#i tried to break up the paragraphs so it's easier to read i hope that helped 😭

[shadowthief78]

As Always, My Heart and Sword

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Blue Lock Royalty AU Headcanons

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Gender neutral reader, fluff and a bit of angst, mentions of jealousy, gratuitous handwaving the vaguely European worldbuilding, mentions of injury/blood starting at Kuon’s part, 3.5k to 4k words. Noa and Ego aren’t really romantic but you can read them that way if you want. I hope this isn’t too difficult to read, I tried putting paragraph breaks and such so it’s easier.

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(Ao3 Link) (Part 2)

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REO is the king's son, well known for his carefree nonchalance, how he insists on gallivanting around the countryside looking for dragons and leaves the boring bureaucracy in the hands of his court, under supervision of his representative Anri.

It's on one of those expeditions he and his retinue stop by your humble town. He leaps off his horse with much fanfare and makes his way toward you, near the well at the center of the square, and asks how much it would cost for your bucket, to water their animals. When you insist that it wouldn't be proper for you to charge the prince anything, he laughs and says he'll pay you in kisses instead.

Later, he has you stay for a meal and dancing at the inn, holding your hand and hardly letting you out of his sight. What can you say but yes when he invites you back to court with him? Don't worry about traditions or those stuffy clothes and etiquette rules, there's nobody who outranks him.

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NAGI as Reo's friend, a son of a noble house who wants nothing more than to while away his days in a quiet country estate. But after Reo saw his skill at swordplay, he's dragged along in a clatter of hooves and plate armor to seek out and slay mythical fire breathing beasts.

He's glad they're staying in a town tonight instead of camping again, because the ground is hard and it looks too close to rain for his taste. Reo rents out the local inn and he was going to take a hot bath and ask for dinner to be brought to him, but for some reason, Reo insists he eat with the rest of the group and they do some drills for spectators to watch.

Nagi isn't sure why Reo is so stubborn, but after he sees you in the crowd, watching the purple-haired and blue-blooded fighter, he understands why. What he doesn't get is the dark, twisted feeling in his chest when you gasp at Reo and gloss over him.

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ZANTETSU is the rear guard. As the last to enter the town, he's more focused on keeping children from grabbing his horse's tail then whatever Reo is doing up front, but he eventually gets impatient and dismounts to investigate.

Seeing you there, he claps a hand on your shoulder from behind and is about to begin issuing a scolding for blocking the well when you turn around and words die in his throat. See, he's always believed those fairy tales of shining knight and their beautiful royal lover.

While he's lost in his daydream, he doesn't realize you are about to pass out, frightened by his serious face and intimidating demeanor. Reo brushes his hand off and laughs, snapping him into a huff, and he spends the rest of the evening trying to subtly signal that he knows of your supposed aristocratic origins.

You, meanwhile, are perfectly confused and uncertain if this man is incredibly intelligent or dumb as rocks.

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NARUHAYA, the baker's son who's known you as long as you've lived here. When you're not back from getting water for a long time, he steps out and realizes who's been monopolizing your attention.

Holding a loaf twice as fine as anything he could ever dream of eating, there's only despair in the pit of his stomach as he watches Reo spin you around and laugh as he dances. The crowd cheers louder when the prince announces he's footing the bill for all drinks, but even a mug of good ale doesn't cheer him up.

Surrounded by chattering patrons and the knights he always dreamed of becoming when growing up, he can feel one last fantasy slip out of his grasp. He doesn't stand a chance against the prince in any competition, let alone one for your hand.

Quietly, he abandons his drink and slips off into the shadows, returning home. The next day, when his little siblings can't stop talking about the parade riding out of town, the only thing he asks is if you looked happy.

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ISAGI you knew of when you were younger. In fact, it was his suggestion that brought Prince Reo to your town. He grew up on a farm and used to visit once or twice a year for the big markets, and left to become a squire years ago.

For a few months, it was all anyone could talk about, that boy who went to the capital to become a knight. When you find this out, he laughs it off sheepishly as not a huge deal and changes the topic.

Secretly, he's proud that you remember him and hopes he might be able to convince Reo to stay a few days longer than planned under the guise of visiting his parents. Little does he know that Reo already has big plans for you.

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BACHIRA slides next to Isagi and jumps right into conversing with you. Sorry he's late, he had to make sure his horse was stabled correctly! She hates being cold, he sighs, and pulls an apple from his pocket. There was a tree out back, do you want one?

You gasp—the innkeeper is incredibly territorial over his apples, guarding them like gold against wasps and children alike. He just laughs and takes a crisp bite, then offers the fruit to you. You look adorable with cheeks stuffed and juice running down your chin—let him wipe it off for you.

Bachira winks and takes his apple back: "I want the seeds!" Really, though, he just wants to share some food with you. Isn't it a little bit of an indirect kiss?

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YUKIMIYA finds you outside under the eaves when Reo's lost you. He stands next to you and watches the rain fall, as the overcast sky has finally opened up. You just needed a break from the noise and stuffiness indoors, you explain.

He offers to keep you company and you settle into a content silence together. He finds his thoughts wandering, first thinking about how his own home would look with someone like you there to welcome him back after a long day's ride, then about his future family.

He doesn't have Reo's status or Bachira's flirtatiousness, but would you humor this humble knight and let him linger a little longer?

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CHIGIRI isn’t a knight, but a messenger Reo brought along just in case. His job is easy, really, just riding around with the company all day because the prince rarely has need to send orders back.

He’s the first to know that Reo intends to bring you to court when the prince pulls him aside and quietly orders him to ride back and commission an entire wardrobe for you, posthaste. Galloping alone in the middle of the night, all he can wonder is how you’d look decked out in his scarlet instead of Reo’s colors.

Well, the prince didn’t give him any specifics on your garb, so maybe he can sneak one piece of red in. He groans quietly to himself, regretting his injury that prevented him from becoming a knight–he’s never minded until his time with you was cut short.

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ARYU is the tailor you meet after Reo sweeps you back to his castle. He brings out a parade of silk and brocade, each garment more dazzling than the last. Unfortunately, he insists on you trying each one on so he can properly fit it, which leads to a long and tiring day.

Reo is well aware that Aryu’s the best out there and can do nothing but watch as his hands linger on your waist for a tad too long. Unbeknownst to you, Aryu spends many a late night scribbling by candlelight, dreaming up design after design for your wedding attire. He knows he’s got a snowball’s chance in hell compared to the prince, but he can dream… and also repurpose these in different colors for your everyday use.

It’s a secret he’ll never tell anyone, but he does get a lot of compliments on his latest batch of designs.

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TOKIMITSU finds you in the garden after you leave to try and get some peace. Nobody knows the stresses of life in high court better than him, he explains, offering you an early sprig of hyacinths from his carefully maintained greenhouse.

The next morning, you wake up to a hanging basket with tendrils of sweet-smelling jasmine and zinnias. The handwritten card welcomes you to court and asks you to accept this small gift as congratulations–Reo doesn’t have the heart to say no when you’re so taken with the blooms that mean “sweet love” and “thoughts of absent friends.”

Tokimitsu frets for days before he next sees you, upon which you immediately thank him for the gift. Phew, you knew it was him and haven’t caught on to the hidden message yet.

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NANASE meets you when you get hungry and wander off to find the kitchen. It’s still far too early for anyone to be awake, especially since the long journey back all of yesterday, but you couldn’t sleep in the huge bed no matter how much softer it is than your mattress at home.

Nanase has his back turned, busy coaxing the fire in the kitchen back to life when you creep in and cough to get his attention. After calming down and realizing you are not a ghost, he offers to share his breakfast with you. You end up sneaking a few bites of the leftovers from the larder and talking with him, finding out that he enjoys keeping a flock of chickens and came here a few months ago to earn money.

He sneaks you out of the kitchen once more of the servants arrive and makes you promise to come visit again when you’re free, unaware that Reo means to have you added to his court soon.

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NIKO finds you when you get lost in the lower levels. As an undercover member of the Royal Guard, he all but drags you back to your rooms lecturing you about how to find your way, and promises to have a map delivered soon. He’s flustered when you laugh and compliment his knowledge, does he know of any secret passages?

Well, he reasons with himself, you probably should know about those because you and Reo are so… close. (He ignores the jealous twist that comes with remembering that, he’s been ignored as part of his job for so long that you’d think he’d be used to it by now.)

If he turns the lamp’s wick down on purpose so he has an excuse to hold your hand in the dark passages built into the walls, then no one needs to know.

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KAISER is the heir from the nearby land of Munchen, here for a diplomatic negotiation that Reo completely forgot. At the end of your first week in the palace, he asks you to dance, butting in front of Reo to do so and taking your hand before you can blink.

As you spin on the polished floor, he leans in and whispers something in your ear that you can’t quite catch. He laughs and leads you off the floor to a sulking Reo. While Kaiser’s admirers gossip behind their fans and send you scathing glares, you try to conceal the note he slipped under the ruffle of your sleeve.

You slip out for a breath of air later, when Reo has released you from his iron grip, and meet up with Kaiser in the gardens. Besides the moonlit pon, he clips two blue roses and tucks one in your hair, the other gets tucked in his jacket.

He sends you a bouquet of them the day he and his company leave, inviting you to come visit whenever you desire.

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NESS is part of Kaiser’s delegation, always staring at you and Kaiser together. When Reo and Kaiser are both needed in some meeting about trade routes, he’s left to have tea with you, alone.

You think he must hate you because he’s always glaring, but he just assumes this feeling must be your fault and places the blame squarely on your shoulders. Whatever methods you used to ensnare Kaiser won’t work on him, he lectures, getting so heated he only stops when he knocks your teacup out of your hand and spills the hot liquid all over your lap. He doesn’t care about you, really, him mopping it up is because he’s a gentleman, unlike you, and underhanded tactics are beneath him (they aren’t, but he says they are).

Mark his words, he’ll figure out what you’re up to before long, and Kaiser will acknowledge him again. He tosses his soiled handkerchief on the table and storms out, leaving you confused and with a handkerchief to return.

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KUON is part of a faction secretly plotting to overthrow Reo and install a new government. Kuon hates the aristocracy, thinks they’re all a bunch of stuck up pigs out of touch with common people, but when he meets you, he starts to rethink.

He tries to reason that it’s because you’re not really a noble, you were raised by ordinary people just like him, but he can’t deny it. He begins thinking of ways to let you escape when the revolution happens, maybe spirit you away somewhere safe where it’s just the two of you and you can start over again.

But when the signal is given before he’s ready, he can’t stop ugly desperation from coursing through him, tearing him away from his assigned post despite the shouts of his accomplices. When he finds Reo holding you (thankfully unhurt) while a hastily bandaged Niko struggles to unlock the door to an escape passage with fingers slippery from blood, Nagi draws his sword and steps forward.

As long as he lives, Kuon doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the shock of betrayal on your face when you see him in the colors of the uprising.

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BAROU leads a contingent of knights and is probably the only person who can win against three insurgents with a ceremonial smallsword and no armor whatsoever. He bursts into the royal chambers, decimates another small squad with the weapons he gathered from the first three, and breaks down the door to the escape.

He insists on remaining behind, saying he’ll escape later, and hauls a bookshelf in front of the broken panel. The last you see of him is his broad back, radiating comfort and confidence that someone so strong is looking after you.

Barou will never tell anyone this, but he thought of you after he was overwhelmed and captured, eventually gathering the strength to escape and reunite with you later on.

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HIYORI is the safehouse keeper. He opens the door and lets your group topple in, out of the freezing rain, and immediately begins handing out towels and bowls of hot soup. His cottage is well hidden in the forest outside the palace, so he, Reo, and a few more knights sit down to pore over maps and discuss escape routes, leaving you to drink your soup and doze off.

A while later, he wakes you with a gentle shake and offers a change of clothes into something more practical. It turns out that everything else is already taken by the rest, so he fishes out some of his own clothes, including his best wool cloak. When you protest and say you couldn’t possibly dream of taking it away from him, he laughs and says he’s coming with you.

He’s served his purpose here and the rebels will find this place eventually and realize what happened, so it’s not safe to stay behind. You flee through the forest, quietly comforted by each other’s presence.

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KURONA gets busy rebandaging Niko’s wound and applying a salve to stop bleeding and infection before he gets around to the rest of you. When he’s finished, he sits next to you on the chest in the corner of the room (the chairs have all been commandeered by those in the strategy meeting) and lets you doze off on his shoulder.

When you’re on the run, he sits next to you and makes shadow puppets so you smile. Every so often when there’s a river near wherever you’re camping for the night, he always cuts himself a fishing rod and sits on the bank.

You’re the only one allowed to join him for some comfortable silence, because everyone else is “too noisy” and scares all the fish away. Really, he just wants to spend some time with you braiding strips of grass together and nobody else to bother you two.

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SHIDOU nearly gets stabbed by Yukimiya, who’s got that night’s first watch. Anri wants to pack up and leave, saying he’s dangerous, but he explains that Sae Itoshi has sent him after hearing about the rebellion in the capital.

The Itoshi duchy is still untouched by the insurgents, partially because of its notoriously impenetrable mountain roads and cold seas. This late into fall, travel to and fro slows to a trickle, but Shidou promises that he can navigate just fine and that his lord is still loyal to Prince Reo, saying that the rebellion sent a letter threatening to cut off vital supplies to the duchy if Duke Sae doesn’t comply.

Seeing as the roads are nearly impassable and he already imported necessary goods to survive the winter, Sae ordered the messenger thrown in chains and is currently feigning ignorance. Your group can stay for the winter or just make a quick stop before seeking asylum somewhere else, doesn’t that beat sleeping on the ground?

Reo is skeptical, so Shidou turns to you and asks: Will you trust him and Sae? His eyes and teeth glint a little too much for your comfort in the dim firelight, but what other choice do you have? Ever since he’s joined your group, you can feel eyes on you too much for your comfort.

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AIKU, the bandit leader who blocks the only clear pass to the Itoshi duchy. He proposes a deal: one person stays behind with them while the rest can go on, and nobody’s blood melts snow tonight. Nobody is happy with that deal, but when Aiku points at you, things turn ugly.

After Shidou nearly breaks his nose, Niko’s crossbow bolt buries itself in a nearby tree, and everyone else unsheaths a blade of some sort, he takes back his offer and insists on coming with you.

As it turns out, Sae needs more soldiers to defend against the insurrectionists, so puts Aiku in charge of the very pass you took to get to his stronghold after a brief test. Aiku winks at you when he leaves, promising to keep you safe at any cost, if you’ll nurse him better if he gets injured. 

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SAE lets you in, out of the cold and into the… cold? Well, it turns out that the coal mines have been closed due to earthquakes in the past several years and he was planning on getting more fuel before the attack happened… and it put a bit of a wrench in his plans.

And the Itoshi duchy’s been bleeding money recently, because merchants have discovered that they can charge through the nose for food shipments and, without any supervision from Prince Reo (despite the many, many, many letters he’s written), get away with ridiculous upcharges. But now that he’s here, the prince surely will discuss some legislation to prevent this from happening again and perhaps some compensation for past years, between planning his escape, of course.

Sae leads the way through stone corridors bustling with servants bundled in thick coats and separates each of you into rooms to let you rest before the first of the meetings. Oddly enough, when you get to your room, there’s a roaring fire keeping the whole room toasty and a nearly-boiling bath waiting for you.

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RIN is Sae’s younger brother, guarding the messenger sent from the rebels. It’s obvious, when you see him, that he thinks this is below him.

He tells them not to bother when Isagi and Bachira try questioning the prisoner–he only talks in his sleep. At the prisoner’s horrified look, Rin eventually caves to you asking and explains all he knows, which is a combination of nonsense babbling and vitally useful information.

It turns out that, save Anri, the rest of the council Reo set up to govern in his absence has turned traitor. Calling themselves the JFA, they intend to take over the kingdom and live easy lives at the kingdom’s expense. You’re so excited at being useful for once in this escapade that you grab both his hands and excitedly thank him, before rushing off to tell the others.

When you’re gone and the prisoner goes back to sulking, Rin carefully presses his hands together where you held them, lingering on how your touch felt.

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NOA, as it turns out, is prepared for your arrival. As king of the neighboring kingdom of Munchen, he explains that Barou managed to escape and explained all of what happened to him. He was still a little skeptical on taking you in before Kaiser and Ness persuaded him to.

He calls a strategy meeting with the leaders of four other nations and begins talking with each of them: Julian Loki, Marc Snuffy, Lavinho, and Chris Prince. All agree to help, noting the threat that recognizing an illegitimate government poses to their own authority. Thus begins you learning swordplay and archery from the masters.

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EGO is Noa’s advisor. He persuades Noa to back Reo’s campaign to retake his kingdom and even personally implements a training regimen to whip the small squadron of Reo’s troops who managed to escape into shape, dubbing it “Blue Lock.”

When asked by Anri how he plans to storm the castle with such a small team, he responds it’s obvious that he intends to wake and use the dragon causing the earthquakes in the Itoshi duchy to their advantage.

Wait, the what, exactly?!

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[whentherewerebicycles]

all right friends 10 updates from the trenches:

still mostly off tumblr but am allowing myself to browse a bit in the evening, as you do

i have submitted 12 job applications and have heard nothing but i am trying not to freak out it’s not even been a full week for some of them and i am sure people took time off for the 4th!

today i spent literally 12 hours working on the same letter. i started getting concerned that i wasn’t tailoring the letters enough so i tried doing more but then it was so long i was having to restructure other parts of the letter and then i was making it worse so i ditched six hours of work and started over again. kill me!! it was not a good use of my time but i think the reason it was so hard was because i was trying to teach myself a new skill (tailoring) by doing it on the fly without much forethought or preparation, and so i was experiencing the frustration of learning on top of just being more braindead than usual after so much job stuff. i am sincerely hoping it will be easier tomorrow.

but also i need to get better at actually breaking the spell of hyperfocus good lord. i set a million alarms and try to make myself get up to walk across the room so i can shake off the trance but my ability to tunnel-vision into a task even if i’m not working efficiently and need to STOP is insane. the gravitational pull is so strong that i get up, do whatever distraction task i’ve set for myself, and then am immediately drawn back into the original task’s orbit for another six hours.

in writing today’s letter i found a way to weave in a nice thing my friend nicole once said to me about my teaching that i think about a lot. i am not sure the letter needed it (i am under NO illusions that i understand what cover letters need!!) it but it was nice to think about her saying it & then also nice to write a slightly more earnest paragraph about Values instead of all the Professional Woman Applying for a Job Stuff. also nice to think about teaching! the other day i made a joke about how i can’t write anything short about teaching without accidentally writing the entire book that lives inside of me and one of my beloved former students messaged me to be like ‘please please please write a teaching book i want to read it 🥺.’ VERY SWEET!!! TEACHING IS A GOOD THING IN A WORLD FULL OF BAD THINGS!!!!

michelle tested positive for covid this morning after i spent a big chunk of yesterday morning with her. this is my fourth ‘very close contact’ in the past month and i haven’t gotten it from any of the others which probably means my luck is about to run out. i hope i don’t get sick but also an enforced break from job stuff might not be the worst idea. i felt fine most of today, insofar as i was aware of my body at all in the strange trance state i entered, but i am feeling a little rundown now (though possibly that’s just the power of suggestion).

i have a student meeting tomorrow that i can’t forget about for a kid who is doing the coolest/most ambitious project and has just been steadily plugging away at it for a solid 10 months now. she’s getting REALLY close now and it’s very exciting to see!!

since i have to shower and make myself presentable tomorrow anyway i’m going to make myself do this annoying two-minute video for one of the job applications. if it weren’t a job i would be super psyched about getting i would skip it but alas.

i had such a lovely pre-4th of july cookout with my friends and we discussed plans for a big celebration of our ten years in texas at the end of the summer. it made me emotional!! my beloved humans!!! i don’t know if i’ll still be living here or not (my In a Perfect World plan is to move at the beginning of august) but i will obviously return for it if not. i feel lucky to have had this really solid group of friends here who i have known for so long and love so much. emotions!!!

i had a long phone call with one of my college bffs yesterday about some heavy stuff going on in her life. she has made A Big Traumatic Life Change recently which it is causing her a lot of grief, but also, even in the immediate wake of the Big Change she sounded more like herself than she has in a year. i have been pretty worried for her for a long time now, more acutely in the past six months or so, and i feel hopeful that this is going to be a good thing in the long run. also we discussed how clarifying the long beautiful wedding weekend last month was for both of us, in different but not dissimilar ways. and i think that’s interesting! like it was powerful enough as an emotional experience to prompt both of us to independently make huge changes that are going to change the trajectories of our lives. most weddings do not have that effect on me lol but it was just one of those experiences where the two people getting married are quite simply the best people you know, and they’ve woven around themselves this dense web of deeply meaningful relationships with so many different kinds of people, and we all just got to be immersed in all of that love and goodwill and positive feeling for like four full days, and it was just the kind of emotional experience that makes you say aloud to yourself afterwards: wow, i’m ready to change my life and i’m strong enough to do it.

[morning-softness]

For this most recent round of writing asks, how about: 3, 26, and/or 28? Whichever you're up to answering~

Answering from this list

3. How would you describe your writing style?

Hmm. I suppose ‘immersive.’ When I write, I typically imagine scenes like little video clips in my head and then basically transcribe what happens. So writing is an immersive experience for me, and I hope that when people read my writing they can also feel immersed in the story as if they were experiencing it. I want to create stories you can live in.

On a more technical level, I tend to use a lot of adjectives and adverbs. I also tend to have long sentences held together by commas, dashes, semicolons, and parentheses, because every thought has more information connected to it. On the very roughest draft I’ll often have a sentence followed by an alternative phrasing of the same sentence in parentheses. Then on each successive draft I go back and pare sentences and paragraphs down, break them up, and polish them more so it’s easier for other people to read and follow.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

I mostly write for TMA fandom so here are a few of my TMA fanfic pet peeves:

I dislike when anyone writes Jon as 100% a skeptic. He’s not. He has firsthand experience of the supernatural. He takes the threat of Leitners and Jane Prentiss so seriously that Elias (Jonah) has to remind him that the purpose of the Institute is to “record and study, not interfere or contain.” (And this is despite the fact that Jon’s intentionally trying to hide just how much he believes all of the tape recorder statements because he’s being watched by a malevolent force.) The fact that Jon tries to research and find supporting evidence for the statements rather than immediately taking everything at face value does not make him a skeptic who categorically rejects the supernatural. Sasha is actually the one who’s a self-declared skeptic, despite having worked in Artifact Storage (and Jon says that there are things in there that would have convinced him even if he hadn’t already had his own supernatural experience). In episode 26, Sasha says “I’ve always considered myself a bit of a sceptic, and until recently I’d have said working at the Institute only made me more so.” So why is it only Jon who gets the hardcore skeptic adaptations?

I also dislike fic that flattens Tim down to ‘the funny guy’ (season 1) or ‘the angry guy’ (season 2-3). He’s a layered character. He’s friendly, charismatic, and has a sense of humor, but he has few close friends and doesn’t open up easily about the things that are most important to him; he’s smart and practical, he initially goes above and beyond at finding supporting information for the statements and later he tries to explore potential loopholes to leave the Institute (like taking an indefinite vacation, or getting Elias/Jonah angry enough to fire him); he cares deeply about his friends which is why he feels so betrayed by Jon’s actions in Season 2 and so upset by the fact that Sasha was replaced without him noticing; he carries a lot of grief and anger, but tries to find ways to translate those feelings into meaningful action; and he’s brave enough to die to destroy the Circus and stop the Unknowing.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

1. Don’t worry so much about doing things the ‘correct way’ or the way other people do them, even people you admire. Figure out what works best for you.

2. You’ll get a lot farther if you find your limitations and then work with or around them, instead of beating yourself up over what you can’t do.

3. Let go of the idea that everything you write needs to be good enough to publish, especially right away. First it needs to exist. Then you can figure out how to make it better.

(I know it’s the same advice I gave back in March for the Fanfic Writing Ask Game, but I stand by it. I’ve seen writing advice from various published authors and so many times it’s presented as “the one best way to write” even though every one of them will tell you something different. There is no one best way, and conversely there’s no wrong way to write—as long as you’re getting the words down. So experiment, find what works for you, and don’t let anyone else make you feel bad about it.)

[chstart]

a few things about phoenix that are kind of connected but i can't think of a throughline for the paragraphs so broken pottery it is.

over the years, phoenix's typical performance anxiety has greatly subsided, largely replaced by a cultivated calm of knowing that he's learned to be virtually unreadable, that he can mask more than well enough when he is flying by the seat of his pants. his anxiety was largely less about him not knowing what he's doing & a lot more about others figuring out that he doesn't know what he's doing. once he understood that his literal poker face could be utilized to make his bluffs believable, it all got a lot easier. nowadays, even apollo & trucy have a hard time reading phoenix & he can now get away with things he used to be called out for in seconds. it's not exactly an ideal way of thinking about it, especially with his wanting to reinsert himself into the world of criminal justice as someone who doesn't need to lie to get through his cases, but it's a years long habit, from even before he was disbarred & could no longer suffer the full consequences for dishonesty, & so it's one that's hard to break. when things are getting a little hot under the collar, that anxiety does bubble right back up, but experience has taught him that he can get through near anything even in the lowest of lows, so typically swatting at the anxiety with forced confidence & determination works out just fine.

as much as he tries to return to his old ways of doing things, they've failed him more than a few times, & the last time was a lesson that stuck, so he's gone back on some methods. for one, he doesn't trust those he doesn't know personally as easily, even if he wants to believe a client is innocent ; if going through the case & existing evidence points in a promising direction, he takes them on, but doesn't hold out enough hope to be upset if they turn out to have been guilty, no longer bashing his head in in despair if a client is close to being declared guilty unless there's something in the existing evidence to make him certain there's something missing that would turn the case around. he's also a lot smarter about asking the right questions & asking them to the right people.

he's all-around more subdued, as age & a near decade of depression will do to one, no longer as dramatic & exaggerated as he was in his early to mid twenties, but not entirely base-level, more like toned down. his laughter could still fill a room, just more like the wright office than a courtroom ; his smile is still bright, just more like a led lamp than the sun ; his movements are still dramatic, just more akin to tv acting than stage acting.

[j-graysonlibrary]

Fort Heaven Chapter 6

Title: Fort Heaven

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 69K

Genres: Suspense, investigative, drama, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Some call it a hoax. Others claim it’s a cult. But, to Evon and his friend Yasmine, two online journalists, Fort Heaven is the subject of their latest story. Along for the assignment is cameraman and not-so-secret crush of Evon’s: Russet. With a drunken, murky night in their recent history, things are especially tense between them but, of course, personal matters take a backseat when the interviews start. The trio speaks to ex-members of Fort Heaven and, while some of the accounts are shocking, the job remains just that: A job. That is until one of the women they interviewed, along with her daughter, goes missing. It soon becomes clear that not only is Fort Heaven a real threat but Evon and his friends are being watched. And what started as a simple cash-grab article is now a matter of life and death.

Full Chapter 6 under the cut

Chapter 6

The keyboard clicked with each tap of Evon’s fingers as he took the notes from the interview and tried to lace them together with continuity and grace. Linda’s story was a short one but it would still be a good insight—especially by the time he was done embellishing it a bit.

In the corner of his computer screen Yasmine sent him a few messages about her notes and a secondary interview.

Evon worked quickly to finish up a paragraph before checking what she had to say. He asked about the next interview and was immediately taken aback.

It would be at least a day’s trip away.

Unwilling to try to articulate his thoughts via text, he picked up his phone to call her. As soon as she picked up, she laughed.

“Why did you call me?”

“It’s easier,” he defended himself but still laughed along with her. “What’s up with the next interview? Did you get a reply back today?”

“Just about an hour ago, actually.” Her voice was distant—she probably had him on speaker. “I already said we’d do it but it might take a couple of days. Didn’t want to spring a huge trip on you out of nowhere.”

“Well I appreciate it,” Evon remarked, “who is it with?”

He could hear some typing over the phone before she answered him. “Bob and Darcy…no last name. I guess last names don’t really matter in this context anyway…” There was a short pause. “Anyway, Bob was in Fort Heaven for—wow—like a decade almost. He left with his wife and they had to move six…wait…SIX times!?”

“Jesus…”

“This is going to be a little intense…” she trailed off, probably reading more of the message. “Sorry, this is a new email from them I just got.”

Evon laughed. “I kind of figured with that reaction.”

“Alright they gave me their number so we can talk,” Yasmine mumbled but he could distinguish her words, “What time frame would work for you best, Evon?”

“Next week? Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday if that’s okay with them.”

The weekend would inevitably be full of polishing the small piece that they had written between the two of them about Linda. As long as it was interesting, well written, and fully engaging their boss then they could get a real time frame for the final project.

It was scary to think that Gavin could take one look at what they had and tell them that they had to either leave or take free-lance positions. Evon wanted to have more material prepared but he hoped that with Linda’s piece and a brief rundown of what they already received from Bob and Marcy that it would be enough.

***

Russet laid halfway down on his bed and watched over the video he had while mentally picturing how he would edit the pieces together. He’d have to get his computer up and running to go through the big camera’s footage but he was feeling just a little too lazy.

The video started from the moment the three had entered the car to the moment they left it with a few breaks throughout. Some of it was just scenery which he would keep but likely put to the side and add in later when needed.

He scratched the side of his chin before speeding forward a few minutes. Only Evon was in the shot and it was in the middle of one of their group sing-a-longs. Toward the end an overly excited Evon tried to hit a high note but his voice completely broke and he started coughing though there was a lot of laughter in there as well.

Yasmine could be heard cackling off camera. “You sounded like a thirteen year old boy going through puberty!”

“My throat is dry,” he retaliated and took his right hand off the wheel to smack at her.

She wasn’t bothered by it at all and continued to laugh.

“You didn’t hit the note either,” Evon said once she’d settled down some.

“I didn’t try.”

“Children,” Russet heard himself on camera, “No fighting.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Yasmine asked and the camera finally moved in her direction. She had her hand stuffed in the side of her jacket only so she could pull it out and reveal her middle finger.

Russet chuckled and threatened, “I’ll turn this car around.”

“I’m driving,” Evon pointed out just before the camera refocused on him.

“I’ll figure something out,” he responded.

“He’s gonna kill us!” Yasmine yelled dramatically, “God no! Is this why you agreed to come?! So you could kill us yourself?!”

“Absolutely,” Russet answered with a straight voice. “I’m filming so I can re-watch it later and re-live the moment forever.”

“Well this got dark really fast,” Evon said and then they all laughed.

Russet paused the video and sighed—mostly in disappointment at himself. He’d been getting steadily worse and the video and his recent actions just reinforced that. He wondered if anyone had actually noticed—Trinity specifically.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled to himself and then laid his head back onto his pillow. His room was small and rather bland in terms of decoration so there wasn’t much to focus on and that let his mind wander.

When he first remembered seeing Evon was when he was still a baby. Trinity, unlike a lot of children, was excited to have a little sibling. Personally, Russet probably would have thrown a fit if he knew he’d have to share attention with some kid he didn’t know. And, in a way, he felt that way toward Evon in terms of sharing Trinity’s affection.

The older Evon got, the more attention he demanded from his sister and there were certain time periods where he simply wouldn’t leave her alone. Russet always felt uncomfortable or irritated by the younger boy and didn’t try much to hide it though Trinity just found it to be funny.

She was beyond entertained when Evon told Russet that he had a crush on him—though at the time, Russet hadn’t exactly realized he was a boy yet and any ideas he had of nonconformity were securely locked away. Trinity thought the pair were cute and was excited at the prospect of having her best friend also be her ‘sister-in-law’.

It was after Russet came out that he realized something was wrong with himself. One of his greatest worries was whether or not Evon would accept it. If he would lash out because of his crush on a perceived girl. Other boys had felt that way at school and most flat out denied that Russet had said anything and continued to use his dead name and call him a girl.

Then there was Evon who was perfectly fine with it—almost too fine. It was if he knew all along but just waited for everyone else to catch up.

It meant far more than Russet was ever willing to admit. And after finding out—through Trinity—that Evon’s crush hadn’t gone away, he made it his mission in life to stay away from the kid if it was possible. The less time they spent together was less time he had to worry about slipping up and destroying a lifelong friendship.

That party was a mistake, choosing to be around Evon while he was drunk was a huge mistake, and agreeing to take on this project with him and Yasmine was easily the dumbest thing he’d ever done. And the video was proof.

Just as he was getting ready to travel down a rabbit hole of self hatred, his phone rang. He dreaded it being Evon and, lucky for him, it wasn’t.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he answered after a few seconds.

“Stuff,” Yasmine answered. They’d exchanged numbers before the trip since it would be best for all of them to be able to contact the other instead of Evon being the go-between. “We’ve got another interview on Tuesday.”

His brow furrowed. “This Tuesday?”

“Yep.” She sounded quite happy about it and, from her perspective he supposed it would be the sooner the better. “Our project has been approved by the boss and we have a month to work on it.”

“A month…isn’t that a bit, I don’t know, short?”

The woman laughed in a way that let him know just how much she and Evon were expected to do in such a short amount of time. Sure, he liked to have things done in a timely fashion but he felt quality was more important.

“It’s generous. Trust me.” She sighed.

“Got it,” Russet responded. “So where is the next destination?”

“…A few states away,” Yasmine spoke in a careful tone as if he’d disband from them.

“Ah, a little country traveling then,” he said with a smirk. His other hand seemed to move by itself and stated to roll the camera back and forth across the bed. “Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

He could hear the sigh of relief. “Good. We’ll have to book a hotel while we’re there so…shit I guess I should get on that.”

Russet chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll do it.”

That seemed to genuinely surprise her. “Oh…thanks, Russet. You don’t have to, you know.”

“I’m aware but…” he spoke and looked down at the camera in his hand. If he didn’t give himself something to do then he knew he would spend all night looking through his footage and over thinking things. “You two do enough already so I’ll pay for the hotels.”

“Okay,” she said, giving up her resistance to the idea rather easily.

“I’ll text you the place when I find it.”

“Send it in a group chat,” Yasmine declared before hanging up. It was almost startling.

Russet took his phone from beside his ear and watched the screen go dark. “Does nobody say goodbye…?”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hi angel! I love all of your stories, especially your Bridgerton and work! Is there any way you could write something soft and fluffy for Anthony and a female reader! PLEASE AND THANK YOU - Anon.

A/N: I haven’t written for Anthony in what seems like forever! As much as I love Benedict, I do love writing Anthony fics. This isn't overly long, I just wanted to write something soft and fluffy that’s entirely domestic as well. I hope you all like! Title is a quote from the first line of Pride and Prejudice (further quotes from the book are in italics).

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: none - fluff, books, marriage, happy relationships, cute.

Word Count: 1.6k

The house is silent as Anthony strides through the waiting, open door. He nods his greeting to the Butler, Wilkins, before letting the weariness that had haunted him all day settle over his bones.

“Wilkins?” Anthony asks; no need to voice the question. Wilkins knows.

“Lady Bridgerton is in the Green-and-Gold, sir.”

Anthony smiles at the Butler. “You really do know everything.”

Wilkins smiles; nods his head. “It is my job, sir. Lady Bridgerton has already told me that you will take your final meal of the day in there, too.”

Anthony takes the stairs two at a time; refusing to accept his laboured breathing by the time he reaches the top. He was not an old man yet; he was still a very active man.

Turning left, he wanders blindly to the Green-and-Gold room named for the colour scheme of the walls and the furniture. His late grandmother had decorated the room; so fondly remembered by her ancestors that each refused to change a thing in the room save for any upholstering that needed to be done occasionally.

He finds you sitting on the left hand side of the room; the comfier side as argued by everyone who visits the room. Your legs are curled underneath you as your eyes pour over the page of an open book in your lap. From here, Anthony cannot possibly hazard a guess as to what you might be reading, but he feels a twinge of jealousy at the attention being paid to the book and not to him.

Well, love makes fools of us all, Anthony thinks to himself. “Darling,” Anthony greets in one single breath, as if the sight of you makes it all the easier for him to breathe.

“Darling,” You smile, standing from your seat, coming to greet the man you love with every fibre of your being. “How was your day?”

Anthony groans as he removes his jacket before tugging at the knot of his cravat. “Long,” He complains, struggling with the neckpiece. You smile at your husband, batting his hands away from his neck so you can take over. You feel the heat of his gaze as your hands work to do undo the knot he had tightened with a single tug; as the fabric unravels under your nimble fingers your husband reaches out to squeeze your waist.

“Thank you,” He whispers, voice full with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. Love? Weariness? A combination of both? Anthony looked ragged as you run your eyes over his face.

“I’m sorry that your day has been taxing, my love.”

“It’s all the better now that I’m here with you.”

“Flatterer,” You tease with no real heat behind your words. Anthony beams at you; eyes crinkling in the corners from the force of it as his hands tighten on your waist and his head dips to capture your lips in the kiss he has been thinking about for the better part of his day.

Breaking away, Anthony plants one, two, three kisses to your lips in quick, chaste succession leaving you breathless and highly amused. “How was your day?” He asks, curious as ever to find out what his wife does when he isn’t at home to distract you.

“Dull,” You answer plainly, enjoying the feel of Anthony’s strong arms around you.

“Dull?”

You purse your lips, thinking over your plans for the day so far. “I suppose dull doesn’t work. It hasn’t been dull at all.”

“Oh?”

“I’m only saying it because I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” He murmurs, kissing you once more. “What are you reading?” Anthony asks when he pulls away, spying the book laid delicately on the couch.

“Eloise let me borrow it. She gave me it when I called to see her this morning,” You answer, leaving the comfort of Anthony’s arms to take your seat on the couch.

“Darling, you know we have an entire library full of books, don’t you?”

Fixing him with an unimpressed look, you counter, “Your sister read this and thought of me. The least I could do is read it.”

“Alright,” Anthony sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. “Budge up.”

“Pardon?”

Anthony gestures to the couch. “Make some room for me.”

A puzzled look settles across your face, but you follow the request, nonetheless, shifting on the couch so Anthony has room to sit down.

Anthony settles with his head on your lap; offering you a self-satisfied smile when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Comfy?” You ask, voice laced with humour.

“Very,” He responds. “Will you start from the beginning? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Chuntering about high maintenance husbands, you mark the page you got to before returning to the beginning. “Anything else before I begin?”

“Nothing… Oh, one thing.”

“That is?”

“I love you.”

Any previous ire you felt towards your husband disappears at those three magical words. The frustrated slant to your brow evens out as you reach out to stroke a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

“I love you too,” You answer earnestly, feeling the power of the emotion running through you.

A peaceful look crosses Anthony’s face as your words sink into his skin like a balm on an open wound. He had felt neglectful lately; not spending as much time at home as he would have liked. He felt bad for leaving you so alone. Without children, you were your own companion throughout the day, and whilst you had both discussed having children, Anthony was to be left mildly vexed at the thought of you spending your days alone until a child was born.

The opening of parliament combined with Anthony’s seat in the House meant that he was spending more and more time in Westminster and less time with you.

A ratio Anthony was not fond of.

“I’m ready when you are,” He whispers; eyes focused on your face so he can watch every reaction and see every syllable leave your mouth.

Flashing an annoyed look at your husband, you take a deep breath and begin:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“What?” Anthony asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hush,” You admonish half-heartedly before continuing.

“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

“This author is a genius,” Anthony exclaims, his voice awed as he tries to catch a glimpse of the cover to see the author’s name. “Who wrote this?”

“Are you going to comment the whole way through? I’ve barely read two paragraphs.”

“Sorry, darling, but I have to know. Who wrote this?”

“Her name is Jane Austen.”

“Well Jane Austen is a genius. In two paragraphs she’s captured what it is like to be a single man with a fortune in and amongst the sharks with unattached daughters.”

“Sharks?” You ask, highly amused at your husband’s words.

“Mothers,” Anthony shudders, remembering what it was like to go through so many seasons still unmarried. A Viscount with two seats of power combined with a hefty ancestral fortune – many mothers didn’t care whether Anthony would love their daughters; they simply wanted a fortuitus marriage that would leave them set for life.

Anthony thanks any and all gods and deities out there that he found his love match in you. You had taken him by surprise; Anthony had already resigned himself to a season with countless mothers forcing their daughters onto his arm. Until one evening early into the season, he had been listening to Gregory whine about the workload at Eton when his eyes met yours from across the room. In a total state of cliché, Anthony met your gaze, and he knew. He knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you, worshipping you. He knew that whatever his future held, you would be right there weathering it alongside him. In a single glance from across the room, he knew.

You were married before the season finished; a special licence dispensed after a favour from the Archbishop called in. Anthony couldn’t wait; didn’t want to wait – he wanted to start the rest of his life with you as soon as possible.

Your light laughter breaks Anthony out of his reverie. “They aren’t all that bad,” You argue. “I suspect you’ll be worse than me when it comes to our children.”

Anthony snorts; doubting your words but loving the way you speak so openly about your hopeful future family. Clearing your throat, you continue to read on.

Anthony settles further into your lap; letting the calmness of your voice wash over him. After a moment of watching the concentration on your face, Anthony lets his eyes slip closed. He has no intention of falling asleep; he simply wants to enjoy this moment to its fullest.

“Mr Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features…”

A snore interrupts your rendition of Pride and Prejudice. Pausing mid-sentence, you look down to your lap where Anthony has fallen asleep so peacefully. Smiling softly at the man, you close the book, placing it to one side before running a hand through Anthony’s ever-unruly hair. He hums contentedly, pushing his head further into your hand as you begin to scratch at his scalp.

As you watch Anthony doze dreamily, you feel your eyes lose the fight against the growing tiredness. Your hand stills in Anthony’s hair as you fall asleep alongside your husband, utterly content at the path your life has taken considering it led you to him.

*****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

[lilosaur]

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(*´∇`)ﾉ is it okay for me to request scenarios for mitsuya, inui, angry and kazutora helping their s/o who struggles with online classes? many thanks if you decide to do this one 💖💖

Yess! This was something I could relate too so much, I prefer in person myself it was such a struggle for me doing online. Thanks for requesting! 🤎

༑ ࿐ྂ。Helping You With Online Classes ♡.°⑅

⟶ ticket no. 11 ɞ

w/ Mitsuya Takashi | Inui Seishu | Kawata Souya | Hanemiya Kazutora

ʚ Mitsuya Takashi ɞ

It was late into the night around 2:30-ish am your eyes were heavy and body drained and worn out while the bright screen reflected in your eyes. Your phone buzzed and you debated picking it up, your arms were so tired. Your phone rang again, maybe this was the third time? You were already losing your train of thought. You reached over to grab your phone, it was your boyfriend? What was he still doing up at this hour?

“Mitsuya? Why are you still up?” You questioned waiting tiredly for a response.

“You never answered my text love, I wanted to make sure your alright. You sound tired though, why are you still up?” He responded, you were confused you didn’t hear a sound of tiredness in his voice.

“Oh um I’m still working on some homework that’s due tomorrow morning.” Your voice cracked and your tiredness could be heard from over the phone “it’s kind of confusing though”

“Hmm do you want me to come over and help you with it?”

You didn’t want him to stay up any longer either, he had a busy life with taking care of his sisters and looking after his friends, you can probably figure this out all on your own anyways. “No no, it’s fine I’ll just be up a little longer.” You lied, you knew this would take a few more hours at least but you didn’t want Mitsuya to worry too much. You both said goodnight as you hung up the phone. You tried your best to look at notes, documents, and even looking up stuff online but everything was worded differently. Your teacher was honestly garbage she made everything sound so confusing when explaining.

It was almost 3am now, you only completed 3/9 of the questions on your assigned worksheet you didn’t even know if your answers were right. A faint knock could be heard from your window which scared the living crap out of you. You peaked through your curtains to see Mitsuya standing outside with coffee and a smile.

Mitsuya told you that he can help you with your school work, he may not have ideal grades but maybe he’d be able to help a little bit. If not then maybe he could email your teachers for you if you get anxious about it.

You and Mitsuya were able to get all questions done, he was so proud of you, for pushing through each day one step at a time. You two ended up passing out on your bed, what a nice night…kinda.

༚༅༚˳❃˳༚༅༚

ʚ Inui Seishu ɞ

You and Inui were spending time at a coffee shop talking about how your days were going and new stuff that happened. You had your laptop with you since you two happened to see each other at the cafe but you planned to just do some school work. You told Inui you were gonna do some work but you can still talk, he said he’ll try to be quiet as he pulled out a book to read. You were having a hard time understanding the concept and filling out open note stuff is so hard for no reason. okay but like open note stuff is so annoying like multiple choice >>>>

You about half way into a paragraph answering the third question but your mind hit a blank, you felt so confused. You looked back at other documents, worksheets, and notes you took but it seemed like this was something your teacher explained in class. Let’s just say your teacher wasn’t exactly the best at teaching.

Inui looked over to you and your facial expression said it all, the confusion all over your face and your leg tapping on the floor up and down.

“Do you need any help y/n?”

You didn’t really want to trouble Inui with your schoolwork even though you were heavily struggling, you took a moment to think about it but before you could even respond to him he was already walking over to your side of the table hovering over your shoulders and his eyes directed at your laptops screen. You looked up at Inui, you could tell he was really thinking about the question.

“I’m not really the best with this y/n but maybe we can look it up or ask someone smarter than me.” Inui said while looking back down at you, concerned and confused look on his face he couldn’t seem to decipher this problem either as it’s wording was very strange.

Inui helped you contact someone who was in your class and you were successfully able to complete both sheets of work. Inui gave you a nice hug afterwards to let you know how proud of you he is, he knows it’s hard for you with online classes but you still push through everyday!

༚༅༚˳❃˳༚༅༚

ʚ Kawata Souya ɞ

You had to cancel your plans with Souya because your parent/s wanted you to get your school work done before tomorrow morning. You’ve been struggling to even log onto your laptop and show up to your classes. Online school is still just as draining as in person if not more.

You felt so bad for kinda ditching Souya today so you made sure to send him a more detailed message about why you really cancelled and your so sorry and you’ll make it up to him. You just hoped he wasn’t too effected from this. Souya tried calling you multiple times but your phone was set on ‘do not disturb’ mode, you finally took a break from some of your work which your not even half way done when you FaceTimed him.

“Hello? Souya?”

“Hi y/n..” You heard Souya's low voice, he was definitely a bit sad over not being able to hang out.

“Are you done with your homework yet, maybe we could still hang out for a bit.” He asked politely.

“I’m sorry, I’m still working on it. It’s really confusing. But maybe we can hangout tomorrow!” You tried to stay positive knowing that this work was going to take a long while. You honestly felt so bad letting Souya down but your work had to be done.

“Hmm, we’ll maybe I can help you with it. I’m pretty good with anything y/n.”

You never really realized it but Souya really did have good grades. He helped guide you through what problems you were struggling with and he was even able to help you understand all the concepts better. It didn’t even take up too much of your time, you guys got it done in about 1 hour and your pretty positive most of the answer are right…sort of.

You two both talked for a bit before falling asleep while still on FaceTime together, after all it was still a school night. Souya was definitely very proud of you and happy to help, you’ve been pushing through this whole time all alone so he’s thankful he could help make it a bit easier for you! :)

༚༅༚˳❃˳༚༅༚

ʚ Hanemiya Kazutora ɞ

You and Kazu were getting a late night snack, you had taken a break from your time consuming study guides and worksheets, barely making it half way through part one of the study guide. It was a struggle but you’d hope that maybe after a snack with your lovely boyfriend you’d feel a little more motivated.

You guys decided to get brownies from a little corner shop and to share a soda. You found a bench to sit at and eat, you two chatted and somehow got to the topic of school. Kazu said he pretty much didn’t take school seriously at all and his grades didn’t really matter because he wasn’t going anywhere good in the future. You told Kazu all about your online school, you didn’t like it one bit. Kazutora understood where your coming from since he despised school just as much as you did.

You told Kazu you were kind of in a hurry because of your school work, Kazu took your little hints and insisted you let him help you out. He wouldn’t let you say no either, he knows you don’t like online school and you have troubles with completing work. Kazutora wasn’t the smartest but he wasn’t the dumbest either so he’d help you as much as he could.

You let Kazu help you and fortunately you were able to finish up most of your study guide and one of your worksheets. Kazutora offered for him to have a ‘talk’ with your teacher but you almost yelled at him to just leave it be..you’ll manage somehow.

You and Kazutora ended off the night with a walk around town talking about all your troubles in the world. Kazu told you how proud he was, you were able to get most of your work done even if it wasn’t right or you still missed some questions it was a start. One step at a time and you’ll be there soon, wherever your trying to end up in life if you just push on a little longer you’ll be there in no time.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this one. If you struggle with school in general just know your not alone, a lot of people have mental problems formed from school but I promise with a little bit of effort and if you push through just a bit longer you’ll make it to where you want to be. I believe in you all! :)

[thestorycfus]

And I wonder if you'd take it slow

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!Reader

Warnings: None, this is just college au domestic fluff.

Summary: College is leaving you way too overworked, so Wanda uses her magic to distract you until you give yourself a break.

Word count: 963

A/N: I didn’t proof read, so there’s probably some mistakes. This is my first Wanda fic, I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

If you had to choose one word to describe your semester, you would probably pick “chaos”. College had never been a calm experience, but, this time, it seemed like all of your professors had come together in a twisted deal to drown you in deadlines and tests. After finishing a paper that was due in a few hours, you were trying to catch up on the readings for a test the next morning. All you wanted was to relax for a minute, maybe take a quick nap, but there was just no time.

Surrounded by books, loose papers and colorful markers, you sat at the dining table in the apartment you shared with your girlfriend. She would be home any minute now, and you could already anticipate her rant. You needed to sleep, to take it easy, to give yourself a break. This routine wasn’t good for your body or your mind and that unhealthy cycle had to be broken. Of course, Wanda was right, but you were too anxious and stubborn to give in, no matter how much you would like to.

You shook those thoughts away and tried to focus on your work. You managed to pay attention to the subject, highlighting and annotating the main points, but that didn’t last for long. Soon, the door was opened silently, a red glow making the doorknob move as Wanda entered the room with her arms full of groceries.

“Hey, sweetheart. How is that paper going?” The bags of groceries flew to the table and Wanda walked to you, giving you a small kiss before checking what you were reading.

“I finished it, finally! I’m not even halfway through the readings for Johnson’s test tomorrow, though. I don’t know how I’m going to finish this in time.” You pouted, trying to reorganize the sources in front of you.

“Maybe you should try to get some rest before you continue. It would be easier to focus if you had had a break in the last five days, you know.” She smiled, running her hands over your hair. You both knew that you weren’t that easy to convince, but Wanda would always give it a try just in case.

“I will get a break, I promise. In three days.” You offered, hoping that Wanda would recognize a lost case and let it go.

For a few minutes, it looked like she had. The redhead took the groceries to the small kitchen, and you could hear cabinets opening and closing while each item was put in place. You reread the last paragraph of the page, trying to decode the words. And then, you felt a kiss at the back of your neck, right where Wanda always kissed you, and you turned around, looking for her.

There was nothing there. From the kitchen, still came the sounds of cans and boxes being placed, and Wanda’s light footsteps hadn’t stopped. You turned back to the page and read the paragraph once more. And then you got a vivid image in your head, but it wasn’t at all related to the subject you were studying. It was an image of Wanda’s hair spread over your arm as you two cuddled in bed, a mess of blankets and limbs and you and her. You could almost smell her shampoo as she moved, hugging you closer. You could feel her touch in your arms, the movement of her hands against your skin. The sensation was so clear in your mind, just as if…

Oh.

“That is very much not fair, Wan. I had almost finished this page. Not fair at all.” You said, not bothering to look around. You knew she was still in the kitchen, but she was definitely listening.

Her laughter came floating in the air, making you smile despite how tired and stressed you were. All cabinets were closed at the same time and Wanda walked out of the kitchen, running her hands over your arms just like she did in the vision she gave you. You gave up and turned around to look at her. Studying wasn’t going very well anyway.

“If you won’t take care of yourself, sweetheart, I gotta take this into my own hands. With whatever weapons I find available.” She reinforced her point by bending down to kiss you, holding you close.

“Just a nap, then.” You got up, giving her your best puppy eyes, and allowing her to lead you to the bedroom.

“A nap and then dinner. I’m cooking.” There was no point in arguing with her. Instead, you just kissed her shoulder and pulled her to bed.

“Okay, Wan. And if I don’t pass that test, can you mind wipe the professor to give me a good grade?” You joked, getting comfortable as Wanda passed her arms around you, covering you both in blankets.

“It’s very unethical to get inside someone’s mind without an invitation, honey. I could get my magical license suspended.” She looked so cute pretending to be serious that you couldn’t even be mad.

“Let’s keep that in mind when I have my finals, okay?” You sighed, burying your face in her shoulder and already feeling sleepy. You weren’t sure if it was Wanda’s magic or if you were just that tired.

“No promises. I forget the rules when you forget to be kind to yourself.” She whispered, kissing your hair and holding you close. Your heart shattered at how much she cared, at how dedicated she was to making sure you were well.

“Oh, Wan…” You tried to speak, but you felt her shaking her head.

“Sleep now, sweetheart. We got this. You just need to rest.” You nodded, letting her warmth surround you and breathing in her perfume. In five minutes, you were both asleep.

[adhd-attention-deficit-dumbass]

Any tips for focusing on schoolwork? The quarter ends next week for me and I have 12 missing assignments but I can’t just sit down and do it smh. My meds don’t do shit to help me so I basically run on caffine and Doritos

I was planning on making a longer and more detailed post about this since I struggled with the exact same thing last semester but I’ll do a quick one since you’re in a hurry!

-Ask a university student with ADHD

How to overcome executive dysfunction and just get it done!

A quick overview for the stressed and depressed ADHD student

All strategies mentioned are ones I have tried during a very stressful period in my life and I can happily announce that I succsessfully passed all my re-exams!

1. Study at the library or a similarily quiet place, by no means attempt to study at home or god forbid a café you’ll regret it.

Studying at the library takes so much less effort and energy than studying at home or in s noisy café, save your precious energy for focusing on your work instead of trying to avoid distraction

Libraries are great and full of people who are also studying which will help you feel more motivated!

2. Get rid of your phone 📱

This one ☝🏻 oh boy, it was a game changer, I know you think you may have the discipline not to get distracted but it makes a world of difference

Put your phone in a seperate room on silent if you can, this is the most effective way.

If not, put it at the bottom of your bag and make it as hard as possible to find

Use wireless headphones 🎧 for music so you don’t have to keep your phone within arms reach

3. Write down exactly what you’re doing and divide into small easily doable tasks

Part of the struggle is not knowing what to do, or the task feeling too big and too hard. Write down the task in steps, as many as you need, as simple as you can. Break them down to the smallest and most easily done bits until you feel like you can handle them.

Example: For uni last semester I had 3 smaller tests per week apart from the usual exams. We had to translate between 1500-3000 words every two days on our own and during lectures We’d do a quick 15 min test based on what we’d read that would affect our final grade.

”Translate 2000 words” sounds like a lot so the way I did it was that I put the text into a word file and dived it into seperate paragraphs

I’d end up with 10-12 paragraphs and that would be my focus

So if I had two days to translate, I’d translate 6/12 paragraphs the first day and the remaining 6 the next day

It feels much easier than sitting with a document of seemingly endless work. Because we can have a hard time planning and looking ahead, it helps to give yourself some structure

4. Check off and visualize finished tasks to boost motivation ✅

Again, using last semester as an example

The way I did it is something I call:

The heart strategy❤️

At this time I was obsessed with Zelda games and I randomly drew a little heart in my planner while thinking of Zelda and thought ”huh, what if I used ”video game hearts” as a representation for my own work?” And I have been doing it religously since.

The way I did it was I drew 12 hearts in my planner in a line like this, seperating them with a line in the middle.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 | 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

When I finished translating a paragraph I would fill a heart with a bright pink pen because I love pink💗 It was almost like a reward and it made me more motivated to keep going, it also provided a visual to let me know how much work I had gotten done and how much was left

So when my planner looked like this:

💗💗💗💗💗🤍| 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

It would motivate me because it meant I was almost finished for the day and I knew that I had completed half of the task already.

5. Wireless noise cancelling headphones 🎧 + ADHD friendly music

Noice cancelling keeps you from getting distracted by 🗣🎶👏🏻✍🏻👣

Wireless is just amazing in general but it also keeps you away from your phone which will often distract you even when you’re trying hard. Some models allow you to even change songs without touching your phone, which is super helpful

Make a list of music or find good mixes on youtube/Spotify that are not distracting 🎶 They can be motivational and upbeat or slow and relaxing, whatever helps you the most

I have a ”Motivational study songs” list with a lot of upbeat high tempo songs that are about reaching your goals, a mix of rock, pop, Disney and musical songs

Never gonna give you up by Rick Astley is the perfect ADHD study song idk why but it just works wonders for me

But some days the upbeat music is just too distracting so then I put on classical music (mostly Tchaikovsky) or a lofi youtube video. Changing up music is good since your ADHD brain will get bored of the same thing easily

There are also quiet and very aestethic ”☕️study with me 📖” videos on youtube that are like 2 hour long where a person just sits quietly and studies

they can be great because it makes you feel like you have a study buddy but they wont distract you by talking 🙊 as long as you don’t get distracted by them

That’s all for this post! BELIEVE ME i tried SOOO hard to keep it short and it was a lot longer at first i’m sorry if it’s a lot to read🙈

I hope some of this is at least somewhat helpful. Thank you for reading and good luck with your studies!💗

[inkykeiji]

if i find a way would you walk it with me

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: hmm a healthy mixture of fluff and angst, i think

notes: weeee set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe!! ever wonder how dabi’s apology to the reader goes??? how he ‘makes it up’ to her???? well here u go! bit of tomura at the beginning because i couldn’t help myself yikes!! -sigh- poor dabi <33 | title credit: star shopping by lil peep

warnings: uhhhhh one (1) mention of cum in that very first paragraph (nice) but other than that i think it’s all good??? OH oh + use of the word Daddy (u shouldn’t be surprised by this point lol)

words: 3.7k

synopsis:

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he says, and to the untrained ear his voice would sound flat and monotonous, maybe even rude, like he doesn’t give a fuck about the words tumbling from his lips. But you—you can hear it, the sheer honesty embedded in his tone, the rawness bleeding into his voice, the way it’s ever-so-slightly rougher around the edges than it normally is.

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It’s rare, nowadays, that you wake up to Tomura still at home. He’s sure to give you goodbye kisses every single morning before he leaves for work—kisses that last way longer than they should, kisses that are slow and messy, that manage to pull little mewls from you and leave you breathless, kisses that more often than not turn into your hands fisting in his dress shirt, little fingers playing with the buttons as you sleepily pull him closer, pleading in soft whimpers for him to fill you with cum before he goes—but he’s rarely still around by the time you actually wake up.

So, naturally, it startles you when you hear his voice, deep and gentle, murmuring that it’s time for you to wake up, princess, as slim fingers brush your hair away from your face, tracing along your cheek and jaw. Rolling onto your back quickly, your eyes snap open and you breathe out his name, heart pounding in excitement as you push yourself up onto your elbows, bleary gaze finding his.

Your near instantaneous reaction pulls a little chuckle from him, crimson eyes shining as they study your face, voice tender when he tells you that he finds your eagerness cute.

A pout settles on your lips briefly at his teasing, evaporating the moment your foggy brain realizes that he’s still home.

“Daddy! What’re you—A-Are you taking me to school today?” you gasp, sitting up a little straighter, a tiny glimmer of optimism in your eye.

And, God, the sheer, unadulterated hope on your face, eyes bright and as they search his, a tentative little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you anxiously await his answer…it breaks his heart to shake his head slowly—he swears it fucking cracks in his chest when your expression absolutely falls, makes it feel like his ribcage is caving in, yielding under the weight of the ache that settles deep at the very core of his body.

A large hand cups your face, calloused thumb caressing your cheekbone, your eyes closing briefly at the contact, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm.

“No, angel,” he tells you softly, a frown marring his lips. “I have a meeting this afternoon, and it was easier to take the morning off and work from home,”

It’s only partially a lie—he does have a meeting, some fancy lunch with pharmaceutical distributors interested in investing in the drug they’re currently developing—but the ‘work’ he’s doing from home would technically be more productive if done at his office.

Really, he’s worried about how things might go with Dabi. If things get worse, there’s a chance he might just bring you to the stupid lunch with him instead, university be damned.

But you—you can’t help the sudden onslaught of tears that spring into your eyes, emitting a quiet, hurt sound that you nearly choke on as your chest hitches with a tiny sob, head nodding jerkily. Tomura coos, forehead wrinkling in concern as large hands find your hips, pulling you onto his lap and cradling you to his chest.

You shouldn’t be this upset. You know you shouldn’t—not over Tomura not being able to take you to school, and not over Dabi’s sharp words from yesterday. No, Dabi’s words shouldn’t even matter to you, shouldn’t mean anything at all…so why does dread flood your body at the prospect of seeing him, of being stuck in a car with him for a good half hour, at least? Why does it feel like your heart’s turned to corrosive acid, eroding everything around it, when you consider if he actually meant what he said, if that’s how he truly feels?

“I don’t wanna see him, Daddy,” you mumble into his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the inexplicable fresh wave of tears the mere thought affords you.

“I know, baby,” Tomura says softly, fingers trailing up and down your spine. “I know,”

He doesn’t want to think about why Dabi’s words, that one simple sentence, have you so torn up.

Nor do you.

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Dabi arrives just as you’re finishing your breakfast, switching between fork and pen as you annotate a last-minute reading for school.

The entire atmosphere morphs the very instant he steps foot in the penthouse, and you swear you can almost see the tension in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wish Tomura were with you, have half a mind to hop up and run into his home office as you glance over at those thick mahogany doors with your lip caught between your teeth, but then Dabi’s heavy footsteps come to a halt, and your gaze snaps back to him.

He stops a few feet away, staring at you with those stupidly pretty sapphire eyes, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

His face used to be unreadable, but you’ve gotten better at deciphering his expressions, at decoding them to reveal fragments of his thoughts or mood, since you began spending more than eight hours a day with him.

So you know what it means when his jaw clenches twice (annoyed and dreading the interaction), when his front teeth nibble at the inner skin of his lip (unsure and nervous), when he readjusts his stance, nudging his feet just a little further apart (anticipating a verbal blow).

Placing your pen down on your textbook, you turn on your barstool to look at him fully, arms crossed over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

You steadily hold his gaze, and he briefly wonders if you’re expecting an apology, what Tomura told you about their discussion late last night, if Tomura told you about their discussion late last night.

“Hey,” he says, wincing at how gravelly his voice sounds and clearing his throat.

A beat of silence passes between you.

“Hi,”

“About yesterday…” he begins, eyebrows pushing together as he trails off, exhaling a harsh breath through his nostrils.

God, he fucking hates this. He hates that he spent most of the morning, the drive to and from going to get your apology gift, rehearsing what he was going to say, hates that it completely vanishes from his mind the moment he sees you, glaring at him in expectation or apprehension—he’s not sure, he can’t tell.

He hates that this is stupidly difficult—definitely more difficult than throwing an apology and gift at you should be—can’t fucking stand the incomprehensible feelings swirling around in his chest, the ones that make him feel like he’s inhaling smoke, choking on air, like he can’t manage to get enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how deeply he inhales.

He swallows, throat dry and scratchy, runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, and tries again.

“About yesterday,” he repeats, more sternly this time. “That was—I probably shouldn’t have said that,”

And the face you make as the word probably leaves his lips—features crumpling and contorting, your mask of passivity disintegrating to reveal pained eyes and a little pout—has him quickly backtracking before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Definitely—I definitely shouldn’t have said that,” his chest heaves with the force of a heavy sigh, raking a hand aggressively through his hair. “I didn’t mean it. I, uh, I promise,” his eyes bore into yours, his stare so intense it takes everything in your power not to look away.

It’s unsettling in the very least, to hear him this unsure of himself. You think you might even be able to detect the smallest hint of a tremble to his voice, but it only seems to be audible on certain words.

It makes your heart ache in the most inexplicable way, bottom lip jutting out further as your pout deepens. Really, you think you should still be furious at him. Really, you wish you were. You shouldn’t be feeling sympathy for him, not after the way he’s treated you the past few weeks. You shouldn’t have to resist the urge to run to him, to take his face between your hands and tell him that it’s alright, it’s fine, you forgive him—anything just to stop the way his voice quivers ever-so-slightly on the word promise, anything to eradicate the melancholy in his eyes.

“Look—what I’m trying to say, I guess, is—”

The tiniest, softest little mewl sounds from his jacket and he looks down sharply, scowling at it. Eyebrows knitting, you laugh a little, head quirking to the side in confusion.

“Do you…Do you have a cat in your jacket, or something?”

Dabi sighs, shaking his head and murmuring something about how this was totally not your cue, furball as he holds his worn leather jacket open, revealing a small kitten stuffed into one of the inner pockets. He fishes it out gently—it’s so tiny that it fits in the palm of his hand—and holds it out to you, a peace offering.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he says, and to the untrained ear his voice would sound flat and monotonous, maybe even rude, like he doesn’t give a fuck about the words tumbling from his lips. But you—you can hear it, the sheer honesty embedded in his tone, the rawness bleeding into his voice, the way it’s ever-so-slightly rougher around the edges than it normally is.

You blink rapidly, shaking your head in disbelief with an odd little smile on your face. “Is it—Is it for m-me?”

Dabi rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his face. “Of course, stupid,”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips as you jump up, rushing forward to take the kitten from him and cradling it to your chest, cooing softly. Dabi thinks it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen, entirely powerless to stop the tender look that settles in his eyes as he observes you.

A thick, silky red ribbon tied in a large obnoxious bow adorns the kitten’s neck, a small tag attached to it with Dabi’s messy handwriting scrawled across it: I’m sorry for being an asshole. It’s fucking cheesy, cliché as hell, and you love every single thing about it.

“It’s uh, a Maine Coon, I think,” Dabi shrugs a little, hand rubbing at the back of his neck unsurely as his eyes dart away. “I paid a fucking fortune for him,” he says with a small self-deprecating smirk. “Three times the goddamn regular price,”

Your head snaps up, wide eyes finding his as the kitten gnaws on one of the drawstrings of your—Tomura’s—hoodie. “What?”

He shifts a little under your intense gaze. “Well, yeah, he technically belonged to someone else. Y’know how with those fancy breeders you gotta fill out those massive application forms and then wait for like, two years and all that bullshit,” he waves a hand in explanation as his voice trails off.

“Y-You paid six thousand dollars for this cat?”

“Just over,” he nods. “Plus a forty-five minute argument with the breeder, all for that damn furball, so you better fucking appreciate him, cause that guy was a jackass,”

Silence blankets the room again. You’re looking at him weirdly, and it’s starting to make his skin crawl, anxiety beginning to rise in his throat as he stares back at you, subconsciously holding his breath. Are you still angry? Do you not like the cat, was it the wrong breed? It was a cat you wanted, wasn’t it? Was this too stupid? Was it too much? Was it not enough? Tomura’s frequent yet random gifts are hard to compete with, but, fuck, he tried his best. He wanted to get you something that he knew you really wanted—he could’ve sworn he’s heard you go off on a tangent about how much you love cats, how you’ve never been allowed to have one before, at least three times in the short time he’s known you. He considered getting you the standard luxury shit women are ‘supposed’ to like, or whatever—he isn’t really into that gendered bullshit—but Tomura spoils you with these things so often and, well, they didn’t really feel like an apology.

Tingles flood your veins, feeling like sparks are coursing through your entire body, the thought of someone doing something so—so considerate making you feel giddy at first, then guilty. How could you not believe him, not believe his apology is sincere, when this gift proves to you just how attentive he actually is? That he doesn’t simply tune out your mindless rambling as he drives you to school, or when he lets you rest your head against his thigh after a long day? You’ve lamented to Dabi countless times about how you’ve always wanted a kitten—a Maine Coon in particular—and, knowing it’s the one thing Tomura hasn’t gotten for you, wouldn’t get for you…

Hastily placing the kitten on the island, you leap up, moving so quick he barely has time to register what the hell’s going on before you barrel straight into him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. The force of your unexpected hug causes him to stumble back a few steps, knocking a soft “Oof,” out of him.

His body freezes as you press up against him—you’ve never been this close before. A hand slides up his neck and into the hair at the base of his scalp—an automatic reaction, something you’re so used to doing with Tomura that it’s become second nature now. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.

But Dabi does.

Your touch burns, fingertips searing into his flesh in the most exquisite way, has him instantly craving more as his head droops just a little further, allowing you more access to move, your fingers instinctively combing through the soft, inky hair at the back of his skull. He wants to feel your touch all over his body, branded into his skin. Hours from now, he’ll still be able to feel it, still be able to feel the scorching warmth from your little hands scathing his flesh, still be able to feel your little fingers tangling in his hair.

Your sweet scent invades the space around him, overwhelms his senses, and he idly wonders if you taste as sweet as you smell, if the rest of your skin, your body, would feel as scalding as your hands do against his bare skin, if—

You squeeze yourself closer, body pressed flush against his, and his mind finally snaps into action, recovering from his initial shock and wrapping both arms around your waist, responding to your squeeze with one of his own.

“Thank you so much, Dabi,” you whisper, lips grazing his neck as you speak, an involuntary shiver coursing through his body. “I already love him,”

“Am I forgiven, princess?” his voice is low, rumbling in his chest and reverberating off of yours, chin resting atop your head.

A pause.

“Yeah,” you nod, eyelashes fluttering a little on his skin. “I—I’m sorry, too,”

“You don’t—”

“No,” you cut him off softly, and he can feel you nuzzling your face against him shyly, his arms squeezing you again in silent encouragement. “I overreacted. I just, um,” you stop, swallowing thickly as you struggle with the words. “I—We were making progress; or at least, I thought we were making progress—What I mean is, I just want t-to be friends with you,” you admit quietly, thankful that your face is buried in his chest, hiding your burning cheeks from his eyes.

He doesn’t respond—not with words, anyway. He doesn’t need to—his actions speak louder than words ever could. Lips press against the crown of your head, first gently, then firm, scattering a few kisses across your scalp.

The kitten knocks your pen off the island, it’s clattering against the hardwood startling the two of you, and you reluctantly break apart. He thinks it should be awkward—No, it should definitely be awkward, when he just dropped several unwarranted kisses to the crown of your head—but it isn’t. He waits for it to come, surprised when all that seems to remain is that same pleasant warmth as he watches you scold the kitten playfully, bending down to pick up the pen and gently tapping it against the kittens nose.

Your giggles, ringing out around the empty penthouse, are the most precious sounds he’s ever witnessed. Thoughts invade his mind, belatedly realizing that he’d do just about anything to hear you giggle like that again, soft and innocent and full of delight. The unfamiliar feeling of contentment settles in his chest, makes it swell so much it’s almost painful, thrumming through his veins and alighting his body.

Later, he’ll be pissed at himself for letting his guard down so easily, for completely losing control of his thoughts and actions, for becoming so fucking soft around you. But for now, he allows himself to bask in the feeling, just for a few moments before those heavy mahogany doors inevitably creak open.

“What should we name him?” your eyes are bright as you back at him, a cute excited smile on your face, lashes fluttering a little as you wait for his answer.

We. We.

And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at that one, tiny two letter word. He hates the way it makes his stomach swoop, makes more unknown feelings—sensations he’s never experienced before—explode in his chest, hates the way that stupid little word pulls a large, genuine smile from him entirely without his permission, a chuckle of disbelief passing through his lips.

We.

“I dunno, princess,” he responds gruffly, finally finding his voice.

“How about…” you stop, humming and closing an eye as you think, little tongue poking at your cheek in concentration.

Dabi isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more adorable sight in his entire life, and he has to physically restrain himself from marching right up to you and kissing you until you can’t fucking breathe, heels digging into the hardwood and hands curling into trembling fists as his body goes rigid.

“Isaac? Or, oh! Clarke?”

Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke, two of his favourite authors.

And, fuck, he can’t help the hearty laugh that bubbles up in his chest at the realization, pleasant tingles of warmth shooting through his veins again—more intensely this time, feeling like tiny shocks bursting throughout his body, his whole figure buzzing, high off your presence.

“Both are cute,”

“Yeah, but do you have a favourite?”

Later, he’ll lay awake in bed tonight, sheets cold and empty as he listens to the muffled sounds of Tomura’s ridiculously massive bed slamming against the wall while he forces the most beautiful sounds from your lips—later, Dabi will think about that sentence, those seven words, uttered so gently, so sincerely from your soft lips as you stared at him in earnest, genuinely interested in his answer. Later, he’ll think about why his opinion matters so much to you—if his opinion matters to you, or if he’s just desperately hoping it does, if he’s overthinking this entire situation, why the name of a dumb overpriced cat matters this much to him…

“I like Isaac,”

Your eyes soften, smile stretching even wider as your gaze flits to the tiny fluff ball now curled in your lap, small hand petting its head gently as it begins to fall asleep.

“Yeah,” you murmur, watching your hand’s rhythmic motions, the kitten beginning to purr loudly. “I like Isaac, too,”

Tomura reemerges then, both of your gazes snapping towards him. He observes the two of you, scarlet eyes slow and careful as they scan the situation, finally landing on the small ball of fur sleeping soundly on your thighs. There’s an odd look in his eyes—something you’ve never quite seen before, and it makes your heart drop.

“Look, Daddy,” you say softly, holding up the sleepy kitten to show him. “Dabi got me a kitty!”

The weird, undecipherable look on Tomura’s face evaporates in an instant as his eyes connect with yours, features softening.

“That’s great, baby,” he says as he walks towards you, coming to stand behind you and placing a large hand on your head. You hum a little, eyes closing at the contact. “Looks like we’ll have to go out tonight and get kitty supplies, huh,”

Eyes snapping open, your head falls back, resting against his stomach as you stare up at him. “Me and you? Just us?” he nods, and you gasp, face absolutely lighting up. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughs a little, fondness settling in his eyes as he gazes down at you. “I’ll pick you up after class today, and we’ll go straight away. We can’t let poor Isaac go hungry now, can we?” Ruby eyes flit up as he speaks, hardening as they connect with sapphire. He holds Dabi’s gaze until the other man nods his understanding.

You’re so excited you don’t even realize you never told Tomura the kitten’s name. But it doesn’t matter—not in that moment, anyway, not when he tells you he’s decided to take the rest of the day off after the lunch meeting, to spend it with his baby and his baby’s baby. Not when you haven’t had a night alone with him in what feels like forever.

Tomura should be happy that it all worked out, right? He should be glad that he doesn’t have to find other arrangements, should feel relieved that you and Dabi smoothed things over, shouldn’t he? He is, isn’t he?

“Go get your schoolbag, sweetheart,” he instructs softly, tapping you on the nose. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon,”

You obey immediately, slipping off the barstool with the kitten cradled in your arms, explaining that you’re going to quickly ‘kitten-proof’ Tomura’s absurdly large bathroom and lock Isaac in there. For his own safety while you’re away at school, you say.

He watches you go, waits for you to disappear around the corner, before turning back to his colleague.

“Really Dabi, a fucking cat?”

Dabi bristles, exhaling slowly as he holds his boss’s gaze, and raises his eyebrows. “But she’s happy, isn’t she?”

[kotlc-deleted-scenes]

Legacy B&N Exclusive Edition Short Story

Hi there, Keeper fans! Consider this your friendly reminder: If you snuck back here to spend a little time with our favorite silver-banged Shade before reading Legacy - STOP! TURN BACK! SPOILERS AHEAD! Even the next paragraph is iffy, so I'd recommend fleeing now.

*pauses for one more SPOILER ALERT*

Okay! The scenes you're about to read take place simultaneously with what's going on throughout the course of Legacy, to give you some glimpses into Tam's side of the story. There are several references to moments you've already seen through Sophie's eyes, but now you'll see Tam's reactions and hopefully get some deeper insights into what our sweet, angsty boy is going through.

Happy reading!

—Shannon Messenger

First Day

Don't talk to anybody.

Don't listen to anybody.

Don't make friends.

Don't let them break you.

They were the words that Tam had repeated to himself every morning before he headed off to Exillium.

The rules he forced himself to follow.

The only way to survive.

And they were going to get him through this.

Hopefully he'd learn something useful too.

Tam studied his tiny, stuffy room, smirking at the ridiculous touches someone had added-as if they thought he'd look at the embroidered pillows and the jeweled moon jars and think, Oh, I guess I'm not a prisoner, because they gave me a mirrored tray with...

Is that a sparkly cat statue?

He rolled his eyes and tried to decide if it would be better to gather up all of that junk and shove it under the bed to show them exactly what he thought of it, or to leave it where it was.

What he really wanted to do was shred the pillows, fling the moon jars against the walls, and smash the stupid, shiny cat.

But this was a long game.

Best to start slow. Test the water.

"How did you sleep?" Lady Gisela asked behind him, and Tam kicked himself for flinching-but he hadn't heard the door open.

"Awesome," he told her. "Nothing says 'sweet dreams' like a concussion. You should try it sometime. I'd be happy to knock you out."

Lady Gisela sighed. "This will go much easier for you if you cooperate."

"Pretty sure it will go easier for you," Tam countered, spinning around to face her.

Her hair was pulled back into this supertight bun that looked like it had to be giving her a headache, and the skin on her face had this weird, stretched look to it. It almost looked like it hurt when she moved her mouth.

Tam really hoped it did.

"I know how to deal with stubborn, snarky boys," Lady Gisela told him.

"I can tell. Thanks for the cat statue!"

Her eyes narrowed, and Tam realized her should probably ease off a but. It was only day one. He needed to figure out the boundaries before he started slamming against them.

"I am not the enemy, Tam," she told him, and it was really, really hard not to laugh-until she added, "But I can be if you insist on being difficult. You're here for a reason, and I will make sure you fulfill it."

"Great. Looking forward to it."

"You should be. Now come on. Gethen's waiting."

Tam's stomach dropped. "Gethen?"

"Our Telepath." Lady Gisela's smile stretched wider. "He's very much looking forward to spending the day with you."

"I'm sure he is," Tam mumbled as he followed her down a dim, narrow hallway, trying to keep his back straight, head held high.

But a whole day with a Telepath...

Tam wouldn't be able to hide much.

And this prisoner-of-the-Neverseen thing just got a whole lot more complicated.

 After the Warning

"So settle a bet for me," one of Them said, dropping into the chair across from Tam in the hideout's small study.

Tam gripped his book so hard, the spine crackled.

Her face was hidden by the cowl of her cloak. But he recognized her voice.

It was the one who'd put the bonds on his wrists.

The one who told him, It'll be easier this way, I promise, as she'd turned him into Lady Gisela's little Shade pet.

The Flasher who called herself "Glimmer."

Apparently she thought he didn't care about what she'd done to him, because she pointed to his forehead and asked, "So, the fact that you never wear your hood-is that a protest? Or because you want everyone to see your awesome bangs?"

Tam went back to reading.

"You don't talk much, do you?" When he still didn't respond, she sighed-then leaned closer and whispered, "Gethen's mad at you."

Tam gripped the book again.

Of course Gethen was mad at him.

He couldn't hide his whole conversation with Sophie-he'd known that the second he'd let her into his mind.

But hopefully he'd hidden the part that mattered.

And hopefully Sophie believed him.

"Be careful, Tam," Glimmer told him as she stood. "I don't think you realize what you're doing."

No. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Don't let them break you.

 After Linh

"I seriously don't know how you can make any sense out of that journal," Glimmer said, taking the seat across from Tam and plopping a book about light theory down on the study's table. "Shades are weird."

She sat at his table a lot, either ignoring him or trying to trick him into talking to her.

So Tam tried to tell himself it was nothing unusual.

Nothing to worry about.

He'd shrouded his conversation with Linh in hundreds of layers of shadows. There was no way Gethen could've found the memory.

And yet, Glimmer leaned close and said, "I know something's wrong."

Tam kept his eyes on Umber's precise writing.

"I heard you crying last night," Glimmer added, her voice softening in a way that reminded him of his sister.

And it made him break his rule and talk.

"What do you want?" he asked, keeping his voice low-sharp.

"I just...don't understand why you have to be so stubborn," she said to him. 'You don't have to be all alone here. You could have friends."

Don't make friends.

Not that he needed the reminder. He snorted nd held his arms up, showing her the bonds she'd put there. "You think we can be friends."

Her head angled down, making her cloak fall even further forward. "I think there's a lot you don't understand," she murmured.

"And I think there's a lot you don't understand," Tam countered. His voice low. Ominous. "Whatever reasons you have for being here are wrong. And whatever you think you know about these people is wrong too. They only care about themselves, and when the time comes, they will betray you." He pointed to his bonds again and told her, "Just like they made you trap me."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Glimmer grabbed her book and stalked away.

 After London

"What happened?" Glimmer demanded, shoving her way into Tam's room and closing the door behind her, pressing her back against it like she was trying to keep everyone out. "Where did you go? Why is Lady Gisela unconscious?"

Tam curled up tighter on his bed.

He couldn't talk.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't stop shaking, shaking, shaking.

Glimmer crouched beside him, and her hood shifted in the process, giving Tam a glimpse of her long black hair.

Not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered.

Not after what he'd just done.

"What happened?" Glimmer asked again. "You can tell me."

Don't talk to anybody.

"You can trust me," she added.

Don't listen to anybody.

"I'm your friend," she promised.

Don't make friends.

And it hit Tam then, the absolute absurdity of his situation.

Friend.

She was the reason he'd just had to help Lady Gisela escape!

Laughter burst out of him at the reminder-cold, erratic sputters.

And when the frenzy passed, he told her, "You're not my friend."

The room dimmed at the words.

"I could be," Glimmer said quietly. "I keep trying."

"WHY?" Tam demanded.

Glimmer shrugged, picking up the tiny cat statue from his bedside table and trailing her finger along its curved tail. "It gets lonely here."

"THEN GET OUT OF HERE!" he shouted. "Seriously, Glimmer. See these people for who they really are."

"I do!" she insisted, reaching up to adjust her hood. Covering the few strands of her hair that had broken free.

Tam shook his head. "Then at least...just get out of my room."

Glimmer took the cat statue with her.

 Last Night

"So... this is it," Glimmer said, leaning against the side of Tam's doorway. "One more thing and...then you're out of here."

Tam let out a dark laugh. "One more thing."

"What else am I supposed to call it?" Glimmer countered.

Which was true.

There were no words for the horror Lady Gisela was going to force him to do.

Or try to force him.

Please don't let Keefe be there.

Please, just ONCE, let Keefe do what someone tells him to do.

Another dark, bitter laugh slipped through his lips as he considered the chances of that.

And please don't let Linh be there.

Don't let her see me like this.

"Wow, you really are always gloomy, aren't you?" Glimmer asked, crossing her arms. "I thought you'd at least be relieved that it's almost over."

Tam shook his head, trying to decide if Glimmer could really be that naïve, or if she was following some script Lady Gisela gave her to keep him hopeful and compliant.

"You really think she's going to let me go after I 'do the thing' or whatever you want to call it."

Glimmer nodded without the slightest hesitation. "You guys have a deal. Once you hold up your end, she'll hold up hers."

"Wow, you really believe that, don't you?" Tam wondered.

"Of course. It's only fair."

"Fair," Tam repeated, wondering why he was still talking. It didn't matter.

Don't make friends.

But he had to know. "Okay, tell me this, then," he said slowly, stalking closer. "If I'm right-if Lady Gisela goes back on her word-would you do anything about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean"-he held up his wrists, showing her his bonds-"you're the one with the power to set me free. And you think our deal is fair. So if I hold up my end-and Lady Gisela doesn't hold up hers-would you step in and let me go?"

Glimmer backed up a step. "I...I don't know."

Tam snorted. "That's what I thought."

"Hey-you're asking me if I'd betray-"

"Someone who would've just betrayed me," Tam finished for her. "I'm asking if you'd betray a traitor to do the right thing."

"I...I don't know," Glimmer repeated.

"Well," Tam said slowly, pulling his sleeves back down to cover his bonds. "Maybe you should figure that out."

He flipped his hood up over his head, covering his face.

Time to go.

Don't let them break you.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 2

Part 1

This is gonna be many more parts... I can already tell 

Word Count: 2.2k

SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader!

- Admin Myah

You spent your entire free period up on that roof, hoping by some miracle that you weren’t crazy, that the group of second-year students that had seemingly vanished before your eyes were in fact pranking you, and upon seeing that you weren’t amused, would get tired of hiding and pop out, finishing the surprise. No such luck, however, and so you left, the second-period bell forcing your hand. Spending the first period of your day - a bit of free time meant for studying, finishing homework, or otherwise enriching yourself educationally - up on the roof and unaccounted for by any teachers was a bit risky already, and you were a decent enough student. There was no way you could just sit there all day, skipping the rest of your classes. Sighing, you resolved to just give up the hunt for your destined main character and by extension the group of potential new friends.

＊

Often after school, you headed to the library, which stayed open along with a select few other areas of Shujin for student use after the last bell rang. Today, however, you felt drawn back to that place, back to that rooftop where you’d seen Akira, Ryuji, and Ann disappear hours earlier. It just wasn’t sitting right with you; you felt a stirring in your soul, like a tiny voice in your head, a shimmering blue butterfly in your stomach. Lucky for you, the rooftop was also open, though you’d never really spent time there. Certain students, including another third-year you admired raised plants up there where the sun could reach them, while others simply came up there for the view or the breeze, some private space to study.

Today, the breeze was indeed blowing, and you sat there writing as it whistled past your ears, polishing up some plot points, scrawling down ideas for your protagonist straight from the imagination, since it seemed you wouldn’t be finding any real-life inspiration anytime soon. It was frustrating, writer’s block, and for the past month or so, it’s all you could do to write a single paragraph. You always found yourself lost in the pages of the novels you loved, and you could identify great writing, appreciate the artistry of another writer, but it was sometimes so hard to put your own thoughts down on the pages of your journal. Why was it so hard? You knew what real romance was. You knew which themes and cliches were overdone and unrealistic. You had a mature and healthy outlook on real relationships and could pick apart the stereotypical female protagonist who was strong and independent until she met the man who would break down her walls or the toxic bad boy who women loved on paper but would cry their eyes out over in real life. You’d read thousands of books and fan-fiction, listened to hundreds of audiobooks, watched tons of romance movies, so why, lately, was it not clicking?! Where was the disconnect between having thoughts and transcribing said thoughts down into your very own masterpiece? Fantasy came so easily to you, sci-fi, non-fiction essays for class, mysteries, research papers, but romance, the genre you loved the most, seemed to purposely elude you.

You were shaken out of your frazzled state when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Shaking your head a bit to try and focus your vision, you looked over your shoulder to see that the black spot on the fringe of your blind spot was in fact actually there. You rubbed your eyes just to be sure, but there it was, a wavering black inky spot hovering in the air. Another appeared, then another, now red in color. You were beginning to feel insane for the second time that day, but rather safe than sorry, you quickly stood, shoving your work and pencils into your bag and shuffling away from the blobs, which were now oscillating and dancing around each other, phasing in and out of existence like a fisheye lens. This was a bit too freaky for your liking, and you were beginning to feel a frightening chill up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you elected to put some kind of barrier of safety between yourself and the floating bubbles. Like any rational person, your mind was screaming “unknown situation: possible threat: run!” but again, that little butterfly in the pit of your guts was saying there was something worth staying for. So, running to the door to the roof, you swung it open, a ringing in your ear starting to buzz and chime. You closed it frantically, pressing your nose up against the small glass windows that allowed a limited view of the roof. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto your bag a bit tighter.

The red and black splotches began to dissipate and fade like some kind of glitch in reality, and three figures appeared like mist, like ghosts before beginning to solidify and slowly become tangible silhouettes. Then, as if some kind of magic ritual was coming to a close, the figures poofed into existence, and your brain processed the scene before you.

“Holy shit…” you whispered. There, clear as day were Sakamoto, Takamaki, and the new kid. They were just standing adjusting their clothes, stretching their arms and legs, situating their personal items. It was just then that you saw a little furry head poke up out of Akira’s school bag. Your harsh, analytical gaze softened a bit upon seeing the small black cat that appeared. Had he been carrying that cat around all day? Surely not, right? How would he keep it quiet and still? “What the…?” The inquisitive glare returned to your features when they began… speaking to the cat. It wasn’t the cute baby talk people often use with their pets, either. It was a full-on, serious conversation, and the cat was meowing back, clearly, in response to their statements.

It was a bit muffled by the thick door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

 Metaverse? Palace. Shadows... treasure? Kamoshida? Great, that asshole, but what could he have to do with this? What even was this? 

You were questioning everything you knew. You were wondering if the juice you had this morning at breakfast was spiked. There was no winning in this scenario, either you were crazy, or these kids were. You looked downward, contemplating your navel as your mind tried to make sense of the events of today. You glanced up again, trying to eavesdrop a little better, get some more detail. You took a step closer, trying to will the sound of their voices through the door to be just a little louder, just a little clearer, when Sakamoto suddenly pivoted, stretching and cracking his spine with a sigh.

“Gah!”  You shouted out. His eyes met yours through the window and widened like a kid caught in the cookie jar. You jumped with a start, taking a cautionary step back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. It was a miracle you caught yourself in time, but your little outburst had definitely caught the attention of the group. Your cover was thoroughly blown. “Oh, no…” You cursed under your breath, spotting both Ann and Akira’s eyes on you now as well.

“Shit! Do you think they saw?” Ryuji’s hands flew to his hair, mussing and working out his frustrations on the dyed strands while simultaneously, Akira was already in motion, rushing toward the door to apprehend the unwelcome listener.

Your heartbeat sped up, and like a gazelle spotted by a lion, a fire was lit under you and you began to sprint, clumsily fumbling down the stairwell and onto the flat platform where the stairs rotated 90 degrees and continued downward. Inhaling sharply, your foot, nervous and supporting jelly-like legs, missed the final step. Your belongings, along with your body, spilled across the square, flat platform, and the door behind you slammed open.

“Hey!” Akira’s yell echoed through the stairwell, and your thoughts bounced off the walls just like his voice. Scrambling, you scooped only the essentials into your hands: your journal, the phone of course, a few homework binders, ditching the easily replaceable items like chewing gum and pencils. Taking to one scraped-up knee and ready to bolt, you felt a hand close upon your bicep and clamp down firmly. “Hey, hey… slow down.” Akira again, now gentler with his tone, spun you around to face him. You stood clutching your things to your chest like a life preserver. “I’m not gonna like… kill you or anything.” A breathy chuckle, and now he was on the platform next to you, scanning you up and down for injuries with his hands in his pockets. “So, uh… so don’t kill yourself by fallin’ down these stairs, huh?” He played off the tense feeling in the air with humor, but the sheer proximity of him, standing there in front of you mere inches away in the cramped space, it was like you could hear your blood pounding in your ears.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think you were some weirdo stalker? I mean, you’d just met him this morning and now you were watching him through a small window like a creep after school… after following him there. Wait, that wasn’t important right now! Was he going to kill you? He didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, but then again, he didn’t seem like the type to phase in and out of existence either… neither did Ryuji and Ann… what were people with powers like that capable of?

Right now, you were just going to mind your business, and play it safe. It wasn’t worth getting mixed up with people who warp through a “metaverse” and talk to animals just for some good writing material, not if it turned out to be dangerous.

“Well…” you hesitated, “it’s none of my business, what I just saw, and I won’t tell anyone.” You breathed a little easier, tried to regain your composure, to not look too weak.

“So they did see! Awww, shit!” Ryuji’s head popped through the door, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation, and the hot air of the enclosed space was cut through by a gust of wind from the now open rooftop door.

“Now, just hold on, Ryuji,” Akira held out one hand to placate his rather temperamental friend.

“No, no really it’s fine that you talk to your… cat and just… vanish... and I’m sure it’s all fine and multiverse-y and…”

“Metaverse.” Akira corrected you with a small smile, bending down to pick up the rest of your scattered objects.

“Dude!” Ryuji ran a hand down his face in defeat.

“They saw us, no point in being tight-lipped,” he stood, handing them to you.

“Metaverse… right,” you took them, watching every move he made carefully. “Sorry, I’m… a bit more... eloquent in my writing,” you moved to the side, ready to sneak past and descend the rest of the stairs. Anything to get on with your day and escape this unbelievable situation. Akira shuffled, mirroring you and completely blocking the stairwell. There was something clever about him, something sharp and charismatic. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted to achieve, and he knew how to calmly and smoothly execute his plans, unlike Sakamoto, who was far less… organized.

“Writing…?” He was keeping you locked into this conversation, as gently and amiably as he could, and you were not leaving until he was sure he could trust your word.

“Uh… yeah, that’s why I was up…” your eyes met his, quickly recoiling and looking toward the floor again, “...up on the roof. I was just looking for a quiet place to write.”

“What, uh, what kind of stuff do you write?” Ann had now joined Ryuji at the top of the stairs, leaving you feeling completely caged in. Ann threw Akira - who seemed like the leader of the small band of misfits - a desperate glance, a sort of look that seemed to ask: “Where are you going with this? Are we screwed?”

“It’s… it’s kind of private. It’s just… romance stuff. I don’t know, I do all kinds of different stuff, whatever I’m in the mood for.” Akira nodded, more to his friends than you, something you had a feeling you weren’t supposed to pick up on. He stuck his hand out flat, gesturing toward the rooftop behind you. You took the hint, heading a bit anxiously back up the stairs, Ryuji and Ann making way for you.

“You any good?” Akira followed behind you, and now on the rooftop once again, the cool air felt freeing, less constricting, though his question felt a bit insulting, a bit nosey.

“I don’t know… I’ve been told I am…” The three friends took a seat in areas that seemed very familiar to them, like they’d been up here warping in and out of this realm many times before. Now settled into place, Ann spoke up, obviously as apprehensive as you were:

“Well do you… do you think…?” Her high-pitched voice seemed to be hesitant, not yet confident in her next words, not sure if they were all on the same page.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Akira smirked as if the three had one mind. He turned to you, trying to make eye contact that you vehemently avoided. “How would you feel about helping us out?”

[everything-laito]

About the theory that maybe Laito doesn't like to be touched as much as he says he does.

This was submitted by @grs-wonder320! I did not edit anything in their response (or the title), I just added paragraph breaks so it's easier to read. I'll put my response below as well!

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I am not the one who asked this question, but I would like to take this opportunity to express my personal opinion on this question. As it turns out, I have a completely different opinion than Corn. That is to say, I believe that there is a good chance that Laito does not like to be touched.

Rationale: I believe that there is a psychology of "excessive pandering to those things that are disgusting or painful to you," and I think that this psychology makes us appear to be happy on the surface, even though we actually dislike them. There are many exceptions to this rule. You may be thinking, "No, no, there are many exceptions to this rule. It is true that this rule does not apply in all situations. It mainly works when he is playing a pervert. So, why does he dare to act perverted in the first place? Most of the time, it's because he wants to be smoked out by the people around him. Why do you want to be smoked? ↓ I don't want to attract them to myself. ↓ Even though he doesn't want to be around other people, he is very sociable (compared to the people around him, that is). So it's hard to imagine why he is annoyed by human relationships like Subaru. ↓ Then there is a good chance that they want to hide something or smoke you out because there is something they don't want you to know. ↓ There is often a pattern of people who want to hide the fact that they are actually perverts, so they pretend to be sane on the surface.

In other words, the Laito that is ostensibly acting as a pervert is _____? Yes, that's what I mean. (What do you mean?) It's almost impossible to play a pervert to hide a pervert, isn't it? Most of the time, people play a false image to hide the opposite nature. In Laito's case, considering what happened in the past, it can be seen as "I'm acting perverted because I want to hide the fact that I'm hurt, and I don't want to be aware that I'm hurt, so I'm acting perverted as a self-suggestion.

There are not many people who can be sincerely friendly to the events that hurt them. In the first place, being "hurt" proves that there was something disgusting about you, so we can conclude that Laito is likely to have an aversion to sexual things. I think this explains the psychology that exists in Laito. Back to the topic at hand, I think it's hard to believe that Laito likes to be touched.

In Corn's answer, he used the example of "Laito trying to get me to touch him", which I think can also be explained by the aforementioned psychology. I, too, have a desire to challenge things I dislike (although this is due to overcoming my weaknesses and seeing things that scare me, and is not the same as Laito's), so I think it is entirely possible for someone to "dare to do something they dislike. Also, there is a high possibility that Laito is not aware of his own aversion to sexual matters, and if that is the case, everything is "true" in his mind, so naturally he would not be aware that he is doing something he dislikes. It could be called an unconscious act of self-harm. In the real world, you can only be aware of it when someone points it out to you, or you break your body by going over the limit. I think Laito has that kind of thing too. (Especially Laito in MB). This concludes the explanation. Thank you very much for reading this far!

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First of all, I'm unsure what you mean by "smoking out," If you could provide clarification on that, that would be great! I think I know what you mean by it, I'm just a lil confused and hope I didn't misinterpret it!

I do agree with you on your psychology on the excessive pandering part! That's exactly what Laito does most of the time, it's what fuels his facade! As for touching, I do think that speculating it could go either way. I do think Laito is touch starved though. Sure people who are touch starved might not want to be touched. I have thought about it since I made that post and honestly, he might want to be touched just like he wants to have genuine love, but he's insecure about it almost.

However, if he was excessively pandering about being touched, he might have done that more often. The only time where he asks Yui to touch him throughout the entire HDB game is only in that supposed mutual masturbation scene, and his heaven scenario. He is known to have a masochistic streak regardless. The other times its Yui either pushing him or slapping him etc. (I'm planning on going over his masochism on a later date)

Laito excessively panders when he says absolutely wild shit that makes others uncomfortable, or gets Yui to be unnerved.

In my previous post, I did say that he could be playing it up! But the fact that he doesn't have Yui touch him until late game does say something. It shows that he's opening up and being more vulnerable. Sure this is HDB Laito and we don't really get much of his facade cracking in that game compared to MB+. Late game HDB Laito is able to let down his guard slightly, since he knows he has Yui wrapped around his finger. The thing is, his excessive pandering to him being a pervert is typically used for manipulation. Your psychology checks out in everything else about him, I do agree with that. But as for touching, that doesn't really "prove" to Yui that Laito's a pervert.

If Laito wanted to utilize touch as a facade of control, he would have done it earlier. Instead, he used other methods to give Yui a false sense of security at times, which he used to break her down further. Could he be doing it in order to show Yui he doesn't have a weakness? He could, but once again when it comes to topics or situations where he doesn't want to be involved with, he acts aloof and avoids it at all costs while changing the conversation. That's my rationale on that. The fact that he has such a different reaction being touched vs his other activities that could be considered as "excessive pandering" is a lil ~sus~ as they say. Or inversely, maybe Laito doen't address the fact that he likes being touched because he might consider genuine thrill as a weakness but maybe he gets desperate. He's desperate for legitimate compassion, the mans needs it.

As for challenging things you dislike, that also checks out in general. However, when it comes to Laito, he likes a sense of control and security. Instructing Yui to touch him gives that sense of control, but also lets him be slightly vulnerable. It's not even that vulnerable because if she does anything that could potentially harm Laito, he would be able to stop it in an instant.

He doesn't like challenging himself, and we all know this. His facade was created so he doesn't have to challenge himself to get over his past trauma. It's to avoid it and not challenge it instead.

I do think that Laito is incredibly self aware and self unaware at the same time. It's a little paradoxical but I feel like he knows he has a facade, but again, he tries to avoid the fact that he does have one and that his facade is true. We do know he's self aware through drama cds and what he says about himself in the games. They're vague, but once you know his character, you know what he's talking about. The fact that he projects onto Yui also says a lot about that.

Also, a little side note as well, in MB he does have consensual sex with Yui. Before that scene happened, he was being extremely vulnerable and a good chunk of his facade broke down. There's a certain tone when you know Laito's being serious and taking down his mask, and that's exactly what he did in that MB scene. Here's a quote from it:

Laito: For some reason, I feel strangely refreshed. Don’t you think that’s weird? I couldn’t get your blood out of my head for the longest time, but it finally calmed down. Right now, it isn’t your blood, but instead I want to hold your warm body close like this… And kiss you…I want to indulge in your body until I’m sick and tired of it. Nfu~

In this scene, Laito was happy crying, which was something he was not familiar with but also hasn't experienced before. It's an involuntary bodily function, yet he was confused by it. This just shows he is genuinely happy, and the fact that he says that he genuinely is admitting to what he wants for once, I don't think it's excessive pandering in this scene, it's him developing. You could argue that he got over his aversion to being touched in this scene. There's a couple asks in my ask box that's related to him and sex, which I will also get to sometimes this week. But that's a different post.

Again I think it could be argued either way, but that's my thought process behind this aside from what I previously said! There's just a lot to think about when it comes to this, and we won't know unless if something is said in canon! But Laito's incredibly complex and there's several factors that explains his behavior.

Hope that makes sense! And once again, thanks so much for submitting! I love hearing people's opinions and their own thoughts that either confirm or challenge my own, so thank you for that! This one definitely got me thinking more. That's the beauty in analysis! Each person takes something different from the text!

And who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind in the future!

[jinterlude]

Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier!  ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned​, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see! 

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…” 

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated. 

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care. 

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless. 

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.” 

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him. 

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face. 

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face. 

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.” 

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly, 

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.” 

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life. 

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years. 

It should be a fun adventure, right? 

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block. 

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours. 

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while. 

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass. 

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office. 

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady. 

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed. 

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling. 

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door. 

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words. 

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge. 

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?” 

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart. 

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.”  asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin. 

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him. 

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?” 

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single. 

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long. 

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch. 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together. 

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions. 

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on. 

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite. 

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all. 

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her. 

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.” 

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.” 

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!” 

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said, 

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out, 

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,” 

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment. 

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly. 

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO. 

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe. 

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear.  What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories? 

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him. 

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see. 

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun. 

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend. 

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders. 

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers. 

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.” 

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.” 

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands. 

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?” 

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?” 

“Ahora.” 

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name. 

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight. 

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said, 

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles. 

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys. 

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart? 

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts. 

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.” 

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice. 

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man. 

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?” 

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance. 

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store. 

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar. 

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant. 

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup. 

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not. 

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie. 

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.” 

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life.  He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic. 

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo. 

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo. 

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said, 

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!” 

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out. 

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.” 

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response, 

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!” 

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone. 

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right. 

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?” 

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point. 

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder. 

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone. 

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air. 

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous. 

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?” 

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.” 

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name. 

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.” 

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.” 

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.” 

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening. 

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot. 

It was perfect for this sudden blind date. 

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth. 

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you. 

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him, 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” 

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks. 

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun. 

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you. 

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table. 

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part. 

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out. 

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.” 

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness. 

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought. 

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.” 

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.” 

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up. 

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other. 

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date. 

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive. 

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool. 

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol. 

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date. 

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place. 

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke. 

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine. 

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear. 

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?” 

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.” 

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words, 

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.” 

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate. 

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!” 

Knock is copyright 2021 by jinterlude, all rights reserved.

[witchofapollo]

Magickal and Non-Magickal Tips for Writing

Fun fact! I do freelance writing as well as hobby writing, as most of my loyal followers can tell. I thought it was time that I share some tips about one of the things that I am passionate about.

Magickal

Charm your pens, using the ink as inspiration to help the words flow better

Ex. Burn a purple candle and chant, “As the ink flows, so do my words” confidently as if you are a monarch commanding their army

Practice regular meditation and visualization (if you have the ability to) to help with focus and determining your goals.

Below is a sigil to protect from writer’s block. Use it by drawing it at the top of your page or by drawing it on a sticky note and placing it on your monitor.

Incorprate color correspondences into your writing, whether it be via ink, your clothes, or even nail color. Here are some to help you out:

Yellow - Creativity

Red - Passion

Blue - Clear thoughts

Purple - Progress 

Green - Success

Keep rose quartz on your desk/working area to help with your confidence in your writing.

Appeal to various writing/creativity/art deities. Here are some listed below. I tried my best to avoid deities of closed religions, but I apologize if I didn’t realize one was closed (I got these from Wikapedia). In the end, it is up to you to determine which deities are appropriate for you to appeal to. Feel free to add some more.

Apollo (Greek and also my patron god)

Tir (Armenian)

Bao Zheng (Chinese)

Benzaiten (Japanese)

Nabu (Babylonian)

Enki (Sumerian)

Nidaba (Sumerian)

Minerva (Roman)

Ahura Mazda (Zoroastrian)

Burn incense nearby to invoke the attributes of the element of air, which is associated with creativity and freedom!

Sigil:

Non-Magickal

Read! The more you read, the more styles of writing, vocabulary, and sentence structure you are introduced to. Try to read more than one type of genre as well. Everything you read has a direct impact on your writing.

Regularly re-read your old work to see how you’ve progressed. This is especially helpful if you feel as if you are hitting a wall in your progression as a writer in general.

Practice! Writing isn’t easy. The words sometimes just don’t hit you and it can get really frustrating. Sometimes, no matter how many times you re-write the same passage, it doesn’t feel right. Practicing regularly, even if it is just to write in your journal every night, makes perservering easier. 

Re-read your work at least once! I am especially bad about this. You’d be surprised at the amount of typos you’d make. If you’re work is especially long, re-read each paragraph as you write them instead of all at once.

Take regulated breaks.

On that note, schedule times for you to sit down and write. People who schedule when they need to write have a better chance of actually sitting down and writing. This also means you won’t feel bad for not writing later. It doesn’t need to be for hours or even every day. For some, it’s in the mornings before work. For others, it’s just on the weekends. Determine what works best for you.

Writing with a quill pen just for the aesthetic is okay and no one should judge you for that. 

I really hopes this helps anybody who is interested in writing of any kind!

[nam-nam-joon]

comptine d'un autre été, l'après-midi

or: yoongi's song

Pairing: yoongi x reader

Genre: meet-cute, slow born, fluff

Wordcount: 13.7k

Summary: when your favourite study spot is suddenly unavailable, a fit of annoyance and the tinkling of piano keys lead you to discover an entirely new space. and along with it, someone to keep company.

The library's secretary looked down her nose at you, standing half a step below the desk.

Her voice was notably cooler as she spoke again.

"The section you would like to access is closed for cleaning for the entire week from today on. We apologize for any inconveniences, but there's nothing to be done about it. You will have to go and study elsewhere, I'm afraid."

The old crone leaned back in her chair, her beady eyes fixated on the screen of her computer once more. The chain on her glasses jingled softly.

You turned away from her, staring into the rows of bookshelves accusingly while the fingers around a stack of papers holding it up to your chest tapped furiously.

No studying in the library today.

Great.

There was no other place as good to study in as that particular nook you'd found while one day idling between the rows; nowhere else could you focus so well, so thoroughly. Hours could pass while you were engrossed in the material, and the prospect of being robbed of that, today of all days - and furthermore, for the whole week?

The sun falling through the narrow, high windows suddenly didn't seem as bright and cheery anymore.

Briefly you debated just sitting at one of the long tables in the main area, with everyone else - but quickly scrapped that thought. There were more people than usual there, courtesy of the partial blockage no doubt, and you knew it just wouldn't work out.

Still steaming, you turned a corner and pushed through the first set of doors you could find, really needing some air after this monumental setback.

The fresh breeze hit your face. It slipped through your jacket and caused a shiver to run down your entire form.

Blinking against the light you tried to orientate yourself.

A few steps forward on the stones surrounding this entrance, green with moss here and there, didn't bring the expected clarity concerning your surroundings that you'd hoped for; but instead you realized this was simply a part of campus you apparently had never seen before.

The curiosity about this new, uncharted area grew into the hollow left by the frustration. If you wouldn't be able to study in your favourite spot, you could at least roam the area here and see what mysteries might be hidden.

There was a lot of grass between the occasional tree, on a long hill softly sloping down into the residential area across a street down below. Then there were the campus buildings with their windows. Most had their blinds drawn, and only those on the higher floors were cracked open to let some air in.

It was so quiet.

Somewhere almost out of hearing range was a tingling sound, like windchimes.

You took a deep breath.

There was nowhere specific to go.

Already the stress about meeting your deadlines, the library closing down, it began to lose its edge.

The tinkling came wafting over with the breeze again and you turned your face towards it, feet beginning to move before you'd fully settled on what to do, where to go next.

The stones forming the path around the building were barely visible under the encroaching greenery. They cushioned your steps and softened the ground. A corner lay ahead, and after turning you were presented with more green space between two buildings, eventually ending in a wall that was most likely part of the ancient university campus, overgrown with ivy but still standing strong against time.

The tinkling had shifted from vaguely sounding like windchimes to definitely piano tunes, but it was still nice.

About three quarters to the wall stood an old picnic table under a maple tree.

The surface was a bit uneven, the table was made out of wood and students and time alike had both carved into the soft material.

The seat was slightly damp as well - you remembered the few drops this morning on your way to your lecture - but with your jacket placed over the seat it was a nice spot.

Great, even, as soon as the sun peeked through the clouds again, bringing warmth into the still air of the secluded spot.

Whoever was playing piano was probably close by, you thought after working on the sheets you'd brought for a bit.

The tunes perfectly fit into the overall mood resting in this place, underlining the tranquil state lasting over it.

It was like you had stepped into a pocket universe, with the general buzz of campus being left behind.

The chiming of a bell tower roused you from your work pace. Not having fully arrived in the real world yet you reached for your phone to check the time after counting the rings of the bell - was it really 5pm already?

Apparently it was, and you hurried to collect everything and stuff it into your bag.

Shouldering it, you brushed off your jacket and looked over the place to make sure you hadn't left anything behind once more before it really was time to leave if you still wanted to catch your usual train home.

The music was silent as you took your leave, and you wondered for how long it had been like that already.

Pushing through the doors back into the library was like waking from a pleasant dream. Even though it was the library, and as such calmer than the rest of campus, there was still the usual ruckus. A myriad of voices whispering and creating the white noise backdrop for shoes squeaking, chairs dragging over the floor, doors closing and the occasional shout.

The big communal university spaces were almost too loud to bear and you squinted your eyes at the air saturated with sounds.

Once the entrance hall gave you free and you were hurrying towards the public transport stations it was better again, but there was still a lot more technical sounds digging into your ear drums. You resolved to plugging your headphones in and were able to breathe a little easier while on your commute home, even without music playing.

The next day was free, no lectures to attend, but you still returned to get some more work done.

For a while you were afraid you wouldn't be able to find the picnic table under the maple tree again; that it had all been a wonderful, too good to be true, dream - but your nook in the library was still closed off and there was the door you'd gone through yesterday.

The table was still there, as was the tree, and today the wood was fully dry and birds were chirping in the ivy on the wall.

With a drink in hand and happiness upon finding the wonderful small place again in your heart you sat down to work again, and even though it was tedious and required a lot of forced attention, it somehow felt a little better doing it out here.

Every once in a while you had to make a break and go for a toilet run, refilling your water bottle or simply eating a snack you'd brought.

Between yesterday and today you hadn't seen anyone else out here, and so had little qualms about leaving your stuff unattended. Safe your phone and wallet, of course.

The sun, blinking through the clouds now and then, slowly wandered over the sky.

It must have been early afternoon when you lifted your head after a particularly nasty paragraph and heard the piano play again.

A smile spread on your face as you stretched your arms and allowed yourself a break, sat back and just listened to the notes.

Whoever was playing was good.

Not that you were an expert, but your ears liked it and that was what primarily counted.

Occasionally there was a break in the flowing tune, when whoever was playing went back and redid a couple notes, sometimes once, sometimes needing two attempts, until they were satisfied and continued.

You smiled and let your thoughts wander, momentarily forgetting about your work.

The week of not having access to your library nook went by much faster than anticipated.

On the following monday you stood in the foyer, waiting for a friend, when the small sign "Library fully open again!" caught your eye.

You stared at it for a moment longer, suddenly remembering that you had only found the almost magical table away from the craze of reality solely because there had been cleaning business at work cutting you off your old favourite spot.

You were still mentally trying to puzzle everything out when Jin came floundering around the corner, steps wide and an easy smile spreading on his face at your sight.

"-to one~!"

"What?" You looked up, and the expression on the other's face fell a bit.

"Aha! So you weren't listening at all, after all."

"Sorry. Bit caught up in my thoughts. Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Will you be telling me your secret how you worked through the entire material to that first book we're reading, already? Like… That was inhumanely fast. I know you're good, but honestly. Tell me your secrets." He poked a finger into the soft area between ribcage and belt, and you swerved to the side and away from him to escape it.

"A brilliant work ethic and iron self-discipline!" You chirped and Jin rolled his eyes with an overly dramatic sigh. He hooked an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side.

"If the Prof is threatening to let me fail this course, will you tell me then?"

"Kim Seokjin you better not be deliberately slacking off."

"I wasn't!" He pouted, steering you into the right hallway. "Not before, anyways. But if there's a cool new drug like Why-Phy that you're taking to get done sooner, you'll tell me, right?"

"Of course. It's either Why-Phy or blue crystal meth, Jinnie, you know me too well."

The brunet laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Three weeks since the library had reopened and you still had yet to return to the comfortable little chair next to the table with its small reading light.

You'd been lucky with the weather.

So far it had only rained or been too windy to sit outside longer on days you were too busy to get work done next to the lectures, or had to go early because of your job on the side.

Looking up through the leaves on the tree, blinking against the sun, you hoped it would continue to stay like this.

It felt so nice to be here, so private.

The windows leading into the yard were never not covered with blinds, at least the ones in the part of the building you were looking at frequently whenever your eyes needed a break.

The most noise was the wind in the tree or the ivy; occasionally students would sit on the other side of the wall and have a chat but that was about it.

That, and the piano music.

By now you were fairly certain it came from a room on the first floor, somewhere above the place you were sitting at, but there was no way to look into any of the rooms there.

As you turned and squinted up to them once more, not really seeing them but more wondering what might lay beyond the glass, something moving caught your eye.

Had it been an animal?

You blinked to clear your vision, but by then whatever had caused the disturbance had disappeared.

Maybe someone had looked down?

The uncomfortable feeling hadn't taken root fully before you shooed it away; surely it had been something else, a reflection of a passing bird, probably. And even if someone had looked out and seen you sitting here, so what? It wasn't illegal.

You ended your self-assigned break and went back to the material, but the thought of someone watching you, intruding on the privacy you'd enjoyed here, didn't fully leave your mind.

After finishing up early for the day you decided to go try and see if there was a way into the building you'd sat in front of so often now, and if, maybe, you'd be able to find the room the music was coming from every other day.

By the time you had bested the maze of hallways and never before used by you doors leading into other unknown parts of the campus, it was late already.

You tried some of the doors that you thought were on the right floor, but all of them were locked and there was no music coming from anywhere, either.

Disappointed, you went home.

It was the weekend afterwards, but on the next monday you were back, now finding your way to the remote, barely used building a little easier already. There was a nice long break before your next lecture and you were curious to explore more.

You held the door open after passing through as someone approached from the inside, and then went on. Silence lasted on the hallways here.

A window going out from the staircase showed the familiar corner, with the last bit of the library barely visible behind it, and you felt satisfied knowing this was where you'd wanted to go.

On the first floor you paused to catch your breath.

The lights were on overhead, but no other person was in sight.

The doors were locked as well, much like they had been on friday.

You had almost given up hope when a knob turned in your palm and you almost fell into the room behind it as the door gave away.

Dust danced in the spare light that fell through the windows.

Sheets of paper littered the floor. A few tables were pushed to the walls, there was an old cupboard missing its two front doors. More paper and empty binders were stacked in the exposed compartments.

What dominated the room though was the grand piano in its middle.

The shiny black surface beckoned to be touched by your fingertips, and you couldn't hold back from running them over the sleek paint.

It seemed old, if the slightly rusted wheels at the bottom of the pillars it was standing on were anything to go by, but it looked very well kept.

The cover lowered over the keys opened without sound. Black and white keys shared the space underneath it.

It felt wrong to push them, entice sound when you knew there were usually much more skilled hands at work here, and so you gently put the cover back and let your gaze explore the room more.

A big sheet covered a mixpult along one of the walls, several electric keyboards were stacked on the floor beside it.

The walls were a faded yellow which must've been nice once but now looked stale.

There was more paper around the piano, discarded sheet music, printed and self-written, you noticed with surprise as you bent down to inspect it.

Maybe a handful were pinned to the wall closest to the piano, exclusively hand written and, by the looks of it, self-composed.

Whoever was working their magic here so often really had a passion, it seemed, and it made you wonder why they weren't busy doing this over in the faculty for music.

Then again, you mused while stepping up to the window, this place was incredible in getting creative juices flowing. You'd experienced it yourself with work, could only guess at how it must be for someone so musically inclined.

Your picnic table under the maple tree was maybe three steps to the right underneath the window, in direct line of sight from where you stood.

It felt almost weird, knowing that if whoever was practicing here so often had even only once stood up and walked towards the window to look outside had most likely seen you sitting under the tree.

A moment longer you hung after your thoughts.

Then you blinked and remembered that you were probably not welcome here, with the expensive piano and the private compositions, and quickly and silently left the room again, making sure to close the door behind you.

You didn’t go back again in the afternoon, but as you sat down two days later, the tinkling of the keys was drifting down to your spot once more. Smiling about their company, you focused on your work.

It seemed like good things wouldn't last.

The professors heaped enormous amounts of extra essays, excerpts and transcriptions upon each of your heads, and caught between balancing your work and study life, along with having to prep multiple presentations, you were left yearning for the calm spot beneath the tree.

Namjoon had managed to get you to admit where you'd been vanishing off to over the past weeks; after loudly proclaiming that even though the library had been squeaky clean for weeks now he had yet to see you return to your spot.

"Well maybe I found a better spot!" You defended your absence, over lunch in the cafeteria.

"Aha!" Jin yelled, making everyone in a five meter radius around him flinch. "So you have been hiding! I knew it."

"It's just a tiny spot under a tree, outside the old Uni's wall. Stumbled upon it by accident, but a total good find."

“I see.” Namjoon was too intelligent to not notice you didn’t really want to talk about this and soon after dropped the topic.

Rain ran down the windows in streams and you sighed at its presence.

Like this there was no way to get out to the table, and even if it would have cleared up instantly - the wood would need at least several hours in direct sunshine to dry.

Seemed like the last of your luck had run out.

With the lighting from inside the hallways the world outside was hardly recognizable.

You loved the library, and especially the little nook, but there was just something about that table and the tree out among the downpour that was a lot more appealing now than your old favourite spot.

Sitting down anywhere else seemed impossible. Especially, you dimly thought to yourself, especially because the music would be missing.

It was ten times better than listening to your own stuff, because you didn't have to choose what to hear and couldn't simply skip tracks. A little like radio; you could just hear what was given to you, but unlike radio there were no ads.

You found yourself on ground level of the deserted building, hand on the railing and foot on the first step of the stairs before you realized - you could just sit down somewhere close to the room, listen if someone was playing today and do your work there.

Fuelled by this revelation you took the steps two at once and arrived in the hallway a little out of breath, with your heart pounding not only from the exercise.

There it was. The music.

Inexplicably content about the recent developments you picked a clean enough looking spot on the floor, opened your bag and pulled out your notes.

It wasn't as nice as sitting outside, you came to see. Natural light was a lot better to read and work alongside texts with, and the artificial kind provided here could simply not compete.

Still, with the musical undertones, you were able to cross at least some of the workload off before you allowed yourself to sit back against the wall, ignore the stupid pages in front of you and simply listen to what was being played.

It had shifted in the last days. Had it been pieces vaguely familiar to you at the start had the melodies become more and more unrecognizable over time, and now you sat a few steps from the door, eyes closed and listening, thoughts drifting further from the sheets surrounding you by the minute.

The melody was low, subdued but still driving. It sounded like something that would play at the start of a movie, a car ride maybe, with the glowing lights of a city pouring through the windows but no sound audible but this song.

It felt like the car was on its way somewhere, somewhere important, and the people inside the car knew of the importance of this destiny but were too overwhelmed to talk about it.

Maybe the scene would end at the sea, the viewer expecting to hear the ocean's waves crash against the cliff, the gulls crying overhead, but the song would continue playing.

Softly, the tune changed, and you furrowed your brows.

The melody gradually lightened until the great weight was fully lifted from it and the scene with the car and the lights and the muted ocean seemed entirely unfitting. This was more like spring, breathing in the warming air, seeing the sun again after months, that kind of stuff.

You were still drifting, trying to think of what else it reminded you of when the silence became more pronounced. Whoever it was had stopped playing, and you opened your eyes, falling from the small clouds of dreaming back into the shabby hallway.

Steps rang out behind the door, a window closed and you stared at your bag and the spread out work in horror. There was no time to pack it all up.

The door clicked open.

A pair of dark eyes stared into yours, the look of surprise at so unexpectedly seeing the other on both your faces.

Black hair reached over eyebrows, barely visible through a split in the strands.

A hand clutched what looked like a set of keys, the sleeve of the dark hoodie almost slipping over it.

He was first to break the moment of pure surprise. Clearing his throat he stepped out of the room fully, pulled the door shut behind him.

By then you'd managed to look down on the orderly mess you'd made and back up.

"I really like your music." You attempted a smile. The guy, likely not much older than you, pressed his lips into a line.

"Thanks."

It sounded softer than his expression had led you to believe. His eyes flitted over the floor for a bit before he spoke again, not having moved much more than a step. "You really shouldn't be sitting around here, I don't know when it got cleaned last."

"Ah." You twirled your pen. "Well…"

The dark haired stranger sniffed and buried his hands in his pants’ pockets, squaring his shoulders in a way that made him look incredibly uncomfortable.

"Did I interrupt something? Do you need me to move or-" You trailed off.

"No! No, no." He was quick to interrupt, one hand stretched out to halt your beginning frenzy of packing up. "No, it's alright, you weren't- doing… anything." He coughed and rubbed his neck with the free hand. "You… You usually sit outside, under the tree, right?"

You met his gaze, saw his eyes glinting once before he looked away, scuffing a used Vans sneaker on the floor.

"-Yeah, that's true. Couldn't really, today…" Gesturing towards the rain-streaked window, the other followed your line of sight and huffed.

"Yeah, weather's been shit all day. The library's probably chock full, too." He trailed off, and you observed with interest how he seemed to build himself up to the next thing to say.

"I've been… seeing you. Not wanting to sound like… a creep or so, I just- I noticed you sat outside quite often."

You smiled, and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Yeah! I wandered around after the library was closed for cleaning the other day, and came across this place. It's amazing. So quiet and basically nobody around… and the background music is great, too."

He looked down on his shoes at your words but you could see how one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"This was by the way a major factor for coming here today. It's just- Quiet, void of any people? Very few distractions? Plus free music? There's just no other place where I can get all that."

He rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips broadened. When he moved his head you could see the tips of his ears peeking through his hair, both a healthy shade of red.

"Min Yoongi." He held out his hand after studying you for a moment. "Resident ambience dealer, apparently."

Grinning, you took his larger palm, feeling the bones in his thin fingers as you told him your own name. "-Resident study freak and avid listener to Min Yoongi's compositions."

He grumbled at that. "You listen to piano a lot?"

"Not really. Only when I come here."

This time his eyes stayed on you for longer, and he leaned his back against the opposite wall while slowly easing closer to the ground.

"Then how did you know it was my own stuff I was playing?"

You tugged some papers closer by their corners, beginning to shepherd them together.

"I was in there some time ago, when you weren't there. Wanted to know where the music was coming from, took me ages to even find a way into this place. Your room is really messy, you know that?"

His face was halfway turned away again but at the humour in your voice he looked back, pout on his features.

"I never meant for anyone else to see in the first place! You don't get to complain!" He huffed, glancing at where you were chuckling across from him at his indignant outcry.

"Okay okay, I promise I won't go back inside. But that what you played last today, that was really good. Is that one of yours, too?"

He bit on his bottom lip and nodded, fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants stretching over his knees.

“What’s your major? Music?”

“Something in that direction, yeah.” Then, after a pause in which he seemed to realize it would be the polite thing to do, he asked: “You?”

The rain continued to run down the glass as you spoke, telling the other about your plans with studying, and the hopes you had. He listened intently and only rose his voice after it was obvious you had ended, and it created a nice back and forth. Thunder clapped outside, growling and forcing him to speak up a little more.

You sighed.

"Guess I better head back if I still wanna make it home today." You swept the last of the sheets together and put them into their binder, shoving the concoction unceremoniously back into your bag.

You brushed a bit of dust off your pants and quietly pulled a face as you peeled a long hair with cobwebs off your pants.

When you met Yoongi's eyes he looked off to the side, softly shrugging. "Told you…"

"Are you heading back, too?" Now it was him looking up at you, hands linked over his knees.

"Yeah?"

You held out your hand, and after mustering it for a moment, he took it.

Either he had a lot of self-control over his body or he wasn't weighting much; either way you pulled him up and then he was towering over you once more.

"You have a car?" You asked him on the way down, looking up from the keys in his hand.

"Hm? Oh. Oh yeah. Just- It’s a hand me-down from my brother."

He cleared his throat.

"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna steal your stuff?"

He turned his head towards you, his eyebrows creasing the skin between them.

"Because you don't lock the room?" You elaborated. Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, focusing on the steps down.

"Not really. As far as I know it's only us knowing of these rooms even being here, and most of them are locked, so…"

"But you keep copies of your songs, right? Photos or some app to write it down with?" He looked at you like you had just proposed to assassinate the Dean.

"No?" He held the door open for you and then you were out in the main part of campus again.

Part of you had wondered if Yoongi would just straight up disappear as soon as you crossed the threshold, but it appeared he was very much real as he fell into step alongside you.

"Then what if someone does get in? And steals them? Or you forget to close the window and rain gets in and ruins the sheets?"

He shrugged, and the way he seemed to care so little frustrated you.

"But it's such great music!"

He shrugged again but looked on his shoes while doing so.

For a moment you were quiet, staring straight ahead while the thoughts were racing behind your forehead.

"-"

"No."

"I haven't said anything!"

He glared at you from the corner of his eyes. "But you were going to. Whatever it is, no. If anything happens to my music, that's my business, okay? Don't worry about it."

His resolute tone halted every attempt at clapping back in its core, and the few minutes it took until you were out in the entrance hall that was swimming with how many students came in and went you spent in silence.

Yoongi half turned towards you when you were already beaming up at him. "I'll hear you around?"

"-Fuck me." He covered his face with a hand and you laughed at his exasperated groan at your joke.

"Bye Yoongi!"

"Honestly, get lost..."

You were on your way to the table again, binder under your arm. Rounding the corner and you would have almost slipped on the moss growing over the path; you stared back and silently cursed while being glad you didn't actually fall.

The surface of the desk was wet when you reached it.

"It's been like, an entire day, why are you not dry." You said lowly, feeling the top down. Definitely too wet for anything paper related.

"You're late."

You looked up at the drawl, only needing a moment until your eyes fixed on the mop of hair peeking out of the window.

"Oh, yeah?" You looked down on the table, not really knowing what else to say. "Well... your ass is late, too."

"The fuck."

The confusion on Yoongi's face was a delight to see. A moment longer you stayed rooted to the spot next to the table, then his voice came again.

"You wanna come up here now or what. That desk won't dry up until tomorrow. If you're lucky."

Squinting up you shielded your eyes against the glare of the bright clouds overhead.

"You won't mind?"

Yoongi seemed to momentarily contemplate it, looking straight ahead. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, you can either get your ass wet sitting outside, or get it dirty sitting in the hallway, but if you enjoy my music really that much it'll be a total experience sitting in the same room while i play. Your choice."

He vanished from the open window and closed it, only leaving a crack open.

Your fingers tapped on the binder.

Five minutes later you knocked on the blank door, waiting patiently in your spot until steps sounded out and Yoongi opened.

He was sporting the same dark hoodie today, fidgeting with the sleeves of it.

"May I come in?" You inquired, and he wordlessly stepped aside.

Together with Yoongi's help you pulled one of the overturned tables right way up, found a suitable chair and then wiped the surfaces off. There was a small sink in the adjacent storage room, with running water and all, and eventually your new desk was in a condition you deemed okay.

You sat down on your chair and Yoongi, who'd been brooding over his sheet music since you'd shooed him off to clean everything by your standards, looked back down on the floor. He perched on the run down piano stool, elbows on his knees, and peered on the papers strewn across the ground.

Occasionally he'd bend down to pick one up but you had too much to do to really watch him for longer.

At one point he turned and you allowed yourself a moment of rest. He pushed the hoodie up his arms, almost to his elbows, before his fingers placed themselves on the keys and he started to play.

He had been right. It was something entirely else to sit in the same room with him while he played.

Like this the music drowned out any other sound that may have sailed in from outside; whether it be the call of bird or bell.

It was nice.

Your thoughts calmed down until they ran smooth, circling around topics once or twice before moving on.

The world existed only in this room, the music filled your ears and the shabby lighting overhead concealed the darkening sky outside.

At one point Yoongi stood in front of your table, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie once more. His knuckles pushed at his skin. The edge of one sleeve was beginning to fray.

Mildly irritated, you looked up and met his eyes.

"What?"

"Uh isn't this the time you usually leave?"

You held contact a moment longer before looking down on your watch and tsking disapprovingly. Yoongi's shoulders twitched up.

"Shit, it is."

Ripped out of the peaceful mood you began to collect pages and close books, mentally going through the timetable and if you’d still make the train. "Are you heading out, too?"

He nodded and, growing braver again, stacked a few materials while you shoved everything in your bag. "Thanks." You hurried.

It'd be a bit tight, time-wise, but Yoongi's long legs effortlessly kept pace with your quick steps.

"How'd you know this was my time to leave, anyways?" You narrowed your eyes at him, not hiding the smile on your lips. "Have you been stalking me?"

Yoongi opened and closed his mouth without saying anything once or twice before he looked ahead and said "It was the time you left, last time." His shoulders were still drawn up as he peeked at you from the side. "I'd never-"

"I was kidding." You took half a step to the side and bumped your elbow into the general area of his arm. His hand reflexively came up and clutched the spot.

“I'm a creature of habit. If I miss this train I'll have to wait forever until the next one comes and that's always a huge pain."

He nodded, and shortly after, bid you farewell before you parted behind the front doors.

It had rained the entire weekend long and you didn't bother to go outside to the table, instead turning left before the library even came into view and headed straight for Yoongi's hideaway.

He didn't open when you knocked and you found the room empty after peeking inside.

He came in half an hour after you, in a dark blue hoodie this time, and looked a bit startled at seeing you there.

"Hi!" You smiled at him, over the backrest of the chair. "I hope you don't mind, it rained again and I-"

He shrugged and shuffled past you, heavily slumping down in front of the piano.

He didn't say anything and his melodies today were slow and deep.

Before you could turn to leave after the clock had well advanced, his back straightened and, anticipating him speaking up, you paused; jacket already on and bag in hand.

"Thanks for not asking me what's wrong."

He was talking to the piano, but you still smiled a bit.

"Of course."

"I don't know, if, I said it already but, you're very- welcome to come here if, you know, the weather…"

You looked down on your shoes. Only after it didn't seem like he was going to finish his sentence did you raise your voice.

"I don't think you did, but I really appreciate it. Thank you. Will you stay a little longer today?"

His gaze fled your face for his piano again after you raised your head.

"Yeah."

"Take it easy, Yoongi."

"Whatever."

You smiled at him even though you didn't know if he'd see, and then headed out.

You'd gotten ahead of homework and so could ease a little during your work sessions in Yoongi's piano room now, and during one of those easier days decided to finally ask the question that had been bouncing around your head for a while now.

"How'd you get the piano tuned? And isn't it really old?"

He didn't look up from his sheet, brows still furrowed at something he'd probably written down a few days ago and now wasn't satisfied with anymore.

"I watched a few Youtube tutorials."

You put your chin in one of your hands and grinned, but Yoongi broke eye-contact quickly after glancing your way.

"You did it yourself?"

"Yeah? Wasn't. Wasn't that hard."

Your grin widened and his glare intensified at its presence. "Min Yoongi. Musical Genius."

"Shut up."

His ears coloured red and gave him away, and you'd have loved to go over and give him a quick hug.

You didn't know how many other people got to appreciate him, but if his hideout here was anything to go by it weren't many. Probably.

He was adorable.

Even when the sun was shining outside and it had been dry for several days you wouldn't go to the little desk, favouring the clear sound of Yoongi playing and his occasional comment, mumbled to himself. It was far too cold now, anyways. Winter was fast advancing as November went on.

He had a way to be in the same space with you while not demanding any of your attention - which made it incredibly pleasant to have him around.

If you weren’t spending time together in amicable silence he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Most of his answers were short, or mumbled sounds, and yet you never got the impression he was fed-up or annoyed. He asked things too, occasionally; and though objectively you hadn’t known him that long, it still felt weird to remember there had been a time without him in your life.

Once, after you'd struggled with a particularly boring part of a required text that your brain just wouldn't process at all, he'd quietly asked if you could come over and take a look at something he'd been working on.

You stared at him, the skin between your eyebrows creased.

"Yoongi I don't know anything about music. Do you really-"

"Please?"

"...Fine."

You were standing next to him already, preparing to sit, when he parted his lips and looked up at you.

"Could you… sit with your back to the keys? It's just, I…"

It wasn't his fault, you were frustrated by the text; but you couldn't help the forced exhale of air that left your nose.

Yoongi's shoulders twitched. You hesitated, wanted to say something, didn’t find the words and then made an effort to move as calmly and quietly as possible to not upset him further.

"Sorry. Long day.” You said in a low voice, feeling strangely raw. “Play, if you… if you want?"

You could see him looking at you, through the corners of your eyes, and part of the tension left his form again at your words, underlying tone asking for forgiveness.

"S'alright." He breathed, just before clearing his throat and placing his hands on the keys.

As he played, the tight knit ball of jumbled thoughts behind your forehead stopped growing.

The longer you listened, the more tension left your brain; the cramped thoughts and need-to-do’s losing their alarming vibrant colours.

You felt yourself calm down.

He broke off playing and coughed nervously.

"So that- was version one. This is version two."

And he began to play again, the same piece, though slightly different, and this time you reminded yourself to pay more attention and really listen.

After he'd finished, the frustration over your text had thinned out and you were fully focused on the task at hand.

"So?" He asked, nervously rubbing his hands together.

"Can you play the first one again? Just for comparison?"

He nodded and went back to it.

"I think I like the first one better.” You decided. “The second one… implies something darker lurking beneath, and, I guess if that's what you intended it's executed well but the rest sounds lighter and so-"

He huffed out a laugh and dropped his head, hands sandwiched between his thighs.

"Hm? Not good? What I said?"

"No, no," He hurried to reassure, eyes gleaming under his fringe. "No, it's… I was hoping you'd say that, I guess. Gives me a reason to scratch this part. Didn't even like it much, I just felt- Yeah. Thanks."

At the almost-grin spreading on his lips you had to smile as well.

Had your shoulders touched during the entire time you'd sat here?

He broke the eye-contact first, looking back towards the keys once before meeting your gaze again.

"Rough day hm?"

"Yeah." You looked ahead, not really seeing the wall there. "Yeah, you could say that…"

Another sigh and then you were feeling the exhaustion more and more.

It was a spur of the moment thing, really, and you asked before you could hold yourself back.

"Are you okay with touches?"

"Ha? What do you-"

"Can I put my head on your shoulder?"

"Oh. Uh-"

"It's- It's fine if you don't want that," You hurried to backpedal, already mentally chiding yourself. "I'll be o-"

"No, it's, uh, you, ah, you can! Put your head on… yeah. I don't mind."

His voice got quieter and quieter until he was mumbling the last sentence.

His shoulder, although cushioned by his hoodie, was bonier than you'd thought. But it was nice, to rest for a moment, and you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly.

Yoongi's breathing had his shoulders rising and falling, and unconsciously, you adapted your rhythm to his, until you were breathing in synch.

"Thank you." You mumbled, adjusting your head and feeling your forehead brush his hood.

"Don't worry about it." This up close his voice was even deeper, and the low tone soothed the rawness your ears had suffered under for the past days in crowded lecture halls and hallways.

Ever so softly his cheek came to rest against the top of your head as he gave into the shy touch.

"Do you sing, Yoongi?"

You still had your eyes closed, listening to Yoongi's breathing and the sound his clothes made when they rubbed against themselves, against his skin.

"Sometimes." He answered after a pause. "More rap than… singing lullabies."

"I bet you sound good doing either."

He snorted, which pretty clearly gave away how little he thought of your compliment.

A moment long neither of you spoke.

Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"Why exactly do you think that?"

Your left arm was slightly pushed forward as he moved his left arm, from where the backs of your forearms were pressed against each other.

"You have a very nice voice, deep, and steady, and- It has that ring to it, you know, the same undertone. Some people speak and you can't really make out the tone or… colour… of their speech, but your voice doesn't jump around. You could probably read a phone book and make it sound nice."

"Okay that just ruined everything you said before."

"Oh fuck off! You asked!" There was a laugh in your voice as you lifted your head to look at him exasperatedly. He blinked, looking a bit sleepy, as if he had rested his eyes a little, too.

At your expression he hollowed out his cheeks.

"Jeez, don't behead me. I'll take it, okay? Happy now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

You pursed your lips and waited, until Yoongi would break eye-contact, but he didn’t surrender as quickly. He blinked and kept looking, and everything in you wanted to put your head back down, back on his shoulder, and stay like that a little longer, talk a bit more.

But this small break had gone for a bit too long already and you knew you should get back to work. That text sadly wouldn't read itself.

An unfamiliar touch on your arm held you back.

"Can you stay a bit longer?"

Half standing above him already he had to tilt his head so he could look at you.

"I really should-" You began, and then sighed, admitting that you really didn't want to move to yourself, and sat back down. "...Screw that text."

Yoongi's shoulder bumped yours, almost like an invitation, and you gave in without much thought.

You felt the bones shift as Yoongi lifted his hands and began to press single keys, filling the silence of the room with tunes.

"That text got you all worked up, hm." He spoke again after a while.

You frowned at nothing.

"It's just so dull. The professor said it serves as an example of what not to write, so it's basically just- we're just supposed to read it and mark all the mistakes, to avoid doing the same mistakes, but honestly… I know how and what I have to write, I shouldn't- Ugh. See? It's annoying me again already."

You huffed, leaning a bit more on Yoongi.

His cheek found your hair again and he chuckled.

"What's that idiot done wrong in his writing then?"

You weren't so sure afterwards, if he really had wanted to know or if this was just Yoongi's way of getting you to review the material differently, but you supposed it had worked out.

It was a lot easier to read and complain aloud while he sat next to you and listened to you rant, even though the finer nuances were surely lost on him since he wasn't studying the same thing.

On your way back to your flat you held your left arm with your right until you saw yourself in a reflection and noticed it.

Sitting next to Yoongi like that had only further proved how comforting his presence was, and now, without anything like that to be repeated in the foreseeable future, the missing touch felt a lot worse than where you had been before.

Technically you'd see him again tomorrow, or the very least Thursday.

But who was to say he'd ask you to sit with him again?

You ran into him during lunch the next week after not making it back to his room before that.

He was looking off to the side, in the direction of the lousy holiday decorations that had popped up in the major community spaces - You needed a moment to recognize him as the same guy who was playing piano while you studied. His bare arms, sticking out of a black shirt that hung from his shoulders, were almost shocking. That, and the surroundings clashing so harshly with what you were used to see him surrounded by.

“Hey, Yoongi!” You called out after the realization had sunk in, and turned with the tray in your hand.

His shoulders jerked up, but as his searching gaze connected with yours he relaxed.

“Hi.” He rubbed over his neck. “What are you…” His eyes fell on the food you were balancing in your hands. “Right. Lunch.”

“Are you headed somewhere?” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Yoongi shook his head slowly, hands clenching around his hoodie he carried in them.

“Wanna sit with my friends and me? They’re just over there, next to the pillar.”

“Uh-”

“They’re all really friendly and don’t bite, I promise.”

“...Fine.” He sighed and trudged after you as you turned.

Whenever he agreed to do something you had proposed to him he made it out to seem like it was a decision that had taken him weeks to arrive to, or if it was something incredibly heavyweight he couldn’t just agree to, but whenever you offered him to go back on saying yes, or reminding him he could opt out any moment, he was always vehement to defend his point. It almost looked like he did things purely out of spite even when you’d meant well to second-guess his willingness to cooperate.

It was the same today, as he followed you through the rows, and then pulled out a chair next to yours as you put the tray down.

“Friends, this is Yoongi. He plays piano.”

“My most defining feature, apparently.” He grumbled in response and sat down, not after shimmying into his hoodie.

“Oh hey Yoongles!” Jin perked up, the burrito in his hands falling apart. “You two know each other?!”

“That does surprise me, I agree.” Hoseok added, stealing bits of the filling of Jin’s food that fell to the plate below. The quirky guy had one day invited himself into your circle of friends and nobody had had a heart to kick him out, but apparently he did know other people on campus save your group.

“You know him?” You retorted, pulling out your water bottle before starting on the food.

“Some people socialize, my dear friend.” Jin said, swatting at Hoseok’s hand.

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t aware Yoongi did that.”

“Ouch?” The black haired guy next to you said and got a round of laughs back.

“Sorry.” You apologized. He stole the small package of chips from your tray and opened it.

“I mean, it’s kind of true, I suppose.” He relented.

“Did you write down what the Prof wrote on the blackboard last Monday?” Jin had given up on his burrito and was furiously wiping at his hands while a happy Hoseok gleefully dug into the scattered remains. Jimin next to him made grabby hands and the plate got pushed over so he’d reach it too. Jin pursed his lips.

“Yeah. You need them or what?” Yoongi dropped a chip in his mouth and chewed slowly.

Jin turned his head and a more up-beat expression settled on his features. “Pretty please!”

Yoongi groaned.

Around half an hour later the cafeteria filled up as more and more students took their break, and soon enough your group rose to make room for the people who actually needed the space to sit down.

“You going to practice today?” You asked Yoongi as your group made its way towards the exit. He nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, can I come?” Hobi suddenly appeared by Yoongi’s other side, apparently having overheard the conversation.

Yoongi glared.

“And have you leave prints on all my shit? No thank you.”

“Excuse you these sneakers are brand new! Not a single speck of du- Hey!”

To your utter delight Yoongi had stepped on the brilliant white of Hobi’s new shoe and left a dusty brown mark.

The sputtering outcry got the attention of Namjoon and Jin who’d been walking ahead, and after placating words and a glare from Yoongi you all parted ways, Hobi notably not tagging along with you.

“That was mean.” You told him, still laughing over Hoseok’s exasperation.

Yoongi shrugged, hands in his pockets, but you saw the smile on his lips just before he angled his face in a way that didn’t allow you to observe his features any longer.

The days until the short christmas break were counting down.

One weekend you spent baking with Jimin and Rose, and were left with so many cookies you put a good amount in a box, wrapped it in newspaper and brought it with you to give to Yoongi as an early present.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he saw the gift sitting on his chair after he had come in, because he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?” He asked, and you looked up from the transcribing exercise.

“What what?”

“That.” He pointed, as if a motion detection sensor would go off if he took only a step closer.

You clasped your hands under your chin and looked from the chair to Yoongi.

“Didn’t you see the elf that came in and dropped this off?”

His eyebrows drew together and he glared at you.

“I have a feeling I’m looking at this ‘elf’ right now.” He crossed his arms. You shrugged.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to give it to.” That cute first-semester from Jimin’s Survey of Linguistics and Languages class maybe, Jungkook.

“No.” Yoongi grumbled, and you mentally scratched having to rehome the box of cookies. Although, come to think of it, there were probably enough cookies left at home to pack another box. Maybe you’d ask Jimin if he could ask Jungkook if he’d like some.

He sat after picking the present up, hesitantly, and weighted it in his hands.

“What’s in it?” He turned to you.

You lifted an eyebrow. “Wait until the evening of the 24th and find out. Or abandon all social norms and just tear into it now, I wouldn’t judge.”

“Like fuck you would.” He huffed and then looked from the patched up paper to you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, and then decided against it, only placing the gift on top of the piano, in a spot where it wouldn’t be in the way.

You got up earlier than usual, wanting to get a bit of shopping done before leaving for your parent’s home for the holidays.

Yoongi’s head jerked up, and the pencil he’d twirled in his fingers clattered to the ground.

“Is it five already?” He asked, hands reaching for his phone.

“Nah,” You slung your scarf around your neck. “I’ll run some errands.”

“Oh okay.”

To your surprise, Yoongi started grabbing his things as well.

You paused.

“Yoongi, what…?”

His gift under his arm, the other froze.

“Huh? Didn’t you ask if I could drive you today?”

You blinked.

Dim, very dim was the memory, of having asked him, a week ago. You hadn’t decided to do the shopping today, back then.

“You- You don’t have to. Sorry, I forgot, my bad-” You bit in your lip. “You, uh, you stay, and… Compose a while longer. I’ll be fine.”

In the silence between you, you could hear the wind whistling around the corners of the building.

It was dark outside already.

Yoongi was still looking at you, and though you’d come to understand his expressions a bit, this one was undecipherable.

“So you… Don’t want me to drive you?”

He looked weird, the newspaper wrapped box under his arm, his jacket slung over the other. Ready to go, at your convenience.

It twisted your heart a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t remember you saying yes, and my shopping-”

“I could still drive you. It’s faster than the train?” His eyebrows twitched upwards in the middle, just a tiny bit.

“-Okay.” You agreed, and his posture relaxed at last.

His car smelled new, even though everything in it was carrying marks of the years it had been used.

You stayed silent, unsure how to proceed, and as the lights of downtown illuminated the inside of his car, you turned your head to look at him.

“Would you like to come do the shopping with me?”

The car rolled to a stop at the next red light, and in the low light, Yoongi’s eyes glinted as he looked over.

“If you want me to?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.”

"I bought an iPad."

"You what?" You looked up from your work, across the room and met his eyes over the piano. He was glaring.

"You heard me."

"I did. Why though?"

January was almost over by now, but it would take a while longer until the sun would win back her intensity, and not let the daylight fade this early in the afternoon. Though, clouds littered the sky today, which was probably the main cause why the lights overhead reflected in the glass already at this hour.

Yoongi looked down on the keys, his hands rubbing over his thighs.

"You won't stop nagging me about losing the sheets or forgetting the tunes, so I thought… I could record some of the songs. Scan the sheets. That kinda stuff."

You smiled, unashamed and wide, and Yoongi's glare intensified.

"You're gonna come have a look or what."

He sounded a little pressed and without any more words you left your desk and crossed the room.

He shuffled aside so you could fit yourself next to him.

The tablet wasn't the latest model - which would have really surprised you, otherwise - but there was something like a microphone plugged into the lightning port and clipped to the edge.

"Is that a mic?" You leaned forward, having had half the mind to sit on your hands to not accidentally touch anything and ignite Yoongi's wrath.

"Yes." He grumbled, still a bit more fidgety than usual. "Cost almost as much as the damn thing so I hope you're happy."

The grin stole into the wonder and awe that had captured your expression before.

"I am. Very. Recorded anything yet?"

You'd arrived a bit later today, courtesy to an extended lunch with Namjoon and Jin.

Yoongi's eyes glinted when he looked from the keys to you.

"And have you chewing my ear off for not letting you be there? Fuck no. Was gonna wait until you got here. -Shut! It."

You bit your lip to keep the cooing at bay, opting to gently nudge his shoulder with yours instead.

"I appreciate it. Wanna play now?"

The nervosity was back, the way he bounced his leg so uncharacteristically agitated  for him. He was more like a pond usually, calm and undisturbed.

"Keep quiet alright?"

You nodded.

He sighed and rubbed his hands one last time. Then he extended one, woke the screen and unlocked the tablet. The recording program was already open.

He clicked the red button and instantly a flat line appeared, only beginning to curve up and down as he shifted and began to play.

Keeping your breathing flat was probably unnecessary and yet you couldn't help it.

Yoongi's hands danced over the keys, pushing down and lifting in such rapid succession you could hardly keep up with. It was mesmerizing to observe, but not only that.

With his eyes closed and his head angled he gave himself to the music completely, feeling every note.

There was a small pulling in your chest, from the area around your heart, at his sight.

It must feel good to be able to zone out this much doing something you loved and were good at.

Only after he'd repeated the chorus did you notice what he was playing - the melody that had initially drawn you in and led you to the table outside.

Your heart in your chest grew with every beat, until it felt like it pressed against your ribcage from the inside.

Yoongi slowed down, the notes came a little wider apart, and then he let the last chord ring out. Fingertips still resting on the keys, you looked between them, waiting if he'd play another song.

When he slid them down on his pants it became clear he didn't intend to.

Silence enveloped you.

"That's my favourite song. That one. I only found you because of it."

Your eyes went back to his face and caught him already looking. His eyebrows drew together.

He tapped the little square and the program stopped recording.

"Now you ruined the first ever song I played for the record, idiot."

You scoffed.

"I only spoke up after it was all done, you can easily cut that out, genius."

He huffed and you rolled your eyes.

"Not everything has to be perfect first try. Thought someone like you would know that."

He just shook his head, still frowning.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll keep quiet now." Thinking he was honestly upset, you apologized, hoping it'd sooth his temper.

But it didn't seem to be the right call as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders rolling forward.

"Just… Nevermind."

"Do you want me to get out of your hair?"

Your butt had already lifted from the chair when his reply came, mumbled through his hands.

"No."

You sat back down.

Dark eyes glinted at you through his fingers, then he combed through his hair and pushed it back from his face.

It was the first time you could really see his eyebrows well, and the expanse of his forehead.

You'd known he had one, of course, but seeing it was something else.

He woke the tablet again and started a new recording.

You smiled.

You didn’t get any work done that afternoon, but then again listening to a fraction of the repertoire that Yoongi had to offer was phenomenal compensation.

Still he looked a bit rueful, standing next to your desk while you packed your stuff, the iPad with its closed cover and Mic securely stored in the small bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry I… Kept you from your studying.”

You looked up while zipping your pencil case shut.

“It’s okay. Think I needed that, anyways. A break from all those words. It’s me who should thank you, really.”

He wrinkled his nose and kicked at a speck of dust, following you out the room once you were done.

“Still. Can I… Do you want a ride home? I know you missed the bus you usually take.”

“You’d do that?”

“It’s the least, really…”

A smile spread on your face. “Who am I to say no to such a gracious offer, why yes, thank you Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He grumbled, pushing ahead with a frown on his features.

"Play for me, Min, please." You sat next to him on the stool, hands underneath your thighs and gaze swimming from exhaustion.

Yoongi's shoulder softly bumped into yours as he repositioned himself.

"You okay."

"Yeah. Just. Please play."

"Alright." He looked at the keys, fingers caressing them but not pressing down hard enough to evoke the notes. "Anything in particular?"

"Can you play my favourite piece?"

His eyes stayed on yours and you grew almost uncomfortable by their scrutiny.

And then he blinked and turned back towards the keys, rolling his wrists once and setting his fingers down.

"As you wish."

As he played you watched his fingers move, trying to lean away whenever he came near you to avoid bumping into his arm. His skin looked healthier now, now that the temperatures were rising again and there were no angry, painful red cracks lining the back of his hands anymore.

It was like his body had its own gravitational field, drawing you in.

When he ended, your side was leaned against his, your heavy head teetering on the edge just before dropping to his shoulder.

The arm he wrapped around you would have come as a surprise, eliciting at least a twitch out of you, had you been a little more coherent.

As it was, your body sighed and curled into his, head tucked into his shoulder, while his hand pulled you closer by your side.

"Long day."

It wasn't a question, but you understood the offer he was making.

"Yeah." You sighed, the hoodie-clad shoulder pleasantly soft under your cheek. "Finals will kick my ass. Didn't want to do an all-nighter ever again but got peer-pressured into it anyways… Sucks."

Yoongi hummed, playing this and that note with the free hand.

"Didn't peg you for someone giving into that kind of thing."

You grumbled.

The impending doom of the next test hung low over your head, and still you couldn’t peel away from your spot next to Yoongi, wedged on the chair, with his arm around you. Didn’t want to. Felt like maybe if you’d made an attempt to get up, he might even have pulled you down again.

"Want me to drive you home?" He mumbled, an indefinite amount of time later.

"You're really nice today. Or is that just me being tired."

He chuckled, and you felt his cheek come to rest against your head.

"Don't tell anyone, okay."

"Okay."

You adjusted in your spot and snaked both of your arms around his torso.

He didn't flinch.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Hm?"

He hummed.

"What?" You lifted your head. He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes.

"Didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"If you want me to drive you home."

He jostled your shoulder.

You debated it for a moment.

"Alright. Yeah, okay.”

You put a hand to his shoulder that quickly morphed from a gentle pat into holding on for support as your quick standing up led to some instability in your legs.

He looked up at you.

"Okay then. Let's go." You repeated.

It was like the world was wrapped in cotton.

It was silent in the car. The radio didn't look broken, but Yoongi slapped your hand away as you wanted to poke it and see if you could turn it on.

"Nu-uh. No touchy." His eyes never strayed from the street.

"Next one left." You informed him, pouting.

"I know." He said.

Your hand was on the handle even before his shabby car rolled to a stop in front of your place.

It was unusually warm for the month, and you’d rolled the window on the passenger side down to breathe in the mellow spring breeze.

Now outside, you leaned your arms through it.

A grin spread on your face.

"Say, isn't it weird that you know where I live and I still haven't gotten your number?"

A rare, gummy smile appeared on his face, slowly.

"Please?" You jutted out your bottom lip.

"...Fine." He reached into the back, patting his jacket down.

He pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, handing it to you after unlocking it.

"'Musical Genius #1 Fan’?" He read out the contact name you’d given yourself. He glared at you.

You shrugged.

"If you don't like it, change it, genius."

He snorted and gripped the steering wheel tighter with his left hand.

The world was beginning to get very fuzzy beyond a two step radius around you, and you took that as a sign you should definitely head into your room now.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Always.” He smiled again, his usual, small one.

You patted the hood of his car twice after leaning back.

Texting Yoongi was almost alarmingly normal.

Despite the fantastical circumstances of meeting him, you found he was very much engaged in normal life on campus, too. Occasionally.

He wasn’t much for the polite small talk to start a day, rather than just sending a text saying ‘There’s a lizard by the parking lot and ppl r clogging the way, will be late’ first thing.

You hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t much into memes, but send him a couple vine compilations anyways.

By now he was fully fluent in both them and most current memes floating around, further adding to you not really believing he hadn’t had a speck of an idea before.

The definite end of the semester came into view, but it meant every final was crammed into the space between then and now, which resulted in more studying and less listening to Yoongi playing. 

You were brushing teeth one evening when your phone’s screen lit up with an incoming video call from him.

Placing it on a slightly elevated spot inside the small cabinet above the sink, you accepted it.

“...Oh wow look at that, who is that raccoon?”

Your reply telling him to fuck off came warbled by the white foam spilling over your chin. He smiled, wide and easy.

“Wanted to ask what you were up to this evening but I guess I don’t have to anymore, huh.”

You cleared your mouth and dabbed a towel around it afterwards.

“Not really. I’m super tired, so I think I’ll just go to bed, honestly. Did you want to do something? In that case I’m sorry, but no.”

He rolled around, and only then did you see he was in bed, with the covers drawn up already and all.

“Uhh, no… Just wanted to check in. But now that you mention it… How about some music to help you relax?”

You took him from his spot on the shelf and flicked the light off before moving into your bedroom.

“I think I have enough music here, thanks…” Distracted by the device, you almost forgot to take your refilled water bottle. When you looked at the screen next, you could see Yoongi with his arms on his keyboard, phone propped up in a way that allowed you to look down the length of the keys. He was pouting.

“Not even a personalized little concert?”

You sat back on your bed and smiled at the screen.

“Okay. Just this once. And only because it’s you.”

“Yes!” He punched the air and grinned down at the camera. Lying on your side with the screen being the only thing illuminating the room, you watched and listened to him play, allowing yourself to breathe slowly and let go of the troubles that were plaguing you during the day.

You were almost gone, eyelids heavy and grasp on your phone slipping, when Yoongi picked his own device up.

“Sleep well.” He mumbled.

You hummed in response, eyes shut.

It was the last day of school before the semester ended. Technically it had ended already; The clock on the wall read something around two in the evening, and in any other case you’d be furious as to why you were still stuck here. As it was, you were sat next to Yoongi once more, in front of the piano, one last time before the break.

The window was wide open, letting in the chirps of birds and rustling of leaves.

"I'm not so good. With words." He looked up after a moment, the tips of this pointer and middle finger gently running up and down a crack between the keys.

The world outside was sunny and looked much warmer than it was, but in here, out of direct sunshine, it was still cool. Yoongi’s body next to yours was the only source of immediate warmth in the almost clammy air.

"I can speak better through the music. I think that's why… I think that's why you say my songs are expressive." His voice died down, but his eyes, glued to yours, won in intensity.

Even this close up you couldn’t tell where his iris ended and his pupil began. "Sometimes I wish I could be better with words. At least a little bit."

He looked down, where your hand lay on your thigh, with the fingers curled in and under the palm, to prevent from reaching out and touching the piano while he was playing it. Touching the piano or him.

With bated breath you watched him move, slip his hand from the keys, to then, lightly, as if you'd break at the slightest of pressure, cover yours.

Not taking your eyes off the palms, you turned your own around until you could slip your fingers between his.

You heard him swallow thickly when you squeezed your conjoined hands. Were acutely aware of how his thigh felt pressed against yours, him next to you.

Your eyes met again, but not for long. He looked away again, oddly reminding you of the first times you’d seen each other; him unable to look at your for longer than a second.

His tongue swept over his bottom lip before his teeth got a hold of it and he stared down on the piano. When you readjusted in your spot his fingers flexed and squeezed your palm, as if to prevent you from letting go. You saw his jaw ticking as he continued to avoid your eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed, a tell-tale sign for the inner turmoil.

“Sometimes you don’t have to say much, you know. Sometimes… Sometimes I think I understand you just like that.”

“Oh yeah?” It would’ve sounded condescending if you hadn’t been able to filter out the self-deprecating downtilt of his words by now.

He glanced up at you before shuffling in his spot, twisting as best as he managed to be able to look at you without getting up. His knee dug into the dent in your leg just above your own, but you ignored the slight discomfort.

He lifted your joined hands briefly, letting them fall on his own thigh before his whole body calmed down and his eyes finally steadied on yours.

“Tell me, then. What am I trying to say?”

You let your eyes rise from his, into the mussed hair, to the one strand that was still sticking up from where he’d exasperated ran his hand against the growth earlier.

His eyebrows were still furrowed minimally, and only under your watchful gaze did he stop chewing on the inside of his cheek.

For several minutes you looked him over, observed the uneven rise and fall of his chest, in that old black shirt - it span over his chest now, its fit almost snug when it had been loose before. He’d really filled it out.

Eventually you sandwiched his hand between the both of yours, looking down on his fingers between yours.

“I have no idea.”

It was the truth. No matter how hard you looked, no matter how many clues you believed to see, it was impossible to tell just where his mind had taken him this time.

He swallowed and looked down, nodding once.

“Right. A-”

“If-” You interrupted him, looking up through your lashes. His shoulders were still rising along with his breathing, but now you had his undivided attention. “-you’re going to say something mean now, against you or me, don’t. Please.”

He bit on his lip and ducked his head to the side, obviously displeased.

“See?” He leaned back, balling his free hand into a fist. “You can do it after all! Somehow you got into my head. Don’t do that.”

“So?” You ignored the interruption, tone having shifted in the slightest. “Tell me. What...?

Two heavy breaths in which he kept squinting at you, attempted to speak up and then averted his gaze again.

When his eyes came back down from the ceiling his hold on your hand tightened.

“A hug.”

You were sure, if you hadn’t been holding his hand, he would’ve backed off as soon as the words had left his lips. But he couldn’t and so he stayed in the same spot, leaned back as far as he could, blinking and looking at you like you would start smacking him any moment.

“Please.” He added, and it had been almost too quiet to hear.

With only a nod as an answer, he relaxed a little, but the tension wouldn’t leave his shoulders.

“Here?” You asked, and he nodded, eyes flitting around. His left leg started jiggling, but before the nervosity could take more hold on him you disentangled your hands and opened your arms. He hesitated a moment longer but you didn’t rush him, waited, let him take his time. Let him come to you.

And he did.

With slow, careful hands that touched the lower part of your ribs cautiously before they slid around to your back, one upwards between your shoulder blades, the other down to the small of your back.

It was like someone that had been starved of water being allowed near a clean river - someone that had been deprived for so long that the madness of thirst had subsided into tired resignation already. When faced with the thing he’d been hungering for most, he didn’t run in blindly and submerged himself at once.

It was more like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, was able to touch you sat next to him, that you let him close his arms around you.

His chin bumped into your collarbone as you lifted your own arms a little to lay them over his shoulders and hug him back, and he whispered a small “Sorry” before his head nestled into place next to yours.

He had to bend down and you stretched up a bit, and for the first moment you felt how uncomfortable he seemed with everything.

With a single, long sigh, he relaxed.

Gave into the hug, completely, and without holding back anymore.

Every breath he took you felt, were made aware how he drew his breath in several steps, as if he didn’t possess the strength to do it at once.

There was no more room between you but you felt his hold tighten, drawing you in closer.

This wasn’t a quick hello-or-goodbye hug, and it wasn’t a bear-hug, either. It was something entirely new and yet you felt incredibly safe.

There was no clock anywhere in sight and you closed your eyes.

Minutes passed. Eventually the desperateness fled his system, and then you were just holding the other.

At half past four, the bell rang again.

The sound drifted over the campus and reached you just as you entered the deserted lot, where only Yoongi’s shabby car still stood, under the trees, half hidden by bushes.

His thumb slid over the back of your hand as he lightly tugged on your connection.

“Can I come visit your place?” You asked, once you’d sat down. He’d been to your tiny flat a few times now, but had never asked if you would like to see his.

“Are you sure?” He turned the key and glanced at you before backing out of the spot.

“Of course! I want to see the musical genius’ living space. Pretty please.”

“Don’t remind me of that dumb nickname…” He groaned, and you laughed, turning the radio up and the window down.

Warm air came rushing in, and together with the upbeat song currently playing, it felt a lot like a scene from a movie.

For the first time in weeks you felt fully free. Able to smile at the wind touching your face, knowing Yoongi was there with you.

You sat on his couch together, scrolling your phones aimlessly after thoroughly inspecting his space.

The pizza he ordered in the evening was fluffy and sated your hunger, and afterwards you were too tired to move much.

“I think… I’ll just stay here.” You gesticulated around the room, stretching and placing your legs across his lap.

He wiped his hands clean of the last grease and tugged on your shins.

“Here? You sure? I can always-”

He pressed a hand against his mouth and burped. Afterwards he groaned and fell back against the backrest.

“No, you���ll have to stay. There’s no way I’m leaving this flat again today.”

You grinned and made grabby hands for the pack of cherry gummies.

Your head was buzzing with how late it was, and how tired you’d become.

With teeth brushed, the sweet taste of cherries was long gone, but in the dark of the room, it wasn’t unwelcome.

Yoongi was lying just a little away from you, head half buried in one of his many pillows.

“Is this weird?” He asked. You heard his palm slipping over the mattress, before his fingertips touched your arm and he momentarily pulled back.

Until you put your hand out, and he curled his pinky around yours.

“Hm?”

You asked.

“I mean this… We… We’re not…” He trailed off, his other hand covering yours as he rolled over. In the darkness you could only make out his eyes by the reflection of what little light there still was, in them. “Other people our age have been partying since noon, and we…”

“Is that bad?” You asked, turning on your side to fully face him.

“No, don’t think so.”

“Do you want it, any other way?”

He shook his head.

“I just wonder… Jin asked me if we were dating the other day. I didn’t know what to say. It doesn’t feel like we are, but I also… don’t feel like we’re not doing that. It. Something. I mean we’re not doing that, either, which I never thought about, and-”

He huffed. “It feels weird, to lie here, with you, and not do anything. But I’m glad. About it. In a way.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Then that’s enough for us. Isn’t it?”

He hummed, and slowly leaned his forehead against your joined hands.

Your phone binged with an incoming message from Yoongi.

It was two weeks into the break, and after staying over at his place, you hadn’t heard or seen too much of him.

His message read 'I uploaded it.', and a link to Spotify.

You clicked on it.

A playlist opened, and you bit on your lip at the name - He'd titled it 'Your Playlist'.

While you cleaned out your notes and organized your room, you listened.

It was a mix of his self-composed piano pieces, acoustic, or electric, with mixed other instruments and occasionally his voice.

The melodies came easy and wound their way in your ears, and it brought a smile to your face at the warmth you felt at their sound.

The last one was titled “My Favourite”.

You watched as the song’s covers changed, and sat back on your rug.

What unfolded in front of your ears was different than the rest - it was a blend of sounds, playing to support your favourite song of his, but a remix version. The beat slowly wound up higher, coming faster, until it dropped - to your voice, filtered and a little tuned, to fit the short space.

‘My favourite’, you heard yourself say, and then the whisper of Yoongi’s voice answered, ‘Just for you’, and you bit down on your lip.

He sung and rapped more, and you needed at least five listens before you’d caught it all.

‘Can I come over?’ You texted him, burning with energy and the deeply rooted wish to see him.

‘ofc’ came his answer, and you were out of the door.

Not much later, halfway across town, you hugged your arms around him as tight as you could, smiling so wide it had your cheeks hurting, and yet not able to keep the tears escaping your eyes.

“I love you, too.” You mumbled into his shoulder, feeling him tense a little.

“I’m so glad you understood.” He whispered, and leaned his head against yours. “I’m so glad you understand. Me. I’m so glad you. Found me.”

notes: for alex, who i send an ask wondering if she might know how to title a story i was writing and if she'd ever heard of this weirdly specific song i could not name? and then told me i should check out this song (the title of this fic) - which ended up being the very one i'd been searching for for four days. thank you.