thintasteg00d

[chilapis]

hi lapis how are youuu ^_^ i’m just coming to check in on u and make sure ur taking care of urself !! how was ur week? i hope ur birthday was nice :D i hope this coming week is kind to u also, u deserve it 💘 make sure to drink ur water and get lots of rest, i love u !! ✧～(ゝᴗ ∂ )

Hi Sylvia! I’ve been all right I believe; I hope you’re doing okay as well? I always find it so endearing how dedicated you are to ensuring that everyone is seeing to their needs but, I really hope you practices similar care with yourself as well. You’re such a precious part of this community, and I love you too. ♥️

As for my week, aha… I think I’ve spent the majority of it in aid of my peers. The few people whose company I actually appreciate and wish to spend my remaining two years at this institute in, are, uh. barely prepared? As in, a good portion of the syllabus is completely untouched and now they’re ruining their sleep schedule trying to power through it, the exact same way they did last time. And I? Am horrified? The public law exam is tomorrow; and by tomorrow, what I really mean, is 14 hours. The night before the exam is so important, and one must ensure they’re well-rested, but no. I’m doing my best to help them since all my work has been compiled and ready to go for quite some time now, and they repay me by. lightheartedly treating me like a teacher? They even go so far as to call me “ma’am”, but I’m. not sure that’s enough anymore. I think I need to be paid salary accordingly at this point (jest)

It doesn’t help I’m quite worried for myself too; it becomes so much easier to be worried when it isn’t a matter of just passing or failing. I need to score high; I’d prefer to score the highest but for the sake of my overall total grade (which dictates what type of degree you get, actually, which then dictates your prospects of not only scholarships but then also which institutes offer you scholarships) I need to score high. Even a mere pass is the same as failing for me in my eyes and that is terrifying. I’m confident in my abilities though, I promise. I believe the fear that I’m experiencing is completely natural and expected in this situation and overconfidence would be more concerning if anything.

My birthday went so smoothly though; I was blessed with the company and affection of such wonderful people both online and offline, and I think that, combined with how sensitive I already was from the relief of my contract exam, led to me feeling so overwhelmingly sentimental, and grateful for so many things as well. Including you, and so many others in this community. So, thank you, so, so much; from the bottom of my heart. <3

[icollectyoursins]

Jotaro Relationship Head Canons SFW

Because I’m a self indulgent little shit and just love to ignore all of the work I have to do, have some Jotaro head canons. I am but a humble simp, and love this man. So much.

Update as of writing this. Somehow, it got very angsty, so... yeah. Sad man vibes. Also rambly. I just kinda kept going.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: None, just angst, but nothing too serious.

Word Count: 2,985

Jotaro’s type is... I mean, it depends, like most people. I don’t think he’s super picky over appearances or things like that, it’s more whether or not he gets along with you and how long he can put up with you.  He’s polite (well, as polite as he can be) and courteous, but probably a little more apathetic when you’ve first met. Once you’ve been around for a while he’s more relaxed and almost a little more critical. Mostly because you’re his friend now and he expects more from his friends.

While I was writing this I sort of realized that he could be aromantic. Maybe it’s just my own aro tendencies coming through, but I thought it sort of lined up with his personality. Or at least from my experience with romantic attraction.

Eventually, though, he’ll admit he cares about you a little more than he cares about others. It comes through in little almost compliments. “You did good. Keep it up” or “good job, dealing with this” are common phrases that sound nice on the surface, but it almost feels like he’s trying to pressure you to do more, which is far from the truth.  

If it’s not awkward compliments like that, it’s awkward gifts. Always something you had briefly mentioned wanting or stared at a minute longer than you usually do, wrapped in a paper that’s your favourite colour or pattern. Sometimes, though, it’s something you’ve never mentioned that he somehow guessed would be something you wanted.

At the same time, though, he’s oblivious or at least acts like he is. There may be times when he goes home after you said something exceptionally sweet to him or that just means so much and he’ll just take a moment sitting at his desk to mull over what you said.

    With a grunt, Jotaro rolled back into the armchair with a cup of tea in one hand and today’s newspaper in the other, since he didn’t get to read it this morning. It’s late with the sun almost completely set, giving his room an orange hue. He tries reading the first column, something about a cat being saved from a sewer grate, but after about a minute, he catches himself drifting away, sort of staring blankly at the paper.

    He blinks hard, taking a long sip from his coffee. He must be tired. Another attempt is made at reading, this time the comics. They’re not his favourite thing, but short enough that he can focus on them. Or so he thought.

    He zones out again, face suddenly feeling very hot.

    He was thinking about you. Or, rather what you said.

    It was something so simple, so mundane.

    You had been talking about family together, exchanging drama, if you will, and he had brought up how his father had left his mother when he was very young. It didn’t bother him, he had said, after all, it was years ago and if he was being honest, he didn’t really need a father. Then, you gave him this look. It wasn’t pity or something like that. You put your hand on his knee, staring deep into his eyes.

    “Jotaro,” you said, voice soft and sweet. You struggled to say the next words, opening your mouth, sighing, then finally: “I’m not leaving you.”

    “Why would you be leaving?” He said, confused, taking it literally. Or, he pretended to be confused. It had made his heart warm with affection.

    What Jotaro hadn’t noticed at that moment was that his eyes seemed to gloss over with wet tears while talking about his father. He wasn’t over it, you understood that. How could he be? He was so young then, he probably didn’t understand what was happening or why and now that he’s a father himself, there had to be so much guilt about being the same way. It was only now that he was realizing how much you had an effect on him.

    It didn’t make him sad, by any means but... loved. He’ll say thank you tomorrow with a gift or some flowers. He hadn’t planned on meeting you for the rest of the week because he was busy, but work could wait, right? Yeah. Tomorrow.

God, it would take so long for him to get you to move in together. He’s so used to living on his own that I think he’s a little self-conscious about it. He’s not a slob by any means, but certainly a bachelor. I mean, he lived (assumedly) on his own from probably around or earlier than DiU right up until Stone Free, so it’s been a while and he’s certainly comfortable with his mess of clothes lying on the floor in the corner, but you won’t be. He cleans up before people come over, obviously, but how many times did he actually invite someone in?

When you start staying around more, he starts cleaning more, which makes him a little frustrated both coming to terms with liking someone enough that he’s actively cleaning for them once a week and also discovering that he’s a lot more gross than he thought. You would not believe how stained the counter was from coffee or how gross the filter was on the coffee maker. He takes his coffee very seriously. You begin to notice how clean everything is, well, how consistently clean everything is and it even starts to smell nicer, more floral and fresh. He bought a lavender air freshener. “It’s supposed to be calming,” he’ll say with a hint of annoyance. It’s not a bad smell to him, better than vanilla air fresheners, but it does give him a headache when he first sprays his place. You seem to like it though, so he’s willing to put up with it.

I honestly believe this man can cook, but nervous when cooking for other people. His food when he was a bachelor was good enough for him and I’m sure Holly would have shown him a lot too, but it’s not the best food. He definitely steps up his game when you’re over and even more so when you move in. He’s better with dishes that have pasta or noodles because it’s easy, but he’s not too bad behind the grill either.

When you guys finally live together, he tries to keep the cooking even, with you cooking some days and him doing the rest, but I honestly feel like unless you are a hazard in the kitchen, you would do most of it.

Jotaro would be like that with most things around the house partly because he doesn’t want you to do all the work if you don’t want to but he enjoys having a little more time to himself to either do work or... yeah, it’s just work. There are a few things that he’ll never make you do because it’s either too hard or he’s built up a routine of doing that thing a certain way and he’s convinced no one else will do it right. Like his laundry. He won’t let anyone else clean his clothes. He tried once and nothing dried right, he swears that his jacket is still damp to this day. You can fold his stuff or hang it up, but he’s running the washing machine and dryer. Also picky about how his office is cleaned.

If you asked and gave a legitimate reason for not doing a certain chore, he’ll do it, but be prepared with an excuse as to why you can’t wash the dishes or fold the laundry. He’s especially resistant if he’s working whether that be gathering information for the Speedwagon Foundation or editing his latest Marine Biology book.

Actually, can we just talk about how much this man hates folding laundry? It’s so pointless to him. Why fold it and put it into neat little piles when you’re just gonna rummage through the drawer and mess everything up? Sure, it looks nice, I guess, but not for long. He was for sure a floordrobe kind of guy, especially in his early years. He knows which ones are clean, it’s fine, just leave it. Of course, he would get better the longer you’re at his place, but still. It’s not that he’s lazy, he’s just busy and putting clothes away takes way too fucking long. (which, honestly, agreed.)

Date nights with Jotaro are... rare. I mean, you live with him, why would he want to go out and pay for something when he could do the same thing at home? They’re nice, of course, but it’s more common for him to take you out to dinner while you guys are on vacation or in a location other than home, because he doesn’t feel like cooking and it’s more special when you’re supposed to go out. Eventually, it clicks in that you are supposed to make each other feel special and will surprise you with an expensive dinner or a short cruise. If you suggest the aquarium he’ll think you’re just saying that because he’s into aquatic wildlife, but honestly doesn’t put up much of a fight and will answer any questions you or anyone else has about the fish.

He does enjoy a good relaxing movie (or documentary) night at home, though. It’s so nice to finally be finished work, settle into your super comfy couch and just chill until he gets tired. Even better when you’re lying on top of him with your head just under his chin. There’s something so soothing about smelling your perfume, shampoo, conditioner, cologne, etc. To just smell you so close to him and feel your weight. Aaah. So nice.

    The microwave beeps faintly from the kitchen signalling that popcorn was done. You trailed out soon after, tossing the bowl to mix around the butter. You smile sweetly at him, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Jotaro’s lips before settling into his lap, nestling your head just under his while stretching out your legs. His arm instinctively moves from the back of the couch to drape over your back, rubbing circles into it with his thumb.

    He sighs; relaxed, finally. He allows himself to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes for a moment, just basking in your comfort. When he opens his eyes, he pulls you closer to him, feeling your heart beat almost in time with his. It was moments like these that eased his panic of losing you. You were here in his arms, safe and sound and vice versa. He was safe in yours.

Yeah, he’s a little angsty. But, can you blame him? He’s getting better, though. With help, of course. With you being around so often (and being very adamant that you’re not going anywhere) he’s able to let go a little. He’s not perfect, by a long shot and progress is slow, but it’s the little things like these that makes you proud of how far he’s come.

PDA is common, but a little restricted. When you’re out together, Jotaro’ll always have his hand on your back or shoulder. Hand-holding isn’t really a thing for him, but he will make sure you know he’s there. He’ll kiss you in public, but it’s not nearly as intimate or special as when you’re at home. Still, it’s a sweet reminder that he loves you, seeing as words of affection aren’t really his thing.

I mean, he can express himself just fine, but he still gets a little nervous saying things like ‘I love you.’ It’s more along the lines of ‘I care about you.’ Or, well. “of course, I care about you. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Which... thanks. I think.

Kissing him is so nice, so you’re not too mad about him doing that instead of words. When Jotaro kisses you it’s full of a mix of emotions. Mostly caring, but on his rough days, there’s something else there. It could be worry or whatever the emotional equivalent of never letting you go is. You can always tell that he wants it to last a little bit longer. There’s something in the sad look in his eyes when he or you has to pull away. Sometimes he’s overly gentle like he’ll break you somehow, especially if you’re not a stand user or fighting-inclined (whether physical or otherwise). It’s not patronizing, or at least he tries not to be patronizing, he just prefers you safe.

    It started out simple enough. You and Jotaro were just sitting at the table, eating dinner when he got this... sinking sort of feeling. There was something in the silence between you that just sent his mind spiralling. Thoughts of you someday dying too soon for whatever reason or leaving him because he’s not there enough, stand users, car crashes, divorce. They all started to flood into his mind, fabricating that you would somehow be taken away from him.

    “Jotaro? Are you okay?” Your voice rings through; a bright light breaking the storm. He’s been staring at his plate for a while now, his eyes are dry and itchy. He looks at you and tries to say something, but the words don’t come. Is he okay?

    You stand up and walk over to him, cupping his face gently. You rub the dark circles under his eyes while kissing his forehead. Jotaro slowly wraps his arms around you, letting his face fall into your hands. You’re pulled into his lap after a few minutes, running your fingers through his hair next. Finally, he sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

    “Thank you,” he mumbles and though you’re not quite sure why, you still say a quiet you’re welcome, silently soothing him through whatever happened.

If you couldn’t tell, he needs a lot of reassurance. Not so much words, but actions like the snippet above. I mean, he can be as strong as he wants but we all know he’s got some baggage and while he’s able to put it aside, for the most part, I think when you’re at home he’s just a little more vulnerable.

Now, onto happier things! If you like coffee or tea, he will always make you a cup in the morning. Jotaro is a very early riser except on the weekends, so he usually gets that done while reading or watching the news and when you come down, he’ll ask if you want breakfast then make it for you seeing as he’s more awake.

He loves coffee. So much. He might have a caffeine addiction, honestly. At all times of every day, you can see him with a black coffee in hand and a book or phone in the other. He will switch to decaf at some point, but you might have to switch it for him. He’s forgetful when he gets busy.

Sleeping in on the weekends is like heaven for him. The two nights (or more on holidays) that he gets a full nights rest, breakfast in bed and a warm soul to cuddle into. He’s usually big spoon with a hand just resting on your side, but please, for the love of god make him the little spoon once a week. Will never admit it or vocalize wanting it. He just grabs your hand and drapes it over him with a “good night” and then promptly passes out.

He’s a heavy sleeper but doesn’t sleep often. Once he’s out, there is nothing that could wake him up except the fire alarm or something like that. It just takes a while. Not because of trauma, but more just internal clock is delayed.

Not a bath guy, strictly showers ‘cause they’re quicker. Most of the time he’s in and out before you can invite him into yours. When you do he’s “reluctant” but showers with you are a favourite of his. He gets his hair washed for him (if he bends down), he can wash you. It’s great.

I don’t think he would want more kids. He’s getting older, busier and just doesn’t think he has the time to care for a baby, even with help. Plus, if they were anything like Joylne or god forbid him when he was younger, he might start greying sooner than he thought. Joylne is a great kid, but... she’s definitely got some of his defiance in him. One kid is fine.

He doesn’t really like pets either, hates when there’s fur on all the furniture. But, if you came home with a stray cat or two, he’s not gonna put up a fight if you say they’re not going to the pound. “Just as long as you take care of them yourself.”

You got him a betta fish once because Jotaro. Fish. Makes sense. He thought it was a little pointless at first. You can’t pet them or play fetch (not like he does those things anyway). All a fish does is sit there and look pretty. You were a little disappointed, but whatever, you’ll take care of it. Then he comes home one day with a 30-gallon tank, freshwater plants and fancy lighting to help them grow which he quietly sets up in the living room. He spent at least a half-hour deciding on where to put it.

A week later, after he’s pleased with how it looks and the tank has been cycled he puts in an order for more fish then lets your betta acclimate to the tank. “There, he’ll be happier in here. The idea of bettas not enjoying or panicking in larger tanks is a myth. He won’t be alone for long anyway. He also won’t kill everything in the tank.” Well, he hopes he won’t, each fish is different. Thankfully, the small school of tetras get along with your betta just fine. From then on, he’s in there once a week, cleaning everything, trimming the overgrowth. It is officially his tank.

[funtimebunnyblog]

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

[theseusernamesarehard]

Heavenly pastries and mediocre coffee - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: On an adventure for some coffee one morning, Fred Weasley happens to wonder into a bakery where he meets a flour covered woman who will leave quite the impression on him.

Warnings: None except this might be a bit boring :/

Time: This takes place the summer before the war so in the beginning of the Half-Blooded prince

A/N: Hi! This is my second fic on here and I would love some feedback especially since it’s a tad different from my other one (meaning that this might be a tad more boring). I had this idea and wrote it out, but while reading it I realized that nothing happens in this. So I would love to know if you enjoy calmer fics like this since I still liked this one!

Word count: 2,8k

gif isn’t mine credit to whoever made it!

“Oi, Fred!” George yelled from downstairs while Fred was still struggling to get out of bed.

“Whaaaat?” he groaned.

“The coffee machine is broken and I cannot fix it for the life of me.”

“Have you tried reparo?” Fred said as he got out and walked to the kitchen where George was standing next to steaming coffee maker.

“Have I tri-Of course I’ve tried reparo! What do you think I am, a bloody idiot?”

“Fine, fine. What do you reckon we do? I’d much rather have a coffee this morning, but I don’t think there’s time to go to a café before we have to open the shop.”

“I can handle the shop if you go get coffee? I’m sure there’s a good place around here somewhere.”

“All right, I’ll go. Want anything special?”

“Just a normal coffee and a pastry of some sort.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can!” Fred promised as he rushed back to his room to get dressed.

“I’ll get everything set up!” George promised.

In twenty minutes, Fred was exiting the shop, now fully dressed and hair still a little damp from his shower. He was on a quest to find a good place for coffee, which there were surprisingly little of on Diagon Alley. Finally, after walking around for a bit, he saw a little bakery that he was quite certain hadn’t been there for long. He entered with a hope that they had at least some sort of machine that produced anything caffeinated and walked up to an empty counter where he rang the bell.

After a moment, a woman erupted through a door that presumably led to the back space of the bakery. She was calm and walked over peacefully despite the fact that her face was almost completely covered in flour.

“Good morning and welcome to Bailey’s bakery! What can I get started for you?” she said enthusiastically, but Fred was trying his hardest to hold in his laughter, so he couldn’t answer right away. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she asked innocently, but the corners of her mouth were twitching as well.

“Perhaps a bit of flour, but it’s barely noticeable. Bailey, I assume?” he asked after chuckling slightly.

“Oh no, I’m actually Y/N. Bailey, the owner, is in the back preparing all the baked goods and trust me, that’s how you want it. I’m truly horrendous at baking.”

“If you don’t bake how do you have all that flour on your face?”

“Well let’s just say Bailey has been a bit stressed with the opening of this place and was not having any of my antics today.”

“So she threw flour at you?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t think bosses are supposed to treat their employees like that.”

“They are when the employees are their best friend since Hogwarts and truth be told the aforementioned employee kind of deserve it.”

“I don’t know if anyone deserves a face full of flour first thing in the morning.”

“Well that just comes to show that you haven’t met me before. Now, what can I get for you?”

“Right, I meant to ask, do you have any coffee here?”

“Oh yes we do! And it is in fact extremely mediocre.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say it’s excellent?”

“Well see now that’s the trick. If I say the coffee is excellent, you’ll know I’m saying it just because I am meant to sell it. But if I say the coffee is mediocre, your interest is peaked and you’ll have no choice, but to try it and see for yourself. Am I correct?”

“I suppose I am more intrigued by the coffee now.”

“Exactly. So technically, this is a better way of selling coffee.”

“You are right.”

“So a coffee it is. Here or to go?”

“Two coffees actually. And both to go.”

“Two? Seems as though I am a better saleswoman than I thought.”

“Perhaps you should open your own shop.”

“As much as I clearly have a knack for selling things, I think I fair better as a worker who offers anecdotes about coffee and then pours that coffee”, she laughed and presented her skill to dot he latter. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I was asked to bring some sort of baked good, but I have been given no other instructions. Any recommendations?”

“I’ll go and see what our ever-so-cheerful baker would say.”

With that, the young woman walked to the door and stood behind it to open it so that she was not in front of the door when it was opened. She clearly knew what she was doing as another handful of flour was thrown out the door onto the floor immediately.

“Ha! Missed me”, she smiled, now standing at the door. Unfortunately that was when she got another face full of flour, but she just shrugged at Fred and grinned widely. “I’ve also got a customer here, don’t know if that’s worth mentioning.”

“You do not!” a woman’s voice yelled in horror.

“Oh yes I do. A very lovely gentleman who needs some recommendations on baked goods. have any to offer him?” she smiled.

“Go get yourself cleaned up, I’ll take it from here”, a frantic looking woman with an apron and a bit of flour on her forehead appeared from the door and pushed her grinning friend inside. “I am so sorry sir. We are not usually this unprofessional it has just been quite the morning. It’s just me and her right now and she has a tendency to get a bit snarky, so hopefully she wasn’t too bad”, the woman, who Fred figured was Bailey, started to ramble.

“Oh not at all, she was an excellent saleswoman I’d say.”

“Well good. Now you apparently need to be recommended something to eat?”

Fred mostly zoned out on the conversation with Bailey although she seemed to be very passionate about baked goods, asking multiple questions which he tried to answer. Unfortunately his thoughts were quite focused on the worker who he had been talking with. 

After a lot longer than expected, he was finally returned to the shop, which was now full of customers and went to find George who seemed to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“Thank god you’re here! Where did you go to get coffee? Ireland?” he asked as he took the cup of coffee and pastry bag with a simple pain au chocolate inside it.

“Found this new bakery with some interesting workers”, Fred chuckled.

“You can tell me about it later, ‘cause right now we have a shop full of customers and I cannot handle it by myself anymore!”

“Let’s get to work then!”

The next morning George entered their kitchen and figured he must still be dreaming. He had never seen Fred this cheerful on this time of day (Christmas as children didn’t count) without any coffee.

“What are you doing up already?”

“I figured since the coffee machine is still broken I’d go to that coffee shop again”, Fred explained. “This time a bit earlier so you don’t have to manage the shop all by yourself for as long.”

“So which one is it?”

“What?”

“Yesterday you told me there were two women working at that bakery so which one do you have a crush on?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I bet it’s the worker, not the owner. The one with flour all over her face.”

“I do not have a crush on either of them!”

“Oh please! You never wake up early and besides, if you didn’t have a crush you would’ve made me go get the coffee since you did it yesterday. So which one is it?”

“This is completely ridiculous. I’m going!” Fred declared and left to the shop.

“Get me another one of those pastries!” his brother yelled after him.

George smiled from the satisfaction of knowing he had hit the nail on the head. Fred on the other hand chose to ignore him. Sure he had thought that Y/N was funny, charming and she seemed to be a sight for sore eyes with and without the flour all over her face. 

He got further proof of this when he entered the shop and saw her ringing up a customer this time face clean. She had her hair in a slight updo away from her face and was smiling while she thanked the customer and handed them their pastry.

“Good morning again. Here for more coffee?” she asked.

“I am indeed. Two cups to go again, to be specific, please”, he replied and she got on with pouring the coffee. “And my brother found his pastry tasted like, and I quote, ‘it had cascaded down from heaven into his mouth’ so I have been asked to bring another one.”

“I’ll tell the baker her work was appreciated and get another one in a second. Would you like anything else?”

“I think I’m obligated to try this heavenly chocolate thing, since he didn’t give me any yesterday.”

“I’ll go get those for you”, she smiled and Fred couldn’t help, but notice how her smile seemed to light up her whole face.

Needless to say, the twins didn’t get a new coffee machine. George made fun of Fred for it quite a bit, but as long as he had his pain au chocolate there was no way he was going to actually complain. Fred kept on going there and talking with her while they waited for his pastries to get baked or while she was pouring him coffee was his favourite part of the day. He couldn’t help, but notice that even when she had other customers, although she joked around with them for a bit, she would always return to him and continue their conversation while she was done ringing them up or telling them to wait for their baked goods. This was all the encouragement he needed to ask her out and after a week of going there and talking with her every morning, he realized that there was no way he wasn’t going to do it So he walked to the bakery and smiled slightly when her face was once again full of flour.

“Morning Fred.”

“Bailey stressed again?” he smirked.

“Yep. There was some misunderstanding with the supplier and now we have 10 extra sacs of flour. I very politely asked if she would like me to get annoying again so she can throw it at me and looks like that was enough for her.”

“You seem like a very helpful worker.”

“Oh yes, I’m indeed excellent to have around. So the usual?”

“The usual.”

“Two mediocre coffees and two chocolate things coming right up.”

“You know, I meant to talk to you about that, because I have a complaint.”

“Really? Is it the flour throwing? Because unless we throw it at you I don’t think you have the right to complain.”

“No, I’m accusing you of false advertising.”

“Her name really is Bailey, if that’s what this is about. I’m sure I can find a way to get her to show you her birth certificate.”

“This is actually about the coffee. About how you keep advertising it as mediocre? I’ve come to the conclusion that your coffee is actually quite good and definitely deserves to be described as such instead of mediocre.”

“Seems as though you haven’t had really good coffee then. Ours is definitely good, but it’s still right in the middle of the scale. It’s very possible that you just haven’t had any coffee that’s on the better side.”

“Where does one even find that kind of coffee then?”

“The secret is little muggle coffee shops. They have the best coffee ever! I think it’s because they never use any magic to speed up the process or anything. Has a really authentic taste.”

Just as Fred was about to suggest that she could show him one of those places he heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Fred! I didn’t know you come here too!” Lee Jordan laughed.

“Hi Lee, actually just found this place a few days ago.”

“Hi Lee”, Y/N smiled form behind the counter. 

“Hi Y/N, can I get a cup of coffee and one of those strawberry pastries you have?” Lee ordered. “To go.”

“Of course, I’ll go get some. We might be out of the french chocolate things that I don’t know how to say the name of, but Bailey can whip them up pretty fast if you don’t mind waiting there”, she explained, addressing the last part to Fred.

“Don’t mind at all”, Fred said and she disappeared behind the door. 

He was just in the middle of catching up with Lee when she returned with Lee’s pastry and started pouring him coffee, which made him excuse himself to go talk to her.

Fred didn’t catch that much of their conversation, but he started listening more carefully when he realized Lee seemed to be explaining some sort of date. talking about dinner, a walk and stuff like that.

“So how does that sound?” he asked by the end of his explanation.

“Make it the nice little Italian place nearby and you’re good”, Y/N replied

Of course! Fred realized that the last time he was over, Lee had told the twins hew was kind of seeing someone, but wouldn’t tell them who. It must’ve been Y/N. Fred sighed at the lost opportunity to ask out the girl.

“Great!” he said and tried to hand her money, but she claimed it was on the house. 

A date and free coffee? Unfair. Fred thought again.

“And Lee?” she yelled after him as he was about to leave. “Three roses. Not one more and not one less.”

Fred nodded as she told him she’d go check in the back if his pastries were ready. And soon enough she came out with a bag and handed it to him along with the two coffees. He thanked her and walked away, still thinking about the missed opportunity.

Over the next few days he still kept going to the coffee shop, despite George reminding him they could always get a new one. He made sure he was being more careful, though, since he didn’t want to accidentally flirt with Lee’s girlfriend.

Y/N seemed to notice the change too. It wasn’t anything monumental and she only had a few previous encounters to compare it with, but the man was clearly being more reserved. He barely chatted with her while she was getting his coffee and she kept on wondering why. One afternoon, Y/N decided to take matters into her own hands. After she got off work, she ventured on to the streets of Diagon Alley and went to find the joke shop.

Y/N smiled as she saw the bright orange and purple store front and stepped in to find complete chaos inside. She found Fred standing around and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hi!” she grinned. The man looked at her, confused and it seemed like she didn’t recognize her. “Err...it’s Y/N? From the bakery? Just less flour in my face and no apron.”

“Ah I assume you’ve come to find my brother”

Brother? Y/N thought and then remembered. “Right! You’re twins! So you’re not Fred then?”

“It’s alright. I forget we’re identical sometimes too. Makes for scary mornings. Anyways I’m George. George Weasley, nice to meet you”, he extended his hand and she shook it. 

“Nice to meet you George, like I said I’m Y/N. Do you have any idea where Fred might be?”

“I’ll go get him. Wait here”, George grinned.

Y/N waited and looked around all the products. She grinned at how creative they were.

“You were looking for me?” Fred appeared behind her. 

“I was. I got off work and decided to stop by and see the shop for myself.”

“Well, does it match your expectations.”

“I don’t think anyone could expect this. In a good way. This is amazing!”

“Why thank you. Were you looking into buying anything here?”

“I actually came to ask you about something. I was thinking that maybe once you get off work I could take you to one of those muggle coffee shops and show you what actually good coffee tastes like?”

“Okay, hold on. Aren’t you dating Lee?”

“What? No, why would I be dating Lee?”

“The other day he was clearly asking you out. The Italian place? Three roses not one more not one less?”

“That? No, no you’ve got it all wrong. Lee’s dating my roommate and he was running his plan through me since he wanted to make the date special and I know her pretty well.”

“So he took your roommate to the Italian place and gave her the three roses?”

“Yep, I’ve never been a fan roses anyway”, Y/N smiled. “But I do like Italian food.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to take you to that place sometime.”

“I’ve already asked you out to coffee, you can’t ask me out during the same day”, she laughed.

“Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“You still haven’t answered me about the coffee, you know.”

“I figured asking you out on a date means that I wouldn’t mind going on a date with you.”

“So what time do you get off?”

“Right now”, George replied cheerfully. 

“Were you eavesdropping?” Fred asked.

“No, I just happened to be stacking shelves over there and couldn’t help, but to hear some flirting. You can go, I’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, Geore. Why don’t you lead the way?” he said, addressing the last part to Y/N, who didn’t hesitate in taking his hand and leading him outside.

[speuradair]

Rantaro, Fuyuhiko, Korekiyo, Kaito With An Overworked S/O That Gets A Bit Delirious From Caffeine

Definitely the most caring and attentive

It’s just his big brother nature

Rantaro understands being overworked, and in turn, he understands turning to caffeine to push through the resulting exhaustion 

He’s done it so many times, both in her personal adventures and in his school work 

He has a habit of pushing himself too far in his adventures

Leading to him switching back and forth between all nighters and sleeping way more than most people do to recover from said all nighters

That being said, Rantaro doesn’t support you doing the same thing

It’s a bit hypocritical, but hey- do as he says, not as he does

He’s definitely the type to cut you off from caffeinated drinks before you can have too many

Not to be controlling, but to make sure you don’t make yourself sick later

However, Rantaro can’t be with you 24/7

That’s how you end up drinking enough energy drinks to get a bit ridiculous 

He comes over to check on you or to hang out, only for you to quickly greet him before beginning to ramble about whatever nonsensical question you were debating mentally 

“Ah, you’re here! Awesome, I need your opinion-  If life is unfair on everybody, isn’t life technically fair...?”

He just kind of blinks, processing what you said for a second before immediately scanning the room to see what you’ve been drinking

The pile of discarded energy drink cans next to your snitches on you

“Babe- how many have you had?” he raises an eyebrow at you, trying to speak quickly so he can ask before you start on another tangent

You hesitate, both because you know he’ll cut you off and because you’ve honestly lost count

“Like, three. Or four? 6, maybe. 10 tops?”

“...”

“...”

“You’re done now”

He doesn’t even ask, he just insists that you’re stopping whatever you’re working on, and you’re going to start relaxing, at least for a bit until the caffeine overload wears off

Rantaro makes you take a break, even if he has to physically pick you up and make you sit with him 

He picks you up bridal style if he has to, all while you’re still rambling incoherently

“How do you throw away a garbage can?”

He’ll bribe you with your favorite snacks, favorite shows or videos, and of course, cuddles and affection

This usually results in you both wrapped up in a blanket together, cuddled up on the couch or bed

Rantaro knows what he’s doing- he’s not just bribing you to get you to do something else

He knows that after a little while of sitting still, curling up together, and him holding you, you’re gonna fall asleep

It works every single time

Once you do fall asleep, Rantaro just smiles to himself, shifts to get more comfortable, and falls asleep with you-

But not before pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead

Fuyuhiko is the most confused by your behavior

Like he understands feeling the need to work really hard for long hours

He works his ass off too

but man-

Even he thinks that you’re not sleeping enough

Fuyuhiko walks into the room and he can already tell you’re overtired before you even say anything

“Just take a fuckin’ break, (name), how much caffeine have you had??”

He swears he can see you literally vibrating right now

“Uhhh, I lost track after my eleventh- speaking of which, what do teeth taste like? Do you think that everyone’s teeth taste different?”

He just blinks, giving you the most confused look he can manage

“What the fuck does that have to do with what I asked-”

“What does water taste like?”

“You’re done, you’re going to bed.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to agree or reply at all, he’s dragging you to lay down

Fuyuhiko protests cuddling, bc ya know, he has an image to keep up

But he’ll use the excuse of keeping you from getting up to lay with you, holding you tightly

He claims it’s to force you to sit still and sleep, but he also just enjoys the affection

He is not above laying on top of you until you fall asleep if you keep insisting on getting up to do something

Once you do fall asleep, he lets out a sigh, sounding more aggravated than he actually is

You’re ridiculous, but he wouldn’t take care of you like this if he wasn’t absolutely head over heels for you

He shifts to lay beside you, huffing superficially, but still gazing at you with pure adoration in his eyes

“You’re a dumbass sometimes, ya know? You need to take care of yourself, idiot. You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep this shit up, then what are we going to do?”

To an outsider, his words sound harsh, but if you were awake enough to hear him, you’d know how sweet and loving those words are

He’s rough about it, but he just means that he worries about you

Fuyuhiko would be terrified if you got sick or hurt in anyway

He wants the best for you, and he wants you to be safe and healthy

Korekiyo isn’t exactly the type to overwork himself

More accurately, he has a tendency to hyperfixate on something for hours and hours at a time

It’s not uncommon for him to disappear into the library or his office all day, reading books about humanity and societies

But he’s also very sensitive to his own discomfort

Once he pulls himself from his studies. he knows that he needs to take care of himself

He’s also very sensitive to caffeine, so he just tries to avoid it

Which is why he’s quite concerned by your energy drink-fueled chaos

While he’s quite interested in your thought provoking questions, he’s more concerned about how delirious you seem

Did someone slip you something?

Are you sick?

Are you drunk?

It’s... caffeine? 

How odd

Korekiyo definitely stops whatever he’s doing to take care of you

He makes sure you drink water and do something calming and safe

However, he is observing you the whole time, studying each odd thing you do 

This is such a fascinating facet of humanity, isn’t it?

How a simple chemical can put you in such a chaotic daze

“Hey, Kiyo- Being “up” for something means the same thing as being “down” for something.”

He doesn’t look away from the show you both are watching, but he nods thoughtfully

“That is odd, isn’t it? Linguistics rarely develops as one would expect-”

Now he’s the one rambling, and you’re the one nodding along

His voice is super soothing though, and you’re energy is crashing

It’s not long before you’re out like a light, your body slumped against his side

Korekiyo raises his eyebrow as he feels your weight fall against him, his words trailing off as he notices you’ve finally fallen asleep

He just chuckles to himself, kissing your head gently before pulling a blanket up around the two of you

Humans are such perplexing and interesting creatures

This man absolutely gets overloaded on caffeine with you

He’s not going to be much help in calming you down, unless you’re making yourself upset or sick

Seeing you hurt or uncomfortable activates his protective mode, and then he’s very attentive, trying to get you to fall asleep and rest

Other than that, Kaito is just as chaotic as you are

Hopefully you two can balance each other out, because usually, neither of you are going to stop yourselves

Kaito isn’t necessarily the type overwork himself, but he just enjoys energy drinks and caffeine 

So when you get ridiculous after having coffee or energy drinks, it just hypes him up too

“If you’re waiting for the waiter, aren’t you the waiter?”

“Oh my god you’re right”

Most likely you two just end up crashing together, getting each other more and more hyped up before you both collapse on the bed in exhaustion

Then you two sleep for the next 14 hours, trying to make up for your previous lack of sleep

[residentlesbrarian]

Fandom and Fanfiction Galore

Ship It by Britta Lundin

Aaaaaalrighty...so this was written almost 3 years ago hot out of ClexaCon 2018 and it is...an interesting one. I had and still very much have feelings about this book. Would I write my thoughts the exact same way today as I did back then...probably not! So enjoy this bit of a pre-pandemic pre-a-whole-bunch-of-other-personal-stuff-y’all-don’t-need-to-know-about me talking about a book I still don’t really know how I feel about! Enjoy!

This was another book I found because of the Queering YA panel at ClexaCon 2018. Being able to talk to Britta at the booth after the panel was awesome, because you could tell talking with her that she was a true fan. She knew what being surrounded by fandom was like and it made me pretty excited to read the book.

Unicorn Rating:

Blurb: Living in the environment of fandom can be an insane experience in both good and bad ways. This book delivered a unique experience and look into fandom culture that was surreal to read about outside of fanfiction and tumblr.

Disclaimer: I will try my best to not spoil anything from the book, but my book loving rambles may give more away than a traditional review. Here we go! Ramble time!

Review:

I would say overall this book felt a little weird for me. I didn’t absolutely love it but I also didn’t particularly dislike it. It fell in a very ‘meh’ place for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have good things to say about it, they are just slightly confusing things.

The plot was actually one of the things I liked the most about it. Even though it was a crazy unrealistic plot, it helped capture the absolute lunacy of being a member of fandom culture perfectly. Sometimes being a fan is a simple life of surfing Tumblr and liking posts but sometimes the craziest things happen and change your life forever. In this case the reader is swept up in this craziness with Claire and the unrealistic aspect of it all made it feel more realistic as counterintuitive as that sounds. That is what the fandom experience can feel like at times, everything makes so little sense it actually circles back around to making sense, but enough about that...time for some character rambles.

Now we have two perspectives explored in this book. That of Claire, the fangirl, and Forest, the actor who has never had to deal with fangirls before. Let’s start with Claire. I am of two minds on her. Part of me really doesn’t like her, mostly because she is a person that in real life I probably wouldn’t spend time around and, as I’ve stated in a previous review, I have a hard time separating myself from characters and remembering that they are only teenagers. Multiple times I actually physically facepalmed, while reading a hardback book! That isn’t easy to do, but I did it, because she was doing things that just seemed so illogical from my perspective. But I am an adult, so of course I have a completely different perspective than a teen who is away from home and feeling a little out of control for a plethora of reasons. Now the other part of me really liked her, strangely enough for those exact same reasons, she was so real that I went full ‘Mom’ mode and wanted to sit her down and have a talk about what she was going through before she did something she was going to regret. Even if I found the character to be unlikeable the fact I was still on her side and wanted to help her really shows the depth that was written into her.

Now moving on to Forest. Oh, Forest. He was a character that I was very intrigued by at first because his was a perspective I, as a fangirl myself, had never seen in a book before, but damn if he didn’t make it so hard to like him. Some of the things he said and did made me want to throttle him. I could excuse some of the stuff Clarie did because of her age and the craziness of everything going on around her, but Forest is an adult and should know better. He would improve and his actions would start to win me over, but then he would overreact to something and make me want to put on my throttlin’ gloves again. I felt like that Tyra Banks ‘I was rooting for you!’ reaction gif while I was reading this multiple times. Again, though, there were parts that I was glad Forest called Claire out on her actions when it was called for, but overall they both needed an intervention to have them sit down and just chill for five seconds.

I actually genuinely liked a majority of the side characters in this as well. I actually have less of the weird mental confusion when it comes to the side characters. Rico was cute and great around the fans. Jamie was a total asshat but he was written to be that way to foil Claire in her mission to make ‘Smokeheart’ cannon. One of my favorite scenes in the whole book was actually between Claire and the social media consultant, whose name I totally remember and am just choosing not to put in because I think that’ll be all avant garde...okay fine I forgot her name and I am not digging the book out to find it. Anyway...I can’t really go into detail about the scene because, you know, spoilers but it was so well done in the context of the story.

Now for the last big character I want to speak on, the love interest, Tess. Now I really liked Tess and even understood how she wanted to keep her nerdy hobbies a secret from her small town friends. I was lucky that I grew up in a family and a circle of friends that let me embrace my passions no matter how off-the-wall they may seem to others. Tess obviously didn’t have that kind of support but she was still so passionate just privately. I will say though, ironically given the title of the book, I don’t ship it. Tess and Claire definitely share an instant attraction and the chemistry is there but they have so much growing to do before they are anywhere close to having an actual healthy functional relationship. Maybe if we saw more of them it would feel more compelling but it just wasn’t for me.

So my final thoughts on this book are just...a little discombobulated. Part of me was really happy to read a book that portrayed a part of my life that is so hard to put into words at times. I have never been a rabid fangirl, but after Lexa’s death I had to try and explain my utter devastation to people who just didn’t understand why a fictional character mattered to me so much. This book captures at least a layer of the fandom experience in a way that I’ve never seen before. The problem I have in the end though is how problematic everything that happens was, and then the ending just felt so sudden. We didn’t see any of the characters address their issues on the page. I hope this review made some coherent sense, because this book still doesn’t really make sense even in my brain, but I need to wrap this up now.

Queer Wrap-up: Okay, so, for our rep we have a questioning main character who definitely has some queer tendencies, but overall her realizing her feelings took such a back seat to her mission to make a fictional ship cannon on a show that was already filmed it took away from the rep as a whole. It just felt like the focus was so split that the actual rep gets lost in the pages. There is no argument by the end of the book that Claire is queer, which earns the three unicorns on that alone, but some of the tropes that played parts in the book were just so cringey that I couldn’t rationalize giving it more than that. Even with a couple side characters who were revealed to also be queer they weren’t enough to cover for the less stellar parts of this book.

Links:

Britta Lundin’s Website

TheStorygraph

Amazon

Okay, so if you couldn’t tell by that train wreck of a review this book just confused me. It kept me just interested enough to pick it back up after I’d put it down, but also wasn’t that bad. It lives in a weird oxymoronic vortex in my brain that honestly gives me a headache if I focus on it too much. There were aspects of this book that I did genuinely like but it all gets swirled together with the parts that made me put it down and need to take a break. If any of you want to discuss those more spoiler-filled aspects please send an ask and I’ll welcome you into the cyclical nature of whatever this book is doing in my brain. And as always if you want to read this but don’t want to spend the money without knowing for sure you are going to like it, go to your local library. You’d be surprised what they have on their shelves just waiting to be discovered. Trust me, I’m a lesbrarian.

[enigma-im]

Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore

Rating: Teen Relationship: Werewolf x M!Human Warning: Monster POV, angst, Misguided views of masculinity, soft boy we don’t deserve, fluff

Word Count: 3918

A Werewolf finds her mate during school, it’s not what she expected in a mate.

---------------------------------------

It starts in the commons room. The smell of autumn, just near Halloween. Crisp, clean air- though it's a little more than that. Like a pumpkin pie baking in the oven while the October breeze blows through the open windows. It's comforting, the aroma bringing nothing but contentment. Makes me wanna find the source and snuggle up under a blanket near it. I have never had such a smell rest in my lungs like this. Every part of my body feels alive with ever inhale.

It fades during first period but comes back around during lunch. I try to ignore it, conversing with friends as a distraction, but it's very persuasive in it's lingering. I begin to grow anxious as the day continues, bouncing my leg during class while biting my fingers. All of me wants to jump up and run about till I find it. I nearly do just that before the bell rings.

Final period is when it’s the strongest. It's almost suffocating in a mouth-watering way. I take in greedy breaths as I lounge against my chair in civics class. I lazily look around the room, feeling like a basking cat in the warm rays of the sun. my eyes stutter over some gent resting in the front row. Lanky, black hair, average style, completely unremarkable. Though his plainness does nothing to deter me.

I study him, picking apart every detail as he demands my attention. I look at his black curly hair, visions of running my fingers through it rush my head. I can almost feel the strands slipping over my knuckles. Feel the tug of minuscule tangles on my digits. The thought is jarring.

My body feels excited looking at him, practically giddy looking at this lad. I want to walk over and talk to him, what I wouldn't give to hear him speak. I bet he has a deep voice, a rich bass. I get my chance when he is called on by the teacher, answering their question with that satisfying octave. I almost purr at its all-encompassing embrace.

I don’t know what this man is doing to me but it seems I could care less. His presence- though not near enough- is all too comforting. I try to think about it but my brain rolls in oxytocin, ladling cups full over itself every time he talks.

The bell ringing is a startling sound. I jump, hitting my knee against my table with a loud thud. People barely pay mind as they gather their things to leave. A friend eyes me with a knowing grin. Still trying to catch up with how class felt only ten minutes long I just regard them confused.

"So you found them," they ask.

"What?"

They scoff," Your mate, you found them? Or perhaps you have some of the good stuff and your holding out on me."

I scoff along with them, utterly confused," What are you going on about, Patrick?"

"Are you joshing me right now," he gawks," You are sitting there high as a kite on the smell of your mate. I've seen that exact look on my brother when he found his at a wedding we went to for another friend." my mind flows with thoughts, trying to delay the inevitable. It all fit together once he said it. Mate. That plain Jane sitting in front of the class is supposed to be my mate. A nerdy, lanky, pasty teen that could never keep up with the likes of me. Hell, he is just some human! How could some weak boy be paired with someone like me? I was meant to have a big powerful man. A body that oozes power, a stature that demands attention. I deserve a man, not a boy.

Patrick rattles on about heaven know what while I deny everything my body is telling me. I come up with every excuse in the book till I label every reaction to something ridiculous. With too much ire is shoot out of my seat and storm off to my car. I need to clear my head for a while.

The week fills with intoxicating scents and denial. It's extremely frustrating talking in circles with myself about something I feel is already dealt with. He is nothing to me, simple as that. He could never be on my level and clearly a handicap in any relationship we may have. As clear a stop my decision is it has a tendency to come full circle when I catch a whiff or see him in the halls. God, that smell will always make my heart swell and my mind melt.

One day that poor lad talks to me, asking a simple enough question about an assignment. The words that spilled from my mouth tasted bitter before they left the tip of my tongue. In some sort of crude about way I answer him defensively, projecting my inner turmoil into hateful words. From strangers to more in just a few words. Someone I deemed nothing to me became a victim to my ire. I began bulling the lanky teen.

I hated myself every time I spat hateful slurs or punishing quips at him. Not even in a heartfelt way but in a way that I disrespected someone on any level. I was harsh in my everyday life, it tends to come with the territory, but I was never mean for the sake of being mean. That exactly what I'm doing, spewing my anger of the situation to someone that despite everything didn't deserve it.

I find out through the week that his name is Lance, a straight-A, gym hating, bug fearing, nerdy teen. He is nice to everyone he meets and has taken to socializing himself up the high school popularity ladder. No one took advantage of him and treated him well enough. Despite his deep love for all thing fantasy he was never ridiculed for it, he was just too sweet to tease. With that, I become to school bitch. Oh, the irony.

"Alright, I can’t take it. Why are you so closed off lately," Patrick asks. I stop glaring out at the tree line and turn towards him. I see my reflection in his sunglasses, hating to see how casually I look lounging back against the picnic table.

"What," I feign ignorance. Patrick huffs, turning away to also lounge against the picnic table.

"For someone who found their soulmate you are being an emotionally unavailable bitch. Hell, you are teasing that poor Lance dude from algebra. Like, what in god's name did he do to you?"

I stiff at the mention of Lance, balling my fist and biting my cheek. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"For what? I'm tired of this, what happened? Did your mate reject you? Is this why you are being a class A bitch? If so, I'm here to listen. It can be painful to know your mate doesn't want you. If you like I can go kick their ass, show em what's what," Patrick rambles. In his wrong assumption, he does strike a chord with me. I finally acknowledge this from Lance's view.

Startled in my new line of thought I rise from my seat and walk back inside. Patrick sits up, watching me go, but does nothing else.

I walk all the way to the library, resting in some off corner to stew in my developing views. I never realized how Lance may be feeling, well besides how it feels to be bullied. I already felt like trash but its way worse now. Lance may not be able to tell like I can what we mean to each other but humans tend to have a sense about these things. How he must feel to have this strange pull to me that results in constant berating. It's easier for me to cast him aside not knowing what his feelings may be. I feel even worse now.

I startle when I feel a tear roll down my face, the weeks worth of frustration finally wrenching free from my chest. Where one tear rolls, another follows. Soon I'm balling into my forearms while I scrunch up in the corner. It hurts knowing I'm hurting my mate. It hurts thinking about how he must feel, viewing me as this monster I surely am. It hurts knowing how superficial I've been.

Lance, he proved himself to be quiet adept at being a social butterfly, showing great compassion and worth in his daily actions. Not being a typical man, showing off his strength and wealth, but being a real man. He is caring and opens with his fellow students, not leaving anyone behind. Hell, I've even seen him tutor some of the tennis players during lunch. He is just a good guy.

My ear ringing from my realization of ideocracy that I don't hear the quiet taps of shoes on tile. I jump when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I bolt upright staring up at the beautiful brown eyes of Lance.

Stubbornly I wipe my tears away," What do you want?" he seems to struggle with his answer, perhaps debating on high tailing it out of here. He settles on squatting down and sitting in front of me.

"I heard sniffling, I got curious," he answers as he rests his arms on his knees. I admire him for a moment. He is so adorable. I always imagined my mate to be drop-dead sexy and droll worthy but Lance isn't that. He is just…cute.

"Well, sorry for being too loud then," I begin to stand," I'll just be on my way then."

Lance raises a hand, stopping me, "No! please, what's wrong?" I glare at his extended hand, viewing all my options for the moment. My body screams to stay, keep close to my mate, but my brain shouts run.

I settle back down.

"What's wrong? Why were you crying," he asks with his well known sympathetic eyes.

I scoff, turning away," Why should it matter? I can't imagine you are too eager to have a heart to heart with your bully."

"Actually, I feel that would be the number one person I'd love to have a heart to heart with," he tries to catch my eyes. I side glance him but hold firm.

"Well, don't expect that here. I was just having a bad day," I brush him off though the truth rests firmly on the tip of my tongue.

"Well then, tell me about it," he gives a quick smile. My heart flutters, my eyes trail over his lips. I find myself in a bit of a trance.

"I realized something I did wrong," I answer vaguely.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I hurt someone I should care about."

"that happens sometimes. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not sure, I feel I fucked up big time," as I answer I can feel the skin on my spine tighten.

"Well, I know the best place to start is with 'I'm sorry' then go from there. Who did you hurt, if you don't mind sharing?"

I open my mouth to answer, the words 'you' almost slipping from my lips. As I sit across from him I can feel the telltale signs of morphing. My nails prick at my palms and I feel my ears part my hair as they stretch. My clothes feel tight as I enlarge. I hardly notice it over the view of him lounging casually across from me. Looking at him feels like a lock is being opened. Almost in a snap, a whimper leaves my throat and tears run down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I hiccup. I quickly fold in half over my legs, clenching at my chest as my back feels like it's tearing. I whimper some more as my clothes tear. I faintly hear Lance gasp over my rushing feelings.

Soon I find myself clawing at the tiled floor on all fours. I snap my eyes up to a surprisingly kept together Lance. Meeting his eyes I let lose another whimper, digging my nails into the tiles. Lance tilts his head, looking sympathetically at me before opening his arms. Quickly I flop down onto his lap, my head pressed against his stomach, claws scratching at his back. He rests his arms over my shoulders, petting along my spine as I whimper and whine.

"It's ok," he coos," I'm not mad." I cry out, clutching at his clothes knowing I'm probably ripping his jacket. It's a relief to hear those words but god it feels like I don't deserve them. He comforts and coos, letting me tire myself out.

I soon settle enough to revert to human -well, mostly human. I still keep the long teeth and pointed ears, even some sprouts of hair. I turn in his lap, rest my back to the floor to look up at him. Lance removes his jacket, draping it over my modesty. Covering the shredded clothes and revealed skin. He then meets my eyes with a cocked brow, asking without words.

I don't answer, instead of raising a hand to cup his cheek. I feel the heat and slight stubble on my palm.

"You seem pretty relaxed for someone who had a werewolf in their lap," I try to joke. It's enough for him to huff in amusement.

"It's not the first time," he answers. I read too far into, growling at the idea of another person in his lap. He pokes at my side," Not what I meant. My best friend is a werewolf. Having seen him howl at the moon like an idiot will make you less afraid of big dogs."

I scoff," Big dogs, shut up."

"I hope you are aware you are a big dog. A big dog that cried in my lap, would you be so kind as to explain that one," he asks. I stiffen, remembering why I was acting a fool to begin with. My teeth pinch at my lip as the stress overwhelms me.

"Hey," he snaps," relax. I'm just trying to figure out something that been bothering me since we met. My friend tried to explain it but I rather hear it from you."

I glare up at him," What do you know?" I begin to sit up, clenching his jacket to me, but he keeps me down.

"Well, I think I can answer with a question," he starts cryptically," am I your mate?"

I choke on my breath. It seems he knows enough.

"Yes," I hold my breath.

"Oh."

"oh?"

"Yes, oh," he teases," as in that answers a lot of things then."

"Like what?"

"Like how even when you call me four-eyed Steve Buscemi, I still pop a boner," he laughs. I find myself covering my mouth while chuckling.

"What," I nearly shout.

"Every time you are around my body lights up, it's insane. Like, I'm a teenager but I feel as an 18 y/o that I would be mostly past instant erections. Though even when you insult my interest and hobbies I still want nothing more than kiss you," he beams down at me. His smile is illuminating.

"Is that right," I find myself teasing.

"Yes, and it was startling to want you so bad though you were being…rude-"

"You can say bitch, I'm aware of what I was being."

He sighs," Yea, you were a bitch. That being said, my main question is why? If I was to be your mate, why were you so mean to me?"

"Cause I'm stupid," I wince," lots of bullshit."

"Like what," he pushes," I really gotta know what's wrong here. My buddy tried to explain this to me and I can't really wrap my head around it. Like if we are meant to be complementary to each other then why are you so mean? I didn't do anything to you so I can't even begin to fathom why you would bully your mate." his tone breaks the comforting air he brought, switching the setting to confrontational. It seems I may have been right, he has some feelings about this. It sets the ache in my chest to high gear, grinding my lungs up as my heart squeezes.

"I'm sorry," I sit up, pressing his jacket close to my chest. I want to bring the fabric to my nose and breath in his warming scent. Now isn't the time. I rest on my knees, not being able to hold eye contact for longer than mere seconds.

"Was I not good enough," he asks timidly," Did you not like what you saw?"

I swallow hard," at the time."

Lance sighs," so you don't want me?"

I shoot forward, holding out a hand," No! well… I didn't, before. Now it's different."

"Now it's different," he scowls," You can just decide these things like that? One opinion one minute then another later? I'm not someone to be toyed with, I have feelings."

"I know! It wasn't going to be like that, I was just being an idiot to begin with," I answer quickly. The stress piles on, falling heavily on my back. I wince when my nails dig through his jacket into my chest. I faintly notice the hairs on my hand thickening. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I was being ridiculous and completely unfair. Please don't be mad," I whimper. My chest aches, my skin burns, my eyes feel heavy. It seems only fitting to wallow in this for the time being.

"Hey," Lance leans forward," Let's calm down, ok? It's easier to explain a half-naked woman over a large werewolf."

I take a few breaths, shaking as each exhale. "I don't think I can."

"Come on, babe, take deep breaths," he pets on my back. I collapse at the affection, whimpering in his lap again like a beaten dog.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fair to you," I cry against his chest," I was hateful and mean about something I couldn't control. You are enough, you are worthy. I'm the one who shouldn't get a chance, shouldn't be enough for you. God, you were so nice to everyone and caring. I judged you at face value, I'm so shallow. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Lance sat quietly while I whined and wailed against him. I have never felt more undeserving of such an intimacy, a luxury to be held and cared for. He should leave, turn, and never look back at the sad-sack wailing over him. It would be fitting, to be left behind like how I wanted to leave him. I can't comprehend why he would still be here now. Fuck, I don't deserve him.

Lance held me close, letting me fill out another pity fest. He kept quiet, just stroking over my head.

"You know, as mad as I should be I'm not that angry," he chuckles," I know I should be after hearing my mate thought I wasn't good enough but I can't bring myself to care. Hearing and seeing you beat yourself up about it feels like enough. Though I hate seeing you so distraught, even if you did say Warhammer was dumb." I huff, not believing he could find humor at a time like this. His words still settle me, bringing a sense of calm to the storm.

I sit out of his hold, looking over him. He gives a friendly smile, testing the waters a bit as I try to read him. He shouldn't be so forgiving. I surely haven't earned it. Wailing into his chest and taking all the comfort he gives me is definitely not the path to redemption. I am being selfish in taking what he gives me with his open and kind heart.

"Don't," I say.

"Don't?"

"Don't forgive me, not so easily at least," I clench his jacket," I haven't earned it. I have to earn that."

He scoffs," No you don't. it's ok, really."

"No, it's not," I nearly shout," I literally didn't believe you were enough. I thought you were some boy compared to the man I wanted. I wanted some stereotypical macho man with big muscles and a beard. Instead, I got paired with a lanky lad who can't even catch a basketball. I saw you as weak, some human who would weigh me down."

"But, you don't believe that now," he asks hopefully. The guarding wince of his shoulders makes mine fall.

"Of course not. I think you're charming and sweet. You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, taking care of nearly everyone in our grade and then some. You tutor anyone who needs help, you lend an ear to anyone struggling, you let me cry on you though I was nothing but mean to you," I blink back tears," I don't deserve you. You are too sweet and smart for someone like me who thought you weren't enough. I'm the one who isn't enough. Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how confusing it must have been to be drawn to me and rejected by me. Lance, i-"

I startle at the hands cradling my face then the lips pressing against mine. I stare ahead wide-eyed, confused above all else. Lance doesn't part just yet, carding his fingers through my hair as gentle as possible. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth I react. Reaching up and finally feeling his soft strands gliding over my knuckles while sucking on his lip.

Lance pulls back first, leaving me to awkwardly trail after him. He chuckles as I lean back, shifting his jacket up to my neck.

"I never got to shut someone up with a kiss before, I'd have to say it makes me feel a little powerful to see you so flustered," he teases.

I hide my face in his jacket," Shut up."

"Not yet," he grabs my hands. He lowers the jacket to my neck then cups my cheeks," I think it's my turn to talk?"

I nod.

"Ever since I first saw you I have been nothing but confused. I don't care for being so conflicted over some girl, you made my world tilt a bit. Now that I have all the pieces I can confidently say that I still like you and want to give this a try. What you did hurt, but I get it. Your world tilted a bit too, I can understand how that can make someone a bit angry or scared. I mean I was a mess for a while till my buddy explained it. So I say I forgive you because now I know what it all means and I know you will make it up to me. Like going out this weekend with my buddy and me to a movie. Though I'm sure you will definitely learn your lesson after my friend gives you a talking. I can't stop him and neither can you so it's best we get it out of the way," he smiles," sound like a plan?"

I stare at lance for a moment. I felt I had a plan somewhere in the middle of this conversation. Everything was out in the open and I planned to win him over, dealing with the reprimands of my transgressions before really seeing where this will go. Now everything is sitting at an angle, confusing and wrong. I truly do not deserve him.

But I can work on that.

"Friday then," I ask.

"Friday is perfect."

---------------------

Starts off as a story on how woman can also be the problem with how toxic masculinity works. which is true, we shouldn’t pressure or make men feel bad because they aren’t “manly” enough. sometimes men are scared of bugs and that’s ok. towards the end it just became some fluff cause im a sap.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[seokiloquy]

Bones - Sugawara Koushi

AU: Corpse Bride (Groom)

Revamp

Word Count: 3k

"Watta wuss." 

You walked through the forest on the edge of the city, trying to get away from your responsibilities. Decomposing leaves and bark decorated ground you walked on. Looking around you found yourself in an open patch, but towers of wood in every direction. The trees were old and weary, slowly shedding all of their components for fall. You shivered as a breeze whistled through them. A chill crawled down your spine as you sat on the tree stump in the centre of the open grass. You glared into the dark shadows of the forest with a huff.

The moon let off a dim light that made everything look like an old movie, too dark to make anything out. The shadows were intense and the light was dull. Even as your eyes adjusted to the dark, it was hard to see. You fiddled with the golden ring your parents dropped in your hands before you ran off. Leaning forward, you studied the cool metal that was too big for your finger and the small diamond that twinkled gently.

"I have to propose. I have to plan for the wedding. I have to pay for the wedding. I have to buy the house. I have to do everything while he just goes to the tavern every night while his parents think he's doing his damn job." You ranted, getting up to pace in circles around the stump.

"Oh, sir!" You chanted snobbily, freezing in position, holding the ring out in front of you, dramatically flicking hair over your shoulder. "I couldn't help but notice how handsome you were as I was passing by. In fact, I'm meant to get married. I even have a ring that I must use to propose to a man worthy of it! Please, do me the honour of picking up after your worthless self for the rest of my miserable life. Your presence will make it all the more bearable."

Leaning down to a branch sticking out of the dirt. You slipped the ring onto it and spun away, landing on your knee. The wind danced happily through your fingers that were flared open in the air behind you.

"Oh look, a perfect fit! You must be my husband. It's meant to be!" tilting your head toward your shoulder you let out a low grumble, letting your eyes roll along the rim of your eyelid. "If only you would get off your lazy ass for a change."

"Well I sure do hope that wasn't directed at me."

Turning in circles, you looked for the source of the man's voice. All you saw were the dark woods that surrounded you, making fear take over the anger you that was boiling in your stomach. Your shoulders twitched up to your ears.

"Down here."

If someone said a stick could talk, after today, you would believe them. The stick, that was wearing the engagement ring, was now positioned as if wearing a sock puppet, moving it’s thumb as it spoke. The wrist rolled snootily.

"But I sure do hope you won't speak to me like that, because I for one believe that as your fiance, I should be treated like royalty."

Blinking you stepped away from the stick and waddled back around the stump. Crouching onto your knees, you held the wood’s rim tightly. The pinky and pointer fingers curled up, creating a shape that took the place of the hand’s eyes.

"I've gone insane. They've driven me mad. I'm talking to a stick. Wait no, a stick is talking to me!"

Looking at the twig and moving back and forth, you watched as it watched you. Pointing in the direction you leaned. With a loud whine, you smacked your forehead on the wooden stump.

"As much as I deeply care for you. Could you not call me a stick? I am flesh and bones after all, well, mostly bones. But I still have flesh... Somewhere... But I can't seem to find it at the moment. It has a tendency to fall off from time to time,” it laughed. How could it laugh?

The hand moved around a bit more before opening up in your direction.

"You could always help me of course, you are my fiance after all."

You quickly got to your feet, speeding around the stump to face the old root.

"I'm not your fiance. You're not my fiance. I'm dreaming. This isn't real. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and—"

"Do you trust me?"

"What? What kind of question is that? You’re a twig!"

"This world. Your life. It brings you pain. That much is plain to see… uh, hear. If you were to come with me. You wouldn't have to face it any longer. Please, as my fiance?"

Shivering, you looked at the open hand/stick thing as you stepped towards it and let your hand hover over it. Your upper lip curled when you noticed the fuzzy moss that had grown in the center of its palm.

"My names (Y/N). And I'm not your fiance."

"Well, princess, the name's Sugawara, Koushi. And I'm sure you won't be saying that for long."

Placing your hand in it, you felt each joint bend and wrap around it. The gagging was hard to stop when the moss pushed in between the crevices of your fingers.

"You're rather boney, sweetheart. You don't eat much meat do you?"

"Don't have a stomach to do so."

Before another word could slip off your tongue, it pulled you in. The light reflecting off the moon made the diamond on the ring twinkle, giving you a bit of light in the black abyss that surrounded you.

"What in the world?!"

"Correction, what in the underworld," Sugawara said as he pulled you along through the crowds of zombies.

"Underworld?!" you looked around at the walking corpses around you as they tilted their hats, said hello and/or waved in your direction. Your hand quivered as you waved back.

"Yes! I live here. And here we will get married." He turned a corner that led to a flight of stairs.

"Married?!" you stopped dead in your tracks as Sugawara's body continued forward. Leaving his arm with you. His detached hand had a very firm grip on yours. You screeched and tried shaking the limb off, but its grip continued to tighten. “Eughh! Get it off, get it off get it off!”

"Yes married! You proposed didn't you? Oh, do you mind bringing me my arm? It gets attached easily, won't let you go just yet." He didn’t at all seem to mind missing an arm.

A chill ran through your spine at the idea of forever being attached to a detached limb of a dead man. You took a step forward, pushing the arm back into its socket with a sort of snap before eagerly pulling away with a disgusted gag.

"(Y/N), now that my arm’s attached, how about we go talk to the priest and discuss our marriage? Or do you want to go home first? You're probably tired and hungry. Home it is then. I can make you a great meal. Would you prefer decomposed scrambled eggs or mealworm sandwiches? Oh, you know what, I’ll just surprise you. Come along!"

The short ramble was finished when he started walking again. His skin, though still faint of colour, looked much fresher? At least compared to those in the streets, who had flesh falling off their cheeks. His hair was a light grey, though you wouldn't be able to tell if it was natural or just grey from death. He looked young, much too young. 

"Sugawara, how did you die?"

Looking at you Sugawara smiled with an upbeat laugh as he continued walking. The light laugh calmed your nerves slightly making you feel at ease despite the peculiar situation. He guided you gently onto cracked old steps that led up a hill. 

"I was murdered," he said, opening the door to an old rickety building.

He walked in with his hands open, palms facing the old wooden boards, and a small sway. It looked like he was trying to not skip around. You stayed in the doorway. Nails digging into the skin of your arms. You had forgotten to grab a coat when you ran out of your house.

"Ah," he sighed as he pushed things around on a circular table in the room. "Home, sweet home. Don't mind the mess, it's just something I've been working on."

He picked up various bottles filled with things from liquids to objects and set them on a counter nearby. The house wasn’t messy, just old and slowly collapsing on its side.

"Murdered? By who? When?" you asked, holding your hands tightly together as Sugawara sat you down at the now organized table.

"I don't quite remember. Your mind begins to go the longer you're dead. Time-wise it might have been 5 years ago? Maybe 6." he went to the kitchen and began putting some food together, but continued to talk over his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning I need to speak with the witch. So, we could go speak to the priest first and then consult the witch on my project."

He placed an unknown pile of what could be food before you. “It may be a bit rough. I haven’t needed food for a long time. Or air for that matter.”

"Either you live." The old (oh so very old) man's finger shifted to point in your direction instead of Sugawara who he was speaking to, "Or she dies."

Smiling, Sugawara nodded, grabbing your arm to pull you towards the door. "That went well."

"Well?" You asked. Eyebrows beginning to push in opposite directions.

"Yes well. We have two options and they are both very simple. Now knife or mallet?"

"For what?"

Stopping Sugawara turned to you with a slightly confused look on his face.

"To kill you of course. What else would they be for, princess?"

Completely freezing in your place you shook in fear at the thought of dying at the hands of a weapon. Sugawara's laugh on the other hand gave off a completely different story. Turning around, he took hold of your shoulders, squeezing them with his sharp, boney fingers.

"I'm kidding! Why do you think we're going to the witch? I've been planning for this for ages. Now my chance to live again, take back the life that was mine and get rid of a murderer in the process. Maybe an axe? That would hurt more right?"

When the two of you got to a large door, Sugawara used the looped handle to knock against the wood. An old (but definitely less decayed) lady opened the door and allowed the two of you inside.

You mumbled to Sugawara under your breath, “Whatever lasts the longest without knocking them unconscious will be the most painful.”

"Last bit," you said, dropping an unidentified liquid into the brewing mixture in front of the three of you.

Sugawara clung to the side of the pot but suddenly let go when it began to boil, causing his hands to rip off as they still hung to the metal. You gently pulled them off and shoved them back in place, giving Sugawara back the ability to pat your head gently. He sighed looking at the lavender liquid as it bubbled.

"This took longer than expected," you grumbled. 

"How long did you think it would take?" Sugawara smiled down at you and laughed to himself.

"A week at most. I now know that I drastically underestimated the amount of time it would take to do this. Do you want to try it?" you asked holding his boney arm above the brew.

"You should take a sip too. Your time spent here has taken a role in your health. You look like a ghost." He smiled, filling two vials with the potion.

You grimaced, looking at your skin that had lost a lot of pigmentation since getting here.

The old lady packed away her things and pulled out a book on potions and magic and she sat to read. "Close your eyes. That way you won't go blind." she croaked out.

Sugawara handed you a vial as he held his own. He smiled so broadly it ripped the sides of his mouth. He didn’t seem to feel the pain. You winced for him and held up the potion.

"Cheers."

When you had shown up to your parents’ house with a man that they had never seen they were a bit more than furious. After a number of days spent missing just to turn up with someone other than the ones they had suggested, your parents were more than willing to give you a lecture that lasted a few hours. You apologized for running away before going into your own rant about how poor their choice in men was (your dad was more offended by that). After discussing the agreement further, with Sugawara happily listening in by the closed doorway, the three of you had finally come to an agreement. 

Sadly it left you in a similar situation as before. Working and paying for everything until Sugawara found a job. A job that wasn’t going after his previous murderer.

Trees created a thick wall around the two of you. You laid down in the grass circle in the centre of it. Looking up at the sky, you watched as the pastels melted together in a sunset. Forcing yourself to sit up, shifting the extra weight on your legs as you tried to move and lean against the tree stump.

"It's good to see the colour in your face. You look alive. You aren't skin and bones either. You finally have some muscles in that body of yours." Your fingers twisted the ends of his silver hair as his head rested on your lap, looking upwards to see the tops of the trees and light sky. His cheeks were full and free of tearing the skin. His hands were strong with underlying muscle but still looked gentle. No bones were in sight. His hair colour didn’t seem to be a bi-product of death though.

"It's nice to have a heartbeat. And be able to feel yours."

You smiled and let your hand rest on Sugawara's chest as he breathed in suddenly and heavily.

"Don't forget the breath."

"Sorry, I still have to get used to that."

You looked up at the trees, watching the bright birds flying around as they enjoyed the spring heat.

"Is that marriage proposal still on the table?"

"Mawiage," the priest, though trying, said horribly. He continued on, his lisp making his words come out jumbled and difficult to understand. He stood on a tall stool and wore a long robe to appear much taller than he really was. He read off a folder to the few people who sat in the audience that was made up by your closest friends and family. Which meant they were all laughing loudly every time the priest spoke and ready to go out and get drunk.

In front of you, Sugawara held your hands gently squeezing them every time the priest tried to pronounce any 'l', 'r' or 's' sound. At least he was cheap, or at least you thought he was.

"May youw wove watht ath wong ath the mithithippi wiver. Wasthing until death doeth you part."

Sugawara squeezed your hands tightly as a snort escaped from him. The priest shot an annoyed look at the silver-haired man wearing a nice suit. You pinched your lips together desperately trying to hold onto your breath

“Sorry,” he whispered.

A small number of flowers were spread along and around the small church. Your friends sat in their seats smiling in nice clothing as they watched you and a previously dead man get married. Earlier that day your friends split themselves up between jobs. Some took Sugawara to get a suit, a few grabbed decorations and brought them to a small church all while booking a last-minute priest and the last two shoved you into a white dress that flowed around your ankles. It had a few holes here and there, and it had definitely been worn by multiple people before you, but did the job. But, it was obvious that they spent more money on Sugawara’s suit.

"Would you pweath not thpeak. I’m twying to wowk hewe."

"Sorry, again. Please continue."

Sugawara turned to you, smiling gently as he leaned closer to rest his forehead against yours. He huffed a restrained breath through his nose.

"Your friends are amazing. It's hard to believe they managed to do all this in a morning," he said.

"They probably have been planning this for weeks. They love you." You smiled, flicking your eyes to your friends.

"I love you," he whispered, trying to pull you as close to him as possible.

"I love you too."

"Yeth yeth, I wove you too. But you may now kith the bwide."

Laughing, Sugawara pulled you closer, holding you as if you were about to dance out of the church and onto the streets. You tried not to snort into his face as his hand tickled your side. It got harder to restrain yourself when he started to talk.

"May I kith you, printheth?"

You chortled, throwing your head backwards while smacking his shoulder repeatedly. He chuckled but waited for your response.

"Yeth you may, my pwinth."

With a grin, Sugawara placed his hands on the small of your back pulling you right up against him. Your heart throbbed sending tingles down your spine and onto the palm of your hands. He held you like a glass sculpture that could shatter at any moment.

He places his lips gently against yours, squeezing you when he began to run out of air. He huffed, sucking in as much as he could.

"I still got to get used to this breathing thing."

I would put a gif of Betty White dabbing, but that’s distracting. - Bacon

Posted: 03/08/2020

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Seven

       "Good morning, princess."

       I smiled at his text, replying back with tired eyes. "Good morning, princey."

       Murdoc had texted just a few minutes after my 6:00am alarm. I was finishing my breakfast when he messaged back and I placed my dishes in the sink. "Plans today?"

       "Working from eight to five at the café, you?"

       "Damn, I'm heading into work as well. Perhaps I could visit during my lunch break?"

       "Haha, I don't see why not."

       I began to wash my dishes, including Cassidy's leftover breakfast as well. I put them away one after the other and carried on my usual morning routine. I had a quick shower and fixed my hair, putting on my uniform before brushing my teeth. I got back to Murdoc's text as I headed out the door. "Then I can't wait." It made my morning.

       Despite working in London, this café didn't get any busy days. Surprisingly, the busiest days we got were on Saturdays and I didn't even work a lot then, so I never really saw how many costumers typically stopped by. There were usually three workers at a time, leaving me plenty of shifts to get in extra hours if I wanted and wasn't too busy with my other jobs. My manager wondered if I could juggle three jobs at a time but she didn't know how desperate I was for both money and distraction. From many, many things.

       I worked as both a cashier and waitress at the café. I even stocked shelves a few times, but there were never many shelves to stock considering how small the place was. It was a simple desk with one register, a display case, and only five tables, not including the front window where we kept the highchairs. That's probably why I loved it so much. I actually got paid well enough to stand and not do much of anything most of the time.

       "Hey, (Y/N)," I heard from behind me. I turned to find my coworker setting a box down and turning into the other room, most likely to get another one.

       "Hey, Lawerence."

       He came back out, stacking boxes of food for me to show off. "How're your other jobs doing?" He was a lanky green-eyed kid with long brown locks and warm, pink skin drowning in countless freckles. He was only twenty and he just started working a few months ago. We talked every now and then but it never went anywhere, I couldn't even call each other friends yet. You could say he was your stereotypical hipster if I'm being honest.

       "They're alright, but you know this shift's my favourite for obvious reasons," I said, struggling to converse.

       He smiled at me, looking out at the empty tables with understanding. "Well, nobody else was able to come in, so would you mind stocking these while I fetch a few more boxes?"

       "No problem," I smiled.

       I had many opportunities to make friends around me, but none who I thought would want to deal with me. We could hang out until they found out about my drinking problem and soon enough, I would be alone again; like everyone I knew before I hit rock bottom. But meeting somebody from the clinic who actually understood the struggle of quitting really lifted a weight from my shoulders. When I went into work I felt like it was another job to try and make friends, but I finally knew I didn't have to do anything apart from the actual job I was being paid to do. I just had to keep at it and be respectful, which made me feel a lot better realizing.

       I spent the next few hours charging and serving customers, putting things away little by little as Lawerence worked in the back. "(Y/N)! Help me lift something!"

       I turned on my heel and walked through the back to give Lawerence a hand when I heard somebody walk through the front door, the same familiar bell notifying our assistance. Lawerence and I hauled the box towards the front and I glanced back, "I'll be right there!"

       As I set our items on the ground, I heard a familiar voice address me. "(Y/N)?" I could hear him smiling. I instantly straightened my back and looked across the other side of the counter.

       "Murdoc!" I exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

      "What? Thought I was joking when I said I'd come see ya?"

       All I did was smile and lean on my folded arms. "Would you like to order anything?"

       "Just a large black coffee," he said. I placed the order and handed him his cup.

       "3.50."

       "Aww, you're not gonna give it for free?"

       "Nah, I'd rather keep my job, but maybe some other time," I smiled.

       He chuckled and pulled out change from his pocket, leaving me to count it for him. He left me at my station to get his drink and on his way to his table, he leaned against the counter. "You're free to join me for lunch," he said.

       Looking up at him I sighed. "Not sure if that's very professional," I winced.

       "Who cares about profession," he rolled his eyes. "Nobody's here, anyway."

       I shook my head slowly and gave in, picking a muffin from the glass case beside me and following him to the table at the very back. He pulled out a chair for me and I laughed at his gentlemanly behaviour, sitting down. He took his seat across from me and sipped his coffee. I wondered how one could ever stomach black coffee but figured asking would be pointless. "How did you know where I worked?"

       "Told me the last night," he answered.

       "Right," I corrected myself. The night before was a blast. Murdoc's vision of a hangover cure was multiple glasses of water, juice and caffeine with sunglasses and a movie marathon. I couldn't pay attention to any of the classics that played, they were simply playing in the background as Murdoc and I conversed, telling each other about ourselves. I learned a lot about him; his religion, what interests him, random facts. He told a lot of stories, too, and I didn't remember the last time I had laughed so hard with somebody. Whenever it was my turn to speak, I felt bad. I didn't have anything to say but he still seemed almost hypnotized by anything I said. I didn't understand his patience, but I was grateful. "What've you done today?"

       "Helped a few people think of lyrics and what-not." I watched him shift his cup, focused on the coffee stirring around inside.

       "Is that an everyday thing? Are you a producer?"

       "Oh, no, I'm nobody important," he said. "All I do is organize files, as I said before."

       "Oh, come on, organizing files is just as important as writing the lyrics."

       Murdoc chuckled, taking another sip of his coffee. "I guess it can be," he gave in. "What about you? How long have you worked here?"

       "Not long, actually. I've had quite a few jobs before the ones I have now. I've only worked here for about a year."

       Murdoc nodded and it became quiet between us. "Ever thought of getting out of here?" he asked.

       "A lot . . . a lot, a lot, a lot . . . Never had the money to, though." I didn't consider where the question came from, so out of the blue like that. All I could think of was how strong of an answer I had. Nearly every second - morning, noon, night - I would contemplate the day I'd finally leave London, England and start over somewhere else; somewhere fresh and new and away from all the poor memories I made in that Hell hole. "What about you?"

       "Plenty . . . I've actually been quite a few places," Murdoc answered.

       "Really?" I replied with interest. "Where?"

       "All over Europe, America . . . Even visited Canada and Asia a few times . . . It was a job thing."

       "I never knew you had a travelling job," I said. I began to daydream, wondering what it was like for him to get around so much. It must've been amazing checking out different landscapes and cultures, meeting new people everywhere you went.

       "Yep, I've even spent months overseas . . . far away from here. Though travelling gets a little bothersome nowadays." I snapped out of my daze, confused at how bored he could get hopping from one country to another that much. "I-I mean, I'm grateful, of course, but there's the packing and airports and bumpy roads and difficult weather . . ." he rambled.

       "Damn . . ." I sighed. "I don't think I could ever not be excited to leave and voyage all over the world."

       "Maybe I'll bring you with me eventually and you can see for yourself how stressful touring can be," Murdoc chuckled.

       I laughed back, shaking my head. "I've never been on a plane before . . . and I don't remember the last time I went on a boat," I said, biting my lip with a sudden nervous whole in my stomach.

       "It may seem scary at first, but it's actually pretty fun. It's pretty luxurious," he smirked. "Y'know, people bring you appetizers and beverages, you can listen to music, watch a movie . . . And if you're brave, you can look out the window and look at the breathtaking view," he expressed.

       I smiled at his appreciation of nature, trying to picture all the recollections he was remembering. I couldn't help but feel a strong urge to be apart of his journey. "How long have you been home?"

       Murdoc took a second to think about it, "A few years. Um . . . The band I mainly worked with took a little hiatus so I haven't been working a lot lately. They've gotten around to seeing each other, however, so I'm beginning to help them more and more with songs . . . It'll be a bummer when I leave again, though."

       "What, you're not ready to take a lavish cruise around the world again?"

       Murdoc chuckled to me, "It's not that . . . Touring isn't even all it's cracked up to be." His smirked faded, "I'm just not ready to . . . I don't know . . . Leave what's comfortable, I suppose."

       My smile dropped the slightest, but I still tried to remain bright. "What'll you be missing when you're gone?"

       "As much as I hate to admit it . . . you know me," he added, ". . . but therapy . . . It's more helpful and not as stupid of an idea as I always imagined . . . It's actually pretty eye-opening to listen to others who go through what you go through, y'know?" I nodded, remembering back to last night. Murdoc had expressed a lot about himself, including his self-aware stubbornness, ignorance and tendencies to lack cooperation; and therapy was no exception. "I'd also miss you . . ."

       "M-me?" I questioned with surprise. Murdoc looked up with a rather nervous expression but quickly smirked at my response. "I-I mean . . ."

       He laughed, holding up his mug, "I honestly don't think I've met somebody who understands me more . . . It's nice having friends that listen to you, of course, but bonding with somebody who really gets it hits differently." I sat in near awe, trying to blink the surreal feeling out of my head. "Thanks for that," he concluded. This was very hard for me to process - somebody like Murdoc acting so out of character he felt like a totally new person. "I may be a reserved man, but I know how to show gratitude and thanks," he said, catching onto my bewilderedness. "Though, I barely tell anybody that cheesy bullshit about therapy and friendship, let alone act so soft, so don't think this corny stuff is staying." That would explain a lot, I told myself.

        We were startled by a sudden bell ringing, started both me and Murdoc. Conditioned stimulus rose my head to the door, causing me to shoot up from my spot in alarm. "I-I'm sorry, I've gotta . . ." I said, pointing to my next costumer. Murdoc excused me with a shrug and I quickly made my way over to the cash register, apologizing for my absence and serving the consumer before they left. I looked back at Murdoc who had risen from his seat and made his way over to me.

       "I should probably head out," he said, leaning towards the exit. "I'll see you soon though, I hope," he smiled.

       "Yeah, sure," I smiled back.

       He gave me a small wave and I couldn't help but laugh. "Farewell," he said, leaving through the door.

       I walked home after my shift completely exhausted and a disgusting sweaty mess. I entered my apartment, proceeding to make myself supper in time for Cassidy to be home as well.

       "I saw a recipe for chicken with a red wine sauce," she texted me.

       I gave in, "Sure thing :)." I'd just have chicken without the sauce, it's as simple as that. Although pulling out wine from under the sink was tempting, to say the least, I knew it wasn't worth it. I ignored my shaking bones and swallowed my drool, preparing our dinner.

       Ever since I met Cassidy I always pondered if she knew about my addiction. Even if there was never any closure, there were definitely signs and hints towards my unhealthy relationship with drinking, and I knew she wasn't dumb enough to ignore red flags, right?

       The front door abruptly opened, disturbing my peace as I spun around with panic. "Hey, (N/N)," Cassidy smiled from the entrance.

       I calmed myself down, wondering how deep in thought I was to not hear the door unlock in the first place. "Hey," I responded with a smile.

       I looked back down at the pan in front of me, Cassidy catching a whiff of her meal. Both of our stomachs growled, mine craving more than just the chicken. "Smells good," she complimented. I know, I thought.

       "Well, it's done," I concluded, turning off the stove and grabbing two plates from the cabinets.

       Cassidy walked over and took her portions, leaving me with the rest. As I put my plate together she addressed me, "You're not gonna have any of the sauce?"

       I looked up at her, "Nah . . . Not that hungry."

       "If you say so," Cassidy shrugged. She sat at the dining table, but I felt my heart sink in my chest, as well as lightheadedness from the scent of my demons in the air. I left her alone in the kitchen and quickly escorted myself to my bedroom where I closed the door and rubbed my eyes.

       Rehabilitation was never easy. It looks so effortless when you're standing on the outside, but I didn't know what I was in for when I started taking therapy. If I wanted to, I could've gone into the kitchen then and there and drank until I choked on my vomit before blacking out. It was always easier to give up, but I didn't get as far as I did by falling back into my routine again, did I?

       I distracted myself with dinner and my laundry, cleaning up after myself for the first time in another long week. However, when you're picking up the pieces of your distressing life, it's hard to find a reason not to ignore it and let it destroy you more and more. At that point, I felt like anything and everything I did, no matter where I turned, I would always find a reason to drink rather than find a reason to live anymore. Nothing felt worth staying for that night . . .

       Except for Murdoc.

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku part 2

Well well well, its been 84 years hasn’t it? as always you can find the fic under the the same name on ao3. looking forward to the comments and notes

“I can’t believe you dragged me out before I could put on some of my best moves” whined Izuku as he fell into step with the doctor.

“See, the issue here is that there is no difference between your best and your worst moves” deadpanned Shin. “I was saving you from yourself” he added as an afterthought, while mentally praying (to whichever God that has yet to be killed by Izuku) for the safety and sanity of Izuku’s new crush.

It’s been a long day for both of them to say the least. What started off as a casual meet up for breakfast ended up becoming another one of Izuku’s shenanigans that got them both arrested. While that in itself is nothing new, this time they’ve been held up for much longer than usual, because of course they were.

The duo (or trio if you were to count the alleged dog) were currently on their way to Izuku’s house, as the doctor insisted on walking him home from the police station while his mom went in the opposite direction to buy some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

“Saving me?” scoffed Izuku “I think it’s a bit too late for that. But it doesn’t matter, I still have a chance.”

“How so?” asked Shin, with about 80% of disbelievement and 20% curiosity.

The question above has unfortunately unleashed Izuku’s Rant ™ mode.

“That guy mentioned coming back from an entrance exam. If we take into account all the schools that are within a relatively short distance from the police station, as well as the time he arrived, the only logical conclusion would be the UA exam that we KNOW took place today. Also he’s Tensei’s brother, which means he has to have a pretty good quirk so I don’t doubt he passed the entrance exam with flying colours. Do you know what that means Shin?!” asked the teen, with an excitement of a squirrel on 23 red bulls.

“It means that your stalker tendencies are making a comeback?” which apparently was the wrong answer as the doctor’s kneecaps soon found themselves becoming victims of Trash Bandit’s headbutting.

“NO!- I mean, yeah but-” stammered the boy “-the point IS that I know where to find him! Once the new school year starts I can just go to UA to see him whenever!”

“Uh-huh, and what about that teeny-tiny detail of, oh I dunno, YOU NOT ATTENDING UA, IN FACT YOU NOT ATTENDING SCHOOL AT ALL?!”

“First of all, don’t you fuckin use that tone with me Doc, you’re making it sound like I’m a drop-out” pointed Izuku “And second of all, how dare you assume that something as simple as a security system can come in the way of me getting laid.” Not to mention he has technically enrolled into a high school, whether or not he will actually attend is a different story.

“Why do I even bother?” lamented the doctor “I should’ve just kept you locked at the psych ward when I had the chance.”

“But ya didn’t!”

The two continued their usual banter, until they finally reached Izuku’s neighbourhood, at which point the boy took the pity on the bespectacled man and told him to go home, knowing that the man haven’t slept in the last 36 hours and that another 12 hour shift was awaiting him tomorrow morning.

“Oh shit, I do need to go home” mumbled Shin. “I didn’t get to call my wife when we were at the station.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get to call her?” asked Izuku, while trying to hide his surprise and disappointment at the doctor’s marital status, as it puts his matchmaking plans to an end before they would truly begin “Didn’t they give you one call to make?”

“Well yes, but it was a long day and I got hungry, so I ended up calling a takeaway instead.”

“You know Shin, I never thought I would say this about you, but BIG MOOD.”

It was only after they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways that Izuku has noticed something strange. He felt like he was being followed, and for once it wasn’t a quil induced paranoia (or maybe it was? kinda hard to tell these days), looking over to Bandit, he noticed that the sheep also seemed to be on guard. So it’s not just me then .

He made a subtle turn, trying to see if there there were any people behind him. In doing so he failed to notice the the sudden appearance of a tall figure in front of him and was thus more than unprepared for the incoming “ I AM HE-! ”

“BANDIT! ATTACK!”

What followed was a litany of confused screams and vengeful sheep noises enveloped in a spontaneous cloud of smoke, which Izuku threw his axe at, because that is now his go-to solution for any problem. If he wasn’t already so startled by the whole situation he probably would’ve noticed that said cloud of smoke was vaguely All-Might shaped, at least before the sheep was added to the equation. As the smoke began to dissipate it revealed a tall, skeletal figure of a man who looked like if one of those ugly ragdolls you find at goodwill stores came to life. The man in question barely managed to stop the incoming axe using his bare hands, keeping the blade in a karate chop like hold, which would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that Trash Bandit was hanging off the man, chewing on his blond his hair. So to say that the current situation was confusing would be a big understatement.

“Who the fuck are you?!” asked Izuku, playing up his ‘good cop/bad cop’ act, except the good cop went and killed himself 9 months prior by smashing his head open against a koi pond, because that’s how it always is within the world of criminal justice; the good ones die too young. Doesn’t matter, Bandit can play a cop, whether he’d be good is questionable, but he’d still a better job than like 90% of the police force he dealt with so far. Except Tsukauchi, he’s a good bitch, far to overworked and underpaid for his job. He’s perfect. Him and Shin would be perfect together, if the doctor wasn’t married that is. Wait, what was he saying?

Oh yeah.

“I asked who the fuck are you” he repeated while pulling out his backup axe out of his yellow backpack “And I don’t like to repeat myself, especially to some old, creepy guys who seem to think it’s ok to go around following underage boys” he explained as he waved his weapon in an unspoken threat.

Which seemed to do the trick as the stranger started to fumble around looking for an excuse and a way to pull the sheep off his hair.

“Aah, sorry about the misunderstanding! We’ve met briefly during the villain attack earlier today. What you did back there was incredible young man!”

“Yeah yeah, pretty sure I would remember meeting a guy who looks like he’s one step away from dropping dead, now answer my question. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

The man seemed to hesitate as he looked around to make sure no other people were around, which was dumb given that they were still very much in a public place “It’s kinda complicated” he said eventually, like the bullshitter he probably was.

“Look bitch, my whole life is ‘complicated’ ” exclaimed Izuku using obnoxious air quotes “So out with it!”

“What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential” replied the man, with the grave seriousness of someone who’s about to reveal to their own son after ten years of absence that they’re a mercenary, and yes he is getting personal, fuck you “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone about my identity-”

“Your fuckin’ secret is safe with my indifference” deadpanned the boy.

The man sighed and took a tentative step back. Once again a cloud of smoke enveloped him. It disappeared almost as soon it came, revealing a figure of no-other than motherfuckin’ All Might.

“I suppose this form is more memorable , isn’t that right young Midoriya?” asked the man, as if he wasn’t a goddamn living legend revealing his secret identity to a kid whose hobbies include committing felony, ravaging through junkyards; and being gay.

“JESUS FUCK! You can’t just DO THAT! Revealing your secret to a random civilian? What the hell All Might, you had too much dumb bitch juice or what?” screamed Izuku, or rather ‘whisper screamed’ as he was trying to juggle scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’ and having an internal meltdown over scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’! To say that the situation he found himself in was bizzare would’ve been an understatement.

After all, it’s not everyday that you meet a man whose very face was a reminder of all the things you could not have, and the person you never got to be. He felt wronged, like the universe has robbed him of an opportunity, except that is not the case as there was nothing to steal to begin with. Still, that vicious little voice inside his head that always whispered ‘you can’t do this’, ‘you can’t have this’ in a poor imitation of Kacchan became almost bearable over time. Almost , being the key word. It became less of an insistent, self-deprecating chant it once was, and slowly morphed into something akin to a static noise from those old TVs; quiet and ever so slightly inconvenient at best, but otherwise unnoticeable unless one deliberately thought about it. And now, being forced to face All Might, Izuku could hear that voice louder than ever before, reminding him of what a failure he used to be, how naive he used to be and ‘did you really believe you could ever compare yourself to him? ’

“Actually, you know what? Nevermind” he continued, hoping to carry the conversation enough to distract him from his own thoughts “Just...why did you want to talk to me? After what happened?”

“Ah, yes! What you did during that villain attack was incredible my boy, reckless but incredible” exclaimed All Might, with the casualness of someone remarking on unusually nice weather despite his overly enthusiastic tone “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such honest bravery, especially from someone as young as yourself. Even when faced with a villain that other heroes did not dare to go up against, you still ran head first towards the danger, despite lacking any power yourse-” and his inspirational ramble got interrupted by a bloody cough and YET ANOTHER cloud of smoke, reverting him back to his skeletal form.

“Ok yeah- I get it! I’m awesome, the baddest bitch in the town and whatever the fuck, but CAN YOU PLEASE stop coughing up blood?”

All Might continued to wheeze for another minute or so, while Izuku and by extension Bandit were fretting over him.

“I apologise, my health is not what it used to be”

“I can tell”

“You see, 6 years ago I was fighting this one villain-”

“No, stop- don’t care” interrupted Izuku as he waved his hands in a dismissive manner “Please spare me the unnecessary narrative exposition, everyone already knows the story.”

“Who is ‘everyone’? And what are you talking about?” asked All Might in utter bewilderment.

“ Oh, you know ” says Izuku, addressing the reader more so than answering All Might.

That answer explained exactly nothing, but All Might was willing to let it drop and move onto the actual reason for his sudden presence, which if he was being honest with himself he was already regretting.

“Midoriya my boy” he said instead “The reason I wanted to speak to you is because I have a proposition for you...”

“Goddamnit! I knew it!” exclaimed Izuku in a sarcastic, yet over dramatic manner not unlike the characters from Shin’s favourite telenovelas “I knew you were a dirty bastard all along, picking up boys off the streets, using your hero persona to gain their trust-”

“I beg your pardon?!” shouted All Might, ever so scandalised as he did not catch onto Izuku’s joke.

“Then beg” deadpanned Izuku.

Making fun of the number one hero was all nice and good in Izuku’s opinion, but the man did seek him out for a particular reason and they’ve been loitering around the neighbourhood long enough. It was about the time to stop the jokes and get to the point.

“Ok ok, jokes aside, what do you want?”

“I want you to be a hero”

Ouch, too fuckin’ soon.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this you All Mighty fool but that’s not gonna happen” replied Izuku, utterly unimpressed and very much ready to start crying at any point now “I’m a ‘quirkless nobody’ remember?”

“That can be changed” announced the man, with such conviction that Izuku was almost willing to believe it, despite the ridiculousness of the statement.

“I don’t think it can”

“My quirk is rather unusual, in a way that it can be passed onto another person. I was also quirkless before it was passed onto me and so-”

Oh, no, no no - no fuckin’ way, this is not happening! He knows where this shit is going-

“-due to my health it’s about time for me to find a successor”

“All Might” said Izuku, his voice trembling in fear of what was coming “Don’t, please don’t ask me that question” because he couldn’t bear to hear it, the possibility that was all but wasted, that came far too late, that he let go off before it even presented itself-

“I want you to be a hero” repeated the man.

Instead of an answer, All Might received a pitiful wail.

Because it wasn't fair, wasn’t fair at all. Izuku knew that life wasn’t fair, the fact learnt and ingrained deep within his soul since the day he received the diagnosis. And yet THIS was a new height of cruelty all together, it made Kacchan’s remarks seem like light teasing in comparison. It took everything he once deeply desired, but couldn’t have. Everything he had to give up on that rainy afternoon 9 months ago in order to put himself back together after falling apart for something he could never have; it took all of that and dangled it in front of him like a cheap bait. It was pure mockery. It made his blood boil. So much so that he could do nothing but cry and fall on his knees.

“You know -sob- if you made that offer a year ago, I probably would’ve said yes”

“And now?”

“And now” he whispered in between the sobs “And now I’m gonna ask you to fuck off!”

“Why?” asked All Might, completely stunned by the boy’s reaction.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T DO IT!” screamed Izuku, like a wounded animal that he very much looked like “ I CAN’T BE A HERO, NOR DO I WANT TO BE ONE, NEVER AGAIN!”

It was all too much, far too much, he needed to leave, leave this conversation, leave this man, leave this thought and never look back.

He slowly stood back up, Bandit ever so faithfully waiting at his side holding one of his axes in his mouth like a dog who proudly brings the morning newspaper to their human. Still, it felt wrong to leave without saying anything else, especially considering All Might’s bewilderment.

“I-” and he wasn’t even sure how to explain himself “I always wanted to be a good person and help people, don’t get me wrong, but-”

“But?”

“-but I’ve learnt that being a hero and doing the right thing are two very different things” he stated, remembering the words of his father; words far too powerful, presence far too brief. “Being a ‘hero’ no longer stands for the bravery, nobility and selflessness. It used to, but now it’s merely a job title; a dangerous job yes, but it’s just a job. Originally all real heroes were vigilantes, weren’t they? They took the risk for the sake of doing the right thing, regardless of what the law said, and now heroes are just glorified cops” he ranted.

For a moment Izuku thought he said enough, but there was another thing; a personal thing , even more personal than the whole ‘failed dream’ and ‘existential crisis’ business.

“You said you used to be quirkelss as well, didn’t ya?”

The man in question nodded, not sure where this is going.

“So tell me, the great All Might” exclaimed Izuku as he approached the hero, spitting his name like it was a curse “Why did you accept that quirk?”

The man stood still, staring at Izuku, as if looking long enough will tell his the correct answer.

“Did you want to be a hero? Or did you want to do the right thing?”

“I-”

Ok, so maybe abruptly leaving All Might in the middle of the empty street wasn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Izuku never denied being a dumbass so fuck him sideways. He was far too worked up for all of this bullshit. The day already turned to shit with the whole sludge fiasco and now the universe decided to test his patience and sanity (which he did not have much of anyway). Although he is a little glad that he left before he could dish out some of the more vicious things he had in stock, like calling All Might a ‘quirkless sellout’, or anything else of that variety as long as it got the point across. Sure he promised to keep the man’s secret, but he never promised to be nice about it, because fuck him, he can still do good things and help people, even without a quirk.

The point was that he was bitter, which ok, nothing new, but he was particularly bitter about the whole quirkless thing. It wasn’t so much that he thought of himself as worthless, those days were long over for the most part thanks to months of therapy. It was All Might’s offer that felt like a slap to the face.

Regardless of his current views on heroism he had potential , and isn’t that how the whole thing started? All Might approached him because he saw potential…

A potential that couldn’t be of much use without a quirk.

And didn’t that fuckin hurt.

He suddenly regretted burning the entirely of his All Might merch right after being discharged from the hospital, because now he had nothing left to destroy.

Nevertheless he dropped Bandit off at home - his mother already there, working on tonight’s dinner - and made his way to the Dagobah beach, or what was left of it anyways. During the past 9 months he became more restless; even with homeschooling he had far too much free time than he knew what to do with, which partially resulted in his shenanigans, but it also resulted in looking for a place where he could just be . His mother, bless her soul, was far too overbearing at times despite her good intentions and Izuku was a bit more than fed up with hearing “Are you ok?” every twenty minutes like a goddamn clockwork.

And so he started visiting the local beach, which hasn’t looked like a beach in a long time, as people began to dump their junk there years ago. Bad for the environment, great for Izuku’s need for solitude.

As he entered the beach grounds and began to stumble through the usual mountains of trash he greeted the few people who usually hanged around the place, one of them being the ‘Florida woman’.

Florida woman was not her actual name, but he never asked and she never told him. All he knew was that she was from Florida and that she frequented the trash beach grounds, because it was the only place empty enough where she could take her pet crocodile out on a walk without people screaming in terror at the giant reptile. The crocodile in question, named Cracksaw was lovely and much more obedient than Bandit, he couldn’t understand why people made such a big deal about it.

Another beach regular was Hitoshi, who Izuku met in a cat cafe last year. The guy looked like a lovechild of a zombie and one of those tiny troll dolls from the early 2000s, although Izuku’s hair is just as much of a mess, so he probably can’t judge. Hitoshi was also applying to UA’s hero course and so they originally agreed to meet up this morning so that Izuku could give him some words of ‘encouragement’ or whatever the fuck it is friends are supposed to say. However, since Izuku got caught up in an impromptu fight with a villain he wasn’t able to meet him in the morning.

“Where have you been this morning?” asked Hitoshi.

“Fighting a villain” replied Izuku, ever so casually.

“I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not”

“It’s better if you don’t”

Which is how most of their exchanges went anyway. The less they know about you the better afterall, at least according to the Florida woman. Nevertheless he got caught up in a bit of a smalltalk with Hitoshi, asking about how he did at the exam and so on.

“And so we’re all sitting here, the presentation is just about to start and suddenly the door slams open and some guys runs in-” remarks Hitoshi, more excited than Izuku has seen him in a long time, which to be fair doesn’t say much, because he still looks like he has a serious case of a tired bitch face “- foaming out of his mouth and muttering about fighting a sheep. For a moment I thought you had something to do with it, but the guy looked like he had rabies”

“It’s not rabies, that’s just his personality” replied Izuku, fully aware that he did in fact had everything to do with this, but was not willing to give out anymore details.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.”

“Oh buddy, I sure will.”

[first-ex-wife]

I’ve been talking with Julie (@marsvronica) about Tim Murphy a lot and I just feel like I need to share our headcanons so here we go, some random ideas:

so I think that most people agree that adult Tim is a paleontologist--and I want to add professor, Dr. Tim Murphy, which is very sexy--and he is extremely passionate about it. despite his experiences in the park he hasn’t been deterred from loving dinosaurs, though he does much prefer them from afar (in both physical distance and time), as nature intended them. he loves this piece of the past, but all of his dealings with it tell him that it should be left in the past

because of this, he is absolutely opposed to the idea of Jurassic World. from the moment he first hears that they want to try again, he is just incredibly angry, like there is no way this is going to be a good thing. and Julie decided that because of this he actually ends up storming into Simon Masrani’s office (who initially anticipates that the arrival of John Hammond’s grandson will be a good thing) and just chews him the hell out, though Masrani won’t budge

Tim also finds out in this meeting that it was apparently his grandfather’s dying wish to make the park work and that just adds to his anger. pal is pissed

so speaking of, Tim is typically rather calm, but when he is angry, he will go the fuck off. he just flies into a rage, comprised mostly of yelling, but combining some over-gesticulating and stomping (even once knocking things off a desk), and it’s kind of incredible just the way he lays into people for being so IDIOTIC. he doesn’t swear much normally, but many a bad word is used

so also since he’s not in the films he may not know, but if he ever finds out that that bitch was trying to sell dinosaurs for soldiers and for entertainment? oh my god the rant would be legendary. like viral on youtube worthy. he would just fucking go at it, yelling until his voice is hoarse and he’s seeing red and he has to sit down and someone has to get him a glass of water, because oh my god when will we fucking learn that man cannot, and should not, try to control dinosaurs? like how many times?

Tim is tired

anyway, Tim is actually pretty surprised when Jurassic World opens and things go well. he even manages to relax after it’s been a few weeks and it seems like no one’s died. but he keeps pretty close tabs on the place, and being Hammond’s grandson gets him good intel--even if he and Masrani are not on speaking terms anymore--so the second he finds out they’re trying to engineer scarier dinosaurs, he just knows things are going to end badly

in fact, he tries to get another meeting, and manages one with park operations manager, Claire Dearing. despite trying to be as calm as he possibly can while freaking out, he is not able to convince her it is a terrible idea

so yes he sees the park’s collapse coming a mile away, and no, no one will listen to him, and yes he is so tired

when the park is evacuated and the dinosaurs are left to populate the island without human interference, he feels like it’s absolutely the best case scenario. even when it turns out they’re going to be taken out by the volcano, he is staunchly against interference (not that anyone will listen to him). yes, he loves the dinosaurs (especially the herbivores who technically have done no wrong) but they were never meant to be alive and all they’ve ever caused is chaos and this is literally a solution to that problem but no one sees that

also, at the end of that whole debacle with the dinosaurs now just roaming free in America?? and some of them are the violent kind??? oh my god the boy is pissed. like he did not survive the park just for this bs. he literally refuses to die in a dinosaur attack 30 years later because someone couldn’t get it through their thick skull after the first time that this was a bad idea

getting into some slightly more relaxed ideas:

I do feel like he’s generally a calm dude. but an enduring quality from his youth is that he is incredibly talkative, and has a great tendency to cling to people whose work he admires, or that he’s just met but sound super fascinating. he’s just very lively and passionate and loves to talk to people! it does still scare some people away at first, but it’s endearing enough that he tends to grow on people

Julie- as passionate as he is about his own work, he's also definitely the kind of guy who encourages other people to talk about stuff they’re passionate about (ooh especially his students and they love him for it), which comes from the fact that he kinda knows what it feels like to not bring up interests when you know people will just give you grief for it. so he’s always trying to bring out the passion in others and it just really makes him the kindest guy

like he’ll go to a friend’s party and he’ll meet some new people and he’ll be trying to get them to tell him all about what they care most about in the world and it’s just so cute

this especially applies if he meets a child. he will listen to them talk for ages, and will tell them that they can absolutely achieve their dreams and they just have to commit to whatever they care about and it will happen

this makes him incredible with kids, and especially I can see him being the world’s most amazing uncle when Lex has children. like those babies are getting the most affection and love and encouragement, they are gonna grow up to rule the world

(also, he’s really good at playing with the kids and like, just getting down on their level and joining them with the toys and it’s just iconic)

so Julie added that Tim is partly this way because he remembers being the kid obsessed with dinosaurs that everybody got tired of hearing from, or else that they only wanted to know about what he went through on the island, so now he's like "just tell me whatever you want to talk about, whatever you care about, I wanna hear all about it" 

and to go off of that, people would totally hound him about the island and I feel like he’d just get so annoyed. cause like, the first few times, especially relaying it to people he knows, fine. maybe a bit taxing, emotionally, but it’s still not worn-out in his mind, and this is his family, and his closest friends, so it’s whatever. but when it’s always the first question a new person asks, he gets so tired he just does not want to discuss it

also, sometimes people don’t know who he is but they ask about the scars on his palms or his eyebrow (I can’t imagine it ever healed back to normal, or that the hair came back, so he’s just got a cool scar in lieu of the majority of it and it makes him look kinda badass even though he’s really just a soft nerd) and unless he really likes the person, he tends to come up with a ridiculous excuse to throw them off because it’s so much easier than opening up the whole Jurassic Park can of worms (which is interesting if he later comes to like the person and ends up telling them the truth at some point)

but I feel like sometimes when he��s extra annoyed with the question of what it was like, he’ll just kind of be like “well, there was a t-rex, and fun fact about them...” and then launch into like a 30 minute spiel of all the facts he knows cause it’s a loophole to A. avoid the question, and hopefully convince the person it’s not worth asking again and B. put his focus into gushing about what he loves which is much better for him

J- just like “you thought you were gonna learn about Jurassic Park but joke’s on you here's everything you need to know about dinosaurs from a paleontologist’s perspective” 

and yeah he’s the most encouraging person most people know and everyone loves that about him, which also thankfully means that he’s able to start to amass a reputation for being like everyone’s personal cheerleader rather than Jurassic Park boy, which he really appreciates. especially the first time he’s intro’d to someone new and it’s not like “this is Tim, he’s John Hammond’s grandson” or “this is Tim, he was one of the few people who got to see the original Jurassic Park” and instead just “this is Tim and he’s the kindest person you’ll ever meet, you’ll love him” like big 💖 energy

this also happens a bit with his academic work, that he reaches a certain point and he’s finally known more for his research than his family/experience. but unfortunately he is still an academic in a field of people obsessed with dinosaurs, so the topic does come up pretty easily and people do point him out

speaking of, the first time another paleontologist trashes Jurassic World in his presence, someone quickly points out who he is, and the person is in the midst of saying “oh my god I’m so sorry” when he cuts them off with a simple gesture and is like “no it’s okay, I absolutely agree” 

after that, most of colleagues know that he will not only participate in, but also sometimes lead the trashtalk, and it’s a fun time, though every once in a while if there are a few new people around, the same scene of realizing who he is and apologizing will play out

one time it happens when he’s a bit tipsy and he’s just kind of a lot less filtered and it comes out more “no it’s okay, fuck that place”, and it’s very non-malicious, but no one’s ever heard him swear when he wasn’t angry so everyone’s kinda looking at him for a few seconds worried he’s about to get pissed about the park again, but then he’s like “um... okay, come on let’s dance” and that’s how his colleagues know that they have given him too much alcohol (at Julie’s suggestion, it was only like 2 glasses (maybe even less), the boy is a light-weight)

also if you thought sober Tim liked to ramble about dinosaurs, just wait till you meet drunk Tim? he’s basically the same, but just a lot more stream-of-consciousness in a way where he doesn’t make any sense but he’s always like “ya know?” and you feel obligated to be like “yeah, I sure do”

and he also likes to make dinosaur jokes. and dance. he’s already got quite a bit of energy when sober and when he’s drunk it just all leaks out in dancing

also one final thing but a few ideas on scars:

so obviously he has quite a few, but as cool as the eyebrow is, I really wanna focus on his palms

I’m imagining them like white patches on his hands, softer, more sensitive skin, that branch out into sharp spindly lines running up his wrist? he thinks they look kind of cool, but they’re definitely a magnet for unwanted attention

sometimes they tingle a bit during a thunderstorm, and times like those he finds it a bit harder to work with his hands

similarly, if he’s been writing for too long, either with a pen or typing, they tend to ache quite a bit, so he’s forced to break more often than he’d like. he tries not to let them slow him down, but occasionally they get to him

especially when he’s working on his thesis (which, sidenote, I don’t know a thing about theses, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that his definitely had to do with the technological breakthroughs that allowed the dinosaurs to be brought back to life, as well as the inaccuracies (due to the missing DNA and a desire to make them scarier rather than realistic), and how they can have a severely negative impact since they were meant to be extinct), they can really frustrate him, but he just tries to take deep breaths, go do something simple for a while like watch TV, and eventually he’s able to get back to it. but seriously, some days when he’s in the flow and he does not want to break it, he either has to fight past the pain (which is going to leave him hurting for longer), or sacrifice that train of thought, and he just gets so frustrated sometimes

his students can usually tell when the scars are bothering him while he’s trying to write at the board. he’ll start to get a bit restless about it, moving around the room more in between writing his notes. in response, they tend to try raising their hands more, asking simple but distracting questions so he has a bit of time away from writing

when he first realizes what they’re doing he’s so appreciative he almost starts crying. he loves these kids and they love him and it’s so sweet

okay I know I said final thing but just one more and then I am finished

Julie and I talked about this a while ago so I can no longer remember who said what, but Tim absolutely has a Jurassic Park shirt

it was given to him by his grandpa a bit before the trip to get the kids really excited

unfortunately there was an order error and the only shirts that came in time were adult large, so Tim didn’t exactly fit into it

that’s fine with him though, and he basically wears it as a night-gown for the whole week leading up to the trip

afterwards, he feels a bit weird about it, and doesn’t really wear it until years later, after his grandpa’s died, when he finds it buried in his closet as he’s packing up to move out for school

he starts wearing it again to bed some nights. he likes to wear it when he really misses his grandpa. despite mixed feelings on the park itself, Tim feels close to his grandfather in that way

by now he’s grown into it, and it’s just the exact perfect fit for him, a little loose, but so well worn in and soft that it’s just absolutely perfect for him 🥰

I think that might actually be it. I love Timothy Murphy so much, this is a PSA

[edourado]

Distance

Ok. So. @superrpowerlesshuman made a an amazing gifset (and I know that if I put a link in here it won’t appear in the tags, so help an author out and reblog it, please?) and I thought I’d write a little something to go with it, because it really did evoke soemething in me. 

I really do hope you like it, and that you don’t mind my dwelling into the scenario you created. 

Raise your hand if you need more kastle o/

Much love. Hope this pleases. 

She sees him from across the bar.

Looking… Normal. Standing there with the people watching the band, no guns no blood no bruises, just a dark button down, jeans and those boots.

He smiles at her, almost sheepish, and it is, honestly, a shock. She’s so used to seeing him angry, mad, desperate, stubbornly determined to do something she didn’t want him to do.

His smile is something, she realizes, unfamiliar to her. Karen Page can count on one hand the number of times Frank Castle actually honestly smiled in her presence.

All those times, though, it always meant something.

Foggy is rambling away, already so drunk, and she had drank more than him.

“I don’t know what to do, K”, he mumbles while Karen is distracted by the sight of Frank, trying to figure out how the hell did he know she would be here, in this particular bar. “She’s so mad at me, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

She looks back at her friend, who had dropped his head on the wooden surface of the bar.

Really, she had been happy to accept his invitation for drinks, he needed to vent, this fight with Marci had been driving him crazy for almost a week, now.

“You wanna go get a drink?” He had asked, miserably, while they closed up the office, and she said yeah, sure, let’s get hammered.

At first, she had wished Matt wasn’t tangled up in endless meetings with Luke Cage and Danny Rand all day, he might have been able to help her with a distraught Foggy, but now she was glad he couldn’t make it. He would not be happy with Frank’s presence.

She was, though. Extremely happy.

He had skipped town after the last time she saw him, and she had been sad and angry and heartbroken, adamant on stopping this, putting an end on this thing, this thing of theirs, she had decided to cut it.

If he didn’t want her, he didn’t want her. Not like she could force him to love her back.

Except she knew he did. She knew it, because Frank sucks at lying, he could push her away all he wanted, but she knew it, because of the flowers and the bomb and the bullets he took, all the bullets he took to save her, his eyes and his face and his hands and his words and the way he said her name and the way he held her hand, tight and firm, like he never wanted to let go.

Karen knew he was lying. Still, she was angry.

She only found out he left town when another pot of flowers found its way to her. This time, to her front door, not from inside a backpack.

She got home from work and there they sat, with a card that read her name, a simple “Happy Birthday” and a phone number.

She had ignored the flowers, at first. Brought them in and put them on the kitchen counter, and then walked away, to take a shower. She made herself dinner, and didn’t look at the flowers.

She did the dishes and didn’t look at the white roses.

She tidied the apartment up and didn’t acknowledge the bouquet, bigger than its predecessor, not as big as the one Danny Rand has sent that morning, and not as elaborate as the one from Tower’s office.

In the end, when she was lying in bed, ready to turn in for the night, she picked the card up and typed the number in, and her thumb had been hovering above the call button for almost five minutes straight when her phone started to ring, startling her, and she dropped it.

Blocked number.

Frank.

“Happy birthday”, he said in her ear when she picked up.

“Didn’t think you knew”, she said back, almost regretting taking the call, because his voice made her miss him immediately, desperately, her lungs threatened to collapse, so much she missed him.

“Give me some credit, Kare.”

He was in Nevada, he told her, and she didn’t ask if he was there chasing the New York gangster that was tending to business in Vegas, and he didn’t volunteer that information.

They talked for maybe five minutes before saying good night, and she wondered if that was the last she was going to hear from him, if this had been his way of saying goodbye.

But he called the next night. From Utah, this time, and his voice was a bit different.

They talked for ten minutes, and he asked about work, if she was ok, but he sounded tired, so she asked if he was ok.

“Drove all day”, he said, and Karen wondered if he was getting ready to sleep, too, like she was.

He texted from Wyoming, because she was already in a call when he tried, so he sent one word, that she saw when she hung up:

“Busy?”

It was after midnight when she fell asleep, picturing him in the motel room he told her he was sleeping that night.

When he was in Iowa, he asked about Wilson Fisk, and the Bulletin, and his voice sounded harsh.

When he told her he was in Kansas, she tried not to let her voice betray her disappointment. All this time, she allowed herself to imagine he was making his way back.

To her.

But there was Kansas, and then he stayed in Louisiana for a while. From there, he called from a different number, and told her to throw away the old one, even if she was never the one to call. It was always him, and she learned to expect those calls, always after dark, always after she was tucked in bed, never on a Friday or on weekends.

Frank would always call her on Wednesdays or Thursdays.

.:.

He was in Tennessee, she thinks, when she called him, on a Tuesday, and they talked like they weren’t who they were. Light and soft and she allowed that lilt to her voice, the pointless question just to keep him speaking, the nonsensical comment and the joke that just might be a little, tiny bit, blink and you’ll miss it flirty.

Karen had the ritual, now, of getting home, eating, showering, turning off all the lights and then picking up his call, and he started to call more frequently, started to tell her a little bit about what he was doing, and she was glad to hear it was not more killing.

He was in Chicago when he said he missed her. It was almost December, and she said she missed him, too, her toes curling inside the thick socks she had on.

Every night, now, that’s how he ended their calls.

“Miss you”. Always soft, always careful, like he was afraid she would hang up on him a few seconds too early.

“Miss you, too”, she always responded.

.:.

He stayed in Chicago so long, she thought he was not gonna leave. He was there when the year ended, and she was on the phone with him while people counted down.

It was 00:01 when he said he missed her, making her wish she were in bed and not in Foggy’s apartment, surrounded by people, listening as the fireworks went off.

“Miss you, too”, she said, like always, taking a risk, really, because this time Matt was right there, with his superhearing and tendency to meddle. With an eye on her friend, just to make sure, she heard Frank take a deep breath, but he didn’t hang up, like always.

“I miss you”, he said again, low and short but firm, clear, and, again, she responded.

“I miss you, too.”

.:.

After Chicago, she lost track of both time and his location. He still told her where he was, but she made a point not to keep track anymore, because he was not coming back to her, so it was best to just let him be, and enjoy what little contact she had with him with these calls.

But even that, she knew, would have to end eventually.

But everytime her phone rang, and it was dark and quiet outside, she would hesitate for one second before picking up, sliding into bed and closing her eyes, imagining him to be there by her side.

And, every night:

“Miss you.”

.:.

This was not Josie’s, nor was it the diner they usually went to after work, it was not their usual scene. But Foggy seemed to know the guy behind the counter - like he knew everyone, apparently.

It was not better than Josie’s, but it was bigger than Josie’s. There was a small stage where a band played, and it was a little strange, seeing all these rough guys and rough women listening to what sounded like a hybrid of blues and ballads with a dash of country, soft and melodic and beautiful.

Foggy wallowed and he drank and he let it out, venting about how he didn’t really think he’d be here, because he wasn’t even sure what he had done (but he knew, he just didn’t know how to get out of it).

“What should I do, K?”

“Well, first, you’re gonna stop calling me K.”

He did that when he was drunk.

“Why is she so mad?!”

“Because, Foggy, you lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie! I just… Omitted the whole truth in order to protect both her physical integrity and her feelings!”

“Next time, maybe, instead of pulling this patronizing behavior, take it into consideration that she is also a very good professional that can help you. Marci’s a big girl, Fog, you don’t have to lie to keep her safe.”

“I know”, he said, forehead on the counter again, and Karen wondered if it was actually sticky of if she was just imagining it. “Shit, I know. But she won’t talk to me, so I have no way of apologizing. Will!”

The bartender made his way to them, looking both amused and impatient.

“More spirits, please.”

“Don’t you think a Sprite would be better?”

“No!”

Will looked at Karen, who shrugged, and then sighed, walking over to refresh Foggy’s glass.

And that’s when Karen saw him, suddenly, as if her eyes were being drawn like magnets, there he was, instead of Massachusetts or Ohio or Indiana or China, for that matter. And he looked back at her, that small, sheepish smile playing on his features, almost like he was a normal man, a normal guy coming back home to his… Whatever it was that she was to him.

“I don’t know what to do, K.” Foggy whined on after taking a sip of his fresh drink, dropping his head to the bar again right after. “She’s so mad at me, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

She was barely comprehending him anymore, so stunned she was at the sight of Frank standing there.

Son of a bitch. First he rips her heart out of her chest just to break it, and then leaves, and then…

“You do know what to do, Foggy. You just have to… Suck it up and do it, even if sounds hard, right now.”

“But she’s so scary.”

“No, she’s not. She’s just frustrated, because you fucked up. But she loves you. You have to go there, apologize and try to fix it.”

“How do I fix it?”

“I don’t know! You’ll have to figure this one out by yourself. Or, better yet, ask her for help, I doubt she’s gonna deny it. Can you excuse me for one minute, please?”

“Are you gonna leave me, too?” he asked, big eyes on her, so drunk, poor thing.

“No, Fog, relax. I’m just gonna go to the restroom, that’s all.”

“Oh, ok”, he said, but she was already moving, walking towards the direction she had seen him, and when she turned a corner, there he was, almost hidden, waiting for her.

A million things, she wanted to say to him. A million and one, but she started with the basics while he leaned off the wall and took a step towards her.

“What are you doing here?”

His finger pushing a lock of her hair away from her face felt like a mild current, something charged but soft, creating a wave of pleasantness to pass through her.

“Wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me. Jesus Christ, Frank, I should shoot you where you stand!”, she let out, slapping a hand on his chest when he lifted both his hands to catch her face. And she might as well have tickled him, because he smiled.

“Please don’t.”

Karen looked at him, trying to tell herself that this was not what she thought it was. Maybe he needed her help again, and this was just another stunt he pulled to get her attention.

But he had never looked at her like this, not quite like this, he had never held her face between his hands like this, he had never stood this close, never like this, never when it’s not dangerous, never…

“I miss you”, he whispered, forehead touching hers, nose touching her cheek, breathing quietly against her. “Everyday, Kare, I miss you.”

She had her eyes closed already, a part of her enjoying, ready to jump, begging to surrender, to latch on, to believe him, she wanted to believe him so bad, she did believe him, but-

“Where have you been, then?”

“Making sure. Trying to… Get better, to figure out some things.”

He kissed her cheek and she got a hold of his shirt, honestly and sincerely unintentionally pulling, and he got closer, chest to chest toe to toe and her knees were about to give.

“Mainly missing you, though.”

Karen angled her head when he moved his hand to the back of her neck, opening her mouth to say something, to take a breath in, to let a breath out or to scream, who knows, but he kissed her, lips over hers, making a noise from his throat that made her arch her back slightly, just a tiny bit, towards him, which in turn made him move, open his mouth, swipe his tongue against her lip and then against hers, and there it was again, that cotton electricity, that feeling of finally, this is what you’ve been waiting for, this is it, that’s why you fought so hard that’s why you cried so much that’s why you miss him so much-

He kissed her like he had done it before, like he knew her, like he knew them, and it felt new but it felt… God, it felt…

It felt like them. Like Frank and Karen, like their thing that she could never explain to anybody, “why do you care so much about Frank Castle?” and “you two have a connection”.

That’s what it felt like. Obvious but private, particular and unexplainable, his kisses and his hands around her, her arms around him, her back against a wall, suddenly.

“Wait wait wait”, she said against his mouth, and he touched his forehead to hers yet one more time - just like they do - and hummed his question.

“Foggy, uh… Foggy’s gonna come looking for me. He tends to wander when he’s drunk, I should… I should get back.”

“Ok.”

And a nibble on her lower lip, chest pressed tight against hers, Lord almighty, she’ll fight the world for him-

“Ok, let me go.”

It was difficult, giving that up. Peeling herself away from him and that little corner he had backed them up against. She had repressed those kind of thoughts for so long, trying to get used to the fact that there is no Frank and Karen, but yes, there is, he’s here, he’s-

She pushed him away delicately, and he went easily enough, letting go of her lips last.

“Where, um…” Her thoughts, all over the place. “You’re not, you’re… Where are you going, now?”

“No plans”, and another little one, tiny one, just a little one kiss, to the very corner of her mouth. “So wherever you tell me to go, I guess.”

It seemed impossible, to stop kissing him, but then the image of Foggy wandering after her and catching her all tangled up in Frank Castle entered her mind, and she pushed him away again.

“Ok. Ok. Um… Go to my apartment. Ok? Can you wait for me there?”

He nodded, looking at her full of something that was almost completely foreign. Like that other time he was at her place offering her flowers, or when he met her by the water, before it turned dark and sour and difficult.

“Right. I’ll put Foggy in a cab, and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok.”

Looking at his face, she tried to put herself right, to go back to Foggy, the tip of her fingers roaming Frank’s face.

“Please be there when I arrive. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Go.”

Her arms around his neck, just one more time, just one more, just so she didn’t walk away and started wondering if she imagined him, and his were firm enough around her waist to reassure her.

“Right”, she said, pushing him off and walking away.

Before she actually let go of his hand, though, she turned back.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Um… Lieberman.”

“Lieber- You hacked my phone?”

“Not your phone, just your GPS.”

“That-” She interrupted herself, and took a short breath. “We’re gonna talk about that.”

“I’m sure we are.”

And then she walked away, feeling like she just had been in another dimension and then back.

“I drank your drink” Foggy informed her when she sat by his side again. “It was getting cold.”

“That’s fine, Fog. What do you say we head home? Hmm? Sleep this booze off so you can go and talk to Marci tomorrow?”

“But I…” He sighed, and Karen tried not to look at where Frank had been. “But we haven’t found the worm, yet.”

“I think it’s better if we don’t find it this time. Come on.”

He still made her sit down to finish another drink - “last call, come on” - and she had to hear him mumbling about Marci and some nonsensical thing about Matt and the Nelson deli and Punjabi lessons before he accepted it was time to go.

She took care of their tab while he drank from the bottle of water she got for him and tried to put his jacket back on.

After what seemed like a lifetime, she was able to put him in a cab and then hail one for herself.

Karen had just turned the kew on her lock a second time when she heard the bolt unlock from inside, and then the door knob was yanked away from her hand when the door swung open, and Frank pulled her inside, slamming it closed the second he was in, his arms around her, his mouth on hers, lips and teeth and tongue and that noise from his throat, hands pulling her shirt from inside her skirt, she kicked her shoes off, put her arms around his neck, opened her mouth to his kiss, made a noise of her own.

She had missed him, too. Much, much more than even she realized.

[candidcanine]

A Sadness Runs Through Him

I listened to this song right here and was gross sobbing at the thought of 2D dedicating this song to a certain bassist. Couldn’t help myself; had to write a fic inspired by the lyrics of this song. Enjoy I guess :P

Fic Summary: 2D has always had a front-row seat to the self-destruction of Murdoc Niccals.

You're Stuart Pot, and you can't make heads or tails of the man named Murdoc Niccals.    

Your story starts off with your typical weekday shift as a minimum wage store clerk in a music shop: no customers in sight for hours on end. You've done nothing but stock shelves for the day. You're dangerously close to nodding off when a group of passers-by outside the shop scatter in panic like a herd of wild gazelle.

Then it happens.

The bright glare of car headlights blinds you. There's no other warning; just a millisecond-long flash of a driver's sharklike grin behind a steering wheel. The bumper of a battered Vauxhall Astra shatters the display window of your shop, colliding painfully with your skull. Your vision fades to black.

The next thing you know, you're waking from unconsciousness with your face pressed to the pavement and both of your eyes hurting like no pain you've felt before. Slowly you sit up, finding yourself sitting in a circle of strangers gaping at you in shock. Your confused gaze lands on a car with a broken windshield whose driver side's door opens. A strange man steps out of the car and saunters toward you.

He stops right in front of you and appraises your appearance openly.

Your world slows. Your vision is muddy, your joints are screaming for reprieve, and you are missing teeth you swear you still had the last time you checked, but the man standing in front of you is wearing such a hungry look in his eyes that it grabs your full attention despite your immense pain. You assume you look about as good as you feel right now, but he's staring at you like you're a celebrity who's come to personally give him a winning lottery ticket.

"Little Stuart," the stranger drawls, hooking an arm around your waist. "Finally back in the land of the living, I see. You look great with both of your eyes in the same color again."

He tells you that ten months had passed since you were last awake. That you were in a car accident that put you in a coma. That you were in another car accident that put you out of said coma. You don't question how he had known your name or why he was so nonchalant while giving you these details because you're caught off guard by the cheeky smirk that's on his face.

"If I hadn't had your head smashed in again, who knows when you would've woken up?" he said. "Be grateful I didn't leave you a vegetable for too long."

Then he pats your back and walks away like he's expecting you to follow.

You're instantly starstruck.

You naively assume he had saved your life by waking you up, and he does nothing to dispel the notion. Instead, he takes to the farce like a newly hatched duckling takes to water, stealing your misplaced gratitude and returning it by (barely) tolerating your existence and responding to your adoration with well-timed punches to the gut. He humors you at first, likely interested in you because of your unique pair of onyx eyes and blue hair, but gets so tired of your endless babble that he tells you that his "community service" has been "rendered" and he doesn't need to "babysit someone who clearly needs to be checked in a psych ward."

But then you sing for him in a last-ditch effort to gain back his interest, and he discovers exactly how musically talented you are.

His personality does a quick 180. He starts entertaining you again, showing you a charming side to him that you had never seen directed at you before. He subtly compliments your skill. He mentions that he had been in a few bands with keyboardists that didn't even have a fraction of the talent you have. He rambles about a band he wants to put together, which is sadly lacking a vocalist that it desperately needed.

He had to have you on board his still-nonexistent band. Never mind that you had a life, a home, and a family; never mind that you had plans for the future that did not involve music in any way, shape or form. You were useful to him, so you had to go, no questions asked. His perseverance is anything if not unparalleled. Soon enough, the conniving smooth-talker convinces you to pack your bags, nod to your skeptical parents, and set off to build a future with someone who was barely an acquaintance at the time.

It isn't completely his fault: you had chosen to go of your own accord, completely dazzled by his endless theatrics and his impenetrable personality. He is a man so confoundingly contradictory— from his blasé attitude to being threatened with bodily harm, to his intense need to be recognized for his talents by virtual strangers, to the way he seemed to simultaneously attract and repel people with his mere presence— that you, a fresh young face at twenty years old, couldn't help but idolize and desire to get close to him. Even when all signs had pointed to him being an individual more unpleasant than first meets the eye.

He dangles the promise of fame as your motivation to join his band. He thinks you want the same things he does— it's as if it never occurred to him that anyone would want otherwise. Fame and fortune is all he thinks and dreams about. You never cared much about fame, though, instead you care more about getting into the skin of the man who "saved" you; to befriend this interesting person who seemed not to know if he wanted other people to love or hate him. He craves recognition yet loathes commitment; he is aimless in direction yet focused with his goals. He seems to you like a man just tiredly going through the motions, like a puppet strung along on strings forced to dance the scripted beat of an unknown master. It's so fascinating that it made you want to take him apart and see what made him tick.

You want to understand him.

"If you want t'get famous, don't you have to make people like you first? Maybe don't be so... you, and start trying to be... likeable?" you suggest to him hesitantly. You cringe away from his returning glare.

"The day I change my ways is the day I start praying to God. Why in hell's name would I change to ingratiate myself to some cocks who I don't even know?" he informs you. "Why make people like you when you can get them to worship you?"

When Russel and Noodle later join the band they give you the same advice: stay away from him, whatever drivel he feeds you about owning your soul shouldn't be an excuse for the daily abuse he lays on you. But you don't listen. You're unconvinced.  He was rough around the edges but you had thought that maybe a good friend would dull them and bring out his shine. So you stick by him, expecting that your loyalty would be enough to get him to stop treating you like shit.

It isn't.

You're Stuart Pot, and you're starting to get tired of Murdoc Niccals.

Years have passed. And as the seasons change, so too do you hope he would. You hope that time would quell that rage in him that always caused him to lash out unexpectedly at the nearest available, convenient target (which, more often than not, happens to be you). You hope that an intelligent, street-smart man like him would learn to apply his goddamn knowledge to social situations and stop pissing off the wrong people. You hope that when, finally, he had fulfilled his dream of worldwide acclaim for his music, he would sooner or later stop finding unexpected ways to drive your opinion of him down further into the dirt.  

But he doesn't change. Instead, he disappoints you. Every. Single. Time. He disappointed you when he took your girlfriend Paula away in a show of spite, he disappointed you when he got himself arrested during the time Gorillaz had broken up, he disappointed you when he chose himself, time and time again, over the band that he claimed to prize more dearly than his life. He wears his newfound fame on his sleeve; uses it as an excuse to be even more self-centered and vicious. Gorillaz' release of two record-albums, widespread global appeal, and a movie deal that almost comes to fruition hardly hampers his destructive tendencies.

Your patience wears thin. And that little spark of something that you feel for him before becomes tainted, ever so slowly, by the very aspects of his personality that you were so fascinated by in the first place: his capricious attitude, his magnetic attraction to every single thing that hints at trouble, his admirable skill in provoking other people into action... his instinct to hurt people who get too close to him. There was no use being friends with someone so determined to make you their enemy.

You wanted to give up. But, like you always did, you soldiered on.

And then, eventually, you come to be aware of one simple fact.

In the years that you've known this man, you've never heard a single thing about his past or his family. Not one thing. You're straining to remember even one instance of when he had brought up the subject voluntarily. He never mentions them, and if he does, it's with a strained sort of flippancy that's obviously staged. As if he's hiding something.

So of course, upon this observation, you wonder: Was he hiding anything about his past? Maybe it held the key to understanding anything that went on in that mind of his.

You want to find out.

He regards your burgeoning curiosity with guarded suspicion and deflects attention from his past with practiced ease. He's a steel barrier, a wall of defense mechanisms and layers of hostility and snark. When all else fails, he simply gives in to an anger so intense you shy away from asking him the right questions.

But there are cracks; he's not as thorough as he believes. After many failed attempts, it got you thinking. When he empties those liquor bottles he loves, the alcohol loosens up his tongue so much that he scarcely seems like his sober self anymore. So if sobriety prevented him from divulging any details, would his drunk self—?

You take advantage of this one evening after a Demon Days concert, when he's plastered enough to lure you into his Winnebago under the impression you were one of his fans. He begins to reminisce.

You learn about the 'nice' diner lady he knew at age nine. You learn about his mother who abandoned him at birth. You learn about his apathetic brother. You learn about his friendless, bully-ridden childhood spent cowering in empty rooms and hiding in supply closets. You learn about his violent and larger-than-life father, who he spoke of with so much fondness that it made you sick to your stomach when he recounts the 'fun' times he had spent with him.

His shared memories paint such a bleak picture of neglect that it had been no wonder to you that he subconsciously adopts the traits of his abusers, even seeking similar people out and perpetuating an endless cycle. It was no wonder that he had initially despised you; he had probably seen himself as a child when he first came across your seemingly amicable, simple and defenseless personality. You were, to him, a mirror for the easy target that he once was before he had been hardened from years of living.

"You know how to listen," he slurs, oblivious to your realization. He stares at you with melancholic eyes and wraps his arms around you tenderly like you were a lover who he hadn't seen in years. "You're not like the other birds. Thank you, I needed this."

By the time morning comes he had seemed to have forgotten the whole night, refusing to meet your eye as you attempt and fail to strike up a conversation on the topic. You move on from trying to confront him and instead go for a more indirect approach. But still he shuts down every time you stretch your hand out to him in a show of kindness and understanding. The harder you try to draw closer to him, the more he did his best to pull away from you.

He knows that you had cracked his mask.

But you think he appreciated your gestures, in his own way. He seeks you out instinctively when he's in one of his fouler moods. He touches you often enough, gently enough, that it gives you the urge to wrap him in a consoling embrace. He gives an infinitesimal smile at you whenever you laugh at his jokes or praise his keen attention to detail in music. It's such a nice change of pace from your normally volatile dynamic that you seek it out like a crazed addict.

To you, everything was different now, you knew why he acted the way he did and you knew what was responsible for his nature, you could understand him now, and maybe you could steer him into getting the help he needed. But everything was also the same, because he still treated you the way he had always treated you, he made no effort whatsoever to acknowledge that there might've been anything that he needed help for. It was okay, it was alright. He clearly needed time and a bit of prodding. You'll be there with him, as his friend, and maybe you could work things out...

If Noodle didn't die in the aftermath of El Mañana, and you didn't remember who had angrily insisted that she did the shoot.

He did not show remorse at the news.

You feel your faith in the man finally shatter into a million pieces.

You're Stuart Pot, and Murdoc Niccals is someone you don't know anymore.

Russel had disappeared off the face of the Earth mere weeks after Noodle's death. You know why he had gone so quickly— being constantly reminded of the death of someone who was like a daughter to him would not have been a good idea. It was alright though; you didn't mind him leaving since you follow hot on his heels. There's no use in staying in a band with most of its members gone, and you would sooner grow your brown hair back than stay and be reminded of what had happened to Noodle. So you set off on a journey, a retreat of sorts, to clear your head of the fiasco that was Demon Days. Goodness knows you deserved it.

As for him, you have no intention of knowing. He had left before you could even hold a funeral for Noodle. You don't want anything to do with the man and would be content to never hear from him again for the rest of your life. It was all ancient history to you now.

Until it wasn't.

One moment you're basking in the view of Beirut, the next moment you wake up groggy, lightheaded, and shrouded in complete darkness.  You emerge from the dark confines of a suitcase, oxygen-deprived and seasick, and are graced by the baffling sight of a plastic island painted in an eye-searing color of hot pink. A terrifyingly familiar face smirks at you, with an expression that you instantly read as a mixture of derangement and malice. The expression on his face is so foreign and disturbing that you feel a shiver crawl down your spine.

"Welcome to Plastic Beach," he greets you, grabbing a fistful of your shirt collar and pulling you down to his eye level. You didn't feel very welcome.

What followed were some of the worst months of your life. He locks you in a tiny bedroom beneath the ocean, with no way to entertain yourself save for learning the sheet music he threw at you and forced you to practice. There's a keyboard in the room, a bed with warm blankets, and so much junk strewn on the floor, but nothing else that seemed to indicate that he expended more than the bare minimum to prepare this prison as a temporary home for you.

You've never gone so many days without your painkillers, but this time you go weeks without your precious meds dampening your experience of this nightmare-turned-reality. Your insomnia worsens by the return of your migraines, your rare sleeps are plagued by nightmares. But why would you want to sleep, anyway, with the ever-present eye of a monstrous cetacean lurking outside the porthole of your room? So you cease sleeping. There's no meaning to your nights and days, anyway, save for when he occasionally yanks you out of your room to record the vocals for his new songs or force-feeds you after you attempt a hunger strike to protest your living conditions. He sends that hunk of metal that was an insult to Noodle's memory every damn time he had to fetch you from the bowels of Plastic Beach, and the instant you hear her metal hand knocking on the door you automatically freeze up in fearful anticipation.

He becomes more cruel. So very, very, cruel. Whereas before, he had chosen to hurt you with offhand remarks on your intelligence and personality, now, his insults have become barbed with the real intention to humiliate and degrade you. If before, his beatings were done with little to no ill intent (if not done with the goal of amusing himself or others), now, his strikes and punches are heavily laced with meaning, as if screaming that this was all your fault, you caused him to hit you like this, why hadn't you stayed away?

You bleed more from the sharpness of his insults than the bluntness of his fist. He's not just a barrier anymore, he was a fortress, completely fucking impenetrable and armed to the teeth with a brusque and vicious attitude tailor-made to drive other people off. You can't even begin to place how he was doing mentally anymore; every single time you talk to him guarantees you of the surety that he had gone off the deep end and was left to fester in the confines of his ruined mind.

So you try to distance yourself from him for your own protection. You shut yourself off to him, you try to allow yourself to feel your own resentment and anger that had been simmering quietly beneath the surface, you try to refuse even the tiniest urge to empathize with him whenever he looked at you with those goddamn eyes that were still filled with a quiet melancholy. You focus on delivering the vocals for his songs, hoping that with the completion of the album, he would grant you your freedom and you could put the whole ordeal behind you.

But then you read, really read, the lyrics to "On Melancholy Hill", and you're left awestruck for the first time by anything he's written since your reunion. You get your hands on "To Binge", and you're left staggering by the loneliness practically wafting from the song. He shows you "Broken", and its imagery was so telling that it left you contemplating everything you knew about the man.

He wrote like a lost man who fell in love and was bitterly trying to change for a person who was no longer around to appreciate it.

You don't know what to feel. Did he fall for someone while the band was broken up? Maybe he fell in love with a(n) (un)lucky person after you and Russel  had left him. Maybe that was why he had become so unfailingly cruel. The mystery lingers at the back of your mind. You begin to take your assumptions as fact. You start resenting this mystery person, hating them, even, for breaking his heart like this and leaving you to be the one to pick up the pieces. You keep silent, but your suspicions grow with each passing day until you couldn't take the agony of not knowing anymore.

You confront him and steel yourself for a beating by asking him point blank who it was for. At first he reacts the way you expect him to, by punishing you with imprints of bruises all over your body, but he relents one night after you had steadily chipped away at his defenses by sheer persistence.

"Tell me the fucking truth, because I deserve to know," you yell at him in frustration. "because I'm singing your damn love songs. Last time. Are these songs about someone, and are they the reason you've gone off your rocker!?"

"Sod it," he curses after downing a whole bottle of rum and gripping your neck. "I don't care anymore."

He kisses you.

He tastes of tobacco ash and alcohol and spice, but you don't pay attention to this because holy fuck, he's kissing you. He's kissing you and you don't know how or why or what had prompted him to do this. Your mind goes blank. You freeze up like a deer in headlights but he doesn't even notice; he keeps his lips pressed to yours until he loosens his grip after a mere five seconds. But the damage is done, five seconds is enough to upend your entire world view. He watches you stutter uselessly while reaching out to caress your face, then says to you with an indecipherable look on his face:

"It's not that hard to guess, faceache. Yes, it's about someone. I wrote love songs about someone I used to know. See, I didn't value his friendship enough and took it for granted. I used him for years."

His thumb grazes your cheek. "This pillock had insisted on getting too close to me, even after I tried aaaaaaall the ways I could think of to get him to leave me alone. But he never let up. So I got too comfortable. Started to enjoy having his annoying face around me. When I started to... feel things for him, I couldn't take it. I locked those feelings right up like some hormonal bird does with her private diary. So when I disappointed him by committing the biggest fucking mistake of my life, I panicked and left him. Do you understand?"

You do.

And you're petrified.

So you run away from him, and barricade yourself in your room for so long that he had to have Cyborg Noodle drag you out.

You never bring up the incident and he obliges you by sharing your silence. The two of you never speak of it again. He starts treating you with more care, letting you roam around the island freely now, but he also avoids you like you've got an incurable disease. The sudden change makes you so conflicted that you almost prefer his old self. You aren't used to such a quiet side of him; aren't used to going entire days without being called down to his studio. At least he had spoken to you and you could guess what he was feeling, but now you don't get the chance. You barely even see him anymore.

You're confused, your heart was in shambles, but you were forced to drop the thought because you both soon find out that Noodle was alive, she's at Plastic Beach and back from the dead; Russel was back, he'd arrived at Plastic Beach too and he was fucking enormous for no reason. They are alive and you are happy; so, so, happy that your friends are back after all these years. They both hug you and laugh and ruffle your hair playfully, and you are overjoyed. Your worries are banished from your mind.

A lot of things happen and all of you leave Plastic Beach together. Almost like a family. For the first time, you're unbothered by the kiss that had overshadowed your mind for weeks.

You think that maybe this time if the four of you would be able to last some time together. You think that Gorillaz might have a bright future ahead. You think that a few days back in the company of other humans might be enough to clear your head, maybe help you understand what exactly it was you did to make him fall for you and why exactly you weren't so opposed to that idea.

But you hadn't noticed a certain someone shattering your hopeful reverie, ripping himself away from the group, until he's already vanished as quickly and as quietly as waves rolling over a plastic beach.

You're Stuart Pot, and Murdoc Niccals had once again crashed into your life like a car into a music shop.  

He shows up at your steps after nearly a half a decade has passed. He had seemed more subdued. Not quieter, not more thoughtful, and certainly not less vulgar, but more...stable. You don't know if the years he had spent by himself had been enough to unspool the massive tangle of issues swimming around in his head, but his new demeanor had been a complete 180 from what you were used to. You were stunned into silence when he asked you— instead of ordered you— to work with him on a new Gorillaz album. He gives you a slight smile as he waits for your reply, as if he had already anticipated the "no" that threatened to slide past your lips.

He immediately lights up when you accept his request instead.

You gather the rest of the band and quickly set to work, all the time observing him as he interacted with you and the others. You felt like you had time travelled back to the early 2000s again with you, him, Noodle, and Russel all in one house, together again, and working on new songs to unveil to a fanbase that hasn't seen you in years. So many things had changed, and others had not: you had gotten a lot older, a little more tired, but your passion for music remains the same. He's no different from you in that aspect. He's genuinely happy to work on creating new music for the band again, vibrating with the energy and enthusiasm of someone half his age.

You debut your album to overjoyed multitudes. The world may have kept turning after Gorillaz had gone on another hiatus, but it certainly did not miss you any less because of it. The four of you soon announce a global tour, formally kicking off the Humanz era. Your fans go wild.

The tour reignites your love of your profession. It's always been intoxicating to you and always will be. You own the stages of your concert venues with an aura that your twenty-year-old self would've envied, filling stadiums with the hypnotic sound of your voice. Your body slips into the beat with calculated grace aimed at a euphoric crowd; drives them into near anarchy. You lure entire audiences into a trance and listen to them sing the lyrics back to you. You're the ringmaster, the showstopper, the conductor of this beautiful orchestra. You're the frontman of your band, and you are born for this role.

He's always at the corner of your eye, plucking away at his bass as he watches you charm your fans with each and every song you sing. He doesn't attempt to hog the stage like he used to and instead goes for a more muted presence; a far cry from his old self.

Occasionally he directs a smile at you with a strange mind-numbing tenderness that whispered of an unplanned confession, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and the feeling of dry, chapped lips on your own. Whenever that happens, you zone right the fuck out and almost miss a verse of the song you're singing. Then the moment is gone; he's wearing another, more devilish smirk and directing his attention elsewhere.

He still hasn't brought up that night.

You wonder if you would ever get any closure on the subject. You two continue to dance around each other like you're both threading on eggshells; you attend interviews with him and pretend you're fine, you shoot music videos together with the band and think you're fine, Noodle and Russel start noticing and you both gesture that you're fucking fine.

But no, you're not fine, you're both lying to everyone, each other, and yourselves without saying a single word. You're frustrated and you know he's frustrated that you both can't seem to restore your relationship back to something that even resembles the casual (albeit abusive) one that you had in the past. But what can you do about it? You're terrified and he is in denial. So you choose the next best thing to addressing an elephant in the room:

Addressing a slightly smaller elephant in the room.

"What happened to you after El Mañana? After Noodle almost died." you inquire one day, taking the chance to bring up the topic when you had both been left alone in the house.  

He raises an eyebrow at you. "What a completely tasteful and subtle segue to a delicate topic, Dents."

"Just answer the question."

"I left."

...when I disappointed him by committing the biggest fucking mistake of my life, I panicked and left him, the Murdoc in your memory echoes back to you. You banish him from your mind.

"I know you left," you enunciate slowly, knowing he was being deliberately difficult. "But why did you leave? You didn't even stick around for her funeral. You just up an' went, like you didn't even care."

His eye twitches. "I did care. Just didn't think it was worth sticking around when there's more useful things I could be doing."

"If you did, you woulda manned up and stayed. Instead you left like a coward."

"Shut up," he says with restrained anger. "Don't start spouting off nonsense. You don't know shit 'bout what I went through."

"You didn't even cry," you accuse. "Even when you were the one who made Noodle do it. Even when those people in the helicopters came after her because of you. I saw you hours before you left, you didn't even look sorry, you didn't even want to talk to Russel an' me—"

"SHUT UP!" he yells so loudly that you're stunned into silence. "Just fucking shut your gob before I do it for you."

He exhales, then, as if bracing himself for something, starts slowly. "I get it. I fucking get it. I was a prick for leaving you and Russel like that. But I didn't mean for anything to happen to Noodle. I didn't think that she'd be in any danger. I've done a lot of idiotic things, got in hot water with all kinds of unsavory blokes, but I'd never had someone I cared for killed because of me. I've never fucked up to that extent."

"Still doesn't explain why you bolted."

"I'm getting to that, D. When she died, I was in shock. I tried to wrap my mind around the idea. But I couldn't accept it. I couldn't attend her funeral knowing we hadn't even found her body from wherever the fuck she died. I tried everything I could to bring her back. Or even know where her soul was. Even went to hell, y'know? But I found nothing." There was a faraway look in his eyes. "I think that's what made me go mad. Just the thought of not knowing. Then couple that with you an' Russel both hating my guts and our band breaking up again. It just broke me. I'd just started warming up to the idea of having you all around, after our band broke up the first time. And just like that, I was alone. Again. Like I was back in that sodding prison in sodding Mexico—"

He stops abruptly.

"I've always known I've got a few screws loose," he continues tiredly. "I know I'm sick. But that doesn't mean I'm heartless. I'd missed Noodle terribly and if there was a way for me to turn back time and stop her from ever doing that damn shoot, I would. But it happened. It's done. And that's the biggest regret of my life."

"Are there... any other things you regret?" you ask hesitantly. The sensation of a gentle kiss tingles at the back of your mind.

He stares at you like he's seeing the exact same memories play out in his head.

"No. Maybe. I think I regret being a complete git to you for so many years." he paused. "I'm going to try to change. Put my ways behind me. For the sake of our... friendship."

Silence.

"Okay."

You don't know if his answer was the one you wanted. Or even what you asked for.

But you still want to believe him.

You're Stuart Pot, and you're reeling after the absence of Murdoc Niccals.

He's gone. You don't know what to think anymore. He got himself arrested again for drug possession. He claims he's innocent, but no one believes him. You don't know how long he's going to stay in jail this time but it'll likely be for months judging by his track record.

He's been complaining to his fans on social media for months now, weaving an incredibly dubious sob story that included, of all things, the very same bar that you shot Strobelite in, a mysterious man named El Mierda, a business card with a fake address, and a drug syndicate with ties to the Mexican mafia. Oh, and being framed for his crimes, of course.

You're just completely confused by his tale. Who the hell was El Mierda? Who was he trying to fool with this charade? Didn't he promise you he would change? Why the fuck would he do this to you again???

You wonder when you'd get sick of it. You wonder if you'd ever get sick of the cycle of getting your hopes up by empty promises, then being inevitably disappointed when he continues further down the path of his own self-destruction. Why the man insists on walking that path when he had people who cared about him constantly trying to veer him in the right direction, you don't know.

All you know is that he had let you down again. You want to berate yourself for being well aware of his faults, but you know that no amount of mental self-flagellation is enough to keep you away from the man. His allure had always been irresistible to you, and as soon as he was out you'd be attracted to him like a moth to a flame.

You're just as much of a fool as he says you are.

Your heart clenched. No, fuck what he says. Whether he stays in jail for a hundred years or a hundred days, you will not let his absence or presence in your life dictate how you lived your life. You've wasted over half of your life hoping that this unapologetic man would change his ways when he's proven, time and time again, that he would never be capable of doing that. It was best for you to give up.

So you did.

And to show to the world that you were turning over a new leaf, you announce the arrival of a new album made without the input of your band's bassist. To your glee, the album was met with resounding success from both critics and fans alike, further solidifying the fact that you hadn't needed him at all. You are perfectly capable of leading a project by yourself without him around. You aren't a useless knob who just sat around waiting for someone else to start the job for you. Russel, Noodle and Ace were the only people you need.

If only the mere suggestion of his presence wasn't enough to trip you up. If only the mere hint of his name wasn't enough to trigger you to overreact and defend yourself a little too aggressively.

You see his tweets to fans urging them to mobilize for his freedom. You tell your fans to stop contacting him.

You know he thinks you're short a bassist. You replace him with another (arguably better) one.

You find out he's started a popular movement while you're on tour. You turn your eyes away from the ever-present mob of fans holding up signs reading "Where is he?" and "Free him!" in your concerts.

You take care to mention as frequently as possible how much better off you were without the presence of a toxic individual poisoning every facet of your life. You show to the world that you're fine by hanging out with the rest of the band in public. You try to ignore that feeling in your chest when he claims to the world that he's doing well in prison because you know otherwise; his body is painted in hues of black and blue and his eyes look like it's devoid of the soul it once had.

Your whole life has been set back on track. With him in prison, there was no reason anymore to think about your unresolved relationship.

You shouldn't miss him.

But you do miss him.

You think of his absence when you skate to the beat of Humility.

You think of his impact in your life when you sing Kansas.

You think of his regrets when you listen to the somber melody of Fire Flies.

You think of his sad eyes when you write the lyrics to Souk Eye.

Your entire album is the result of your unspoken longing to mend an irreparable relationship.

You're Stuart Pot, and for some strange, unfathomable reason, you want Murdoc Niccals next to you despite the man he was. 

Read this fic in its original format on AO3

[vanishcd]

[[ So i’m gonna post this whole thing but I just. NEED to analyze the entire discussion between Morrell and Stiles in Battlefield. Because its such important character stuff besides being INCREDIBLY well-written.

Included are my thoughts on my Stiles and my perspectives on how he thinks, especially when it comes to how ADHD/anxiety makes you perceive things. Likes are appreciated but PLEASE ask to reblog since this feels very personal for me and my muse

Stiles: You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful. 

So this whole thing starts off with his anxiety. His way of describing things in details with both feelings and facts that makes it incredibly visceral and real. You can feel yourself underwater, you can imagine that moment he’s talking about. The pain and then the relief. (Fear and pain. Big threads in some of his emotional beats. He also FOCUSES in on those details when he’s afraid, classic anxiety symptom.)

Morrell: Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments Stiles: I don't feel sorry for him.  Morrell: Can you feel sorry for the nine - year - old Matt who drowned?  Stiles: Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one. 

He has no sympathy for Matt. Not after what he’s done to everyone. Not for what Stiles perceives as a dumb, if awful, fluke and Matt’s personal offense/inability to get over it.

The punishment should fit the crime and his noting of "one by one" points out that Matt has been calculating this. For something ambiguous and one time, if traumatic. It's a conflict with Stiles' sense of what justice is. Matt also attacked him, his friends, Scott, his dad, and Melissa. That alone means Stiles can’t excuse, reason, forgive, or sympathize. But then--

Stiles: And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train. 

here’s the thing. Despite having general/social anxiety and ADHD, Stiles isn't forgiving of mistakes/cruelty because of mental illness. Yes, even though he fully knows his own issues have caused shit. Even knowing it's a POWERFUL motivator. But he has a LOW opinion of someone who uses trauma/illness to lash out purely for revenge. Especially over something that as he said was the result of kids being stupid

Even without this, he would hate Matt simply for being a creepy af stalker, not only CREATING this delusion of him w Allison but ACTING ON IT. Anyone who pulls that shit is LOW. And it was toward one of his closest friends.

He also happens to be deflecting, talking about others instead of himself (which is of course the whole point of a counseling session). He’s not just rambling cause he’s angry/disgusted and has a tendency to. He’s JUSTIFYING himself through it, which means he’s on the defensive and doesn’t want to open up to Morrell.

Morrell: One positive thing came out of this, though. Right? Stiles: Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between [him and his dad]. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk.

The first moment he opens up, maybe because the guilt of STILL not saying anything about the supernatural to his dad is TOO MUCH. It's one of the heaviest burdens he's carried. So even though Stilinski got his position as sheriff back, Stiles still feels like he's to blame.

Interesting thing to note is that the topic of his dad is the one thing he consistently opens up to people to. Showing vulnerability doesn't matter when it's his dads ANYTHING at stake. And he's ok showing that to Morrell both cause it's not focused on moving forward and his own feelings, but because it's actually something that he feels he needs help with. Because their relationship means too much.

The tension could also be alluding to the hallucination he had at Lydias party (despite the fact that he obviously doesn't TELL her about it) I can write a whole essay on that scene but the scene, real or not, clearly weighs on Stiles. And with anxiety, it's easy to fall into the mindset that your fears are real, they just aren't being SPOKEN. Even when you KNOW without a DOUBT that the person doesn't feel that way, it sticks in your mind and messes with your perception. Stiles is aware his perception could be skewed from stress.

Stiles: [Scott’s] got his own problems to deal with though: I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal. 

As Morrell is about to silently observe by asking about him, Stiles is once again deflecting the topic to everyone elses trauma and avoiding talking about how he feels. Just what he’s observed and his judgement about it. And his comments can be perceived as pretty neutral despite how much he cares for 3 of the 4 people who are going through hell with him.

Morrell: And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night? Stiles: Why would you ask me that? Ah. Uh, no. I - I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right? 

AGAIN he deflects. He knows she's digging for “im feeling anxious” and admittance that HE isn't ok. And not only denies it on reflex but then takes the leading part and uses that for the topic. Again he talks about others and uses dry sarcasm to make himself more comfortable.

Morrell: You mean, Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you? Stiles: How come you're not taking any notes on this? Morrell: I do my notes after the session. Stiles: Your memory's that good? 

Deflect; and this time because she doesnt give up, he turns the topic to HER. Most people will let you ramble about others but when you start making observations about THEM, particularly what they’re doing at the moment or their professionalism, they get defensive. Even if its a word or two, it’s enough to give him an “advantage”. 

And it’s, as becomes the ultimate point, him fishing for time.

Morrell: How about we get back to you? Stiles? Stiles: --I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen.

And there's the moment he finally breaks. He knows she's not gonna let him go, she's directly observing his anxiety. And there's a slight pause before she says his name. For the first time, shes directly giving him permission to speak, instead of asking prying questions. He could deny it. And he does, but in the obvious way that's just a lead in to his feelings.

He's at a point in the conversation and the situation that he doesn't have any other option. And even though his tone is harsh, it's honest. Because he's scared and suddenly realizes they covered everyone, and no one is left to help.

Morrell: It's called hyper - vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat. Stiles: But it's not just a feeling, though. It's - it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe. Morrell: Like you're drowning? Stiles: Yeah. Morrell: So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in? Stiles: You do anyway. It's a reflex. Morrell: But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right? Stiles: Not much time. Morrell: But more time to fight your way to the surface? Stiles: I guess.

He has a way with words. He's been rambling this whole time. But his description of a panic attack is the last vivid bit for several lines. Trying to get across his desperation.

Then he goes to simple answers. "Yeah" and "I guess" because when he feels so lost, he gets quiet.

Stiles is very pragmatic AND emotional. He thinks with both but rationalizes. "It's a reflex" and "not much time" is his logical side kicking in, but in that way it's counterproductive because anxiety. You search for an answer, a relief from your fear, and when it's GIVEN, you don't quite know what to do with it. So you rationalize your own helplessness because you've fallen into that pattern of logical thinking combined with fear. That's what makes an anxious mind spin out.

Morrell: More time to be rescued? Stiles: More time to be in agonizing pain. I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding? Morrell: If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?  Stiles: But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then - and it's just hell later on?

Stiles fears pain. And I think it's not the pain specifically, it's the idea of it being the last thing, an extended thing. Emotional or physical (who wouldn’t?) And then he rationalizes with facts again to prove his point. This is the crux of MANY anxieties. That you aren't strong enough to get through, that it won't end, that there's no hope.

Morrell is having none of it. She won't let him give up on HOPE.

Morrell: Then think about something Winston Churchill once said - "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Know why that got through to him? Because it's simple and factual and makes him realize--it's the only thing you CAN do. It's not exactly hope for him but determination. Will to keep going for a little longer

And the truth is, that's all you CAN do in some horrible situations. You feel hopeless, useless. But to quote another favorite tv show "believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Hope, hope for hope, will get you through. It can be more painful than anything in the world, but it's also the ONE THING that lets you get thought when EVERYTHING ELSE has failed.

And as Morrell says, if you can survive, isn't it worth it?

[agustdomain]

Steal My Heart Away

Synopsis: It seemed it was time heartbreak sought you out, yet it was unexpected that the boy who stole your heart would deal you that painful hand. 

Word Count: 17 k

Genre: Angst 

Warnings: Language, mentions of underage drinking

Member: Hyunjin, ft. Mark lee and Donghyuck as best friends

A/N: This is a different universe from Running Circles Through My Mind, so this is not the same Hyunjin from that work! Nonetheless, hope you enjoy! Also this isn’t entirely edited, so my apologies if some of the errors are atrocious!

PART TWO

10:21 pm and your head was in the clouds.

More specifically, there was something in particular that had been plaguing you for the last few hours. A fatal flaw of yours would definitely be your tendency to overanalyze. Often, your best friends pointed out how much you would get stuck on things, overthink, and proceed to overwhelm yourself. You couldn’t blame yourself though, there was too much surrounding you and there were too many things to experience; how could they not expect you to analyze?

Here you were now, three hours after hanging out with your friends, and your best friend’s words still plagued your thoughts. It had been a simple enough night. Your four best friends and you had decided to hit up a diner after school, sitting around and chattering about whatever sprung to mind. Nancy was quiet as usual, not speaking up too much but whatever she said held some weight. She was the nicest out of you all, but if she did happen to show her shady side, it was mostly directed toward Donghyuck.

Donghyuck, the loud and boisterous one of your little clan. He was definitely sassy and shameless, and you happened to admire how confident he was in himself. He hardly ever showed a vulnerable side to himself, especially to you. You had yet to witness it firsthand, and you were unsure you would ever get to see it. After all, he loved putting on a show for anyone near, and he would hate to be perceived as someone other than his exuberant and dramatic self.

The other male counterpart of the group was none other than your childhood friend, Mark. Well, you weren’t sure if fifth grade counted as ‘childhood’, but you liked to constantly bring up how the both of you knew each other the longest. Without Donghyuck around, he was calm and- daresay- mature. However, if Donghyuck was around, a brighter version of himself was brought out. Sometimes it was a lot to handle, but you adored the two boys and wouldn’t trade out their personalities if ever given the opportunity. Mark was the friend that you went to if something was bothering you, or if something too personal to share with the group was plaguing you. For as long as you could remember, he was one of the only people you confide in about nearly everything.

Your remaining friend was the drop dead gorgeous Tzuyu- who Donghyuck liked to jokingly call Chewy, with an emphasis on how her name sounds exactly like a certain Star Wars character. At first glance, your stunning friend seemed shy and quiet. But around you and your friends, she was just as bold as Donghyuck. She was passionate and stuck up for what she believed in, and she always lifted everyone up. She was definitely someone who you loved having around, and throughout your four years of high school she had became an essential friend.

Some of your other peers had often pointed out that the five of you, upon first seeing the group, seemed like an odd little clan. The troublemaker Donghyuck, the mature yet popular Mark, bookish and charming Nancy, model-like athlete Tzuyu- and you, a supposed ‘theatre queen’- were a clan that seemed… unusual. But when looking past the surface, it all made sense. Donghyuck and Mark were two peas in a pod, doing everything from tying their laces for one another and crazy handshakes together. Tzuyu was a big sister and a life of the party all in one. Nancy was the sense of the group, reminding you all to take it easy, and holding a lot of wisdom behind her gentle eyes and voice. You were a listener, being the group’s backbone and offering up advice if necessary. All of you played an essential role to the dynamic, and it had been that way all of your high school career. Four years later, and things were the same.

On this particular day, the same day that led to you drowning in your thoughts, plenty of different topics had bloomed across the confined diner table. The previous topic had been upcoming finals in a few weeks, and Mark’s bummed out nature caused Donghyuck to try and liven the atmosphere by his senseless rambling. Eventually, Tzuyu had cut him off and started talking about an upcoming cross country meet that she had and how her time had been improving recently.

“That’s good to hear, Chewy. I bet you’re smoking all of them out on the track,” Donghyuck said distractedly, dunking one of his fries into ketchup.

Tzuyu sighed exasperatedly. “That’s like the third time you’ve said that whenever I bring up cross country.”

He looked up, his eyes wide as he was caught red-handed before his voice became shrill in defense, “It’s not my fault! You’re always talking about your running time improving! What else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know! But all you show me is that you don’t care whenever you say the same things over and over again.” Nancy and you looked at each other in question, noticing it was unlike Tzuyu to get so worked up over whatever Donghyuck says, especially this soon in the conversation.

“My bad. I didn’t know it meant that much to you,” Donghyuck huffed out, scrolling through his phone and signalling he was done. That was also unlike him, because he tended to be the problem starter and loved to pick arguments. You looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering what their problem was, before reaching for your milkshake and taking a drink.

“Guys. I need some advice,” Mark’s nervous voice grabbed your attention, your gaze falling on your anxious friend beside you. He was fiddling with his plate, twisting it back and forth and avoiding eye contact.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” You asked him, reaching out and squeezing his arm in comfort before continuing to eat your food.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just-” He cleared his throat, seeming to figure out how to word whatever he was going to tell you guys. He had everyone’s full attention now, considering it wasn’t often you got to see something besides Mark’s calm and collected nature. “I’m thinking of doing something that I haven’t done before… but I’m not sure how to…”

“Well? What is it?” Donghyuck pestered, and you reached out to smack his upper arm lightly before turning back to Mark.

“Do you guys… remember Yerim?”

Ah, it all clicked to everyone now. All of your faces lit up in realization, and you couldn’t help but smile uncontrollably at his words. You were aware of Mark’s crush on Yerim, in fact you were aware of it longer than anyone else. It had developed back in sophomore year, when you and him had a class with her and fate had worked its magic, placing the three of you and someone else at a table together for an entire semester. You witnessed firsthand how the boy who everyone labeled as a guy with no romantic bone in his body, fell apart at the sight of his crush.

Yerim was an ideal girl, at least to you. She was stunning, of course, with short hair that suited her very nicely. Back when Mark and you had met her, her hair had been long and fell down her back like she was some runway model. You remembered the day she came to school with her hair cut short, mostly because Mark couldn’t shut up about it. It was last year that he officially made a statement about his feelings to the group. You had been so proud, exclaiming that you knew about his crush, and he had merely shrugged it off. It had been months of Donghyuck trying to convince him to act on his feelings, but Mark only rejected the idea. His excuse was that they were both too different and that they had different goals in mind after you all graduated. You knew that his real reason was that he wasn’t confident in himself. It’s a shame, because you were aware of how phenomenal he was. Hell, you knew him since you were ten years old, and that was eight years ago. But it seemed the tides had shifted, because there Mark was, asking if you remembered Yerim.

“Of course we remember her,” Nancy softly spoke up.

“Yeah,” Tzuyu said pointedly, “All you did was fawn over her for like eight months.”

“And then you stopped talking about her altogether after she started dating that Renjun guy,” Donghyuck added, and you all noticed Mark’s face become uncomfortable at the thought.

“Well, that’s not why I’m bringing her up!” Mark burst out, seeming on edge. You were slightly worried, but you just waited for him to open up. That’s just how he was; you needed to give him time and he would open up to you about what’s bothering him. “The thing is, her and I have gotten pretty close these last few weeks. And I’ve gotten a vibe from her that she might like me back? But she’s given me nothing to work with and I don’t want to make myself look like an idiot if I’m reading into this wrong.”

Donghyuck threw his head back and groaned. “Are you seriously going to sit there and be a chicken again? You’ve had so many chances to confess to her yet you never take it! How are you supposed to know if Yerim likes you if you don’t let her know how you feel?”

Mark rubbed the side of his neck nervously. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to ruin what we have-”

“Bullshit. You’re just scared. As usual.”

“Shut up, Hyuck. That’s not true,” Mark denied, seeming flustered. You had to admit, you felt the same way as Donghyuck, but you knew you had to word it differently or else you would rub Mark the wrong way.

“Mark, he has a point,” You held your hand up to stop him from interrupting, “But I understand you. Your fear is valid. These sort of situations are one of the most scariest things to deal with, because these are feelings we talk about. It’s a risk that so many people aren’t willing to take. And for as long as I’ve known you, no one has had this effect on you like Yerim has. So the real question is, do you think she is worth taking a risk on?”

He swallowed, his eyes staring into your eyes with nervousness before he uttered, “Of course.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

“It sounds easy when you word it like that. But it’s easier said than done,” Mark pointed out. He leaned his head back on the booth seat, looking genuinely afraid at his thoughts. It made you a little sad, knowing there was no way to ease his worries. This was a battle he would have to fight on his own. It was up to you and your friends to be there for him if it didn’t work out.

“Mark, obviously we can’t tell you what to do, but I think you should give it a chance. You’ve liked this girl forever, and I see the way you talk about her. I haven’t seen anything like it,” Tzuyu’s tone took on a sad quality, and you definitely didn’t fail to notice, “And because of that, you should seriously consider giving it a chance. You never know how she feels unless you ask. And if you don’t take that risk, then you’ll always be plagued with the ‘what if’.”

Nancy nodded, dabbing at her lips with a napkin before clasping her hands over the table. She gave Mark a once over, causing you to do the same. He looked so bothered but checked out, as if Yerim had already went and rejected him. You didn’t think his fear would come true, but you definitely understood his doubt.

“Think about it all before making an impulsive decision. Don’t let what we tell you affect the choice you choose. This is all about you, how you feel, and what feels right. If in the end, you think it’s best that you remain friends, then we’ll support you. If you decide to tell her how you feel, we’ll be there for you. But don’t let this eat at you. You’re too young to have gray hair,” Nancy threw in the little comment to lighten up the atmosphere, and she succeeded. The tense air faded away, Mark expressing his gratitude before the topic changed. You were definitely proud of the friends you had.

It wasn’t until you were leaving that Donghyuck had grabbed your attention. “Hey Y/N. I got a question for you.”

“I’m all ears,” You responded, walking on the edge of the sidewalk as you all headed in the directions of the cars. Donghyuck walked alongside you, falling quiet for a moment, before pulling you to a stop and leaving you mildly confused.

“I don’t know how to word this. Hm,” Everyone stopped, eyes on Hyuck as he tugged at his ear in thought. He proceeded to shrug before he bluntly asked, “What’s up with you and Hyunjin?”

His question led your mind to draw a blank. You felt your lips part, your eyes widen, and oddly your heart start to race. Your friends’ eyes were all trained on you, and you couldn’t find the words. You finally settled with, “He’s just a friend. An acquaintance, to be more accurate. ” Before realizing how unfamiliar your voice sounded.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Donghyuck scoffed. “Have you been hiding something from us?”

“No. I’m confused as to why you’re attacking me.” You finally recovered from his sudden question.

Donghyuck waved his hand dismissively and smacked his lips. “Only people who hide things feel attacked when asked a simple question.”

Mark stepped forward and clasped Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Dude, relax. If Y/N wanted to tell us something, she would.” You flashed him a grateful smile, but Tzuyu chimed in and caused your heart to race even faster.

“Although I’m a little curious now. Who is Hyunjin?”

“It’s a guy in our Anthropology class. Him and Y/N used to sit together. They’re just friends,” Nancy said with finality, pushing her circular rimmed glasses up the bridge of her note before walking to her car.

You exhaled a breath of relief before following after Nancy towards the passenger side. You heard Donghyuck without having to turn to him, because his words rang clear in your ears. “You talk about Mark being scared to take a risk? The pot calling the kettle black…”

You were silent as you sat beside Nancy, waiting for Tzuyu to finish up her conversation before sliding into the back of the car. She was the designated DJ, and put on one of her personal playlists. Your mind couldn’t focus, though, Hyuck’s words having more of an impact on you than he would ever realize.

Because he may not have known it, but he had hit the nail right on the head.

Truth be told, at the beginning of senior year, you wouldn’t have expected to fall for a guy like Hwang Hyunjin. You still remember standing alongside the edge of the classroom, awaiting the teacher to assign you seats. You remember feeling ticked off, because you were seventeen years old and still getting assigned a seat like you were a kid. Your teacher had called your name before his, tapping your desk that happened to be in the dead center of the room. You had begrudgingly walked over, hoping you would miraculously get to sit with Nancy. That day, miracles were not in favor of you- or so you thought at the time- because she had called Hyunjin’s name instead.

You had watched in mild exasperation as his lanky figure maneuvered his way through the classroom, greeting some of the people he passed with a smile. He was sporting a long-sleeved white shirt and shorts, as casual as could be, and you knew that you were screwed the moment he sat down. But no, not because it was a love at first sight sort of thing. Because he was a pretty boy, and at the sight of his smile you noticed all of your female classmates start to whisper. You had thought to yourself that it would be a long semester.

You had known of him, but never officially met him. Donghyuck had done baseball with him back in sophomore year, and both him and Hyunjin were the only sophomores to make the varsity team. You remembered going to some of Hyuck’s games, and how Hyunjin was easily a crowd favorite with his powerful hits and the way he glided across bases like he was skating instead of trying to make it to home base.

Whatever it was, you had not expected him to be the way he actually was. You had expected him to be like a typical pretty boy, annoying and uptight, and act like he ruled the world. But from the beginning, it wasn’t like that. He was super quiet at first, only talking when the teacher assigned partner work. His voice was low when he spoke quietly, but raised in pitch if something even slightly excited him. His hair was a neat brown sweep across his forward, sometimes parted stylishly but mostly resting as if he didn’t bother to do anything with it. He was tall, too tall for the tiny desks you were forced to sit in, yet he always sat straight.

Another perception of him that you were completely wrong about was that he would slack off, and he proved that wrong rather quickly after first meeting him. He would finish assignments the day after they were due, even though the teacher gave you a week to complete it. You remembered feeling astonished, wondering how he did it because sometimes the assignments were lengthy. And you remembered when you became impressed with his insightful nature, always having something meaningful to say- even if it was about something unrelated to class. Sometimes, he would voice his opinion if one of your classmates said something he didn’t agree with or happened to be unnecessarily rude. A big part of you wondered when your crush had developed, because maybe it had been after the first time you made him laugh, or the first time he made you laugh. Maybe it was the combination of his leg brushing yours underneath the desk during class, or your hands accidentally touching because of the cramped space. Maybe it was his ridiculous nicknames he would give you based on what you were learning in class. Or maybe it was because he made it a daily tradition to walk you to your next class even though his own was in the opposite direction. Whatever it was, you were guilty just like Mark. You had feelings you had no intentions of acting upon any time soon.

“Since the guys aren’t around, I think it’s safe to say we can have a more personal talk,” Tzuyu announced, before lowering the volume of the music. You dreaded her words because you knew what was coming. “Tell me about this Hyunjin guy.”

Nancy never looked away from the road, but her voice was powerful enough to make it feel like she was looking at her with shame. “Stop, Tzuyu. If she doesn’t want to talk about him, don’t pressure her.”

“No it’s okay. It was bound to come out some time, right?” You said, inhaling slowly before you felt your stomach drop in realization. “Wait a minute. How does Donghyuck know about Hyunjin?”

Nancy glanced you in confusion. “What do you mean? You’ve never told him about Hyunjin?”

“No! I mean, he knows him because of baseball. But how would he know about my feelings?” Your panic settled in, wondering if you stared at Hyunjin too much in class, laughed too much at his jokes, said something too suspicious. If it got back to Hyunjin, what if he got too uncomfortable to talk to you? To be fair, it was the second semester and you weren’t seat partners anymore. But he still talked to you whenever he could. And though you wouldn’t call yourself his friend, you still talked on a regular basis because of class.

“Don’t panic, okay? Maybe you let it slip around him or something?” Tzuyu offered. You immediately shook your head.

“No, because I don’t talk about Hyunjin. My little crush on him is practically a myth considering how secretive it is. I have to call him.” You tried and tried to call Hyuck but he ignored your calls. You wanted to scream. You felt like the guy with the biggest mouth knew your darkest secret. But you told yourself to calm down, and trust that Donghyuck wouldn’t spill something you hadn’t even confirmed to him. He was one of your best friends, after all.

“Just calm down. Nothing is going to happen, okay?” Nancy comforted you, and you knew you had no choice but to just let it go. Besides, there was no harm done. It’s not like you announced your feelings for the guy. In fact, Donghyuck had assumed it and you hadn’t even confirmed it. And if worse came to worse, if it somehow got back to Hyunjin, you would come up with something to save yourself. You didn’t want the guy to hate you.

Right as the three of you pulled up in front of Tzuyu’s house, she paused in moving to get out the car, simply saying, “You must really like this mystery guy.”

“Why do you say that?”

She shrugged before responding, “You know how I said I’ve never seen anything like how Mark looks when he talks about Yerim? Well, I saw that same look in your eyes when Hyuck mentioned his name.”

You wanted to question what she meant by that, only remembering feeling panic when Donghyuck had called you out, but all you could think about was how Hyuck was right. You had no room to talk about Mark not acting on his feelings, because it had been over a semester of school and you had kept your lips sealed about how you felt about Hyunjin. All that you were confused about, was how Donghyuck knew about your feelings.

And here you were, 10:22 pm and wondering where you had gone wrong. Donghyuck had never called back, and you were drowning in your tendency to overanalyze matters. You blamed yourself, figuring it was your fault that Donghyuck knew about Hyunjin. You didn’t even interact with Hyunjin enough for the crush to be more than a crush, but a startling fear hit you that maybe everyone knew. If Hyunjin knew, would he ignore you? Was he going to ignore you on Monday in Anthro? Would he laugh if he found out about your crush? Your thoughts were stressing you out, so you blindly reached out for your phone on the bedside table in the dark. Seeing a message notification from a few different people, you sighed as you saw that none of them were Donghyuck. Your eyes found an unknown number had messaged you, causing you to draw your eyebrows together in question. Clicking the message, you saw that it was delivered around twenty minutes ago.

Unknown:

Hi… Is this Y/N?

You contemplated not answering, but your curiosity was piqued.

You:

Who is this?

You didn’t expect a reply any time soon, so after staring at the phone for a little too long, you tossed it aside and pulled out your laptop. You logged on and decided to watch a show you had recently gotten into, quickly growing distracted from the odd day that you had. After a few episodes, you realized it was midnight and you hadn’t checked your phone for a while. Your heart jumped upon seeing a message from the unknown number. The feeling drastically changed as your heart  felt like it was trying to crawl out your throat as you read the text.

Unknown:

Probably should’ve started off with that… It’s Hyunjin. Sorry to randomly message you, especially considering you weren’t the one to give me your number. I know how Donghyuck and you are close, so I just asked him earlier today.

You stared at it for a moment, your heart rate spiking as you watched another message come in, even though the last one was sent a while ago. It meant he was still thinking about what to say, even after all this time has passed.

Unknown:

There’s a number of reasons I wanted your number. The main one is that you know how in Anthro, the midterm was announced and how we need to pick a partner? Hah… I just remember how much I enjoyed doing projects with you last semester. I know we don’t talk often, and feel free to reject my proposition, but we work pretty well together and you’re cool so… if you’re down, we should work together.

You hoped he would explain his other reasons for messaging you, but nothing else came in after that. Your heart raced as you typed out a response, erased it, rewrote another one, then repeated the process. You couldn’t believe this was happening, but you gave yourself a reality check. He viewed you as a good partner, an acquaintance at the most, and you weren’t going to let your petty crush ruin the relatively good bond you had with your classmate. He was a great guy, but you wouldn’t let that sway your decision.

You:

Hey Hyunjin! It’s nice to hear from you. Yes, this is Y/N haha. I would love to work with you for the midterm project. Just let me know when we should start brainstorming. What I said last semester stands, you were the best anthro partner I could’ve asked for! So I’m glad I get another chance to have you as a partner (:

Hyunjin:

Haha I second that. Anthro just hasn’t been the same since we switched seats. Who else is going to laugh with me at random things and let me tell them my cool stories? No one! My partner is, no offense, pretty lame. All he does is shush me.

You:

You’re telling me! I sit with Renjun! He’s… something else. I mean, he’s funny. But definitely not as funny as you.

Hyunjin:

I should be nominated as the senior class clown.

You:

That’s a little far-fetched.

And without realizing it, you messaged him for a few more hours, until it was so late that you could barely keep your eyes open. You sleepily thought to yourself that it seemed a friendship was starting, and you wondered to yourself if this was what you wanted. Did you want Hyunjin as a friend, or would you forever be sentenced to a crush on him that had yet to disappear? Maybe confessing and getting rejected is what you needed. But before you could ponder it further, you had knocked out.

The following week, the school day had already ended and you were just about ready to crash when you got home. Mark and Donghyuck wanted to go grab an ice cream cone before they had to work on a project together, and they offered to treat you. Ice cream was your weakness, and even though your tiredness told you to decline, your love for the sweet won the battle. So after the final bell, you scurried out of class and made a beeline for where Mark told you to meet him.

As you walked, music trickling in through your headphones and blocking out the chatter surrounding you, your mind crossed to Hyunjin. That wasn’t uncommon these days, because outside of the project you guys were slowly working on, a friendship had began to blossom. Much like that first night, you had mixed feelings about creating a friendship with him, but he was too alluring to resist the urge. Besides, you only had about two and a half weeks to finish up the project, present, and then probably stop messaging. You wrote off his kindness and friendliness as a way to maintain a good bond throughout the project work.

What was nagging at you though was although he said he reached out to be partners for the project, you guys hadn’t spoken much about the project itself. There had been one conversation where you guys messaged back and forth brainstorming ideas about what you could potentially make the project about, but that was it. It confused and slightly worried you. Not only that, there had been no talk of meeting up or even splitting up the criteria needed for the project. You decided you would bring it up next time you guys messaged.

Although you guys were on friendly terms, and texted almost everyday, there wasn’t much leeway to talk during class. Since you guys didn’t sit together anymore, and there was always a lesson plan, there was never time to talk. And the one time Hyunjin attempted to talk to you during class, he got scolded. The teacher also emphasized how there wouldn’t be much class time to work on the project and to utilize the time you were given wisely. You just hoped Hyunjin would prove to be a worthy partner in the days to come.

Your thoughts of Hyunjin halted as your music was cut off by your phone ringing. You pulled your phone out to see Mark’s name and answered without letting it ring too much. “Hello?”

“Y/N! Homie! Where are you?” The sound of Donghyuck’s loud voice blasting through your headphones made you wince. You lowered the volume of the call before you responded.

“I’m on my way to the front of the building. Mark told me to meet him there. Why didn’t you just call me from your phone?”

He was chewing on something, that much was clear. You were constantly being reminded of his bad manners over phone calls every single time he called. You heard him finish up chewing before he said, “Because my phone died. But anyways, don’t meet us there! Meet us at his car.”

You felt your eyes widened. “But he parks off campus! Far away, might I add!”

“Yeah, well, we’re already here.”

You were about to argue but you heard Mark in the background say, “Who are you talking to? Why are you on my phone?” Before a struggle seemed to ensue. The next voice you heard was none other than the owner of your phone. Thankfully he had a softer and quieter voice, at least over the phone he did.

“Y/N! Hey. Why did Hyuck call you?”

“He said to meet you at your car?” You said monotonously, sounding displeased with the idea. You couldn’t help it. The truth was, it was about a ten minute walk, which wasn’t too bad. But you were already tired and considered taking this opportunity to cancel. Mark ultimately silenced your thoughts.

“Don’t listen to him. Yeah, we’re almost at the car actually. We got let out of class early. But I figured we would swing back and pick you up. You cool with waiting a couple minutes?” It was like music to your ears. You wanted to plant a big kiss on Mark’s face for being such a sweetheart.

“Sounds like a plan,” Your voice came out tiredly, but you were grateful. “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem. See you in a few.”

You walked off campus, leaning up against the fence that surrounded the school. You let the music wrap around your mind and cloud your thoughts, tapping your fingers on your thigh to match the bass of the song playing. Shuffling in your position, you glanced at all the people leaving the school, others waiting around you. Your mind vaguely registered that the baseball team players had slowly but surely started walking out the school and heading to their cars. You watched them in mild amusement, wondering to yourself why the baseball team all parked their cars together. Was that something they thought made them look cooler, or was it based on convenience?

The sound of your name made your vision shoot to the side, where the gate’s entrance was located, and you felt your heart jump at the sight of Hyunjin standing there in his baseball gear. You would never admit it aloud, but he looked absolutely breathtaking in his uniform. That made you feel a little embarrassed, but you constantly heard Tzuyu declare, ‘Uniforms work wonders on guys. Sometimes makes them more better looking than they actually are.’ You used to think that was ludicrous, but seeing Hyunjin now made you think twice.

He waved his hand at you and muttered something, but because you still had your headphones in, you hadn’t heard him properly. Pulling them out, you said, “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.”

The friendly smile on his face had faded a little by this time, but that was usually what happened. He was a friendly guy, always finding reasons to smile. At the same time, he had an equally serious expression that was his default face. You constantly observed him jump between both of his signature expressions. He stepped closer, adjusting the hat on his head. You had never seen him wear a baseball cap, and you decided right then and there it suited him well. Even though you weren’t sure how great of a player he was these days- you still assumed he was as great as he was sophomore year- his appearance could definitely fool you into believing he was the best player.

“I said, you waiting for a ride?”

“Yeah, actually. Mark is coming to pick me up.”

Hyunjin’s face lit up in realization before his eyebrows furrowed in question. “Isn’t he still in school?”

You just shook your head and slightly laughed. “Yeah, he got out early today. So he decided to run to his car before swinging back and picking me up. Saves me the trip, fortunately.”

Hyunjin nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes trailing to one of his teammates who was shooting him an impatient look. It was obvious he had somewhere to be, most likely a game, but he was hovering as if he had something he wanted to say. You pretended not to notice his hand signal to his friend, signalling him to wait a moment, before he turned his body back to you.

Adjusting his bag slung across his shoulder, he licked his lips in thought before saying, “So, Y/N, I was thinking-”

The sound of Mark’s high-pitched car horn cut through his words, grabbing the both of your attention as Mark and Hyuck pulled up in front of you. Hyuck leaned half his body out the window and shouted, “Get in, bitch! We’re going shopping!” You shot him an angry look, not knowing whether to hit him or praise him for quoting the movie that he always denied that he loved. Mark decided for you as he watched him lean over and punch him. It seemed like it was a hard punch too, because it was enough for Donghyuck to pull himself back into the car and start bickering with him.

Hyunjin chuckled awkwardly, “Wow, uh, I forgot how… colorful he is.”

“That’s Hyuck, alright. He sucks.” You jokingly commented before reaching down to grab your backpack off the ground. “Duty calls. What were you trying to say earlier?”

You watched with curious eyes as he bowed his head and let a tiny smile appear on his lips before turning serious again. Typical Hyunjin. He looked up at you then, waving his hand dismissively before saying, “Just project stuff. We should officially decide on our topic soon. Then start working on it.”

Relief filled your heart at the words, a smile gracing your lips as you walked towards the car, your eyes still on him. “Yes, definitely! We can talk more about it tonight.”

Hyunjin’s teammate finally had enough, telling Hyunjin to ‘hurry his ass up’ but it didn’t deter Hyunjin at all. You simply shook your head, opening the door before calling, “Good luck at your game!”

He nodded, waving once before saying, “See you tomorrow!”

Sliding into the car, you met Mark’s and Donghyuck’s curious gaze before asking, “What?”

Donghyuck smirked. “What was that all about? Was he asking you out on a date? Did you finally confess? Did you-”

“No, no, what’s your problem? We’re friends! And we’re partners. We were just talking about our project.”

Donghyuck threw his head back in exasperation. “I swear, if I have another Mark on my hands, I’m going to punch myself.”

Mark exclaimed, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you still haven’t confessed to Yerim and I think it’s going to be your only regret on your death bed.”

Mark turned his attention to starting the drive, but his response was, “No, I have more regrets than that. One of them being your friend.”

Donghyuck smacked his lips and seemed to prepare himself for another argument, but before he could respond, you said, “Wait a minute. Hyuck, not so fast. I want to know how you knew about my crush on Hyunjin.”

His expression turned to one of shock, before guilt, then feigned innocence. “Just intuition.”

Mark bluntly said, “I call bullshit.”

“Me too,” You agreed.

Donghyuck pulled out the theatrics, his face displaying shock as his voice raised an octave. “What are you trying to say? That I can’t possibly be attentive and pick up on my friend’s hidden feelings?”

“You’re pretty dense, man. About certain things, at least,” Mark offered up.

“Shut up, Mark! Not about this! I know you guys better than yourself sometimes! You didn’t even have to tell me about Yerim and I knew the moment you mentioned her for the first time!”

Before an argument would spark up, you raised your hands before saying, “Okay, so what gave away my Hyunjin situation then?”

Donghyuck took some time answering, leaving you practically fidgeting in impatience as you watched him pull down the visor and check himself out in the mirror. As he began fiddling with his hair, he disinterestedly said, “I could tell by the way you mentioned him at random times when he seemingly had no relation to the conversation. I mean, sure, we were teammates two years ago. But you had no reaction to him back then. Suddenly, we find out you have a class with him this year and that you’re seat partners. You and I are the only people associated with him. Yet, when you brought him up, you spoke fondly about him more than I ever did. And then I thought maybe my suspicions may be wrong, so I brought it to Nancy.”

Oh, Nancy. The other attentive one of the group. You wouldn’t have expected her out of everyone to rat you out, but you weren’t too angry. These were your best friends after all, and it wasn’t like they were going to announce it to the school. Donghyuck did have a problem with keeping secrets, but if you drilled it into him, he wouldn’t say anything. He continued on with his explanation.

“Nancy didn’t know that I was only guessing. I made it seem like I just knew. And she confirmed my suspicions, saying that the way you acted around Hyunjin during class was similar to the way you used to act around that senior guy when we were freshman. What was his name again? Didn’t he go by some ridiculous nickname?”

“His nickname was Ten,” Mark snickered at the memory, before adding, “Yeah, Y/N, you had it so bad for Ten. When he was around, you saw nothing but him.”

“And Nancy said that it had the same feel as your Ten crush, but a little different,” Donghyuck said with finality.

You were surprised, to say the least. You had to give it to Donghyuck; he was more observant than you had initially perceived. It wasn’t like you were purposefully making it a secret and hiding it from your friends. You just didn’t think of your crush on him more than that. He was a guy you saw once a day, who had only been more of a constant for the past few days. Regardless of that, you weren’t even sure how you felt and if it was deep enough to just write off. For now, you were just going to let things play out and focus on the project you and Hyunjin were inevitably going to work on together.

As you guys pulled up to a local ice cream shop, Donghyuck distractedly commented, “If it makes you feel any better, I have this inkling that he might have a thing for you too.” And when you asked him why, he just waved his hand- albeit a little similarly to the way Hyunjin had- and said, “Just an inkling.”

You ignored the way your heart jumped.

Hyunjin:

Hey it’s your favorite anthro partner, reaching out from beyond the grave.

You:

I figure you’re dead because of your game?

Hyunjin:

Yeah… It was rough today. Coach is on me right now about how I’ve been playing. And other things. But it’s whatever, I’ll be fine.

You:

You’re a tough guy. Things will work out.

You:

Sorry. That sounded so insincere. What I mean is, I know you got this. Whatever you’re going through, you’ll be fine. Just keep your head up and try and stay focused. And I’m here if you need to talk about things.

Hyunjin:

Thanks…

Hyunjin:

Anyways, we should talk about the project…

Time seemed to be flying by faster than you could get a grip. It was already the weekend, and you had planned to meet Hyunjin at the library on Sunday morning. You had finally decided on a topic, and had each done a bit of research. Today was the first time you were going to meet up and knock out a chunk of the project. You had even decided that you would work on the power point and do half of the written portion while he worked on the visual and the other half of the written portion. In terms of the project, things were running smoothly. As for the friendship that had randomly started blooming a little over a week beforehand, it had come to a heavy stop.

The two of you hadn’t really spoken after deciding on the topic and the responsibilities of each respective person, the only other time being to set up a time to meet at the library. In class, your eyes would always find him, noting how he looked tired. You caught him blinking rapidly twice, as if to fight off his drowsiness. He also gave off an irritable vibe, which made you less willing to approach him. You didn’t message him. And he didn’t message you. You felt that maybe your assumptions had been right, that he was only striking up conversation for the sake of the project. But on the other hand, he might’ve just been busy.

He showed up thirty five minutes late, his strides long and purposeful as he found you at the back of the library, holed up in one of the corners. His face was emotionless, his appearance a little frazzled like he rushed over to the library. Regardless of that, his hair seemed perfectly unbothered atop his head. You wondered what his trick was to always having perfect hair.

“Sorry I’m late. I was doing something and lost track of time.”

“No worries,” You muttered, reading the last line of the current page you were reading of your book before closing it and putting it away. Pulling out your laptop and other materials, you looked up at him in question, wondering why he was still hovering. “You going to sit?”

“Right.” He said, his voice sounding clipped as he pulled out the seat across from you. He was wearing a gray sweater, your eyes falling on the infinity necklace that dangled around his neck. You glanced up at his emotionless face, the way he slowly pulled out the materials from his backpack before meeting your gaze. “We should try and finish this as soon as possible.”

His words caught you off guard, and you wondered why he was being a little cold, but you decided to not question him, simply nodding before handing over your paper. He did the same, and the next hour and a half was spent working on the project. Everything was running relatively smoothly, and you guys were able to finish up everything you wanted to finish today.

You stretched yourself out once you finished, sighing in happiness before saying, “I guess that’s it for today. I think I’ll be heading home now.”

Hyunjin didn’t seem to hear you, his gaze firmly on the dark wood of the table. His face was as emotionless as ever, and this was another time how you noticed how tired he seemed. You don’t know what prompted you to reach out, but your hand on his shoulder caused him to jump from the contact. You pulled away quickly, apologizing.

He let an easy-going smile fall on his lips, his tired eyes lighting up as they crinkled up. It was a nice sight. He waved you off, you noting that it seemed to be a habit, before he hissed in thought and said, “Sorry about being so frazzled. I just… have a lot on my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You swayed a little, feeling like he needed someone to talk to from the vibe he was giving off. If the way his eyes found their way back to the wood was any sign, you knew that this might be your only chance to talk to him before school and class and his sudden distant nature gets in the way again. So you deliver yourself back to the seat you were previously in, your eyes searching his face.

He doesn’t react to your presence right away, his fingers tracing the side of his notebook, the designs in the wood, the edge of the table. After some time, his eyes slowly raised up the expanse of your visible body and connected with your own. There was no sign of what he was thinking hidden in his gaze. He looked at you the way one would look at a stranger.

“What’s on your mind?”

He scoffed, his body language immediately turning defensive and closed off as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. It made you feel slightly uneasy. He licked his lips in thought, avoiding your gaze now, and uttering, “Why does it matter? And what makes you think something’s on my mind?”

“Because you seemed distracted the entire time we talked. And you didn’t notice I was leaving. And frankly, this whole week you’ve been acting different.”

He leaned forward quickly then, causing you to lean back as a reaction. His eyes narrowed, his voice sounding unnecessarily accusatory, as he said lowly, “And how would you know that? How would you know if I’m not acting like my usual self? You don’t know me like that, Y/N.”

You don’t know why his words stung, because they were true, but it must’ve been because of how he was acting. You had never seen Hyunjin like this, so wound up and irritated. He was always kind to you, offering up smiles when the situation called for it. And the fact that he pointed out the lack of closeness between the two of you bothered you more than it should. Nonetheless, you didn’t let his defensive nature deter you.

“You’re right. I don’t know you much past the persona you put up as my partner, but that doesn’t make me oblivious to the change in attitude you’ve suddenly had. I’m not pressuring you into telling me what’s wrong, because you’re right. We’re not friends. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to worry. You look tired. You’re irritated over every little thing. Something’s been bothering you. And if you can’t tell me, then at least confide in someone you care about. It’s not good to keep things bottled up,” You said with finality before standing up and pulling your backpack on. You moved to walk past him and towards the exit, but the sensation of his hand around your hand caused you to immediately fall to a stop. His touch was gentle, not at all firm. Like he was too weak to even try and get you to stop walking. But it had been enough.

You looked down at him, expecting to see frustration. But his face was surprisingly open. He let his tiredness show, his expression seeming worn and exhausted. His eyes were what tugged on your heart the most, sad and defeated. But he only let you see this for a moment, fixing his face and saying, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that offer. Maybe I should…” He let go of your wrist then, the absence feeling a little too heavy, but you watched as he anxiously readjusted his seated position. He leaned forward, aggressively rubbing his hands over his face as his eyes looked somewhere faraway. He puffed out a breath from his lips, looking genuinely overwhelmed. You wanted to hug him, ease his stress, but you simply took your seat for the third time.

He laughed, but it was empty and forced. “I’m not good at this. Expressing my emotions, I mean. I’ve always been like this. There’s been plenty of times that my friends called me a robot for never showing anything besides genuine happiness. But that’s just how I am. There’s no point in showing anyone when you’re sad, upset, stressed, angry, tired, annoyed. They can’t do anything about it. All anyone does is give you a half-assed and over-used phrase about how things will get better, and then they forget that you even felt a certain way. And I’m not just talking about friends, either.” 

You watched him closely, his voice higher in octave and filling with more emotion as he began to talk more rapidly, “It’s family, too. Everyone expects you to be emotionally stable, to either be stoic or happy, nothing else. And if you ever show something else, you only get mild concern from someone. Everyone wants something from you. They want you to be their shoulder to cry on, their excuse to break someone’s heart, to be better and more successful, and if they see you struggle… Nope. You’re not allowed to struggle. You have to be perfect and you have to deal with it. I might as well be a robot, just like my friends say-” You reached out, your hand cupping his and grasping it firmly, your eyes trained on his face. His lips parted, as if he were going to say something about your actions, but he just simply looked away and continued on his ramble, “I’m young. Adults chastise us when we moan and groan about wanting to be an adult, but the next day spout all this nonsense about not being responsible enough. I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

You decided it was time for you to look away when the first tear dropped from his eye, respecting what he said earlier about not being used to opening up to anyone. You moved to bring your hand back, but you felt more than saw him flip his hand over and grip yours tightly. You didn’t hear him crying. He was silent. But you could feel it. And you just bathed in the silence with him. Being there for him. Your heart ached for him, feeling bitter that someone as bright and as hopeful as him was being beaten down by the people and the world around him.

It was a while before he calmed down, you barely noticing that his previously firm grip on your hand had fallen limp. You pulled your hand away and he let it happen. Your eyes found his, the only evidence of his crying being his slightly red eyes. You were about to speak when he just shook his head and said, “Thank you for listening to me. I think I just needed to let it out somehow. You don’t have to give me advice or anything. I’ll be okay. It’s just… stress and things are taking a toll on me. The school year is coming to an end in a couple months and everything feels a little suffocating sometimes. But like you said, I’ll keep my head up.”

Your voice was soft, quiet. “You’re allowed to feel, Hyunjin. You should never accept being a robot. You’re a person. You’re supposed to feel, to hurt and to cry and to laugh and to love. It wouldn’t be life without all of those things.”

“It’s not that easy.” He shook his head, puffing out a breath from his lips. “I appreciate your words, though, I really do. I’ve just been brought up a certain way and it’s harder than usual these days to keep my emotions in check.”

“Well you don’t ever have to hide your emotions from me. What you feel is normal and valid. And even if you’re not seeking comfort or advice, if you let me I’ll be your friend that’s there if you ever need it.”

He stared at you blankly for a moment before letting out a short chuckle. “Just a few minutes ago, we both basically told each other we weren’t friends. I didn’t mean it like that, by the way. Sorry I was being an asshole.”

“You were just overwhelmed. I don’t blame you. It’s good to talk about these things.”

He blinked, letting your words sink in, before nodding. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s just hard to find trustworthy people to confide in about things. I’ve done it before and regretted it. But I trust you and my friends… Thank you for staying. And talking to me. I know I wasn’t being the easiest person to deal with.”

You just shrugged before saying, your heart feeling a little heavy, “I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

His smile faded from his lips then, his eyes finding the wooden table, “Yeah… Friend…”

“Who’s bright idea was it to swim in the middle of March?” Mark asked, the five of you lined up in front of the pool. None of you had jumped in yet, but you each were in bathing suits and dreading what was to come. Everyone’s attitude had quickly changed feeling the chilly air.

“Guys, don’t be babies. My pool’s heated.” Donghyuck announced before running forward and flipping into the pool.

Tzuyu rolled her eyes, scoffing, “Such a showoff,” before discarding her towel and diving in perfectly into the deep end.

Donghyuck squealed loudly when he emerged from the water, shouting, “I did not emotionally prepare myself for that feeling.”

You just laughed before dipping your toes into the water, testing the temperature. It was warm, indeed, but it was still going to suck getting out of the pool and drying off. You couldn’t decide if you and your friends were idiots or rebels. Probably a mixture of both.

You should’ve known not to turn your back on Mark, because one minute you were standing alongside the edge of the pool, the next you were submerged in the pool with his arms wrapped around you. The sensation had knocked the air out of you, your body not prepared for the temperature. You swam to the surface, gasping out loudly before turning to Mark and splashing water at his face. He only snickered, trying to catch his breath and block your attack.

“Nice, Mark!” Donghyuck floated over and high-fived him, you only giving him a blank look before swimming away from them. Mark called after you in feigned care, but eventually stopped his talking, opting to go after Nancy next. She still wasn’t in the pool, sitting down at the table outside. You heard her denials and pleads to not be thrown in, squealing as you assumed Mark had picked her up. You turned just in time to watch him jump in with her in his arms.

When she emerged, you called monotonously, “I know the feeling!” before proceeding to float on your back. Your ears were just below the surface, every sound reaching your ears murky and muffled. Your eyes gazed at the quickly darkening sky, your mind wandering to other things. It wasn’t long before your mind flashed to Hyunjin, of course. It always did these days. If you weren’t so into him, you would’ve been annoyed with yourself by now.

He was an enigma. A book that held many languages, many codes to decipher and pictures that you had to study to even mildly understand. He was careful with how he executed himself, and what you used to believe was genuine friendliness seemed more calculated now. He was more profound than anyone could even see, and it was a shame. Because now that he allowed you more peeks into his true self, he had easily and quickly stole your heart away. You hadn’t felt like this about anyone before, even Ten who was your first legitimate crush. And you could say with confidence that you were glad it was Hyunjin of all people that had awoken this feeling in you.

Someone poked your forehead, and you stopped floating on your back, turning to face Mark. His hair was sticking up in random places, and you would never admit it to his face but he surprisingly looked good in the midst of his messy appearance. His eyes were expecting, before he must’ve realized that you didn’t hear whatever he said, and he asked, “Jeno is throwing a little get-together at his house tomorrow. You down to come with us?”

“Jeno?”

Donghyuck was lounging around at the shallow side of the pool, his arms extended and resting on the edge of the pool. He called to you, “Smiley guy from the basketball team. I also used to play baseball with him sophomore year.”

You nodded your head, your heart jumping at your train of your thought. That might mean Hyunjin would show up to this get-together as well. You didn’t count on it, but the thought still sent your heart racing. It was like Donghyuck read your thoughts because he teased, “Maybe tomorrow will be the day you finally own up to your feelings for Hyunjinnie.”

Mark’s wide eyes looked at you before a smile lit up his features. “That would be interesting-”

“Yeah ‘cause Mark’s not going to do it any time soon.” Mark’s face quickly morphed into an expression of annoyance at Donghyuck and you simply submerged under water to block them out. Even those his words were teasing, they stuck with you. Donghyuck tended to have that effect on you, to keep you thinking about things long after he said them. You hadn’t really entertained the thought of confessing to Hyunjin, but the thought terrified you and you weren’t sure if you could ever find it in you to look him in the eyes and admit it. Maybe you and Mark were a little too similar.

Coming up for air, you heard Mark exclaim, “Why are you bringing up her ex? This isn’t

about him! And I’ve never wanted to confess to her because maybe I didn’t want a relationship at the time! These days, I’ve thought about it more. I just haven’t decided when I'll talk to her about it. So stop pestering me about it. You’re so annoying.”

You gave Mark a sympathetic look, well aware of how easily Donghyuck got under his skin. Hyuck didn’t respond, deciding to dive under the water and swim away from Mark. It was kind of ridiculous how easily these two argued sometimes, but whenever they got lost in their little conversations, it was always obvious that they were meant to be best friends. Like the old saying goes, they can’t live with or without each other.

Donghyuck swam up for air near you, and you were surprised to see his face look so troubled, his lips pursed and his eyebrows drawn together. He ran his fingers through his hair before connecting his gaze with your own. His tense expression fell away, a grin replacing his previous pursed lips. You gave him a knowing look, but he simply swam past you. He was just like Hyunjin, you found yourself thinking to yourself. Locking away his true emotions behind his teasing and pestering. And you found yourself wondering what exactly was plaguing your friend’s mind at the moment when he looked so tense. You thought about asking him, but before you could, Tzuyu suggested a chicken fight.

“Hell yeah! You’re about to get dominated!” Mark cockily announced, flexing his bicep and dramatically kissing it. Tzuyu cackled mockingly, before giving you a stern look and calling you over.

“Why can’t Nancy be your partner?” You were quick to ask.

“Because you know she’s not into pool games,” Tzuyu said before slyly adding, “She doesn’t like the pool at all.”

“I can’t even argue with that,” Nancy said, proceeding to get out and scurry to get her towel. She was over there complaining about it being super cold, but you didn’t give it anymore thought as you slowly made your way over to Tzuyu.

“Hyuck. You want to be my partner?” Mark asked, already squashing their previous conflict. You all turned to Hyuck, who wasn’t his usual loud and excited self. He just quietly swam over to Mark.

“Okay,” Mark brushed it off, “Let’s get this started,” before him and Tzuyu dived under and allowed Donghyuck and you to sit on their shoulders. The match started once Mark and Tzuyu were stable and standing above the water. Nancy was the designated referee, and the match started soon after. A lot of it was your laughter and squealing if Donghyuck was a little too close to knocking you guys over. Tzuyu was shouting at you to be strong and knock him down, while simultaneously on defense as Mark tried to sabotage by pushing at Tzuyu with one hand. Things took a turn for the worst when Donghyuck latched onto your hands, bending your wrists at an awkward angle.

“Hey! That hurts!” You shouted, trying to break out of his hold, but it was like he

didn’t hear you. Instead, his grip got tighter, and it hurt to the point where you were screaming for him to let go, squirming so you could just fall off Tzuyu’s shoulders. Tzuyu moved back quickly, causing you to lose your balance and taking Hyuck with you. Fortunately, he let go.

When everyone was above the water, a heated conversation immediately started, the main source of anger being you. “What the hell’s your problem, Hyuck? I told you to let go!”

Donghyuck shrugged it off, causing your anger to spike even higher. “That’s not how Chicken works. You keep going until someone falls.”

“Dude, don’t be a dick. Why did you keep holding onto her wrists?” Mark asked.

You all watched as Donghyuck whirled on Mark, his barely hidden anger now making an appearance. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I got too in the game. Isn’t it amazing how you always get to play the good guy, the hero who swoops in and saves all the girls? Give me a break, Mark. You’re not as perfect as the facade you put on in front of us.”

Mark’s face scrunched up in incredulity. “What are you talking about? I’m not trying to be anyone’s hero. When I see you do something wrong, of course I’m going to call you on it! Just how you would call me out on something I did. You hurt Y/N!”

“Oh, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself just fine,” He turned to you then, your face feeling flushed and your emotions a little high for you to think logically, “Are you okay, Y/N? Did I hurt you too bad? Are you going to cry and run to your little boyfriend?”

His biting words stung, and you just scoffed before swimming to the edge of the pool and

pulling yourself out, the chilly air instantly biting into your skin. You heard Tzuyu jump into the conversation, immediately coming to your defense.

“Hyuck, just admit you were wrong. We get it if you were too into the game and didn’t realize it. Just apologize-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Especially from you.”

You turned, immediately wanting to avoid the fire that Donghyuck just sparked with his words. Tzuyu got along with everyone, was extremely sociable and likeable once you got close to her. But she was easily provoked if you said something the wrong way, or used a phrase she didn’t like. Her head swiveled back in shock before she met Donghyuck’s aggressive tone with her own.

“What does that mean? ‘Especially from me’?”

“Trust me, you don’t want me to answer that.” By this time, everyone was out the pool now. You were unsure why an argument had to have suddenly come up and ruin the night, and you knew that once Tzuyu and Donghyuck were going at it, it wasn’t going to end well. It was like the previously villainous and chilly air had become a thought in the back of your minds, the slowly dropping temperature of the night not affecting all of your damp bodies.

“No, go ahead. I’m curious. Why not from me, huh?”

As she spoke, his back was turned to her, but right as she finished, he spun on her and stalked over to her. This caused Mark to react defensively, an instinct rising up in him, but you roughly grabbed onto his arm to prevent him. Donghyuck wasn’t going to do something bad. As angry as he was, you knew he wouldn’t. But you were still on edge.

He held a finger up, his voice shaky as he sputtered out a jumble of words before chuckling darkly and straightening his shoulders. Tzuyu looked cocky, her eyes narrowed and confident she would somehow win the argument. At his next words, you all watched as her confident expression fell away into a shocked mess.

“You think you’re above everyone, princess. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, but you’re so selfish. You only care about yourself, and no one else. I thought I…” His voice quivered again, and you all couldn’t see his face from this angle, but it became painfully clear that he was talking about something between the two of them, not about the actual matter at hand. “You know what? It doesn’t even matter anymore. You made it so clear to me when you decided to just brush me off like I was nothing. And then you sit here and pretend like everything’s okay, which makes me feel like the biggest idiot in the world. I have to sit here and put up a front in front of my own best friends. I’m so sick of this shit. I’m done with you.”

He turned and walked past you guys, chest heaving as he strode into his house and left you all standing in his backyard. The air was silent, so silent that it was painful as the three of you turned your attention to Tzuyu. Her face was pale, her eyes trained on the back door that Donghyuck had walked into moments before, and her frame looking smaller than you had ever seen. This wasn’t the Tzuyu you knew, the confident and bold girl. This was someone who had been knocked down by Donghyuck himself.

“Tzuyu, what was that?” Mark asked, his tone cautious.

“N-nothing. He doesn’t know what he was talking about. Just nonsense as usual.” She said, walking over to the porch table and wrapping her towel around herself before taking a seat.

“I think I’ll go talk to him-”

“No. I’ll do it,” You deadpanned, his face immediately showing that he was going to argue. But you silenced him with a hand, this time on his shoulder. Mark was quite sensible when the time called for it, his eyes turning soft as you two shared a look. He trusted you. So without another word, you journey into the house to find your friend.

It doesn’t take long at all to find him, his bedroom door cracked open and the yellow light of his room filtering out into the hallway. You wondered where his parents were, him telling us that they weren’t home when he invited you guys over. You gently pushed the door open, turning away quickly as he was in the middle of pulling a shirt on over the rest of his torso. He looked over at you before scoffing and turning away, roughly rummaging through his drawers.

“Hyuck-”

“What do you want, Y/N?” His tone wasn’t angry anymore, just defeated. You looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw a sad boy. A boy who looked like he was hurt by someone. And suddenly you were afraid that what you were about to find out, may forever change your friend group.

“I wanted to check on you.”

He stopped rummaging and straightening out, throwing his arms out exasperatedly and exclaiming, “Well, here you go. I’m fine. Go away.”

“No.”

You expected him to fight you on it, but he just proceed to ignore you as he rummaged through his drawers again and found the pair of jeans he was looking for, giving you a look that signalled for you to turn away so he could throw them on without your stare on him. When you figured he was done, you turned to spot him tying his Vans on his feet, and when he was done he strode over to his mirror and began trying to half-heartedly style his hair with his fingers.

“Hyuck, let’s talk. Don’t avoid us.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone.” He didn’t notice you come up behind him, your hand reaching out for his shoulder. He whipped away from you, flashing his annoyed eyes at you. “What do you want? Leave me alone.”

“No. I want you to be okay and-”

“News flash. I’m not okay.” His words rang loudly in the room, long after he spoke them. His chest was heaving, like he had just ran a race. And you had never wanted to hug him as much as you did right now. You remained silent, letting him choose whether or not to open up to you. He made his choice moments later. “None of you would get it. You would just brush it off or make a joke out of me and I just,” He swallowed heavily, and you didn’t know if you imagined his eyes glossing over. He moved to his bed, plopping down on the edge and covering his face with his hands. You had figured these words were coming, but it still hit you like a freight train.

“It had to be her. Out of the three of you, it had to be her. Nancy is amazing. She’s pretty and smart and selfless. You’re pretty too, and you care about us and make me laugh. And her…” His eyes were definitely watery, but you ignored it, listening to his painful words, soaking them in, “She just drew me in. She’s strong and fierce and-and passionate. And at first it was playful, innocent. But I couldn’t help it. I thought she felt the same way. I was happy, so happy. Thinking that maybe, just maybe… someone could feel the same way I do. But she doesn’t. She just ripped my heart out and stomped on it like it was all just a game to her. Maybe it was. I wouldn’t be surprised.

“I saw signs of her not feeling the same way. I just ignored them, though. Feelings are a bitch, especially when they’re not returned. And then…” He let out a painful laugh, sounding a little more than hurt, but you just took a seat next to him, letting him feel your presence. It’s like he didn’t see you there, though. “She just told me she was done. She was going on a date with someone else, someone that wasn’t me. She just cut me off like it was an everyday task she was checking off on her to do list. And the worst part is, I have to hide how freaking bad it hurt me. I have to sit there with her, pretend we’re nothing more, ignore how my heart literally feels numb, and I can’t talk to you about any of it because you guys didn’t know. I was just her kissing buddy or some shit. She’s heartless.”

Tears silently fell down his cheeks, and you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his shoulder and held him firmly, comforting him as much as you could. He rested his head on top of yours, his body slightly shaking from his silent crying. Your heart ached for him. You and your other friends had been oblivious to what was conspiring between two of your closest friends. You wouldn’t ask questions, you would just be there for Hyuck, who was so obviously hurting.

Eventually he calmed down, and he gently pulled away from your grasp. You watched him closely, and hopefully with a comforting gaze. He sniffled, his hands reaching out and grabbing hold of one of your hands. He caressed your wrist very softly, his touch almost being nonexistent, and he whispered into the air, “I’m sorry for hurting you earlier. My head was in the clouds, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I was just really really distracted and I would never intentionally hurt you-”

“I accept your apology, Hyuck. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it okay?” You patted his cheek twice, waiting for him to nod before moving to stand. He stood with you, his eyes refusing to meet yours. It seemed like he still needed time to pull himself together. “I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

“I think it’s probably best if you all go home. I wouldn’t want anymore arguments to happen,” He suggested, and you figured that definitely was the best option. You turned to walk out, but he grabbed your hand. Turning back to him, you shot him a confused look. He shakily inhaled before lunging forward and giving you a strong embrace. It shocked you at first, but you adjusted quickly and hugged him back. “Thank you. For listening to me. And being there for me.”

“Always, Hyuck. I would never judge you. You’re one of my best friends. I will always be here for you. And I got your back. You’re going to get through this- this pain. And I’ll be there every step of the way.” He sighed out, sounding like a breath of relief, before pulling away and offering you a sincere smile. It was a nice look on him. “See you tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.”

Almost twenty four hours later, you found yourself standing outside this Jeno guy’s front door, alongside Mark, Donghyuck, and Nancy. Tzuyu had gone radio silent since last night, and she had ignored your attempts to reach out. You would let her sort out what she was feeling before you tracked her down. And she had let Nancy know she wasn’t going to Jeno’s for the night, which eased Hyuck’s tense heart a little bit.

“Ready to get drunk?” Hyuck asked, leading to you and Nancy giving him a disapproving look. He held his hands up defensively, adding, “I was just kidding… Sorta.”

Before either of you could say anything, the door swung open to reveal the smiley guy named Jeno, waving his arm enthusiastically to come inside. Him and the guys greeted each other familiarly, before he gave you and Nancy a sweet smile and shook your hands. “I’m Jeno. You guys are Y/N and Nancy right?”

“Yes. This is Nancy, and I’m-”

“Y/N! Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You and Nancy gave each other a look at that, before you proceeded to follow him into the depths of the house. He led you through the house and out to his backyard, your eyes widening in awe at how beautiful his backyard appeared.

Lights were hung up along the edges of the wooden fence that surrounded the yard, and were hung through the trees that lined the garden. There was even a small fountain in the corner, spouting water out and filling the air with a quiet sound of water trickling. Besides that, there was low music playing, a rap song from what your ears picked up. It definitely was a small get-together, several people sprawled out across the grass and seated in the outdoor seating area, cascaded in the dark. Jeno must’ve moved a ping pong table outside because two guys were in the midst of a very intense match.

Your eyes scanned the backyard, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as your eyes continued to not find Hyunjin until they suddenly did. He was leaned up against the fence, a cup in one of his hands as he chatted up someone. You watched as he bobbed his head, laughing at whatever the person said before continuing on talking. You were thankful you opted to wear your favorite outfit, and style your hair in your preferred style. You felt more comfortable than you had in a while. And you hoped it would work in your advantage.

“Mark!” You all looked to see a bright-faced blond boy bound over to you guys, immediately embrace the culprit mentioned in a hug, before letting him go and turning to the rest of you. “I’m glad you guys made it. Mark is embarrassed of his friends and never wants you guys to meet us. He thinks we’ll taint you or something. Whatever. We’ve all just been curious to meet you. I know some of us-” Another blond boy, significantly more calmer than the first, appeared and wrapped his arm around his chatty friend, somehow stopping his rambling, “Enough rambling. I’m Chenle. This here is Jisung.”

Jisung simply waved, and you finally recognized him as the sole sophomore to make the baseball team this year. History was definitely repeating itself, fond memories of Donghyuck excitedly telling you guys how he made varsity as a sophomore. You also recognized Chenle, a loud and boisterous junior who laughed loudly, that you could hear him down the hallways at school without even seeing him. He was known as a bit of a life of the party type, which is probably why he was so likeable. You also decided that his smile was contagious as you found yourself smiling back at them.

Donghyuck grabbed your attention then, whispering near your ear, “I’m going to find somewhere to hide. See you later.” He was still torn up about what had happened last night, and you considered going after him, but thought better of it as you figured he needed time to himself. You shuffled in your spot, being friendly as you struck up conversation with Jisung. You found out he was quite thoughtful and had plenty of things to say about pretty much anything. He was nice to talk to, and he kept your attention for quite a while. Soon, you all broke apart and went your separate ways.

You ran into a friend named Jaemin, his bright smile accentuating his features and his ever affectionate nature welcoming you in for a while. But even your time with him ended eventually, and you found yourself getting thirsty. You found a cooler and rummaged through it, looking for a Dr. Pepper before you felt a presence beside you.

“Finally. I thought I would never get a chance to talk to you.” Your heart raced in your chest at the voice, looking up and over your shoulder to spot Hyunjin. He looked as breathtaking as always, opting for a semi-casual look. He was adorned in dark jeans and a dark blue sleeved shirt, with a pair of Vans to finish the look. His hair was as neat as usual, and his gaze was gentle as he looked down at you with a friendly smile.

“Hyunjin. Hey! It’s nice to see you.” You noted you sounded way too excited for being just his friend, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he just chuckled and waited for you to finish finding your drink. Once you did, he did the same, choosing a Coca Cola before straightening out. You faced each other, taking a moment to take each other in, appreciation from your end and most likely friendliness from his end. He was the most stunning guy you had ever seen in your life. Perhaps your thoughts were dramatic, but your feelings didn’t lie. You wondered when he had stolen your heart, and how had it been that easy?

“I’ve been trying to find an opportunity to swoop in and talk to you, but every time I saw my chance, someone beat me to it. You were talking to Jaemin for a while there, and I was afraid you guys would talk until the night was over,” He sounded like he was joking, but his face was as stoic as ever. Since the library, he was more open about how he felt and what was on his mind. But old habits die hard, and he still had a strong hold on hiding his emotions from his face.

You just laughed at his words, tapping at the top of your soda can before saying, “That wouldn’t have happened. And I’m glad you approached me. I was waiting for a chance to talk to you too.”

His face showed mild surprise. “Oh. So you knew I was here?”

“Yeah, I spotted you when I walked in,” You spoke shyly, but you told yourself to get a handle on yourself. This was Hyunjin, someone who never judged you. He just nodded his head and tilted his head towards the house.

“Let’s sit down on the steps? Talk for a while?”

His words left you breathless and you didn’t know why. A phenomenal boy had your attention and it was unfaltering. It was like the moment he approached you, no one else was there in Jeno’s backyard. It was exhilarating. Without hesitation, you said, “Sounds like a plan.”

You didn’t realize how close in proximity you two would be up until you were sitting on the porch steps. He had taken the lead, so you were sat near the bottom of the steps, your backs against the steps above. The length of his body never actually went noticed, because he was so lanky and would constantly stretch out his legs if necessary. You amusingly thought to yourself how the amount of space he took up with his body is the equivalent of the amount of space he took up in your mind.

“Jeno picked a perfect night to host a get-together. It’s not too cold out,” Hyunjin said with a soft voice, his eyes scanning what you assumed was the tree-line. You definitely forgot how he appeared up close, and it was a cold reality check, colder than the slightly windy air. You watched as he did his usual habit of licking his lips, which is something he did when he had something on his mind. The wind tickled his hair a little bit, and you watched keenly as it lifted in the air and revealed a bit of his forehead. You wondered how he would look if he ever decided to style his hair differently.

“I agree. It’s a nice night.”

He hummed, glancing at you and offering a friendly smile before looking away and letting it fade. A big part of you wanted to ask if he was holding up okay, if he was still feeling overwhelmed like before. But you noticed he didn’t look so tired anymore, and he didn’t seem as stressed. You didn’t want to ruin this little moment the two of you were creating together. So you kept your lips sealed.

“How have you been, Y/N?” He looked over at you then, his eyes attentive and his voice a bit of a slur, like he was lazily carrying on the conversation. But his easy-going expression told you that he enjoyed talking with you. “I know we text here and there, but we don’t get to talk in person much. I miss this.”

Your heart thumped hard in your chest. “I’ve been alright. School. Friends. Drama. The same as usual. I miss talking to you too. You were definitely one of the highlights of my day.”

He laughed that off, sounding a little flustered with his next words. “Right… I, uh, understand that feeling. You mentioned drama… is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just stuff with my friends. Things will blow over… eventually. And if they don’t, we’ll all just have to learn to live with it. We’ve never had a problem that we couldn’t fix.” Hyunjin nodded, and the two of you fell into a bit of silence for a while. You fought against the chilly and windy air, rubbing your arms and pulling your sleeves over your fingertips, then placing your clothed hands up against your mouth. You watched as your friends conversed, Mark talking animatedly to Chenle and Jisung from earlier. Nancy seemed to be comfortable with that Jeno guy, because they were holed up in the corner talking. And you hadn’t seen Donghyuck since he said he was going to disappear earlier. It seemed he was better at disappearing than you expected.

“Are you cold?” Hyunjin’s voice filtered in your ears, breaking your train of thought. You tried to shrug him off, but he just shook his head and rose to his feet.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, but he didn’t say anything, simply outstretched his hand to you. You were confused, and only stared back at his equally stoic face.

“Are you going to just ignore my hand?” His voice was teasing, and he just shook his head before lowering his hand. “We can go inside. Jeno doesn’t mind. People have already started spreading out across the house.”

You had noticed the lack of people around the backyard that were previously there. You looked at your friends once again, but you figured they would be okay without you. So you stood up, agreeing underneath your breath, and followed Hyunjin inside. He seemed to know where he was going, leading you the way that you guys had come from when you first entered the house, and into what you decided to call the front living room. Jeno’s house was big and extravagant, and the fact that he had such nice decor inside and outside blew your mind. His family definitely knew how to properly decorate.

You stood in the entranceway of the front living room. Hyunjin walked into the darkness of the room, and you heard him fiddling around with something until you heard an audible click and light flooded in  from a small lamp in the corner. The light was dim and lit up the room similar to what a fireplace would. You adored the small space, and the sofa you sank into was so incredibly soft, you could envision yourself falling asleep on it.

Like the rest of the house, the little room was decorated nicely. There was a mantle that had a bunch of family photos, and from where you sat you could recognize a small and smiley Jeno in a lot of the picture frames. There were two tall bookshelves that reached the low ceiling, filled to the brim with different sizes of books. Other than that, it was a typical sitting room with two loveseats, a couch, and a glass table in the center.

You watched silently as Hyunjin walked over to the photos, humming in amusement as he pushed gently at one of the picture frames with his finger, before slowly walking over to join you on the sofa. He wasn’t too close, but it still brought your pulse into overdrive. From the corner of your eye, you watched him slouch on the sofa, his head resting on the back of the sofa, his eyes fluttering close. It was unusual to see him so casual.

“Jeno was a cute kid.” Hyunjin said distractedly, referring to the photos.

“He must’ve been with that smile,” You offered, feeling a lot more vulnerable now that you were merely surrounded by the silence and by Hyunjin. He hummed again, and you suddenly become overwhelmed with the desire to hear his voice. He was right; you were never around each other enough. You heard his voice maybe once or twice a day if you were lucky. The project had opened the door up for the friendship to grow. But you would never be able to get enough. He was the one book you never wanted to put down.

“How have you been holding up, Hyunjin? Have things been… better?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he slowly angled his head to look at you. He looked sleepy, but content as he stared back at you. His face was open, a puzzle of contentment but restlessness. And it was then that you wondered if you were ever going to be open to the inner workings of this boy’s mind, if you were ever going to be someone he opened up to, because after all he wasn’t a fan of confiding in anyone. Would he always be a mere masterpiece to admire, but to never fully understand?

“In all honesty… things have been better ever since I talked to you. And not because people started treating me better or anything like that, it’s still the same old shit. I’ve just… started looking at everything a little differently. Talking to you helped a lot… it honestly really surprises me,” Hyunjin chuckled softly, moving his head back to its original position and looking up at the ceiling. “And I know most of it was me being an emotional mess and you just listening to me spout nonsense… it just helped me clear my head and get a handle on things. That was the first night I slept peacefully in days. I actually haven’t had a problem sleeping since that day. So thank you for that.”

“It’s all you, Hyunjin. I’m simply a… pit stop of sorts. A friend can help you up, maybe nudge you in the right direction. But it is up to you to solely find that inner peace, that strength in yourself. Thank you for the credit, but I see that you help yourself out just fine. You’re really strong. I admire that,” You saw his shy smile but didn’t comment on it, opting to add, “And your feelings aren’t nonsense, by the way. Don’t discredit yourself like that. Everything that comes out your mouth is meaningful.”

His smile faded then, as he slowly straightened himself out. His eyes found their way to the floor, his lips parted and his eyes refusing to look up. It was if the air shifted, thickening as the silence wrapped around the two of you, your eyes on him and his eyes on the floor. You considered reaching out to grab his hand and ask if he’s alright, but his voice cutting through the air prevented that from happening. “Do you mean that?”

“Mean what?” You asked him, your eyes never leaving his face. He was bent forward now, his elbows resting on the top of his knees. He looked over his shoulder then, his eyes meeting yours and it was like you felt your heart completely stop at the look he was giving you.

“Everything you just said about me. Do you really see me that way?”

It was like time had stopped then, the moment being frozen in your mind. Oddly enough, Donghyuck’s face flashed into your mind, his words appearing in your thoughts. About how maybe you were exactly like Mark, bound to secrecy about your feelings towards Hyunjin. And if ever given the opportunity to open up to Hyunjin, would you take it?

You opened your mouth then, your eyes still locked with Hyunjin’s, his face void of any emotion. His previous tone being the only indicator that whatever you said next, would matter to him. “I meant every single word. I’ve noticed that… you aren’t really aware of how amazing you actually are. You’ve got this… charm about you. You’re careful but caring, and you look at things differently than anyone I’ve ever come across. And you are stronger than you even realize. You’ve fought all these battles, battles I don’t even know about, without ever confiding in someone about how you feel. You’re… amazing.”

He sat up from his leaning position then, twisting his body to face you. His lips were parted as if he were shocked, his eyes studying your face as if he were trying to figure out why you said what you did and if you were lying in any sort of way. You were not. You meant every single word. You sat up as well, scooting to the edge of the sofa and clasping your hands together. Fixing your eyes ahead and towards the mantle, you waited to see what he would say. You could still feel his eyes on your face, but you ignored the sensation.

“No one’s ever really told me that before. Actually, no one has ever told me how they see me… at least in a positive light.” You turned to look at him then, trying to shake how his voice had been in awe, tried to avoid how he was looking at you, how you wondered what it would be like if he felt the same way you did.

You couldn’t remember thinking about the words you said next, feeling like you weren’t even there in that moment. You just remember your voice coming out softly but confidently. “Can I kiss you, Hyunjin?”

You had watched closely how he blinked rapidly, licking his lips and swallowing in nervousness, how his hands found solace with each other. He nodded, before clearing his throat and whispering, “That would be nice.”

And one moment, there was that divide between the two of you. A space, a boundary, one that respected the friendship that had been gradually forming between the two of you. A mutual understanding of sorts, a vision for what your friendship could’ve become. And in the next moment, that divide had been splashed with the colors of something more. The space had been filled with the both of your bodies coming together, the boundary erased as his soft lips encased yours in a kiss, the friendship that existed fleeting from your minds as you became lost in the sensation. The understanding was forgotten, the vision of that potential friendship becoming blurry as his hand reached up and cupped the side of your neck.

You were breathing but it felt like your heart had stopped. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was calculated, exactly like the boy you were kissing. Your hands found their place at the nape of his neck, and you could’ve imagined it, but it felt like he had shivered beneath the feeling of your fingertips. The kiss wasn’t urgent, it was curious. If you had to think of a description for it, it was distinctly like Hyunjin. It was warm and cold, calculated and caring. It was soft but restricted. It thrilled you and scared you. And just like that, he was gone.

“What-what was that?” Hyunjin gasped, standing up and backing away from you. His eyes were wide for a moment, him gulping in air as if he just woke up from a nightmare. You felt your heart rate pick up, this time in a more painful manner. He turned away from you then, shielding you from his face, from him. You stood up, very slowly, as if you knew what was coming. You didn’t approach him, you didn’t even look at him. You just stared ahead at the mantle, where a smiley Jeno resided.

“What do you mean by that?”

His voice was faraway, distant, but he was near you. Just like the Hyunjin you knew, he was shutting off his emotions. “That’s not who we are. That’s not us. You’re… Y/N. I’m… We’re friends, Y/N. Why did we do that?” From the change in volume, you could tell he was facing you now, looking at you. But you didn’t care. You were just focused on that photo, how happy Jeno looked. And how on the inside, you were feeling the exact opposite. Your other focus was to try and push back the stinging sensation in your eyes. “Y/N. Answer me. Why did we do that?” His voice was desperate, pleading. It angered you.

You turned to him, and you noticed how shocked he looked at your facial expression, but you didn’t care. “Why are you asking me that? How am I supposed to answer that? Because I thought it was what we both wanted. Clearly, that’s not the case.”

His face looked troubled, innocent. It hurt your heart.

“I-I don’t know what…” His eyebrows were drawn together, his gaze towards the floor. Typical, emotionless Hyunjin. Why were you so angry?

“Why would you tell me yes if it wasn’t what you wanted?”

He didn’t answer you. He just kept staring at the floor. Just like the day at the library. Just like every time he shut down his emotions. He wasn’t going to let you in, and he probably never would. You watched in frustration as he licked his lips in thought, keeping his mouth shut. You tried to swallow the thick knot in your throat, wiping furiously at the tears that had ran down your cheeks and hoping he wouldn’t see them. He didn’t.

“Answer me, Hyunjin.”

He didn’t.

You didn’t want to sit here and feel more humiliated, so you turned and started walking out the room and towards the front door. You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice, small and vulnerable. If you had read into it, perhaps you would’ve recognized it as his way of trying to reach out and open up, but at that moment you were too hurt to understand. “Y/N… I’m not good for you. I-”

“Yeah, you’ve made that message loud and clear. Your friends were right. How could I expect a robot to feel the same way I do?” You felt sick to your stomach saying those words, lashing out at someone who had been nothing but good to you. Before you walked out the front door, you looked back over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s face. How pained he looked, his eyes still trained on the floor. It looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He wasn’t stoic, he was far from it. You just had to know when to look. Unfortunately, you always knew when to look.

He didn’t follow you outside, and the cold air hit you as hard as reality did moments before. You froze in your movements upon seeing a figure sitting on the front porch steps, completely cascaded in the dark. It took you a moment, because even though it wasn’t pitch black out, it was still hard to see, but you recognized the figure as none other than Donghyuck.

You took a seat next to him, your lips sealed shut but your eyes refusing to control themselves. Your head hurt from the attempt at stopping the tears, but you just gave up and simply let it happen. Donghyuck didn’t say anything, just shifted closer and pressed the side of his body up against yours. You would thank him later for the comfort and the warmth.

“It sucks. When you…” You didn’t know how to word it. How could you say it without sounding like a complete idiot? ‘Oh, I kissed Hyunjin and he told me he didn’t like me, so I insulted him and walked out?’ What had you expected? You were a jerk, mean to him and throwing something personal in his face. You wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to talk to you again.

You looked up then, towards the dark blue sky. It was eerily quiet in Jeno’s neighborhood, hardly any light but a few porch lights here and there. You were grateful to be surrounded by darkness through your feelings of rejection and self-embarrassment. You sniffled loudly, your breath getting caught when Donghyuck reached out and clasped your hand tightly. He gave you strength. “Why does it hurt so bad when you give someone your heart and they just give it back?”

He hummed, in bitter amusement you would say. His voice was gentle, accepting of his own situation and of the little information you had just given him. It didn’t take him long to form an answer at all. “Because it’s a hard reality to accept when the person you’re willing to give the world to, doesn’t give a damn about you.”

You two left it at that, the cold air suffocating you on the outside, but your closeness being a barrier of warmth on the inside. Regardless of the heat between your bodies, the feeling in your chest was empty, numb, and you assumed it was the same for Donghyuck. Your heart had been stolen by Hyunjin, his by Tzuyu. You knew, at least for tonight, the only person who quite understood you was Donghyuck, something you could never possibly have saw coming. But you didn’t care. Because misery likes company, and as you grasped his hand just as tightly, you figured one night of heartbreak wouldn’t mind having a person by your side.

Two hearts bonded by their pain.

Stolen by people who didn’t seem to care.

And all the two of you could do was sit in silence, and hope that holding on for one another would be enough to make it through the pain that was in store.

>>> Next part <<<

[jikookequalsoxygen-blog]

Coffee Shop Savior (Jikook)

Group: BTS

Pairing: Jikook

Words: 1.5k

Read it on AO3

Jimin is being stood up to a date at a coffee shop, and Jungkook notices and swoops in, becoming his savior.

Thank you to my amazing best friends @transbtstrash and @shadow-skye for betaing this.

“Where the hell is he?” Jimin muttered to himself. Fuck. The attendees of the café were starting to stare. Some were discreet in their pity, but most of the middle aged women sipping their lattes were openly gaping.  Fuck fuck fuck.

He sipped his latte again, hoping to God that his date would show up. Traffic was pretty bad this time of day, right? And he did work a lot, so maybe he just got caught up in a meeting? Maybe his car broke down, and his phone died, and so he couldn’t text Jimin? Maybe he just couldn’t get to this side of town, there’s a lot of backed up intersections…

Or he stood you up, said a voice in the back of Jimin’s head. He’s been distant for a while now, and if we’re being honest, he was never really interested in you. Jimin shook his head, trying to break himself out of his reverie. He didn’t stand him up, he wouldn’t do that. He would text, and be honest with him. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t abandon Jimin, right? Right, Jimin tells himself. He wouldn’t do that. He would never–

“Are you still waiting for someone?” His waitress asked. Jimin recognized her from over a year of coming here. Her mouth was pursed and her eyes were sad, because she had seen the scene play out many a time before. I’m not getting stood up, Jimin thinks forcefully. I’m. Not.

“Yeah, he should be here any time now!” Jimin tried to put a mask of cheerfulness on, but judging from the waitress’s expression, it wasn’t very effective.

“I’ll tell you what,” She replied, putting on a smile of her own. “I can give you a refill, on the house, and it’ll keep you satisfied until he gets here?”

“That won’t be necessary.” A stranger stepped past her, leaning down and pecking Jimin on the lips, leaving him stunned into stillness. “I’m so sorry I’m so late, babe, my meeting ran late and the traffic was awful on the way over here.” The stranger, albeit a hot one, turned to the waitress and smiled good-naturedly. “Can I please have a black coffee, and a refill for my boyfriend?” Babe? Boyfriend? What the fuck is this guy on about?. Jimin shot him a perplexed look, and as the waitress wrote down their order he muttered under his breath. “I know you got stood up, but go with it.” Jimin nodded, and plastered a smile of his own on his face.

“Thanks so much!” Jimin added cheerfully as the waitress left. As soon as she was out of earshot, he addressed the man now sitting down across from him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Your savior.” At Jimin’s skeptical cocked eyebrow, he sighed. “I work at the bookstore across the street, and you’ve been sitting here alone for an hour. I also saw the waitress’s five trips over here, and I put two and two together.”

“So you assumed that because I’m here alone I got stood up?” Jimin retorted spitefully.

“Was I wrong?” The stranger cocked an eyebrow of his own, and for a split second, Jimin thought he saw uncertainty flash across his face, but it was gone just as fast as it came.

Jimin threw a glare at the stranger, but judging by his responding smirk, it seemed to not have served its purpose. “No.” He glared at him again, but only got a wink in return.

The waitress chose that moment to arrive with their drinks, and much to Jimin’s chagrin, he gave her a rather charred grin. “Here is your, latte, extra shot,” she said, placing Jimin’s drink on the table in front of him, “And a black coffee for you, sir. Enjoy your drinks!” She smiled, genuine this time.

The stranger took a sip of his drink, still fixing his intense gaze on Jimin, as though analyzing him. It took several awkward moments for Jimin to muster up enough backbone to utter a simple, “But, really, what’s your name? Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m your savior.” But at Jimin’s unamused look, he sighed and amended, “Jeon Jungkook, I’m taking university classes and working part time at the bookstore across the street. When I went on my break an hour ago, I saw you walk in here, and sit down. When I got off of my shift today, you were still here, and I thought that you were too beautiful to be left alone, sitting at a café table.” Jimin paused his prepared quipp at Jungkook’s complement. “It was a split second decision, but I was coming here, and I thought you looked scared, and I saw the stares–”

Jimin cut him off before he can ramble more, and it’s then that he realized that the man sitting opposite him was younger than him. The cool, almost cold, facade was just that, a facade. “Thank you. The stares were getting a little annoying. But I can handle myself. And I do actually have a boyfriend.”

“And where is he now?” Remarked Jungkook, his facade back on. But Jimin saw it again for a second, a slight wavering, a slight questioning.

“I–I don’t know.” Jimin said, and he hated how small he sounded. At least some of him did. A little voice inside his mind, or maybe in his gut, said that he could trust Jungkook. That he could open up to him.

“Which is why I’m here. And if he’s not in another hour, and we part ways, you’re going to replace his number with mine.” Jungkook’s confident smirk transformed into something a bit more timid, almost sheepish. It was a small, hopeful, smile. And Jimin still thinks, to this day, that that’s the smile he fell in love with.

Because that’s the smile Jungkook wore after their first proper kiss. And that’s the smile he wore when they cuddled on the couch, their couch, after a long sweaty day of carrying boxes up stairs, the day they moved in together. When he tried to cook dinner for Jimin but failed miserably, and an hour later he had come in the door with takeout, he wore that smile. When he came up on stage when Jimin won his first big award for dancing and kissed him under the spotlight, he wore that smile. It was a smile that made Jimin feel like he was the only man in the world. And he would never have it any other way.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Do you remember that day?” Jungkook asks him now, knelt down on one knee in front of Jimin. “The day when your date stood you up, and I took his place.”

“My savior.” Jimin replies, smiling down at his boyfriend.

“What was his name? Jaehyun? Jaehyung?” Jungkook gnaws his lip as he tries to remember.

“Jaebum.” Jimin says, smile growing at the memory of the coffee shop. The one that they had always seemed to run into each other in, spending hours laughing and talking in a booth next to the window.

“Yes, that asshole.” Jungkook speaks it without bite, though. “Well, he’s not totally an asshole. Because he’s the reason that we met. And that I get to say this to you.

“Jimin, I love you. I don’t know exactly when I started loving you, but I know the moment I realized it. We were sitting on our couch, and watching a drama. You were enraged, because she should’ve picked him, and this was not the way things should end. And even though I disagreed, he was totally the right one for her, I had the thought ‘I love you’. Because listening to you talk so passionately about something, it could be anything, is something I would do every minute of every hour of every day of every week or every month of every year until the day I die. And that’s when I realized that I was in love with you. That’s the day I realized that I would never stop loving you.

“And it wasn’t that day, but another day, when I decided that I couldn’t live without you.” Jungkook paused, a sudden sadness at the next thing he would say coming behind his eyes. “That was the day–the day you fell. The day that I saw you take a faulty step and a day that only saw you break an ankle. But it could’ve been worse, and, oh god, I couldn’t have lived on if you hadn’t gotten through it.” Jimin smirks at his tendency to exaggerate. “I know I’m being dramatic. But if you had somehow hurt yourself worse, if you hadn’t made it…” He trails off, a shine glossing his beautiful doe eyes. “I couldn’t have gone on. Not without you.

“Because your smile lights up my day, my month, my entire life.” The gloss is still there, but without a trace of the sadness. He smiles his small, hopeful, smile. “So would you grant me the pleasure of spending the rest of your life with me?” He opens the black box resting in his hand to reveal a ring.

“Would you, Park Jimin, do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

So, a bit ago I wrote a Yoonseok drabble for an ask, and that was the first thing that I’ve written in a really long time. Then I wrote this. I kinda like it...? If you guys have prompts and things you want me to write, please send them. I also have a couple ideas for a full length chaptered fic, but I’ve gotta finish the sm au first (I’ll try to update that asap, I have a bit more writing to do to). Thanks so much for reading this! 💕💕💕