#(and it’s actually what i’m working on for my research paper if i haven’t mentioned that already)

[lume-nosity]

it's ok ig... like we are awkward but he hasn't shut me out. i think, that he thinks i want something serious; no i don't. it's just a silly, "happy-happy" crush. tbh i want to tell him that, but i'm not sure because i wasn't even the one who said that i liked him 💀. i can't be 100% sure, because i asked him what my friend said and he told me that he didn't get what they said - but my friend who told him said otherwise.

so basically, we're awkward, still being shipped together, and terribly distanced.

i see, i do hope that didn’t affect your current status (whatever it may be) with him too much

the misunderstanding ☹️..

[bloodmoonmuses]

clover | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, friends to lovers, college au, fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: some swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: mark collects four leaf clovers. when you help him find his hundredth clover, mark declares you his good luck charm.

If asked whether or not you believe in fate, you’d probably say no. You found the concept of it unnerving- a predetermined future that one must simply accept… How boring. What you believed in more was the butterfly effect- the chaos of it, the lack of control, the overlapping of timelines. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings could cause a hurricane. It’s the little things that have the biggest effect.

The first time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the forgetfulness of your best friend, Johnny. The three of you were supposed to meet for a group project, but it slipped his mind. You knew of Mark, of course, but never really hung outside of group settings. 

Mark is a butterfly- fluttering, social, beautiful and delicate. You wanted to pin and press his wings like a taxidermist, preserving their beauty in eternal serenity. Though most times, he felt too golden to pin down. He was simply meant to be free.

The two of you lie under a tree in the campus’ courtyard, skimming your textbook for more information. Mark sat quietly, plucking blades of grass out of the ground. When your vision blurs, signaling you’re no longer absorbing information, you close your textbook.

“Think he’s still coming?” Mark inquires.

“Nah. I texted him, but he hasn’t responded,” you say as you check your phone once more for confirmation.

“Hm,” Mark closes his textbook as well. “ Wanna call it a day?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Spring is well under way, but today is warmer than usual. It’s actually nice enough to be outside. You linger on your faded picnic blanket, lying on your back with your eyes closed, while Mark gathers his things. Sunlight filters through the leaves, making abstractly shaped shadows dance across your chest and stomach. You trace the warmth with your fingers.

“I can consolidate our research into a document if you want,” Mark pipes. You thought he had left already.

You crack open an eye. “We’re still talking about the project?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for.”

You crack a grin, scoffing at Mark’s eagerness to actually work. “Didn’t know you were such a goody-two-shoes.” 

“I’m not,” he contests, pouting slightly.

He’s so cute. You want to stuff him with fluff and tie a bow on his pretty head. No wonder everyone babies him so much. His eyes simply demand such.

“I’m just messing with you,” you say. “Sounds like a plan. I can make the slideshow, if you want.”

“Cool.”

Mark starts to leave before returning to his seat and asking, “Hey, ______. Why haven’t we hung out before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. You have plenty of friends. Didn’t think you’d need more.”

You look at Mark, sitting criss-cross on the corner of your blanket. He has a pile of clovers on his leg, and he continues to sift through the grass in pursuit of more. He plucks another, identifying it as a four leaf clover, and places it on your belly.

“Looks like I just made another. It’s been weeks since I’ve found one.”

“A four leaf clover?” Your fingers play with the floweret, watching as it rises and falls with your breaths. Mark’s eyes follow the movement as well.

“Yeah, I collect them. You’re, like, my good luck charm now. Dude, it’s fate.”

“Do I get a say in the matter, dude, or does fate take precedence?” you joke, asking with a giggle.

Mark beams at you, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Wanna be my good luck charm?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Mark grabs his backpack, taking out a sheet of parchment paper and a book. Then, he takes the clover from you, placing it in between two sheets. Finally, he places the clover in the middle of the book. He closes it, giving the book a firm squeeze, and puts it back in his bag.

“Pressing it for later,” he says.

—

The second time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the drunkenness of your best friend, Johnny. You told yourself you’d stop going to parties with him. It seemed that every time you did, you were relegated to designated driver. So there you sat, on the stairs of the back porch, hoping Johnny would pass out in the next hour or so. However, you knew this wouldn’t happen any time soon. Johnny’s alcohol tolerance is annoyingly high. You decide to enjoy the fresh air regardless.

House parties this big were conducted for only one reason- to get everyone in attendance as fucked up as possible (and assuage their guilt in doing so with the presence of other fucked up people). A girl, a twig-like thing, does a keg stand in the middle of the backyard. She nearly topples over entirely, but manages to return to the ground upright before immediately dissolving into a heap of bones and flesh.

On your left, you watch a smarmy frat boy sidle up to another girl, caging her against the house. She’s drinking him up, flashing the most obvious “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen. On your right, a guy blows chunks into a bush. Such is the dichotomy of life. 

The back door of the house swings open and the music that’s blasting from inside temporarily bleeds into the backyard. When it closes, the sound is muffled, making you feel as though you’re underwater. You look up to see Mark, surprisingly. The two of you haven’t spoken since the group project. He sits next to you, muttering a brief hello. 

“Not your crowd?” he says, noticing the dissatisfaction on your face. 

“Johnny’s my crowd, but he’s hammered.”

Mark scoffs. “Sounds about right.”

You look at Mark. He seems mostly sober, save for the faint dusting of pink adorning his cheeks. “Are you drinking tonight?” you ask him.

Mark tips his beer towards you, taking another swig before saying, “Just the one. I have a paper to write tomorrow. You?”

“Designated driver.” You’ve been nursing a cup of lemonade. You feel like a prude.

“Daaaang.” He drags out the word, following it with a low whistle. “That sucks, dude.”

“Needed some fresh air?” you ask him.

“Nah, just wanted to catch up with my good luck charm. Saw you walking out." 

Your heart beats a bit faster, though you're not sure why. “Have I been doing a good job?”

“I get to be here outside with you instead of in that hellhole. So, I’d say yes.”

You end up driving Johnny and Mark home that night. Apparently, his designated driver (Jaemin) bailed on him. Mark sits in the passenger seat while Johnny is passed out in the back. It’s quiet, moonlight seeping into the car in a hazy glow. It illuminates Mark’s side profile and you sneak glances at him in your periphery. He’s visibly fighting off sleep, head lolling to the side then suddenly jerking to attention every few minutes.

When he does this a third time, you say, “You can sleep. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“Wanna make sure you’re safe,” murmurs Mark. His voice is gravelly, the sentence barely croaking out of him. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.”

“I’ll survive. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” With your permission, he drifts off to sleep, lips slightly parted. 

When you arrive at the boys’ dorm, Johnny stirs lightly as he feels the car has come to a stop. You shake Mark’s shoulder, waking him from his slumber.

You walk up to Mark’s room, the two of you lugging Johnny with much difficulty. He’s practically dead weight, wasted enough to the point of not being able to hold himself up. When you finally manage to get him on Mark’s couch, you’re winded. You sit on the floor while Mark sits next to Johnny. 

“The only thing comforting me right now is the fact that he’s gonna wake up with a horrible hangover.”

At this, Mark laughs, his own chest heaving at the physical exertion of transporting a Johnny-sized human.

“Thanks for helping me bring him up,” Mark says.

“No problem. Take a video of him suffering for me please.”

“Anything for my good luck charm. Speaking of…” Mark quickly retreats to his room, returning with a small wooden box in his hands. He places it in your lap.

You open the box to see it full of four leaf clovers encased in resin. He takes out a heart shaped one and hands it to you.

“This one is yours. The hundredth clover in my collection.”

“I’m honored.” You cradle the preserved clover in your hands, watching the light bounce off of its shiny surface. The moment overwhelms you, chest constricting with adoration of the simple gesture.

“I was thinking of making it into a bracelet. Then you can harness your lucky powers wherever you go. Like a superhero- or something like that.”

He smile at you, a toothy and boyish grin, and your inhibitions seem to melt away. Perhaps you could be persuaded into believing in fate. Making him happy in this way feels like destiny. You would do so forever if given the chance.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

—

The third time you hang out with Mark Lee, Johnny isn’t much of a factor. Then the fourth time, and the fifth, sixth and seventh- until one night, Mark asks you on a date. You think. You’re not really sure at this point. 

You’re at his apartment, something that occurs more often following the party incident, killing time with him and (of course) Johnny. The three of you are supposed to be having a movie night, but can’t agree on a film. In lieu of such, you’re simply arguing about movies.

“It’s ridiculous,” Johnny says.

You cross your arms. “It’s high art.”

“Do not refer to Twilight as ‘high art.’”

“The first one has an indie feel to it. The too-blue coloring grading? Imagine stumbling upon that at Sundance or South by Southwest. Those film bitches would be all over it if not for the negative connotation of pseudo vampire smut.”

“Never seen it,” Mark says. His comment gets drowned out, however, as you continue to rant at Johnny.

“The series only got bad because they gave the sequels to a male director.”

“That is not the only reason.”

Johnny’s phone rings. “It’s Jaehyun. Jaemin left him at a party.”

Johnny gathers his belongings and exits. He attempts something of a wink towards Mark, which is awkward because 1.) You see it, and 2.) It looks more like some dust flew into his eyes than a cheeky gesture.

“Be back in a bit,” Johnny says. 

“What was that about?” you ask. Mark is beet red. 

“Nothing,” Mark sputters. “So.”

“So…”

“Twilight. Movies. You like both of those things, right?” Mark rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, swinging his arm in tandem. He can’t really make eye contact with you, but he’s trying, blinking rapidly as his eyes flicker around the room. 

When the silence becomes unbearable you say, “Is there a reason you’re acting like we’ve never met before?”

“Just answer the question.” He sighs, face planting into his palm.

“I mean- Marginally. I mostly just like making Johnny angry-”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

—

It’s raining. Mark is soaking wet, green hoodie soiled. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly with dripping wings, dejectedly fluttering in an attempt to dry itself off. Funnily, the sun was beaming brightly just a few hours ago. If you hadn’t checked the weather ahead of time, you’d probably be drenched as well. 

“Forgot my umbrella,” says Mark as he walks up to you.

“Clearly.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Guess I’m not as lucky as you thought.”

“Impossible.”

“Wanna just go back to your place?” you say as you pat his shoulder.  “Then you can get changed.”

You return to Mark’s apartment, making two cups of chamomile tea. When Mark exits his room, he sits on the couch. There’s enough room for at least three people in between the two of you. When you move to sit closer, Mark literally flinches.

His right hand is clasped tightly into a fist, quivering from the force with which Mark is holding it shut. 

“Okay Mark. What’s wrong?” You reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his closed one.

He averts your gaze. “I don’t know how I managed to fuck this up-”

“The rain is out of your control, Mark. It’s not a big deal.”

Then suddenly, Mark opens his hand to reveal your clover, still in its heart shaped encasing, but now attached to a bracelet just as he said he would. The butterflies in your stomach fly up to your sternum. Your breath hitches there.

“I had this whole thing planned. After the movie I was gonna drive you home and it was supposed to be this whole thing that led up to me giving you the bracelet under the moon but then it started-”

“Mark. It’s okay!” you say with a laugh.

“ I like you, ______. I was gonna tell you that I like you.” Mark shuts his eyes tightly, practically wincing with each word. 

You lean over to kiss his cheek, accidentally giving him a butterfly kiss as well when you linger there. Mark giggles at the contact of your eyelashes, and you feel his face move against your lips.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you too.”

Eventually, Mark’s lips meet yours, gently kissing you as though you’ll break. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body and you pull Mark closer in pursuit of more. Mark places a final peck on your nose and pulls away. He grabs the clover bracelet and ties it to your wrist. 

“Lucky me,” Mark says.

a/n: unedited and feedback is always appreciated!

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 1

[ask-sister-solaris]

“Wait me?”

Ray Stantz X reader ficlet

Warnings; none just toof rotting floof

————————

You had an extensive education. Psychology, science (physics, biology and chemistry) aswell as some more ‘niche’ studies including neuroscience and parapsychology. You had quite a deep understanding of the paranormal and occult, seeing it as nothing but a hobby, but when the Ghostbusters come around you realize you could actually make use of your PhDs and knowledge.

You stood infront of the tall and rundown building looking back at the paper. Yup this was the place, old Fire station. You peeked in before stepping in and going over to the reception desk. A dark red haired female looked up at you and she gave you a confused look before you explained why you were there

“I’m here about a job..I believe I can be of assistance to the Ghostbusters, I have proof of my PhDs and exam results..”

She hummed and turned around yelling for someone a man, no taller than you, pelted out of his office and vaulted over the border between the back room and reception. You recognized him as Peter Venkman. You’d never met him personally but you’d heard from students he’d had.

“Well hello, how can I help?” Peter gave you that signature smile and you rose a brow, how did women actually fall for him..shaking your head gently you held out the envelope containing all your certificates

“I’d like a job” your voice was surprisingly firm despite how shaky you felt. Peter looked it over and hummed impressed before smiling holding a hand out toward you. “Welcome to the Ghostbusters, follow me and Dr Stantz can get you all situated” you nodded and followed him as they reached some sort of garage. A pretty beaten up car was sat with the bonnet up and it looked as if someone was working on it, a small radio blasted out rock music, Peter turned the radio off.

“Ray! We have a new recruit walk them through the proton packs and stuff will you” he walked off before the poor man could answer. You gave him an awkward smile and wave. Ray wiped his hands and held it out, which you shook with a smile.

“Ray Stantz, I’ll try to explain the whole proton pack thing but we haven’t even had a test run of them yet” he rubbed the back of his neck. You chuckled and smiled gently waving it off “It’s fine Dr Stantz honestly, I’m just happy Dr Venkman took me on..”

He smiled gently “please call me Ray” he led you to the storage room where the suits and packs were kept. He explained it briefly, it peaked your interested quite a bit and you took in every word he said. You’d always been the same, attentive, friendly and hardworking.

It didn’t take long for you and your fellow ghostbusters to actually gain popularity, after the hotel everything seemed to be smooth sailing. Most of your time was spent in the lab with Egon and Ray, or in the garage with Ray. Venkman usually left you two alone in the garage teasing he didn’t want to interrupt two lovers bonding. You found it funny that he’d say that, considering you’d had a massive crush on Rag since day one, and little did you know that Ray felt the same.

Time seemed to fly by, you, Ray and Egons researched revealed more about Dana’s apartment and you and Ray spent even more time than you had previously. You had to confess but you were so scared. And she panicked when she was called and found out Ray and the others had been jailed. She rushed to the police station and told them you were also a Ghostbuster and if they were jailed you should be to.

Admittedly Ray found that downright attractive that you’d put yourself up there proudly claiming you were a Ghostbuster. Shortly after you were called in to the Mayors office. You stayed silent while the madman that had turned the grid off ranged (Egon had filled you in) and you hummed “Hold on. If what you’re saying is correct then it’s your fault, you turned off the grid releasing all the spirits and ghouls onto New York. And not to mention you blatantly ignored Dr Venkman”

The other four looked at you surprised and you turned to the Mayor “Now id listened to my colleagues before the whole of New York is destroyed and plunged into darkness” you stepped back and stood beside Ray his eyes never leaving you. God his heart was pounding even faster for you. Once the Mayor finally agreed offered a lending hand all five of them set off in the Ecto 1.

Fighting Gozer wasn’t easy, nor was it fun. Venkman taunting said cursed spirit. After Ray accidentally summoned a huge Stay Puft you stood beside him and fought bravely. With Stay Puft defeated and the gate closed you stood up with a groan covered in Mallow fluff. You were hugged by an equally covered Rays and you both laughed. After the two entrapped by the Keymaster and Gatekeeper you and the others headed down. You were holding Rays hand and he looked at you as people cheered.

What happened next you didn’t expect to happen at all, Ray tilted your hand up and kissed you gently. Your eyes widened before you melted into the kiss as everyone cheered, you swore you heard Venkman yell at Egon about owing him.

[read-write-thrive]

Hi, absolutely no pressure but I saw your post mentioning your undergraduate thesis and it sounds very interesting! What did you do it on?

hi!! fair question lol, I never figured out a succinct way to phrase it but it was on the emergence of a queer* male** culture in nineteenth century UK urban centres. I specifically studied the spatial, linguistic, and non-verbal communication between AMAB individuals who had sex with other AMAB individuals (which is horribly not trans inclusive and I hated that but the history department/professors I was writing for weren’t well versed in historical trans/queer theory and pushed me away from delving into any of that). it was a lot of fun to get into what parks were best for cruising, what terms they used to identify one another vs what society put onto them, and I even got to talk a bit about hand signals and postures and such that would’ve worked as flagging!!

truth be told the paper has a lot of potential that I did not meet and don’t really have the capability to—I wrote the first submission of it while abroad in the UK and that did well, but when I wanted to make it better and resubmit for honors I lacked further research and the patience for the historiography needed to actually improve it. I also mentioned somewhere around here that I’m currently working on my masters but now I’m even further from the UK so I think I’ll have to pivot completely :/

I’m happy to talk about any/all of it if you’re interested, and thank you for asking!! I haven’t gotten many (any?) non-spam asks and I do so love talking about queer history lol

[everlark777]

holding you is like the new past

next | previous

chapter six

i woke up with a text from armin, it read “hey, hope this finds you well! i know it’s quite early and you may not receive this for a bit. could we meet over coffee to discuss a few things? i’ll buy?”

i had to sit up, rub my eyes and read it again before i could fully comprehend that armin had just texted me. meet me for coffee? he wanted to see me before i had my morning coffee? did he want to get yelled at? i sat up and looked around my room from the night before.

i had fallen asleep at my desk working on a paper due for one of my classes, and crawled into bed around three in the morning. my clothes from yesterday were strewn about the room and all my papers were scattered about the place. i checked the time. i had about an hour to get my things together and make myself look presentable.

it had been two more weeks of class. two more weeks of armin and i actually being cordial. our little feud seemed like a hazy dream. one we both didn’t care to acknowledge.

i picked up my phone hovering over armin’s message before clicking on it. my fingers froze up on the keys. i didn’t know how to respond. he was so formal, should i respond in my scholarly email best or just respond normally?

i settled for, “sounds great, in about an hour?”

i paced around my room not being able to keep on track, mindlessly checking my phone for armin’s response. i didn’t know what i was doing. when i finally met up with armin almost two hours had passed.

“hey, sorry i’m late,” i huffed, pulling in a seat next to armin.

it was only eight but armin looked bright eyed, like he had been up for hours. today he was wearing a soft blue sweater that i had to fight the urge to reach out and pet. he looked softer than usual but i couldn’t quite put my finger on what was different.

“it would have been nice if you were here on time, but we mustn’t dwell,” armin scoffed.

it must have been the fact that it was eight a.m. on a saturday and i was sitting here with armin in a coffee shop but i bust out laughing. i mean heavy laughter, belly bending, strong breathless laughter.

“what could possibly be so funny?” armin puzzled.

“but we mustn’t dwell,” i copied in the most exaggerated british accent i could muster.

“who talks like that,” i said through heaps of laughter.

armin took a long look at me. he didn’t seem to be amused by my amusement. if anything it was bordering on anger.

“as a matter of fact, i do,” armin spit out, turning his head up in the air.

this got a good laugh out of me. by the time i caught my breath and looked up at armin, i could see a faint smile cracking through.

“i did not invite you here to be ridiculed, we need to discuss our project. as i have mentioned before, we have a good headstart and we need to stay focused. it might sound fun to goof around, but you decided you wanted to help me and this project is very important.”

armin’s tone shifted the entire mood. i felt my energy shift towards him. it was weird, it took a lot for my brain to focus up. when you have so many different thoughts screaming in your head all at once it’s hard to zero in on anyone thing, but armin had me shifting my entire focus forward.

i knew this project was important. we needed to complete it to graduate, but it was more than that. the good ideas went far. some people have gotten jobs exactly where they wanted to be due to their research and experiments on this project.

“i’m serious about this, i promise,” i held armin’s eyes intently, wanting him to know i meant it.

“i just haven’t had coffee yet and i honestly planned to sleep in today,” i rubbed my eyes and as if on cue let out a yawn.

“here,” armin hands me his card, “i already told them i was meeting you here, they'll give you my discount and everything.”

i hesitantly grabbed the card. i was all for free coffee, but i didn’t know how to accept it from armin just yet.

“i got next time,” i spit out trying to make the guilt lessen.

armin nodded and then shooed me off towards the counter.

—--

i walked into the coffee shop around closing time. armin and i were going to try and tweak an experiment we ran in class today that didn’t go exactly to plan. i checked my phone, no missed texts. i looked around but didn’t see armin. he was supposed to be there.

“boo.”

i jumped about ten feet and turned to be face to face with armin.

“why would you do that,” i said, clutching my chest.

armin let out a laugh.

“sorry, i just thought i had a perfect opportunity, i’m trying to be more fun since someone is convinced i’m a rigid weirdo” armin flashed a smile at me.

my mouth fell open, “i don’t think that,” i protested then realized i had more than likely said those words to mikasa last week, but right now we were acquaintances and i didn’t want him to know what i was thinking.

class had been a lot easier since we had finally started getting along. armin wasn’t that bad to be around. once you got past his know-it-all attitude maybe there was a decent person there.

“well, you got me,” i said still trying to catch my breath.

armin and i had about a ten minute walk to the lab. out here there were people around, but we would be alone in the lab. i felt nervous just thinking about it.

“so, how’s college life treated you these past few years.”

it was a brave statement. i felt as if our past didn’t exist. like we shouldn’t acknowledge the fact that we had met prior to that day in class. i looked over at armin to see if he felt weird about it but his expression didn’t change.

“boring, tough, exhausting, surprising, exhilarating, did i say exhausting,” i huffed out a laugh and met with armin’s eyes before he looked away.

“how about you?”

armin rubbed a hand over his face and then looked at me. our eyes catching during conversation had become ritual. always only making enough eye contact to look normal. never looking at each other for too long like if we did we might see something written in each other's faces.

“all of those things but maybe two more exhaustings?” armin huffed out.

we were getting closer to the lab but for some reason i found myself asking, “so i know we are supposed to be working on our project but i’m going to go out on a limb here and say, what if we ditched the lab and did something fun?”

armin looked quickly between me and the science building.

“are you doing eenie meanie right now?”

“maybe?” armin cracked a smile.

“well, could you hurry it up? i’m thinking about warm noodles and maybe watching a movie? I don’t know, it’s been so long since i've had any kind of fun. i don't even know what fun is anymore.”

“if you’re looking for fun, my buddy connie is throwing a party back at our apartment.”

at this my ears perked up. a party? i had heard about connie simply because he threw legendary parties. i couldn’t miss this.

“one question, could i invite a friend?”

[sunstone-smiles]

Chipped my finger bone so this took a while to type, but! Hassel is bummed about the whole dragon family legacy thing and his students notice, so they come up with a plan to cheer him up and show how much they care about him. Love your work by the way!

A/N: Thank you Anon! Also, oh nooo! I hope your finger heals soon, or is already healed by the time this comes out! I actually didn’t know about Hassel’s family legacy until I started researching for this request because I haven’t gone back to do all the classes yet, Lol! But I’m glad I did a little research and speed ran Hassel’s art class because now I know more about him! I hope you enjoy!

The Art of Laughter

Series: Pokemon Scarlet and Violet

Characters: Hassel, Juliana, Nemona, Penny, Arven

Word count: 1,738

Summary: When Juliana and her friends learn of what’s weighing on Hassel's mind, the four students come up with a plan to cheer him up. Enjoy!

—

Mr. Hassel isn’t acting like his usual self. He’s not lecturing with the emotional gusto he regularly speaks with. He’s merely just stating facts as he motions to the stone sculpted Staraptor in the middle of the classroom. Something’s wrong. Definitely wrong. 

Juliana doesn’t like talking during class, but right now it’s important that she gets to the bottom of this. She leans forward to gain the attention of her three desk partners. “Hey! Nemona, Penny, Arven,” she whispers. Nemona perks her head up from the seat beside Juliana, while Penny and Arven do the same from their two seats across. Juliana’s focus on the teacher’s voice becomes muffled. “Does Mr. Hassle seem a bit…different to you today?”

Nemona leans in to whisper back, “Now that you mention it, I do see a difference. What do you think is wrong?” 

“I’m…not exactly sure,” Juliana admits. “He just seems off for some reason…”

“I noticed that too,” Penny leans in to whisper.

“Yeah,” Arven joins the whisper huddle. “It's weird not seeing Mr. Hassel so enthusiastic about art.”

So they were all in agreement. Their teacher is acting differently today. 

Before they can speculate any further, the school bell chimes. 

“Ah, that’s our class for today,” Hassel acknowledges the bell. Many of the students quickly begin packing, some scooping their school materials from the table right into their bags.

“And remember to look over the principles we went over earlier when it comes to the art of Tera Jewels!” the teacher raises his voice over the commotion of shuffling book bags, art supplies, and students leaving their seats. Many wave goodbye to Hassle on their way out, wishing him well for the rest of the day. Hassel returns a wave, but it seems weakened by the glum look in his eyes.

Juliana picks up her bag and signals with a head nod for her friends to stay behind with her. They wait as the rest of their peers empty the classroom, until only four students and their teacher remain. Hassel lets out a quiet sigh and turns to straighten out papers on the white table at the front of the class.

Juliana glances to Arven, Penny, and Nemona, then walks up with her friends towards their teacher.

“Excuse me? Mr Hassel?” Juliana grabs his attention in a very polite tone so as not to startle him.

“Hm? Ah, Juliana,” the art teacher gives her his full attention, also noticing her three other friends gathered around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see all of you there. Do you have a question?”

“I hope you don’t mind us asking,” Juliana prefaces her question, “but are you feeling alright? We noticed that you were zoning out a little during class, like you were thinking about something else, and we were worried.”

Hassel’s eyes droop a little. “Was I that noticeable? I’m sorry.” He lifts up his head to properly look at his students. “It’s true. I did have my mind on something else,” Hassle admits, “I was…thinking about my family legacy again.”

“Your family?” Juliana blinks. “But Mr. Hassel, I thought you had already made your decision to stay teaching,” she says, worried that he might be rethinking his choice.

“I did, I did! And I’m still happy with that decision, no doubt about it,” Hassel reassures her with vigor that eases her fears. “My mind had just suddenly wandered today about how my family may think of me sometimes.” The teacher’s shoulders slump forward.

Nemona speaks up, “Please don’t worry about that, Mr. Hassel! You’re an amazing teacher! Anyone would be proud to have you as a part of their family tree!”

“That goes double for me, Mr. Hassel!” Arven jumps in, “No question about it!”

“I agree,” Penny comments. “I know what it’s like to worry about what others think. You shouldn’t let it overtake you.”

Hassel puts on a brave smile. “That’s very kind of you all to say. I’m touched.” The emotional teacher holds back his tears. “I’m sure I’ll be alright and get over it eventually. It just takes time,” he glances away. The mind behind his eyes is still clearly cluttered with conflicting thoughts.

Juliana stares down at the floor, feeling defeated. But she won't give up that easily. Her eyes shoot up with determination. “Everyone, huddle up!” she announces to her friends like a leader. The four group together in a circle.

Juliana speaks first in a loud whisper, “There’s got to be something we can do to help Mr. Hassel.”

“Agreed,” Arven nods. “Something to cheer him up.”

“Ooo, good idea!” Nemona quietly expresses her excitement. “I’ll think of some of my best jokes!”

Penny shakes her head. “I’m sorry to say Nemona, but jokes probably won't work in this case. His mind is too preoccupied with his clouded thoughts that the jokes won't land.”

“Dang,” Nemona wracks her brain again. “You’re right.”

“Are we sure there’s nothing we can do?” Juliana looks at her friends with pleading eyes, desperately wanting to find a solution.

“Listen everyone,” Hassel steps forward to interrupt their overheard conversation. “I’m tickled that you want to help me, but I’m not sure what the answer would be to the question right now.”

Upon hearing Hassel’s words, Juliana’s face suddenly lights up; a new idea clings to her mind. 

Juliana signals her friends to quickly huddle up again. They speak in quiet whispers so, this time, Hassel is unable to hear them. As fast as they grouped together, they break away from the circle and turn to look at their teacher. 

Juliana smiles. “You just gave us an answer, Mr. Hassel!”

“Huh?” the man blinks. “I did? What did I say?”

Juliana throws a smile to all of her friends, then another one back to Hassel. Nearly in unison, the four lift up their hands and wiggle their fingers in the air.

Hassel’s eyes immediately widen. “Oh no-”

“Get him!” Juliana exclaims and the four friends pounce forward.

“Wait!” But that’s all Hassel’s able to say before the students surround him on all sides and dive their hands towards him. With a playful yelp, Hassel ends up bursting into giggles as the four start tickling him.

“Yes! The plan is working!” Juliana cheers as Hassel tries to twist away from her fingers scratching at his side.

Arven chuckles while he targets one set of Hassel’s ribs, “It’s working really well!”

Penny chimes in by his other side. “Better than I expected.”

“Yeah!” Nemona exclaims while she’s positioned at Hassel’s second set of ribs. “Mr. Hassel will be fully cheered up in no time!”

By this point, Hassle nearly doubles over in laughter, his arms wrapped around his middle while four sets of hands slip through his defenses to tickle him silly. 

“Hohohold ohohon yohohou fohohour!” He takes a step back to avoid their fingers, but he loses his footing and his arms rotate like windmills before he trips backwards with a “Whoa!”

Hassel crashes onto the ground, then sits himself up on his arms. However, just as he begins to sit up, he’s met with the faces of his students jumping down after him, who playfully tackle him back to the floor.

“Aha! Ha ha! Hey!” Hassel giggles from the contagious, joyful energy radiating from his students. Before he knows it though, the four classmates quickly surround him again and dart their hands towards him to tickle him once more. Juliana and Arven take his ribs and underarms while Penny and Nemona share his sides and belly. Hassle squeals with laughter, twisting from left to right as he attempts to prop himself upwards on his arms, before plopping down again in mirth.

Nemona giggles alongside her teacher, “Who knew that a tough dragon trainer would be so ticklish?”

“Certainly not me,” Penny shakes her head with a smile.

“Yehehehes! Yohohohu’ve discovered my drahagon trainer weheheEAKnehehehess!” Hassel squeaks in the middle of his words when Juliana scratches at the side of his ribs through his vest, his giggling increasing high in volume and his legs reflexively kicking like he was running on air.

“Hehe! I found a weak spot too!” Juliana giggles.

“Nice going, Juliana!” Arven cheers and follows her lead on the other side of his ribs. “We’ve got him now! No more gloominess on our watch!”

“Yohohohou gohohot mehehe! Yohohohu gohot mehehe!!! Hahaha!” Hassel plays along with a big smile on his face.

“What is going on in here?” an authoritative male voice comes from the doorway. The four look up and immediately stop their playful attack on Hassel.

“Mr. Clavell!” the students exclaim all at once upon seeing the white-haired director of the academy.

“What are you four doing?” Clavell says with concern as he walks over to assist Hassel back into a standing position. The four students stand to offer their assistance as well. 

The blonde teacher stumbles to his feet, an arm still wrapped around his middle while he catches his breath through leftover giggles. 

“Are you alright Hassel?” Clavell says as he grabs on to his arm to help stabilize the other man from falling.

“I’m alright,” Hassel says with a few more giggles slipping out. He then sees the four students ahead of him with their worried expressions. “Thanks to them,” he gives a reassuring smile, bright and genuine to show his appreciation. “I was feeling a bit down due to family matters, and the four of them helped me cheer up,” the teacher explains to the director. 

“I see,” Clavell pushes up his glasses, then looks to the four with his arms properly placed behind his back, a small hint of pride for the students in his gaze. “Then I commend you four for your kind actions. However, I would still like you all to apologize to Mr. Hassel for ambushing him unexpectedly and roughhousing in his classroom.”

“Sorry, Mr. Hassel.” The four students sincerely apologize in unison.

Hassel chuckles. “It’s alright. You’re all forgiven.” The students perk up after hearing that. “Now go on, class is dismissed,” the teacher nods towards the door. Juliana, Arven, Penny, and Nemona grab their bags and head out, smiling as they go. 

Before they leave, the four wave goodbye. “Thank you for today’s class, Mr. Hassel!” Juliana says and disappears behind the doorway with her friends. 

Hassel places his arm down from waving back and says to himself in a quiet whisper, “No, thank you all.”

[history-and-hope]

thank you for the tag @slowtouch i adore you!!

9 People I’d Like to Know Better:

last song: tareeq by al-bara’em

fave colors: forest green, lilac purple, cornflower blue, and burnt orange

currently watching: nothing regularly or seriously tbh, just an occasional rerun of some 70s sitcom. been thinking about starting something off of my to watch list but i haven’t picked what yet

currently reading: “odetta: a life in music and protest” by ian zack! technically i’m reading it as research for a project, but it’s still really enjoyable and interesting (:

sweet/savory/spicy: probably savory

relationship status: single. insert acearo pride flag here

current obsession: fsjhfshj. uh. unfortunately i’m obsessed with finishing the semester strong at the moment lmao. as far as more fun stuff, maybe funky fashion and/or decor trends of the 70s? especially interested in patterns, motifs, etc. of the era. neil the frog kitchenware set my beloved

last thing i googled: this is probably cheating a little cause i sifted through my academic related searches until i got to something i googled out of my own interest, which was “kwame ture books.” other than that, most of my searches were related to a paper i’m doing on evictions and squatters rights and how people are criminalized in the process of eviction under the guise of trespassing. (i’ve been putting off actually researching on the campus library’s research database because the website is. a nightmare. i’ll get to that eventually lol, for now i’m just googling tho)

currently working on: a few different end of semester essays/research projects, like the eviction paper i mentioned previously, or the project with the odetta book is about the influence and importance of women of color in the folk music movement, plus a couple others. once the semester is over though, i’d like to try to get back into painting again

i love you tavo thank you again!! (:

no pressure tags: @thekaliensareinvading @quiet-fawn-of-the-galaxy @adam-saw @cauldronoflove @blackerinapendleton @novokainking @medievalthymes and anyone else who’d like to join!

[curbie]

The fall semester of my Junior year of college is upon me, and it will probably be the most hectic and busy semester I’ll ever go through.

First of all, I am a research assistant in two labs, which I honestly don’t think will be… terrible… but it ultimately depends on my responsibilities. One of the labs I’m a part of this semester is one I was a part of last spring semester, so I already know what I have to do. From what I’ve heard, we’re just going to have some post-grad workshops and info sessions, and I’ll *maybe* get the chance to run some experiments. I’m a psych major btw. So if this is anything like last semester, it will probably be less stressful than it sounds. The second one I am in is one I got from cold emailing a professor that runs a lab closer to what I want to study in grad school (Social Psychology), and I’m pretty excited about it! However, I have no idea what to expect. I hope there will be some assignments that involve reading research papers; it’s usually pretty fun to see whats going on in the field of academia (especially when I have no idea what the hell they are talking about).

I am also going to be a TA this semester for Statistics in Psychology, which was a class I did pretty well in for the most part. I’m kinda excited, but also nervous because I’m not the best at tutoring and explaining how to do stuff. I just kinda… do it, and I do what makes logical sense in my brain. The thing is, when I try to help someone in, I try to make the concept make sense through my own logical point of view, which normally ends in me spewing a bunch of nonsense that makes sense to me, but not the other person. I feel like I’m being a bit harsh on myself though, as my friends have told me that I’m a good teacher and that I explain things well. Hopefully that manifests in being a TA :P but I also have to do things like grade papers and partake in an undergraduate teaching class (which is supposedly easy).

Of course, I have all of my actual course work, which I surprisingly haven’t mentioned just yet in a post all about my future prospects for this semester. I think I picked a lot of good classes, but they also seem a bit heavy on studying though. As long as I don’t have to take any terrible online tests, I should be fine. My beef with online exams will never be rivaled.

Lastly, I plan on studying abroad for the next semester! While this seems like a really fun thing to look forward to, what comes with it is applying to 10 quintillion scholarships with the hope that I don’t have to worry about going bankrupt while abroad. And that means I have to write 10 quintillion essays. Hooray.

I think I’ll be fine though. All of this will be super duper worth it in the long run, and I won’t regret any of it. I just need to be productive, which is much easier said than done unfortunately.

Unrelated current favorite song of the day: https://open.spotify.com/track/5Q2FUi0fzevbUYzVqy37Cv?si=FDXt2C6NSOaJTVWlDoDQVA

[futureghostleader]

I want to make a series where I discuss ghost pokemon which are my favorite type.

Tw//mentions of death because these are ghost type Pokémon and death… I’m not sure if there are any more triggers so tell me if they are and I’ll watch out for them in the future!

I decided to do it based on the National Dex so the first one we have is Ghastly, on National Dex #92. So most basic information is that Ghastly are Ghost and Poison types. Their ability is Levitate, which causes them to not be affected by ground type and spikes and poison spikes.

They have a 50/50 gender ratio and their egg group is Amorphous. The average height is 1.3m and 4 '03". The average weight is 0.1kg and 0.2lbs.

Ghastly are 95% gas made up of Carbon Monoxide and Iodine Vapor. (Thank you Scientific Pokedex) the other 5% are apparently souls according to an Alola research paper and their pokedex!

So we have the most basic information. Now onto more complex information about them. Do not enter abandoned buildings, which is where Ghastly’s like to hang out!! As most poison types, Ghastly are actually poisonous however since this is the first in the evolution line their toxic is actually not fast acting however they are deadly so if you encounter a wild Ghastly and have been touched by it. Actually even if you haven’t, please check with the pokemon center or a hospital.

Ghastly’s most of the time actually suffocate their victims. So they never have to use their poison, but they still have it. They tend to stay in abandoned buildings or go out in the darkest parts of night so either bring a really strong flashlight or a pokemon with a wind move.

However despite the warnings that I put on, non wild ghastlys are really affectionate and can even shapeshift which is something I should have said earlier.

Now onto more historical uses of ghastly… it was mostly assassinations… Ghastly leaves a small portion of its gas on whatever it touches and so until about roughly 50 to 60 years ago Ghastly’s were untraceable since you could either have died from poison or from suffocation. So back then if you have a Ghastly you could have been a suspect for murder. It still applies now, but only if Ghastly’s gas was found around them.

So yeah! First ghost pokemon down and 69 more to go!

(Ooc: this is a new series I want to try where I get to talk about ghost pokemon and talk about hc lore! Which is basically really obscure stuff like what type of materials their clothes would be made from. Cultural food and just food in general. Stuff like that. I love researching these things and I guess expanding pokemon lore in a really minuscule way. If anyone is interested in these, or have blogs similar that I would love to read, then message me or something… i should really figure out how this site works lmaooo)

[lyraoftheevergreens]

Holding On

Chapter IV

Professor Snape x Daughter Reader

Professor Lupin x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n Snape is in her 6th year when her Dad Severus Snapes’ childhood bully breaks out of Azkaban and the other starts to work at Hogwarts. Will her feelings for Professor Lupin change over time? Or will she stay mad at him in defense of her dad? Nothing NSFW until reader is of age.

Warnings: she/her pronouns. Mentions of eating. Minor spelling and grammar errors.

Word count: 1,507

Tag list: Open 🤎 Please message to be added.

authors note: none. I just hope you all enjoy this chapter.

1 month later

It’s now October, a month into the school year. It’s beginning to cool down. Y/n has always loved the colder months, the way the leaves change in color from beautiful greens to comforting yellows, oranges, and reds. She longs for the days she can wear her coziest sweaters. Drink hot coffee while walking through Hogsmeade and getting chocolate from honeydukes. She likes to wear a different perfume in the winter and fall months from the flowery sweet scent she likes to wear in the warmer months. For the colder months, she prefers to wear a more warm vanilla scent.

As time goes on she finds herself burdened with the guilt of being quite fond of Professor Lupin‘s class. She enjoys how lively his classes are at times and how enthusiastic he is about it. Then she remembers that he stood by and allowed his friends to harass her father and how her dad now has to suffer from the years of emotional trauma his friends caused. As the full moon approaches this mid-September she found herself feeling empathetic for the man for what he becomes once a month. She wonders how such a kind man as himself becomes something so horrible once a month. After class one morning he asked her to stay behind.

“Y/n will you stay please, I’d like to discuss your paper on cursed vaults.”

“Yes Professor.”

After all the students left y/n made her way to his desk.

“Was there an issue with my paper professor?”

“No not at all, it was quite intriguing to read actually, very well-written paper. Please sit.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “I wanted to actually ask you about your patronus from the first lesson.”

“Oh yes, the bunny.”

“Yes. I hope I’m not over stepping by asking you this, what were you thinking of when you formed your patronus?”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. It was the first time I went trick or treating, I was six years old. My father took me to a more friendly wizard neighborhood and took me trick or treating for the first time. That’s when I discovered I loved chocolate. And fruity sweets as well.”

“That’s beautiful Y/n.”

“Thank you Professor. If you don’t mind me asking, what is your patronus?”

“It’s only fair you ask considering I asked you. You see I don’t form my patronus anymore.”

“It’s a wolf isn’t it?”

“Your to clever for your own good.” He said with a shy laugh to himself.

“I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. I understand that it hurts you to be constantly remind of it but wolves are fascinating animals.”

“Are they.” He said with a small grin on his face.

“They are in fact, they are highly intelligent, caring and devoted, loyal.”

“Done your research have you?”

“Yes, about 4 years ago.”

“Y/n”

“Yes Professor.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“It’s not my place to.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, really. I will be by tonight with your potion though.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I must get going now, I have astronomy class next.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, see you later.”

Y/n often enjoyed talking to Professor Lupin, he was always so kind to her, always appeared so intriuged when ever she spoke. She questioned at times if he was just that kind or if it was to make sure he stayed on her good side because she knew of his lycanthropy.

She carried on as usual and dinner came around quickly. When she entered the great hall she noticed her father talking to Minerva and saw that there was no Lupin. Y/n went to the kitchens had the house elves make. Her a plate and then then made her way to the potions class room and took all the bottles of wolfsbane potion and placed them in a basket. She also went to her fathers collection of potions and gathered a healing potion as well to help with the recovery. She also went into her hidden stash of choclate and grabbed a bar odf honey dukes choclate with toffee pieces in it. And placed a little note on to it,”this one is my favorite, i hope you enjoy it.”

She gathered her basket and the plate of food and made her way to his class room. When she arrived she noticed the food was cold and did a quick heating spell to warm it up before knocking on the door. Once she knocked a faint, “just a second,” could be heared.

“Hello Y/n, I almost forgot you were coming.” No I didn’t, how could i ever forget about you.

“Sorry it took me awhile, I had the house elves make you a plate when i noticed you weren’t at dinner.”

“Thank you dear, that’s awfully kind of you.” He said taking the plate and the basket. Dear, what are you thinking, your her teacher and her father wouldn’t think twice before poisoning you. He thought to himself as he took the plate and basket from her.

“Well I must go now. Before my father questions where I’ve run off to. Goodbye Professor.” See, you’ve made her uncomfortable you old fool.

“Good bye Y/n.” She loved the way his name rolled of his tongue but could never admit that. Y/n made her way back to her and her fathers living quarters to discover a plate of dinner on the table and her father in the shower. She sat and ate dinner and read a book while her father prepared for the night.

“Why weren’t you at dinner this evening.”

“I took Lupin his potion.”

“It could have waited till after dinner.”

“I understand that, I also took him a plate of food.”

“It’s not your fault if the fool chooses to starve himself.”

“I’m sorry.” She said in a sadden tone, I shouldn’t be so kind to him, she thought to her self.

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said hugging his daughter.

“I feel guilty at times. Like I should hate him because you do.”

“I wouldn’t want you to darken your heart with hate for me.”

There night continued as usual, tea before bed and y/n staying up late reading.

The week went on as usual, only this time on Saturday y/n found her self alone in the woods starring at the shreaking shack. Her father stayed behind preparing over the weekend to cover Lupins classes for the week.

“Y/n is that you?” She turned around and saw it was Lupin

“Oh, hi professor. How are you?”

“I’m quite alright actually, just a little tired. What brings you out here.”

“I walk out to hogsmeade every Saturday with my father, but he stayed behind this time so now I’m here on my own.”

“My apologies, I can’t help but think it’s the trouble of covering my classes this upcoming week keeping him from you.”

“Oh no, I’m okay honestly. What brings you out here?”

“The weather is nice, I figured I’d go on a walk. When I saw you, you were staring at the shrieking shack, why?” Great you fool now she thinks your a creep following her out to the woods.

“I know everyone else was told the same story of the shrieking shack to deter people from it. But growing up my father told me a different story, of a werewolf. Which I now realize is you. Why are you here, reminiscing?”

“In a way yes. I’m feeling a tad nostalgic if you will.”

“Oh, understandable, would you like to walk back with me?”

“I would enjoy that. Yes.”

They went back walking through the woods talking and laughing about all sorts of things. He eventually asked her what she got from her trip to hogsmead and she told him what she had purchased such as a gift for her father and chocolate from Honeydukes.

“I too have a fondness for Honey Dukes Chocolate.”

“What is your favorite?”

“It’s a toss up between regular milk chocolate or the one with toffee pieces.”

“Oh! I as well, but I also enjoy chocolate with caramel so very much.” She said with a small giggle at the end that made Remus is knees weak and insides warm.

When they arrived back at Hogwarts he walked her to her living quarters.

“Thank you for the company Professor, I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you for allowing me accompany you, I enjoyed it as well.”

“Goodbye Professor.”

“Goodbye Y/n.”

With that he walked away with her stuck in his mind and it would be like for a while, the sounds of her laugh plagued his mind the rest of the weekend. When she entered the room and was greeted by her dad who had lunch set on the table.

“How was your walk this morning.”

“It was quite nice actually. I got you this while I was out.” She said handing him a jar fairy wings.

“Thank you, how did you get these?”

“The shipment came in last night, those were the last ones left.”

“Thank you darling.”

They continued there day with her father preparing to teach Lupins classes for the week and her finishing assignments that are due that the upcoming Monday and Tuesday.

“Your welcomed to skip classes this up coming Monday seeing as I’ll be your teacher for your first two classes.”

“I’m fine going to class.”

“Decide what you will.”

“Okay, thank you.”

•

Tag list:

@srhxpci

@lolawassad

@lokigirlszendaya

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@anordinarymuse

@silverose365

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He��d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

[narsicen]

Part: 1/2

Word Count:  18,101 (for both parts)

Pairing: Bang Chan (Skz) x GN! Reader

Genre: slice of life, college!au, lab partners!au, loving from afar, angst, fluff, bittersweet, Popular!Y/n, Quiet kid!Chan, first loves, meet cute,

Warnings: mentions of coffee, if there is anything triggering I missed, please tell me!

A/N: omg???? Me????? Posting?????? And writing????? Lol uhm I’m currently still in hiatus, just barely LMAOAOOA so I haven’t been able to do anything for the past months because well, I’m so burnt out with writing but i haven’t lost passion for it so dw, next I actually have some stories piled up for posting but I want to keep it that way to even out my content and because I take hELLA LONG?? To WRITE???? So kdhvkshghsdg so sorry everyone. but luckily, I already have the next few fics planned so hopefully if i can jusst follow my plan, then i should get them down with soon, btw I’m thinking of focusing on this series first before requests, becauSEEE, I’m passionate abt this LAIKAJSISO but i also rlly wanna explore how I’ll write these and I’ve planned like 3 of the other stories already so HSDLJHSdh

Part 2

Story under the cut!

A particular “ping” made Chan perk up from the pile of open books that lay on top of each other. He scrambled through the various papers of printed essays and research papers, throwing some discarded, crumpled, paper planes off the table.

“Hi, Chris! (Please tell me I got the right person) This is Y/N, your new science lab partner. I hope we can work together and cooperate :) P.S if you aren’t Chris from class - AB 3 please text me back as soon as possible thank you!”

Chan’s eyes grew with awe and he wore his signature grin as he read your text message. This must be the first- no probably the second time he’s ever been so excited to meet his new lab partner. (he hates science and he hates most of his lab partners)

“Hellooo Y/N, this is Chris, I can’t wait to work with you as well. To be honest, I was starting to get a little worried that I gave you the wrong number.”

Chan went through with his message for the third time, hoping it didn’t sound off or rude. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to give you a bad first impression on the lab partner you’d be stuck with for the next few months.

Through the countless times he’s tried to alter his words and maybe add a few emoticons and emojis to the message, he just either came off as a try-hard or some cringe dad.

He fiddled with his fingers behind his phone, thinking of some way to make up for how stiff his message came off. In the end, he settled for the “grinning face with sweat” emoji (according to Google, he had to make sure it didn’t come off weird) (he’s not weird I promise)

Pressing the little green “send’ button after a while of waiting. A hand flew to his eyes just as the messaging app made a small “whoosh” sound effect, indicating the message was successfully sent.

Ever since he set foot onto the new campus grounds of his university, ever since he caught a glimpse of the first few students that huddled at a table or two near the front gate. He’s heard your name from students left, right, behind, and above.

He’s heard all about you, not in a creepy way, of course, people just couldn’t keep their noses out of other people’s lives. Chan thought it must be hard to get so much constant attention from everyone around you, that sometimes it made him thank the heavens above for his lack of social interaction.

But even with this pet peeve, at times, he’d curiously listen to the things others say about you, it could be when he passed by some students in the cafeteria or by the lockers or even from students a chair or two away from him in class.

And you seemed like a nice person; he could see you being the protagonist of every superhero movie. Sometimes he’d wonder what it would be like to actually get to know you other than to just piece things together from a few “I heard Y/N loves dogs”.

You’ve done many admirable things that even he seemed to adore you from afar just like the rest, not in a creepy way, again. You sounded like a likable person with a lovable personality, and he wanted to get to know you as a friend.

He eventually planned to get closer to you,

but he’s just someone else in the crowd.

Sure he had friends, he’s gotten recognition for awards he’d get from swimming competitions or spelling bees’ maybe, but he’s just but in the end he wasn’t any different from the rest.

And you’re- you’re THE Y/N, who’s on the stage.

Do you know that kind of feeling?

He isn’t- crushing on you per se, he’s admiring you, he’d call it. Whenever he’d walk past your desk after finishing his paper earlier than you, or when he’d pass by you laughing with your friends, he’d just feel like he wanted to talk to you, there’s just something about you that pushes him to get closer to you.

And he was just fond of you. You can’t like someone in these types of conditions. Well, technically, it shouldn’t be possible.

He’s read and heard of love at first sight, but he’s just glanced at you, for all of his days in this pit you’d call college. There was just 0 to nothing for him to be crushing on you after hearing about you? seeing your eyes? and hearing your laugh? He knew himself, he wasn’t that easy.

He’s sure of it... At least he believes he’s sure of it.

“Oh.. haha, my bad! I really didn’t think you were waiting for my text but I guess this was my fault for making you worry.”

You seemed awfully sweet.

Chan held back a small smile at your message, it’s just as if he could hear your little voice in the back of his head.

“So.. Chris... Can I call you that? Let’s get to know each other soon! We could probably get some coffee.? Or if you’re not into that, what would you like to do? We need to be on good terms to work better together right?”

Oh my goodness.

Chan’s smile dropped almost immediately as he read your message. Oh no... Goodness no.

He set his phone down and looked at the wall in front of him, aimlessly trying to think of a reasonable answer, or even contemplating whether he should go or not, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I could meet with them and get to know them, they have a point, we have to be on good terms for us to work together better. But going would put them in an awkward situation of always starting up a conversation-!

His thoughts ran wild as he thought further into the question. He ran his hands into his hair, messing his curls up and aggressively ruffling them as he groaned loudly at himself.

Chan’s eyes closed in an attempt to think straight, he can’t leave you hanging for so long.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he eyed the text message of yours and with a heavy sigh, he told himself, Screw the consequences.

“You can call me Chan or Chris, whichever is comfortable for you, and sure, we can go get some coffee sometime.”

Chan mentally cursed at the haste of his fingers and as he read back his message, he did sound a little … stoic? He seemed to be a dry person on text, he is, but he doesn't want to talk about it.

“Great! There’s this new coffee shop in my district, wanna check it out together then? How’s Friday after classes?”

~

‘Um- Excuse me..? Y/N, right?’ Chan awkwardly gripped his bag strap, squeezing it tightly as he watched you turn your head to him with the warmest smile he’s ever gotten all year.

Oh my goodness

‘Oh- uh yep! That’s me, and you’re Chan right?’

Oh my goodness

Chan blinked for a few moments before nodding his head quickly, you chuckled slightly at his (very obvious) nervous reaction. You two awkwardly sat in your positions, weirdly looking at each other, waiting for the other to say something or to do something.

Maybe you two were just the same despite how different your worlds were.

‘Uhh.. h-have you ordered anything-?’ Chan scratched his neck to seem “natural” even if it wasn’t doing much anyway.

You forced a small cough into your fist just as you laughed awkwardly, breaking the weird eye contact you two just had. ‘No- uh- ye-yeah! Yeah.. I did, I didn’t know what you liked though so I just ordered you something simple.’

A small sorry smile crept to your face as you slowly looked back at the boy. ‘Sorry..’

O h. M y. G o o d n e s s.

Chan returned the smile with his own, a very very awkward, lopsided smile. ‘It’s fine- I like coffee any-‘

‘Two orders for Y/N? Please come to the counter to claim your orders!’ One of the workers from the counter yelled.

The two of you perked up to look in the direction of the counter.

‘Oh- well, I’ll go get our orders, you can go ahead and sit down. I'll be right back!’ You scrambled to pile your things together out of habit as you quickly gestured to the chair across your own to Chan.

Chan nodded timidly as he watched you get up to get to the counter. Just as you turned your back from him, he hugged his bag in front of him as he weirdly settled into his chair.

Slowly starting to feel more awkward by the second, he squeezed his bag closer to his torso, feeling eyes on his back despite no one really caring about what he or you did at all.

He fiddled with his bag strap, wrapping and unwrapping it around his finger as he waited for you to come back with your drinks.

It might have been a few minutes or even less than a minute, but to him, it just felt so different to be in this kind of setting where he thought everyone was looking at him.

How could you be in this type of environment every day and not freak out?

He thought you were amazing for that.

‘Hey! What’s got you so deep into thought? You seem bothered, is there something wrong?’ You offered him that same warm smile you gave him earlier. He realized how you were already sitting across from him.

As he looked up to meet your eyes, he could see your smile grow as you chuckled softly while you waved your hand in front of him.

He shook his head slowly, ‘No, I was just- thinking of ways to not mess up our conversation you know?’ You both laughed at his rough attempt to joke around. He’s more than glad that you think it was funny too.

~

Chan couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh as you told one of your goofy stories with the other friends of yours back at the university.

Chan thought his friend group was the wackiest but you seem to be just as wacky.

You couldn’t continue on as you laughed just as loud as Chan at your own stories. You had this side that made him adore you, even more, you were as everyone told him, probably the next best person to be living and breathing right now.

You two ended up having the weirdest stories ranging from science theories to Harry Potter books and now to embarrassing stories either you or your friends experienced.

I mean, at least the conversation didn’t end, right?

As soon as you were about to finish the story, an employee approached you two and told you that the shop was going to be closing soon so they should prepare to leave soon. You two didn’t notice how some of the people in the coffee shop had left already, there were still many for the capacity of the coffee shop, but it was calmer as compared to how it was when you two met up earlier.

Chan’s laughter calmed down as he blinked a small tear away from laughing too much, both of you following what the worker told you to do soon after. And as you two quietly packed your things away and grabbed your unfinished drinks to go with you, Chan would laugh softly at the remembrance of your story and you would accompany him with a giggle of your own.

While you two headed out of the coffee shop, Chan held the door for you to go first, he urged you to go before he did but you did the same as you joked how you two could (should) “equally” exit the coffee shop.

You were slightly embarrassed at how he held the door open for you, but in the end, you had to accept it with a laugh into your fist to ease your embarrassment.

‘Well.. that was a great story.’ Chan chuckled

You smiled softly at his little chuckle, you two awkwardly looked down at your shoes, and the surroundings around you two started to darken into a dark indigo color.

‘Uh-m I guess- this is goodbye..?’ Chan put up a small grin and a small unsure shrug.

You nodded your head timidly at his attempt to say goodbye. ‘I mean.. congratulations on not messing up our conversations today, I really had fun.’

You both giggled at your joke, referencing what Chan said earlier that afternoon.

This time, the both of you didn’t want the conversation to end, you two seemed like you wanted to keep talking and telling more stories, but unfortunately, every day had to end at some point.

‘I guess.. I’ll see you tomorrow then…? In the lab?’ You subtly asked the boy, you subconsciously played with your fingers as you held onto your notebook.

To this, he grinned.

‘I’ll.. see you tomorrow.’

~

Chan slumped into the metal chair facing the empty train tracks, he felt exhausted, not from your conversation today, but because of how much he’s been outside, talking to someone.

He felt like he had run a marathon, his eyes drooped and his legs felt like jelly.

“The train heading to _________ district 8 will be arriving in 30 minutes”

A goofy smile appeared as he thought about your little hang-out earlier, you were so nice and you just had something that made him excited.

And he wanted to tell you something funny again to hear you laugh. He thought that you had the prettiest smile as well, and in whatever you did, you were always so accommodating, it made him feel all warm and nice inside.

You were just too good to be true sometimes. He’s spent half the afternoon with you and he can conclude that you were probably the only other person he would love to talk to forever.

Okay, maybe not forever.. regardless, a long time especially for someone like him.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

“Train ___ heading to _______ district 8 is arriving, please stay behind the yellow tape. Have a safe trip.”

The faint noise from the train coming from the tunnel signaled Chan to stand up, he waddled to stand right before the yellow line on the ground just as how the intercom advised.

He couldn’t wipe his smile off his face, even if his cheeks started to ache slightly, he felt excited.

Maybe this is what they meant how you’d feel when you take coffee.

Like a shot of espresso

Was it the americano you ordered him?

Or was it how you stayed and listened?

~

Maybe Chan should consider skipping lab period next time.

He dropped a flask.

Spilled someone else’s chemistry experiment on their papers.

Left the burner on for a minute too late

Possibly ruined your guys’ experiment

And bombed the first performance task he had to do with you.

Bombed as in nearly blew something in his face because he forgot to label some of the flasks.

What’s wrong with him today? He’s flunked his chances on impressing you, you'll never deem him worthy to be your lab partner now.

Well, one of the good things that happened was he didn’t end up in the infirmary after everything he’s gone through.

But you burnt your hand because you were trying to save the experiment that nearly evaporated.

For the rest of the day, he felt nothing but guilt and a load of angry judgmental stares from people all around the campus, even some of the freshmen he met gave him the stink eye!

Though it did wear off after a few hours of Chan cooping himself up in the library to avoid all the stares. He’s spent too much time hiding, he forgot why he was doing it in the first place, and he forgot to visit you in the infirmary after the class ended.

Chan’s head perked up from the book he enclosed in front of his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall if he ever walked to the infirmary and talked to you. Chan groaned internally at the results of nothing but speed walking down the halls to the library.

But it was past after-school hours and you definitely didn’t need to stay too long for a minor burn. He dropped his head low as he hid behind the book, he bit his lip in regret and cursed himself for forgetting, today might mark the day he’s going to find a new lab partner.

‘You do know the book you’re reading is upside down right?’ You awkwardly sat beside him, you didn’t know whether you two were comfortable with this distance.

Chan’s eyes widened, he stammered and stumbled over his words with ease.

‘No- I- wh- urghm..- w-what are you doing here?’ He struggled to flip the book the other way in haste, he looked back and forth between you and the book as he did.

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his “misfortunes”, you raised your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your giggling, the librarian at school was a nightmare to argue with, you experienced that first-hand and you’re not making that same mistake again.

‘Keep your voice down, miss Olivia is not someone you’d want to mess with.’ You jest as you leaned in closer to whisper with a thumb pointing behind you, to a fairly young woman in her 30s glaring at the two of you from the other end of the library.

‘Oh-.. yeah… no kidding, she lectured me 4 times today for trying to use her ladder to get books,’ Chan mumbled, and with a sigh, he closed the book in his hands and raised it beside his head as he faced you. ‘Especially for this book.’

With a slightly uneasy frown, he glared at Miss Olivia’s back as she was taking her sweet time using her ladder to organize a row of books.

‘The book wasn’t even interesting..’ Chan huffed, this made you laugh again, he even joined you in laughing quietly.

If someone ever came across the two of you, they’d claim how ridiculous you too looked trying to laugh without a single squeak, possibly having freaked a freshman or two from the tables across Chan’s table.

~

‘Well.. maybe Miss Olivia was right, maybe we should have thought of leaving the library if we were just going to joke about how she dressed.’ Chan guffawed, he bent forward slightly, clutching his stomach as he laughed a little too hard.

‘Goodness, who thought you had the guts to actually question Miss Olivia.’ This time you laughed.

As the laughter died slowly into a comfortable silence, at least for you. As for Chan, he thought it might have made you uncomfortable until the lingering idea at the back of his head hit him right in the face.

‘Your hand!’ Chan’s thoughts spoke, quite literally.

‘Oh geez- you scared me,’ You chuckled as you flinched to look at his sudden outburst.

‘Oh I'm sorry I- I forgot to visit you at the.. infirmary this afternoon, and I am also sorry for.. burning your hand..’ Chan’s shoulders slumped in guilt as he glanced at you now and then to gesture at your bandaged hand awkwardly.

You subtly waved his apology off, laughing softly, “Everybody makes mistakes right? Plus it wasn’t too badly of a burn, that’s possibly why they advised us to use gloves in the lab.”

“Yeah but the whole day I had to hide in the library since everyone was indirectly making me nervous” Chan hugged himself exaggeratedly to point out his joke.

You giggled as you looked towards the setting sun as you two walked towards the gates of the school. “Well.. these things are gonna happen anyway, don’t mind them, sooner or later they wouldn’t even remember this ever happened.”

“Oh really?” Chan turned to you with a slightly unconvinced reaction as he hugged himself tighter, reminding you of the joke he made earlier.

Both your laughs and ongoing jokes stopped as a big gust of wind blew by. Brings some leaves to scatter and drag on the narrow driveway you two walked on. The setting sun burned the blue skies with tints of orange and red, crunchy leaves drag themselves all around them, making a slight crinkle sound from a leaf or two, and the small pebbles that rub against both your soles, accompanied with your the small taps from either yours or Chan’s shoes, you couldn’t tell.

Chan wouldn’t admit it, but he felt like you were right. Reassurance sure is nice, even if it didn’t promise anything. Chan’s shoulders relaxed as he let his body sway ever so slightly with the wind rushing by you two.

“So.. you’re not worried anymore? You know.. that people would keep staring at you.”

“No, you told me not to worry.” Chan smiled at you.

You thought he had a unique smile, in your opinion, and in the nicest way possible, you thought he resembled a dog.

“I guess this is goodbye, my district is over there.” Chan turned to you just as he stopped at a certain convenience store just a few steps away from the school gate, he pointed his thumb behind his back to nothing in particular but at the path going off into a neighborhood.

You nodded your head as you purse your lips. “Alright... I guess it is, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We don’t have lab tomorrow though?” Chan raised his brow curiously, did you forget there wasn’t a laboratory period tomorrow?

“I mean- we could still meet, right? I’m pretty sure there’s no rule that forbids us to meet aside from lab periods.” You hesitate to fully say your suggestion, rejection was … quite frankly a rare thing for you, so you decided to take caution.

“Oh.. uh- yeah! Why- why not..? I mean sure we can... I just- don’t know if you’re free..?” Chan’s voice slowly turned softer as he rambled on.

You chuckled softly before nodding your head at his answer. “Technically, I would have the time since I suggested it. But we will see.”

As you two bid each other a goodnight and a pleasant goodbye, both of your minds had racing thoughts and endless pep talks. All that the sun touched that day was nothing less than happy.

~

12:34 pm

About 30 minutes before lunch break, Chan noted.

It’s been a few hours since you two said “hello, good morning, what’s your first class today?”

Well, it sort of seemed like none of your classes seemed to align today, which bummed Chan out a lot. He kind of wished you were part of his literature class so he could be your partner and he wouldn’t be counting the minutes till he gets to leave.

You can’t blame him though, and he most definitely did not hate his partner, it was Jisung, how could he hate one of his closest friends? But he certainly wished Jisung would stop his weird jokes, but aside from that, they don’t seem like a bad team for the assessment.

He convinced himself that he shouldn’t be too clingy (he thinks it’s him being a tad bit too “clingy”) and he tried to admit that there shouldn’t be any problem right now, he’s with one of his best friends and he’s doing alright in his literature class, everything was smooth.

But a small part of him asked about how you were doing in your “dreaded” calculus class.

Jisung snapped his fingers in front of Chan’s eyes that were focused on their small scattered pile of papers on their desks, but he seemed to be unresponsive to all that Jisung said or asked.

“Earth to Chan? Are you still there? Hello??? Little Chan, please tell Chan to pay attention to our project!” Jisung jokingly knocked at Chan’s forehead with the back of his index finger and middle finger.

Chan furrowed his brows in confusion and slight disgust at Jisung interrupting his thoughts. “I’m still listening, I’m just- thinking.”

“Does it have to do with our 3-page reflection paper that we need to complete by the next two weeks?” Jisung tried to put his chin up to act serious. Chan looked at Jisung in confusion as he glanced around the classroom before nodding his head reluctantly.

“If you were thinking about it, you would have at least answered my questions, I mean I was asking some interesting questions and you didn’t even bat an eye at me!” Jisung crossed his arms and shook his head disappointingly at his partner.

“Well- what was your question anyway..?”

“So you lied!”

~

Chan ruffled his hair just as he yawned. What a day.

It completely slipped Chan’s mind all about your agreement the day before. It didn’t cross his mind even if he escaped literature and he just went on with his day without realizing he forgot something.

4:35 pm

It’s been a long day.

Chan couldn’t wait to get home and faceplant into his bed. This past few weeks college has been sucking him dry, it was sort of a miracle if he remembered certain meetings around the campus.

He trudged down the stairs with his backpack hanging off his shoulder, his eyes barely stayed open, it was weird how he hadn't slipped and just slid down the stairs.

“Chan?”

“Hm?” Chan whipped his head around and looked around aimlessly trying to find someone who called his name.

“I guess your day has been eventful.” You giggled at his confused expression. He had this particularly odd-looking smile, it wasn’t big or anything as compared to a grin or a tight-lipped smile you usually give people.

“My day? Oh no, it wasn’t that bad, I’m just insanely tired from trying to write a 3-page essay for literature earlier.”

“All in one sitting?”

“Nope, I wished though.” You laughed softly as you felt a little embarrassed to laugh a little too loud with the very few students still left in the corridors.

You noticed Chan’s state as you two walked down the stairs together, he had a slight drag on his feet, and miraculously he wasn’t tripping on his other foot. He was asleep, but also awake? Your lab partner is just as interesting as your lab experiment.

“That’s weird.” You muttered with a small smile tugging at your lips.

“What’s weird?” Chan muttered back, like two friends sharing secrets.

You guffawed at his reaction and his response. You will never really understand how he works and he gets a little more unexpected the longer you sit around him.

“How about I take you up on that agreement we had yesterday?”

“Agreement-?” Chan scrunched his face up a little, trying to rack his brain of anything about the day before.

“… That we could hang out after classes? Or to just hang out again today..?” You tried to hint it out for him, you hoped he did remember it though, it was rare anyone made you do this, you know, hint it out for them to remember.

“Oh?”

“You know what? Maybe we should just go get you something to wake you up, you’re basically a zombie. How’s coffee?” You put a supporting hand on his shoulder as he was tipping a little off to the other side, you worried that he was about to faint if you kept talking and ignoring his state.

“Oh... That’s okay, I like coffee anyway.” Chan replied as he smiled, it was a little lop-sided but you thought it was one of his best features, based on how long you’ve been with him.

~

“How do you like Americano? Is it not too bitter for you?” You eyed his dark drink in his hand as you two walked around the neighborhood park in the area.

“No..? How do you like Caramel Macchiato? Is it not too sweet for you?” Chan raised a brow at your drink.

“No?? It isn’t even sweet-“ You put the back of your hand to your mouth as you laughed at his reaction, he cringed as you tried to explain why you like your choice of coffee.

“Well.. Americanos don’t seem bitter to me,” Chan added a tone into his comeback as if to sass you, but all you could do was laugh a little harder into the back of your hand, and you soon made him laugh too. “You just can’t handle it I guess.” He scoffed.

“Goodness.. you sure like to surprise me every time.” You shook your head playfully as you giggled a little.

“Surprise you? In what way?” Chan’s smile grew as he awaited your answer.

You fidget with the straw in your cup by twirling the beverage with it as you try to juggle your words around. “Well you.. have really interesting reactions, that’s one. Two, you seem to be really genuine with how you react to me.”

Chan’s smile turned into a small tight-lipped smile as he listened to you.

“At first, you seemed like you just wanted to impress me, but in the end, you just started to become someone you’d meet every day-“

Chan was about to open his mouth to thank you for saying such nice things, but coming from you felt like a weird dream he never wanted to wake up from. But he was touched and he couldn’t or he wouldn’t want to let you know that, this meant a lot to him.

“- I don’t mean that you’re like- not special or anything.. I just.. I don’t meet a lot of people like you… anymore.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean- with everyone just thinking I’m like someone high and important, no one ever has their own thoughts or ideas anymore, it’s just all aligned with mine and I’m-.. not open to anyone or anything “new” or “ordinary” anymore.”

You held your hand by the cap, fingertips just slightly gripping the sides, letting that hand fall to your side as you watched your shoes kick stones along your way. Rambling on all about the burrow of problems in that head of yours.

“I’ve been around a lot of people who just constantly expect so much, even if it was indirect or when they don’t even mean it that way. You know what I mean?”

“But you wouldn’t want to be someone who’s always stuck in literature classes or someone who just won a few medals in swimming competitions.” Chan offered you the sweetest smile you’ve ever received in a while, it radiated the sun, it felt warm and welcoming, and you wished to have such a sugar-sweet smile to offer to someone.

You were so jealous. Because you know what? Maybe you did want to be someone who was always stuck in literature classes, maybe you did want to win a few medals from small local swimming competitions even if it were just bronze medals, heck! Maybe just winning a position in the runner ups or just being able to participate!

What do you have to do to get a simple.. care-free life like this? A normal life like this?

Everyone just seemed to be better and living a better life, better than yours.

“I’m so jealous of you.”

“Me?” Chan pointed to himself hesitantly, he didn’t want to make assumptions about who you referred to as “you”.

You laughed a little under your breath, “Yeah, weirdly enough, I am,” You smiled sadly at the dark asphalt beneath your shoes. “You’d think that I’d be happy, and I have everything every freshman wishes for in their Junior year.. but all I got were stares.”

“Stares? Well maybe, that’s because you’re doing so well in almost all that you do?” Chan tried to comfort you and to lift your spirits higher as you stumble over thoughts and your feelings.

What were you doing? You’re embarrassing yourself, that's what, you thought to yourself, an uncomfortable lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You feared you would probably sound stupid if you spoke right then and there.

You forced a small smile at the boy who looked at you a little concerned, you hated that look, did he pity you? Or was he faking being concerned at your little sob story.

He was just your lab partner, after all, You don’t even know each other well enough, would he care?

You shook those thoughts away, you trusted that he wouldn't be like that, you prayed and crossed your fingers that he wouldn’t ridicule you after this. You just overshared a tad bit, that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“Yup, I think I’m just a little out of it today, this coffee is a little too sweet.” You chuckled into your fist, brushing off what just happened earlier.

“Oh.. I can drink it for you or I can get you a new one if you don’t want it anymore, you don’t need to drink it. I'm speaking from experience, those types of light-headedness are not fun, especially after school.” You laughed at his offer, you wanted to just take that leap of faith and trust him.

You want to consider him your best friend from that day on, he was a gem. But you can’t..

“I mean I could just drink it later, plus- you said you didn’t like sweet coffees?”

“Oh no.. Like I said before, I like coffee anyway, I just don’t prefer it too sweet.” Chan made a small pinch with his fingers as he tried to show you a measurement of his preference for preferred sugar levels in his coffees.

“Well help yourself,” You handed him your drink, you barely drank from it since you seemed too in your head rambling on to your lab partner. He reluctantly took your drink, he was a little cautious, and he didn’t think you’d actually give it to him.

Chan took a sip of your drink and cringed at the sweet taste that left a bitter aftertaste of the coffee, squeezing his eyes shut and he sucked his teeth in as he nervously eyed your drink’s cup with the logo of the cafe.

“Wow.. that is sweet.. TOO sweet.” Chan scoffed at your understatement of ‘a little too sweet’, to him, that was a little too flavorful for him, maybe caramel macchiatos are just not his thing..?

“I did warn you.” You laughed at his expression as he sipped the beverage again, he thought maybe it was just because of his bitter, plain-old americano, but no, this was way too sweet for his liking, for anyone at all!

That or Chan has a thing for bitter, plain-old fashioned Americanos more than bright, sugary sweet caramel macchiatos.

“Oh uhm.. this- this is my stop.. sorry our “hang-out” was cut short, my mom would be worried if I missed the bus home.” You awkwardly glanced at the bus station that hung around the corner of a building.

Chan waved you off followed with that same sweet smile that you thought matched really well with the overly sweetened coffee in his hand. You returned that smile to the best you could. “It’s understandable, it is getting late, get home safely.”

You nodded at his goodbye. You two waved to each other as both of you shuffled further in the opposite direction, Chan noticed the orange-tinted skies and the red sun burning through the blue sky, the red streaks mixed with orange made Chan wonder in awe, after a long day, the sun still tries to glow, how admirable.

Chan smiled as he walked back to his district.

He’s glad you.. “opened up” to him.

But Chan wanted to say he knew how you felt but no one likes being told that, he wanted to say he wouldn’t do that to you, but would you even believe that? He wanted to let you know how much you sparkled in his eyes and maybe to others too, but you probably would have just laughed it off, he wanted to tell you that being someone like him was nowhere as a good or comfortable place as you thought,

He was a coward, nobody likes a coward.

‘Did I mess it up again?’

~

You leaned your head onto the glass window of the bus you rode on, this wasn’t even your bus.

It was going in the opposite direction of your home.

You argued that no one could blame you, you wouldn’t like to bore someone all after that awkward confession of yours, you could have kept everything together like you were supposed to

But something pushed you to tell him.

Sighing quietly with your hand under your chin, you watched the shadows of the sunset turn darker as the faint reflection of the moon shone through the window. Each street lamp passing by became blurred lines mixed with the green bushes by the sidewalk.

Maybe if you just did what you were supposed to do, maybe if you controlled your emotions, maybe if you kept your mouth shut

You could call him your first real friend.

Now that’s out the window, who would take that confession so lightly, who would look at you the same once this gets out around the campus?

You frowned at your reflection on the glass pane, as you stared at it longer, you realized how you looked as if you wanted to cry.

That lump in your throat made it hard to swallow, your emotions were leaking like a broken pipe, and you couldn’t help but tear up a little. Just as you thought you could trust someone, just as you thought you could finally make a friend who you genuinely wanted to get to know.

You’re not the Y/N everyone adored and wanted to be, you weren’t the Y/N that was “friends” with everyone in every room you walked into. You weren’t the Y/N everyone loved.

You knew that, but you tried to be that person.

The same person who looked back at you in the mirror was the person you wanted to be.

And now Chan knows this.

He knows you’re not what everyone made you out to be.

He’s seen you like this

You were so jealous of him, he probably doesn't have to worry about how anyone thought of him, he could be normal. He didn’t have to worry about weird stares you felt on your back every day.

He probably didn’t have to worry about what others thought about him to make a friend or two.

What would other people think about you now?

What would Chan think of you now?

‘I should have kept quiet.’

~

Chan fiddled with the spare flasks on your guy’s shared desk at the laboratory. As he waited for the experiment to condensate, the slight clinking of glass sounded louder than the scattered chatter. To Chan, it felt like a boom, the kind of boom that you’d see in comic books, the kind of boom that you’d hear from a loud drum.

Settling the flasks he toyed with onto the desk, he buried his head into his folded arms, resting his head to the side, watching his experiment bubble and whistle.

“Did I really scare them off?” Chan muttered to himself.

“I should’ve said something..”

“I was supposed to say something else wasn’t I?”

Chan’s eyes focused on the liquid on the burner but his thoughts were far off.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Chan knocked his head thrice with his fist, he knew it was really awkward but, he tried his best didn’t he?

Carefully, he put on his gloves before taking the flask off the burner to stop it from scuffing his project. You weren’t there to help him so the best he could do is follow the instructions you left in case you couldn’t assist him ever since the incident when you burnt your hand.

“They would probably feel too awkward to talk to me again.. what should I do?” Chan wrote down his report as he heard his professor drawing in the classes’ attention, indicating it was time to wrap up.

~

Chan’s phone screen lit up, showing a text message. He looked over to where his phone was, turning away from the book he borrowed from the library. His literature homework wasn’t going to read itself, which is why you would find him at the library, actually reading.

“Hey Chan, sorry about skipping lab class today, I had something important to catch up on :(( but if you don’t mind, can we meet up in a bit? It has something to do with the project.”

Oh.

Chan gulped as he read your message, you .. sounded off?

He knows no one can really tell from how you text but, his stomach’s telling him that this wasn’t going to end well for either of them.

~

“The garden?” Chan murmured as he read through another reply of yours, indicating the meeting place. He’s been circling the campus for a while in search of this “garden” you told him about.

“Chris! Over here!” You waved from a familiar fountain, Chan could have sworn your word choice was a little- misleading. There was just a patch or three of grass and shrubs with a singular rose bush in the area; he wouldn't exactly call this a garden.

“Oh- sorry, I got mixed up with which garden you meant. My bad.” Chan sheepishly walked over to you, slightly looking down, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Ah, yeah.. sorry I didn’t specify.. I just labeled this area the garden since freshman year.” You offered a small smile. Something Chan has seen you offer other people in class as well.

This was it. This was the sign Chan didn’t want to see.

“So.. what did you want to talk to me about?” Chan averted his gaze from yours now and then as he felt awkward staring into your eyes.

You fidgeted with your fingers, averting your eyes from his as well.

“I was thinking, since the deadline drew closer for our project, I suggest we do our experiment in parts. I've been busy with .. uhm.. other subjects these days too, I think I’ll find the setup easier to manage.”

Chan listened closely to you, your voice grew smaller as you spoke, it was as if you were forced to say this.

Chan sighed quietly, nodding his head in understanding. He shouldn’t bother you anymore if he thought hard, he knew you two hanging out after the project was a far stretch, to begin with, you both had to slowly let each other off somehow.

“It’s alright, I understand.”

“.. alright so I’ve split our jobs into two, here are the instructions and reports for your part, And uh..” You shakily handed a clear folder with paperwork and blank sheets in it to Chan, to which he accepted hesitantly.

“.. uh…”

“Uhm.. I guess I’ll see you on presentation day or something then?” Chan concluded after looking at the file you gave him. He sent you a small smile that reflected your smile earlier.

“… y-yeah, sure.” You nodded reluctantly.

After bidding each other a very awkward goodbye, you two went on your “merry” way, hoping for a miracle to happen to fix this.

~

“So.. they just… gave you the files and left?” Jisung scratched his head as he squinted his eyes at Chan trying to squeeze an answer out of Chan.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re just going to.. accept it and do your part till they say something?”

“Yep”

Jisung sighed. He took out the lollipop in his mouth that he’s been leaving to melt in his mouth.

“Chan, what are the odds that they would talk to you again? You have to make the first move, you can’t keep wishing for a miracle if you avoid everything, obviously, the opportunity will never strike you!”

Chan just slumped into his chair before pursing his lips together, glooming at the folder you gave him.

Jisung was right and Chan knew it. But what are the odds that he would do what Jisung said? Make the first move?

If anything, Chan was just good at music, he wasn't good at literature, he hated science, he doesn’t like math, he was not in the council and he was just getting by with average grades.

With what he has so far and what he does, the more he doubts about this miracle he’s hoping for.

What a waste, college was supposed to be the time of his life, but he’s here doubting when he’s only got his Junior-, no half of his junior year, and his senior year left, then who knows what’ll happen then.

Chan pondered on the thoughts that constantly re-occur, “half of my junior year and my senior year.. then who knows what’ll happen then.”

What will happen next after this stage in both of your lives? You get a job, he moves away for his job, you might get a master's, you both draw away, and - sooner or later you’re both back at square one, strangers, just like in your freshman and sophomore days.

And when he looks back, what would he see? Regrets? A load of crap he would tell himself about being able to fix this? The stuff he wished you said? The things he wanted to say? Or the things you two were supposed to be?

What a nice way to remember the prime times of your life.

Chan grumbled.

He’s been stuck in his hoodie and underneath his own shadow, hiding in his dorm room and just going on through his day like a normal person, everyday was monotonous, every day he woke up to the same tune of his alarm, he ate the same cereal, he wears the very same choice of clothes, and he goes to the same classes to do the same thing every day.

It’s time he makes college a moment for him to remember. Who wants to look back into 4-5 years of his life with the same routine, Every. Single. Day.

If he doesn’t talk to you ever again because of this, he’ll never forgive himself.

He wouldn’t be able to live with the fact that all these words were all in his head. It would suffocate him, he just knew it would just like every other unsaid thought of his.

“Shi-“ Chan muttered a curse halfway as he rolled to stand up from his bed.

These past years of his life were a blur, what was there to remember? What was there for him to look back to anyway?

Is this what they meant when they made up the saying, “It’s now or never”?

“I have nothing to lose” that’s another saying.

“Go big or go home”?

“The time is now”, that’s another.

How do you tell someone something without actually telling them that “something”?

You can’t, that’s the problem Chan has to overcome.

Chan rummaged through his desk for anything: paper, pen, correction tape, a page of his math textbook(?), anything! He wanted to hold onto something that could be useful! Useful.. Useful, anything..?

He threw onto the desktop all the junk he’s grabbed onto. Flicking the switch of his lamp aaaaaaand.. what a letdown…

A pad full of paper, a half-used pen, cut-out shapes from his math homework, and a pile of unwanted science and literature essays. Goodness, this was supposed to be his “moment”, maybe this is why he hasn’t done anything “significant” in his life?

“This- will do…” he grabbed the pad full of paper, and his half-used pen. Pushing the rest of the junk on his desk to the side to have a fresh, clean desk to write on? Or to draw maybe? He hasn’t figured out what exactly he wanted to do.

Make paper planes?

Write a letter?

~

“Write a letter?” Chan resounded his thought, cliche, every movie has done it, every cliche love story starts with letters, not all but, it was cliche. But what choice did he have?

What path could he take?

He’s in a box filled with water, with no key. He’s going to have to find a way to do anything in a box filled with water. Unrealistic comparison but this whole problem was unrealistically impossible to get out of in the first place, it was his first time to do this, he’s going to have to knock some attention to the box he’s stuck in. That was his first step.

Dear Y/N- no that sounds weird.

Hello! - erm..

Chan was making blots of inks and erasures on his first sheet. He made faces at his work every time he made something up, quick to erase the words he would write, just like this was his first time to be in this position, he’s never taken the initiative to write his first ever love letter.

Love letter? No no this was just his.. vent. That’s all.

Taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. This won’t be shown to you. This was his deep pit to pour out his frustrations and feelings. But this is his only way to talk to you indirectly, if he finds the courage to give these to you, the moon would be blue.

Dear Y/n,

Please don’t be frightened when you read this.. or if you do read this. This really is not meant to be creepy! I would love to tell you who I am, because I don’t want to frighten you at all. Do understand this is my first time writing letters to someone. So if it gets awkward or- really weird, just know this would be weird for me too.

It’s weird writing to someone when I could just tell you the contents of this letter, you know, verbally. But I find it really hard to.. talk to you. Weird right? Maybe it’s because whenever I’m near you and I try to speak, they’re just stuck in my throat or in my head. I get really nervous but comforted and at peace at the same time.

I feel that you could make someone feel almost everything in a single blow. Weird right? But that’s how I feel. I’m sorry if that sounded really- creepy but I mean it in a good way, one second I could feel intimidated, the second- I’d feel like I fit in, the third, you’d make me feel as if we’ve known each other for 20 years instead of 20 minutes.

You’re incredible, I mean it. You are one incredible thing, you’re everything nice, Goodness that sounds so stupid, I’m no good at writing letters. I’ve never liked literature, have I told you that? I absolutely hate reading long books. I hate math, and I hate science textbooks.

I like to swim, I used to be a part of this junior swim team. You told me you liked caramel macchiato, swimming is- something like a caramel macchiato to me, it’s cringy to say but, when you take the first sip, it sort of shocks you awake, your mouth gets sour from the sweetness, and then the bitter zap from the coffee, it’s just the same when you get into the water, it's cold then warm then ticklish? I can’t explain it but no matter how weird the feeling is, it never gets old. You just can’t get enough of the feeling or you just can’t get sick of it. And the feeling never sticks long enough for you to remember, so you end up going back to it.

Sorry if I’m rambling, It’s weird for me to express these thoughts from the top of my head, much less to actually write it, I’ll probably never read this again, I do hope that- You won’t find out who I am so soon though. I’d be more than embarrassed.

If you end up finding out who I am. Please don’t tell me you know me. I’ll only cower more. I’ve had my fair share of cowering away, more than enough.

I do hope this letter will find you in good condition, and with that, I’ll see if I can write you another letter. Maybe I’ll be better at writing these? Who knows, well.. you would but..

Anyway, I’ll see you soon?

From:

—————

_____________________________

Dear Y/N

5/4/22

Hello, it’s me again. Don’t mind the dates, I feel like I have a long way to go before coming to terms with myself and actually giving these letters to you. So- I decided, that maybe these can be memory keepers? Uh- like photographs, I actually never thought of what to put in these letters, especially since I think I’m talking to you, like actually talking to you through these letters. I feel it’s unsettling to start telling you my fears or something. I could tell you all about my day but it would just be me describing how the food at the canteen never ceases to gross me out, or all about my friends, or just about me. This seems really insensitive, but what can I say? I’m talking to a piece of paper.

I think I’ll find myself forgetting about these letters after a while, and I’d end up throwing them out once I move back to my parent’s home after college. Or when I move out to a separate home that I’d be spending my days in, till I think about getting a new house.

I ran out of ideas on what to talk about, so if the correction tape starts to chip, don’t mind the erasures. I guess I should talk about my day. Today was - eventfully dull, like always, I mean what’s so special about going to class (the same classes to be exact) and doing the same things all day, everyday. I did our science project in the study cubes we have in the library. It's actually- fairly comforting to have a whole box to yourself. I feel the study cube could be one of the investments of the school that I personally enjoy the most. Have you studied there before? It was my first time if you hadn’t noticed yet. It was surprisingly .. nice to be alone for once, it was quiet, not the awkward type considering the whole front wall and door is made of glass, I think the giant, white, obnoxiously large letters that spell out “study cube” helps keep the other student’s noses out of your business, whoever designed that is brilliant, brilliantly- stupid? I mean I’m no interior designer but they could have done better. (Back me up here, you’re the one in an interior designing class.) (Well only if you want to.)

It’s currently 12:34 am, I would say good morning but...

Anyway, I’m tired, you must be tired, I’ll head to bed, I hope we can talk in person soon, so I can actually stop caving in my dorm room, writing letters like you’re gonna read this. But I can wait. Okay, that sounded weird, but I can’t even keep a yawn in right now. Good night, I can't wait to lock this in my drawer.

from: ________

__________________________________

Dear Y/N

5/5/22

It’s me again. Again, please don’t talk about the dates, I guess you can see how often I want to talk to you? Never mind, that sounded stupid and weird. Please don’t think of me that way.

Do you know Jisung? Han Jisung? He’s told me before that you guys share the same social studies classes, he’s from the literature department, and he’s also tried to sign up for the school paper once, do you remember that? It was during sophomore year I believe, we haven’t met yet, but I guess we saw each other briefly, you were the - editor in chief? Was it? Or someone important in the office, and Jisung mistook you as the person who declined his “audition” (I forgot the term, was it submission?) for the papers, you did look like someone, the someone who actually did disapprove of his work. I was the friend beside him that day that he tried to and I quote “give you a piece of his mind” I still haven’t apologized to you about that, I just felt it was a little weird for me to still remember something like that so I felt embarrassed to bring it up to you now that we’ve actually met.

I do hope that you haven’t strayed away from making friends with my friends. I admit, maybe I did do something wrong but please don’t limit yourself, they’re good friends, I shouldn’t be the reason why you’re avoiding people that I’m usually around with. If I could promise and show you that I would actually mind my own business, I would. Whether you become my friend’s best friend, I really wouldn’t mind. As long as you don’t take them away from me, I wouldn’t mind, even if we aren’t comfortable talking to each other anymore.

That was some word dump, my bad. You know if these get cringed and you did read them, burn these letters, it’s the least you can do before telling me you never want to hear from me again. Knowing me, I’ll never EVER stop thinking about the fact that these letters could be up and running around the campus.

Have you read or watched the series “To all the boys I’ve loved before”? I’ve never been so traumatized from it, which is why now that I have my own letters to keep, I’m quite literally keeping them with my life. Okay wait before you go and ask me why I watched or read the series, I have a sister. And a friend named Changbin.

Seo Changbin, he’s majoring in physical education? Something about a major in sports, I think? I’m not too sure about myself anymore, he’s been transferring and having second thoughts about his course since sophomore year, and I can’t keep track of whether he’s in economics or sports, animal care, or culinary art. This can explain my case, he’s all over the place and you can’t understand what’s going on in his brain so ask him why he thought the series was fun and asked me to join him. (To be fair, it was confusing, but I did find the series- uh- interesting. It’s not my favorite show, but I don’t think it’s as bad as people say it is? I just don’t see why there’s such a big fuss about the movie series with the book series, so I watched and read both.)

Not the stereotypical, “my sister watches said series like any other girl.” She usually isn’t into those. I can vouch for her, for the past.. 18-19 years of growing up with her, I've never ever seen her read a book with that type of genre. And she seemed interested too. So I mean adds on to reasons why I might wanna see what the show’s all about right?

It’s uh- 3:45 pm, and I’ve been stuck in the infirmary with a badly twisted ankle, and I got to pass my time icing the injury so, might as well get a letter done right? I got the injury from playing soccer with my friends, it was a hassle hopping to the infirmary with 2-3 other people dragging attention to you by sobbing and acting like you got a limb cut off.

Until the next letter then.

From:

_______

~

Chan stretched his arms, leaning back on his chair, another letter finished. He sighed in contentment, his lips formed a flat smile, it held certain contentment and a tinge of fatigue from the finals week he had to accommodate together with his ongoing letter-writing agenda.

It seemed as if he’s been writing letters to you for a while now, even if he only started a few weeks ago. Chan wondered how much his letters have accumulated now. He reached over to the other end of his desk, pulling out the drawer he stashed the letters in, the sealed envelopes were all scattered on top of each other, all with dates and entries like “Letter 4” or “To: Y/N. From: “

He sighed at the sight of the envelopes, picking up a few every now and then to read all that is on the surface of each letter; if he bothered to count, these letters would outnumber the fingers his hands had. Had he been writing every day? He scoffed at himself, knowing well enough he was- amazed that he had this much to say.

Putting the letters back into the drawer, not really caring if letter 8 was under letter 5. He refocused to the newly written letter on his desk, he folded the paper neatly before putting it into a brand new envelope, snapping a tape off the small tape dispenser he stationed on the side of his table, glancing at that little tape dispenser as he was about to reach for the drawer to let the letter in his hand join the rest of his collection, he’s going to need a new roll if this prolongs or if he plans to say any more to you.

Oh goodness.

Chan closes his eyes as he leans back into his chair, his fatigue caught up fast, it was nearing 1 in the morning.

“What did I even do today?” Chan wondered to himself. As he was recounting the events of his day. Come to think of it, his recent days were just spent in the library preparing for the finals, or doing homework in class and writing letters in his dorm room.

As he thought about how his time managing skills were average, to say the least, he couldn’t help but doze off to other topics. He thought of everything he’s done, and everything he’s written, no matter how boring his day was, he always had something to write to you about. He hasn’t talked about his feelings or anything, just about himself, like his hobbies, his friends, his day, it was like those introductions in kindergarten.

Chan glanced at this mini calendar on his desk, it had a line character on the left side of the calendar, and a few of his annotations on the right. Things like “Changbin’s birthday” and “family dinner” were the common things he’d write, just simple reminders in case he missed the notification on his phone.

He looked past the dates with big red circles, those marked the dates of his final exams, and as he looked past those, there was a small note on the last day of the month, “Christmas break”.

Chan could only imagine what Christmas break would look like after finals. He wondered,

By then, would you and him be friends again?

~

Chan cursed under his breath as he mopped up the spilt apple juice on the wooden floors of his living room. It was way past 8 in the evening, his parents asked him to clean up a little bit after the party his relatives threw for his little cousin in his house. Perfect timing as well, just the day before his graduation. Tomorrow was the big day, finally the day that will mark his completion in college and his successful years passing his course with average grades and a finished bucket list.

His parents were taking down decorations and keeping leftovers, even though the constant rustling and crumpling from the cleaning session in Chan’s kitchen, Chan felt so at home with his thoughts, it was quiet in the neighborhood weirdly enough because usually, he would hear a loud motorcycle zoom past his house at an ungodly hour or an overly enthusiastic rooster or even a party down the street with obnoxious music on the highest volume.

It was like a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Chan, one of his “must-sees” before he leaves his childhood neighborhood, it’s weird because he was against the idea of leaving when his father introduced it to him with the jobs available for Chan in the next city or in the state next to his current one. But every time he thought of everything that happened in this place, all he could think about is college and then the time he fell down his bike and rolled down the street when he was 9, the only reason he wouldn’t leave was because he was comfortable here, no one ever cared that he was wearing a sweater in the middle of summer or no one really cared that he was moving, when he gets out of this place, no one will ever know someone named Christopher Bang.

Maybe his relatives, a few friends, a couple of batch mates but what are they worth in a neighborhood the size of Jisung’s cheeks, sometimes it might not look like a lot but when you really walk around the area, it’s like a whole new place you’ve never stepped foot in yet the air seemed the same, familiar even.

As soon as his parents told Chan he could head to his room to get some rest for his “big day” tomorrow. Chan trudged to his room, he wasn’t at his dorm because the school gave an early warning that he should move out slowly as the semester closes, so now he’s stuck in his childhood room with the glow in the dark stars still stuck to his roof, and his Cars 2 bedsheets. Even if he hasn’t been away from home in a long time, his mother finds his room like some Time Capsule and refuses to change it to his liking.

Chan wouldn’t say he didn’t miss this though, he’d be lying if he did. He could just remember 8-year-old him flopping on the same bed right after doing his math homework and falling asleep almost immediately. Chan bets the sheets would smell like his childhood, something like apricots and autumn leaves, or was it lavender? Chan never appreciated that smell from his blanket that would put him to sleep almost immediately, maybe that’s why he hasn’t been getting much sleep?

As Chan closed the door behind him, he spotted a clean pack of pad paper and his funny-looking transformers and star wars pens in his pen holder. Cereal packs these days don’t give anything, Chan wonders if kids these days experience the meaning of enjoying your childhood if you didn’t collect pens from cereal packs of your favorite show.

He sat down and switched on his lamp, the light flickered now and then and the light it gave off was weak, and .. it was about to go out, maybe but Chan could care less, this was pretty bright for him, he could work his way through this. He reached over and grabbed an R2D2 pen, the pen charm had the head of R2D2 hanging off a slightly rusted chain from the top of the pen. Chan clicked the pen a few times before testing it out on a corner of the pad paper on his desk.

Surprisingly it still works, like brand new actually. This was Chan’s cue to start writing, he decided, this was one story to tell you, next, he wanted to say his final thoughts and finally reveal who he was. Even if he planned to keep this to himself, at least he could finally sign the letters with his name, admitting that all those letters were in fact, his thoughts and his emotions.

“Here goes..” Chan muttered.

~

‘Breathe in, breathe out.’ Chan tried to pat down his graduation (gown?) outfit and adjust his hat. He frantically wiped his hands on his jeans under his regalia, his hands were much sweatier than usual, not like they were always wet but he figured it was the nerves he was developing or is it excitement? I mean it’s not every day you finally get to receive your diploma and finally experience the taste of adulthood.

Looking at the mirror in his old room was.. nostalgic? He has slightly longer hair as compared to before and he swore he’s grown an inch or two since he last stood in front of the mirror. A small smile found its way onto Chan’s face as he finally saw, with his own two eyes, that not only did he grow physically but maybe he did mature over time, and now’s the result of all his hard work and of all the unnecessary pain he’s been through.

“Dear? Are you ready? You’ll be late!” Chan hurried to the muffled sound of his mother. Shoving a bunch of materials and some notebooks, he didn’t think about what he shoved into his bag, he took as much as he thought he’d need from his desk top.

His bag seemed heavy but Chan figured he can sort this out later, he can’t fix time if he was late for his graduation.

“Coming!”

~

Chan heard all kinds of boisterous noises screaming, cheering, strained laughs and sniffles. He’s taken at least 2 naps in total and he’s seen his parents and younger siblings in one of the seats behind him. It had been a good 3 hours? His behind was getting numb and his brain was empty and all he saw was nothing but gray as he clapped aimlessly every time he heard a name being called to the stage.

He doesn’t mean to be rude at all but he’s been half asleep half the time and he doesn’t even know half the students being cheered for, they were all people he’s seen but never cared to get to know or just didn’t seem like they were interested in being friends with someone like him. He never liked to talk to a lot of people so he didn’t have a problem with that.

Graduation seemed slow at first, Chan was seated beside people he barely knows of and strangers and parents of said strangers were all around him, occasionally he’d be woken up from his doze by the loud shrieks of this girl in front of him or the low obnoxious cheers from the varsity player beside him. But luckily after a while, the names started to deplete, and soon after he would get called on stage and his friends too, he heard your name but the people in front of him stood on their tippy toes and screamed at the top of their lungs.

Graduation was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a milestone, an honor that you wear around your neck. Now that everyone was flooding out the auditorium, chatters among students with things along the lines of “I can’t believe it! We’re out of this place for good!” And “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!”

And if Chan was, to be honest, he felt the same way. It's unbelievable that college just ended like that, all those years blown away in one big gust of wind, Chan could hardly recall the days he’d complain to his friends about how he would consider dropping out if a certain teacher didn’t lift the workload. (As a joke of course)

As Chan caught up with friends he forgot about “sorting” his bag out from earlier and he was pretty carried away with the jokes and diploma-shoving banter from his friends and some acquaintances from different classes. He could almost smell the tinge of sweet autumn breeze in the air, like a reward after all the grueling years of college.

He felt the slight odd-one-out item in his bag as he gripped it before slinging it over his shoulder. As Chan walked out of the auditorium he could smell a familiar scent and an “aftertaste” of a certain drink. Caramel Macchiato.

Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or a hit of nostalgia, or just a familiar feeling he missed resurfaced. He held onto his bag as he ran up to his friends waiting at the side of the auditorium to tell them he had to catch up with someone before he could miss them.

Chan ran back to the auditorium, looking all around him for a sign of you but all he saw were teachers and some staff members cleaning up the mess as well as some students who were just chatting with friends, but none of them resembled a certain Y/N.

He ran outside and went to gardens and sanctuaries students usually stayed to hangout. At this point he was losing hope, it was getting dark and each minute that passed was a moment he hoped he could catch up to you, he hoped you’d still miraculously, still be there waiting or that he could somehow catch up to you.

As the day was coming to a dark, vibrant orange, and the sun was slowly setting with each tick of his watch. Chan, with all hope lost, trudged to the front gate of the school, he tried, that’s one story for his very final letter maybe.

He thought about all the places he wanted to check, he wished he could be everywhere all at the same time in case you decided to go to a certain place, he wouldn't have missed you if it were that way.

He dragged his feet, kicking pebbles along the way and fallen pine cones in his way. Chan heard chatter from a distance and he just prayed it was his friends waiting for him, he wanted to take his mind away from you, or from this whole thing, he should be celebrating after all!

Chan couldn’t look up for some reason, scared it could be you or your friends, he wasn’t really prepared for a moment like that you know?

“Chan? Where have you been?”

What?

That doesn’t sound like Jisung at all. Chan looked up to find a certain caramel macchiato enjoyer. You.

Chan’s mouth was slightly left agape, what’s with his luck? He wouldn’t count this as luck but neither did he think this was something unfortunate. He gulped as he held onto his backpack strap, why did you ask where he’s been? Have you been looking for him?

“Hey..?” Chan answered meekly.

“Hi.. uh..” You laughed nervously as you looked at your friends and waved them off for a bit before turning back to Chan.

“Can we talk?”

“Can we talk?”

You two asked in unison, both with a similar tone in your voices, it wasn’t something like after an unresolved break up or with misunderstood feelings, more like a needed congratulations.

And an awaited goodbye.

“Uh, my bad you can go first.” Chan offered.

“You should go first.” You insisted.

Chan coughed awkwardly into his fist, averting his gaze to the side before pursing his lips. This was it, this was it, this was it. Chan encouraged himself as he unzipped his bag to get the box out of his bag.

As he handed it to you with his eyes looking off to the tree behind you.

“I wouldn’t say this is a graduation gift to you per se, but it’s something I meant to give to you for-.. awhile? I guess you could say that.”

You took the box into your hands as you furrowed your brows, but offered a small smile to him. Chan finally glanced back at your expression. He was worried you’d be sort of negative about this but to his surprise, your smile was something that resembled an overly sweetened caramel macchiato. Sweet, too sweet on that note, but enjoyable, stereotypical, an everyday thing but you could tell the barista made it with a whole lot of love and effort, in short, it was genuine and Chan longed to see that from you after a long while.

“Don’t open it!” Chan outstretched his hand as you slightly lifted the box’s lid off.

“Open it at least a week later, or-.. well when you start to miss college, yeaH! TILL YOU MISS COLLEGE! Or -.. better a week later..!” Chan rushed as he tried to push back the cover.

You chuckled at his antics just as you nodded at his request(?). You tucked the box’s lid back on properly, easing Chan’s nerves.

After a long comfortable silence and a few awkward giggles and chuckles here and then, Chan started to bring back the topic, “A-anyway.. your turn…”

“Ah right.. my bad… uhm” Now you were afraid to look at him.

“I wanted to congratulate you, we had a good score for our project, and your delivery was great. Sorry, I couldn’t have… congratulated you earlier, I- I wanted to for a while actually ! But I figured you were too busy juggling with the finals and with your swim practices..” You hugged the small bouquet of flowers in your arms.

You grinned sheepishly and laughed awkwardly to ease the tension you felt, Chan offered the same laugh before answering.

“Oh no no it’s no problem, I haven’t been able to congratulate you earlier either! So it’s no worries! Really.” Chan waved you off as he averted his gaze to look at his shoes.

“Well uhm.. this is for you by the way.” You smiled sheepishly as your voice grew small while extending the bouquet of flowers to him, the plastic’s soft crinkles seemed to fill a void of silence that you two couldn’t fill. Chan doubted either of you were bothered though, in fact it reminded him of the autumn leaves.

Chan’s eyes grew in astonishment as he was faced with a dozen roses, from the looks of it, it was just freshly picked as well. He hesitantly glanced at you, asking if this was really for him before reluctantly accepting the bouquet of roses into his own arms.

“Oh.. thank you..?” He turned from admiring the roses to thanking you with a slight confused tone, you chuckled softly. “Sorry, I’ve never gotten flowers, it’s usually just me giving them to my mom.”

“You can give these flowers to your mom as well.” You shrugged playfully as you watch Chan erupt into laughter.

“I mean, people can give others flowers right? Plus it’s graduation day, isn’t it tradition?” You offered him a smile, Chan couldn’t understand what was behind it, to be fair, he couldn’t even understand if the smile he was giving was because he was happy he got his first ever bouquet of flowers or the fact that you thought about giving it to him.

Chan exhaled, as if he were holding his breath but he was able to feel a wave of relief as he inhaled the fresh autumn air. “It is tradition but you rarely see it happen these days.”

“At least you got to see it for yourself right? Doesn’t it make it extra special?” Your smile never faded but your eyes softened at the sight of Chan, you missed this.

“It does.” Chan held the flowers close to his chest as his smile grew, the sides of his eyes crinkled slightly.

After a while of silence, the two of you laughed off the awkwardness before nodding in acknowledgment that you both are here, at this moment, you two can finally say goodbye..? It felt short-lived but this was all that Chan has been wishing for since his first letter.

“I should probably get going now.. It’s getting late and.. your friends are probably waiting for you.” Chan gestured to your friends chatting behind you, before offering you a reassuring smile. It’s time to go home, or well to go with your respective friend groups.

“Oh right.. Yeah.. I should probably get going as well.” You glanced back at your friends and chuckled softly.

“… I guess I’ll see you then?” You held onto the box Chan gifted you and you felt your fingers squeezing it, realizing the smooth, soft, feather-like texture of the box, something similar to a stationary box.

“Yeah.. Until then I guess.” Chan unconsciously gave the bouquet in his arms a squeeze, it was already impossibly close to his chest but he hugged it closer, finding uncut thorns that poked at the thick plastic wrapping and colored paper outer wrapping.

You two waved to each other as you both giggled to yourselves, you were relieved that even with the gap between you two before, something’s don’t really change. You hoped and wished maybe you had more time to say goodbye, but you can’t keep him here forever.

~

Slamming the door shut as you sighed harshly, flopping onto your bed, face planting into your pillow. Turning your head to the side just to sigh again, it was a small disagreement with your parents and it ended in you storming to your room and planning to keep to yourself until the whole thing blows over.

Closing your eyes, you squeezed them shut, your head was starting to have a slight pounding sensation at the back. Just your luck.

As you opened your eyes, you noticed a familiar box on your desk, you never noticed, and maybe it’s because the baby blue shade that was confused with white, was blending with the polka dots. You sat up on your bed, ignoring the slight headache from falling into bed.

Reaching over to grab the box from your desk, you realized there was a small tag stuck on the box, it had a small “Chan’s things :)” in a carefree, child-like handwriting, you smiled at the endearing sight, everyday it’s like you could still see bits and pieces of him.

Opening the lid your eyebrows raised in shock? Amusement? Maybe in the middle of both. Multiple letters (you assumed) were in airmail envelopes with stamps that were considered valuable were on corners of each one.

Picking the first one in the pile to inspect it, you realized that each envelope had the familiar handwriting of Chan, it wasn’t neat nor was it messy, but you found it something like a characteristic of his. With each letter that you picked up, more emerged from the bottom of the pile, you wondered how Chan was able to fit hundreds- maybe even thousands of these letters.

You put the pile in your hands back into the box before plucking a letter randomly, opening it, and finding an evenly folded paper inside and with the letter being addressed to you. You were seeing the date of each letter being from a year or two ago. Subconsciously picking another random letter up into your free hand as you read. This process continued until half the pile in the box was transferred to another pile of opened envelopes beside you.

As you finished another letter, you carefully folded it back to how it was and inserted it back into its envelope before stacking it on top of the other letters you finished. Opening a new one, and you realized it had a second page, you noticed the dim lighting from your window and realized it was late. And that you’ve spent your remaining afternoon reading letters.

This letter didn’t have a date. You figured it could be a really recent letter or a letter Chan forgot to mark.

Dear Y/N,

On this day is my little cousin’s birthday, and it’s just a day away from our graduation ceremony. I went to his birthday party and when I entered the first thing he called me was, crispy. For obvious reasons, I do hope that I don’t give off that vibe.. or get-up, and I do hope you won’t call me crispy either, Chan or Chris, that’s it, not crispy. Weirdly enough his parents and MY parents egged my little cousin on and they started to call me uncle crispy. Anyway, tomorrow is our graduation day. I have my letters in a box, only recently did I get a box for them, and you know what? I tried to count them but I sort of lost count, so I’m stuck with thinking I wrote 87 letters..? But I don’t recall writing that much though, hopefully, it isn't, I don’t want you reading 87 letters of just me talking about how much I hate mathematics class. I also forgot to ask how was your day? I hope it’s going well. I believe this will be my last and final letter to you, I doubt I’ll have time to write another one tomorrow, not with my nerves for the graduation ceremony. I’m still unsure if I want to give this box of letters that are sitting on my desk right now. If I do, and you will see this letter, I hope you won’t be creeped out or- anything.. I mean well with the letters.

Since this is my last letter to you, it might be one long one. It’s just for goodbyes, you know? I’m going to be moving out of the dorms soon. I've done some packing early in the week so I’ll be out of here faster than I estimated, which is why I concluded that this might be my last letter. I’m not sure if I’ll stay in the neighborhood either. I have plans, I guess you can say, and it involves me moving out of the country or off to another city. Honestly, from the bottom of my heart I want to stay here so in turn that if you wanted to say something to me before I go, I’d hear it. But from the pit in my stomach, I don’t think you would even stop to think about these. Throw these letters out as soon as you read them though, I really don’t see why you would keep them in the first place and I want you to promise that you will, I’ll only sleep better if I know you will.

Below this paragraph is the things I’ll finally say and mention to you, after a long while of not being able to admit these things to you, no they are not problems, or complaints, neither is it obsessions and addictions, just my feelings, not necessarily feelings as in romantic feelings, but feelings as in the things I thought and felt when we were friends, and/or when we had the chance to hang out. If you don’t want to read beyond this, feel free to just throw it out.

Do you remember when you made your first friend? I can’t really remember the feeling, but I remember the memory, but what’s a memory without feelings? A black and white picture maybe. To be fair I have made a lot of friends, in my whole life, I don’t recall meeting more than 20 people a year so.. being “friends” with a people’s person did get into my head for a while. You’re admirable as a person, I’m sure people around you have made that clear, but I think when I met you, half of me or probably more, was happy to meet someone who didn’t seem too intimidating. Maybe you were intimidating at first to me, considering your status but after sometime you seemed like the warmest, kindest being I’ve encountered. I may not know what it’s like to be in your place everyday and I may not know what you see in your eyes everyday, but from what I know, you’re going through so much, and yet you have so much compassion and kindness despite it all. That’s admirable.

Maybe I am wrong and maybe I’m just overthinking but I feel that there were some things left unsaid, and some unexpected outcomes in our friendship and I understand you need space, and you’d rather save yourself the trouble, which is why I’m writing these letters to you, in hope that when you’re ready to talk to me, and that I’ll be too late to reply, at least I’ll have some answers for you. I’ll admit, if I knew my timing, if I knew how to approach you, and if I knew how to resolve things that are left undone, maybe I would have reached out to you sooner, but sadly, I don’t, and I could barely tell time on regular days, either I’m too sleepy to care or it’s usually around dinner time by the time I get out of the building, whether it be from the dorms or from school and I don’t have the guts to even talk around new people or well.. talking to people was never really my forte, to begin with, and I’ve always hated solving math word problems, so I’m sure you could tell why I didn’t approach you sooner and I’m sure you know that I’m actually not so special, I’m a little below average actually. I’m the definition of a quiet kid that, maybe only 3 people in the whole batch knows about me, even if I wore sweatshirts and vests instead of hoodies or khaki pants instead of joggers and even if I walked around wearing clothes like that, no one would care who I was because I wasn’t going to be special or I wasn’t sticking out like a sore thumb. (Not that you are one though)

But you, on the other hand, you’re like the definition of a successful, “someone-whose-future-is-bright”, “they’re-going-places” type of student. And sometimes they forget that putting you so high on a pedestal… makes you so isolated from everyone else. I must admit, I looked at you the same way, like some otherworldly- being. Which I’m sure you didn’t know..? Or pretended to not know maybe. But after hanging out with you for a while, after you told me what you said to me that day? I realized you’re just a person, who has dreams and passions, and fears and flaws. I realized you’re just trying to fit in what others say you are because you felt like if you didn’t, you aren't Y/N anymore. I admire that you still strive to be the best. That’s something a normal person can’t do. That’s something I can’t do. This must be the other reason why I looked at you like some “otherworldly being”.

Oh gosh, that was a whole word dump. I apologize, really, it’s just what I realized and I wish I knew that early on, and I wished that I knew how to tell you that it was okay to let your guard down. And that if you need help, I’ll always be willing to lend a helping hand.. and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that earlier on. I also want to apologize for that day, my answers weren’t really well thought of and maybe I didn’t consider what you could have felt either and I’m sorry, I know I could have done better and maybe I wouldn't be holed up in my room on the night before we graduate, writing this letter to you. You know what? It’s funny, people would call this and my other letters “love letters” even though I doubt the rest had anything to do with me claiming I loved you or anything. I’m only using this method as an actual way to communicate, you know, like how letters were actually used before. But to say that this last one is not a love letter, might be a lie. Love letter as in me telling you these things because I care about you, be it platonically, romantically, I wouldn't know, I’ve never felt anything like this before and I doubt it’s what they call love. They say it's something like being close to the sun or on cloud 9 or talking to the moon or something, hell, what does it mean to be on “cloud 9”? Wouldn't it hurt to be close to the sun? Why would someone talk to the moon so eagerly when you’re “in love”? I talk to the moon about my science homework, would it mean I love science? Do you get what I mean? This isn’t a letter about me being in love with you romantically, it’s more like a letter of admiration? Of care maybe. A care letter(?). But if these were symptoms or bits and pieces of love, in the romantic sense. I wouldn’t know, because I guess love will come differently to everyone else. But right now, when I think of you, my lungs are alright, my heart isn’t beating abnormally and my hands aren't shaking. In the time that I can confirm this is romantic love towards you, I guess I’ll write another letter to admit that to you. I learned in my time of writing to you that having unsaid thoughts and “feelings” have a choking effect on you. If anything, I’m telling you this because half of me confides in the fact that we might never meet again, and the fact that I know I’d rather not force these thoughts and feelings down my throat. I’ll admit to you that, even if we spent maybe a week? Or half a month? Hanging out with you and thinking back on it makes me feel like we spent ages growing up together and yet I can’t even recall your favorite color. Am I just forgetting that important detail or did I never ask? Maybe you would’ve gotten awkward if I asked that before, don’t people on dates usually ask that? I hate to say that this is most likely our last conversation. And you know what? I feel like I spent a good amount of time completing my bucket list in college. I made a new friend, “fell in love” I guess, and got through the 4 years with memories. Thank you for being part of my 4 years here, it was a blast. Might be the most I’ve done in my whole life, and.. one thing I have to admit before I end the letter.

I lied. I actually dislike americanos, I mean I don’t hate it, and I do drink it, but bitter isn’t usually the option I’d go for, the reason why I stuck with it was because you ordered it for me and in time.. I didn’t really mind the bitterness anymore, I guess I was distracted talking to you. I also disliked science projects, mainly because it’s never my forte and because I was never grouped up with someone who tried to cooperate with me. That day in the cafe where we first met? I didn’t actually think about anything, I was just- scared, no I wasn’t scared of you or anything, I was scared of what others will think when they look at me with you. I still do, and I think about it a lot whenever I write a letter to you. The rest are completely true though, I hated literature classes, I never liked math and I had a small hobby for swimming and I had my cousin’s birthday party today, and that I have 2 other friends. But the truest thing about me, in my letters? Is that I “loved” you, platonically or romantically, I can’t tell, it’s just as I said before, I have never been in love with someone romantically, maybe platonically but I don’t really know that feeling either. Maybe it’s unconfirmed but the fact that I dislike americanos but in turn ended up liking it, is true, because like I said before, I like coffee. And I’ll never really know if that’s true for me, maybe liking americano will or is just a phase because of your influence (?) but I never really lied to you have I? I like science, it’s just the projects I hate, I was thinking of some things on the day when we met. I was thinking about what others would think about me sitting in the cafe with you. So.. the fact that I can admit that I “loved” you, isn’t that technically true as well? This is exactly how my thoughts are right now in my head as I write, confusing but, it’s not everyday I can put my thoughts into words like this.

I’m going to end the letter like this, I think I’ve said everything that’s been burdening my heart, I think this is all that I can say. I may be someone normal and maybe I’m someone you probably have forgotten about a long time ago, but I’ll always remember you as someone I was probably romantically and/or platonically in “love” with. As we are parting ways, you don’t need to say anything regarding this because maybe I’ve already left but because I’m afraid of what you’ll say to begin with. If you feel the same way(?) you don’t have to admit anything to me, just accept the fact that I had the odd opportunity and sudden courage to tell you this. But believe that this, and the rest of my letters, were written with my whole heart and with good intentions and with the purest emotion and thoughts a human being can put into words.

Goodbye Y/N, I hope you read this a week later as you promised. (And that you will throw this out like I told you to do)

And I hope to see you soon in the future.

Sincerely yours,

Chris.

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

“I’m just… saying that it might make things worse, to shut off and—” Jason pointed at the mound of paper on the table, “obsess over this stuff instead.”

“You think?” Dick asked. “No shit.”

Jason blinked. “Wait, are you—”

“Did you think it never occurred to me,” said Dick, “that I might be spinning out?”

“I didn’t say you were spinning out.”

“Were you thinking that maybe,” Dick leaned back against the table edge and crossed his arms, carefully casual in a way Jason didn’t like, “hey maybe I, Dick Grayson, haven’t noticed how it feels to be forty-nine hours into a case and puking in the bathroom sink?”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe I just haven’t realized why my vision blurs out and I can’t think straight, and it’s weird how this happens—” Dick held up a hand, and Jason could see his fingers shaking, “—if I keep going for too long.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, this might be,” Dick said, flatly, “bad.” 

Jason glanced down at his boots to break the eye contact. “I’ll back off,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“It might be bad that I can’t sleep until I’m falling-over exhausted. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking all these cases—”

“I said I’ll back off.”

“Or writing all these notes or spending weeks on research, more than that on training—”

“Listen—”

“I probably shouldn’t be leading all these teams, huh?” Dick smiled in a way that reminded Jason of what he should have remembered before he opened his own mouth: that Dick could be very, very dangerous. “Can I get your opinion on that?”

“I’ll—”

“I KNOW!”

Jason stumbled back a step in shock. 

“I KNOW that I’m working too hard!” Dick yelled, “And I KNOW why I do it!”

“Okay!” Jason backed away again. “Okay, I get it!”

“I work so I don’t have to think! I’d rather drop dead doing this shit than stop for the millisecond it would take to feel again! Are you happy now?”

“Calm down, okay? I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to feel,” said Dick, gesturing around him, “so I’m going to stand right here over and over again.”

“Fine!”

“And I’m going to keep shutting down because it goddamn WORKS!”

Dick turned away again, bending over the table like he hadn’t said anything at all. Jason stood frozen for a moment, staring. 

“Does it?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Do you have something better?”

Jason looked down at his own hands and saw that they were shaking too.

“No,” he said.

“Then fuck off.”

Jason turned to leave, but Dick, it appeared, wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“I’m alive,” he said. “I’m standing and walking and doing all the things that matter.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve had enough of— enough of asking for help and getting—” Dick jerked an arm above his head, still turned away. “I don’t want to hear that the way I live is self-destructive. I already know. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I’m saying, that’s why I’m trying.” 

“Yeah.”

“Just… show me something better, or let me self-destruct.”

Jason fumbled awkwardly for something to say. “I’m sure— I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but whoever that is— I’m sure they’re… trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” said Dick.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were trying to land a cheap shot,” said Dick, “and feel like you’re better than me.”

Yes, that was true. Jason wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he regretted it, and those were different things.  

“I guess that makes me an asshole.”

“And a hypocrite.” Dick turned around again and leaned back in the same way, quiet, in control. “You never stop either… not since the pit anyway.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean it’s different, obviously, because I don’t think you’re trying to hide it. Me, I don’t want cracks to show. I don’t want all this grief and anger and— you said despair, right?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want the despair to show because I want to look whole, but you—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“You want to look like a week-old corpse rotting on the concrete, and may I say?” Dick smiled. “Excellent performance. You look exactly like that.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“It’s a world of difference,” Dick continued, “because I— I’m pushing through pain… and you’re pushing to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jason found that it was difficult to breathe. 

“I could yell back for that,” he said. It came out softly, more soft than he meant, as Jason shoved away something very close to shame.

“Do it.”

“No. I think it’s funny when people call me the angry one.” Jason looked down at his shaking hands again. 

“I am angry,” he conceded, “but you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Thematic,” Dick snapped. “Get out.” 

“No. You opened this book, so we’re going to read it. You’re right.”

“Leave.”

“You’re right, I do exactly what you just said I do. Sometimes I don’t sleep for days, and it’s not because I can’t.”

Well, that might not be fully true, so Jason stopped to backtrack.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I don’t know if I could sleep, if I really tried, but that’s the point I’m making. I don’t try. I don’t want to sleep.”

“I said leave.”

“It’ll be four in the morning and I’m slumped sideways on my couch watching surveillance footage I don’t need to watch, because I know when I finally drag myself to the bathroom mirror, I’ll look like hell—”

“Get out!”

“—and I want to! I feel like hell, I feel like goddamn Brutus in the Devil’s jaws, and I want to look like it. If I look like death, that means my pain is real.”

“Get out or regret it.”

“Oh, I know it’s self-destructive,” said Jason, smiling his best unnerving smile. “How could I miss it when I’m blacking out in stairwells and picking fights on purpose, just to get kicked around?”

That particular sentence, it appeared, caught Dick’s attention, because he stayed quiet this time, glaring from across the room.

Well then, Jason decided, it was time to push further. 

“Let’s get personal, shall we? Why do I live in this fucking city to see you or him or whoever else is living in the capes this week? I’m not shooting for reconciliation!”

“Well?”

“I’m going to stay here and cause problems until every single one of you hates me enough to shove me away. How’s my performance, by the way? Is it working? I’d love to get your opinion.”

Dick made a face that Jason couldn’t interpret, so Jason chose to press on. 

“It’ll hurt when I pull that off because I do actually care about you, but you know what? I’ll like that. Maybe someday all of this will kill me, and I’ll kind of like that too.” 

Jason paused a beat to let Dick interject, but Dick didn’t. 

“Your turn,” said Jason pleasantly. “Thoughts?”

Nothing.

“I like the aesthetic of self-destruction,” said Jason. “I’m going to look in the mirror tomorrow and see dark circles and scars, and it’s going to feel like being myself in a way that nothing else does.”

In that moment, watching Dick glare, Jason felt very tired— not in a way that sleep could solve, and not in a way that anyone could fix. No matter what Jason did, no matter what he tried, he could always feel himself sinking. He was empty and heavy at the same time, somehow trapped in place, unable to do anything except lie in his own blood.

A rotting corpse indeed.

“I’m not judging you,” said Jason. “I don’t have the space for that. I won’t tell you to just… change. I’m sick of hearing that too, hearing that I don’t have to do this to myself, that I am doing this to myself.”

Dick nodded. Jason wasn’t sure at what, but it felt like permission to keep going, so he did.

“I know I’m holding on to something I shouldn’t,” Jason admitted, even though it hurt to say out loud. “I know, but I can’t let go when there’s nothing else to take. I don’t have anything profound to say. I don’t… know what else there is.”

That was it. That was all Jason had, so he shrugged and stared down at the floor, waiting.

“I think if I stop working I’ll fall apart,” said Dick, finally, “and this time I won’t be able to scrape myself together.”

“Yeah.”

“I think fine, so I don’t have to keep going. I don’t have to shove away the dark and force myself through, but what would happen if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would be a shivering, hollow shape on my floor, maybe forever. I don’t know what I want to be, but I can’t be… I can’t be only that.” 

Jason understood.

“It’s hard,” said Dick. “I always hear— and say, I say this to other people— that things can be okay. I guess it’s true, but does it matter?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Unless I leave the cave right now and never come back, this is my life. I have an apartment and a fucked-up family—”

“Thanks.”

“—and I spend every night jumping through smog and the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done.”

“Saving people,” Jason noted.

“Win some,” said Dick, “lose some. How many times have you watched a person die?”

“A few.”

“A few.” Dick shook his head. “I know too much, but I have too much to leave behind.”

“I have a guy who makes passports on demand, if you change your mind,” said Jason. “He’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Prints while you wait.”

Dick shot Jason a flat kind of look.

“What?” Jason asked. “It would simplify my plans.”

Dick half-smiled at that, and Jason got the sense that they were done yelling, maybe, for awhile.

“I feel trapped, and I don’t know how to fix myself,” said Dick, “while I’m still… here.” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I know. Me too.”

“It isn’t getting any easier.” 

Jason thought about that for awhile. It would be nice to have an answer— something simple to say, some match to light in their common ground— but Jason couldn’t find one, so he shrugged again and hoped that understanding would be enough. 

It had to be something, didn’t it?

It was the best he could do. There were times, Jason figured, to talk about breathing exercises and the mess of self-help books piled on his dresser, but he knew this wasn’t one of them. They could call it catharsis, he decided, and leave it at that. 

“We could say it’s Bruce’s fault?” Jason suggested, since he was out of other ideas. “I like blaming Bruce for the shit I do.”

“You do?”

“Fuck off.”

Dick smiled fully at that one. “I’m not above it either.”

“Great,” said Jason. “Can I leave a note saying we blame him? No context at all, maybe on a single post-it? I think it would be really funny.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bounce after that, for real this time.” Jason spun a finger in a circle a few times, pointing around the cave. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah.” Dick tapped a finger against the table a few times, like he was thinking. After a moment, he pulled a bag from the edge and started packing up his things. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

Fin.

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art by @doc-squash​