#and other than that i just do code and write lab reports

[iceagebaby]

haven't seen you active in awhile, hope you're doing okay!! ❤️

hi! im doing somehow okay, im just once again struggling with univerisity work but i will be back to posting ocasionally, just using social media is slightly exhausting for me and i didnt want to 'burn out' from it as stupid as it may sound, thank you for asking tho! please have some fish and other sketches

[lovelylotusf1]

Inspired by the lovely @wisteria-wisteria and her Pinterest roulette posts. I present to you an AU:

Lestappen - Coding rivals.exe

Don't know yet if I'll do anything larger with it so I'd love if someone adopts the idea! Give it a new and welcoming home!

Max Verstappen, a brilliant hardware engineer who is mostly focused on robotics, is partnered up to work with programmer and game designer Charles Leclerc. From the moment they meet, he despises his new coworker. Charles is everything he isn't - all smiles and polite questions, a laid-back attitude when it comes to his work and yet somehow constantly praised by others. The predestined programmer, they call him. Max thinks it's all very ridiculous.

But they need to work together to meet the looming deadline. Maybe they'll even learn to appreciate the other's company along the way...

Small scene after this universe's InchidentTM:

"Mr Verstappen. What happened?" His boss's cold voice greets him the moment Max sits down in the overpriced meeting chair. The board of directors stare at him, disdain obvious in their postures, but their faces are carved into polite masks.

Max glares at Leclerc, who is sitting across from him. Even now, he doesn't look like he gives a single damn about the situation he has brought them into, that unnervingly pleasant smile still plastered on his face. Max wants to wipe it off.

Leclerc is slumped in his chair, glasses askew and in his normal working attire consisting of a sweater thrown over a shirt. There is a small coffee stain on front of it, reminding Max of what brought them into this situation in the first place.

"It's just unfair. He pushed a glass of coffee onto the robot, so I pushed it back onto his computer. It's not fair, right?"

Before he can give further explanations, he is shot down, "Thank you, Mr Verstappen. What is your perspective on this matter, Mr Leclerc?"

Leclerc straightens and lets his eyes sweep over the room. Max doesn't miss the fact that he pointedly doesn't look at Max and a small pang of annoyance flashes through him.

Leclerc says, "Nothing. Just an inchident in the lab. We will have the code restored and the robot running by next week."

Max needs to remember all the self-control exercises he taught himself in order to not jump over the table, drag Leclerc towards him by his stupid oversized sweater and yell at him until that guy's ears ring.

Of course, he can say that easily. He just needs to write a few lines of code that the automatic backup hasn't caught. But Max will have to build the hardware from scratch, the delicate electronics fried beyond repair. Oh, how he would like to strangle Leclerc for that.

His boss is apparently pleased by this response. He nods. "Very well then. Get back to work and fill out the provided reports. I don't want to repeat this, the funding is already minimal and you don't want to make your budget even tighter than it already is."

They are dismissed and walk back to the robotics lab in silence, their steps echoing off the blank walls. At least it would be silent if Leclerc's annoyingly smooth voice didn't disrupt it, "I know you don't like me. But at least pretend that you do when other people are around. It will be easier if you let some of my charm work on you, non?"

That fucker has the audicity to wink at him and it is the most awkward thing Max has seen in his entire life.

Max almost snarls. He'd rather be caught dead than enjoy Leclerc's company.

(I don't know why a robotics guy would work with a game dev but just let me fantasize about my AUs without worrying too much about realism)

[fangweaver2099]

A Minor Slip-Up - Chapter 1

Miguel O'Hara X Reader 18+

You've been working for Dr. Miguel O'Hara in Alchemax' R&D department for 2 years. For those two years, your crush on the gigantic, handsome man that just happens to be your superior has only gotten worse with time.

When you notice him alone at Alchemax' Christmas Gala, you take your chance. A one night stand.

You two agree it was just once, but it seems life has other plans.

This fic takes place in an alternate canon of the Spiderman 2099 comics. While the entire plot uses the lore of the 2099 comics, the aesthetic of Nueva York is based on Across the Spiderverse.

Miguel is based also on his ATSV character in personality and appearance & his tech. He's a bit more of an asshole and less traumatized tho.

He has not discovered portal technology and is technically not the ATSV Miguel we see in the movie – but a variant. While I use his backstory up to before Dana and him go to Valhalla is pretty similar - instead of being constant crazy stuff it cuts off there. The comic backstory ends and diverges with a much slower plot where Miguel has to grapple with being Spiderman and occasionally handling crazy stuff and trying to stop Alchemax. Also, he has ATSV Lyla bc she’s objectively the funnier version.

It was totally normal to have a crush as a grown woman, right ?

That’s what you had tried to convince yourself of anyway. Dr. Miguel O’Hara was technically your boss. You were a senior in your position, but he was the lead scientist – you submitted reports and updates to him and followed his instruction and advice. Any project had his name first, regardless of how much work he actually did.

Dr. O’Hara was attractive. There was no way the towering, chiseled man built like a Greek god didn’t know he was drop dead gorgeous . Tall, smart – handsome. The only downside was his personality had gone from a slightly egotistical lead who treated everyone like they were stupid, to barely talking to anyone, and brooding in his office. He seemed almost… depressed .

You had chalked it up to the explosion that happened in Miguel’s personal lab almost 5 months ago. Apparently, a late-night experiment had gone wrong. The accident had killed Mr. Delgato and Miguel was apparently there when he died. You couldn’t imagine how traumatic it was. So, you were quick to give your boss some serious slack.

You didn’t know Miguel that well anyway; he was your boss – personal life was not exactly something folks discussed over petri dishes. It’s not like he spent any time in the break room on the main R&D floor. He usually didn’t spend time in any break room, really.

Right now, the massive Miguel O’Hara was at the head of the table his team usually had lunch at. He looked like he was nursing a hangover and holding a coffee cup that was too little for his gigantic, tanned hands. His shirt was too tight, and it put emphasis on his massive shoulders and broad chest.

You were doing everything you could not to stare.

 You knew the dress code well, no wearing your hair down in the lab, so your neck was still chilly and ears pink. You felt like you were freezing even in your thick turtleneck sweater, dark slacks and company-issued lab coat. The massive glass windows of the break room did little to stave off the December cold in Nueva York. The entire room was bustling with a few dozen scientists and other employees, but your team always hung out together. It was nice that you all actually liked one another.

You made your coffee sweet, more cream than coffee, eyes on the approaching Dr. Amara Monroe. The bubbly blonde with bright green eyes had to crane her head back to look at you – but it didn’t stop the both of you from becoming good friends over the past two years.

Dr. Monroe had her hands on a plastic box – likely some sort of food container that had long been cleaned. She sat it down before her seat, one hand on the rim.

“Okay. Write your name on the slip, and then put it in the jar.” Dr. Monroe’s other hand motioned to the scattering of cut-up printer paper on the table.

Apparently, it was an old tradition from the early 2000’s – Secret Santa. Dr. Monroe explained it as a bonding experiment, her family had been doing it as long as she remembered. It seemed that the woman was intent on continuing it in her workplace. You couldn’t help but grin, the idea exciting you, reaching over to grab a piece of paper. It meant you didn’t buy gifts for everyone, and even with your excessive budget, it was a relief on your wallet. 

“So, what if you get someone you don’t know?” Dr. Kline asked, one red brow raising. The ginger woman took a piece of paper anyway as Dr. Monroe passed her a pencil.

“That’s the fun part, you get to bother them and figure out what they like – but you can’t reveal you’re the one buying them their gift. Ask around! Plus, we’re all like…” She moved her hand in a waving motion. “Nerds.”

At that, a few of their coworkers snickered. You noticed even Miguel smiled a touch, rare. You forced yourself to peel your eyes away with a long sip of your coffee and reached over, picking up a piece of paper.

“It sounds fun, any other rules?” you asked as Dr. Kline passed the pencil over to Dr. Schneider. The tall blonde male scribbled his name in his nigh unreadable writing. You plucked the pen from his hand and wrote your own name down in the neatest handwriting you could muster, folding it with a flourish and using your finger to press down the seal.

“Hmmm… No gag gifts. My family usually does a price limit too - how does 30 sound?,” Dr. Monroe mused, tapping a finger to her freckled face.

You could hear a murmur in agreement from everyone as you returned to sipping on your coffee, letting the blonde scientist pick up your paper and toss it in the jug.

Miguel didn’t make a move, sitting back and watching, like he usually did during the company mandated lunch break, as everyone wrote their names. You quickly concluded that Miguel had no plans on participating, there was a little piece of you that was disappointed. He deserved to feel included, big grouch he may be.

It seemed Dr. Monroe noticed, her green eyes narrowed as she motioned the jug over the table, sticking it in Miguel’s face. He leaned back, looking at the small woman over his dark sunglasses.

“I’m not interested.” His smooth voice replied, raising one hand, telling her to back off.

“You’re our boss, you gotta.” Dr. Monroe retorted, too sweet for her own good. The woman was no pushover. A few voices spoke up in agreement. Miguel visibly simmered, slouching more in his chair as his massive hand pushed the box away. Amara frowned but Miguel placed down his own coffee, picking up the pen and writing his name, the script hurried and scribbled.

“Thank yooou-“ She took the paper from Dr. O’Hara before he could stop her, tossing it into the box. She plugged the hole with one of her hands before shaking it vigorously. Watching the tiny blonde woman bouncing the box around like it owed her money made you break out into a smile, hiding your snicker behind the mug you clutched in your cold hands.

Despite the seriousness of your job and Alchemax as a whole (along with your scrooge of a boss), you adored your direct team, they were all nice and reasonably friendly. Your team was one of the more accomplished teams in R&D – at least, as far as the reports your boss provided showed.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit proud. You took your job rather seriously – your last review had you noted as ‘careful and meticulous’.

You could hear a small, casual discussion going on as the team began discussing interests. Apparently, Dr. Yoshida loved something called Warhammer – Dr. Kline was a chronic chocolate addict and Dr. Monroe collected vintage stuffed animals from the 2030’s. It was a good bonding exercise, but you couldn’t exactly reflect on what you wanted.

You were not about to explain your weird love of horror, or your pile of shitty romance books downloaded on your holopad, a dirty secret you would take to the grave if it were up to you. You preferred being the awkward workaholic type anyways, instead of the dreamy weirdo you were in college. 

Your eyes drifted to Miguel.

Maybe you’d get lucky and get him – figure out something he’d like and put a smile on his stupid handsome face. You didn’t notice Miguel’s head turn to you quick enough, your gazes meeting, the hints of his hooded eyes under his sunglasses had you move to down your coffee like nothing had happened.

Miguel’s brow raised, but he said nothing as you turned to Dr. Yoshida.

“So – what about you? Worst gift you’ve ever gotten,” Dr. Yoshida asked, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned to face you.

“Uhhh…” You had to think about it. 

“Do my student loans count?,” you attempted to quip, forcing a smile. Dr. Yoshida laughed.

Dr. Monroe paused her container’s torture as she placed it on the middle of the table.

“Okay. Pick one. You get yourself – toss it back and take another. Got it?,” she said, moving to pluck one of the strips and unfolding it. Amara grinned deviously before shoving it into the pocket of her lab coat.

You waited until about halfway through, forced to lean across the table. You weren’t often thankful for your height – nearing six feet was often a pain - but now it had its advantage. You plucked a slip from the bowl without ease, and then sat back down with a small ‘oof’. 

Your fingers made quick work of unfolding the paper. 

‘Hiro’ was written in clear handwriting – Dr. Yoshida. Okay, that made it easy. You’d search up what the hell Warhammer was later, maybe a new tie or something. You glanced over at Dr. Yoshida; he always wore a dark blue tie with some sort of geometric pattern on it. Didn’t matter the color of his shirt. Sometimes it was fine, but he was wearing a deep mossy green recently. It looked awful.

You noticed Miguel’s hand dip into the jug, before flipping open the paper without…any reaction. He didn’t sit back down.

“I’m heading back.” He said without hesitation, mug still in hand as he strode away, leaving his team alone. You wondered who Miguel got – did he get you ? Your cheeks burned as you realized how pathetic you were being, and you had to resist the urge to slap your cheeks to wake yourself up.

The rest of lunch went just fine – small discussion as you and Dr. Monroe discussed your current round of tests. You always got assigned the boring work – and now it was antibiotic creation for a new disease affecting what was left of the cattle population across the US. Printer meat was already commonplace for most of the population, but it didn’t stop those wealthy enough to want something real. So, you got to figure out how to keep the animals alive. 

When you had just graduated college, bright eyed and stupid, you had thought you’d be doing important things like curing cancer. Alchemax had other plans.

Lab work after lunch was the same as ever- boring and filled mostly with reviewing code and notes. The amount of calibrating that every machine needed was practically mind numbing. Still, you were thankful for the busy work.

You headed back to your own office at the end of the day. The room was clean and organized as your lab bench. A few personal touches just like your apartment – a rose gold pen caddy that had your pens organized by color, a gray cushion on your chair to make it more comfortable. Nothing too casual, nothing too personal, all workplace appropriate.

You shrugged your lab coat off and packed your bag with your laptop. You gave into the chill and even let your hair out of its messy bun. Your fingers raked through your locks and fluffed it free. You tossed on your gray jacket and put your bag across your shoulders.

You tossed on your pink scarf and seemed prepared enough to brace the open-air parking garage. You tapped the frosted glass of your private office door as it slid open and closed behind you, lights shutting off with no one within. Your expensive non-slip shoes were silent as you made your way to the open hall of your floor. 

And there, looming before the elevator, was that massive figure. Miguel.

He wasn’t in his usual white lab coat, replaced with a dark, long overcoat. His hands were in his pockets, and he seemed to be leaning over slightly, putting emphasis on his broad shoulders and small waist. Awfully, you were reminded of one of the junior scientists calling him a Dorito. You tried not to crack a smile at the memory, walking forward as you attempted to calm your own expression.

You tried to keep your distance, moving to check if the button was pressed as the counters pinged down. Miguel seemed to notice your presence, glancing down at you from behind his sunglasses. You met his gaze for a moment from the corner of your eye and swore his eyes looked… red? It was probably just the light.

You glanced away and shifted in place, suddenly all too cognizant of the silence. 

You could keep quiet and say nothing, but you should make small talk, right? Be normal .You’d been in this type of situation before, this wasn’t alien. You could feel the warmth on your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to speak, the elevator dinged and saved you from further embarrassment.

You both entered together, taking your places on opposite sides of the small elevator. You were both tall and now you could see why Miguel leaned just a bit – if he was standing straight, he might have hit his head on the elevator door.

He was standing straight now, having almost a foot over your own height.

You were not used to people being larger than you, especially most men. At the most they were eye level. Before you’d met Miguel, you couldn’t understand why some of your college friends found men intimidating.

But Miguel was intimidating.

For the first time, you felt small . His hands were massive. He was massive . He made you feel all too cognizant of what it meant to feel like prey. Like he was strong enough to snap your neck if he was angry enough – not that you’d ever thought he would. He could probably pick you up – the primal desire to be manhandled had you shift in place, trying to ignore your own thoughts. He was your boss for God’s sake.

Miguel beat you to pressing the same button – floor ten’s light flicked on as the door closed. You did your best to take a step back and look anywhere but Miguel.

You were sure that Miguel was cognizant of the effect he had on women. You’d heard people jokingly call him ‘tall, dark and handsome’ more than once, though he always seemed too caught up in his work to notice the looks he got. 

It was a harmless crush, Miguel had never as much as reciprocated anything. He was so serious , especially in the last few months. You would have thought that after working under Dr. O’Hara for nearly two years, that you’d get over it, but it got worse whenever the two of you were forced into proximity.

You had nearly 40 floors before the parking garage. You cleared your throat – anything was better than pings as you descended.

“Have you ever done a secret Santa?,” you asked Miguel, head tilting to look up at the massive geneticist.

“No,” he replied, tone blank, not sparing you even a glance. You leaned against the wall of the elevator, biting your cheek.

“Me neither. I think it’s fun. I already know what I’m going to get mine.” You’d tried to sound relaxed, but the inclination of your voice came out nervous. 

Miguel raised a brow at you.

“I’m not telling,” you replied, guessing at the wordless question. Miguel crossed his arms; head still pointed in your direction.

 “I-It would spoil the surprise. I- wait. I didn’t get – I didn’t get you! I-” Your hands pulled from your pockets and motioned in the air. 

“I figured,” Miguel interrupted with the ghost of a grin. You went quiet before letting out a long sigh.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” Your voice was back to calm. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, you could feel the warmth on your cheeks as you scolded yourself, stop being pathetic – you’re a grown woman. You’re a fucking doctor . You’re-

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbled as the elevator finally stopped and clicked open. You didn’t wait as you were greeted by cold winter air.

You practically ran out of the elevator.

Desperate to get away, you didn’t notice when your foot met ice – melted snow had turned to ice in the garage. You let out a surprised shriek as the concrete ceiling came into view. 

Rather than cracking your head open on the concrete like an idiot , you felt hands grab at your armpit and waist, and the back of your head hit something warm and hard as you scrambled for purchase.

“You need to be more careful, chica.” Miguel’s deep voice broke your stuttering train of thought as you relaxed into his grip. Your knees pulled in as you finally stopped stumbling, head lifted back as you saw Miguel staring down at you – smirking .

“ Uh-huh ,” you replied dumbly, eyes wide and a single curl falling across your gentle features. He hoisted you back onto your feet proper and let go. Awkwardly, you swayed and patted your coat.

“T-thanks. I thought I was going to crack my head open.” you remarked with a nervous grin.

“I’d hate that. You’re a good member of the team, doctor. I don’t think I’m too good at making that clear,” Miguel remarked with a sincerity in his voice that had your eyes widening in confusion.

“…Thanks. You’re a good lead. Better than my previous boss. He didn’t like me very much. First job and all that.” You reached out and awkwardly patted Miguel’s arm. Miguel glanced down and raised a brow.

You pulled back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t forget about the compiled review you and Dr. Monroe are supposed to finish tomorrow.” He kept the conversation casual and work focused. 

You were thankful for that.

“Will do, boss.” You grinned, hands crossing over yourself as you ignored the heat on your cheeks. It was cold enough that you both could see your breath. You hoped Miguel didn’t notice the way your face burned.

After a moment Miguel waved and went on his way with large strides. For a moment, you stood there, staring at the back of his head as he walked to his own car like a love struck puppy.

Your hands reached up, pinching your red cheeks as you groaned in embarrassment, knowing you were going to spend the next two years laying awake at night screaming at yourself for this. Eventually you made your way to the metro - deciding that you’d get Dr. Yoshida’s gift tonight. Might as well get something productive today.

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[rrazor]

hq boys as non-sexual things that feel sensual

tags: mildly suggestive content (mostly pining)

bokuto: certain phrases are very sexually charged; “make me,” or “what are you gonna do about it” lunch time!! bokuto comes back from the cafeteria with his pork-cutlet sandwich to see you engaged in a card game with three other people. He sees that everyone’s bet something and you bet a strawberry danish you bought this morning and bokuto’s eyes go 🤩 he forces himself in LMFAO and makes sure to sit next to you 🥰❤️ in the end, it’s only you and him left (konoha and komi come over from their classes to see what all the fuss is about and they’re like …..how is bokuto doing so well 😶)

but you win and steal his sandwich on the desk 😈 he tries to defame you for cheating lol but all you do is look at him coyly like “and what are you gonna do about it, bokuto-kun? 😇” and suddenly his tongue feels heavy and his cheeks flush and he’s all 🥺👉👈 he asks you for the bread back because its his only lunch 😭💀 but he ends up winning sm more because you offer to share your bento with him and his heart goes 🥰💖💞

akaashi: sitting next to someone and your shoulders/thighs touch it’s the sports festival!! and it’s lunch break. he spots you sitting on a bench and he starts sweating at the idea of sitting next to you but he wants to be near you somewhat because then MAYBE you’ll talk to him??!? hopefully 🥺💔

he swallows his nerves and sits on the bench too but on the other side with a huge gap between you and your friend. he pulls out his phone to look “busy” LMFAO then, more of your friends come over and suddenly, you’re snug against him, your BARE THIGH touching his because you’re both in shorts and akaashi thinks he gonna pass out with the bashful apology you give him 😵 he thanks every deity he can think of that your friends came over and STAY because your leg is still touching his and he’s holding a conversation with you 😭🥺🥳💕💖❤️😍

konoha: having someone use your keyboard standing up while you’re sitting in front of it you’re in one of the school’s computer labs working on a research essay. akinori sits next to your station, having worked up the courage earlier to ask you if you could help him with his. he sneaks glances at you at the printers as you refill the trays with more paper 👀 he blushes even though you aren’t even doing anything to him 😭😔💔

before he can stop himself, he calls your name lmfao 🗣 but manages to save himself from utter embarrassment by asking you to look over one of his passages. coming over, you lean over him, hands on his keyboard as he leans back. his eyes are wide and cheeks ruddy as he tries so hard to keep cool because you’re so close 😍🥺💕 and god does he hope what he wrote was coherent because he thinks he’d d-word if you said it made no sense 😓😵

kuroo: when you’re sitting next to someone and they lean over and reach across you to grab something another day, another group project. kuroo gets added to a group with you and another guy because he was absent for volleyball. the two of you push your desks next to him and he’s fist pumping internally because you’re sitting next to HIM and not the other guy and he gets to act as the barrier AHAHAH 😇🥳😛

you’re working together when you ask one of your friends to pass over the notes she took from you. she’s sitting in front of kuroo, but diagonally to the right so she leans back and you lean forward to grab the papers. your arm accidentally brushes his chest and kuroo short circuits 😶 you’re SO CLOSE and your body is nearly laid over his entire desk and if he moves his hands up he could probably touch your chest HJAKHSDLKASD 👁👄👁 the guy next to him looks at him all 😐 as kuroo goes INSANE 🤯

kita: hugging from behind he’s home alone, studying in the living room for his university exams. you’re in the kitchen with his grandma helping her with tonight’s dinner. he smiles softly to himself hearing the two of you laugh 😊🥰💞

he’s halfway through a derivatives question when you hug him from behind, arms coming around him as you rest your head on his shoulder blades 🥺💘 when you softly tell him dinner is almost ready, his chest warms and a soft smile appears on his face ❤️💖

atsumu: the guys strapping you in on a roller coaster. are we gonna kiss? why are you giving me that eye contact? inarizaki’s vbc get together to go to the local amusement park!! they get in and the first thing the twins want to do is ride all of the roller coasters so after a ridiculously long line up, atsumu’s sitting next to osamu, waiting for an attendant to come buckle them in, when you suddenly come up in your cute uniform and hair tied up and atsumu’s like SHIT ITS YOU 😳 also damn y didn’t you tell him you worked here he could have gotten discounted tickets smh 🥴😒

anyways you come up to them to buckle them up with him first and he doesn’t really notice anything but you buckle the first strap really tight and he’s like “does it need to be so tight 😘” and you tell him, making eye contact, using your best customer service voice (vocal bottoming but at least you get paid) and with a pretty smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, “yes, unless you want to die. and if you do, don’t do it on this ride because my shift ends in ten minutes and i don’t want to stay here to write a report about a dumbass who ko’d on a roller coaster 🥰” and he BLUSHES oop— 👁👅👁

osamu: having your back scratched you sit next to each other in class and it’s self study time and you’re helping him with the english homework that was assigned when his back starts feeling itchy. he rolls and moves his shoulders to try to alleviate it, but it just isn’t working so he brings a hand back to scratch at it, but he’s not flexible enough to reach it 😔 you ask him what’s wrong and he puts his arm down like he got burned because he doesn’t want to be seen doing something weird in front of you or making a weird face so he just says nothing but you raise a brow and go “are you itchy?” and he nods JAJCKKAD

you bring your arm up to where he was just scratching, “here?” a shake of his head, “no, a little to the right.” AND YOU SCRATCH RIGHT AT IT!!!!! he can feel his shoulders slump as he closes his eyes and groans a little WHOOP he’s SUPER EMBARRASSED but you just laugh it off and scratch him some more before going back to work and he looks at you like 🥺💖 why’d you stop?? even though you’re not even looking at him LOL 😞 touches his back that night in the shower like your hands were so small 😯😍😳 and maybe he should be itchy more often but it also quickly turns to she better not be touchy feely with anyone else 😒

suna: someone writing on your arm he’s forced to take this one evening class this semester because it’s not offered the next one and he needs to take it because it’s a prereq for almost every other course ugh but at least the cute girl who sits next to him lets him copy her notes LMFAO 😭💀 he left all his belongings in the gym’s lockers because he was going to go back anyways for practice so when the professor gives out a code for a free trial of the software they have to use for the homework assignment due in a week, he’s like shit; he left his phone in his bag 🤡💔

you offer to write it down on his arm, grabbing a pen from your pencil case. he nods like sure why not so you take his arm and push the sleeve of his hoodie up and start writing and he just stares at you 👀 your writing is cute and he kinda likes the feel of your hands on him 🤧 class ends and you part ways with a wave. It’s not until he’s reached the gym that he realized you could have just messaged the code to him on facebook 🤨 so he pushes his sleeve up and sees your phone number on his arm under the code 😘 aren’t you smooth!!! 😌

iwaizumi: when someone is putting the car in reverse and they put their hand on the back of your seat iwaizumi been interested in you for a while, and ever since he came to the revelation he finds it really hard to talk to you because he’s afraid of coming off too aggressive or you figuring it out 😔💔 good thing kindaichi reveals that you’re his older cousin and that you’ll be driving some of them to their next practice match because the volleyball team’s bus is out for a checkup!! 😍😘 oikawa, matsukawa and hanamaki all force him to sit shotgun as you drive (even kunimi and yahaba get in on it). iwaizumi grumbles about it and all but he’s secretly super happy he gets to be right next to you omg 👀😭 he takes a bunch of glances around the interior of your (parents’) car and sits a little straighter than he usually would.

he can feel the stares on the back of his head from the other third years egging him on to make a move and just when he works up the nerve to say something to you, you put the car in reverse to back out the parking spot and put your hand on the back of his seat 😳😤 iwaizumi thinks you look so cool AND HOT he clams up and just stares at you with his jaw slightly open 👁👄👁 💕pls save him 🤧

matsukawa: when a girl puts her hand up to yours and remarks on how yours is so much bigger you got randomly paired up with each other to do a presentation for your world history class and so you’re sitting next to each other on a saturday afternoon at the public library doing research together. matsukawa spent more time than he would like thinking about what to wear because he doesn’t want you to think that his fashion sense was as grotesque as the school’s khaki pants 😷🤢 (when you complimented him nonchalantly about how he looks a million times better in casual clothes compared to the school uniform and joking said that he should start a petition to get rid of the school’s ugly khaki plaid pants and skirts and use a photo of what he was wearing today as the main piece of evidence, he almost doubles over 💀)

you’re sitting next to each other and he’s still kinda reeling from the previous interaction ahjdalhd but he does his best to pull his weight. he’s taking notes in a notebook and you look over and comment out of the blue that his hands are really big as you look at yours 🤧👀 he blinks and looks at you like “yeah?” and you nod, putting your hand up and he does it too because he thinks he’s having a fever dream at this point, but not even in his wildest dream did he’’d ever think you’d push your palm against his and say “your hand is so big! 😳” he has to excuse himself to go to the washroom to scream 😘🥰❤️

hanamaki: when you’re sitting next to someone on public transport and the centrifugal force from the vehicle firmly mooshes the two of you together hanamaki pines for you silently and you can’t really tell he likes you because he’s pretty decent at keeping his emotions hidden. or maybe you’re just so busy with your senior year you don’t notice anything that isn’t the impending doom of university applications and keeping your grades up 😤😇 anyways the two of you get on and off at the same stop each day (which he secretly thanks god for 😭) and you’re sitting next to each other and hanamaki thinks he’s gonna combust because you’ve never been this close!! 🥺🥰

he can feel his hands getting sweaty already. hanamaki sneaks glances at you and tries to see what you’re doing on your phone LMFAO suddenly, the train lurches a bit and you slide from the inertia right into his side and then he can feel the warmth coming from your thighs, side and your shoulder are touching holy sh— 😭❤️😵👀💖 you look up to apologize as he takes a breath and you’re a little shy in your apology but he takes that chance to ask you about something mundane and he makes you laugh!!!! he thinks about the interaction for the next two weeks because he finally got to talk to you dhaskld ☺️🥺💕

kyoutani: when anyone raises their arms to stretch and their shirt gets lifted up slightly gym class—you’re doing timed runs today!! kyoutani is already finished with his so he’s just sitting off the side of the track, staring not-so-subtly at you but you don’t notice because it’s your turn next!! you’ve got the typical school mandated shorts and plain t-shirt on but kyou is all 👀 at your tastefully exposed skin. he thinks you look pretty with the sun hitting your face as you give a smile to your friend, squinting at the sun light 🥰

he’s just mindlessly staring at this point but then you raise your arms to stretch your triceps and the hem of your shirt rises up a little to expose the tiniest sliver of skin before it’s covered again 👁👁 his cheeks pink a little and you catch him looking LMFAO but you don’t think anything of it and just smile and wave as kyoutani burns bright red, heart battering against his ribs and looks away 😡🤡🥰💕 he saves it for future reference HURDURDUR 😇😛

ushijima: when a woman does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear while making direct eye contact ushijima is INTERESTED in you, likes you, is intrigued, would like to hold your hand and rub the back of your hand and feel the soft skin with his thumb—same thing 🥰 you’re talking to him about something for the cultural festival and he’s nodding along to what you’re saying because you’re so brilliant and responsible for working on the school festival committee wOW 🤩

time seems to move in slow motion as you look up him whilst tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he zones in on the shy smile on your face, your cute cheeks, glossy lips and pretty eyes 🥺🥰 “ushijima-san?” “yes?” “what do you think?” “that’s a great idea, I will ask my team members for their input as well.” you nod exuberantly even though he has no idea what you’re talking about but your cute smile makes him all mushy on the inside 💖💕

semi: making eye contact with another customer at the grocery store around the same age it’s 2:11pm on a tuesday and semi’s at the grocery store because it’s summer and his mom was all “go to the store and buy these shimeji mushrooms for me, eita, they’re on sale!!! but only until 3pm so get skedaddling!” 😩 so he’s here and he swears housewives are the most powerful people on the planet because he thought he was gonna d-word just tryna get his discount mushrooms. he spots you in the condiments aisle looking at sesame oil and he gives you the up, down and lingers a little too long on your exposed legs 💀

he thinks you look really cute in your t-shirt and jean shorts though 🥰 when you look up and make eye contact with him and give him a little smile and wave he BLUSHES 🥺 and is right about to take the chance to talk to you but a granny hip checks him trying to get to the soybean paste and he almost trips and lands on his face 😔💔 so much for looking cool in front of you 😢🥺

tendou: having someone else play with your hair satori sees you on cleaning duty carrying the recycling to the bins as he finishes his runs around the school, about to make a turn to the gyms. he makes a beeline for you, calling your name with a bright smile on his face and waving his arms in the air. 🥰💞🥺

he bounds up to you and offers to help even though the bin is really light, cheeks warming at your smile 😊 when he takes the bin out of your hands , you wave your hand to get him to bend down. he complies, eyes widening when he feels your hand in his hair. he straightens up to see you holding onto a couple pieces of cherry blossom petals 🌸 he laughs bashfully; it feels like time has slowed and you’re the only two people in the world 💖💕

sakusa: if you’re on a pc/laptop, somebody leaning over your shoulder to look at the screen with you. the close proximity of your faces can feel awkwardly sexual you’re in the same kinesiology class and sakusa first noticed how GOOD your presentations are wtf and he’s even more impressed when he hears that you winged the whole thing because “i conveniently forgot about this until one in the morning when I decided it was a good time to reorganize your entire dorm room” ALSO you offered him hand cream the one time you caught him staring and against all reason he said yes and ever since he’s been dying to ask you where you got it from because HOLY was it nice 😍

you get paired up for the final pair presentation and he’s only become more interested in you! you’re easy to talk to and don’t pry too much and he finds himself oversharing at times 💀 the professor gives the class part of the lecture time to work on the projects so you’re sitting next to each other working when he asks you a question about the academic article he just found and you lean over his shoulder to look at his screen 👁👁 for anyone else, the close proximity of your faces would have grossed him out but he can’t stop thinking about how good you smell and how cute your ears look 👀🥰 when you tell him he’s found a really good source with an excited smile on your face, he BLUSHES and promptly wants to pass away because he has no mask on to cover him 🤡😭😵

sachiro: when you have a melting popsicle, there often comes a time where you must choose between eating it too quickly, or sucking it off so it doesn’t drip on you sachiro hums happily, holding your hand as the two of you walk home after your date and stopping at the convenience store where he buys the two of you popsicle sticks 😋

you’re talking about something funny you saw hoshiumi do in the class the other day when your popsicle drips onto you. you kitten lick at your hand and take the whole thing in your mouth to get rid of the more liquidy parts of your ice cream and sachiro is all 👁👄👁 he swallows thickly, cheeks warming and heart beating a little faster; why’s he suddenly so thirsty? 🥵💦🙈

gao: getting a strong whiff of somebody’s perfume when they pass you gao really wants to talk to you, like really really wants to talk to you 😖😭🙏 but you’re talking to your friends about something and the cute way you laughs and joke with them has him all 🥺🥰🤩

he’s about to walk up and join the conversation because let’s face it, gao isn’t afraid of much 🤧💀 too bad the teacher calls you back into the classroom about something. when you pass him, he gets a good whiff of your shampoo and his stomach flutters 😍😊🥺💕💖 follows you with sparkly eyes and wishes he made the choice to talk to you sooner 💔

futakuchi: bending over to pick up something you dropped kenji is watching (glaring) as you talk to one of the baseball team’s starting players 🤐 he’s so ticked but he doesn’t admit it like where does this guy get off making you laugh and smile like that wtf 😒🙄 luckily for kenji, the guy gets pulled away by the class rep for something so kenji calls your name to get you to look at him instead 😤

you come over and just as he’s about to stand up from his desk, he knocks over his eraser. you crouch down to pick it up and he finds himself really liking it 👁👁 he doesn’t get it either 🤡 like you aren’t bending and snapping—just folding your knees to get his eraser for him, but the way you tucked your hair behind your ear before you bent down so prettily has him ☺️😉🥵

terushima: when you’re eating and chatting with someone and they lick their lips yuuji pulled you away from your friends when it was time for lunch, wanting to spend more time with you one on one. he was so busy with volleyball and school lately 😞 and when he managed to get you to tell him how lonely you felt without him, he made it his mission to spend more time with you!!! 🥰😘💕

you’re eating together, sharing food and talking about everything and anything when he notices you lick your lips; he zones in on your little pink tongue as it swipes across your bottom lip 👁👁 “yuuji, you okay?” a hand on your cheek and suddenly, he’s kissing you. he tastes like the leftovers your mom packed you for lunch 🥰😋

[transphilza]

gm cia! can you tell us a bit (or a lot) about your special interest/s? no pressure :O) have a good one!!

good morning :D this is the nicest thing ever god i have so many what a hard choice.

(warning: they did not make a choice.) other than english language as a whole cause i’ve been into reading and writing since literally before i Could (when i was really young, like before i started kindergarten, i was really adamant on learning to read as Fast as i Possibly could. my parents put labels on objects all over the house so i could read them and see how they were spelled, i would try to read anything i read on tv or on signs out loud, etc…. most of this was because i really wanted to play toontown but it required a reading level beyond like. a 3-4 year old’s. so it was a special interest i developed as a proxy to get to ANOTHER special interest. god i love autism) ….psychology is my longest one and thus the one i know the most about. you could name anything in the dsm and i could probably list you off the diagnostic criterion. if only i liked talking to people or writing lab reports i totally would’ve gone into psychology/psychiatry….. there are a lot of fields in science i love but i HATE doing experiments/writing lab reports/carrying out the extremely tedious Scientific Method so i could just never do them. i love reading about quantum physics but i dislike math and find classical mechanics way too boring to get through in order to ever get into it on a serious level. i love cryptovirology and i find coding fascinating but i dislike math and i lack the patience to learn any myself besides basic html formatting. i had a period of time when i was obsessed with natural disasters and my dad was briefly thrilled because he thought i might want to be a meteorologist but no. no damn way. i just like standing on the porch and watching storms pass like my midwestern roots demand of me

also minecraft youtubers :)

[shibashelf]

i feel like i may exceed the tag limit so i'm just gna type normally

BEAM. this was such a lovely read 😭😭 my heart is full. i read this otw back to my dorm and slept 40 min later than usual bc i wanted to finish it HAHAHAH but no regrets

first of all i love the depth you put in your fics!! the backstories and characters are so wonderfully fleshed out. it is so freaking wholesome to see the dynamics of the individual characters and their friend groups - like the chaos and also the unwavering support and love they have for one another :")

also the DETAILS. my god. u r so good at incorporating all these subtle little things which tell you so much. i really felt like i was in the moment and following the characters bc the setting felt so realistic - little quirks about their uni like the tradition to take photos when the flowers bloom, Dead Week™️, descriptions about the surroundings/environment, the characters' favourite food places etc i could go on!!!

and the details and actions by the characters tell you so much about them :') like changmin's video folder password being yn's bday????!#?!?-?@?(@*@ GOD u can tell they still care so much about each other and miss the other's presence :")))

SPEAKING OF WHICH the plot was so good. right from the start it's like ?? ok why do these 2 seem to hate each other so much. v intriguing. there is so much raw emotion, and the way you weaved in very compelling backstories for the 2 of them made this story feel so real. i think the struggles and genuine sentiments which you incorporate in your works make them feel more striking - i feel like your writing allows for this human connection about shit we all go through uk? like i (thankfully) can't relate to the parental restrictions and lack of support, but i stopped doing dance ~4 years ago and sometimes i feel envious when watching dance performances/vids and wish i could get back into it :")

also the kiss scene is so kdrama coded WOOOOOH but not doyoung having comedically awful timing... that part (along with so many other parts) was so funny

that's abt all i have to say AHAHAH in summary: thank you for the gift of you & your writing! this story really touched my heart :) and it gave me smth nice to think about other than my assignments and lab report (i am a woman in stem like yn 😔✊️ which reminds me the deionised water being locked up was damn funny)

<3

OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So��� now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ok i got an monster tom x scientist reader au universe thing and no it does not take place in the red army base

Reader is a scientist and is asked to run some tests on a new specimen/monster they found, and when reader sees the specimen/monster they actually think it's kinda cute but then some other scientists shock him and even stick some needles in him and reader just feels bad for the specimen/monster at this point so nighttime rolls around and they hack into the cameras to shut them off and wear a mask so they won't get caught and go to the main room where the specimen/monster is they the reader introduces themselves to the monster the monster, thinking they're gonna hurt them, immediately backs off obviously scared and reader convinces the monster that they're not gonna hurt them and the monster shrinks as he's mostly human and says "your not gonna hurt me?" And they reassure him that they're not gonna hurt him and they sneak into the readers car and drives off the lab that the monster was in and reader asks what the "monsters" name is and says their name is "tom". Then reader makes a pit stop to a store real quick to get tom some clothes and then reader drives to they're home and introduces tom to their room and asks if they want some food/ take out or not an he says yes and they get some chinese food and watch some TV, after eating they both go to bed and reader suddenly finds themselves in Toms arms whimpering a little, and reader just kinda decides to pet his hair and rub his horns a little bit which make him purr then tom wraps his tail around reader and asks them to do it more and they do do that untill they notice that he's asleep then they both fall asleep.

Whew, I enjoyed writing this one ^^

Summary: Reader, a scientist, rescues Monster Tom from the lab that experimented on him and brings him home

...............

"Dr. [L/n], I'll let you oversee today's tests on TR-03."

"Alright, chief." You smiled awkwardly as your supervisor handed you the clipboard. It contained the subject's information: a one-eyed horned monster of an unknown species, though your colleagues have theorized it to be a demon. "What kind of tests are we running on it?"

"Resistance to electric shocks. There's evidence of uranium possibly circulating in its blood, so you'll be watching them extract samples as well."

As he explained, your smile gradually dropped as you looked over the information, seeing a ton of redacted information, including several incidents of the destruction it caused prior to its capture.

"So it's gonna be shocked and stuck with needles? Sounds painful."

"Its armor is thick, so it shouldn't feel a thing. Besides...I don't think you need to worry about whether it'll be painful for it." Your supervisor spoke in a rather condescending tone. "After all it's just an animal."

"I...yes, sir. I'll go oversee the tests right away." Not wanting to argue further, you just left his office and wandered through the building.

You were eager yet anxious to meet this monster.

Eventually you reached the area where the creature was being held, climbing up the stairs that led to the skybridge so you could look down into its holding chambers.

It was a massive dark purple creature, with two bright violet horns and a single black eye. Surprisingly it was allowed full movement, though judging from the many claw marks on the walls...it wouldn't surprise you if one day it was chained up to restrict such behavior.

You actually thought it was..kind of cute? It looked scary in pictures, but up-close it didn't seem as terrifying.

That only made you feel more pity for it as other scientists entered the chamber, clad in protective suits, with electric prongs and needles.

Almost immediately the monster seemed aware of what they were going to do, its eye widening as it stood on both feet and cowered in the corner. It growled in warning, only for a scientist to jab its leg with a prong in response, eliciting a roar of pain.

You physically flinched, feeling bad for the creature. But you took notes on its response to electric shocks.

Subject recognized equipment immediately, perceiving them as danger. Responded painfully to electricity.

Soon after being tortured, the monster seemed dazed, allowing another scientist in a hazmat suit to approach it and stick a needle into its hip. The vial of blood collected turned out to be red, with a glowing green aura.

As you took more notes, you heard a small whimper and looked down, seeing that the monster wasn't putting up a fight.

Instead it was...crying?

Sure enough, tears leaked from its eye as more of its blood was drawn, being electrocuted as some sick form of "sedation". It was hard to tell whether the people inside felt any sort of sympathy, but they just took their leave without saying a word to each other. Only a mere nod.

You didn't want to be here any longer than you needed to, so you finished your report and began heading back to your office.

Though you noticed the monster looking up at you, and you couldn't help but frown and murmur a simple:

"I'm sorry."

.............

After your shift was over, normally you'd go home for the night.

But on the ride home...you kept thinking of TR-03 and couldn't shake the images and sounds of its pain.

The way it responded to just seeing the prongs, and the way it looked at you as though it was begging for help, seemed far too human for it to be just a mindless animal.

Of course, you never questioned the secrets this lab kept--not wanting to be fired. But they seemed to be hiding a lot of stuff about this specimen, never speaking about its origins or even what it was capable of.

You may have only seen it for the first time today, but you wanted to know more about it. And you had a feeling that you won't get the answers you wanted by asking around.

Oh no..you were going to free it in order to find out the truth.

Not just to satisfy your own curiosity, but also because...the way it was being treated was far too cruel. To the point where it was crying.

You couldn't stand for this unethical treatment any longer. You had to do something..and be smart about it lest you got killed or worse.

After making a quick stop at a store, you found a mask and changed your clothes, completely disguising yourself. Then you got back in your car and returned to the lab, parking it somewhere far away so that you can sneak inside.

Fortunately you had security access in case any of the specimen breached their chambers. Thanks to your hacking skills you were able to disable every security camera you could find, putting them all on timers so they'd turn on later in the morning. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion.

That was the easy part.

The most important and difficult task lied ahead.

...........

As soon as you entered the monster's chamber, it woke up and grumbled with annoyance. Clearly it didn't like its rest being disturbed.

Though upon seeing you and the mask you wore, it tilted its head. "Grrrah..?"

"Shhh, it's okay." You whispered, removing the mask so it could see your face. While you were awestruck to actually see it up close and personal, you knew you had to keep calm.

But that might've been a mistake as it seemed to recognize you--the one who was watching it earlier today. It immediately backed into a corner, terrified as its chest began heaving with anxiety.

You couldn't blame it for its reaction, though your gently put your hands up and hushed it. "Please don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you. I wanna get you out of here."

"Hrrgrah?"

"Mhm." Smiling, you just pretended you could understand it. "I don't like how they treat you here. They call you an animal but..I know you're more than that."

The monster calmed down a little, before glancing up to the opposite corner. He made a noise of confusion upon seeing that the security camera's annoying red light wasn't blinking.

"I shut that off so nobody can hear or see us."

"H...ack..?"

You blinked, surprised that it could speak some English, but the fact it wasn't cowering like before was a sign it was trusting you. "Yep, I hacked the whole security complex. Now's our chance to escape, but..ah shit."

Suddenly, it never occurred to you: your mission was focused on getting to the monster, but you never considered how you'll get out with the monster.

"Damn..I'm not sure how we'll sneak you out without...." However, you trailed off as you saw it changing into a smaller form.

But it wasn't just shrinking, it was actually turning partially human.

How curious, nobody told you about that. Maybe that was part of the redacted information.

The monster turned out to be a human male, who still retained his horns, tail, and dark scales and fur, which covered his body. His brown hair was messy and spiky, and interestingly enough he had two black eyes.

He didn't have any clothes, obviously, so you took off your coat and put it around him. "So you're human, huh?"

"Your stupid friends' experiments wouldn't let me turn back for a while..." He grumbled in a slight British accent. "You sure you're not gonna hurt me?"

Understandably he got defensive, knowing you were working for the people who tortured him. But you shook your head. "No, I won't. I'm quitting this shithole and I'll take you with me." You took his hand reassuringly, noting that it was still clawed.

He gave you the tiniest of smiles in return. "Heh, glad we're both in agreement."

Soon you both quickly made your escape, luckily not running into any trouble. Your car was still parked right where you left it, so you got in and drove off.

You definitely won't miss working for that lab.

The roads were mostly empty at this time of night, so you were able to breathe easy knowing nobody's gonna chase you. Now seemed to be the best time to talk with the monster.

"So uh..do you have a name?" You spoke up. "I know they call you TR-03 but it doesn't feel right to call you that anymore."

"Tom." He answered as he looked out the window. "My name's Tom Ridges."

'Huh, that explains his code name.'

"I'm [y/n]." After noticing a nearby plaza, you saw a clothing store and decided to make a quick stop there. Tom seemed to be confused, and a bit worried when you left him in the car all alone, though you reassured him you were just buying some clothes for him.

He waited, trying to keep himself out-of-view in case any strangers got too nosy. But before long you were back, opening the driver's side as you peered in and sighed with relief, seeing him halfway out of the chair.

"Jeez, you scared me..thought somebody got you." You sighed, shaking your head.

"S-Sorry, not trying to get any unwanted attention. It's the last thing I need.." He sat upright, though he was surprised when you handed him a bag. Inside was a blue hoodie, boxers, and gray sweatpants. "Oh, cool."

'That's all he has to say?' His reaction was a bit underwhelming. 'Then again..maybe he hasn't processed that he's never going back to that hell chamber yet.'

You just shut the door and waited for him to get dressed, and when he tapped on the window you got back into the car. He definitely looked more comfortable now.

After giving him a smile, you continued on your way home, feeling glad that you rescued him from that place. You had no idea if he had any place to go, granted you don't recall seeing any information on his address nor any relationships.

So he'll stay with you.

...........

"Luckily I got a spare room. Excuse the mess." You chuckled as you showed Tom the extra room in your house, turning on the light. "You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

He nodded as he looked around, before feeling his stomach grumble. In embarrassment he put a hand over it, glancing at you. "Sorry..the food they had was shitty, I'm sure you knew."

"Yeah...you want takeout?" You took out your phone. "I don't feel like cooking tonight so I was gonna order some anyway."

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, I'll call in the order. We can go watch TV while we wait."

Once more Tom nodded, following you into the living room space where you both sat down on the sofa. He sighed and leaned back, turning on the TV while you ordered some Chinese food.

This situation felt so...comforting and familiar..

For a moment he gazed at you, seeing you look through the menu.

He knew he wasn't the only prisoner back in that lab. So he couldn't understand why you'd choose him, of everyone you could've helped, but...he considered himself lucky.

For once he felt like he could let his guard down a little.

Some time later the food arrived to your house, and you both ate it while watching various TV programs. You asked Tom a bit more about his home life, though he didn't have much to talk about.

Whether he didn't want to say anything or forgot it thanks to the experiments was a mystery, but you wouldn't pry. You'll get your answers sooner or later, though not tonight.

Tonight you both deserved a good rest.

Afterwards you headed off to your own room, letting him know that he can knock on your door if he ever needed anything.

You got into your pajamas and crawled into bed, yawning.

It had definitely been an eventful day. You were eager to sleep in, knowing that you won't ever go back to your boring (and unethical) job.

But just as you had turned off the lights and dozed off, you heard your door creak open. With a slightly annoyed sigh, you sat up and turned on the lamp beside you, before seeing it was Tom.

"Tom? Your room is..."

Though you fell silent when you heard him...whimper? His eyes were white, indicating he was in some kind of distress.

But he crawled onto your bed, practically situating himself in your arms while making sure he didn't jab you with his horns. You were perplexed by his actions, though you finally realized..

He was just scared.

You held him in your arms, rubbing his horns soothingly and petting his hair, murmuring promises that he was safe. In response he nuzzled up to you, tail wrapping around your body as you both laid down.

You only stopped for a moment as he started purring, which made you chuckle softly. "Purring, huh? That's new."

"Can you keep doing that?" He grumbled, closing his eyes. "It was nice till you stopped."

"O-Oh right, sorry." You continued the previous motions, deciding to hum a small song as well to help him sleep.

Eventually you stopped once he dozed off completely, and your cheeks felt warm upon seeing how adorable he looked. 'And to think I was afraid of this guy?' You mused, before turning off the lamp light.

Soon enough you fell asleep as well.

If this is how Tom expressed his thanks...you'll take it.

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena was just finishing writing up her daily plan when Jess’ voice crackled over the intercom.

“Miss Luthor, the reporter from CatCo is here.”

Lena took a deep breath, letting her professional mask slip into place, ready to start the day. “You can let them in, Jess.”

She stood as the door to her office opened and a woman with soft blonde curls and a yellow sundress entered. She smiled brightly at Lena despite the slight nervousness behind it. Lena found her own polite smile reflecting a little of Kara’s sunshine back as she approached.

“Kara Danvers, CatCo magazine.” She moved her hand as if about to offer a handshake and Lena’s heart rate ticked up a little with dread, but Kara seemed to change the course of her movement and ended up fiddling with her glasses instead.

“Lena Luthor,” she introduced herself and getured for Kara to sit at one of the chairs across from her desk.

Kara pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. “So, Miss Luthor, mind if I ask you some questions about your latest tech?”

Kara was kind and sweet and seemed to be genuinely interested in her work, not just looking for some new angle to paint Lena as the next terrible Luthor. She listened and asked questions off of what Lena had been saying rather than just reading the ones Lena could see written in her notebook. She seemed to light up a little more every time Lena let her professional mask slip a fraction and showed some of the enthusiasm she normally tried to keep bottled for when she was alone in her lab. Kara Danvers had an uncanny way of drawing out her unmasked self until she was rambling about her work and talking with excited hand gestures that Lillian always chided her for but she could never quite suppress.

The interview was over before she knew and Jess was popping her head into the office with barely concealed surprise at the fact that Lena had almost let it run over to escort Kara out again.

But she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she saw Kara Danvers.

———

Kara’s article came out a week later and Lena filled her office with flowers in thanks. Kara called her within an hour.

They arranged to go to brunch together which turned into another brunch the next week, and then a lunch date, and then trying out a new cafe, and then more interviews. Lena found herself adding calls after work with Kara into her routine and messaging Sam about how often was appropriate to text a new friend. (Sam was no help but Lena refused to give in to the urge to google it.)

Kara saved her as Supergirl and it wasn’t long before she accidentally revealed her identity and Lena sheepishly told her she already knew.

It was a few weeks before Kara visited her office without the pretence of an interview.

Lena was reading through a contract when there was a knock at her office door and Kara walked in with a paper bag.

“Miss Danvers! Miss Danvers!”

Kara looked back down the hallway with a frown as Jess hissed her name, rushing into the office after her.

Jess turned to Lena apologetically. “I’m so sorry Miss Luthor, I was only gone for a minute to get a coffee and she must have slipped in.”

Kara looked to Lena in slight panic. “Oh no am I interrupting?”

Lena capped her pen and stood with a placating smile. “It’s quite alright, Kara. I can take a short break.”

Kara couldn’t hide the hopeful way her eyes lit up but she still asked, “are you sure?”

Lena tried to counter the way her heart strained slightly as she glanced at her timed schedule with a bright smile, ignoring Jess’ mildly concerned look. “Of course.”

Kara stayed and ate amazing donuts with her while they talked and laughed for over an hour. The reminder of work was constantly in her mind but she pushed it aside to prolong the wonderful experience of sharing donuts with Kara Danvers. Until Jess informed her she had her next meeting and Kara left and the stress of her messed up schedule came crashing back down, piling up as the day went on and each item on her list for the day got pushed back or rearranged.

It was nearing 10pm when Kara found her at her desk with her head in her hands, desperately trying to ignore her headache and not let her emotions overwhelm her.

“Lena?” Supergirl landed softly on her balcony, stepping gently into her office and crouching down beside her. “Lena is everything okay?”

Lena just screwed her eyes shut tighter, unable to do anything else.

“Lena, can you take some deep breaths for me?” Kara carefully opened her desk drawer and took out the noise cancelling headphones as she softly counted breaths. She gently placed them over Lena’s ears and the incessant humming of her computer and the lights and the wind faded.

Lena slowly removed her hands from her head and blinked, still feeling sluggish.

“Will you let me take you home?”

She nodded, holding out her arms and letting Kara scoop her up into a surprisingly strong and calming grip. She let her head rest in the crook of Kara’s neck and just breathed as they flew back to her penthouse.

Lena found herself curled up on her couch, wrapped in a blanket, as she began to come back to herself.

Kara wandered over from the kitchen, gently setting two mugs of tea on the coffee table and sitting down on the other end of the couch. Lena removed the headphones and murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ as she picked up her mug.

She could tell Kara was looking at her with worry. “Did I make things hard by turning up at your office today?”

Lena stared down at her mug, heart clenching. “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you! Or that I didn’t really enjoy the donuts or anything…”

Kara sighed, shuffling a little closer. “Lena, it’s okay. I want to respect your boundaries but you have to let me know what they are so that I can.”

Lena swirled her tea in the mug as she figured out what she wanted to say. “I don’t like it when my plans change. I really like seeing you, but I like to know when. It makes me stressed to have to rearrange my plans when I’ve got a sequence of how to do them already in my head.”

“Okay.” Kara smiled softly. “Thank you for letting me know.”

———

They scheduled in visits after that and Lena found herself smiling at her desk, looking forward to each and every one of them, thinking about all the things she had to tell Kara that day.

Their lunches increased to at least twice a week and movie nights became a regular fixture too. Some evenings Kara would come over and they would just sit in comfortable silence, doing their own things, happy to be in each others’ presence.

Lena found her smiles growing and her heart fluttering around Kara. Kara could hear her affect if her shy smiles each time it happened were anything to go by.

Kara was the only other person allowed in Lena’s private lab. While Lena loved her visits down to R&D, she valued the organisation and quiet of her personal lab. Kara understood that and happily watched her work and listened to her excited explanations without interrupting.

Kara sat quietly, doodling in her notebook while Lena revised the code of one of her projects. She looked up when Lena grinned, tapping excitedly on the desk in front of the computer.

“Is the code working?” Kara stood from her seat to peer at the screen as it ran through a simulation of the code.

“Potentially.”

The program ended, perfectly completing its function, and Lena squealed in delight. She turned to Kara and threw her arms around her, basking in the deep pressure of Kara’s tight grip as she lifted her off the ground and spun her round.

“It worked!”

Kara put her down again, beaming at her. “You’re amazing, Lena.”

Lena’s heart skipped a beat and Kara’s eyes flicked down momentarily as if to track the noise, flicking back up with a blush just as quick.

Lena bit her lip, a light flush dusting her own cheeks. “Thank you.”

Kara’s eyes dipped down again, seeming to get stuck at her lips. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “Can I kiss you?”

Lena’s heart stopped all together as the air rushed from her lungs. “Yes.”

And for a moment the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Machine learning's crumbling foundations

Technological debt is insidious, a kind of socio-infrastructural subprime crisis that’s unfolding around us in slow motion. Our digital infrastructure is built atop layers and layers and layers of code that’s insecure due to a combination of bad practices and bad frameworks.

Even people who write secure code import insecure libraries, or plug it into insecure authorization systems or databases. Like asbestos in the walls, this cruft has been fragmenting, drifting into our air a crumb at a time.

We ignored these, treating them as containable, little breaches and now the walls are rupturing and choking clouds of toxic waste are everywhere.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/27/gas-on-the-fire/#a-safe-place-for-dangerous-ideas

The infosec apocalypse was decades in the making. The machine learning apocalypse, on the other hand…

ML has serious, institutional problems, the kind of thing you’d expect in a nascent discipline, which you’d hope would be worked out before it went into wide deployment.

ML is rife with all forms of statistical malpractice — AND it’s being used for high-speed, high-stakes automated classification and decision-making, as if it was a proven science whose professional ethos had the sober gravitas you’d expect from, say, civil engineering.

Civil engineers spend a lot of time making sure the buildings and bridges they design don’t kill the people who use them. Machine learning?

Hundreds of ML teams built models to automate covid detection, and every single one was useless or worse.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/02/autoquack/#gigo

The ML models failed due to failure to observe basic statistical rigor. One common failure mode?

Treating data that was known to be of poor quality as if it was reliable because good data was not available.

Obtaining good data and/or cleaning up bad data is tedious, repetitive grunt-work. It’s unglamorous, time-consuming, and low-waged. Cleaning data is the equivalent of sterilizing surgical implements — vital, high-skilled, and invisible unless someone fails to do it.

It’s work performed by anonymous, low-waged adjuncts to the surgeon, who is the star of the show and who gets credit for the success of the operation.

The title of a Google Research team (Nithya Sambasivan et al) paper published in ACM CHI beautifully summarizes how this is playing out in ML: “Everyone wants to do the model work, not the data work: Data Cascades in High-Stakes AI,”

https://storage.googleapis.com/pub-tools-public-publication-data/pdf/0d556e45afc54afeb2eb6b51a9bc1827b9961ff4.pdf

The paper analyzes ML failures from a cross-section of high-stakes projects (health diagnostics, anti-poaching, etc) in East Africa, West Africa and India. They trace the failures of these projects to data-quality, and drill into the factors that caused the data problems.

The failures stem from a variety of causes. First, data-gathering and cleaning are low-waged, invisible, and thankless work. Front-line workers who produce the data — like medical professionals who have to do extra data-entry — are not compensated for extra work.

Often, no one even bothers to explain what the work is for. Some of the data-cleaning workers are atomized pieceworkers, such as those who work for Amazon’s Mechanical Turk, who lack both the context in which the data was gathered and the context for how it will be used.

This data is passed to model-builders, who lack related domain expertise. The hastily labeled X-ray of a broken bone, annotated by an unregarded and overworked radiologist, is passed onto a data-scientist who knows nothing about broken bones and can’t assess the labels.

This is an age-old problem in automation, pre-dating computer science and even computers. The “scientific management” craze that started in the 1880s saw technicians observing skilled workers with stopwatches and clipboards, then restructuring the workers’ jobs by fiat.

Rather than engaging in the anthropological work that Clifford Geertz called “thick description,” the management “scientists” discarded workers’ qualitative experience, then treated their own assessments as quantitative and thus empirical.

http://hypergeertz.jku.at/GeertzTexts/Thick_Description.htm

How long a task takes is empirical, but what you call a “task” is subjective. Computer scientists take quantitative measurements, but decide what to measure on the basis of subjective judgment. This empiricism-washing sleight of hand is endemic to ML’s claims of neutrality.

In the early 2000s, there was a movement to produce tools and training that would let domain experts produce their own tools — rather than delivering “requirements” to a programmer, a bookstore clerk or nurse or librarian could just make their own tools using Visual Basic.

This was the radical humanist version of “learn to code” — a call to seize the means of computation and program, rather than being programmed. Over time, it was watered down, and today it lives on as a weak call for domain experts to be included in production.

The disdain for the qualitative expertise of domain experts who produce data is a well-understood guilty secret within ML circles, embodied in Frederick Jelinek’s ironic talk, “Every time I fire a linguist, the performance of the speech recognizer goes up.”

But a thick understanding of context is vital to improving data-quality. Take the American “voting wars,” where GOP-affiliated vendors are brought in to purge voting rolls of duplicate entries — people who are registered to vote in more than one place.

These tools have a 99% false-positive rate.

Ninety. Nine. Percent.

To understand how they go so terribly wrong, you need a thick understanding of the context in which the data they analyze is produced.

https://5harad.com/papers/1p1v.pdf

The core assumption of these tools is that two people with the same name and date of birth are probably the same person.

But guess what month people named “June” are likely to be born in? Guess what birthday is shared by many people named “Noel” or “Carol”?

Many states represent unknown birthdays as “January 1,” or “January 1, 1901.” If you find someone on a voter roll whose birthday is represented as 1/1, you have no idea what their birthday is, and they almost certainly don’t share a birthday with other 1/1s.

But false positives aren’t evenly distributed. Ethnic groups whose surnames were assigned in recent history for tax-collection purposes (Ashkenazi Jews, Han Chinese, Koreans, etc) have a relatively small pool of surnames and a slightly larger pool of first names.

This is likewise true of the descendants of colonized and enslaved people, whose surnames were assigned to them for administrative purposes and see a high degree of overlap. When you see two voter rolls with a Juan Gomez born on Jan 1, you need to apply thick analysis.

Unless, of course, you don’t care about purging the people who are most likely to face structural impediments to voter registration (such as no local DMV office) and who are also likely to be racialized (for example, migrants whose names were changed at Ellis Island).

ML practitioners don’t merely use poor quality data when good quality data isn’t available — they also use the poor quality data to assess the resulting models. When you train an ML model, you hold back some of the training data for assessment purposes.

So maybe you start with 10,000 eye scans labeled for the presence of eye disease. You train your model with 9,000 scans and then ask the model to assess the remaining 1,000 scans to see whether it can make accurate classifications.

But if the data is no good, the assessment is also no good. As the paper’s authors put it, it’s important to “catch[] data errors using mechanisms specific to data validation, instead of using model performance as a proxy for data quality.”

ML practitioners studied for the paper — practitioners engaged in “high-stakes” model building reported that they had to gather their own data for their models through field partners, “a task which many admitted to being unprepared for.”

High-stakes ML work has inherited a host of sloppy practices from ad-tech, where ML saw its first boom. Ad-tech aims for “70–75% accuracy.”

That may be fine if you’re deciding whether to show someone an ad, but it’s a very different matter if you’re deciding whether someone needs treatment for an eye-disease that, untreated, will result in irreversible total blindness.

Even when models are useful at classifying input produced under present-day lab conditions, those conditions are subject to several kinds of “drift.”

For example, “hardware drift,” where models trained on images from pristine new cameras are asked to assess images produced by cameras from field clinics, where lenses are impossible to keep clean (see also “environmental drift” and “human drift”).

Bad data makes bad models. Bad models instruct people to make ineffective or harmful interventions. Those bad interventions produce more bad data, which is fed into more bad models — it’s a “data-cascade.”

GIGO — Garbage In, Garbage Out — was already a bedrock of statistical practice before the term was coined in 1957. Statistical analysis and inference cannot proceed from bad data.

Producing good data and validating data-sets are the kind of unsexy, undercompensated maintenance work that all infrastructure requires — and, as with other kinds of infrastructure, it is undervalued by journals, academic departments, funders, corporations and governments.

But all technological debts accrue punitive interest. The decision to operate on bad data because good data is in short supply isn’t like looking for your car-keys under the lamp-post — it’s like driving with untrustworthy brakes and a dirty windscreen.

Image: Seydelmann (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[goddesswritings]

“Can I slap her for you?” - Corpse Husband | Part One

Title: “Can I slap her for you?” – Part One

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader

Summary: Being stuck living with the queen of YouTube drama and partying during the pandemic has seriously worn down your patience. Meeting Pokimane has changed your life for the better, making Among Us a pivotal part of your life.

Word Count: 5.3k

I’m always writing so much plot! I hope you like it. Part Two is in the works.

********

Credit to PIC owner!

This pandemic was hell for you. Being stuck in this apartment with your bitch of a sister was not something you would wish on even your enemy.

When you first moved to LA with her, things were fine, and you got along. She had a budding YouTube career, and you were working a good job. Pretty quickly, she’d hired you as her editor since that was a daily part of your real job, you happily agreed because it meant you could get money on the side and still work.

Your sister was mainly a beauty YouTuber but last year she gained over 3 million followers when she started a series where she would interview people in other lines of entertainment and then test it out. Since then, she’d become a horror to live with.

Now with the pandemic, you’d been furloughed from you day job and working full time for your diva of a sister. She had only been getting worse and worse. Being stuck with her was crap, especially since she was selfish and still went out to party and do collabs with people like there wasn’t a massive virus out there.

“I hope you finished the editing I needed done.” Olivia, your sister, asked as she shut the front door.

You were just finishing up the edits from your spot on the couch. “Yeah, I did it while you were out risking lives.”

“Shut the hell up. I’m an adult and I can do what I want.” She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Even when it’s killing hundreds of thousands of people?” You were so sick of her attitude. She has no care in the world for anyone but herself. In the last month, her name had been posted all over the commentary YouTubers channels. Slamming her for partying while the world dealt with Covid.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Those people are not my problem at all. If they are so afraid, they should just stay home.”

“Why are you so selfish?” Her behavior was completely out of hands these days.

“Do I need to remind you that I pay you?” She sent you a glare before heading off to her room. You grumbled and threw your head back. There was no way you could handle her.

Stressing out over her was no good, so you decided to take your laptop back to your room and play some games to calm yourself down. Among Us was one of those games that allowed to you just play and forget the stress. You booted up the game and joined some random lobbies. It was hard to find good games because you usually ran into some sour players who couldn’t just play the game without causing drama.

A few rounds in, your phone buzzed, indicating a text. You exited the current game, one of the imposters had already killed you anyway, and picked up the phone. There was a text from Poki. The two of you had become quick friends when she appeared on your sisters series but she clicked more with you since you were more of a gamer.

P: Hey Y/n, what are you doing currently?

It was an unexpected text because you had been fairly sure Poki had a stream tonight.

Y/n: Nothing since I just finished editing my selfish sisters video. What’s up?

She knew very well how horrible Olivia was and she’d been the one person who you could talk to about it. You appreciated her for it.

Poki: Damn, did she go to another party?

Y/n: Yup, she sure did. Then threatened my job when I called her out on it.

Poki: Wow, not cool. Hey, so you know how I’m streaming tonight?

Y/n: Yeah.

Poki: So I had everyone set up for the game but last minute someone dropped out. We need one more person and I know you’re amazing in Among Us. Would you join our game?

This was a surprise. You weren’t a YouTuber or a streamer, so for her to ask you, meant she really was desperate.

Y/n: Sure, I’m free. Who’s playing tonight?

Poki: Rae, Lily, Ethan, Mark, Felix, Toast, Sykkuno, and Corpse.

Wow, that was a packed game full of some pretty big names. Your nerves kicked up at the thought of being in a game with these amazing people.

Y/n: Sweet!

Poki: I will send you the discord so you can join the chat and the game code.

Y/n: Thanks.

She instantly sent you the links and you got your self set up with your headphones. Poki connected you into the discord call.

“Hey, everyone welcome my good friend, Y/n. She’s the one who will fill in on the open spot tonight.” She introduced you to the group.

A chorus of hello’s was heard. You knew Rae, so she jumped right into welcoming you.

Pushing the nerves away, you managed to little hello. Your voice was softer than you’d intended. Damn nerves.

“Guys! Y/n is so good in Among Us. Her skills rival Corpse’s.” Rae gushed. You’d played a game with Rae and Poki and a few of the other girls, but no one had been streaming.

“Whaddup baby.” The deep voice of Corpse said. His voice was something else.

“Don’t make her too nervous there, man.” Felix commented which made the other guys laugh.

“Oh no worries, I’m not nervous.” You said even though you really were nervous. You switched into the game and typed in the code Poki had sent you. Immediately the game lobby popped up, filled with everyone who was on the call. Your character popped onto the screen and took the white color.

“Good to know. I look forward to being an imposter with you.” Corpse said making your cheeks heat up just a little.

“You really need to watch out for her.” Lily said making you giggle. She was right. You were a deceitful imposter.

You quickly changed your hat to the halo, making you match your chosen username, Angel.

“Look how fitting her character is.” Mark commented. “Is that an indication of how you will be?”

“Perhaps.” You were starting to calm your nerves. “You will just have to find out.”

“Okay, let’s get started.” Poki said as the countdown started on screen. You muted your mic. The screen flashed the crew-mate title, and you felt a little more relieved. You hated starting as an imposter.

The map you were in was Polus, your favorite. The first thing you did, was the navigation task before also doing keys. Nearly everyone was there, which meant the two imposters were faking the tasks. After that, you ran off entering the building that housed electrical and o2. You looked around for tasks.

“I have my eye on you, Angel.” Felix said as he came into o2.

You unmuted your mic. “Good, then you can watch me teach you how to do tasks.” You sassed, making the group laugh.

“Damn, I already like her.” Ethan said, getting sounds of approval from Sykkuno, Mark, and Corpse.

“Stop simping and play the game.” Poki commented, making you laugh.

Leaving o2, you ran outside to check the weather nodes. Felix was still following you closely. He was convinced you were an Imposter.

“Why is this guy following me around?” You asked, trying to run from him.

“Felix, what are you doing?” Rae asked as she popped up beside you.

“Making sure she’s not an imposter.” He sounded innocent.

“Well I’m not. Now go do your tasks.” Once again you ran from his character and entered the office. You passed Corpse’s black character before heading in, to do card swipe.

Suddenly a body was reported. Felix’s body.

“Whoa, okay, Y/n did you kill Felix?” Toast asked.

“What? No? I left him to go do my tasks.” You defended.

“I can confirm she was in office with me. I watched her do card swipe.” Corpse added.

The thing was, you passed him as he was leaving the office, and he definitely didn’t stay to watch you. He was headed in the direction you had left Felix and Rae. So, both were sus.

“Okay, then Rae where were you?” Sykkuno questioned.

“I left Felix by weapons. I was headed to lab.” You couldn’t decipher a lie from her.

“Hmmm, okay. Skip then?” Ethan offered. The group agreed.

Once back in the game, you decided to head to labs to find the rest of your tasks. Sykkuno followed you but broke off to go through decontamination. You did your scan in peace before another body was reported. This time it had been both Mark and Lily.

“Any sus?” Ethan asked.

“No, I was in electrical.” Toast said.

“I went to o2.” Poki added.

“Y/n, where were you?” Toast questioned. You were sure he thought you were an imposter.

“I was in the lab doing my scan, which I never got to finish.” You hated being interrupted mid-task.

“Anyone see her go there?”

“I passed her while I headed to decontamination.” Sykkuno vouched for you.

“Sure but the body was right outside the lab. She could have gone back to kill Mark after you were gone.”

“But I didn’t. I was doing my task.” You repeated with a little smile. You loved this game.

“Sure. I don’t believe you.” Toast was a hard one to convince.

“She didn’t do it. I entered lab and she was doing her scan.” Corpse spoke up. Again he was covering for you when you know he was not in Lab with you.

“Okay. I guess we skip?” Poki said. Everyone agreed but when it was done, you had two votes but three had skipped, so you had been spared luckily. Toast for sure voted for you, you had no clue who else did but it didn’t matter.

Back in the game, you headed back to lab to finish your scan. Once done, you headed to decontamination, then to the specimen room for a task. As you entered, you found Corpse.

“Hey Corpse, having fun with your tasks?” You asked as you went to your own task.

“I sure am.” He stated before his character was running out of the room and up to the lab. Once your task was done, you had finished all your tasks and headed back to Admin. You entered office to find a dead Sykkuno, so you hit report.

“That was for sure a self-report.” Toast quickly said.

“It wasn’t, but okay.” You said shaking your head. Toast was so sus on you all game.

“I’m sus of Toast.” Rae said while Corpse and Poki agreed with her.

“Wait, Ethan is dead too. Damn, these Imposters got around.” Toast commented. “By the way, I am not an Imposter. Y/n is.”

“She’s not. I have seen her do her tasks all game.” Corpse was quick to come to your rescue. It was sweet how he was vouching for you all game.

“Sure, I’m voting Y/n.” Toast said as his ‘I Voted’ badge popped up.

You decided you were going to vote off Toast because he was getting on your nerves. Apparently the others were feeling the same because everyone else voted off Toast as well. His character was launched into the Lava. Toast was NOT an Imposter.

Back in the game, you ran around, just seeing if you could spot anyone being sus before Poki was killed. Straight after the defeat title showed, and the Imposters were revealed to be none other than Rae and Corpse.

Everyone dropped back into the lobby.

“I told you I wasn’t an Imposter.” You boasted.

“Sorry Y/n, I should have believed you.” Toast said.

“No worries. But hey, Corpse and Rae had plenty of chances to kill me, but they didn’t. Why?” It was interesting to you.

Rae laughed. “I didn’t want to kill you right in the beginning of your first game with us. You deserved to have some fun before you got killed.”

“Well thank you.” It was sweet of Rae to do that.

“I didn’t want to kill an Angel. It wouldn’t be right.” Corpse stated with a cute laugh afterwards.

Felix groaned. “But you have no issue killing anyone else.”

“It be like that sometimes.” Ethan stated which had you in stitches, as well as the rest of the group. “Okay, let’s begin another round.” He added.

The next few games were fun and interesting. You were always a crew member, but someone was always sus on you. But no matter what, Corpse would vouch for you. Sometimes his character would follow you around, do tasks with you. It was pretty freaking cute and clear to see the man with the alluring deep voice had taken a liking to you. It was sweet.

“One more game?” Poki asked after a slew of other games. Everyone agreed. She started the game and after the countdown, the screen flashed that you were finally an Imposter. Your fellow Imposter was of course Corpse. It was only natural.

You and he teamed up and killed many of the others. Starting with Rae and Lily, moving onto Toast and Sykkuno. Then someone finally reported the bodies.

“Four bodies already?” Mark stated as the red x’s showed up on their icons.

“Damn, someone is having fun.” You said, pretending like it wasn’t you who had done half of the killing.

“I saw Poki headed into Electrical where Lily and Rae were.” Corpse said, sounding genuine as always. He was so good at Imposter. His ability to lie was excellent.

“Sure I went to Electrical, but I left after fixing the lights.” Poki said.

“I don’t know. You seem sus.” Ethan said. “I saw you enter lab, and after I saw Sykunno’s body right before someone reported Lily and Rae’s.”

“I swear, it’s not me. I was just doing my tasks. How could I kill four people in that short amount of time?”

“It’s possible. You could have vented.” Corpse was right too.

“Guys, please.” She pleaded as everyone put in their votes. Nearly everyone had voted for Poki and her character was launched into the lava, only to show she was not an Imposter.

“Sorry Poki.” Ethan said before everyone hopped back into the game.

Once again, you and Corpse were teamed up, but you saw Mark head one way while Ethan was going another. Almost silently, the two of you decided to split up and take them. You followed Mark into O2, trailing him into the tree. No one was around, so you killed him before quickly venting away from there. Making sure no one was around when you resurfaced. Corpse must have killed Ethan because the Victory screen popped up for the two of you.

“Damn, I should have known this was a team effort between Corpse and the Angel. You’re far from an Angel when you’re an imposter.” Mark complained.

“That’s part of the thrill.” It really was. You loved being able to shock people that way.

“Good job, partner. You’re a great Imposter like me. We need to team up more often.” Corpse’s words made you feel all warm. It was insanely fun being Imposter with him. Your combined skills made things that much better.

“Okay, I think it’s time to call it a night. Thank you so much for joining us, Y/n.” Poki yawned to show it was getting late.

“Of course. I loved playing with all of you. It was much better than playing with randoms.”

“I get that. Randoms can be very annoying.” Sykkuno agreed. “It was so good to meet you, Y/n. I hope you join more games so I can be an Imposter with you!”

You loved how excited he sounded. “I guess we all want a chance to be Imposter with her.” Felix stated what everyone else was thinking.

“Hey, no one steals my Imposter buddy.” Corpse spoke up, which once again had you feeling some kind of good way.

“Corpse, you’re being such a simp.” Rae laughed, which made everyone else go nuts.

You all bid your goodbyes before you exited the game and the discord call. You found there was a huge smile on your face after that fun you had just had with Poki and her friends. They were all super welcoming of you, despite not knowing a thing about you.

Poki: Thank you for playing with us. I hope you had fun! You didn’t mind being on my stream?

Y/n: I had so much fun, everyone was so good to me. Also, not at all!

Poki: Good because my chat loved you! They couldn’t stop gushing about how much they loved you. It was so cute.

This was not something you had expected. Her stream had never met you, so for them to like you playing a game with the group, that was nice.

Y/n: Oh wow, I wasn’t expecting that. That’s so sweet!

Poki: You also seemed to get Corpse simping for you. Sykkuno is super jealous.

You laughed when you read that.

Y/n: Sykkuno doesn’t have to be jealous. It was a one-time thing, and he can have Corpse back in the next game.

Sure, you wanted it to be more than a one-time thing, but you weren’t going to let your hopes get too high. Poki had many streamer friends, who would get their streams way more viewers than you ever could.

Poki: I wouldn’t count on that. We’re definitely going to use you for more games. You’re one of us now, even if you don’t stream.

Her words warmed your heard. Poki had been one of the very few people you had made friends with when you moved to Cali with your sister and your friendship was only 10 months old. It was nice to have someone who wanted to include you in on the things she was doing.

Y/n: Are you sure? Because I would hate to be taking someone more interesting’s spot.

Poki: You shut that mouth. The group loved you and we’re all looking forward to playing with you again.

Y/n: Okay if that’s what they want.

Poki: They do, now get some sleep. I know you’ve been overworking yourself for your sister.

Y/n: You would be right. Thank you for the fun night, Poki. You get some sleep as well.

Poki: 😊

You liked her message before deciding it was indeed time for bed. Editing those videos did take energy out of you, especially since your sister would review and have you re-edit the things she didn’t like. Not fun at all.

****

The next month passed by with Poki inviting you to more games with her and her friends. Most of those games included Corpse, who’d taken a liking to you. The last few games, he’d been bugging you to tell him who you were and how you met Poki, but you were keeping that a secret. You really didn’t want him or the others knowing you were the older sister of selfish party girl Olivia Bella.

Your sister had found out you’d been playing the game with Poki and her friends and decided she was going to say some shit.

“How did you get Poki to let you play with her and the other streamers?” Olivia said with clear distaste towards you.

You shrugged. “She just asked me to step in for someone one day and now they enjoy playing with me.”

She laughed obnoxiously. “That such a joke. I needed that laugh, thank you.”

You clenched your fists, trying to contain your anger against your sister. She was really grating on your nerves these days.

“Damn, I would do anything to play with Corpse. His voice is so hot.” She muttered looking deranged.

“He’s much more than his voice you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s whatever I want him to be. God, I bet he’s so sexy behind that screen.”

“Please stop, he’s my friend and talk like that is uncomfortable.”

She cackled. “Corpse is not your friend, you loser. He just tolerates you like the rest of that group. I bet Poki only asked you to join out of pity.”

Her words slapped you in the face and threatened to strangle you. It was unbelievable that your younger sister was really acting like this to you.

“Why are you like this to me?” You questioned in all seriousness.

“Because you annoy me. Isn’t it obvious. I meant if I had the money, I would have moved here without you. Living with you is the worst. You know you’re like the most boring person in the world?”

The insults just kept on coming. She truly didn’t like you and it felt horrible. Family wasn’t supposed to be like this. “I get it, thank you.” You walked away before she could say anything else, she was horrible to you.

Her words made you sad. The only thing that could cheer you up was the fact that Poki had invited you to another game. It was something you needed after that conversation with your sister.

Poki: Hey girl, this kills me to do but Sean invited someone else to play tonight. Someone he said was eager to play with us. I’m so sorry.

This was simply perfect. The one time you craved interaction with the Among Us crew, they added someone else to the game. Of course it was always a possibility, but it didn’t stop from making you upset.

A couple of tears streamed down your face before you wiped them away. You wouldn’t let this get to you.

Y/n: No, please don’t worry. I understand it is always a possibility. Have a good stream!

Poki: I think you should know the person joining us is your sister. I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but they didn’t really believe me. I’m so sorry.

Your sister was the reason you have been replaced for tonight. Perfect. Of course it was her. She always took the things you liked, away from you.

Y/n: Please stop apologizing, I completely understand.

Poki: Should I tell them she’s your sister?

Y/n: No, please don’t let them know that.

Poki: Okay, please know we will miss you in tonights stream.

Doubt filled you. After reading those words. There was no way they would miss you in the game tonight. It was clear you didn’t bring in viewers for the streams, but your sister would be able to do that without any issues. Now your night was truly ruined. Thankfully, you could just lay in bed and sulk all you wanted.

The bedroom door burst open. “Hey, can you set up this game for me? I assume you know I’m playing Among Us with the crew tonight. Told you they didn’t care if you were there or not.” Did she ever stop this shit?

“Why should I help you?” You grumbled, glaring up at your blonde-haired sister. She looked like she was dressed for another party, not an off the cuff stream.

“Well, I pay you and if you want that to continue, you will help me set up the game and stream.” Her hanging your only source of income over your head was really shitty.

You growled but got out of bed, passing by her in a haste. You entered her office and quickly got to work setting up the stream and discord. Then you showed her how to load the game. She just nodded, not looking happy at all.

“Have fun.” You sounded bitter but at this point, you couldn’t hide it.

“Oh I’m going to have so much fun with them. It’s going to be so good, and maybe they will ask me to join them more often and they can stop faking their friendships with you.”

“Cool, good for you.” The audacity of this bitch. You left once you were sure it was set up correctly. She didn’t see, but you shot her the finger as you left. She was a bitch through and through.

You retreated to your room to sulk some more. This day was such a let down for you. Over the last month, you had really clicked with the Among Us group. Meeting more streamers as Poki had more games. They all seemed to like you, but your sister was probably right, they were just being nice because they could.

As you stared at your ceiling, you heard your sister talking and knew the stream had started. Groaning, you threw on some headphones and put on your playlist that was saved strictly for when you were sad. It helped to take your thoughts from the stressor at hand? And ease your mind.

****

Meanwhile, the stream was hell. Sean majorly regretted inviting Olivia onto it. To be fair, he was only being nice because the girl had been begging to join the game for a while now in his DM’s. But it was a huge regret with the way this woman was acting. She couldn’t even be Imposter without outing herself and the second Imposter.

“You guys know Y/n is my sister right?” She said offhandedly as they were waiting in the lobby for the next game.

“Wait what? Is that true?” Ludwig asked in disbelief. This woman was nothing like Y/n. She was a total ditz compared to Y/n.

“Of course it is. I have lived with her for twenty years now, I know a lot of dirt about her.” Hearing her say this angered Poki.

“Don’t go there, Olivia. Just play the game.” Poki didn’t want her to spill anything about her friend. It was messy that she would even want to.

Olivia sighed. “Awe but you would love this.”

“No, let’s just play the game.” Corpse was quick to cut her off.

“Come on Corpse, are you sure you don’t want to hear all the embarrassing things I know about her?” Everyone was quickly realizing just how messed up in the brain Olivia was.

“You do realize most of us are streaming this live?” Rae stated, sounding just as frustrated as Corpse felt.

“Please, let’s start the game.” He all but growled, wanting to shut this woman up. The game started and he pulled out his phone. He was going to finally get Poki to tell him Y/n’s instagram.

Corpse: I know you told me you couldn’t tell me what Y/n’s instagram is but please, can I get it now? Her sister is a fucking bitch.

He has so much more he wanted to say about Olivia and entitled attitude but making sure Y/n was okay was his number one priority.

Poki: She’s going to hate me if I do it.

Corpse: Please, this is important to me.

Poki: You owe me. Here’s her insta.

She sent him a link that led to a private instagram under the name Y/nY/l/n96. He requested to follow her.

Corpse: Thank you, let me know when to pay up.

Poki: Will do, now get into the game or Olivia is going to kill you. She’s imposter.

He got back into the game, hoping Y/n would accept his request.

****

After an hour of ‘sad girl hours’. You decided to do something that could help you not to focus on Olivia streaming in the other room.

Clicking instagram, you saw a notification. corpse_husband has requested to follow you. This was interesting. Either he’s smart enough to figure out who you are or Poki told him.

You accepted his follow and followed him back. He only had seven pictures, and of course there weren’t face pics. You admired him for keeping himself faceless to his fans. Now you hoped he wouldn’t bend to their pressure and reveal his face. Being faceless was good for him and his anxiety. The latest pics were his hand reveals he did for the fans, they made you giggle.

Corpse was good at keeping himself secret and you liked that. You did what you could to stay secret as well. Your Instagram profile picture was not even you, so no one would be able to point you out even if they knew your face. Also, you have hidden the account from Olivia, so she couldn’t send her fans to torment you.

As you scrolled Instagram, you received a DM. It was from the one and only Corpse Husband.

Corpse: This stream is hell without you tonight. Why did Sean have to invite her?

It made you feel a little better to see that Corpse was missing you in the stream tonight.

Y/n: That’s a question you will have to ask Sean. I was looking forward to playing Among Us with the group as well, but hey, it looks like they found someone who will bring in the views.

Corpse: Nope. She’s chasing away everyone’s viewers. Your sister is the worst. I see why you didn’t want us to know the two of you were related.

Your blood ran cold. How did he know that?

Y/n: How did you know she was my sister?

Corpse: She won’t shut up about it. No one can get her to stop. I’m sorry if you didn’t want us to know about this.

Of course, you should have known that Olivia was going to tell everyone that. She was also probably opening her mouth about so much other stuff.

Y/n: Well fuck. This sucks.

Corpse: Hey, don’t worry about it. No one is judging you for this, but we are wondering how you manage to handle her.

A soft giggle left your mouth.

Y/n: It’s not easy. I mean sure I’m the older sister, but she acts like the queen around here.

Corpse: Damn. Here we go again. Your sister is trying to start some drama.

Hearing this, you realized you had to do something about this. There was no way you could let her sit there and continue to mouth off about you or anyone else in her life.

Y/n: Brace yourself, I’m about to ruin her stream.

Corpse: Good luck!

It was time to put her in her place, you got up and headed to the utility closet by the front door of the apartment. The fuse box was located there. You opened it and found the switch for her office and clicked it off. It was half a second before a loud scream was heard.

In less than thirty seconds she was running out of the office with a livid look upon her face. “What the fuck have you done?” She screamed while stomping up to you.

“I heard you were talking shit about me and decided to end it.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“I can say whatever I want. The group was enjoying it.” She tried to act smug.

You laughed in her face. “Do you ever not lie?”

“Do you ever stop being a bitter bitch?” The anger was clear, but you didn’t care.

“Oh fuck off. You were annoying them with your ridiculous bullshit. I completely saved your ass from making a fool of yourself.”

“I fucking hate you!” She stepped up to you. “I’m kicking you out. Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my apartment.” The look on her face, showed she was serious about this.

“Fine.” Was all you said before you turned around and went back to your room, well your former room now. Pulling some bags out, you stuffed some clothes and important items into them. Once filled, you pulled on shoes and made sure you had what you needed until you could come get the rest of your stuff. Currently, you didn’t know how to feel about any of this, but you did need to get away from her.

PART TWO >>

[twinhood-2dot0]

A Shallow Dive Into: Justice League of America

Good morning Alex, and sorry, this must be getting boring. I usually have a topic ready days prior but this week was pretty hectic. I was gonna write code to analyze Spotify's top tracks and report my findings but sadly I don't have the time to write the code and write a blog post about it so I'm fishing my draft for the Justice League shallow dive I'd scrapped and finishing it up :P.

What's the Justice League?

DC had a team of superheros called the "Justice Society of America". After comic books fell out of popularity, the team was pretty much abandoned, and later reimagined in the form of the Justice League and also revived, but in a parallel universe. The Justice League at it's conception had the big shots Batman and Superman, Wonder Woman, A new Flash and Green Lantern (versions of whom who appeared in the Justice Society), Aquaman, Martian Manhunter but the roster has expanded exponentially since then and spawned sub-teams such as the magic based Justice League Dark, Justice League International consisting of superheroes from countries that are not America and Justice League Incarnate for the multiverse to name a few. The popularity of the Justice Society spawned other teams such as the Teen Titans, Young Justice, the Fantastic Four and the Avengers (Yes, DC did it first, just like everything else).

Meet The Cast

Superman - The (super)man, the myth, the legend. Kal-El is an alien from the planet Krypton (named so because the writer liked the element Krypton???). He landed on the farm of a couple, Jonathan and Martha Kent in Smallville, Kansas. His powers include: Flying, very durable body, super-strength, super-speed, frost breath, heat vision, super-vision (x-ray, telescopic yada yada). He can photosynthesis, but not under a red sun, they remove his powers, Krypton has a red sun, so Kryptonians are normal on Krypton, except I think Supergirl learnt to fly on Krypton in Injustice so idk, maybe just inconsistencies. Batman also has red sun in his possession to stop Superman if need be. Do not ask me how that works.

Batman - See: My last post

Wonder Woman - Princess Diana is the daughter of Hippolyta, the Greek mythology one. Although in DC, Amazons live on an island named Themyscira, where no men are allowed, and everyone is immortal I think so there is no need for reproduction. Wonder Woman is bisexual but her main love interest is a man, sadly. This origin story was concocted by a super-feminist and considered them the superior sex so he made an island without men cuz men suck I guess. I’m really sorry but I know very little about Wonder Woman.

The Flash(es) - The Flash is more of a mantle than a character. It has been carried by like 6 people at this point, those being:

Jay Garrick - The first Flash. Please forgive the origin story, it was 1940. He, in a lab, tipped over a beaker of HARD WATER, and the fumes of it gave him super-speed. He’s too old for me to know much about, sorry.

Barry Allen - Ah, the most iconic one of them all, FOR OLD PEOPLE!!! He was the Flash in the Justice League back in the Bronze and Silver ages, and was killed off in 1985, in Crisis. He returned in 2008. Just let Wally have some peace man, he’s been tortured because of Barry’s existence. Bartholomew Henry Allen’s (why is it legal to name people that) mother was killed by [SPOILER] when he was a kid and his father was wrongfully arrested because there was no evidence. Barry became a CSI to prove that his father did not commit the crime. He sadly died in prison before Barry could prove his innocence. Anyways, onto how he got his powers. This one is better tho. While working in the forensics lab one night, he was struck by lightning and doused in chemicals, giving him superspeed, because lightning, I guess.

Wally West - Nephew of Barry Allen’s girlfriend at the time Iris West, he was a huge fan of The Flash who just so happened to be his uncle. One day Iris took Wally to visit Barry’s crime lab, and guess what, lightning does strike twice. Barry revealed his identity and mentored him as he became Kid Flash. As Kid Flash he was a founding member of the Teen Titans. Again, I’m very salty that very few Teen Titans adaptations have him despite him being a founding member. Then, as he neared his 20s and still going by Kid Flash for some reason, Barry dies in his fight against Anti-Monitor. He is forced to step up as The Flash and struggles with carrying on the legacy. He has a psychological block on his speed because he was scared to outshine Barry, but with new threats forcing him to overcome the block, he becomes the fastest Flash ever and has the best connection to the Speed-Force, the force that gives the speedsters their powers.

I won’t go into details about the rest of the speedsters, there are far too many, but I will list some of them. Bart Allen, grandson of Barry Allen. Tornado Twins, twins of Barry and Iris. Johnny and Jesse Quick, Father and Daughter who get superspeed by speaking a formula, 3X2(9YZ)4A, don’t ask Wallace West, Barry’s nephew who got his powers the same way Wally did. Wait. Wallace? As in Wally? Wait what? Yeah, so remember how Wally was wiped from existence? Wallace was brought in to replace him. He’s Wally, but African-American, younger and just a less fun character.

Green Lantern - This is also a character with multiple characters having the same name. The Green Lantern Corps is basically an intergalactic police department. Each of them have a ring that lets them create anything, limited only by their imagination, and superspeed and breathe-in-space-thing. The first Green Lantern I know nothing about, Alan Scott, got an actual green glowing lantern and made a ring with it. The rest, however, were approached by a premade ring and selected for their indomitable will. Oh yeah, there’s also a whole rainbow of Lantern Corps. Yellow is their main enemy led by a former GL. I know too little about them too except Alan Scott is the Jay Garrick of GL, Hal Jordan the coolest the Barry, and Kyle Rayner the Wally. The others I don’t know much about, but they are John Stewart, Guy Gardner, Simon Baz, Jessica Cruz, idk why there’s only 2 female GLs and both took till the 2010s, and Sojourner Mullein.

Martian Manhunter - I know far too little about him too, but he’s a Green Martian, who was a criminal on Mars, his race was wiped out, I think, and is trying to reform on Earth. He has transformation powers, intangibility, and telepathy and a heck ton more, even wiki collapsed the list, even Superman doesn’t have a list that long.

Aquaman - Super-speed underwater, super-strength, super-durability, trident, talks to fish, weak telepathy, largest nation on Earth. Oh, right, origin story. Arthur Curry's mother was the Queen of Atlantis but his father is human, so he’s half Atlantean and half-Human so Atlantis people hate him but he gains their respect. I know too little, sorry again.

Those are the main members of the JL of America (There are a lot more). And there’s Cyborg too I guess but I consider him a Titan so he’ll be in part 2 if there’s ever one.

Alex, I'll see you on Thursday -Alia

[bokebelle]

I head canon Armin to always help you out with ur Uni work even if it isn't within his discipline, he's gonna go OUT of his way- Essay? he's already researched a ton of resources. lab report? already looked at other examples for you. Stuck on engineering h/w? He's already watched a bunch of YouTube videos explaining.

baby you may be onto something 👀😌

self indulgent study buddy Armin headcanons after molecular biology ruined me <3 more below the cut

studying with armin arlert headcanons

Armin would be the perfect study buddy!

He'd ask what subjects you were studying and what projects you were doing in advance so he could figure out how to help

He definitely wouldn't just straightup tell you how to do your homework or give you the answers though this man still wants you to LEARN 😤

He would patiently talk you through processes and concepts to make sure you understand the answer and not just memorize facts

hot take: Armin is smart BUT I don't think he's a straight A student

He doesn't get all As but he probably doesn't get a grade lower than an 85 either because baby is a smartie

With that being said, if it's a topic he's not particularly good in, he'd do a bit of self-study just to understand the topic enough to be able to keep track of the lesson

If he didn't quite understand something, he'd ask you to to explain it to him until he's able to understand

"see [y/n]! you understand it after all!" he sometime acts clueless intentionally just so you could explain it to him so you could figure it out yourself

As much as he loves studying this sweet baby reminds you not to push yourself too much, especially if you start getting anxious 🥺

Armin has the MESSIEST notes though i don't make the rules

He just immediately writes things down and just??? understands?? my dumb ass could never 😔

he also doesn't understand why you have to use different colored pens and highlighters for your notes

"it helps! Color coding helps me understand them better!"

"if it helps you understand them better, then why do you still need my help?" 😀 someone hold me back

Armin would always always ALWAYS bring an extra hoodie whenever you would study together in case you get cold

He'd also offer the extra hoodie to use as a pillow when he sees you getting sleepy during a study sesh

When you guys would study on video calls, Armin would make a playlist filled with calm lofi and cafe music to help set the mood

if you get a good score on an exam you worked hard on, he'd treat you to your favorite snack from your go-to study cafe 💗

If you flunked or got a low score, he'd give you a hug and treat you anyway because he know you worked hard 🥺

Armin knows how frustrating it is when you don't get the results you want no matter how hard you work so he'd do his best to comfort you when you're down

He sees how hard you work and he'd never want you to belittle your skills just because it didn't translate into a good score 😌

Overall Armin is the best and most considerate and patient study buddy there is 💗

pls study kids armin wouldn't want you slacking off

[marsbutterfly]

Hey there! I been really enjoying your written work. I was wondering if you could write a scenario about porco and his s/o 'getting it on ;) maybe a college AU? if not, just ignore it~

Covalent Bonding

WARNING: NSFW

Summary: Porco is struggling to finish his organic chemistry lab report and comes to you for help. The lesson quickly goes off-topic.

Note: First of all thank you SO much for requesting this, we really hope you enjoy it. I wrote the intro and the outro. All of the smut was written by my amazing wife @tsukidrama ALSO the word count on this is around 5.3k so this is a long boi.

tsuki’s note: ok the porno i watched for research purposes while trying to conceptualize this fic started with the lines “wow, i hope no one comes along to fuck me in the ass and jerk my dick off” and then the girl walks in holding a strap on and says “oh hey, i just came here to fuck you in the ass and jerk your dick off.” i did this for you, anon. i accidentally pulled out all the stops for this, and i regret nothing. i had so much fun writing this, and i am now madly in love with Porco also?? everyone always writes him as such an edgy bitch or a headass dom and i’m sitting over here like....... but he is... a soft baby.... who cries during sex, falls in love, and gives kisses...... just sayin

Colab with @tsukidrama 💕

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

“We’ll cover Chapter 23 on Monday.” The professor’s voice echoes through the silent classroom. “Please make sure to submit your lab reports by 11:59 PM on Saturday night. E-mail me if you have any questions.” 

Before you finish putting all of your belongings in your backpack, you share a look with Porco, who sits by your right side. He looks just as ready to leave this chemical filled room as you are. 

Once you stand up, you feel his hand on your shoulder. As you turn around, he smiles brightly at you.

“Have you done your lab report yet?” Porco asks for the fifth time that week. You let out a burst of laughter. Butterflies soar in your stomach as his cheeks blush lightly, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. 

“I did the intro and the outline,” you answer, tilting your head as you place a hand on your hips. “You want help with yours, don’t you?” 

He starts laughing and avoiding eye contact with you. 

“Well I was going to suggest that we could do it together.” He smiles at you once again, and the butterflies in your stomach now travel through all your body. “But I would accept your help, too.” Even though he tries to look tough, Porco has always been shy, especially when it comes to asking for a favor.

You simply nod at him before grabbing his hand, “Let’s go get to work then!” 

.

The setting sun spills into the large, windowed hallway, casting long shadows against the wall beside it. The two of you clatter down the stairs to the level below your classroom, where all the different labs are located. 

After peering through the dark window of a lab door labeled: ORGANIC CHEMISTRY, you punch in the security code that unlocks all of the orgo classrooms and labs (courtesy of your professor). The door unlocks with a small beep and the flash of a green light. Porco takes a few steps ahead of you, turning on the lights and checking to make sure nobody else has claimed the lab as a study space. 

You sit down at the lab table farthest from the door, and before you sit you take your laptop and notes out of your backpack. Porco thumps a textbook between the two of you as he sits in the chair beside you. He smiles gratefully at you, a gentle red blush still coloring his face. Once you’re settled down, you frown at him quietly. 

His face drops. “What wrong?” he asks, eyes filled with worry. You touch his hand and pull your chair closer to him, close enough for you to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Much better!” you say, and Porco clutches his chest in relief.

“I thought you were mad at me!” he exclaims, “bitch.” he adds under his breath, but his voice is quiet and gentle, even more so than usual. He shoots you a playful look. The fluorescent lights of the lab makes his hair look blonder than it already is, and you reach up to tuck a strand back into place amongst its slicked-back brothers. You put your free hand on his neck and you notice goosebumps on his arms. A smile on your face, you speak again.

“Where would you like to start?” You look at him and notice he has his thinking expression on, consisting of his lips moving one side to the other and his eyes focused on the ceiling. A few seconds pass before he looks at you.

“Alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes” he says, squeezing your hand. “I still don’t know what the fucking difference is.” You look away, trying to hide your burning, red cheeks from him, but his words still bring a smile to your face. 

“Yeah, you better figure that shit out, huh?” you quip jestfully, and exaggerate your squeal as his hands shoot forward to tickle your stomach for your comment. 

.

An hour passes while you two focus on his report. You spent most of that time explaining to him the types of bonds that differentiate aliphatic compounds, and end up just writing the opening paragraph for him. When you flip the textbook to the page that displays a chart that shows differences between the different structures, you can see from the corner of your eye that he very much does not care about the positioning of hydrogens and carbons. He's been staring at you for the past three minutes. 

You bite your lower lip gently, though you’re already losing focus as he’s undressing you with his eyes. You take a deep breath and stop typing.

“This isn’t my lab report, you know,” you say, as shifting your body to fully face him. “You could at least grab your note-” But before you could finish your sentence, you feel his lips on yours. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening but, once you do, you wrap your arms around his neck as he touches your thighs. 

“I’m sorry. I really do appreciate you helping me with this, but you look so beautiful tonight.” He says, flustered. He looks at you with stars in his eyes. You tilt your head to the left as you try to hide the smile creeping across your lips. You try to look away but you feel his cold fingers touching your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You’re ridiculous, Galliard,” you say before closing the space between the two of you once again. You can feel him smiling against your lips. He quickly changes the focus from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail of wet, gentle kisses as he makes his way down. 

A quiet moan involuntarily leaves your throat when you feel his fingers against your skin, slipping underneath your shirt. Your left-hand travels from his neck to his head as you disrupt the perfectly swept-back coif of hair. The smell of his hair gel and cologne mixed with the scent of your own perfume excites you even more. 

Suddenly, he removes his lips from your skin. You let out an annoyed whine, and open your eyes to glare at him. 

“Is this ok?” he asks, touching your hand. Your annoyances melts into a gentle smile as you lift a hand to touch his face. He snuggles his cheek against your touch. 

“Yes, Porco,” you reply, “Of course.” 

He nods, the faintest glimpse of a smile visible across his lips before he moves in to kiss you once again. One arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer, his other hand quick to travel from your face to underneath your skirt. He plays with the waistband of your underwear, trying to slip his hands lower. You softly hold his hand in place.

“Wait,” you say, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face, “I have an idea.” Porco wordlessly tilts his head and looks at you, incredulous. He looks confused yet adorable. 

“I have something. From last time,” you continue, pulling away to dig in your backpack. You toss aside a notebook and a pencil case before you find the drawstring bag you’re looking for. You pull it out by the strings. 

“Ta-da!” you say, presenting him with the bag. His eyes go wide with realization. 

“Shit,” he says under his breath, “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

You nod, accidentally smiling a little too brightly. 

Porco chuckles nervously, a dark blush spreading across his cheeks. “Here? In the lab?” he asks. 

You nod. “Here. In the lab.” 

He looks at you, then at the bag, and then at the door and the closed blinds covering the windows. His eyes come back to you, and again to the bag, then to finally lock with yours. His face is burning even redder now, but he nods. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” he agrees, “I trust you.” 

Excitement stirs deep in your gut. You pull open the bag and take out its contents to place them on the lab table. It thuds lightly against the table, bright pink textured silicone standing out against the dark wood. From its well-defined head to its base, the dildo sits about six inches long. A metal ring holds it in place against a black nylon harness, with another inch or so of silicon balls underneath. A small, half-empty bottle of lube clatters next to it along with a couple of brightly colored condoms you snagged from the free bowl in front of your RA’s door. 

Porco looks away, nervously scratching his neck as you pick up the harness. 

“Come on,” you tease, sticking your leg through the maze of straps and buckles, and then the other. You pull it all the way up, securing it at your hips underneath your skirt, which tents around the pink phallus betwixt your legs. “Now… do I need to tell you to bend over?” 

He shakes his head and shoots you an eager look, quickly unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. His jeans hang loosely around his hips as he rests his forearms against the lab table, stretching out and arching his back, ass on display. 

You admire that shit for a moment before you press yourself against him from behind. You kiss his cheek, and softly brush your lips against the outer shell of his ear, relishing the shiver you feel travel down his spine. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispers, grinding his ass into your hips. You giggle, bucking your hips into him playfully as you kiss his cheek once more. 

Your hands rest gently on his hips as you slip your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. Once they’re hooked around your fingers, you gently pull them over his ass. He doesn’t even give you time to get it halfway down before he reaches down with one arm to pull down his boxers as well. The giggles come back to you as you help him free himself of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh,” Porco whines, covering his eyes with his hand, “it’s embarrassing.” 

“You’re just cute,” you assure him, “I’m not making fun.” The cap on the bottle of lube pops open with a snap, and you pour a generous amount of it on two of your fingers. You take a step closer to him, setting the lube down on the table as one of your arms snakes under his shirt to wrap around his chest. The other slides down his spine, over his tailbone to trace the curve of his ass. Porco’s breath hitches in his throat when your fingers reach their destination, softly prodding at the entrance. 

“Ready?” you ask, speaking softly in his ear. He nods vigorously, breathing hard. 

“Please,” he says. So you give him what he wants, and slowly push in your slicked fingers. 

Porco just gasps in response, his head dropping below his shoulders. He isn’t nearly as tense as he was the first few times you did this, and your fingers easily sink to the second knuckle. You gently move them in and out. With your other hand, you gently trace your thumb against the soft skin above his solid pectoral muscles. Gently, you plant a kiss on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, rubbing his chest. 

He turns his head towards you, his face flushed. “Totally fine,” he says breathlessly, and you feel him opening his legs wider to accommodate you. 

You press your cheek against his shoulder, shifting your weight to a more comfortable position. Porco tilts his head to look at you. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with wide eyes. You move your fingers inside of him, trying to find the angles he likes. You press against something you find promising, and he confirms it with a sharp intake of breath. 

You thrust deliberately and carefully, and once he starts to get more into it, you begin to scissor your fingers ever so slightly. Porco gasps, and gently rocks back against you. His eyes slip closed, his lip parted and his blush darkening in his cheeks and spreading down onto his neck. 

“Y-you can put another one in,” he mutters, so quietly that you can barely hear him. 

“Hmm?” 

Porco grunts in frustration. “You know exactly what I said, you asshole!” 

You can’t help but smile as you oblige his request. You slow your pace as you ease in the third finger, but the combination of lube and his enthusiasm makes it a short-lived adjustment. He grinds into your hand, and you tilt your fingers to again find that sweet spot inside that elicited the little gasps and moans he was trying so hard to muffle. You soon begin to move more freely, thrusting nearly all the way inside. Your fingertips twitch inside of him, and to your absolute delight, he lets out the sweetest and most delicate moan, though he tries to muffle it with his fingers. His shoulder blades jut into the air as he pulls his own hair, hips squirming. 

“Fuck,” he says into his hands, “fuck, you’ve got to give me more.” 

“What do you want, Galliard?” you ask, though you’re fairly confident that you know the answer. 

“Damn it, put it in!” he exclaims, still muffled. “Fuck me, Y/N...” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say in a tantalizing manner, smiling cheerfully as you reposition yourself behind him. You squirt a generous amount of lube into your strap on, careful to coat the length entirely. Your hands lay gently against his hips, lining yourself up with him before you use one hand to guide the head of the pink silicone dildo into place. 

“Okay,” you say, partly to ready yourself, and partly (mostly) to ready him. Porco whines in anticipation, and you don’t deny him. He spreads his legs just a little wider to lower himself, and you rise up on your toes to meet him. 

You push your hips forward slowly, making sure to listen for signs of discomfort. Porco moans, this one poorly muffled and loud. One of his hands slaps against the table for support. 

“Don’t stop,” he says, his breath hitching in his throat, “please, don’t stop.” 

No discomfort, then. You continue on. 

Your fingers tighten their grip against his hips, digging into them for leverage as you thrust your hips. Despite the fact that you aren’t quite as tall as he is, or you aren’t as practiced in your thrusts as he is when he fucks you, you like to think that you’re good at what you do - based on the low moans and intermittent gasps and whines, Porco certainly seems to be having a good time. After all, he let you fuck him again. And in the lab, at that. 

Porco shifts positions, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared in between his legs. You notice pressure building between your own, but ignore it in favor of grabbing the bottle of lube. The cap clicks open, and you pull your hips back just long enough to squirt a little bit onto the silicone dick before you push it back in. Another haphazard squirt into your own hand, and you reach around his body, nudging aside his hand to replace it with your own. 

“Some for you, and some for me,” you say, snorting at your own joke. Porco just moans in response to your touch, biting his knuckles. 

Your hand wanders up from his hips, fingers wandering up to brace against the muscles on his back, through the shirt (but better than nothing). Still wandering, your fingers rake through his hair from the back, twisting the blonde locks hard enough to tug, but not painfully. Porco’s shoulders slump, his arms and head both flat against the table top. 

You let go of his hair, raking your nails down his back until you dig your fingers back into his hips. You pull out slightly, readjusting your foot stance for a better angle and shifting so that you can better reach around to stroke his cock. 

When you push back in with the new angle, Porco lets out another exclamation of pleasure, much louder this time than any of his previous vocalizations. Warmth pools between your thighs at the sound, but you can’t help but get a little bit nervous at the idea of actually being caught. 

“Shh,” you hiss. Between his (admittedly, wonderful) noises, the slapping of your thighs and the creak of the wooden lab table, you’re pretty sure that anyone who walked within 10 feet of the door would know exactly what was going on behind it. 

Porco mumbles something unintelligible, and he doesn’t make any attempt to clarify. You quicken your hips’ pace while your hand stays tight around his cock. You rub your thumb over the tip gently before stroking down the entire length. The lube is slippery, and it makes you work to keep your grasp - your grip tightens as it slides almost entirely out of your hand, and Proco loudly groans again at the increased pressure. 

“Shh,” you reiterate, more forcefully this time. 

Porco groans, lifting his head to look at you. “Oh… You shut the fuck up.” 

“Ooh, sassy. Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?” you chide, lightly smacking his ass with your free hand. 

“Do not talk about my mother right now,” he says, voice strained. 

“Mm,” you agree. Your hand cups around his ass before you allow your fingers to drift up the curve of his back. 

His cock twitches, and you again rub your thumb around it’s head before you go back to pumping along the shaft, twisting your hand the way that you know he likes. 

“Oh,” Porco whimpers. His cock pulses in your hand, and you stroke him hard and fast as you feel the rest of his body going rigid. “Oh fuck.” 

His back arches as he cries out, shuddering beneath you as his cock spills hot cum over your hand. You slow your hips’ pace and rub his back soothingly. You press your cheek against his back, the closest you can get to him. 

“I got you,” you say over and over again as he twitches below you. “I got you.” Another rope of cum drips down your hand. Where his arm overlaps yours, he holds you to his body tightly. You notice that he’s still shaking, so you continue to rub his back. 

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, you raise your hips and pull the dildo out slowly and carefully. 

You touch Porco’s back softly and hug his shoulders from behind. “You okay?” you ask softly. 

He nods, turning his head to face you. His face is flushed and sweaty, his normally impeccable hair skewed out of place in every direction. He looks at you with glazed-over eyes the size of the moon. You lean in to kiss him. 

Porco pushes himself up from the table to cup your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply, with passion. You smile as he kisses you. 

“What’s so funny?” 

You nuzzle the tips of your noses together. “I’m not laughing, I just love you.” 

He pulls you in for another kiss, and this time, you can feel him smiling too. 

The two of you stay like that for a moment - kissing, and of course, Porco’s hands (predictably) end up wandering underneath your shirt. As he explores the expanse of skin beneath, you become acutely aware of the way he’s pressing his leg between yours. Your breath hitches as he nudges the strap on harness up in a way that a strap brushes right up against your clit. His hand finds your breast, and circles your nipple with his thumb. 

“Again? Already?” you ask, bemused, but still very willing to be convinced. 

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, still thumbing over your nipple torturously, “You got to fuck me.” 

“Well, you’re the one who’s scared of getting caught!” you exclaim, and gasp at the sensation. 

He takes a moment to think, and his hand moves back down to your waist. “I would rather be caught fucking you than be caught with you fucking me.” 

You laugh while you shrug your shoulders, then loosen the straps from around your hips. The harness falls, but you catch it on one of your ankles and toss it on the table near your bag. The pink silicone dick points upwards, the shaft glistening with lube. 

“Okay,” you agree, slipping your underwear off and tossing it the same way next to the strap on. “You can fuck me.” 

Porco’s lips curl into a smirk you know all too well. You prop your elbows up on the lab table, sticking your ass out in the same position you fucked him in. 

“No, no. Turn around,” he tells you, “I want to see your face.” 

Your fingers lightly cover your mouth in embarrassment. “Awww, Porco. You love me…” you tease. 

He blushes and looks off to the side. “Shut up. Of course I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you remind him soothingly, stepping into his grasp. His arms snake around your waist, and you rise up on your toes to kiss him. It doesn’t take long before his hands wander to slip underneath your already hiked-up skirt. 

You flatten your hand against his chest, and as his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs, your fingers curl, and take a fistful of his shirt with them as you gasp. He kisses your cheek, and makes his way down the side of your neck. You squirm against him, slapping your hand against the table blindly until your fingers feel that familiar crinkle of a condom wrapper, and you pull away from him with a huff, and then yank his shirt. 

The two of you stumble backwards into the counters at the back of the classroom, with you guiding him. You spin him around so that his ass is backed up against the counter. 

“Get up,” you say, releasing your hold on him and gesturing. 

Porco laughs as he looks behind himself, then uses his arms to boost himself up to sit on the countertop. He slides a box of microscope slides closer to the scope they were meant for. 

“We would be so fucked if we broke those,” he says. 

You look at him hungrily as you tear into the serrated plastic edge of the condom wrapper. “You’re gonna get so fucked anyway.” 

He smiles before lunging to grab you beneath the arms, tugging you up on the counter with him.  You laugh and kick your legs as you scramble to balance yourself on the smooth linoleum.

“Technically, you already did fuck me.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna fuck you again.”

Both of you burst into laughter as you straddle his lap. You throw the condom wrapper off to the side, and focus on rolling the condom itself down Porco’s cock. Once your hand reaches its base, you lift your hips to position yourself above it, but Porco’s hand touches your wrist to stop you before you have the chance to lower yourself down. 

You look up at him expectantly, only to be pulled into another kiss. Immediately, you forget what you were doing as you feel yourself being wrapped up in his arms, his smell, his lips. His hands wander up your body, flattening against your stomach and cupping your breasts. You shudder as his thumb circles around your nipple again, and you instinctively grind your hips into his. When Porco finally breaks the kiss, he reaches between you to line himself up. 

Some kind of noise rushes out of your throat when he finally guides your hips down, and you finally get the gut-punch you had been aching for as you let your knees slide apart further to take him in. Thighs trembling, you brace yourself against his shoulders for support until you can’t go any further. He guides your hips back up again, and then again until you find the strength to move on your own. 

Once you’ve established a rhythm, Porco kisses you again, sloppily this time. You grind your hips down, and he groans into you. 

“Mmphh,” he mumbles into your lips, “you’re so fucking sexy.” 

As you bounce up and down, you swivel your hips in tight circles. Porco keeps one hand on your waist and lifts the other to grasp your breast, twisting the nipple just enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Tell me more about it,” you tell him, voice cracking. You double down on your efforts, bouncing faster and now squeezing down around his cock. 

Porco digs his fingers into your skin, and bucks his hips up to meet yours. “You feel so good. If I hadn’t — fuck,” he chokes as you bounce down particularly hard, “—if I hadn’t just come, you’d already have me in pieces.” 

Another bounce and purposeful grind of your hips and his head drops forward with a whimper. You smirk, though you know he can tell you’re coming unraveled, too. 

“I can get you there again.” 

Now that he’s worked up again, that beautiful flush has come back to stain his cheeks. You feel yourself losing purchase as you move against each other, but you don’t care. 

“You sure as shit will if you keep going like that.” Porco gasps, thrusting up into you hard, and you couldn’t control the noise that comes out of your throat if you tried. 

The both of you are breathing heavily, moving against each other with an increasing desperation as you both get closer to finishing. Porco’s hands are back at your waist, gripping so hard that you fear it may bruise, but this only encourages you. Your arms snake around his neck, and you cling to him as you press your forehead to his. Your fingers rake up into his hair, pulling gently and further knocking it out of place as you wrap your fingers in the long strands on top. 

You whimper as you feel the pressure inside of you building, every stroke inside you stirring up more and more inside of you. Your body moves on its own against him as you feel yourself reaching the edge. Everything from the sweat sticking against your skin, to the way he pulls your body into his like you’re all he needs, excites you. You love the way you’re completely wrapped up in him, with his touch against your skin and his smell in your nose and his cock bottomed out in you, pulls you over the edge. 

He kisses you as you come, muffling the moan that rips itself from your throat. He wraps his arms around you tight, though he doesn’t slow his pace. You do your best to keep your legs open for him as your orgasm hits you. You crumple into him, toes curling as he thrusts up hard into your oversensitive core. 

Within seconds, Porco buries his head into the crook of your neck, letting out a choked groan. His cock twitches inside of you as he comes for the second time that evening. You stroke his hair, gently kissing his temples as he finishes. His arms tighten around you, and you rest your head atop his. 

You stay like this for a minute or two, enjoying each other’s presence as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Once strength returns to your body, you reluctantly move your hands onto his chest for support as you push yourself up, shifting your right leg to the other side of the counter, you feel his dick leaving the warmth of your body as both of you let out one final moan. 

As your feet hit the floor, you watch Porco quietly struggling to get the condom off and a gentle giggle escapes you. 

He meets your eyes and you see his blush darken. 

“The lube is making this harder than it should be.” He says quietly. You bite your lip, holding in a laugh. Hopping off of the counter, you walk towards your backpack and look around the inside for a few seconds before finding a small towel.

“Porco.” You call his name before throwing the cloth in his direction. A smile never leaves his lips as he grabs it midair.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?” He says. You simply shrug your shoulders before flashing him a smile of your own.

“Of course, you never know when you’ll get to peg the boy you’re desperately in love with.” You say as you focus on fixing your own clothes.

He stays quiet for a few seconds before murmuring something underneath his breath. “Huh?” is all you say, trying to get Porco to repeat himself. 

“You’ve never said you were desperately in love with me before,” he says as he wraps the (finally) removed condom in a piece of paper he took from his own notebook, “or that you were in love with me.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you look away, trying to avoid his gaze. “I thought it was obvious. We say ‘I love you’ all the time.” 

Once his pants are back on, he quietly walks towards you before reaching for your hand. His cold fingers are soft and gentle as he pulls you in for a hug.

“I don’t know, it feels different for some reason,” he says softly. 

You nuzzle your face against the side of his neck while wrapping your hands around his back. A sense of calm washes over you. 

“But I’m in love with you too,” he whispers, and twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. You lift your head to press your lips to his. He kisses you like you’re the only two people in the world, and his smile against your lips makes your heart skip a beat. 

After a few seconds, he pulls away and looks around the lab. On the counter, can see the perfect print of his ass cheeks in lube. He shakes his head and reaches for the towel yet again.

“We better clean this place up a bit,” he observes, and you nod in agreement. 

While Porco focuses on making sure there is no lube (or cum) left on any surfaces, you put the dildo back in its bag, along with your study materials. 

It takes a few minutes, but soon enough the room looks exactly like you found it. All you need to do is put Porco’s laptop away when suddenly you two are reminded of the reason you went into the lab in the first place.

“Shit, my report!” He says as he covers his mouth with his hand. You slap your face, and just one look at him tells you that your work isn’t over yet tonight. 

“Let’s go to the library so that we won’t get distracted again.” you tell him, “and we’re going in a communal area because if we get a study room we’re gonna end up fucking again.” You grab your backpack and walk towards the door, the blonde-haired boy following closely behind, carrying his laptop in one of his hands.

“Aww, would that be so bad?” Porco teases. 

“It would be bad for your chem grade.”

Neither of you say anything as you descend the final flight of stairs, but as you are about to leave the building, you feel him lacing his fingers with yours. A blush creeps over your cheeks as you walk right next to him, making sure that, not even for a second, your hands will drift apart. 

Porco has been here for you ever since you enrolled in college, rooting for you and taking care of you. In your head, you make a promise to yourself to never let him go. Not only because he’s the perfect man for you, but also because there’s nothing you love more than the expression on his face while you fuck him in the ass. 

One more look at him, and you turn ahead to face the lights of the street ahead of you, getting lost in your thoughts as you walk towards the library. 

You appreciate all the time you spend with him and deep down, you pray that this lab report will take even longer than you think it will, all so you can stay close to him for as long as you can.

[injangwon]

ENHYPEN + kids in my physics class

good morning world. today i bring you enhypen members as kids in my physics class simply because the semester is ending and i thought it would be good entertainment for me. includes ; all members warnings : school, dark humour being the s word A/N ; these are my opinions!! also i will not leak any names because i am not a monster :] btw i go to a math and science center which is basically school for just math and science and there's kids from other schools i'm just gonna leave that there

LEE HEESEUNG

I personally think that heeseung would be a rather diligent student. I think he would get above average scores but he wouldn't consistently score 100. He's also the type to follow the 'code of honor' when going online and not look at his notes. Heeseung gets nervous before tests even though it's pretty much given that he's gonna do good.

He's the student who doesn't really talk to the other kids at his table but leads the experiments and discussions when the teacher tells them to. He either sits alone at the computer lab or he sits with his table mates because his friend didn't come to school. But this is because the school hates him and none of his friends are in his class.

He speaks the class's mind, he asks the questions that the other kids want to ask but either don't know how to put it into words or are too scared to ask. And he takes color-coded notes in his grid paper lab notebook. He organizes his notes very well which is probably why he has such a nice grade in physics of all classes.

Has never fallen asleep in any of his classes despite the act that physics is the most boring subject ever. Mainly because he doesn't want to leave the class without notes, and because you have to be awake in order to learn or you'll fail the class.

The teacher's pet, but not because he's a brown-noser but because he's diligent and pays attention in class. He also doesn't talk when the teacher's talking, and always gets high marks on his exams.

Kinda sucks ass at lab reports but they're not exactly his forte either. He got a 56/60 on his first lab report and a 100/100 on his next one which was pretty funny considering the fact that he did it right before class started.

PARK JAY

LOL he arrives on time and is probably the only student who uses the elevators without an injury and the principal never calls him out on it. He is definitely the mood-maker of the class, without him the class doesn't have the same vibe. He arrives before the other students and walks around drinking iced coffee from starbucks

He's the teacher's favourite student and consistently asks questions. Jay is the student who is very eccentric therefore making it difficult to approach him. He seems scary but is actually really nice and knows what he's doing.

He doesn't take notes, what he does is he writes down everything the teacher writes on the board. I guess it counts as taking notes but what I mean is he writes everything everything rather than the more important pieces that he really needs. At least he colour codes stuff so that way he won't be lost when he's rereading his notes.

Jay's the kid who seems quiet but talks a lot and the class appreciates him for that very reason. They want him to continue talking because nobody wants to learn, except somehow he ends up bringing something about the lesson into the conversation and it's sad. The whole class likes him but there are some students who find him very,,,,special.

Panics when taking tests because he starts breathing really loudly. Acts likes he's gonna fail, but his scores are pretty average, they're within the 80 - 95 range. He always congratulates others when they get their scores back and starts studying for the final exam early.

Does not suck ass at lab reports, but on his first one he got a very um,,,,okay score, 53/60 but on his next one he got a 93/100. He only lost points because he didn't elaborate on some parts, his teacher really loves details. Doesn't think too much about lab reports.

SIM JAKE

probably willingly took the subject because he wanted to get all of his science credits and then get into ap science classes by his second or third year in high school. But at the same time tried to take geometry and algebra two. he's not an overachiever but he just has high standards and is a try-hard :c

He talks very moderately, he takes a while to warm up to his table before he really partakes in table talks. On that note he remembers little details about his table mates and always listens when they have something to say. However holding conversations isn't his strong suit, so most of the time he doesn't participate in the conversations even if he likes the kids who sit at his table.

He gets made fun of by the kids who sit at his table for being in the orchestra when he was younger because everyone else at his table is in the band. But then he replies with the whole "I get to breathe when I want." card on them and they immediately shut up about it. However he gangs up on the trumpet player with the woodwind instrument players and it always ends in chaos.

When it comes to notes he takes specific notes and organizes them in a way so that he knows the main points. Unlike Jay he doesn't colour-code, he simply uses a pen and a 0.7mm mechanical pencil. But when he takes notes he's very dramatic about it before he takes it, and sometimes he doesn't get too good scores even if he did study a lot. Doesn't know whether to laugh or cry when he got a 69/100. It hurt his grade but what were the chances of getting a 69 out of all the numbers he could've gotten?

Studies a lot for his tests and always comes to class prepared. But life isn't good to him unfortunately, so he doesn't always do good on tests. But sometimes he has impeccable luck and he starts bullshitting answers, and the teacher takes them because why not, he was trying. Probably cries at home about his scores if they're below 100%. He kinda strikes me as the 'pretend-to-be-fine-if-I-don't-get-100%-all-the-time-at-school' person, overachiever vibes are strong. Followed the code of honour but regrets it because it's not like his teacher would've even known.

Sucks ass at lab reports. On his first one he got a 47/60 and cried about it on the inside. On his second one he got a 90/100 because of his wording, honestly died a little on the inside, probably wanted to end it right there. And it was especially hard on him because he rewrote it twice before turning it in. Sometimes doesn't think too good thoughts about his teacher's grading, and because his teacher is good but not good at english.

PARK SUNGHOON

He always carries around a water bottle, but he's never seen drinking it. He forgot about the water bottle in his physics class almost every time he goes in there. He doesn't really talk, he mostly sleeps and ends up on the school's caught-off-guard instagram page but it's only the back of his head.

Takes shit notes. The teacher always walks around during that class telling the students to take notes, but he doesn't give an eff and is trying to sleep, so he writes down random stuff to make it seem like he's writing down stuff that'll be useful. Probably has never taken real notes during this class ever. But it's okay because he knows how to bullshit answers that seem right, or maybe the teacher just likes him.

Does not follow the code of honor during online school when they have to take the final exam. Probably texted his friends asking for answers even if he knew he was right just to make sure he wasn't going to lose any points. But during regular exams he studies like a maniac, he even looks at his notes during their twenty-five minute break and still gets worried. The lowest test score he ever got was a 96/100 and he felt wronged by it. He doesn't really study until last minute and still does better than Jake who studies whenever he can for his tests.

The most common topic he talks about is ice-skating and the fact that it's tiring. Probably makes fun of the kids at his table if they don't know how to dance. But when it comes to talking science and math in physics he has answers but no way of explaining. It's almost concerning how smart he is sometimes, he's a genius for sure. He helps others though, very kind about it and doesn't run out of patience unless you're not listening while he's explaining.

Comes into class late everyday because his school is far away. Either that or he and Jay are alone in the morning because his dad drops him off at the asscrack of dawn in front of the school. Very quiet in the morning, but once his friends arrive he doesn't shut up. He's almost two-faced but it's not on purpose. He just doesn't like some people and it shows.

Hates hates hates physics. And lab reports will be the death of him. He got a 50/60 on his first lab report and a 96/100 on his second one. Doesn't put any real effort into his lab reports but does well. But he doesn't brag about it, humble king. He has more interesting things to do, like talking about ice-skating, make fun of the kids when they do tiktok dances, and talk about games.

KIM SUNOO

Sunoo is from a christian school, and it's ironic because he acts just like the stereotype of his school. Wears a bright red polo shirt with the school logo on the right chest area, and khaki shorts because they're his uniform. Always wraps his legs around the side of the table and stays as far away from his desk partner as possible.

Comes to school ready to learn, leaves without any new knowledge. Really good at literature and takes college level classes because he's a try-hard. He studies the material learned in class outside of class because he doesn't pay attention to the teacher. Colours in his textbook when the teacher is talking and pretends to take notes when she comes around, acts like the teachers pet lmao.

Talks a lot but it's not useless information, it's actually smart and the teacher likes to listen to his inputs. Doesn't like to admit that he's wrong and simply states that he was on a different track. You'll never catch him slipping, he's right and will not ever be wrong. Sometimes he has an internal malfunction when he's told that he's wrong, you can see it in his eyes that he's crying on the inside.

One of the first kids to get to the school because his home school (the high school he attends) is close to the center(where he takes math and science classes). He sits with the other kids from his school on the second floor and takes his time climbing up the stairs. Makes fun of other kids who arrive later, mostly because a lot of them have classes on the third floor and they have to climb three flights of stairs and it is very exhausting.

He's rather calm during tests but before the test he panics on the inside because he's busy preparing for the actual test. After the test is when he unleashes himself. He talks nonstop about how nerve-wracking it was and actually hates the classes. He honestly doesn't take notes but he has a variety of stationary supplies because he likes to organize his notes by class and information. He's a nerd like that.

Is good at lab reports but isn't exactly outstanding at them. He got a 59/60 on his first one and a 98/100 on his second one. Probably tears up every time he remembers that he almost got a 100% but didn't. But he doesn't let it bother him.

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon is quite the student. He's so two-faced it's disturbing, one moment he's the perfect goody-two shoes but the next he's one of the most annoying people in the whole class. Writes his discord user on other people's whiteboards and always makes gaming references or jokes.

He's one of the early kids, but then again not really. This is because traffic is really um,,,,interesting on his route to school. Doesn't wear a backpack, he has a trapper-keeper with a strap and calls it a day. It's very organized and his calculator has its own little pouch that he keeps it in. Very quiet but near his friends he can be loud and energetic. Makes your mom jokes like it's no one's business.

He is very quirky. He writes like a founding father, with very neat cursive, it's his default font. But when he writes writes cursive it's very elaborate and isn't hard to decipher but when he's the one writing the answers on the whiteboard it can be a little frustrating. This is why the few notes he takes are very neat, however the few times he did try to write like a normal person the words were like two finger spaces away.

Is almost always on his phone and the teacher never says anything about it. He doesn't really ask questions, but when he does it's nonsense and mostly it's directed towards the kids at his table. He only has like one pencil and the eraser is dead but somehow he manages to get by. Never asks for pencils but when he does he always gives them back because he's not a monster.

Studying is not his strong suit. Every time they finish a unit and they have to take the test he dies a little on the inside because he has to devote his time to his grades and not his games. Plus he has a hard time reading his notes because sometimes his capital letter look a little too similar. But that doesn't stop him from getting okay grades. Has a solid A due to his talented bullshitting on the written tests.

His labs are okay. He got a 54/60 on his first one, and he didn't even try that hard. He just wrote stuff down and 'explained' but really he was just telling her what happened. There were no details he was doing what she said not to do but he got a good score. And on his second one he got a 95/100. He did try this time, but damn it. He's just academically lucky i guess.

NISHIMURA NIKI

Niki is okay. He's actually pretty quiet at the center, but at his homeschool he's very very loud. Attends the christian school with Sunoo (LOL) they wear khakis and everyone makes fun of them for it. But every friday he comes in looking like a different person, he has a lot of accessories and looks emo sometimes but he looks good so it doesn't matter.

Always posts on his instagram during class hours, probably has his school and graduation year in his bio. Complains on his story about how much he hates physics and like has actually cried in the bathrooms because he hated the class so much. He ended up missing the time to go back to class because he was too busy crying his eyes out. When he got to class late he said he was having allergic reactions to the class but the teacher let him get away with it because he was so pitiful.

Probably steals pencils honestly, I can not see him giving back. He has tons of pencils but they're always out of led or they break and the pencil sharpeners aren't working. Probably carries around no.2 pencils so he can give them to the kids who ask him for pencils when he doesn't ask for one. But if you let him 'borrow' a pencil all the time he'll let you borrow a mechanical one instead of a no.2 pencil.

Never arrives on time. Actually has chats with the office staff because he constantly comes in late due to traffic. It's funny because the road to the school is actually really busy in the morning. Doesn't really care about being late because it's not gonna do anything to his grades. Would skip class but he has to show up because that's what he signed up for.

Was on the waiting list. That's why he's a different breed, and the funny thing is he was on the waiting list because he did very badly on the english portion but everything else was like 90+ points. He got a 47 on his english portion. But it doesn't matter because waiting list or not he's gonna suffer just like the kids who straight up got in.

sucks ass at lab reports but does very very well on tests. He got a 32/60 on the first one and a 89/100 on the second one. But has gotten a 100 on all three unit tests and a 100% on his finals. Honestly really good at studying but he just prefers to not do that because it's boring lol.

lol that was actually so hard bc i couldn't say people's names smh. anyways finals are officially over today. lol i'm just gonna say i was just gonna say that i didn't know jake used to be in the orchestra, so as a flute player that was lowkey traumatic for me to know anyways that's all for today :D peace out.

[valdomarx]

Number Theory

On another version of Atlantis, John is a mathematician who is better with numbers than with people. But he's going to have to learn to get on with his team and their bossy leader, Rod, if he wants to survive here.

Stargate Atlantis, McShep, mensa!verse, 9k, rated E.

Also on AO3.

Dr. John Sheppard straightens his glasses, pulls his lab coat around himself, and makes one final, futile attempt to tame his hair.

He takes a last look around the SGC, bustling with scientists and marines and boxes of supplies, and wonders how everybody seems to know their place and what to do already.

Then he steps through a wormhole and into another galaxy.

-

Atlantis is stunning. Terrifying, and dangerous, and liable to kill them all, but stunning all the same.

-

He protests that there’s no need for a mathematician on an offworld team, but the head of science insists. John sourly suspects this Rod guy enjoys watching him wheeze and stumble every time they have to run for their damn lives.

But it turns out it’s useful for a field team to have someone around who can crack codes and work computers. And John hates field work less than he expected to, despite the unpredictability and the peril and all that awful running.

Sometimes, like when he breaks the encryption on a Wraith code in the nick of time and diverts an enemy ship away from its path toward Atlantis, he even feels a tiny bit like a hero.

-

Other than his team duties, though, Atlantis isn’t that much different from Caltech or MIT or the Air Force base at Wright-Patterson, or any of the other places he’s worked.

Everyone knows each other, except for him. Everyone bands together to look out for each other, and he stares in from the outside. Eating in the mess hall is like being catapulted back to high school.

So he makes himself at home in his lab. It’s quiet there, and there’s a plentiful supply of coffee, and there are only a couple of other mathematicians who occasionally pass through and largely leave him alone.

They’re next door to the noisy, boisterous science labs, where all the cool civilians hang out. But that’s fine. He gets used to ignoring them the same way he ignores the marines.

It’s just him and his numbers.

And sometimes, inexplicably, Rod or Teyla or Ronon, who will come by and sit at his desk and drink his coffee. He never understands what they’re hoping to achieve, but he doesn’t mind as long as they don’t touch anything.

-

Teyla appears in the doorway, staring at his whiteboard. It’s covered top to bottom with equations, and he’s had to stick up bits of paper around the walls to fit more on.

“Rod requested that I see how your work is going,” she says, voice giving nothing away.

He grits his teeth against the annoyance of the interruption. “It would be going faster if I could work unimpeded.”

She ignores the petulant note in his voice, squinting closer at the whiteboard. “What is this?”

“This is number theory. It’s the underlying basis for mathematics.”

Teyla raises an eyebrow. “And this is different from what Rod does?”

He sneers. “Very different. That’s just theoretical physics.”

“You do not respect Rod’s chosen field?” She seems genuinely curious.

“It’s fine, for, you know,” his lip curls, “an applied science.”

“I see. So this work can help us locate Wraith hive ships?”

He shifts his weight. “Well. I might need to, uhh, collaborate with Rod on that. I provide the conceptual models and he does the,” he waves dismissively, “practical calculations.”

“It seems that you two accomplish more when you work together.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. But he’s useful as an assistant, I suppose.”

-

When they learn there are three Wraith hive ships on their way to destroy the city, there isn’t much time for personal conflicts. They have a long-shot strategy: They’ve sent an emergency distress message in the vague hopes of rescue from Earth. But the Wraith ships are almost here and they need a plan now.

“Use the jumpers,” John suggests, because it’s obvious.

Rod snaps his fingers. “Yes! Put a nuclear warhead on board, fly the jumper right down the hives’ throats, and detonate.”

Elizabeth blanches. “That’s a suicide run.”

“No, no.” John thinks out loud. “Not if we can remote pilot the jumper.”

“Using the control chair!” Rod chimes in. “Sheppard, you’re a genius.”

John is so focused on the threat he forgets to preen over that.

It doesn’t take long for them to hook up the jumper to the chair and start running tests. Just as well, because death from above is coming imminently.

He knows something is wrong the moment Rod’s face falls while he’s poking at the cables running to the chair.

“McKay...” he says, voice low but insistent.

“I know! I know. Just give me a minute.” Rod disappears back into a bundle of cables. “I can fix this.”

Everything is suddenly, startlingly clear. The remote control won’t work, at least not in time. Someone will have to fly the jumper personally.

He and Rod both have the ATA gene, and both the same dubious piloting skills. But there’s not much skill required in flying directly into a hive, is there?

One of them has to do this.

“So long, Rod.” He turns and runs from the chair room to the jumper bay, not bothering to notify anyone of his plans.

“Sheppard! Sheppard!”

He hears Rod yell after him but he can’t think about that now. He has a job to do.

-

He gets beamed out by the Daedalus at the last moment. The battle is ugly, but the city and the expedition makes it out mostly intact.

Afterwards, Rod drags him into a conference room and yells at him for an hour about his reckless behavior.

John couldn’t give a shit. He has no regrets about his actions.

He gives an insouciant shrug. “Why the earful? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Because I am your team leader, and you didn’t even ask me for permission before nominating yourself for a suicide run!”

“That’s what this is about? Your precious chain of command? Grow up.”

Rod rounds on him and gets up on the balls of his feet. “There are people here who care about you, you dick!”

John blinks at the non sequitur. The idea that anyone would care more about him than about the city and everyone else in it is laughable. “Then they’re idiots,” he snaps and walks out.

Rod can write him up for that in one of the reports he so enjoys filing.

-

It would be nice if he could say that he learns and grows. That he makes friends. That he gets accepted by his peers and makes a home in the Pegasus galaxy.

But that’s not how this story goes. Not yet, anyway.

-

He does manage to make himself useful. He invents a new cryptographic algorithm to keep their computers and communications secure from Wraith interference. Elizabeth even gives him a grateful nod when he presents it to her, and says thank you.

He makes some progress on a quantum chaos approach to the Riemann hypothesis, not that anyone here understands that or how profoundly ingenious his work is.

And it turns out that many of the Ancient systems here are based on binary, just like computers on Earth, so he’s able to help Rod parse some of the more complex code. The two of them spend hours poking through the Ancient operating system, Rod fluttering around and theorizing aloud while John sits quietly in the corner, chewing on a pen and thinking.

It’s more fun than he would have expected.

-

And then, inevitably, he fucks up to a new and truly epic degree. He and Rod find the Ancient’s Project Arcturus, their great hope for extracting vacuum energy from subspace, and he convinces himself he can get it to work.

He’s self-aware enough to know he’s making poor choices, but not mentally strong enough to do otherwise. Because yes, of course virtually unlimited power is tempting, and of course discovering the last great experiment of the Ancients is thrilling. But he's a cautious person. He's not one to take unnecessary risks.

And yet the moment Rod turns to him with that look of delight, saying he's impressed, clapping him on the shoulder like he's done something wonderful, John is just gone. He ignores safety limits and all common sense, and he pushes and pushes and pushes for them to power up the generator, as if his wishes for it to work could make it so.

He wipes out most of a solar system with his hubris, not to mention nearly killing them both, and he's furious down to his bones because he can't figure out why he would have done something so stupid.

-

Bad enough to fail so spectacularly at your work that you devastate an entire star system, worse to have burned whatever credibility you may have built with your team, but worst of all to have to walk every day among people who know all about your inadequacy.

He's in the queue for the mess and a couple of the marines behind him are sniggering, one of them making a not-very-quiet crack about Sheppard’s ego being a weapon of mass destruction. John is staring straight ahead and pretending to ignore them, but the blood is pumping furiously in his ears and he's gripping his tray so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“You got something to say?” Suddenly Ronon is there, all six-foot-three-million-pounds of him, glaring down at the sniggering marine like he might crush his skull with his bare hands. “If you’ve got something to say to Sheppard, you can say it to me as well.”

The marine backs away, hands held high and spluttering apologies.

Ronon throws an arm around John’s shoulder and walks him to a table so they can sit and eat.

John stares down at his food and wills the panic to subside. “Thanks,” he mutters once his breathing has settled.

“No worries, bud,” Ronon says and steals a piece of carrot off John’s plate. “So, how’s that bomb design you were working on coming along? You know I love a big boom.”

John tells him how his models have predicted the highly energetic variety of naquadah they’ve discovered could be harnessed into more efficient field explosives, and Ronon nods along as if this is all fascinating.

In that moment, John knows he would die for this man without hesitation.

-

Perhaps the worst part about the Arcturus incident is how unbearably nice Rod is about the whole thing. He tells John that it was both of their decision, that he doesn't blame him, that sometimes these things happen when dealing with advanced technology.

But John can see the disappointment in his eyes and hear the judgement in his voice. He gets a sick, twisting feeling in his stomach when he thinks about it, and that must be Rod's fault.

Rod picks a bad time to come visit the lab.

"Sheppard," Rod leans against the door frame. "I need your report on the Arcturus mission."

The sick feeling in his gut deepens. He hasn't written the report yet. "Bet you’re enjoying making me catalogue my failures."

"What? No. I just need you to submit a report so I can turn it over to Elizabeth."

"I see. You're looking for someone to blame, right? Going to write about how I pushed you and it's all my fault?"

"Of course not," Rod steps closer and there isn't enough air in the room. "I wouldn't do that. What's going on with you?"

He can't bear the look of concern on Rod's face, which he surely doesn't deserve and will surely evaporate soon enough. "Maybe I've had enough of you reminding me of my screw ups via the excuse of paperwork."

Rod's voice sharpens. "Don't blame me because you're feeling guilty. I can't deal with that for you."

The reminder of his lacking emotional skills stings and he lashes out. "Don't try to therapize me. You're hardly in the position to be doling out life advice." It's a mean, petty thing to say, but he's feeling vindictive.

Rod's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John's pulse is notching up and his face is getting hot, the last of his short temper fraying away.

“You’re a people pleaser, Rod!” He realizes he’s yelling. He doesn’t care. “Everything you do is to make other people like you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Rod puffs up. “I try to be a decent human being. I try to think about others and support them. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s fake! It’s all bullshit. Do you even have a personality of your own, or do you just reflect whatever the last person who smiled at you wants?”

Finally, the cracks in the facade of nice begin to show. “Making an effort to treat those around you with consideration isn’t demeaning!” He gets up in John’s face, waving a finger at him. “Not that you’d know, because you never consider anyone other than yourself.”

“At least I’m honest,” he spits, and it’s venomous. “At least I know who I am. Do you? Do you have any idea who you’d be if you weren’t so absorbed in distracting everyone from your flaws?”

He sees the barb hit its mark. Rod stumbles back like he’s been physically shoved, his face crumpling.

“God, you’re an asshole.” It’s not even angry. It’s small, and quiet, and John is suddenly acutely aware of how much taller he is than Rod, how much he towers over him.

Rod turns on his heel and walks away, and John knows that means he’s won. But he doesn’t feel the usual curl of smug satisfaction he gets when he puts someone in their place.

Instead, he just feels empty.

-

Whatever. It’s not his problem that Rod is having some kind of breakdown. Why should he care that Rod is skulking around the base looking small and miserable? He only said what they both know to be true.

If Rod wants to be a dick about it, that’s on him. If he’s going to remove John from the team, that’s fine. There’s nothing that John can do about it anyway.

He gets back to work, running simulations of ZPM power levels and how long they can expect to sustain the city under different circumstances, given that they won’t be enjoying unlimited power any time soon. He likes modelling, and he knows this work is important.

But for some reason he can’t focus. His gut keeps churning and his temples ache and he’s haunted by the word worthless, worthless, worthless.

-

When his lab door chimes at well past midnight, he’s ready to tell whoever it is to fuck right off. In fact, the excuse to yell at someone sounds great right now.

But when he opens the door to find Rod standing there, twisting his hands anxiously, he’s too shocked to even be snitty. He’d assumed that Rod and he were done, that it was only a matter of time before he was kicked off the team.

But here Rod is, mouth downturned and saying, “You were right, okay?”

John notes the sad wobble of Rod’s chin and bites back the urge to say something dismissive. “About what?”

“About me. I do try to please everyone. I do want everyone to like me.”

It sounds pathetic, said out loud like that, John thinks but doesn’t say.

Rod is still going. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not some ego trip. When I was younger, I used to be -” He lets out a huff of air. “- very different. I said whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted, and I didn’t care if everyone hated me for it.”

John tries to imagine an angry, mean Rod. His brain can’t picture it.

“I pushed people away because I was afraid they’d reject me. I was always alone and I got very good at telling myself I liked it that way.”

An uncomfortable feeling of familiarity crawls up the back of John’s spine, and he ruthlessly quashes it.

“That changed when I went to the SGC. The people there… They believed in me. They wanted my help, and they wanted to help me. I learned that if I was going to work there, to do important work, then I was going to need connections. And to make connections, I had to think about others, and try to be what they needed. It wasn’t only about me any more.”

Something in the preachy tone of Rod’s voice sets John on the defensive, and his shoulders begin to rise, counterarguments springing to his lips.

“Wait, stop -” Rod lays a hand on his shoulder, and all the aggression leeches out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just trying to explain.”

The earnest look Rod is giving him makes his skin itch.

“I care about everyone here. Including you, John. Perhaps I try too hard sometimes, but that’s only because you all matter to me. I don’t want to let you down.”

Rod is talking in plurals, but John gets the impression he’s speaking to him personally. It’s too weighty, to be handed that kind of sincerity without warning.

“I do...” He coughs and looks at his feet, “I do care about the people here as well. I might not be demonstrative about it but I’m not…” he searches for the right word, “... indifferent.”

He doesn’t say the other words he’s thinking, which are cold, callous, heartless, the things people always call him.

Rod’s hand is still on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and he squeezes gently. “I know you do. I just wish that sometimes you’d let other people see that too.”

-

John tries. He really does. Ronon tells him that he needs to get out of the lab more, so he resolves to make time to socialize. He doesn’t really know how to do that, but Teyla quietly slides him a copy of the city’s social activity schedule and suggests he goes through the list.

Painting with Major Lorne - no.

Choir with the medical staff - sounds awful.

Extra combat training - absolutely not.

Mensa club - now there’s a possibility.

“Join us for FUN and FRIENDS,” the tiny advert reads. “All welcome (as long as your IQ is over 150).”

That he can do. He joins the club.

It's him and Kusanagi from R&D and Parrish from botany, plus a couple of the gate techs and one of the nurses from medical. Every Thursday night, they get together to solve puzzles and play chess. It's dorky and awkward but it's kind of nice, actually, and the people there don't seem to dislike him.

He thinks maybe he's getting better at this whole people thing.

-

And then Rod leaves, and everything goes to shit.

It starts off with a crisis, like there always is around here, exotic particles exploding out of a containment chamber which isn’t containing anything. There’s chaos, but there’s also data, so it doesn’t take long before he and Rod are turning to each other as the explanation clicks for both of them at the same time: An experiment to generate vacuum energy being conducted in a parallel universe.

“We can’t do anything from this side,” John reasons. “The bridge is one-way.”

“The inhabitants of the other universe might not even know what the effects here are. We need to go there directly and get them to shut it down,” Rod says, firm and sure. “It’s the only way.”

“But how could we-”

Rod snaps his fingers. “The Ancient shield. That’ll protect whoever travels there.”

“Right. Let me run some calculations.”

His head is buried in his computer when Rod comes running back in with the shield in his hand.

“Fire it up whenever you’re ready,” Rod orders. “I’ve got the shield to protect me.”

John’s head whips up. “You? You’re going?”

“Of course me! Come on, the chance to visit an alternate reality? Who could resist that?”

Icy cold water settles at the pit of John’s stomach. “That’s a one-way trip.”

Rod shrugs, like that’s nothing. “If that’s the cost to save our universe, it’ll be worth it.”

Something like rage explodes inside John’s head. “Absolutely not! I should be the one to go.” He searches desperately for a reason. “You’re needed here.”

Rod gives him a small, sad smile and says, “So are you.”

“That’s bullshit, McKay, and you know it. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Tell you what, let’s flip a coin for it.”

And that’s about as reasonable as he can hope for, so he turns his back to dig a coin out of his lab coat pocket.

That turns out to be a mistake.

“Be safe, John,” Rod says, then he activates the shield and steps into the containment chamber.

That bastard.

-

He spends three days thinking that Rod is gone for good.

He can’t… He can’t think, and he can’t sleep, and he’s angry all the time. When Zelenka asks for his help running calculations on the spacetime tear above the city John bellows at him, calls him incompetent, and says they might as well just accept that the city is going to be torn apart. Then he stays up all night doing the calculations anyway, because it’s better than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for another interminable evening.

He doesn’t bother eating, or showering, because what’s the point if they’re all going to die within a week? There’s a restless, raging scratching under his skin and it’s not like he hasn’t faced the possibility of death before, but this feels bleak and empty and insurmountable in a way he simply can’t deal with.

And then the rift mends itself, and Rod returns on a beam of light, and everyone acts as if they’re back to normal now and that brush with annihilation was just one of those quirky things that happen in the Pegasus galaxy.

But it eats at John, that feeling of powerlessness, that rippling anger of a problem he couldn’t solve.

Rod slides back into life in the city like it was nothing but another mission, and everyone rushes to say how brave he was, what a hero, how selfless he is, and John’s blood boils.

Rod swings by John’s lab with his usual breezy demeanor.

“Hey Sheppard! Wanna grab some dinner?”

The incongruity of Rod in his doorway, smiling casually like this is just another Tuesday, sends something hot and sharp spiking through his brain. “No,” John snarls. “Busy.”

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

“Busy then too.”

Rod gives a self-deprecating little smile, and John wants to wipe it off his face. “Too busy to make an hour for your team?”

“A team?” he spits. “Is that what we are?”

Rod pales, finally taking in how furious John is. “Of course we are. I thought, since I’m back now, we could -”

“Oh, so you stride back in and decide to grace us with your presence, and we’re supposed to be thankful for that?”

“John, what -”

“You left!” he explodes. He’s shocked by his own vehemence. “You left us all. You weren’t planning to come back and you just left.”

Rod takes half a step forward, his face doing something complicated. “John, listen. I never wanted to-”

“Go fuck yourself!” He shoves at Rod’s shoulders, hard enough to keep him at a distance. He needs space; he needs quiet; this is all too much. “We don’t want you here anyway. You should have stayed in that other dimension. I’m sure it was great there.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up, McKay.” He tunes his voice to the iciest, most dismissive tone he has. “You should have stayed gone.”

He enjoys a mean spark of satisfaction at the way Rod’s face falls, then he storms out of the lab.

Fuck that guy anyway.

-

Everyone on the base keeps looking at John like he’s volatile, as if he’s about to blow at any minute. Even his team starts handling him with kid gloves, like he’s fragile, and he hates it so much he could scream.

He meticulously constructs the bubble of hostility which has long been his go-to when he needs people to leave him alone. He snaps and snarls, and perfects a glare so hostile that no one dares approach him.

It’s restrictive inside that bubble, but at least it’s stable. At least he gets to decide the reason why people are going to hate him.

-

A few days later, Teyla strides into his lab wearing her patented “take no shit” expression.

“John,” she says, and the false cheery brightness of her tone has him scared already. “You will join me for tea.”

This is not, he recognizes, a request. He begins to mumble excuses but she cuts him off without hesitation. “You will come to my quarters, and we will drink a mug of tea together.” She crosses her arms. “Now.”

There are battles you can win, and ones you cannot. This is most certainly the latter, so he meekly follows her as she sweeps out of the lab and back to her quarters.

Once inside, Teyla forces him into a chair with an excessively firm hand.

“Sit,” she orders.

It’s easier to do as she says.

She carefully prepares the tea and warms the earthenware mugs, strong hands making practiced, confident movements. John watches the motions as she pours the tea and slides a mug over to him.

“Drink,” she orders, and again it’s easier to obey.

The tea is soapy and bland, but he fears her retribution enough not to mention that. He sips as they sit in silence. She regards him heavily over her mug.

Eventually she reaches some kind of conclusion.

“You are a valued member of our team, John.” Her face is impassive but her words are warm. “We would not see harm come to you.”

“That’s. Uhh. Good.”

“But your behavior of late has been,” she narrows her eyes, “ill-advised.”

John opens his mouth to defend himself, because it’s not as if Teyla could understand what’s been going on. But she holds up a hand which stops him short.

“I do not care to listen to your justifications. But you should know that if you continue on the path you have been on, it will be to the detriment of us all.”

John feels like he’s been pulled into the principal’s office to be scolded like a schoolboy. He didn’t care for that shit when he was ten, and he certainly doesn’t care for it now.

“If that was all,” he pushes the mug away and gets to his feet, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait.” Teyla’s hand shoots out with a warrior’s accuracy and closes around his wrist. “I am concerned for the team, yes. But I am also concerned for you. I would like to think that we are…” she tilts her head, “friends. And I should like for you to be happy.”

John is embarrassed to find a lump forming in his throat. He’s never truly had a friend before, and that someone of Teyla’s stature and courage would consider him as such has him flabbergasted. He suddenly wants, very badly, for her to think well of him.

“I’ll try harder,” he says. “I’ll try to be better.”

She releases his wrist and gives him a generous smile.

“That is all any of us can do.”

-

He starts small.

He saves up a few of the precious Earth-imported cookies they get for dessert in the mess sometimes and brings them to the next Mensa club night. Kusanagi beams and says that was very thoughtful of him, and Parrish splits a chocolate chip cookie with him while they speed-solve sudokus.

The next day he types up a report about the team’s most recent mission with as much detail as he can remember, and he makes special note of how brave Rod and Teyla and Ronon were.

He saves it to a flash drive and takes it to Elizabeth himself.

“What’s this?” she asks as he hands it over.

“Mission report,” John says, eyes fixed on a tapestry hanging behind her desk.

“Submitting a report without having to be asked five times first? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Sheppard?”

Anger flashes for a moment, because he’s trying here and she doesn’t need to remind him of his past failings. But he looks down and sees she’s smiling. It’s a joke. She’s joking around with him.

Huh. Okay. That’s unfamiliar, but he doesn’t hate it.

“Maybe I’ve slipped in from an alternate dimension,” he says, and even though that’s not very funny Elizabeth laughs anyway, and that makes something glow inside him.

-

He grudgingly admits to himself that there does seem to be a pattern developing: when he makes an effort to connect with people here and, god help him, be nice to them, then they are happy and so is he. When he yells and pushes people away, they are sad and he is angry.

It’s sort of obvious, really, and he would be embarrassed that it’s taken him so long to figure that out, but humans are bizarre and complicated and not at all like numbers.

He has a hypothesis and now he needs to test it. He should try being more considerate to those closest to him and see if that improves everyone’s moods. If only he could figure out how to do that without the entire experience being mortifying.

He’ll work on Ronon first, he determines. Ronon has always looked out for him and they have a sort of unspoken bond. Finding something nice to do for him should be simple enough.

He decides on a data-driven approach. He takes to following Ronon around, looking for inspiration, trotting after him with a small notebook in hand to record his observations. Ronon finds the whole thing hilarious.

Ronon spends approximately 40% of his free time in the gym, which certainly is a lot, and a further 30% in the mess. Another 10% of the time he goes running around the city, and the remainder of his time is spent visiting with Teyla, stopping by the science labs to tease Rod, or visiting John.

“You like people,” John observes one day, when Ronon is warming up for a combat session with some of the marines. He’s added up the figures and plotted the data into neat hand-drawn scatter plots and histograms. “You spend almost all of your time around other people.”

Ronon’s lips tighten for a second, and then he relaxes. “Yeah, I do. For a long time it wasn’t safe for me to be around anyone, and I hated it.” He looks around the bustling gym and nods. “Now I don’t have to be alone any more. I’ll never fail to appreciate that.”

John squints and scribbles that down in his notebook too. “You like spending time with people even if they’re -” He glances over at the marines, loud and bossy and distastefully laddish, “- strange? Or mean?”

Ronon grins at him. “Even then, yeah.”

“But you go running on your own. Is that what you prefer?”

Ronon stiffens slightly. “No. It reminds me of running from the Wraith. But it’s important to stay fit, and no one here likes running with me.”

Ahah! The perfect opportunity. John bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“What, seriously?”

“Sure. It sounds fun.”

-

It is not fun. Running is brutal, and he is terrible at it, but Ronon smiles the whole time and he keeps telling John what a great job he’s doing.

By the time they’ve completed one lap of the route, sweat is pouring off John and his lungs are fit to burst.

“Go get some rest,” Ronon says, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “I’m going to do another couple of laps.”

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks between heaving breaths.

“You really want to do this again?”

“You run every day, right? So I will too.”

Ronon stops for a moment, then hauls John into a giant bear hug, apparently not caring that he’s sweaty and gross, and says, “Thanks, man.”

John is a little awed by how easily he expresses his approval, and how much it means to be on the receiving end of it.

-

He’s noticed on trade missions that the Athosians greatly value textiles, which they weave from plant fibers and dye bright colors. On his next trip to the mainland he slips away to ask the village elder Charin about the rugs which are spread throughout her tent.

She seems surprised by his interest but happy to show off her collection. She tells him how Athosians give rugs as gifts to celebrate relationships and achievements, and then she shows him how they're made.

He trades a whole month's worth of credits for supplies, and when he returns to Atlantis he spends hours each evening delicately weaving yarn through a wooden frame, building up a soft, textured rug. When it's done it's a little lumpy, but it has four clear bands of bright color running through it to represent their team.

He carries the rug to Teyla's quarters and fidgets outside her door.

"John." Teyla squints at him as she opens the door. "You appear nervous."

"I made this for you," he says and thrusts the rug at her. "Charin told me you're supposed to make them for family. This one has stripes for the four of us on the team. Sorry if it's not very good."

Tesla takes the rug and presses a hand to her chest as she examines it. A slow, warm smile spreads across her face.

"It is beautiful. You have my thanks, John. This means more to me than you know."

He has an uncomfortable flutter of emotion and he can't quite meet her eye. He focuses on the wall behind her instead.

"You are as family to me as well," she says, and steps forward to press their foreheads together in the Athosian way.

The frank sentimentality of her manner makes him squirm, but he sort of likes it.

-

Rod is trickier. He is not a person who cares much for stuff, and he always waves off supply runs from Earth, saying he has everything he needs.

But he has been complaining lately that the unstable nature of Lantea's sun has been interfering with some of his measurements. John has an idea that can help with that, even if it does involve working with grubby experimental data.

Once he's ready he invites Rod to join him in the control chair room.

"I did some modeling," he says quickly when Rod arrives. He doesn't bother with a greeting. "To predict solar influence on the Lantea system and help with your experimental readings."

Rod's eyes light up. "You modeled a star for me?"

"I thought it might be," he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to look too anxious about whether Rod will find it weird, "useful."

He plugs a flash drive into a socket on the chair platform and guides Rod into the chair.

"How does it work?" Rod is bouncing with excitement, the same look of delight on his face as when he finds a new piece of technology.

John indulges in a small, proud smile, and says, "Think about where we are in the solar system."

Rod leans back in the chair and its power hums on. Overhead, the holographic display bursts into life showing Lantea and its star, along with all the other planets and comets and asteroids filling the system, with notations on their size and mass and trajectory.

Rod whips the model around, running it backward and forward through time, watching the orbits of the planets dance.

Then Rod zooms in to see the sun up close and gasps. John has linked the model to the city's long range sensors so the display can simulate the star's fluctuations in real time, and as they watch its surface bubbles and releases a tendril of plasma which reaches out into space.

The display follows the plasma as it propagates out through the system, moving first through the asteroid field and then meeting the planet, interacting with the magnetosphere and lighting up the planet's atmosphere with an aurora of dancing colors.

The soft lights of the display are reflected in Rod's eyes, wide and joyful and curious, and the sight makes something like pain but not twist in John's chest.

"This is incredible." Rod pokes further through the interface, looking at zipping comets and distant moons. He sits up and the chair's power fades off. "Thank you."

Heat creeps across John's cheeks, and he busies himself unplugging the drive. "I wanted to do something… nice."

Rod stands and walks over to him, taking the drive from his fingers. But he doesn't let go, keeping hold of his hand. "This is very nice," he says, startlingly close.

And then something very strange happens, and Rod is leaning in and kissing him. John is distracted from the soft press of his lips by absolute bafflement at this turn of events and he freezes up.

Rod steps away and John stares at him, desperately trying to figure out how to respond. "You kissed me," he ends up on, which does have the merit of being true.

Rod rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I thought that's what you were going for. Was it not?"

John's brow wrinkles. His thoughts are whipping past at a million miles an hour.

That hadn't been his intention - he'd assumed that Rod was straight, not that he'd given it much thought - not that someone like Rod would be interested in him even if he wasn't - but there's something compelling about the concept, something intangible sitting on the edges of his perception. He can't quite see the shape of it.

"I need more data," he decides. "Kiss me again."

Rod breaks into a charmed smile. "I can do that."

This time when Rod leans in he's ready for it. Their mouths meet carefully, tentatively, and he angles his head so they line up better.

Oh. Interesting. The data is looking positive.

"Hmm." John draws back to breathe and consider. "Yes. That's good. Let's do that some more."

“An excellent plan," Rod says, putting his arms around John's waist to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Rod tastes incredible. Or maybe he just tastes of stale coffee and power bars, but John’s senses are so heightened that every sensation feels earth shattering, and he's starving for more. His hands scrabble at Rod’s collar, at his arms, at the hem of his shirt, trying to touch everything in a mad dash. He’s determined to get as much of whatever this is as he can before it comes to a crashing halt.

“Hey. Hey,” Rod’s hands are on top of his own, and he’s pulling away like John knew he would. John folds into himself, ready to turn his back as he listens to this is a mistake or we both know this isn’t going to work out or I’d never feel that way about you.

“If we’re going to do this…” Rod is giving him one of those lopsided smiles, soft and genuine. “I’d like to do it properly.”

John, still braced for rejection, has no idea what that means.

“Let me take you to bed,” Rod says, wobbly and uncertain and hopeful, of all things.

“Oh.” He could do that. They could do that. An ocean of unexpected possibilities opens up, glittering and unfamiliar and enticing. “Okay.”

Rod takes his hand and leads him back to his quarters. John’s palm is sweaty but his steps feel light as air.

-

Kissing Rod is excellent. Doing so while lying on Rod's bed is even better, and at some point they both lose their shirts and then there’s even more skin to explore and the comforting scent of Rod all around him.

It's what's next that's stressing him out, because while he's aware of the theoretical steps involved in sex, he doesn't exactly have practical experience to draw on.

There's the ever-present worry that he's missing something, that there's something he ought to know, like there's a handbook for this which everyone got a copy of except for him.

"You good?" Rod is looking at him with those very, very blue eyes. "You went away there for a minute."

His cheeks are blazing, but it seems important to set expectations. "I've never done this before," he admits.

"You mean with a man?"

He squirms. "With anyone."

He waits for Rod to laugh at him, but he merely looks contemplative. "Were you not interested, or…?"

"It never seemed that important, you know? Just another of those things that everyone else did except for me, like going to parties, or having friends, or spending Christmas with family."

Rod's face softens with sympathy.

"And even if I wanted to sometimes, it didn't matter, because who would want this?" He indicates himself with a disparaging hand. He knows what he looks like: too thin, too lanky, messy hair that will never keep a style. He's no one's ideal. "I'm not even sure why you’d be interested."

"God." Rod reaches for him and takes his face in his hands. "You really have no idea, do you?" Rod carefully removes his glasses, sets them aside, and says, "You're gorgeous," like he really means it.

Taking off his glasses makes John feel more vulnerable than taking off his clothes. Suddenly his shield is gone and there's the world, and Rod, and it's all very close and immediate and a little disorienting.

"Hey." Rod pets his face, soft and gentle, "It's okay. We can go slow."

He makes an effort to pull himself together. "I won't be very good at this."

"You don't have to be good." Rod traces his lips with a finger. "You just have to be you."

And that’s mystifying, frankly. But he’ll give it a go for Rod.

They kiss some more, and he relaxes into it, lets Rod take the lead, lets him explore his mouth until he’s boneless and breathless. He breaks for air and is lightheaded, the room almost spinning, but he wants more.

Then Rod is kissing along his jawline, and down his neck, and oh, when Rod’s lips brush against a spot near his throat his entire body tenses and twitches, and Rod makes a curious, happy noise and does it again. It’s a hair away from overwhelming but he likes it, he likes it a lot, and then Rod gently runs his teeth over that spot and John’s hips twitch off the bed entirely of their own volition.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, but Rod doesn’t look put off. In fact, he just grins, says, “Don’t be, I like it,” then pushes John back onto the bed and mouths at that spot some more.

His skin is hot all over and he’s shaking, and god, this is all going to be over embarrassingly fast and they haven’t even gotten all of their clothes off yet.

“Rod,” he says, and it comes out as a whine. “Will you -” He gestures vaguely at the bulge in the front of his jeans and hides his face in the pillow, too bashful to let Rod see him.

Rod pauses from his engrossment in John’s neck to breathe hot words into his ear instead. “Is that what you want?” he asks, and John is fit to burst already. How is Rod so good at this?

“Please,” he says, mumbling into the pillow. Everything is too much and not enough, and he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please, Rod, please -”

“Okay, of course I will, it’s okay.” Rod strokes his flank, petting him like a skittish horse, and that should be mortifying but it’s exactly what he needs. “I’d like to see you though,” he says, and reaches over to touch John’s chin.

John lets himself be turned, lets Rod roll him over so they’re facing each other and their eyes meet. That’s almost overwhelming too, but Rod looks so pleased he thinks he might be able to manage it, and then Rod is kissing him and unzipping his pants and oh, oh, oh.

Rod wraps a hand around his cock and John just melts, like every brain cell he possesses has decided to pack up for the night. He can't even bring himself to blush because Rod is touching him right there and it’s so good, it’s so good, and all he wants is more.

Rod handles him confidently, exploring what he likes: a bit faster, a bit slower, a bit more pressure, a bit less. If John could speak he’d tell him that it doesn’t matter, right now he likes everything, anything, whatever Rod wants to do to him he’d take it happily.

But Rod is a scientist, and he loves his data just as much as John does, so he does some experimentation and finds the ideal speed John likes, and the angle, and then he squeezes gently around the head and John’s orgasm explodes behind his eyes like bright, white light.

He floats for a while, like a spring that’s been twisted and twisted and finally bursts free, and he’s vaguely aware of Rod stroking his face. It’s nice, every muscle in his body slack and comfortable for once instead of clenched down tight.

“You good?” Rod asks, and John can’t help but smile.

“Very,” he mumbles, mouth lax and lazy.

Rod drops a kiss on his temple, and there’s something so casual and caring about that it makes John’s heart squeeze.

“You mind if I get myself off?” Rod asks and heat races up the back of John’s neck. He does not mind that one bit.

“Should I. Um.” He ought to offer, right? That was the polite thing. But, “I don’t really know what to do,” he admits.

Rod smiles softly at him and says, “How about you kiss me?”

And yes, John is definitely on board with that, he can do that. He puts an arm around Rod’s shoulders and pulls him closer, then kisses him: carefully at first, peppering soft pecks to his lips, and then deeper, lips sliding over each other as they grow more heated, and then finally wild and messy, slipping his tongue into Rod’s mouth while Rod pushes his pants down and works himself over.

He feels Rod’s fist bumping up against his thigh, faster and faster as he speeds up his hand, and John can’t help but glance down. He watches in fascination at the way the head of Rod’s cock peeks through his hand on each stroke, red and hard and leaking from the tip. Reflexively, he licks his lips.

Rod is making these soft groaning noises which have John entranced, like he wants to spend every spare minute he has learning how to coax them out of him. And then Rod is biting his lip, and twitching, and staring at him open-mouthed and breathing hard.

“Can I come on you?” he asks, and something in John’s brain short-circuits.

“Yes,” his mouth says for him. “Rod, god, yes.”

He can’t stop staring at the movement of Rod’s hand and, emboldened by a force he didn’t know he had in him, he reaches down to wrap his hand around Rod’s. He lets Rod guide their movements, adding a soft pressure from his fingers so they can bring him off together.

“John,” Rod sighs, full of warmth and contentment, and then he’s relaxing and coming. Fluid splatters across John’s thighs and he did that, he made Rod feel good, and that feels like the best gift of all.

Rod is soft around the edges now, smudgy like a charcoal painting, and when John asks, “Was that okay?” he pulls him closer and nuzzles into his neck, covering both of their bodies and their clothes hopelessly in come, and says, “That was perfect.”

-

John wakes up sticky, rather too hot, and filled with a roiling, anxious feeling. The bed is too small and Rod is too close, and his heart rate picks up as he looks fuzzily around the room.

He should go. He should just go, right now, before Rod wakes up and they have to talk about this and he says something wrong and ruins everything.

He’s squinting and patting at the bedside table, looking for his glasses, when he feels movement behind him.

“Morning.” Rod drops a soft kiss on his shoulder. Then he rolls over, John’s glasses in his hand, and opens them up and pops them onto his face. He slides them up John’s nose, smiles, and says, “There you are.”

And oh. All that panic seems further away once he has the armor of his glasses back, and now he can see the pillow crinkles imprinted into Rod’s cheek. He seems less like an agent of impending judgement and more like Rod, just Rod, Rod who knows him and has seen him at his worst and still, for whatever baffling reason, seems to like him.

“Hi,” he manages, and Rod beams like that was exactly the right thing to say.

“Coffee?” Rod offers. “Or shower first?”

As rare as it is for John to turn down coffee, he really is unpleasantly sticky. Deal with that problem first, he decides. “Shower,” he says, grateful that he’s not required to string together more than single words.

“Sure.” Rod gives his ass a cheeky pat as he rises, then throws him a towel.

He showers quickly and efficiently, but as he steps out and wraps a towel around himself he spots a purpling bruise on the side of his neck in the mirror. He stops to trace it with his fingers, remembering the feeling of Rod’s mouth there, hot and demanding.

“Ahh.” Rod stands in the doorway to the bathroom. “Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away.” There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he looks nervous.

John tilts his head, looks at the mark from another angle. There it is: incontrovertible evidence that he's wanted. What a fascinating concept. “Don’t be. I like it.”

“Oh.” Rod’s eyes go very round and the blush deepens. “That’s good. That’s. Ahh. Very good. I’ll just -”

Rod drops the towel from around his waist and makes for the shower, and John gets an eyeful of his half-hard cock, and then, as he walks past, an ass he has the sudden urge to sink his fingers into. A heat that’s beginning to feel familiar creeps up his neck, and he wants -

What the hell, he thinks, and he tosses his own towel aside to follow Rod back into the shower, delighting in his yelp of surprise when he slides up behind him.

-

“Shep! Think fast!”

John manages to get his hands up just in time to prevent the power bar from hitting him in the face.

“Thought you might want a snack before the mission,” Ronon says with a wink. “Just in case we have to run anywhere.”

“Hey, I’m getting better at that! I’ll catch up with you one day.”

“Sure you will.” Ronon checks the straps on John's tac vest like he always does, then says, "Looking good, buddy," and ruffles his hair.

John used to hate that, but he's given up trying to tame his hair and now he lets it stick up in whatever direction it wants. It's weird but it works.

Teyla bumps her shoulder against his as they walk toward the gate room. "What do you have for us today, John?"

“Remember that strange energy signal Major Lorne’s team picked up last week? I was able to map its topography through space and pinpoint its likely origin, and Rod took a look at the electromagnetic readings and he thinks it might be a power source -”

“So we are going to investigate the signal on P2X-884?”

“Bingo.”

Rod is standing in front of the gate like he belongs there. He claps his hands. "Ready for another thrilling adventure in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Maybe we'll get to hunt some Wraith," Ronon says, entirely too cheerfully.

"Or discover some hideous alien parasite," Teyla joins in with a gruesome smirk.

"Or accidentally blow something up," John supplies, because that's usually how their luck goes.

"Sounds delightful." Rod grins and yells up to the gate techs, "Dial her up."

As the gate engages with a whoosh and a glow of blue light, Rod reaches out to graze his fingers against John's: a reminder, and a promise. Out of the corner of his eye, John catches his smile.

He stands a little taller, knowing his team has his back, and steps through the wormhole.