#my grad thesis can fuck himself

[meadowsofmay]

i don't think i have the energy to write anything more than a plotbunny, but about legolas and his dad and hair braiding...

i can imagine thranduil braiding his son's hair before he heads off to rivendell for the council of elrond. while i think this is made supremely more awkward or emotionally difficult if we keep with the movies-verse idea of legolas having essentially not seen his dad since the battle of five armies (the whole "go find a man named strider" thing thranduil says to him), i think it's a powerful image regardless of if legolas stayed in mirkwood.

im imagining them sitting in silence for most of it. thranduil is incredibly meticulous and starts weaving small beads of amber into his sons hair, and slowly, it startles legolas. he looks up at himself in the mirror. the way thranduil's weaving them is how royalty wears their hair into battle. dont you think lord elrond will think something bad about silvans, about them being barbarous, if i wear this style to a council? legolas asks, trying to lighten the mood. his father doesn't respond, but he does meet legolas' eye in the mirror long enough to transmit the silent message: you and i both know that is not why i am doing this. they both recognize it's an action of love more than an action of fear... or perhaps exactly as much.

later, when the fellowship first bathes after they set out from rivendell, legolas spends an hour figuring out how all of the braids and beads go back in. when he comes back to mirkwood (now greenwood) after the war, he's wearing the same style he set out with, inlaid with beads from gondor.

thranduil wanting to have his son back, or at least try, and using braiding his hair to spent time with legolas before the council and show that he is still here for him...

INLAID WITH BEADS FROM GONDOR — LE GHASP FDTVOROBI OH PLEASE aragorn gifting legolas new set of beads and accessories (because legolas landed him his own for the battle of the black gate, yes, he did, i won't accept anything else) and legolas spending a good couple of hours, figuring out how to braid everything right and proper and exactly the way his father did is so heart-wrenching please hE IS HIS PAPA'S BOY he wants to make things right between them no matter the quarrels and misunderstandings that happened. and he comes back to greenwood and thranduil tries to be serious at first but sees his sons hair — the last and only moment between them after so much time that they spent apart — and he tears up (legolas for a second stopped breathing, timid smile on his lips as he tries to read his father's reaction). thranduil almost cries and you can't tell me he doesn't because legolas let him braid his hair before the council of elrond — he accepted thranduil's step forward then and now, he did his own.

elves are not touchy (as i learned) but thranduil hugs his son so tight legolas laughs, a distant echo of the past when father and son used to spend fun time together and legolas never stopped giggling...

they are going to be alright.

[svtdarlingbby]

"He's just a fuck-boy-frat-bro" Fratboy!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

pairing: Frat boy! Bang Chan x fem!Reader; featuring stray kids, '97 liners in Kpop, TXT genre: college au - enemies to lovers - slight angst but mostly fun! warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, reader is kinda mean but so is Chan, one mention of blood, slightly suggestive word count: 8904

Y/N's POV

Whoever declared the false dichotomy that studying English was “easy” did not know the amount of work that went into it. Sure, writing has always been one of my favorite hobbies, but perhaps analyzing the arguments that came into play when it comes to creating effective writing is where my passion lies. 

“You know, it would be more effective if you cut out some of the background information. No one wants to read all of that.”

Speaking of arguments.

“Chan, can you just shut the fuck up and finish the peer review?” I rolled my eyes. Workshop days were usually pretty helpful especially since I tend to procrastinate while being a perfectionist about my writing. However, the professor just had to assign us pairs today and of course, she paired me with Christopher Bahng. Or as he liked to call himself, Bang Chan. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but he’s such a fuck boy. He’s a part of some frat, a string of Greek letters I don’t care to remember. He’s always out partying too with his group of friends. They were so loud when I had the displeasure of meeting them when they sat near me at the library during undergrad as I was trying to write a paper. Let’s just say that I didn’t stay in that area for too long. To put it simply, I did not like Chan, nor did he like me. 

“I’m just saying” he began in a sing-songy voice, “Can’t you just assume your audience understands the background context?” 

He knew how to get on my nerves. “First of all Chan, yes. You’re right. The audience is academic so they probably know what I’m talking about,” I began as he smirked. “However, I only included that much background info to strengthen my credibility. That’s called appealing to ethos. Remember that?”

Chan rolled his eyes as the smirk that was plastered on his chiseled face vanished, “Yeah, whatever,” he groaned as he started to read the rest of my paper. 

I suppressed my laughter and looked back at my laptop screen, which displayed the work Chan had for peer review day. As expected, he came in with only an outline for his paper. Probably couldn’t get anything down because he was out with the boys, I thought as I began to scan his outline.

I hate to admit it, but as I read further through Chan’s outline, the more I began to see his vision. He was researching the shift in attitude toward mental health in the 21st century and the language behind that, and honestly, it was a great idea for his thesis. The thing about Chan is that he is intelligent. Despite his annoying attitude and lifestyle, he knows how to write a pretty damn good paper about something he’s passionate about. Maybe that’s why he also found himself in grad school for English with me. I was hoping that he’d go to another university after undergrad, but like me, he stayed for grad school. Just my luck. It didn’t help that we were one of the few students who stayed at our school for grad school with the rest of the cohort coming from other universities. Essentially, I was the only person he was familiar with so Chan always found his way to sit near or even next to me in all four classes we shared. Even during our training sessions, he found his way near me. I just couldn’t get rid of this guy, but at least I can get somewhat authentic writing advice from him.

“Hey Y/N,” said Chan, a suspicious smile growing on his face.

“What?” I said, trying to keep my eyes on my laptop.

“You forgot a comma here,” he said and began to giggle.

I swear if my eyes weren’t permanently rolled into the back of my head by now. “Ha-ha, very funny Chan. Ever take a look at Bean’s hierarchy like we did in training?”

“Yeah, that’s the joke. Or was that too advanced for someone as uptight as you?” he retorted, the smirk back on his face. 

“Uptight? I can take a joke,” I said, trying to sound confident. 

“Yes, you’re uptight. I’ve never seen you at a party before. You should come with me this weekend,” he said, trying to act suave.

“Now why would I want to go to a party with you?” I said, fully looking Chan into his eyes. 

“Everyone in this room knows that you have an ass, why not put it to good use?” he spoke lowly and smirked, not breaking the eye contact as I began to feel myself blush. 

“What is fucking wrong with you?” I said, trying to sound angry but it came out more flustered and whiny. I won’t admit it to Chan but wow, does my ass look that good?

“I’m just kidding, we all know I’ve got more ass than you,” he laughed as he went back to reading my paper. 

“You know damn well that’s a lie,” I blurted out, still staring at him rather than my laptop.

“Oh? Would you like to prove it to me?” replied Chan, almost a little too quickly. He seemed almost taken aback by how quickly he responded yet still smirked. 

“I-” Before I could respond, I was interrupted by a notification from my phone. It was a text from my friend Rosé, who swears Chan and I are soulmates because she thinks we are so similar. Thankfully Chan notices me get distracted by my phone and uses that as an excuse to drop his absurd question and continue reading my paper. I couldn’t wait to tell Rosé about what Chan just said.

Rosé: ok i know we’re both not into frat parties and stuff but Jaehyun is being dragged to that frat party on saturday by jungkook and mingyu and he wants me to come. You don’t have to but do you think you could come with me?

Oh god, she had to be referring to the party Chan mentioned earlier. I thought about it. The worst thing that could happen is Jaehyun getting caught up with his friends and losing Rosé, which I doubt. Jaehyun was truly a gentleman and he was also a part of the English program with Rosé and me. He wouldn’t do that to her. But at the same time, these frat parties were unpredictable and what kind of friend would I be to leave my friend in that kind of situation? 

Y/N: yeah i heard about that party. Don’t worry, I’ll come with. But you’re promising me that we are avoiding frat guys especially Chan

Rosé: of course! We’ll just stay with Jaehyun who would prob want to leave early anyway.  

Rosé: but

Rosé: it’ll be hard to avoid frat guys especially Chan with your ass 🤭

Rosé: and his ass honestly. You guys are both hot so…

Y/N: Rosé i swear I’m not going to the party now

Rosé: NO i was jk. But fr ur hot

Y/N: thank you 😇send me the details of the party when you get them. Also what you’re gonna be wearing!

Y/N: OMG speaking of, guess what Chan said

Rosé: omg what

Y/N: he was trying to invite me to the party actually and he said something about me having an ass yet his was still bigger and so I called him out on that statement and he basically asked me to prove to him that my ass was fatter 🤢

Rosé: HELP OMG now why would he say that 😭

Y/N: cuz he’s a typical fuck boi

I put my phone down because I suddenly remembered I had to finish up Chan’s peer review. Just as I was about to focus my attention back to my laptop, Chan’s annoying voice spoke up.

“Who were you texting?” he asked, so nosy. 

“None of your business,” I responded, still looking at my screen.

“Is it a guy?” he asked, before looking up. “I saw the way you were smiling.”

“Oh my god, it was just Rosé. Why are you so concerned?” I snapped, regaining eye contact with Chan who smirked once again. 

Chan’s POV:

My plan is working, thank god Rosé’s dragging Y/N along to that party. God, she’s so fucking hot when she’s mad, especially at me. She’s so funny, all of my friends, her friends, and even everyone in our cohort know that she finds me attractive yet chooses to hate me. It’s crazy, she’s the smartest girl I know but she’s so stupid, denying her feelings. I just pretend to hate her to keep the game going, and it’s been going on since like freshman year. I feel like if she truly hated me, she probably would’ve reported me or something. Not that I’d do anything creepy, no, I have boundaries. I just love to mess with her. And perhaps I might also love her. 

I don’t know why I ever admitted that. The boys made fun of me so much. 

“Wait, I know you love to mess with her, but you think you love her?” laughed Changbin among the boys. 

“Well, I-” I stammered, before being interrupted. 

“Bro, how? She hates your guts!” laughed Jeongin.

“Okay but-”

“I don’t think Y/N hates him. She would’ve blocked and maybe gotten his ass kicked out of here by now if she truly hated him,” said Minho, a matter of factly. 

“And even though neither of them would admit it, they seem like friends. I mean, they’ve had classes together for five years now. And I’ve seen Y/N willingly sit next to Chan all the time. They’ve even had lunch together a few times! If she hated him, she would’ve moved seats and ignored him all these years,” added Felix optimistically. 

“Oh my god, are you saying Y/N probably loves Chan?” asked Seungmin, wide-eyed. 

“YES! I’ve known it all these years. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, all that tension from denying her true feelings. This confused girl loves you!” mused Jisung. 

“Yeah, honestly, if she wasn’t in the grad program, I might not have pursued grad school. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is,” I admitted, feeling flustered in front of the guys. 

“Okay, so how are you going to tell her?” interrogated Jisung. Of course, he wants me to do something about it. 

“I really don’t know. I never really planned on it honestly,” I revealed, earning a few dramatic gasps from my friends. 

“How about at the party on Saturday?” asked Hyunjin.

“No, she hates frat parties. But I’ve also heard from Rosé that Y/N can party so I don’t know,” I answered, feeling almost hopeless. 

“Wait, Chan,” began Minho, a smirk arising on his features, “What if we make Y/N go to that party?”

“Dude, no. As much as I like messing with her, I won’t force her to go somewhere she’s uncomfortable,” I replied somewhat urgently. 

“No, not like that. You know Rosé, right? Those two are like best friends. She’s dating Jaehyun, right? He’s in the frat and I know his buddies Jungkook and Mingyu are going to drag his ass there,” explained Minho. “So how about we use Rosé to bring Y/N to the party?”

“Damn Minho, why do you have this elaborate plan?” chuckled Hyunjin.

“I still haven’t gotten back at her for that one time she went out with Jisung,” spoke Minho lowly, “If this plan doesn’t work, at least she gets to see me all up on Jisung.”

“Whoa calm down Minho, it was one date remember? Before we were a thing? I ghosted her after that!” laughed Jisung. 

God, I remember that. I was so angry when I found out Jisung’s Bumble date all those years ago was Y/N. Granted, that was freshman year, but still! I shouldn’t be jealous, but Jisung’s one of my bros even though he has clearly moved on. I’m sure Y/N has moved on, God, I hope so. 

“Anyways,” I began, “What exactly is going to happen at the party once she’s there?”

“OH! Rosé should totally abandon her! And then you can swoop in and not act like a pretentious asshole for once!” chirped Hyunjin. “And you’ll be surrounded by all the frat guys, who are going to be acting like that and maybe she’ll see that you’re different than the rest!”

The room erupted in agreement from the guys and I began to feel myself warm up to their elaborate plan. “You know what, I think you guys are onto something,” I nodded in agreement as the guys cheered. “I’m going to text Rosé, I know she’d love to set her bestie up.”

Chan: Sup Rosé

Rosé; oh god what do you want

Chan: ok I’m being fr rn. But I have feelings for Y/N

Rosé: that’s the big news? 😭come on, we all knew that. 

Rosé: I mean, everyone but Y/N she thinks she hates you but we all know that’s a lie

Chan: wait-

Chan: what do you mean???

Rosé: oh um

Rosé: Y/N is literally going to murder me but

Rosé: at our last girls party, I don’t know what she was on but she admitted that she finds you hot 😭

Wait. What. Y/N thinks I’m hot? Oh my god!

“GUYS Y/N THINKS I’M HOT!” I blurted out to the guys who all cheered in response.

“YES CHAN’S GONNA GET IT!” screamed Changbin as he smacked my back rather harshly. 

“OUCH!”

“Sorry bro, the gains, you know?”

I ended up telling Rosé the plan and surprisingly she agreed on the condition that nothing bad happens to Y/N and that she won’t stop her from leaving if she gets uncomfortable. Okay, fair. And I know Y/N. She’s super loyal to her friends so she’ll be at that party either way. God, I’m so excited but nervous. She’s going to look so hot too, I wonder what she looks like outside of her school clothes. 

Y/N’s POV

Thank god class was almost over, but why was Chan so concerned with who I was texting? I brushed him off and finished peer-reviewing his outline. Surprisingly, I left a lot of positive feedback but made sure to sneak in some snarky comments. And I corrected his grammar just to be petty. How are you in grad school but can’t differentiate between a dependent and independent clause? 

“Here, damn,” I groaned as I hit send on the email where the peer-review was attached. 

“Aw, you liked my outline!” rejoiced Chan in that annoying voice of his as he opened the attachment. 

“You should be lucky that you’re receiving my feedback. I’m the only one here that would tell you that you suck to your face,” I said as I began to pack up my laptop into my bag. 

“Well honey, from the looks of it, you found a lot more positive things about my outline than negative,” laughed Chan. 

“Whatever,” I groaned, “Have you even finished peer-reviewing my draft by the way?”

“Almost done, I’ll send it to you in a bit,” he said as he started typing once again. 

“Thanks, I guess,” I muttered as I left the classroom. 

What I didn’t know was that my half-hearted “thanks” caused Chan’s heart to skip a beat. 

The day of the frat party came by faster than expected. Honestly, this whole week was a whirlwind. Thanks to Chan’s surprisingly helpful feedback, I was able to finish the essay before the weekend. I usually don’t drink, but, even being around alcohol can get hungover somehow and I wasn’t going to let a stupid frat party be the demise of my grade. Plus, I had to drive back home. 

Usually, I partied with my close friends and attended quite a few parties during my college career. I wonder how it’s going to be to go to a “real” college party, especially as a grad student no less. Maybe Chan was right. Maybe I am uptight. Whatever. I know his dumbass is going to be at that party. I might as well show him what “uptight” is. 

With that, I had a fun time choosing my outfit! I’ll admit, it was kinda low-cut. Okay, it was really low-cut but it flattered my good in every way. I haven’t worn it in a while but the black blouse was flirty and fun, with the dotted fabric of the arms sheer and the cropped nature of the shirt sitting right at my waist. I’d pair it with some nice jeans that flattered me. The outfit was far from uptight. And I could tell it would be a real crowd-pleaser based on Rosé’s enthusiastic reaction.

Rosé: WAIT DAMNNN OKAY

Rosé: CAN CHAN FIGHT????

Y/N: LMAO thanks but prob not!! 

Y/N: I’d rather be all yours anyways 🙄

Rosé: awww

Rosé: I wonder if Chan’s fave color is black 🤭

Y/N: OH GOD why would you say that 😭 i hope not 🤢

Rosé: LMAO I’m kidding lol butttt he is gonna see you like that just saying

Y/N: okay and? Not my problem

Rosé: yeah sureeee anyways are you almost at my apartment so we could head on over?

Y/N: Yeah, just found a parking spot. Heading over!

Flipping my hair out of my face, I headed toward Rosé’s apartment. Honestly, I was feeling kind of nervous going to this party. What if something bad happens? 

Outside the apartment building, I saw none other than Rosé accompanied by her boyfriend Jaehyun. Ugh, they looked perfect together, hand in hand and conversing about something they both could only hear. Until I interrupted.

“Rosé!” I yelled, quickening my pace.

“Y/N! You’re here!” she exclaimed, letting go of Jaehyun’s hand as we hugged each other and flooded one another with compliments of how we looked. 

“Damn Rosé, that ass of yours in those jeans?” I swooned, fanning myself. 

“Ahem.”

“Oh! Hey Jaehyun!” I exclaimed, caught off guard by Rosé’s quiet boyfriend.

“Hey Y/N!” he laughed as Rosé joined him, presumably at my flustered state.

“Listen! I wasn’t trying to take Rosé away from you! I would never!” I tried to explain, “Even though she was my friend first,” I mumbled that last part under my breath.

“It’s all good! Should we head over now?” asked Rosé as we began to walk toward the frat houses. 

The walk over to the frat house was longer than we thought it would be, but thankfully we all wore sneakers. The chill of the fall air blew as Jaehyun draped his sweater over Rosé’s shoulders. God, they were so cute. I can’t believe someone like Jaehyun was technically a frat dude. Come to think of it, Rosé was also in a sorority. I’m sure they knew their way around these parties. 

We opened the door just to be met with some frat bro who I quickly recognized as one of Chan’s friends. 

“Sup Jaehyun, I see you’re in ratio” he smirked as he let us in.

“Thanks, Hyunjin” laughed Jaehyun as he fist-bumped his brother as Rosé and I followed him inside. 

“Ratio?” I asked, perplexed. 

“Oh some frats have this thing where a guy should bring two girls with him to be let into a party,” Rosé explained as I quickly understood despite an even more confused expression gracing my features. I chose not to dwell on it as I took in my surroundings. Of course, red solo cups are in the hands of every attendee. Some of Chan’s friends were setting up some music. Sports were playing on the flatscreen TV. So far, so good.

“Hey, Jaehyun!” yelled Jungkook, who seemingly popped out of nowhere.

“Jaehyun!” yelled Mingyu, following behind the older one. God, Kim Mingyu and Jeon Jungkook. I’ve always thought they were so hot; I couldn’t help but feel a little shy as I scooted closer to Rosé.

Jaehyun greeted his friends as they all clapped hands, hugged each other, and made small talk. I felt kind of awkward just watching them honestly, so I turned to Rosé.

“I’m not drinking tonight, but did you wanna get a drink?” I asked.

“Sure, why not? Oh my god you know what I just realized?” she said, eyes brightening.

“What?” I asked, ever amused by her.

“You might actually see me drunk in person instead of over text!” she laughed.

“Wait, oh my gosh that’s so true!” I exclaimed with excitement as she grabbed a drink, making our way back to Jaehyun and his handsome friends. 

“Oh there you are,” said Jaehyun as he turned around, his eyes lighting up when he saw his girlfriend. 

Before any of us could respond, the house suddenly boomed with music and a certain boisterous voice made himself apparent.

“HELLO ABΩ! IT’S YOUR BOY BANG CHAN HERE!” 

Oh no. I expected him to be here but outside of school, he’s going to be ten times more annoying. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I sipped on some water. 

“The party is just getting started, my boy Jeongin made this fire playlist. Let loose, enjoy yourself, and remember, tag me and follow me on Instagram @gnabnahc!” he smiled into the microphone. All the frat guys began to cheer, encouraging him. I exhaled, just staring at how ridiculous Chan looked, with his white tee shirt, fitted so perfectly against his sculpted muscles. And his black jeans, emphasizing that dumptruck of his. Of course, he was wearing a cap too.   “Let’s have a great night! And-” Suddenly he stopped, creating an awkward silence despite the booming music. 

And then I realized. He was staring right into my eyes. I blinked a few times before looking away, feeling Rosé nudge me as she stifled a laugh. 

“I lost my train of thought!” Chan laughed, shifting the mood back to the energetic one he had created mere seconds before. “Anyways play some beer pong, dance, have fun!” And once again, all of the frat bros cheered as the party began.

I still felt flustered and annoyed, but also powerful at the same time. Did me just standing there make the cocky and confident Bang Chan flustered to the point of freezing up in front of the boys at a party no less? I smirked, though my cheeks still felt warm as I saw Changbin laughing and smacking Chan’s shoulder. 

“Y/N! Did you hear me? Or were you too busy staring back at Chan?” smirked Rosé as she waved her hand in front of my face. 

“Wait what?” I blinked as she and Jaehyun began to laugh. 

“I was saying you and Chan had a little moment right there! Locking eyes, the world disappearing around you two?” laughed Rosé.

“Very Jane Austen” added Jaehyun in agreement.

“Jane Austen would never write about a frat guy at a frat party no less,” I scoffed, crossing my arms as the couple in front of me shared knowing glances. 

Chan’s POV

I will never hear the end of this. Changbin is still smacking my shoulder with his sheer strength and keeps laughing at how I got distracted. 

“Oh my god, my abs. I’m not gonna have to train them anymore because of you!” laughed Changbin.

“Will you quit?” I rolled my eyes at his antics. “Very funny, I got distracted.”

“It’s not even that you got distracted! It’s who made you distracted! Tell me, what was it about Y/N that made you practically drool in front of everyone? Was it her hair? Maybe her eyes? Or was it her tits- OW!” 

“Not now Changbin,” I muttered after I smacked him. God, I need a beer. I left Changbin behind to find Minho handling the drinks. 

“We all saw that, dude,” said Minho somewhat apologetically as he handed me a drink. 

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, drinking from the cup rather quickly.

“So, the plan?” asked Minho expectantly. 

Right. The elaborate plan of the night. Initially, it seemed easy enough but I didn’t realize just how flustered by Y/N I would be. God, how does she get hotter every time I see her? 

“I was gonna wait a little later into the night to tell Rosé to abandon Y/N,” I explained to Minho who nodded. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and break the ice with Y/N? I think you acknowledging her early on will show her you have some decency,” suggested Minho. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” I replied as I glanced over at Y/N across the crowd before making my way toward her. 

Y/N’s POV:

Rosé was too busy talking to Jaehyun as I took in my surroundings once again. The party was beginning to get lively with more people dancing, especially Hyunjin, who was already surrounded by several guys and girls alike. Dancing would be fun honestly, but it would be awkward going up there and not knowing anyone. Just as I took my eyes off the dance floor, I met the gaze of none other than Chan. 

“Oh god, what do you want,” I muttered unenthusiastically as he walked toward me. 

“So, you made it? I knew you weren’t as uptight as you let on,” smirked Chan as he leaned against the wall, drink in hand.

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” I asked, trying not to take in how attractive he looked at that moment. Maybe all that alcohol around me was starting to intoxicate me somehow. He never looks good.

“Well someone provided me with some extra good feedback on my outline the other day,” he began, smiling, “Let’s just say that was an easy paper to write.”

I scoffed, “No way you wrote twenty-five pages in two days, weekdays no less.”

“Oh, but I did. I know you think I’m just a typical frat bro but I do care about the mental health movement,” he said, cocking an eyebrow up as his gaze bore into my soul. 

“Whatever,” I said, breaking eye contact and feeling a bit flustered. 

“Anyways,” began Chan, “It’s nice seeing you here. Nice to see you outside of class, I mean,” he stumbled as his eyes scanned my outfit. 

It was my turn to make him flustered. “Are you talking about me, or my tits?” I smirked, standing up straighter as he shuffled. 

“Well, I-” he began, before regaining his composure, “I expected to see your ass, not your tits today.”

“CHAN!” I yelled as he laughed, “Well, at least mine are bigger than yours!”

“That I can agree with,” Chan laughed, causing me to chuckle and playfully smack his arm. 

“We can finally agree on something,” I admitted as I playfully rolled my eyes and he nodded in response. 

“I’d say we’re finally on the same level of debate,” Chan winked as he referenced our TA curriculum. 

“Yeah, I would say that we passed conjecture so we’re definitely on definition right now,” I said as I dramatically furrowed my brows, pretending to be a teacher. 

“God, I’m so glad we’re actually applying what we’ve learned to the real world!” Chan exclaimed, dramatically opening his arms and gesturing to the “real world” that was the frat party before him. I hate to admit it, but Chan was actually funny. He knew how to appeal to my sense of humor. As hard as grad school is, these little jokes make me feel like I’m not alone. As we were laughing, I could just feel the stares of several people burning through the bubble Chan and I created. He could feel it too. In the corner of my eye, I could see Rosé giggling at us. Oh god, she probably took some pictures too. I also felt the knowing stares of Chan’s friends, even Hyunjin who was surrounded by guys and girls had his gaze fixated on Chan and me. Also, did I see Jisung, that one guy I had that awkward date with freshman year, stop making out with Chan’s other friend Minho just for them to look in our direction? What was going on?

Chan’s POV

I’m glad Y/N is warming up to me, she’s honestly not uptight at all! As awkward as my first glance, well, stare, at her today was, I’m so glad she didn’t bring that up. Speaking of staring, what is wrong with me? She saw me staring at her tits god I want to die. I mean, she didn’t murder me! That’s a good sign, right? As fun and lighthearted as our conversation was, how come the guys and Rosé had to be so fucking obvious? I thought this plan was supposed to be low-key, not “everyone-stare-at-Chan-to-see-if-he-finally-asks-Y/N-out.” I think Y/N is catching on, I mean, I practically feel everyone’s staring at us. I need to find a distraction, quickly. 

“Ahem” I cleared my throat, “Do you want another drink?” 

“Oh, um, yeah sure,” she replied as I snapped her out of her thoughts as we made our way to the drink table. 

I don’t know why I was reacting so quickly but as Y/N reached for a water bottle, something in me told me to grab it for her. It wasn’t until our hands met on the same water bottle that I snapped out of my actions.

“Oh-”

“Sorry!”

“Here, I’ll grab it for you,” I said, handing her the water bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, looking down. Oh god, am I screwing this up? Did I make it awkward? From the corner of my eye, Felix gave me an apologetic smile as I wearily shook my head. I had to fix this. 

“So, you’re not drinking tonight?” I asked, breaking the ice. 

“Nope. I’ve gotta drive home but being drunk would be fun,” chuckled Y/N before taking a sip. “Yeah? How’s ‘drunk’ Y/N?” I asked using air quotations.

“I don’t remember,” laughed Y/N, “The videos I’ve seen of me in that state are hilarious though. I get cocky, witty, and flirty, so kind of like you on a regular basis. So yeah, I turn into a fuck boy.”

“That does sound like me,” I chuckled as we sat down on the couch. “We’re pretty similar, don’t you think?”

Y/N grimaced. “Rosé thinks so.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, and it’s so far from the truth!” she exclaimed dramatically, “Rosé, come here!” she yelled over the couch for her friend. Ugh. Just when I thought I could get her alone without Rosé having to completely abandon her friend. 

“Yes?” asked Rosé, another drink in hand.

“Come on, sit down and tell Chan about your delusions. About how you think we’re the same person,” said Y/N who scooted away from me, gesturing for Rosé to sit between her and me. I swear if Rosé cockblocks me…

Fortunately for me, Rosé takes a seat on Y/N’s other side. “You two are so similar oh my god, Chan you don’t even know the full extent,” giggled Rosé as she leaned into Y/N. Ugh. That should be me. 

“Yeah? How are we so similar?” I said glancing between the two women expectedly. 

“You both are studying English!,” laughed Rosé.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t know that!” scoffed Y/N sarcastically as I chuckled.

“Oh, oh! Your zodiac signs are compatible!” Rosé smirked as she raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh yeah, you’re a Libra right? October 3rd?” asked Y/N expectantly and I nodded. She knows my birthday?! I don’t know why my heart began to race at this fact. (A/N- guys for the sake of the story let’s pretend every zodiac sign is compatible with Libra lol!)

“Oh- and don’t forget, your MBTIs are super compatible too!” exclaimed Rosé.

“I’m an ENFJ, what are you?” I asked as Y/N looked away and replied (your MBTI). Oh my gosh, ENFJ and (your MBTI) are like, supposed to be soulmates. (A/N- guys for the sake of the story let’s pretend every MBTI is compatible with ENFJ lol)

“Oh- and also! Remember the blood drive for the frats and sororities? You’re type O Chan!” chimed Rosé.

“How did you remember that?” I chuckled looking between the clearly intoxicated Rosé and Y/N. 

“I’ll let Y/N explain that one!” exclaimed Rosé as she darted her eyes between Y/N and I. 

“Ugh, unfortunately, that means your blood type can be accepted by any other blood type, Chan. So your blood would be accepted by mine,” gagged Y/N, “I’d rather die at that point,” she deadpanned, causing both Rosé and I to laugh. 

“Really? You’d rather die than receive my thick, juicy, red blood from these veins?” I asked, making a fist so the veins on my arms would appear. Y/N bit her lip and exhaled as Rosé laughed even harder. 

“Yeah Y/N, I thought you had an arm kink?” blurted out Rosé, who was probably drunk by now.

“Rosé!” yelled Y/N, getting more flustered and looking away from me. I only laughed harder and felt my ego rise exponentially. She’s an arm girl? Noted. I’ll have to wear tank tops more often. 

“Like what you see?” I whispered to Y/N, flexing my biceps. She didn’t respond, but I saw the way her eyes lingered. 

“Yeah Y/N! You should feel his muscles” laughed Rosé as she grabbed Y/N’s hand suddenly and placed it on top of my bicep

“Rosé!” yelled Y/N as her hand retracted quickly from my bicep. God, if only she knew how flustered I was feeling right now. Before I knew it, I blurted out “I don’t bite. Go for it.” 

“Oh, um. Okay,” replied Y/N as she leaned over and felt my muscles. I tried not to act flustered as she leaned toward me, that blouse of her’s making it hard to focus on her hand on my arm. I swear her skin on mine was something I had been craving for years. “Neat,” she said, retracting her arm but I could see the redness gathering on her cheeks. 

“Whoa, save some room for Jesus!” blurted out a boy with long, dark brown hair. Behind him was a taller boy who looked somewhat flustered.

“Beomgyu? Soobin? What are you guys doing here?” Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly at the sight of them. I could feel my blood begin to boil but I had to maintain my composure. I can’t let something like jealousy ruin the plan. 

“You guys aren’t even in this frat!” laughed Rosé, causing the two guys to chuckle. 

“Yeah and? We’re here for a good time, right Soob?” laughed Beomgyu as he smacked Soobin in the chest.

“Oh- Uh, yeah! How are you, Y/N?” asked Soobin shyly. Why was he asking about her specifically? I kept my mouth shut as I glanced at Y/N, who looked somewhat flustered herself. 

“I didn’t think I’d be here but this one dragged me here,” explained Y/N as she glanced over at Rosé. 

“Okay and? You’re having a good time?” stated Rosé like it was the most obvious thing. 

Everyone chuckled but me, but I tried to play it cool and forced myself to smile at their small talk. Ugh, I just wish these cockblockers would go away!

“Oh my god, they’re playing Rodeo! Soobin, you like that song don’t you?” boomed Beomgyu as he gestured toward Soobin. “Let’s get up there!” he exclaimed as he gestured toward Y/N and pulled her from the couch.

“Wait this song is so funny!” laughed Y/N as she enthusiastically made her way to the dance floor with Soobin and Beomgyu. 

And just like that, my jaw was on the floor. How did these two random guys, who aren’t even in my frat by the way, just snatch Y/N away from me like that? 

“Ouch,” muttered Rosé as I stared at the dance floor in disbelief. 

“Bro did that just actually happen?” I heard Seungmin say as he took Y/N’s vacant spot.

“Man, I’m sorry,” I heard Felix’s deep voice behind the couch as he leaned over to pat my shoulder comfortingly. 

“How- She just- I just-” I stammered, still in disbelief at what just happened. 

“So um, Beomgyu and Soobin know Y/N from biology class during undergrad,” explained Rosé, trying to help me make sense of this. “Soobin was her lab partner.” Honestly, that didn’t really help as I just sighed in response. To be honest, I knew getting Y/N wasn’t going to be this easy. If I have competition, so be it. 

“Give me a minute,” I muttered as I stood up to get another drink. I felt their apologetic stares burn into my back as I made my way to the drinks. I glanced at the dance floor, and of course, Y/N was having the time of her life. God, she looked so hot dancing. Putting that ass to good use like I had said earlier. Just as I was about to look away, an unsightly scene unfolded before me on the dance floor. Why were Soobin and Y/N practically grinding on one another like that? My blood was already boiling, but now it was evaporated by how angry and jealous I felt. I know my face showed that as I made eye contact with Y/N as she smirked. 

Y/N’s POV

Ah Soobin, my old lab partner. My old crush. It didn’t end up working out between us back in undergrad, Soobin claiming that while he did like me, he just couldn’t devote enough time to a relationship. He was a part of many biology related clubs and even president of one. He also had a job on top of all that. Honestly, that was understandable and I quickly moved past those feelings. However, for Soobin I could definitely tell those feelings never went away. Maybe it’s a good thing Soobin studied biology; he couldn’t analyze situations like I could. Let’s face it, Chan was being extra good and not annoying today. That’s really suspicious, and frankly, I don’t know how to react to his good behavior. Admittedly, yes, I was flustered by our interactions throughout today. But he’s just a fuck boy frat bro. He’s always going to be flirting around, probably in hopes of getting laid. I don’t want to be just another one of those girls he fucks for the sake of it. I thought he knew that by now that I’m not into hookup culture. When Beomgyu and Soobin appeared, it was a perfect opportunity to test out my hypothesis: if Bang Chan wasn’t attracted to me like that, then he’d have no problem seeing me dance with another guy. I also just wanted to dance really badly. 

Also, “Rodeo” by Lah Pat and Flo Milli? The song used in every fuck boy thirst trap and slutty TikTok edits? How could I pass the opportunity to not make Chan jealous with such an explicit song about fucking?

“I wanna feel your body on top of mine!” I sang, eyeing Soobin while swaying my hips as some girls hyped me up on the dance floor. 

“Go Y/N!” cheered Beomgyu as he pulled out some smooth moves. 

It seemed like Soobin was getting out of his shell as he suddenly busted out some killer dance moves, slowly closing the distance between us. “Like a rodeo babe!” he winked. I forgot how fun it was to dance, especially with such a supportive crowd. I wonder if someone was watching. I could practically feel Soobin’s warmth behind me as we danced when I locked eyes with Chan who was heading toward the drinks. I could tell he was fuming as his gaze bore into mine. 

“I wanna feel your body on top of mine!” I sang again, trying to be as seductive as possible in the way I moved, never breaking eye contact with Chan. I don’t know where this surge of confidence came from, but god I felt powerful. Maybe this is how Chan usually feels.

Chan blinked back, seemingly flustered and even angry as he looked away and got another drink. He walked out of the front door dejectedly. I laughed as Beomgyu shot me a confused glance but I just waved him off as he continued dancing. As I was dancing with Soobin though, I began to feel guilty. Why the hell did I feel bad for Chan? He didn’t own me, in fact, he always went out of his way to make me angry and annoyed. Okay, he never went this far but still. And I practically just used Soobin to make Chan jealous knowing that Soobin still probably had feelings for me. I’ve always chided Chan for being a fuck boy, but here I was playing with his feelings and even bringing another guy into this mess by using him. Maybe I’m the fuck boy. 

The next song began to play, and I knew I needed to make things right before they got worse. 

“Hey, Soobin?” I asked over the blaring music as I gestured for him to follow me away from the dance floor.

“Yes, Y/N?” replied Soobin as he leaned down to my height so he could hear me. 

“Thank you for the dance, but sorry. I didn’t mean to get all up on you. I don’t want to lead you on, because I’ve moved on since undergrad. I should’ve considered your feelings before I did that, I’m sorry,” I rambled my apology, not really knowing what to say and hoping the damage wasn’t already done. 

“Oh,” paused Soobin as he looked down, “It’s okay, I just… I just wish I hadn’t been a coward and made excuses back then.”

“What are you talking about Soobin?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, you clearly moved on. I always see you with Chan especially since you started grad school. Even at this party, you were with him when I walked in. Beomgyu just tried to convince me to take a chance and try to get you back, but I can see I missed my chance,” smiled Soobin wistfully. “I could tell you were trying to make Chan jealous when you danced with me.”

Well, maybe I was wrong. Soobin read my plan like a book. Why wasn’t he in the English program?

“Was I that obvious,” I muttered, looking away from Soobin as he chuckled. 

“I knew it was too good to be true when you were moving like that. Like you had a point to prove,” chuckled Soobin. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry Soobin,” I apologized once again.

“It’s okay, I know you’re an asshole now,” he laughed dryly before gesturing to the door, “Now go get Chan. I’ll be okay. I’ve gotta take care of Beomgyu.”

I glanced at the dance floor and Beomgyu was clearly very drunk and happily dancing. Soobin gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks Soob. Take care,” I smiled back before making my way out of the frat house through the door Chan left from. 

Chan’s POV:

I shivered as the cool autumn breeze hit me, the hand holding my drink becoming disproportionately colder than the rest of my body as a result of the sudden temperature change. God, why did Y/N dancing with another guy bother me so much? Everything was going perfectly until Soobin showed up. I know she’s not technically mine but why does the thought of her being with someone who isn’t me hurt so much? I get so angry when things don’t go my way. What should I do!? I blinked back a few tears as I paced along the sidewalk near the building. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and saw the concerned texts from some of the guys in our group chat. 

Felix: hey Chan, are you okay? I’m here if you need anything

Jeongin: what happened to Chan?

Hyunjin: his genius plan isn’t working *insert video of Y/N and Soobin on the dance floor*

Minho: oh my god that bitch

Jisung: okay maybe I was right to ghost her!

Seungmin: yeahhh it was pitiful 

Changbin: damn I’m sorry bro

I sighed, not bothering to reply. I just needed some space to process the fact that Y/N is probably going to leave the party with another guy. Someone who isn’t me. Maybe I shouldn’t have messed with her as much as I did. I’m sure it must have gotten old pretty quickly. I should’ve just been honest with her from the beginning. But no, I just had to maintain my frat boy image. I don’t know why, or how, I could be this stupid. I just fucked up my chances of being with the prettiest, funniest, and smartest girl I know. Just as I reached to wipe my tears, I heard a familiar voice. 

“Chan!”

I turned around and was faced with none other than Y/N. Concern and regret painted her features as she gazed into my teary eyes. 

“Chan,” she spoke softly, inching closer to me. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have left you like that just to make you jealous on purpose. I’m really sorry.”

I quickly blinked back any tears that remained and wiped the rest off my face. “Y/N, you came to find me?”

Y/N blinked a few times before replying, “Of course. I wanted to mess with you but I could tell that you were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you alone.”

I swallowed before speaking, gently taking ahold of her hand. “Y/N, I need to come clean. I like, no, I love you. I have loved you for a long time. Since like, freshman year. I only pretended to hate you just to mess with you. I don’t know why, I’m so stupid, I just, I thought that was just how a frat guy should act. Clearly not, I just annoyed you and I don’t blame you if you don’t return my feelings. I’ve been an asshole to you for a long time, and I’m sorry,” I rambled, feeling her grip on my hand tighten as I felt myself begin to shake. 

“Chan…” muttered Y/N as she looked into my eyes. God, I’m so embarrassed. 

Y/N’s POV:

I just felt so guilty, and I’m glad I apologized. It’s the least I could do. I know Chan loves to mess with me but he has never gone out of his way to hurt me like I just did to him. However, he really did just drop a bomb out of nowhere. Chan loves me? 

“Chan,” I said, squeezing his hand once again to get him to look at me. It works. “I honestly didn’t realize you felt that way. Wow,”

“Listen, I don’t want to pressure you at all to say yes. I just think you deserve to know how I truly feel,” admitted Chan. 

“No, it’s not that. I just think that you helped me describe what I’ve been feeling,” I admitted. “I always thought I hated you, but I’ve always been drawn to you. It’s not the same if you’re away. And I’m actually kind of glad you didn’t go away for grad school because you’re such a constant in my life. Like, I couldn’t imagine not going to school with you.”

Chan began to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I asked, bracing myself for Chan to probably admit this was a whole prank or something.

“It’s just, I only chose to go to grad school in the first place because you were doing it. And you just so happened to be staying here so I followed you,” laughed Chan, squeezing my hand gingerly. 

My eyes widened, “Well this is news to me!”

“When I told the guys this, they insisted I asked you out. So we made this whole elaborate plan to get you to this party but the plan didn’t really go as planned,” confessed Chan.

“Oh Chan,” I laughed, “Did you guys think you could really fool me?”

“Yeah. So did Rosé,” smirked Chan.

“She what?” I asked, shocked that Rosé was plotting with Chan.

“She’s gonna kill me for telling you but yes, I asked her to bring you here.”

“Oh my god, that’s why her text about the party conveniently came during peer review!” everything began to click as Chan smiled. “I mean, that explains everyone staring at us this whole night.”

“There’s the smart Y/N I know,” laughed Chan, staring at me with adoration which made me flustered. 

“I should’ve known,” I laughed dryly, “But Chan, seriously, I did have a great time with you tonight. And I don’t want that to end so, yes, I’ll be your girlfriend I guess.”

“You what!?” Chan’s jaw dropped as his eyes brightened.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I rolled my eyes as I pulled him into a kiss. His plush lips I used to despise returned the kiss as he fought back a smile, putting his hands on my waist to draw me closer. We pulled back from one another because we couldn’t stop smiling. 

“God, Y/N. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” mused Chan as a genuine smile graced his features as he put an arm around my waist. 

“Yeah it took you long enough,” I rolled my eyes playfully and leaned into his embrace. “Now do you wanna go back inside to party?”

“I’m happy wherever you are, Y/N.”

Chan’s POV

YESSSS I DID IT!!! Y/N IS MINE NOW! Oh my god, oh my god. All it took was for me to word-vomit everything I had felt about her with a pinch of jealousy to make her my girlfriend. I don’t even remember the initial plan because this outcome is so much better. I smiled at the girl in my arms, the one I spent years annoying because I couldn’t communicate my feelings. This is what bliss is. 

Suddenly, my phone began to vibrate like crazy once again. 

“Hold on, I think the guys are texting me,” I tell Y/N as I bring out my phone. I gasp as my eyes widen.

Felix: So uh, I went outside to find Chan and this is what I saw 😳 *insert pic of Chan and Y/N kissing*

Hyunjin: omg how the turns have tabled

Jisung: WHAT!! The switch up is crazyyyyy

Jeongin: oh god my eyesssss (nice job Chan)

Seungmin: phew Chan is okay lol

A message was deleted by Minho

Minho: Aw finally! (I didn’t call Y/N a bitch earlier nooo)

Changbin: CHAN’S GETTING IT AYYY

“What’s wrong Chan?” asked Y/N as she fished out her phone which was also buzzing with notifications. 

“Just check your phone,” I muttered in disbelief, but I couldn’t help but hold back a smile. 

Y/N’s POV

I took Chan’s advice and checked my phone. Maybe something had happened at the party while we were gone? Instead, I found like a hundred notifications from Rosé.

Rosé: AHFEWFEJ WHAT JUST HAPPENED

Rosé: I know you liked Soobin at one point but like

Rosé: omg Chan is actually sad

Rosé: check your phoneee even Jaehyun agrees

Rosé: wait omg

Rosé: *insert pic of Chan and Y/N kissing*

Rosé: care to explain? 🤭

“Oh my god Rosé!” I yelled.

Chan POV:

“Actually it was Felix who took that pic,” I laughed at her flustered state. Honestly, I love that the picture exists. My first kiss with Y/N. How precious!  

“Wanna go kill them?” asked Y/N, rolling up her sleeves. God she’s so hot when she’s mad, even hotter when she’s mad at other people. 

“Gladly, but first, you never answered my question,” I began, smirking at her once again. 

“What question?” She replied, tilting her head in confusion. 

“Can you prove to me that your ass is actually bigger than mine?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow as I eyed her behind and began to laugh at her further flustered state. She paused before suddenly moving closer to me.

“After I get finished with them,” she muttered, gesturing to our friends in the frat house, “Is when I’ll get started with this.” I yelped from the sudden smack on my butt as Y/N eyed me dangerously, smirking. 

“Oh I can’t wait!”

Epilogue:

Y/N’s POV

Even though I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, I still woke up hungover the next morning in my bed. I groaned at the slew of notifications that had woken me up from my slumber. I can’t believe that I woke up as the girlfriend of Bang Chan, the frat guy who had a notorious reputation for also being a fuck boy. I blinked a few times as I opened Instagram only to find the picture of me kissing Bang Chan to be the first post I saw. 

@gnabnahc last night was crazyyy 🥶💯😳

Comments: 

@yong.lixx: photo creds? 📸 jk so happy for you man

@i.2.n.8: mommy & daddy 😳

@miniverse.__: lookin gr8 bro 

@jutdwae: Ayyyy bro is hard launching rn!

@hynjinnnn: now this is art

@minho_knows: you’re welcome

@han_jisung: yeah she’s much better with you 🤭

@roses_are_rosie: so the plan worked! 😁

@page.soobin: congrats 🥲

⎿ @bamgyuuuu: it’s ok u tried bro 😤

Ok this was my first ever attempt at writing a stray kids fic! I hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing this! I know Chan would never be a fuck boy irl but as you can see it would be fun to imagine what that might look like!

[seeingivy]

elevated heart rates 

levi ackerman x f!reader

levi’s a mind reader and you’re a love expert 

content: grad student levi, brain researchers, nile being a weirdo freak (sorry yall), mentions of drinking, levi is shirtless at one point, reader has claustrophobia 

an: started my big girl brain research fellowship today. hence - brain jargon and GRAD STUDENT LEVI

- 

The room is small - the nineteen of you cramming into the small space of the conference room. You’re located directly at the front, sitting next to your advisor, Dot Pyxis. A leading expert in the field, one of the first neuroscientists you had met at a conference when you were a freshman in college. 

You saw it - the way his eyes lighted up, the way he was stumbling over his words because he was so excited to explain what he did everyday that you wanted that. To be that excited about something. And here you were, sitting next to him about to make it happen. 

You moved to Marley two months ago for this very moment. Your first day at the Brain Consortium - one of the best neuroscience research labs in the country, led by Pyxis himself. He was going to co-advise your thesis, guide you into becoming an expert in the field. Unlike any other, this lab was barely limited to one field, instead equipped with researchers from many different departments, the projects, the papers entirely interdisciplinary. 

There was no other place like it. You can feel your hands shaking as you hand over your hard drive, your presentation loaded on to it. Pyxis had explained it all - there were weekly lab meetings where everyone came together, presenting their research. Everyone gave feedback, asked questions to help further expand and build on the projects. 

And it was your turn. On your very first day, you were expected to explain. What you were going to research, what you were going to contribute, what you were excited about. 

It’s fucking nerve wracking. Pyxis stands up, giving you one last shoulder squeeze, before introducing everyone in the lab to you. He points everyone out - the other assistant professors, post-doctoral researchers, and the other PhD students. 

“Hange Zoe, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Petra Ral, and Nile Dok. The other PhD students. I want the five of you to give her a tour of the lab after.” 

They all nod, a few of them giving you encouraging smiles as you start. Pyxis turns to you, taking your seat at the table as you take the pointer in your hands, starting your presentation. 

“Right. Um, I’m F/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you all. I, um, completed my undergraduate studies at Shiganshina University. I got a b-bachelors in applied neuroscience and computational biology. I’ll be presenting my thesis project pr-proposal.” 

You hate this shit. You’re stuttering over your words and they’re all staring back, completely uninterested in your work. The PhD students in front of you aren’t even taking you seriously - the girl with glasses nearly stumbling off her chair from sliding around on it and the guy with dark black, grey steely eyes more interested in his cup of fucking tea than what you were talking about. 

“Right, so. My project aims to study interoceptive signals - like heartbeat, respiration cycles, blood pressure - and use them to predict and decode intentions. These small biomarkers, entirely unconscious to us, are consistent during decision making, unbeknownst to us. We can exploit that - to understand higher level cognition.” 

You’ve got their attention - you can tell. This is always the easy part, drawing them in - the woman from before stopped sliding on her chair, instead leaning forward with her eyes shining at your slides, the guy with the tea momentarily flickering his eyes up to the screen. 

“You can use it to predict how people act, how they feel. Especially for something like heart rate, which is what I want to focus on, you can understand so many things - anxiety, stress, companionship, sexual attraction, romance.” 

You see one of the PhD students murmur under his breath, interrupting you in your stead. Nile, they said his name was. 

“So you want to be a…love expert?” 

The entire room laughs, giving you smiles as you continue on. You give him a smile, responding. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

You continue on - highlighting how the brain regulates these signals, what equipment you’ll be using to record all of it. 

They clap when you’re done. Success. 

 - 

You feel fully settled into the lab, a few months later. You’ve decorated your tiny cubicle, directly in the middle with the other PhD students, with a few knick knacks - a picture of you and your best friend, a tiny little green figurine your parents gifted you, and a rack for your headphones. 

You’re located in the section with the other PhD students, who are…interesting. 

On the first day, they lead you to take the cubicle directly next to Hange, which you realized was a bad idea. Because they set you up. Hange’s a biochemist - doing research on the brain tissue at the molecular level, trying to understand how glioblastomas progress. Meaning - they’re always playing with chemicals at their desk, sometimes too lazy to walk over to the lab, which leads to some interesting smells and…smokes in your area. 

They never get in trouble, because Erwin and Petra always come to save the day. They’re both leading policy experts, studying volition and decision making in hopes to use in applications to the law and judicial systems. Figuring out why criminals commit crimes, using it for to serve justice. They cover up the evidence, distract Pyxis and Shadis, and talk their way out of it on Hange’s behalf. 

And that leaves Nile, who isn’t particularly your favorite. He’s a bit hard to get along with, not exactly personable per say. He’s researching microdosing and addiction - trying to figure out how we can manipulate medicines or drugs into being more or less addictive. 

You almost forgot about him. Levi, who's currently leading you to the MRI room on the other side of the building. Definitely the most intriguing of all of your colleagues - using transcranial brain stimulation to decode intentions. In less jargony terms, he read minds. 

He puts the decisions made on the tests into algorithms, correcting it until the machines can predict the decisions being made perfectly - that can be applied to anyone, not just singular participants. He’s coding human thought into machines. And doing it successfully. 

Levi’s quiet, perplexing, and intelligent. An enigma. He’s stood out to you, more than anyone else, for the simple reason that he’s the only one who doesn’t want to talk to you. Hange invites you out for drinks, Petra introduced you to her boyfriend, Erwin bought you a birthday present even though you didn’t tell anyone it was your birthday, and Nile asked you on a date (which you obviously declined). 

But Levi doesn’t care. You don’t either, but it does intrigue you at times. Why he’s so quiet, so closed off, what he’s always doing on his laptop, who he texts on his breaks. This was the first time you were alone with him - getting roped into participating in his newest study. 

“Newbie has to do it.” 

“Do what, Hange?” 

“Levi likes to experiment on all of our brains. You’ve never done it and he needs someone, so we’re volunteering you.” 

Hange and Erwin pull you up by the wrists, all but pushing you out of the conference room into Levi’s cubicle, where you almost trip and fall over him. He looks up - already deeply uninterested with the three of you standing in his space - as he removes his hands from his keyboard. 

“What, brats?” 

“I’m not participating. She is. Take her away!” 

He looks between the three of you, clearly unamused with how nonchalant Hange was being about the whole thing, as they knocked over Levi’s stack of books on the floom. They nearly shake his entire frame in their hands as they thanked him profusely for not making them participate. 

Erwin picks up the stack of books - somehow shuffling them all out of order as Levi gets even more frustrated - shooing the two of them out of his space. After successfully removing them, you and Levi walk towards the MRI room, all the way across the building, in silence. 

When you get there, he taps his hand on the platform, signaling for you to sit on it. You obediently follow, still not uttering an entire word. You watch him mill around the room - pressing switches, using the intercom to communicate with the operator, turning the lights off. 

“Wearing any metal?” 

“My necklace. I’ll take it off.” 

You reach up, awkwardly fumbling with the clasp as he watches you, his hands pressed to his sides as he waits. You’re not sure what it is - how sweaty your hands are, the way he’s looking at you, awkwardly waiting for you to finish - but you can’t get the clasp off, your hold shaking behind your hair. 

“I can help you.” 

You meekly nod, getting off the platform. Before you can, he reaches forward, his slender hands gathering your hair before placing them across the side to your shoulder. You feel his knuckles against your nape, quickly unlatching the necklace and fixing your hair back into place. 

“I’ll hold it for you.” 

You get back onto the platform, lying flat, as Levi uses the intercom to signal to Armin, one of the undergraduate students who worked in the MRI building. You can feel the platform sliding you into the tube and you suddenly feel it. 

Your claustrophobia. Every horrible thought you can imagine is running through your head as the machine starts whirring, your heart pounding in your chest. An earthquake - the machine would crush you. The magnets can be too fast, the machine malfunctioning while you’re stuck inside it. There could be a fire and you would be left here, everyone leaving you and locking you out of the room. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-yeah, Armin. Sorry. I get a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” 

“Okay, take your time. Try to stay still so we can get better pictures.” 

You nod, trying to still your breaths as the machine whirrs on again. You can feel your nails digging into your palms, as you try to calm down, the panic still sitting in your chest. You feel a hand circle around your ankle, squeezing twice, as the machine keeps going. 

“You okay, Newbie?” 

“Yeah, Levi. I’m okay.” 

“I’m here. Get out if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll just drag Shitty Glasses by the scalp to do it instead of you.” 

You laugh, his hold still firm on your ankle. You try to focus on it - the fine print on the machine, your back against the platform, his fingers on your skin as the machine keeps going, your panic still writhing in your chest. The MRI finishes - Levi giving you one last squeeze before the platform slides out and you nearly jump out of the machine. 

You and Levi walk back to the main lab, in silence. When you get there, Levi gives Hange’s ponytail one big yank before settling back into his cubicle, giving you a soft smile before you return to yours. 

-   

It’s Levi’s turn to present for the lab meeting. The lab is going to Hizuru for Sigtuna, one of the largest neuroscience conferences to date. The PhD students are all presenting posters, except Levi who was invited to give a talk. 

You had been helping Levi as of late - working with him to identify the sulcuses and the lobes on all of Levi’s MRIs. He had no experience in magnetic resonance imaging whatsoever - something you had spent years learning during undergrad. So the two of you had worked out a system - you helped him with identifying the images and helped you troubleshoot your code for your tasks whenever you needed it (which was often). 

You spent a lot of time together - even if it wasn’t direct. You’d sit in silence in the main conference room, working for hours. He’d bring you a cup of coffee and you would pick up dinner, talking through ideas as you finished off your projects. 

You had helped him write the grant for the talk instead of the poster, helping him with all the physiological portions. He taught you how to do all the analysis for yours - the two of you often the one’s leaving the lab latest, Levi walking you to your car in the dark before walking off to his own. 

You were friends. Project partners. 

He gives you one last look before starting the presentation and you shoot him a thumbs up under the table, which he returns with a smile. He’s explaining - using your brain and Hange’s as the sample templates to explain what he was doing - what parts of the brain he has to use for his machine learning. 

“This is Newbie’s and this is Hange’s brain. In theory, each part of the brain is slightly bigger, depending on what parts of your brain you exercise more. For example, Hange is involved in more motor-dexterity - running all their projects by hand. This part of the sulcus is more developed, bigger because of it, compared to Newbie.” 

Nile nudges you on the side, whispering something about how he can give you something to do with your hands if you needed it. You roll your eyes, awkwardly shuffling farther as you refocus on what Levi was saying. 

“This part of the brain is more developed for Newbie, the Brodmann areas - associated with critical thinking, higher level cognition, decision making. Good thing I didn’t use your brain, Dok. We wouldn’t even be able to catch it on the image if we used yours.” 

The entire room laughs - Nile sulking in his chair as Levi continues. You don’t miss the look he gives you afterwards, his eyes uncharacteristically soft when he meets yours, as he continues the presentation. 

When he finishes, Pyxis goes over the room assignments, mentioning that there were three rooms for all the PhD students - meaning a few of you would have to pair up. You turn your neck to look at Petra, who's already nodding and agreeing with Hange that they would room together. You deflate, watching Erwin and Levi pair up. Which leaves you next to Nile, who's all but too excited to be your partner. 

He slings his arm around your shoulder, saying that you guys can share the bed if it gets cold at night, which leaves you shooting dangerous looks at Hange. Levi catches on first, immediately dragging Erwin over to where the two of you were standing. 

“Dok. Erwin is going to room with you.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me. Don’t argue with me today, I’m already sick of you.” 

Levi grabs you by the wrist, dragging you towards the other side of the room as he rambles on. 

“What a fucking idiot. First he interrupts me during my talk and then starts saying perverted shit like that. Someone’s going to smack him upside the head one day and I surely hope for my sake it’s me.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him twice before letting go. 

“Thank you for that - I was literally going to vomit if I had to room with him.” 

“Well, I told you before. I’m here if you’re uncomfortable.” 

You nod, the two of you walking into the conference room to make edits to your presentation. 

 - 

You and Levi come back to your hotel room after the conference, positively plastered. He’d all but given his talk perfectly and your poster won an award at the end - which meant you and Levi were celebrating well into the night. 

You had your arms slung around each other, your weight uneven, as you both slide back into the hotel room, falling onto the singular bed in the room. You and Levi were greeted with the unpleasant sight earlier in the day - you and Levi both insisting that you would be the ones to sleep on the couch. 

You’re both lying face up on the bed - your cheeks flushed, your chests heaving up and down, the only sound in the room being your shaky breaths. Your hands are still locked together, your brain fuzzy from the events of the night. 

You and Levi amble up after a few minutes, both attempting to change into your pajamas and go to bed. You ogle Levi as he takes his shirt off, watching from the side of the mirror. He catches you, walking closer to you. He still reeks of beer, still shaking on his feet. 

He leans over, pressing his forehead against yours as you hold onto his arms, grounding your fingers into his biceps. He’s still not wearing a shirt, his bare chest on display. You fight the urge to stare at him full on. 

“You’re smart, Y/N.” 

“You’re smart too, Levi.” 

“Did you pay attention during my talk?” 

“Y-yes. You code the information, like a puzzle, to figure out what people’s intentions are.” 

“Hm. You be me. I’ll give you the information and you figure it out, okay?” 

You nod, barely understanding what he was getting at as you lean into him. You can feel the buzz dying down, the tiredness setting into your bones. 

“I’m not a mind reader like you, Levi.” 

“You’ll get this one. You’re my smart girl.” 

He reaches down, securing his hands around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. Your hands and frame are pressed against his chest, his skin cold to the touch.

“You caught my eye on the first day, with your perfectly pressed hair and that stupid black skirt.” 

You can feel your breath catch in your throat, the sound not leaving your throat.

“You take the cubicle two feet down from mine and I can’t help but watch you - reorganize your desk, get up to get water, scribble things on the whiteboard.” 

You can feel his heartbeat get faster against your hear, his grip on your waist tightening. You’re suddenly too aware of what’s happening - Levi, PhD Levi, is shirtless, hugging you in a hotel room. The lights are dim, there’s only one bed, and he’s holding you. 

“I don’t work with other people at the lab, but when you ask, I do. I leave the lab way past the required time, willingly spending more time in a room with that idiot Nile in it just because you’re in it too.”

“Levi.” 

“I’m not done.”

“It drives me crazy, every time Nile talks to you, touches you, looks at you. I want to sock him in the face - because he’s not nearly good enough for you. Not that anyone could be, but for some idiot like that to think he stands a chance is next level infuriating.”

He releases his hands from your face, lifting his hands to cup your face. His touch his soft, his thumb caressing the burning skin on your cheeks as his eyes meet yours.

“I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I eat my breakfast. When I’m not with you, I just want to be around you. And when I’m around you, I want to be with you.” 

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips are pillowy soft, his breath tickling the edges of your forehead. 

“What does it mean? Figure out my intentions, smart girl.” 

You can feel your entire body burning, your head still spinning - from the alcohol, Levi’s touch, his words ringing in your ears. 

“You…like me.” 

“That’s a fact. Not an intention.” 

“You…want to kiss me?” 

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm, the taste of the beer still hanging on his lips. You can feel his hands moving, carding through your hair as you reach up to press your hand against his shoulders. He kisses you for a long time - your body burning at the entire sensation. He breaks apart, still smiling against your lips. 

“Smart girl.” 

“Do you…remember my research, Levi? From the first day?” 

“I’ve memorized every single thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flushing, Levi’s hands returning to squish the sides of your face. You grab one of his hands, opening up his fingers and placing it flat against your chest. You move his hand around, until you’re sure he can feel your heart - which is pounding in your chest. 

“Heart rate can give away a great deal. The biomarker can help you understand a lot of different emotions. Figure out which one I’m feeling, Levi.” 

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses all over your face as he starts asking. 

“Anxiety?” - a soft kiss, right on top of your head. 

“No.” 

“Stress?” - a light kiss, right on your closed eyelids. 

“No, Levi.” 

“Companionship.” - a sweet kiss, right on your lips. 

“Yes. But that’s not the one I was looking for.” 

You watch a smirk spread across his face as he leans down, spreading soft kisses all along your neck. He murmurs against your neck, a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Sexual attraction?” 

“Levi. Quit being a tease.” 

“Shut up, brat.” 

“No. You missed one, Levi.” 

“What was it?” 

“Love. A heartbeat can give away a great deal - can even be used to indicate and understand romantic feelings.” 

He press his hand against your chest again, your heart still hammering. 

“It’s fast. What does that mean?” 

“That I love you.” 

You see a big smile spread across his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. You see him now and you think it’s the best he’s ever looked - messy black hair, pink cheeks, squinted eyes. He reaches down, opening your fingers and placing them against his bare chest. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Fast.” 

“Yeah. Means I love you too, smart girl.” 

- 

[armysantiny]

Out in the rain – JJK

P: Jungkook x female reader | G: fluff, drabble | Inc: playing in the rain, fever, Bam mention, Jimin mention, Namjoon mention, Yoongi mention, grad student!Jungkook, dance teacher!Jimin, y/n's also a grad student, sleepy Kookie my beloved | Wc: 980| W: food cw| R: G

Summary: Jungkook initially thinks nothing of spending hours in the rain with Bam; it’s fun, and he likes spending time with his Doberman. Y/n gets her I told you so moment when a fever descends upon the grad student.

Min's notes; This was cute <33 the ending feels a lil rushed tho, but eh- I like where I left it

In hindsight, Jungkook knew spending hours in the rain with Bam wasn’t the smartest idea. He’d woken up feeling like several trains ran through him. He ached. Blinking through the brain fog, he groaned; lethargy, shivering and a sore throat? He would be an idiot to deny the facts – he was sick. Very sick, if the lead weight in his limbs were anything to go by.

How absolutely wonderful.

Flopping back into the comfort of his sheets with little resistance, Jungkook shifted around, overly uncomfortable. Everything was off-kilter, and he couldn’t help but whine in pain when his head throbbed from the squirming. Wishing for the pain to go away without actively getting up to find painkillers wasn’t doing much to help either.

“Love? Good morning— Jungkook?” Walking towards the boyfriend-shaped lump on the bed, y/n frowned, concern knitting her brows. “Are you okay?”

“…’m sick. Everything hurts.”

“Am I allowed to say it? A nod. “I told you so baby, it was pouring with rain yesterday. You stay here, I’ll go and get the thermometer.”

Luckily for y/n, Jungkook hadn’t planned on moving at all. In fact, he was quite happy to melt away underneath his duvet.

Peeping his head over the covers, Jungkook squinted as light poured through the gap in the door, exceedingly grateful that he invested in a good pair of blackout curtains. Saved from looking at the sunlight any longer once y/n re-entered the room, Jungkook returned to the comfort of being under his covers completely. He was shivering – nothing like being smothered under his covers couldn’t fix.

And then his precious duvet was torn away from him.

“Hello there~” y/n snickered as her boyfriend whined, “ can you lift your head for me bun? I need to check if you’re running a fever." Ruffling his sweat-damp hair, y/n hummed as she stuck the device in her sick boyfriend’s ear. Jungkook was definitely running a fever; he was a full two degrees above the human average. With a sigh, y/n set the device aside, wrapping her arms around Jungkook to help him sit up.

“How bad?”

“Very. Think you can make it to the living room?”

“Mhm…” Throwing his legs over the side, Jungkook hauled himself up, taking a grand total of three steps before wobbling, leaning into y/n’s open arms. Determined, the grad student blinked back the bout of dizziness as he tried to steady himself, huffing out an exhale. The fever wasn’t going to keep him down if he had anything to say about it.

Nursing a thermos of green tea with Bam curled up on the sofa, Jungkook read through his thesis for the third time that afternoon. As sick as he was, grad student responsibilities came first; his thesis needed to be worked on, whether he wanted to work on it or not. Coughing into his arm, the student read over his notes, content with simply editing the work he had already done. Alone in the apartment, he had no plans to move from his spot, risking his fate by leaving his front door unlocked.

He was a student, if someone decided to barge in, he’d welcome them in. Anything to escape university.

There was someone tapping his shoulder.

“…Kookie? Earth to Jeon Jungkook?” Opening his eyes only to immediately squint through the brightness of his overhead light, Jungkook made a noncommittal hum. “Oh thank fuck, you’re alive.”

“Jimin hyung?” Blinking as the blob in front him nodded, Jungkook hauled himself up with a weak groan, his vision swimming just that little bit more before it cleared up. His skin boiling, Jungkook made a frail attempt at fanning himself with his shirt, too exhausted to react to the way it clung to him and the sweat on his body. What he did react to, however, was the lack of Bam’s presence on his sofa – they were laying together, right? Turning his head from side-to-side – with all the grace of a ragdoll – Jungkook still couldn’t tell where his canine companion had gone.

“Hyung..?” Jimin hummed his response from the kitchen. “Where’s Bam? I thought he was here on the sofa with me?” Accepting the bowl of soup while he waited for Jimin’s answer, Jungkook let the bowl rest on the table.

“Namjoon hyung came by and took him for a walk, like, half an hour ago? Probably still with him. Anyway, eat up; Yoongi hyung brought this over and you need to get your strength back.” The older of the two answered, gently flicking the brunet’s forehead. Laughing when Jungkook huffed, whining about not hurting the patient, Jimin turned his head and followed the sound of knocking at the front door.

There was quiet, and then Jungkook paused when he heard laughter.

Y/n was home! He’d live!

“Hello to you too, Mr I Have A Fever~” Y/n cooed, ruffling her boyfriend’s hair as she deposited her bag and coat off to the side. Waving Jimin off when the dance teacher eventually needed to leave, she went on about her day, filling Jungkook in about everything happening outside the confines of his front door. It sounded fun. Pausing her description of a boring media lecture when she finally noticed Jungkook watching her with ever-so-adoring curiosity, y/n’s features softened.

He was just too cute for his own good.

“Anything you want, baby? You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now.” There was a pause as y/n waited for her answer, more than content to return her boyfriend’s gaze.

“Just a nap,” Jungkook yawned, shifting around until his head was settled in y/n’s lap. “You’re here now… so ‘m gonna sleep now~” A smile on his face when he felt the soft press of a kiss to his temples, Jungkook let his eyes shut again that day, the heaviness of fever-induced sleep soon taking over. He welcomed it.

“Sleep well my love.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2023-2024

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[hazzabeeforlou]

.

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[allwaswell16]

{Recently Read 1D Fics}

August 2021

These are all the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August. There are 16 recs here in all and are in order by word count and organized by pairing. You can also listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 in August including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #28 | ko-fi | fic recs

-Larry-

Memory of a Dream by tomlinvelvet / @afterglowslouis

[E, 64k, Sleeping Beauty au, a/b/o, alpha Harry, omega Louis, royal, fantasy, fairy tale, dark magic, angst with a happy ending, witches, violence, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, no smut, wow this was such a cool take on this fairy tale, really enjoyed how the story was adapted and changed]

a Sleeping Beauty AU.

Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence

[NR, 62k, footie au, coach Harry, football player Louis, Ted Lasso au kind of, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, secrets, secret relationship, pining, coming out, homophobia, humor, no smut, the footie fic of my dreams]

an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

Home Again...Winter Harlow by dandelionfairies

[T, 27k, small town au, chef Harry, holidays, winter, Christmas, injured minor character, strangers to lovers, light angst, a lovely Hallmark-esque movie fic]

While Louis is basking in the glory of the holidays and everything new to him, Harry is walking into everything he once loved but now hates.

I'm Hot for Teacher (series) by phdmama / @phd-mama

[E, 14k, doctor Louis, med student Harry, semi public sex, hand jobs, masturbation, flirting, professional ethics, library sex, office sex, smut, holy shit this was so hot whew]

You cannot fall in love with your professor, Harry admonishes himself sternly as he exits the building and heads home. You just can’t.

Moments by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

[E, 10k, fake exes to lovers au, strangers to lovers, particle physicist Louis, event manager Harry, banter, smut, hand jobs, anal sex, bl, so funny and cute!]

Looking back, Louis should’ve known that the universe likes to fuck with idiots like him who think they’ve got it all sorted.

i know i've grown (but i can't wait to go home) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

[T, 7k, royal au, time travel, historical, Prince Harry, time traveler Louis, fantasy, violence, assassination attempt, humor, this plot was so cool]

When Louis falls down a hill behind an old castle, he wakes up and finds the castle new and full of life.

Climbing The Swells by @cyantific

[E, 5k, surfing au, surfer Louis, surfer Harry, California, strangers to enemies to lovers, minor injury, hurt/comfort, smut, so hot and so much fun especially if you love surfer fics like I do!]

The one where a clumsy Harry and a stubborn Louis reconcile their grievances on the beach with a heartfelt apology from Louis on his knees without saying a word.

We Go Together (series) by cherrylarry / @beelou

[G, 3k, Grease au, Harry as Sandy, Louis as Danny, summer romance, high school, such a cute adaptation!]

the movie Grease as a larry au. Louis is still the one that he wants.

As Good As Scone by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

[NR, 3k, meet cute au, baker Harry, Louis can't cook, humor, flirting, first meeting, minor injuries, this was so much fun and I loved the snappy writing and dialogue]

The one where Louis tries and fails to impress a first date. Luckily, there is the 'Sweet Creature' bakery, and they deliver.

Eco-Friendly by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[T, 3k, uni au, roommates, pining, green living, humor, this was so cute and funny and relatable lol)

the one where Harry just wants to get through one college year with a good roommate

Thesis Management by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

[T, 2k, werewolf au, wolf Louis, human Harry, grad student Harry, uni, established relationship, crack, humor, full moon, fluff, where does she come up with this stuff? lol]

Harry's got an assignment due and it's the full moon.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle by skipper / @skipperxao3

[T, 2k, break up au, angst, drama, saving the world, ouch, this hurt so if you're in the mood for heartbreak this one is it]

the one where Harry wants to save the world but loses sight of who’s been right in front of him all along

Wordplay Poems 2021 by @kingsofeverything

[NR, 381 words, poetry, clumsy Harry, clumsy Louis, this was such a cool idea!)

Week 1: Diamanté Week 2: Couplet Week 3: Idiom Doggerel Week 4: 2 or 3 stanza poem Week 5: Free verse poem

-Grouis-

Getting a Head for Heights by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[T, 3k, Louis/Greg James, uni au, size difference, pining, flirting, sharing clothes, kissing, I could scream I loved this so much! so so cute!]

The problem is, Louis thinks Greg would be quite good to date, so it would really help if everyone would stop reminding him of that fact so he could unthink it.

-Zaynshaw-

Long Shot by @fallinglikethis

[G, 816 words, Zayn/Nick Grimshaw, strangers to lovers, pub, Nick's birthday, drinking, well Nick's friends are crap but love how Zayn pulls him heh]

When Nick's friends throw him a birthday party in a pub and invite his ex, Nick wants nothing to do with any of it.

-Zouis-

Reduce, Recycle, … remove? by @reminiscingintherain

[G, 611 words, Zayn/Louis, neighbors, teacher Louis, artist Zayn implied, open ending, this is the rare pair jackpot tbh]

When someone’s nicking recycling out of the rubbish bins, who’s going to take them to task?

[siremasterlawrence]

Formulating A Family 101

It is not like the rumors that have been on fire spreading out of control around the campus grounds.

It’s not my fault that my plan works way too well or that my love potion is at hundred percent accuracy.

Oh well! I had to create something over the top spectacular for my Grad school senior thesis project.

My professor has figuratively been up my ass constantly harassing me about its new contents.

Unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you see it my discovery went flat till I accidentally made a new substance.

I found this rather weird, slimy green goo on the street of my building as I pass it by my feet stopped.

I felt called to it even though I am at the time uninterested and yet soon after it is under my microscope.

I place a piece on the slide transporting it to under the lens checking out if’s properties.

I did not mean to but once I finish my hand hit sending it flying in to a boiling test tube of my formula.

I quick race out of my room turning off the burner to fetch some paper when my professor reveals himself.

Hidden behind the door he walks over to the

vile inhaling a bit unintentionally his whole body froze.

I return to the room to see him mindlessly in a state of shock, slowly I make my way till I am inches away.

“Professor Kent are you ok?”

“Yes”

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I came to see you “

“Did you? Of course you did “

“Asshole…oops I am so sorry”

“I am a asshole”

“What the fuck?”

“Professor Kent, I need your help”

“Of course “

“What can I do”

“You see that vile, drink it and tell me how you feel.”

Automatically he comes to life reaching for it and gulps it down in mere seconds like a professional.

I can see no change in is demeanor prompts me to almost give up when he turns to face me.

His serious expression grows in to a happy face, wide smile and look of newly found love.

I am bit scared at his approach till he grabs my hands in his kissing them as he falls to his knees.

“What are you doing Professor…”

“Call me Kent”

“What may I call you?”

“Master Lawrence “

“Yes, Master Lawrence “

“Ok then, why the hell not”

“Can I have your wife?..”

“If it pleases you but I wish you prefer me.”

“Oh! I want you both”

“Very well, we are yours”

“By the way, change all my grades to A”

“Highest marks in the class”

“Naturally, you are my love”

Taking a cue I take in his sent sitting in utter delight at my victory of this sexy man in my arms.

He leans in to kiss me his cellphone lost in his side pocket vibrating incessantly is turn off.

His wife can wait apparently as he kisses me even more letting my love potential take root.

He becomes extremely handsy feeling me up so desperate to have air or water for the first time.

“Oh my !”

“Master “

“Handsy are we?”

“How could I not be”

“I love you “

“We better get out of here Master”

“Agreed, clean up and meet me in the parking lot.”

“Hi Master”

“Where can I take you?”

“I want to see your home”

“My wife will love you”

“She has no choice “

The drive is long about a hour or so I can tell with the constant radio announcements on the air.

He parks in the driveway opening the door for me, opening the front door to the house and his wife is pissed.

He looks to me with a signal moving forward he kisses his wife then shoves her on to my lips.

She tries to resist for the longest till the last of my potion slips from my lips to hers and she is mine.

I smirk seeing the change in her vile facial expression she leaps on to my in total love and obedience.

I send her to sleep in the guest room and not to wake up till morning at my orders.

“Clark you and wife are not on the same wave length for once.”

“You both feel utter devotion and love for me.”

“You are my slaves”

“I only have one question “

“When you move in Master Lawrence?”

The end

More coming soon

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 2

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a pretentious ass - that's the only way you could possibly explain the man. That being said, you needed a job to help pay for grad school, and the position of being his TA was the only thing available. You'll suck it up and deal with it, but the last thing you'll do is let this man get inside your head in the process.

WC: 1131

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: laszlo is very to the point with his expectations.

🧠

Monday morning came too quickly. There was no need to dress super professionally as a TA, but you still found that you wanted to at least look presentable on your first day with the devil himself. One less thing for him to judge you on, right?

The hall in the Psychology wing was quiet, only a few students could be seen shuffling to their early morning classes. A tall guy walked past you, offering up a pity-smile in your direction as he saw where you stood. If what you had seen on the professor over the weekend was any real indication, you felt bad for the psych majors. Even so, you would do your best to withhold judgement until you met the man.

You stood outside his office. The dark mahogany door was shut, a gold “Dr. L Kreizler” placard adorned the wood. Pulling out your phone you check the schedule for the tenth time this morning.

Schedule:

MWF 8am-12pm

TTH 3pm-7pm

You lick your lips and look at the clock on the wall - 7:59. The second the hands switch to 8 you knock on the heavy wood. There is a muffled “come in” from the other side.

You don’t know what you anticipated as you entered the office. Taking a minute, you examine the decor he has set up. It felt like walking through a time capsule; as though you were transported to the gilded age. Rich, dark colors of wood and tapestry filled the space. Large bookshelves had tomes that looked to be at least a hundred years old, well worn and rubbed off of their titles. Small artifacts, pictures, and old scientific instruments line the shelves. The room is massive, not something you would have anticipated. He does not use the fluorescent overhead lights, instead having a series of tall warm-toned lamps scattered around the room. There is even a couch along the back wall, decorated with swirling filigree carved into the arms and legs. A laptop and second monitor on his desk bring you back to reality.

In your admiration of the office you pay no mind to the man it belongs to. Finally, you notice him as he stares at you from his chair, looking annoyed at having to wait for your introduction.

Even with the less than pleased look he’s giving, you can’t help but notice how attractive the man is. The picture had done absolutely nothing to show off the depth in those brown eyes, the softness of the delicately styled hair, the fullness of his well-groomed beard. He was much younger than you anticipated too. If anything you figure he’s maybe early 40s. And fuck, he’s just your type. Too bad he’s an asshole… and your boss…. you think belatedly.

“Oh! Sorry, um, I’m the new TA,” you introduce yourself and tell him your name. “It’s very nice to meet you professor.” You reach out to shake his hand. He does not move to return the favor, but instead keeps his calculating eyes on you. The silence tics on as you wait, hand outstretched. Clearing your throat you drop it back to your side.

Finally, he speaks in an accented voice. “You may call me Dr. Kreizler. I have space for you there,” he gestures with a nod of his head to a desk in the corner. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a list of expectations for you. Should you have any questions or concerns I expect that you address them with me directly. You’ll note that I have included my personal number for work purposes only. I expect you to provide me with your own should I need you outside of contract hours. Do not contact me while you are intoxicated or you will be dismissed from this position.” To the point then, you blink at his directness. And presumptuous as hell to assume that you would even consider drunk texting him.

He briefly explains your role and clarifies some of the less detailed points on his list. The entire time he’s speaking his focus is on whatever work sits in front of him, not you. A beat passes once he’s done.

“Sounds great, thank you.” You had done your best to remain civil and polite, ignoring the ill-reviews in hopes to create your own opinion. Quite frankly, he wasn’t faring well so far.

He looks up at you; his eyes are piercing. Does he always look like he’s picking apart people like they are a specimen he’s studying?

“I suspect you have done your research on who I am, yet you are still present today. That is promising. But tell me, who are you?” he asks, sitting back in his chair.

You’ve never been good at talking about yourself when put on the spot. “Well I’m 26 years old, I graduated magna cum laude with a dual degree in history and political science. The last few years I’ve been working with the graduate studies program to get my doctorate in history. My thesis is on 1960s shifting cultural norms and the development and impact of countercultures on American society.”

“Have you considered the emerging role of sequence murderers in your studies?” He almost looks interested as he asks.

“Some, not as much as I would like yet, though. I suppose a perk of taking this position means you can give me some insight on that since you teach about it.” You give a little smile-shrug, hoping the statement will earn you some points with him.

He ignores it. “And what background in psychology do you have? Or do you even have any?”

You are a bit taken aback by his tone. “I took an introductory course with Professor Stratton during my undergrad years.”

“Hmm. That will have to suffice. In the meantime I would suggest you make haste with the reading I’ve left you. It’s best you spend this week with that so you can be most useful to me this semester.”

Looking through all the contents he’s left on your desk you see two books, a textbook, a few slide show print outs, and his syllabi - each marked up with his cursive and colored tabs to mark pages of importance. Sitting down, you give an inaudible sigh; this is going to be a long semester. You pick up the first syllabus and get to work.

Noon rolls around after what feels like a lifetime. Packing up all the materials he’s provided, you wish him a good afternoon. As you are walking through the door he calls out to you.

“Next time, do not be late.” You give him a confused look, seeing as you got there exactly at 8am. “On time is late,” he explains curtly.

“Noted.” You don’t catch the door as it all but slams closed.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[lovelylogans]

a good regular quarrel

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: bickering, mention of flooding, let me know if i missed any!

pairings: logan/virgil

word count: 1,435

notes: this is for @analogicalweek and today’s prompt was rain/library. this serves as a prequel to one of my previous analogical week fics (as all of my analogical week fics this year will be attached to a previous analogical week fic) called “a good regular quarrel.” i hope you enjoy!

⁂

Logan, scowling, looks over his glasses at the flood of students careening into the library, presumably to escape the sudden deluge of the late summer thunderstorm. Honestly, why hadn't any of them packed umbrellas, or worn their raincoats and rainboots? The local news and several popular weather apps have been predicting rain today since Monday. 

But no; a flood of college undergrads, here to disrupt Logan's latest work session for his thesis. Simply the last thing he needed.

Logan stands, eager to escape the noise that's starting to pitch upwards, even though the poor front desk librarians are trying to shush all the incomers. He gathers his raincoat over his arm, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and makes his way back to where he'd been before needing to grab a reference; one of his most common of his secret study spots. He'd have to go quickly, before some lucky freshman stumbles across his lovely little couch and drips all over it.

It's deeper into the library, near the sciences section, but close enough to the general populace that he could still smell the coffee emanating from the café that's just across from the history section; a two-seater couch, tucked perfectly into a corner, with a table in front of it and an end table on either side. It's absolutely perfect, and—

And there's some hoodied man making for it.

Logan's eyes narrow. Well, that certainly won't do. He's the one who sits in this place three days of the week. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the man pick up his pace in response to Logan picking up his pace, and—

They both crash into the couch, like a pair of children warring for the last seat during musical chairs, and Logan grunts "Oh!" as the hoodied man drives an elbow into his ribs.

"Fuck, sorry," the man says, scrambling out of the way, but not, Logan notices, entirely off of his couch. 

"I didn't mean—it's just that this is usually my spot, so—"

"What do you mean, your spot?" Logan says, affronted despite himself. "It's my usual spot."

The man has since somewhat pushed his damp, raindrop-speckled hoodie off his forehead, revealing a flop of black hair that falls over his pale forehead, his dark eyes intense and staring Logan down in a way that's quite focus Logan this is the enemy.

"What do you mean, yours?" the man says. "I sit here at least twice a week! After every discussion hour, this is where I come to unwind, because usually no one else is here!"

"Well, I sit here three—" Logan begins heatedly, before he frowns. "Tuesdays/Thursdays?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" the man says, before he thumps his forehead with his hand. "Mondays/Wednesdays/Fridays, then."

"I come here after every chemistry lecture," Logan tells him primly. "So I suppose if we're going based on frequency of claim, I'd win."

The man scoffs. "I'm a grad student, so I'd have seniority."

"So am I," Logan argues. "I come here after every chemistry lecture. That I TA. If we're both grad students, then seniority is out."

"Well, it's Thursday," the man says. "So if we're going based on schedules, then I have first claim today."

"But I was here first," Logan complains.

The man shakes his head. 

"I was!" Logan insists, holding his book aloft. "The only reason I left is because I needed to grab a reference for my thesis—"

"If you're not usually here Tuesday/Thursdays, then—"

"My class was canceled," Logan says, gesturing vaguely to the ceiling, where he can easily hear the rain pounding down on the roof. "My professor lives near the river. It's flooded onto the road."

"Tough," the man says, not unsympathetic to Professor Lehman's plight. "Why aren't you home, then?"

"I live off-campus," Logan says. "And I have a lab in—" he checks his watch, "an hour and thirteen minutes. Wouldn't be worth the time slogging through all this just to be at home for five minutes then turn around to come right back."

The man eases. "So you'll be gone in an hour?"

"Approximately," Logan says, because it sounds more normal than saying the walk to class usually takes seven minutes in fair weather, and I like to be there five minutes early, so I'd have to calculate for not using my usual paths which are sure to be muddy today. 

"Okay, fine," the man says, and scoots all the way to one end of the couch. "It's not like there isn't space for both of us."

Logan hesitates.

The man rolls his eyes. "Am I so dreadful that you won't make it an hour?"

"No," Logan says, grudgingly, easing back into what is apparently his designated corner. Never mind the fact that he usually sits in this corner anyways. It's the principle of the thing. 

"And I need the table," Logan adds. "For my computer, and my book."

"Fine, as long as I can snag one of the outlets," the man says. 

"Fine."

"Fine," the man repeats, and turns to get something out of his backpack.

Logan takes the outlet that has the most reliable charge. The other one's shocked him on occasion, when he'd been removing his laptop charger. Not reliably enough to make a report to library staff, but at least a handful of times.

Logan gets his book, setting it beside his laptop.

"What do you study?" He asks, stiff and prim, aware that he probably should have opened with that rather than bickering with him about seniority and scheduling. He'd probably ask it of anyone, let alone handsome men who have an infuriating habit of refusing to just move for an hour.

"...Classics," the man says. "Philology."

"Engineering," Logan returns. "Biochemical engineering."

The man whistles low, seemingly impressed—well, he’d be right to be, biochemical engineering is very complex and therefore a graduate degree in it is very impressive—and cracks open a book. 

Logan blinks at the cover in surprise, wondering if his glasses are dirtier than he’d thought, before he realizes the book isn’t written in English, nor any Romance language; Logan isn’t familiar enough with languages to say definitively which one it is.

Logan takes that to mean that small talk is over, and he turns to pay attention to his own reading—a reference, where he’s hoping to find some of the more esoteric ideas on Mendelian inheritance. 

After some time, Logan has to admit, grudgingly, that the not-hoodied man is a decent enough study-area partner; he glowers at a gaggle of noisy undergrads who quickly change their minds about sitting at a nearby table.

He doesn’t inch too close or sprawl too widely, leaving them both equal amounts of space on their couch. 

He even lends Logan a pen. A nice pen, too, a ballpoint one that writes smoothly in his notebook. A pen that Logan would probably never lend to a stranger, and, therefore, Logan’s quite flattered. If it were him, he would have to think very highly of this person to lend them this caliber of pen.

He is, mostly, absorbed in his book, and his sense of quiet has an oddly calming, focusing quality; Logan finds himself very easily hitting a stride in jotting down notes from this reference book and cross-examining them with his earlier speculations on how this could fit into his own research.

And then Logan’s phone buzzes against his thigh, and he glances at it, only to arch his eyebrows in surprise.

It’s time to head for class.

Logan closes his laptop and unplugs his charger, starting the careful process of winding the cable back up so it doesn’t tangle over itself in his backpack. Most days, he’s only moderately successful in this endeavor.

“Heading out?” The hoodied man says.

“Yes,” Logan says, pronouncing his efforts good and placing his charger into its designated pocket. He offers the pen back to him.

“Thanks,” he says, tucking it into his pencil bag. 

“Thank you,” Logan returns. He makes sure he hasn’t left anything behind—all there is is the reference book, which he’ll set in a cart for a librarian to shelve on his way out—and stands up.

"Goodbye," Logan says, and falters. How have they been sitting here an hour and not once asked each other's names?

"Virgil," the man—Virgil—says. "Virgil Myung. Goodbye, then...?"

"Logan," he returns, sticking out his hand. “Logan Holloway.”

Virgil shakes it, his square palm fitting neatly against Logan's, his fingers squeezing briefly. Logan returns it, pulling back, and walks to class, trying not to think of him too much, but—

His hand had been very warm.

[binniesthighs]

i loveeee your first write abt Jisung omgggg he is like one of my BIGGEST bias wrecker of all time so i was like WOAH THERE,,,, and i was so hooked on your writings i wanna see more 👀 if you have free time can i please ask for a Jeonghan smut where he is your rival in everything let's say at school and u didn't actually like him at first but he kinda flirts and idk I'm just so into Jeonghan's cocky behavior these daysss he's making me feel thiiiiiiingsssss 😩❤️

ahh thank you anon you are so so sweet! ♡ I’m so happy that you liked my Jisung stuff! I love writing for that boy hehe and thank you so much for requesting love!! this is my first seventeen ask I’m so so excited to write more of them in the future! my brain really took this one and rannnn with it, it ended up a bit harder than I intended, I hope that’s okay and I hope that you enjoy it!

what i want most |reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: lil bit of smut, lil bit of angst

Tags: harddom!jeonghan, bratty!reader, enemies (competitors) to lovers, college au, jeonghan being our fave cocky boy, bestfriend!seungcheol, mentions of school work, slow-ish burn, masturbation (reader), use of degrading names, dumification, hook-up, choking, marking, spanking, facefucking, gagging, use of safe symbols, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex, sex in a study room

Word count: 4k

Someone told you once long ago that hate is a strong word. Apparently, they had never experienced loathing before. To you, hate always seemed to be something playful, something a little teasing. When your best friends would mock you for the most insignificant things, you would say “cut that shit out. You know that I hate you right?”

Loathing is much more fun. Loathing holds more of an edge. Loathing keeps you up at night, and lingers in your mind. Loathing digs into your skin like a papercut, coming back to sting later when you stretch your skin. Loathing made you feel all twisted up inside. This one super-massive emotion is one that clings to you and makes you jealous and irritable, and the best of all, competitive.

You don’t know what you would be without loathing...if not for him.

But as much as you loathed him, he was the perfect elixir of sugar-coated poison.  

He kept you up at night. He lingered in your mind.

Everything about you, he had to do too. You didn’t know at this point if it was some kind of joke, or that the two of you had miraculously been crafted to be just that similar.

Since the day that you had met him three years ago in undergrad, there wasn’t one class that the two of you didn’t share. Every single job that you applied to, he would apply to as well. Each professor that you would introduce yourself to, the next day he would be cozied up next to them talking about some kind of bullshit and pretended to care about their personal lives. He even chose the exact same grad program as you.

When the two of you graduated, it was him who sucked in his lip, never breaking with your eyes when he received higher honors than you. He probably loathed you too.

That would keep you up at night too.

There were other things about him as well that would creep into the corners of your sleep deprived brain. You would stare into the darkness of your room, eyes glued to the ceiling with your mind exploring shameless answers.

During these dark nights, your hand would absentmindedly cascade down your body, snaking your fingers down the soft of your skin. Behind your eyes, it was him sending shivers down your body. It was his lithe fingers, not yours, that would reach down to your aching sex to pleasure you into all the fantasies that only remained within the confines of your own mind. Before you would climax, it was his name that you whispered out into the air, not even knowing that you did.

“Jeonghan.”

•·················•·················•

“Are you going to finish that, or what?”

Seungcheol rummaged around your bag of chips that were barely touched.

Your highlighter skimmed over your page, you twisted the writing utensils around in your hand to scratch down a note with your pen. Truthfully, you hadn’t heard him.

“...I mean, if you don’t, I will. Can’t let stuff like this go to waste.” He held the bag in his lap, happily crunching away and tapping his foot a little.

“--Can you chew quieter?”

“...Me?”

“Yes, you.” You bopped him softly on top of his wavy caramel hair with your marked up article.

Seungcheol cringed and rubbed the top of his head as if you had hit him with something much denser than a stack of paper.

“In my defense, there isn’t really a quiet way to eat chips.” He popped another one in. “Are you gonna be done soon? It’s too...still out here.”

“You’re the one that suggested coming here!”

His puppy-like face turned combative. “I did!...only because I think it’s pretty though.” Your friend shied away, trying to uphold his promise of “chewing quieter,” and subsequently failing.

He wasn’t wrong however, the courtyard in the middle of the library was very pretty, and you had been glad that he had suggested the two of you take lunch there. Inside the square shaped yard, a few trees had been planted with low swaying branches of little oval shaped leaves. There were hedges and a myriad of flowering plants with petals that were pink or yellow or purple. Somehow the little square was untouched by sound, save for a couple songbirds. Had you not a copious amount of work to take care of, you would have admired it all for hours.

“--And to answer your question, no, I will not be done soon. Sorry. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Seungcheol cooly threw one of his arms over the silver outdoor chair next to him, shaking you off. “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything else that I really wanna be doing right now.”

“--Your thesis maybe?” You crashed your knee into his under the table and threw him a teasing smirk.

“I said, anything that I want to do.”

You nabbed one of your chips back. “Suit yourself then.”

The door to the courtyard clicked, followed by the creak of the old library door. Such a metallic sound stole the tranquility of the whole space.

“Y/n.”

Jeonghan came floating behind you, dressed in his usual attire: some type of glamorous pairing of dress pants and a button down as well as shoes that looked as if they had just been shined. He wore some kind of cologne that draped after him with a dizzying type of efflorescence. Everything about him was meticulously planned, down to the few purposefully unkempt strands of chocolate brown hair on his forehead.

He craned his neck a little to see your messy scribbles.

“You’re reading Nebasifu?”

Jeonghan leaned over you, tracing a finger over the neon orange highlights you had made. He shocked you with how close he had let himself get to you, practically encapsulating you in his arms. You found yourself staring into his neck, that floral scent forcibly permeating your air.

“Hmm.”

He hummed as he read over your notes. “Interesting conclusions right? The fact that in governance we create more problems when trying to solves the ones we have already made? It’s all so circular isn’t it?”

Your sweating palm crunched the paper out from under his fingertips.

“--Really interesting. I’d like to finish it...if you please.” While your words were polite, but they still bit.

“I can recommend more similar readings if you’re interested?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

“If it doesn’t make sense, you can always reach out, we can talk it through...I’ve found that discussing--”

“--I said that I’m fine. Nice talking to you Jeonghan.” You cast your eyes down to your paper and attempt to slow your viciously beating chest.

fucking leave. You pleaded, knuckles turning white around your pen.

“Alright then. See you later.” He straightened his glasses upon his nose bridge. “I look forward to hearing what you have to say about the topics later.”

He swept his hand lightly across your back. It was the most fleeting of gestures, but your entire body froze from it.  

Jeonghan situated himself at one of the benches and drew out a book. He sat in the direct beams of the afternoon sun. The brown wisps of hair that hit the light looked nearly golden. You loathed that he was breathtaking without even really trying.

Seungcheol grinded his teeth, muttering out, “Fucking creep. He can’t talk to you like that.” Even quieter, “I’ll take him out for you if you want me to.”

You stifled a laugh. You couldn’t help your eyes which would flutter over to him like it was forbidden.

“No, don’t do that. But thank you ‘Cheol.”

“I’ll do it! I swear...”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan had a terrible habit. Not like it was particularly distracting, it was just something that you had taken notice of. From where you would sit nearly across the room from him, he would remove his glasses, then rest one of the temple tips between his lips. Sometimes, the click of his teeth would meet the plastic. It was a simple action, but the way that the little curve would rest on the pink of his lips made your mind wonder...the poison that would leave those same lips couldn’t have been real; not when they looked so sweet.

“--anyone want to share what they got out of the readings and case studies? What can we learn about our interference and the sovereignty of other states?”

You were only partially paying attention when Jeonghan silently rose his hand.

“I think that Y/n had a particularly interesting oponion on this. We were discussing this previously.” He curved his body around to meet your eyes which had already been inspecting him.

With an expectant crossing of his arms, your professor approached your desk. “Y/n?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you, but Jeonghan’s burned with the hottest flame.

You took your shaking hands into your lap, then gave your oponion as eloquently as you could, swallowing down your nerves. As usual, you were perfectly well spoken, as you knew you were. The professor nodded along with each point of your argument.

“--Very well articulated Y/n. And your counterpoints are provoking as well.” He finally turned to pace away. “Would anyone like to expand?”

Your professor’s body mass moved, revealing Jeonghan’s nearly sinful prideful smile. It was like he had given you a test, and you had passed magnificently. With the cock of his head, he mouthed,

“that was lovely.”

“I’d like to expand.” He piped, removing his glasses. Just as he always would, he tapped them between his lips, letting the skin fall a little by them. You had noticed it before, but they were smooth and plump. “I think that Y/n is correct...in many ways, but some points are a bit misguided, I would argue....”

•·················•·················•

[09:23 pm]

cheol: you coming back anytime soon?  i can’t believe you’re doing this to me on a friday. is it really that serious?

[09:26 pm]

me: need I remind you that you should probably be here with me? thesis papers don’t write themselves.

cheol: and I should remind YOU that we literally just got off break? they aren’t due for months.

i know what you’re trying to prove.

it’s not worth it.

what does that asshole have over you?

“--Shouldn’t you be back at home with that golden retriever of yours?”

Jeonghan’s pen tapped at your table, white sleeves rolled up. The day had taken it’s toll on him. The bags under his eyes proved that even someone as picturesque as him could still be effected by your long days. Nevertheless disheveled, he was just as alluring.

“And shouldn’t you be flirting with one of your students?” You clicked your phone off.

“Cute. Luckily I’m not one of the desperate ones starving for the attention of the little undergrads. That's a different kind of pathetic.”

“Hmmm. I just thought that it was the attention that you were after.” Heat rose to your ears while you breathed your beating heart down.

"Who doesn’t like attention? Especially if it’s from the right people...speaking of undergrads...”

Jeonghan’s slender neck twisted to eye the obnoxious group of students huddled up on a table, giggling and making a mess of their snacks.

“You’re studying out here? I can’t even--”

“--I appreciate the concern, but you’re not helping my focus either.”

“Am I...distracting you?” Jeonghan swept his warm brown hair to the side with the cock of his eyebrow.

You shook out a sigh. “Yes.”

“You don’t have an office?”

“Department didn’t have any more.”

“I’ve got a study room that I host study sessions in. You want to use it?”

“You’re offering to help me?”

“Listen, I know how hard our program can be, and I appreciate how hard you work. You deserve a quiet place to work.”

“Are you complimenting me?”

“Don’t make me change my mind...and what would I do if the competition suddenly dropped out?” He tapped the table with his fingertips. “That wouldn’t be very much fun.”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan’s study room was simple, just like all the others in the library. It was stark, white, the tables were a bit banged up and the white board was riddled with little ink remnants. There were glass windows nearly everywhere so you could overlook both the outdoors and the rest of the library on the opposite wall. As the two of you entered, he calmly closed all the blinds.

“No distractions right?” He looked back to you.

“...do you have something that you need to get done too?”

“Not really. I’ve submitted a good chunk of my thesis for review.”

Of course he had.

“I’m just waiting to hear back.”

He crossed the room to sit directly next to you, slinging his legs up on the table and taking out that same book from earlier: it had some pretentious title that you had never heard of before.

“Don’t mind me.” He chided your straying eyes. “I’m only staying to lock the door after you.”

“I-I’m not...” Your eyes feel back to your computer and you typed at your keyboard just to fill the sound of the quiet room.

Sitting this close to you, you could smell that dizzyingly sweet smell of his again.

You loathed him for the way that he could be doing nothing and you could be enthralled in merely that.

Jeonghan’s eyes didn’t leave his page. “The more that you look at me, the less you’re working.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I guess I’m more distracting than I thought.”

Furious heat rose from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your ears.

“What the hell do you get off on?” You spat.

He calmly placed his book on the table. “What are you referring to?”

“For the past three years, you haven’t left me alone for a single second, you-you always do everything that I do like you’re on some kind of sick quest to prove that you’re better than me, better than anyone else--”

“--You think that I’m copying you?”

“Wha-what else would you be doing?”

“--Getting an education? God, you think that I’m the attention whore, aren’t you hearing yourself?? You must think that I’m obsessed with you.”

“What is it then? A superiority complex so fucking huge--”

“--You’re asking what it is that I want?”

You nodded back with heaving breaths.

“What I get off on? Well...” Jeonghan chuckled a little and raked his hands through his brown strands. “You don’t deserve to know. But there is one thing that I’ve wanted for a while that I haven’t been able to get my hands on. I suppose that’s what I want most.”

“And that is?”

Tentatively, he rose his hand nearer to you, saying nothing, his aura shifting from cocky to intrigued. At first, his fingers traced over the skin of your hand as if he was drawing little pictures into it. After he brushed his hand up your arm to weave a little strand of your hair around his fingers.

“I said you don’t deserve to know.”

You must have been in a daze; some kind of waking intoxication before your thoughts could catch up with your actions. It was almost as if you weren’t thinking anything at all, but where acting on prime instinct. Your whole body screamed with utter frustration: every word that he spoke to you make you loathe him even more, you wouldn’t ever let him get away with it.

There was something that you too wanted most, no matter how abhorrent it was.

Your thighs squeezed into his sides where you had straddled him in his chair, holding on to him so tightly it hurt your muscles. The haste on your lips on his was messy and hot, a smearing of skin and teeth crashing together with fury, tongues rolling off eachother with an undeniable hunger. His arms didn’t wrap around you but rather clawed in your hair, pulling slightly at the roots while he pulled you in impossibly close. The mixing of your gasping breaths together where whiny and yearning. As he kissed into you, his lips curled into a devilish smile.

In your arousal, you shoved your hips into his lap, grinding down into your excitement and seeking some from him. To your surprise, you could feel his hardening dick which only made you weaker. All the hundreds of little fantasies that you had held so secret started to dance in your mind; your darkest thoughts pleaded for him to destroy you, to ravage you, just as you had imagined.

Jeonghan’s lips tore from your own which he had worked until they were swollen. He mouthed down your jaw to your neck, sucking at the skin with no chance of mercy, he pulled and sucked until you could only pathetically beg for him to slow down for fear of him breaking the skin.

He stopped immediately to pull your shirt over your head and pick up his work there. The wet of his gorgeously plump lips on your skin was as perfect as you had imagined and it sent shivers echoing through all your limbs.

“Jeong-Jeonghan--”

This time you perfectly aware that it was indeed his name that would escaping off your tongue.

“You dumb slut, you thought I didn’t know that you wanted me?”

“You-you want me too?”

Jeonghan worked at the buttons on your pants.

“Wanting implies that I like you. What I want most is to make you my toy. There’s a difference.”

You mumbled out the words knowing exactly how he would take them. “I’m not a fucking toy.”

Jeonghan tsked and unbuttoned his own shirt. “You don’t get to decide that.”

You drew your fingers down his model-like toned chest, marveling in the pink lines. Jeonghan grunted in response, taking you by the underside of your thighs to throw you down on your back against the hard plastic. Once he had the chance, he ridded you of your bottoms, running his hands up your inner legs to send you reeling. For a couple seconds, you could have sworn that he had stopped to admire your body, but he wouldn’t let you tell too easily.

“That door isn’t locked.”

“What? Are you scared that someone could walk in? Scared to for someone to see you all splayed out like this?” He rose to kiss up your stomach and up to your nipples. He flicked them between his fingers. “To have someone see me making a wreck of you?”

“N-no.”

With saliva drying on your sensitive buds, they turned hard in seconds when they met the air. Jeonghan wasn’t hesitant to pull at them with his teeth slightly, making you whine for him even more.

“What should I do to you first?”

One of his hands trickled down your body to palm at your quivering sex, slick with your excitement for him and aching for the smallest of touches.

“You want it that bad? Stupid whore.”

Your hand ventured down to tease at his own dick over the fabric of his slacks.

“You want it that bad?”

“Get off.” He growled at you, then took you by the arms to jerk you off of the table and onto your knees at the floor. Under your knees, the burn of the carpet stung. His belt buckle jingled a little as he hooked a finger in to remove it. Afterword, he shook his pants off followed by his briefs, springing loose his twitching member with the tip pink. He combed his fingers through your hair while he tapped his dick against your lips.

“Fucking take it.”

You would have fought him on it, but you succumbed out of your pure curiosity over his girth.

At first, you coaxed him into your mouth, not going in too deep as you were fearful about his length. Regardless, you took him in as best as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and throat, sucking with your lips and grabbing at his legs.

Jeonghan hissed out a sigh, letting himself fall further into the warmth of your mouth. He pushed at your head slightly, bringing you in just deep enough to trigger your gag reflex.

“Mmm there you go.” He cooed.

You kept going as he liked it, gradually working up in pace while it got a bit harder and harder for you to catch your breath.

“That’s as deep as you can go? Can’t even take a dick into your throat?”

His grip on your head tightened.

Jeonghan whispered, “Squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.” before helping your head all the way down, causing you to gag even harder and for tears to well in your eyes. “That’s more like it.”

He continued guiding your head, and slobber started to form around your mouth You felt so weak and pliable around him, he was thankless aside from the tiny moans he would let escape past his lips for you.

Usable as you felt, it was still a deliciously addictive feeling.  

All at once, he tore out of your mouth to bring you back up to your feet. In seconds he had turned you around to bend over the plastic tabletop, elbows digging into the cool surface. By now, you were practically dripping for him with knees and legs weak from kneeling. He kicked your legs open farther, gifting your ass a piercing slap that stung, then another followed after.

“Hungry for my cock, hmm?”

He teased your entrance without warning, sending your body crumbling over the table into a mess of whimpers and curses clenched behind your teeth. His lithe fingers were your fantasy come to life.

“I-I can’t wait any longer...” You urged him on.

Jeonghan pushed your face into the table then slid his fingers above to curl around your neck. He encircled around the skin slowly, then dug in to close your airway. You choked out desperate little sounds, then he entered you carefully, making sure that you felt every part of him.

“Hmm. Pretty...” He allowed you. Even though it was just one word of praise, you reveled in it.

His pale fingers choked you harder for a few more seconds until he properly got his pace inside of you, letting go to hold you by your waist. Once again, he clapped his hand into your skin as he fucked into you. All you could manage to do with your hands was claw helplessly at the smooth tabletop seeking some kind of balance that was nowhere to be found. He grazed the deepest and most sensitive spot within you and you felt yourself nearly reaching your climax.

“I-is that all that you can do?” You turned his confidence back against him, spurring him on just as you had wanted. He snapped his hips even faster, groaning out as he neared his release.

“My pretty little fucktoy. You’re all mine? Got it?”

Jeonghan leaned over your back to pant the words into your ear.

“Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m...” Your focus was scrambled as your orgasm pooled within.

“I’m yours...your...pretty-mm-fucktoy.”

Jeonghan came inside of you with white heat, pulsating forcefully, with you following soon after while he milked himself with your walls. Even as you still came down, he rolled his hips into you over and over until your whole body was shaking helplessly.

“That’s right.” He pulled out, then pulled your legs apart to watch his cum fall out of your hole.

Jeonghan laughed to himself, “Thank you for giving me what I wanted.”

[mickisketch]

Chasing the Vortex: Chapter 13 Teaser!

A Collaboration with @fawn-eyed-girl and @neutronstarchild

Can you believe it? This is the very last chapter coming up on tuesday! I’m superproup of the work we’ve all done for this story, and personally think it turned out great 😏

I hope you’ve all enjoyed Inuyasha and Kagome’s journey, and if you need to catch up on it, here’s the link!

And for the teasers for this weeks chapter and art... go below the cut! 😘

Dr. Inuyasha Taisho.

Was this really happening? Was he really becoming a doctor? The tear-sprinkled eyes of his advisor told him that yes, this really was happening. Yes, this wasn’t a dream.

He’d written his thesis on Modernizing Techniques for Better Tornado Predictions: On the Ground and in the Lab to Earlier Warning Systems. (Totosai had suggested that title, Kagome had liked it). And he’d given it to his thesis committee, who had enthusiastically endorsed it, and he’d gone to the grumpy margin lady to confirm that his margins were all fine, and now… Totosai was about to hood him. He was about to be Dr. Taisho, a half-demon, and the first in his family to be able to tell people to call him doctor.

Better than the feel of the heavy satin fabric that Totosai had launched over his head though were the sparkling stormy gray eyes of the woman applauding for him as it happened. Kagome Higurashi. The woman who crashed into his life and made him want to live it again.

He hadn’t understood how everything except for tornadoes had faded to black in his life. Kikyo’s departure had focused him on the only anchor he had: tornadoes, to the exclusion of everything else. Kagome was what brought color back, and not only that, Kagome was what made him want to look around him and experience the colors of life again.

After that wonderful—life-changing, really—week, when he had to say goodbye, Inuyasha had been so fucking close to calling Totosai and dropping out, then moving to Chicago to be with her.

Then there she was, in his arms, tears in her eyes before he made his way back to Norman, telling him she figured it all out. To go home, and to wait for her. It hadn’t made that goodbye any fucking easier, but it softened the blow enough to get him home. And it wasn’t even 24 hours later that he was getting a phone call from Totosai about writing a little blurb about Hakurei needing a media person, a grad student preferably. A position that was custom-made for one Kagome Higurashi.

Because Kagome was coming. Coming to OU, coming to Norman, coming to him.

The worst day of his life had given way to the best year of his life.

From the scent of fresh rain and lilacs invading his nose every night, to the jet of hot water relaxing his muscles (who the fuck knew baths could be so amazing?), to the quiet love-making that soothed their souls after a chase, Inuyasha’s broken heart was whole again. No more Kikyo grief, no more Truth or Consequences guilt.

Hell, given the bulge in his pocket that he couldn’t stop himself from patting, he was ready for so much more.

Doctor Inuyasha Taisho.

Doctor and Mrs. Inuyasha Taisho.

@lavendertwilight89 @sapphirestarxx @smmahamazing @horriblehowlpendragon @mamabearcat @ruddcatha @rootpatterson @liz8080 @myladylyssa @inussunflower @gribed-li i @nartista @dreaming-of-soup @cstorm86 @itzatakahashi @kagometaishostory @thisshipisbananahs @cannibalsforbreakfast @eringobroke @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @bluejay785 @theinuyashareader @wolverine1092 @bluehawaiicat @mcornilliac @cstormsinukagblog @paganaesthetic97 @the-reviewer @dis-gruntled-beast @shnuggletea @mandirox89 @thornedraven @anxietyaardvark @hopidoodle @sailorbabydoll92 @zelink-inukag @nikelaos87 @karina-inuphantom @holi-holy @marak7 @caribmiko @danycontreras90 @redflamesofpassion @kalcia @superpixie42 @goshinote @anisaanisa @alannada @arcprz @clementinesgulag @cookiethewriter​

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 5

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Lets see, gonna make Jonni Deathlock six, gonna make the cleric a Huecuva, the Dragonborn a skeleton warrior, make a wight with the gnome.... I don't think I can make an undead with the big guy but pretty sure Hazlik wants him personally." Gorebash is offended. "I beat the shit out of the witch-slaying sentient hammer that was trying to gank you and all I merit is a Skeleton Warrior! That hurts Nima. I expect CR3 or better or I'm taking my corpse business elsewhere." "I'm not powerful enough to make you a death knight, Sorry." Jonni: "Wow, Hazzy, you need better minions. We should kill her." OOC: Point is, if you can make liches or Death knights, Hazlik's already killed you and written his name over your grad thesis.

Jonni: "NOPE! No fey queens. Not after last time! Well… maybe just a few times…"

“Hey, I need to ask for some magic stuff, but also I need an outfit for a royal dinner. Something that says, I’m an ostentatious adventurer visitor to your lands, but also that I plan to spending this dinner in the cloak room with one or more of the serving maids.”

As it is most gauche to appear before a darklord with a warpick sized hole in the middle of one's chest.

"... This place has made green things seem ominous to me."

"A giant beanstalk, this is the most unique wizard's tower I've ever seen."

On that note you also notice behind the Beanstalk is what seems like a huge lagoon of bubbling green ooze. Edmund leans to the side to get a good look... Several zombies are working tossing corpses into it, as the corpses hit the ooze they dissolve into it. Edmund leans back to get a less good look before knocking.

"Since he hopefully can't hear us, Your boss is kind of a self absorbed egomaniac... if he didn't have so power I'm sure someone would have thrown a brick at him by now." “I know where we can find bricks.” "Supply of Bricks is not the issue, Jonni." “Everyone says that until the revolt starts. Pays to be prepared.”

“That explains it. You’re about the research, your boss is about applied power of dickery.”

“I hung around a magic school once to let the grad students study me for their thesis.”

“Oh, good fascist wizards. Why can’t we kill him again?” "Phenomenal cosmic power."

"Oh crud, the ooze someone merged some of the corpses together and brought them back to life as a new being. At least that is my wild guess as to what happened here." Willow blinks. "Um, this is unprecedented." “Nah, but usually you need lighting and some grave robbing.”

"I mean I grew a toe out of corn." Willow says, "Its not that far fetched."

"You think, therefore you are. Freedom is your right." “Weird, that magic red self driving wagon I met once said something similar.”

"The Elder Brain will deal with you eventually. You will never escape it." “Clan chief told me that the day I stole his mammoth after he found me with his daughter. Pretty sure that loser is still freezing his tiny grimbas off on fuck-stick mountain.”

at supper, to Mama: "I am forbidden from your kitchen for good reason, but I may require your assistance with my culinary dark arts for the feast." Mama gives you a dirty look. "Who are you trying to kill?" "Not kill, on purpose anyway, just a severe enough food coma."

"Yes, I already reminded the others we can't fake our deaths again." "Yeah that only works so often," Sergei says. Edmund lost a perfectly good watch that day.

OOC: THE FUCKING LENG FOLK HAVE UFOS! MOTHER-FUCKERS!

"Plus we owe you for sending the Sullivans our way. That was a well paying job." "Yeah, except I got those fleas on me and hallucinated I was a pawn broker sign. That was a weird afternoon."

As side effect of the dark cookery, Marshal's armor is well-oiled throughout the day, though Mama insists he be kept away from Jonni or pregnant women.

...you can see ominous black clouds of smoke coming from the wagon all that day. The rats and roaches circling it with anticipation. With the occasional black speech of "Double it." Mama comes rushing out after a bit, holding a rag on her face. "That.. is very ominous." “We’re gonna have to cast this back into the fires of its creation eventually.” "Marshal may serve the gods, but when he cooks he's channeling Asmodeus himself." OOC: The meal must be cast into the deep fryers of Mount McDoom. Only there can it be unmade.

Marshal's player: *rolls natural 20 on cooking check* GM: Congradulations, it's edible. Marshal: "It...is done..." "By all that is holy..." The chocolate is so dark, light cannot escape it’s surface. 50 pounds of butter per square inch. OOC: It occurs to me this is basically a more fucked up retelling of Snow White.

“Gor, going with plan C cup. You know what I like if he starts thinking he’s cute by offering choices of rewards.” "Try not to do anything that requires a rescue."

Marshall is clearly trying to spontaneously multiclass into psionics the way he's trying to vaporize Hazlik with his stare.

"I will draw." Hazlik smiles, places the cards before you, then steps the hell back. Jonni pat Edmunds shoulder and shakes his hand. “It’s been okay knowing you. You were one of the least dickish dudes I ever met. And part of a select few I didn’t want to punch in the balls.”

“You will. Briefly. That’s a promise from Jonathana, She Who Makes Torches of Men. Daughter of Eloise Wolf Slayer, outcast of the Mammoth Tribe, and consort of the 37th Princess of Fuck Mountain.“

OOC: Nima is someone we can actively reach to strangle to death. Dark lords are a bit out of choking range.

OOC: But.... and this is important: Will Edmund ever get pants? OOC: Strahd will consider it.

OOC: Like this is the dark powers going "He looked at me crossways, PUT HIM N THE HOLE."

OOC: If Ravenloft is a jail/prison, this is the equivalent of getting thrown in solitary confinement. OOC: Without pants.

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here i analysed polygon’s “unraveled” and bon appetit test kitchen’s “gourmet makes” and i think they are similar and use three key story elements to their success | a 1.9k word long analysis by an unhinged creative writing fresh grad trying desperately to use their degree to connect two dots

If you asked me who my favorite internet celebrities are, I would not hesitate for a second to answer. Brian David Gilbert from Polygon and Claire Saffitz from Bon Appetit Test Kitchen. They’re awesome! They both host popular YouTube webshows about video games and cooking respectively, two things I am terrible at and don’t do very often. And yet I am enraptured by every episode of their shows. Why? How?

My thesis is this: Polygon’s “Unraveled” and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen’s “Gourmet Makes”, while wildly different shows on many levels, are extremely similar in how they use three key story elements very, very, well.

These three story elements are 1) Plot, 2) Character, and 3) FAWWIEOT (it’s an acronym, I’ll explain it later, I promise)

Let me start with the first and most basic story element these two shows wield amazingly: Plot.

Plot is, in simplest terms, what “happens” in a thing. This is what you’ll find on a movie’s Wikipedia page summary, the details of what went down, the events that took place, the things that occurred. There are many different types of plots because there are many different types of stories, but one of the most basic kinds of plots is very clearly illustrated by something called Freytag’s Pyramid.

Freytag’s Pyramid is a very simple plot that is moved forward by a non-negotiable in many, many stories: conflict. All is well, the line is straight, then a challenge arises and things start to escalate. At the climax, a decision or a group of decisions are made that leads to a de-escalation of the conflict, bringing things down until we are back at a flat line and the conflict has been resolved.

Every single episode of Gourmet Makes can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid

Nearly every single episode of Unraveled can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid too (with the exception of some, like a number of the categorization episodes, the Kojima name generator)

I know what you’re thinking. “So what if Gourmet Makes and Unraveled fit on some funky pyramid? What does that mean?” Well, dear reader, it reveals to us just one of three reasons why these shows are so enjoyable.

Freytag’s Pyramid is basic as shit, and yet it is one of the first plot structures taught to fictionists because people, up to this day, like it. Why? Because Freytag’s Pyramid fulfills two very important desires that we, as humans, love. 1) The desire for there to be a problem and 2) the desire for that problem to be resolved. It scratches our eternal itch to want to watch shit go down but doesn’t leave us up on a cliffhanger, it gives us our catharsis.

Gourmet Makes gives you the entertainment of watching Claire struggle with her task. Then Gourmet Makes shows you Claire slowly and surely rising above the challenge (notable in literally every episode of Gourmet Makes). Unraveled makes you watch BDG work himself up into a frenzy trying to do something stupid, but then Unraveled shows the payoff of...of watching BDG do something stupid, but this time towards some kind of resolution (very notable in the latest Unraveled “How to increase your stamina with terrible video game tactics”).

It is clear to me that Gourmet Makes and Unraveled both use plot in a way that gives viewers satisfaction. But what keeps them coming back for more?

Well that leads us to the second story element: Character.

People love Claire Saffitz and BDG.

Don’t believe me? Look through the tags of literally any gifset of either of them. Here, I did it for you. Here’s some tags for Claire:

And here’s some tags for BDG:

It’s pretty obvious to see that these two are well loved, but why? It’s not just because they’re both good looking, it’s because Claire Saffitz and BDG, with how they are presented in their shows, are good characters.

Claire Saffitz in Gourmet Makes isn’t scripted. She brings her own human frustration, determined hard work, and joyous glee to the show and it makes watching the show all the more enjoyable. BDG in Unraveled, however, is scripted, but he brings to the table his chaotic performance and ‘off the shits’ lecturer energy that brings the viewers in. Regardless of their differences, Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are similar when it comes to character because of one thing: they actually have characters.

What am I talking about? Well, for a period of time on the internet, people in the cooking media sphere and the video game media sphere settled for video content that was divorced from who was presenting the information. Videos like the ones from Tasty where everything was filmed top down and you only saw two hands perfectly putting ingredients into a bowl. Videos like the myriad of video game walkthroughs or video essays that are presented only by a disembodied voice who also seems allergic to actually having fun. This is content that hinges on the fact that people like seeing cooking or video games and that the presenter will mostly just be a background thing.

Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon both did not want to succumb to this style of presenting information. They both made the decision to bring their presenters into their video content, highlighting their respective presenters’ personalities, quirks, and styles. This is evident in all of Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon’s video content, not just Gourmet Makes and Unraveled. Do I watch Bon Appetit's show It's Alive because I want to actually make foccacia? No, it's because I love how Brad Leone  mispronounces words and makes me laugh. Did I watch "Fixing Anthem’s boring mech’s with ballsy design" because I actually give a shit about video games? No it's because I love how Pat Gill jokes about fake testicles and also I think he's hot.

The fact that there are actually characters for us on screen to see, makes Gourmet Makes and Unraveled good shit. We’ve got a plot with clear conflict, but that means nothing if there are no personas for us to root for. Gourmet Makes and Unraveled gives us these personas. They give us Claire Saffitz whom we want so desperately to see smile and succeed. They give us Brian David Gilbert whom we want so desperately to see go a little bit crazy. They give us people to connect to, and that often bridges the gap to viewers who honestly don’t give a shit about cooking or video games. Viewers like me who just keep coming back to Gourmet Makes and Unraveled because of the fact that these are characters I care about, these are characters who I want to see smile after finally nailing the recipe or slowly take off their suit as they tell me shit about Zelda I don’t understand.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled utilize plot in a way that makes these webshows satisfying, and they use character in a way that makes these webshows accessible and keeps people invested.

But they go further.

This brings us to our last story element, not exactly a common or rudimentary one, but an important one nonetheless: Fucking Around With What Is Expected Of Them.

(I know there’s probably a legitimate literary term for this, but sue me, quarantine has kept me stuck in my house since March, so I may have forgotten the exact words I learned in class. FAWWIEOT will have to suffice.)

The gist of FAWWIEOT is that stories have been around for fuckin ever, and because of that, there are clear patterns and tropes that stories follow. FAWWIEOT is the recognition of those patterns and tropes, using them, but finding a different outcome or flair to make themselves special, to make themselves stick out. Kinda like when you’ve got a fic on AO3 tagged with ‘friends to lovers’ but also tagged with like, I dunno, something completely random like ‘character is also a dragon’. Use the tropes, but do something different. Give the audience something they already know, then throw in something new to make them remember your content specifically.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled FAWWIEOT (I’m using the acronym like a verb now, this is my post, I’m allowed to) very purposefully using an important technique: Flaws.

The standard trope of a cooking show is the chef easily talking to the camera as they perfectly put the ingredients together. All the food comes out perfect on the first try and everything is heavenly and wonderful. Classic cooking shows like Barefoot Contessa (hosted by Ina Garten) and Everyday Italian (hosted by Giada de Laurentiis) followed this pattern, and it made for good television.

But who fucking watches television these days? Everything is online now, and the internet is vicious. If you aren’t interesting, the internet will throw you out to the gutter. So how did Gourmet Makes set themselves apart?

By showing you that things aren’t perfect after all. Gourmet Makes shows you every trial that Claire tries, they show you her successes, but also her failures. They show you when she gets tired and hopeless, they show you when she bounces back and tries again. Gourmet Makes made a cooking show that was flawed, and people loved it.

And what about Unraveled? The design of Unraveled, from BDG’s suit and mug to his presenting style, key us in to the fact that we are watching some sort of lecture. Some kind of educational performance. Personally, this makes me think that Unraveled is FAWWIEOT-ing academia and basically any other media where an “expert” talks at you.

The standard pattern of experts talking to you are basically like TedTalks. You have somebody very well versed in the topic trying to explain to you something, showing you their hypothesis, their process, and their findings.

Unraveled FAWWIEOTs expertise by making BDG research the most crazy shit like OSHA regulations or the Geneva Convention, make the wildest hypotheses like ‘Monster Energy in the morning will be a good idea’ or ‘Sonic is blasphemous’, and then, ultimately, completely unravel himself. The expert in Unraveled isn’t an all knowing being who is always right, he is flawed (and loses his marbles, more often than not.) And we love it.

FAWWIEOT-ing is key because of how it gives us a pattern we know, and then does something new. Novelty is important on the internet, and Gourmet Makes and Unraveled have made a name for themselves on the unique way they Fucked Around With What Was Expected Of Them.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are two of my favorite webshows on the internet as of now, and there are many reasons why, many reasons I didn’t include in this post. What I wanted to do here is to highlight how these shows use story elements to be good content because at the core of these videos, even if they aren’t literary fiction, they are good stories. Good stories with a plot that satisfies us, with characters we can see and love, with new twists that keep us on the edge of our seats.

Good stories make for good content, and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon have me as a subscriber for as long as they continue on this road.

Thanks for reading!

(Read my other Polygon-adjacent analysis essays at actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/nobody-asked-but

If you have any suggestions or ideas for more Polygon-adjacent analysis essays I can write, send me an ask!)

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

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NEXT=>

Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I  am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon* 

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that. 

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.  

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy;  he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses.  “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’ 

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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[k-writer1998]

Hidden Meanings

Prompt fic: cafe owner! lee know x barista! y/n

fluff

w.c: 1.8k

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

“So hear me out. What if we blew him up? Poisoned him? Maimed him a little?”

“For fuck’s sake, no? He’s our boss.”

“Not even one punch? Come on Jisung, you can’t tell me he isn’t a vexing person.”

“He’s… peculiar but he still pays us so we, as in you, cannot assault him. Plus I thought you were happy with the job.”

“I am. It’s just… he’s so confusing! Sometimes he just pleasantly minds his business ordering whatever here and there and other days he has me all over the place ordering ungodly amounts then having me help him finish them!”

“... He’s just like that y/n. After working for him for 6 months I thought you figured that out.”

“I’ve long figured that out, doesn’t mean I like it though. I’m just getting some serious whiplash from his constant back and forth and taking him out would give me one less headache with my thesis coming up. You’re his friend Jisung, do you know how to keep him in a good mood?”

      As I let out a frustrated sigh, Jisung gave me a smile which made me narrow my eyes at him. Why does he look like he knows something I don’t?

“I think Minho’s been in quite a good mood for a while though.”

“In what world do you call him randomly screaming in the middle of closing a “good mood”? It made one of the new part-timers drop a mug at how terrified he was.”

“Like I said, he’s peculiar plus we’re a cafe. We have tons of mugs. You’re bright y/n, you’ll figure things out… eventually.”

“Excuse you, just cause you're the manager doesn't mean you can talk condescendingly to me you’re still a year younger than me.”

      I rolled my eyes when suddenly the front bell jingled. I got up from the seat I had taken on the edge of his desk, and made my way to the front.

“Oh no I got this, Manager Han,” I mocked as he didn't even bother to get up.

“Yeah yeah yeah. It's around the time Minho comes, don’t keep him waiting.”

      He gave me a wink which I returned with the finger as I headed out, to make it worse of course Jisung just had to be right. Minho stood at the register with a smile which turned teasing the moment his eyes landed on me. All I could do was give a polite one in return.

“Afternoon boss. Do you want your usual or do you want to change it up again?”

"Let’s change it up, you should know my tastes by now right? Surprise me." He smirked and if this were an anime you would see the little anger symbol on my head.

"Will you drink it still if I get it wrong?"

"Hmmmm, maybe?"

      With a sigh I turned my back to him as I moved around to make him a drink, rolling my eyes when my face was safely out of sight. Or so I thought.

"I see that y/n," he chuckled before walking away.

      He took his usual seat at the table with the most sunlight by the window. Maybe because I'm like a cat and get sleepy with direct sunlight like that, I don't know how he can sit there unfazed. Mentally cursing at myself for getting caught, I went to actually make his drink this time. Thinking back I've noticed he's tried most of our strawberry flavored items, both drinks and treats. Please don't let this flop. I placed the drink in front of him with a slice of strawberry shortcake, in case he didn’t like the drink.

"Hmmm, strawberry?" He thought aloud after taking a sip before a smirk pulled at his lips, "So you have been paying attention to me."

      I prayed that my face felt warm because of the sun and not because of the blush that totally isn't burning my face right about now… come on y/n don't let him get to you, pull yourself together!

"Of course sir, you're a regular. It's hard not to when you come so often."

"So you remember all of the regulars' tastes?"

"The ones I've ran into often enough, yes."

       For a moment his smile twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something but didn't. That's odd. Minho usually says what he wants, literally. He's said gibberish to me before without batting an eye. Silence passed between us as the air began to feel uneasy, back to my station at the cash register it is. As time passed he just continued to sit there with his order quietly… Once the new part-timer Jeongin came for his shift, and Jisung came out to supervise, I went to take my break after casting my god-knows-what-number concerned look at Minho who just stayed in his daze. Going out the back door, I went up the side alley towards the front of the cafe but made sure I was still out of sight as I took my rightful place on an old crate that has been deemed my break time spot for months now. That is because of a certain black furry four-legged reason who’s familiar meow echoed down the alley as soon as I took out my food, his blue eyes looked at me as he approached.

"There you are Siren. You only come when you smell my food you little bugger," I smiled.

      I pulled some cat food from my lunch and placed the opened can in front of him. For a moment we ate in peaceful silence Minho’s behavior kept floating in the back of my mind until I could no longer focus on eating. Putting my half-eaten sandwich down triggered Siren to look up from his food curiously.

"You know my boss came in again. He didn't quite seem himself today, even more so after I made him a personalized drink. He acted like I got it right but maybe I got it wrong?"

"Meow!"

"Why are you getting mad? It’s not like you know his tastes either. Okay, if he isn't upset over that then what could it be? He started acting like that after I mentioned he's like other regulars-"

"Meow."

"Don't use that flat tone with me. What was I supposed to say? "Hey you're kinda cute so I can't help it"? He's also annoying and misleading, remember?"

"Hssssss."

"Wow okay. Fine, I'll  go talk to him and maybe make things clear, MAYBE, okay? Happy?"

      At that Siren purs before going back to his meal. With a shake of my head I went back to eating my sandwich. I mean it wasn't the most conventional conversation, and if anyone saw or heard they would think I'm crazy, but hey it cleared my head.

"See you tomorrow, One day we won't be having these conversations in public, got it? Just a bit more saving and then you're coming home with me buddy."

      I gave Siren a little love as I rubbed his head before going back inside and back to my shift. After washing my hands Jisung ushered me back to the front cause we got busy and it wasn’t until things slowed down that Minho motioned for me to come over and he ordered two more drinks. Nothing else said. Setting the two drinks in front of him I assumed he wanted to be left alone again since he seemed to be in a bad mood today but at the small tug at my wrist I stopped. My eyes trailed down to catch his hand firmly around my wrist.

"Sit with me."

"But I'm on the clock and-"

"And I'm the boss. Jisung and Jeongin will be fine for now so sit with me."

      This new serious and charismatic side of his threw me off and I could do nothing but oblige to his wishes. Sitting in the chair across from him, he pushed one of the drinks to me and I realized it was one of my favorites. Not really complaining, although a bit unsettled with this weird air around us, I eagerly took the drink. His question was abrupt and blunt that my immediate response may not have been the best.

"Do you know why I come here so often?"

"Just to torture me?"

      I had intended it to be a joke, thinking my sarcasm was evident, but the slight hurt look on his face cut my heart. He's being so serious about this, I feel shitty for trying to joke around… I'm just not used to interactions like these between us.

"Hehe... I was joking… well you come here a lot cause you own the place right?"

"That's not the only reason… Then do you know why I always sit here?"

"Because you like the warmth from the sun?"

"No, it's because I like the view from here."

"The view of other buildings? Minho what’s going on, why are you asking all these questions?"

      At my responses he just smiled at me and shook his head. This smile wasn't like the playful ones he often gave me, this was different, there's something softer about this one.

"Okay fine, last question. Have you realized that you're the only one who services me?"

"Huh? I may be here more often cause I have more availability but-"

      As I spoke this my mind raced through my past time at this job. Every time Minho came in I helped him and when I asked others when I came after a day off they never mentioned Minho coming in… 

"Wait, why is that then? Did someone mess up your order before so you stick to one server?"

"You know y/n for a student working on your grad thesis you aren't bright in other areas."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

      My temper started to flare but the minute the words fell from his lips any fire was immediately put out, the warm smile didn't help my beating heart either.

"Let me take you on a date, preferably not a coffee one."

"Wait so you…"

      All he did was nod. The pieces began to fall into place in my brain but one didn't seem to fit. I snapped my head and scanned his general view from this spot and was confused why this was his favorite until I noticed a flick of a black tail. Looking closer, from this angle you would be able to see into the alleyway. My head whipped back to the boy in front of me.

"Have you been-"

"You never answered my question," he cut me off.

      Remembering my short conversation with Siren at lunch, I nodded my head. His smile grew bigger and I had to look away before my stupid blush reflex acted up again, his smile is quite the trigger. This was definitely not the direction I thought this conversation would go but I'm kind of not complaining.

"Good. Then on the date I can tell you about how I fell for a girl in an alley who fed a stray cat."