#also i feel like he specifically would be a philosophy professor in this au. keeping his autism special interest the same bcs why not<3

[catominor]

also like this drawing of his modern au version<3

[genshxn]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐜𝐬.

Can I ask for a modern au, college with childe, zhongli and diluc?? 🥺🥺🥺

hhhh i’m not super well versed in college/university experiences fjwjwmsmd

ANYWAY lemme know if i should do more hcs related to this college au n just what characters are what n shite

also zhongli’s turned into a coffee shop au lmao

-> 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚, 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

warnings ; alcohol (diluc’s)

𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚

you’re both second-year undergrad students

He’s definitely attending uni with a scholarship for the swim team. I feel like he’d be doing a general studies degree cuz he doesn’t know what he wants to do lol

You can tell just by looking at him he’s super athletic. He’s always walking around looking like he just got out of the pool with wet hair, slightly damp clothes and stupid looking slides.

The way you met was through Math 200, (maybe) your least favourite class, but you had to take it to fulfil a degree requirement.

His shirts always have some bizarre design on them. One day he turned up wearing a shirt that’s just the design of beef cup ramen.

You’d always look at his shirts (which are slightly wet) whenever he came in and sat down next to you. He notices it each time but doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he says something after the fourth time. “You keep checking me out. Like what you see?” He raises his eyebrows at you in a joking manner.

Such an abrupt assumption made you suddenly snort, which confused the other man. Needless to say, he was embarrassed you assumed wrong. But that kind of broke the ice for you two to ask each other for help on certain tricky questions or similar.

It didn’t take long for you and him to become friends. You started to have study sessions together, but that would often end in watching dumb videos on his laptop or something.

Listening to his laughter, so full of life was really heartwarming. It was the same for him as well, as he would sometimes just listen to your

Not much later, he’d invite you to come and watch his swim meets whenever he was competing. Hearing your whoops and cheers for him when he wins leaves him feeling even more chuffed than winning, which is strange to him.

Sometimes you’d also come along to watch his practices to hang out or study afterwards. Most of the time you’d be trying to study up in the bleachers, but you’d also sometimes catch yourself staring at Ajax. Oops. You can’t help that he’s hot.

When you do come along to watch his swim practices, he finds himself wanting your eyes on him while he practices. Does he want your encouragement? Or does he want you checking him out? Judging by his feelings, both. Both are good.

Yeah, you’ve both gone and gotten crushes on each other.

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

you’re undergrad 3rd/4th year and he’s a first-year graduate student

He probably looks like a professor by his put-together but casual attire, but he’s actually a student. Specifically, a first-year graduate student doing a double major in business and philosophy. He sounds like he’s going to be very annoying.

He's constantly running on caffeine. You don’t know how he’s upright.

You noticed that you go to the same cafe on campus a lot to study in between classes. You’ve overheard his coffee orders, and it sounds like he’s drinking pure caffeine based on his tea orders at that cafe.

You've recently become a regular at the cafe too for study purposes. When your attention drifts, you've noticed that he sometimes glances over at you. Sometimes you make brief eye contact. Now you throw each other awkward waves.

You have little to no idea about this guy other than he seems like he's constantly got caffeine running through him. So in an attempt to break this weird stalemate you have in terms of communication, you order a cup of coffee for him from you.

He was surprised at the action, but it was in its mission because he thanked you for it. That marked the beginning of your coffee shop-au-esque relationship.

You found out he's a first-year graduate student, so a few years old than you, and that he's doing a double major. No wonder he's studying every time you see him.

Because you're in different years, you don't share any classes, but it turns out that Zhongli took some of the same courses in the past, so if time is permitting, he'll help you study for the classes he's done before.

By pure chance, your schedules were pretty similar, so Zhongli began to pick you up after some of your last classes where you would make your way to your usual cafe and sit at Zhongli's usual table together where you began your studying.

If you ever needed something explained to you, Zhongli would happily help guide you if he knew what you were asking, which was about 99% of the time. You felt bad because you couldn't really help him back in any way.

After a while, you noticed that when he’d be explaining something to you, his words would become meaningless, and you’d just listen to the sound of his voice purely for the sound, and getting distracted by staring at his face.

He’d notice and say your name, which would quickly snap you back to reality from just staring at his pretty face. It’d often leave you pretty flustered as Zhongli just laughed softly to himself. Mmm, college coffee shop crushes.

It was moments like these that Zhongli found himself wanting more and more of. He’d find you’d sometimes just drift into mind, leaving him with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Let’s be real, he’s probably a bit dense and doesn’t realize his feelings until he gets told to his face after he was talking about you to Ningguang, his friend and classmate.

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

you’re both second-year undergrad students

Diluc is also doing a business major let’s be real.

At the beginning of the first term, he dresses really well so you can tell he’s definitely well off, but after like 2 weeks he gives up and just turns up in a random hoodie and sweatpants. Jeans if he’s feeling adventurous.

You know this because you’d sometimes watch this flame-red hair classmate walk in. His hair is so eye-catching, you assume it’s dyed. Then again, there’s another first-year who’s got naturally dark blue hair.

After a few days, he noticed your staring and started to stare back. Most of the time it’s just a kind of dead fish stare but recently he’s been getting more curious, which is evident in his returning stare.

So he decided to find out. And you tell him it’s his “Tomato red-ass hair.” Something about the directness of it caught him off guard and made him laugh a little bit.

Maybe he was just a bit confused by you after that, because that comment just lived in his kind rent free. As a result, he sat down next to you and actually kind of initiated conversation which is a rarity for him. He told you your comment just baffled him.

From there you became pretty good friends, to your surprising. For whatever classes you share together, you’d sometimes study together. It was typically at a particular spot on campus where you’d sit. You noticed that Diluc would take out his ponytail as well when he’s studying. He looks really nice when his hair down. You’d just sometimes stare at him when he’d play with it absentmindedly. Maybe you’re starting to like him…

Soon, you found out that he tends to a bar that his family has owned for a long time, so you decided to drop by one time when he was on shift.

He was surprised to see you come since you hadn’t announced you were doing so. So as one does as a bar, you got a bit drunk to say the least. From there, you started becoming very honest about Diluc.

You hadn’t known each other for super long, but you thought he was very attractive and that his red hair was really pretty. You also went into detail on how much you wanted to play with his hair. You pretty much spill that you have a crush on him, which makes his face nearly go as red as his hair.

You didn’t remember it, but he had a very hard time trying not to get flustered in the middle of his shift. He had to send you home in a taxi because of how drunk you’d gotten, and he wanted to know you’d be home safe when it was late and not stumbling around some random part of town. (He would have taken you home himself but he was still on shift.)

The next day, your memory was foggy but you had a vague recollection that you’d gone and gushed over him. You were dying of embarrassment and hangover lmao

On the other end, another one of your comments was living rent free in Diluc’s mind. All this time you’d spent together in and out of classes had lead him to develop feelings for you as well. He didn’t say anything to you last night as he didn’t want to tell you when you were as drunk as you were.

The two of you went on as if that whole encounter hadn’t happened. You tried to pretend you forgot about it because you were drunk, and Diluc tried to pretend that you hadn’t said it. Reality was both of you were just in denial.

So now that your feelings hung out in the open, both sides became very awkward and flustered easily by small gestures such as hand touches and stares that lingered a little too long.

Someone save your souls because this is going to be a very awkward stalemate you’ve gotten yourselves into.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

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Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[queen--kenobi]

Shook Me All Night Long

Summary: You don’t know how Fives went from an annoyance in your classes to your friend to whatever the two of you are now. You just hope that you can keep your feelings for him in check. That proves harder to do than you thought. 

This is a College AU, 18+

Pairings: Fives x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7 K

Warnings: Drinking, some jealousy, smut (PiV, heavy undertones of sub!Fives, protected sex, some possessive talk, gagging with fingers), friends to lovers

Author’s Notes: This is just a blurb that came to mind for the college AU some of my anons have been helping me with! It’s not as shameless smut as I thought it was going to be. Also, first time writing for Fives, so you know... If someone had told you at the beginning of your freshman year that you would fuck the annoying guy from your Intro to Philosophy class, Fives, you would have laughed. If they had told you at the end of your freshman spring you’d be fucking him regularly, you would have waved them away. It was a one and done mistake, you thought. A hatefuck so the two of you could get that damn project done. 

If anyone had suggested you might develop feelings for him, you would have punched them.

Fives had been infuriating at first. The two of you had often gotten into great philosophical debates in the middle of class, ones that Fives liked to extend into lunch. The two of you bickered and argued over every conceivable subject philosophically and then some. You suppose that’s why the professor had assigned the two of you to work together for that final project.

Maybe you should send that professor a gift basket. 

You aren’t sure when your annoyance, not dislike never dislike, turned to toleration, and then your toleration turned into friendship. You suppose the first time the two of you fucked, which was in a bathroom at a frat party, marked the first change. You aren’t sure when the second happened. You just know that, suddenly, Fives was inviting you to go to events with him. After the first time you went to a basketball game with him and Hardcase, you were invited to almost everything by Fives. It got to the point that people joked if Fives was invited, you were.

Everyone knew that the two of you were hooking up regularly. The two of you had agreed early on in the relationship to keep it under wraps. That lasted a few weeks. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Fives’ big mouth that got you into trouble. It was actually Dogma. He’d caught you sneaking out of Fives’ room early in the morning, about 4 am. You aren’t sure who he told, but word quickly spread. It quickly became the worst kept secret in Torrent. Oddly enough, you’re pretty sure the secret never left the small living group.

You know this because of the party going on downstairs. Specifically because of the girl downstairs. She had been eying Fives all night long, getting way too close to him for your comfort. She’d even done that stupid high-pitched laugh and twirled her hair. Your blood was boiling the whole time, and your inhibitions for the night had been lowered just enough for you to go up to them.

“Can I talk to you?” You smiled at Fives. “In private?”

As soon as he’d given you permission, you dragged him out into the hallway.

Beneath you, Fives whimpers. He’s holding onto your hips for dear life. His cheap dorm bed rattles against the wall from the force of your motions. He’s looking up at you with an indescribable expression, hair mussed up and lips swollen from kissing. His eyes are dark, filled with equal parts lust and adoration.

“Fuck, so good. You’ve got the tightest pussy ever, I swear. I’ll never get tired of it. Wanna fu-” His words stop as you slip two fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue. His eyes widen in surprise, almost comically so. You place your other hand on his pecs to support yourself. Fives tries his best to run his tongue over your fingers. He can’t do it, so he settles for sucking on them instead. Your pace stutters for a second.

That was one way to shut him up.

Emboldened by the alcohol at the Torrent party downstairs, you smile at him. You slow your pace down until you’re just grinding your hips in circles.

“You like that?” Your voice is husky, thick with desire. Fives nods enthusiastically. “Thought you would. You just need to remember your place, huh?”

Well. Apparently the drinks in your system had loosened your tongue quite a bit. Fives doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he seems to like it, judging by the way he sucks harder on your fingers. He seems to be trying to say something. You humor him and pull your fingers out of his mouth.

“Fuck, babe.” You can feel bruises blossoming under his fingertips. Fives sounds breathless, giddy with something. “Holy shit you’re so fucking hot when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” You nearly snarl. “There’s nothing for me to be jealous of.” You lift yourself up and start riding him for all he’s worth. “Jealous implies that she, nggghhhh, gets to do this. Jealousy implies that she gets to, ah fuck, see you like this. Feel you come undone for her. But she doesn’t. She only gets to... gets to fucking look at you. She doesn’t get to see you, not like I do.” At some point, it becomes too much to hold yourself up. You nearly collapse onto Fives. He’s helping you, though. He lifts your hips up and down as he snaps into yours. 

“Sounds like you ar-” You clench hard around him. He throws his head back with a loud groan. “Shit, babe. You’re killing me.” You lift your head up from the crook of his neck. His eyes meet yours. You can’t resist the urge. You lift yourself up enough so you can kiss him. He returns it eagerly, swallowing your moans. Even as the two of you kiss, he stops and tries to say something clever or smart. You don’t let him.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. Normally, you have the wherewithal to be able to warn him, but something about this one comes out of nowhere. You bury your face into Fives’ neck as you ride it out. Vaguely, you can make out he’s saying something. You know when his hits him. His body tenses, and he can’t formulate words. 

The two of you lay there for a moment before Fives groans. At some point, one of his hands came up to rest on your back.

“Get up.” He lifts his head up enough to look at you. “I need to get the condom off. Cum running down my balls feels weird.”

You snort and slowly ease yourself off of him. You sit on the other end of the bed. Slowly, Fives sits up and slips the condom off, tying it into a loose knot and tossing it in his trash can. You pause. Something on his desk caught your eye. You hop off the bed. 

“Hey, where are you going?” He asks. You pad over to his desk.

“I’ve never seen this here before.”

On it is a framed picture. It’s from one of the basketball games. It’s you, Fives, and Echo all together. You’re on one side of Fives with Echo on the other. You remember that day. It was nice.. You had been having a shitty week, so Fives had promised that he would make your weekend make up for the week itself. You went to the game with both of them before going to one of the bars. You had found a little known one that you dragged them to, and you think that they both enjoyed. On the way home, you found a pizza place that was open late, and the three of you had split it. An Insomnia Cookies had been next door. You don’t remember much else other than being so happy and laughing so hard you nearly cried.

“Fives...” You turn to him, the picture still in your hands.

“Oh, that’s... That’s Echo’s. I’ll tell him off when he gets back. I think he went home to break up with his back-home girlfriend, but I’m not entirely sure. Do you rem-” The bed creaks as he sits upright. You close the space between the two of you quickly and kiss him. Hard. He makes a surprised noise against your lips before melting into it.

“You’re not mad at me?” He asks when the two of you pull apart. You blink.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Well, you said you wanted this to be a no strings attached thing.” He looks away for a second.

“Fives. Do you... Do you hide this from me when I come over?” You reach up and put a hand on his cheek.

“No.” He says it too quickly, too defensively. You give him a look. “Okay, maybe. Just because it feels weird to have Echo staring at us during sex.”

“Don’t lie to me.” You murmur. You run your thumb over his cheekbone. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat. “I- I have this one in my room too.”

His gaze meets yours. 

“I’ve never seen it in yours.” He pauses and then frowns. He pokes you in the center of your chest. “Hey! So you were about to get on me for hiding that, but you hide the same picture from me?”

“That’s different!”

“It’s not!”

“I’m the one who said no strings attached!” You can’t help your outburst. Fives pulls back for a second. You briefly wonder if you’ve hurt his feelings, and you open your mouth to say something. It turns into a squeak. He grabs your hips and pulls you close to him, as close as he can with the bed in the way. He’s looking at you like he’s never looked at you before, something sweet and almost longing in his eyes.

“Are you telling me there might be some strings here?” He teases, his tone light. You can see the worry, though. He’s scared that you’ll say no. You want to look away from him, but you can’t.

“Yes.”

You aren’t sure what to expect, but an audible sigh of relief isn’t it. He grins at you.

“Okay, good! I was trying real hard to pretend like I didn’t want more, but now that I know you do, I feel so much better.” You want to poke fun at him and tease him, but you can’t. Not with how happy he looks. “You do want more, right? I’m not reading too much into this?”

“No, I- I do. I’ve wanted more for a while now.” You confess. 

Fives’ face lights up. He leans forward and puts a hand on either side of your face. He kisses you hard. He kisses you senseless. You return the kiss with equal fervor. When he pulls away, both of your chest are heaving. 

“Wait. So I was right! You were jealous!”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[yellowocaballero]

The Crocodile's Dilemma: In Which Helen exploits Michael's Labor, Michael suffers an un-identity crisis, and unpaid internships should be illegal

It’s tough being a teenage embodiment of the Spiral. Your boss/wine aunt figure Helen’s a Tory, your inattentive cousin figure Mike Crew keeps attending philosophy classes and day drinking, and you’re pretty sure that this internship doesn’t have any dental. At least it’s good job experience for your future career in...being evil? But do you even want to be evil?

This small story is technically part of my Roleswap AU, but I specifically wrote it so that no knowledge is required. Still, if you’re wondering why Michael’s an eighteen(ish) year old, Mike Crew’s an Avatar of the Spiral, and everybody is obsessed with Melanie King, check it out. Still, no need. Rest under the cut.

Maybe Helen was right.

Not that Helen was ever strictly right, much as Helen was never wrong, but Michael just had to be doing this whole fear demon thing incorrectly. If someone had explained the whole fear demon thing to them two years ago (“Okay, so it’s like you’re the semi-sentient appendage of an extradimensional force of evil that has to consume trauma relentlessly in order to propagate its own debatable existence, also you’re nonbinary now, no those things are not strictly related, probably”), then they would have called them crazy. Which, of course, they were, but that wasn’t the point. So long as the point existed. So long as anything -

An essential theorem within quantum physics was the quantum Zeno effect. 

Simply put, it was the fact that a quantum state would decay if left alone, but does not decay under continuous observation. Even observing the results after the photon is produced leads to collapsing the wave function and loading a back-history as shown by delayed choice quantum eraser. If something was seen, it no longer existed; if something persisted unperceived, it would exist as long as it liked. 

So it was explained to Michael by the physics professor he was torturing that day. Michael had trapped the man in the physics building of his university, lured in by one too many late nights in his office and the persistent sense that his life was going nowhere meaningful. After a few classes spent sitting in on his Physics 101 class, maintaining constant and forever eye contact, Michael had eventually tricked the man into giving a persistent and ongoing physics lecture to an empty classroom, desperately trying to explain the inexplicable to a college freshman who did not care. Truly miserable, yet ultimately harmless - Michael’s favorite kind of trick. 

But, despite themself, Michael grew interested. They didn’t understand any of what the man was talking about, but that was all of the fun. Understanding ruined the magic of things; broke down the beauty of the universe into cogs and gears. No thanks. They could tell that it bothered the professor, that he said so much and yet knew nothing. That there was so much he would never know, and that he wasn’t so smart after all. How would any of his colleagues respect him?

“So photons degrade if they’re observed?” Michael asked one day, after...some period of time. They had raised their hand and everything, they were so proud of themself. Uni was just like secondary school after all. “Is that true of people too?”

The professor had sweated, deeply uncomfortable with Michael as a person and as a non-euclidean concept. “No - no, not at all. Humans are much more than photons -”

Michael grinned. It wasn’t quite right. “Are you sure?”

The professor sweated harder. “I - no, I’m not. But humans are constantly observed by - by the universe, or something.”

Michael grinned sharper. “Are you sure? Are you being observed right now? Are you sure?”

And the professor was not sure, not anymore, and the fragment of this man’s reality collapsed. 

Well, Michael thought to themself, slipping out of an improbable yellow door, that’s another Statement for the Magnus Institute. Not that they would read it. 

****

“Now, remember this - the first step to being a successful Avatar is presentation!”

Michael squinted at Helen dubiously. “I thought we were fear demons?”

Helen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with two sharp knife fingers. It looked as if it hurt quite a bit, but Michael reasoned that they had probably gone through the fifth dimension. “This is the stupidest dimension - fine, fine! Fear demons, then. It is absolutely vital that we conduct our business with style, grace, and the slightest sprinkling of pizazz!” 

Just for the flourish, Helen twirled her fingers, and a faint shower of confetti came raining down from the ceiling. Michael sneezed. 

“I thought it was vital that we harvest fear and trauma from people to propagate our cursed existence,” Michael said. 

Helen’s eyebrow twitched. “More than two things can be vital, Michael. Please pay attention. Now, as a demonstration, I’d like you to take a gander at that man over there.”

Obediently, Michael looked across the bar. They were sitting on barstools in a high-class pub, because Helen knew her worth and never settled for anything less, with glass counters and lots of private booths. But all pubs had their sad men drinking alone, and this one was no exception. 

This man wasn’t sullen and slow like a lot of them. He was wearing a nice suit and thin tie, looking straight out of Canary Wharf. Michael silently agreed with Helen’s choice - they took eat the rich very seriously, and also literally. He also seemed a little jumped up on something, with shaking hands and erratic eyes. 

“He looks happy,” Michael observed. “Think it’s his birthday?”

“He’s on cocaine, Michael,” Helen said flatly. “Cocaine. We are at a posh bar, and he is currently doing a line off his watch.”

Oh! Michael suddenly felt very uncool. They had never been one of those people in secondary school who did cocaine. They hadn’t been cool. “I knew that,” Michael bluffed. “What are we going to do to him?”

“Take the teenager as your intern, they said,” Helen groused, “it’s investing in the future, they said, it’ll stop them from eating you when they grow up, they said.” She sighed, jabbing a finger at the now very obviously coked up man who was staring at the bottles behind the bartender as if they were whispering secrets of the universe into his ear. Helen liked that one. “Use your intuition. Find a good angle to squeeze. What are his weaknesses to exploit?”

Oh, Michael knew how to do this. They shifted vibrations just a bit, dropping out of what Michael liked to call the ‘mild’ spectrum into the ‘spicy’ spectrum. They were distantly aware of a patron’s glass shattering. 

They squinted at the man, picking out his little fears and insecurities like Dionysus picking grapes. Maybe. Michael had gotten a C in English, but they were somewhat cognizant of the Spiral munching heavily on Bacchanalia. Sometimes they felt like some of those children who spoke in tongues and claimed to be from a past life. That had also been the Spiral.

“He owns a Nintendo NES,” Michael said confidently, absolutely sure that this was important. Helen groaned. “His house is painted white, and his girlfriend does tax fraud.”

“Something relevant?” Helen hinted desperately.

Michael just squinted at her. “Relevant to what?”

“...good point. But something useful, please.”

Picky. Michael scowled, but gave the man another good gander. “He only remembers faint details of his father’s face, and he worries that his recollections aren’t accurate,” Michael proclaimed finally. 

Helen clapped, delighted, as Michael took a careful sip of their water, turning it into fizzy water. She took a sip of her own wine, turning it into champagne. Or maybe just sparkling unreality? “Wonderful. Now, how should we play this? Insert a false father into his life, completely separate from his recollections, or is that a bit too Stranger? I suppose we could do some good old-fashioned gaslighting, but sometimes that’s just a bit too Melanie, if you catch my drift -”

“Are you jealous that the Archive girls are better at gaslighting than you are?” 

“Shut it, kid,” Helen hissed, before taking a long drag of her champagne. “My vote is that we convince him to top off his coke bender with some LSD. Then he hallucinates - oh, he hallucinates that he’s in a mental institution, that’s a good one -”

“Why don’t we shift everything thirty cm to the right?” Michael asked brightly.

Helen squinted at them. They beamed back. 

“You are so bad at this,” Helen said. 

Michael would have felt crushed if Helen didn’t express this sentiment roughly once per lunar cycle, contrariwise. As it was, they bore the criticism with a stiff upper lip. Helen had her way of harvesting fear from unsuspecting humans, and Michael had theirs. “Look, Helen, you’re being uncreative! We don’t have to traumatize people every single time.”

Helen squinted further. “We’re personifications of deceit. We eat trauma.”

“No, we eat confusion,” Michael pointed out patiently. “Look at it this way. If you give someone one really terrible experience, then they repress it for the rest of their lives and consider it a brush with Hell. One and done, see? But if you minorly inconvenience them for a really long time, then they’ll never be able to break out of it. They’ll feel as if something’s wrong, but they’ll never know it. You can keep the game going for years that way!”

The idea was very good. Michael had been working on it for a while. Truth be told, Michael felt bad traumatizing people outright and making them scream and cry and everything. They always felt as if they were doing something wrong by making other people’s existences a living nightmare. Michael much preferred rigging a corn maze so you were stuck in it for days inside the maze but only an hour outside. It was funner, and much more confusing. 

But Helen just pursed her lips and stared Michael up and down, making them squirm awkwardly on their barstool. Finally, as if she was delivering a life sentence, she imperiously said, “Well, we all have our different styles, I suppose! It would be quite boring if we were both exactly the same.” Michael nodded vigorously at this, and Helen held up a scaly claw. “But! You’re my intern, which means that you’re learning from the master here. So shut up and let me teach you how to ruin lives.”

“Yes, boss,” Michael said miserably. 

Helen tsked, but she patted them on the head anyway. It tasted like batteries. “Honestly, kid. A literal bleeding heart’s fun for the whole family, but a metaphorical bleeding heart will get you nowhere in life. You can’t exist as you are and feel bad for them. It ruins the point. It’s a paradox.”

“I thought we liked paradoxes, though?”

Helen shrugged, downing the rest of her wine. “Rules for thee but not for me, honey. But I’m a good boss and drunken aunt figure, so I’ll appease you today. Now come on, let’s convince this bar to vote for Brexit.”

They did. It was quite fun after all, tricking a roomful of people into doing something actively against their own interests. But something about the whole thing left a strange taste in Michael’s mouth: not the good kind of strange, or the bad kind of strange that was also good. Just strange, and undeniable, and something that couldn’t be exploited at all. 

****

Maybe Helen was right. 

Not that Helen was ever strictly right, much as Helen was never wrong, but Michael just had to be doing this whole fear demon thing incorrectly. If someone had explained the whole fear demon thing to them two years ago (“Okay, so it’s like you’re the semi-sentient appendage of an extradimensional force of evil that has to consume trauma relentlessly in order to propagate its own debatable existence, also you’re nonbinary now, no those things are not strictly related, probably”), then they would have called them crazy. Which, of course, they were, but that wasn’t the point. So long as the point existed. So long as anything -

Michael was a bad fear demon of the Spiral and Infinite Twisting and That Is Not What It Is and The Twisted Door, etc, etc, All Fear Its Name, etc etc all Hail, because they didn’t always like how their internal monologue could no longer be described through common language. Words and images and understandings were nothing but approximations for Michael now, and sometimes it was frustrating existing outside the boundaries of understanding. Which, of course, was the point, so long as the point existed, so long as anything existed -

It wasn’t always easy. Still, nobody ever got what they wanted if they weren’t willing to put the effort in. The adult world and labouring under capitalism wasn’t easy for anybody. That was what Mum had always said. Who was Michael to complain about their 9-5? Or 24/24? Or infinite/infinite? Or nothing/nothing? Or -

Was it too much to ask to have a linear thought once in a while? 

Helen wouldn’t understand. There were only two other approximations of concepts that Michael knew, and Helen would hardly be any help. The other “person” would probably be a better sounding board, but there was the fact that he was kind of pretentious. Still, it was better than nothing. Well, it was nothing, but only in the sense that everything was - argh!

A yellow door appeared in a nondescript basement, and Michael appeared with it. They melted out of the “wood”, taking a second to check their outfit for this apparition - a nice vintage 50s dress with a painstaking stitch that reminded one of the oppressive nature of housewifery, nice. They elongated their curly blonde hair from a roguish mop into a nice little shag and melted into the crowd. 

It must have been a passing period, because Michael was buffeted to and fro by tall white men wearing backpacks and shorter white girls hoisting strangely identical water bottles. Somewhere Northern, Michael decided, likely private and small. Not that it strictly mattered, but it helped to solidify their grip in reality a bit if they had some idea. They already knew geography was purposeless and a distraction from the real issues, like shrimp, but occasionally it could be useful. Helen had been careful to impart the central tenet of existence as a non-euclidean concept in undefinable space in the twenty seventh dimension: location, location, location!

It was obviously the Philosophy Department, because all philosophy classes were held in old basements built in the ‘60s in identical hallways. For kicks, Michael turned all of the school hallways inwards and sent them in a mobius strip, and changed all of the door numbers into a headache. The key to enjoying your job was to take initiative in the workplace environment and to just have fun with it!

Michael found themselves in front of a door identical to all of the others, with fake laminated wood, and they decided to go in. The universe had guided them to this door for a reason, and who were they to reject its call? 

The small classroom was like most other small, private colleges in unpopular departments that nobody cared about. Lots of single person desks - Michael snapped their fingers and turned them all into left-handed desks - complete with a smartboard and a teacher’s podium. It was already half-full, so Michael carefully slid into a chair in the back and pretended that they had been there all along. A student wandered close, convinced that this was her seat, but Michael successfully convinced her that a different seat near the front was hers, prompting an impromptu game of musical chairs that sent ripples through the otherwise sedate classroom.

There was a blond student already sitting in the front, flipping through a spiral notebook and clicking a pen in no particular pattern. He was wearing a pea coat, jeans, and his hair was weirdly perfect. Michael wished they had a notebook. Was this what you did in university? They had never had the opportunity to go. 

Actually, they had never quite graduated secondary - three months away from graduation, actually. It probably wasn’t all that important. You didn’t really need a diploma to become a trauma eating fear demon. Was there a university of eating fear? That would be funny. What would the classes be in, ‘Enforcing the Powerlessness of Capitalism 101’? What was the difference between that and a Business major? 

Maybe Business majors were the real fear demons, Michael thought grandly. It was a good thought, they would have to remember to tell it to Melanie later. Melanie would approve. Hadn’t Tim been a business major? Yeah, in that case she would definitely approve. 

The student sitting in the front seemed to have finally noticed the game of musical chairs, and as the professor started clearing their throat and announcing something unimportant to the class, he turned around to find Michael sitting in the back of the class. They waved cheerfully. The student scowled. 

‘What are you doing here!’, the guy mouthed angrily. 

‘Hi Mike!’ Michael mouthed back. 

‘Go away!’ Mike mouthed back. 

‘But I’m going to eat your teacher :(‘ Michael mouthed back. They didn’t actually frown. 

‘ >:(!’, Mike Crew mouthed back, also without changing his facial expression. 

This was probably why Mike wasn’t Michael’s biggest fan. Which was a pity, because Michael thought Mike was really cool. He had the coolest name, for one. But shorter, and snappier. Mike was the kind of name girls would call you at clubs. Michael was what, like, your Mum would say as she yelled at you to clean up your room before her book club girls came over. Why were they girls? They were, like, fifty.

Mike Crew was an Avatar of the Spiral completely unwillingly. Chosen as a child and chased throughout his life by an improbably long lasting Lichtenberg scar, he had eventually succumbed to the inevitable and transformed into an even more improbable man. Personally, Michael found it strange that ‘inevitable’ and ‘Spiral’ was in the same sentence, but - well, it had to be everything at one point. Even a melting clock was right once an endless twilight. 

Strangest of all, Mike Crew was a philosophy major. The class, of course, was a high level philosophy course. Mike Crew had been in uni - well, a while - and he tended not to waste his time with the boring shit anymore. Michael listened with interest as the professor dived into the lecture. 

Two minutes in, Mike subtly gathered his things and slipped into the conveniently empty chair next to Michael. He was still glaring at them, as Michael tried their best to look innocent and cute. The effect was a little ruined by the inherent maliciousness of Michael’s pores, but they liked to think it was the thought that counted. 

“To continue our conversation on the topic of paradoxes,” the professor began, “I’d like to introduce a few thought experiments for your consideration as a class. I’ll mention the concept, and then allow you to break into pairs to discuss them.”

Mike leaned into Michael’s ear. “We were discussing Descartes!”

“But isn’t this more interesting?” Michael asked. 

“If you give my professor a mental breakdown we’re going to fall behind on the syllabus!”

“The first paradox I’d like to bring to your attention is the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” The professor flipped to a new slide, which helpfully had a big crocodile on it. Michael admired it. They had seen a crocodile at the zoo once. “Similar to the liar’s paradox, the premise states that a crocodile, who has stolen a child, promises the parent that his or her child will be returned if and only if he or she correctly predicts what the crocodile will do next. The outcome is fairly obvious if the parent states that the crocodile will return the child, but the crocodile faces a dilemma if the parent states that the crocodile will not return the child. No matter the outcome, the crocodile is made a liar: if  the crocodile decides to not give back the child then the statement proves to be true, and he ought to return the child, thereby making it false. Whatever the outcome, he still violates his terms.”

Michael raised their hand. Mike forcibly lowered their hand. 

“If I give your professor a mental breakdown then you’ll have extra time for the test,” Michael whispered back. Mike seriously considered this notion.

“The next paradox is slightly related,” the professor continued. “The Infinite Hotel Paradox.” Michael’s face stretched into a grin as Mike Crew groaned. “It is demonstrated that a fully occupied hotel with infinitely many rooms may still accommodate additional guests, even infinitely many of them, and this process may be repeated infinitely often. This is what we call a veridical paradox: it leads to a counter-intuitive result that is provably true. Therefore -”

“Okay, yeah,” Mike Crew said, slumping in his seat. “You can eat him, this guy is just begging for it.” 

“Yay!” Michael went in for the hug, before Mike pushed them away. Michael’s quest for a cool big brother failed yet again. “Do you want to call the -”

“They’re your hallways,” Mike said, persnickety as always. Maybe he was just jealous that he wasn’t a hallway? 

Michael raised their hand, patiently waiting for the professor to call on them. He stumbled in the middle of his lecture, adjusting his thick glasses. 

“Uh, yes, Miss -”

“You no longer understand gender,” Michael said pleasantly, as they always did whenever they were misgendered. It was an understandable mistake, so they didn’t do it maliciously. Frankly, they just thought it was healthy. Everyone should not understand false things. “Professor, I have a question about the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” They waited for the professor to nod, somewhat confused. “How do you know that didn’t really happen?”

The professor blinked lethargically at them. “It’s a thought experiment. It’s not real, it’s just an idea proposed by philosophers to represent -”

“What makes you so sure?” Michael asked cheerfully. “Crocodiles eat babies. Or dingoes. I think I read a story about this happening in Australia, didn’t you?”

“I - I suppose I did, yes -”

“We wouldn’t talk about it if it didn’t really happen.” Michael felt their voice fall into a rising lilt, like an attractive song that was played to a concert hall but heard only by you. They were distantly aware of Mike lulling the rest of the students into their own hazy daze: aware enough to be confused, but trapped in their seats and the fog of misunderstandings. “Fiction isn’t real. Reality is real. But a thought experiment is in between, isn’t it? Something that strains the boundaries of reality, that proves the fundamental concepts of life, told through a framework of an intrinsic lie. A paradox is a lie telling the truth. You are a truth speaker telling only lies. What you know isn’t so much as anything at all, is it? What do you really know, anyway?”

“One of us tells only the truth and the other tells only lies,” Mike Crew called out, bored. But his eyes were shining in endless refraction, infinite rooms holding infinite guests. “But is it really a lie if you had mistaken it for the truth? What lies are you living, Dr. Young?”

Dr. Young was stammering, eyes swimming, and Michael didn’t dare to break eye contact. It was a delicate spell they wove, but Michael wasn’t so bad at bringing this simmer to a boil. Cooking was about improvisation, and Michael had always been great at that. 

“If your life is a lie,” Michael breathed, “then are you really alive?”

It was clear, when it happened: the professor started inhaling deep, deeper breaths, chest wracking with heaves. His eyes rolled up in his head, he clutched at his chest, and he finally slumped down on the floor. He twitched, jerking slightly, and he would continue jerking. At which point the students would become aware, and they’d call an ambulance for him, and he would be perfectly alright in the end. If a little mentally scarred. 

“Damn,” Mike Crew said, almost impressed, as both he and Michael stood up. He shoved his pens in a backpack, glad to be free of his examination for another week. “What’d you do to him?”

“Made him think he was dead,” Michael said serenely. “He thought his heart had stopped beating so he had a panic attack. He’s going to have to make an appointment with a psychiatrist but he probably should anyway, work’s very stressful for him.”

“Guess I have the rest of the hour off,” Mike sighed, as he held the door open for Michael so they could slip out of the back of the classroom. It was yellow, and a little strange.  “Want to grab a pint with me at the campus pub?” He paused a beat. “Wait, are you even old enough to drink?”

“I’m as old as eternity and reborn every second.” Michael paused a beat. “But I was eighteen last time I checked, and I’ll probably be eighteen for a while, so yes?”

“Great, let’s roll. I need a drink.”

****

Mike’s uni’s pub (Michael had asked the name of the uni but the information had, unfortunately, been lost in next Tuesday, so they’ll know then) was the exact opposite of the high class pub Helen had taken them to. Instead of glassy, shiny, and chromey, Mike’s pub looked strongly as if very many people had puked in it and the staff had tackled the problem somewhat half-heartedly. Michael enjoyed the sight of the puke existing in all points in time simultaneously, giving it a sort of weird yellow-ish shine. Actually, maybe all puke had that yellowish sheen?

When they asked Mike about it as they hopped up on the bar, he just sighed. He flagged the bartender down for a pint, and when the bartender squinted dubiously at Michael they revelled into the micro-confusion of ambiguous ages. Micro-feeding? Like mini muffins?

“Helen made a mistake hiring you. She’s stuck us with a perpetual teenager.”

“I’m as much a teenager as you are a uni student,” Michael said pointedly. 

“I’m not an embodiment of the It Is What It Isn’t Is,” Mike said, oddly aggressively. “I’m just a normal Avatar.”

“Fear demon.”

“Melanie King isn’t always right and I don’t know why everyone thinks she is.” Big words from an honored Special Guest on her show. There were many in the fear demon community who would kill for the honor. It was a good thing she hated intruders in her Archives - otherwise they’d never leave. “But I’m no different from - that douche Peter Lukas or that stoner Elias Bouchard or that btich Annabelle, okay? I’m just a guy. Who eats trauma. Plenty of guys do that.”

“Very good denial of reality!” Michael approved. “Normally Helen tells me to go further into denying reality as a concept, though.”

“God, you hallway people are impossible to have a normal conversation with.” Mike huffed, clearly not as irritated as his words would imply. Michael also approved of the incongruity. “I’m assuming that you’re here for absolutely no reason and that you have no idea why or how you ended up at my uni.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I am here for a reason.” At Mike’s extreme surprise, they hurriedly clarified, “Not with any goal, meaning, or intention in mind! But I just wanted to talk about something to someone who wasn’t technically another facet of my meaningless whole. Helen and I are as index and ring fingers on the same hand, but we don’t really get each other sometimes, you know?”

“Does that make you the pinky finger?”

“I actually had a hypothetical for you.” At Mike’s nod, Michael snagged a napkin from the stack on the sticky bar and began creasing it, somewhat anxiously. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you were a teenagerish nongendered sentient hallway intern who happens to eat trauma.”

“This isn’t much of a hypothetical,” Mike said flatly. 

“I’m a hypothetical person. And I’m only a person hypothetically.” Michael started making little folds in the napkin, twisting it up into a strange origami. “So, let’s say, hypothetically, that this person - their name is Michael - enjoyed being them. It wasn’t always fun, and sometimes they kind of missed the world making sense, or at least not making sense in a familiar way. And sometimes Michael got tired of being a sentient hallway and wanted to finish secondary. And maybe even sometimes Michael grows sad that both their parents were eaten by their new boss, who is kind of a Tory! But that’s all fine. Michael’s probably happier like this than they ever were even when they did have parents.”

Mike Crew stared at them a little, slowly sipping his pint. 

Michael hunched their shoulders, and folded up the napkin further and further. They had read somewhere that any piece of paper can only be folded seven times. They folded the napkin seven times, then eight, then nine, then ten. That was something nice about the way things were now, they supposed: no rules, absolute freedom. Only rules, no freedom. That was what Dr. Yung would call a paradox. “But maybe the worst part about this new job is that Michael doesn’t really like hurting people. Sometimes it’s fun to randomly make people very upset, and you always kind of end up doing it anyway, but after a while Michael feels kind of bad about it. Michael likes doing other things better, like making terrible roundabouts and rearranging the pages of books. Maybe they even like reading books. They like reading comic books backwards, from the last page to the first, so every panel is a surprise.”

“There’s lots of ways to be a fear demon,” Mike pointed out, almost gently. Maybe only because he could relate. “Look at me. I’m not feeding off anyone. Just myself.”

“But I like the way I do it,” Michael said, frustrated. “Helen keeps trying to get me to do it the way she does it, but the point is that we aren’t the same. What’s the point in having two of us if both our viewpoints are the same? We’re different in every way, but we’re the same being. I just want to be the Spiral the way I want. Not the way Helen wants.” Their voice lowered, almost unwilling to say what they were about to say. “Not the way the Spiral wants.”

Mike stared at them for a long time, slowly sipping his beer, and Michael focused their efforts on forcing this improbable napkin into something that could be beautiful. A lotus flower? A mobius strip? Or should they just let it happen as it happens, and see what form it decided to take? 

Finally, Mike said, “You are the Spiral.”

“Then why am I always disagreeing with it?” Michael asked miserably. 

“Why are you, Helen, and the Spiral always disagreeing?” Mike pointed out. “Maybe that’s the point. So much as anything’s a point. Isn’t it the most perfect paradox of all, to split yourself into portions that are always disagreeing and bickering? Maybe everything you’re feeling is on purpose. I mean, it’s kind of improbable that you’re feeling at all, right?”

“I retained a lot of humanity,” Michael said. “Maybe a bit too much, actually?”

“Right.” Mike nodded decisively. “Then that’s the appeal. A human mind will always strain against its confines. It will always want different, want the same, want the old and the new and the perpetual and the fleeting and the eternity and the moment. What’s more nonsensical than a human? What’s more contradictory than human nature?” A dark shadow passed over his face, just for a second. “The Spiral kidnaps us and turns us into it. One part of our minds is entrenched in its eternity, and another part is always screaming in agony. But predominantly we are the unholy mixture of human and Entity, oil forced into water. It’s so intrinsically horrifying and wrong that we just get used to it. We are both demon and human, and so we’re neither, and so we’re both. Isn’t it weird, Michael, that unlike so many other Avatars, none of us want to be here?”

“You’re a very philosophical person,” Michael said diplomatically. 

“Thanks, I think too much about my lot in life.” Mike Crew sighed, slumping on his barstool and knocking back more of his pint. “I wish you and Helen would stop showing up in my life so often. When you aren’t around, I can almost pretend I’m a person.”

“That’s why we show up,” Michael felt obligated to point out. 

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said glumly. “I always know. I can’t stop knowing.”

There was nothing Michael could say or do that fixed this, or that could make Mike feel better. They understood, just a little - that nostalgia for a kinder time. But maybe it was more that Mike never had those halcyon, innocent days. He had lived life since childhood in aching knowledge that his days were numbered. Maybe that’s why Mike was allowed to live life as a human even now: his human life was just as confusing and isolated as his afterlife, and that when fear stained every second of his life there was no point in ceasing it. 

Maybe Michael couldn’t keep their human life because they had been happy. At the very least, they had been ignorant. That was one thing the Spiral could not abide: ignorance. 

These days, Michael knew everything. They knew everything so, so much.

So, in lieu of comforting falsehoods, Michael offered Mike Crew a slightest sliver of truth. They passed Mike the little piece of origami that they had made, and let Mike cradle it in his large and smooth hands. 

The origami had no shape. It wasn’t folded into anything. It was just a meaningless amalgamation of points, corners, and creased paper. It didn’t look like anything at all. 

“See?” Michael pointed out. “It’s a bear.”

Mike Crew smiled weakly. “Looks like a sea goat to me.”

There was something beautiful in ambiguity. When something was nothing, it could be everything at once. That was rather Michael’s favorite thing about it. 

“I think it’s a self-portrait,” Michael decided. 

And that, at least, was as true as anything else. 

***

Michael wandered their hallways. 

On some level, they were pretty much perpetually doing that. Even as one facet of them talked with Michael in a campus pub, even as another helped Helen convince a high class pub into voting Brexit, even as they traumatized a physics professor, they wandered these hallways.

Make no mistake: everything in this story has/will/is happened/happening simultaneously.

Of course, on another level Michael was literally their hallways, and thus they were not so much wandering as existing. Pulsating, one could say. Even twisting, if one would be so bold. 

There was a mirror, in the hallway. Not a funhouse mirror - although Michael did enjoy popping out from those and scaring Nikola - but just a mirror. Gilded around the edges, ornate with swirling curlicues. You could see yourself in it. You could see a lot of yourself in it. It wasn’t what you had always looked like, not really, but you just had the sense that this was what you really looked like. Maybe you had always looked like this, and everybody was just too polite to tell you. Were you really a brunette? This mirror had to be right. You had been a blonde all along. Nobody had told you. They were laughing at you. They were laughing -

But this was Michael, and Michael’s, and nothing in here could harm them. It was even comforting. They looked at themselves in the mirror, and saw themselves same as ever. Or not same as ever. They were still Michael, so far as Michael was Michael.

Shortish. Blondey. Raggedy hair. Curled as much as anything’s curled. Fun clothing that they really enjoyed. Tall shoes, because they liked feeling tall. Similar dimensions to the golden number. Non linear, but who’s counting? It was what they typically looked like. 

But, just for a second, Michael even fooled themselves. They saw someone in the mirror that they were not, someone who they had never been, someone who they never will be. Someone different.

Michael, just like everyone else, couldn’t stop themselves from reaching out. Come back. Come back! Let me touch you, let me be you! Michael’s fingers brushed the shiny glass, and the world tilted sideways, and Michael fell into where the sidewalk ended.

They emerged, or maybe they had always been, inside a bedroom. It was a nice little suburban bedroom. It had a peaked ceiling and a window seat. The walls were a soft, navy blue. There was a young person, lying on the shag carpet, leafing through a book. Big headphones were over their ears, and they were bopping along to music. Disco. 

Michael stood, an intruder into a familiar space, and watched the stranger. Their throat felt oddly tight, and their eyes felt strangely hot. The stranger was smiling faintly, flipping the pages of their book somewhat mindlessly. They were reading it for school. Flatland. It was just an assignment, but it was really fucking them up. It was making them think about all of these things that they didn’t normally, in new dimensions. It was really cool. All of their friends were just reading the Sparknotes, but they really wanted to talk about it with someone. 

 This, of course, had happened. It will happen in the future. It was happening now, as Michael watched the scene with an electric sadness. It would never happen, because the Spiral had never been here, and never would be, and always was. 

A knock echoed on the door, several sharp raps. Michael didn’t notice, legs swinging to the music. 

The knock on the door hit louder. “Michael!” A voice echoed from behind it. “Michael, are you ready to go?”

Michael reached up and slid off their headphones, without looking up from their book. “Coming!” They called back. “Be right there!”

The Spiral watched Michael, who hummed absentmindedly as the door knocked again. Dad was downstairs, making sure the gas was off and shutting off the lights. Mum was knocking, knocking, knocking, on a door that was and will always be wood. 

“Have you packed yet?” Mum called. 

“Sure I have!” Michael yelled back, glancing at the empty suitcase on the bed and the messy pile of clothes right next to it. They pushed themselves up, flipping the book shut and rising to their feet. “Be right out!”

“Hurry up,” Mum called, as the Spiral mouthed the words along with her. “We’re going to be late!”

The Bermudas aren’t going anywhere, Michael thought spitefully. They stuffed their clothes haphazardly in a suitcase, took far more care to pack their laptop and DS, and shoved Flatland in a side pocket of their backpack. 

When Michael slung on his backpack, unfolded the handle from their suitcase, they were not even looking at the door they left through. They were entirely focused on managing the unruly suitcase, and walked straight through the crazed yellow door.

Of course, Michael walked out. Slightly stranger, a little better, a lot worse. Exactly the same. They were back in their hallways again, fresh from their little suburban bedroom and the child exiting one world and entering one quite different. Maybe one part of that child would always be in that bedroom, another part in these hallways, and another part always caught in that doorway and the transition. 

Simultaneously, in all points in time, Mum knocked on that wood door, and Michael never let her inside. Simultaneously, at all points in time, Michael watched it all happen.

They hadn’t expected it to be so comforting. At all moments in time, in a little corner of their heart, Mum knocked on their door. If the Spiral lived in your soul and beat your heart, it was easy to find the beauty in it - the magnificence of eternity, and the joy in the moment. Mum was with them - literally, as he was pretty sure Helen was still digesting her. Maybe nothing was ever truly over - just over there.  

Michael stuck their hands in their pockets, whistling a jaunty tune that highly resembled the Shepherd’s Tone. Their hallways pulsated comfortingly, and Michael carefully toed off their platform shoes and eyed down the infinite hallways. No rugs for a while. 

Maybe Michael, Mike Crew, and Helen should get together more often. Just the three of them. They would drive each other batty. It would be a lot of fun. 

Michael set off running down the hallway, and skidded on their socks down the hardwood floor, whooping in joy as they skidded endlessly towards eternity. 

[offtopicoverload]

Hnngnngnnfnfn uuuuuuh... . Asks um......... if all the LIs had different jobs than their canon ones, what would they be in your galaxy brain opinion?

my pebble brain opinion is that it is not equipped for this but is very appreciative and loves you

Hope

Okay, hear me out. Hope as a teacher

She doesn’t like kids, and I have zero reason to believe this, but I feel like she’s good with teens and could be a good secondary teacher

She’d treat them as adults but be compassionate and kind enough to help them when they’re struggling with work or even home stuff

Tho she has a reputation as being super strict in younger years, and a lot of kids start to dread her class when they see it on their schedule, it takes like a week for her to be the favourite

I think she’d have that rep just cuz she doesn’t tolerate assholes or is the teacher pushing everyone, but she does it cuz she cares yknow. And she’d never push a kid she didn’t think could take it

Even with the other teachers, she’d be one of the favourites, partially cuz she brings donuts on rough days and is always happy to sub in when someones out

Ibrahim

I want to see Ibrahim doing something in comics

Maybe he’s not a good writer or artist, but does something in production?

Like a creative head type thing, he vetoes bad ideas and pushes for diversity

Really receptive to readers and the community as a whole, and spends hours scrolling forums and stuff

If a character isn’t as popular but a lot of people are talking about representation and why that specific character matters, he pushes really hard to give them more screen time and good storylines

And honestly he’s super timid, but I feel like he can actually throw down when it comes to stuff like that

If he knows Gary in this AU and Gary’s story, that’s when he first tries for something different

Has a hero without a different body type and it gets a really good reception and praise, and thats what gives him a bit of confidence to stand up for other ideas

Jen

Nurse

Idk, she just comes across as one of the popular, kinda mean girls that turned into a nurse

But I want to say that she grows before graduating and ditches the friends she had that encouraged that, really falls into her studies and starts volunteering during all her free time

She is genuinely compassionate and caring and I just feel like she’d be really good with like little kids

The type that plays a fun game with them to distract them from shots when they’re scared, and if she’s at a hospital, goes out of her way to organize toy drives and therapy animal visits

Elisa

She’s so competitive that I feel like she’d be good in business like Hope

But creative and independent enough that she’d eventually start her own business

Like she’d go to school and everything and start pretty high up at a company, but corporate kinda fucks her over and doesn’t really promote her or anything, so she says fuck them and quits

Starts something maybe artistic? idk man,  but I really want to say soap but I don’t think thats good lmao

But she poaches a few old coworkers and pissing off her ex-bosses is her favourite past time

It ends up growing quite a bit online and international and long distance orders and stuff keep them afloat during the pandemic cuz their social media has a reputation for being outspoken

And as self-absorbed as Elisa can be, I feel like she’s smart enough to know that keeping her employees paid and employed is the most important thing, and would like cut her salary, and just generally fight tooth and nail for them

Noah

Professor?

He just seems like the type that, if given the chance, would pursue education at every opportunity

And being a librarian already, he clearly values knowledge and the importance of it

So maybe like a sociology professor and really enjoys providing young people with new perspectives and ideologies?

And he’s really popular among his students for being straightforward and honest, respected by peers and staff for that, as well as being easy to get along with

i would have said philosophy if that wouldn’t turn him into chidi

Blake

So I know canonically Blake’s career depends on MC’s, but I kinda want to see her do something in law

Like she’s so argumentative, but one of the options is grad student, and I forget where I saw it, but someone headcanoned that she’s a major activist

So like an attorney for underrepresented groups, that sort of thing

Maybe gets a following online for giving legal advice or representation to people that can’t afford it? idk man i dunno how the legal system works i just like arson

But basically, I think she’d be a hardass for a career, but its to help people get a second chance and stuff

Tai

Middle manager. I just want to imagine him being really kind to his employees okay?? 

Sometimes he gets into fights with upper management, but he doesn’t care as long as his employees don’t hate coming into work

Kinda like Michael Scott, in that he tries really hard to be supportive and involved, but is better about boundaries lmao also not offensive just enthusiastic

[koko-bopp]

Truth Or Dare

kim taehyung x male!reader

word count – 6K

genre – Mature, college!au

warning(s) – hinted SMUT, lewd, jealousy, finger job, choking kink, baby boy/daddy kink, low-key power bottom!taehyung, top!reader

synopsis – truth or dare with a dirty twist and an adventure-hungry Kim Taehyung.

"Truth or Dare?"

The way this version of truth or dare work was that the person is picked via the spin of the bottle. The person who was picked last gets to decide the truth or dare. After ten spins, whoever the bottle chose has to pick up a scandal card.

Taehyung wasn't one to back down from a dare. It couldn't be as bad as Jungkook licking the toilet seat or Namjoon email his professor explaining that he was quitting philosophy.

Hoseok had already run past the staff room naked and Jimin ate candle wax. This was nothing.

Jin even admitted that he absolutely hates his culinary professor and has spit into the food that he was serving him. Yoongi had said he purposefully wrote the wrong musical note in one of the other performer's assessment.

"Dare," Taehyung said proudly, taking a Pringles chip from the bowl in front of him.

"I dare you to..." Jin thought for a moment, taking another bite of his Snickers bar before it looked like a lightbulb had lit upon his head. "I dare you to call [Y/N] 'daddy' for the remainder of this game."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, he hoped for something more difficult. He hoped for something more difficult after every round. Everything seemed so vanilla, and yeah, he might have a crush on you but calling you a naughty name wasn't adventurous enough for him.

Your eyes went wide though, just for a second. The feelings you had for him were mutual, and in your mind, you weren't doing the best at hiding them. "Wait–" you said, attempting to oppose the dare before getting interrupted.

Taehyung put a finger on your lips, shushing you from trying to persuade him to not do the dare, a giant smirk playing on his lips, "I'm not cracking an egg on my head, daddy. Your baby boy isn't a chicken."

There were clear 'ooooh' 's from Hoseok and Jimin, Jin put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at your reddened face.

"Whatever," you grumbled, trying your best to reduce the heat on your face.

Taehyung laughed, throwing the piece of chips into his mouth before leaning over to the centre of the circle, taking the bottle and spinning it to confirm his next victim.

"Kookie," He chuckled, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Jungkook said, rather hesitantly.

"When we're you so horny, that you couldn't stand it?" Taehyung asked, pausing for a second before quickly adding, "And why?"

Jungkook laughed, "Damn, what's it with you an wanting to know all our dirty laundry?"

Taehyung laughed too, raising his arms to replicate a chicken before making the noise for the animal; indicating that Jungkook was too chicken to answer the question.

"Shut up," Jungkook snapped, but calmed himself that little bit to answer the truth. "Senior year, high school, [Y/N] and I had science together... He accidentally spilt the water in the beaker all over his shirt and–" Jungkook flushed red, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh my god, the white uniform?" Jimin gasped, "This was only a year ago! Why wasn't I there? I want to see that!"

You were chuckling in embarrassment, partly because you weren't aware of Jungkook being turned on by the incident until now.

Hoseok was laughing hard, grabbing the unopened Twix chocolate and placing it just away from your lips, "[Y/N] [L/N], how does it feel knowing that you accident seduced our youngest member in this unofficial club?"

"Kook and I are literally the same age, you make it sound like I'm a pedo," You said, moving the chocolate away from you.

Yoongi spoke up, "Wait, wait, so did you like, jack off to the thought of his shirt getting wet when you got the chance–"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Jungkook retorted, his face still buried in his hands, "It was a one-time thing! And fuck, I don't want to break an egg on my head!"

Everyone took a second to laugh, though Namjoon decided to cut the laughter upon quick realisation, "Damn, guys, I think Taehyung's a little jealous."

"Jealous?" Taehyung asked as if it wasn't obvious, "Jealous of what?"

Yoongi took a sip of his soft drink, "Nothing. Though maybe that Kook got to see [Y/N] low-key naked and you didn't."

This was getting too much for you, not that you were upset about the topic, but you felt really caught in the middle of joking-flirting or just taking everything as it is. It flattered you that Jungkook found you attractive, yet, it also made you hella flustered.

Taehyung scoffed, "Whatever. Jungkook, spin the bottle."

"Scandal card!" Hoseok announced. Getting the deck of cards next to him and shuffling them.

Jungkook did as he was told, grabbing the bottle and spinning it.

Taehyung.

Again.

It earned a groan from a few people, but Taehyung was feeling rather excited that he was hopefully getting something more exhilarating.

Hoseok picked a card. Without a second thought, Hoseok let out a very loud laugh, one that would make you think he’d found the funniest joke in the world; regardless, it intrigued everyone, you could see them inch closer towards the circle. Hoseok lifted his hand to wipe away a tear, “Oh my boba, who bought these?”

Yoongi cheekily put his hand up.

Hoseok chuckled, "Were you looking to get fucked tonight or something, jagi?" Hoseok threw the card at Taehyung, in a way so it definitely landed face-down in front of him. "Hold on. I'll set a timer."

Taehyung furrowed his brows, before picking up the card so he can look at it properly.

Finally.

Something good.

'suck the fingers of the person on your right for forty seconds'

A giant smirk kept onto Taehyung's lips, and it was getting you that little bit excited because you're to his left.

"Daddy," Taehyung said, faking a teasing whine. He got into his knees to face you do you were both at eye level, placing one hand on your thigh to squeeze it gently, and the other bringing the card up so you could read it. "Will you let me, Daddy?"

Maybe the maker of the cards didn't know queer people play this game too.

You had no problem with the dare.

Kinda just wished he was sucking something else, though.

You wrapped one hand around his neck, no firm grip, but enough for him to gasp from the sudden action, bringing him little bit closer to you. "Then you better suck like a good boy, huh?"

You bought two fingers in front of Taehyung. He didn't think twice, he took a second to kiss the digits first, around it, providing gentle licks for a few seconds, his foreplay, if you will.

His eyes wandered from yours to his audience of six other boys, before specifically landing on Jungkook in triumph gaze.

A small prideful smirk danced on his lips, looking back at you with lusty eyes before he immediately began his dare. Starting off slow, lapping his tongue around your fingers, his eyes rotating from closing to concentrate on his actions to looking at your expression to see if he was actually doing it to your liking.

You were smiling mischievously, though; like you had some dirty image in mind or were planning something.

The room was dead quiet, just watching Taehyung suck your fingers like a lollipop, saliva slowly starting to drip from the small opening in his mouth, but also your other hand gripping the side of his jaw.

This was something the dominant one in the bedroom of out the two other couples would have to take note of.

It was rather entertaining.

And fricking hell, where you were looking from, it's exhilaratingly attractive. He was humming and practically moaning around your fingers, turning too many people on in the process.

"Hmm, daddy?" Taehyung's attention comment was almost muffled, but it was enough for you to understand and chuckle at his attempt.

"Yeah, baby?" You replied, a little softer.

"Deeper, daddy," He said, sucking much harder around your fingers, "I can take it."

You smirked, and pushed your fingers further into Taehyung's mouth.

He almost choked on them, since it had touched the back of his throat. A string of drool fell from the centre of his lips, slightly painting the wrist that held his jaw in place for you to make sure your fingers were touching the far end of his throat.

You chuckled, whispering, "That's it baby, might even let you suck my cock if you keep this up."

You heard Jimin gasp, looks like your words were loud enough for the boys to hear.

And according to Taehyung, maybe they should, because their reaction got him to take as much as he can.

The small beeping noise from Hoseok's phone went off.

Game was over.

But you quickly took half a second to tighten your grip on the sides of Taehyung's jaw. It earned an airy moan, his mouth opening just enough for you to extract your fingers.

"Fuck," Namjoon said, not too sure if he was confused, shocked or aroused.

"That was..." Hoseok started, but stopped, "That was something."

Taehyung grinned brightly, his hands still on your thighs, "Can we stop playing?" Taehyung asked the boys, before looking at you rather lovingly, "I really think we should hangout together after this."

[zeldahime]

cql college/job au xiyao edition

because these two have the potential to be the slowest of slow fucking burns and extremely excruciatingly painfully perfectly polite at all times

featuring: ta/student very-much-not-a-relationship, enough ust to set the entire humanities building on fire, corporate espionage, nie huaisang being the sneakiest and sweetest slytherin, background wangxian, nie mingjue being a boss, intense eye contact, let lan xichen say fuck, meng yao stress hours, WERE YOU ONLY PRETENDING TO BE DELICATE AND POOR, summer internship, background wangxian

it got uh. very long. so. 

meng yao starts working for nie enterprises when he’s 16 as a part-time janitor. he has two other part time jobs and is studying for his ged.

one day he solves some kind of problem that nie enterprises is having and nie mingjue likes this guy and promotes him to his personal assistant on the spot

nie huaisong is always flitting about his brother’s office etc, and they become friends and meng yao helps him with his homework.

when huaisong is getting ready to go to small posh private university, he will definitely need tutors. mingjue is happily persuaded into converting meng yao’s job into full-time huaisang babysitting tutoring, including paying for yao’s tuition and room and board to get a degree himself; his job is to make sure huaisang gets good grades and not in trouble. meng yao sees this for the golden ticket it is and very happily agrees. this is going to be the easiest job he’s ever had, and he’s got job security as long as huaisang doesn’t mess up too badly.

first day of classes, meng yao is 22 and looking around at the 30-odd 18-year-old trust fund babies with a sinking stomach telling him that he does not belong here.

this is a philosophy and ethics class like. in a literal ivory tower. this is possibly the last place he should be. 

and the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life walks into the room with the professor. and he’s introduced as “and this is our TA, lan xichen.”

lan xichen smiles at the room with the kind of look that makes it feel like he’s making eye contact with everyone. and then he makes real eye contact with meng yao. “he’s attractive as hell,” they both think, and then think nothing of it.

but, it’s a small class. and it meets 3 times a week. and lan xichen shuts down someone who pokes at meng yao’s age, and meng yao asks questions perfectly tailored to making sure that huaisang and the other students actually understand the material. and by the end of week 2 they’re both saddled with an extremely unfortunate crush that they both need to get a handle on. for professionalism’s sake. they’re at work goddamn it.

and one day meng yao comes to office hours to ask a question that’s much more advanced than what they’re talking about in class, and in lan xichen’s tiny ta office talking about ethics, they are exceptionally and perfectly polite and appropriate and within the exact bounds of a ta-student relationship.

they are also both about to catch on fire.

this continues all school year, because it’s a two-part class. meng yao comes to office hours, and he and lan xichen are stringently appropriate the whole time, and at no point do they so much as brush fingers. they see each other every single day. 

huaisang thinks this is 1) absolutely hilarious and 2) the perfect distraction. he wingmans the hell out of meng yao in class, he third-wheels on office hours specifically to make it worse, and he arranges “chance” meetings between them outside of class. (he got some details about lan xichen’s daily schedule from wei wuxian, who he is eternally surprised is actually somehow getting information from lan wangji the silent wonder)

(he’s not getting it from lan wangji; lan xichen is wingmanning his little brother. the info wei wuxian is passing on is straight from the horse’s mouth.)

nie huaisang thinks he’s being very clever and sneaky in arranging his classes and portfolio to make it look like he’s just taking electives when he’s really planning on switching to a fine arts major at the last possible minute

he is being clever and sneaky, but meng yao knows what he’s doing anyway

meng yao is keeping that ball up in the air as long as he can though, because that’s a later-problem. 

in addition to falling in extremely professional love with his ta, his asshole dad has also come out of the woodwork and is trying to involve him in corporate espionage. which is less than super great. 

on the one side, asshole dad who hasn’t supported you in 22 years and didn’t care when your mother died when you were 16 and pushed you down the stairs because you had the audacity to ask for help, who will gladly frame you even if you don’t help. on the other hand, your boss, who has treated you well for a boss, but has explicitly told you your job depends on keeping his little brother as out-of-trouble as possible and who you don’t think will believe you

in this au, he’s solidly with the nie clan because: Golden Fucking Ticket, where the strings are “don’t let huaisang fuck up too bad,” and where “fuck up” means like. drunk driving or failing a class. he’ll probably even keep his job after huaisang’s art degree reveal. all dear old dad is offering is a jail sentence.

but he still needs to somehow convince jgs that he’s double-crossing nie enterprises without actually doing that, so that he doesn’t get framed for doing it.

it’s stressful.

lan xichen’s life isn’t roses and pearls either, though it’s not nearly as stressful as playing double-agent corporate espionage while also babysitting huaisang and getting a degree

lan xichen’s life is all about being the Dutiful Eldest Son so that lan wangji can have an inch of freedom

this includes becoming a corporate accountant (a job he’s bored just thinking about) and marrying a Good Girl From A Respectable Family (he is extremely gay), and eventually having 2.5 children and a white picket fence and a dog (he’s a cat person and doesn’t know what to do with children). he tells himself it’s all for lan wangji and it’s almost enough to make him want to do it.

being the ta for his thesis advisor’s philosophy and ethics class was supposed to be his Fun Indulgent Treat because he has no idea what “fun” or “indulgent” or “treat” mean

but now he’s in love with one of his students and that’s. not. good.

he’s all of 21 and he’s pretty sure he’s going to be blacklisted from all jobs for his entire life unless he manages, somehow, to keep anyone from knowing how entirely unprofessional he’s being. 

he is trying very hard to distract himself from his gayngst by helping wangji with his own. 18-year-olds can be so oblivious in love, he thinks, failing to see any irony at all.

he’s also been telling his bff mingjue about this extremely painful experience this entire time, under a pseudonym. if mingjue has to hear one more word about “Y”’s dimples, he’s going to scream and then he’s going to force Y into a closet with xichen and not let them out until they’ve solved this. he’s very tired.

at one point when he’s about to pass out from extreme eye contact, he gives meng yao his number so that he can “pass it to nie huaisang, in case he has any questions” and just. prays really hard that meng yao will text him after classes are over and he’s back to just being a grad student and they can be friends.

BUT. BEFORE HE HAS THE CHANCE. IN THAT TIME BETWEEN FINALS ENDING AND GRADES BEING TURNED IN.

lan xichen begins his summer internship at nie enterprises in accounting. and meng yao returns to fill in for an admin on her maternity leave. and they see each other in the break room. 

both of them: *internal gay screaming* Hi, what a coincidence, how are you doing? 

(boys, you are in different departments, nobody cares if you date as long as you don’t start fucking on the desks. they don’t know this because they’re young and very concerned with being Professional and with Career Advancement.)

they have Very Professional lunch together every day. and will buy each other coffee, Professionally. and it would be much more professional if they would just actually make out and then come to work like normal people instead of clearly wanting to make out every time they see each other and instead being Very Incredibly Professional with their words and actions.

mingjue clues in that this is Y. meng yao is Y. Oh my god, first i didn’t want to know that, second this is going to be so easy, and then i’ll never have to listen to xichen wax rhapsodic about his eyes again, he thinks.

he is incorrect. 

the harder he tries, the more vehemently perfect their professionalism becomes. which means he’s watching them have extremely intense eye contact at work and can’t actually say anything about it because, it’s just eye contact? what is he going to say? stop looking at people when delivering tps reports?

he also can’t say anything outright like “just. kiss. him.” because. he’s both of their Entire Boss. at the moment he’s xichen’s boss’s boss’s boss. he can’t do anything without probably violating sexual harassment laws.

mingjue is tired.

meanwhile the corporate espionage double-agent act is still ongoing and meng yao continues to be stressed

mingjue is alerted to meng yao “stealing” secrets and has a freak-out; he hasn’t slept in three days and he trusted meng yao and how could he? was this his plan all along WAS HE ONLY PRETENDING TO BE DELICATE AND POOR

xichen steps between them and insists there’s a reasonable explanation and jesus christ mingjue have you slept when was the last time you’ve eaten you look terrible let’s get you to bed and talk about this in the morning

(meng yao doesn’t realize that he’s clutched on to lan xichen’s suit until after he releases it and lan xichen is trying, very hard, to pretend that it didn’t happen because he won’t be able to think of anything else if it did)

xichen, immediately after mingjue is in huaisang’s care: i believe you, but what the fuck is happening, yao.

(if he wasn’t so rattled by the entire mingjue-reaming thing yao would be able to savor lan xichen saying fuck sooooo much better.)

(once yao explains it is a strain not to kiss him right then and there in that empty conference room but he deserves better than lan xichen, who can’t bring anything to the table and can’t even bring him home to eat at his table, because he is the Dutiful Eldest Son and his closet needs to be made of motherfuckin steel)

(huaisang knows exactly what the fuck is up and talks mingjue down, because meng yao is sneaky but he wasn’t counting on huaisang like. actually caring.) 

this is also the exact same day where lan wangji brings wei wuxian home for dinner and this goes. as well as might be expected. given Uncle hates everything about wei wuxian from his motorcycle to his leather to his attitude. but wangji is happy and he’s smiling and that’s why lan xichen is doing this. that’s why lan xichen is doing everything. 

the next day the 3-zun make a Plan to trap jgs and then get them audited by the irs, since if he’s doing shady espionage stuff he’s also almost certainly doing shady tax stuff (they’re right, he is)

after the internship is over, that very evening, lan xichen asks meng yao if he wants to “hang out, as friends”

oh, you thought this pining dysfunctional trainwreck was going to end here? buddy. lan xichen is in fucking narnia, he’s so deep in the closet, because he must be Dutiful.

they go on several not-a-dates doing Friend Things. and several study sessions where no studying is done. and eventually.

lan qiren: so when are you introducing me to your boyfriend? he seems like a good kid, nothing like that wei wuxian character

lan xichen.exe has stopped working

lan qiren: what, do you think i’m blind? he either is your boyfriend or he should be. good head on his shoulders. *returns to his newspaper*

turns out lan xichen’s self-sacrificial bargain with the universe was borne from a place of living in a heteropatriarchy and not actually from the reality of his uncle’s beliefs, who knew

(lan qiren loves his nephews and wants them to be happy. he also has eyes, in his head, that connect to his brain. he knew xichen was probably gay by the time the kid was 14, and started reading books with titles like “how to accept your gay son” in the living room. xichen assumed this was about wangji, because he also has eyes and wants his baby brother to be happy. wangji bringing a boy home was actually a big surprise to his uncle. this family does not actually talk to each other about things.)

anyway the next friend-not-a-date that he and yao go on, he asks yao on a real date.

he is bracing for rejection when yao kisses??? him???? for some reason?????

they make out &c. this is the boring part

they have a conversation about their feelings and discover that they’ve both been in love for a year a YEAR a fucking year. then they make out some more because lost time.

fin.

[redbeanboi]

bucci gang college!au

the college au that you didn’t know you needed:

I’m bored and I’m still thinking about university because I’m swamped with work!! Here’s some hc’s I have of what the boys would study in university.

Bucciarati:

maybe it’s because I’m planning on doing it myself, or the fact that I can’t help but thirst over the image of Bucciarati in a turtleneck, but I can see Bucciarati studying History in undergrad and going for Library Science/Museum/Archival Studies in grad school. Bucciarati is always portrayed as a reliable worker who can keep his mouth shut, etc.... So I think this kinda fits into Archivist stuff, since, depending on who you work for (the government specifically), you constantly have to handle secret/sensitive material. Important and absolutely vital position! And Bucciarati working in a library/museum setting is also really cute to me, but if anything I can see him working as an Archivist for an organization or maybe even the government.

Giorno:

I know I’ve seen people put Giorno in some kind of Life science, like plant or animal study, but... and don’t get me wrong, maybe it’s because I project my boyfriend onto Giorno because they’re freakishly similar in a bunch of ways, but!! Giorno going into Mechanical Engineering/Robotics is absolutely my jam!! And after graduating from school, I can see Giorno eventually working for a company that makes prosthetic robotic limbs. Something about “breathing life” into an object and giving someone a new arm/leg/etc. gives me Giorno vibes... Also my boyfriend is sorta working on stuff like this so that’s another reason why I see Giorno doing this stuff.  Giorno’s also very smart, and I think something like Mech E would really challenge and push him. Plus, when making prosthetic limbs or when working with robotics in general, a lot of engineers will observe and study animals and movement and such. Everything about this field of study just screams “Giorno” to me.

Mista:

I know we like to poke fun at Mista a lot, but I think he likes reading a lot and could easily apply himself to some difficult courses. Maybe it’s the fact that he works with guns a lot and is just very smart in general, but I’m thinking Mista would go into Physics. Catch him doing his physics coursework with Giorno because they’re both slumped on the same problem. Now, i don’t think he’d ever consider going into academia, but if he did, he’d definitely be that professor who just has his TA do the lectures while he does his research. I could also see him just working in the same engineering company as Giorno? Possibilities are endless, I think he’d be able to do anything really. Maybe he’d a mechanic if he doesn’t want to go to uni and goes to trade school instead.

Fugo:

Fugo going into law school?? I know that didn’t exactly work out very well, but I do think that he’d feel challenged and would get to make the most of his intellect. He’s a smart guy and I think he might do Philosophy for undergrad as most people would go that route anyway. Plus I like imagining Mista complain about Fugo’s readings (”this Plato guy thinks way too much about this damn cave—” “Shut up mista”).

Abbacchio:

Hm. Maybe law school for Abbacchio too?? On the other hand, because he seems to really like classical music and is the kind to dwell on the past, I could also see him doing Music History, minoring in either piano or composition maybe. If he decides to do some accompanist work for a classmate who’s awful and studies vocal performance, he will complain about it to the other guys (”how the hell can you be tone deaf and studying music at the same time??”). He and Bucciarati hang out a lot....sometimes Bucciarati will accompany Abbacchio to the practice rooms. Sometimes they’ll spend an awful amount of time there (mostly for practicing, alright?? they’re responsible students. don’t be cheeky)

Narancia:

I know it’s easy to get carried away with “ahahaha Narancia doesn’t know 16*55!!” but let’s set those jokes aside and acknowledge how smart he can be. Now since this is a college!au, I’m going to say that Narancia would go into some field of study that allows him to use his strengths. I think he’s always shown really good instincts. Also, I know he totally misinterpreted Giorno during this one fight, but I always love how Narancia is the only one to notice that Giorno’s waving to them during the Babyface fight (so what if he didn’t realize there was an attack yet!!)??? ++ Aerosmith’s ability to detect carbon dioxide is, in my opinion, the biggest example of his instinct/ability to catch onto things real quick. Narancia also remembers a lot of information (I mean, he got everything Trish asked for when he was running errands). And!! he is very concerned with Trish after Venice despite not knowing her very well. I think that’s very telling of his character. A guy who is very concerned for other people! So! I can see him doing healthcare in some shape or form. Narancia getting a BSN?? Nurse Narancia??? yes please!!

BONUS!!

Trish:

I know Trish becomes a popstar in PHF (which,,,, don’t hate me but,,, I’m not super crazy about it), but I can see her studying fashion design. Maybe it’s because I used to go to a school with a really rigorous fashion design program, but I can see Trish having fun there (while also being challenged!) and also putting out some really great work. Expect the guys to come and hang out with her in the studio when she has to work on projects overnight—Bruno and Abbacchio are the first to come and the rest come waltzing in soon after. Mista and Fugo usually come last to join them and bring a lot of snacks for the night.

-----

A/N: I’m going to probably write some kind of comp fic using these ideas but.... enjoy !! based on a conversation I had with @jojo-reads .... thank u friend.

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 3: Flush

Quick note: I’m currently setting up my AO3 page (GrapefruitSketches) where I will also be posting all of these little fics!

1,175 Words, Modern AU - University; Wei Wuxian-centric; Supportive Lan Xichen

Wei Wuxian had never been one to put too much stock, or effort, in getting good grades. He had always done very well up all the way through high school, though, to the great annoyance of his younger brother. Undergrad though, up until his fourth and final year, had been a different story. He had had to shrug off a more than occasional “I expect better from someone of your talents, B-“ or “Please come see me, D+.” He wasn’t afraid to take risks in his answers, and actively tried to avoid the textbook answer where he could help it. He wanted to figure out new ways to help people, to solve mysteries no one had even thought to investigate, and learn about secrets that few understood. It was just this kind of curiosity and out of the box thinking that drew him to a biology degree. So far, however, it hadn’t quite worked out as planned.

It wasn’t that he found his science classes particularly hard, just deeply unmotivating. Why should he bother memorizing the name of every muscle in the body? He was sure he would pick it up over time if he needed to know, and besides, didn’t it matter more to know how things worked than what they were called? His grades were disappointing, and there were a few times he felt lucky just to have passed, but he just had better things to do than review cue cards.

He liked being on campus otherwise: the chance to meet new people, to join new clubs and generally having the chance to learn from people and disciplines he had never been exposed to before. His friends didn’t quite seem to get the problem. Wen Qing tried to help him study, but got frustrated after he asked too many questions that were outside the scope of the syllabus. When Wei Wuxian moaned and complained that he might fail an upcoming organic chemistry exam, Jiang Cheng, who was a year below him and in a political sciences degree, just shrugged and asked whether he meant fail-fail or Wei Wuxian-fail? Wei Wuxian hadn’t had the heart to answer that not only was it the former, but that the difference between those two kinds of fails was quickly narrowing. Jiang Yanli, who was a year into her philosophy PhD, had simply given her brother a hug and assured him that grades weren’t everything.

Only one comment had even given him pause. He had run into his orientation leader, Xiao Xingchen, at the library café last term. Xingchen had asked if Wei Wuxian was happy in biology so far. Was he happy generally? Maybe. With his degree? Not currently. Was he going to say that to Xiao Xingchen who he barely knew but who seemed extremely happy in his Master’s biology program? Absolutely not. Wei Wuxian had reached his final year, and besides the bare minimum of two 4th year biology courses he needed to complete his major, Wei Wuxian had almost entirely invested in humanities courses that Nie Huaisang had told him he would enjoy, and more importantly, pass. He would be out of here after April, and that was all that mattered. What came next? Who knew, but he would get the piece of paper he came here for.

It was with a familiar sense of resigned dread that Wei Wuxian sat in his seat in his third-year level poetry seminar, spying the pile of graded papers in Lan Xichen’s, his TA’s, hands. Wei Wuxian had taken this section of the course specifically because Nie Huaisang had said that Lan Xichen never failed his students. He was a hard grader, to be sure. He only rarely gave As, if ever, but he also never gave Fs. Knowing that he basically couldn’t fail had been enough to draw Wei Wuxian’s attention and convince him to enroll.

He doodled aimlessly in his notebook, not even pausing to glance at the graded paper as it was placed, face down, on his desk. He didn’t really need to know what he had gotten, at least not while any reaction to it could be seen by anyone else in the room. It was only the lingering shadow of his TA, looming over his desk, which made him put his pencil down. That bad then? He had actually enjoyed reading the poems, but had only vaguely skimmed the various academic interpretations that had been assigned. He just didn’t find any of them all that compelling. He looked up and caught his TA’s eye. He was met by a patient, but surprisingly not disappointed, smile on Lan Xichen’s face. His TA glanced down at the paper and then back at Wei Wuxian encouragingly. Wei Wuxian frowned, confused, but sighed and turned the paper over.

“Not the way I would have read it, but very insightful! A+”

Not the way I would have read it, but very insightful! A+

Wei Wuxian looked up towards Lan Xichen, feeling a familiar rush of heat to his cheeks, for none of the familiar reasons. An A+? So it wasn’t shame in anticipation of sharing the grade with friends or family. Very insightful? Then it wasn’t frustration at well-intentioned hypotheses or questions being misunderstood. It wasn’t even exhilaration at a joke pulled off to perfection. He looked to his TA in disbelief, defaulting back to his most casual and teasing tone, “Ah, Xichen, I think you’re losing your touch, I was always told you were tough.”

“I’m sorry that you’re planning on leaving after this year, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen smiled softly, “Based on this work, I’m sure my brother Wangji would have greatly enjoyed comparing notes with you next year as Master’s students. I still hope maybe I can change your mind. You have a unique way of looking at things, but you made me think, and that’s never a bad thing.”

Wei Wuxian laughed this off, “Thanks, but no one would want someone with my grades and study habits in a Master’s program.”

Lan Xichen’s expression softened, “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. If you keep this up, I would be more than willing to get my supervising professor to put in a good word for you, especially if you can fit some more English department courses in next term.”

Wei Wuxian felt the reddening of his cheeks deepen. This was…it was not pride exactly, that made his face burn, but a feeling, foreign to him so far in his university career, of not just acceptance but… but… appreciation?

It was a feeling Wei Wuxian had lost any reason to expect, but as he looked at the comment written neatly at the top of the page, even though it had taken until his last year to see such a thing, it brought just a touch of hope back to him. Perhaps there was more to this university thing after all.

Maybe, just maybe…

After class, Wei Wuxian approached his TA’s desk. Heart racing and acting on pure impulse, he asked “So, it’s not too late to apply for a Master’s?”

[gaymingbinosaur]

Dragon Age coffee shop Au

@athena1138 here’s the au you asked for.  Also I’m willing to take more suggestions for au head cannons if anyone is interested. Also @herald-divine-hell I know you like inquisitor x leliana and thought you might be interested.  If not just ignore it no pressure.

I’m willing to do dragon age (no character critical), also a bit rusty with da2.  Still do it but it might take longer and no promises with da2.

Skyrim-  suggest specific characters or guilds

And galavant, just need an au

Also I’m chill with most ships unless it somehow triggers me

Also this has inquisitor x leliana, inquisitor x vivenne and inquisitor x varric since I did a ship headcannon for everyone mentioned. Also if this sounds really spaced out, I just finished typing it so I feel blech. 

ao3

The cofee’s shop’s name is Skyhold and its downtown, Haven.

Cadash, Adaar, Trevelyan and Lavellan are the baristas.  The 4 of them always try to help each other get their love interests.  My headcanons on how each origin would flirt with the LI. You can mix and match to fit your inquisitor, it just forced me to make four romance scenarios just for the inquisitor. I will also reference these flirting headcanons using their names because it’s easier than re-explaining the headcanon. 

Lavellan draws flowers and hearts on their LI’s cup and the LI keeps all of the cups because they always felt that they would be destroying actual art throwing their cup away.  (Too pretty for the trash).

Adaar wrote love poetry on a napkin and was embarassed as fuck when their muse finds it

Trevelyan always tries to serve their LI and tends to make a fool of themselves. They spill coffee on themselves multiple times around their love interest.  Sometimes on said LI.  Trevelyan just finally got fed up on embarrassing themselves and wrote their number on the cup of coffee they just made for their LI.

Cadash I think would be more upfront then the other 3.  They would make horrible coffee puns when they flirt until they just get fed up and ask their LI on a date, using more coffee puns.

Joesiphine owns the coffee shop and is the reason that it is so successful even if it is in a very small town. 

Lelianna is her roommate and checks in on her as often as she can.  She tends to stay and people watch if Josephine doesn’t need help. 

Varric is an author that moved to Haven because Kirkwall was bugging him too much to write in peace.  If you ship him with Bethany or Hawke, they got married and came here too.  Skyhold is his favorite place to write.

Sera is a college drop out and she and her old college buddies meet up at Skyhold for coffee every week.  She also got really talented at spray painting murals.

Solas is the professor of the nearby university.  He would either teach philosophy, art or history.  He comes for coffee before and after classes.  

Cole is studying psychology and sometimes people watches with Lelianna.  He tries to help people if he spots someone struggling during these people watches.  

Iron Bull volunteers as a highschool football coach.  He is a mechanic and he brings donuts from Skyhold for The Chargers (the football team).  He makes a living as a mechanic and when he gets coffee just for himself he people watches  with Lelianna and Cole.  He also sometimes fixes things at Skyhold.

Dorian goes to the shop after visiting the library and drinks coffee and reads.  He sometimes gets a pastry after he’s done reading.

Vivienne currates an art museum and tends to order large quantity of coffee for her coworkers.  

Blackwall goes on early morning fishing trips and gets coffee before hand.  He invites some of the people in the shop.  He can sometimes get Bull to go.

Cassandra and Cullen work together and carpool.  They get coffee before work. 

Ok how romances work with everybody including non romanceable companions. 

At first Cassandra would roll her eyes as the inquisitor flirted with her as they made their coffee, but as time went on they grew on her. Cassandra sometimes after dropping Cullen home after work will return to Skyhold to see the inquisitor.  After the inquisitor noticing this bought a bouquet of fake flowers (so they don’t die) and starts giving her a flower with her coffee.   Cullen thought it was amusing when he first saw this happening. It took several months before the inquisitor managed to get the courage to ask her out.  They wrote a poem on her cup to ask her out and bought a real bouquet of flowers to give her.

Cullen is a blushy mess every time he goes to Skyhold.  Though when he practically drags Cass to the coffee shop, so they can get their earlier, you would have thought he was going somewhere where he won’t embarrass himself.  If any of the other three that isn’t Trevelyan is who he has a crush on, Cass is wary because Cullen keeps spilling coffee on her when he sees them.  If it is Trevelyan, Cass just goes to the other side of Skyhold, because they both keep spilling coffee on her.    And I have a couple theories on how they would date.  Cassandra gets fed up getting coffee stains on her clothes and forces Cullen to ask her out, saying she won’t drive him to work anymore.  Or a barista sick of cleaning up spilt coffee will tell Cullen about the inquisitor’s crush or the same barista gets creative and makes an elaborate plan with Cassandra to get the two of them to confess their feelings. 

Vivenne can’t stay overly long during her visits because she has to get back to work but she will show up more frequently and sometimes she shows up to buy coffee for herself and she stays to talk to the inquisitor.  She invites the inquisitor to all the museum's events she helped make and of course the inquisitor can go for free.  She will come in one day and just ask point blank if they want a date, wearing her fanciest clothes and they go to five star restaurant. 

Dorian comes in with a book and after work the inquisitor would find a copy of the same book.  And the next time they saw Dorian they would talk about the book they just read and making a note of the book he was reading now.  This will go on for a bit and Dorian would get suspicious.  He will find out when he finished a book quicker than usual.  He comes to the coffee shop and saw the inquisitor reading the book he just returned.  

Sera fell for the inquisitor the moment she saw them spit in the coffee of some jackass screaming for his coffee to get done quicker.   She stayed until Skyhold became less busy and strikes up a conversation with them.  The two of them became quick friends and Sera and them will have a small prank war whenever they see each other.   Nothing to get the inquisitor fired but enough to make their work more fun.    The inquisitor asked her out when Sera fell asleep.  They wrote their number on her face with the word “Date?”.

Blackwall and the inquisitor always had a quick chat  in the mornings and talked about how they have been.  But when their feelings became romantic they became less talkative.  The inquisitor would be the first person he would go to when he wanted to go fishing with a friend and they would always try to go on their days off.   He would also carve little wood trinkets for them and the inquisitor had shelves of tiny wooden sculptures in their home.  When he confessed his feelings he carved them a little wooden heart to give them.  

Iron Bull,  so many bad puns, so much pain.  It’s worse if it’s Cadash and their puns.  The Iron Bull and them would start with a friends with benefits situation.  After he noticed the barista checking him out a few too many times.  Though it doesn’t take long for them to catch feelings.   I think one of them would be able to confess before bluritng it out drunk or during sex.   But after that they would be chill and The Chargers love the inquisitor and thinks they make the coach happy.

Solas normally would just go in and out quickly, not saying a word to anyone.  But if he falls for the Inquisitor that would change.  He would visit more frequently and stay for long periods of time.  He would sometimes bring tiny flowers to stick behind their ears, giving him a chance to touch them. He would say things that would make the inquisitor swoon if they weren’t at work, instead they turn red and have their knees feel weak.  He also has a sketchbook full of drawings of the inquisitor.  During slow days the inquisitor would chat with him.  Solas had to go to the bathroom on one of these days and forgot he left his sketchbook on the table.  When he returned he found the inquisitor flipping through his sketchbook, looking absolutely shaken to their core.

Josephine is hesitant about starting a relationship with the inquisitor.  Because technically she’s their boss.  It would be inappropriate.  It doesn’t stop Lelianna from shipping it.  Lelianna befriends the inquisitor and invites them to go places with her and Josie.  Then Lelianna would get sick everytime.  Josephine asked Lelianna to stop.  Lelianna promises to stop if Josephine asks the Inquisitor out.   Josephine refuses to go on anymore of these trips, so Lelianna wrote a note asking the Inquisitor out and to meet Josie at their house.  Josephine was shocked when she opened the door and found the Inquisitor said that they were supposed to go on a date.

Lelianna and the Inquisitor got to know each other during the times when Lelianna would visit and Josephine was busy doing something else.    It started off innocent enough but soon both of them found out they had a lot in common.  Which soon made them realize that the other is very cute.   As time went on their conversations became more flirty and heated, until one day Josephine caught them kissing when she decided to come to work on a day off to fill some paperwork.

Cole noticed during one of his people watching days that the cheerful barista who was always nice to him looked like they have been crying.  He went up and ask them what was wrong and they just smiled and said nothing.  Cole dropped it until the next day he brought a movie that Lelianna said always made her happy.  When he explained this to the inquisitor it caused a smile to spread to their face.  He found out the inquisitor’s boy/girlfriend just cheated on them. Cole kept bringing stuff he knows makes people happy at first because he wanted to cheer them up and after because he liked their smile.  One day when he was planning to give a teddy bear to them the inquisitor held up a movie and asked if after work he would like to watch a movie with them.

Varric wouldn’t even have to order anything, he spends so much time there all the baristas knew what to get him, so the fact that a barista knows what he wants before he tells them isn’t unusual. What is unusual is the same barista for months being the one to give him his coffee.  He didn’t say anything, afraid that he would spook them.   They would talk about Kirkwall and where the inquisitor was from.   One day as the inquisitor was closing up shop,  Varric asked if them if they wanted to go on a date.  He later took them to Kirkwall to meet his friends.

[cupofteaguk]

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more. 

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical 

word count: 16k

.

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

.

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

.

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.  

.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. “Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

.

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

.

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.  

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn’t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,” You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”