#unfortunately for everyone else im scared of sending asks so i will only be answering but ily for sending this 🫶🫶

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[krash-and-co]

hey krash, i wanted to reach out and say that i'm so sorry that you got such a hurtful reaction from one of the l&co servers for speaking up about something that genuinely needed to be addressed. i won't badmouth anyone in particular but this is not the first time this fandom has dogpiled someone over a misunderstanding, and when it happened to me i had severe anxiety over it for about a week even after it was resolved, and eventually left because of it. it left a pretty bad taste in my mouth for the fandom in general, so i mostly just stick to my small group of mutuals now lol. i wish this fandom truly was different from other fandoms, but this kind of thing is unfortunately inevitable once something reaches a certain level of popularity. but that certainly doesn't make it okay, and you didn't do anything to deserve the reaction you got. i hope you can feel peace about it soon, and i'm sorry again that it happened at all. 🫂

(please don't feel pressured to answer this if you'd rather the matter be left alone, i totally understand. i just wanted to send you an ask because i didn't know if you're comfortable with dms.)

hi im so sorry i forgot to answer!!! thank you so much this means so much to me. ���💙💙 i read this for the first time when i was feeling pretty attacked and it really cheered me up <3

hmm other people have been telling me about how they got attacked in this fandom too. and maybe this shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. but it's something fans never talk about and claim doesn’t exist, so i thought it didn’t. i was horribly fooled lol. as, uh, i am about to rant about; do you mind? u don’t have to read it, i won’t be offended, but halfway thru answering this ask it turned into a rant i wanted to release into the world lol, so sorry about that 😭😭😭

very important disclaimer!!! this is NOT about everyone. ABSOLUTELY NOT. most of you are absolutely amazing people, and i assure you if ur worried this is about you, it’s prob not lol

ANYWAYS!!!

im kind of feeling i was betrayed?? ig? i rlly believed everyone was so kind, and look what i know now. it genuinely seems like people are gaslighting themselves. how else do they only see our ‘harm?’ yeah, our fandom is known for being passionate, but saying we’re known for kindness is starting to make me sick. maybe we were, i know a lot of us still are, but throwing that out there in the middle of your hypocritical hate post seems like justification for the shit things people have been saying. you can say no wrong so long as you’re here. only people who don’t agree with you. so yeah, fuck krash and ljc and anyone else who doesn't agree!!! that totally shows how kind you are and how much you loved the fandom before we messed it up. nobodys visibly mad, cuz we're too scared to say shit!!!

i’ve seen too many examples of the contrary from the “victims,” wailing about how cruel we are the second they disagree with someone. (in a highly hypocritical manner, at that.) “everyone was so happy before this!” no, they weren’t, that’s why i brought it up. “stop bringing hate to this fandom! now let me fucking berate you!” do you even hear yourself? “nobody even cared before, we were all content!” we weren’t all content, we were just silent. it sometimes looks the same.

someone even declared they were leaving the fandom because ‘one person wanted to stop show saving efforts entirely because it traumatized them, and this is no longer a safe place.’ like, what? where did you even get that? for one, there were at least two of us posting together, and that’s just barely knowing anything about what’s happening. thats not even touching on how one of us (idk who the op of that post was talking about, it’s a 50/50 lol) made the fandom an unsafe place for our personal gain. what?

hella kind. hella safe on their part.

another said they saw only old fans agreeing about this so it’s just us being pissed about change. it’s us hating the show. me and ljc being upset about not being the only “big blogs” any more. our fandom is only for the elite, etc. fuck us. yet ljc is getting blackmailed. we’re getting hate replies. friends that try and help get attacked. misinformation spread. how did that even happen? we never once tried to hurt anyone; thank you to those who understand.

but to some, WE’RE the ones in the wrong.

do they SEE themselves? how hypocritical all of this is? or are their heads that far up in the ass of their petition and beloved fake idea of this fandom that they care about more than all of us?

now, this is where i add another “not everyone” message. not everyone is like this, this is not me saying i hate the petition or people who support it. hell, i signed the petition. twice. and once more from my mothers email.

i don’t regret the i love you posts i made, because i still do love this fandom, i am still absolutely here for the rest of yall. but DAMN if we weren’t hiding something under happy Save The Show, I Love Locknation! messages. perfectly smiling faces until they bite. i was surprised to see how many people did.

as if our previous problems weren’t enough, now it turned into this lol. no, that’s a lie, it didn’t. it already was, and i HATE THAT.

ig im kinda spoiled, i never really experienced hate like this from this fandom before. but now i know it happened BEFORE too, and that just pisses me off. it hurts coming from a group who says they love us. genuinely wacko (not the fun kind) behavior :[

i know this isn’t everyone’s experience, but it is mine, and enough others to make me wanna say this. and this is ofc me and @lucy-j-carlyle 's brand of hate, not yours. but it does happen and the constant chant that IT DOESN'T IT DOESNT IT DOESN'T isn't helping anyone. and now I know.

idk what im even saying anymore lol, sorry for ranting. what i mean to say is, thank you, and i wish things were better. and i love you kind people. im happy it’s most of you.

[aquanova99]

Remember Your Roots

Felix Volturi x Reader

Part 2

Prev &lt;<

Next >>

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Felix’s POV

 “Wh-what do you mean shes asleep?!? Vampires can’t sleep!!”

 “Yeah well they can’t die either.” Y/n stated looking at her nails. “You wanted answers. She’ll wake up soon, you little brat.”

 Everyone in the throne room was silent. No one challenged the twins like that. No one. There was a chance her gift didn’t work on Alec, his gift could just cancel hers out. Still, she didn’t seem to care. I couldn’t help but find it rather impressive.

 “What did you just call me?”

 “I called you a brat. Its quite obvious you and your sister have never had anyone be able to shut you up. Shes fine, you aren’t allowed to touch me, and now you’re about to throw a fit. Am I wrong?”

 “Alec.” Caius warned. Alec released a growl like no one had heard before. Even Demetri took a step back, half wondering if Alec was about to paralyze the whole room. Part of me wanted to grab Alec myself, but I knew how far his gift went. Theres not much that can scare a vampire, but as far as gifts go Alec’s had to be the most terrifying. You had asked him to try it on you once, out of curiosity. You remember thinking vampires didn’t need to breathe anyway… and still it felt suffocating, the silence surrounding you was deafening. The pitch black was quite literally blinding. If you could sleep it would have given you nightmares for weeks, Im sure along with everything else I’ve had to see in this life. Alec seemed almost feral right now, as if one wrong word would send him over the edge. Caius could hold him in place, but Aro was the one who would need to calm him down.

  “Alec dear boy.” Aro tried this time, “I assure you if anything was going to happen to Jane I would be the first to encourage you to use your powers on y/n. Her gift is merely a deterrent. A powerful deterrent to be sure. But nothing harmful, at least not to us or our kind. If Y/n is correct, she should be waking up within the next five minutes or so, why don’t you go check on her.”

 Alec didn’t need to be told twice. The air was thick with tension. Alec glared at y/n as he walked out while y/n seemed to take joy in antagonizing him and stuck her tongue out. You wondered how she would fare in the palace. Another low growl came from his throat as his cape flew past y/n and out of the throne room.

 Aro cleared his throat, “Well, while that was all very entertaining. My brothers and I have much to discuss. Your room will be ready soon my dear.”

 “Uhm that’s really not.. necessary.”

 “Nonsense, until then. Demetri, would you mind giving y/n a bit of a tour?”

 “Certainly master.” Demetri turned to face y/n and offered his arm, “Shall we?”

 “Sure, I guess.”

 “Perhaps Felix should go along as well. If she shows this much promise she may as well get acquainted with the guards that go out on missionsbmost frequently, don’t you agree brother?” Marcus turned to ask Aro. Please, for gods sake say yes. You couldn’t quite explain your newfound protectiveness? Defensiveness? Maybe territorialness over the new recruit. You wanted to know more about her, maybe tell her about your past. Aro raised an eyebrow but waved you off as well.

 “So, y/n. Is there anything you would like to see first?” Demetri asked as the doors closed behind you

 “Do you guys have a garden?”

°

 Y/Ns POV

°

 Geez, you would think they turned into actual stone.

“Did I say something?”

 “Well cara…it’s uhh it’s a bit complicated.” Must be if he was having trouble coming up with something, Felix… he had been mostly stoic since the two of you had met, but Demetri so far had all been harmless flirting and an over abundance of confidence.

“I mean it’s a yes or no question.”

“Y/n. There was only person who cared about having a garden here and she was killed ages ago. It was Marcus’s wife.” Felix tried to explain

“Is that why he seems so sad?”

“Unfortunately, no one’s gone in her garden since. We aren’t really sure if he would want that. It’s a bit of a touchy subject around here.”

You were pretty sure they had kept walking just to get out of hearing distance and even then it was so hushed even I could barely hear it. “No one even tried to maintain it for her sake? Or his?”

Their silence somewhat scared you. But there was no way you were going to be stuck inside all day. So when Demetri finally offered you were relieved, “We could still take you there.”

“If you don’t mind, if Marcus says anything just say I was insistent on it. Because I was going to be anyway.” You shrugged and offered to stand behind the two so they could lead the way. You also wanted to admire the castle without looking like a child in a museum. The palace seemed to wind around like a maze. You remembered Demetri telling you about how they fed, no wonder so many people fell for it, it felt as if you stepped in a different era. It would be an excursion most tourists would love to take, the history in here must be rich. You wondered how much had been updated.

“Y/n?” Felix asked

“Huh? Sorry just lost in thought.” You looked down in embarrassment, you felt bad at ignoring them. You wondered how long you’d been zoning out for.

“It’s alright cara, we’re just letting you know the garden is right through these doors.” Demetri smiled

Well they weren’t kidding, the garden was long gone. But it hadn’t been ill maintained. You could tell someone had once tried to trim and possibly keep the garden going. Probably Marcus. Who knew when they had given up, but even in the barren space it was relaxing and beautiful nonetheless. You wondered if you could use your gifts on it, but maybe it would be better to ask. Marcus really might not appreciate bringing back a memories he wished to bury along with his late wife.

°

Felix’s POV

°

It was easy to see that y/n wanted to try and help the garden in its dismal state. You were surprised when she asked to see the other parts of the castle. It saddened you to see her spirit dampened. For whatever reason you were still seemingly unable to say anything. She only seemed to cheer up when you arrived to the last spot on the tour.

“So this is the famous library I’ve heard about?” She asked, running her hands across the backs of the old covers

“Yes cara, we’ve got almost everything you could ever think of. We try and update it every once in awhile.”

Y/n simply nodded, you could feel something tugging at you. Begging for you to talk to her.

“Is everything alright y/n?” You asked, hating your decision the second you opened your mouth. Your voice sounded menacing even to you, it was a wonder she wasn’t freaking out. Did you always sound like this? No one had ever said anything, and you were known to be a bit of a flirt here. You tried not to think about it.

“Yes, thank you Felix.” She did her best to smile brightly at you, you couldn’t help smile back and hoped she genuinely seemed to at least be all right in your presence. “it’s just been a long day.”

“Your room should be ready soon cara, we can show you the way if you’d like?” She nodded again and silently followed Demetri out of the library. You couldn’t imagine this life was easy. Running away from a newborn battle, practically being forced to come to a new country. It was a lot, and while no vampire slept she seemed…tired. More so than any of us here.

Heidi beat you to her room, “Hi! You must be y/n, I’m Heidi!”

“Hi Heidi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Okay so we have some spare clothes that should fit but we can go shopping tomorrow. You can make this room look like whatever you want.”

“Oh, uhm thank you.” You noticed she began wringing her hands together, “you guys really don’t need to do all of this. You don’t even know me. I mean how can I be more useful than the two siblings?”

“Please, don’t worry it’s always nice to have someone new. Felix and Demetri will train you to protect yourself without your gift too, and then you’ll be unstoppable!” You forgot you would have to train her. She was probably not looking forward to that, didn’t she leave the newborns because she didn’t want to be involved in the fight.

Y/n nodded, forcing a smile “I do appreciate it, there’s just a lot going on today. I look forward to hanging out with you Heidi.”

“Perhaps we should let y/n get acquainted. We can check on you in a little while.” You offered. Demetri smirked and looked between the two of you to Heidi. She raised eyebrows and nodded to y/n, god these two. You were glad she hadn’t seen anything

“We’ll see you soon y/n.” Heidi linked arms with Demetri and headed off leaving you to awkwardly nod at her and follow behind them.

“You guys are the actual worst.” You said as you went into Heidis room. The two were laughing the second you closed the door behind you.

“Felix, she’s cute!” Heidi squealed

You didn’t even know how to react to that, Demetri spoke up next “She is quite lovely, I certainly would like to get to know her.” Demetri managed to grab one of Heidis perfumes that you instinctually threw at him

“Hey! Throw your own things.” She said as she snatched it from Demetris hand, “Felix you should say something to her.”

“What would I even say?”

“Demetri chuckled, “Come on Felix it’s obvious you feel it.”

You tried to ignore him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Heidi gasped, “oh my gosh Felix! You absolutely feel it!”

“She could be your mate.” Demetri said seriously

“Stop.” Half worried she could hear you, half worried they were right

“Felix we’re your oldest friends. We know how you feel about it, but you quite literally cannot keep your eyes off of her.”

“She seems nice. I can figure out how she feels tomorrow.” Heidi chimed in after Demetri

“No. No figuring anything out. No one says anything.”

“Oh you’re no fun. You do deserve to find your mate Felix. You can’t deny it. You could at least see how far that pull will go. Don’t want to turn out like that Edward fellow.” Heidi tried to convince you

Demetri had stood up to walk around Heidis room. Stopping by the window. You and Heidi continued to argue for a bit. She was quite relentless.

“Sorry to interrupt dear friends but uhm, did we see y/n enter her room?”

No actually. Heidi answered for you, “I don’t think so why do you ask.”

“I do believe she found Marcus.” The two of you flashed to his side. Watching Y/n and Marcus sit in Didymes garden. Demetri and you shared a look before rushing off to find her and try to possibly diffuse a situation. Aro was by the door and held a hand up as the two of you arrived.

“Master, we’re sorry if our new guest caused any trouble we assumed she wanted to be alone.”

“It’s quite alright. She actually bumped into us and asked to see Marcus. Don’t need to read her mind to figure out why.” He nodded and the two of you went to see y/n stick her hands in the dirt small vibes wrapping around her hands. You noticed the fountain first, moss and vines seemingly filling the gaps and wrapping it with intricate designs. Flowers of every color began sprouting, flowers you hadn’t seen in centuries. You weren’t exactly sure it was exactly what it had looked like when Didyme was around. She had been gone before the volturi really became a thing. If she had even managed to do half of this…

You looked at Marcus, seeing a semblance of a smile for the first time. You wondered what it must be like to lose a mate. You wondered if you could ever make yourself that vulnerable. You couldn’t seem to help staring at y/n. She seemed to finally be smiling as she saw the garden come back to life. Aros head turned a second later when the twins footsteps approached.

“Ah Jane. How are you feeling my dear?” Aro amused as always at the tiny vampire

“Actually master I don’t think I’ve ever felt so rested. Still. I don’t appreciate not having a say in falling asleep for two days.”

“Well, if you hadn’t used your gift it wouldn’t have been that long.” Y/n leaned against the door as she appeared in front of them

“You should have just cooperated.” Alec spit out

Y/n just rolled her eyes, “I think I’ll retire to my room now if that’s alright with you.” She glanced at Aro who just nodded, she bowed her head and disappeared.

“Felix.” Your head turned to Aro. “It seems y/n might be struggling a bit with her stay. Would you try and help her settle in?”

“Yes felix, you are always great with the new recruits.” Demetri chided, it’s not like you had a choice. You simply nodded and headed towards y/ns room which you were just now realizing was almost directly next to yours.

You hesitated to knock. If Aro hadn’t said anything you would have let her take everything in herself. You had barely tapped on the door when y/n asked you to come in.

“Did they send you on babysitting duty?”

“Aro does seem to be worried about how you’re settling in.” You were shocked at how straight to the point she was.

“Don’t seem to be starting off too hot huh?”

“Just with the twins. Though to be fair most of us have wished we could say something at one point or another.”

“Are they that powerful?”

“What you felt from Jane was probably not as bad as it could have been. And Alec…his power is a lot. He removes every sense sight smell hearing. You become paralyzed in a way. His gift can affect more than on person at a time so its probably worse in my opinion.”

“So what’s their story?” You knew exactly what she meant by that, but you weren’t sure if you should tell her. Everyone in the castle knew what the twins had been through, they didn’t hide it. Still, it might be a good way for them to work out some differences. “That bad huh?”

“It’s…not great.”

“Maybe when they take a second to stop hating me I’ll ask.” She stopped and looked at you for a second, “Felix if you want you can leave, I won’t run away I promise.”

“It’s not that.” You paused again struggling to figure out why nothing seemed sufficient enough an answer for her

“You know for someone who’s clearly there to intimidate people you look terrified right now.” You shook you head at her words, “is it because of my power? I won’t use it on you.”

“To be honest I think I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“There isn’t much to figure out. I don’t remember why I was up on that stupid mountain or how I was turned. I don’t know why I have this power only that I seem to really like flowers. And I don’t know why everyone thinks I can be if some use to them. It’s getting annoying!” Her voice slightly raised with every word she spoke. She seemed to realize this too she waved her hands into her and you noticed some not so pretty plants had begun to sprout around her. “That’s not exactly a perk either.” She crossed her arm and sat on the floor.

She almost looked as if she could cry. Your body seemed to move on its own. You found yourself next to her and your arms wrapped around her. Her head just leaned into your chest. The two of you stayed for a while before y/n cleared her throat. You found yourself not wanting to let go and doing it reluctantly

“Thanks for hearing me out Felix.”

“Of course.” You held out your hand. She offered a small smile and took it to help her stand. “I’ll uhm be nearby if you need anything.”

You dashed off without letting her say anything else.

•••••••••••••

“Felix it’s been a week.” Heidi came up next to you

“Don’t remind me.” Since your last encounter you and y/n seemed to both be avoiding eachother. While you thought it was for the best, it was driving you insane.

“Okay so talk to her. She barely leaves the room unless she’s training with Demetri and it’s almost tour day.”

“Why do you seem more frustrated than either of us.”

“You’re both idiots. And I can almost guarantee I’m not.” She was right. All you did during your free time was pace and think about walking the short distance to talk to y/n about the pull he was feeling. He’d never been scared of anything and y/n had been right she seemed to immediately know he was terrified of what he’d been feeling. To make things worse every time her and Demetri came out after training he couldn’t help but seeth with jealousy and rage. You often had to force yourself to leave to not make a scene. Demetri of course, knew exactly what he was doing and tried to persuade you to train her instead. You decided you’d rather be mad than be in the same room. You couldn’t subject her to everything that came from even possibly being involved with you.

“You know…she probably going to get sent out on missions soon. Aro and Caius really like her and Marcus thinks she’s best thing to grace this castle. You’re going to have to work with her eventually.”

“Will you just—shhh. I know alright. I cannot even speak to her without sounding like a complete fool.”

“Well, if you don’t do something she’s going to end up falling in love with Demetri.” She teased

“Don’t.” You growled

“Who’s going to fall in love with me?” Demetri slid in next to you guys

“No one.”

Heidi scoffed, “y/n. At least she will if Felix doesn’t man up.”

“Oh really Felix, she’s quite nice if you try and talk to her. I would know.” If you weren’t in a common area you would have knocked Demetris stupid grin off of his face.

“Where is she anyway? Didn’t you guys have training?” Heidi asked

“She said you needed her like 30 minutes ago.”

“Well where is she?” You began worrying she had left the castle after all. The last thing you wanted to do was force her back

“She’s….oh gods.” Demetri sped off and you and Heidi followed. You both almost crashed into his sudden stop. “Alec. Back off.”

Y/n was covered in a black cloud. Demetri and you rushed to Alec’s side.

“Back. Off.” He repeated

“What will you do about it?”

Your hand pushed him against the wall freeing y/n from his gift temporarily. Demetri and Heidi grabbed Alec.

“Alec. Come.” Heidi ordered, Alec’s eyes became hazy as he blindly followed. Demetri looked over at you already holding y/n and nodded before leaving.

“Are you okay?”

Y/n shook her head. “Need. To find him.”

“You don’t—“

“Not his fault.” And with that’s she followed after him. “Heidi Dem!”

The two stopped when they heard his name. Alec turning around as well. “He didn’t do anything. I asked him to.” You froze behind her, what?

“Why would you ask him to use his gift?”

“Well, I felt his sisters. I wanted to know about his…”

“Cara, you really should be more careful.”

“I know. You guys left so quick I didn’t get a chance to explain. His gift really is no joke. Sorry Alec.”

“They would have figured it out.” He shrugged off Demetri and nodded towards y/n. Disappearing who knows where.

“Sorry about worrying you. I probably should have told you what I was actually doing.” She apologized to Demetri, you tried not to let it get to you but it was not going well. Heidi raised an eyebrow at you.

“You don’t have to apologize cara. You can make it up to me next time we train.” Demetri smirked at you as y/n turned around to go back towards her room. Daring for you to pick who you would go after. You sighed as you decided to go follow y/n. You knocked lightly on the door but there was no answer. You paused perhaps she simply did not want to see you. You should just walk away. Your feet rained glued to its place,

“Y/n?”

“Come in Felix.”

The door seemed to open on its own. You looked to see a vine pulling the door wide. You hadn’t been in here since the first day she arrived at the palace. Heidi had helped her decorate it to her own taste. The room looked like something out of a book.

“How can I help you Felix?”

“Alright what is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What happened with Alec?”

“Nothing I already told you.”

You appeared in front of her. You began talking her behind her ear. Your fingers barely brushing against hers. She stayed still not entirely sure what you were doing or going to do to her. You grabbed the flower that she had placed in her hair hair, she always had one decorating her person, you twirled it in your fingers gently bringing it in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.5

a/n: yall. yall im on a roll. and no i will not apologise for anything that happens in this chapter. also, still learning how to do taglists so if it doesn’t work or you weren’t included, send me a message and i’ll try to get it fixed!

Word Count: 4,285 

Warnings: canon typical violence, non-explicit mentions of torture, mutant experimentation

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I think Fury is giving you a sign.”

Natasha looked up from her paperwork to see Maria leaning against the door frame to her office. She herself had just gotten back from a mission, evident in her slightly mused ponytail and gun still on her hip. A very beyond attractive look, if Natasha had to say it.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, leaning back in her chair to give her full attention to her fiancee.

“So he didn’t tell you,” Maria said with a nod. She pushed herself off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ll admit that gives me a clue,” Natasha said with a small frown. She didn’t like where this was going.

“He’s sending you on another mission,” Maria replied. “With Y/N.”

“I thought we told him emergencies only,” Natasha mused more to herself than to Maria.

It seemed like Nick was sending the both of you on every mission he could possibly come up with. He needed some information. Then he wanted the layout of a base. Then he wanted some recon on security in another location. All were things that Natasha not only could have done with someone else, but she could have gotten them done on her own.

He seemed to think differently.

“He wants you to leave tomorrow,” Maria continued, bringing Natasha out of her pouting. “Personnel recovery.”

“At least that gives us a few hours together,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“Maybe we can finally get some planning done,” Maria nodded as she stood up. “Maybe a colour scheme?”

“Red and black,” Natasha shot back.

“We’ll argue about it later,” Maria smiled. She walked over and tilted Natasha’s chin up to give her a quick kiss before leaving the office, presumably to get cleaned up.

Natasha looked down at her paperwork for not even five minutes before deciding she was going to rush upstairs and surprise Maria in the shower. She had just started piling the papers up when you walked in, harpoon on hip and soaking wet.

“Did you ask Fury for another mission?” You asked as you plopped into the chair opposite her, water instantly dripping down the sides of the seat.

“No,” Natasha said curtly, hoping she could get you out of her office sooner if she didn’t invite conversation.

“Then why is he sending us together?” You asked. Your fingers started combing through your hair, the webs gathering whatever was stuck. Drops of water splashed onto Natasha’s pristine papers.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said again, turning her lip up when you put a piece of seaweed on her desk.

“I thought you knew everything,” you huffed, staring intently as a shell you had pulled out of your suit sleeve.

“Well clearly not,” Natasha mumbled to herself.

You leaned over to rest your elbows on the desk, your dripping wet hair leaving puddles on the mahogany and her papers. Natasha set her jaw and gave you a look, keeping eye contact. But your eyes gave off that mischievous sparkle, the one that would make any woman swoon. And Natasha’s heart raced.

“Think I can get that in writing?” You asked with a raised brow. “You know, for the next time you act like a know-it-all.”

“Did you just come in here to act like an ass?” Natasha asked as she picked her papers up and started walking out.

“Actually,” you started as you pushed away from the desk and stood up, “I’m here to bring you this.”

You held your open hand out, palm up, and Natasha looked cautiously to see what it was. In the middle of your palm was a whole shell, with a small black pearl in the centre. It looked absolutely stunning, and Natasha reached out to gently take it.

“Why did you bring this to me?” Natasha asked, although she feared she already knew your answer.

“Cheeseburger found the shell the other day,” you shrugged, “and Roger got the pearl out.”

Natasha did her best not to chuckle at the silly names you had given the octopus and otter that usually inhabited your moon pool. Cheeseburger, the octopus, had lost two limbs and had a nasty habit of stealing your cheeseburgers (hence the name), while Roger was an in-progress rehabilitation project. Unfortunately, the three of you were like peas in a pod.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha mused, her eyes still glued to the pearl. “But I can’t take this home to my fiancee.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. The space between the both of you increased as you visibly took a step back, and Natasha missed the closeness. Things had seemed normal only a moment ago, and now she could feel you closing yourself off to her, going cold once again.

“Then give it to Maria,” you shrugged. “Get some brownie points before going off on another mission with her favourite person.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Natasha shot back. “I just don’t want to waste your gift.”

“It was just cluttering up my space,” you replied, voice cold.

“Give it to Yelena,” Natasha said softly, holding the shell and pearl back out for you to take. “She would love it.”

“Yelena,” you huffed with a small smile. A sad smile. You grabbed the shell from her hand rather roughly, causing Natasha to flinch. “Thanks for the input.”

“Y/N,” Natasha started, but you were already walking away in the opposite direction, head high and feet dragging.

Natasha sighed and started her own way back to her floor. She wanted Maria to distract her. From you.

———

“What’s our objective again?” You shouted from the back of the quinjet.

“Personnel recovery,” Yelena answered. “Some scientist wanted out of AIM.”

“Why is that my responsibility?” You continued. Your boots echoed off the floor and you popped your head in between Yelena’s and Natasha’s chairs.

“Because something smelled-”

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupted.

“-fishy,” Yelena finished anyway, and both you and Natasha groaned as she just laughed at herself.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” Natasha mumbled to herself before turning her head and looking out the windows.

“I’ll throttle you,” you said as you lightly slapped Yelena upside the head.

“Listen,” she tried to say around another round of giggles, “if Fury ever told me his plans, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you two.”

“Well why don’t you find out? I wanna know why he’s sending me on this mission.”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Surely you must have some kind of-”

“Can you both shut up?” Natasha shouted. The both of you grew silent immediately, and Natasha finally let out a breath and tried to rub her growing migraine away.

“Should’ve just sent Nat,” you grumbled. “She’s grumpy enough to scare everyone away all on her own.”

Yelena snorted, and when Natasha shot a look her way, she tried her best to look out the window. You, on the other hand, held up to her challenge and met her eyes. That ridiculous smirk refused to disappear, and Natasha wanted so desperately to wipe it off your face. But instead she just turned back around and looked out the window once again.

The rest of the trip was silent, only the occasional update being spoken aloud. Yelena managed to drop the both of you off and stayed in the jet, more than ready for when you both got back and could get back to the Tower for a well-deserved weekend.

It was a quick jog to the location, with tents and cages set up all around the landing port. The building was a few stories tall, but well fortified with guards around every corner. The majority of cages were empty, but every now and then you could hear a bear, a dog, a human.

“I thought these guys were scientists,” you whispered from where you were crouched beside Natasha.

“They are,” Natasha nodded.

“Must be pretty paranoid then,” you continued.

“You would be too if your work relied on illegal mutant experimentation,” Natasha clarified. You didn’t say anything else, but she could see your knuckles going pale.

“Let’s get our man and go,” you practically growled. “Before I kill them all.”

Natasha knew you weren’t joking.

You both went in opposite directions, you heading to the back door and Natasha heading to the side. There was no guaranteeing that the scientist was even inside at all, but that was the easiest place to check. There was too much vulnerability outside and Natasha wasn’t going to risk getting caught and failing another mission.

“How are we supposed to find one nerd in a facility full of nerds?” You asked over the intercoms, and Natasha assumed you had made it into the building.

“Be nice,” Natasha whispered, “not all scientists are nerds.”

“Bruce and Tony are,” you replied. Natasha pulled herself against a wall when she heard voices. “Everyone here is.”

“Hush,” Natasha whispered. You remained silent as Natasha listened to footsteps getting closer, and then turning into the opposite direction. She let out a quiet breath.

“Do we really want to help someone who’s torturing mutants?” You asked again, a barely contained anger in your voice.

Natasha rounded another corner, trying to come up with an answer for you. You weren’t wrong; she didn’t like the idea either. Why save the scientist when you could save the people instead? But Fury wanted him, and there had to be a reason for it. The location was known, so someone could always come back to save them another day.

“Nick will send us back another day,” Natasha finally said out loud. You huffed on the other end of the comms.

You both continued through the facility, methodically clearing rooms until finally you indicated you had found him. Some wiry man with broken glasses, according to your description. Natasha gave confirmation and headed to the meet up point, somewhere on the second floor. Once Natasha was about to round the corner to the location, she could hear your voice carrying through the halls.

“You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck myself.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasha asked as soon as she saw you.

You were right. The man was wiry and nerdy, something you would expect from a mad scientist in a comic book. White tape was wrapped around the nose piece of his glasses in stereotypical fashion and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his shoulders.

No surprise, considering you were hovering nearly a foot over him.

“He called me an animal,” you seethed, your hands visibly shaking with the desire to have them around the man’s neck.

“Look at your arms and neck, what else could you be?” He asked in a gruff New Jersey accent.

“You want an animal? I’ll show you an-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha demanded. She stepped in between the both of you and pushed you away, not even bothering to get near the man.

“If he has to go with us, then so does one of the mutants,” you said, leaving no room for argument in your voice.

“We can’t risk it, we’re leaving them here,” Natasha said quickly. The hair on the back of her neck was starting to stand up and her stomach felt like it was dropping.

“I’m not leaving them and taking that,” you said through clenched teeth while pointing at the scientist.

“You’re going to risk my life for one of them?” He asked, his face drawn in disgust at the mere thought that his life was equal to a mutant’s. Natasha wanted to strangle him.

“We will come back for them another day,” Natasha said again, but you didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not leaving without them, so you’re gonna have to wait,” you shot back.

Voices could be heard in the stairwell a few halls away.

“And I’m not risking another mission,” Natasha argued, walking closer to you and forcing you to step backward to keep your space.

“If you think I’m taking that and leaving one of those kids then you’re-”

Click.

The both of you froze, your eyes boring into Natasha’s. A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, so thick Natasha struggled to draw breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears and that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach returned.

And then your eyes left hers, trailing down to the too-tight cuffs that were now keeping you chained to the pipes against the wall. They weren’t the usual police handcuffs, but the kind that they had used on Loki after the invasion of New York.

You weren’t getting out of them.

“Natasha,” you started, your eyes moving back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She took one heavy step back, never taking her eyes off of you.

“Unlock them,” you continued. Your chest was starting to rise and fall slightly faster.

“Someone will come for you,” Natasha said again with a slight nod.

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Get back here, Romanoff,” you said as Natasha started leading the scientist down the hall.

Away from you.

She didn’t answer. She just felt her leaden boots take step after step, leading her further away from where you were chained. When she didn’t answer, she heard the sound of metal pulling against metal and your grunts and groans as you tried to yank the cuffs off.

“You can’t leave me here!” You shouted, your voice echoing down the hall after Natasha had turned the final corner.

She heard other voices coming from the same direction as yours, quickly followed by shouting and the solid thuds of blows being landed.

“Natalia!” You shouted again once Natasha had opened the door to lead the scientist out.

Only moments after the door shut, Natasha heard your scream. A scream of anger and frustration, a scream that reached down Natasha’s throat and ripped her heart out. The prick of tears in her eyes left a sinking feeling in her gut, left her feeling empty and a broken shell.

But she had a mission. And she was going to complete it.

She shoved the scientist in the direction of the quinjet and didn’t look back. Ignoring the whining and complaining coming from the man and eventually just throwing him into the back of the quinjet, ignoring the way Yelena jumped at the sudden noise.

“Where’s Y/N?” Yelena asked, moving her head around, trying to see if you were close behind.

“Get us in the air,” Natasha ordered. Tears pricked her eyes once again.

“Are they coming?” Yelena asked again, ignoring Natasha’s order.

“I said get us in the air, now.”

Yelena gave Natasha a look that sent a shiver down her spine, but turned around and got the jet in the air nonetheless. The scientist pulled himself into the seat next to Natasha. He seemed much more relaxed, and Natasha couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t realise just how much had been risked to get him back to SHIELD.

“You made the right choice,” he said after some unbearable silence. Natasha turned to look at him, her brows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You made the right choice,” he said again with an enthusiastic nod. “You never know what those animals might do-”

He was cut off with a choked gasp as Natasha slammed her elbow into his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

“Just shut up,” she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

———

It was six weeks before the party had been dispatched to get you back.  The party had consisted of Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda, and there was going to be nothing extra. They were going to get you out and get back to SHIELD, no side missions, no stops, no questions.

Maybe it just so happened that the only way to get you was to burn the facility to the ground and get the rest of the mutants out. Maybe they had called for a second quinjet to arrive to make sure everyone was able to get out safely.

Yelena and Wanda were tasked with getting everyone on the jets and eliminating the few soldiers remaining while Natasha had scoured the facility top to bottom to find you. There was a large portion of the basement that Natasha had found, filled with surgical equipment and things that would have been enough to give anyone nightmares.

And you were there, nude, in a too-small empty glass tank with a chain around your ankle. There were rips and tears in the thin membranes between your spines, and a dark black mark on your left shoulder blade. From her angle, it looked like some kind of gunk was stuck in your gills. You were curled up into a fetal position and kept your eyes glued to the ground directly in front of you.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, her gun still drawn but lowered.

“I should thank you, Miss Romanoff,” a voice called, and Natasha spun with gun raised to find a scientist walk forward, standing near a panel by your tank. “You gave me my greatest obsession.”

“How about you just let them out and I don’t kill you,” Natasha shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot from our little friend,” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re in time to see the results of something I’ve been working on.”

“Let them go,” Natasha said again. She cocked the gun, but the man laughed.

“I hear drowning is a horrible way to die,” he said, still ignoring her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw you raise your head and look at her. The dark spots under your eyes were beyond evident, sticking out against the sickened colour of your skin. There was no emotion in your eyes, not even a silent plea for help.

You looked like you had already accepted death.

“How long do you think a sea creature can hold its breath underwater before it needs to breathe?” He asked, his fingers typing against the panel.

“Don’t,” Natasha shouted, her trigger finger pulling instinctively and burying a bullet into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Water started filling your tank, and you stood up to get your head as tall as it could get. Natasha nodded at you once, and you covered your head as she fired shot after shot at the tank. But there wasn’t even a dent, nothing to indicate that the tank could be broken.

“What do I do?” Natasha asked as she ran up to the tank, watching the water slowly rise to your ankles.

You didn’t speak, didn’t open your mouth, instead pointing as best you could to a discrete pipe against the opposite wall. Natasha looked at it and followed the direction until she saw a lone wheel connected to the wall. A wheel that could control the water flow.

“Stay here,” Natasha told you as she ran off, grimacing to herself. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

She grabbed the wheel and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It felt like she was trying to pull a quinjet with her bare hands; an impossible task in and of itself. Her eyes trailed over to see the water had reached your waist. There had to be something else she could get, something to help.

The thud of your hands on the glass made her turn, and you were pointing in another direction. Her eyes followed, but there wasn’t anything she could see that would immediately-

A pipe.

Natasha sprinted to grab it from the table, nearly dropping it in her haste to get back to the wheel. The water was up to your neck, and Natasha could already see that your gills weren’t filtering anything. They stayed terribly still, and Natasha had to drag her feet to get back to the wheel.

She stuck the pipe into the empty spaces of the wheel and pulled, yelling in frustration until it finally moved. She continued pulling until she heard the flow of water stop, and a tired smile etched itself onto her lips as she turned back around to see you.

But the water was over your head, and now she was leaving you to drown.

She couldn’t break the glass; the water was off and you were still drowning. Your eyes were wide, and the fear of the situation finally made its way onto your face as you curled in on yourself and started pulling at the chain around your ankle, air bubbles escaping from your nose at a rapid rate.

Natasha got an idea. She didn’t hesitate as she started pushing the pipe, the flow of water rushing back. Only this time, she didn’t stop until the pipes rattled with the flow, barely able to contain the volume inside. She pushed until the pipe stuck, and she turned and ran back to the tank.

Your eyes were closing, the air bubbles almost nonexistent, your struggle against the chain ending. Natasha started banging on the glass, trying to keep you awake, but you didn’t move, instead just floating, and Natasha felt her heart sink.

The glass creaked under her fingers. Natasha’s eyes shot open and she watched the glass, noting the single crack that started to web across the entirety of the tank. She barely had time to step aside as the glass shattered, water shooting out and leaving you to drop to the ground.

When you didn’t move, Natasha jumped forward, dropping to the ground and immediately starting CPR. She could feel a rib break, maybe two, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until you could breathe. You just needed to fucking breathe-

Your body shuddered as you choked, coughing up water before your eyes shot open. Natasha felt herself let out a shaky breath, but she didn’t let herself rest. She grabbed her gun and shot where the chain was connected to the floor, listening to it break before grabbing you and pulling you up.

“You need to lose some weight,” Natasha groaned as you leaned on her side, your feet barely moving.

You didn’t say a word the whole trip out of the facility. Just managed to  drag yourself out, eventually walking more on your own when you neared the quinjet. Yelena ran up to the both of you and got on your other side, sharing a look with Natasha.

“I’ve got it,” Yelena said in a tone that told Natasha to let go and give her some space.

Natasha did, watching as Yelena finished dragging you to the quinjet and putting you in a seat before wrapping a blanket around your naked form. Your eyes fell back to the ground when Yelena finally got the jet in the air, and you refused to look at anyone when you got back to the Tower, leaving Natasha without a second thought.

———

Natasha was sitting at the bar on the common floor, picking apart her food. She had tried to see you multiple times over the past two weeks, only to be turned away by doctors or Yelena. There was something wrong, but Natasha couldn’t find out because no one would let her.

The ding of the elevator had her turning her head, not necessarily eager but casually curious on who had appeared. To her surprise, Yelena walked out with a McDonald’s bag in hand, some drink in the other. She didn’t look happy, but Natasha could’ve expected that.

After all, Yelena hadn’t forgiven her.

“How are they?” Natasha asked.

“Alive, no thanks to you,” Yelena shot back. But she had stopped and was talking back; that was an improvement from the past two weeks.

“I had a mission,” Natasha said, but her voice was small, weak.

“They were part of that mission,” Yelena answered.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly. She said it to assuage her own guilt. It didn’t work.

“You’re stringing them along,” Yelena said, her voice taking a different tone that Natasha hadn’t been expecting. “Just marry Maria already and end the suffering.”

“I’m not stringing them along,” Natasha defended.

But she knew she was wrong. Yelena was right. And Natasha wasn’t going to stop because what would her life be without you? How could she go about her day-to-day life if she knew you weren’t going to be there in some fashion? Maybe she was in love with Maria and was going to marry her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw you away.

“Just be gentle,” Yelena said with a sigh. “Everyone has feelings at stake.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, causing Yelena to freeze. “What feelings do you have at stake?”

A small, sad smile made its way onto her face.

“Desire,” Yelena shrugged, but just like that her demeanour changed. “Y/N said I couldn’t eat before them, and I very much desire this McChicken.”

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha chuckled.

“And this McFlurry. You know the good stuff,” Yelena teased again, causing the both of them to laugh.

“Then go on,” Natasha motioned toward where she assumed you were waiting. “I’d hate for the two of you to starve.”

Yelena gave her a smile, one like the good old days, and continued her walk. She stopped in the doorway and turned around.

“Oh, Fury wanted me to tell you something.” Natasha gave her a look for her to continue. “You and Y/N are going undercover. As a couple.” With that, Yelena continued off, leaving Natasha to deal with the news.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Taglist: @wickedmuses @m-zne237 @noodlybees @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @gottacamz @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday @santasbitch @when-wolves-howl @madamevirgo​ @hopingforromanoff​ 

[nobutfredweasleytho]

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

[sea-of-solace]

INFO DUMP: I thought i'd dyye by comitting not alive before graduating high school. Im in college now and everyone thinks im passionate about my career, but in reality im just clinging onto it to fit with people my age. I have no actual plans and i sure am not enthusiastic about the future. I actually tried comit-not-alive method but obviously failed, now my parents think im "crazy" and make comments about frequently, making me even more disinterested in turning to them and i rarely open up with them to begin with. I feel so distant to my friends now, they have a vast different interest ive tried but cant catch up with anymore and theyre busy with their education, i dont want to bother them. Im really trying my best to distract myself from my shittery but and not to burden my parents from expensive medication costs, but its really tiring.

Id understand if you prefer not answering this ask, this sounds like im trying to list every inter and intra personal problem in the world.

First of all, anon, let me just say that I’m extraordinarily glad you’re still here to be writing this ask and hopefully reading this response. 

In such a short paragraph, you essentially sent out an apology for existing about three times, expressing that you feel you’re a burden on your parents, your friends, and even to me. To the latter I say, your problems and your feelings are so completely valid, and you shouldn’t feel bad about telling them to someone who willingly and gladly opened herself up to hearing them (by reblogging that post about anonymous confessions). 

Admittedly, I have less context about your friends and family, but from what I know of my own experience? You won’t bother them by expressing your worries and fears. Any good friend would be more than open to listening, and if they’re not, then frankly, they’re not a friend worth having. Everyone is busy, particularly college students, but I know if I had a friend who was going through something like you’ve described, I would drop everything to listen to them, and help if I could.

In terms of your parents, any parent worth their salt would want to do their best to make their child happy and healthy. You asking for help is not a terrible thing to do, it’s not selfish, it’s not bad, it’s necessary and important. The cost of medication can be rough, but the best course of action would be to work with your parents, see what plan you can come up with together. Maybe you do need medication, maybe you want to start with talk therapy, but either way, you should not feel guilt for needing these things, and I’m so sorry if your parents, or anyone else, has made you feel that way. Sometimes parents are not the best communicators, especially when they’re scared (which I can only assume they were after your attempts). That’s not your fault.

Your unhappiness is also not your fault. It is not a failing on your part, it is not a burden to other people. It is the extremely unfortunate hand you were dealt, and there is absolutely no shame in asking for help.

If you take anything from this, let it be the ol’ standby: you’re not alone. Because it’s true :) Feel free to send me a message or a chat on or off anon if you need to <3

[curious-menace]

The rogue gallery members general reaction to encountering the batman who laughs and his creepy ass Robin's.

ok id like to preface this by saying that red death batman straight up crucified riddler and decapitated scarecrow and the batman who laughs is MUCH worse than red death batman. 

i want to enjoy the dark knights metal but it is needlessly fuckin complicated with all this multiverse oververse omniverse shit. maybe i just don't have the galaxy brain necessary to get it so i apologize if this is all wrong 

(also i know its canon that the batman who laughs has no rogues gallery left, either because he killed them or joker killed them before he turned but hey ho hypotheticals it is)

also no one talk to me about kiss fan lookin riddler from this verse. im not ready. 

Penguin

i think his first reaction was to laugh. Batman’s finally gone and he took joker with him. I mean he literally calls him "bat gimp". I seriously doubt he anticipated the fallout of batman becoming some sort of hideous joker hybrid. he still chuckled when he started seeing the news. someone calling themselves “the batman who laughs” and “the darkest knight” then he sees the robins, he even recognises damien and it makes him a little sick. he books the next flight out of goodwin before things get too hot. 

shame goodwin was burned to the ground to stop anyone leaving gotham. 

with everyone inside. 

Twoface

i dont think its an exaggeration to say he was absolutly fuckin horrified. it's rare that harvey and two face agree on something, but this bastard has to go. the murder and mayhem he could tolerate, hell even killing the other rogues, some of them needed to be stopped. but having to look at this creature and know it was once bruce? harvey knows better than anyone its a fate worse than death to be trapped in your own mind with someone else running the show. they do their best to stop the darkest knight, bring all the hired guns they can to the fight but it wasnt enough. Harvey dies, but at least he went out trying to do the right thing.

Poison Ivy

She sensed him coming, her flowers screaming at her to save herself. part of me wants to hope she took one look at that abomination and noped the fuck out of there to slaughter swamp or something. but we know ivy, she stands her ground like a tree planted by a river. she looks people like batman and joker right in the eye and down the barrel of a gun and says “no, you move” Shes not a good person, but in this verse she might as well be the hero of the story, maybe the only meta human in gotham who stood a chance against him. The batman who laughs was scared of her and thats why she had to die. if she’d just minded her own business she might still be here but no. She dares the batman who laughs to come for her, she’s going to take him out. for what he did to her plants, to gotham, to HER home and HER friends. unfortunately for her ivy was one of the first on his kill list. She doesn't go down without a fight. ironically it was her human qualities, the human drive to help people that got her killed. she heard one of the robins crying and went to investigate. the batman who laughs doesn't care about those robins, he’s got a basement full of jokerized kids to throw at people. 1 to trick her and a few more to hold her down while he doused the lot of them with weedkiller and gasoline then poof.

i doubt the botanical gardens will ever be the same. 

Scarecrow

part of me wants to say he’s loving this. He’s enjoying all the suffering and sadness and fear as the batman who laughs murders everyone and everything from the dandelions upwards . but he cant, not just because he’s not the one causing it. this is fear without meaning or purpose, this is killing hope so thoroughly that there is nothing left for people to fear, not even death. he’s not so foolish as to think he wont also be on the batman who laughs chopping block. so he makes himself scarce, works on a toxin that might be able to stop him or even slow him down so someone has a shot at it. Jon knows hes going to die, its only a matter of time before that thing calling itself the darkest knight sends one of his minions to his doorstep. He’s been working on something to try and help the rabid robins. he has a small soft spot in his cold obsidian heart for kids and looking at these creatures makes him physically ill. 

he thinks hes made a breakthrough, thinks he’s finally got a formula that will effect batman and the joker and hopefully, whatever abomination they’ve become . he decides theres no time like the present to try it out when word of the other rouges deaths reach him. he’s the last one left and thats....well its scary. His surprise attack works, the robins go down without a fight, screaming and scratching at their faces, their throats and each other. regrettable but if he stops the darkest knight now, maybe jon can help them. Just when he thinks he’s got him, scarecrow goes down. so close, he falls at the finishing line, his toxin having as much effect as a gentle summers breeze. Much like the original scarecrow , the batman who laughs likes using guns. For jon however? he makes an exception. poor scarecrow gets eviscerated by his own scythe, pilfered from arkham asylum by the batman who laughs. gotta love the classics, right?

Riddler

Riddler was second on his kill list. only because the batman who laughs knew how much it would annoy riddler not to be at the top. He’s another rogue who stood a chance of stopping him if he really tried. sadly edward is nowhere near as altruistic as harvey, and could never be as strong as ivy. He likes to think his escape is for everyone's benefit. live to fight another day and all that. He learned from harvey and pamelas mistakes, took one look at this new batman and his creepy kids and said “fuck that noise” and tried to run. except he didn't really try. god if he’d only gotten out of the city, he would have been the only rogue that survived. the batman who laughs looks at him like a pathetic insect, unworthy of notice. he’d have killed riddler eventually, maybe put him in a riddle with no answer or a trap with no escape for extra irony points but he wasn't about to stop the little green cockroach from skittling away.  but of course, riddlers ego got in the way; he just HAD to try and best this new batman, no matter how much he scared the shit out of riddler he just HAD to try. and of course, pride comes before downfall. 

The batman who laughs helpfully provided riddler with some rope to help break his fall. 

Harley Quinn

some part of her was happy to have joker back. he was different, scarier but she was used to the abuse. what she wasn't used to were all the kids. she recognised damian wayne but didn't quite put the pieces together to realise it was bruce under there. she thought maybe he was just a random casualty . she tried hard to look after the kids but they act like animals rather than humans, there was nothing she could do.As time went on she found it harder and harder to sit at the right hand of this clown prince of horrors. harley has always been along for the ride, but how are you supposed make the whole world laugh if everyone in it is dead? i dont know what happens to harley in this world. either she leaves and much like joker, the batman who laughs fails to notice, shes killed by him because he was bored or she does when the world is destroyed by barbatos. either way, no happy endings here. 

Thanks for this incredibly depressing ask Ghostly T-T

im kidding, im kidding it was fun! it makes me wish i knew what the everloving FUCK was going on with this verse so i could enjoy it properly. the only comic store i know of has been closed since like march of last year and i don't know what im looking for on amazon to actually order them. i have 1 issue of nth metal but it was interesting enough that i want the collection.

if anyone knows what the collection is actually called hmu bc i wanna buy it. 

yes i could read it online but i like owning the hard copies. 

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙🧡💛💚❤️

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 10) | The Boyz Imagine

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main characters: Kevin, Juyeon, Hyunjae and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz

Genre: fluff, slice of life, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10

-----------

"Excuse me."

"Yes," Juyeon whips his head up to see a pregnant woman waddling over to the counter with an expression that looks murderous. Holding her belly against herself with a grocery bag slung over her shoulder, she slams her entire body onto the front counter, which causes him to jump in surprise. 

"How are you, ma'am? How can I help you today?" Juyeon flashes a wan smile, used to dealing with unnerved clients. There's usually always a reason behind their madness.

"I have been waiting for at least an hour!" The woman bellows, practically red in the face, "I'm due in two weeks, and there are so many other pregnant women waiting behind me. How come it's taking so long?"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry we--"

"Do you know how hard it is for us, pregnant women, to sit here in this stuffed waiting room while babies are kicking?!" She interrupts with another yell as Juyeon's hands come up in defense, "I want to see Dr. Bae right now! Right now, you hear me? I'm tired! I want to go home!" 

Panic rises at the back of Juyeon's throat, "I--I am so sorry about this ma'am. But due to the number of patients today, the office is running a little slower than usual. I'm really sorry--"

"I don't want to hear your stupid reasons. I want my appointment!" She bellows, "Now!"

Fear coils through his stomach, a sick feeling tying into knots as his throat dries up with the countless excuses dying on the tip of his tongue. 

Shit, his heart races. How is he supposed to deal with that? 

He'd give anything to be shadowing a doctor right now. 

The door to the doctor's office suddenly slides open, revealing a gentle-eyed Jacob who's gaze quickly flits between them in understanding. The woman doesn't even wait a second, quickly twisting her body and waddling towards him. 

"Dr. Bae, I was just telling your stupid staff here that you need to speed up your process! Do you know how painful it is to be sitting around with that?" She motions towards her belly, legs wide apart and fists clenched at her sides as though she's preparing for battle. 

But Jacob's expression stays unfazed, "I apologize, ma'am. Unfortunately the speed of the diagnosis does not rely solely on me, but my patient."

"Yes, but--"

"Some have--" Jacob pauses, presses his lips together as sympathy flashes through his face, "some have difficult obstacles they've had to face in regards to their pregnancy. Not everyone is as lucky that their baby is growing up to be healthy."

The woman blinks, opening her mouth, then closing it upon realizing that she has been shocked into silence. 

"I understand your frustrations, I really do," Jacob's voice is gentle, a soothing lullaby that instantly makes Juyeon feel like the world is a better place, "but we all have to cooperate a little, work together to make this work. Don't you think?" 

For a moment, there's a complete silence so palpable that Juyeon can hear the ringing in his ears. He can feel the eyes of a multitude of patients drilling into the back of his skull and goosebumps suddenly explode along his arm at the sensation. 

"Alright," the woman finally lets out a grumble, "fine. Whatever."

And she turns around, wobbly on her feet, before plopping back down at her seat looking slightly disconcerted by the effect of Jacob's words. 

Juyeon sends the said doctor a look of utter gratefulness, which Jacob answers with a wink of his own before retreating back into his office. 

Thank god. 

---------

It's been a long day running back and forth between the maternity department and the pediatric ward, but it is only when the last patient bids their goodbyes that Juyeon allows his neutral mask to fall.

"I'm sorry doctor," he bows his head to the ground, not daring to make any kind of eye contact due to the embarrassment coiling through him, "It was my fault. I couldn't calm her down in time."

"No no," Jacob's lips curl up into a smile, face softening with understanding, "it happens all the time. Impatient patients are the norm around here. Mothers-to-be, especially."

"Still, I'm sorry."

"Did that swear you off the Maternity Ward then?" Jacob's smile widens into a teasing grin.

"Maybe."

"Well, if it's of any comfort, it's no better in the other wards."

"What do you mean?" Juyeon frowns. 

"Some of them are always looking for donors, others always doing extra shifts. The pediatric ward is the only one that's doing okay, as of late. Cancer department is just a hole of sadness."

"That's...not very encouraging."

"That's the reality of it," Jacob shrugs, "did you give it any thought? What you wanted to specialize?" 

"I don't know. Cancer, maybe. I'm not good with kids and the Cardiac Department looks like hell. Also, Organs make me squirm."

Jacob laughs at that, the sound bouncing through the room like sunlight, "that's exactly the same reason why I didn't want to specialize in surgery."

"That makes the two of us."

After packing up their belongings and clocking out for the day, Jacob offers to buy Juyeon dinner as a thank-you for helping him throughout the day and though the latter tries his best to refuse, the doctor insists that it's just something he does with all of his underlings, and that not treating Juyeon would just not be right. 

So Juyeon has no other choice but to follow as they walk to the parking lot. They unexpectedly bump into Hyunjae and Changmin in the lobby, causing Jacob to invite them both to join. 

"Why Jacob, I think that's the first time you're buying me dinner," Hyunjae can't help but comment as they settle at one of the tables of Mama's chicken, a small restaurant just down the street from their hospital. Juyeon smacks his thigh in protest, aiming to be subtle while the former stifles his groan of pain. 

"What?" Hyunjae hisses venomously.

"You don't say those kinds of things," Juyeon hisses back.

"You only care because you want him to give you a good review."

"Piss off, Hyunjae." 

The dinner goes surprisingly well considering that Juyeon isn't really familiar with Jacob. Having Hyunjae helps ease the tension between the interns and the doctors, lightening the atmosphere and loosening up his tongue. They share stories about patients, heart-wrenching stories about the ones they lost, and the ones that they managed to save. The more they spoke, the more Juyeon felt like this was the right path he'd chosen, after all this internal dilemma that had cost him a few years. 

"So why did you want to study medicine?" Asks Hyunjae to Changmin, who is already slightly flushed from his second beer. 

"I--uh--I just wanted to make the world a better place," Changmin stammers, ears flushing red, "I don't think I've considered anything else."

"See, this is the problem with interns," Hyunjae shakes a hand at him, "you guys think that being a doctor is honourable. It fucking sucks, okay? Like, it's really shitty. The shittiest of everything shitty in this world."

"Not all that shitty," Jacob intercepts.

Hyunjae scowls at him, "for you, maybe. You work in the Maternity Ward. What's the worst? That a pregnant woman comes screaming at you?" 

At that comment, Juyeon can't help but glance at Jacob, eyes meeting for a quick second in understanding. 

“I think I got used to that,” Jacob answers with a small smile, “Pregnant women don’t scare me.” 

“You’re brave, Dr. Bae,” Hyunjae sniffs, “there’s no way I’d be able to make it.”

“Do you regret choosing to be a surgeon?” Changmin pipes up.

“Nah,” Hyunjae flashes him a grin then, leaning back against his seat and poking Juyeon’s neck as he does so, “couldn’t find myself a better match. Surgery is all I live for. It’s like me against death, and most of the time, I always win.” 

“And the times you don’t?” 

“You win some, you lose some. That’s the reality of it.”

When Jacob and Changmin bid their goodbyes, Juyeon accompanies Hyunjae back to the hospital -- the latter has a night shift. It is his second one in a row -- while throwing his friend a couple of worried glances out of the corner of his eye. 

He knows more than anyone how much Hyunjae gives to the people. No matter how much bravado he puts on about doctors and how medicine really is like a beast you can’t tame, there’s definitely always a sparkle in the said doctor’s eyes whenever he talks about it. Juyeon admires that, and he admires Hyunjae (not that he’ll ever tell him though), but his stomach can’t help but churn with worry when he notices the darkening blue aprons underneath his friend’s eyes, or the tiredness lining them, red-rimmed and mouth pulled down in a way that only suggests he lacks sleep and energy. 

“Hey,” Juyeon speaks up when they reach the hospital doors. Hyunjae looks back at him as he says, “try getting some sleep. You look like crap.” 

“Thanks Juyeon. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’m serious, Hyunjae. Continue doing that and you’ll pass out in mid-surgery.” 

“Yeah yeah,” the older man sticks out his tongue in retaliation, “I hear you, mother. You heading home now?” 

“Yup. I’m done for the day. I got tomorrow off too.” 

“Lucky bastard.”

-----

Tagging: @juyeonzz @thesingingfae1905 @gratefulmaria @nochuu17​

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Also, for all those who have sent me requests, don’t worry I’m working on them! they shall be up soon! <3

I’M SO SORRY IT’S SO SHORT FML BUT LIFE IS GETTING IN THE WAY AND MAE IS TRYING TO ADULT AND GO TO JOB INTERVIEWS SO YEAH IM SORRY FHSDLSDLKJDBUT I HOPE YOU LIKE ALL THIS BROMANCE. 

NEXT EP WILL BE FULL OF MAE AND KEV SFKSDHGKDSJGDSLGLDKN <3 

[seblos]

there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach - ch 2/10

chapter title: let’s stop swirling, and start twirling

word count: 3,351

[one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (coming soon)]

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Carlos now has a hall pass to miss the last 15 minutes of study hall so he can get to rehearsal early. He probably would have been allowed to leave without one, considering everyone in the cast had been excused half an hour early for costume fittings, but he has Mr. Mazzara to thank for the small yellow paper he clutched in his hand now.

Miss Jenn was already in the bomb shelter by the time he gets there, quickly typing away at her phone until she notices Carlos standing in front of her.

“Carlos, perfect, just in time!” Miss Jenn says as her phone made a fwoosh noise, confirming some order that Carlos couldn’t see. “I left the box of scripts in my office, so can you set up the desks and name cards for the read through? I’m thinking a circle for all the named roles, plus me, you, and our stage manager, and then the ensemble and the rest of tech can just be grouped together behind.”

He was about to ask why not just put everyone in a circle, but Miss Jenn had already made her way out the door towards her office. He shrugs, not caring enough to argue with her judgment. Miss Jenn knew what she wanted; he might as well follow her agenda.

Carlos arranges the desks the way she had asked, then quickly slides over the top of one as he begins putting down the name cards for everyone. He starts with his own choreography card (keeping a mental reminder to take a photo with it later) then director, stage manager, Chad, Troy, Gabriella, and Taylor.

The next card stops him though. Carlos reads over the neat printed “Sharpay” as the conversations he had with Seb from auditions washed over him, warming his heart.

 He glances over at the desk he had left off on, almost directly across from where he was sitting. Instead of putting it there, though, he bit his lip and turns, dropping the card on the desk next to his instead. 

With that, he kept going around the circle acting as if nothing happened. He makes sure to put the Ryan card next to Sharpay just in case anyone decides to ask why Seb was all the way on the other side of the circle from the other leads. Miss Jenn came back in a few minutes later with the box full of scripts.

“Oh that looks perfect!” she tells him, looking at the arrangement. Carlos sucks in a breath, expecting her to say something about the out of place Sharpay name card, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

The theatre kids begin filing through the door just as the bell rang for school to end as Carlos swipes through the few notifications on his phone as Miss Jenn calls for everyone to take their assigned seats. Nothing important, just a new post from Ashley Tisdale on Instagram, a few new twitter followers (he was surprised to see EJ Caswell was one of them) and-

Carlos groans, showing Miss Jenn the text he had gotten from Natalie.

“Who is Natalie Bagley and why do I care if her glands are swollen?” she asks.

“Our stage manager. Guess she’s not coming,” Carlos says, switching off his phone.

Miss Jenn immediately called out Ricky’s friend, Big Red, and asked him to read the stage directions. Part of Carlos is upset that she didn’t just ask him to do stage directions since it wasn’t like he had any lines to read, but it was fine. They needed more tech kids anyway, maybe this would convince him to join backstage.

Or so he thought, considering the next near-hour and half was spent painfully listening to Big Red read the stage directions. Carlos at one point had shot Miss Jenn a pointed look, who looked stressed out of her mind as she asked him to read the punctuation. Unfortunately, Big Red had taken that seriously, and no one had the heart (or the energy) to correct him after he started reading “Sharpay comma heads for class period.” This, plus Carlos’s ADHD made him feel like he needs to take a lap around the school. Maybe around all of Salt Lake City before he’s ready to come back to this.

Instead, he chooses to glance over at Seb to his left, who looks just as spaced out as everyone else did. An idea pops into Carlos’s brain, and he quickly scribbles down an SOS on the blank sheet of paper he had been using to take choreo notes (in which there were none, yet. He couldn’t focus like this anyway.) He then folds up the note and tries to make eye contact with Seb.

Unfortunately, the farm boy was still spaced out as ever, staring at the pages which he turned while everyone else did, although his eyes weren’t moving along the words. 

The universe decides to apparently help him out, though as while Carlos was trying to get Seb’s attention, he doesn’t notice his pencil rolling off the table until it was too late. It clattered on the floor, not catching the attention of anyone except for the boy sitting next to him. 

Seb breaks from his trance, reaching down to grab the pencil before handing it to Carlos with a grin, and Carlos uses it as his shot to quickly hand the boy the note as he takes his pen back. 

He takes the piece of paper in surprise, cocking his head at Carlos for a moment as he unfolds the paper as quietly as possible. For a moment, Carlos wonders if it had been a bad idea.

Until, Seb reads the note and a smile grew on his face, grabbing a pen from his backpack nonchalantly so he wasn’t writing back in highlighter. Carlos noted that it was cow print and wrote in shimmery light blue ink, which, aw. 

He passes it back a moment later, and Carlos grins as he reads the response. Underneath his SOS in round, loopy writing is Seb’s bubbly ikr? big red is the sweetest but this plus my adhd my brain is GONE.

Carlos grins when he reads it. He didn’t know Seb had ADHD too (it’s not exactly something he advertises either, to be fair) but it’s always nice to see someone who can relate. He quickly scribbles back same! im all for new tech kids but i think miss jenn should just let me read from here on out. and i hate reading out loud. (and i have adhd too, crazy lol)

He passes it back to Seb, who’s brow furrows he writes, passing it back a moment later. It now reads she really should. why didnt she? i mean, youre capable of anything, even reading out loud. (and that’s cool! i mean, not cool, but cool that you can relate :) ) 

Carlos smiles. It’s sweet that Seb thinks that about him. He writes not sure. perks of being the unpaid choreographer i guess. 

When Seb gets it back this time, he smiles. well, someone should pay you then. btw have you done the chem hw yet? mr mazzara is killing me

They continue passing the paper back and forth, veering off topic from the show and just talking about school and their families. It’s never been this easy for him to make friends, but something just seems right when he’s talking to Seb, even if its through a piece of paper.

They end up covering the paper, only pausing when Seb has to read lines. They have to move onto the back at one point before Big Red finally reads the last sentence of Act I, and Miss Jenn calls for a break. Carlos is about to scootch his desk closer to Seb’s when Miss Jenn gestures for him to come talk to her. He shoots Seb an apologetic look, who just waves him off with a smile before adjusting his jacket and instead moves to talk to Ashlyn, who looks surprised when he drops down in the seat next to her.

As he follows Miss Jenn over to a corner of the bomb shelter, he worries for a second that she’s going to call him out for not only not paying attention to the script but distracting one of the leads in the process. Thankfully, it seems she didn’t notice and instead starts asking about Ricky and Nini. (As if Carlos has any idea what’s going on between them. Again, hetero drama that he doesn’t completely care about.)

“Should we think about recasting?” Carlos offers. 

“Absolutely not, my instincts are impeccable.” Miss Jenn replies, then adds, “and I’m not scared of a challenge.”

“This one might be impossible. She won’t even look at him.”

“Don’t underestimate me. I come from strong stock. My mother bounced back from an autopsy.”

Okay, not the reply he was expecting, but Miss Jenn was already calling them back together, which meant another hour of listening to Big Red read Act II. 

When he sits down, though, Seb smiles at him again, and Carlos pulls back out the paper.

—

Carlos was packing up his backpack after they ended early rehearsal that day. Ricky stormed off, and maybe it wasn’t necessarily Carlos’s fault that he was quitting the show, but he could feel his chest getting tighter the more he tried to ignore it. If he had just pushed Ricky a little less or cut all the dance talk and tried just a little harder to get him to stay, they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Carlos hears footsteps approaching. He hadn’t realized that anyone was still in the bomb shelter, but when he turned around Seb was standing there. They had talked before rehearsal and in classes, but during rehearsal, Carlos was barely able to spare a glance at the boy playing piano while he tried to teach choreography. Not that rehearsal was about interacting anyway.

“Don’t you live on a farm?” Carlos asks, even though he knows the answer. It’s more of a question of why are you offering a ride if you live so far away?

“Yeah, but don’t worry! Your house is on the way!”

Carlos squints at him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “You don’t even know where I live.”

“No, but I’m sure it’s on the way,” Seb is grinning at him, and Carlos doesn’t want to say no. Besides, he told his mom they would be done at six, and it’s barely even 5 o’clock, so he nods.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. That would be good,” Carlos returns the smile and Seb beams. He finishes zipping up his backpack, swings it around his shoulders as Seb finishes sending a message on his phone, and the two walk out the door of the bomb shelter together. 

“By the way, I like your shoes,” Seb says without even looking down, and Carlos feels the slightest bit of heat rushing to his face. The shoes in question are cow print, and even though he bought them before his conversation with Seb at the read through, he did think of the boy this morning when he put them on. 

“Thank you,” Carlos says. He’s quiet for a moment, before asking “how are you so happy all the time?”

Seb looks surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always so smiley and nice, even when everything is crazy stressful, like right now. I feel like I’m just snapping and brushing people off.”

“Well, first of all, you’re definitely more stressed than me,” Seb says, turning his head towards Carlos as he speaks. “I barely played today, considering how much everyone has been arguing with you about the moves. I mean, just because Miss Jenn isn’t there all the time doesn’t immediately give them the right not to listen to you.”

“I think it’s that, plus being an underclassman,” he sighs, pushing open the doors to the main entrance of the school. “I mean, Gina respects me but she isn’t exactly the friendliest with everyone right now either.”

“Well, it’s not fair of them,” Seb says, and Carlos bites his lip. He already knew deep down what Seb had said was true, but just hearing someone say it out loud made it so much more real. 

When Carlos doesn’t say anything else, Seb continues. “Besides, it sort of seemed like you weren’t having the greatest time, so I was hoping if I was a little happier, you would be too. Is that stupid?” he asks.

“No, it’s not stupid. It helped. Thanks,” Carlos smiles, because it did genuinely help. Well, either that or the venting. 

Seb smiles again, and Carlos feels his heart flutter just a little bit. Something about Seb’s smiles always made him feel warm. They never feel fake, and they’re always just as bright as the last.

They stop in front of a car, and Carlos opens the door to the back while Seb goes to the front seat. Behind the wheel is a girl a few years older than them who he presumes is Seb’s sister.

“Carlos, this is my sister, Georgie,” he introduces, and the girl turns to smile at Carlos. She has the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Seb.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos,” Georgie says. “Seb texted saying you need a ride, so where am I going?” 

For the most part, the car ride is silent. There’s music playing, a mix of old 2010’s pop and musical theatre, and Carlos can’t tell who’s playlist it is as both Seb and Georgie sing along. It’s not uncomfortable though, and he smiles as he watches the two of them together. He only has step siblings, and he’s not nearly as close to any of them as Seb is. 

“Do you have other siblings?” he asks out of nowhere, and both Seb and Georgie laugh.

“Too many to keep track of,” Seb shakes his head. “I’m a middle child of seven.”

Carlos’s eyes widen. “Seven? And they’re all fully blood related to you?”

“Yep. four sisters, two brothers. Josephine is the oldest, then our brother Cohyn, then Georgie, then me, then Sophia, Paisley, and Isaac. We’re all two years apart, starting at 21 with Josie, except for Isaac who’s 5 and was a bit of a surprise,” Seb explains, and Carlos feels his head spinning.

“How do you remember all that?” he asks, causing both the Matthew-Smith’s to laugh again. 

“Years of practice. To be fair, I don’t know like, half of their birthdays,” Seb says, earning a punch in the arm from his sister.

“Do you have any siblings, Carlos?” she asks.

“Two stepsisters on my mom’s side, both older. Isabella and Victoria,” Carlos says. “Isa is in college and Vic is about to graduate, but she goes to West High. I have a lot of cousins though, which are basically my siblings.”

“Us too,” Seb smiles softly. Carlos is expecting the look that people give him when they realize his parents aren’t divorced, but there’s no change in his expression. It’s nice to not have people ask about it for once (not that he remembers a time before they were divorced anyway. He was three, it doesn’t really affect him anymore.)

Georgie pulls into the driveway of Carlos’s house, and Carlos opens the door. 

“Thank you for the ride,” he says.

“Anytime, Los.” The nickname hits Carlos harder than he’s expecting it to, and he stops for a second, registering it into the mind as his heart swells. Only family members had ever used that nickname on him before, and hearing Seb use it felt… different. But good different.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, closing the door and waving goodbye to the two before running up the steps to his house. He can see them driving away as he closes the door.

“You’re home early,” his mother steps out from the kitchen, and Carlos turns. 

“We ended early. Sort of a dramatic day.”

His mother laughs. “Always is in theatre,” and Carlos can’t help but laugh too. “How did you get home? You could have texted.”

“A… friend gave me a ride. Seb Matthew-Smith, he’s our accompanist and he’s playing Sharpay.” 

He can see a twinkle in his mother’s eye as she nods. “Got it,” she says, stretching it out as she gives him a look.

“Not like that, mamá, just a friend,” he rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re making friends. Dinner will be ready in an hour, I’m going out to play bunco tonight, so make sure you and Victoria clean up,” she tells him, and Carlos nods, taking that as his cue to go upstairs.

As he reaches his bedroom, though, his phone dings with a text from Seb (they had swapped numbers at the end of the readthrough) about the chemistry homework. Carlos sets down his backpack, pulling out the homework in question, and sets it on his desk while he texts back. 

His mother’s voice rings in his head. I’m glad you’re making friends. It’s the first time in a while that he’s had a close friend, and it fills his chest with warmth. 

—

“Where do you sit during lunch?” Seb asks Carlos out of nowhere, plopping down on the seat next to him during study hall. He’s in the library, researching other school’s performances of High School Musical so he can try and get inspiration for their show. When Seb sits down, though, he pulls out an earbud.

“I mean, here, usually,” Carlos glances around the library. “Why do you ask?”

Seb shrugs. “Dunno, I’ve never seen you at lunch before and I was wondering who you sit with. I thought we might be in different periods, but we have gym and chem together sixth and seventh, and you mentioned to me yesterday that you have algebra fourth, so the only option left was fifth unless you take an extra class like some kinda psycho.”

Carlos blinks. “You kept track of all of that?” he asks.

Seb suddenly blushes slightly. “I mean, I don’t know the rest of your schedule, I was only really paying attention because like I said, I was wondering who you sit with. But I guess you sit with… no one…?” he trails off.

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to blush. “I mean, my mom plays bunco with the librarian so she always let me sit in here. The only other person I really talk to is Gina, but she has seventh period lunch. And I guess I could eat in Miss Jenn’s office, but sometimes she stresses me out and I can watch videos in here. Plus it’s a lot quieter than the cafeteria, although I did run into Ricky today-”

Seb cuts him off. ��Would you want to sit with me and Natalie? It’s only us at our table.” 

“I- uh. Yeah. Sure,” Carlos says.

Seb nods with a smile. “Okay, cool,” he says, then turns in his seat and logs into the computer next to Carlos.

“Why do you keep inviting me to things?” Carlos asks suddenly, gnawing on his lip.

Seb turns back to face Carlos again. “What do you mean?”

“You offered to drive me home, now you’re inviting me to sit with you at lunch.”

He cocks his head, smiling, although still clearly confused. “Because we’re friends, dummy,” he tells Carlos.

“Oh,” Carlos smiles. “Okay. Cool.”

Seb nods. “Cool.” 

They both go back to doing their work silently until Seb turns around again. 

“Did you say you saw Ricky in here?” he asks.

“Yes! You’ll never believe what he did.”

“What?” “He told me he’s joining the show again! And then, he started dancing. Like, in the middle of the walkway!” They both laugh.

As Carlos continues filling Seb in on all the details of his previous conversation with Ricky, he can feel his heart fluttering. He doesn’t know what is with the other boy in the long run, but hey, at least they’re friends.

[prorevenge]

After months of putting up with my roommate from hell, I got the revenge of lifetime and screwed her over out of a fuckton of money and got her to pay rent and life has never been sweeter! (This is a long one)

This is a long one but very much worth the ride, so buckle up. (also, English isn't my native lang, sorry if there are any mistakes)

This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates, all of them were nice and we got along well, except for this one bitch, let's call her Karen. if Satan and Hitler had a child and that child had a child with Stalin and Cruella de Vil, that would be Karen for you, she is a loud-mouthed stupid, egocentric bitch who has the face that scare the shit out of a toilet. She would never clean up after herself, she would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them. I have lost counts of how many times, I caught her stealing my clothes without asking and if you so much as touch her clothes she loses her shit on you, or her drinking our lactose-intolerant roommates almond milk and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say "I only had a sip, stop being so stingy." She plays her music loud at night, invites stranger without giving any heads up, a time or two she didnt pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she is wearing gucci and prada shit, Karen also fucking lies about everything, even things that are not worth lying about. like if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she'll lie through her fucking teeth and say she rose with the sun rise because she is a natural. (ps, this is something i actually heard her say to her parents while she was skypeing them....so cringy, who the fuck says that? but i digress)

Months we have fucking put up with her, of course we tried to get other roommates but unfortunately when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name so kicking her out would require a lot of effort and most of us were busy with school and work and life happens. So we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.

We are now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpack trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself, this is important so remember this.

One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall. Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the Guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbal autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social ques and subtlety, which lets face it, that is the core of dating, especially flirting but with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola we got her to ask him out. He said yes. She was so happy, you guys, she flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a shit eatin grin on her face; needless to say we were all so happy. Karen caught wind of this and it just so happens at that time she was having relationship problems, I guess her bf finally realized he's dating human garbage. Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy's place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial cheater and even made a fake account for Sasha's so called bf. the guy never called Sasha, and eventually weeks passed by he told us why but by then Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.

I. WAS. FUCKING. FURIOUS.

This, this level of dickery and bloody pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel's back and I vowed I wouldn't fucking leave until I served my slice of justice. Here's another character that you must know about, Prof C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident and as a result is in a wheelchair, this is especially problematic because she was a stay home mom that took care of their two special needs kids and they have a toddler at home. Home life is a mess for him, he is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family, the uni took pity and also feared the workload would see one of their best and most beloved teachers leave the school struck a deal with him to help him out. In all of his classes there will be quizzes and midterms, this doesnt change, but assignments you submit and he corrects at the end of the year, this is important cuz our uni has zero tolerance on proffs that dont constantly update the students course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.

Karen, the lazy and stupid bitch she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a shit tone of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs submit the paper on its due date and to only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrase tool for the rest of the paper so the plagiarism software wont detect it and would think its original material and when the end of the year comes, submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work. Prof C won't know cuz the likelihood a man as busy as him thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low. I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus, she is going down! All semester long I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone, all the while I spied and gathered all of her pass codes, social media, her student ID, everything.

The end of the year came and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos were there are side-to-side comparison of the assignments. This is a good start but not enough. So, One day chillin at the living room I open a conversation about relationships, Karen is two timing her new boyfriend and is sleeping with some other Person. so, I ask her questions like "don't you feel guilty for cheating?" and "You do realize this is wrong?" and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear, for example I would say "It's not fair, so many people work so hard everyday to be successful and you are here cheating and lying your way to success." Karen, narcissistic as fuck, would respond with snippets of I dont care and how she isnt cheating, she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too. This is too good to be true, even her answers are vague, its like god put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes and said, "burry this bitch". and Id be damned if I didnt. As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos, and her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the Professor, and i tell the girls so that they can prep for the shit storm thats coming. Three weeks later, results are out. she failed and LOST HER SHIT. She was screamin, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! you best believe, the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it. she cried and begged for a second chance but he said a hard no. So now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn't graduate with us, and takes on a whole 'nother semester for one measly course or take summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which mind you she spent a fuckton on, something like 13, 000$ and I know it could have been much cheaper but Princess Karen only wanted the best so yh. The next couple of weeks she spent sleepless nights because she was calling and cancelling all the reservations she made, tryin to get her money back BUT (again, GOD really was out for blood that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees. She only managed to scrap 5.5 K back together, lossin 7.5 K. OUCH!

Its not over, having damning evidence I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills till we move out, which was in two months, payback for all the times she was late on payment or defaulted and she would from now do her part of the house chores or else Im gonna send it all to the admin and faculty dean and she will fo sho be kicked out and all those uni years will have been for nothing. She hated it, she fucking threw tantrums and cussed me out but my god if she didnt do whats told. she cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her BF (dont know the guy but the few times i met him he was super sweet to us and i felt bad for the guy), I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years. IT was fucking amazing and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, i kick back my feet and reminiscine and a slow shit eatin grin draws itself upon my face.

tl;dr roommate was super mean, i found out she was cheating on her assignments and so i snitched on her and as a result she had to stay the summer and retake the class again or else she wouldn't graduate.

(source) story by (/u/let-the-write-one-in)

[takemealivelh]

i heard i can send mike requests so here i am. i got this from a prompt list so iMagine mike coming to the restaurant you work at and choose you as his waitress every time just to annoy you and you can’t do anything in retribution or you'll get fired 👀 pls make it enemies to lovers😭 im a bitch for enemies to lovers aus ngl ok bye ilysm❤

HONEY SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER but you know I wanna give you the best content I can create and you deserve!

I present to you: Raspberry Chocolate MilkshakeThe title is not the best but I think it sums it up pretty well.

ANYWAYS, I hope you enjoy it!

/special thanks to @angelbabylu for helping me with this! Best personal editor ever!/

“Thank you for taking your time-”

“Fuck off, Clifford.”

“Wait, what did I do?”

Michael had been going to the same restaurant for a while now, and that interaction that took place three weeks into his newly found routine had been haunting him ever since.

He liked Chloe, she was nice to everyone and never yelled back at those men who tried to shame her for the uniform she had to wear. And she looked damn good in her uniform. The little black skirt hugged her hips close to perfection, the green button down complimented her skin colour. Her hair up in a snug ponytail let the dining lights define her cheekbones even more.

She hated it.

Chloe hated the way she had to suck in her tummy to zip up the skirt. She hated the roll of fat under her bra she had to deal with when buttoning up the polyester shirt. She hated how her eyes seemed to stretch into the back of her head when her hair was up. She felt like a tight blob during working hours, but she had to keep the smile on her face to keep earning the money.

Unfortunately, most money she made was when Michael was her customer. The musician who insisted on taking the wobbly stool at the end of the bar. The one who kept ordering drinks that weren’t on the menu. The man who took forever to decide what to eat, even if he’d been eating at the same place for nearly 6 months now, and then he changed his mind at the last minute.

“It’s all the same, Michael,” she tapped the pen on her notepad. Having been his personal waitress for long, they were already acquainted with each other’s quirks and manias. Her boss was both scared and excited about their interactions. She worried that Chloe was rude to the guitarist of 5 Seconds of Summer, but also liked that Michael seemed to enjoy it. “You can’t possibly find something that you haven’t tried.”

The bell of the diner rang to announce more customers had arrived. Chloe turned her head to the door and gave the family of three a friendly smile. Michael noticed her sudden change of demeanour and was crushed by how nice she could be, just as long as she wasn’t dealing with him.

“You always seem so happy to help me with my order, I feel honoured,” the words slipped out of his mouth in a playful matter, but really, he wondered when Chloe would actually be pleased to see him. Everyone loved her, and he could see why. Whenever a table got a cold meal and started complaining, Chloe would stand there and nod, listening to the others rant. She would apologize on behalf of the kitchen and promise to throw a couple of extra fries for the inconvenience. That always seemed to calm the worked up clients. She made sure every single shake she served had been topped with either three cherries or lots of chocolate sprinkles. Michael had never had to ask for another portion of whipped cream since he started having his lunch here. He took his whipped cream seriously.

“I love it that instead of helping me choose, your eyes are glued to that couple over there and their really cool kid that has a Pikachu hat.” Michael followed her gaze to the table with the family, a grin on his face.

Even when he tried to start a flirty banter, Chloe could only take it the wrong way. Maybe, if she wasn’t his waitress, she would flirt back. Maybe, she could take his words lightly and playfully nudge his shoulder before responding with something like, “My attention is valuable, Clifford. If you were wearing that hat I would even consider you cute.”

But she didn’t say that.

“So… the burger and a salad?” she jotted down his usual order and then walked away from him.

- - -

“Chloe! The stool is tumbling again!” Michael’s words echoed through the half-empty diner he’d been sitting in for the past hour. He so desperately wanted her attention, even if it came in the form of a frown. Her chest seemed to grow red when his voice hit her ears, also red now, and she set the broom aside before making her way to the end of the bar. She could feel her coworkers eyes on her. They kept teasing her that she needed to do something drastic, like ask Michael out on a date, or spill a shake on his pants so she would have to help him clean up.

The scenarios were several and varied, and none of them bothered her. But Michael could be such a jerk. Of course, the only reason he kept sitting on that shitty stool was so he could watch her bend down and stick another three sugar packets under the rickety metal leg.

Michael just enjoyed having her near, even if it was for a few seconds. He’d tried to spark up conversations about her job, but that only seemed to irritate her more. He’d tried to ask her about her hobbies or what she did in her spare time.

“My commute is 40 minutes long, Michael. I don’t have much time to spare,” was the closest he got to a real answer.

Chloe wiped the sweat droplets that had glided down her forehead, she stood up and shook the stool a little, it didn’t wobble. “There,” she whispered, immediately turning on her heels to go back to her chores.

That small movement, that uncalculated spin, caused her elbow to collide into Michael’s glass of raspberry-chocolate milkshake, the one she had begged the bartender to make even if it wasn’t on the menu. Michael’s eyes saw the fall in slow motion. Before he registered it, the liquid was all over his pants and her skirt.

“Fuck”, they mumbled at the same time. The faint laughter from the other side of the diner was obvious. That until they heard Chloe’s boss making her way towards them, apologizing for Ms. Clumsy’s earned title.

They were told to go to the back and they obeyed, getting whistles from the other waiters.

“I’m really sorry, Mike,” Chloe had never called him Mike and he noticed. She soaked and wrung out a cloth before handing it to him, “it was an accident.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his, he could tell she was embarrassed, but he wasn’t good at dealing with awkward situations smoothly. “Was it really? I thought you just wanted me here in the back without my pants on.”

Clearly, the joke was not amusing. “Oh, fuck off, Clifford.”

They remained quiet as they dampened their clothes, but the stain wouldn’t come off. He had a meeting in an hour, she had her mom’s birthday after work. The room was barely bright, crammed by boxes full of imperishable goods. Chloe didn’t want to do it, but she walked around a pile of boxes anyways, and took her skirt off. At the sound of the zipper being undone, Michael quirked an eyebrow. “What are you doing back there?” He wasn’t stupid, but he wanted to hear her say it. Besides, if she was taking off her bottoms, it wouldn’t be weird for him to do it as well. The damp cloth wasn’t working, he couldn’t see properly, his boxers were also getting wet. He was uncomfortable and just wanted to take the pants off.

“My mum’s turning 50 today.”

“What?”

A sigh came from the other side of the room, Chloe was sat on a small box and trying to get the stain out of her skirt with better lighting in that position. “She’s big on birthdays and she doesn’t like it when I wear anything but formal when she has people over. This is her favourite skirt on me. It’s the only thing she would like me to wear. Otherwise, she’d shove me into this hideous yellow dress she has for special occasions. It is uncomfortable and if I can avoid wearing that, I will. I can’t go back home and grab a pair of pants because then I wouldn’t be there on time, and she hates unpunctuality. Even though, she’s never, ever on time. Ever.”

“So… ever?” Michael stripped off his pants and heard something unknown to him until now. A light chuckle.

“Ever.”

Michael sat on a box and started working on the stain, the same way she was doing, trying to reach better lighting. He didn’t say anything else, this was the most she had told him about herself. This was the girl he had wanted to get to know for months now, but hadn’t been able to because any word that slipped from his lips seemed to annoy her.

Another sigh. “It’s not like I’m scared of her, because I’m not. I just want her to be happy today. She has a perfectionist side, maybe I got it from her, and I don’t want her to be bitching tonight about me not wearing something she likes. It’s not the point of tonight, is it? She’s been so scared of turning 50. I’ve told her that she’s not old and all of that, but I don’t think that’s what scares her. I think she regrets not doing all the things she wanted to do before turning 50, you know?”

Michael hesitated for a second, he wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not.

“I don’t wanna be like that. It sounds exhausting,” she huffed and scrubbed the black skirt clean. “You’re not going to have that problem, Mike. I don’t think you will. And if you do, just remember that time you were in your twenties and had to sit in a gloomy room with no pants, listening to some waitress talk about her 50-year-old mum.”

That small chuckle again. Michael could feel his chest growing warmer. “Uh… I guess I’ll have to strike this off my bucket list,” he laughed lightly, she followed, he gained confidence. “Actually, I’m still scared.”

Chloe’s silence served as fuel to continue his train of thought out loud.

“I’m, uh… I’m scared that I’ll reach 50 and I’ll feel like that. I’m doing a lot of shit, Chloe. Like… a lot. And it’s fun, I’m having a great time and I’m putting all my energies into doing the things that I love but… what if I wake up being a 50-year-old man feeling unfulfilled? I know it’s crazy, but-”

“It’s not crazy.”

Michael rested his head against the wall behind him and sighed. He had never told this fear to anyone. “Thank you, Chlo,” he rocked his head towards her side of the room and caught a glimpse of her ponytail.  No other words were exchanged. For the first time, he enjoyed the stillness between them, unspoken complicity.

They put their garments back on when they were semi-dry and half-decently unstained. Chloe took a deep breath to suck her stomach in and zip up the skirt, Michael brushed the dust off his pants when he stood up. They felt closer to each other somehow. She hated to admit it, but Michael was actually a nice person. Once she let her guard down and was willing to accept his words, he was pleasant company. She’d been so hard on him. His awkward way of dealing with social situations wasn’t the best, but she didn’t make it easier either.

“Hey, Mike,” Chloe turned to face him before she opened the door back into the diner. His green eyes glistened through the pathetic fluorescent lightbulb. She seemed nervous, a cute kind of nervous, and he was eager to hear what she was about to say. “Do you…” she cleared her throat, “… do you want to go out sometime?”

“Oh my…” Michael’s laugh made her stomach drop and he noticed the flush on her cheeks, “Chloe, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months now! I can’t believe you beat me!”

TAG LIST

@brown-eyedshell @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @myloverboyash @hopeless-renassianceluke @dukesnumber1 @rip-lukes-balsamic @angel @cal-pal-cuddles @ashtons-favorite @1dthewantedlove  @problematicprincessa@heartbreak-5sos @bloodmoonashton @lilacsos @irwinkitten @singt0mecalum @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @cal-puddies @lashtoncurls 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Bad Guy

 Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

We got a hero, we got a villain, but which is which? Or are they so tangled up that nobody can tell? Who knows? Actually I do, because I’m the author and I’m writing this blurb thing to conceal the mystery for newcomers lol. This is the story about Anti and Jackie I mentioned last week. It’s the first time Anti had any direct contact with the other boys, and then that became a regular thing and also one of the main driving conflicts of this AU. So yeah, rather important story to cover

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi  @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Jackie knew this city was hell. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who knew, who saw the signs even when taking a simple walk. Why else would he be the only one with the courage to do this? The only one who actively sought out information on what the gangs were up to next? The only one currently perched on the slanted roof of this warehouse, staring through the skylights, waiting for those criminals to show up? Either the citizens just didn’t realize how bad the situation was, or they were too scared to do anything about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Thank god he remembered to silence it. Nothing much was happening on the floor down below, so he pulled it out and checked the text from Chase that had appeared on screen: You coming home soon?

Jackie rolled his eyes, then pulled off the glove on his right hand so he could type out a reply, chicken-peck style. No. Nothings happened yet

Im bored! Chase replied. Everyone is off doing work shit!

Go talk to Jack or something

Im not at home

Jackie paused. Where the hell are u then??? He thought he knew.

The little typing bubbles stayed for a while before he got Chase’s reply. I dunno the name of the place. Its on Forest Ave. Prices are low so i checked it out. But im still bored drinking alone! Cmon and join me here. Besides didnt you say theyd meet at 11? Its 1230 now and if their not there their probably not coming.

*They’re, dude Jackie glanced back through the skylight. It was true. Members of the Spotted Snakes gang were supposed to meet here at eleven to discuss weapon arrangements. Jackie had even heard there was going to be one of the leaders there. It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to eliminate them, but they hadn’t appeared, and by this point it was just insane for every member to be an hour and a half late. Something must’ve been up. Jackie sent another text to Chase: OK, Im gonna go down and check it out. If I find nothing Ill meet u there.

Whoo! Jackies going out on the town! :D

Night on the town! But dont count on it yet, still might be something up. Text u later Jackie shut off his phone. The skylight was unlocked, as he’d checked two hours ago, so he eased it open. There was a quite a drop to the floor of the warehouse, but luckily he’d prepared for these situations. His belt had a cable with a hook, for climbing easily. Jackie unwound the cable, hooked it around the edge of the skylight, and gently lowered himself down. The moment his feet touched solid ground he yanked on the cable until it unhooked, then retracted it back into his belt.

It looked like a normal warehouse. Huge storage boxes and crates were stacked along the walls and in rows, with a big empty space in the middle where Jackie had landed . There were long metal rafters holding up the slanted ceiling. A few of the large industrial lights were on, casting an eerie glow over the stacks. That alone must’ve been a sign someone was here, but they’d been on since before Jackie had arrived. Maybe they were on a timer?

Well, even if the gang wasn’t here, he might as well look for evidence. Maybe they had some of those alleged weapons stored in those boxes that he could get rid of. The warehouse could go too, they’ll lose a place to meet.

Jackie walked over to the nearest crate. It would be hard to open, even for him, but luckily someone had conveniently left a crowbar on top of it, maybe planning to open it later. Jackie picked it up and, with no small effort, pried the crate open. Nothing was in this one, just a bunch of loose packing peanuts.

One of the lights overhead flickered and died. That was...weird. There must’ve been a whole shitload of lightbulbs inside it, they couldn’t have all gone out at once. Jackie glanced toward it, but couldn’t see anything from this far away. He shrugged it off and moved on to the next crate, also empty. As were the third, fourth, and fifth one.

He had the strangest feeling someone was watching him. At first he put it down to paranoia, but as time went on the feeling only intensified. He stopped his attack on the crates and looked around. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean nobody was there. Jackie shouldered the crowbar and stalked away, determined to find out if somebody was actually watching him, or if he was just going crazy.

Another light flickered off. The stacks of boxes were casting long shadows, where anyone could be hiding. Jackie didn’t like it, but he took advantage of it when he could, keeping to the edges of the stacks where the shadows were deepest. No one would see him coming, if anyone was indeed there.

A third light died, this time the one directly above him. And now Jackie was suspicious. Things like that don’t just happen. He glared up at the light, and caught a bit of movement high above. Something...slithery, like a flag in the wind. It definitely wasn’t a loose wire or anything with a normal explanation. Jackie tightened his grip on the crowbar. It wouldn’t do any good from down here, but just in case. “Hey!” he shouted. “If anyone’s up there, I can see you! Why are you hiding?”

There was no doubt about it this time: something big, person-sized, moved on top of the lighting fixture. Whoever it was, they didn’t answer.

“Your cover’s blown!” Jackie said. “And you’ll have to get down at some point. I can wait. Or you can just answer me.”

Nothing for a moment. Then out of nowhere, a person-shaped shadow leaped from the light and landed smoothly on one of the rafters. Something fluttered behind them, probably a piece of clothing. Jackie gaped. How...?

“You’ve got me,” a voice said. Jackie jumped. It sounded like it was right beside him and far away at the same time. And it also seemed familiar for some reason. “What are you going to do now, Jackieboy? Arrest me? Or am I too  dange͡ro͟ùs͏ for that?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Jackie said cautiously. His eyes followed as the shape of the person jumped to another rafter. They—he?—shouldn’t have made that distance. It was much too far. And that voice...if Jackie hadn’t been living with Marvin, unfortunately, for the past year or so, he would’ve been so confused right now. But now he just suspected magic.

“You’ve heard of me,” the voice said. “But we’ve never met. You’d recognize my name if I told you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Jackie asked. “I’m sure we can come to a...an agreement.”

The voice chuckled. “Like the agreement you have with your roommates? You look the other way, and they’ll help you get rid of troublesome tricksters? For someone who brags about his strong morals you sure like to let them bend.”

“How do you know about that?!” Jackie demanded. Then he reconsidered. “I—I mean, not the thing about morals. You’re wrong about that. I mean that I have roommates, and an arrangement.”

“I know a lot about you, Ja̶c͝ki̛ébo͟y.” The voice spat his name out like it tasted bitter. “And I don’t like any of it.”

Jackie growled. “Easy to say from up there. But if you were down on my level, I’d set you straight.”

“Ok̵ày̴,” the voice said, amused. Jackie wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. The shadowy hint of a person was suddenly not in the rafters anymore, and with an electric crack like a computer screen fracturing in two, there was someone right in front of Jackie. He gasped and backed up. The other person stayed stone-still.

The dark lighting fixture overhead burst back into life, while every other light in the warehouse dimmed and died. Jackie stared at the man in front of him. It seemed they’d found a seventh doppelganger: same hair, same build, same eyes. Well, not exactly on that last part, as his right eye was covered by a patch. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and black tennis shoes. The green scarf around his neck must’ve been what caught Jackie’s attention up on the lighting. Jackie kept an eye on the man’s hands, in case the man attacked him, but his arms were crossed and Jackie couldn’t see a weapon.

“Well?” the man asked, grinning a bit. “I’ve stooped to your level now. Literally, of course, because I would ņev̷e̵r͢ mean that in the way it’s supposed to be meant.”

“You do realize I didn’t mean that, right?” Jackie said. He tried to sound casual, but he was very aware of the crowbar in his hand. “I get angry sometimes. I just want to know what you’re doing here. The Spotted Snakes were supposed to be meeting here, but nobody showed up. If you know something, I have to be in on that.”

“Why?” the man asked innocently.

“I—look, I—if someone is doing illegal shit in a warehouse like some sort of crime show, someone should stop that! That’s what I do!”

“And w̶h͡ò ̛gave y̨ou tha̴t ̀aut̢hor̶i̸t̵y̧?” the man growled. “The police? Maybe not the best, but they wouldn’t sanction this. The government? Absolutely not. Yourself?” He laughed. “Perhaps if you’d had the right idea, I’d let you. But instead, you have knives on your person and gasoline waiting for you outside. Do you understand why I had to tell them you were coming?”

Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You noticed this place was empty. Did it not occur to you that they were warned the crazy vigilante would be stalking them tonight? How easy is it to send an anonymous text these days?”

“You little—” Jackie didn’t even finish his sentence before lunging forward, swinging the crowbar at the man’s head. But just before it connected, the man dissolved. That was the only word for it, he came apart like loose atoms flying everywhere. Jackie barely caught himself before he fell. The other man reformed to the side, his body still caught partly in that glitchy swarm state.

Jackie turned toward him, seething. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yoų'̷l͢l try͟.”

Jackie swung again, only for the man to dodge. And again, from the other side, to the same result. He tried a feint with the crowbar while going for a hit with his fist. The man disappeared and came back in the exact same spot. Jesus christ, couldn’t this guy just stop cheating for five fucking seconds?! Jackie gritted his teeth and flew forward, giving up on tactic and just trying in vain to land a hit. But he couldn’t, no matter what. The guy just dodged, or glitched out of the way, or let the hits pass right through him.

“T̕h̢i̛s ͢is get̡ţi͠n̢g̨ ͟bor͝i̶n͏g̀,” the man said. And that just made Jackie angrier. Was this a game to him?! Jackie went for one more two-handed swing with the crowbar. But the world broke. That was the only way to explain the momentary freezing of time, the way the surroundings became sharp red and green shapes, the loud hum of screaming static. Jackie dropped the crowbar in shock, then next thing he knew the strange man was behind him, wrenching his arms behind his back. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to immobilize them.

“Are you fucking—” Jackie did his best to stomp on the man’s feet or kick him or something, but he got no reaction no matter how hard he hit.

“I hope you realize yoų a͞re͟n'̸t̴ doin̡g ͠a̸ny͠thìng,” the man remarked. “Now. I have questions. You have answers. We can play a matching game.”

“Fuck off!” Jackie spat. “I’m not gonna tell you anything, and you can’t make me!”

“You don’t ḱn̨ow̢ that,” the man hissed. “Now shut up and let me start. Where’s Jack?”

Jackie stopped struggling out of pure shock. “Wait, what?”

“Where. Is Jack.” The man repeated. “I kn̢ow͠ yo̧u ̛k͠n͝o͏w. You’re one of his rotten  f̷̴͟r̵í͡é́͞nd̶͟͞s̛͢͞ that took him. Where is he?”

“Why do you—” Jackie cut himself off. This guy looked a lot like Jack. Could it be? “Wait...you’re his demon friend aren’t you? Anti. The one with the eye-patch that he talked about all the time.”

“Yes, that’s me,” the man—Anti—confirmed. “And I’m not a d̡e͡mo̡n͏. You’ve talked to him, huh?”

“Of course I have! He’s my friend, as you pointed out.” A smile curved his lips. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Anti’s grip on his arms tightened. “Ẁh̷at̢ ar̸e͡ ̴y̛ou͞ ͏sa̡ying̡?̀”

Jackie laughed. “Just that he’s finally realized the truth about you. You’re a monster. A demon, as much as you deny it. He’s not gonna want to see you again.”

“Y̸̡͞o̡ú're̸̛ ̶̢͢ly̶̢̕i̷͟n̨̕g!̵͡” Anti shoved Jackie away from him, like he couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. Jackie landed hard on the floor, flipping over to face the glitch. The distortion had increased to the point where it was starting to affect the world around him. His visible eye had turned green, with a black sclera. There was a knife in his hand now, gleaming and sharp.

Jackie tensed, getting ready for an attack but not standing up in case that provoked him. “I don’t lie. I’m just telling you what he thinks. And if anything, it’s your fault for being that way. I’ve been told it’s easy to use bad memories from Halloween as a starting point.”

“ W̡͢h̵̢a̢̢̡t̡̕͠ ̨͟͝d͡͞id ̨͡yo͝͏͏u̷ ̷͠d͡o ͟͟to̴̷͢ ͏̛h̶̡i̢m?̷̧” Anti growled.

“I didn’t do anything. I just don’t stop people from doing things.”

“A̸nd how ͢n̴ob̕le͢ ́of̷ you!͠ H̴ow ͠h̕e̕r̵oi͏c̷!” Anti flipped the knife into a stabbing position. “Th̛a̸t's̸ exac̕tl̕y wh͡at ̕a͢ ̛s͡up̡e̵rh̨e͝ro wo̕u̧l̨d d̴o, s̢i͡t͠ a̡ro͠und and ͡watc̕h b̛y̸st́an̷de̢rş ̡b̷e͡ hurt͡.̛” His lip curled in disgust. “T͝oo̸ s͞c͏are̴d t͢o ̸e͝n̢dan̢ger̴ ỳou͏r̵ ̸l̸it͏tl͡e ́fr̸i͟ends̡hips͝ ̨w͢ith ́t̀he̷ ͏ba̷d ̧gu̢ys̴ to ̷do ͞so̶m̵et͢hi̶nǵ g͡ood͢ fơr on͠ce,̶ ̵t͟h̕en?!”

“I do good things all the time!” Jackie protested. “The streets are safer with me out on them.”

“N̴ó,̧ ͝th̶ey͡'͠re̕ ̕f͡uck͡in͟g̢ worse be͟ca͏use anyo̕ne̶ ̀cou͞l̨d̀ b͢e ͟dragged̷ ͠i͝ntơ an̵ ̵a͞lley ̶a̵nd ͟iǹt͟err̡ǫga͡ted ͢be̷cau͝se ̶th̸éy ̛ḿaý ̸be͟ a̧ cr̀i͠min͡a͟l̡!̢”

“You know what?!” Jackie stood up, keeping an eye on the knife. “Why don’t you stop accusing me and start looking for answers! I can take it! I’ll give you as much as I get, I can promise you that!”

Anti stared at him. Then, with a glitch, the knife in his hands disappeared. The distortion lessened. “I'̢m͏ ͝n͢ot l͞i̢k͏e̴ y̵o̴u,” he said bitterly. “Sometimes I think I could be. Bu̶t ̨I̢'̢m̶ n̢ó̵͡t̨̛.͟ And I’m trying to keep it that way, something your little group  is̢n͞'ţ h̨e͠l̛p̷i͏ng̛ wi̶th́.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackie was stunned. This wasn’t how he was expecting it to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t get it. If Anti wanted information, why wasn’t he seeking it out? In an effort to cover up his confusion, he laughed. “Oh, good luck. Marvin’s got the house warded, and we got some upgraded manpower now that this new guy’s joined up.”

Anti smiled. “Thanks for that.”

Wait, no. “Wh-what?” Jackie stuttered.

“Now I know he’s just at your house. And I know where that is. So, th̢a͡nk͏s͞.͠” Anti turned on his heel and vanished in an explosion of pixels. All the overhead lights turned off.

Jackie just stood there for a moment. Had he really just? And given away information? But he was fine? This guy...this Anti guy...god, he was the worst. He was the fucking worst. Something needed to be done.

He leaned over and picked up the crowbar. Hey, no sense in leaving a perfectly good tool in the middle of an empty warehouse. Then he reached into his belt and took out the flashlight, making sure he could see in this new dark. He started towards the exit, taking out his phone on the way.

Chase, r u still there? he texted.

Almost immediate reply. Yeah dude! Not on Forest anymore, tho, so I guess youll need the address of the new place

No! Forget that! Jackie hurried to text. Look some big shit just went down and EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW. Get back home and tell the others im on my way

Damn dude whats the rush?

Yknow Jacks demon friend he used to talk about? The one James messed up his head of?

Yeah

Thats the rush. Now i remember Jack said this guy was all electronic so im not gonna give details but get everyone there right now. Call it a family meeting if you have to this is obligatory. Got it?

Wow. Okay that actually sounds important. On it, see you later

See u

Jackie exited the warehouse and entered the cool December night. This Anti was a threat. Not only had he interfered with Jackie’s plan, but now he wanted to get Jack back? Honestly, Jackie didn’t mind that second part so much, but he knew the others would, especially Chase. He couldn’t risk getting on the guys’ bad side.

And the way Anti had talked back there had really pissed him off. Like he was the one saving people. Nobody even knew he existed. Jackie knew he’d done more for this city than anyone else. And Anti had talked to him like that? Like he was the one messing everything up.

He was wrong. Jackie would prove it if he had to. He would show that this way was the only way.

Jackie started running back towards the house. First step was to let the others know. Next step? He hadn’t thought that far yet.

But whatever they decided, he would do it. The ends greatly justify the means.

[racheloutoflove]

My Anxiety Story

Hey guys!

First of all, thank you for the love on my posts, it means the world to me. I haven't been as active lately and the reason for that is I'm going through a really hard time with my mental health. I've been debating whether to share my story with anxiety here or not, I was so scared no one will read it, and that those who do will just think it's too long and annoying. But I've been through hell the last few years, and even if one person is going to read it, relate to it, and feel as if they are not alone, that's enough for me. So, if you want to listen to the story about my Social Anxiety, prepare to some really long post.

I don't remember the age I started suffering from anxiety, but I know when I was 14 I already suffered from it severely. I would go through the halls in my school and feel as if I'm constantly being laughed at and judged. Everytime I met a new person I was sure 100% they hate me and think I'm annoying. So I didnt talk. But that didn't solve the problem because when I didn't talk, I thought everybody think I'm anti social an boring. And I think that's a pattern with social anxiety - you can't run from it. When you do something it's there. But when you don't do that thing it's still there. IT'S ALWAYS THERE. The same with going out. When I was invited to places I usually made up excuses for why I couldn't come. But then, I felt so bad and I find myself wishing I was there. And if I did end up going sometimes it would go fine, but mostly I would just sit quietly and laughed awkwardly trying not to burst out in a cry, because even though I was surrounded by other people I felt completely alone. It's been like this through all of high school too. The thing is, in the age of 16 I started getting panic attacks. I would try and hide those in school: running to the bathroom (thankfully my school was FULL of them). I slowly learned to hide them but when I couldn't I just said I'm not feeling well. I also felt the pressure of school. I felt like a social failure that I felt that I have to justify to myself that I'm good at something. So I would study so much, and when I felt as if I don't understand I would cry. My mom saw this and took me to therapy where my therapist helped me with test anxiety. The thing is, if I only knew about social anxiety back then, if the awareness was a lot better than it is nowadays and maybe if instead of 15 lectures about the danger of alcohol they would dedicate 1 to mental health, I wouldn't be where I am today. But unfortunately I didn't know that so I didn't want to talk about the weird feeling. I was scared she would find me annoying or obnoxious. So my therapist taught me how to handle my stress in tests which was better and that was it. But one day, around year later after I ended therapy in senior year of high school i broke down. I couldn't take it anymore and i started searching online how to deal with severe shyness. And that was when I stumble upon the term 'social anxiety'. I cried im relief. I don't know why but when something has a name, and it's not happening only to you it's a little bit comforting. I know it's sounds terrible, but I always thought I was wired and the only one who went through it. But I couldn’t ask to go to therapy because my mom had heart issues so I didn’t want to stress her more and cause her problem. Also I didn’t had a driver license (I once had a panic attack during a lesson and never gone back to driving), so I had to ask someone and I couldn’t. Problem is, I live in a small town without public transportation so you basically can’t leave this place without a car. Unless you would rather walk 20 minutes to the bus station of a nearby town. And I feel so stuck here. As if that wasn’t enough, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in October so I couldn’t tell her at all. She went through her own hell, I didn’t want to talk about mine. I have complicated relationship with my dad and my older brother. They are both great and I love them but they are very judgmental and they hate weakness. I’m scared to look weak because their opinion about me is important to me. My family has a tradition of acting always as if everything is fine even when it’s not so I stay quiet. I’m 20 year old who is still stuck at home, scared to go out and scared from her future.

I know someday everything will fall to pieces. I do believe in god, and I do believe he will give me the strength to move past it. But even if I didn’t have faith, every bad period is ending eventually. It doesn’t feel like that all the time, but it WILL happen. Even if it takes days, month, years. It will be over eventually. I don’t know where life will take me next, hopefully I’ll be the one to decide. I’m going to try and tell my cousin and ask for her help, or perhaps to a friend I haven’t talked since high school who dealt with similar thing. I’m terrified from doing this but I’m more scared from what will happen if I don’t. So things are looking bad for me now, but I believe that somewhere in my future things will be brighter. If you are going through the same, if you have social anxiety and you have the option to go to therapy I would highly recommend you to do so, as soon as possible. Social anxiety doesn’t just ruin your life, it prevents you from living them. I came to the conclusion I can’t stay like this: panic attacks every single days and endless sleepless nights and crying. I stay at home and read or watch a tv show but I want something more. And I felt like I spend all this time doing nothing, I still feel as if my life are on hold why everyone else moves so fast. But I acknowledge that this is the time I need. Everyone progress in their own pace, and I needed a break. I needed a stop before I start my life. Yes, maybe I “spend” this years, but other people don’t know what I’ve been through. They don’t know why I took this time. So as long as it’s work for me that’s okay.

This post ended up way longer then I thought and it’s a little messy, but if you have social anxiety you can talk to me anytime. Going through it alone sucks, and I know it too well. If you want to share your own story with me I’m always here to listen and to support. If I don’t answer, please don’t take it personally, I just sometimes take breaks when anxiety hits hard but I’ll try my best to be there for you cause I know how hard it is.

Sending you all lots of love, and thank you if you read it until the end ❤️

And a shout out to @claire--r who listen to my anxiety stories and help me every single time. I'm not easy, and I know that. Thank you for being so patient with me, words cannot describe how much I appreciate it.

Last thing - English is not my native language so apologies if there are any mistakes.

[runningonnothing-blog1]

Hamilton: A Memory

<> Slight authors notes here: I had to write this for an English class and I’m stupidly proud of it! I know I disappeared but IM BACK! 

<> Prompt: Write a challenging time in someone else perspective, the challenge must be based on that person and something they’ve gone through.

<> Word Count: 1345

In the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet. Just for a moment, a yellow sky.

I remember that day like none other. The wind, the rain, the loneliness without another sitting beside me. Just a boy, just a rascal of a teenage boy. Too smart for his own good, that's what they all thought. When the hurricane hit, it turned my tiny island home upside down along with its people. I thought it was over for me, for everyone, for everything.

At only 17 you’re still considered a kid. Just breaking from your parents, continuing onto a post-secondary school, completing a fulfilled life. Unfortunately, God had another plan, another fate for me. He had personally picked a continuous hell for me, dragging it on for the decades I lived.

When I was seventeen a hurricane destroyed my town. I didn’t drown, I couldn’t seem to die.

But that Hurricane. The Hurricane of 1772. It started at dusk, North of the island of St. Croix. The damage could never be compared to the war we suffered years later. The buildings and family homes level to the ground, water brackish and full of sulfur, no bed or roof to rely on. Those who aren’t troubled with sickness lay dead, defeated, under various rubble. The harbor was swept entirely clean, no boat nor sailor left behind from its wrath. The shrieks of the suffering still echo and bang around this full mind of mine, even years later.

I wrote my way out. Wrote everything down as far as I could see. I wrote my way out.

It was when the unsettling calm came over our skies. The sound seemed to slow, the scene seemed to quiet. That's when I realized that I wasn’t scared, nor calm. Panicked, nor helpless. The nights' call and the days that silenced them dragged on after that fateful day. The people were hurt, the people were quieted. The once busy streets of my island home rested similar to that of deaths embrace.

I looked up and the town had its eyes on me.

The rascal of a boy they once distrusted, threw around, neglected, was now one of their only sources of light. After God heard our prayers, the lighting ceased, winds are appeased, the warring elements reconciled… I wrote. Everything. I shared our story, I shared our times of fear and our times of rejoice. When the town came together, it was a total turn around from the days ruined by the storm.

They passed a plate around. Total strangers moved to kindness by my story.

“Did you hear of him? The boy?” one would whisper as he passed by.

“Yes, the one whos spends his day, rushing, writing,” the other would answer.

“New York? Is the boy crazy?” another would join, total disbelief in his voice.

Only once I had been approached by one boy much smaller than me, but I could see myself in his eyes. The desperate need for freedom. Perhaps that's why he sat his boney self next to me that day. “They call you insane, sir. Is this true?” He asked, not having the mannerisms to introduce himself. I never learned his name.

“They may call one crazy, but to know if he’s truly crazy, one must look beyond the speech,” I answered, keeping the fidgeting hands at the seat of my pants. Clearly, the boy wasn’t bothered at the growing population around them.

“But your words, on your papers. They won’t get you to the state of New York? Will they?” The young boy persisted, leaning closer to me. He had questions that weren’t going to go unanswered.

A small sigh came from my lips, “So you’ve read my piece, then?” The boy simply nodded, a smile spreading on his pale face, “The Royal Danish American Gazette, my boy, they were so astonished by my placement of words.”

“You sir, they liked your writing?” Another from the growing crowd asked, “They like a clerks writing, he says!” the older women continued, sending herself into a pitiful fit of laughter.

An older man came around with a bucket, in it only a few peoples worth of muddied vegetables. His tired and worn eyes met my own, his frail hand held a carrot to my own bloodied fingers. “He has much to write about, Alexander, so many traumas he has faced,” the tired eyes of his showed sympathy, “much worse than the horrid skies we just faced.”

“Yes, I heard his cousin went and fell for the noose,” A new voice beside me spoke, “And his mother passed on holding him at only the age of twelve! Deathly sick they say, but death didn’t grab him.” They spoke as if it was some story told by an elder, the laughter sitting their voices as if they were mocking me.

New York, despite what their belittled mouths spat, was closer in my mind than heart. I was to prove the Scotman who is said to be my father wrong. I was to prove all of the ones who called me crazy wrong. I wrote. I taught myself phrases and phrases, endless paragraphs and papers filled to the brim. Perhaps this was out of spite, perhaps this is out of emotional trauma.

With my father who ran out of the house when I was merely breathing the age of ten, and my poor sickly mother gone when I was nearly grasping twelve. She was sick and she was holding me, holding me so tight. That of which a mothers hold can never be beat. I was forced into my cousins embrace soon after… But as they all know, he was left trapped in his mind. His worsening state lead him to a chair and a noose. I found him only that night.

Now at seventeen, I was climbing the rugged steps of a ship that would sail towards a new life. This was the time I was given a free pass by the Father himself. I had a hope that the tremendous hell I’ve been living would pause, give me the break I needed… A chance to start over, a new life I could lead. No one knows me in this strange state, strange city. A revolution is what I need.

Raised enough for me to book a passage on a ship that was New York bound.

The harbor. The ships. The minds of eager young men as the approach dawns nearer and nearer. I could explain this three times over if one honoured men asked me. Each man and woman aboard this rickety treasure had a reason as to why they sat on the rotting wood. I refrain from nodding their ears off with my pointless paragraphs of answers, allowing myself only to the simple sentences required.

They’d ask where I came from, my family, my work, what I did to deserve to be accepted into Princeton… It always turning into the same answer over and over. I wrote, my father left, I grew up worthwhile. It was never anything more, never anything less. But soon it would be more, way more than I ever expected to share.

I hope to meet my bride here. A wonderful woman who will always keep me in her interests. An even better fresh start with children of my own… Little ones to soon carry out the legacy I’ll create in this foreign land. This land doesn’t know my name, but soon, soon it will. It will be called throughout these streets, the papers, the skies.

When the ship lurched to a stop, the calls of the dock boys below bellowed through my ears, previously captive of my own thoughts. I understood now. This is all I needed. A wake-up call, a wake-up call to a reality I’ve always wanted. Now I have it. I can grasp anything here, I can grab it, take it for my own. This world is now mine to manipulate. No one else can poke and prod into my business… This is mine.

[sorrowschengmei]

about the fandom and my love for kylo ren [vent post, not poetry][tw bullying]

sometimes i wonder what am i doing here at tumblr, really. they say to encourage every weirdo ‘someday you will be better than everyone who laughed at you’. we study while they hang out with their friends, we work while they sleep, and we never fucking live the life they want, they end up with the life they wanted and we end up being grateful for just being alive.

but there are things that are pure, really, that aren’t tied to capitalism, to survival, to socially fitting in, they are just beautiful and intense and poetic and brutal, and they do exist. he is one of them, the one i call my own truelove, and most people call ben solo or kylo ren.

today i watched tfa, and i could see why i fell in love with him... tlj kylo is a beautiful man, the most beautiful man, yes, but tfa kylo is more than a man. he looks like a dark angel, something that isn’t human and yet is too corrupted to be divine, he has a mystery that can’t be described with words and no one will ever decipher, he’s a poem on himself, more beauty than human.

i looked back into my early tfa days, how i interacted with the fandom, with kylo himself... i’d spend hours LOOKING FOR FANART, reblogging art, reading fic, reading headcanons, writing poetry and making my own doodles without any intention of publishing them. nowadays... nowadays i blacklisted all the artists of the reylo and kylux fandoms likewise, unfollowed all my art friends, get straight up suicidal if my stuff flops and i only publish stuff that is correctly rendered and at the peak traffic times, i got at least 5 anxiety attacks for looking at people with more followers/notes than i do, all of this why?? 

because i wanted people to like me, to like my art, to send me cute anons saying they love my stuff and asking me for requests. i wanted to know middle school was over, that people would appreciate me and my art in here as theoretically everyone loves kylo ren and i’m not a weirdo in here.

but i am a weirdo in here as well. i recently found out someone was gossiping about my love for kylo ren, saying very hurtful things about it, you have no idea of how much i cried when i found out, i think i spent 2 hours crying nonstop until i got exhausted. i look at kylo ren himself, not art, not fic, just the pictures of adam driver and i ask again: why??

why can’t things be simple like they were before? why can’t i just be myself without worrying about feedback? why did i become so bitter to the point i can’t fucking support my friends??? how did i become one of those millenials that value their self worth by the number of likes they get???? why can’t i just love kylo ren, draw him, see cute pics of him, without being crushed by years of trauma and the ‘socially inept’ stigma?? how did literally everything i hate in my life become attached to the thing i love the most?

being in the fandom hurts me, it hurts me so much. several times i said to myself ‘i curse the day i decided to watch tfa and met kylo ren’, and this is the saddest thing ever i could say, because kylo himself never brought me anything else but joy, support, lust, bliss, inspiration, contemplation, melancholy and the purest love i’ve ever felt.

i am afraid of people, and i have very real reasons for this. i’ve been lied, betrayed, deceived, attacked, pursued, tortured or just ignored by people on several fandoms. i can’t see art or fic or meta anymore, i just see the ego of the people who are doing it, how they only interact with the socially apt, repeat the same themes and styles, manipulate people into giving them stuff, gang up to harrass their enemies... people who draw kylo ren, who write about him.

you see, autistic minds work with patterns and organising logical conclusions around these patterns. in a fandom you have people you hate drawing someone you love, your friends supporting people you hate, people that never did anything but you hate them bc people you hate love them, people that hate you pretending they don’t, people that don’t hate you acting hateful just because???, and the most puzzling thing for me, that is people who hate kylo ren claiming they love him and want to see him having sex, a love life, a husband. it’s a complete mess. it’s a complete chaos. so you end up scared, running away from any kind of confrontation, blocking and blacklisting everyone, not speaking your mind because you don’t know if they are gonna agree with you and then attack you, disagree with you but agree later, attack you and then pretend they didn’t, pretend they disagree with you, ignore you...

i think i should leave the fandom, like i did in 2017. but this time i can’t, i already have a name, even a small name, i have ties with the community, everyone already knows my terrible personality and lack of self awareness, i have a place on this fandom and it is the place that always followed me: the weirdo, the outcast, ‘that guy’... 

when i entered here, all i wanted was to meet people that loved kylo ren too, as intensely as i did. i met some good, good friends, but i worry all the time they will leave me, and there are people that im not sure if they are my friends or they are just following the american social code of calling everyone ‘friend’. i wish things could be simpler, really... and unfortunately i have no place to go to enthuse about my love if i leave tumblr/the fandom =/ 

[if anyone thinks they have a thoughtful answer for my problem they are encouraged to send me a chat message]

[things-i-want-2-tell-u-but-cant]

12/12/18 - 9.39 pm

I’m broken and numb. My mind is fuzzy, my stomach is in knots and I feel sick. I don’t know what to think, feel or do. Everything is up in the air and I hate it. I hate all of this.

After 7 months with you, going on 8, I never expected us to be in this position. Tip toeing around our problems, hurting each other. I have never been so unhappy as I have been this past month. And don’t think I’m blaming this on you, because I’m not. I know I am just as much to blame, if not more. After our talk on Friday I’ve realised that a lot of our problems have come from me. I say things expecting you to realise what I’m meaning, when you take everything at face value and dont read into anything. Which, I would say is probably the only cause of our problems really... and for that I am so fucking sorry. My heart is literally aching thinking about everything I’ve caused.

You’ve told me before that I need to be honest, and to tell you things - the reason you’re perspective has changed. And that I understand, but I hope you can see things from my side and see my reasoning behind why I can’t. The truth is I’m terrified. As it is, I don’t know what you want. And I feel like if I tell you the truth and how I’m feeling... I’ll ruin every chance with you and you’re going to leave if you don’t like what I have to say. And I know that probably won’t happen. But at the moment I feel like I am gripping onto us by a thread.

Which is where the whole things with other girls come in. It is true, I did tell you that it was okay to see other people. But I didn’t actually mean it in a sense. When I found out that you were talking to Khadra and that it seemed more than I thought it was... I was hurt. My heart broke and my stomach dropped. Truth be told, I knew the whole day while you were at my house on Sunday, I just didn’t want to let you know it effected me so much. But from that, I instantly felt like I wasn’t enough for you. You already had told me you wanted nothing from me but a friendship, you had been messaging girls on tinder asking to meet up and god knows what else... so thats why I said it was okay. Because after saying that you would either tell me you didn’t want to - and tell me I was enough for you.... or you would go to other chicks and prove that you didn’t want me at all... which unfortunately is what happened. And in my mind I already don’t feel good enough. So instantly all I could see was that you had found someone skinnier, prettier funnier and probably nicer than me. And that hurt. I’m not blaming it on you at all either, I just wanted to explain the reasoning behind why I said it and then got so upset by it all - its 100% still my fault it happened. 

Another thing I accept is that my type of communication is not the best. I struggle a lot to be able to say what I’m thinking - like forming the words is really hard for me and something I struggle with a lot. I generally have so much going on in my head that the only way I can make it make sense is by writing it all down - which is why I generally send you long messages like this haha (SORRY). But yeah so thats why it also may seem like I may hold back. Just know, it isn’t because I dont want you to know, its because Im literally just overwhelmed by emotion and I can’t make sense of it until I am able to sit down and write it all down. If i dont it literally will take me days to realise what the fuck is going on haha. But if you decide to take a shot on me - I’ve got a way around this dont you worry!

I apologize for everything I have said to you the past week - I know some of it would have been hard to hear and probably hurt you.. I didn’t intend on that. I think I’ve just been hurting for so long, I couldn’t it anymore. The truth is, I don’t think I can do the just friends thing. I tried my hardest, I really did. But at the end of the day I love you. And i know you don’t feel the same. But I just can’t sit there while I’m just “one of the boys” to you and I consider you to be my whole word (little bit of an exaggeration but ya get my point). 

You told me that I need to look at myself in a more positive light... And I get that. But one part of that is realizing I deserve better than just to be some girl who sits there waiting on a man she loves hand and foot while Theres a good chance that he could be fucking some other girl the whole time without her knowing. And I know that’s probably dramatic in your eyes. But I’ve spent so many years of my life doing this for other guys. I sit around, giving them my all, only to get sidelined and used as a toy when theyre bored or in between girlfriends. I love you with all of my heart but I don’t want to go back to that. To feeling useless and worthless.

So the choice is yours. I don’t expect you to come up with an answer within a day. You can take as long as you want or need. But before you do. Theres some things I need you to know. 

Firstly, I know you’re used to people leaving. But i swear to you, that isn’t going to happen with me. If anything, the past few weeks have proved that. Even in the hardest of times, like the past month, I will choose you. I will fight for you the whole way through, and never ever give up on you if you let me. And I also know, that its also YOU having to leave which scares you. But i hope you get that if we’re together, I would go with you as soon as I could. And until that day I would save every cent I had to be able to visit you every chance I have. I would call you every day. I would do everything I could to stick by your side. Because I know you haven’t had much of a chance to have someone do that, to have someone that stays by your side no matter what happens and no matter what the distance. But i promise you, if given the chance, I would do that all for you and so much more. Because, believe it or not I have the same fear. You’re the only person who has stayed... everyone else, even my friends has given up on me. Even my family. When i moved up to Auckland I literally went 6 months without once seeing my mum. So i know what its like for people to be ripped away from you or to leave your life.. and I would never ever put you through that. I’m sticking with ya until the day you tell me youre done. 

I also need you to know that it’s okay. You have this strong fear associated with me. You’re so worried and scared that you’re going to hurt me or fuck my life up. And because of that you hold me at arms length. Every time you let me close and become vulnerable, you push me away and go back to wanting nothing to do with me. I know you think you’re a mess. That could be true, but fuck. Look at me, I’m the biggest mess of them all. But that doesn’t mean anything. It doesnt mean you dont deserve love, it doesnt mean you’re going to hurt everyone in you’re life who gets close to you. We have a lot to still learn about ourselves, and thats okay. But I need you to know that I’m willing to go through that all with you. We’ve grown so much as people in the last 7 months, just imagine what we can achieve with more time. And if you haven’t fucked my life up by now, I’m pretty sure that it won’t happen considering I’m growing stronger every day.

And that’s another thing. I still don’t think you believe how much you mean to me. Like Tira and I constantly told you on Friday but you wouldn’t accept it. And I think the one thing that highlights that, is the fact that after feeling the way I’ve been feeling and after everything, I’m still here. Even when I said we were done - I couldnt help but message you everyday. I was constantly wondering if you were okay, etc. You’re the first person I’ve even done this with, trying to talk everything out. Usually I would give up and just walk away. But with you... I can’t. 

I know I probably sound fucking crazy (my bad if i do), I just love you. 

I love the fact that you can write a rap in less than an hour - and a fucking good rap at that. I love the way you get self conscious and shy when you tell me about the things you like or find funny and always do the typical “hahhahaha nah i dont know”. I love the way you’re starting to open up to me, like on Sunday morning telling me about your childhood and your songs. I love the way even when you thought you hated me, you still went out of your way to check if I was alright. I love the way how you always put me first - like you were so mad and upset on Sunday morning but as soon as you saw I was crying you like melted and were so kind to me. I love the way I feel so comfortable at youre house, like ugh, I adore your mum shes so lovely. I love the way you make me feel at home, something I haven’t felt since I was year 6. I love the way you believe in me more than anyone else i know, and even when we’re not in a good space, you still stand up for me. Theres not one thing I don’t love about you, apart from you’re farts, those are raaank. But at the end of the day what I’m trying to say is there isn’t anything you could do that would make me hate you. We’re young, we have so much to learn about ourselves and each other. There are going to be days when we want to kill each other. Theres days where we may hurt each other. But I know for a fact, that we care for each other so much, and only want the best for each other. I just idunno, I’ve spent over half a year with you... and ive enjoyed myself so much it feels like its only been about 3 months. I wouldnt have wanted to spend the time with anyone else and im so greatful and appreciative of you. 

I’m not asking you for the world. I’m not expecting you to want to be in a relationship with me and start calling me you’re girlfriend over night. Thats unrealistic. But for me, It’s more a choice of whether you want to pursue other girls like khadra, megan and morgan. Or you want to delete your tinder, and give us a shot. We can still start off as friends. We dont have to have sex, or kiss or hold hands - i mean i love doing all of that and would do it in a heartbeat. But what im trying to say is I dont have any expectations. I just want to know if you’re willing to take a shot on me and not flirt with other girls, etc.... or if I should do everything in my power to move on from you and let you be...

Either way, just know that you’re an amazing person. you deserve the absolute world and the best love the world can give. And i’m sorry if you dont think I can give that to you

hope work isnt too bad tomorrow! Wish you were coming to graduation with me - Im going to miss you. LY xx