#[number three. i decided to write this after midnight thinking 'hmm let's see if i have the inspo to write i'm kind of tired']

[untilthcyrot]

things you said prompts | 12. things you said when you thought i was asleep asked by @freakarus

Sleep was supposed to be a sacred time for people; a way for the mind to recharge, for the body to relax, and for dreams to whisk you away from the woes of reality and transform you somewhere else. For Winnie, for as long as she could remember, sleep was a time when she could chance sleepwalking and the prospect was just as equally terrifying as the last. She could remember when she was a little girl, her mother would securely tuck her into bed and she would feel so warm and safe underneath that blanket. If she thought hard about it, she could still remember the way it smelled washed in that fabric softener her mother always bought. Once tucked in, her mother would place a kiss on the crown of her golden head and whisper "good night" before disappearing from the room completely. Moonlight slipped through the curtains onto her face. Instead of counting sheep, she counted the twinkles in the night sky as she was lulled to sleep.

But no dreams ever came during those nights. There was only darkness, this void that felt like a daze that she was lost in until slowly she was being pulled out of. It would take a few moments to comprehend but she'd realize that she wasn't in her bed anymore. Sleep blinked out of her eyes and she would find that she was standing in her backyard . . . or the driveway . . . or on those rare and terrifying occasions, somewhere in the woods behind her house. No memory of how she got there, crawling back into her bed shivering and scared. When her mother found out, she tried to get her help, but how do you explain a perfectly normal little girl sleepwalking? You look at her schizophrenic mother and make assumptions apparently.

The Gilded Hand knew why. It took a madman taking her as a child, taking all of the special children like her, and locking them away in an abandoned factory, to tell her that she had a unique ability that went beyond the human scope. Winnie had that ability to connect with the dead who had trouble crossing over. She was a beacon of light to the spirits who were lost and confused. They would be attracted to her like a moth to a flame, trying to reach out to her, to her light, and use it as a means of finally crossing over. The trouble was, that a little girl didn't always realize that her imaginary friends were ghosts, and she didn't know how to help them. And her mother? Well, maybe she worried that these friends she saw were all part of a sickness that she passed down to her, so she was hardly any help to her daughter.

Sometimes the spirits took it too far though, but was it something that they could really help either? After spending time walking the earth alone and unseen by the living, finding someone like Winnie was overwhelming for them and they found themselves desperate. They found that they couldn't just talk to her but possess her for a short amount of time. They felt the warmth of life again in her body - what it felt like to breathe air into their lungs, the warmth of a summer night, the taste of food again. They tried not to let any harm come to her, especially when she was a child, but the stress of being possessed would cause her body to reject the souls and she would end up sleepwalking wherever she was left alone again.

As she grew older, she was able to take back some control again. There were no more imaginary friends but spirits who needed her help and she tried to do just that before it affected her sleeping habits, but it couldn't always be stopped. The world was full of lost souls, unfortunately. Winnie had been terrified that Eddie would find her in the compromising position of wandering outside in a sleeping daze until he finally had. Maybe it scared him too, but...instead of rejecting her...he was there for her. That meant more to him than he would ever know. For a girl who never felt completely safe when she was laying in her bed trying to sleep, just him accepting that part of her made her feel that much better about her ability, about her whole self in general.

Tonight, as it felt like she was having one of those dreamless nights again, her eyes flung open in a panic. She was met with darkness that made her heart race, only imagining in those first few seconds where she could have ended up tonight if Eddie hadn't stopped her from leaving first if he had even been awake to notice. Relief was quick to sink in when she realized her blues were staring up at the ceiling and she turned her head to find Eddie sound asleep next to her. She hadn't realized her hand had clenched the drawstring to her hoodie, quickly releasing her grip as tension died down from the realization that her dreamless sleep was just that . . . a dreamless sleep, nothing more, nothing less.

Winnie turned over on her side, body shifting closer to Eddie so that she could feel the warmth of his body against her own. Something about that feeling . . . it made her feel safe and secure, just like when her mother tucked her underneath that blanket smelling of sweet fabric softener and kissing her on the head. Safe. She leaned her head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes before the tears could escape them.

❝ You're my armor, ❞ she whispered so quietly that she wouldn't have even thought she said them if she knew she hadn't. ❝ You make me feel safe when I shut my eyes and I'm scared about what's going to happen when I fall asleep. I know nothing will happen anymore because of you. ❞

[muselin]

See You Later - Part 1

Who: Beomgyu

Group: TXT

What: Beomgyu/f!reader, collegeAU, slow burn, eventual smut, college student!Gyu, model!Gyu

Word count: 2,238

A/N: this is for @bluekais ❤ Hope you enjoy! Sorry that it's taken so long! There will be a Part 2 coming but I got myself elbows-deep into Kinktober so might take a while as well 🎃

____________________________________

"Tch."

The dissatisfied noise leaving your lips had become habit by now. Just his presence annoyed you, but the fact that he had the nerve to show up late to class almost every time, carrying that stupid skateboard, made your blood boil a little bit. He never studied, never did the assignments, always showed up late and he was still somehow passing this class. This class that you had worked so hard to get into and had to keep working so hard to stay in. It didn't come naturally to you but it did to him and it made you green with envy.

"Ah, Beomgyu-ssi, how kind of you to join us," your professor quipped sarcastically as Beomgyu beamed a smile that was frustratingly charming and headed for the only empty space in the auditorium which, to your displeasure, happened to be next to you.

You didn't acknowledge each other as you continued scribbling furiously into your notebook while Beomgyu sat with his chin leaned on his hand. You noticed that he hadn't taken out anything to write with.

"Now I will hand out your assignments for the next lecture. Remember we have study week, so you will have one week to complete these. Please remain in your seats as you are now."

Your professor proceeded to hand out stacks of papers and you couldn't help noticing that he was handing only one stack for every two students. He was making his way down your row and dropped off an assignment right between you and Beomgyu.

"I can hold it for us," Beomgyu smiled pleasantly as he looked over to you, seemingly unaffected by your sour expression. As the two of you read the instructions for the music production assignment, Beomgyu would stop and mutter to himself every once in a while: "Hmm, I already have a bass guitar for this," "This would be very easy to add a snare to," "I just need vocals and someone to match the drum line to this".

"Alright, everyone ready?" The auditorium hummed with mumbled "yes"es.

"Good," your professor continued, "you will be doing the assignment in pairs, in the order that I've handed the assignments out to you".

You groaned inwardly, noticing yours and Beomgyu's names at the bottom right corner of the cover page.

"Class dismissed!"

You were unsure what to do. You'd have to spend quite a lot of time with Beomgyu to finish this but you didn't have his number and you didn't even know which dorm he was in. Before you could open your mouth to ask Beomgyu when you should meet up, he was getting up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"See you later, Y/N," his voice laced with his regional dialect reached you as an afterthought.

"Tch. Fuck you too, Choi," you muttered.

___________________

It had been four days since you last saw Beomgyu and you were getting nervous. You had started the assignment early and done as much as you could do. You hated to admit it but you really did need him for this. You had worked out a base melody but it was too bare and uninteresting and you knew from hearing him talk to himself that he knew a lot of elements which could add flare and points to the assignment. You hunched over your laptop, browsing the music library. Begrudgingly, at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, you decided to email him through the university central email list.

### 22:01 ###  Hi Beomgyu, it's Y/N, your partner for the music production assignment. I've thrown some things together but we need to meet to do the rest. I realised I didn't have your number or your dorm address, let me know when we can meet up. ###

You waited for a while after pressing send, just in case he was on his emails right now. At midnight you gave up and went to sleep.

### 03:44 ### Hi! Sorry about that! Can you bring what you have over to mine at about noon tomorrow? Here's the postcode ###

You woke up to the reply from Beomgyu and nearly panicked that you would be late. He didn't live close by at all, the post code seemed to be for a swanky area of newly built apartments downtown, miles away from your suburban campus.

You showered and dressed as quickly as possible. You weren't dressing up for anyone. Jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt was all Beomgyu was getting from you. You grabbed your laptop and equipment and headed out the door.

________________

At 11:55, you knocked on Beomgyu's door. He lived on the 13th floor and on the elevator up to his apartment you hoped to whoever would listen that this wouldn't turn out to be as unlucky as the out-of-order sign on the second elevator.

The front door clicked and opened to reveal a somewhat sleepy Beomgyu, dressed in a tshirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, Y/N, you're early," he said, then looked at his watch. You found this ironic, considering he never showed up to class on time.

"Well, not by much. Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, opening the front door widely for you to walk in past him. "I'll make coffee," he yawned.

As you walked past him you couldn't help but note in your head that he smelled really good. You weren't sure if it was his cologne or laundry but it was the kind that settled pleasantly in your chest and made you want to breathe in deeper. You stopped that train of thought harshly as soon as you felt your mind drift that way. You were perfectly happy with feeling generally mildly annoyed with Beomgyu. It was your comfort zone, even if having to work with him was pushing it.

"So how come you don't live on camp-- Wow..."

Your jaw dropped as you walked into the apartment. It was nothing like the cramped dorm rooms you and your friends shared on campus. It was bright, spacious and well-decorated, with huge windows and a view that rivaled the best hotels in the business district.

"How the fuck are you affording this," the words tumbled out of you with little grace before you could stop them.

"Well, since you ask, I work a lot of side jobs," Beomgyu said nonchalantly as he poured water into the kettle in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Uhm...," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "at the moment I model."

"You? You model?"

"Yeah, why," he tilted his head at you, looking at you quizzically.

Those big brown eyes, the soft curves of his lips, his chiseled jawline... And his hair looked really soft too. Suddenly from thinking nothing of him you were imagining him as a model. You wondered what he modeled for. Could it be fashion brands? Lifestyle? Prints? Maybe even swimsuits? He always wore those baggy jeans and t-shirts, but maybe...

"Y/N?"

"Oh," you snapped back to him, realising you hadn't answered him. "Yeah I just... didn't know, that's all."

"Uhm, cool. Why don't you drop your stuff off in the room down the hall, the one on the left?"

You nodded and picked up your laptop bag and equipment, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you padded down the hall. You nudged open the door to the room he'd pointed you to, jaw dropping again for the second time today as you walked in.

The room was a small makeshift studio, with mics, a sound control board and several guitars. Several notepads were strewn about along with a few used coffee mugs and muffin wrappers. It seemed to be the most lived-in space of Beomgyu's house so far and you were suddenly starting to understand why he never seemed to pay much attention to the classes. You dropped your bags off in the corner and sat down at his computer, looking at the various pieces of equipment connected to it.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Beomgyu's pleasant voice reverberate in the room. You hadn't heard him come in after you. Covering up your startled reaction, you mumbled your preference and he returned shortly with two steaming mugs, setting them down on his desk.

"Um, so... For this assignment I've tried layering the melodies but it's very bare. I thought we could use it as a starting point and build on it," you said, trying to sound more businesslike.

"That's good, thanks. I actually don't have a lot of time so a head start would be good. I have an hour now but then I need to head out."

Your brow furrowed. An hour? It had taken you three days to put together what you had so far.

"Let's see what you've got," Beomgyu reached for the USB stick in your hands and plugged it into his computer. He downloaded the files and ran them.

An unobtrusive melody filled the small studio. He listened politely, head tilted to one side until it faded out.

"Um... Yeah, I don't play guitar so I wasn't sure what would sound good with that," you started, hands playing with the edges of your shirt nervously. You hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of Beomgyu.

"Yeah, no offence, but it does need a lot more than that," he said. "Let's see what I can do with that."

You sat in your chair and watched him plug one of his guitars into the amp behind you. He tuned it according to the scales in your melody and started to play along.

"Nana naaa," he hummed along quietly. "I don't know about that bar, what do you think," he asked you.

"It's not bad but I think it can go for longer," you replied. Beomgyu nodded, stopping the recording and starting again.

You watched him get lost in his own world as the notes coming from his guitar breathed life into your melody. You watched his fingers strum and pluck, watched his lips open and close in concentration, occasionally the lower one being worried by his teeth. You watched his long hair fall into his face. You simply watched Beomgyu in his zone, not noticing when he stopped playing.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes focused and met his deep brown ones, your lips tensing as you tried to seem attentive.

"Yeah? Yeah, that was good, let's add that in," you spoke quickly.

"Cool," Beomgyu then stood up and reached behind you to switch off the amp. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing in again when his chest and neck nearly brushed across your face. His warm hand dropped to your shoulder, giving you a casual pat.

"Why don't you sit at the computer and keep replaying the recoding while I write down the chords," he suggested.

"Okay, sure," you stood up in the cramped space and there was barely room for you two to switch places. Beomgyu's hands instinctively came up to your waist to steady you as he brushed past you. Your breath hitched but you said nothing as you sat down at his desk and started the recording.

Your combined melody filled the small room and you found yourself nodding along. You hated to admit it but you liked it much more with Beomgyu's additions. You played it several times while he wrote down the chords.

"Right, awesome," he drawled in his dialect after he was finished. "I have to get dressed and head out now, but if you want we can meet up again later today. I won't be done until quite late but I sleep late anyway."

"How late are we talking," you asked suspiciously.

"I would be done about 11, we could meet back here," Beomgyu offered.

You hesitated for a second. It was a lot later than what you considered acceptable but at the same time you didn't trust Beomgyu. You weren't sure you would get any more time out of him than this.

"Okay, deal. Message me when you're done and I'll head over."

"Cool, here's my number," Beomgyu grabbed your phone to type his own number in and called himself. "You okay to let yourself out?"

He left the studio and went into the room across, which you guessed was probably his bedroom. You copied the new files onto your USB before you packed up your things and left the studio as well. On the way you saw that Beomgyu's bedroom door was ajar. You saw him standing with his back to the door as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head. Your lips tensed into a line as you tried to not to make any noise and not even to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"See you later, Y/N."

You stood frozen in place as your eyes traced the lines of his back muscles to his pretty shoulders, not missing his toned arms flexing as he reached up to push the t-shirt over his head. Your gaze trailed back down his body to his hips where his bottoms were slung low, exposing the two cute dimples at his lower back. He didn't look like he was wearing anything underneath.

Beomgyu dropped his shirt to the floor and you suddenly darted down the corridor, panicked that he would turn around and see you. His bottoms dropped down just as he heard his front door open and shut.

[svnflowervol666]

New Year (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of smut, dad!harry (or dad-to-be!Harry I suppose), tons of fluff, skewed timeline (I wanted to make this work, so just pretend that Harry and Y/N have been together for quite some time and Camille has long been forgotten)

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing for Harry, so please be kind! I’d been trying to muster the courage to write this when it was actually right around the new year, but I’ve not been able to stop toying with this cute little scenario in my head! I’d love to write more about dad!Harry or just Harry in general, so your feedback and/or other requests would be greatly appreciated! Take care and tpwk!

She worked her way from the bathroom through the small crowd of people gathered around the living room for what felt like the hundredth time that night. If you asked her what the most inconvenient part of her pregnancy was thus far, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you that having to pee every half hour on the dot was by far the biggest inconvenience of them all. Far too many times in her now 7 months had she found herself having to locate the nearest restroom anywhere she went as soon as she arrived just to be prepared for when her baby inevitably decided to plant its weight on her bladder.

The space wasn’t overflowing with random bodies or sleazy folks wanting nothing more than a juicy story for their news station. It was just a healthy handful of closest friends and their loved ones. It was a celebration. Of an upcoming new year, a recently released new album, and two recently successful shows in Los Angeles and London. Despite this, she still struggled to spot him in the dimly lit space of the house. 

After gently tapping shoulders and muttering a polite, “Excuse me,” to what felt like everyone at this damn party so that she and her perfectly rounded belly were able to pass through, she found him. He was propped up against the wall in the living room, his lanky, Gucci trouser-clad legs crossed over each other. She could tell by the way his eyes were glued to the floor and how his fingers anxiously drummed away to an invisible beat that he was waiting anxiously for her return.

Harry was never able to shake the nerves that overtook him when she went off on her own. After he’d found out she was pregnant (which was no doubt a result of the hot and heavy reunion the two of them shared after his extended trip to Japan that began around this time last year), he’d always found a way to convince himself that something bad would happen to her and the baby if he wasn’t with her at every possible moment. Sure, it felt somewhat smothering at times, but it beat having an unaffectionate husband who couldn’t care less about the impending arrival of his firstborn by a long shot. In his defense, his own safety had been compromised plenty of times throughout the years of his career, so it’s not to say that his worry was uncalled for. He simply felt more at ease with her by his side. With them by his side.

“What are you thinking about?” she prompted him, wrapping both arms around her husband’s torso and snuggling into his side the best she could with her bump in the way.

Harry seemed to withdraw himself from the hazy daydream he’d been lost in as he responded to his wife’s touch and wrapped his arm around the side of her waist so that his fingers rested softly on the swell of her stomach. She caught a glimmer of a cheeky grin tug at the corners of his lips before he spoke.

“Who ‘m gonna share my New Year’s kiss with after the countdown.”

Immediately, she rolled her eyes at the tall brunette that held her in his arms. Had she not been in such a doting mood, he would have likely earned a punch to the shoulder. Nevertheless, she decided to indulge Harry in his jokes. 

“Yeah? Who’s the lucky gal?” she added a dramatic raise of her eyebrow up at him.

“Hmm,” Harry fake-pondered.

“Verrrrrrry pretty. She’s ‘bout this tall.”

He raised his hand to his wife’s height for reference.

“Her belly kinda sticks out like this,”

His hands motioned in a crescent shape, mimicking her pregnant belly and making them both snicker even more in the process.

“Only thing is, she’s married.”

He finished off his grand performance with a pout.

“Well,” his wife responded as seriously as she could, “You’re Harry bloody Styles. I’m sure her husband would allow just one kiss if it was from you.”

This made Harry blush. She could see the bashful pink even in the low light of the living room, how the heat crept up his cheeks from being complemented by his own wife and partner of several years.

“Wha’ about you? Who's gonna be the one you cozy up to when the clock strikes midnight?” Harry then focused his attention on her.

“Oh,” she shrugged her shoulders as if it was a no-brainer. 

“I was thinking about going for Mitch," she gestured to the brunette who was sat on the sofa across the room with a beer in his hand.

Harry gave in and laughed loudly, unable to keep a straight face for the little game they had been playing.

“You might have to fight Sarah for that one, mate,” he was able to squeeze out in between giggles.

“Eh, I think I can take her.”

No further comment was needed as their laughter died down and they simply basked in each other’s company, listening to the buzzing of various conversations happening around them as the party continued on. Since the cycle began of press tours and rehearsals for the album release shows, the two of them felt like they hardly had any time to themselves, which was why they opted to celebrate the new year on a smaller scale as opposed to a grand party that dozens of other celebrities and brands had invited them to. Not only that, but seeing as their little one would be making their grand appearance in a little less than two months' time, any heavy partying was out of the question. 

“’Ye want to go home, lovie?” Harry broke the comfortable silence between them when he heard her yawn against where her head had been resting against his chest.

“No, you goob. It’s not midnight yet.”

“If you’re tired, we can go. ‘Ye need t’ take care of yourself.”

“I think I can handle being a bit sleepy,” she reassured him.

“Yea, but you need all the rest ‘ye can get. Baby’ll be here soon.”

‘Harry, I promise you that staying up until midnight just one time is not going to hurt me or the baby. I’m good. Promise,” she finished with a loving pat on the part of his chest that was exposed from his unbuttoned blouse.

Harry reluctantly nodded in agreement, relaxing his tensed muscles as he made himself comfortable once more against the wall.

“Can’t believe we’re gonna be parents soon. Gonna have our own baby,” he muttered lowly so that only she could hear. 

“I know. Hopefully, all of those years of taking care of Lux will pay off. I guarantee any child of yours will be a handful, to say the least,” she teased.

Harry faked a dramatic gasp, letting his mouth fall agape and putting his hand over his chest as if what his sweet wife has just said had given his heart a proper break.

“Can’t believe this. M’ own wife.”

There was no need to apologize, they were both used to countless nagging and teasing from each other over the years.

“You’re gonna be a good dad, Harry,” she sighed.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her hair, so featherlight that it was almost undetectable.

“‘N you’re gonna be the best mum. The hottest mum,” he said as his hand slipped south to grab a handful of his wife’s bum which caused her to shriek.

“Harry! We’re in public,” she hissed.

“So? It’s not a secret how much I love ye’. We’re married. Remember? ‘ve written plenty of songs about ya in case you’ve forgotten,” he toyed as he returned his hand back to its proper position around her waist.

The commotion between Harry pinching his lady’s bum had collected an audience, a handful of eyes focusing on the envious and jovial banter between the couple.

It was true, they were the couple everyone aspired to be like. They lasted the test of time. No number of long months apart from each other could dwindle the flame that was their love. It only strengthened the ravenous fire that coursed through their hearts for one another. They had done it right, in their minds at least. They’d gotten their lives together, made sure they were steady and stable before they settled down and decided to marry and have children.

Harry genuinely thought for the longest that he’d never have this. This perfect life and this perfect wife and, soon, a perfect little baby to call his own. He’d always thought that if he ever had children, it would be unplanned. That eventually one of his one night stands would fall pregnant, leaving his child to grow up under less than ideal circumstances. He never thought he’d be where he is today, where he’s always wanted to be.

Time slipped away from the couple and before they knew it, shouting from everyone else in the room signified that the new year was just seconds away. Reluctantly, Harry and his wife pulled themselves from their own bubble they had created away from the party and joined the rest of the group.

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!” was shouted in unison as a handmade balloon and confetti drop fell from the ceiling and covered the guests as they cheered and kissed their loved ones.

“Have your first kiss of the new year wi’ me? Please,” Harry turned to his wife, wrapping both arms around her sides.

“Only because you asked nicely,” she laughed.

As her fingers linked around Harry’s neck, he pulled her into him. The kiss was tender and sweet, just like his love for her. As they pulled away, Harry rubbed one hand over her swollen stomach and spoke again.

“Think we’re ready for this year?”

His wife brushed away a piece of the metallic star-shaped confetti from his forehead and tucked his stray hairs behind his ear just like she had done plenty of times in their years of being together. The smile on her face was soft and wise, his favorite type of smile, and Harry swears that he can see her glowing despite how dark it is in the room. She’s perfect. Her belly is perfect. Their baby is perfect. They’re perfect.

“I have a feeling we’ll be alright,” she whispered quietly before kissing him once more.

In this moment, just as every other moment, with his hand resting on top of his wife’s baby bump, Harry wishes he could stay like this forever.

[thealphabetmurders]

Irises

Pairing: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2522

Summary: Virgil knows exactly 3 things: 1. He is stressed about finals more than a normal person would 2. Impressionists are the worst 3. The barista at this new coffee shop has the prettiest eyes

Triggers: anxiety, insomnia, implied/referenced drug-use, lack of self care

Authors Note: I wanted to challenge myself and write a fic with a pairing that I don’t normally do. I am definitely more privy to Logince, Analogical, and Moxiety, but I gotta love Prinxiety, how could you not?  

(Read on AO3)

Virgil tugged off his earbuds as he walked into Monet’s, an unfamiliar coffee house and a new experience for Virgil. Virgil hated new experiences. The smell of vanilla filled his senses as he walked in a dream-like state to the counter (standing a little bit away to let the employees know he wasn’t ready), rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, getting his fix here because he did not have the energy to go out and buy more grounds. He knew that it was most likely extremely unhealthy for him to have only consumed Takis, coffee, and Adderall the past couple days, but it was finals week, which meant it was crunch time. 

Virgil tells people he is a bit more anxious than most people, and by a bit, he means a fuckton. So, of course, finals week has him questioning everything in his life, from his study methods to his career path. Virgil is a smart guy, so he doesn’t actually have anything to worry about, as long as he studies, right? Wrong. As a fine arts major, not all of his classes are just knowing that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, you have to apply the skills you learned into a creative piece, and while Virgil is a talented artist, he was always second guessing everything he created. Which is why, in the 11th hour, Virgil decided he hated the medium he was working in, completely scrapped it, and had 48 hours to create 3 completely new “transformative” pieces. Sleep was not an option until it had to be. Which, it seemed it had been, when he fell asleep on the bus after class, missing his apartment by 11 stops. Coffee seemed necessary at this point. 

Pulling his hoodie off his head, smoothing out his hair, he looked at the pretty standard local coffee shop menu with some lunch items as well, and just looking at those made his stomach grumble. 

“Suppose you cannot create on an empty stomach.” Virgil thought. “And while I’m here…”

 As he was reading, he noticed each combo had a quirky name relating to Monet’s works. Berry spring salad with bagel was Luncheon on the Grass, sesame soba was The Japanese Footbridge….

“Give me a break…” Virgil muttered, before finally deciding on what to get. The shop was completely empty, so Virgil didn’t feel too bad about taking his time, though he did feel a bit nervous looking like a mess in front of the handsome barista. 

His olive colored skin tone with black wavy hair made Virgil feel a bit woozy, but he became dazed when he looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, almost forgetting why he was there, until he asked, “What can I do for ya, man?” 

“Uh, yea, can I get the tomato soup and grilled cheese with a medium espresso frappuccino,” He looked around the empty store, “For here, I guess,”

The barista turned around and looked at the two other employees behind him, one on their phone and one inspecting their nails absentmindedly, “Does anyone want to make a frap?” 

They both looked up and looked at each other before turning back to the one taking Virgil’s order. The one with a large scar on the left side of his face put his thumb down while the other one who looked very similar to his cashier blew a raspberry, shaking his head. The handsome cashier turned back to Virgil, and shrugged, “Sorry, gonna have to pick something else, no one want to make it,” 

Virgil sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Okay, whatever, is an iced flat white with some espresso okay?”

The three looked at each other then back at Virgil, before the cashier said, “Dude… It was a joke,” 

“Yea man,” The barista with a scar said, “We can’t just say no to what you order,” 

“What kind of business would that be?” The third one piped up. 

“Are you okay?” The barista, Virgil looked at his nametag, Roman, asked. 

Virgil merely sighed, “I’m kind of going through it,” 

Virgil pulled out his card, but Roman put his hand up. “On the house,” Normally Virgil would protest, despite the cheesy food names it was still a local business,  but being so stressed and depressed he honestly could bring himself to care. He choked out a thanks and sat down by a window, leaning his temple against the it, cool condensation comforting and making him a bit more awake. 

His food and his coffee eventually arrived, Virgil thanked Roman, who then proceeded to sit down across from him, elbows on the table and hands folded. 

“Can I help you?” Virgil asked, probably being harsher than intended, it was just his natural speaking voice. 

“Probably not, I wanna see if I can help you,” Roman shrugged. 

Virgil frowned, “Help me?” 

“I have been told I am good company and good at advice, and you, Brad Pitt-iful, seems like you are falling apart at the seams,” 

Virgil chuckled dryly, “Trust me, I hardly think you are qualified to handle hearing about all my problems,” 

Roman sat up straighter, looking into Virgil’s brown eyes against his gorgeous green, “I work as a barista by day with a bunch of dysfunctional idiots and I am a bartender at night, there is nothing I haven’t seen before, I am probably more qualified than some therapists”  He crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow, “Try me,” 

Virgil, intrigued, took the bait, and spilled. He talked about his anxiety, the insomnia, the fear of failure, the days where he debates dropping out, his nerves going into overdrive everytime he thinks about what he is going to, how he abandoned his final project, how he has to start on a new one- essentially everything that has been swirling in Virgil’s mind the past semester. 

“Hmm, okay, so you are pulling all nighters to finish all your work, and you only had one piece to do before you were completely finished with your final, and you then decided it looked all wrong and scrapped it?” Roman recapped and Virgil nodded, “Might I give you a suggestion?” 

“You can try,” 

“When you get home, go to sleep. Sleep for at least 9 hours, in a row, look at your old project again, and see how you feel,” Roman shrugged, “Maybe with a clear head you will feel differently about your project, maybe even get some inspiration,” 

Virgil gripped the bridge of his nose, “Roman, I do not have the time to sleep for a full 9 hours, that is ridiculous, I have to do so many projects,” 

“You’ll have one less to start from square one in if you end up actually liking what you did,” 

“It is a nice thought, I appreciate it, but I probably won’t be able anyways, not after the coffee,” Virgil took another sip, as to prove his point, but Roman just smirked. 

“That’s actually just a frozen hot chocolate with coffee flavoring in it,” 

Virgil eyes flew open wide, “Really?” He stared at his drink for a bit before looking at Roman, “They taste exactly the same, I cannot believe I let you fool me like that,” 

“Janus, Remus, and I made an executive decision, you do not look good,” Roman frowned, concerned, most likely looking at his swallowed out skin and circle under his eyes. 

“Well-” Virgil half-chuckled, “Not a lot of people look good compared to you,” Virgil would later wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because of his flippant flirting that he never engages in, but for now he doesn’t care. 

“Charmed.” Roman said, a fond smile present on his face, “I am sure you are a catch as well, when you don’t look like a skeleton” The door opened and a gaggle of people walked in, dressed in the local high school’s uniform. Roman sighed, “That’s my cue,” 

He stood up and frowned, quickly patting his front and back pockets before pulling out a sharpie. He grabbed Virgil's arm, the other one yelped, blushing slightly at the contact. “I would do the cliche ‘write my number on a napkin’, but now I know if you don’t text me it’s because you don’t want to, which is okay too.” He capped his pen, “Message me about what you decide to do, if you want. Would love to see your art,” And with a flourish of his hand, Roman walked away to the counter to take the many orders of the teenagers. 

Virgil looked down at the 9 numbers on his arm, swallowing thickly, feeling a bit sick, though it is not just from Roman’s number in bold, black ink. God, he was tired. 

His body was not attached to his brain as he walked to the bus station, got off, and walked up to his studio, unlocking the door and banging his head against the wall (not too hard, though, these walls are so thin they might as well be made of rice paper). Virgil looked at the numbers on his arm, remembering what Roman said. 

Virgil shrugged off his jacket and jeans,  throwing them on his ‘stuff’ chair and pulled on a pair of sweats, collapsing on his bed. He looked at his phone, the time reading 3:35pm. 

“9 hours from now… That’s midnight. Is he mental?” Virgil muttered to himself. He attempted to pull himself out of bed to get started to study for his history of art final, but his body would just not cooperate. How long has it been since he has had a proper sleep. 

If you have to think about it, it’s been too long… 

That tomato soup and grilled cheese combination was beginning to make him sleepy. Virgil groaned, face-palming. He went on his phone and set an alarm for 6:00pm. 

“Fine, a short nap,” He said to himself. He hit the lights and it took maybe two minutes before he was sleeping, dreaming of impression paintings and emerald eyes. 

***

this is Virgil. 

i didn’t end up sleeping for the 9 hours like you asked

i ended up sleeping for 13.

i hate you. 

And how do you feel, now?

……….…

much better actually. you were right. after my coma i looked back at my final and realised it was a lot better than I remembered. 

i even ended up finishing it. 

That is fantastic! I am soooo glad I could help. What did you end up doing?

Can you send me a picture? 

oh uh

idk if that is a good idea

i don’t want you to think i am weird

Virgil. 

I beta read my twin’s fanfiction. 

I am so desensitized, I do not think I am allowed to be weirded out. 

ok...

img.cm/1029483

Incoming call (Roman- Monet’s)....

****

Virgil yelped when he saw the incoming call. He doesn’t like phone calls at the best of times, but especially not now, not after he showed Roman his final piece. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! He should have just said no, people don’t press about that kind of thing. But Roman is clearly a liar because he said he wouldn’t be weirded out and he is, and Virgil just met this guy and he already messed everything up, why does he have to be such a fucking weirdo all the time, goddamnit, everything is falling apart, Virgil may have gotten sleep but he can’t fix himself. He groaned and snatched up the phone on the last ring, attempting to put on his best, most positive voice. 

“Hey, Roman, wha-what’s up… Bro?” 

“Hello!” Roman answered the phone, not sounding angry or upset, which calmed Virgil a bit, “I apologize, I should have prefaced that I loved the painting. I understand why you might have been worried, but it is absolutely wonderful.” 

“Really?” Virgil let out a breath, “I was really worried that-” 

“Are you kidding?” Roman almost shouted through the phone, Virgil having to pull it away from his ear, “A profile of just my eyes surrounded by roses and irises, in the style of the impressionists, even though I know you hate that style,”

“I don’t hate it,” Virgil muttered. 

“You ranted about Renoir, Degas, and Monet for longer than anyone I have ever met, and one of my closest friends is a curator at the art museum,” 

Virgil sighed, “Yea, you’re right, they suck. Sorry about that…” 

Roman laughed, “Ha, are you joking? That was the highlight of my day. But all that aside, how could you even fathom me not liking the piece? 

“I mean,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “I just met you yesterday, it’s not exactly something people do for someone when they do not even know their last name.” 

“My last name is Perez, my middle name is Thomas, my twin brother is Remus who you met yesterday, I am left handed, my favorite food color is red, and I love attention, it’s why I have done theater for 20 years. Does that help?” 

Virgil grumbled, “I guess it does,” 

Roman laughed, “I love it, Virgil, trust me, it is now my phone background,” 

Virgil’s heart swelled, “Really?” 

“Really. Honestly after us talking for like, 45 minutes yesterday, I would have been more offended if I wasn’t your muse, I mean, what about mean isn’t inspirational?” Both Roman and Virgil laughed at that, “But I could have told you all this over text, I called because I don’t like texting to ask pretty boys out on dates,” 

Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat, he felt as though someone dropped a ton of bricks on his chest. How was he supposed to respond to that? Roman first impression of him was a literal dead man walking and he still wants to go out with him?

“A date?” Virgil responded, still shocked. 

“Unless the pride pin on your jacket was just as an ally, and you just spent hours painting my eyes in a straight way, I would like to, if you want,” Roman said simply. Before Virgil could respond, Roman started speaking again, “And don’t say no just because I saw you at your rock bottom, I can see where this is going,” 

Virgil smacked his lips together, “You got me,”

“What do you say,” 

Virgil smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a while, “Let’s do it,” 

Virgil was only speechless for a full minute when Roman laid out an entire romantic picnic, scheduling it perfectly to watch a matinee Shakespeare in the Park production of Much Ado About Nothing, both of them happily munching on the brownies and sandwiches Roman had made that morning. Virgil only complained for 3 minutes when Roman wanted to take him to the art museum, the blushing lasted for 4 times that long when Roman confessed it was because he wanted to hear Virgil about the paintings, his voice being one of the most pleasant he has heard. When Roman grabbed Virgil by the waist, pulling him in for a kiss, Virgil responded with equal passion and emotion that Roman was, not even noticing they were in front of Monet’s Irises. 

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 3

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing and fluff. I think that’s it.

A/N: Italics are internal thoughts.

Chapter 2

Deciding not to keep the fact the Chris texted you a secret from Scott, you quickly fired off a text to let him know about the exchange. He probably already knew. After all, he did give him your number. But just in case he didn’t know, you wanted to give him the heads up. Not that it would become a regular thing. Of course, it wouldn’t. Sure, the two of you texted for almost two hours last night, but it was probably a one and done kind of thing.

Y/N: Are you just passing out my number to random dudes now?

It was pretty early in the day for you to text him, but you were already at the venue for the Jonas Brothers concert and you weren’t sure what time you’d be home.

After grabbing a beer and picking out a seat in the press box of the arena, you grabbed out your trusty notepad and favorite pen and waited for the show to start.

The boys opened with Rollercoaster which got the crowd pumped, not that it took much to get the screams going. When they sang your favorite song Cool, you couldn’t help but sing along. You recorded yourself singing along with Nick to Jealous, sending it to Jana and then to Scott.

 With traffic, it was close to midnight before you got home. Changing into your pajamas and washing away today’s makeup, you fell into bed. Tomorrow was Sunday and you had nothing on the roster besides writing your review of the concert for Monday’s paper.

You were attempting to read a novel Brooks had recommended to you on your Kindle for the third time that week when your phone buzzed from the night stand.

Scott: Are you home?

Y/N: Yep. All snuggled into my bed.

Not five seconds after you hit send, your phone was ringing.

“Good evening Scott,” you answered.

“Hello Pavarotti. Who knew you had those pipes?” Scott greeted you.

“Pipes? Are you talking about my chest?” Fake shock in your voice.

“Har-har. Did you send your little video performance to my brother?” he asked.

“What? No. Why would I do that? It’s not like we’re friends or anything?”

“So, it was strictly business last night? He just texted to apologize and nothing else?”

Is he a mind reader?

“Well, no,” you hesitated. “But it’s not like I’ll hear from him again. He was just being nice.” You shrugged your shoulders even though you knew he couldn’t see you. You really needed a dog or something for times like these.

“We’ll see. How was the concert?” he asked.

“No. No. No. Let’s back up. What do you mean we’ll see? You can’t just change the subject like that on me.”

Scott chuckled through the receiver. “I just meant that my brother has a habit of not letting people go once he likes them. He said he thought you were funny.”

Hmm. Funny. That’s as good a compliment as any. Chris Evans thinks you’re funny.

You’d have to try really hard not to let that go to your head.

 Scott ended up being right, though you wouldn’t tell him that. Chris didn’t let you go. He technically didn’t have you, not that you would have complained, but he kept texting you. The two of you didn’t chat as often as Scott and you did, but it was more than you would have ever expected.

It started casually enough with him texting you a few nights after reaching out to you the first time.

Chris: It’s my right to be hellish, I still get jealous

Y/N: He sent you the video, didn’t he?

Chris: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

A day or two would go by and you’d get another text similar to the last. Just a random musing reaching out. You never initiated because you still weren’t sure what the two of you were. He was your friend’s brother and you weren’t one to push boundaries.

Chris: If you overnighted me a Mickey Premium Ice Cream Bar, what are the odds it would get to me not melted?

Y/N: Aren’t you in Cali? Can’t you just go to Disneyland or send someone to get you one?

Chris: Send someone 🙄

Chris: I’m in New York for Fallon

Y/N: Oh, fuck, that’s right. Don’t tell Scott I forgot.

Y/N: Most grocery stores sell boxes of the bars now by the way.

Chris: It’s not the same.

Y/N: You’re right.

Chris: Usually am sweetheart.

You’re stomach flipped at the nickname. You wouldn’t be telling Scott about this conversation. Nope, you’d keep that one to yourself.

 It was just after seven when you walked in your door, two grocery bags in hand and your phone ringing in your purse.

“Hold on. Hold on,” you called out as if the person could hear you.

Dropping the bags on the stovetop, your dug into your purse, grabbing your phone, catching the call on what was sure to be the eighth ring.

How many rings before it goes to voicemail?

“Hey Scott,” you answered out of breath.

“Hey Sassy,” he replies. You hear someone repeat the nickname in the background. Chris, maybe. You’re not sure. “Chris and I are having dinner with Jimmy and his wife, so I wanted to give you a quick call. Just wanted to let you know the show was completely a snooze fest, there is no need to watch it.”

“Don’t listen to him Y/N. Watch it. A few times maybe,” you hear Chris say in the background.

You hadn’t talked to him on the phone, only via text. It was kind of weird to hear him say your name. Sure, you exchanged a few words on the ride at Animal Kingdom, but this was…different.

You chuckled at their antics. “Jimmy and his wife. As if I’m on a first name basis with him. Cute,” you replied.

“I don’t know who else you know. You’ve got two Evans brothers as friends, who knows what other friends ya have,” he replied.

“You are a dork. I’ll be sure to watch tonight and give you my notes tomorrow. Have fun Grumpy. Say hi to the other dork for me.”

You hear him tell Chris what you said.

“Bye sweetheart,” Chris shouts.

There goes your stomach again.

“Bye sweetheart,” Scott mocks. You hear a muttered “shuddup” before the call disconnects.

Since the Tonight Show didn’t start until eleven thirty at night, you made sure to be ready for bed before it started. Pajamas on. Check. Teeth brushed. Check. Makeup off. Check. Glass of water on your night stand. Check. Cellphone on hand to harass Scott if need be. Check.

You sent a text to your friend April back in Minnesota to let her know Chris was going to be on. She was a huge Chris Evans fan with a Captain America merchandise collection that could rival any extreme collector. She of course already knew he was going to be on but thanked you anyway. She didn’t know about your new friendship. No. Acquaintanceship with Chris. No one did besides Scott, Jana, and Brooks. It was better to keep it that way.

Chris’ segment was great and you expected nothing less. Revealing that he spoiled the end of Endgame for Anthony Mackie was both funny and sweet. He looked good in his stripped shirt and navy blazer and you expected nothing less in that aspect as well, even if his white sneakers were a little too white for your liking.

When Scott joined Chris on stage to play “Know Your Bro”, you knew the segment was going be hilarious.

The audience as well as yourself were giggling after Scott told the story of Chris pushing him as a child, causing Scott to split his head open resulting in the need to get stitches.

“You know you pushed me. Listen,“ Scott said

“Yeah, but that was between us,” Chris replied, finding it hard to keep his laughter under control.

It was Chris’ turn to tell a story and it was one that you would be sure to bring up in the future. Scott had stomach issues when he was little and for lack of a better word, pooped his pants three times while out skiing with his family. This was not the story Scott expected. You were laughing so hard you were crying. It was great segment. You spent the better part of a half hour searching YouTube for past segments with the two of them.

Before calling it a night, you sent Scott a text knowing you probably wouldn’t get one back tonight.

Y/N: You two should hit the road together. Like a traveling two-man act. I’d pay top dollar to see this act in person!

To your surprise, you did get a text back.

Scott: You couldn’t afford us.

 Traffic was a nightmare with cars on the road at a virtual standstill and you weren’t exactly sure why. Traffic would move a little with your car reaching fifteen miles per hour and then the brake lights would all hit at once again. Really, on I-4 it could be anything causing this back up, but you usually were able to time your day so that you missed most of the congestion. You had a meeting at the office that you couldn’t be late for. Part of the agreement with planning your own schedule was that you had to be at the paper for meetings. This would be the second time you were late in the years you’ve worked there, but you weren’t sure if it was three strikes and you’re out kind of thing. Your phone started to ring, figuring it was the office, your answered it via your steering wheel since it was hooked up to Bluetooth.

“This is Y/N,” you answered.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s Chris.”

There goes your stomach again.

“H-hey Chris. What’s up?”

Chill out. Breath. This is cool. You are cool.

He had never called you before, so this was different.

“Not much. Just wanted to see how you were. Do you have me on speaker phone or something?” he asked.

“Um, kind of. I’m driving.”

“Oh, anywhere fun?”

“Nope, just to the office. What are you up to?” you asked, trying your best not to hit the person in front of you.

“Just hanging out in New York for another day. Not much. Scott disappeared on me, nothing new there.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, clearly distracted from the stop and go traffic you were stuck in. “Fuck,” you swore under your breath.

Chris laughed out loud which brought you out of your haze. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to be late for a meeting and am stuck in traffic. I really can’t be late.”

Chris didn’t say anything for what felt like a minute and you thought maybe you lost the call.

“What’s the address of your office?” Chris asked.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question Sassy,” Chris teased.

“Now you’re both calling me that?” you chuckled. “Um, it’s six three three North Orange Avenue.”

“How far are you?” he asked.

“Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes probably with this traffic,” you replied.

“I’ll call you back in a few,” he said, ending the call before you could reply.

“Well that was really freaking weird,” you said, turning the volume back up on the radio.

True to his word, Chris called you back about five minutes later.

“When you pull off the freeway, you need to go to five five seven East Amelia Street,” he said.

What?

“Chris, I don’t think you understand. I’m late for work. There’s no time to stop anywhere,” you said, clearly exasperated.

“It’s a bakery. There will be an order there under your name. It’s already paid for and they promised it would be all boxed up and ready for when you arrived.”

“I don’t understand. An order? Chris.”

“If you’re late for something, it’s best to show up with a peace offering. Just trust me sweetheart. Call me later,” he said.

“Okay. Um, thanks, Chris.”

“No problem. We’ll talk soon. Bye,” he said.

 You pulled into the bakery a few minutes later, sure enough, two twelve count boxes of cupcakes were waiting for you. One box was marked vegan. He really did think of everything.

Walking into the conference room was nerve racking to say the least. Your boss James eyed you but didn’t call you out. You set the boxes on the table before taking a seat. Once he finished his thought, you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you licked your lips and steadied yourself for the lie. “I wanted to pick up a treat for everyone and it took longer than expected.” You stood up, and got to work opening the boxes. “Please help yourselves,” you said with a smile.

At the end of the meeting, everyone had a smile on their face, including James. There was one cupcake left, you grabbed it out of the box and walked it over to James.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” you said, placing it in front of him and offering a wink while everyone cleared out of the room.

He offered you a smile before you turned to walk away.

It was just after eight when you picked up your phone to call Chris. You were nervous, so nervous. Even though he was the one to call you first, it was still nerve racking to call him. The two of you had been texting for a couple of weeks, but talking on the phone felt more intimate. Before you could change your mind, you clicked on his contact and the line was ringing.

“Heeeelllo,” he answered.

Immediately he put you at ease. “Hey, you dork,” you replied.

“How’d your meeting go?”

“Much better thanks to you. That was very sweet and really smart thinking on your part,” you said.

He scoffed. “You think so little of me?”

“Well, I was led to believe Scott had all the brains.” You couldn’t help the smile on your face.

He scoffed again. “Wait a minute. Where do you get off lady? Thinkin’ my baby brother has all the smarts. I’ll have you know, I read.” Boston accent on full display.

You started to crack up. You tried to get your breathing under control, but it was coming out as wheezing. He started to chuckle and you shook your head.

“I apologize. Truly. Please forgive me sir.”

“Fine. Fine. As long as you never doubt me again,” he said.

“Never.”

 You went to bed with a smile on your face that night and woke up with one as well. Chris was your friend. As strange as that was, it was true.

Unplugging your phone from the charger, you saw you had a couple of texts from Chris.

Does he ever sleep?

Chris: 'Cause you're too sexy beautiful           And everybody want to taste, that's why, that's why           I still get jealous

Chris: Heading to LA. Have a good day sweetheart.

Chris was your friend. Yep. He was just your friend and you needed to remember that.

Chapter 4

Tag list: @mustangshelby04​ @bellaireland1981​ @carolina-thiell​  @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom​ @chrisevansforever-blog​ @kelbabyblue​ @broadwayandnetflix​ @kyjey​ @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like​ @daddieslittlefangirl​ @hista-girl @stankface​ @denisemarieangelina​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @whymalu @the-doctors-fallen-angel​ @mariswritingforfun​ @tessabb7​ @chrisevansfanfic​ @lakamaa12​ @thinkxlovexloud​@deidrashouseofpain @nea90sweetie​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @linki-locks11​ @mywinterwolf​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989 @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder​ @rainbowkisses31​ @xostephanie​

[anxiousstark]

Sparks fly up | t w o

MASTERLIST   ☾  BUY ME A COFFEE

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader.

Summary:  003. She had always been replaced by the same person, Eleven. First, it was Papa who replaced her, then Jim Hopper. Maybe she was replaced because Eleven was younger and had to learn to manage her powers. Or maybe it was because 003 didn’t remember what she could do. Billy Hargrove seems to be the only person who wouldn’t replace her.

Disclaimer: I do not condone Billy’s actions or behaviour on the show nor do I intend to romanticize abuse.

Warning: Swearing, angst, neglect.

A/N: Some parts of this story will be a little slow-burn. Sadly, I hardly have time to write since I started university a couple of weeks ago and I also work after university until night.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

Eleven and Hopper were cuddling on a couch while Three was lying on her bed, a book in her hands and the door fully open. It was a peaceful morning despite the looks Jim Hopper directed at the oldest of the girls, still a little annoyed at her for not having paid enough attention to the youngest. But at the same time, thankful to have her with them. For another inexplicable reason, Hopper didn't know how to talk to the teenager with an adult’s mentality

Someone knocked on the door and Hopper did not move, directing his gaze to Eleven so she would get up and open it herself. El looked at him, smiled and used her powers to open the door showing Joyce Byers with a grin on her face.

Three got out of bed and went to the kitchen, looking for something cold to drink.

"You haven't eaten yet, right?" Joyce closed the door behind her while Eleven shook her head.

"We only have Eggos." He stretched his arms and yawned.

“Great!" A big smile brightened her face. "I invited all the boys to eat as Will's request. They're coming to my house. Jonathan and Nancy took care of buying several things yesterday and I had to come and invite you." She looked at the phone. "I called you but nobody answered and it seemed to be communicating.”

Hopper got up from the couch. "Mmmh, I think I need to buy a new one."

The woman nodded. "So are you guys coming?" Joyce smiled one more time as she observed how Eleven grabbed Hopper by the arm and smiled enthusiastically. She wanted to see her friends again and couldn't wait until night. She also wanted to know more about that girl she had seen in the gym with Mike.

Hopper grabbed his jacket, just like Eleven, and they opened the door to leave the house until Joyce stared at Three. "Hey." She whispered. "I came here to invite all three of you, not just them." The woman had to have a conversation with Hopper. She believed that Three was not receiving the attention she deserved and, after all, she was simply a teenager trying to survive in a world that wanted to lock her in a lab for what she could do. But unlike El, she didn't know anything about her previous life.

Three looked at Jim Hopper and he nodded, for he had already assumed that Three would come with them. Everyone already knew that she lived with Hopper, there was no reason why she had to be locked in that house 24 hours a day. Now that Hopper was thinking about it, it may have been hard for her. "Grab a jacket." He smiled at her. "It's cold." Hopper, Eleven and Joyce left the house, deciding to wait for the teenager in their respective cars.

Three quickly grabbed a jacket and walked to the door. Last night she did not have the opportunity to get to know everyone in-depth, and with some of them, she had only exchanged a few words. She knew that Jonathan and Nancy were the same age as her and that made her nervous because it was easier to be liked by Eleven's friends than people her age. And it was harder knowing she couldn't have a conversation like she was a normal teenager because she wasn't. 

She was going to go out when the phone rang and she couldn't help feeling confused since, according to Joyce and Hopper, the phone wasn’t working properly.

She sighed and approached the wall where the phone was, picking it up. "Yes?" She heard what appeared to be a person breathing heavily. "Mike, if this is a joke I'm going to-." She couldn’t finish speaking because she was interrupted.

"I won't forgive you." A woman's voice rang out, and she seemed to be mourning.

“Mmmh." A shiver ran through her body. "I think you got the wrong person."

"I didn’t." Her voice was now louder. "I’m not mistaken, Y/N. Although I suppose you are now called Three. Incredibly, you are still alive, you should have died the same day HE did." It seemed that she was crying while laughing chillingly. "This time you are not going to escape, you are the next. Murderer." The woman hung up the phone and Three stood there, eyes open and heart beating at a thousand per hour. Y/N? Was that her real name? 

Murderer?

Eleven entered the house, asking her why she was taking so long. She simply smiled and said she wanted to check if the phone wasn’t working. Leaving the house, she tried not to seem worried, without success, considering that when she got into the car, Hopper asked her if she was okay. To which she nodded. A lie.

Without thinking of the call, Three had had a good day. Nancy and Jonathan had taken care of preparing food for everyone and it had turned out quite well. She had the opportunity to present herself more comfortably to all of them, answering the expected question of why she had no powers, to which she answered the truth. She didn’t know.

She could see how much Eleven loved her friends and how she became friends with Max, who hugged Three when she saw her enter the Byers house. She also talked a lot with Jonathan and Nancy, and even though she was shy at first, everything had gone well. Jonathan was really nice and Nancy seemed very happy with the idea of ​​having one more girl around.

The fact that she was a laboratory experiment did not matter.

But things went wrong again. They had spent the whole day at the Byers' house and it seemed that the children would sleep there with the intention of spending the night together and playing D and D.

Things got too much for her, she had spent too many hours surrounded by people. And although she felt appreciated and wanted, she also felt overwhelmed and a strange pain in her chest because she was not used to it.

So with the excuse that she was tired and that her head hurt, she got Hopper to let her walk home. Although he had insisted on taking her, like Jonathan, as it was already too late and it was dark.

Walking on one side of the road she felt that someone was following her and she tried to convince herself that it was her imagination due to the phone call she had received.

She took off her jacket, although Hopper had said it was cold and the trees were moving due to the wind, she wasn’t cold.

She felt like vomiting because of the nerves she felt, now it was not her imagination. From the other side of the road, it seemed that someone was watching her. She stopped dead and began to cross the road slowly, intending to approach the other side and hoping to see that there was only one wild animal but she perceived green eyes in the dark, the eyes of a human. Eyes that she swore to have seen before.

She didn’t fully cross the road when a light dazzled her and a big noise scared her. She covered her eyes with her arm.

"What are you doing here at this time?" Someone spoke to her. She got used to the light and realized that it was Billy Hargrove, in his beloved car. Three looked to the right, still seeing those eyes. Without answering, she walked quickly to the passenger seat and got into the car. Feeling calmer at the smell of Billy, which she had memorized although she had only seen Billy once.

"Woah." He smirked. "Didn’t think you were this type of girl.”

Three didn’t answer, still looking into those eyes. She extended her hand and pressed the button that closed the doors, feeling safer that way.

Billy left the bastard image behind when he realized she seemed anxious. He looked at where she was looking but couldn't see anything. "All good?"

"Hmm, I think someone is following me."

"Who?"

"I don’t know." She ran her hands through her hair and wondered if she should tell Billy what had happened. "Do you know how to keep secrets?"

Billy thought about the father shit he had and the times he had been beaten by him. "Yes, I know how to keep a secret."

She started talking quickly, telling him about the call she had received, knowing that later on, she would have to talk about her past and explain to him that ‘Three’ wasn’t just a nickname. It was her name. The number that marked her.

The teenage boy was confused but listened attentively to her. She seemed so anxious that he could also feel the same.

“Let me check.” After listening to her, Billy decided to get out of the car and go check what was on the bushes, but Three stopped him while grabbing his arm, thinking that it wasn’t a good idea. 

“Don’t get out of the car.” It seemed like she was begging. “It could be dang-.”

Something fell on top of the car, almost breaking the front glass. Both teenagers screamed bloody. But what was bloody was the glass of the car where the words ‘You are next’ appeared as if magic was.

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[flimflamfandom]

Dinner with Nina

I write about Calvin and Ivy a lot, but hey, they’re my favorites! What’re you gonna do?

Words:1624 Summary: Ivy comes over for dinner Warnings: No real ones but watch out because Nina is off the shits

Calvin was extremely nervous. He looked like it, too, as he stood and waited for Ivy. The two were facing Nina McMurray for dinner tonight. Normally, dinner with mom wouldn’t be freaking Calvin out at all; after all, it was his mother, he wasn’t exactly a stranger to eating meals with her. No, the scary thing was-

“So this’ll look okay?” Ivy had on a yellow day dress and a cloche hat to match, along with some small heels. She laughed a little. “Or does your mother disapprove of bright colors?” She walked over and joked, “They didn’t have yeller dyes in th’ good book, ye know!” She mocked Nina’s voice, or at least what she thought it could sound like. Calvin nervously giggled. “It looks fine.” The two started to walk. “Hey, now, Calvin, it can’t be that bad.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, your mom! She can’t be too awful with me can she? She knows I make you happy and all, that should be her number one goal.”

“I dunno, it’s just...I tried to tell her you’re a little more modern than she might’ve hoped. In truth I wanted her to let you over wearing breeches. She said it would be fine, but in that ‘it won’t be fine’ sort of way?” Ivy furrowed a brow and smiled. “Sarcastically?” She held Calvin’s hand. “Doesn’t bother me if I have to wear stuff like this at all, Cal, you know that.”

“I don’t want to force you to act any old way, either. I want you to be as you as possible.”

“You mean no batting my eyes and swooning gracefully whenever you walk into the room?” She sighed, feigning a swoon and falling into Calvin’s arms. The two laughed. “No, none of that. She won’t mind that at all.”

“Then what’re you even afraid of? She sounds lovely.”

The two arrived, and Calvin knocked. “Can’t be holding hands fer this bit.” He stood there, seeming nervous to even walk into his own house; his tail was up and his ears were perked as high as they could be. Nina walked to the door. “Calvin. Glad to see you decided t’pop in...where’s that girl?”

Ivy stepped out from behind, smiling brightly. “Hello!” She went over to shake Nina’s hand. “I’m Ivy, it’s a pleasure to me-”

“Pleasure’s all mine, now get in here before the food runs cold.” Ivy’s hand was left there by an already upset Nina...the two were so late!

The three of them sat down to eat; Irish Stew, Soda bread, Coddle, even smoked salmon lined the table. Nina had been working hard all day to get this prepared. Calvin had helped early in the morning, as well, but most of this was Nina’s work. “Ivy, ” Nina very dryly started, “What is it you do?”

“Oh, I’m a student at the university.” She said, trying not to speak with her mouthful.

“What d’ye study then?”

“Liberal arts, but I’m more or less going for mathematics.”

“Oh, good. Y’can help Calvin, he never had good maths scores.”

“Ma, now’s not the ti-”

“Oh, now that ye have a girl who runs numbers, ye don’t want te take advantage? I’m only tryin’ t’help ye Cal.”

“Ma, I understand but I’m done with school fer no-”

“And there’s the rest of your trouble, ye never made it through writing school. Didye even finish that book?” Ivy sat there awkwardly poking her stew, trying hard not to listen to her boyfriend getting absolutely grilled.

“It’s...I’m in the planning stages.”

“Been in the planning stages for 2 years.” Nina said. Ivy spoke up. “Well, he’s been awfully busy.”

“Oh, dearie, don’t let the boy tell ye he’s been bus-”

“He’s the only reason I’m not failing English.” She said. She was trying to give Calvin some sort of ammunition. “Is he now?” Calvin nodded. “She’s doing much better in it since I’ve come along, ma.”

Ivy nodded quickly. “All those author’s names and interpretations…”

“Hmm. Good on you, Calvin.” Nina smiled. “You seem to like my boy.”

“I do, he’s grand!” Ivy said. “He’s always so sweet, and he looks great, too...did his father look like this? I see a lot of you in him.”

“His father did look like him a bit. He’s got his father’s height.” Calvin blushed and smiled, starting to draw into himself. Nina ate a little. “Calvin, don’t hide s’much, no one’s gonna bite you.” Calvin nodded and sat up, and Ivy started to speak. “So what was it like raising him?”

“Oh, it was interesting. Most of it was that cousin of his, Roarke...have ye met Roarke?”

“Roarke?” Calvin whispered “Rocky.” to her. Ivy nodded. “I know him! I can see why it was so troubling, must’ve been nice having Calvin around.” Nina smiled. “Well, he wasn’t the greatest, either...he was usually fairly quiet. Every once and a while though, he’d snap.” She said. “Bouncin’ off the walls, hootin’ and hollerin’, like a mad man.” She glared at Calvin. “Of course, we’ve got that all under control now?” Calvin just...nodded. Ivy blushed. “W-well...if it helps, I haven’t seen any of that going on, so i figure it’s alright.” Calvin ate a bit of soda bread. Ivy looked over to Nina. “So, Ms. McMurray?”

“Nina will do.”

“Nina...how have things been recently? Anything new?”

“Well, other than Calvin being out of the house so much, nothing new. Been pretty quiet around here. Sometimes I actually miss the poor mite.” She looked over at Calvin. Calvin kept eating. Nina spoke. “But no, it’s not so bad. How about you, dearie? He treating you well?” Ivy smiled. “Oh, sure! He really is phenomenal.” She thought of a way to try and keep things about Calvin positive. “You really raised him well, he’s very kind.” She smiled. “Well, I tried hard with this one.”

Nina finished eating and sat back in her chair. Calvin finished as well. Soon the whole trio had finished, and had moved to the sitting room. There was a piano, and Nina had been eyeing it all night. “Calvin, you still know some tunes, don’t you?” Nina wasn’t one to show how proud she was of her kids, but she was certainly proud of this. Calvin shook his head. “Ma, I dunno, I-”

“No, no, I insist! She wants t’hear you sing.”

Ivy looked on with a big, excited grin. “I do!” Calvin headed over to the piano. “Alright...what do we want to hear?”

“Killarney, you sing that one so well.”

“Irish or English?” He asked. Ivy cocked her head. “I’d prefer the English.” Nina smiled. “Go on, Calvin, we haven’t got up to midnight do we?” Calvin shook his head and plunked out a few chords, playing a sour note and starting over. He got to singing.

“By Killarney’s lakes and fells, em’rald isles and winding bays, mountain paths and woodland dells, mem’ry ever fondly strays…” The two listened in as he kept going. Ivy looked over at Nina. It was the happiest she’d looked that night. She gathered from a portrait on the wall that her husband before her was the one who played the piano most. She gathered from Nina’s face that this was what made her most proud; she’d always wanted Calvin to be a singer, but Calvin just had other ideas. Sometimes they didn’t work well with each other...sometimes they did.

“Beauty’s home, Killarney...heaven’s reflex, Killarney!” He played a few more chords and then stopped. Nina clapped loudly and smiled, and Ivy did, as well. Calvin turned around on the piano bench and feigned a bow, looking over and clasping his hands in his lap. “Such a sweet voice on him!” Nina commented. Calvin sat back down. “Are you two impressed?” He joked. Nina nodded. “Yes, yes, of course we are. I dunno why you don’t do that more often?”

“I’m too busy trying to write a book.” He said. He was ready for another jabbing comment. Nina didn’t deliver. “Well, as soon as it’s done, write some poems so you can put music to ‘em. That’s where the money is these days.” She winked. Ivy stood and stretched. “I think I’m gonna get headed home.” She said. “I’m beat.” Calvin stood up. “I can walk you home?”

“Nina, you wouldn’t mind it?”

“Not at all.” Ivy and Calvin walked back. Ivy looked up. “Is she always that mean to you?”

“Sometimes. When guests are over.” He said. “That’s what was making me so nervous, really...she’s very demanding.” He held her gently. Ivy looked up. “Well, don’t worry about any of that from me.” Calvin smiled. “I wasn’t too worried.” They got to her door, and he kissed her gently. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Ivy smiled. “Goodnight.”

Calvin got home. “Ma?”

“Aye?”

“Did’ye have t’be that mean in front of Ivy?” Nina looked up. “She still loves you, right?” He scratched his head. “Well, of course, but it’s a bit embarrassing.” Nina shrugged. “She didn’t seem t’mind. She was defending you the whole night.”

“Yer saying I’m pathetic now?”

“I’m saying she’s very good for you.” She said. She put a hand on his. “Of course I don’t think you’re pathetic. You’re a good man, Calvin. And she’s perfect for ye if she’s willing to sit through a bunch of Irish cooking and a mean old lady.” Calvin looked confused. “So...you meant to do all that? All that?”

“She saw you being ripped apart and jumped in for you.” She looked over her glasses at him. “I wanted to be sure she would.”

Calvin sat in the chair next to her. “...you could’ve just asked.” He said.

“Not as fun that way.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 024: Todoroki VS a Giant Robot

Previously on BnHA: All Might told Deku to use the sports fest to become one of the popular kids. Deku was all “but I’m not sure if I want to be a popular kid.” All the other kids in U.A. came over to start some shit with class 1-A. Bakugou was all, YOU GUYS SUUUUUCK, and then this one guy with raccoon eyes literally declared war on them. The other 1-A kids were like AHHH BAKUGOU WHAT DID YOU DO but he was all I’M AIMING FOR THE TOP and fucking everyone was like WHOA and then they all trained and now it’s the day of the fest! Also Todoroki came up to Deku and was like let’s be rivals and Deku was like... ... ....YES.

Today on BnHA: Bakugou ad-libs the Athletes’ Oath. The sports festival kicks off with an obstacle course. Class A gets right into it. Todoroki fucks up some robots. Deku prepares to go fucking apeshit on this thing.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 44 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

fucking go figure that the instant Japan’s population suddenly gets superpowers, they immediately do away with the Olympics and are all, “TIME FOR THE FUCKING HUNGER GAMES, BITCHES”

class 1-A is entering the arena first! well, they fucking earned it. and also they come first alphabetically. but they still fucking earned it

Deku is all OH SHIT THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE WATCHING

and Iida is like yes there are indeed a copious number of homo sapiens gathered here to observe our participation in this grand and glorious spectacle today

Kiri is like BAKUGOU HEY BAKUGOU LOOK AT ALL THE PEOPLE WHAT DO YOU THINK, BAKUGOU

Yamamoto. Yamamoto to Bakudou’s Gokudera. I love it and it’s a fine, fine thing

Bakugou you should be more grateful that you somehow have one friend now

so like seven other classes are coming out now, and then they all gather for the oath!

IT’S THE MADAME

“THE R-RATED HERO MIDNIGHT” OH MY GOD

WOW they sure can get away with a lot in Shounen Jump these days, huh

I mean, you go and do your own thing though, Midnight!

is her power r-rated. sob. I’m. actually really curious loll

WHOA WHAT

WHAT DOES THE STUDENT REPRESENTATIVE DO AND WHY IS IT HIM AND WHEN WAS THAT DECIDED

DEKU’S FACE LMAO

“must be because he placed first in the entrance exam” ah okay

what does the student representative do though

ahhh he’s climbing up to the stage

BAKUGOU’S GOING TO LEAD THEM IN THE OATH OMG

if it’s like the Olympic Oath then it’s going to be really earnest and idealistic and so weirdly out of character for him then

yeah boy you stand up there with your hands in your pockets and do this

...is this the oath

SOMEHOW I get the feeling it’s not lmao

THIS IS WHY YOU DO REHEARSALS FOR THESE THINGS U.A.

everyone is booing him and he’s like flexing up there on the stage and this fucking guy

and meanwhile Deku is standing there thinking deep thoughts about him

oh my god Deku you can’t keep doing this without warning

JUST WRITE A FUCKING FANFIC ABOUT HIM DEKU. GO ON AND WRITE YOUR KACCHAN META. YOU PROBABLY ALREADY HAVE ONE DON’T YOU. IT’S PROBABLY IN YOUR FUCKING NOTEBOOK RIGHT NOW

just. I can’t believe Deku is out here doing my fucking job for me jesus christ

but anyways. what the fuck kind of athlete’s oath was that lmao

and they’re all just shrugging their shoulders and getting on with it. well okay then

so @alessandriana tells me this arc will have some good Bakugou moments, and what with it starting off like that, I can’t wait to see where this is all gonna go

(ETA: THAT WAS A SURPRISINGLY DEVASTATING TWIST AT THE END)

also I’m interested as to what kind of superhero sponsors he’s going to attract (if any) with this kind of plucky FUCK YOU GUYS IMMA WIN THIS THING attitude

the qualifiers! let’s goooo

OOH AN OBSTACLE COURSE

whaaat the fuck lol. “a race between every member of all eleven classes.” like, all of them at once? because that basically IS the hunger games if that’s the case

can you even fit that many people on an obstacle course all at once

a four-kilometer lap around the stadium... exactly how big is this stadium

after a couple minutes’ research, I learned that MetLife Stadium in NJ has a circumference of 2 miles, so this is bigger than that. and MetLife is pretty damn big. no wonder Deku was intimidated by the size of the crowd

so basically the rules are “do what you want but stay on the course”

they could literally start murdering each other or some shit. well, like I said. hunger games

everyone’s lining up for the start and shit’s getting tense

Deku is crouching forward looking all serious and remembering what All Might said about announcing to the world, “I AM HERE”

is he gonna attempt to use One for All again? because he will fuck up his legs, unless he managed a miracle in training these last couple of weeks

“realistically speaking, I still can’t regulate it... to a reasonable extent” well that answers my question. except not really

“that’s why I have to overcome it” yeah, you just stand there and think vague things then, Deku. guess I’m not gonna get a straight answer out of you huh kid

light’s turning green!

here comes a fucking stampede

so exactly how many kids die in this event every year I wonder

where’s exit sign Iida when you need him

hmm Deku seems to be noticing something about the starting gate. probably that it’s the first obstacle

Todoroki is not fucking around lmao

best to just let him get on ahead. he’ll only fuck you all up

Bakugou and Iida should also be pretty fast here though

oho, Aizawa’s sitting next to Mic in the commentary box! and he’s still all bandaged up!! wow, he hasn’t healed yet after two whole weeks... this truly is a different kind of shounen

uh oh here comes the circus

”half and half” lmao

I see Aoyama is up to his usual glorious nonsense

Kirishima should not be fast enough to keep up with the rest of class A with his power but look at him go anyway

I BELIEVE IN YOU ALL, GODSPEED

also when will Homestuck and Birdman get to actually do something anyway??

and I am taking note of that “sizzle” fx coming from Homestuck, which is not helping me to narrow down her mysterious powers at all. I bet it’s clearer in the anime, but I’m kind of worried about spoiling myself now

(ETA: surprisingly it was not clear and I’m still not sure what the hell it is that she creates even after watching that whole arc. it looks like acid, maybe? but who fucking knows.)

OCHAKO SAYS SHE CAN’T BUST OUT HER SUPER-SECRET MOVES YET. SHE HAS SUPER-SECRET MOVES?!

OHO WHAT’S THIS

methinks someone may possibly have a mind control quirk! I was waiting for someone to have a mind control quirk!

Todoroki is impressed by the number of people who made it past his ice blast

were you just planning to freeze all 160 kids there Todoroki

Mineta is trying to do something. Mineta has forgotten that he’s cancelled

better

now what the heck was that thing

ehh? these are the robots from the entrance exam? how cheap and lazy, U.A. I want some Harry Potter obstacles. like dragons and sphinxes and shit

oohhhh but if we can’t have that then I guess I will reluctantly accept Todoroki vs a Giant Robot instead

actually that’s like three giant robots

actually that’s like... uhh... you know what, we’ll just say that it’s a lot

lol the kids from the other courses are like “the hero course kids fought THOSE?” yeah that’s right. show some damn respect

oh that’s right, Todoroki and Momo haven’t seen these before

[SLAMS HAND ON TABLE] RIGHT???! FUCKING RIGHT, MOMO!!!??!! YES, EXACTLY, SOMEONE OVER AT U.A. HAS EITHER A ROBOT-PRINTING QUIRK OR A MONEY-PRINTING QUIRK I SWEAR TO GOD

it would be so fucking funny if everyone got real quiet and turned and stared at Deku expectantly, waiting for him to do something. obviously it won’t happen but just the thought of it made me chuckle

but this time we’ve got good ol’ Frozone here, so

yeah they cheaped out on us Todo

hi hello, um, what

I immediately pictured dad being like an ice dude and mom being a fire gal. so basically like Daenerys and Jon Snow

(ETA: lol got it backwards, but basically)

Todoroki is now freezing the giant robot with ease

lol the other kids are hovering behind him just letting him take out all the obstacles for them

uh oh he doesn’t seem too keen on that

Todoroki did you just. crush a bunch of fifteen-year-olds

well that will certainly hold a number of them back. but probably not anyone from 1-A, or that mind control guy

Deku you were still that far behind?? get moving kiddo

all the robots are staring him down again

I wonder does it count as using his power against someone else if he uses it against a robot

I know it didn’t work the first time, but that was literally the first time, and it was before he knew the microwave trick

go punch some robots Deku

what kind of a face is this. no seriously. it’s like he has absolutely no idea what he’s gonna do, but he’s not gonna let that stop him. haha, well okay

BONUS:

HARVEY BIRDMAN

so you went for 4 syllables on both your first and last names, huh buddy. well then, I’ll go with “Fumikage” for now, since I’m gonna get “Tokoyami” mixed up with Todoroki I think

(ETA: in the end I was forced to memorize “Tokoyami” since that’s what everyone uses. let me tell you, it was exactly as difficult as I predicted. but I did it!)

“favorite things: dimly lit places” wow

(ETA: actually this now makes sense, kinda? except he said that while darkness makes his power stronger, it also makes it harder to control. which sounds scary to me but I guess he’s into it?)

“I personally think this guy is cool beyond cool” yeah I’ll say. dimly lit places. just sitting there in those dark corners eating apples while music from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack plays

[waywardnerd67]

Writing Your Story: Chap. 10 - You Should’ve Listen to Me

Summary: Sam and Dean get a lead on Jack, the Nephilim and go in search of him. Raelyn tries to convince them to not go or to take her along since she knows everything that will happen. Raelyn and Dean get into a major fight and then the brothers end up missing.   Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel and Raelyn Nichols (OFC) Pairing: Dean X Raelyn (OFC) Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2950 A/N: As you can tell this is from the “Wayward Sisters” episode with Raelyn added into it. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

“Have you heard from Cas at all?” Dean asked as the three of them were sitting in the library. It had been a few weeks since Raelyn and Dean had run into Raymond in Chicago and Raelyn had been pushing herself looking for a way to kill him. The brothers had been splitting their time between looking for Jack and helping Raelyn. She glanced up from the book she was reading watching Dean leaving another voicemail for Patience Turner, a teenage psychic they had met months back. “He said he was working a lead in Tucson on Jack. He calls in like every other day.” Sam said frustrated. Dean groaned as he plopped down in his chair. “I just want a break in something rather that is finding the kid or how to kill the hybrid.” As if the universe had been listening to him, Sam’s phone rang. He put it on speaker, “Jody, what’s going on?” Sheriff Jody Mills was a friend of the brothers and fellow hunter in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. “Hi boys, I think I may have a lead on your missing kid.” Raelyn put her book down as Sam and Dean listened intently to Jody. She tells them of a man whose eyes were burnt out in Bismarck, North Dakota. “I just sent you a picture of the description the wife gave. Is that you kid?” Dean’s eyes lit up, “Sure is. Thanks Jody.” Dean got up out of his seat heading towards his room as Sam and Jody chatted some more.

Raelyn was having the feeling of déjà vu again, but different than from her nightmares. When it hit her as to why she quickly got up and rushed to Dean’s room. He was packing his duffel bag with clothes as she barged in. “Don’t go.” She said slightly out of breath. Dean looked up her confused, “Why not? We finally got a lead on the kid after months of jack with a side of squat.” He continued to pack his bag as she tried to figure out a way to convince him to stay. “Dean, this is exactly how my next Supernatural novel starts. I know what is going to happen.” Dean stopped for a moment setting the clothes he had in hands on top of his bag. He walked over to her running his hands down her arms gently. “Nothing is set in stone. Sam and I have proved repeatedly that we make our own destinies. What you saw, what you wrote may not happen. I can’t let this lead on Jack go. Sam and I have to follow it and I know that scares you.” Raelyn sighed nodding. “Dean, I don’t know… what I would…” He pulled her into his arms wrapping them around her. “Raelyn, I promise you we will come back. We always come back. When I get back you and I are going to have the redo date, okay?” She looked up at him and nodded as he leaned down gently pressing his soft lips against hers.

Raelyn watched as Sam and Dean drove off in the Impala. She walked back to her room and tried to focus on finishing her newest set of rewrites from her publisher. After a few hours of struggling to work on her manuscript she decided to go down to the shooting range and let off some steam. As soon as they came back from Chicago, Dean started training her how to handle guns, knives and to fight. He wanted her to be able to protect herself though he always reassured her that she would not need to because he would always be there. She put on her noise cancelling headphones and picked up the Glock 19 loading the clip into it. She took the safety off and aimed down at the target. The first few shots she missed the target but the next few after she hit center mass.

She felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket and quickly switched the safety back on. She set it down and picked up her phone. “Hey Sam.” She heard Dean ordering food in the background. “Hey Raelyn, we are stopping for the night in Sioux Falls. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” She chuckled as she unloaded the clip in her gun and set it back in its case. “I’m alright. Just spent some time down in the range since I got frustrated at my manuscript.” Sam snickered, “Please don’t tell me you shot at your manuscript.” She heard Dean in the back saying, “She what? Sammy, give me the phone.” She listened to them bicker and laughed as Dean wrestled the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Sweetheart, I know you have struggled with your writing but no reason to shoot at it.” She was laughing even harder now. “I wasn’t shoot at my manuscript. I was shooting at targets, but now that you mention it I wouldn’t mind shooting my manuscript.” Dean started laughing now. “Don’t shoot your manuscript. So, how’d you do with the target?” She pulled the target sheet forward so she could see it better, “Four solid shots center mass.” Raelyn could just see the proud smile on his face when he spoke, “That’s my girl! Raelyn, we have to go but I will chat with you later, okay?” She said goodbye and pulled the target sheet off.

She walked into Dean’s room and taped it to his wall circling her best shots. As she was about to leave she saw his closet door open. She looked inside and saw his flannels hanging up. He had a red and black buffalo pattern flannel that was her favorite that was hanging up. She took it off the hanger and slipped her arms in the sleeves and brought the collar up to her nose. Even though it was clean it still smelled like Dean. She kept the shirt on as she turned off his light and closed his door walking across the hall to her room. About an hour later Dean Facetime her as she was in bed writing in her journal. “Hey pretty boy all settled in?” she asked setting her phone up on its stand as she continued writing. “Yeah, all cozy at The Falls Motel. Raelyn, are you wearing my shirt?” Dean chuckled as she felt her face heat up. “Uh, maybe…” she said looking over at her phone to see Dean biting his bottom lip. “Hmm, looks much better on you than on me.” Raelyn rolled her eyes, “I beg to differ. What’s the plan to find Jack?” Dean explained what their plans were for the next day and Raelyn settled under her blanket listening to him talk. His husky baritone voice lulled her to sleep and the next thing she knew it was the next morning. She checked her phone seeing a goodnight text from Dean and decided to leave him be since she knew he would be working throughout most of the day.

For most of the day she was able to focus on her manuscript with only a few interruptions. Sam had texted her letting her know they found Jack and would call later with everything that happened. Around midnight, Raelyn was starting to get tired and she still had not heard from Sam or Dean. She texted them both and called Dean with no answers. She knew if Dean would sometimes Facetime her in the wee hours of the morning so she decided to go to sleep and put her phone ringer on loud. She woke up the next morning and checked her phone to see nothing from Sam and Dean. Trying to keep calm she decided to take a shower and eat breakfast before trying them again. She paced around the bunker waiting for them to call her. Finally, around five o’clock in the evening, Raelyn went into Dean’s room and looked for anything with Jody’s phone number in it. She found an old address book with her number and called her.

“Sheriff Jody Mills.” She answered. “Sheriff Mills, my name is Raelyn Nichols…” before she could get anything else out Jody spoke, “Raelyn! I’m so glad you called. Dean told us all about you when he was here. Have you heard from him or Sam recently?” Raelyn sat on Dean’s bed her knees suddenly weak. “No, that is why I was calling. I was hoping you had heard from them.” Jody sighed, “Not for a few days. Look, one of the girls I looked after, Claire Novak, is on her way here to help us look for Sam and Dean. Just stay at the bunker and I will call you as soon as I know anything.” Raelyn stood up walking into her room. “No, I’m coming up there. I can be of help.” She heard Jody chuckle, “Dean said you could be stubborn. Seriously, we have a whole group of hunters up here to look for Sam and Dean. I will save your phone number and you have my word I will call you with any information.” Raelyn sighed defeatedly. “Okay. The moment you know of anything…” Jody reassured her she would be the first person she called. Now Raelyn laid on her bed panic filling her entire body. That night she tossed and turned afraid to go to sleep in case she would miss a call from the boys or Jody. In the back of her mind she thought maybe Raymond could have something to deal with this but somehow, she knew he did not. It was well past four in the morning when she finally fell asleep.

The next couple of days were torture for Raelyn as she had not heard anything from Sam and Dean or Jody. She was getting ready to say screw it and drive up to Sioux Falls when her phone rang showing Dean’s number. “Dean?!” she answered. “I’m so sorry Raelyn.” Was all he said and she felt tears spring up. “You should’ve listen to me! What happened? Are you okay? Did you find Jack?” she was rambling. “I know, you’re right I should have listened to you. Sam and I will explain everything once we are back to the bunker. We are getting ready to leave Jody’s now. Just so you know, I told her not to call you when they found us. I wanted to call you myself so you could hear my voice and know I am okay.” Raelyn let out the sob she had been holding in. She tried to calm herself down but a few days’ worth of stress and panic was now flowing from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. We will be home soon I promise and you can kick my ass as soon as I get there.” She let out a small laugh, “You better believe it that I’m going to kick your ass. Be safe coming home.” Raelyn sighed a breath of relief after hanging up the phone with Dean.

When Sam and Dean got home, things were different with them. They both were a little more defeated especially Sam. He was staying in his room a lot more and sleeping throughout the morning. One morning as Dean was making pancakes Sam came walking in with someone on speaker phone. “Donna, tell Dean what you just told me.” Dean listened as Sheriff Donna Hanscum explained how her niece had gone missing and she needed help. “Donna send us the info and we’ll be there.” Dean said as Sam ended the call. Sam went back to his room as Dean sat down next to Raelyn. “I know it’s only been a week since we went to an alternate reality, but Donna is family.” Raelyn held her hand up, “Say no more, you need to go and help her. I will be fine. Just check in with me.” Dean kissed the top of her head, “Thank you for understanding.” She nodded as he left the kitchen. She said goodbye to them in the library as she worked on her research on Raymond. Dean checked in with Raelyn everyday he was gone.

About a week after they returned, Dean came into Raelyn’s room one afternoon as she was looking over her convention schedule coming up for the next year. “Hey, do you have a moment to talk?” he asked. She looked up from her laptop and nodded. Dean sat down on her bed, “I was wondering if you would like to go out on a date this Saturday night?” Raelyn smirked as she leaned back in her chair, “Would this be our redo date?” He chuckled, “Yeah it could be our redo date, but also, I know Valentine’s Day was kind of a bust so I would like to make that up to you as well.” Raelyn started laughing as Dean nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “A bust? You were under a love potion spell and obsessed with a skinny witch.” Dean let out a groan as his head hung low. “Well at least I didn’t marry her unlike Sam who ended up marrying super fan Becky.” Raelyn doubled over laughing remembering when she read that in the Supernatural novel. “Alright pretty boy, we can go out on a date on Saturday.” The bright smile on Dean’s face melted Raelyn’s heart. “Awesome! Be ready at six o’clock.” Raelyn nodded as she turned back around to her laptop. She heard Dean shout out a loud yes as he walked through the hallway causing her to giggle.

Late Saturday afternoon, Raelyn started getting ready for her date with Dean. Not knowing what they were doing she decided on a simple pair of skinny jeans with her knee-high boots. She wore a simple olive-green blouse and pinned back her wavy curls so they were over her right shoulder. She decided not to wear any make-up except for a bit of lip gloss. She grabbed a black sweater as she heard Dean knock on her door. She opened it to see him holding flowers, “Miss Nichols, for you.” She took the variety of carnations, daisies and pink roses. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester. I need to find a vase for these and put them in water before we leave.” Dean followed her to the kitchen where she found a container large enough for the flowers that would work until she bought a vase. As she put them on the table in the library Dean held out his arm to her. “You look beautiful tonight.” She blushed giving him a once over, “Not too bad yourself, pretty boy.” Dean was wearing his black jeans with a white under shirt and a dark maroon button-down shirt. However, it was his shoes that she noticed the most. “Dean, are you wearing Converse?” He looked down at his traditional black Converse and wiggled his foot. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about with them. You are always talking about how amazing they are so I went and got a pair today.” She pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He smiled down at her, “I guess you approve then.” She nodded as they walked to the garage.

Dean took her to a nice Italian restaurant and then a late showing of Raelyn’s favorite horror movie in a local theater. They were walking back to the car after the movie holding hands and laughing about the movie. “Nothing says romance like Michael Meyers killing people.” Dean said as she laughed. “Hey, we could have seen that Fifty Shades movie because you know hardcore sex is so romantic.” Dean’s face perked up, “Yeah, I would have never made it through that movie. Really, hardcore sex?” Raelyn nodded, “Eh, for the most part. It’s an erotic novel that has sold billions of copies.” Dean hummed his response and as they reach the Impala he opened the door for her. She knew he was curious if she had read the books and just did not want to ask her. “Yes Dean, I have read erotic novels before. Several of them actually.” His traditional Winchester smirk came across his face. “Hmm, good to know.” She chuckled as she got into the car. Raelyn slid over next to Dean in the Impala as he drove back towards the bunker. She was resting her head on his shoulder as his hand was on her thigh. He drove past the exit for the bunker and Raelyn lifted her head. “Where are we going?” Dean smiled, “You’ll see.”

Dean made a few more turns and was driving down a gravel road into an open field. He shut off the car and helped her out of it. He shrugged off his jacket placing it over her shoulders, “Wait here for just a second.” She nodded as he went to the trunk. She looked up seeing an amazing display of stars. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket and she heard Dean shut the trunk. She smiled when she watched him lay out a blanket for them in front of the Impala. Raelyn sat down first and Dean sat behind her with his legs on either side of her. Raelyn leaned her back against him and he wrapped his arms around her waist. They spent several minutes silently staring up into the night sky watching the stars shining bright. “So, how was my redo date? Did it make up for the worst date ever?” Raelyn looked over to him nodding happily. “Definitely. This has been the perfect date, Dean.” He leaned down and gently kissed her. “Good.” He said and looked back up at the stars.  

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @ladywinchester1967 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @weirdoblogger69 @1967-essentialghoul

[aqua-harry]

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part VI (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two » Part Three » Part Four » Part Five

Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here! The amazing @graceak​ made a phenomenal playlist to go along with Harry’s story, and I could not recommend it more. You can find that here!

“But it’s like…” Harry stops and starts again. “I met with Carly, her replacement, and she’s nice enough. So nice. Lovely girl, really. But every time I talk with her about the plans, I jus...I can’t smile. I can’t get excited about it. ‘m not supposed t’ be talkin’ with Carly about them. She’s not the one who made ‘em. She’s not the one who...well, y’know.”

“If I’m being honest,” Gemma sighs on the other end of the phone, “I would’ve done the same thing, had I been put in that situation.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I would’ve, too. And I wouldn’t’ve been as nice.”

Harry didn’t need his sister to tell him he was in the wrong, but he did need her advice. So, he bucked up the strength to call her in his time of need, explaining everything, starting with the night he’d met you at Nick’s house. He spared no detail - it wasn’t worth lying to his sister just to make himself look better, as he knew she would see right through it. She let him tell the entire story, never interrupting, but offering an affirming “mm-hmm” every now and again.

“Well,” she chirps. “What’re you going to do now?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, picking at the loose string on his t-shirt. “‘s why ‘m calling you.”

“Full disclosure?” Gemma questions.

“Course.”

“When Mum told me you’d be getting your new place designed by her, I did my research,” she chuckles. “Not t’ scope her out as a person, because I wasn’t aware of your infatuation, but just t’ see what her work looked like. She’s really cool, Harry.”

“I know this,” he smiles.

“Like really cool. And gorgeous. Her eyebrows are incredible. I know ‘ve got great brows, but hers are just...phenomenal.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but laugh.

“And if what you say is true about her, then she seems even cooler. Y’know I’m not one to be jealous because I think it’s a waste of time, but I kinda am,” she says. “More of you, really. Jealous that y’get to spend time with her!”

“Gem!”

“But really,” she scoffs. “In all my years of knowin’ you - what is it, almost 23 now? You’ve never been this way over a girl. Over anyone, really.”

“‘cept when I was 15, maybe…”

“No, not even then. At least she was your girlfriend then. This one...this one is different from the others,” she sniffs, her voice contemplative. “All of ‘em.”

“How do you know?” Harry asks. “I ‘aven’t told you about all of ‘em.”

“That’s exactly why she’s different, Harry.”

The siblings are quiet for a moment, the weight of Gemma’s statement settling atop both of them, a wool blanket that was appreciated, yet uncomfortable to the point of removal.

“So what do I do?” Harry bites the skin around his thumb nail. “Did I fuck it up for good?”

“Probably,” Gemma laughs, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t call y’for a laugh, Gemma,” he groans, resting a hand over his brow. “Coulda called ten other people if I wanted t’ be made fun of for being a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Hey,” her voice is curt. “You’re not an idiot, alright? Not even close.”

“Feel a bit like one.”

“Which you’re allowed,” she goes on. “But just because y’did something stupid doesn’t mean you’re an idiot overall. We’ve all done stuff we regret. Like the time I got a fringe because I thought it’d look good…”

“Wouldja ju-”

“Calm down, yeah?” Gemma laughs, getting back to the point. “What ‘m tryin’ to say is that we all make mistakes. If she’s as good of a person as y’ve made her up to be in your mind, she’ll at least be willing to hear you out.”

“‘ve already apologized excessively. Like to the point of it probably not even meanin’ anythin’...”

“Doesn’t matter,” she clears her throat. “Do it again. Do it with flowers - y’ said you brought her a bouquet of peonies?”

“Yeah.”

“Send her another. This time with some added shit to make it fancy - make sure it’s got a vase to go along with it. Nothing says “I’m sorry for calling you drunk and making you so uncomfortable that you had to give my account to your employee” like a bouquet of her favorite flowers.”

“Okay but th-”

“Not finished,” Gemma stops her younger brother. “Don’t just order them online. Go to a shop, make sure the arrangement is just as you want it to be, ‘n then hand write a note that goes along with it. Somethin’ that’ll make her smile. One of your stupid jokes or summat.”

“They’re not stu-”

“Still not finished,” she grunts. “She’ll have to call to say thank you. Or at least text.You’ve made her feel awkward, but she’s still professional, otherwise she wouldn’t’ve told you to sod off in the first place.”

“Well I think ‘sod off’ is a bit har-”

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay. ‘m sorry. Please continue…”

“Thank you,” she sighs. “When she calls, or texts, or whatever, ask her for dinner. And before you say no,” she quickly says as she hears Harry taking in a breath to interrupt his older sister yet again, “ask her as a friend. Say you know you’ve apologized plenty, but y’ feel really bad for what you’ve done and y’ wanna thank her for being nice and everythin’ she’s done for you. Promise her it won’t be awkward and that if she does feel weird about it, y’ won’t be hurt if she declines.”

“And what if she does decline?”

“She doesn’t hate you, kiddo,” Gemma tuts, her voice soft. “I don’t think she will. I think she was probably plannin’ on being your friend anyway, ‘specially because she’s so close with Nick. You just kinda freaked her out with the call.”

“Rightfully so,” Harry chimes.

“Yes, rightfully so,” she agrees. “If y’ don’t ask her, she can’t say no. But she also can’t say yes…”

“If I ask her to go as a friend, wouldn’t that just be lying?” he questions. “Because I don’t want t’ be her friend. I don’ want to be just her friend.”

“Think that’s all y’ can ask for at the moment. Rather have her as a friend than not in your life at all, right?”

“Guess so.”

“Harry…”

“No, you’re right,” he sighs, combing his free hand through his hair.

“Know I am.”

---

The day after calling Gemma, the flowers Harry ordered are delivered to your shop. Megan receives them, glancing at the card in the holder as she signs her name on the delivery slip. She runs to your office, squealing as quietly as she can in the industrial space.

“Oh my gosh!” she wiggles in your doorway, a wide-eyed toddler with a new toy. “Harry sent you flowers! Please tell me it’s Harry Styles. They’re peonies. They must be from Harry Styles!”

“Can I read the card, Meg?” you laugh, coming around your desk to take the vase from her. You pluck the small note from its holder, your mouth turning upward when you see the handwritten message.

I’M STILL VERY, VERY SORRY. FOR THE RECORD, VINTAGE VELVET WAS THE RIGHT (SEXIEST) CHOICE. X HARRY

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s from him, all right.”

“What’s he sorry for?!” Megan can’t help herself - she’s braced against your desk, her face stuck straight into the beautiful pink and white blooms where you’d set them, her eyes wild as she tried to catch her breath.

“Nosy, nosy,” you shake your head, taking a smell of the flowers for yourself. “I gave his account t’ Carly after he called me on my personal number in the middle of the night,” you sit down again. “He was drunk and said he was calling because he wanted to hear my voice.”

“Wait,” Megan scoffs. “You gave Carly Harry Styles’ account because he called you in the middle of the night because he wanted to hear your voice?!”

“Yes.”

“I love you, but that is literally insane,” she huffs, plopping down into the chair opposite your desk. “Harry Styles personally delivers a bouquet of your favorite flowers to you, misses your voice and tells you so, then sends you flowers for telling you so, and then you give his account to Carly?! The job was almost done! Two weeks and it’d’ve been finished! And you give it to Carly?!”

“To be fair,” you smirk. “He sent the flowers after I gave the account to Carly.”

Megan looks at you, blinking slowly.

“What?” you laugh.

“Like that matters!” she throws her hands up in the air. “It’s Harry fuckin’ Styles!”

“I know it is,” you shake your head. “But that doesn’t mean he can call me whenever he’s drunk and wants a lay.”

“D’ya really think that’s why he was calling?” Megan asks, grabbing the card from the holder. “He said he wanted to hear your voice, right? Doesn’t sound like he was looking to boink you.”

“I’ve never gotten a drunken call at midnight with innocent intentions behind it,” you raise an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Okay,” Megan considers your point. “Touche. But maybe he’s different! Everything ‘ve ever read about him points towards him be-”

“We’re not talking about what you’ve read,” you explain, taking the note from her hand and placing it underneath the desk calendar between the two of you. “He’s a good guy. He really is. But when that line is blurred or crossed or whatever, I have to redraw it, and you know that,” you look pointedly at Megan, willing her to understand your position. “So the account went to Carly.”

“Are you at least going to thank him for the flowers?”

“Of course!” you scoff, delicately running your fingertips over the petals. “I did what I had to do, but I’m not that mean.”

After eyeing the flowers for a bit longer, you shoo Megan back to work, reminding her that she still had to price the new pieces that had arrived earlier in the morning. You answer some emails while you decide on how to thank him.

Emailing seemed too professional.

A text seemed cruel - what string of emojis could you put together that conveyed how absolutely beautiful the flowers were, and that yes, you’d certainly forgiven him at this point?

You decide to call him, clearing your throat before clicking on his name.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice on the other line is unsure when he answers.

“Hey,” you chirp, hoping to set a positive tone. “Just calling because I wanted to hear your voice.”

Harry laughs then, a hearty chuckle that causes you to laugh as well.

“Suppose I deserve that one.”

“Maybe a little,” you smile. “I’m looking at a very lovely arrangement of peonies right now,” you glance over at the vase at the corner of your desk, the flowers pluming out of the sides. “Thank you for sending them. You didn’t have to.”

“Know I didn’t,” he shrugs, feeling a bit more confident at your positive tone. “Just wanted to.”

“Well, thank you,” you smile, slipping the note card from underneath the calendar that had just been flipped to February the day before. “Things with Carly are good, then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he affirms. “She’s great. You’ve taught her well.”

“I hope so. She’s a great part of our team.”

It’s silent for a few moments, but you’re unsure of where to take it from here.

“Listen, I-”

“Would y-”

You both begin speaking at the same time.

“Go ahead,” you say.

“No, it’s alright,” he clears his throat. “You go ahead.”

“I don’t even know what I was going to say,” you admit with a laugh. “So you go.”

“Okay,” he takes a breath. “Can I take you out to dinner?” his voice his nervous. “One last apology. Jus’ so it’s not weird if we ever see each other again. ‘n I promise not to make any advances,” he chuckles. “Jus’ two people goin’ out to dinner. As friends.”

You thumb the corner of the card, running your finger over his handwriting.

“I would really like that, Harry.”

---

The two of you plan to meet outside of the city in a small, quiet restaurant where you won’t be bothered. He feels wholly at ease when you greet him, your cheek warm against his when you offer it to him. The response was much more settling than the one you’d given him the last time he’d met up with you - this time, at least, you weren’t cowering away from him.

He decides on the same glass of wine you’d ordered - a dry red that warms him from the inside out - and tries not to let his imagination get carried away when you smile at him in the dim candlelight of the bistro.

“Remember that magazine I was doing a shoot with?” you inquire, your hands clasped neatly in front of you after you’d both ordered your meals.

“Course,” he nods, placing his wine glass down on the table. “HGTV, was it?”

“That’s the one,” you smile. “Well - and you’re the first person I’m tellin’ this to, so don’t get any wild ideas about spreading this information to anyone else,” you point at him with an exaggerated eyebrow raise like you’d done after telling him about the initial photoshoot. “They’ve asked me to fly out to LA in early March. Preliminary meetings, I think, but they wanna talk about a collaboration of some sort.”

“That’s amazin’,” Harry grins, his smile genuine. “That’s...wow. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you sigh. “Not gonna get my hopes up or anythin’, but I’m pretty excited about it.”

“As you should be!” his eyebrows raise with the corners of his mouth as he grabs onto the stem of his wine glass. “Cheers to you, yeah? What a massive bit of good news!”

“Thank you, Harry,” you laugh, shaking your head as you lift your glass to his, clinking the rim of it to his. “Thought ‘d tell you the news, ‘cause you’re still the only one who knows about the magazine.”

His heart leaps in his chest at your confession, but he remains collected on the outside, changing the subject to something he’s more comfortable with.

“Have you ever been to LA?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, nibbling at the complimentary bread. “Flight’s a killer, but ‘m more than happy to make it.”

“Especially at this time of year. Early March in Los Angeles is a lot different than early March in London.”

“That’s very true,” you dip the crusty piece of bread into olive oil. “However, I will say I tend to miss dreary ol’ London if ‘m away for too long. LA is such a different world. Everyone is so nice - it boggles the mind, if I’m honest,” you smile when Harry lets out a laugh that could be qualified as a giggle. “What! It’s true! Always sayin’ thank you for this or that. I held the door open for y’ because it’s the proper thing t’ do, not because I wanted uncomfortable eye contact and a shoulder squeeze in return. A nod of the head’ll do, as far as that goes…”

The two of you keep easy conversation throughout your meal, speaking about your favorite places to travel to. Harry’s pulse skyrockets when you frown in response to him saying he’d been to so many cities, yet never had the time to really explore them all. He wishes - with more willpower than he’d ever mustered for anything else, he’s sure of it - that one day, he’d get to visit those places again. The next time, with more places to explore. The next time, with you.

You exchange stories about Nick and Harry makes you laugh so hard, you shed a tear or two at his anecdotes. He’s got an eerily accurate impression of his best friend, and he’s glad he got to use it on you. With the pressure of not reading into everything you say or do, Harry finds it effortless to be himself.

And, if he’s reading you correctly, you seem to enjoy this version of Harry.

A version he hadn’t allowed himself to show, up until now.

“Any travel plans for you, then?” you ask, steering the conversation away from your shared contact in Nick.

“Actually,” he moves his plate away from him. “‘m goin’ to Jamaica next week.”

“Are you really?” you sip on your water, tucking the straw between your teeth. “You lucky bastard.”

“Well,” he rubs his nose with a smile. “It’s for work, but it probably won’t feel like it.”

“What work, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Recording. Gonna do this whole solo thing, I guess.”

“Recording your album? The first one?”

“The first one,” he nods, tapping his knuckles against the table. “Got everythin’ in place, so now’s all I have to do is record.”

“Well that’s not nearly as big of a deal as me going to LA for a meeting, but I’m sure you’ll get to that level someday,” you jeer, winking at him. When he scoffs, you laugh, shaking your head. “Really, Harry, that’s incredible. Y’must be so ready to get started. Must’ve been waiting for years to do this, yeah?”

“Guess so,” he rubs his palms on his thighs. “Bit scared, if ‘m tellin’ the truth.”

“You’d be mad not to be scared, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, setting your glass of water down. “You’re scared because it means something. If you weren’t, that’d be more telling than anything, I think. It’s good of you to be nervous. Means you’re doin’ it right.”

He smiles at you in response, a closed-mouth symbol of gratitude. Everyone had told him not to be nervous - not to be scared. You’d been the first to make him feel like it was okay to fret over it. Relief floods over him and it’s the calmest he’s felt in months, all because you’d reassured him with a simple shrug and a flit of your hand.

“Excuse me,” the hostess who’d sat you approaches the table.  The two of you look up, and she takes a step back, obviously intruding on a moment that was only meant for two. “I really hate to bother you but...if you are who I think you are…” she trails off, her voice shaking.

“Think I probably am,” Harry chuckles, running a finger down his chin. “‘m Harry,” he sticks out his hand, standing up as he does so. “What’s your name again?”

“Vanessa,” she nearly whispers, her fingers unable to quit fumbling at her sides.

“Vanessa,” Harry nods, as if he’d known it all along. “Nice to meet you, Vanessa.”

He glances at you in apology, but you shake your head and encourage him to continue. You must’ve figured that this was a part of being around Harry - how could you not have known that this was bound to happen at some point? You let him chat with the trembling girl who was nearly ready to combust, smiling at how gentle Harry was being with her. He’d likely comforted his fair share of girls just like Vanessa, you were willing to bet.

“Would you like me to take a picture?” you chime in.

“Oh, God!” the hostess laughs, grabbing onto your bicep when you stand up. “Yes, please. If that’s okay with…” she looks at Harry, who is intently focused on you.

“Of course,” he glances back at his fan, tucking his arm around her while you stand in front of them, taking a couple of snapshots before handing Vanessa’s phone back to her.

“Thank you so much,” she says to the both of you before tucking her phone in her pocket. “Enjoy the rest of your date.”

Harry thanks her, wishing her a good evening, before glancing back at you.

“A date,” you run your fingertip underneath your bottom lip. “She must’ve not heard about our agreement…”

“Must not’ve,” he clears his throat, sliding his finger down the condensation of his water glass. “Didn’t have to do that, y’know. Take that picture…”

“Know I didn’t,” you shrug, mimicking his words from your earlier phone conversation. “Just wanted to.”

Harry keeps good on his promise, and when he walks you to your car, he gives you a hug. You kiss him on the cheek, thanking him for the meal and conversation.

“I had a great time,” you admit.

“I did, too.”

You grip the handle to your driver’s side door, turning back to him before opening it.

“Thanks again, Har-”

“My birthday was yesterday,” he blurts out.

“What?” you release the handle, facing him fully. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“t’s not a big deal,” he shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “But the new house is almost done, and it was m’birthday, and ‘m leavin’ for Jamaica for a whole month, so ‘m havin’ a party.”

“At the new place?”

“Yeah,” he bites his lower lip. “Kind of a housewarming slash birthday slash see-you-in-a-month kind of deal.”

“Quite a few slashes,” you note.

“I want you t’ come.”

“Okay,” you nod, sniffling due to the cold winter’s air.

“Carly said she’d come when I asked ‘er today, ‘cause she’s put together everything so nicely, but you’re the one who designed it all. Nick’s comin’, so’s basically my whole family. Y’don’t have t’ come if y’ don’t want to, but it’s your party too because you had such a big part in everythin’. But don’t feel pressured into it, because I don’t want y’ to feel like it’s something you have to do,” he bounces on his heels, looking up at the dark February sky.

“Harry,” you place a gloved hand onto his forearm. “I said I’d come.”

“Oh,” he stops bouncing, looking at you. “Oh. Okay. Great. Good!”

“I’d love to,” you smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

He resists rolling his eyes.

As if he’d spent any moment - waking or otherwise - in the past two months not thinking of you.

“Course,” he leans in for another hug, pleased when you accept it, your nose cold against the exposed skin on his neck. “Tomorrow at seven. You know the address,” he smirks at his own joke as he pulls away.

“I’ll be there,” you squeeze his arm before stepping to your car again.

“Text me when you get home?” Harry questions. “Just so I know you’re safe?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “See you tomorrow, Harry. Thank you for dinner.”

He tips his head to you, waving your car off as you drive away. On his walk back to his own car, he pulls out his phone, clicking on his sister’s name in the recent messages.

You know how much I hate saying this, he types. But I’ll always give credit where credit is due. You were right. About everything. xx

[carolnein]

here’s the other thing i already wrote for the esports girls i posted last night

this one also has an issue with game stuff between america and japan, where i spent more time trying to look up details of a specific event pokemon distribution in japan than actually writing the whole thing, before giving up and using the american distribution as a stand-in

under the cut

The nearest game store was a little out of the way of Aiko’s usual daily routine, but she finally had a day off work and only morning classes. She just had to go to the register and pick up a card with the serial code from the promotional distribution, and then she could get udon for lunch at a great place she rarely had an excuse to go to, which was the real reason she was driving to the other side of town for a game she barely had the time to play.

She didn’t particularly need to make the trip, but she had been playing Pokémon for a long time and was never able to get a Mew in the newer games. There was no guarantee she’d be able to get everything from the year-long event, so she might as well do what she can.

The trip went as usual; the store wasn’t particularly busy on a weekday, and the only sound that stood out over the speakers was a loud girl with a stack of used games in her hands, asking another girl out on a date.

“I’m not…like that,” the cornered girl responded, backing away in palpable discomfort as she picked up a game box off the shelf.

“Ah, really?” The louder one raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down quickly like she didn’t believe her, but shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying, right?”

She didn’t get a response, and Aiko ignored the pair to ask the employee at the counter for the code. She’d only just turned away from the counter to leave the store when someone blocked her way. The loud girl, just spurned, was now standing in front of her with a cocky smile. When Aiko tried to move out of her way, she was met with, “Hey, wait.”

“What is it?” Aiko didn’t have the time or patience to deal with someone desperate enough to hit on every girl she saw if she wasn’t at work, even if she was tall and pretty.

“You’re picking up the Mew code, right?”

“I already did, and that’s all I came here to do.” She took a step to the side, but the opposing girl took a few steps back to meet her.

“You know, most girls who play Pokémon should be pretty interested in me,” she told her, grinning obnoxiously.

“Why’s that?” Aiko asked, deciding her chances of a clean escape were better if she humored her.

“I’ve been told I must be part Lickitung,” she boasted, licked her lips suggestively.

With a disgusted groan, Aiko turned on her heel and left the store, not looking back to make sure she wasn’t being followed but listening for the lack of footsteps behind her. She made it to her car without incident, reassured in the knowledge that at least her lunch wasn’t going to check her out.

---

Late shifts ending at almost midnight didn’t leave much time to cook dinner, especially with a stack of homework to finish. Aiko kept her bitter thoughts about the coworker she was expected to cover to herself, and with the extra hours she could at least afford to splurge on a premade bento to save time for studying.

She was at this particular Family Mart between work and home at least twice a week because of work, and even more often when school became particularly rigorous. The occasional bento or rice bowl was a nice break from instant noodle cups, when she dared treat herself.

The only other person in the store was another girl with an armful of sodas and snack foods; she was familiar, but it wasn’t a feeling so strong Aiko could place her memory anywhere, nor did she care to try when it was this late. However she was struck with realization when the other girl grinned smugly and asked, “Have I seen you somewhere?”

“Doubt it,” Aiko lied, not wanting a repeat of their last meeting at the game store.

“Hmm.” She bit the inside of her cheek in thought before her face lit up. “Ah! You were the little Pokémon master getting Mew, right? I don’t easily forget cute girls that don’t tell me no.”

“Then I’m telling you right now I’m not interested,” she said firmly, ready to tell the store attendant she was being harassed.

“Ah?” She looked confused, but then shrugged. “Alright.”

Aiko looked at her suspiciously, but she only smiled. At her silence, she finally introduced herself. “I’m Ren, by the way.”

“Alright.” She didn’t offer her name in return.

“What are you doing here so late, anyways? Long night planned?” Ren wasn’t aggressively flirting anymore, but she wasn’t leaving her alone, either.

“Yeah, studying,” she said, making a point to emphasize she was doing something important. “You?”

She’d only asked out of the forced habit of indulging a customer in conversation, and winced when Ren started speaking, now engaged. “My little sister wanted to marathon some older games, I’m on a snack run.”

There was a lot in that sentence that didn’t match the impression Aiko had of Ren. “Your sister?”

“Yeah, she’s probably just sneaking a nap while I’m out, we started yesterday so she’s tired.” Despite her words, she didn’t look like someone who had been awake for about 36 hours. All-nighters for Aiko meant an even grumpier disposition than usual, dragging her feet and spacing out when she wasn’t buried in work. “But she doesn’t want to get caught sleeping before I do, thinks it’ll make her look weak.”

“Sleeping is weak?” Aiko asked this skeptically, almost judgmentally, at the statement.

“Eh, she’s 16, let her think what she thinks for now.” Ren grinned again. “And she’ll never get through the Castlevania games if she doesn’t refresh her mind a bit.”

“I can’t even remember the last platformer I played,” she said absently. If a game didn’t have a save function, she was guaranteed to not have the time to finish it, and the platformers she grew up with were intended to be beaten in one long session.

“Wanna skip the books and come over?” Ren’s smile turned hungry. “I was hoping to invite someone over for an excuse to sneak off into my room, catch a nap myself.”

Aiko decided that was definitely enough socializing with Ren for the rest of her life, and placed her bento on the check-out counter, ignoring that she was there before her. “Good luck staying awake for your sister.”

---

The thought of old-school platformers had stuck to Aiko’s mind even weeks after her last meeting with Ren. Maybe she didn’t have the time for one she grew up with, but a quick Google search assured her that the modern games in classic series had save functions. The Wii U she’d received as a gift a long while back had barely gotten used, but there were Mario games for the console. She could find the time for a level or two now and then.

It rested better on her conscience to buy a used copy, since she was putting an advance on her free-spending limit. The itch to play couldn’t wait another two weeks to be scratched.

One of the last people she expected – or wanted – to see was in the store already, browsing the Playstation shelf. Ren looked up and saw her, smiled, and Aiko’s stomach sunk in dread before Ren did absolutely nothing. She gave her a quick wave of recognition before turning back to the games display.

Aiko was more shocked at her inaction than her forward actions the previous meetings, and stayed on her toes on her way to the game, and then while in the line. She berated herself for the invasive thoughts – “she’s kinda tall,” “she’s pretty when her mouth is closed,” – and kept focused on the counter at the front of the line. Some yen and about three meters were all that was between her current position and leaving unscathed with the game.

Her self-control wavered at the counter when she paid, and was unable to not ask, “Can I borrow a pen?” She stepped aside while the next customer in line paid and scratched her email onto the back of the receipt.

Aiko called out, “Hey!” while walking up to Ren, catching her attention and shoving the receipt into her chest. She spoke over her before she could flirt and ruin her bold moment. “I’m not online until late most nights, don’t expect a response.”

Ren only managed a shaken, “Huh?” before Aiko turned on her heel and rushed out the door, heart pounding in anticipatory regret. She’d only given Ren her email, not her phone number or something else easily traceable. If she did regret this, it was easy to block and ignore her.

Thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong, minor and major, weighed her mind down. She was almost nauseous with worry on her way home, and the ping! from her phone alerting her to an email did nothing but exacerbate it. In her rush to return to her apartment and check the message, Super Mario 3D World was forgotten in the car’s front passenger seat.

Aiko threw herself to the couch immediately, taking up every cushion in an effort to get as comfortable as possible before diving into risky territory. She opened the email, and read the short message. “Hey there Pokémon master, what made you change your mind?”

Her immediate reaction was to bitterly send back, “It’s Aiko.” It was too early in their...whatever stage of their acquaintanceship it was, for pet names. Before Ren – it was obvious that the unfamiliar address was her – replied, she sent a second message. “Changed my mind about what?”

It was a few seconds before the next message came. “You said you weren’t interested, and then you throw your email at me. Can’t stand not making the first move?”

Aiko paused to think about what it was that changed her mind. “Because you remembered that.” She didn’t have much more of an answer. What was most flattering wasn’t her efforts to get close to her, but that she remembered her, and more importantly, remembered what she’d said.

“Are your standards that low wwwww,” was her quick reply, and Aiko felt a twinge of irritation that she was taking her honest praise so lightly. It was followed with, “But I told you I remembered.”

“I didn’t expect you to remember, honestly.” She seemed too carefree, like she was spreading herself too thin to remember anyone for as long as the months between their initial meeting.

“It’s hard to forget a girl as cute as you, especially one who’s interested.” She punctuated it with a winking emoji.

“Or it’s easy to remember if your flirtatious gimmick drives them all away, and I’m the only one who didn’t shut you down.” She worried she sounded too annoyed; she was annoyed, but charmed by the brazen front that had some substance behind it.

“It worked on you, didn’t it?”

“What ‘worked’? Who said we’re anything?” Aiko had realized she was essentially accepting being asked out, but wanted to see what other depths she was hiding.

“So you don’t wanna be my girlfriend then?”

Aiko paused and considered the question. It sounded like a strong word for two people who were only just now emailing each other, but the thought didn’t turn her off either. “Maybe if you take me on a date first I’ll consider it.”

The next reply came quickly enough Aiko wondered if she used it before. “Get out your Pokémon and let’s battle. If I win, I get to take you out to dinner. You win, and I’ll treat you to dinner.”

It was cliché and corny, but Aiko let herself smile at the attention directed at her. She texted back, “Tonight is the only night I’m free this week.”

“Then I guess I’d better cancel my date with Zelda, I’ll see you at 7.” She followed it with a kissing emoji, and some options for restaurants that they could go to. Aiko slowly felt that free time rut veer away, with school work not on the table, and something more exciting than a game coming up in just hours.

[angstymarshmallow]

Our Last Goodbye - James x MC Fanfic

Our Last Goodbye - James x MC Fanfic. 

A Freshman Fanfiction.

[A little note: okay so I totally wasn’t going to do this considering I still had something else to finish, but then I thought that James and MC deserved some closure over Vasquez’s death. As someone that supports this pairing, after playing the scene where they got to visit him together I decided to post something…to try and commit to words what it would feel like. It isn’t perfect and it has some of the dialogue choices from the chapter because they’re heartbreakingly perfect.  but it helped me kind of say goodbye to him too - as silly as that sounds. It’s also sort of a continuation of my other fanfic Could We Survive This?]

[Summary: After coming to terms with James decision to leave, MC and James pay their final respect to their mentor Professor Vasquez. Their last goodbye was going to be their hardest but they needed to do this before they could finally let go.]

There was a lot she wanted to say. A lot she needed to say.

She wanted her last goodbye to be proper, to mean something.

She wanted it to matter.

Her last goodbye to a man that taught her more about life than any of her other teachers ever had – hell more than anyone else ever had.

She wracked her brain for something to compare the last few months to, but all she could remember were inconsequential things that shrunk at the comparison. They weren’t adequate enough, they weren’t feasible. Her own parents had never pushed her so hard, made her second-guess herself so much and her friends couldn’t inspire her the way he did. No one had ever impacted her life so much in such a short amount of time.

There were things, she decided that she needed to say, things she had to get off her chest before she could let him go.

She thought about that on the trip here. She thought about her first two semesters and all the adventures she had because of him. She thought of her own relationship with James as his hand brushed against hers before he brought them to his lips. She thought about how different her life at Hartfeld would have been if they’d never met.

She thought about all of this as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass of her window overlooking dozens of Hartfeld trees on campus. Life had a funny way of bringing different kinds of people together.

Eventually, they found the cemetery.

They hadn’t been able to come to the funeral – too wrapped up with the demands of student life; James process of moving to LA, and her own stressful schedule – she hadn’t been able to find the time. At least, that was the excuse she told herself and she bit back the feelings of guilt by promising herself she would visit in her own time and with the most important person in her life. So here they were, fumbling in the dark with the reassurance of each other’s presence as they looked for their professor’s gave.

Not a lot of people went to the funeral. James had mentioned this to her in low undertones as they walked alongside each other. He told her it was a small group, very private. And honestly, she couldn’t see it going any differently. Professor Vasquez had never struck her as a man that made friends easily, but she had no doubt that when he did, he treated them with a startling degree of affection that he lacked with the rest of society.

The soundless air was almost eerie with the number of graves surrendering them. She dropped his hand and hugged herself after tucking the flowers she brought under her arm. She wasn’t sure if it was the sudden chill in the air or the unsettling feeling she had at being here during midnight that caused her to shudder. Either way, she was so grateful to have James with her. If it hadn’t been for him, she didn’t think she would have ever been ready to make the trip out here.

James discreet tone broke her concentration. “It’s over here.” He gestured.

They looked at each other before their somber eyes stared at the grave. Large cobblestone work with words in an old Victorian style of writing were etched below his name.

It must have been minutes that they stood there, side by side surveying the grave. Admittedly it intimidated her. Death was an intimidating thing. It was an inevitable part of human existence that terrified her. And standing inside a graveyard after midnight, reminded her of that. It made her dwell on how fleeting life was. 

Death wasn't pretty and graveyards were a place that reeked of people left behind, forgotten by the rest of the world. She didn’t want that to happen to Vasquez. She didn't want to forget him - not his wit, not his sarcastic humor, and certainly not his uncompromising ideas about life. She also didn’t want to forget his unrelenting stubbornness when it to research. The thought was humorous now but at the time it had threatened her sanity more than once. 

She didn't want to forget all the things that made him, him. 

Eventually their feet followed their eyes, walking stiffly towards the grim-looking tombstone. She could feel the tears prickling at the side of her face, and she shoved them back, battling with her own conflicting emotions that were beginning to unravel. 

Suddenly being here had brought back grief she thought she had buried. Grief that had made Christmas at home difficult, after hearing from Gabriela that about his passing.

She idly toyed with the bouquet of white lilies inside her hands, before clutching them tightly as they walked towards it. She listened to the clicking of her heels to fill the quiet void of silence between them before they halted in front of his tombstone.

Neither one of them said anything at first.

Then she felt James shift from beside her before he spoke. “Enrique Vasquez. All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. So I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible.” He snorted the last bit bitterly before shaking his head. “He would request a Falkner quote.”

“It seems pretty fitting actually.” She hadn’t realized she had spoken at first. Then she shook her head ruefully as memories of walking inside Vasquez’s office assailed her. “Remember the first time I set foot in Vasquez’s office, and he complained that Faulkner never had to deal with bumbling assistants?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “He said the last one wore too many stripes.”

She was filled with the sudden urge to laugh. She hadn’t realized that was what he had been thinking. Thankfully, she was never a fan of stripes. She sobered up once she glanced back at his gravestone. She stared at the words for awhile, thinking of all the times she went to him with a paper she’d finished the night before in hand and the advice he often gave her when she least expected it. “It’s strange.”

“Hmm, what is?” He managed to drag his eyes towards her, an unblinking mask that immediately broken down once they locked gazes.

She saw her own pain mirrored in his unguarded expression. She knew he was probably feeling – longing, happiness, regret, pain – all the things she felt deeply. “It’s strange to think that only happened a few months ago.” She finished lamely, fighting the lump inside her throat. “It feels like I knew him for a long time, but I guess I didn’t really.”

He nodded. He understood how she felt because he knew her better than anyone else. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Maybe not, but I think this tombstone makes it clear how much of an impact you had on him.”

“You think so?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. She had an impact on him? The man that continuously provoked her, that pushed her to nearly her limit and brought her as much joy as he did pain? How could she ever have influenced him the way he influenced her? The way he changed her?

“I think so.” He said with a small smile. “I’ve worked with Vasquez for three years,” He shook his head as if he couldn’t really believe it himself, “I’ve seen him go through countless assistants, and the one thing I remember most is that he had no patience for human error.” He nodded towards his grave. “Not mine. Not his assistants – and certainly not his own.”

He frowned slightly and pulled his hands away. He slipped them inside his own pockets. He seemed lost inside his own thoughts and she stared at him quizzically until he spoke.“I think that’s why he was so hesitant to reach out to Gabriela for all those years. And then you showed up, and you were everything Professor Vasquez thought he hated, and yet you completely turned his life around.” His eyes searched hers, “Because of you, he was able to pass away knowing he was loved and will be remembered.”

She blinked rapidly at him.

His words baffled her, left her flabbergasted. She had never completely gotten that impression from Vasquez. Sure; there were moments when she thought she saw a simmer of…something, where she could see a strike of pride, or a strike of his happiness before he deflected. Especially after their emotional talk last winter when she’d went out looking for him – she knew he was proud of her. And that it was his faith in her which propelled her forward; to not give up, to not shut James out the way he had done to her and to fix the lingering issues with her suitemates. But most importantly, it was his unwavering faith that allowed her to find herself again.

And yet, she’d never given it so much thought, so much speculation as to what Professor Vasquez thought about her, what he saw in her. “Wow.” That was the only word she could muster.

Suddenly aware of the severity of his words and their impact on her, James laughed and reassured her with quick kiss on the cheek. “Of course, that’s just uh – my interpretation.” He cleared his throat, “I can’t be the only person that sees the beauty in everything you do.”

She smiled affectionately at him, tipping on her toes until she could press her lips to his. It lasted seconds until she pulled away, “Although for Vasquez it was probably more fleeting than anything else.” She murmured.

“And the beauty of the written word is that it could be read an infinite number of ways.” He replied, smiling at her.

“Easy for you to say – you prolific writer.” She teased, although her gaze softened. “But I guess we’ll never know for sure.” She focused her attention back to Vasquez’s grave. She felt a heaviness inside her chest, and a tightness inside her throat as she stepped closer.

“Well I guess this it.” She muttered under her breath. 

This was it. This was her chance to say it. To say goodbye. To thank him for everything he’d ever done for her.

She leaned forward until she could place the white lilies meticulously across his tombstone. There was a lot she wanted to say. A lot she needed to say, but suddenly she couldn’t. The words were stuck, caught between her throat.

She felt James comforting hand on her shoulder, “Take your time.” He said gently.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his strength wash over her. She needed to be brave. She tried to search deep down for the words, as far as she could reach because they couldn’t be just any words – they had to be the right ones. They had to carry the weight of how much he meant to her. “Um, hi Professor Vasquez.” She released a shaky breath. She wasn’t off to the greatest start but her voice hadn’t cracked yet.

“It’s me, Kyla. I’m here with James and I just wanted to say…Uh.” And suddenly she couldn’t stop them from tumbling, from pouring out of her; as if they came directly from her heart. “When I first met James, I had no idea I would fall in love – experience every joy, every shred of laughter and even every embarrassing cry with him.” Her voice faltered until she cleared her throat. “Without your encouragement, I honestly don’t know if I ever would have. I don’t know if you planned it that way but I can’t help but feel grateful for it.” She shook her head thinly, “For all your meddling, you really made the difference. You pushed me to be his fake fiancée, you demanded me to persuade my friends to be his a part of his play – ” She stopped short, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to cry. “I’m just so grateful.” She choked out.

Then the tears came, blurring her vision until she began wiping them away. Her breath hitched and she made a tiny fist before clutching her chest. “You changed my life for the better, and I hope that I was able to do the same for you.” She took a deep breath. She was trying to get her feelings under control but all the words kept coming, flowing freely as if they had been locked inside her for a long time. “I hope I helped. I hope I gave you some sort of peace.” She wiped her eyes again and although she didn’t tear herself away, she could feel James presence kneeling beside her. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you…thank you for never giving up on me.”  The words finally stopped and she drew a ragged breath. She leaned into James in the same moment that he wrapped his arms around her.

“And goodbye.”

He waited until she stopped crying before he spoke. “Where to begin?” He drew a deep breath as if collecting his own thoughts. “Professor Vasquez, I don’t know how to thank you.” His own voice wavered and every word carried the depth of his emotions. A bittersweet smile enveloped his features as his thoughts drifted on Vasquez’s influence towards his own life. “You’ve had such a profound effect on every part of my life. Your classes ignited a passion in me. You taught me the power and beauty of the written word, something I hope to dedicate my life to.”

Without looking away from the tombstone, he took one of her shaking hands into his and squeezed it lightly. “You didn’t stop there either. You know me, I spent a lot of time being alone, isolating myself from ever being with someone again. Whenever I felt like anyone was too close, I pulled away. I pulled away before they could hurt me.” His hand tightened on hers, “Trusting someone again was hard for me, because of the amount of power those three simple words gave them over you. It’s the most crucial thing a person could give to someone else.  And then, you led me to her. To meet and fall in love with the woman beside me. A woman I wake up every morning thanking my lucky stars to know.” He looked like he was trying very hard not to cry, and she rested her head on his shoulder – wanting him to know that she understood. “I guess what I’m trying to say this…thank you Professor Vasquez. Thank you for everything.”

They spent a little more time knelt beside each other, grieving with hushed cries and quiet murmurings over a man that had changed their lives forever. Whether unintentional or not, Vasquez had left the two of them with the knowledge that they would never be the same. 

They said their last goodbyes, wishing him good luck - wherever he was before they walked back to James’ car. With every step they took, the weight of guilt and pain lessened. Eventually, all that was left behind was quiet resolution and some semblance of peace.

[jikook-love]

E[Love]

PART 1 | calculate the expectation of love.

student!jungkook + tutor!jimin = math!jikook ;)

OR

alternatively, 16k+ of self-indulgent romantic crack, unnecessary dialogue and really bad math humour as reluctant math major Jungkook sets out on his quest for love.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!  ♥ This is for @gracefulweather! She should know I probably destroyed my midterm mark thanks to her. 

read the full story on AO3

“ARGH! I don’t wanna study anymore! Why am I even in this program?!”

The sudden outburst from second year Mathematics & Statistics major Jeon Jungkook startled some of the other students in the library, some of whom threw him the dirtiest look.

“Pipe down, won’t you?” Kim Seokjin—4th Year Honours Statistics and Vice-President of the Math Council—whispered, looking embarrassed for the younger, bespectacled boy. “Second year isn’t that bad. You’ll get it soon.”

“Says you who has the fucking smartest boyfriend in the entire university, probably,” Jungkook snapped, pulling off his glasses in frustration.

“He’s definitely not the smartest, and are you suggesting I leeched off him?” Seokjin scoffed. “It’s not like he wrote my exams for me.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook pouted as he slammed his head down into his books. “I don’t think I can memorize another probability distribution. Not that it matters anyway. I’m not passing that damn course.”

Seokjin sipped his coffee nonchalantly as he stared at Jungkook. “Tell me. Why are you even in this program anyway? Did you even like math in high school?”

“No,” Jungkook groaned, as he slumped further into papers.

“Well…you’re certainly not very good at it,” Seokjin said bluntly. “So why math?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Jungkook blurted, eyes wide. “I honestly don’t know!”

Seokjin sighed. “So in the end you’re one of those people,” he spoke. “You have no appreciation for this art of numbers, the poetry of proofs…nor the satisfaction of solving an arduous problem late after midnight.”

“More like finally finding the answer on Google,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

“I’m serious,” Seokjin said firmly. “Why do you think math professors are all like ‘I would wed the numbers if I could’? There’s just something about it, man. How do you think I managed to stay single for so long? That pure pleasure from drawing the complete of proofs square or writing QED at 3 a.m.…it’s more than enough.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jungkook gaped, disgusted by his older friend’s descriptions.

Jungkook would never appreciate math. Never. Ever. Even if he was in this program, there was always that inner part of him that wanted to scream “nerd” and laugh at every aspiring math major who walked by. He hated that sense of elitism that they all seemed to have—Seokjin and his overachieving, go-hard boyfriend Namjoon included: so what if you can calculate a triple integral or memorize the equation for a Gamma distribution? It really shouldn’t make you any better than other people.

 “Oi, did you hear me?” Seokjin’s voice came back into his mind.

“Sorry. I was trying to remember things that should be better off forgotten,” Jungkook grimaced.

“Like your midterm marks?” Seokjin snorted. “Anyways, I was saying you should try getting a tutor for your courses.”

“That’s not going to work though,” Jungkook whined, adjusting the collar of his hoody. “At this point, I don’t even know what I don’t know.”

“And that’s where the tutor comes in,” Seokjin said. “I know this guy—you may know him too actually. You know Taehyung, right? He’s in your classes.”

Jungkook snorted. “Do I know Taehyung?” Jungkook repeated mockingly. “I tried studying together with him once. Somehow, we ended up at a park somewhere at 3 a.m. eating frozen yogurt and dancing around a tree—we both failed the linear algebra assignment together after that so you might not want him to tutor me.”

“Wow, you’re practically besties,” Seokjin said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not him that I was going to suggest but he has a friend who’s really good at math. The guy’s looking for a part time job right now too so maybe he could help you out.”

“Wait, you want me to pay for this shit?” Jungkook gaped. “Hey, I’m broke, remember? Student life? We don’t all have daddies to take care of us you know?”

“Namjoon is not my daddy.��

 “I was talking about your actual father but your guilty conscience seems to be off the walls today,” Jungkook snorted loudly. “You should’ve seen your face when you said that. Such a serious expression. ‘Namjoon is not my—‘‘”

“For a dude who’s supposed to be quiet you sure are talking a lot today.” Seokjin was quite flustered at this point. “So do you want my help or not?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Jungkook grumbled. “I’ll give it a shot…but do I really have to pay for it?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Maybe if he likes you enough, he’d do it for free.”

“…maybe I can pay for it with my body.”

“Jeon Jungkook, ever since you entered second year you keep making jokes like that and it doesn’t really sit well with me,” Seokjin reprimanded. “You used to be so cute and innocent…what happened?”

“This freaking school happened. And who said I was joking? Maybe I really have no alternative at this point,” Jungkook responded.

Seokjin let out another exasperated sigh. “You know what, I think I’m done listening to you for today,” he concluded as he packed up his books. “I’ll message you Jimin’s e-mail and then you can do whatever you want with it.”

Jungkook stared at Seokjin as he pulled his backpack onto his shoulders. “Wait, who’s Jimin?

“The guy who’s hopefully gonna tutor you,” Seokjin answered. “You don’t know him? Park Jimin? 3rd Year Math & Stats? He actually has quite the reputation around here.”

“No…should I?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “He’s not one of those dudes, is he?”

“Jungkook, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about 50% of the time.”

“You know, one of those arrogant nerdy pricks that you and Namjoon like to hang around for some reason.”

“He’s nothing like that at all. And we don’t hang around people like that! You just have to get to know them.”

“This is why I don’t trust you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Seokjin reassured. “Just…give it a chance. Who knows? Maybe if you’re not so focussed on just being closed away all the time, perhaps you can learn to be commutative and associative with others as well…perhaps even gain an identity.”

“You disgust me.”

“Now that’s the inverse of what I wanted to hear.”

 It was already 12:50 a.m. Instead of finishing up his calculus assignment like he was supposed to, Jeon Jungkook was on Facebook, messaging Taehyung, though it was partly because he’d gotten distracted while trying to search up the solution on Google.

 Taehyung: how’s anal going by the way?

Jungkook: it is absolutely painful. i can’t even go to class anymore because it hurts so much

Taehyung: hmm. sucks to suck. i warned you not to take it so early.

Jungkook: i was young and foolish. i get it.

 Jungkook sighed as he stared over to his neglected analysis (or “anal”, as him and Taehyung preferred to call it) textbooks, ones that he had bought brand new from the bookstore and hadn’t opened since.

 Jungkook: so u know this jimin dude?

Taehyung: ya. we were best bros in high school

Jungkook: wat about now?

Taehyung: i mean obviously still but now he’s involved in a bunch of things and i'm just trying to pass lin alg so…

Taehyung: i mean we still meet up occasionally

Jungkook’s curiosity had been piqued before he could help himself. He typed the words Park Jimin into the Facebook search bar.

Jungkook: what does he look like?

Taehyung: black hair, short. idk how to describe him. i think he pretty plain. compared to me.

 Jungkook found himself groaning before he could help it. Ugh, one of those people again. After scrolling through two pages of “Park Jimin”s with black hair, Jungkook decided to give up.

 Taehyung: yo, how da fuq do you do question 3? what the hell is he even trying to ask

Jungkook: LOL ur asking me

Taehyung: screw it i'm going to sleep. ill do it in the morning

Jungkook: …it’s due at 9:30

Taehyung: i said. ill do it in the morning

 And then he was gone, leaving Jungkook alone to contemplate the mystery that was Park Jimin, along with the massacre that was Question 3.

The Facebook message tone rang out again, and though Jungkook had expected it be to Taehyung, it was Seokjin instead. He opened to tab to see one line of e-mail, which undoubtedly had to be Park Jimin’s.

Jungkook stared at the address for a few seconds. Ugh. Who even uses e-mail anymore?

Deciding he had nothing better to do (mostly because question three gave him a headache just to look at), he opened up a new tab and logged into his e-mail, before promptly entering the address that had been given to him.

Hmmm….how should I word this? He had never really tried to e-mail another student professionally before, nor did he know what level of formality to use when addressing this person. Was he a stick in the mud? Was he chill like Taehyung? Jungkook had no clue, and the more he thought about it, the more discouraged he got: he was actually going to try and get help from a dude whom he had never met before. Was he really this desperate?

Exhaling to release any sliver of useless pride he had left, Jungkook brought his fingers to the keyboard and typed to his best discretion:

  J, Jungkook

Tutoring Help

Hey,

My name is Jungkook and my friend Seokjin introduced you to me and said you could potentially tutor me.

Let me know if this is possible and when we can meet up.

Thanks,

Jungkook

  Jungkook read it over. Once. Twice. After another deep sigh, he recollected himself and pressed send before he could hesitate any longer.

Deciding he had messed around long enough, he promptly turned his attention back to the dreaded question 3. Despite the dizziness he was already feeling in his brain due to the ungodly hour, he boldly picked up his pencil and decided to bullshit through the problem as best as he could.

Ping!

Jungkook nearly jumped at the sudden noise amidst the quiet.

Who’s e-mailing me at this time?  Jungkook wondered as he grabbed his phone to check the notification.

He certainly did not expect to see what he saw.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hey Jungkook! I would love to…

 That was fast. Before he knew it, Jungkook had already unlocked his phone, eager to read the rest of the message.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hello Jungkook!

I would love to try and help! Any friend of Jin’s is a friend of mine!

I know it’s short notice but I’m actually quite free tomorrow if you wanted to meet up.

What times are you free tomorrow? We could discuss things over coffee if you’d like!

 Regards,

Park Jimin

 Jungkook scrunched his nose up in annoyance, feeling turned off by the formal grammar and perfect mail syntax and lack of spelling errors and what kind of person even signs their mail with “regards” anymore? Jungkook scoffed at himself. This was only getting more and more hopeless. Despite that, Jungkook wasn’t really in the mood to hurt the guy’s feelings (yet) seeing as Jimin was so eager to respond. He decided to go along with it for now.

  J, Jungkook

Re: Re: Tutoring Help

sounds good. how about 11 at the math café? and do you have facebook or something that I can add you on to make this easier?

 He barely had to wait a minute to hear the notification ping again.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Re: Re: Tutoring Help

That’s perfect!

And I’m really sorry but I don’t have Facebook. The only thing I use is e-mail so you can feel free to send me any questions or messages here! I’m usually fast at replying. I apologize for any inconvenience.

 I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook! I’m off to bed now, have a good night!

Regards,

Park Jimin

 “That loser doesn’t have Facebook?!” Jungkook couldn’t help blurt aloud for no one but himself to hear. He was really, really regretting this now. This person clearly seemed like the most stick in the mud nerd in the world. He was still using perfect punctuation in his message, went to sleep early (well, 1 a.m. but still), and evidently still used e-mail as his main form of communication.

Needing an outlet for venting (and realizing it was now past hour of proper comprehension for question three), Jungkook decided to vent in the form of a single lined message to Kim Taehyung who was probably asleep by now and would probably see the bright, uplifting message in the morning:

 Jungkook: ugh. leave it to kim freaking seokjin to hook me up with the number one virgin nerd lord in the world.

  Jungkook sat patiently on one of the tall chairs at the Math Café, waiting for his nerd tutor to arrive.

It was barely 10:40 a.m., but he’d decided he had nothing better to do after handing in his assignment. Plus he wanted a good excuse not to start the next one. As Jungkook casually sipped his coffee, he could sense quite a lot of dirty looks being thrown at his direction, and he knew exactly why.

If he had to be completely frank with himself, Jungkook really didn’t want to be taught by this person, and he didn’t want to have to say that aloud at any point during their meeting. So instead, he resorted making himself look as unappealing as possible. So there he was, decked out in his old rotten sneakers that had a toe poking out of the right shoe, his old black shorts that he found stuffed between the wall and his bed that hadn’t washed in god knows how long, a pair of black, thick-rimmed fake glasses and a bright, blazing red hoodie that seemed to engulf him. As a bonus, he hadn’t even bothered to take a shower nor brush his hair after he had forced himself to wake up at 7 a.m despite that he only managed to finish the assignment at 4 a.m.

In other words, he looked like a very unfashionable zombie.

And honestly, he loved it. Jungkook was truly in his “fucks-I-give-none” element now.

The minutes started ticking by, and Jungkook kept his eye on the entrance for any sign of a preppily dressed nerd lord, potentially carrying a suitcase. He could only be complete with ugly glasses and maybe even a receding hairline at this rate.

Before he knew it, it was already 11:05 a.m., and no nerd lord in sight.

Jungkook felt slightly disappointed. So nerd lord isn’t as lawful as I thought he’d be.

Ding!

Jungkook’s Facebook messenger notification went off. He swiped to find out that Kim Taehyung was finally awake:

 Taehyung: shit. i forgot to do the assignment.

Taehyung: and wait. who’s a virgin nerd lord?

 Jungkook was about to respond when another message popped up.

 Taehyung: oh. you mean jimin? ya he’s a nerd alright.

Taehyung: maybe not a virgin but definitely a nerd ._.

Jungkook snickered to himself..

Jungkook: he seem like such a by the book guy dough :o

Taehyung: he is. have fun with him. LOL.

Jungkook: thanks L (he’s late btws)

Taehyung: lmao. still? dat boi never shows up on time to anything.

 Jungkook sighed. It was now 11:07 a.m., and still no nerd lord in sight. Jungkook was starting to tap his foot in impatience, contemplating if this was a good enough excuse to storm out and call it quits on this whole attempt.  

However, his attention was abruptly piqued when something suddenly caught his eye.

Or rather someone.

Jungkook grabbed his phone immediately.

 Jungkook: yo. dude. there's a really cute guy walking in rn. omg. were there even cute guys in math?

Taehyung: LOL. and r00d. and i'm in math, remember?

Jungkook: oh shiet. he's coming in here

Taehyung: talk to him.

Jungkook: he seems busy. he’s …dressed up all nicely.

Taehyung: white button up?

Jungkook: ya.

Jungkook: with a black tie.

Taehyung: L.O.L. might as well offer him your ass to him now.

Jungkook: he’s talking to people. he looking for sum1 MAYBE HE ON A DATE

Taehyung: who the fuck would go on a date at the math café

Jungkook: oh shiiiettt he getting closer. w/e I’m just gonna watch. he so out of my league lmao

Taehyung: oh kookie. no one’s out of your league. u just gotta believe

Jungkook: u don’t know what I look like rn. ._.

Taehyung: if you talk to him, i’ll give you five bucks

Jungkook: nah man, I’m gud. I’ll just be happy staring at him.

Jungkook: why the fuq is he so close now. he still talking to people. is he still looking for sum1. O.O

Taehyung: you wish he was looking for u LOL ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Taehyung: by the way. wat happened to ur tutor? no show? LOL.

 Jungkook was in the middle of typing “yeah I have no clue” when he suddenly sensed the presence of someone standing by his table.

“Excuse me?” The voice was nice. Smooth yet approachable.

He looked up.

His heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

It was the guy. The guy was at his table. And he was talking to him.

If Jungkook thought the boy was “acutey” from afar, he was freaking beautiful up close. He had silky black hair that draped nicely over the porcelain skin of his forehead. His lips were plump and pretty and pink and Jungkook’s mind was already going to indecent places upon seeing them up close. And what’s more, his slanted, brown eyes were captivating as anything, soft and gentle and the way they were slightly widened in expectancy made Jungkook want to grab him right then and there. And what’s more, he was dressed completely in the style that Jungkook was totally weak for: white shirt, black tie…and the way those form-fitting black pants hugged his…

But instead of letting all the beauty overwhelm his senses and distract him completely, Jungkook suddenly became extremely aware of what he personally looked like, and immediately regretted all of his life decisions.

“Um…can I—uh, like, help you…or something?” Jungkook managed to stutter out very awkwardly.  

“Are you Jeon Jungkook by any chance?” the boy smiled.

Jungkook felt his breath catch in his throat. How does he know my name?  Jungkook’s brain (slightly abnormal from the lack of sleep) was spinning. Destiny, it has to be destiny, he concluded.

Jungkook coughed. “Yeah. I am.”

The boy’s smile widened. It was blinding.  

His brain was running haywire. This is it. This is my reward for suffering in this program for so long. He’s gonna tell me I’m the only sin of pi over two for him. I finally get a sexy boyfriend. Yes, yes, YES—

“I’m Park Jimin, your tutor?” the boy said, still smiling. “We emailed each other last night?”

Jungkook’s smile disappeared as he suddenly lost balance and fell out of his chair in surprise. He crashed harshly to the ground—much like the reality surrounding him at that moment.

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A HOT BEST FRIEND?” Jungkook screamed immediately upon bursting into Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung groaned from his bed. “Why do I feel like—wow, you look ratchet—this has happened before in some alternate universe?”

“What does that even mean?” Jungkook blabbered. “Anyways, I totally made a fool of myself.”

“How bad could it be? It’s you after all,” Taehyung grinned.

“I fell out of my chair.”

Taehyung blinked. “How—”

“It just got exponentially worse, ok?” Jungkook sighed. “I was already tired from the three hours of sleep and then he came up to me which was already not okay and then he just throws the bomb—”

“I think you meant ‘drops the bomb’,” Taehyung mumbled.

“—and I’m lucky I didn’t die, okay? I thought my heart was going to stop. And what nerd lord? I’m sorry, but that ass alone—I’m telling you it has like…no upper bound if ya know what I’m saying.”

Taehyung glared at Jungkook. “What does that even mean? That doesn’t even make sense. His ass is a freaking parabola, of course it has an upper bound—why are you even fast tracking third year analysis—anyways, first of all, you assumed he was the nerd lord. I only told you what I honestly think of him…besides, did he agree to tutor you in the end?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but allow a slight smile to crack onto his face.

“Yea…” he said quietly. He promptly received a pillow in the face.

“Ew. Quit acting like a smitten maiden, it’s grossing me out,” Taehyung grumbled. “But now that I think about it you two should totally date. He’s like your complement: you two complete each other.”

“Ha, as if I have a chance now,” Jungkook sighed. “I’m lucky he just laughed it off. But he probably thinks I’m a loser.”

“Well, he’d find out you’re a loser eventually anyways so it’s better now than later,” Taehyung noted.

Jungkook threw his friend the dirtiest look.

“Anyways, I love how you didn’t even bother putting two and two together: he was obviously your tutor. Why else would he go up to you? You think you’re cute or something?” Taehyung snickered.

Jungkook returned the pillow back to Taehyung with an aggressive throw (but missed). “Shut up. Unlike you, I didn’t have enough sleep last night.”

“Excuses. When do math majors ever get enough sleep? When do we even get anything? We’re all here because we secretly like the pain.”

“Last time I checked I wasn’t a masochist like you.”

“Check again, brother. We all are to some extent,” Taehyung grinned. “Anyways, when are you seeing him again?”

“Friday night,” Jungkook muttered.

“Where?”

“…my place.”

“Ooh.”

Ding dong!

The sound of the doorbell caused Jungkook to jump in his place, accidentally popping his collar up too high as he tried to adjust it.

“Omg, he’s here,” Jungkook muttered to himself, as he practically scampered over to the door and whipped it open.

“H—hey t—there…I mean…uh, sup?” Jungkook sputtered smoothly the moment he caught sight of his spiffy tutor.

Park Jimin blessed Jungkook with a pretty close lipped smile.

“Your grades should be after I’m done with you,” Jimin winked, brushing past Jungkook as he stepped inside.

Jungkook blinked, clearly too slow to get the quip. “What?”

“Where should I hang my coat up, Jungkook?” Jimin asked while Jungkook fumbled with the door.

“Uh—um, I can take it,” Jungkook said quickly, trying not to stare awkwardly as Jimin peeled off his coat. To anyone else, the familiar dress shirt, black tie and tight slacks may not have been the most arousing costume to reveal underneath, but Jeon Jungkook sure as hell tried to hide his gulp as he took the coat from Jimin.

Would it weird if I suddenly just buried my face into this and—yeah, yeah it would. Never mind. Jungkook shook the thoughts out of his mind as he quickly hung the coat in the closet.

“So, where do you want me?” Jimin asked.

“My bedroom,” Jungkook blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Uh—I meant that we’d be studying i-in my room…y’know, cause there’s a desk and I-I cleared up a space f-for us,” Jungkook stuttered like the absolute value of a loser that he was. Oh my god, this speech issue needs to STOP.

“Oh okay,” Jimin nodded. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly, and practically leapt two steps up the stairs as he took Jimin to his room. He’d spent the entire morning attempting to clean it up in order to potentially impress his evidently immaculate tutor.

Jungkook opened the door and showed Jimin to the sitting desk that he’d set up.

“You can set up here,” Jungkook gestured. “D-do you want some tea or something in the meantime?”

“It’s fine, let’s just get right to it,” Jimin smiled softly. Jungkook thought he felt his heart skip a beat when Jimin said that. He was weak. So, so weak right now.

And whether or not Jimin noticed, he did manage to say some comforting words: “Relax, I’m not here to make you feel incompetent or anything. I remember struggling insanely in my second year as well, so I’m the last person who’d make fun of you.”

“What year are you in now?” Jungkook asked as he settled down across from Jimin.

“Third,” Jimin smirked. “I’m not saying it gets better, but at this point, at least you’re used to it.”

“Wait…are you taking third year Real Analysis?”

“Yeah, why? Are you planning on taking it next year?”

“Well…things happened…and I’m actually taking the course right now…”

Jimin’s face lit up. “Actually? That means we’re in the same class! What are the chances…wait, how come I’ve never seen you before then?”

It’s because I never go to class, Jungkook thought shamefully. But he couldn’t let Jimin know. Fortunately, Jimin beat him to an excuse.

“Hmm…it’s probably because I always sit alone at the very front row, which is why I don’t see you,” Jimin noted.

“Y-yeah, that’s it,” Jungkook quickly agreed.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on!” Jimin blurted suddenly. “I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

Jungkook was speechless. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and he had already been offered a seat next to his tutor/eternal crush in lecture. For someone in the math program, that was like getting to second base…right? (At least that’s what Taehyung told him all the way in first year.)

Jimin suddenly let out a slight chuckle at Jungkook’s lack of response. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m such a loser,” he confessed awkwardlty. “The nerd that sits at the front of class. Alone. All my friends didn’t want to take the course because they thought it’d be too difficult.”

Jungkook immediately felt a surge of guilt for all the “nerd lord” comments.

“No! No way! Not at all!” Jungkook blabbered in a hurry, waving his hands everywhere. “I-I’ve always thought it was the cooler kids that sat at the front. You know, the ones that truly care and have connections with the prof and stuff.” The latter part, at least, was his genuine thought.

“If you say so,” Jimin smiled. “What about you? Why did you take the course early? You must’ve really liked second year analysis.”

“Um…well…” Jungkook shuffled uncomfortably in his place.

“It’s fine to admit you like it,” Jimin said. “I find it really interesting, personally. Even though I know it’s not exactly the easiest thing.”

“I…I was kind of pranked into taking it…”

“…what?”

Jungkook sighed. “One of my friends told me it would be an easy course to take a minute before course applications were due and…I believed him. I haven’t even taken the second year analysis. I’m just really lost and confused.”

Jimin appeared stunned. “You…you actually believed Analysis, an entire proof-based course, would be an easy course?”

Jungkook nodded unwillingly.

Jimin remained silent for a few more moments before he recovered enough to speak:

“Wow, Jungkook, you really are going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

  Jungkook screamed, shoving his head into his papers.

“I don’t get it!” he yelled.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We’ve already spent so much time and I just don’t understand. It’s a knot in my mind and I just—”

“Jungkook, relax—” Jimin tried as he reached out with his hands in an attempt to calm Jungkook down.

“—I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I’m totally gonna fail this course. I accept it now.”

“Jungkook, calm down….it’s only been five minutes.”

Jungkook’s head perked up. “What? Oh.” He scuffled away, looking embarrassed. “It felt a lot longer than that…”

Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s antics. “I’m sorry you felt that way,” Jimin smiled encouragingly. “I must’ve been a bad teacher then.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “No! No, no, no! That’s not it at all! I’m clearly just stupid, that’s all.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Jimin scolded. “I wouldn’t be teaching you if I knew you were hopeless.”

“But like you said, it’s only been five minutes,” Jungkook mumbled.

“Exactly, now flip back to that first lecture and let me teach you.”

Jungkook reluctantly flipped Jimin’s pages back to where they were before, trying to hide his blatant disregard for the topic.

“Don’t look so bored before you even started,” Jimin said as he hit Jungkook lightly on the shoulder. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Jungkook definitely felt a tiny shiver where his attractive teacher’s fingers had lingered.

“But…it’s such a dull topic,” Jungkook groaned, staring at the page of symbols that ought to have been familiar to him…but were not.

“Really? I don’t think so. Difficult to wrap your head around maybe, but definitely not boring,” Jimin stated.

Jungkook shuffled again. “Yeah, well…”

“I’ll do my best to persuade you by the end of all this,” Jimin grinned.

“You seem so passionate about this.”

“Well, of course,” Jimin said at once. “It’s learning how to rigorously prove why we do things the way we do: why we count the way we do, what numbers truly are, why things defined are the way they are. I mean, we only scratch the surface of it all by the end of the course but it’s still quite a beautiful concept. Just like all of math. It’s more abstract than you think. It’s like its own form of art.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but be drawn in by the genuine smile on Jimin’s face as he spoke all of these things that seemed worlds away from how Jungkook felt.

“Wow…” Jungkook uttered dumbly. “I never really thought about math that way…”

Jimin’s smile temporarily disappeared from his face as he turned to look at Jungkook.

“Really?!” Jimin seemed shocked. “Aren’t you in second year?”

Jungkook gulped.

Jimin tilted his head upwards in thought. “Hmm…well I guess it still hasn’t gotten too specific in second year. You still have time. Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on enough. Let’s go ahead and teach you how to prove two is an irrational number…”

Jungkook’s heart throbbed for Jimin as he diligently wrote out the proof for Jungkook, annotating verbally and in detail as he went. After seeing Jimin’s full dedication towards the field of math, Jungkook really didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way at all.

But as he continued watching Jimin scribbling out the proof, his handwriting neat and clear, each number crisp and pristine on the sheet of lined paper, Jungkook couldn’t help but become slightly intrigued. The way the tutor’s wrist was poised as he scrawled out his “there exist”s and “such that”s; the way his eyes lit up as he subtly sped up in excitement towards the end…

“There! All finished!” Jimin announced, as he drew two diagonal straight lines to signify the end of his proof. Jungkook said nothing, and merely sat there quietly, carefully observing Jimin’s vibrant and pure expression which had arose from something as mundane as demonstrating a proof.

It was obvious that Jungkook didn’t have the same amount about of passion when it came to math…

…for now.

  The feeling of going to a class you hadn’t been to in so long was definitely not a good one.

Despite that bothersome feeling, Jungkook’s lips couldn’t refrain from quirking upwards, knowing who was waiting for him inside.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on! I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

The words echoed repeatedly in the void that was Jungkook’s mind. He tried to hide the wide smile that was cracking onto his face by covering it up with his phone. At the same time, he also kind of needed to check the room number of the lecture hall that he hadn’t been to since the first day of class.

At long last, the doors were in sight. Jungkook practically burst inside, his eyes scanning past the tall, lanky prof and the various cliques of well-dressed Asians and bespectacled over achievers to search for his one and only target in the front row.

As he was wondering whether or not to call out, Jimin noticed him first and waved excitedly, mouthing his name. Feeling slightly embarrassed and not wanting to attract any further attention to himself, Jungkook slightly ducked as he ran over to Jimin.

“Hey, did you have any classes before this?” Jimin asked effortlessly, as if he naturally started conversations all the time (a trait that was foreign to Jungkook).

“No, this is my earliest class,” Jungkook responded stiffly as he arranged his bag below his feet. It was strange to sit in the front row—there was a surprising amount of leg space.

“Lucky~” Jimin drawled, tapping his pen on the side of his tiny desk. “I had an 8:30 this morning. I almost fell asleep.”

“You seem like the early bird type though,” Jungkook commented.

“Really?!” Jimin gaped. “What made you think that?”

“I don’t know...” Jungkook trailed off when he suddenly noticed that Jimin looked…different. Gone were the tie and button-up, to be replaced with a casual black hoodie and a pair of ripped, denim jeans. He looked like any other regular college student.

Well, an extremely cute regular college boy.

“You look different,” Jungkook opted to say.

“Hmm? From what?” Jimin asked, confused.

“From last night.” Jungkook thought he sensed a few people throw questionable looks in their direction as they heard the phrase without context.

Jimin burst into a vibrant laugh. “You didn’t really think I’d come to class in a tie and slacks, did you?” 

“Well…I—”

“That was because I didn’t know what kind of student you’d be, so I wanted to show up professional,” Jimin grinned.

Jimin suddenly leaned over the chair arm separating them, ending up much closer  to Jungkook than he expected. Another brilliant smile. Jungkook was going to die of a heart attack at this rate.

“I take this as I won’t have to anymore?” Jimin asked, dragging his words out deliberately. “Are you more comfortable with me like this?”

Jungkook stared blankly, having been rendered speechless. Oh my god, how am I going to deal with this? Is he flirting with me? I can’t tell. Do math people even flirt? They have to right? I mean, professors are all married so they must—

“Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You dropped your pen, by the way”

Jungkook blinked, only to realize that Jimin was suddenly holding a battered blue pen in his hand.

Oh. So that’s why he leaned over.

 “Oh, um, thanks…” Jungkook muttered quickly, grabbing his pen and averting his eyes at once.

“Good morning everybody!” the professor called out. He let out a sigh under his breath. Phew. Saved by the prof. For once.

The professor continued speaking with his thick foreign accent. “Today we will be continuing with the definition of convergence and divergence…”

Jungkook immediately zoned out. Nope. It didn’t even matter that he told himself he’d actually try and pay attention in order impress Jimin for once—neither his heart nor mind seemed to be truly up for it. It was all gibberish, foreign gibberish to him (and some of it even looked like the written script of some language he didn’t know—what the hell was ∀n∊N ∃ x > ∞ supposed to mean?)

 The professor was trying to ask questions again, something about a diverging function and Jungkook only sank further into his seat. Why did professors even bother trying sometimes? They should know after so many years of teaching that the only response they’d be getting was a long, uneasy silence.

 “Jimin?” The professor called the familiar name, his eyes suddenly directed towards Jungkook’s direction.

 Wait, what?!  Jungkook bolted upwards from his slouched position under the professor’s eye and swiftly glanced beside him to catch Jimin just lowering his hand having just raised it.

 Jungkook stared with widened eyes, almost veering away from the sudden shock.

 Oh my god. The prof knows his name. He’s literally that guy.

 “That’s false because even when you have two divergent functions, their product isn’t necessarily divergent as well,” Jimin answered with the most confident smile on his face. “Like (-1)n and (-1)n.”

 The professor appeared flustered for a moment, but immediately restored himself with a proud smile.

 “You’re going a bit ahead but that’s ok, Jimin,” the professor acknowledged. “So as Jimin said…”

But Jungkook wasn’t even listening anymore. Did he even understand a word of what Jimin just said? Not really. He could only stare at Jimin, speechless, and not even trying to bother to hide the slight smile on his face. His heart throbbed violently in his chest. He thought he had sensed it last night, when Jimin completed solving the problem, but after witnessing what he’d just seen, it was all the proof he needed.

The eloquence in which Jimin spoke his words; the confident aura that radiated when he answered the professor without batting an eyelash; the correct and overachieving solution that he’d provided; the thoroughness of the response that proved he knew what he knew; and the numbers and words that spilled out of his mouth as he spoke with that proud and knowing smile…

That was just so…so…

Jungkook gulped, trying to hold the thought back but couldn’t.

..so sexy.

So when Jimin turned to face him, he nearly jumped in his seat, forgetting that as brilliant as Jimin was, he still couldn’t read minds.  

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jimin grinned, not noticing Jungkook’s expression as his mind still appeared to be caught up in all the deductions.

Yes you are, Jungkook wanted to say.

“Yeah…totally,” Jungkook responded dumbly. “You’re so good…at this.”

For the rest of the class, Jimin intently watched the prof while Jungkook intently watched Jimin. His heart welled up every time Jimin raised his hand to answer a question. Each and every proof sounded more and more eloquent as they came from Jimin’s lips. He could see the girls in the row behind them rolling their eyes and whispering to one another as Jimin kept raising his hand over and over again but he couldn’t care less.  

Jungkook caught himself smiling again before he knew it. He gazed endearingly at Jimin’s profile, who was bent over and scribbling something detailed in his notes. Jimin’s eyes had never seemed this lovely before, not without that spark of excitement within them. And his lips were prettier like this, parted in anticipation as he focussed keenly on the numbers before him.

Jungkook’s heart raced faster and faster as he kept staring dumbstruck at Jimin. As he realized something, Jungkook merely sighed to himself, leaning his hand into face as he continued gazing.

So this must be the beauty of math…

  Jimin had class after analysis so Jungkook had to reluctantly part ways with him. Jungkook immediately headed to the familiar Room 441 in the math building, which was the lab where Namjoon worked. Luckily for them, the supervising professor was extremely easy-going, and apparently didn’t seem to care when (his favourite student) Namjoon let all his friends hang out in the lab. Thus, their little group would usually be found hanging out in Namjoon’s lab whenever the prof was out of office.

When Jungkook opened the door, he found the guests of the hour to be Seokjin and their friend Jung Hoseok from Math & Computer Science.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Namjoon waved from his desk. Seokjin and Hoseok didn’t seem to notice as they appeared to be in a deep debate over something.

“Hey,” Jungkook responded, slightly airily as he settled down and pulled his lunch out of his bag.

“Can you at least greet your friend?” Namjoon glared at Seokjin and Hoseok as he chomped down on an apple.

Seokjin’s eyes lit up when he saw Jungkook. “Oh my gosh, finally! A third person! Get over here.”

Jungkook scrambled over and sat next to them, slightly flustered “Why? What is it?”

“You know Dr. Pae, right?” Seokjin asked, almost urgent.

“Yeah, the one who’s popular with all the girls?” Jungkook nodded. “Why?”

 “Okay, so you know how he has a girlfriend, right?” Seokjin continued. “The really attractive blonde one?”

“…sure?”

Seokjin slammed his fist down the desk, startling everyone in the lab.

Namjoon tried negotiating between mouthfuls of apple. “Yo, dude, can you like calm dow—”

“Well this boy here—“ Seokjin paused dramatically, pointing at Hoseok. “—claims to have seen him holding hands with a brunette the other day. And guess what? Guess what? He was guiding her with his hand while she was walking over a stone path. Can you believe it? The man’s got game. Man I didn’t know that was what game theory was really about, because if I had known, I would have taken that course.”

“For the last time,” Hoseok grimaced, also placing his hand firmly on the table. “Just because he was holding hands with her, doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in a romantic relationship.”

“He was walking her over a stone path though!” Seokjin argued. “That’s so romance! Who even does that?”

“Maybe she was his sister or something. You don’t know that,” Hoseok asserted.

“Would you hold hands with your sister and guide her over a path for no apparent reason?” Seokjin snarled back, getting more and more aggressive.

“…no.”

“Exactly!”

“But that’s just me though!” Hoseok blurted, on the edge of his seat to fight for his argument. “I’m sure there are brothers out there who would hold hands with their sister.”

“Yeah, if you’re like weirdly close,” Seokjin frowned. “Anyways, Jungkook, we wanted to wait for you to come. What do you think? Romantic or platonic?”

Jungkook stared blankly as he took another bite of his sandwich, trying to avoid the assertive gazes from the both of them as they awaited an answer.

“Um…” Jungkook dwelled as he chewed on his sandwich. “Why don’t you ask Namjoon?”

Seokjin waved his hand dismissively. “You know how he always is. All provisos. He’s always like—“ He dropped his voice three pitches lower. “—everything is situational. We cannot place assumptions until we have more evidence. Blah blah blah—”

“I do not sound like that,” Namjoon interrupted.

“Be quiet, do your work,” Seokjin snapped. “Jungkook, just answer it. Which do you think?”

“Uhh…I agree with Namjoon,” Jungkook replied quickly.

Seokjin threw his hands up in defeat while Hoseok slammed his head on his keyboard.

“Freaking useless. All of you,” Seokjin groaned, stabbing his fork angrily into a piece of chicken. “We’ll settle this now. I can’t handle all these scandals in the math department. First Dr. Lee’s sugar daddy scandal with Dr. Choi and now Dr. Pae. That’s why you get a PhD in math: so you can gain an unbelievable amount of game. Let me market this program, please. I’ll show you what true exponential growth is. “

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Namjoon groaned from behind his computer.

“Oi, where’s Yoongi? Call him. I need to finish this,” Seokjin commanded.

“He has class,” said Hoseok. “He’s coming in like half an hour though.”

“Darn it, I have class then,” Seokjin sighed. “It’s ok. You can ask him and I’ll ask some of my other friends.”

“Why don’t you guys sample for something that might actually be worthwhile data for once?” Namjoon asked cynically.

“Because then I’d have to do more work analyzing it,” said Hoseok. “And I ain’t about that life.”

Seokjin checked his watched, frowning to himself. “I really don’t wanna go to class…” he sighed to himself.

“Yo, we’re math kids,” Hoseok said. “None of us ever wanna go to class. But we have to.”

“Namjoon does,” Seokjin scoffed. “Always.”

“So does Jimin,” Jungkook mentioned subsconsciously, without thinking.

Silence.

“Um…who’s Jimin?” Hoseok asked.

“The guy that’s tutoring him right now,” Seokjin answered. “Thanks to my brilliant suggestion, of course. Well, unless it’s not going well. What’s he like, by the way, Jungkook?”

“He’s like…um…” Jungkook struggled to find the proper words to describe his new tutor.

It suddenly struck him out of nowhere.

“He’s like…Euler’s identity.”

Namjoon dropped his chewed up apple. Hoseok spilled all of his rice while Seokjin merely stared.

“Oh my god, he thinks he’s unworldly and irrevocably beautiful,” Seokjin gaped.

“Jungkook, since when did you even know what that meant?” Namjoon asked.

Hoseok grinned. “It looks like he’s finally got a crush.”

“On Jimin though?” Seokjin gaped. “I mean his grades may be way above average but his looks…they’re a minor fraction of mine. Not even close.”

“What? Are you blind?” Jungkook blurted as he couldn’t help it.

The three others in the room exchanged confused looks (though Seokjin’s was marginally more offended).

 Hoseok was the first one to break into a mocking smile. “I think you’re the one who’s blind here,” he said. “Blind for lurve~”

“Shut up!” Jungkook retorted. “I mean, I just met him so…”

“But you do seem awfully smitten already,” Namjoon noted objectively, to which Jungkook had no response.

Seokjin sighed from the side. “Well, there’s really no reason for me to prevent this from happening…for now. But you better not get distracted. He’s there to help your grades. Not…anything else.”

“Like Namjoon helped you back then?” Hoseok cackled from the side, after which he received a wad of napkins in the face, courtesy of Kim Seokjin.

“Anyways, I want to see your grades improve,” Seokjin stated firmly. “Otherwise it defeats the whole purpose of you meeting Jimin.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure they will. He’s a good teacher. He’s been very helpful.”

“I’m sure he has,” Hoseok snorted, clearly not giving up the opportunity.

“Can you not encourage him?” Seokjin scolded. “He’s clearly side-tracked enough as it is. Please don’t alter my good intentions.”

“Yeah, I’d never let him live it down,” Namjoon murmured gleefully from the side.

“Can you be quiet? It’s better than you! You just sit there all day and let them do whatever they want,” Seokjin retorted.

“But if he falls in love and gets distracted, I’m gonna’ be right and you’re going to be wrong,” Namjoon considered.

“…are you seriously contemplating the possibility of your junior’s undergraduate career being ruined just so you can be right?”

Namjoon shook his head defensively. “Of course not! Jungkook’s a smart kid…well, he’s passing everything. So I’m sure having a healthy, fun relationship with an intelligent guy wouldn’t hurt anybody. So go get him Kookie.”

“No. The only thing that he’s getting from Jimin is better grades,” Seokjin asserted firmly, seeming completely satisfied with himself.

That is, until Hoseok decided he really, truly could not resist:

“…what if he ends up getting a D instead though?”

For the first time that entire morning, Namjoon had to stand up. And that was only to hold Seokjin back from throwing a chair at Hoseok.

  Jungkook crawled into bed earlier than usual that night, feeling strangely enlightened. His chest felt lighter than usual, as if just seeing Jimin for just that hour alone made it all worth it. In fact, if it hadn’t been for all that chaos in Namjoon’s lab, he might have felt completely at ease for the first time in a while.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he cozied under his covers. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t like math up until now…

Jungkook sighed, arms tucked under his head as he stared at the dark ceiling. Park Jimin. The only thought that seemed capable of occupying his mind. He wanted to witness it again: that eloquence, that beauty when Jimin solved problems.

When he could no longer resist that aching feeling in his chest, Jungkook reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. His finger hovered over the mail app, almost longingly, before he touched it completely on impulse.

Jungkook straightened up to write his message.

  J, Jungkook

<no subject>

Hey jimin,

r u free at all tomorrow? I only have one class

I could use some help

sorry if ur busy it’s fine

 Unlike the first time, Jungkook couldn’t press send fast enough. His hands quivered as the email was confirmed to be sent. And hopefully, if it was anything like before…

Ping!

His heart nearly dropped in his chest. His mind was ahead of his body as his fingers fumbled to open the message.

  Park, Jimin

Lunch Date?

Jungkookie!

Don’t be sorry, I’d always be glad to hear from you ^^

I’m free around lunch time so is there anything you’d like to eat?

 uhjdugv

Jimin

 He felt like a complete loser, smiling from ear to ear all alone in his bed as he read Jimin’s message. Jungkook could hear Jimin’s encouraging tone of voice in his head, and it was more than gratifying.

And also…what was this about a date?

Jungkook’s heart did a bunch of flips and turns just speculating about what may-be-but-not-really a date with his dreamboat of a tutor.

It’s a…study date. Yeah. That’s all it is. Jungkook tried to calm himself down with the reassuring conclusion.

First thing first, he needed to answer Jimin’s question, with eloquence and tact, as Jeon Jungkook would always do when approaching a crush:

  J, Jungkook

Re:

yeeeeeeee totally down.

 And also correlating to Jeon Jungkook’s regular behaviour, he only realized how rash and stupid his decision was after he had executed it.

Jungkook buried his entire body beneath his blanket and kicked around violently, not realizing how dumb he sounded until now that the message was declared to be “sent”.  

Down? What the hell am I? He’s not Taehyung. I can’t just say whatever I want! Oh my god. What is wrong with me.

The morbidity was too much for his partially unscathed soul as he continuing abusing his blanket and bed, slamming his fists and kicking his legs. That’s it. It was all ruined. His one chance to get a nice tutor and even potentially, with the slimmest probability, a cute boyfriend and he had to ruin all those confidence levels in a heartbeat.

Another ping sounded from his phone, momentarily pausing his rampage as he poked his head out from the bottom of the covers near his bed’s footboard (god knows how he ended up there). He immediately blazed the LCD glow directly into his eyes.

  Park, Jimin

Re:

Haha. You’re cute.

I’ll see you tomorrow :3

 uhjdugv

Jimin

 Jungkook’s eyes widened, after which they blinked slowly in disbelief. Luckily it was dark and there was no one else in the room, because he felt himself turning as red as his hoody from that morning.

Oh my god…did he just call me…cute?

He was frozen in shook. This can’t be real. Not already. Since when did he deserve good things? If the Park Jimin thought he was cute, surely karma didn’t exist.

He countered the negatives in his head, though he did it by adding alternative negative thoughts.

Maybe he just says that to everyone. There’s no way he could think I’m cute, not already.

Jungkook swivelled around on his bed like a confused tortoise, bringing his chin back to rest on his pillows. He pursed his lips into a pout, wondering how to deal with himself. Jimin was slowly but surely corrupting his mind—not that there was much left to corrupt anyways—and this probably wasn’t the best timing.  Seokjin was probably going to kill him.

Jungkook sighed to himself, finally flipping himself over into a sleeping position at last. He tucked his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and trying to put himself to sleep after what felt like a long day. Tomorrow was a different day, and sleeping it off was the only thing he could do now to calm his nerves.

When his eyes finally fluttered shut, Jungkook found himself having rather sweet dreams about Jimin that night.

By 2:30 p.m., Jungkook was already waiting in the lobby of their school library.

 Despite how eagerly his heart was thumping in anticipation, he tried to maintain a casual appearance. Jungkook had pulled out brand new, unworn shirt and jeans from the closet for this occasion, and he’d already fixed his hair for the nth time that morning (despite that it was near impossible for a strand to be out of place because he’d checked at least another hundred times before he left the house). Needless to say, he wanted Jimin to be impressed for once.

Jungkook bit his lip in anxiety as he checked his watch again (he also never wore watches so the action itself seemed extremely foreign to him). Jimin was late. Again. And he couldn’t help but feel impatient about it.

“Jungkook-ah!”

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone as he heard the voice that he’d been so anxiously waiting for. His eyes lit up as he saw Jimin heading towards him with the brightest smile, black hair bouncing pleasantly as he ran.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Jimin gasped, catching his breath. “The professor kept me overtime. Did you wait long?”

Jungkook returned what he thought to be his most encouraging smile. “No! Not at all! I just got here as well,” he said convincingly.  

Despite that he’d spent hours getting dressed in the morning, Jungkook still felt far from worthy of comparison to Jimin. Even though it looked like he wasn’t trying at all, Jimin had to be at the very, very least an 8 out of 10 in his glasses, bomber jacket and ripped jeans.

Jungkook held back a sigh. Their little date hadn’t even started yet and he already felt discouraged.

“So, where did you want to go?” Jimin asked.

“Nowhere in particular, as long as it’s with you,” Jungkook answered, the last part coming out a lot more honestly than he’d intended.

Fortunately, Jimin’s smiled only widened. “That’s good. I had a particular place in mind. And you look like you could use a little sweetness in your life.”

Jungkook blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned, blatantly confused. Is sweetness supposed to code for something?

Jimin laughed, seeming embarrassed.

“Nothing. I just wanted to…joke around a little…”

Moments later, Jungkook found himself sitting with Jimin at a nearby desserts café, with a giant strawberry and chocolate waffle sitting in front of him, topped with insane ice cream and whipped cream quantities that could only be considered outliers.

The cringing agony arrived much too late for Jungkook. Oh my god, he was trying to tell a punny joke and I was too busy trying to analyze whether or not he was flirting with me that I didn’t even bother laughing. This is already going wrong. So. Horribly. Wrong.

But all this time, Jimin hadn’t seemed to notice. He was just pleasantly sipping on his customized hot mocha beverage that had a cute latte heart design in it, humming slightly as he flipped back and forth through the notebook he was holding in his hands.

“Um…Jimin?” Jungkook spoke up.

Jimin looked up from his pages, meeting eye contact with Jungkook as he adjusted his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, mildly concerned. “Did you not like it? My friend swears it’s good.”

Jungkook gulped, trying not to let himself be distracted by the glory that was bespectacled Jimin. “You really didn’t have to buy this for me…”

Jimin dropped his notebook, reaching up to push his glasses onto his nose bridge before looking directly at Jungkook (whose heart skipped a beat with 100% certainty) as he spoke:

“We’re all poor university students,” he said rationally, with a gentle smile. “You know better than to give up free food. Now eat up before it all melts.”

It took a few moments for Jungkook to even process what Jimin was talking about—he had been distracted by glasses after all. Surprisingly and spontaneously obedient, Jungkook nodded promptl as he swiftly picked up his fork with a shaky hand and pressed through the soft cream and pastry.

“Now,” Jimin continued speaking as he leaned his pretty face into hand and looked at Jungkook through his glasses. “Should we start going through these notes or should I wait until you finish eating?”

Jungkook wanted to slam his head into the wall. His mind was clearly not in the right places, not after seeing that upward gaze that appeared much too sultry for no reason in particular.  

“Feel see to fart!” he blurted. Shit. “I mean, feel free to start!” The idea of stabbing himself with the fork to end it all was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

Curtly, Jimin ignored Jungkook’s little stumble and proceeded to go through how to calculate expectations and variances of a distribution. Jungkook tried hard to listen, he really did, but he kept slipping in and out of a distracting mood. He continued staring at Jimin, the way his bangs slightly fell over the frame of his glasses as he was bent over and writing on the paper.

Jungkook sucked on his fork, eyes slightly lidded as he watched Jimin. Hmm…this waffle tastes so, so much sweeter than I expected it to…

“Do you get it, Jungkook?” Jimin asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jungkook tried to not choke on the whipped cream. “Hmmph, what?” he garbled unattractively.

“Do you get what the difference is between an expectation and a variance?”

Jungkook stared blankly. “Uh, well…”

Jimin shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. “If you don’t get it, Jungkook, you can just tell me,” he said. “Honestly, don’t be afraid, despite what you’ve heard about me.”

Jungkook’s attention was suddenly caught. “Hmm? What? What have I heard about you?”

Jimin smiled. He added an unexpected shrug before saying, “Well I don’t know, Jungkook. Last I heard someone thought I was a ‘nerd lord’, didn’t he?”

Jungkook froze. I’m gonna kill that lanky asshole, he thought ominously, as the mental image of Kim Taehyung’s best trolling face floated into his mind.

He laughed nervously, scratching the nape of his neck as he spoke next. “Well, that was like…before I knew you. And stuff.”

“Really?” Jimin asked, leaning forwards slightly. “Well…what’s changed since then?”

Jungkook felt like he’d been pushed into a corner, not sure how to answer this. Especially when Park Jimin was looking at him so expectantly, with a slight curve on his lips like that.

“Um....you’re…you’re actually a good teacher?” Jungkook said stiffly, trying to say anything but the things that were a bit more easily retrievable within his conscious mind. 

“Oh,” Jimin pursed his lips, barely looking disappointed. He sank back into his seat, flipping quickly through his notes as Jungkook was left alone to contemplate what he had done wrong.

“Why don’t you try this problem for me?” Jimin said, pushing the notebook towards Jungkook. Jungkook took the pages hesitantly, and wondered if he was only imagining that Jimin’s tone had become slightly colder than before.

Deciding to ignore his qualms, Jungkook grabbed his pencil and kept his head down and focussed in determination. Regardless of how it would turn out with Jimin, he should probably focus on the real reason why he was there in the first place.

But much to his dismay, he found that the distractions had been too much, as always. He kept writing and erasing, scratching out answers and replacing it with others. Before long, his page was a mess, and he wasn’t any closer to the answer.

He gritted his teeth, erasing yet another line. C’mon Jungkook, focus. If you want him to not be discouraged of teaching you, you gotta try harder.

But it seemed hopeless. The overcrowded page seemed to mock him with ridicule, questioning why he was starting to confuse his variables and miswrite his numbers. It was starting to give him a headache just to look at.

He heard Jimin shuffle from across him. Oh no, he’s leaving. Crap. Why do I have to be so stupid? His eyebrows scrunched in annoyance as wrote down something that seemed to be right, but he had already seen before.

“Need help?” Jimin’s voice asked suddenly, right next to him.

Jungkook finally let out the sigh of frustration he had been holding in for so long. He turned towards the direction of Jimin’s voice.

“Yes! I’m sorry I—”

Jungkook stopped midsentence as he found that Jimin’s face was right in front of him, as Jimin was bent over his shoulder and looking intently at the problem in front of them. He leaned back slightly in an instant, though it was still close enough for him to realize how smooth and soft-looking Jimin’s poufy cheeks were.

“You’re actually on the right track, Jungkook,” said Jimin, as he gazed knowingly at Jungkook’s messy work. “Besides…”

Much to the dismay of Jungkook’s poor, soft and fragile heart, Park Jimin had to turn at that very moment so that their eyes and lips were less than centimetres away from each other.

“I’ve never seen you try that hard before…” Jimin said. It was as if his voice was coated with sugar.

Jungkook visibly gulped, not even bothering trying to hide it. He tried to lean back some more but there was no room left to go.

“You were really cute,” Jimin murmured as his smile widened. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Ba-dump.

It was a miracle Jeon Jungkook didn’t faint right there and then.

end of part 1!

part 2 coming soon on tumblr OR read the full story on AO3 ^^

A/N: ...yeah. Part of me hates myself for doing this can you tell? XD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it at least a little~ and saw a new perspective on math through this :3

Anyways, I neglected my midterm to squeeze this out in time for VDay so I hope it made you smile, somewhere, somehow :D