#some are past me just scribbling something actually ridiculous but it somehow... looks kinda good

[threadmonster]

So I’m gonna post some old/old-unfinished art from 2015-2017 during the month of May because i think that i want to appreciate past!me while i re-learn how to be as ridiculous as they were and... dude why didn’t you post that Oikawa???? Just because you didn’t feel like lineart and color??? Fool.

I’m starting with these two since it is mermay.

[hannie-dul-set]

DON’T THINK, JUST DO — na jaemin.

SUMMARY. an overthinker, a piece of advice, a sudden confession, and a subtle meltdown.

PAIRING. na jaemin x g.n. reader GENRE. high school! au, f2l, fluff, humor WARNINGS. swearing WORD COUNT. 1.6k TAGLIST. @danishmiilk​ @wownajaemin​ @leejunini​ @astroboy-lele​ @unknown5tar​ @yunoyeol​ @w0nni3wrld​ @charm-art​ @bat-shark-repellant​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @kpopscape​

NOTE. surprise LMAO take this quick fic that i wrote in a couple of hours after a bathroom apology for being mia this past week, for not keeping my promises, and for my further disappearance within the next few days/weeks because i am, quite frankly, about to mcfreaking die <3 enjoy.

Self study period. Eight in the morning. Everything was normal— seemingly normal— save for the empty spot beside you where your deskmate should be occupying, perhaps pestering you yet again about the importance of eating breakfast if he were here, but he wasn’t. It was odd.

He’s never been late before.

Saying that makes it sound like you were closely knitted with Na Jaemin, the present absentee and your deskmate for about three years, but you couldn’t admit that you were. You couldn’t admit that you weren’t, either. Still, even if you weren’t as bro with him like his members in the school’s dance team, or as involved in his personal troubles as his childhood best friend, but at least you’ve seen the kind of lunch he brings to school every single day for three straight years. That was probably enough to form some sort of bond— though trivial, maybe even feeble, but it was enough.

That was also enough for you to develop an unsurprising crush on him. Your self-awareness was annoying enough to throw away any ounce of denial.

Which was also why you were worrying over your head when he missed the first period, even more so when he arrived like a disheveled zombie midway through the second.

“Na Jaemin,” you greeted his tardy arrival with your eyebrows creasing in worry. He greeted you with a usual good morning and his usual smile— or so he attempted to. But that smile lasted for approximately 0.813 seconds before he fell onto his seat with a contorted groan. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Did you practice too hard yesterday? Gosh, you should know better than to overdo it.”

Jaemin only whined when you reached out to pitifully caress his hair, his gaunt face and evident dark circles down buried in his arms. “I’m so tired.”

Dear lord, what happened to the model student that seemed to shine day in, day out despite his overly packed and strenuous schedule? You frowned, telling him that he should just sleep through the rest of the morning and you’d cover for him, but he rose from his slumped over position and waved you off. 

“I can manage,” he gave you a tired smile. “I already missed a lot by being late.”

“You idiot, are you trying to die?” you huffed, snapping your attention off of him in annoyance. “Wait a minute, why does he look fine? Tsk. Lee Donghyuck were you slacking off while your team members were dancing to death?”

The man in question flinched, dropping his phone with a painful noise onto the table when you turned around and smacked a notebook onto his desk.

“Oi, what the fuck? What would you know when you weren’t even there?”

“Then why do you still look fresh while poor, tired Jaemin over here is—”

“It’s not that.”

You turned back around to the worn out voice beside you.

“I just didn’t get any sleep last night.”

To your surprise, Jaemin was the one who came to Donghyuck’s aid.

Donghyuck’s glare was enough to drill two gaping holes into your skill, and you simply bowed and gave him a sheepish grin in apology before switching your attention lanes back to Jaemin. Not the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done, but shameful all the same. “Then why didn’t you say so— anyway, that’s not the point. Did you stay up playing games again? Gosh, did Lee Jeno force you to rank with him? I swear, you guys should—”

“It’s kinda nice to see you worrying about me,” he chuckled, falling back down into his desk with his arms crossed and looking up at you with an invisible, fond grin. “But it’s not that either.”

Damn your stomach for suddenly deciding to stumble over at that insignificant gesture of his. He wasn’t even doing anything, but look at you. All of a sudden, guilt decided to gnaw at your conscience because while Na Jaemin was barely holding onto his consciousness, you were busy fawning over his charms despite the fatigue. You didn’t deserve to sit next to him.

“I was thinking.”

Your thoughts froze.

“About?”

“Things.”

“Like…?”

“Whether I should do this or not, whether I should just give up or not, whether I’m actually stupid or not...” Jaemin sighed, eyes closed in contemplation, or perhaps finally in drowsiness. You hoped that he’d just give in and sleep. “...those things.”

What could he have possibly been thinking about that the poor boy couldn’t even sleep? Whatever it was— cure that entirely. This was a crime. Maybe you shouldn’t confiscate his thermos of coffee later.

“Aish,” you raked your fingers through your hair, expelling an exasperated sigh. “Na Jaemin, as a professional overthinker, let me give you some professional advice—”

He perked up, eye now a little wider and looking at you in a swirl of interest and attentiveness.

“—don’t.”

And now confusion was thrown into the mix.

“You see, it’s an endless, torturous cycle with the only endgame being regret. You believe that you’re only gonna mull it over for a mere moment, weigh your pros and cons, and come up with a decision after a few minutes of thinking—” you breathed it sharply, shaking your head in faux dismay. “—but the ‘what if��s’ come around and before you know it, it’s already five in the fucking morning and you have to go to school in a few hours looking like a contaminated corpse.”

Jaemin blinked his sunken eyes at you. He wasn’t sure what to say, but somehow your speech full of vigor, confidence, and a ridiculous form of charisma drew out all the exhaustion from his veins. He buried his face back into his arms to avoid looking at you.

“Right?”

He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile from forming too wide, but you wouldn’t be able to see, anyway. “Right, you’re right,” but maybe you could hear it in the tone of his muffled voice.

You grinned, proudly nodding to yourself at his affirmation. “Which is why, before you end up following me into this hidden circle of hell— you should just stop. Don’t think. Fuck impulse control. There’s no time to regret when you’ve already done it. It’s not easy. Absolutely not. But it’s better to just get it over with and deal with the consequences after rather than living in an endless loop. So repeat after me— don’t think.”

Slowly, Jaemin peeked out from his huddled position, sitting up straight and looking right at you.

“Don’t think.”

“Just do.”

“Just do.”

“Perfect! You got it,” you beamed. “Don’t think, just do, okay? I believe in you, Jaemin.”

The advice that was haphazardly spilling from your lips was seemingly a bit crooked in nature— arguably so— but he seemed to be genuinely considering it. Jaemin was silent for a moment, blanking out at the rows in front of the both of you before he softly spoke up, eyebrows scrunched together, his head cocking to the side.

“Should I...?”

“Yeah, definitely! You don’t have anything to lose if you do it, right?” he spared another moment of consideration, and you kept going. “...whatever it is— but that doesn’t matter, just do it. If you do, you wouldn’t lose another night of sleep because of it.”

Self study period went on as is, but luckily you two weren’t the only ones not studying. You left him alone to rest and think about it more while you scribbled down answers for an assignment that was due later— highly contradictory to your suggestion of not thinking, but all was released when you heard Jaemin drop his pen to the table, followed after by a long, deep sigh.

“Alright.”

A bright smile overtook you as you busied yourself with the assignment.

“I like you.”

That smile disappeared with a loud and violent cough.

Oh, what the fuck.

“You told me to just do it, so there, I just did it. I like you,” he yawned as he melted into his books, peering over to look at the utter shock and disbelief in your frozen expression. Jaemin had to hold back a laugh. “You don’t have to follow your own advice— take as much time as you need— but I don’t want you losing sleep over me just as I did over you.”

With that, he decided that this was the best fucking time to finally disappear into sleep. You wanted to scream— the feeling of your throat twisting over itself with the indignant desire to squeeze out something, but there was sharp heat at every breath that prevented you from doing so.

You settled for two words only.

“Holy fuck.”

“Thank you for that quick and eloquent response,” Jaemin flipped over, looking at you with tired eyes and an equally tired smile, but despite all that he was still lively. “At least it wasn’t a blatant rejection.”

You thought that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him when his bangs were messily covering his eyes, but your regret came late when you caught the subtle quirk of the corners of his lips when you looked down at him in your daze. “W—wait, who said anything about rejecting you? How dare you drop that bomb onto me when I’m unprepared? I’m never giving you advice ever again.”

Self study period over. Nine in the morning. The bell rang and before your deskmate of three years, your crush of a little less than that could slip back into the slumber that he’d missed because of you, he managed to speak in a soft voice.

“Take your time.”

© hannie-dul-set, 2021.

[bothcreativitybois]

The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 3

Wordcount: 2955

Ship: Intruality

TWs: Food, horses, dogs, skipping meals, a little bit of past angst, sexual references, swearing 

Taglist: @star-crossed-shipper @crazydemigod666 @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @seraphiie @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin 

Remus flung out of the truck and smashed on the bakery door. 

“Wakey wakey!” Remus shouted at the doors. Above him a window opened. Patton smiled down radiantly. The cold night breeze rustled his hair dreamily while Remus’ long locks thrash slightly.

Remus you dumbass! He isn’t used to this!

“You’re an impatient one, Mr Grinch.” Patton joked.

“Actually it’s Mr Manzana.” Remus shouted back. “Are you coming down or not?” Patton giggled and closed the window. A few seconds later he appeared beside the building.

“So where are we going?” Patton asked as Remus walked up to him. Remus laughed.

“The best place in town, which is conveniently also the only place.” Remus joked. Patton followed him down the street to a little restaurant with a yellow sign. Remus opened the door for Patton as they entered the small restaurant. There were a handful of tables set up with only one in use. Remus walked over to greet the small family at the table. Patton followed awkwardly.

“Remus!” A gruff father looking figure shouted and pat Remus on the back. “Good ta see ya.” Also at the table were two small children and an elderly lady.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” The elderly lady chimed in. Remus smiled widely while Patton just sort of shrank behind him.

“Staying out of trouble as much as possible.” Remus chuckled, both the adults laughed.

“Which for you isn’t possible.” The man laughed heartily. Remus smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Clyde, let me introduce you to Patton.” Remus held a hand out as to present Patton. The man looked at him happily.

“Great to meet ya.” Clyde stood up and enveloped Patton’s hand in a strong handshake.

“You too.” Patton said meekly. The large man laughed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Clyde joked. “Remus however…” He elbowed Remus who pulled a fake innocent face.

“These darling angels are Taylor and June.” Remus ruffled the hair of the two children who both tried to push his hand away. “And this is Ms Cath. She taught me when I was the kids' sizes.” The elderly lady stood up and hugged Patton. The hug was soothing, it reminded him of his mother. He thought about how long it’s been since he was hugged… a couple months?

“Welcome to our little town, honey.” Ms Cath soothed. “Well let you two get back to it. But if you ever need anything then just stop by the school and see me.” The old lady winked. Remus put a hand on Patton’s back and after a few more words with the family guided Patton to their own table. Patton looked around the restaurant. Not in a nervous way, just the way you do when you enter a new place. The people he’d just met were chatting happily and enjoying their food.  Remus snapped his fingers to get Patton’s attention.

“Hey so the waiter is a friend of mine and he has some unique features. Don’t to stare, it upsets him.” Remus whispered. Patton nodded politely just as the waiter in question showed up.

“So this is the baker I heard about?” The waiter said. Patton looked up to see a little name tag reading ‘Janus’. The man had a large black birthmark and a lazy eye. He figured that’s what Remus meant. 

“I like your hair.” Patton smiled. Janus touched the small bun his dreads were pulled back in. His face was surprised.

“Thanks.” He turned to Remus. “You getting what you always get?” Remus laughed.

“Don’t fix what ain’t broke.” Remus confirmed with a wide smile. “And an extra for my friend here.” Janus nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Great. I’ll be off work at midnight so if you plan on taking ‘your friend’ home then please be done by then.” Janus said calmly and walked away. Patton blushed but Remus simply laughed. He looked down at Patton, he realised how uncomfortable he looked.

He reached across the table and grabbed Patton’s hand. He noticed a small tattoo on Patton’s wrist he hadn’t seen before, a little frog.

“Sorry, I kinda threw you in the deep end there.” Remus apologised. “Janus was just joking around, he’s really nice albeit a little dry and blunt.” Remus attempted to reassure Patton, it seemed to work as he released the tension in his shoulders a bit and nodded. Remus pulled his hand away.

“Everyone here seems really nice.” Patton said. Remus smiled and looked around. 

“It’s that small town spirit.” Remus replied. “When everyone knows everyone no one is really mean… well except for some of the older families who have weird rivalries but that’s a story for another day.” Remus was so calm, it was weird. Usually he was bouncing off the walls by now but something about Patton was keeping him on the ground.

“Tell me about growing up here?” Patton asked. Remus took a deep breath. There were thousands of stories racing around his head and he needed to find a way to summarise them all.

“It’s chaotic but somehow also predictable.” He eventually answered. “From the outside it’s like a horse rolling around on it’s back. It looks ridiculous but it knows exactly what it’s doing.” Patton was amused by the analogy. He understood that Remus was a country kid but now he was just being cliché. Not to mention Patton knew next to nothing about horses.

“And what does it mean when a horse rolls around?” Patton asked, genuinely curious about the silly behaviour of horses. Remus’ face lit up.

“Most the time it means they got colic and are trying to dislodge whatever got stuck. But if it’s a younger philly they could just be having fun. Colic isn’t serious though, usually it’s solved just by leading it for a walk or a shot of penicillin.” Remus explained. Patton watched how Remus’ eyes sparkled as he talked, he seemed a lot more in his element. “Colic is what keeps the vets round here in business. Pretty much everyone has a horse and the farms all have at least three. I got one still livin’ at my parents place, I’ve been meaning to move her to mine but she’s scared to death of trailers and I don’t have the ti-” Remus was cut off by a groan from Janus who had appeared with two plates.

“Kraken is fine on the farm, they have good use for her.” Janus began. “If we brought her to our place she’d be stuck in a paddock all day and only get ridden every week or so.” Janus placed down the plates with two tall burgers. “Two lamb burgers, one with extra pickle and barbeque sauce.” Janus pulled a face as he announced the last part.

“Thanks.” Patton smiled happily. Janus nodded and walked away. Patton looked over at Remus who was taking pickles off his burger and putting them on a napkin. “Why did you order extra pickles if you aren’t eating them?” Patton was confused. Remus looked up and smiled devilishly. He liked pickles, but always ordered extra for something special.

“You’ll see.” Remus winked as he wrapped up the pickles and put them in his pocket. 

The two men didn’t talk much as they ate. Remus was used to being the kind to devour food quickly while everyone else told him to slow down, so he was surprised when he saw Patton finished his burger first. Patton was just happy to be eating real food again.

“You finished that fast.” Remus said as he took the last bite of his burger. Patton looked up and blushed. Truthfully it was the first thing he’d eaten today, he had skipped breakfast and was too stressed to eat while working. Patton laughed awkwardly. Remus reeled, he meant it as a compliment but was worried Patton didn’t take it that way. “I mean that in a good way, pancake. It’s hard to find people who can keep up with me.” Remus quickly added. Patton giggled. Remus stood to leave but Patton stopped him.

“Wait! We need to pay.” Patton fretted. Remus looked over Patton and winked at Janus, he sighed and waved them away. Patton watched the weird exchange and didn’t notice Remus grab his hand to pull him out of the restaurant. He was tugged out so fast he nearly fell down but he couldn’t help but laugh. Remus pulled him down the dark street as they both cackled.

“Where are we going?” Patton asked through the laughs. Remus looked back and flashed a brilliantly evil smile.

“You wanted a tour, didn’t you?” Remus said as he halted to a stop. Patton nearly ran right into him if it wasn’t for Remus’ outstretched arm. “Here is where we start!” Remus pointed to the building in front of them. A brick building with a clock above the door.

“Mindville Council Hall?” Patton read from the sign next to him. Remus shook his head and shook his pointed hand. Patton followed the line of sight to, “The… clock?” Remus nodded excitedly so fast he looked like he might burst. He reached into his pocket and took out the napkin from the restaurant.

“The clock hasn’t worked in years.” Remus said as he took a pickle from the napkin, he handed the rest to Patton. “This is a way better use for it anyway.” With that Remus hucked the pickle slice into the air towards the clock, it hit the glass cover with a barely audible splat. Remus would come here as a kid and throw all sorts of things, but he found out quickly that pickles were not only the most accessible but also stuck the best. Remus celebrated with a loud cheer and took the pickles from Patton. “Give it a try.” Patton gently took a pickle and looked up at the clock. It was at least ten meters up.

“I’m not sure I can get it…” Patton conceded. Remus took a pickle slice and laughed.

“Who cares?” Remus shouted as he threw another pickle, this one hitting above the first. Patton took a deep breath and pulled back his hand. He closed his hand and threw the pickle as hard as he could. He looked up in time to see it land just short of the clock. He blushed in embarrassment but to his surprise Remus hollered.

“Whooo!” Remus cheered. His whoops were brash and loud, like when the electric mixer hit the edge of the metal bowl. “That’s a great shot!” Patton smiled at the enthusiasm and grabbed another slice. Remus did too and they both threw them together. Remus hit the 4 while Patton’s was just shy of the clock again. Suddenly the lights of the building turned on around them. “On to the next place!” Remus threw the napkin with the rest of the slices and began bolting down the road, Patton stood shocked for a second then followed.

“Aren’t you the mayor?” Patton huffed as they ran. Remus was surprisingly fast and he had trouble keeping up.

“Yes, and?” Remus said, barely breaking a sweat. When they were far enough away Remus slowed down and started pointing out the shops they walked past. “That is the butcher, if you ask nicely they’ll give you bones that aren’t big enough to sell as dog bones. That’s Salamanders Silk, one of the 7 places I’ve gotten a cut that needs stitching which is ironic given it’s a clothes store.” Something told Patton this tour wouldn’t be overly informative of the actual places. “And this is the bakery that makes amazing muffins.” Remus stopped. Patton realised they were in front of his shop. He looked up at the bare walls of the building, it looked abandoned. Every shop in town had nice signs and lovely paint but his just looked sad. 

“How about I give you a tour?” Patton chimed in happily. Remus looked down and nodded excitedly. Patton walked up and unlocked the door. “Welcome to Froggy and Doggy Bakery.” Patton sang happily.

“Finally, I get a name.” Remus joked. Patton sighed and looked up at the empty space where a sign should hang.

“Yeah I need to get on to the sign company again.” He said sadly. Remus took a mental note of Patton’s qualms.

“How’d you get the name? Is doggy your favourite position or something?” Remus asked as he walked in. Patton locked the door behind them and flipped on the lights.

“Actually it’s based on a story my mother told me as a kid.” Patton started. Remus regretted his previous statement. “There was a princess who had two suitors, a prince and a farmer. She asked each to bring her an animal as a gift. The prince brought her a well bred dog with beautiful hair. The farmer brought her a small green frog. She took each pet and announced she would be marrying the farmer. The prince got mad and demanded her to answer why. She said that anyone can go out and buy a dog, but the farmer had spent time catching the frog and cleaning it to present to her. Even though his gift wasn’t the most pretty or conventional, it had the most effort and thought put in it.” Patton smiled as he told the story, Remus was entrapped by his words. He clearly had fond memories of that story and it was reflected in how happily he told it.

“I think that’s my new favourite fairy tale.” Remus said when Patton finished talking. “Is that why you have that tattoo as well?” Remus gestured to Patton’s wrist. He nodded.

“My ex was a tattoo artist and he did it as a birthday gift.” Patton said as he rubbed a thumb over the small frog drawn on his wrist. It took him a moment to realise he had just come out to a man he’d met only earlier today. He looked up expecting some sort of reaction from Remus, but he didn’t care. Remus was just looking around the bakery, closely inspecting a sign on one of the walls. Patton found it refreshing to have someone not have a big reaction.

“Art gallery? What’s this for?” Remus asked. The wall had no art on it, just a few small shelves. Patton walked over to join him.

“Oh my mother had the idea that artists could put up any art they had to sell here for a small fee. That way we could generate more business while helping people.” Patton informed. “That reminds me, is there a homeless shelter I could donate any unsold items to?” Remus was surprised. Patton had never been here and already wanted to help the people. It was admirable.

“Well there aren’t any homeless shelters here because there isn’t a need for them, but there is one in the city as you probably know. It’s an hour drive but they’d probably be very happy with a donation even once a week.” Remus explained. Patton looked back blankly.

“Why would I know that?” Patton asked.

“You lived there before you moved here, didn’t you?” Remus thought it was obvious. The only people who knew about this town were the people living in it and some of the people in surrounding areas.

“No. I lived on the coast.” Patton said. 

That’s in the very least 3 hours away. Remus thought.

“Why’d you move here then?” Remus asked plainly, not knowing that for Patton it was a loaded question. Patton crossed his arms and looked down. Remus noticed. “Oh- uh- you don’t have to answer.” He stammered quickly trying to comfort Patton. He was curious but didn’t want to make Patton uncomfortable.

“Thanks.” Patton whispered. It hurt to think back to the time before he moved. It hurt to remember how he pretended to be happy so much that he even fooled himself. He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts and smiled at Remus. “How about some dessert?” Patton chirped. He really bounced back quickly. Remus wasn’t sure if Patton was serious or flirting so he just nodded his head. Patton clapped and made a happy noise. He led Remus up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, the whole time Remus becoming more and more confused what this invitation entailed.Patton opened the door and allowed Remus to enter. He entered the small studio apartment with an impressive kitchen. Remus didn’t know how to play this. Did Patton think this was a date? Even so he was so sweet and kind that Remus didn’t pin him as the kind to give it up on the first date. Remus tentatively walked over and sat on the large bed. Patton looked across the room where Remus had taken a seat on his bed. It suddenly hit him how his offer may have sounded. Thoughts crashed against Patton’s mind. He quickly walked over and opened the fridge. Patton pulled out a few small caramel tartlets and brought them over to Remus. “Ta da!” Patton announced.

Oh of course. Remus thought. Of course Patton meant actual dessert. He’s a fucking baker.

Patton once again was alone but this time he was a lot happier. 

“They look great.” Remus said as he admired the lovely caramel tarts with chocolate shavings.

“Take them. As a thank you for tonight.” Patton pressed the plate into Remus’ arms. Remus took the plate and tried one of the tarts. The rich caramel melted in his mouth and blended perfectly with the buttery shortbread crust. “And tell Janus I said thanks too.”

“He’ll love these.” Remus mumbled, shoving another in his mouth. Patton giggled. Remus said his goodbyes and left. 

[jiminrings]

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again?? 

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class 

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST 

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not 

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day 

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched 

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden 

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns 

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?” 

:O

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

:D

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed 

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre 

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily 

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!! 

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

:D

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Qualified

Based off this post by @stop-it-anxiety

Summary: Virgil’s usual therapist was... unique. The man who just slumped into his seat is even unique-r. Of everything Virgil expected from the stranger, it definitely wasn’t actual advice. Pairings: Platonic sleepxiety, romantic remile, background LAMP, background RED Warnings: Sympathetic deceit (mentioned), food mention (kinda), like one swear, fears of abandonment

    Virgil hadn’t been thrilled about going to see yet another therapist. One too many bad experiences in the past had made him extremely hesitant when his boyfriends told him about Dr. Emile Picani.

    True to their word, however, Emile had been… unique, somehow in a good way. His methods weren’t orthodox, in any sense of the word, but they worked. It helped that Emile had seemed so familiar almost immediately, a feeling Virgil later attributed to how similar yet different he was from his boyfriends- logical like Logan, yet extremely bubbly like Patton. And for Roman, so much Disney. So, so much Disney.

    But it worked. Emile’s general kookiness and tendency to link problems to cartoons put Virgil more at ease than any clinical outlook at his problems ever had. It had been a few months since he first got asked, “Do you how do?” and he was doing surprisingly great.

    So, of course, now was the perfect time for things to go upside down.

   He had been anxiously checking the clock- it was normal for Emile to come in a little bit after the patient; he always had some dramatic entrance planned (Virgil was still finding glitter in his clothes from the time he had used a sparkle bomb), but five minutes late? The doc was normally very punctual- when the door opened. He glanced over, expecting to see Emile doing something positively ridiculous.

   Instead, someone in a black leather jacket and sunglasses breezed into the room, flopping into Emile’s chair and throwing their legs over one of the arms. Virgil watched, bewildered, as the stranger took a long sip from their starbucks cup.

   “So,” They drawled, letting their head roll to the side so they were actually looking at Virgil, “tell me about your emotional shit.”

   Virgil frowned, confused. “...Who are you?”

   “Emile is sick, so I’m your stand-in therapist.”

   “Did you even go to medical school?”

   “Listen, babes, we’re here to talk about you, not my qualifications.” They answered, taking another sip of their drink.

   Virgil crossed his arms. “Yeah, because talking to a wannabe rock star whose name I don’t even know and has probably never seen a degree of higher learning is going to do me a lot of good.”

   “You forgot caffeine addicted, sugar.” They replied, unfazed. “And if you want my name so bad, it’s Remy.”

   “Great.” Virgil said sarcastically. “Random stranger Remy, wannabe rock star with a coffee addiction, wants to try and help me solve my problems.”

   “Random stranger?” Remy repeated, sounding faux hurt. “I’m just a random stranger to you?”

   “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

   “Yeah I got that bit.” Remy responded. “I’m hung up on the fact that you’ve never heard of me.”

   “Should I have?”

   Remy frowned, though he still sounded more amused than upset as he grumbled, “Figures Em would be responsible… not talking about his personal life with his patients…”

   “Actually, that reminds me.” Virgil said, mostly ignoring the mumbles. “How do you even know Emile? Are you a past patient with an authority complex, or-”

   “I’m his better boyfriend.” Remy said, cutting Virgil off.

   Virgil scoffed. “Better? Oh, so it’s a superiority complex.”

   “Nah, it’s just the truth.” Remy countered. “See, Dante’s a knockout of a man, but he’s not willing to step up to bat when it matters. ‘Em’s sick, we should cancel his appointments.’ ‘No, Rem, you playing therapist is not a good idea.’ ‘I think you drinking another coffee right now will kill you do you really think you can offer any form of sane therapy.’ He’s such a killjoy.”

   “Did you ever consider he might have been right?”

   “Very briefly, yes.” Remy admitted with another sip of what Virgil now suspected to be a supposedly fatal coffee. “But listening to him wouldn’t have been much fun.”

   “So you decided to disturb your boyfriend’s patients?”

   “Of course not!” Remy replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m here to disturb a patient. You’re the only person Em was seeing today, so here I am! To deliver you helpful emotional advice!”

   Virgil chuckled. “Yeah, that’s going to go well.”

   “Well it might if you actually told me something.” Remy said, shifting in the chair so his legs were hooked over the top and his head was dangling above the ground. “Spill the tea, hunny.” He ordered while, somehow, taking a sip of his drink and neither spilling nor choking on it.

   “How- How are you doing that?” Virgil asked, thinking back to his one attempt to drink upside down. It had ended with a ruined shirt and a good two minutes of choked panic.

   “It’s an artform. Now spillllllllllll.”

   “This is extremely unprofessional.” Virgil responded before continuing, “But things are fine. There’s the fear of abandonment but that’s nothing new-”

   “Don’t care if it isn’t new.” Remy said, stopping Virgil. “Sounds important. Let’s start there.”

   Virgil raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You actually want to try and do something helpful?”

   “Did you think I wanted to hear about your most likely boring life for kicks?”

   “Basically, yeah.”

   “You give me no credit, babe. Just because I’m not certified to say helpful shit doesn’t mean I can’t.” Remy smirked. “Maybe you haven’t heard, but one of my boyfriends is a therapist. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

   “I find that doubtful, but go wild.” Virgil said, leaning back into the couch.

   Remy placed his cup down next to his head before pressing his hands together like a prayer beneath (or in this case, over) his chin. He wouldn’t have looked serious if he was sitting right-side up, but upside down just made him look even dorkier than his cartoon-adoring partner.

   “Tell me, Virgil, why do you have abandonment issues?” He asked, sounding about as professional as a five-year-old playing doctor.

   “The universe hates me.”

   “Mmhmmm yes yes let me write this down.” Remy said, nodding as he dug into his jean pocket, pulling out a silver sharpie, rolling down his jacket sleeve and scribbling ‘universe sucks’ on his arm. “Could you elaborate on that? How does it make you feel?”

   “Like I’m going to be abandoned.”

   Remy nodded again. “I see… have you considered the possibility that you are, in fact, not going to be abandoned?”

   “Miracle of miracle- my problems are solved!”

   “No need to be so sarcastic.” Remy said, jabbing his sharpie at Virgil. “My solution is airtight. But if you insist on being ‘complicated’ and having ‘complex problems’ you should probably tell me why you think everyone is going to abandon you for reasons other than the general hatred of the universe focused against you.”

   Virgil chuckled. “That’s a lot of big words you strung together.”

   “And that’s some very good discussion redirection you’re doing.”

   Virgil clicked his tongue. Mr. Indoor Sunglasses and Afternoon Coffee was smarter than he seemed. “Listen, I realize I’m worth a lot more than I thought before I started meeting with Emile. But I’m still nowhere on the level anyone I know is. The other shoe’s gotta fall and I am, stupidly, still afraid for it.”

   Remy started writing on his arm again, making bullets beneath the ‘universe sucks statement’;

   -’Imposter’ boi

   -Sad boi

   -Stupid boi

   “Hey!” Virgil exclaimed defensively. “‘Stupid boi?’ I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better about my self-worth or something, not attack me.”

   “You’ve clearly got that front covered, love, I don’t even have to touch it.” Remy replied, putting a little star next to the last bullet point for emphasis. “But while you cover the attacks, I’ll focus on the facts.”

   “Nice rhyme.”

   “I’m good like that. Now I’m not allowed to look at Em’s notes because patient confidentiality or something silly and highly technical, so you’re gonna have to lend me a hand here- who are you afraid will abandon you? Y’know, aside from everyone.”

   Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know. My boyfriends I guess.”

   “How long have y’all been dating?”

   “Two and a half years.”

   “...Sugar, I don’t know how to explain the concept of ‘if they haven’t left yet they ain’t gonna leave ever’ to you but-”

   Virgil cut him off, “That is not how relationships work. If it was the divorce rates would be a lot lower.”

   “You miss my point.” Remy said with a sigh, righting himself in the chair and for the first time that day looking actually serious. “Do relationships fail? Yes, it sucks, but it can happen to a couple of fifty years. That’s just life, sweetheart, I won’t sugarcoat it.”

   “Helpful.”

   “Let me finish. When those relationships fail, it’s because a fight or an opinion they didn’t know the other had comes up. Or something, I don’t know, I’m not a relationship counselor.” Remy added with a shrug. “What I do know, is that relationships that have existed for longer than six months don’t break up because they suddenly think one of them is worthless or some other bullshit. If your bfs are that pretentious, they would’ve dropped you ages ago-”

   “My self-esteem is doing amazingly, thanks-”

   “-and you would have been the better for it.” Remy finished, waving a finger. “You really need to stop interrupting. You miss the best parts.”

   “...What do you mean?” Virgil asked, pausing as he actually processed what Remy had said. Remy smiled, and it must have been the most gentle and genuine one he had worn all day.

   “Whether or not you’ll admit it, Virgil, you have worth. A whole hecking lot of it, as my cartoonish partner would say. If your boyfriends had left you in the beginning, it would have been their loss. And I find it highly doubtful they’re going to let you escape them now.” Remy leaned in a bit, smile morphing into a more mischievous one as he added in a stage whisper, “And if they do, I’ll help you egg their house.”

   Virgil laughed at that. “Y’know,” He started after a moment, still smiling, “you’re not as incompetent as you look.”

   “The secret is setting expectations so low, any single thing you do right is an overachievement.” Remy told him as he stood up, dramatically stretching before picking his coffee cup back up. “Now, as much fun as beating your problems with a stick is, the session’s over, and I have two boyfriends to annoy.”

   “Even the sick one?”

   “Annoyance is my primary personality trait. He knew the sort of caregiving he was signing up for.” Remy said as he moved towards the door. He stopped in the doorway for a second to turn back to Virgil with a wave. “Toodles, babes!”

   And then he was gone, just about as dramatically as he had come. Virgil remained seated on the couch for a moment, shaking his head with a smile.

   When he finally convinced himself to head out to the parking lot, he found Patton waiting, sitting on the hood of his car. He grinned broadly and waved when he spotted Virgil, greeting him with a kiss.

   “How was it today?” Patton asked while Virgil moved for the passenger door. “You were in longer than usual. Session run late?”

   Virgil shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah. Today was just… unique.”

   “Good unique or bad unique?” Patton asked hesitantly.

   “Good unique.” Virgil reassured him. “I’ll tell you what happened once we meet up with the pen and the sword.”

   Patton raised his eyebrows. “Oh, nicknames? Someone’s happy!”

   “Yeah, Pat, I am.”

   Patton smiled even bigger and turned on the car.

   ~~

   “Loves, your favorite bitch it back!”

   The house quietly regarded Remy with no response. Remy frowned as he dropped his sunglasses on the small table in the hall. He wandered to the bedroom, finding Emile curled up and watching Steven Universe, not even noticing Remy’s entrance.

   Smiling, Remy snuck around the bed, shrugging off his jacket before sliding into the bed and hugging Emile from behind. Startled, Emile turned his head, relaxing when he realized it was Remy.

   “Oh, hi Rem.” Emile said, sleepy, before his eyes widened. He tried to pull away from Remy. “You’re going to get yourself sick.”

   Remy just tightened his grip and laughed. “I have no immune system, love, I’ve been destined to get sick since your first sneeze. Plus, I will risk illness for attention and cuddles. Where’s Dante? I want triple cuddles.”

   Emile gave up trying to escape the hug, instead rolling his head so he could partially tuck it into Remy’s shoulder. “He’s getting me ice cream.”

   “What? Why?”

   “Because I’m sick and I said please.”

   “I thought ice cream was ‘unhealthy’ and ‘not for sick people.’”

   “Dante said that because when you were sick, it was from drinking too much coffee.” Emile replied. “Speaking of, you didn’t pick up any on the way to my session, did you?”

   “...No?”

   “Rem.”

   Remy chuckled and pressed a kiss to Emile’s temple. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going to allow for a repeat of the Coffee Disaster of May.”

   “Hmm.” Emile hummed, disbelievingly. “How was Virgil?”

   “Pretty good. Worried about his boyfriends leaving him but I casually called him stupid and everything was fixed.”

   “This is why no one believes you went to med school.”

   Remy twisted his head a bit to smirk at Emile. “Hey, my complete lack of professionalism is the entire reason you get to be the psych doc without even having to think about student loans.”

   “I know.” Emile said, moving up so he could kiss Remy. “It’s why I love you.”

   “Oh, so all I am to you is a free bachelor's and master’s degree?”

   “It’s one of the many reasons I love you.” Emile amended, yawning as he curled closer to Remy. “Along with the fact you’re a great hugger.”

   “And to think you tried to escape my hug but five minutes ago.” Remy teased, but he curled in a little more as well, quietly watching Steven Universe with his boyfriend as they both gradually fell asleep.

[politics-notmything]

If it’s true what they say

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Tw- Anne says fuck twice

For some reason, after around five years of this, Anne has not yet learned her lesson. Once again, she had woken up and instantly shot out of bed upon reading the face of the clock, which indicated it was ten minutes until the end of breakfast. Although, while she still hasn’t figured out how to wake up early, she has mastered the art of getting ready in a flash. After rolling out of bed, she had to quickly locate wherever the fuck her uniform was (usually on the floor) and throw it on. Oftentimes, she didn’t even bother to change out of her pyjamas and was just able to cover them with her long, black robes. Today was one of those days. It’s not like anyone would notice, anyway. She could always go back up to her dorm room later, during a free period or lunch, to properly change. Next came rapidly brushing her teeth and hair all while tugging on her socks, then shoes. Once that was done, she could run (more like fall) up the steps of the Slytherin common room and dash into the Great Hall. And that’s the step she was at now.

             Out of breath and panting heavily, ANNE reached the Great Hall with five minutes to spare. She quickly located Kitty sitting at their usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, and she flopped down next to her friend. Anne grabbed some toast and eggs, making a quick breakfast sandwich, and took a bite out of it. As she chewed, she took the two hair ties from around her wrist and quickly pulled her hair into her typical messy spacebuns.

Next to her, Katherine was finishing off the last of her orange juice while listening to another Jane Seymour describe the wild dream she had last night. Anne was only able to catch a few words of the story. Something about Henry VII and his SIX wives? It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but Kitty seemed to be dying from laughter, so she supposed it’d be funnier if she’d actually heard the whole story. Speaking of, that reminded her, she still had to force Kat to watch High School Musical with her. For some reason, Katherine has not yet watched the iconic movie trilogy featuring the one and only Zac Efron and Anne made a quick mental note to make Kitty watch it with her once they were home for the holidays.

Once Jane had finished their tale, Kat turned towards Anne, tears of laughter still in her eyes.

“G’morning, Annie,” she chuckled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You missed the owls again. Your dad sent you a letter.” From her robes, she pulled a white envelope with “ANNE BOLEYN” written on the front in her dad’s messy scrawl. Ever since her first year, her father has sent her a letter each week, checking up on her and it almost always ended with him screaming at her. More often than not, Kat technically got the letter and then proceeded to pass it along to her.

Anne took the letter from Kat and opened it, accidentally ripping the envelope as always. Her eyes quickly scanned over the parchment paper as Kitty peered over her shoulder. Most of the letter contained the typical stuff, although her dad also asked how the Quidditch match had gone. Upon reading that, Anne let out an audible groan and jammed it back into the envelope, then into the pocket of her robes. Great. On the bright side, he was usually pretty forgiving about Anne’s antics as long as it wasn’t extremely out of line.

As the clock struck eight a.m., students began filing out of the Great Hall and heading towards their first classes. Hurriedly, Anne scooped the remnants of her sandwich in a napkin and ran to catch up with Kat who had already started walking away from the table.

================================

Twirling a stick between her gloved hands, Anne watched the flower before her intently, only half-listening to whatever Sprout was lecturing them about. She’d only caught the introduction to the class’s activity, caring for Fanged Geraniums or something like that, before she became more interested in the magical flower and zoned out. Currently, her assigned plant was attempting to snap at the stick with its rows of sharp teeth.

“Fuck,” she quietly cursed. Katherine had just elbowed her, drawing her attention fro just a moment away from the Geranium. It seized the opportunity and used the distraction as a chance to finally nip at her fingers. Thankfully, Anne was able to swiftly draw her hand back in time before she lost any vital body parts and glared at her friend. “What the hell?”

The younger girl said nothing and just tilted her head towards Sprout who was now pacing around the greenhouse as she talked, getting increasingly closer to the pair. Immediately, Anne dropped the stick, which the Fanged Geranium gladly gobbled up, and tried her best to look as if she’d been listening the whole time.

Professor Sprout looked at her with raised eyebrows but didn’t make a move to call her out about it. “Alright now, get to work, class.”

As soon as she said that, Anne turned to Kitty. “Okay, so, what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

“Annie, why do you never pay attention?” Kat asked, already starting to tend to her plant. It was clear from her tone that it was meant to be a rhetorical question. “You know this is going to be on the O.W.L.s, right?”

“I dunno,” Anne responded, watching Kat’s actions and attempting to replicate them with her own Geranium. Somehow, she must’ve gotten it right because the plant stopped snapping at her hands whenever they got close to it. “I just can’t, y'know?”

“Sure, Anne,” Kitty said, sarcastically, and looked up from what she was doing, turning her attention to the Slytherin. Her gaze shifted downward, to the now passive plant in front of Anne. “What the heck, how? You weren’t even listening.”

The Boleyn girl stared back at her friend with a somewhat smug expression on her face and looked back down at the Fanged Geranium, grinning.

===========================

Yawning, Boleyn drummed her fingers against the round Divination table as she did her best to follow Professor Trelawney’s ramblings. Quite frankly, though, she couldn’t care less about whatever the fuck her dreams meant. Half the time, she can’t even remember what happens in them. But, older students said Divination would be an easy class so here she was. They were mostly right. All the homework was just taking some shit she saw and then making it more dramatic. Thinking about candles? Write about how Hogwarts burned down in your dream journal. Simple.

Really, the hardest part about the subject was having to endure over an hour of Trelawney’s lessons every other day. She would always talk about weird, “prophetic” shit like reading tea leaves or seeing visions. Anne didn’t understand any of that crap, and quite frankly didn’t care, either. There were two kinds of people when it came to Trelawney. Most didn’t believe any of the bullshit she spewed, but there were a handful of students that hung on each and every word no matter how ridiculous.

Anne looked at Kat for a moment before grabbing a piece of parchment out of her bag and scribbling a note, then sliding it across the table to the Hufflepuff.

Would u rather-

Sit through 100 hours of Binns or 100 hours of this bullshit w T?

Kitty glanced at Anne with a slight smile tugging at her lips, then began to write a response. Depends on the day. Sometimes Trelawney lets us drink tea.

Anne grinned, shaking her head. Of course, Kitty could find the good in Trelawney’s dumb classes.

At least the ghost dude actually teaches us shit though.

Kat rolled her eyes slightly and leaned down to respond, but they both heard an annoyed huff come from behind them. It was Catherine Parr. Anne turned around and gave her a look that clearly said, “What the hell are you looking at, smartass?”

Cathy turned to her best friend who was sitting beside her, to borrow a quill and quickly wrote something neatly on a scrap of parchment, then proceeded to hand it to Anne with a condescending look.

Stop passing notes, it's really distracting.

Anne glared quickly before scribbling a response.

Hypocrite.

She dropped the paper in front of Cathy, then, without a second glance, turned back to Kat, who was finishing up the last word of her note.

But Trelawney knows stuff about divination, remember that one time she predicted that you would fall in love with a girl who’s name started with an ‘M’, then a few weeks later you started majorly crushing on this girl named Maggie?

Anne smiled slightly, the glitterball was, of course, right. She tended to be right at that sort of thing. Every now and then, Trelawney had a moment of clarity in which her predictions turned out to be correct. They never quite ended up the way you’d expect them to though. Instead of responding to Kitty’s last comment, Anne wrote, 

Catherine is pissing me off. She just gave me the fucking stink eye.

Kitty frowned, shaking her head. 

Which one?

Anne nodded in understanding as Catherine of Aragon and Catherine Parr both sat behind them.

The smart one... who’s also kinda hot.

She scribbled out the last part.

Anne was about to continue on, but a particular voice piped up from behind them. “Excuse me, Professor? Anne and Katherine Howard have been passing notes for the past fifteen minutes and it’s been very distracting to me and others sitting near them.”

Parr. Of fucking course, it was Cathy who would call them out. Anne felt a flash of anger and annoyance but held her tongue. After the whole “losing the first Quidditch match of the year” ordeal, Anne had been careful to avoid getting in too much trouble, and she knew that if she responded to the Ravenclaw, it would only get increasingly worse for her.

Professor Trelawney turned her head to face Boleyn, with a look of distaste on her face. Anne wasn’t very well-liked by many of the professors, except maybe Madame Hooch. She was particularly good at flying and Kitty’s talent with Charms meant that when they were learning Incendio, she was among one of the first to conjure up a stream of fire. 

“Ooooooh,” a handful of the other students called out.

Another one, in particular (it sounded like Anna of Cleves) shouted “Exposed!” Anne flushed red with embarrassment.

“Ah, oh. Um, five points from the both of you,” It was clear that Trelawney wasn’t going to make it a big deal; it wasn’t often that she doled out punishments to students. But, it was more than enough to fuel the anger inside of the gremlin.

Anne spun around to give Cathy a death glare, to which Cath returned with a fake smile and a shrug of her shoulders. She then rotated in her seat towards Kat, who had pointedly turned to face Trelawney, clearly not wanting to lose any more points. Rolling her eyes, Anne followed Kitty’s lead and tried to listen to whatever the hell the nutso professor was going on about.

[mari-onberry]

Opening Up

read on ao3

for @helpimbecominganerd for the TodoBakuDeku Winter Exchange! Thanks for the great prompt I always love an excuse to write a coffee shop AU.

***

Shouto woke up freezing. As his dream was quickly slipping from his mind, he found that most of the covers were on the floor. He rolled out of bed, tired from restless sleep, and got ready for work as best as possible while avoiding his family. To add insult to injury, he still had a shift at his father's coffee shop. He dreaded every day his father made him come into work, saying it would give him character and discipline. The only thing it really gave him was more contempt for his father. 

He drove the short distance from home to the coffee shop, idly humming an indistinct melody along the way, trying his best to not fret about the long shift he was going to have. It only marginally worked, since the second he saw his dad through the window, his mood plummeted. He kept his head down as he entered the building, ready to get this over with, put on his uniform, and stationed himself at the cash register. Then, as he scanned the room while trying his best to tune out his dad's lectures, his eyes caught a certain familiar face.

Every weekend morning for the past few weeks, a blonde boy around his age sat in the same place, and it was starting to become the reason Shouto made it through the week. He looked around, and saw that the rest of the shop was fairly empty, so he had a few minutes until he would have to tend to a customer. Shouto walked over to where the blonde was sitting. 

"How are you enjoying your coffee?" He asked, and although it was odd for him to check on customers in such a manner, he hoped it wouldn't seem like he was intruding. 

Soon, it was apparent the blonde saw it that way. "It's fine?" He seemed angrier than the situation called for, but Shouto credited that to his disposition. 

"Good, I'm glad. You can call me over if you need any help." He smiled as wide as he could for that early in the morning, then bailed. He wanted to start up some sort of conversation, but that wasn't exactly his strong suit. He made his way back to the counter, where a customer looked rather annoyed waiting in line. 

Shouto assumed he had failed until the blonde walked up to the counter a few minutes later. "See you next weekend," he said, and handed him a napkin with almost incoherent scribbles written on one side, and then walked away and out the door. 

Heart pounding, Shouto turned the napkin over to read it, and whispered an excited 'yes!' to himself when he saw what was on it-- his number and name.

He immediately put it in his phone as quick as he could before his dad could notice. 

***

Shouto didn't want to seem desperate, even if that word actually did describe him well. He kept typing up drafts of texts to send the blonde, who he had found out was named Bakugou, but none of them sounded right. For a moment, he wanted to just call him, since the humiliation would be over within a matter of seconds, rather than the possible hours waiting for a text back could take. He decided against that almost immediately, though, since he had a tendency to freeze up when talking on the phone, and he knew those odds would be even higher talking to Bakugou. So, he wrote out another text.

Hello, thanks for giving me your number! I've been mildly obsessed with you for the past few weeks and I spend an embarrassing amount of my time at work day staring at you.

It was all truthful, but he would probably never show his face in public again if he actually sent something like that. 

He deleted all of it and opted to type in a simple, hey. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do without giving himself a heart attack. He hit send before he could back out, then threw his phone to the other side of the bed, not wanting to worry about when Bakugou would answer back. This didn't last long, though, because his phone buzzed, signifying a notification, within a matter of a few seconds. Shouto leapt at his phone and saw the reply. 

Hey, is there a name better than 'Half-and-Half', to put you under in my phone?

Oh. Shouto realized he hadn't really ever introduced himself. He answered immediately with his name and how to spell it, but soon after that the conversation went stale. He set his phone down, a little disappointed that the conversation hadn't lasted that long. A few minutes later, though, his phone buzzed again.

Shouto? Not Todoroki?

He frowned. What kind of question was that? And how did he know his last name?

After not getting an answer, he texted again. The owner of that cafe is your dad, right? Enji Todoroki? 

He didn't really want to talk about his dad. That was probably the worst subject to bring up with him, but he knew there was no way Bakugou knew that. He took a while to text back, and again he got another text before he could answer.

If he's really enough of a dick to renounce his name, I really regret visiting his cafe every week. 

Kirishima sat next to Bakugou, trying his best to pull the phone away.

"Katsuki, what are you even talking about? You shouldn’t ask such personal questions right away."

"Shut up, shitty hair. I know what I'm doing." He didn't. Luckily, neither did Shouto.

You're right, he is a dick. But he pays me, and I don't know if I could make it through the work week without getting to see you. 

Was he coming on too strong? Shouto wondered to himself, and although he was convinced he was, he didn't care. He was resolute to just say what was on his mind, especially if it was a guarantee he would mess up regardless.

"Woah," Kirishima said in awe. How had this completely inappropriate text conversation turned out in Katsuki's favor? Kirishima wanted to know his secret.

Katsuki typed out another message. Well, I'll make sure to tip you well next time, then.

The two of them flawlessly stumbled through awkward flirtatious texts, and despite Kirishima's attempts to help, Katsuki had somehow steered the conversation into asking for a date. Are you free this weekend?

Shouto would've leapt for joy if he didn't rush to get out the next text. I get off work at 11.

So, there it was. Despite everything, they had made a date. Both of them were wildly inexperienced, but they independently resolved to figure this dating thing out together. 

See you then. Bakugou typed out, and Kirishima was proud he hadn't included any strange nicknames or insults. "What are you staring at, Shitty Hair?"

Kirishima sighed. He was acting like his same old angry self, and Kirishima wondered how this Shouto kid would ever be able to deal with Bakugou's strong personality once he learned the truth. "Nothing. Just promise me you won't break his heart."

Bakugou frowned at his best friend, but answered quietly, hesitating. "Why would I ever do that, asshole?"

Well then, maybe he had changed. 

***

That weekend, Kirishima had come over to help Bakugou get ready. It proved fairly difficult, since he was usually very grumpy in the morning, especially before his coffee. 

"No Shitty Hair, I am not wearing that."

Kirishima held up an outfit that was more dressy than Bakugou was used to wearing. "You don't have many choices. It's between this, wearing the same thing you wear every weekend, or borrowing something from my closet."

Bakugou sighed and gave in. He wasn't proud, but when he made it to the cafe, he noticed Shouto looking at him a bit differently. He ordered as nonchalantly as possible, since his dad was standing directly behind him, but still managed a wink when Enji wasn't looking. Shouto blushed, but tried his best to hide it when the next customer ordered.

Bakugou sat in the same seat he always did, but found himself glancing over at the counter where Shouto worked more often than usual. He kept typing out drafts of texts, wanting to talk to Shouto, but deleted them, knowing he couldn't answer while working. 

Finally, he sent, damn it, does time always go so slow around here? It was only a few minutes after 10:30, and he wanted their date to come as quickly as possible.

He heard Shouto's phone vibrate from across the room, and then saw him lift his head and locate Bakugou with his eyes. Bakugou sent another text, trying to test to see if he was brave enough to check his phone again in front of his dad. 

He did look at it after he had helped the last customer in line and typed a reply as quickly as possible, trying to avoid scrutiny from Enji. 

Stop, you're distracting me. Bakugou read it in Shouto's stern voice, although he was fairly certain he meant it more playfully. 

Yeah, that's kinda the point.

Shouto felt his phone buzz again, but before he could respond, Enji snapped at him. "Stop getting distracted by that damn phone or you're done working for the day."

Shouto much preferred the latter option, so he grabbed his phone out of his pocket in an act of defiance. 

Enji took the phone and yelled at his son. "Go home now. You're grounded."

Shouto looked hurt, but not surprised. Everyone in the cafe watched in shock as Shouto quickly did as Enji had told him, and Bakugou followed shortly after.  He caught up to Shouto before he could get to his car. "Wow, you really underplayed how shitty your dad is," he half-joked in an effort to get Shouto's attention. 

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have disobeyed."

Bakugou sighed, disappointed to hear Shouto talk about himself like that. "Maybe not, but he shouldn't have acted like that either. And anyway, I was the one distracting you." Bakugou didn't blame himself, but he hoped putting part of the blame on himself would help Shouto realize how ridiculous the situation was. 

"No, I know, it's just," he stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot, not knowing if he should say what was on his mind. "I feel like I ruined our date."

Bakugou laughed, not in a hostile way, but more to tell Shouto that he shouldn't worry so much. "Our date hasn't even started yet. We still have time." He would estimate it was near 11 now.

"But I'm grounded. If he finds out I didn't do what he said, he'll kill me."

"Then let's not let him find out."

Shouto warmed up to the idea as he drove Bakugou away from the cafe (they agreed they could pick up Bakugou’s car later) and off in some unimportant direction. He finally felt free, like he didn't have to worry about what his dad thought anymore. It felt like if he had Bakugou with him, it didn't matter if he got grounded or didn't get to work at the cafe. He drove for a while in silence, not caring if they never had to stop.

Then, Bakugou suggested a place. "Stop here," he commanded simply, pointing to a small restaurant on the right.

Shouto turned off and parked in front, and although they were both hungry, they just sat in the parking lot for a while.

“Thank you.” 

“For what? I didn't do anything. It was all you.”

“You did. You gave me the power to disobey. And even though I’m not really in a position to get caught, it’s still a good feeling. I’m always stuck pretending. Pretending I like my dad, pretending to like my job.”

“Screw everyone else. You’re the only one that matters in your own life.” 

Shouto blushed at this advice, even though he wasn’t sure he completely believed it. It wasn’t surprising that Bakugou did, though. “Well, I’m not sure about that.” He let his hand move an inch towards the passenger seat, overlapping his fingers with Bakugou’s. He wanted to show him some sort of affection so he could understand that he was truly thankful, even if he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions. 

Unfortunately, he apparently did something wrong, because Bakugou jumped at the touch and opened the car door, almost as if he was trying to get away. “Good talk, Half-and-Half, but you should probably get home soon. I’m gonna get some lunch and I’ll call a friend to drive me to my car.” He rushed away from the car and towards the restaurant, and although Shouto would’ve loved to stay and have lunch, Bakugou was right: Enji would be almost done at the cafe, so Shouto would have to get home before he was missed. He drove away without saying goodbye.

***

The next weekend, Bakugou woke up in a pile of blankets and covered in sweat like he did every morning. He would usually say it annoyed him, but he never took any move to rectify it, probably because deep down he knew it served as some sort of replacement for real human contact.

Also every morning, he got out of bed a little too excited to visit his favorite coffee shop. He knew very well why, but he would never say it out loud. He just let the anticipation bubble up inside him as he drove there, waiting to lose even a sliver of his usual loneliness. 

Unfortunately, the object of his excitement, the person who usually alleviates his feelings of solitude, wasn’t there that day. He still ordered his usual drink from someone who didn't have it memorized and sat down at his usual spot, but none of it felt the same. He left with his drink in a matter of minutes. He tried his best to will away the ache in his gut from not seeing that nerd with half-red-half-white hair. 

He took out his phone and typed a message. Taking a sick day? He didn't get a reply. So, he texted again, hurriedly this time, actually a little worried that Shouto was in danger. If you got yourself hurt, dickhead, I swear... He couldn’t finish the text. He didn't know what to say to him, and for a second, he worried it was his fault. 

Then, he remembered what had happened last week: Shouto had been grounded. Not even that, but his dad had taken his phone away, so it must be that he just hadn’t given it back yet. And that might explain Shouto’s absence; he might be grounded from work, too. Bakugou sighed, a little disappointed that Enji had made such a big deal out of it. He remembered a time when he never wanted to get this close to someone. But now, all he wanted to do was find Shouto and apologize for being so flaky the other day, consequences be damned.  

That was what he wanted to do, but not what he did. He buried his face in his phone, trying not to think about anything other than Shouto. He was probably better off, anyway, he thought. He could protect himself. 

He spent the day with distractions, but he couldn’t help but worry. It felt distinctly not like him, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. So, after dinner, even though it was starting to get dark out, he snuck out to try and alleviate this feeling, even if that just meant going for a walk. 

He found himself in front of the cafe.

It was the first time Shouto had ever seen him under the moonlight. He was somehow even more radiant, and he felt himself wanting to see him even closer. Instead, he opened the door for him and went back to work cleaning.

Bakugou broke the silence. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“Really? It’s almost 6 PM. We’ve been closed for hours.”

“Well, then, I guess I hoped I’d find you here. I didn’t really know where else I’d go looking.” He looked at his feet, uneasy, as if just this much was hard enough for him to say. 

“Ah, so you were looking for me, then?” 

“Shut up.” He didn't want to say anything further, so he didn't. He just watched Shouto wipe down the same counters he had seen him clean a hundred times before. That led him to another question. “Why are you here so late?” If their shop had closed hours ago, why was he still here? Shouldn’t they have done this job earlier?

Shouto sighed. “Punishment,” he explained briefly, but he thought it was enough to get the point across. He would gladly wipe down these counters until it wore down to the wood as long as it meant he wouldn’t have to spend another second with his dad. 

Bakugou hummed, not knowing how else to respond, but relieved that the worst Shouto’s dad had done to him was overwork him. Still not dad of the year behavior, but not as bad as the millions of scenarios Bakugou had been imagining. “So you’re okay?” The moment the words left his mouth, he knew that it was the question that had been bothering him the entire day, but saying it out loud felt like a mistake. Shouto didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed glad that he had someone worried about him. 

“I’m fine.”

Bakugou believed him. It was easy to see when Shouto was unhappy a lot of the time, since that look was permanently on his face when Enji was around. But in that moment, Bakugou saw something that was rare for Shouto: happiness.

Bakugou made his way around the counter to get closer to Shouto, suddenly needing to let him know the feelings he had just figured out. And although Bakugou initiated the kiss, he had no idea what to do with his hands, and they hovered midair for a second before Shouto wrapped one arm around his neck, tight enough to make him shiver, and one arm around his abdomen. Then magically, Bakugou’s hands fell perfectly into place on Shouto’s hips. He pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, and suddenly they’re hugging each other, practically falling into each other's arms. 

If it was anyone else, Bakugou would get embarrassed, and probably a little angry. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't melt into it like it made him feel whole. But with Shouto, it seemed like what he had been waiting for ever since the first time he laid eyes on him in that coffee shop on a cold winter morning only a few weeks ago.

"Hey, Bakugou?”

Bakugou looked in his direction, a little embarrassed hearing his name come from Shouto. "You can call me Katsuki," he answered, not exactly sure what to say. He was used to knowing how to do things, and striving to be the best. With Shouto, though, he was starting to be happy with being himself, even if that meant he wasn't the best at everything.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" Shouto asked, already moving towards the machine.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Shouto started up the coffee pot, hoping his father wouldn't notice a little bit of his stock being gone, and in knowing it was for Bakugou-- no, Katsuki, he stopped caring. He sat down at Katsuki’s usual spot, and he looked down at him, faux-anger on his face. 

"Move your ass, asshole."

"Creative," Shouto mocked, smirking and handing Katsuki his mug.

"Shut up, half-and-half. I'm tired. That's what the coffee's for."

Shouto just laughed, and his heart felt light.

Katsuki sipped his coffee just like he did every morning, content with the feeling of the scolding liquid almost burning his tongue, but this time he felt complete, especially when he felt Shouto’s fingers intertwine with his own under the table. His fingers started to warm up now that they were out of the cold.

[starlightinhumanform]

The Art of Love: Chapter 10

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora 

Summary: It’s chemistry again and Adora is missing, leaving Glimmer to wonder where she is. Glimmer has to face Weaver, Cat, and her feelings by herself. 

Warnings (for this chapter): Some descriptions of mild emotional distress/anxiety, Mild language (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: As always, all notes mean so much to me (especially reblogs). I always love getting feedback and questions so feel free to drop a comment, send an ask, or add something in the tags! Hope you enjoy my dears~  Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    The Art of Love Masterpost    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Glimmer’s feet shuffled on the laminate tiles as she dragged herself to fourth period. She could tell by the quickly thinning crowd that the passing period was almost over. She couldn’t bring herself to move faster- or to actually care. She had fallen asleep in her last period and had been forced to scribble down the half an hour of notes she had missed in the last three minutes of class- and then a minute or two of passing after that.

Her mind was a fog and the only lamp that occasionally shone through the dense clouds was a grumble of frustration. Glimmer couldn’t decide if she should blame her sleep deprivation on Ms Weaver or if it was better to somehow twist the situation onto Adora. Her brain suggested the third option of it being her damn fault for being so distracted the whole night and spending so much time on being a drama queen instead of actually doing work.

Glimmer let out a huff as the bell screeched. She glared at the door down the hall, behind which Weaver was almost surely cackling out some Disney villain laugh as she marked Glimmer late.

A large part of her was highly tempted to turn around and spend the entire period lurking in a corner of the art studio. She had dropped off the model that morning (By some miracle, Weaver hadn’t been there) so Adora could still present it and get points for them.

She stopped walking and tapped her fingers against her thigh. It was only a ten foot walk to the class but, god, at what cost?

She was jarred into movement by a security guard speeding past her on a bicycle. He was shouting at the empty hallway- something about, “COME ON PEOPLE, KEEP MOVING,”- as if he were policing Times Square and not just Glimmer as she slouched her way past the empty row of monotonous doors.

Glimmer huffed and sludged forward, pausing to glare at the disappearing guard before wrenching the door open.

“Glimmer you’re-“

“Late, I know,” she grumbled the inevitable end of Weaver’s sentence.

Glimmer could feel Weaver’s raised eyebrow without even looking up.

“Keep doing this and you’ll get-“

“Detention. I know.”

The other students were watching the exchange like they were waiting for a bomb to go off- tick tock tick tock. Glimmer was sure that if it were just her and Weaver, the woman may have actually lost it and begun screaming at her.

She settled into her seat, resolved not to let Weaver bother her today. She was too tired to give a shit.

Weaver paused before conceding to simply shake her head and move towards the middle of the room.

Glimmer hazarded a glance upward only to see Weaver surveying the room with a wicked grin, hands pressed together like a praying mans’; as if she was showing off the wicked red claws of her nails. It made Glimmer sick.

“So class, I have a surprise for you,” Smug, purred, smooth with jagged edges; Weaver reminded Glimmer of obsidian as the woman soaked in the sounds of hopelessness coming from her students, “I’ll be checking your projects today to see what you have done!”

The class groaned in unison and the girl in front of Glimmer began whisper yelling at her partner across the room- as if that could do them any good now. Glimmer would have rolled her eyes if they didn’t feel so heavy.

“I know, it isn’t wonderful?!” Weaver’s shark-toothed grin widened as she acknowledged her doomed class.

Glimmer felt bad for the kids in the room who didn’t have a hyperactive, annoyingly insistent partner who had in on Weaver’s evil plans- so basically everyone else.

Now that Glimmer was thinking about it, she hadn’t seen said ball of energy when she had walked in. She turned and was surprised to see Adora’s seat glaringly empty. Glimmer fought back against the wave of disappointment that hit her. It’s not like this was a completely bad thing- it meant that Glimmer would actually be able to concentrate. And Weaver would be more likely to give Glimmer credit for her work instead of immediately assuming Adora had done all of it. So yeah, it was all good. Except... She said she’d see me at school...

Glimmer internally sighed at her own pathetic foolishness; she was getting way too soft.

She allowed herself another glance back, as if Adora would’ve suddenly appeared there in the three second break between her stares.

Another wave hit her, this time a cascade of apprehension. Adora was not the type to skip class and Glimmer’s mind was quick to fill the fog in her head with worries. What if something happened to her? What if she passed out? What if she passed out because I kept her up all night? What if she got hit by a car? What if I hit her my car?? Wait no... I don’t have a car. But what if she’s trying to avoid me?

Glimmer’s mind slapped its hand down on a proverbial bell- Yep! She’s try to avoid you!

Glimmer could feel the sensation of sickness growing in her stomach and rising to her chest. She wanted to bury her had in her hand as a stupid emotional groan began clawing its way up her vocal cords.

“Hey, Glimmer,”  A snarky voice purred above her.

Glimmer growled as she looked up into Cat’s smirk, “What do you want?”

Cat gave an over the top pout, complete with big eyes and crinkled forehead, “Why, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m fine; leave me the hell alone,” Glimmer spat.

“All right, all right. You just looked a little,” Cat waggled her fingers, which only added to the insult of her airy, pretentious voice, “dazed-out there.”

Glimmer was suddenly aware of the movement around her- nearly everyone was already sat down with their partners or were at least taking a seat as she looked around.

“Also, I kinda need that seat,” Cat wrinkled her nose at Glimmer and pointed at the chair she was in.

Glimmer turned her head and to the side to see Cat’s partner Scylar beaming at her. Scy was a tall-ass wrestler with a loud punk style; if Glimmer’s brain was dazed enough to somehow skip over Scy throwing herself in the seat next to her (the girl never did anything without enthusiasm), then Glimmer had to be really out of it.

She stumbled out of her chair to move out of the way, “Oh right... I’ll just- move to the back then, I guess.”

Cat waggled her fingers in a wave as she slipped gracefully into Glimmer’s chair, “See ya later.”

Glimmer blinked at the girl for a second before realizing she had froze again. She took a step back, just trying to remember how to move. See ya later... see ya. See ya.

The words bounced around in her head like the little metal ball in a pinball machine- dink, dink, dink. Every time they hit the walls of her skull, I knew conspiracy dawned upon her. What if she knows that Adora was with me last night? Dink. What if she’s trying to get revenge? Dink. What if she told Adora not to come to class? Dink. What if Cat knows I, well that I, you know, abut, you know, Adora. The thought made a little ding! sound this time before ricocheting back even stronger. 

“Uh, Glimmer?” The arch in Weaver’s eyebrow was sharp enough to cut a steak with.

She blinked again, bringing her eyes into focus. She had made her way to the back of the classroom but had failed to actually take a seat. Looking around, the seemingly the entire room had eyes on her. Her face burned and she lowered herself into the nearest seat. Adora’s seat.

Adora should have been there; Glimmer needed Adora to be there. Glimmer felt pathetic in every sense of the word. Only a few days ago, she had wanted to keep as much distance between her and Adora as possible. And now she was useless without her. It was strange and it was wrong and it shouldn’t have been happening but there she was, simmering within herself as the class moved forward without her. She needed the assurance that letting Adora in was the right thing to do, that she hadn’t scared Adora off. She needed the simple hope that Adora didn’t hate her. Why shouldn’t she? You hated her for months; you called her a lair and a fake. Why shouldn’t she hate you?

Glimmer resisted the urge to grumble at herself to shut up. Sometimes her brain really did deserve to be yelled at, though.

The class was moving again, sifting through the maze of chairs to grab their projects. Glimmer followed suit as best as she could to meld into the crowd this time after the embarrassing space-out that had happened only a couple minutes before.

Ok but consider this. Glimmer rolled her eyes internally as her mind began rambling again. What if she does hate you- so what? You thought that she hated you for a long-ass time; why does it matter so much if she actually does now? It honestly might be a good thing. It’ll help you get over that stupid crush.

She kept moving forward, trying to ignore the words floating around in her head but it was so much easier just to argue back. Was she just adding to the noise? Yes. Was it satisfying to tell the devil in her ear that it was an idiot? Oh definitely. Consider this- you’re the one that’s so obsessed with Adora and maybe if you stopped worrying about her for a second, I could find something else for you to yell at me about for no good reason.  

It struck Glimmer just how much Adora had taken over her life; she had spent the whole day thinking and worrying about the girl. She was just a crush after all; it was ridiculous. Ok so Glimmer thought she was gorgeous and funny and smart and definitely the weirdest person she had ever met but in the best way possible? It was crazy to get this obsessed. Glimmer took a deep breath as she lifted her model off the counter, resolved to relax and go about this whole situation like a “normal” person. One problem. She had never crushed this hard on someone before. She had no idea how to act.

She settled back into her seat- Yes, it was her seat; Adora wasn’t here right now and that meant her seat rights were revoked. Glimmer snorted at her sleep-deprived mind as it continued to crack into smaller and increasingly hysterical pieces.

Glancing around, it was clear that the rest of the room was occupied. Weaver was stalking from partner to partner, leering over each of her victims with the sadistic joy that only a high school science teacher could possibly possess. The groups that weren’t being judged were either trying to throw together styrofoam balls or were praying. Glimmer was pretty sure that neither of those would help at that point.

Glimmer decided to take advantage of the surrounding chaos and grabbed her phone from the pocket of her backpack. She opened her conversation to Bow, ready to dump all her problems in her messages and hope she wasn’t blowing up his phone in middle of a test. Oh well, that’s a problem she could deal with later-

Hey hey hey. Ok so I’ve a problem

Well more like a question. But it’s questions about a problem

...hi? What’s going on lmao

You haven’t texted me since you sent me that weirdass text at like two in the morning

What were you even doing up then??

Oh good you are here ;)

What do you mean?? You were up too loser??

Oh my god just tell me what your ~problem~ is

Ok um sooooo

Yes?

SOOOOO

YES

WHAT

Glimmer moved a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles that were escaping. Bow’s dramatics always made her laugh and she happened to be uncharacteristically bashful about this certain topic.

So I kinda have a big fat crush

The giggles disappeared very suddenly and Glimmer dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched the little blinking dots march in their message bubble, waiting for Bow’s response. Fortunately, he didn’t take long to reply. Unfortunately, Glimmer didn’t quite like his answer.

Is it Adora?

Dfydfgdgthkl how??

Look no one hates someone for no reason as much as you hated adora UNLESS you actually love them

Ok so Bow had a point and maybe he was right and she should have realized it earlier, but “love” was taking it several steps too far.

Also that text you sent last night was so lovestruck I could practically see the hearts in your eyes

I literally just said it turned out ok that you gave her my number?? Because YOU were freaking out??

Yes but you said it with love <3 <3 <3

I hate you

And it’s NOT love. I just like her

Sure...

Glimmer very nearly put her phone away with a huff before remembering that she accidentally had a reason for texting Bow to begin with.

Shut up, anyways do you know where Adora is?

Ooo you missing your girlfriend?

Glimmer’s face would burned red even if Bow hadn’t taken the low dig and called Adora her girlfriend. Because that was the dream, right? Because that’s exactly what she wanted but what she could never have. Because Bow didn’t know the ache in her chest, the pain he was causing. Because he was her best friend so he should know what was going on and how much everything had changed. Because she just wanted to tell him everything and ask him what the hell she should do, but there was something keeping her from telling him and maybe if she could just ask for help, she would know how to solve all her problems. And because yes, she missed Adora and the feeling was so much stronger than it should’ve been.

She glanced around herself, positive that someone had seen her face glowing as bright as a stop light. Everyone was preoccupied with their various crises, leaving Glimmer to her own in peace. Unfortunately Weaver was only two rows away and was drawing closer and closer to where Glimmer sat slumped. She would have to finish up her conversation quickly then.

I’m just wondering why she isn’t in class ok? Nothing more

If you don’t know then I’ll find someone else to ask

Jeez ok

Glim I’m sorry for teasing you

But no I don’t know where she is. Sorry :/ 

Yeah ok. Ttyl my dude 

Glimmer let a puff of air escape slowly from her nose as she zipped her phone into its pocket. Her head felt like a bag of bricks tied to the end of her neck, her eyes just as heavy. She was slumped severely in the chair, so low that her shoulder blades were pressing into the middle of the seat and if she scooted forward a couple more inches, she’d probably slip off entirely; the idea of how much her mother would disapprove of her posture almost drew a laugh from Glimmer.

She debated whether or not it was worth it was worth it to fall asleep. Weaver would be standing over her, glaring with disgust in only two minutes or so, and she would therefore be risking whatever humiliation that would come with Weaver’s disgust. But, mmmm, two minutes of sleep? That might be worth it.

Glimmer was just shifting to plant her head on the desk when the classroom door exploded open. In the doorway stood a slightly sweaty Adora beaming, as always, as if she herself were the sun.

All eyes flickered over to her simultaneously, staring with confused and maybe amused expressions. Adora just grinned wider, apparently in response, “Hey everyone!”

Weaver stood up straight, freezing to look Adora up and down. She seemed confused as to what to do next. The girl continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, seemingly completely comfortable in the situation. The edges of her ponytail were frayed with baby hairs sticking up at odd angles that framed her reddened face. Her breathing was heavier than usual and the blades of glass plastered up her legs combined to give the impression that she had come directly from running.

Adora strode forward, “Sorry I was late! Soccer event with all the captains!”

So Cat did know where she was.

“Oh, I guess that’s ok then,” Weaver unfroze but still seemed somewhat unsure as she turned back to what she had been doing before Adora had burst in.

Adora made her way to the back, stopping only to give Cat a small wave, and sat down next to Glimmer. Her eyes were sparkling and the only signs of any sort of sleep deprivation were the dark circles that contrasted sharply with her pale skin tone. Her energy level was no reflection the amount of sleep Glimmer knew she hadn’t gotten

“Hi!”

“...hi?” Glimmer really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. That was usual. What was unusual was that Adora seemed to be expecting her to say something.

Adora was sitting next to her and just a minute ago, Glimmer would have sworn that’s exactly what she wanted but now she had doubts. Adora was just so loud. Her energy made white noise roar in Glimmer’s head and her voice thundered in the empty space between Glimmer’s thoughts. And her smile, god her smile, it was the brightest thing Glimmer had seen all day and it made her eye smart; it felt like a hand had gripped the bottom of her heart and was pulling it down, stretching out of shape and digging crescent nail marks into the flesh. That smile was all that she wanted and all that couldn’t live up to.

Adora cocked her head to the side and let the smile drop slightly, looking more like a puppy than ever, “Is something wrong?”

Glimmer shook her head and took the easy option, “Nah I’m just tired.”

“Oh ok,” Adora seemed to debate on something for a second before regaining her grin, “Me too honestly.”

It managed to draw a snort from Glimmer, “Really? I could not tell by the way you came bouncing in here.”

“I had like, way too much sugar. Anyways, what’s going on?” She turned her head from side to side to look around the room and causing her long ponytail to whip in either direction with the momentum.

Glimmer sat up from where she had ducked down to avoid Adora’s weaponized hair, “You were right. Weaver’s going around checking all our projects.”

Adora pumped her fist, moving her elbow towards her body and dramatically sweeping her head forward, eyes closed, as she did. It was undeniably dorky and it was undeniably cute.

“And our project is great,” Adora stared down at the pile of wire and clay that was beginning to look to Glimmer more and more like some strange “aesthetic” torture tool used by a Pinterest girl the 15th century. Of course, Adora was looking at it with the same starry-eyed expression that she always wore when looking at Glimmer’s art.

Glimmer shrugged, “It’s ok, I guess.”

Adora feigned offense, “Excuse me, I put my heart and soul into that clay.”

Glimmer couldn’t help but break down into giggles. She was so tired and Adora was so dumb and Glimmer couldn’t exactly explain why but every joke Adora cracked became the funniest thing she had ever heard.

Adora grinned back at her, “But really, you should give yourself more credit. It turned out great and I know that it’s not thanks to me.”

Ugh, of course she had to go and make it all “wholesome.” Glimmer debated if it was worth it to say something back. It would be so much easier just to brush it off; so much safer. She had already crossed too many lines last night, the only solution was to go back to normal today. But she couldn’t even remember what normal was.

Glimmer glanced down at her hands. She had been unconsciously worrying at her nails and now her cuticles were beginning to turn red. She looked back up at Adora, “Look though... I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without you and I’m actually really glad you insisted on coming over.”

Adora smiled with the brightness and warmth of the sun, “I am too.”

Glimmer was in the process of absolutely melting under Adora’s affections when Weaver stalked to a halt in front of them, effectively freezing her back together, “So, Adora how did it turn out?”

Glimmer turned to Adora, watching her eyebrows scrunch together as confusion slowly drew across her face, “Well Glimmer did most of the work...”

Glimmer was beginning to wonder if this ‘innocent curiosity’ was something Adora put on just for Weaver. She wasn’t stupid, she certainly didn’t actually like Weaver and she had to know that there was something going on between her and Glimmer.

“...so why don’t you talk to her about it?”

The end of Adora’s sentence snapped Glimmer sputtering out of her thoughts, “Wait what? No, sorry?”

Weaver pivoted on her heels to face Glimmer, “Well then, what do you have to say?”

Glimmer glanced at Adora with wide eyes trying to convey the message of What the hell? Why would you do this??

Adora gave an encouraging smile and nodded. Very helpful.

“Um well,” Glimmer dragged her eyes from Adora (who was still giving that somewhat infuriating smile) to Weaver, “It’s a model of bismuth. The particles or painted to look like a sample of bismuth. That’s about it.”

“Very well then,” Weaver sniffed and began leering over the mess of purples and grays.

Glimmer could have sworn Weaver hadn’t been that critically focused on other groups but, then again, she hadn’t really paid much attention to what Weaver had been doing until moments ago.

Weaver continued to glare over the project as Glimmer continued to hold her breath. After far too long, Weaver moved away with nothing more than a “humph.”

As the click click of Weaver’s heels moved to the other side of the room, Glimmer deflated into her normal slump, “I swear she hates me.”

Adora squinted in the direction of their teacher, “I still don’t see why she’s such a bitch to you.”

Glimmer’s eyebrows shot up without her consultation, “I was not expecting you to say anything that... strong.”

Adora shrugged without giving a response, still grimacing towards Weaver- whatever that meant. If it meant anything at all. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe Glimmer was just taking a simple stare to mean way too much. After all, Adora was sleep deprived and apparently coming down from a sugar high. It would make perfect sense for her to space out. So that settled it; Glimmer was reading into too much, that’s all-

“I swear one of these days she’s going to say something shitty to you, and I’m just going to lose it.”

Oh. Glimmer could feel her heart rate spike like it was trying to reach the sky. That sounded nice, that sounded like maybe- just maybe- Glimmer wasn’t reading into it too much. It sounded almost protective and normally that would make Glimmer gag, but somehow this wasn’t normal.

But of course her only reply was to let out a nervous wheeze, “Why on Earth would you do that??”

Adora shrugged again, “I don’t like the way she treats you.”

Glimmer didn’t like the strength in Adora’s eyes. It wasn’t the level of contempt that led to bloodshed, but it was certainly more emotion than Glimmer deserved or would ever ask for. It made her uncomfortable; she didn’t understand why Adora would be so angry about something which, in the long run, probably wouldn’t matter.

She gave another awkward giggle, “It really isn’t a big deal.”

Adora opened her mouth to respond and Glimmer was almost grateful when Weaver began speaking from in front of her desk. Something seemed to switch off in Adora, her expression relaxing as she turned to face the front of the room.

“I can’t say I’m surprised but a lot of you really need to get to work,” Weaver hissed out a tsk noise between her teeth, “You only have a few days left to get this project done. You have about fifteen minutes left in this period and I expect you all to be focused that entire time. All right get to work.”

The class dissolved into noise as chairs were scrapped across the floor and notebooks were grabbed with the fevered terror that can only be inspired by a looming due date.

Adora reached across the desk to open one of the class-set laptops. She brought up the presentation she had been working on yesterday, the same pastel rainbows and soft pink theme. It sparked a strange sort of déjà vu in Glimmer, the exact same situation as yesterday but with so much less hostility. The dissonance was enough to make her head spin, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the difference.

Adora turned her head, mirth poorly concealed in her smirk, “Can I help you?”

Glimmer blinked quickly, suddenly aware that she had spaced out staring at at Adora, “Oh, um, sorry, no. I was just- no I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Adora was very obviously struggling to keep her smirk from dissolving into a full smile. People talk a lot about feeling butterflies in their stomachs but to Glimmer it felt more like a hundred tiny grasshoppers jumping out of time with one another.

She swallowed but her mouth had gone dry and she wasn’t sure when that happened. She tried to piece together a sentence that a normal human would say, “Yeah, um, I’m good. But what about you? Ya know, do you need help with the project or, uh, something?”

Adora seemed to pause for a moment, once again having to switch to a different setting. She looked almost disappointed and Glimmer still didn’t have any idea what was going on.

Then Adora’s face did something else Glimmer was not at all expecting. Her expression lost all of the playful cockiness it had held only a second before, shifting into what Glimmer could only describe as timid- maybe even embarrassed, “Um, yeah, actually. Could you draw some more things for me to use in the presentation?”

Glimmer didn’t understand Adora’s apparent discomfort. She flipped open a sketch book and grabbed a pencil, “Sure; what do you need?”

“Just another a sketch of it unprocessed or something like that would be great!”

Glimmer was beginning to learn that Adora’s stupid sunshine smile was somehow even warmer when you knew you were the one that had caused it.

The next few minutes went by quickly. They sat mostly in silence, both content in their own work. Sometimes Glimmer would glance over, catching Adora staring at what she had been drawing. Every time she did, Adora would give her a tiny sheepish grin before ducking her head away. Every time she did, something unfamiliarly soft would fill her up from her toes to her cheeks that she could tell were turning pink.

When the bell rang, Glimmer argued that the main reason she didn’t want to move was because she was just too tired, but she could tell it was a flimsy excuse of a lie and she hardly even cared.

Adora stood up, looking down once she had grabbed her backpack, “See ya!”

Glimmer sighed as she watched Adora bounce away from her. See ya.

[filzmonster]

» the hero doesn’t die in this one

Hello @whatevsbla !! I’m your (backup) secret santa for the @pandoraheartssecretsanta event :) I hope you like it !! 

Summary:  » He doesn’t think it’s that strange at first – and really, he’s used to weird dreams by now (in which the world crumbles and falls, in which he walks down bloodied hallways, in which golden lights rain down from the sky, in which he falls to his knees and does not get up again), he’s had them a couple of times a month ever since he can remember and he’s dealt with them how he’s dealt with everything else in his life: he’s gone to the library and read a couple of books on the matter, and then he’s read more books and then he’s gone back and started re-reading them all until he felt that he adequately understood the topic. It was enough information to figure out that every psychoanalyst would have a field day with his dreams. It was enough to start a dream journal, just for his own personal amusement.

Read it on AO3

» we all are living in a dream, but life ain’t what it seems, oh, everything’s a mess. » and all these sorrows I have seen, they lead me to believe that everything’s a mess. » but I wanna dream, I wanna dream, leave me to dream.

(the hero doesn’t die in this one.)

The dream starts with his sixteenth birthday.

He doesn’t think it’s that strange at first – and really, he’s used to weird dreams by now (in which the world crumbles and falls, in which he walks down bloodied hallways, in which golden lights rain down from the sky, in which he falls to his knees and does not get up again), he’s had them a couple of times a month ever since he can remember and he’s dealt with them how he’s dealt with everything else in his life: he’s gone to the library and read a couple of books on the matter, and then he’s read more books and then he’s gone back and started re-reading them all until he felt that he adequately understood the topic. It was enough information to figure out that every psychoanalyst would have a field day with his dreams. It was enough to start a dream journal, just for his own personal amusement.

The journal is how he figures out just how weird his dreams have gotten over the years. Specifically, one particular dream.

It’s not a strange dream per se, it’s just that he has the same one in various lengths over and over again, right down to the words he uses to describe it in his diary, like his brain can’t even think of different expressions to write about something that is so thoroughly identical. He’s read about this phenomenon and apparently it’s not that unusual to have reoccurring dreams. It is, however, unusual to have them more and more frequently over the span of a couple of months. What started out as a monthly nightmare turned into a bi-weekly nightmare turned into a weekly nightmare turned into an ‘almost every night’ nightmare.

And then it starts creeping into his days, like reality slipping away into the dream, lose threads entangling with something he can’t really touch or see or explain to anyone except himself. It’s the first time he becomes really, actually scared.

He catches the face looking back at him from blank surfaces – his bathroom mirror in the morning, a window at school he’s passing by, even the stillness of the lake behind the dorm rooms. His face, or what his face would be with a sharp haircut and without his glasses. He lets his hair grow extra messy, just out of spite.

(It may be a nice addition that Elliot likes his hair long and messy, and that he sometimes plays with the dark strands when he’s tired or nervous or concentrating or distracted or –)

(Another nice addition is that Oz would sometimes ask if he can bride his hair – simply as practice for when he sees his sister again during school break, of course.)

The face brings a warning with it that he doesn’t really understand., but he doesn’t have to understand to know that it’s something he should pay attention to – the books have taught him that. And if not the books, then the look in the face’s eyes – his own eyes, not hidden away behind big glasses and thick bangs – that utter desperation, dark and deep and endless. Whatever that face has seen, Leo will make sure that he himself will not have to see it. Never.

(he doesn’t have to.)

The dream is this: he’s standing in some kind of cave, surrounded by darkness and gravel and dirt. There’s a figure in a red cloak standing in front of him, motionless, like the shadow of a statue, still and unmoving and radiating some kind of dark power that makes Leo shiver. The longer the dream lasts (sometimes he wakes after the first few scenes), the darker it gets around him and the figure, but in the darkness, more figures appear until he is standing in an endless sea of statues and shadows and so much power it feels like something is going to shatter under the physical strain it has on this dreamed up world. If the dream lasts this long, the figure steps forward with one elegant motion, almost as if not moving at all but just disappearing and reappearing. And then the figure pulls back their hood and Leo’s own face is looking back at him with those lost and empty eyes. His hair is shorter, framing his face instead of hiding it away and he’s not wearing his glasses. It’s weird how vibrant the purple colour of his eyes is in the darkness, and a part of Leo knows that it’s there where that disturbing power is coming from – somehow it’s connected to his eyes.

Everything comes down to his eyes in the dream. They are what is haunting him when he wakes up, because they are beautiful and terrifying, so sad and lonely and yet so filled with more of the world than Leo will ever see (or at least he hopes so).

The figure only ever says to sentences: “They are watching you.”

And: “Keep him safe.”

That’s where the dream always stops. This is also where it starts bleeding into his reality. The face is watching him, following him around, as if to make sure that he’s listening, that he’s following these orders, that he does keep him safe. (Leo does not have to ask who this he is supposed to be.)

No matter where he looks, it always seems to be looking back at him. He is truly haunted and a part of him – the part that isn’t scared, isn’t worried, isn’t freaking out – is a little thankful for this constant reminder. As long as the face keeps staring back at him, like it’s doing right now, it’s not too late. He can still keep him safe. Leo just wishes he would know what to keep him safe from. What could happen that would turn his eyes into such a deep and troubled stretch of water, filled to the rim with despair? He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t help himself whenever –

“Leo? Hey, Leo!” Elliot’s voice draws him away from the his own reflection, glittering on the surface of the still lake behind their dorm rooms. It’s not the face, but he’s been waiting for it ever since they sat down in the soft grass, the mild April sun warm on their skin.

“What?”, he mumbles a little more annoyed than he really is, but it’s just so irritating. Staying on the path between reality and dream is an act of balance that is becoming harder and harder with every day, and Leo doesn’t know how much longer he can keep his slowly decreasing sanity a secret from Elliot.

“I asked you a question”, Elliot shoots back, matching his irritation instantly. “But apparently you got distracted by your own good looks. I didn’t know you were so vain.”

Leo takes a breath to prepare for the oncoming shouting match – or maybe just to push back his fear – but Oz already breaks up the fight before it could develop, as smoothly as ever.

“Where do you think we should go from here?”, he asks, and this boy is a genius when it comes to diplomacy. He takes one of the papers they’ve been scribbling on for the past hour or so and practically throws it at Leo’s face – excitement rolling off him in big waves.

This is exactly how Leo has pictured this school project to be when he and Elliot got grouped up with Oz Vessalius of all people. Of course Elliot immediately complained about having to work with Oz Vessalius because he still doesn’t want to admit that he likes him. He still has to admit that Oz is pretty smart and hard working and therefore a good partner when it comes to school projects. He’s also pretty good at mediating and stopping fights before they escalate (he’s pretty useless once they’ve started though), which is also helpful.

For the project, they have to write a fairytale. It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s an easily achieved good grade and the weather is nice and Leo doesn’t mind spending a little bit more time with Oz. If only because it’s fun to watch him and Elliot dance around their awkward rivalry-slash-friendship.

They are almost done with the fairytale by now, Leo realizes as he skims over the last couple of notes, written in Oz’ neat handwriting.

What they have so far is a knight, happily questing his way through his kingdom, along with his servant and a young magician in training. They are doing all kinds of heroic things: slaying dragons, rescuing people from bandits, helping to rebuild destroyed villages. What they need now is the climax, and the ending.

“So he is stepping into the tower, the only part of the cursed castle that is not completely in ruins”, Leo repeats the last thing they’ve written down. “What are the options now?”

Elliot huffs. “Shorty here wants him to meet a princess and then be cured by true love’s kiss or something.” He rolls his eyes in obvious disdain. It’s adorable how hard he tries to hide how committed he is to the story by now.

Oz rolls his eyes. “It’s a fairytale. Love is supposed to be the final solution!”, he insists.

“That’s not the point of a fairytale at all!”, Elliot rebuffs immediately. “This is not a romance novel. A fairytale is supposed to be dark and … cruel. Almost brutal. And in the end is teaches a valuable lesson. See? No need for romance. At all.”

Leo sighs. Elliot is kinda right, but he doesn’t say that out loud. (He doesn’t have to, Oz is smart enough to figure that out himself. Oz is also smart enough to have figured out what Leo already knows, too. The way they’ve set up all the pieces and parts … there’s only one way for the story to progress now. And apparently Elliot still hasn’t picked up on that yet. That what Oz is trying to do with his silly romance plot is to –)

“Ah, crap!”, Elliot shouts in frustration. “We have to kill him, don’t we?”

(– save the knight.)

Leo came up with the idea pretty early on. It’s what actually sent the knight and his servant on their quest (because responsible knights don’t just abandon their family and political position for a little bit of fun): the knight got cursed. Or rather, the knight got injured and the servant tried to save his life by making a deal with an enchantress who then cursed the knight in the process of saving him. He would die in a year’s time and bring great destruction with his death. To prevent this from happening, the knight and the servant set out to find a way to break the curse. They picked up the magician along the way, who told them about the castle and that there’s supposed to be a means to end every curse ever in its ruins.

Oz nods slowly. “I mean – the problem with breaking the knight’s curse is that it would also mean that his sealed wound would kill him after all. That’s what the magician established when they first met, it’s why he didn’t break the curse himself. I don’t see how that rule should change just because they found something shiny in an old castle. But at least if they use the thing to break the curse, the knight’s death won’t bring eternal destruction over his kingdom?” He winces. “I’m sorry, Elliot.”

For a moment, Elliot only stares at their notes, every pretence of him not being deeply invested into their own characters gone, then he sighs. “It can’t be helped”, he says and shrugs if off. “It’s the only thing that makes sense at this point and I really don’t feel like going back and changing almost everything. Also, like this the magician won’t have to secondhand-kill the knight to prevent the eternal destruction.”

Oz pats him on the back and starts scribbling it down.

Leo chews on his lips. He’s staring at the face, it’s staring back from the surface of Elliot’s metal pencil case.

“Maybe …”, he starts, his mind spiralling down into the violet darkness, “… they could find something to turn back time? Go back to the moment when the knight was injured in the first place and prevent it from ever happening? The lesson would be that it’s never too late to fix your mistakes.”

Oz looks up from his notes and blinks at Leo, something like hope spreading in his green eyes. The emotion suits him.

It’s Elliot who shakes his head and then stretches his arms over his head. “But that would also undo all the knight’s heroic deeds – all the people he’s saved and helped. Even the magician, they only met him because they were on their quest. The knight wouldn’t be the same knight anymore, and he wouldn’t have the same friendships.” He’s very casual about it but Leo knows him well enough to pick up on the stern idealism behind his words. For some reason, it sends Leo’s heart into a thrumming sprint.

“So, what’s the lesson gonna be then?”, Oz asks curiously, watching Elliot with that eager expression that reveals just how bad his case of hero-worshipping is.

Elliot looks back at him with a faint blush on his cheeks. “That sometimes all you can do is make the most of the time you have and use it to do good. That’s the lesson for the knight, at least. For his friends it’s probably something like, they keep questing in honour of the knight’s sacrifice? Sometimes you lose a friend but their effect on your life will never disappear again? It’s all very cheesy, isn’t it?”, he asks, suddenly a little bit shy.

Oz coughs and grins, shaking his head. “Nope, I like it. It fits the general theme of honour and meaning we’ve been going on.”

Leo nods. “The knight dying and his friends carrying on his honourable quest – it’s a fitting end”, he says and means it. But when he looks back at the face, the purple eyes look up at him with an even darker shade of sadness than ever before. Then the face turns away and vanishes.

Somehow, Leo feels like he’s failed his task.

That night, he wakes up from the dream in the middle of the night, soaked in cold sweat and terror clutching his heart in its icy hands. He hates it when that happens. He’s supposed to be stronger than that.

He sits up with a muffled sigh, pushing his bangs out of his face and rubbing his eyes. It takes a moment for his sight to adjust to the darkness around him (normal, powerless darkness, not filled with hovering and ominous figures and warnings and foretold loneliness). He doesn’t notice the figure sitting on the windowsill at first, and it takes him another glance to figure out that it’s Oz. He’s crouched against the pane of glass, his face turned to look outside and his arms hugging his knees to his chest.

Something has always been a bit off about Oz Vessalius. It’s what makes him fit in so well with Elliot and Leo. He’s surrounded by a thin layer of chaos, like he’s pulling a tear in the fabric of reality behind himself. It used to be quite unnerving but then Leo’s own reality has started to splinter and fray around the edges and he’d started to wonder if that would be visible for other people, too. If Oz would look at him and see the same tear drifting around him.

Oz tilts his head and meets Leo’s gaze over the reflection in the window – his eyes are blood red in the dark.

“You get the warnings too, don’t you?”, he asks softly, quietly.

He swallows. “Yes.”

Oz turns around and looks at him, red meets purple and power spreads and – then it’s gone. “What are we gonna do now?”

Leo turns to Elliot, who is still sleeping in his own bed, safe and sound. “We listen”, he says.

Oz simply nods. Reality knits itself back together around him and after he blinks slowly, his eyes are green again. The next morning, Leo wonders if he’s simply imagined the whole thing, but he never dreams the dream again.

(he already died in someone else’s dream.)

[enziroth]

No Future (Part 15)

It’s a long chapter this time! Sorry it’s a bit late, hope you guys enjoy!

The door opened before he’d even raised his hand to knock, but to be fair, he was kind of expecting it.

Katakuri was standing behind it, clad only in a loose pair of black sweatpants and that massive scarf. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the empty house, but his tone was indifferent. “Was she an adequate aid? She came highly recommended.”

Sanji was in no mood to deal with his games. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he pointed his cigarette straight up at Katakuri’s face. “Why the fuck did you do this?”

Katakuri’s facial expressions were difficult to make out when he was directly above him, but Sanji thought he saw an eyebrow go up. “The children requested that you make them dinner. I thought the task too much for one person. Was that not obvious?”

“Cut the shit. Why her?” In the past few hours spent with Cosette, that had been the only thing on his mind, even through the vigorous meal planning and preparation. The chances of her presence being a sheer coincidence were ridiculous, unthinkable even, but Sanji knew he wouldn’t be able to rest unless he knew for certain.

“I told you. She came highly recommended.” Again, that bland, indifferent tone.

This was normally the part where Sanji realized he was at a dead end, Katakuri clearly unwilling to give him a straight answer. He could pick and prod all he wanted, but the man would be a brick wall, refusing to budge.

But not tonight. Tonight, it wasn’t just Sanji’s curiosity on the line; it was Cosette’s life. “Oh, yeah? Not gonna be honest with me, rice ball? Then I’m willing to trade.”

Finally, a shift in expression, Katakuri leaning forward a little with a decidedly interested glint in his gaze. “What, exactly, are you expecting to trade for?”

Sanji glared up at him, having to crane his neck far back to do so. They really were too close together for the angle to work, but Sanji sure as hell wasn’t about to back up. “How about some fucking honesty, to start with? I’m sick of being pulled around. We’re gonna sit down, man to man, and you’re gonna tell me just what the fuck you’re trying to do here.”

Katakuri’s gaze sharpened, and his aura was suddenly heavy on Sanji’s chest, but he didn’t outright dismiss him. “And what are you offering in return?”

Sanji had a few cards he could play, some more powerful than others, but if his suspicions were correct then he’d need the strongest he could get. “I’ll tell you how we figured out your plan. The one to kill me at the wedding.”

Katakuri’s face shifted into what Sanji recognized was a frown. “Bege was aware of it. He had ample time to pass the knowledge on to you. What are you attempting to gain by telling me what I already know?”

But that wasn’t all he had. “Did you wonder why I wasn’t surprised when Pudding showed me her face? That was supposed to surprise me, wasn’t it? To scare me? Disgust me? I was supposed to freeze in my tracks and just sit there while you shot me, right? But Bege never knew that part.”

Katakuri was silent for a moment, his features unreadable. Sanji watched him, his hopes riding on the man’s acceptance but ever wary of the danger in dealing with a Yonko commander. This was a new game they were playing, with Cosette in the mix, and Sanji was determined to not let it throw him off.

After what seemed like ages, but was probably only a moment or so, Katakuri took a step back, pushing the door back until it was wide open. “I think such matters are better discussed in private. Come inside.”

Sanji was confused by Katakuri’s wording until he saw the walls of the man’s room. They were the same material all the others in the house were made of, tall and wide, but there was one simple detail that sent icy shivers down the back of Sanji’s spine.

The walls were bare. No mirrors.

No one else watching.

Though Katakuri’s room was right next to his own, Sanji had never been inside of it. The setup looked quite similar to his own, with a bed, a wardrobe, a table and a few chairs, but everything was massively scaled up to fit Katakuri’s size. The result was that the room felt far more cozy, a comfortable space as opposed to the mostly unused emptiness that characterized Sanji’s room.

Katakuri settled into one of the chairs at the huge table, neatly folding himself into his seat. Sanji, cursing his already aching neck, decided to jump up on the table so he could meet Katakuri eye-to-eye. Normally, the height difference wasn’t too hard to handle, but now the last thing he wanted was to feel disadvantaged.

A few kicks and he was up, landing deftly on the far corner of the table. It was the only clear space on there, the rest covered with a giant, sprawling map that depicted the whole of Totland. There were marks on it, red scribbles and black crosses, but Katakuri rolled it up and set it aside before Sanji could make out anything else.

A few assorted den den mushis were pushed to the side, and Sanji scowled as he recognized one with a bright white labcoat and a stethoscope. He knew Katakuri always had one on him, but to see them scattered around the house as well was particularly insulting. To think the man really saw him as that weak…as if he was some kind of child that needed to be constantly watched-

Cosette.

Sanji swept the thought out of his mind, focusing himself on the task at hand. He needed to know that she would be safe, that everything he promised her would be true. Anything else could come later.

Katakuri was directly across from him, one arm resting on the table as the other raised a steaming cup of tea he’d somehow pulled out of thin air. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the chill in the air, bare chest exposed and tattoos reflecting a dull pink against the buttery yellow candlelight. From above him, Sanji could make out twin scars carved into his cheeks, mangled skin stitched back together with thick black cord. It was an unsettling sight, the symmetry of the lines speaking more of torture than battle, but Sanji wasn’t exactly in the mood to ask for the story behind them.

Even though Sanji was far taller than normal with his place on the table, Katakuri seemed even larger up close. His scarf was easily the size of Sanji’s entire body, and his eyes were large and expressive, the slight shifts in his features much more noticeable. Right now, he looked expectant, leaning slightly backwards to recline against his chair.

I’m supposed to go first, then. It had always been that way, and Katakuri had never failed to deliver on his promises, but with so much on the line Sanji couldn’t help being a little uneasy.

He wasn’t quite sure where to start, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before deciding to just get to the point. “I saw her the night she shot Reiju in her room. She taunted her by explaining what would happen at the wedding, how the bullets would tear right through her. I heard everything.”

Katakuri’s features shifted into a frown, the expression much easier to identify when it was right in front of him. “The door was locked. The guard reported that you never left your room. Mont d’Or confirmed it.”

Sanji took a drag from his cigarette, welcoming the cool nicotine that washed through his body. These weren’t exactly easy memories to relive, especially in the middle of the night with an enemy as his only company. “I snuck out to bring her dinner. The guard knew I was gone, but he knew that if he told anybody, they’d punish him for losing me. He agreed to pretend I’d never left.”

Katakuri’s fingers tightened around his teacup, and Sanji briefly rethought his words, struggling to find anything that might have set the man off. But his senses told him there was no danger, and when Katakuri spoke again, his voice was calm. “Why would you have brought her food? The palace provided meals.”

“I was worried about her. She hadn’t eaten much earlier…I thought she might have been nervous about the wedding. I wanted to bring her something simple, maybe help calm her down a little. It was the least I could do.” Sanji’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile as he remembered, before flattening out into a bitter line. “Never would’ve guessed she was just upset about having to deal with my stupid confession.”

“A confession?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

Katakuri’s massive shoulders lifted, an approximation of a shrug. “My responsibility was security. Mama trusted Pudding to handle you at her discretion.”

‘Handle’ me, huh? Well, she’d done a pretty damn good job of it; he’d never even thought of doubting her, right up until that moment outside of her window. “Whatever. I obviously didn’t go through with it. Hearing her shoot my sister kinda put a wrench in that, you know?”

Katakuri cocked his head, studying him for a moment. The pressure of his gaze was so familiar now that Sanji didn’t even feel disturbed by it, and Katakuri settled back soon after. “So you were aware of our plan. I suppose you saw her face uncovered, as well?”

“I didn’t, actually,” Sanji admitted. “I was on the ledge outside her room. Just heard, never saw.”

Another frown, the scars on his face stretching with the movement. “But you weren’t surprised when she revealed herself?”

Sanji wouldn’t say that. “I was surprised. Brook told me she planned to shock me, but I didn’t know what she’d look like. I had no idea what to expect…she took me off-guard.”

“And what did you say to her?” Katakuri demanded, the sudden force in his voice making Sanji take an involuntary step back. All at once, he was far too close, his teacup clattering to the table as he planted his hands on its surface and leaned forward. “I saw her fall to her knees. I saw her crying. What did you do?”

“I don’t know. I just said the first thing that came to mind, that’s it.” Sanji was caught between fear and anger, sensing the aggressive shift in the man’s aura but also recognizing the intimidation attempt. Hey, this wasn’t part of the deal-

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the Germa girl. Everything.” Katakuri’s voice was cold when he spoke of Cosette, the offer made before Sanji even made his complaint. Harsh. Dismissive. “Now, tell me what you said to her.”

Sanji bit back his retort, weighing options in his head before forcing himself to calm down. Pudding was safe, out of the Charlotte’s reach, but Cosette was still in danger; he needed to do whatever he could to secure her safety.

Everything about the wedding was a jumbled mess inside his head, a rush of imminent danger and changing plans and the mad dash to escape. He had to think back to what he’d seen on top of the cake, what he’d felt in the very moment Pudding had raised her veil and revealed her true self to him for the first time. Her façade had been completely wiped away, victorious pride present in every inch of her face, absolute hatred in her deep, deep eyes…

She’d been honest, genuine, real, and so much more of a person than her sugary sweet persona. He’d seen true emotion in her, purpose and drive and everything he’d never known she’d been missing before.

She’d been glorious.

“I told her the truth,” Sanji said softly, quietly, Katakuri almost forgotten as he replayed that vision of a fiery, vengeful goddess over and over in his mind. “I told her she was beautiful.”

Katakuri might have said something in reply, but Sanji’s eyes were on the table beneath him, his head lost in memory. He’d known that she was better than him before, a princess to a lowly sea-cook, but seeing her as herself had cemented it in his mind. In the hours later, she had turned to his side, soaking up his presence like she was starved for it, but Sanji knew it was really the acceptance she needed.

He was so familiar with it himself, after all. The desire to latch onto anything that gave kindness, the all-consuming gratitude that came only from being gifted a smile after having nothing for so long.

She deserves better. And she was with his crew, far away from the woman that had abused her, and free to bask in all the acceptance she’d been robbed of for her entire life.

When Sanji finally looked up again, it was to see Katakuri sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and fingers cinched tight around his biceps though his expression was unreadable. His eyes were on Sanji, but the look in them was something odd…something lighter than normal. A memory tugged at his mind, of a day so long ago when Katakuri had just started firing back to Sanji’s snide remarks-

“She was screaming for you in the cells. Not for any of the other Germa. Just you.”

Sanji wasn’t expecting Katakuri to speak, so it took him a moment to realize the man had jumped straight into fulfilling his part of the deal. When he did, however, the panic returned in full force. “She asked for me? What was she saying? Was she okay?”

Katakuri uncrossed his arms, reaching for his teacup. Somehow, the thing was half-empty, even though Sanji hadn’t seen the man take so much as a sip. “She wasn’t so much ‘asking for you’ as she was begging us not to hurt you. She insisted on your innocence, though I doubt she knew what we found you guilty of in the first place. And she was injured when we took her from the cell, as far as I know. All the Germa were together in the same cell block, and we didn’t see fit to regulate them. It’s possible one of the soldiers attacked her.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, cold pains lancing through him. He knew exactly who’d done it; it was hardly a question.

And it’s my fault. I left her with them. Niji would have had all the time in the world to get revenge.

There was nothing he could do about it now, but there was everything he could do to make sure it never happened again. “And you’ve accepted her, right? She’s one of your chefs now?”

“Smoothie claimed her as soon as she revealed her knowledge of sauces. She’s on her personal team, if you must know.” Katakuri set his teacup down on the table once more, this time leaning forward to clasp it with both hands as he narrowed his eyes at Sanji. “I don’t see why you care so much for her. She’s here as an assistant, nothing more.”

If Katakuri didn’t know about his connection to her before, he was sure as hell suspicious of it now, but Sanji damn well wasn’t about to give it away. “She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. Didn’t you see how much you fucking terrified her? Why didn’t you get an adult?”

Katakuri’s focus on him didn’t lessen in the slightest, gaze narrowing even further “I assumed you’d be more comfortable with someone you were familiar with. Was I mistaken?”

It had been good to see her, but Sanji would much rather have her as far away from this thing between him and Katakuri as possible. “Yeah, actually. She’s too young for this shit.”

Katakuri considered his words for a moment, then nodded. “My apologies, then. I’ll inform my sister of your judgement and have her sent back to the cell-”

“No!”

It was out of him before he could stop it, a single, panicked shout that he’d never be able to take back. The full force of Katakuri’s aura was on him in an instant, and trapped alone with the man in his room, Sanji knew there was nowhere he could run to escape what he’d just done. He should play it off, should pretend he’d misheard or misspoken or was simply too tired to think straight.

But I know what they’ll do to her.

Sanji couldn’t restrain himself any longer. The fear was too much. “No, don’t. You can’t. They’ll hurt her in there…they’ll kill her in there!”

Katakuri was speaking to him, saying something in a tone he vaguely recognized as a question, but Sanji was too far gone to hear him.

“They’ll fucking kill her, and they won’t even fucking think about it, because it’s a game, it’s just a stupid fucking game to them, they’ll fucking kill her-”

Then there was a shadow above him, Katakuri standing fully upright to tower over his smaller form. Hands came down around him, catching him tight in their grasp despite his wild attempts to push them away, and suddenly the ground was gone beneath his feet.

In the next instant, Katakuri’s yellow gaze filled his view, the man lifting him up to face height. Sanji kicked out against the cool air around his feet, struggling to push with enough force to propel himself out of the man’s grip, but in his frenzied state he failed to gather the strength.

“Sanji,” Katakuri breathed, all deep rumbling voice and warm solid presence all around him. “You need to calm down.”

It was all too much. The half-conscious haze of the past few days, this new change in his situation, the rush to protect Cosette…it was all catching up to him, and Sanji found that he had no energy left to pretend any longer. It always seemed to end like this, with Katakuri; the man outlasted him in sanity, outmaneuvered him in strategy, and seemed to be able to reduce him to this state at will.

“Talk to me, Sanji,” Katakuri murmured. “You said they’ll hurt her. Who are ‘they’?”

My brothers. But if he said that, Katakuri would ask why, and Sanji didn’t have it in him to deal with that right now.

So he just remained silent, arms clasped tight around the hands that held him suspended, breathing in and out and in and out until the panic subsided.

Katakuri gave him another moment, watching him as he settled back into his skin, before seeming to accept the lack of a response. “You don’t have to explain, Sanji. Not now. Just tell me what you want.”

That he could do. The words were falling out of him before he even thought to stop them. “Forget about Cosette. Forget that I knew her before. Forget that she ever had anything to do with me or Germa or the wedding. She’s a good chef, she’ll adapt to wherever you put her. Just…treat her like she’s been here all along.”

Silence. Katakuri’s hands were hot around his middle, and being held in the air for so long was starting to get to him. He felt light-headed, dizzy, unbalanced.

I need to make sure she’s safe. After all he had done to her, after all she’d been put through because of him, he wouldn’t let himself rest until he knew she’d be free of him.

“Please,” Sanji whispered, head down, ready to accept whatever Katakuri demanded in return. “I’ll trade for it. Whatever you want. Just…please.”

He waited for an answer, for the inevitable price he’d have to pay to fill such a tall order. He was ready, no matter the cost.

A sigh was all that greeted him, as well as the feeling of wind brushing against him as he was gently lowered back to the table and released.

“You should sleep, Sanji,” came Katakuri’s voice, normal, calm. It was as if he’d just finished reciting this week’s dessert requests instead of talking him down from a panic attack. “It’s late. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Sanji said, the sound echoing dully in his own ears. “Okay.”

A few taps on the mirror, a quick word to Brulee, and he was stepping through the glass and into what had become their temporary command room while Whole Cake Chateau still lay in ruin.

Smoothie was already there, sitting at the table and waiting patiently. Her eyes were on the mirror across from her, watching her territory’s shores, but she acknowledged him with a nod.

He took a seat across from her. “A fine idea, sister.”

He could sense his sister’s jolt of confusion though her features remained even, his haki oddly sensitive in a way he was unfamiliar with. It had been that way ever since his battle with the rookie, slowly branching out until he had a vague, hazy sense of what the people around him were feeling.

It was…exciting, to explore this new branch of his ability. It came so easily now that it had been awakened, and he recognized that his sister was surprised by what he said, clearly unused to the praise and unsure what to do in response to it.

Only for a moment, though. She adapted; it was what she was good at. “So it worked?”

“Yes. Quite well, in fact.”

“Did you find what caused it?”

For a person so unafraid to speak his mind, Sanji was far too good at hiding things. He’d spent three days tirelessly working, using his foresight to predict how Sanji would react to a thousand different tactics as the cook went about his life. He’d ended up sitting in silence most of the time, trapped in the frustrating cycle of observing Sanji, planning a move, then looking to the future only to see it fail.

But for all Sanji’s defenses, he’d finally let something slip through. Something interesting…something vital.

And Katakuri knew he had a certain visit to make that was long overdue.

[angelicrome]

Eyes│a.i

i’m like 110%  sure i’ve used that gif before but whatever - also this is rly good like read it you won’t regret it lmao, i’m begging 

Series: Paid to be Popular - The Purpose of Love - Bittersweet Generation

Requested: no, but i had a convo w @calumofficials a very long time ago about college!ashton lmao

Pairing: Art major!Ashton x Y/N

Description: When Y/N looks over the cute and curly-haired art major’s shoulder, she realises who he has been drawing for a long period of time; her.

It had become a normal thing for Ashton just to sit outside on the grass with a sandwich by his side and his sketchbook in his lap as he leant up against that one bench and then he would just draw whatever or whoever crossed his road. Sometimes it would be a gloomy flower in front of him, other times it would be scenarios or a person with a crazy hairdo just walking past. This had become a habit. After lunch, he would just sit down on the grass, not on the bench, but on the grass. Normally, he would take his lunch with him, maybe even some music occasionally. Drawing everything that he could think of.

This day was no different. He sat with his brown, round glasses on the bridge of his nose, the curls laying perfectly messy on his head, and his tongue sticking out as he focused on the current drawing. A girl. The girl he had slowly become more attracted to. He didn’t know her. All he knew was that after lunch she would be sitting with her friends on the lawn, the exact same time Ashton was.

Ashton leant against the bench with a sigh. Ten meters in front of him the girl he was drawing was sitting with a smile and friends surrounding her. He didn’t draw her friends, it was only her. It was her eyes that had caught him, the way the sunlight hit them. He sighed out of frustration. Her eyes were special - and he couldn’t draw them right.

He had used days on drawing her. Three days, to be exact. She looked ridiculous - not in person, but on his paper.

She looked his way, turned her head towards his figure. His eyes had automatically gazed towards her, as they did when he didn’t focus on drawing. And she looked his way, caught his eyes and Ashton forgot to look away. Her eyes were mesmerising, the way the shadows from the tree above danced on her face, the only light being her eyes. She had stopped talking with her friends and just… she just looked as Ashton as if he was a creature, something she had never seen before.

Fuck, Ashton thought. It wasn’t normal to look a stranger in the eyes. Especially, when you were drawing that exact stranger without the stranger knowing. If, if, the stranger found out about the scribble on the sheet on Ashton’s lap, she would think he was weird. Insane, even.

So, instead, Ashton cut her out. Looked down to the paper and started drawing long lines across her waist. He focused on something else on the drawing now, something that wasn't her eyes. He cut her out completely, pushed his glasses up and forgot about time. Forgot about the small talk, forgot about the girl.

Time passed and now the only thing missing on the drawing of the girl was the eyes. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before looking up at her usual spot under the tree. But she wasn’t there. Neither were her friends. The only thing left was the tree, still casting shadows on the lawn.

“You’re a really good drawer,” Ashton flinched at the unknown voice. It was calm, and the words were said with care and sincerity. He looked up only to find the girl with the eyes, the girl he had been drawing for three days. Her eyes were scanning the paper and her lips were thin before they turned into a faded, loveable smile. Ashton didn’t say anything. The sounds of birds filled campus and the girl sat down beside him - not on the bench, but leaning against the bench.

“Is that me?” She asked with a smirk and nodded towards the paper. Ashton quickly closed his sketchbook and put away his pencil as if it was going to delete what she had seen.

“Uh, I just draw whatever…” Ashton murmured and fumbled with the sketchbook in his hands, his face turning red as his stomach flipped. 

“Why don’t I have any eyes?” She questioned with furrowed eyebrows. He could feel how close she was, how she watched every move he made. But he didn’t look at her - but at the tree ten meters in front of him. The tree she would normally sit under.

“I… I haven’t gotten to that yet,” Ashton answered, closed the book and bit his lip. The girl didn’t say anything for a solid second before she pulled the book out of his lap and looked through it. She stopped at a few of his best drawings until she reached the latest, hers.

“Could you finish it? Even if I'm sitting right next to you?” Her voice was quieter as she studied the page. She studied the lines drawn with a single pencil and ran her fingers down the paper with an impressed look.

“I don’t know,” Ashton said slowly and watched how she analysed herself on paper, almost scared to take his book back. “You’re not exactly easy to draw.”

Her head shot up towards him and for the first time, they looked into each other’s eyes. Ashton couldn’t look away as the colours blurred together in her eyes, giving her a curious exotic look. Somehow, he had caught her attention with the way he drew and the way he talked, just like she had caught his.

“Why not?” She sounded almost hurt and Ashton quickly took the book back and stared the drawing. It was hard to draw such a stunning girl with a hint of mystery.

“Your eyes are… they’re kinda hard to draw.” Ashton nodded and turned his head towards the sheet.

“Why?”

“They’re just… they have a special glimpse. A glimpse you can’t draw.” He bickered, raising his voice a bit more than intentionally. She looked away from him and his drawing and said completely stiffly. The heat rose to her cheeks as she thought about her words.

“I’m Y/N - if you ever needed a name for the girl.” It was almost a whisper, and Ashton closed his book and put it aside, hiding it under the bench.

“Ashton.” He answered and reached forward to shake her hand. As he looked her in the eyes for the second time, a smile appeared on her beautiful lips.

“I know that. I’ve heard about you.” She said and nodded with a sly smirk. Ashton’s cheeks got a deep red undertone.

“What?” He questioned with a smirk, his dimples appeared under his blushed cheeks as he looked away for a moment before looking at her again.

“Ashton. The cute and curly-haired art major.” She changed her voice to a high-pitched sounding and batted her eyelashes, looking at the air as if she was in love. Clearly, she was impersonating someone she knew. Ashton chuckled at her as she stopped her ‘acting’. “I live with three other girls.”

Ashton ruffled up his curls, trying to hide his face just for one second because of the embarrassment. Ashton never saw himself as… wanted among girls. They usually left him alone with his drawings and gave him weird looks when they walked by.

“I did not know that.” Ashton grinned, as his confidence grew. He looked her in the eyes, only to see how flustered she was getting.

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular among the girls around campus.” She murmured and fiddled with one of the silver bracelets around her wrist. A small heart was hanging loosely as a charm to the bracelet.

“That’s not how I experience it,” Ashton said quietly. Y/N was looking at him with big eyes, knowing that in a minute she had class. Why couldn’t he just ask her out yet? She needed to leave soon and… she didn’t want to leave without a date or at least his number.

“Me neither. Guys aren’t exactly standing in line for me.” She hinted and put a stray of hair behind her ear. Ashton's eyes widened with joy.

“Really? So no boyfriend? Even with your gorgeous eyes?” The last sentence wasn’t supposed to be said out loud and Ashton coughed slightly as soon as he had realised what he had said. But Y/N only giggled at him and shook her head.

“No boyfriend.” Her eyes light up as he watched her, thinking about his next move.

“Would you want one?” He questioned and bit his bottom lip, thinking. A huge smile smeared across her face as she tilted her head with a laugh.

“Are you asking me out?” She decided to give Ashton a small push to get him to ask her on a date. She couldn’t wait forever.

“Maybe… uh, I mean, yes. Yes, I am.” He stammered and fiddled with his long fingers. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“I would love to.” She giggled and looked at Ashton with a serenity. “Should I write down my number somewhere?”

“Sure.” He said and quickly pulled out his sketchbook from under the bench. He found the page with the drawing of Y/N and reached her his pencil. She held back a smile, as she wrote down her digits at the bottom of the page, quickly standing up from the grass.

“I have class now.” The sun shined in her eyes, making her squint as she looked down at Ashton with a smile. The colour seemed to change as the light hit her and she blinked a couple times, her hair hiding parts of her face. Ashton was almost hypnotised as he studied her eyes. They had a soft glimmer of knowledge and eagerness, and Ashton had completely forgotten about time as he realised what he was missing on his drawing. He had figured out why he just couldn’t get her eyes to look as stunning as they did in person.

“I’ll call you. Or text you.” He said and Y/N nodded with a smirk. Before she was gone, Ashton had already begun drawing the missing piece in her eyes.

After endless talking on the phone when Ashton had gotten home that day, they sat a time and place for the first date. And instead of flowers Ashton brought Y/N the finished drawing of her.

And the eyes looking as striking and complex on paper as they did in person.  

A/N: i literally had zero idea for the title but i decided to call it eyes bc it’s a beautiful story - i actually think this imagine is one of my favourites ever which is great :))

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