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moonbeamsung · 3 years

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Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kisshim @radiorenjun

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

Text

Edited Lesson Plans

for @dukexietyweek‘s day 5 prompt ‘School’

Summary: The science experiments Remus includes in his lessons baffle most of the staff for how he’s able to get them past health and safety concerns. Virgil is just glad he hasn’t been questioned over stealing the plans to add precautions to them yet.

Warnings: elusions to chemical accidents, vauge mentions of bad lab safety, explosion mentions

/\/\/\

“Again? He's managed to get these major experiments in his work plan again?”

“Who the hell is he bribing to be allowed to do this stuff? Even I couldn't get a risk assessment thorough enough to do these things!”

“Remus has to be like dating the headmasters daughter. That's the only way Mr stick-up-his-arse Read would be letting him do these experiments. They're just too dangerous.”

“I think that's why Remus is doing them. Have you seen him mope when one is rejected?”

The talk in the staff room had once again returned to Mr Remus Cethalapod as the lessons plans and class schedules were shared among the teams, including the weeks where teachers should expect delays from students leaving specific classes. Virgil was sat working on fine tuning his own quietly, listening in, but never expected to join in with their talk.

That was the other certainty he knew the other teachers and faculty held, Remus would include science experiments no sane person would demonstrate to their teenage students, and Virgil would only speak up about issues with lesson plans if he saw classes overlapping with his that could be risky. The only exception to his demands to see the risk assessments were Remus's despite those classes following or precluding his own most often.

He smirked, making a few quick notes on a plan for the woodworking module. If the class picked up the skills in a different time period to expected a few classes might be moved around which would help with when Remus had chosen one of the few repeated experiments to be done.

“What is up, Bitches! Have I convinced any of you to give up repeating the same old plans and get something interesting in those classes?” Remus yelled, barging in to check the schedules for next semester.

“Why would we need to include something interesting when your lesson plans could well blow up the school?” Nate scoffed, shaking his head, and clearly unhappy that his classroom designation for the next semester was beside Remus's.

Virgil was tempted to speak up at that, defend his risk assessments except he wouldn't even acknowledge to Remus that he'd regularly steal the other teacher's lesson plans to make sure they're safe, or at a minimum have all possible and extremely necessary safety measures in place. He was certain that his input was known about though.

Remus just beamed at the veiled criticism. “My fairy health and safety agent says every class I do is safe as long as I follow the purple ink. Can you say the same?”

“You're creating fantasy creatures? You're meant to be a science teacher!” Nate's protesting was cut off as the first school bus arrived and everyone refocused back on this semester rather than the next.

/VR\

Teaching Engineering and Resistant materials had always been Virgil's main interest, and a lot of that relied on science not only to improve and progress but to remain safe for the people who practised it. Getting a few journals on Chemistry added to his reading list wasn't too difficult to do after Virgil first met Remus.

He'd loved the passion and energy when he'd heard Mr Cethalapod teaching during a free period in the first year they'd worked together at the school. Discovering that the class had been mixing dangerous chemicals without enough safety precautions however had him basically panicking for 20 minutes before he forced himself calm if only to focus on his next class and the teenagers about to be playing with fire as much as soldering some metal together could be called that.

After that day Virgil would steal Remus's lesson plans, originally just to satisfy himself that they wouldn't be putting students or teacher in danger, but all too soon he was adding sheets with safety instructions and getting risk assessments filled out. Enough of the things he did could cross over, although temperatures in chemistry got higher than they ever would in resistant materials and the chemical element rarely impacted engineering to the degree it would of course inspire a chemistry class.

Remus even seemed to accommodate his lesson plans getting stolen, once when they were first written, once soon before the start of each subject and finally the week before he'd teach the class. When Virgil had first realised that pattern had been deliberately made he tried to hide more, put the things back exactly as he'd found them, terrified there'd be some consequence for his interfering. Remus had after all once made a class where a parent had complained over his teaching style only read their books for a term, conducting the experiments he'd planned to show or have them do silently at the front of class, and another time brought in a mobile lab so he could walk his class around behind the PE class after the teachers were disparaging his class loudly at the end of the day.

Instead nothing had happened, except occasionally his additions would have more corrections added. Of course the corrections were usually only on the severity of the injuries that could occur if one of the safety risks wasn't followed, but it was an acceptance of his guidelines regardless. Even Virgil's students had mentioned feeling calmer and safer during experiments with Remus bringing new precautions in, all of which had been his own additions.

Honestly, being called a 'fairy health and safety agent' had Virgil snickering for the rest of his day. He had the powers of magic and way too much fear on his side and with it would save the school from dangerous experiments. That sounded like a lot more fun than screaming and lecturing the headmaster whenever one of the other teachers blatantly failed to follow even the basic health and safety precautions.

When Virgil gets the lesson plans at the end of that week a tiny part of him was tempted to put fairy wings on of something while taking them. He wouldn't do that for fear of having to explain why if another teacher spotted him, but it was a thought.

A thought that vanished along with everything else that night when in green highlighter, covering the last page of lesson plans Remus had scrawled

Dear H&S Fairy, I'll clap all the times I can to make sure you exist if only you come with me on a date next Friday. Love and other Goopy Stuffs, Remus xoxoxo

Please, Virgil could only pray, please say Remus actually had figured out he was the one doing these plans, because he wanted, but could not face turning up only to find out Remus thought it was some other teacher or administrator.

Before he could worry about that any further he scribbled a reply just underneath the note, signed with a doodle of a fairy.

/VR\

Now it wasn't that Remus had forgotten asking the Engineering teacher out on his lesson plans, or that he hadn't seen the response once they were returned to his desk. It's that he absolutely hated planning ahead any more than was necessary and his dreams were just of inspiration striking for the perfect date the minute they met up at his car.

Only as he was setting out the lesson and getting the students ready to carry it out did he finally think that someone so concerned with safety they'd steal his lesson plans might actually feel better if he had a plan in place. Remus couldn't exactly create a plan while teaching though, so it really would just be up to the evening and the thoughts it might bring to do.

He couldn't imagine a date being as full of risk as playing with low level acids though.

Virgil was already leant against Remus's car by the time he reached it and all Remus could do was beam. “I actually got it right! Damn, and Mr Read always says I can't figure out anything except explosions.”

“Glad to be who you wanted, should I even ask if you have a plan for tonight or just accept you're making this up as we go along?” Virgil snorted, pushing himself up as Remus rounded the car.

“I can at least guarantee lower chances of injury than I might find if you weren't with me.” Remus countered.

Perhaps they'd only really communicated via lesson plans and occasionally crossing paths around the school up until this point, but Remus couldn't wait to see where this first date might take them.

#dukexiety #dukexietyweek2021 #remus sanders #virgil sanders #mentioned logan sanders #teacher remus #teacher virgil #cw poor lab safety

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smolskye · 2 years

Text

alright fellas i must tell the story of my art class staging a coup. this is long

tldr: emergency replacement art teacher isn't qualified to teach the course, frustrating students to the point of speaking out and refusing to attend. i'll update this post as new events occur.

i will set the scene. it is september 2021. my school has just started in person courses. on the first wednesday of the term, i go over to where my first art class of the term is supposed to be. there is nobody in the room. i check my email and find that the class was cancelled. no worries, it happens. i go home.

one week later. i receive another email that class is cancelled. i start to get concerned about the well-being of the professor/the people in his life, but i'm also anxious about the course content being set back.

one day later. i receive an email. the entire course has been cancelled for the term. i am worried and upset, as it is a course required for me to graduate, and i don't have a backup. thankfully, i'm able to take another econ class to satisfy my credit requirement, and i'm also able to swap the art class for a writing class to satisfy my creative arts requirement. crisis averted. i'm still taking an art class next term.

january 2022. new classes begin, online for 4 weeks bc of omicron, then back to campus. my art class is a group of 20, mostly art majors with a few people like myself scattered in as well. we start a discord server. the teacher of my art class (let's call him H) is not who any of us were expecting. i keep an open mind despite being extremely overwhelmed by the descriptions of the course content, which had a lot more art theory and had some very challenging assignments, much more so than the prereq. makes sense i guess, it's an upper level course, but i'm still nervous.

weeks pass. people are becoming increasingly frustrated with the class and its content. here are just a few things brought up:

40+ pages of reading every week - started with 80 but teacher cut it down to 40

not being taught how to use programs in class

being expected to have computers strong enough for certain programs or having access to one

"lectures" are just vague discussions about stuff from the reading and sometimes aren't even related

in general it's hard for any of us to even engage in any of the material because it isn't important for our assignments

january 27th. one person, who i will call X, spoke with his advisor, who said that H is experienced in painting, not digital art. turns out that the prof who dropped the class in term 1 was supposed to teach this class, but couldn't. H was the only person they could bring in last minute.

january 30th. another person, S, says flat out that they don't want to waste the semester self teaching and doing almost nothing during class time. she asks if we think if bringing this up to the dept head is reasonable. a debate starts as to what would even happen. some of us, including myself, do NOT want the class cancelled, as we are graduating this year and will not graduate without the class credits. i bring up that maybe this course is usually taught like this, but X says that he had asked the dept head last term about the course content, and, as it turns out, it is VERY different than what we've been doing. while i'm not going into a creative arts career and therefore these courses aren't too important to me, the arts majors require these courses and this information, so it's a big deal for them. X is very firm on believing that H is not qualified to teach the course, and i agree with him. other common contributors in the group chat agree with us as well.

today, february 1st. nobody is thrilled to return to campus next week. nobody is thrilled to attend class tomorrow on zoom either. another person, Z, also brings up that she is frustrated that H is unqualified. i ask if anyone is planning on just skipping, because i agree with the others that i'm not getting much of anything from class time and would rather spend that time working on other assignments. some people want the class to stay online since we won't be taught the programs anyway. a few other people also don't plan on attending. tensions are running high and everything is up in the air.

where do we go from here? i'm wondering if some people will stop attending all together, or if more than 1-2 of us will bring it up to the dept head or others in the arts department. the main problem is that i don't know what the solution is. if H isn't qualified to teach the standard course content but they can't bring in anything else, they can either cancel the class or keep it going with H and his curriculum. i obviously don't want the former as i won't graduate this year without this course, but i also don't look forward to two more months of nothing that i'm paying $3000 for.

#skye.txt #storytime!

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vale-studies-ir · 3 years

Text

Hello lovely people!

It seems that life made me take a leave of absence from tumblr. Thanks to all of you who have continued to interact with my page! I'm sorry if I've missed any messages or questions in the time that I've been away. I'm back now and I'll continue to share my journey with you all...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In order to be able to keep moving forward, I think it's important to accept the past and move on. Accept any of the difficulties that happened, and see them as moments you've gone through that have made you stronger. My way of accepting and turning over a new page will be through this post.

I haven't shared too much information about my studies and how they've been going. My studyblr was very new, and I was using it more as a means for motivation by seeing all the wonderful things people in the community were doing. Little by little, I started to make posts of my own.

So let me formally introduce myself and share my ongoing journey...

My name is Valentina, I go by Vale for short. I jumped from graduating from my BA in International Relations and Political Science in the Spring of 2018 to starting my PhD studies in International Relations the Fall semester of that same year. No break, very smart... I know. That's only just the beginning. I'm not sure how it works abroad, but here doctoral students usually go through most of their studies being funded by a graduate assistantship. This pays tuition and provides a stipend through working as a TA (graduate teaching assistant). Of course they vary across universities and departments. When I was applying to the PhD program, one of my professors advised me not to accept if I was not given funding. There are only a limited number of spots that are given to incoming students each year that will be accepted as a TA.

In March of 2018 I received notification that I was accepted into the PhD program in International Relations at my university, however, the department could not guarantee funding for me. This put me at a loss, and I spend months wondering where this was going and what I would do. Because I'm an immigrant in the US, though I've been living here practically my whole life, I didn't have too many options. My mobility is constrained.. my access to scholarships is constrained (even though I may qualify for them in terms of academics and merit, migration status trumps over all of it). I was lost, to say the least. My family can't afford to have paid for this program or a Master's program out of pocket, and I am not able to take out student loans even if I wanted to.

Regardless of this all, I still attended the incoming graduate student orientation; which surprised the outgoing graduate program director. She did not think I would show up, considering the whole funding predicament. She and the new GPD told me that they would try to find something for me. On the first day of class, I showed up, still not knowing what would become of this situation. Not knowing if I would actually get to start the semester or not. We are usually given a week to pay tuition - because of status, I am considered an international student so my tuition came out to nearly $10,000 for three courses. That day, out of nowhere, I was told that the dean of our school (School of International and Public Affairs) was looking for a graduate assistant for new projects that he wanted to work on. In the span of a few hours, I ended up interviewing with him, being told that they would let me know because there was another student they were considering, and later being called and told that I got the position. I was ecstatic. I called my parents in tears. This was actually happening; I was actually going to be able to start my PhD.

It all happened so fast. It all seemed so exciting. The dean seemed very enthusiastic and pleased that I would be working with him. Things eventually took a turn for the worst...

Transitioning into graduate school itself is extremely difficult. Many graduate students find themselves experiencing heightened stress and strain on their mental health. I did not give myself the space to transition into graduate school without the added stress of being a doctoral student, without the added expectations. On top of that, the dean had not had a graduate assistant before. This was new for him too. The expectations of me were blurred and my contract would only last for a year to be considered for possible renewal (the typical TA contract in my original department lasts 4 years), this led to disaster. I needed this position to continue to fund my studies, so I needed to make sure that I was on top of my work expectations. Because these expectations were unclear, the dean's secretary took advantage. It seems they were short staffed, and I was given administrative tasks that did not belong to me. I was made to come in to the office for strictly 20 hours a week. (Our contract states that we work up to 20 hours a week). If I was ever sick and missed a day, that would be added onto the hours for the next week. So if I missed a day where I was supposed to be in the office for 5 hours, I'd have to be there for 25 hours the following week. A breach in the contract, I know - but who was I, a lowly student, against the dean? This office (a shared space) was not a place where a person could focus on studying. There were students coming in and out, loud conversations occurring, and having to see if the actual student employee in charge of taking phone calls was at their desk - if not, I would have to man the phone. While I was doing administrative tasks for the dean's secretary, the dean was having me create themed presentations and CO-LECTURE with him. Me, a person who had been an undergraduate student only months earlier. I had to create these presentations from scratch and know all of the material. All of my focus had to be on this. My performance in my own classes and mental health declined quickly. I could not focus, I could not get my reading assignments done, I felt unprepared. I felt like a failure.

After a year, I realized that it was not worth to have my tuition paid for if I could not focus on my classes and was set up for failure. It took a lot, but ultimately I turned down the contract renewal. Here comes the fun part. My GPA dropped tremendously. I graduated Magna Cume Laude just a year before. I developed depression and didn't realize it; to the point where a friend practically made me go to counseling. The office manager at my actual department knew what I was going through. I had shared a lot of my experience with her. She advocated for me. Because of this, I was told that there was a student who had been awarded an assistantship for the incoming Fall 2019 semester, but had decided not to take it. The contract was going to be made for me instead, for not 4 but for 5 years since I had only come in with a BA degree. When they ran it through the associate dean's office... it was denied. My GPA was lower than the threshold. A LOT lower. I was told by the GPD - the same woman who had just started her position that said she would help me, the woman that had gone on maternity leave during that whole year after she started meaning she was not aware of the situation - that I should really take my studies more seriously. She received a very long email from me and apologized afterwards, to say the least. Nothing could be done.

I had no funding, only savings and ended up working Full Time in Fall of 2019 in order to try to pay for 1 course, that costed me a little over $3,000. Somehow, even though I strongly considered it, I managed not to drop out. By this time, the majority of the courses I had taken before had INs - incomplete grades. Two of them had automatically turned into Fs. Things were not okay.

I got a bit of a mental break during that Fall semester. I worked in a friendly environment. The office manager pulled some strings and let me work as an office assistant there... so I was still at my department, but working as staff. It was a little awkward. I'm eternally grateful to her, she became a close friend. And because of her, someone at another department got word that there was a graduate student who needed funding.

This office manager was good friends with a recently graduated phd student from our department who is now working for a different center in the university. Because she was part of my department, many of my current colleagues know her, and are good friends with her. We spoke, I rushed to get my GPA up to the 3.0 threshold and with the help of my professor's I was able to be awarded an assistantship with that center. I started in December of 2019.

Again, I was ecstatic. Things were looking up. When I went in for the first time, I immediately felt a huge difference. It was a smaller, more homey place; and a lovely environment to be in. The people there were sweet and caring. I've gotten along with the few professors I've had the chance of meeting and working with.

Where did it start going downhill? The professor that recommended me (graduate from my home department) continuously requested that I work with her. Her reason being that I got along better with her (something that I was not aware of). Because she considered herself as my friend, professional lines were horribly blurred. I found myself doing additional work for her as a "favor for a friend." She then started having us meet multiple times a week for hours - distracting from the time I needed to actually get work done. This center does not cap classes - I've had to grade for up to 400 students in one semester. The meetings she scheduled were incredibly unproductive, and I found myself having to take extra time to get the grading done. Again, my own studies were effected. The past academic year went on like this. I ended up assisting in creating a new course and new assignments from scratch.

Later I noticed that something was wrong. I was doing way more work than stipulated by my contract. She was giving me access to her courses that I was not assigned to grade for. Instead of assisting for one course in the semester (the one with the highest enrollment), I was assisting for three. This was constantly under the guise of 'friendship'. How was I supposed to reject my 'friend'? When I tried to draw professional boundaries, I was met with resistance.

My mental health declined again in the fall and I missed a few of her scheduled meetings (meetings which she said were NOT mandatory). Because of this, she decided to throw me under the bus with the director and making it seem as if I was not actually working - when I was addressing students' needs and getting grades in. This worsened in the Spring. With the help of my counselor I finally got the courage to communicate with her. Albeit through text, because she's the type of person that does not allow you to get a word in during conversation.

"On that note, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk about. I’ve been struggling with concentration and fatigue. This is something that I’ve been working on with my doctor to try to find solutions. I’ve noticed that being in Zoom meetings in general where there’s casual conversation makes it exceptionally difficult for me to focus on what I’m trying to get done. This has been problematic in the work zoom meetings. You probably have noticed I seem really quiet, that is because I’m trying my hardest to focus.

I need to be able to focus during the time I’m assigned to work as a GA. Otherwise, I must take more time to complete tasks that normally wouldn’t take up that long or just wait until the weekends to finish them. That is conflicting as I have set that time to work on class assignments and my own projects. So in the end I end up falling behind and not working well because my productivity levels are being affected."

She seemed to understand me and be supportive. Then I noticed coldness, and condescending passive aggressive texts from her part.

I realized that I could not do this any longer. I could not allow myself to continuously be taken advantage of. Both of the people I've worked for were aware of my vulnerable situation due to migration status. They both knew that it was not easy for me to pay for my studies through any other means. My studies depended on these people, and if they 'liked' me. They abused and absorbed my time to the extent that my studies suffered tremendously.

But I finally stood up for myself. I spoke with the director and she affirmed that my concerns were valid. Time and time again she assured me that my studies should always come first. She supported me. I will no longer be assigned to work with this person.

I finally feel heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 3 years since I started my program. A lot has happened in this time. I have a lot of catching up to do this summer if I want to stay on track and take my comprehensive exams by the end of the year. But someone finally heard me, acknowledged the wrongdoings and helped me.

Don't let people walk over you and take advantage of you. I'm learning this the hard way.

Speak your truth.

#my story #my phd story #experiences #struggles #growth #don't give up #don't silence yourself #share your story #speak your truth #long post #studyblr #phdblr #phd studyblr #phd student #gradblr #grad student #stand up for yourself #keep moving forward

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sorryimanon · 4 years

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A Bit Stir Crazy: Pt 1

Summary: You’re bit of a hot head, so is Bakugou. So what happens when the two of you have to quarantine together for 30 days?

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, sexual tension, inevitable smut, slow burn.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!Reader

Spring finally makes it way to the city of Musutafu, which also means spring break is about to commence. There was only two days left of school before the students endure a week break of relaxation and the possibility of illegal drinking. However, the sudden outbreak of a deadly virus isolates you and your best friend of five years , Katsuki Bakugou, to quarantine together. Tensions are high, and so are both of your sex drive.

<<<

It was your second semester here at Hero University, and so far everything was smooth sailing. You’ve been on top of each of your classes, and most of your classmates are pretty much family by now. Of course, no one can replace Kirishima and Katsuki. Those two have been in your life since the second you stepped into Aziwa’s classroom. 5 years of friendship gave them the role of being your protective brothers. Every guy you’ve dated over the past 3 years had to face the wrath of both Kirishima and Katsuki. In most cases, some would find this possessiveness tedious, but you found it quite comforting knowing they are looking out for you. They were also hard on you and your studies, but only because they care for you. Both of them know about your dream of being a combat medic for pro-heroes, considering your energy restoration quirk, so they were extra tough on you.

However, everything came to a halt the day before spring break. You were currently in Advanced Hero History class when the announcement happened. The teacher, mid lecture, put her textbook down and glanced at the speaker above the door.

“Testing...1 2 3... this thing is working right? AHEM, attention students of Hero University, we’ve been told there’s recently been a sudden outbreak of a virus that’s described as deadly as the plaque!” The speakers voice reverberated across the whole academy. He continued,” We want to make sure that everyone is safe and sound and takes precaution of this virus. The board of admissions at HU have decided to cancel classes and all events at the university tomorrow-”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of the announcement. Everyone in the classroom was busy celebrating and screaming at the top of their lungs. Seems like the issue with the deadly virus evaporated immediately. The thought of getting out early for spring break was more important apparently.

Ms.Leech informed the class to still read the assigned chapters and be ready for a test the first day after break.

You quickly shoved everything your messenger bag and made a beeline to the door. The hallways were far from deserted. Usually classes don’t get out at the same time, but today every student occupied the cramped halls in the building.

“Y/N!” Someone yelled amidst the crowd of loud students. You overtly looked around and spotted the all too familiar spiky red hair and angry looking blonde by the exit. You giggled and maneuvered your way over to them.

“Did you hear the announcement! We get an early spring break!” Kirishima giddily said as you guys all walked side by side on the strip to the apartment complex.

“No shit Sherlock, the announcement was broadcasted across the whole school.” Bakugou responded while rolling his eyes.

“I’m so excited though! That means I have more time to study for my exams!” You jumped with excitement.

“Exams? That’s not for awhile you fucking nerd-” Bakugou was cut off when you grabbed a handful of his hair and aggressively pulled it. “YOU SHITTY WOMAN DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!”

Spring break flashed by quickly, leaving only a day left before classes begin again. Thankfully, you seem to have checked everything off your list of things needed to be accomplished during break. The only thing you had left to do was finish your reading for adv.hero history.

After an endless hour of reading, you decided to make a hot pot of coffee. When you walked into the kitchen of your shared apartment with Kirishima and Katsuki, you noticed a sticky note hanging from the fridge.

It read,

Went to go pick up Kirishima from the airport. Get take out plz. The usual

-B.

You smiled and immediately dialed the noodle shop to go. Kirishima used his spring break wisely and went to visit an exotic island with his family. He would FaceTime you and Bakugo occasionally telling funny stories about his time on the island. Although the thought never occurred at the time, you now felt like you wasted your spring break doing boring mundane things. Yes you had Katsuki to accompany you, but he was gone most of the time hanging out with his other friends. Which hurt, granted, but you understand that he has other friends besides you. Needless to say, you didn’t do that much “relaxation” during spring break.

Suddenly, your phone started going off on the countertop. Katsuki’s name flashing on the screen. Confused, you answered his call anyway, not thinking much of it.

“Y/N turn on the news now,” His said with urgency.

You didn’t argue back, knowing something is off, and raced to the living room. The tv was already on, so you just changed the channels till it reached the local news station. With the volume at its maximum, you sat still and listened to the news anchor.

“This just in, Japan has issued a nationwide lockdown due to the spread of the deadly virus. We’ve been told to report for all citizens to please stay in your homes till further notice. And as for anyone who has left the country, you’ll be permitted to stay within the country you’ve flown to and wait till further instructions...”

Oh shit

“Hey hey guys don’t worry I’ll be fine. I mean, isn’t this great news! We don’t have to go to our scheduled classes till further notice! Plus, I think I can score my shot with the maid here at my hotel for the time being,” Kirishima gloated with pure positivity.

“Baka. You do realize there’s a fucking virus going around right? Not to mention there’s a possibility you could die from it.” Bakugou said, trying to throw some common sense at Kiri.

“Right right right. Yes I do know...but that’s not going to stop me from getting laid bro.”

That was one of the few FaceTime calls you got from Kiri. After the third, he stopped calling all together. You grew worrisome for your best friend. Even though he doesn’t show it, Bakugou was worried sick not hearing from Kiri either.

It’s been 5 days since the initial lockdown. So far, you and Bakugou have been doing each of your usual routines at home. First thing in the morning you always prepared breakfast and read a few chapters from your current book. Bakugo did laundry duty and did the dishes after breakfast. Afternoon was just recreational duties. Both you and Bakugou would reside in your rooms doing whatever to ease off the bordem. Evenings were mainly for eating dinner and watching movies.

However, after 10 days, you couldn’t keep up with the routine anymore. You skipped breakfast and didn’t dare to open up another book. Your bedroom became a reminder on how much you’ve spent cooped up in there. Not to mention how easily angered you’ve become.

One day you got angry at how Bakugou was chewing his food. Usually it never irritated you, but now the sight just made your blood boil.

“Who the fuck taught you how to eat?” You spat abruptly.

“Says the person who forgets to clean the tub after they shave their whole entire jungle of a body,” he retored back.

A faint gasp left your mouth, uaware that you completely forgot to clean the tub last night after your feminine duties.

“Don’t know who you’re trying to look presentable for. It’s not like you got a boyfriend, not with all that hair, tch.” he hit you with one last punch to the gut.

You got up from where you were sitting at and begrudgingly walked to your bedroom, locking it in the process. Not daring to leave your room, you open your laptop and started a movie without Bakugou.

Out of all days, day 15 by far was the worst. The air conditioner unit stopped working, causing y’all to wake up with drenched bodies. Your room especially was humid, since you had no access to a window. The colored coordinated folders from your book bag had to suffice, using them as makeshift fans. Eventually your arms grew tired of constantly doing the same motion repeatedly, so you finally left your room in hopes for the living room to be much cooler.

You stopped immediately when you caught a glimpse of Bakugou slumped on the L-shaped couch. Not to mention, he was shirtless as well. Heat flushed to your cheeks, making you glow a crimson red. You couldn’t stop staring at the view in front of you. Yes you’ve seen Bakugou shirtless before. Countless of times in fact. The boys would practically walk naked around the apartment, not caring about how you’d react. You were deemed as one of the guys.

But this time it triggered something within you. Something you haven’t quite felt in a long time. Maybe it was the quarantine getting to your head, but you couldn’t help but to wonder how it would feel to be flushed against his naked chest right now. Or if he was the type to snake his hands around your waist and pull you even closer. The thought excited you for a second, but quickly realized this was Katsuki you were thinking about.

Katsuki shifted uncomfortably in his spot, eliciting a whimper during the process. The noise alone made your lower stomach tense with a warm sensation. This was creepy. Watching Bakugou shirtless while sleeping would surly make him go ballistic, but the sight of sweat glistening on his abdomen made his abs more prominent. An image of you being underneath him kept flashing in your head like picture show. A crude and undeniably satisfying picture show. More explicit thoughts kept trying to barge into your brain. So, you ran back into your room and planted yourself headfirst on the floor. Hopefully these thoughts will go away by tomorrow

The thoughts never went away. In fact, they were the reason you didn’t get any sleep last night. A half naked Bakugou Katsuki kept interrupting your innocent dreams, filling them in with dirty scenarios involving the both of you. You knew you were fucked once you heard the faint sound of Katsukis footsteps in the kitchen. You’ve been up all night, with no pure dream in mind. There’s no saving your sleep schedule now. Maybe if you apologize to Katsuki for acting irrational the other day, the thoughts would go away.

Defeated, you got up from your comfortable bed and treaded into unsafe territory. There sat Bakugo, criss cross on the kitchen island eating cereal. It wasn’t an unusual sight, he was the embodiment of a fucking cat.

“Morning shit head,” you playfully teased.

Bakugou raised his head and looked expectingly at you.

Even just looking him dead in the eye raised the temperature throughout your body. This is going to be a nightmare.

“You alright Y/N? Your whole face is flushed...” He paused, eyeing you suspiciously. “You’re not sick are you? If so, I’m kicking you out. I don’t wanna fucking die because of you”.

How charming.

You scratched the back of your neck. “Uh no Katsuki, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. My behavior towards you was unacceptable. This whole quarantine thing has really made me-”

“Shut up. No need to apologize for some stupid quarrel we got into. Besides, we’ve gotten into worse arguments right?”

You nodded your head, agreeing to how truthful his statement was. It was true. 5 years of friendship and not one time have you guys stopped being friends because of a heated argument.

“Exactly, don’t sweat about it. I’m just glad you finally came out of your hole. I missed my movie buddy.” He gave you a lopsided grin, to which on cue, your stomach tied itself into a knot.

“Great, because I found a movie last night on my queue that I think you’d like” You beamed as you started making yourself a bowl cereal. Katsuki grunted as a response and leaped off from the island.

You were too busy focusing on making the cereal that you didn’t hear the faint thump of footsteps behind you. Then, almost as some sort of harsh punishment, Katsuki rested his head between your right shoulder blade. He hummed once he felt your body tense up. His lips were merely inches away from your outer ear. Any other movement from him and you wouldn’t hesitate to throw the gallon of milk at his head. But what he said next caused your whole face to turn pallid.

“Also, its kind of rude to watch someone sleeping don't cha think?” he whispered before throwing his bowl into the sink beside you.

At that moment you knew, you were completely fucked.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki x you #katsuki smut #bnha bakugou #bnha fanfiction #bakugo imagine #bnha fic #kacchan #ao3 bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 5: Logicality

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Content Warning: strong emotion (duh), yelling, food mentions (one line).

Word count: 1.8k

He remembered back in high school, when things had gotten rough for him. Not that they had a reason to. Virgil had told him countless times that it was okay that he didn’t have a reason, he was allowed to feel sad just because, but his childhood friend’s words meant nothing during the times he was curled up on his bed at three am with a black hole in his chest, quietly sobbing apologies to the soulmate that could certainly feel his sadness as intensely as he did. If it was just him suffering, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

When university began, and his mental health began to improve, Patton was giddy. It took him a few months to adjust to missing his family, getting used to the crowded dorms, and the increased pressure of classes. Except now the classes were about things he really enjoyed, clearly pushing him forward in his Psychology career, and the people were so much nicer than in highschool. Bullies didn’t really… exist in college, not the way they did back there, and he found himself flourishing.

But now, no longer constantly focused on his mental health and that alone, a part of him, deep inside, was a little bit worried that he didn’t even have a soulmate. He never really felt the strong emotions his friends claimed to feel, emotions clearly detached from them but oh so real. Virgil was privy to spurts of pure courage, almost ecstasy, that would have him jumping off his bed to pace on the floor with a huge grin stretched across his face, trying to dispel the energy. Janus, a friend he made in one of his psych classes, sometimes talked about the negative emotions he got from his soulmate, the surges of hatred and bitterness that made him curl his slender fingers around the nearest object until it snapped or his fingers cramped up. The borrowed emotion, both good and bad, were something Patton hadn’t experienced yet, and the implications of that frightened him. He wanted a soulmate so badly… he would be crushed if he didn’t have one.

These were the thoughts rushing through his mind as the three of them walked into Philosophy 109, Virgil and Janus having an animated conversation about last classes homework. Something about Karl Marx; he wasn’t sure what they were torn about, exactly. He always had a tough time listening in this class, not due to the content of the lectures, but just because something about the prof set him on edge. Virgil offered that ‘his voice is kind of irritating’ and Janus pitched in that ‘his slides are always sloppy’, but none of that was quite… it. It wasn’t anything he could put a finger on, but just walking into the classroom had him stewing slightly.

Just as Janus was seemingly reaching the peak of his arguments, hands waving wildly, Virgil dug his elbow into Patton’s ribs.

“Hey, did you want to get dinner after class or wait until before English?”

The elbow in his side hurt, and before he realized what he was doing, Patton had shoved Virgil off of him. The shorter man stumbled, nearly knocking into the professor that had just walked into the room before catching his balance. His brows furrowed.

“Dude, you good?”

Patton’s eyes widened, almost comically, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil glanced at Janus, who merely shrugged, “Class is about to start.” He gestured meekly at their usual table and they sat, Patton taking the aisle spot before Janus could. Another look was shared between the other two. Patton was usually overly eager to sit in the middle, giggling at Virgil’s snarky notes and stealing Janus’ snacks, but right now he felt on edge. Defensive. Angry.

Huh- that was new.

His leg shook under the table as the professor greeted the class, nearly knocking Virgil’s travel mug off the table if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He was running frantically through his mind, trying to find the trigger that had caused his anger. The day so far had been nothing unusual; morning classes and lunch at the cafeteria (grilled cheese, heck yeah), study session with the dorm in the lawn outside his building. Nothing had gone wrong, and even if this prof wasn’t his favorite, it wasn’t anything he couldn't get over so why-

Oh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that these weren’t his feelings. This wasn’t him. And that thought alone should have snapped him out of it, should have made him jump up and dance on the table because oh my goodness he actually has a soulmate, his worries were for nothing!

Except he couldn’t. Virgil’s concerned glances were increasing in frequency as his pen dug into his paper, trying his hardest to concentrate on the lecture over the raging blood in his ears. His teeth hurt, and he realized he was clenching his jaw hard enough to bite through rock. His leg still jittered, his notes were becoming more sloppy, and for the love of god, if this prof doesn’t stop talking I’m going to-

“WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY?”

At first, Patton thought he was the one who said it. His note paper had been ripped from his notebook, crumpled beneath his fist, and Virgil and Janus sure both looked shocked enough. But then the voice continued, coming from the back of the class.

“You’re a terrible professor, are you aware of that?! Did you get your teaching degree from a fucking Dollar Store?! I’m surprised you graduated middle school, you half-witted, socially insensitive, entitled, piece of-”

“Mr. Starr, out of my classroom! Now!” The prof bellowed, causing Virgil to shrink into his hoodie. The man flew past the three of them, slamming the door behind him. Patton didn’t even realize he was following him, water bottle in hand, until the prof tried to call him back to his seat, which he ignored.

That was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

By the time he was standing in the empty hallway, his rage had started to calm down. His hand was starting to unfurl, leaving red crescents in his palms from his nails, but he could still feel the simmering anger rolling and lapping at his insides. Curling around his stomach, pushing at his heart, twisting in his fingertips like a flag in a gentle wind.

A slam down the hallway reminded Patton of what he’d set out to do, and he took off after the sound, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t lose the man he was chasing. After that freak-out, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man dropped the class, since he obviously hated the prof so much. And he didn’t get a good enough look at him, so if he lost him now, who’s to say when he would find him again?

Patton exited the building, assuming this was the door he’d heard a moment ago, panting slightly. He surveyed the parking lot desperately, the lawn surrounding the building, the walkways leading across the campus like vines, and… yes! There he was, standing against one of the trees, head tucked to his chest, hands shoved into his pockets almost aggressively.

This is stupid, what are you even going to say? He pondered as he crossed the grass quickly, sizing up the man in front of him. Black button up, blue jeans, hair pushed out of his face, and Patton was reminded of just how gay he was. This man was gorgeous, in an I-could-kill-you kind of way.

He didn’t acknowledge Patton as he approached, but he could see the man watching him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. Wordlessly, Patton handed him the bottle of water, trying to hide a smile when he took it hesitantly, popping the top off and taking a sip.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Patton squeaked, taking it back when he was done.

“I didn’t expect anyone to follow me.”

“Well…” He gestured to himself lightly, giggling, “I’m here.”

The man stood his ground, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention, “You don’t have to stay. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.”

“Nonsense!” Patton grinned, “I’ll just steal a friend’s notes. Plus, I’m sure you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“I’m not bothered! I’m serious. Sit down.” Patton gestured at the ground, flopping down onto the lawn. He looked at him warily, like he was weighing the pros and cons in his head, before joining him, leaning against the tree.

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Logan.”

“Nice to meet ya, Logan! So, why d'ya scream at Jacobson like that?” He said it lightly, but he didn’t miss the slight wince from the other.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not generally one to lose my temper. It’s just…” He looked like he wanted to apologize more, stop talking, like he was being a nuisance. Patton gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a nod, which seemed to be enough to spur the other on.

“I can’t stand him. He injects his own philosophies and values into the concepts we’re studying, and it muddles the main ideologies to the point where it’s hardly about the original topic anymore. It’s as if he’s teaching a course on himself.”

“Why don’t you just drop it?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so cutting, but if Logan was bothered, he didn’t show it in the small shake of his head.

“I need the credit. And by the time I realized how flawed his lessons are, it was past the drop date. I didn’t have time to fill out the paperwork, so I figured I’d muscle through it.”

“Well… it is half way through the semester, so you did pretty good.”

He murmured something under his breath that Patton didn’t catch, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not good enough’, before looking up to meet Patton’s eyes for the first time. Boy oh boy, if Patton hadn’t been able to breathe before, he was fairly certain he would die at this point.

“Why did you follow me?”

It was at that point that it occurred to Patton: he had no proof. Sure, the rise and peak of his mysterious anger coincided perfectly with Logan’s outburst, but if their interaction so far was anything to go by, this guy wouldn’t fully trust something that wasn’t one hundred percent factual. Claiming to be his soulmate might just scare him away, and for all that was good and holy, Patton didn’t want that to happen. So… he’d waited nineteen years to meet his soulmate, he could take it slow. Bring up his history with depression, the emotions that Logan must have felt at the same time, and maybe, hopefully, let him come to his own conclusions. He wasn’t in a rush.

“I just thought you might want a friend.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #ts soulmate au

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marginsofmarga · 3 years

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You are a Survivor: A Reminder to my Future Self

Dear Survivor,

On the 12th day of January 2000, a bouncing baby girl was born and was destined to meet the world. She was innocently ecstatic, bursting into tears as a newborn, and her parents couldn’t be more grateful to have her as their daughter. As she turned eighth months, her parents were in disbelief for she had to deal with a serious medical condition called intussusception — a form of bowel obstruction in which one segment of the intestine telescopes inside of another. She was in a 50-50 situation during that time and the doctors did not provide any assurance for her to live when she had to undergo a surgical operation.

The baby girl was you.

Yes, you. Luckily, here you are. You made it. Your life started after such a tragic incident. In an early age like that, you are already a survivor. What a precious privilege it is for you to be alive. You have a purpose and it is yet to be discovered.

But brace yourself because it’s going to be one heck of a roller coaster ride.

Anxiety and the ‘new normal’

Growing up, you are this girl who is full of fears. You are afraid of anything that might put you in danger and you are terrified of the uncertainty. Diving deeper, your big fear is not knowing what the future holds. And I‘m sure a lot of people can relate.

This fear was especially present when the COVID-19 pandemic began. The world seems to have ground to a halt because of the virus. As a fearful person, this is such a big deal. In retrospect, conditions created by the pandemic were taking a psychological toll. You were full of anxieties that you even experience panic attacks. Remember how difficult it was when you couldn’t sleep? And how overthinking consumed you for months? You were drowning in pain and fright and you never knew when it will be over. You were stressed about so many things: your health if ever you and your loved ones catch the virus, the mental agony it creates, your education when setbacks and transitions happened, the stress of what this year would be like, the postponed travels, and all the uncertainty. Anxiety bugged you for too long. It took all your strength.

Think about where you were earlier last year. You were in your second year in college. Just before the world slowed down, you were just a typical college student who tries her best to go through the day of university life. Back then, you were kilometers away from home which required you to rent a dormitory. On weekdays, you basically had a routine – waking up as the sun rises, getting ready for school, wearing your neatly ironed uniform and taking a short commute when going to school. Having meaningful lessons, small talks during the breaks with your friends, exchanging information with your professors, and learning day by day made the regular jiffs worth it. Later on, the pandemic took place. It felt as if the world stopped. Everything changed in a split second. Over the past few months, you’ve experienced an unprecedented shift in your way of life due to COVID-19. Coping up with the transition from face-to-face to online classes wasn’t easy.

The journey you’ve been through was on a rugged terrain and so full of ups and downs. You were stuck at home juggling chores, classes and your side hustle, content creation. It seemed so difficult to adjust; there was a change in the situation of class’ atmosphere, you struggled with time-management and self-motivation along the way, workload is way larger than regular classes, barriers occur such as bad internet service, power interruptions and so on. Not to mention creating content when you are not at your best. All these left you in a crucial spot.

Challenges as the virus came closer

It was in the month of March when you found out that your grandmother, 72 years old, tested positive for COVID-19. Much to your disbelief, you were scared to death. It felt as if a thorn got pricked in your heart. Your grandma means so much to you. She is such a remarkable woman. A heart like hers would give so unselfishly. She’s a combination of love and laughter. The thought of losing her is painful to handle.

Fortunately, she was asymptomatic. But we never knew what might happen in a snap.

The pandemic is impacting everyone. And your family wasn’t an exception. It meant making big changes in everyday routines and raised anxiety in every household member. The alarming numbers gave you a picture of how deadly the virus is. It’s killing people on a large scale. So much about the virus is out of your control. Not just the virus itself but all other aspects of life.

Time often makes you play the waiting game. It quickly passes by when you want it to stay still, but doesn’t seem to tick at all when you want it to hurry up. At this point, you are deeply hoping that the pandemic comes to an end.

Disastrous encounters

In the early morning of November 1, 2020, Super Typhoon Rolly (International name, Goni), made its first landfall in the Philippines in Bicol – with catastrophic winds of up to 280 kilometers per hour and torrential rainfall. Reading about the weather update, you began to ponder how tormenting it is to deal with such predicament: super typhoon in time of pandemic. That’s two disasters in a row.

Can you recall waking up to howling winds and heavy-pouring rains? Of course you could. It was almost seven o’clock in the morning. Windows were intensely rattling in the wind. Some were even shattering. You were in your room full of worries, wondering when the catastrophe will end as your door started to tremble caused by the blustery weather. You immediately got up and went to your parents’ room. Your little brothers were still asleep. Your mom was securing some of your belongings and your dad wasn’t there so you looked for him outside through peeking by the window. You spotted him taking his good ‘ole motorcycles out of the garage and transferring those in the front gate. As you saw that the flood started to rise, you ran into your room and packed all of your things in plastic bags. As you finish, you prepared for breakfast. There were drizzles from the kitchen windows due to the gushing rain. Picking up new door mats was your idea but just then, the flood water began to enter. You tried to mop it out at first until it became too much too handle. It was not just a wet floor anymore. You continued to put everything on high places of the house. You weren’t sure whether the flood is going to reach above the ankle as usual but as several minutes or so passed, the water started to reach the knees and outside the house, the water reached the thighs of an average person.

It was a great relief that you were living in a two-storey house, but the second floor was usually untouched and unoccupied, and at that exceptional moment, it was your only safe refuge. That isolated part of the house had to be cleaned first so you and your brothers had to wait sitting on the stairs for the meantime. Almost everything was a bit slippery and taking a few steps to the stairs, your mom accidentally slid and fell on her buttocks, leaving her semi-injured with a small wound on the heel. Aching in pain, there she was as your anxiety began to escalate with everything that was happening.

It was past 12 o’clock during noon as the rain lie low and the strong winds stopped. Meanwhile, flood water kept entering the house. It even reached your bed. The unprecedented intensity of the calamity made the water rise so high. Other appliances were soaked in flood water. You all tried to secure everything in the house, but the sight of flood-affected area was horrible.

It seemed such a cruel irony that while battling the pandemic, a disaster as strong as Rolly made repercussions to your family and other families. It was such a struggle to recover from the losses. Some appliances were broken and your dad’s piggery was devastated. The agricultural damage it also brought to the small rice field your dad was handling affected your finances. The calamity knocked out mobile phone services, uprooted trees and destroyed critical infrastructures. The neighboring towns, particularly those which are near Mayon Volcano were engulfed in floodwater and volcanic mudflows. How awful! It was a twofold challenge on your concern. You badly want to help but you’re still a jobless student.

Just days after the onslaught of Typhoon Rolly, Typhoon Ulysses roughly crossed the same track and made landfall on November 11. Disaster after disaster. Destruction after destruction – in the midst of a pandemic. It was unbelievable, it was beyond imagination, and all at the same time, dreadful.

Multiple factors contributed to this turnabout. Most of the time, caused by circumstances beyond anybody’s control.

The rise after the fall

When you were in despair, you prayed everyday and kept your faith intact hoping and believing that everything’s going to be all right. You stayed strong when you are at your weakest and you let God move in His mysterious ways. Tomorrow awaits. There is hope. The anxieties were no longer haunting you. You realized that you are doing the best you can, you are letting go of the things you cannot control and you start to focus on things that actually matter. You learned to embrace the uncertainty by accompanying it with faith. Your greatest fears especially the consequences of this pandemic took all your strength but there was redemption. It may be chaotic as it seems but you managed to make it through. The girl who was full of fears is now full of strength.

You survived your online classes, finished the whole semester alongside content creation with new projects coming in, and you adapted to a new reality. The monstrous and unimaginable situation brought by the virus was difficult to deal with but you still took control of what you can actually muster. You learned to manage your time wisely. You created a workspace and followed a study schedule. You made learning a joy. You made content creation a passion. You tried your best in keeping your spirits up for the sake of surpassing all of the hardships.

One afternoon, while you were running errands with your mom, a notification popped. You were informed by a block mate that you are a dean’s lister. Wow. It made your parents proud. You were bursting in bliss. It was totally fulfilling. Memories suddenly flashed back. You remember all the challenges you faced, the hardwork you made and the efforts you poured bore an academic achievement in the midst of the pandemic. It all paid off.

Look at your grandmother. She’s doing well, healthy and is now back to her normal routine. You also get to spend more time with her now. A new tradition for the family was made. Every month, there is a “family day” where joyful memories are created. Being with your family is a blessing, take note of that. Don’t be so busy watching out for what’s ahead of you but rather, enjoy where you are. Never miss any opportunity to spend time with your loved ones.

When two super typhoons as powerful as Rolly and Ulysses both left trails of destruction in your region, it terribly affected many families and your family wasn’t an exception. It struck as the Philippines continues to battle the pandemic. Despite it all, your family recovered. After the previous crops have been ravaged by the merciless storms, the succeeding harvest was a bounty.

Seeing how the super typhoons affected millions of people in eight regions, it made your heart shatter. There was something in you that wanted to lend a helping hand not only to your family but to the community as well. Good thing, an opportunity came. You were asked to be the chairperson in your town for a relief operation called Barya Ni Juan, a movement made by Discover MNL in collaboration with Bicol Bloggers and other Bicolano brands, which provided aid for 1,000 families in 10 Bicolano communities that were gravely affected by Typhoon Rolly and Ulysses. Of course, you accepted the offer without thinking twice. With the help of your friends, you managed to accomplish the mission by distributing 500 peso-worth each relief pack to 100 homes. It may be a small act of kindness but you saw smiles on many faces. It felt gratifying. The greater your storm, the brighter your rainbow.

What a life! You’ve learned that things don’t always turn out the way you planned or the way you think they should. You’ve learned that you can turn pain into power and you can overcome anything that was meant to destroy you. You’ve become patient with yourself and your growth, knowing that good things take time. You fell so many times but you were able to get back up.

Be proud of how far you’ve come – the silent battles you fought, the adversities you faced, the moments you had to wipe your own tears and pat yourself on the back. You’ve gone through the dark side of life but you have gained strength, courage and confidence like no other.

Always remind yourself these:

“I surpassed many challenges.” “I am capable of everything I set my mind into.” “I take every setback and use it to my advantage.”

One day, you’ll look back and you’ll tell yourself you are indeed a survivor.

With love and light, A stronger version of yourself

_______________________________________________________________________

This story is an entry to ComCo Southeast Asia’s “Write to Ignite Blogging Project Season 2: Dear Survivor”. The initiative continues to respond to the need of our times, as every story comes a long way during this period of crisis. The initiative aims to pull and collate powerful stories from the Philippine blogging communities to inspire the nation to rise and move forward amidst the difficult situation. The “Write to Ignite Blogging Project” Season 2 is made possible by ComCo Southeast Asia, with Eastern Communications and Jobstreet as co-presenters, with AirAsia and Xiaomi as major sponsors, and with Teleperformance as sponsor.

#survivor #pandemic #writing #inspire #tumblr #inspiration #letter

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

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invisible string

Prompt 1 (invisible string by Taylor Swift) from the Klaine/CC Valentine’s Challenge 2021.

Thank you to @klaineccfanficlibrary for jumpstarting this series for me!

Summary: they were always meant to be together

Announcement: this is also the first installment of my folklore series. It pairs well with Lover. I’ll be arranging the stories at some point so they read in track order. Enjoy!

AO3

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Blaine thought it must be strange to sit in the park trying to read but getting distracted by the greenness of the green. The people walking past him didn’t comment on his odd behavior. New Yorkers didn’t care about what other people were doing, they had places to be and no time to care about weirdos admiring grass while sitting on park benches.

But Kurt Hummel wasn’t a true New Yorker. He may fit right in with the city folk in terms of fashion and efficiency yet Kurt was still fundamentally a small-town boy.

He had an eye for details and Blaine had an eye for Kurt.

He loved watching Kurt perfect a particularly challenging dance routine in class. He enjoyed watching Kurt analyze food menus when they went to get lunch together as if deciding on the right dish was going to affect how the rest of his day was laid out. Blaine liked walking with Kurt and actively seeing Kurt take in his surroundings, the strangers walking past them, and the city itself all around them. Sometimes, if Blaine was extremely lucky that day, Kurt would turn to him with a smile—just a little grin, no teeth—and make some sort of comment about what a fellow student was wearing and chuckle under his breath about it when it was particularly bad or sigh in awe if he had been out-fashioned.

On that Friday morning, Blaine was waiting to meet Kurt for their usual coffee date. Well, not quite a date, just a tri-weekly coffee before their shared dance class. Sitting on a park bench admiring the grass's coloring because he didn't have Kurt to admire instead.

It was in a taxi that same night when Blaine realized he was in love with Kurt Hummel.

They had been out dancing with some friends from class celebrating the end of midterms week. Kurt and he decided to share a taxi home because they both lived in the dorms. They were slightly sweaty, the cab driver refused to change the station from something other than whatever radio talk show he was listening to, but they didn’t really care. They had each other and didn’t need music anymore.

Blaine just kept thinking how easy it would be to walk his fingers over to Kurt’s hand and intertwine them. It shocked him so much that he shuttered and Kurt asked him what was wrong. Of course, he stammered out “nothing” and tried to calm himself down.

The taxi wasn’t dark because the city was never dark; Blaine knew if he started to blush Kurt would notice. So he willed himself to breathe and suddenly they were at the campus and going their separate ways while promising to text each other when they were safely inside their dorm. That was that: Blaine was in love with Kurt and he had no idea what to do about it.

****

Teal was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

Colors were always very important to Kurt. They were a way to express himself without too much fear of being treated definitely. At least the bullies weren’t offended by the colors he wore, just the fact that he existed and was very obviously gay.

Now colors weren’t just shouts into the world about his sexual orientation (though they did help with that as did his love of layers), they were emotional markers for him. Reds for romance, blues for sadness, gray for loneliness, etc.…

He started to notice colors more and more often as he spent considerable amounts of time with a fellow student, Blaine Anderson. Like the yellow bowtie, he wore the first time they grabbed coffee. It had been the first weekend of the spring semester, so late in January that they were discussing the possibility of a snow day during the first week back at school. Kurt had been in his element, plenty of layers to remove in the warmth of the coffee shop. Blaine had adorable light gray earmuffs and mittens resting on the table.

They learned a lot about each other that day. Blaine had lived in Roosevelt, NY with his older brother for most of his life until moving to the city for university. He really was only an hour from home, he often said.

They met at NYU.

Kurt was a Performance Studies major at Tisch and Blaine was an education major but they both found themselves in an elective dance class spring semester. They were both freshmen, new to the city, and had a love of coffee. With dance class at 9 am, they made a habit of meeting for coffee beforehand. Friendship just blossomed from there.

It was the end of March now, spring break over and done. Blaine was in the middle of this tale of his 16-year-old self working at the yogurt shop, somewhere between him spilling a pint of blueberry yogurt on his teal shirt and the tie-dye effect that occurred, Kurt realized for the first time: I’m in love with him.

They weren’t even dating. They had only known each other for two months. Yet, here Kurt was walking by this boy’s side laughing at his ridiculous antics, and very much in love.

****

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

One year after their revelations about each other they were sitting in Centennial Park near where Blaine grew up. Instead of simply admiring the grass, as Blaine usually did when he came here, the couple laid out a blanket and had a picnic in it. Blaine had packed everything but Kurt had made all the food. They were a team now if only for the last six months. It’s been the best six months they had ever spent in New York, which was really saying something for Blaine because he had been living here his entire life and Kurt had spent his whole life fantasizing about it.

But somehow their relationship exceeded all of those fantasies and surpassed all of those previous life experiences. Maybe it was because they were doing this together and not alone. For so long they had both been gray and now they had color.

They had found a love that was worth everything they had already gone through and worth anything that they would go through in the future because they had each other and they knew it. Even though it only been six months, Kurt and Blaine knew this was going to be forever for both of them.

One single thread of gold tied them together and neither of them were ever letting go.

#KlaineCCValentines2021 #klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #my fics

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vermin-disciple · 3 years

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Fic Writer Interview

Thank you to @sapphosewrites for tagging me!

Name: Vermin

Fandoms: Currently Star Trek, and DS9 specifically has eaten my brain. But I’ve been in and out of fandom for the past 20 years, so there have been many. I’ve more often been an avid reader and lurker than an active participant, though. The last fandom I was most actively involved in (and wrote the most fic for) was Life on Mars (UK), and that was a while ago. Other fandoms have included: Good Omens, Due South, Sherlock Holmes, and of course my very first gateway fandom, Harry Potter.

Where you post: AO3 and Tumblr. You can still find a lot of my older fic posted on my LJ, although I don’t post there anymore. Every once in a blue moon I get a notification from FF.net and am momentarily reminded that I still technically have an account there (though I can’t remember the last time I used it).

Most popular one-shot: That depends on your definition of a one-shot, lol. My top fic in terms of kudos is False Friends and False Prophets, which is technically part of a series (Where No Occult [or Ethereal] Being Has Gone Before), but then again, all the works in that series are written to work as standalones while existing within a shared crossover universe. If we exclude those then the next option is Freedom’s Just Another Word, except that while that is not currently listed as part of the This Be The Verse series (for thematic reasons), it is based on a flashback in Tell Me You See Me and I do consider it part of that universe, even though it can be read independently.

So I guess my most popular indisputable one-shot would be my first Garak/Bashir fic, Bound in Shallows and in Miseries.

Most popular multichapter: Tell Me You See Me (not that I have a lot to choose from)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: This was more difficult than I expected! Here are the ones that particularly stand out in my mind:

Tin Star (Life on Mars, 2009): Not counting a few drabbles, this was my second work for LoM. The first one, Convergence, is from the POV of a character who doesn’t appear onscreen in canon (and probably doesn’t exist), so Tin Star was my first real attempt at writing the POV of one main cast. I found the idea of writing Gene Hunt pretty intimidating, and was (and still am) very pleased with how this came out. Also, my favorite LoM writer, @lozenger8, beta-read it and told me it was awesome, and 11 years later I still feel all warm and fuzzy about this.

Mater Familias (I, Claudius, 2009): My first and longest work of I, Claudius fanfiction, written for a once annual ficathon on LJ called Femgenficathon (shoutout to @gehayi who modded it - it was a great event). I’m not entirely sure why I landed on this particular idea. I’d been joking about writing IC fic for years, but if you’d asked me prior to writing this what characters I’d most like to write about, Antonia the Younger wouldn’t have been high on the list. But once the idea occurred to me, I really relished delving into Antonia’s psyche. I’m also fond of this fic because there’s so little IC fic out there, and I’m rather pleased to have contributed something. (There was a point a few years ago when there were 6 works of I, Claudius fic on AO3 and 4 of them were by me.)

On the Benefits of a Classical Education (Jeeves & Wooster, 2012) – To quote my author’s note: “at about 1:00 a.m. after a round of grading undergraduate papers, I reached that point of giddy insanity where the idea of writing one's grading comments in Wodehousian pastiche seems like basically the funniest thing, ever. My coping mechanisms, let me show you them.” This is definitely one of the weirdest and silliest things I’ve written, but it still makes me grin when I reread it. (Yes, I do laugh at my own jokes.)

On Transmutation [and Tortoises] (Good Omens, 2011): As someone who has studied (and now teaches) evolutionary theory, I got a big kick out of writing about evolution in a universe where creationism is canon. Not to mention telling jokes about Darwin riding tortoises. (I make a point of reading that particular passage in The Voyage of the Beagle to my students.) And I owe @anthean some credit for giving me the prompt that produced this. :)

Writ in Water (Sherlock Holmes [ACD], 2015): This is essentially an interplay between two brilliant people trying to suss each other out while avoiding talking about their own respective existential crises. There’s no romance between them – it’s just Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler having a meandering conversation while meandering around Rome, after an accidental meeting during the Great Hiatus. My characterization of Irene Adler came out of my dissatisfaction with her characterization in recent adaptations. I think I started c. 2011, and I didn’t finish it until years later. There’s a lot of self-indulgence in this one. I majored in Classic Civ and spent a semester abroad in Rome, and my love for the city is pretty evident throughout. It’s littered with references to ancient history, there’s some gratuitous poetry, and the climax is set in the Protestant Cemetery, which is one of my favorite places in the city.

I honestly think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written.

This Be The Verse (Star Trek: DS9, 2020): This fic is about my strained relationship with kidfic as a genre lol. I periodically get the urge to binge-read all the kidfic for a particular fandom/pairing, but then I usually end up being disappointed by most of it. So this started with me idly contemplating why kidfic often doesn’t work for me (and why I keep reading it anyway). And because of my current fandom preoccupation, this inevitably involved taking a hard look at the delightfully dysfunctional DS9 cast and wondering just what sort of parents they would be, and how their flaws might affect their children, and how the found family aspects of the show might manifest in the next generation. (Not sure how all this idle speculation ended up spiraling so wildly out of control, but here we are, and now I am just overflowing with ideas for this universe.)

I’m not 100% satisfied with all of this fic, but the epilogue is definitely one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. It also has a special place in my heart for being the first multichapter fic I’ve ever finished. (And the first one I’ve posted since I was in high school.)

Fics you were nervous to post: I used to get nervous about all of it (less so, these days). But one of the ones I was most nervous about was probably Convergence, which was my first substantial work in Life on Mars (I’d only written a couple of drabbles prior to this). I was really nervous about writing for LoM, because the setting and the dialogue style were pretty far outside my wheelhouse. Being a 21-year-old Californian, 1970s Mancunian copper slang wasn’t exactly part of my day-to-day vocabulary. (Oh, hey, I’d totally forgotten that you beta-read this for me, @sunnyrea!)

How do you choose your titles: I tend to gravitate to quotes (usually poetry or song lyrics) and/or wordplay of some kind. Sometimes I just pick out a significant word or phrase from the fic itself.

Do you outline: Frequently, although I rarely stick to my outlines religiously.

Complete: Nearly everything I have on AO3 is complete

In progress: Just counting posted WIPs, there’s Tell Me You See Me and Attack of the Giant Mutant Killer Rabbits

Prompts: Sure, but you have to come write them on my shower notepad. ;)

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: I have a number of ideas for additional works set in my This Be The Verse AU, but the one I’ve already written a substantial amount of (~13,000 words) is tentatively titled A Bag Full of God. This I originally had saved as ‘The Other Kind of Kidfic,’ although that’s misleading: it is de-aging fic, but they’re de-aged to 19-year-olds, so they’re not technically kids. It’s one that starts off fairly comedic and then gets progressively darker.

Worlds I would love to write for in the future: No idea. Fandoms tend to sneak up on me. But I have a feeling I’ll be stuck in the ST universe for a while. There’s just so much to play with, there. And I’ve found the fandom a very hospitable place to hang out in both on and offline (talked to a lot of lovely people at ST Las Vegas when I was there a few years ago, for instance). That said, I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at writing more Sherlock Holmes fic some day. (I have a thing for old school fandoms, apparently.)

Tagging everyone I’ve already tagged in this and anyone else who wants to fill it out!

#about me #vermin rites #my fanfic #wow I really do ramble on don't I

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jaehyun-eclipsed · 3 years

Text

Before I Met You | Twenty

Next Update: ~December 29, 2020

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Author’s Note: Hello! Sorry I’m a few days late -- was doing some finishing touches. Also, instead of having a regular update schedule, I think I’ll be sticking with letting you know when you can expect the next update!

Before I Met You Masterlist

Prev | Next

“Where are you going?” Jia asks as soon as she sees me putting on my boots.

I glance up at her as I zip up my right boot. “Grocery store.”

“Oh… by yourself?”

I’m not sure why Jia suddenly decided to ask today who I’m going to the grocery store with. Perhaps because I went last Saturday morning, never go in consecutive weeks, and certainly never go at two o’clock in the afternoon. Or she senses that I’m sneaking around her and avoiding questions like I was with Jaemin.

“No, Johnny asked me to go with him.”

“Johnny?!” she exclaims. “Why does Johnny want to go to the grocery store with you?! He seems to want to hang out with you a lot, huh?”

“I don’t know. I mean, we just played card games and talked yesterday.”

Jia’s eyes widen. “What if he likes you?!”

I shrug.

That is a good question though. What if he does like me? Then what am I supposed to do? I would go out with him, but—

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” she asks. “I saw a girl here like a month ago with him. I didn’t recognize her.”

“I don’t know. He’s never mentioned any—

Shit. No. That’s what Jaemin did. Please do not let this be a repeat of Jaemin. I don’t have time for that kind of shit again.

Jia quirks her eyebrow, wondering why I suddenly stopped midsentence. “Any… what? What are you thinking?”

“Uh, he’s never mentioned anything about it. Have you ever seen her around here after that?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

I press my lips together. “Maybe they broke up.”

“What if he does like you?!” she asks excitedly. “Would you go out with him?” I blink a few times and shrug. “I guess so.”

“So you’re from Medford? That’s cool. My family drove through there once on our way to Portland. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I like it there. You grew up in San Jose, right?”

Johnny and I walk up the hill towards a local grocery store a few blocks north from where we live. My face feels cold from the end of fall chill, but I feel strangely happy. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I sort of have a crush on Johnny because I think he’s cute and we’re hanging out.

I’ve been asking him questions. Trying to figure out what he’s like. Trying to figure out whether he has a girlfriend... I know I could just be direct about it and ask, but it seems kind of random to suddenly say, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” when I barely know him.

We obviously know that we can’t just default to, “Oh, if he has a girlfriend, he wouldn’t be trying to hit on someone else” and immediately assume he has morals because apparently that’s not always true.

But aside from that issue, Johnny is nice and in the “getting to know you” stage, he’s decently interesting.

“Yeah. My parents and my sister moved to California a few months after I was born. So I lived with my grandparents in Korea until my parents came back to pick me up after settling down to bring me here,” he says.

“Do you speak Korean?”

“Yeah, but it’s not very good. I can get around though.”

“I’ve been trying to learn Korean,” I say. “I can read the alphabet and say a few phrases!”

“Oh really? I could help you out sometime.”

Johnny is a year younger than me and he has a sister that’s a year older than me that goes to school in San Francisco. His dad is often traveling for work, so Johnny doesn’t see him as often when he goes home to visit his mom every few weeks. Since she’s home by herself often, she spends a lot of her time volunteering at her church, though sometimes she’ll buy a plane ticket and meet Johnny’s dad wherever he traveled for work.

It seems… lonely.

We arrive at the grocery store and I follow him around, watching him pick out his groceries and making casual small talk about our classes, our interests, and what food to buy.

I can’t help but feel flirtatious. And that’s a weird feeling to me because I never feel flirtatious. Friendly and shy, sure. But flirtatious has only ever really occurred once and I’ll never forget that feeling. I clearly like Johnny, but I’m not trying to give it away. But he asked me to go grocery shopping so that has to count for something.

“Do you want some tea?” Johnny asks, pointing to a colorful display of canned teas.

I blink several times. “Uh, sure? I can Venmo you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Which one do you want?”

I spot my favorite flavor near the top and without saying a word, walk over to the display and get on my tippy toes in an attempt to reach the peach tea. My fingers are just a few inches shy of reaching it. Johnny chuckles and I keep my back to him to hide my frown. He walks up behind me and easily reaches over my hand to grab the can and place it in his cart.

“You could’ve just told me which one you wanted. That’s the benefit of being short with tall friends,” he teases.

“Hey! I’m not short!”

“You’re shorter than me.”

“Everyone is shorter than you!” I retort.

He chuckles again. “Yeah, that’s true. Is there anything you need? I’m done.”

I shake my head and turn to head towards the checkout line. An Oreo display case catches my eye and my expression morphs into one of disgust.

“Cherry cola Oreos?” I say in disbelief. “That sounds gross.”

“Hey, they’re probably good,” he responds, pulling out his phone.

I shrug. “I guess they had to pass the taste test before production.”

He doesn’t respond, engrossed in whatever is on his phone. My curiosity gets to the best of me and I begin peering over. He’s looking at an ad for Muji and in the top left corner are the Facebook chat bubbles. Mine is the only one on the screen and he doesn’t appear to have any other notifications. I don’t know what this would tell me. I figure if he had a girlfriend, she would message him while he was on his excursion. Actually, wouldn’t he ask her to accompany him? Unless…?

“Hey,” I greet, placing a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruit on the table. “How’s the studying going?”

Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s all right. A lot of terms to remember. Strategic risk, credit risk, call-options, price insurance… hard to keep them straight sometimes.”

“Do you have any flash cards? I can help test you if you want.”

He shakes his head. “That’s okay. Maybe a little later. I’m doing some practice questions now.” He looks at the plate, grabs an apple slice, and takes a bite. “Thanks.”

“You’ve taken and passed a couple exams already. I know you’ll do great on this one,” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

“Yeah, but I had to take one of those exams multiple times.”

“So? You still passed. That’s all that matters. And now you’re on your way to becoming a certified financial planner! You’re doing great!”

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “I’d really like to pass this one the first time…”

“I’m sure with all the studying you’re doing, you’ll be fine. You still have a few weeks to get it down.”

“Yeah, but I have to work too…”

I chuckle lightly. “I don’t know how you do it. But you amaze me every day. Work, study, and pass these exams.”

“Honestly, I don’t really know either.” Jaehyun leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “We should take a vacation after this.”

I clap my hands together. “Let’s go somewhere warm after I finish finals! Last vacation during law school because next semester it’s finals and then the bar exam.” I press my lips together and frown. “Tests. Always another test!”

“Are you coming in here to study?”

“Hm? Oh, I need to make a call to Siwon first. Why? Do you need something?”

Jaehyun smiles and shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh, okay,” I say as I get up from my seat. “Then I’ll—

“I just like it when you’re with me.”

I started spending more time downstairs with Chaeyoung and Shotaro. We’d sit in a comfortable silence to study and then chat over dinner. Occasionally Johnny would come down to join us. Though recently, he had been cooped up in his room trying to finish the last CS projects of the semester with Hendery. So we didn’t see each other as much, but he did message me frequently to see how I was doing and ate dinner downstairs with the rest of us.

Within a matter of weeks, classes ended and dead week was upon us. Now it was a week of intense cramming and poor diet followed by finals and then a few weeks to relax before doing it all over again. It’s like a hamster wheel… constantly running, only to find out you receive a piece of paper for your endeavors.

After finishing lunch in the dining room, I pack up my laptop and notebooks to set out for a psych review session and a few hours of library study for genetics. Johnny walks in and sits down at the neighboring table, thoughtfully watching me as I place my belongings into my bag.

“Where you going?” he finally asks.

“I have a review session for my psych class at two and then I’m going to study in the library until five or so.”

“Oh, where is it?

“In the life sciences building.”

“Oh.” He shifts around in his chair a bit and begins biting the inside of his lip. “Are you staying in the life science building after that?”

“Yeah, that’s the library I like.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe I should check it out.”

“It’s nice. It’s smaller and they usually have space.”

I glance at him, expecting him to ask to join me in the library, but when he doesn’t, I mentally shrug and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

“See you later,” I say, heading towards the door.

“Bye.”

At the review session, I scan the room and sit down next to an old dorm floormate. She doesn’t notice when I sit down, furiously texting someone with a furrowed brow.

“Ugh!” she groans.

“Everything okay?” I ask out of obligation.

“My boyfriend is being stupid.” She puts her phone back in her pocket. “I kinda think he’s cheating on me.”

I bite my lip and nod in acknowledgement. “Boys suck.”

“Tell me about it.”

I pull out my own phone to avoid any further divulgence and see a message notification.

Johnny: you said youre gonna study at the library after your review session right?

Heh. It sounds like someone’s too afraid to ask in person.

Me: Yeah

J: when does it end? can I join you? I wanna go study at the library but I don’t wanna get lost lol

My forehead creases in confusion upon reading Johnny’s reasoning. Get lost? How would you get lost?

Me: It’s over at 3 and yeah

Me: Just meet me in front of the library at 3

I’m holding back a smile. I wanted to go to the library with Johnny, but I also didn’t want to be the one to ask. To some extent, this was a test for him. To test his attraction? I like being chased just as much as the next person and if the opportunity presents itself to spend time with Johnny, then all the better.

J: ok! See u then!

An hour later, I exit the lecture hall and start walking to the other side of the building towards the library. Johnny’s tall figure is leaning against the railing in front of the entrance. He’s wearing a gray baseball cap and holding a textbook against his left thigh while using his other hand to scroll through something on his phone. I walk up to him and looks up from his phone.

“Hey!” he greets. “How was the review session?”

I shrug. “It was all right.” I gesture my head towards the library. “Ready to go in?”

He nods and I start walking into the library with him following slightly behind.

“Whoa,” he whispers, lightly grabbing onto the dangling strap of my backpack. “I’d definitely get lost in here. Make sure I don’t get lost.”

I turn my head slightly to look at him over my shoulder. Gawking at him, he smiles widely back at me. I blink at him a few times and turn back around, continuing on towards the tables in the back and pretending like I’m not leading a child with one of those backpack leashes.

Okay… maybe he’s just really, really weird.

God, this looks so stupid.

I stop in front of an empty table with two high chairs. Johnny lets go of the strap when he sees me move to take off my backpack and then follows suit. I place my belongings on the table and immediately immerse myself in reviewing for my genetics exam. I occasionally take glances over at Johnny who is diligently reading the textbook he was holding and taking notes. Normally, I’d pay a little more attention, but that’s not really my priority right now. However, I won’t deny that there’s this annoying voice in my head that’s asking, “What in the world is Johnny doing? He must like you, right? But what if he has a girlfriend that you don’t know about? Those pictures of him with that girl are still on his Instagram page, but some people leave all of those photos up even after they break up. I don’t have a gauge on what he’s like and whether he’d do that.”

Later that evening, while trying to finish a bioethics paper in bed, I receive a message from Johnny.

J: what are you doing?

Me: I’m trying to write this damn paper and it’s pissing me off

J: you want some cookies?

J: maybe it’ll help you write your paper

Me: Mm okay. I’ll be downstairs in a few

“Are you going downstairs?” Jia asks as I begin shuffling around and grabbing my backpack and a small blanket.

“Yeah.”

“Did you go to the library with Johnny earlier?”

I freeze in place and slowly turn around. How did she know about that?

“I saw you guys walking back together when I was coming back from my review session,” she continues, answering my question without her knowledge.

“Oh, yeah. He asked to meet me there.”

“Oooh!” She cracks into a wide, shit-eating grin. “He likes you! Are you meeting him downstairs too?!”

“Yeah, he said he had cookies. I want some.”

“Oh my gosh… do you like him?!”

I feel the heat rise up into my cheeks. “I mean, I think he’s cute and he’s fun to hang around with, but I don’t think I like him like that.”

“Oh yeah… if he has a girlfriend, you probably shouldn’t.” She ponders for a few seconds and her eyes shoot open. “Do you think his girlfriend knows he’s hanging out with you?!”

I mentally scoff. If Johnny is actually interested in me like that, I bet he’s conveniently left it out of any conversations with his girlfriend that he’s hanging around another girl and grabbing onto her backpack strap so that he doesn’t get “lost” in the library.

“My guess is probably not.”

I quickly leave and consider the conversation I had had with my dad earlier. I called to tell him about Johnny asking to meet at the library, grabbing onto my backpack, his various offers of cookies and what not. Basically, dad thinks that Johnny probably likes me. His opinion on the girlfriend thing? He’s not sure since we don’t know whether or not Johnny actually has one. It’s strange that she showed up once and then never again and that he’s never mentioned her. This is starting to sound eerily familiar. It’s a problem for later. I need to focus on finals for now.

There is one thing that I hadn’t realized until now though.

Jaemin hasn’t come to mind as frequently.

Perhaps I was finally getting over him.

“What’s the paper for?” Johnny asks as I set my things down at the table on his left.

“It’s for some bioethics class. I’m doing research on pesticides and lymphoma. Not exactly a happy topic.”

He pushes the cookies over to me, gesturing with his left hand for me to take some. My brow raises in curiosity when a piece of jewelry on his wrist catches my eye. It’s a thin, black band with a circular charm hanging off it. It looks like there’s something engraved on it, but I can’t tell because the backside is facing up.

“What’s the bracelet for?”

“Hm?” Johnny raises his left arm and runs his hand through his hair. “Which one?”

I raise my brow at him. “The only black one around your wrist…”

“Oh.” He lowers his hand and looks at his wrist. “Um, it’s a bracelet from my girlfriend.”

I deadpan for a few seconds before quickly remarking, “Oh. Nice!” and following with forced smile.

I turn back to my laptop, trying to pretend to read through my essay. Though, if my facial expression clearly conveys annoyance, I wouldn’t be surprised.

See! This is exactly what I meant about not being able to assume anyone has morals. Interested in Johnny, Y/N? Not anymore. Never mind.

Oh well. It’s not like I got that far with this anyway.

There’s a quick motion coming from my right and suddenly the room becomes dimmer as a baseball cap is placed on my head. I slowly turn to look at Johnny, still slightly miffed at the revelation from seconds earlier. He smiles warmly at me.

“Do you want to go to the library tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why did you do that?” I ask without answering his question.

“What?” He shrugs. “So do you want to go? We should wake up really early in the morning to go so that we can get a head start on studying!”

I nod my head. “Okay.”

What are you doing? There should be some blaring siren going off in your head, but there isn’t. Oh, that’s right. It’s because you’re still attracted to him.

I grab the hat on my head and place it back on his.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s too big for me.”

“It’s a thinking cap. It’ll help you with your essay.”

“If only it were that easy.”

Johnny chuckles and then opens Facebook on his laptop. He has two messages: one from Hendery and another from someone with the nickname “Boo boo.” It’s times like these where I’m glad I have good control over my facial expressions and can easily type out an essay while reading over someone’s shoulder.

Boo boo’s profile picture is clearly of a girl and when Johnny opens her chat box, I see that boo boo sent a bunch of heart stickers. He follows by responding with a few hearts and a “hiii boo boo!! i love youuuuuu soooo much!!!” It goes back and forth like that a few more times.

I have to try not to gag. Is this what people are like with their boyfriends and girlfriends? Am I going to be like that? Oh gross.

Maybe I just don’t understand what love is. Who am I to question their love? However, if Johnny is “soooo in looooove” with his girlfriend, why is he acting like this with me?

If this is a repeat of Jaemin, I’m walking right into a trap.

The rest of dead week played out the same way. Wake up in the morning, go to the library with Johnny, watch Johnny send “I looovvee youuu” messages to boo boo, study in the evening with Johnny, grab a study snack with Johnny, spend time with Chaeyoung and Hendery while with Johnny.

My whole study life started revolving around Johnny. And really, it was simply having someone to spend time with. Johnny and I could sit in a comfortable silence and study for our own classes, occasionally taking breaks to eat or show each other videos. It was a good arrangement and I liked my new friend.

But the sad truth was, I liked my new friend a little too much and I had a feeling that nothing good was going to come of it.

Johnny had a girlfriend and he knew that I knew he had a girlfriend. I’ve never been interested in home wrecking and I certainly wasn’t saying anything or doing anything other than spending time with him, to indicate that I had a crush on him. But here we are a year later with the same problem: is it morally wrong for me to be spending time with this guy when I have a crush on him while fairly certain that his behavior was indicative that he liked me? Isn’t he technically emotionally cheating on his girlfriend?

I think the way I tried to justify this was by telling myself that I wasn’t the one initiating the hang outs or study sessions. Johnny would ask and I had the option of agreeing or declining. And sincerely, since I was just trying to study, I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

On the last day of finals, I joined Johnny, Chaeyoung, Jia, Shotaro, Hendery, Sungchan, and a few others in the dining room, celebrating over a box of donuts and cups of hot chocolate. We were exchanging social media accounts to keep up with each other over the break.

“Hey,” Johnny greets as he grabs the empty seat next to me. “Are you going home tomorrow?”

I shake my head. “No, the day after.”

“Do you wanna grab lunch together tomorrow? Hendery is leaving and I’m also not leaving until Sunday.”

“Oh, sure! That would be fun!”

“Cool!”

He throws his baseball cap on top of my head and suddenly the room is quiet. I can tell that everyone is looking at me. I keep my gaze down on the table and take a few seconds to respond with a laugh.

“I don’t want your hat!” I exclaim playfully, pulling it off and trying to put it back on him.

He lightly shoves my arm away. “It looks better on you.”

I ignore him and put the hat down on the table and move to grab another donut from the box, silently praying everyone will stop watching and pretend like nothing happened.

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #lucas wong #na jaemin #mark lee #johnny suh #wong yukhei #jaehyun #nct dream #nct u #wayv #superm #before I met you

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