait.  Waving or saying hello to leaving tennis members who saw and passed you. You congratulating each one you could for their victory. It was only dark when Jungkook came jogging up to the car, putting his duffle on the hood beside you. 

“Congrats on your win, jock.”  He smiled triumphantly.  

“You doubted me and my skill?  No one is better than me with a racquet.”

“Hoseok is,” you countered.  

“He is invalid to this argument specifically,” he chuckled as he climbed onto the car hood with you, the team pretty much dissolved now except for a few freshman stragglers who were waiting on rides back home to pass out most likely.  “Honestly, having you watch was a big motivational push.  I can’t look lame when you’re watching me.”  

“You’re a high schooler who chased a yellow ball around a court, smacking it back and forth and drowning in sweat.  You always look lame,” that was a lie and you both knew it.  Even though that was exactly the case, Jungkook was probably cooler back there than he’s ever been in your eyes.  He knew that just as well as you did.  

“Jealous?” He teased.  You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, you ready to hear how we’re going to celebrate?” 

“Isn’t that why I waited for you on your car, dummy?” 

He snickered as he snapped in front of your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a moment.  “Close your eyes.” You looked at him skeptically.  “What?  You think I’m going to draw on your wit a marker or something?” 

“You would, wouldn’t you,” you sneered.  

“Just close them.”  You caved as you did as you were told.  Your eyes were closed for a maximum of a few seconds before they flew open when you felt Jungkook kissing you.  Holding behind your neck, it was like he was turning even kissing into a sport.  And you were sorely losing.  When he pulled back, he laughed- literally- into your face.  “You look like a glow stick,” he chided.  You burned and just flounder back at him. 

“You’re blushing just as much as me! Loser!” You whacked at his arm, but with hardly any force at all.  He laughed again, gripping his stomach.  When he settled you were holding your cheeks, trying to mentally will them to cool downJungkook grabbed your chin and turned your face with his index finger to face him again.  

“Our celebration is another date, but this one is on me.  As a serious gesture of how much I legitimately want you to recognize me as someone who feels a hell of a lot towards you.” 

“I think I can recognize that just fine,” you muttered as he chuckled at you.  “How about a date, but maybe if you consider maybe considering me as someone who likes you too?” He placed his forehead on yours, puckering at your nose and making it tingle before you pulled away from him and sneezed into your arm.  Him laughing at your sensitive sneezing before you unleashed a tirade of wimpy socks to his arm. 

He caught them easily enough before he was gearing up to kiss you again.  “I think that’d count as a direct kill shot, Butterfly.”  With all this good luck recently, who knows.  Maybe you actually can win that student council election. 

-END-