#but anyway i know very little spanish cause every time i try to learn with like duolingo or something i can't get past the parts

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Sitting here with a cute aggression hewn rage over one of Doe’s little ‘isms in the TLB/Vampire AU. Cause like,

Doe is traditionally mute in every way conventionally human, Mapplethorpe ripped her entire throat out and she had to regrow it all from scratch, which in some cases were simple enough when the vamp blood could rebuild from the fragments, moulding to it like an artificial shell, but her larynx was *toast*

Doe has NO (human) vocal cords anymore, no larynx, nothing. She can try to speak but because the folds can’t vibrate in a controlled way, it’s nothing. Doe is silent, she can’t control or mould her breathing into words! There’s nothing to vibrate that can manipulated! And, unfortunately, given the circumstances, artificial larynxs or vocal chords are entirely unavailable.

HOWEVER, the Vamp blood, well it’s not an idle bystander just watching the operation of Doe and her body from the background. It’s active, it’s present and it has a couple of cards tucked away under its sleeve to keep her in tip-top order even in spite of her circumstances. See, it has a designed image it follows when rebuilding Doe into her fully vampiric state, and it’s design encompasses Doe’s WHOLE body, from her head to her toes and including her throat! The vamp blood, when she ‘goes vamp’ or so to speak, will activate, taking root in her empty throat and growing for her the vocal folds, larynx and membrane for BAT-LIKE communication. Not human, mind you, BAT.

So, needless to say, Doe isn’t getting back what she lost, this new voice doesn’t sound anything like her old voice, but it’s a worthy successor, especially once she gets the grasp of the Old Tongue it’s linked to. Most vampires never bother to learn it, I mean, why rely on bat sounds when you can just speak human? But that’s a different subject. Just know, Doe has a non-human voice in a non-human language that Carrie’s a different sound and volume than human-speech does!

WHICH LEADS ME TO THE ANGRY CUTE:

Doe and her grasp on the vampiric true-tongue is nothing like what the language was meant to be from conception or how it would manifest in truly ANCIENT vampires.

Ancient vampires have their own song. Their language and voice are meant to carry and chitter in the wind while flying and disarm people. It’s a bit bird-like in that fashion, but always with this hiss of danger. But Doe? She carries the language with such a human flavor and understanding, there are her pretty bird like moments singing into the night, but normally she doesn’t speak like that.

Doe carries her chitters with a beat like a war drum to make her words distinctive so the others can follow more clearly. She shapes certain words around the human pronunciation, even if it ruins the word in the old language in the technical sense, it makes bridging the gap between her and her friends easier!

Doe works hard to find anyway she can try English and Spanish into the Old Tongue, finding ways to push her vocal tools to the very limit into a kind of human communication. AND GOD, THE FACT THAT SHES TRYING SO HARD TO SAY THE NAMES OF HER FRIENDS EXACTLY AS SHE KNOWS THEM IN ENGLISH!!! RAAAAHHH!!!

Doe knowing her words, while EXCEPTIONAL at bouncing around and carrying, do get confusing when you can’t hear the intricacies up close, so for more complex statements, often jokes, she’s leaning up to whoever she’s talking to in order to whisper in their ear so they can make it out easier, even if it looks ridiculous and like a scene straight from some fantasy movie about an evil manipulating royal advisor sewing seeds of doubt into a weak-willed king.

Doe happy to repeat herself several times so she can be clearly understood and never taking it to heart and still happily conversing as best she can, acting as though everyone’s speaking the same language, even when she’s the odd-duck out.

#🦌 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄. || this time she never returned

[x-chubby-reader]

Oh MY GOD what about Bakugou, kirishima, and sero who get hit by a quirk who turns them into a lil toddler or whatever and they’ve got the biggest crush on their chubby/plus size classmate 🥺🥺

A/N - I literally love this idea so much, thanks to @fandom-fander for helping out with this headcannon.

Not Prof Read

Lowercase Intentional

Cursing

Toddler!Bakugo, Kirishima, and Sero x Plus size reader

Bakugo

aizawa sure as hell didn't feel like dealing with the angry pomeranian in minature form

he decided to leave the boy with the class and let them decide among themselves on who should watch the little firecracker for the day

extra credit anyone?

everyone immediately pinned the responsibility on you

kirishima, he didn't feel like getting screeched at by a small bakugo and needed to apparently go study

he also knew that bakugo had a fondness for you in his teenage form, so why not see if he still has it

fr little bakugo pretends to hate your guts

somehow this little toddler has the most hurtful insults

“you can't even get a boyfriend? that's pretty sad.”

suddenly choking out a child is okay

do it… no one has to know how it happened

even though he had pretended to hate you, he still kept trying to show off to you 

you decided to take him out on a little bike/tricycle ride? homeboy flipped it trying to show off how fast he could go and then proceeded to complain about scraping his knee

hey at least he got your attention

he is a literal leash kid fight me oh my god

bakugo will simply run away

you expected him to listen? oh you're in for a surprise

the only option that you give him is to either wear the embarrassing monkey pack or to hold your hand

he immediately grabs your hand and is literally so giddy and its adorable my lord-

smiles for days my heart i can’t-

he may seem all happy and nice, but that can flip in a minute

he’s the biggest brat sometimes and you are literally this close to punting him across the room

you don't get him something that he wants? little pomeranian boy will turn into a velociraptor child in an instant

the decimals that that kids voice can reach up to is kind of impressive not going to lie

“no bakugo, you can't have that right now maybe later-”

screech

thankfully he tires himself out quick enough to set him down for a nap

but nothing is ever simple, is it?

he wont go to sleep without you though, claiming that there are monsters and he needs to know where you are so he can protect you

no matter how many times you had explained to him that there weren't any monsters around, you slowly succumbed to his pleas

almost feeling bad for him, he just looked so serious about how you could get hurt that it made you feel bad

you didn't notice how much taking care of a kid took out of you until now

you had made a mental note to apologize to your mom for having to deal with you when you were younger later

As soon as you settled down on the couch with the toddler laying on top of you, you almost instantaneously passed out

oh boy were you in for a surprise when you woke up to a teen bakugo, still curled into your torso

he looked up to you after feeling you stir, he almost had a smirk on his face before burying his head back  into you 

mostly to hide the redness spreading over his face, he wasn’t going to admit that he was blushing

no way in hell

he just mumbled a “later” before his breaths softened into a steady pace

yeah, you may be stuck here for a bit

Kirishima 

you were there for the whole thing

red-top had pushed you out of the way of an incoming quirk blast and suffered the consequences

he became young again, almost too young

you felt bad

and who wouldn’t

so of course you took it upon yourself to watch him until the effects wore off

the thing you learned about him was that he was an even touchy-er child

homeboy just wanted to be held all the time

just climbing up and latching himself onto your calf

it was adorable but hard to walk with

If you pick him up, you’ve basically sworn an oath with the devil himself

you cannot put him down 

ever 

he gives the most pitiful looks when you do and drags his feet when you walk

he also wont leave you alone

so curious in whatever your doing at that exact moment

and he is impressed by everything you do

“what are you doing?”

“reading”

“wow so cool!”

a bug came in through the window and he screamed

you walked in all nonchalant, grabbed your shoe, and smacked that some of a bitch into a next dimension

he lit up omfg

“wow y/n, that was so manly!”

you brought him in to class since it had been a school day and were too afraid to tell aizawa about the incident

the girls were literally all over him

i mean, who wouldn’t be all over an adorable and friendly (looking at you bakugo) kid?

and the pebble boy was lapping up the attention like a thirsty dog on a hot day

you never expected him to act like this

shy maybe, but then again he was pretty outgoing in his teenage form

he was grinning from ear to ear

literally posing like a mini body builder and making little huffing noises

even you couldn’t help it, letting a little aww out like most of the other girls

this had been causing a slight disturbance to the class

so the whole going to school thing was pointless as aizawa sent the two of you home anyways

he is already a tired dad, he dosen’t need to be dealing with a toddler right now

putting the little strongman on your back you began to walk

you had been hoping that the effects would wear off in a few more hours 

but nothing ever goes to plan dose it?

while you had been walking, you noticed a significant weight increase, but just decided to ignore it

hey you were more sturdy and thicc, you wern’t no pussy, why stop all of a sudden because of the extra weight?

the only single thing that had alerted you to kiri being fully back was the whisper in your ear

instead of a sqeaky and mousy voice, you heart a more smooth and even comment

“hey stranger”

girl you dropped him and ran, him having to catch up to you

he has the audacity to give you a heart attack, he better suck it up

Sero

this was the same situation as bakugo, aizawa just didn’t want to deal with the kid

and especially a kid who kept mixing up two languages

he really was just so one

aizawa gave him the option to go to anyone

of course he ran straight to you, clinging onto your calf, as that was as high as he could reach

hey you looked the most inviting and least scary

he was literally terrified of bakugo and almost started to bawl is eyes out when he went near him

though he calm down slightly when he went down to get to a similar height as him. 

why wouldn’t you take the opportunity to watch a cute little kid and skip class

hey, aizawa said whoever watched him got extra credit

but there soon was a slight problem that you noticed

well not really a problem, but more of a hurdle

with sero being raised in a household that spoke both english and spanish, he started to mix the two, not knowing any better

he would be asking for “leche” and you would just stand there trying to understand with your limited vocab

just the loading circle above your head whenever he started to talk

but you managed with google translate and going off of the vast amount of spanish soap operas you watched at 3 am once a week

surprisingly, he was a very artistic kid

at least every ten minutes he would walk over to you and hand you a squiggly picture of a flower, you, or him and you holding hands

and he would just giggle before running away to make another

bro heart go melt 

being pre occupied with some papers that the father teacher had sent home with you, sero couldn’t get your attention

he might of forgotten your name and got stuck in a predicament

then the most rational thing popped into his head

well his dad called his mom “mi amor” and you and his mom were both pretty ladies

it made total sense to him so he went with it

“hey...”

nothing

“hey...”

nothing again

“hey... mi amor~”

your head shot up immediately

since he noticed that the name had gotten your attention, he just started using it

when he had shifted to being a teen again, the two of you never mentioned the name again

until a few days later when he was back to normal in class

homeboy was trying to get your attention and the multiple taps on the shoulder weren't cutting it

he got an idea

“hey... mi amor~”

yep that got you immediately

and he still uses that nickname for you

#bakugo x chubby reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x plus size reader #bakugo katsuki x plus size reader #mha x plus size reader #mha x chubby reader #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha x plus size reader #bnha x chubby reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bakugo headcannon #kirishima x you #kirishima x plus size reader #kirishima x chubby reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima headcanon #kiri x reader #kiri x you #kiri x plus size reader #kiri x chubby reader #sero x reader #sero x plus size reader #sero headcannon #sero x chubby reader #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x plus size reader

[simonsrosebud]

Kevin and Dalton discussing whether pie or cake is better and if they agree maybe discussing what kind they think is the best??

so uh... im quite late on this. you know, life and all

“you like pie better because it gives off the illusion of being healthier.”

they’ve been having the same debate for weeks. years, technically.

it comes around every winter around the holidays when the only things people seem to be ingesting are sweets of different kinds.

kevin refuses to admit that cake is better than pie, and dalton is convinced that he’s right and that kevin is just making his argument to make an argument.

plus, dalton doesn’t know how to make pie, but he sure as hell can buy icing and follow a box mix recipe for a cake that he knows will get eaten every year.

dalton is by no means a baker or a cook, but he made a little cake the first year he spent christmas eve with the foxes, and he’s been doing it ever since andrew said “you could do better” with a more "bored out of his mind" look than dalton could imagine on a person.

so, he tried harder next year. he almost forgot about making anything in general until a few days before he and kevin were supposed to gather at his father’s house.

he added a layer and got better icing. made sure the cake wasn’t as dry as the year before.

andrew didn’t say anything that year, but dalton decided to do it every year anyway. he still didn’t get much out of andrew.

this year is a little hard.

first, he’s got morgan trying to help even though he doesn’t want the almost two year old anywhere near the oven or the food, and she keeps trying to stick her fingers in his bowls from where she sits at the table.

and second, he and kevin are hosting christmas eve for the first time. dalton’s parents and sisters are in town, but they only have one extra bedroom for his parents to stay in so bella’s staying with carmen and her husband in a hotel a few minutes away. normally, they’d offer to sleep on air mattresses, but considering carmen is very pregnant it isn't the best idea.

plus, she wants to be able to get away from festivities when she gets tired.

on top of the cooking, he has to keep morgan occupied and out of the way while his mother helps clean the whole house and kevin finishes wrapping the last of their daughter’s presents from santa up in the spare bedroom.

dalton doesn’t know where his dad is, but he’s assuming doing something with his two sisters.

he wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist. “hey, kev, can you come grab her!” he calls.

he waits for a response and almost calls again when kevin swoops in behind him with a hand grazing his hip.

he swipes a bit of frosting onto his finger and licks it off. he hums. “you know what would be better?” he asks.

“not apple pie.”

“yes apple pie.” he leans down and picks morgan up from her chair. he holds her up and gives her a little shake. when she smiles and laughs he says in french, “say ‘daddy’s right’.”

dalton kicks his foot back and nudges kevin’s shin. “don’t lie to her.”

his french isn’t as good as kevin or neil’s, but he’s been working on it ever since they got married. you’d think four years would be enough time. neil says his accent needs improving and that he apparently still sounds like he’s learning french in high school. but at least he knows how to speak it, now. kevin doesn't complain.

“all those years taking spanish in school and you barely learned a thing.” his mom says when she enters the kitchen.

he grunts. “yeah, cause i hated it. i have a reason to learn french.”

“is she picking it up at all?”

dalton makes a face. “yeah, not as fast as english, but that’s normal. she’s doing pretty good for her age.”

kevin runs upstairs with her and dresses morgan in the outfit that nicky dropped off the other day. he was just so excited, kevin thinks there’s a possibility of him crying if she doesn’t wear it.

it’s a little elf pajama outfit, obviously. with a little hat that has big pointy ears on the sides. and little tiny bells on the top of the socks.

she looks ridiculous.

andrew, her godfather, brings her a few presents that no one was expecting. kevin’s guess is that he realized, after seeing morgan’s godmother get her gifts last year, that it’s an acceptable thing for him to do the same.

that still doesn’t mean anyone expects it.

of course it’s all things that he knows kevin will hate, like a soft soccer ball and a tiny baby jersey from the professional exy team in new york instead of the one kevin has been on for the past seven years.

there’s also random things like a blanket that just says “fuck” all over it which he knows kevin wants to put through a shredder, and black leather baby combat boots that match his own.

the blanket is soft and small enough for morgan to carry around all night.

the boots are so cute that dalton steals morgan away for a moment later and changes her into an identical outfit to andrew. black little leggings, the combat boots, and a little black hoodie.

neil very clearly loves it. morgan tends to stick by andrew’s side whenever she can anyways, so for her to be almost a mini-me of him is comical.

after dinner, andrew sits in the corner of the couch in silence amongst the others with a piece of cake in his hands. morgan gets a boost up from her grandfather wymack, but crawls over his lap to get to andrew.

she watches him with the biggest eyes but doesn’t say a word. after a few minutes, andrew wordlessly swipes some icing onto his finger, holds it out for her to suck off, and wipes his finger on her sleeve after.

“what are you feeding her?”

kevin saw it at the last second.

“shut up.”

dalton is grateful for the house to start clearing out around eleven. morgan has been in bed for two hours and dan and matt collect their kids from where they’ve fallen asleep on the couches. andrew and neil have been gone since nine- abby, wymack, carmen and her husband left not long after. allison, nicky and erik are the last stragglers, but once they’re gone bella is the last one left. dalton’s pretty sure she’s going to end up on the couch.

she helps clean up while their parents get ready for bed. kevin starts bringing morgan’s gifts down from their hiding spot to place underneath the tree.

dalton stands at the kitchen counter putting food in tupperware. bella stands across from him and gathers dirty dishes. “so, i think ben is gonna propose soon.”

dalton looks up at her. “how do you know?” they've been dating for four years, now. he was the only one of his sister's boyfriends that he liked right away. he had to warm up to carmen's husband.

she shrugs. “i have a feeling.” he smiles and shakes his head. “he better, too. i’m fucking twenty-eight. i wanna be married by thirty. and i want babies by thirty-two.”

“lets hope for the ring, first.”

she laughs. after a while she sits in one of the high top stools and leans on her elbows. “what about you guys?”

what about us? dalton raises his eyebrows. “well, i’ve got the ring and the baby, so i’m a bit ahead of you.” he mumbles and turns to stack containers into the fridge.

“yeah but do you think you’ll have any more?”

dalton shrugs.

but he also smiles just a little.

bella catches it because she’s smart enough to. “are you?”

“i-i don’t know!” he wipes down the counter. “when we first discussed kids kevin said he only wanted one, but we had a talk recently and decided we do probably want another, we just don’t know when.”

bella drags her hands down her face. “please have one sooner rather than later.”

“there will be no having.”

“literally shut the fuck up you know what i mean.” she pushes away from the counter. “wake me up in the morning for presents.”

#kevin day #kevin #bisexual kevin day #the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is #kevin day x dalton miller #oc: dalton miller #dalton miller #the foxhole court #the foxes #palmetto state university #andrew minyard #neil josten #dan wilds #matt boyd #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #david wymack #abby winfield #the cards we’re dealt #kalton #the kings men #the raven king

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you���ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark drabbles

[jajanvm-imbi]

Headcanons of Krel living on earth because he’s my favorite and I love him and I haven’t seen anyone do this yet so I feel like I have to

^^^^^because of this very moment I love the idea of Mary and Darci befriending Krel.

Since Aja,Vex and Eli went back to Akaridion-5, Mother was destroyed, and Claire was busy with Trollhunting stuff, earth gets pretty lonely. So Mary and Darci adopt him into their friend group. 

At first Krel was a little apprehensive to joining their friend group, but he quickly warmed up to it because, he, being Krel, loves the attention.

like I can totally see Mary and Darci taking Krel to like a mall or something and doing those like teen romcom movie shopping montages where he goes into a changing room and the girls judge the outfit until they find the perfect one.

I personally believe Krel would adopt a soft boy look, with like oversized button ups and t shirts tucked into jeans, but thats just me.

anyway, because he’s friends with Mary and Darci, Krel has a new found social popularity in Arcadia.

because of this, Krel would prolly get nominated for Spring Fling king and shit

I would say Krel wouldn’t really care about being nominated, but seeing how he cared so much about the science fair and the Battle of the Bands, he would definitely care

Steve is conflicted because he wants to be Spring Fling King, but he can’t mess with Krel like he did with Jim and Eli cause Krel is his girlfriend’s brother 

Krel notices this and takes advantage of it to mess with Steve and actually tries to win.

like Krel would just dominate the contests, and his theme presentation would be the flashiest and most appealing and people would just generally like him, and that would really worry Steve

like Krel, with four arms would be really good at the Touch-a-Truck-athon or whatever its called.

Krel would prolly let Steve win anyway because watching Steve squirm and freak out over prolly losing the crown and not being able to do anything about it cause he's Aja's brother is much better than any highschool dance crown

also the school 100% asks Krel to DJ future dances and events to save money, and Krel absolutely loves it

He would also definitely do the school play. Seeing how much he enjoyed being in Toby and Eli's short film, and again, he loves the attention, he would totally be down 

Also it would just be another chance to mess with Steve to be the lead. 

Because of this, Ms. Janeth would do another Shakespearean play, but do one of those modern renditions. Like it's the same play just in a modern setting, to take advantage of Krel's Akaridion form like they did with Jim's armor. 

If not in the play he would do stage crew/tech.

Like he would create elaborate settings for them using A5 tech and Ms. Janeth would adore it 

moving on, because home life is pretty lonely with just the Lucy and Ricky for company, Krel loves to host his friends for parties and sleepovers and whatever

and since Krel lives in the coolest house on the block, they love coming over

He hosts girl’s night every other week with Mary, Darci, and Clarie (becauuse she deserves a fucking break) 

since we’ve all agreed that Krel is 100% a gaylien, I love the idea that he casually comes out during a girls night

like Mary would be like “So Krel, are there any girls you like?” and Krel’s just like, “*snort* Girls? Who ever said I like girls?” and the others are like “….....?“ and Krel just rolls his eyes and says "I like boys, ladies” and they’re like “ooooohhhh, okay. Cool.”

So now they spend girls night talking about boys. Claire and Darci about their mans and Mary and Krel about cute boys.

One day the girls give Krel a little rainbow pin and Krel’s just like “what’s this?” And the girls tell him that it’s an earth symbol for the gays and he’s like “theres a symbol for that here? I didnt think it was that big of a deal. On A5 it’s pretty normal” and the girls explain why theres a symbol and he’s like “oh shoot wow, thanks" and he put it on his backpack.

He’s pretty confused the first time someone is homophobic towards him cause like that kind if behavior doesnt happen on A5 and hes just like, “why does this bother you? I hardly know you” and just brushes it off. Its doesnt really bother him, mainly cause he doesnt know the earth insults towards gay people so he doesn’t even realize, but if the girls (or Toby, or even Steve, too) catch anyone being homophobic towards their friend they will attack that asshole on sight. Especially Mary and Steve

Random person on the street: Ha, *slur*

Marry: WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM BITCH???

Krel: Marry its fine, it’s not that big of a dealoHSEKLOSANDGAYLENMARYGETOFFOFHIM

Marry: SAY IT AGAIN ASSHAT, I D A R E YOU

Claire and Darci: *trying to hold Mary back* maRY NO

Steve: THATS MY NINJA KICKING SPACE ANGEL GIRLFRIEND'S BROTHER BUTTSNACK I'LL END YOU

Toby: *now chasing after Steve to stop him* stEVE NO

Mary would 100% find out who the rando is and destroy their life on social media. Like she would leak their job, phone number, email, school/college (if applicable) to her thousands of followers and absolutely ruin them with no remorse. And honestly, good for her

Also whilst on the subject, Krel can not drive or cook for 2 reasons: 1. Hes gay and 2. He’s a prince so he’s never had to do either before

Like he can obviously do math but that’s it.

Proof? That one scene in Wizards when Douxie had him drive the airship. You know the one.

Coach Lawrence refuses to get in a car with him at Drivers Ed after the 3rd day Krel shows up.

Krel gets addicted to sugary coffee shop-esc drinks thanks to Darci. Not coffee cause we saw in 3Below Part 1 that he doesnt like coffee, but refreshers, coolattas, frappuccinos etc…? Definitely.

As for warm drinks, he’s more of a tea person.

Moving on

He face calls Aja everyday because he really misses her

He tells her all about school and his friends and whatever and Aja tells him about the changes she’s making to the A5 government

Thanks to the wormhole they visit each other often. Sometimes Steve tags along cause he misses his ninja kicking space queen angel girlfriend. (And Eli, but that's also for another post)

They take turns housing Luug.

Krel genuinely loves it on earth, but he hates the primitive technology so he begs Aja to send him supplies and materials for his projects. 

He would 10000% apply to HexTech for an after school job. Seeing his reaction to HT in Wizards and the fact that “Akaridion tech and magic are so compatible”, he would be the perfect addition to the HT staff. 

The Wizards wouldn’t be sure at first but after he shows them A5 tech and Douxie’s email of recommendation about the time loop thing they made together, the wizards are like “oh yeah we definitely keeping this kid. This is going to be so much fun.”

Their inventions become more and more extravagant because Krel can and he's just extra and the wizards love it.

He would definitely find a way to use magic using A5 tech. But he would have to study magic in order to figure out how, so the wizards help him learn all about magic. And since he's learned everything there is to learn about science and technology and whatever, he's super excited to learn about something completely different and interesting. The wizards are happy to teach him. He would be the first Akaridion to learn and use magic

Like he would make his own staff with his serrator and everything. He's like "earn a staff? Nah fuck that going to make my own"

Speaking of which he really likes human swear words. But he doesnt know when it is and isn't inappropriate to say these swear words so he's gotten in trouble a few times for swearing at the wrong time

For example:

Ms. Janeth: excuse me Mr. Tarron?

Krel: what the fuck do you want?

Everyone in the room: krEL NO

Anyway, back to Krel at HT, thanks to Toby, he would definitely have a bowl of candy in his little lab. More like multiple jars of different candy just scattered around the room. Small candy like fun sized chocolate and skittles and jelly beans and whatever

And a mini fridge, of course.

Steve, Toby and Arrrgh come over to the lab alot to mess around.

Toby has a lot of sci-fi requests for Krel to make

Toby: do you think you can make a shrink ray? Laser blasters? Invisible ray? My own hoverboard? My own serrator *gASP* WITH A WARHAMMER SETTING???? WITH SPACE ARMOR TO MATCH???!!!???!

Krel: Toby you already have a warhammer and armor why do you need more?

Toby: I dont have a space warhammer and armor Krel!!!!!!

Going back to school life, I feel like Krel would take an interest in Spanish class. I mean, his human form is latino and in Trollhunters (I'm pretty sure the lightning in a bottle episode) he said "Si" in response to a question someone asked him, so I feel like he would like to learn another human language. 

I also feel like he would just like to learn about Latin American culture in general since Mother gave him that form. He'd like to get in touch with his human self. 

Claire (when she isnt busy Trollhunting with Jim and the gang) is happy help him learn about Latin American culture and help him with his Spanish. 

Krel, being a fast learner, becomes fluent quickly with a perfect accent. 

Señor Uhl, who already liked the Tarrons to begin with, would really appreciate this. 

Claire's dad would also appreciate this.

Since he has such a fascination with human music, Krel would especially love Latin American music. Specifically reggaeton, since its kind of like techno music in a way and he already likes techno music.

And naturally, he learns to dance. All the styles of latin american dances. And he becomes quite the favorite on the dance floor.

He and Claire become great dance partners cause they both have the natural Latino rhythm and because Jim respects and trusts his girlfriend he doesnt mind them dancing together at parties and stuff

Although, Jim does ask for dance help at some point cause it looks like fun and he wants to dance with his beautiful talented incredible amazing gf and Krel is happy to teach him and anyone else who wants dance help. 

GUITAR LESSONS with Douxie cause in 3Below Krel said he really wanted to learn how to play guitar, steals Shannon’s guitar from the bonfire and is seen multiple times strumming it throughout the series. So of course this is included.

Toby introduces Krel to YouTube and Krel instantly makes his own channel.

of course his channel is called DJ Kleb and he posts his tracks and remixes. and maybe even some vlogs

its a little slow at first, only Arcadia Oaks students are subscribed to it but Mary blows it up by posting one of Krel’s tracks on her own social media and now he has thousands of subscribers

he also gained other forms of social media like Instagram and Tiktok, platforms to post his music

At this point every girl in school wants to be friends with Krel but not in the toxic GBF (gay best friend) way, girls just genuinely think he's 10x more interesting than every other boy in Arcadia Oaks

I think that's it for now sorry this is really long I just really love Krel and I had so many ideas. Feel free to add on!!

#tales of arcadia #krel tarron #toa krel #3below #toa 3below #3below krel #Trollhunters #toa trollhunters #jim lake junior #jim lake jr #james lake jr #james lake junior #toby domzalski #toa jim #toa toby #claire nuñez #toa claire #wizards #tales of arcadia wizards #toa wizards #Toa Douxie #tales of arcadia douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #toa aja #aja tarron #3below aja

[dex-xe]

BBC Ghosts x Eurovision

No one asked for this (and I’ve already seen a few people discussing this but haven’t seen anyone go into much detail) but here are some headcanons about the ghosts watching Eurovision 2021!! Eurovision has been one of my special interests since I was a little kid so combining it with my current special interest just seems right!!

(Also pls comment your own headcanons or even better send them to my inbox AND also send new headcanon topics for us to chat about cause I’ve missed doing that!!)

- Firstly it’s definitely Mike’s doing,, Alison jokes it’s a bit tacky and kinda cringe and Mike is *deeply* offended insisting the tack is what makes it fun.

- Alison also really enjoys it but also enjoys teasing Mike about his affinity

- Alison shows the ghosts a few YouTube clips of old years

- Kitty, Mary, and Humphrey are all well up for watching straight away,, also Pat but we’ll talk about him in a minute.

- Robin doesn’t really get the point (countries are a stupid idea according to him so having a country based competition where people actually get serious about it is just daft).

- Thomas and Fanny both hate the clips they’re shown and call it the “lowest form of entertainment” they’ve ever seen.

- The Captain is also above it... or so he says but he finds his foot tapping along to Emmilie De Forest and is *horrified* at himself

- Julian is straight away racist,, a comment here about EU bureaucracy, another snipe there about Russia. Alison shuts his complaining down very quickly and tells him he can’t say anything he wouldn’t be happy someone saying about the UK or else his phone privileges will be taken away.

- Pat is the only ghost who has seen Eurovision before (Julian has always refused on principle).

- He used to watch it with his family and put on a proper spread for everyone (cause we all know Pat was the family cook). I’m talking mini sausage rolls, tiny sandwiches, a cheese and pineapple hedgehog (totally not what my family does for Eurovision every year... hmmm) and then also a trifle cause it’s the most English pudding ever and you gotta support the home side.

- (I’m hungry,, can you tell??)

- Once Alison has explained to them how the show works, most of them agree to watch - Thomas once he learns of the beautiful women competing and Fanny the same with the men.

- The Captain however begins taking it very seriously once he starts to realise the tactical elements of it,, while he likes the performances, he spends the entire afternoon rewatching previous years scoring segments making mental notes of what gets support and who votes for who.

- The evening comes round and everyone gathers to watch in the TV room.

- The second the flag parade starts everyone is engrossed - even Fanny can marvel at the spectacle of it.

- (I’m not gonna talk about every performance cause Jeez that’s long but here are what I think everyone’s favourites would be.

- Robin really loves Finland and Italy,, anything loud and rocky he’s straight up off the floor and jumping along (same Robin, same) but he falls completely silent and watches in awe at the Spanish entry because of the giant moon (he then also asks Alison to buy a huge moon for the living room - she’s says she’ll think about it).

- Kitty is fully rooting for Malta - Lizzo girlboss vibes is what Kitty lives for. It’s also helped that Alison expressed quite an interest for that one as well.

- Thomas is expecting to like the pretty girls but absolutely falls for Switzerland straight away. Curly haired, blouse-wearing emotional guy with incredibly dramatic dancing is just 😍😍 for him (same Thomas,, can’t decide if he’s very attractive or if it’s gender envy or what??).

- Julian supports the UK... he thinks the song is shit but cannot bring himself to compliment anyone else.

- Pat is an Iceland kind of guy (ily dadi,, you were robbed #eurovision2020winners) and he fully finds himself trying to dance along, smiling all the way through their performance. He likes the weirder ones,, the ones were everyone is clearly just having a blast.

- Humphrey likes the emotional ones,, Bulgaria is a favourite. Righttttt up until France - he picked up a little French from his wife, enough to figure out what Barbara’s talking about and is just in tears by the end.

- Mary actually finds herself enjoying the more folky, traditionally European ones. This comes back to my Morris/folk dancing Mary so I feel like she’d appreciate like Ukraine and Russia - also for the like strong woman aesthetic.

- Fanny is abhorred by the outfits and music but does join Julian in his reluctant support of the UK, she instead prefers to mutter her abuses of the skimpy outfits to the Captain.

- The Captain is also drawn in by the emotional ones like Humphrey, specifically France again. However, a shaggy and shirtless Damiano David jumping about the place in eyeliner and tight trousers awakens something in him he didn’t know was there. He’s horrified by the group and the loudness and the outfits and everything but is also very much intrigued in a way that disturbs him.

- Mike also likes Italy quite a bit cause he’s an Arctic Monkeys/Killers kinda guy (he is,, don’t @ me cause me tooooo Mike) and Alison tends to agree with him but also, like I said, agrees with Kitty on the girl power ones.

- Once the scoring starts, the ghosts start getting noisier and talking amongst themselves about the acts and who they would vote for (they’re not allowed to vote cause Alison refuses to pay for her dead housemates to get a vote each).

- The Captain edges closer to the TV as the others talk over his beloved scoring system, completed overshadowing the research the Captain has done.

- It ends with the Captain sat cross legged in front of the TV with Humphrey in his lap explaining precisely what was happening to Humphrey.

- When it gets towards the end everyone hushes up and they all watch as Italy win. Most of them celebrate.

- Fanny is greatly disturbed by the winners and laments the state of music these days. The Captain vocally agrees but also can’t draw his eyes from the screen.

- Julian has some very choice words for the public for giving the UK a big fat 0.

- Kitty says she’s just glad that everyone had a good time and enjoyed their performances. She also wishes that she could go to the show (don’t we all).

But yeah that’s my collection of headcanons for Eurovision,, once again proving I am a massive nerd who spends too much time putting together little stories.

Anyway,, if you have any more Eurovision headcanons feel free to comment them or send them to my inbox so I can reply and add to them. Similarly, if you have any other shows/music/events/literally anything that you think I should make ghosts headcanons for or that you have hcs for then send them over to my inbox as well!! Love yall stay safe, drink some water if you’ve managed to read this far :)

#bbc ghosts

[gabenathreversebang]

GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020 Masterpost

Lady in Blue

When Gabriel akumatizes Audrey again, it goes awry and backfires on him. When he, Ladybug and Chat Noir are compromised, Nathalie decides it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Changing Hearts and Changing Tides

The Agreste boys and their plus one, Nathalie, have decided to spend the week in a cabin by the coast. While Gabriel tries to mend his fractured relationship with Adrien, Nathalie is more or less there to keep the peace, but she soon finds herself out of her depth. With emotions shifting as frequently as the tide can the trio band together and take strides towards the future, or will they be swept out to sea and left hanging?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Your Sword and Shield

The last time the Graham de Vanilys showed up to the Agreste mansion, they proved they are not to be trusted. Nathalie should have known Amelie would go to treacherous lengths to get under her skin. After a tense confrontation and the shocking reveal of a new villain, Nathalie must step into a new role to protect the one she loves.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

A Moment of Reflection

After a particularly upsetting defeat, Gabriel is feeling like it might be time to throw in the butterfly brooch and move on. Nathalie tries to encourage him to continue but even she has some reservations about the idea. The two have a heart to heart over some brandy and learn things about each other.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

well, of course i’ve tried lavender

K O E L N @archekoeln you think, i didn’t know mayura was the type to resort to something like this? but you’re wrong, because now you’re being carried like a sack of potatoes above paris and, 3/11

K O E L N @archekoeln well, the view’s nice and all but you’re also in the arms of a villain??? 4/11

K O E L N @archekoeln you also think, how is she so strong??? because you know you aren’t as light as a feather (haha i’m funny) and her arms are skinny af, but you know, magic i guess 5/11

or

An online thread about Mayura sparks something in Gabriel. And as her boss (and friend, and villainous partner, and her something), isn’t it his job to… to do what exactly? Well, even he doesn’t know.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Superheroes, in daily life, usually remained hidden. Men and women, bestowed with god-like powers, living among those whose only powers remained in their knowledge and talents. One of these heroes was Mayura, a peacock-themed superheroine with the power to create new life. As more laborers were going on strike, Mayura’s efforts to keep the economy from deflating were more crucial than ever. Because of her, livelihoods were kept intact for the destitute. For the corporate overlords, however, she was the bane of their luxurious existence. But what does this mean to Gabriel Agreste?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Broken Arrow

Ordinary innkeeper Nathalie is plagued with visions of a captive Gabriel, begging for help. She sets out to recruit his son Adrien, the Demigod of Love, to aid her in freeing Gabriel from Emilie, the goddess of beauty. But Nathalie doesn’t know the secret that Adrien keeps from her that may tear them all apart.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Gabriel’s Inferno

Nothing seemed to predict how it all would end, and yet it had to have been obvious. It had been weeks since Mayura’s last appearance and he didn’t even let her go out to fight in person, but a broken miraculous doesn’t get carried away by precautions once it’s activated. With Nathalie balancing between life and death, Gabriel will have the opportunity to fix things or lose himself forever in a hellish battle that will overcome all nightmares.

Fanfic (English), archived Fanfic (Spanish), archived Art, archived

If I Could Turn Back Time

Gabriel and Nathalie obtain the rabbit miraculous and travel into the paths of time as Velveteen and Mayura, with the goal of preventing the chain of events that would lead to Emilie’s death. But on their way to Tibet, they encounter surprising visions of possible futures that leave them questioning what is possible and what they really want.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

This is Hallowe’en

With All Hallow’s Eve hanging over their heads, the Agreste household gets wrapped into celebrating Samhain. With Gabriel and Adrien following Nathalie’s knowledgeable path, they can not fail, probably. This moderately functional family will honor Emilie Agreste in the best ways they can.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Malleable Fates

A red thread starts materializing around Gabriel’s finger nearly two decades after he’s already found his soulmate. As he and Nathalie devise a faultless plan to finally win Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous and bring back his wife, Gabriel fights the onslaught of confusing feelings brought about the mysterious reappearance of his soulmate string - including the sneaking suspicion that his soulmate maybe isn’t who she used to be.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Splintered Soul Staring Back At Me

In the aftermath of the battle and a brief hospital stay, Nathalie is safe at home. Her recovery has been a bit stagnant, but she’s been granted leave from work and the miraculous is finally fixed. Things can only go up from here, right?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

With the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wing

It only took one little thing, the barest of moments, for Duusu to feel their love, and decide that they had to do something about it. Which was how Duusu ended up roping Nooroo into trying everything under the sun to match up their two stubborn holders.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Orders He Defies

After her husband’s death, Nathalie Sancoeur fell into deep despair. Determined to bring him back, she set her goal on obtaining the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, using the power of her own one. All her attempts for the last year, however, were futile. Should she remain careful? Or should she let it all burn, as her assistant Gabriel suggests she should? And is the goal even worth its price?

Fanfic (English), archived Fanfic (Ukranian), archived Art, archived

Royal Pain

Nathalie liked to think that she would make a pretty good king. If she had been born as the opposite sex, anyways. But as the facts were, Princess Nathalie Sancoeur had a duty thrust upon her that she would rather have not, all things considered: to be married to a foreign prince, in order to bring good fortune to her family and kingdom, and bolster their strength should the rapidly-cooling relations with one of the neighboring countries turn into a full-blown war. It was enough to make her gag every time she thought of it.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Dancing on Broken Glass

It was Lila that almost reduced Paris to rubble.It was that conflict that caused an irreversible change to two miraculous holders.It was that change that brought them together.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Anagnorisis

«Define Hubris»

Gabriel never considered how much a Deus Ex Machina would cost.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Worth

It’s been seventeen years since Nathalie and Gabriel sat in the cramped studio working hard to get the brand off the ground, and now he can’t help but reflect on those long-forgotten years.

Before Emilie. Before Adrien. Before the money and fame.

As he looks at her across his desk… he wonders if it was all worth it.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

A Witch’s Desire

Gabriel Agreste was a peculiar man, who was known around town both as a famous fashion designer and a powerful witch who was able to read and control minds, though he never used that second power unless there was a real emergency. Heck, he barely even used the first. But after losing his wife, Gabriel becomes desperate to do anything he can to bring her back, even that means using his powers for evil, or tracking down a mysterious powerful witch who had disappeared many years ago, with the power to bring the dead back to life.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Not a Minute of Peace

Even though the akuma wants to shackle them, the Collector and Catalyst have more freedom than Gabriel and Nathalie ever had. They may be criminals turned into prey, but they enjoy the hunt. There is only one thing they are running from.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Revision

Nathalie made the wish.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Woman With The Golden Feathers

The annual Bourgeois masquerade comes at the right time for Gabriel. In a moment of personal uncertainty after his discreet divorce, he will find the possible answer in a mysterious lady with golden feathers.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Time and Time Again

The stress of being a young designer trying to make it in the fashion industry is taking its toll, and Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s marriage is slowly unraveling.

They’ve stood the tests of life since their first year of university, but when everything comes crashing down, Gabriel finds himself stuck reliving the day it happened. Failing and falling, time and time again with every passing ‘day’. Why is he here? How can he stop it? The answer lies in a choice as to what matters more: his career or the woman who has stood by him through it all.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Clarity

A year after Hawkmoth’s surrender, Gabriel asks Nathalie to join him to gaze at the stars. While she waits for him, she contemplates the empty space left by the removal of the portrait from the foyer hall. Growth ensues for them both as they learn to just be by each other’s side.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

C’est la Vie; C’est le Ballet

After the death of his wife, upstart choreographer Gabriel Agreste is looking for a new star for his ballet, Miraculous. Hard to please and willing to do whatever it takes for the sake of the show, none of the auditionees fit his artistic vision…

…except Nathalie, a former prima ballerina turned ballet instructor. She’s stoic and very dedicated to her craft, but there’s a reason she stopped performing four years ago and it has dangerous potential.

Through the trials and triumphs and betrayals that run hand in hand with the world of ballet, Gabriel and Nathalie begin to find something more in each other’s company, and perhaps the seeds of new beginnings.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

I’m Praying (There’s Saving)

It was to be Gabriel’s first party on Olympus, but little did he know it would also be the last. Not only for him, but for everyone. In the blink of an eye everything changed, sending the god of nature and his newborn son to take refuge with the Queen of the Dead. They thought they were safe, but even the depths of the underworld couldn’t escape the King’s wrath forever.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

#gabenath reverse bang #gabenath events #gabenath #miraculous ladybug #reverse bang #gabenath reverse bang 2020 #masterpost 2020

[atomicblasphemy]

“Te lo dijo una vez y te lo diré por toda mi vida, te voy querer por todo el siempre, cariño.”

Normally, when declaring herself to her girlfriend in her ancestral language Luz would always be met with a swooning Amity. This time, however, the young witch had a somewhat pensive expression on her face, her eyes squinted ever so slightly, lips pursed and head tilted to one side. Luz knew that look, it meant the girl was debating herself on whether or not to ask something about the human world.

“What is it, hun?”

“Well... I’ve been meaning to ask you this for some time now. But every now and then you start saying those strange words. I thought it was some kind of incantation or something, but at this point I don’t really know. What is it?”

“Oh, you don’t need to be hung up about asking stuff like that. That’s spanish, the language they speak in Mami’s homeland. Do you like it?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m just a bit confused. You mean that where your mother is from is not the same as the one they speak where you are from? So humans just have a bunch of different languages?”

“Wait? Are you telling me that this right here is the only language that exists in this world? That’s weird?”

“As far as I know, yeah, it is. And seriously, how does this work, how many languages are there?”

“A lot, and they are all very different. Like, there are countries...”

“Countries?”

“Countries, I’ll explain that latter. Anyway, there are countries that have like hundreds of languages that are only spoken there. Honestly, I think its kind of cool.”

“Wow.”

As she sat there contemplatively watching nothing in particular in the distance the reddish fluster tinge Luz gotten so used to since they started their relationship began taking hold of Amity’s pale complexion. Her voice as timid as Luz ever heard, she asked:

“Hey, Luz... Can you... maybe... teach me a little?”

“Oh, sure. I’m not a great teacher but I’d love to. What is it you  wanna learn?”

“Well... That... I... I kinda wanna tell you that I love you in as many human languages as possible... It’s ok if you don’t want to though.”

Luz was taken aback, but in hindsight she should have expected it. Amity was not one for grand gestures. The witchling loved showing her affection for the human, but only in private settings, it stood to reason then that she would want to expand her repertoire as much as possible.

After planting a kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek Luz started:

“Te amo. That’s in spanish. Te quiero works too. Now there are many other languages, as I said, and I don’t know how to say it in a lot of them, just very few. I know in italian and portuguese its te amo, like in spanish. The swedish say jag älskar dig. The french say je t’aime. The german say ich liebe dich. So on... And... When I say it to you its truth, no matter the language.”

Now, all that was truth. Luz loved Amity deeply, specially when it looked like there was so much blood going to the girls head from blushing that she worried she’d caused her to have an aneurysm.

That being said, one fact about the human was not to be overlooked. She was a disciple, an apostle even, of the teachings of one Edalyn Clawthorne. Among other things this meant an undying commitment to chaos based comedy.

Luz loved Amity. She hoped her girlfriend could laugh if the punchline eventually came. Luz loved Amity. But opportunities like this don’t appear every day.

“But... I think my favorite way is in japanese. Its a language very different from all those I’ve mentioned just now, from the opposite side of the world.”

“Oh... Really? The human world sounds pretty big.”

“Yup, it sure is. Anyway, you say it one way and if the person loves you back they answer with a different word. You ready?”

“MHMM!”

Luz almost felt guilty seeing the eager look in Amity’s eyes. But she had a holy duty.

“Omae wa mou shindeiru.”

“Omae wa mou shindeiru.”

“Right! Then the response is nani”

“Nani?”

“Nani.”

They were both grinning. Anyone who saw the scene would have surely testify to the sweet appearance of the moment.

“Luz, omae wa mou shindeiru.”

In her most swoony voice, Luz responded.

“Nani.”

A satisfied smile that seldom graced Amity’s faced appear as intertwine her fingers with those of the human prophet of chaos. Luz would just as content if her mind was not entirely occupied with one simple undeniable fact: there was no way this wouldn’t backfire horribly.

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

“Luz...”

They had grown up, no longer bound to Hexside’s uniform, Amity sported a delicate light pink dress that greately contrasted the acts of unspeakable violence she just comited against her mother in law’s front door.

“Luz de mi vida, la quiero mas que cualquier otra... Ca...Ri...Ño.”

The blush on her face was not out being flusttered by Luz affections. The sweetness of the words clashing with the manic grin and twitchy glare on the young woman’s eyes.

“I have some so very important to tell you...”

“Wh-What is it, hun?”

Luz was always a confident person. Even if evidence sometimes seemed to try to convince her to be otherwise. Now... Amity was one such evidence.

“Omae we mou shindeiru.”

Whatever was troubling the witch, this may be Luz’s only shot at de-escalating matters. In her most romantic voice:

“Nani.”

“Nononononono. Cariño, Love, Honey, Luz... You don’t understand do you?”

It was clear to her now what had happened when the two parted way for the day. Luz had been sleeping in late as Amity left the house to explore the human realm as often enjoyed doing whenever they were there. And chance led to revelation.

“Omae wa mou shindeiru.”

And then, the most horror inducing ever crafted by human minds and ever uttered by any witch left Amity’s lips.

“Baka.”

As she started running towards the backdoor, Luz couldn’t the other two grimy figures that now occupied the living room by her girlfriend’s summoning. Nor could see the terrified and yet glee induced grin in her girlfriend’s face.

#THE OWL HOUSE #Lumity #luz noceda #amity blight #amity actually considered proposing that very day just so she could ask for divorce as soon as they were declared married #marrying the same person twice seemed like too much of a hassle so she decided to just start screaming and running after her like a banshee #ultimately it kinda worked but just kinda

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

Hi ao idk if your matchups are still open but I would just like to send mine just in case and if you they are closed, could you do mine when you open them?🥺 ANYWAYS. Imma introduce myself :)

My name is Cecilia, and my pronouns are she/they! I am a Aries, im Bi and im a ENFP. When it comes to the physical aspects, I am 5'8, I have brown hair, brown eyes and I have freckles on my face. Also I'm kinda blind lol I use glasses bc I can't see shit without them 😃. I'm chubby and I have the fear of accidentally squishing people if I sit on their laps or if they carry me 😀. When someone meets me for the first time you will either get the first impression that im a rude and sarcastic person that doesn't care about anyone and I will kill you OR I am one of the nicest human beings that you will ever meet on the planet earth. There isn't really a in-between. BUT, usually when I warm up to people I can be really chaotic and fun, tho I am really sarcastic so people really won't be able to save themselves from my snarky remarks :) . I really like to listen to music, read, ride my bike,, write poetry, play video games and watch movies (preferably romantic movies or horror movies). I also enjoy learning new languages and for now I speak 3 (Spanish (which is my native one), English and Russian. I'm trying to learn Japanese). I hate strawberries and thunderstorms. UwU idk if you take preferences for what characters people want for matchups, but my preferences are yaku, suna, yamaguchi, or akaashi.

Ok thanks ily and take care! 🥺💓

@scftfairyking

Romantic Matchup

Suna Rintarou

A/N Ok so he was actually a candidate for your matchups so when you said he was one of your preferences I was like why not 👀

How Y’all Met

So you we’re actually Atsumus gaming buddy

You guys were a very chaotic duo 😊

but you guys would often just play video games together

So when Suna ACTUALLY agreed to come play video games at his house with him

He thought he would invite you too

Yk for shits and giggles

Things started off pretty smoothly

Y’all just played Mario kart together

Then the smack talk started...

You started throwing little jabs about Sunas playing

Which started to rile him up

Causing the game to get a little...intense

Honestly Atsumu didn’t even know what was happening anymore

One minute y’all were laughing together

But now you could cut the tension with a knife

Eventually it was just you and suna going head to head in the game

Unfortunately a text from your parents distracted you for a split second and he won 😔

You had to go home anyways so you started to pack your stuff

But before leaving the house you pointed at suna and said

“Nice playing, but you just got lucky. I’ll beat you next time”

And left

If you had stayed a little longer you would’ve seen the pink that dusted Sunas cheeks 👀

Before he took his leave he asked suna for your number

Which earned him a couple of teases from the blonde twin

But in the end he got it

And the first thing he sent you was a challenge to 8 ball

And the text

“You said you’d beat me next time, so let’s see about that”

Which began the start of your glorious friendship

Eventuality poor Atsumu got replaced as your gamer buddy

And suna took his place 👀

Suna had feelings for you since he first met you

But never said anything

But a certain blabber mouth twin did...

Atsumu had noticed how much you two we’re hanging out

So being the little snitch he is ratted his friend out

He literally just flat out told you that suna liked you

This info was obviously a little shocking

But you wouldn’t deny that you were a little pleased 👀

You’ve also developed feelings for suna

So YOU confessed to HIM

And of course he agreed 🙄

What They Love About You

He loves how sassy you are

This mans can be a sassy little shit too

So it’s cool that he found someone who can match his energy

And take a couple of teases every now and then

Awww

He loves your freckles

He legit thinks their the cutest thing ever

Oh and he LOVES your height

It’s just perfect in comparison to his

Hugs are never awkward yk

Favorite Things To Do Together

Omg

He loves to watch horror movies with you

Like full on horror movie marathons

Oof and god forbid you actually get scared

Because first of all he’ll tease the shit out of you

But then he’ll go on about how he’ll “protect you”

He still likes to play video games with you!

But be warned...

These moments get VERY competitive

He also just likes to chill with you and listen to music

Every time you do that you get to pick a song then he gets to pick a song

Fun timessss

Random Hc

His favorite horror movie is The Shining

For ONE reason only

Because you always get a little jittery after watching it

So he loves to just pop out from behind a corner and yell

HERES JOHNNY

He honestly thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

He was this 🤏 close to beating the s h i t out of Atsumu for telling you how he felt

But he didn’t

Cause he ended up with you ❤️

He will literally pick you up outta NOWHERE

just to get a reaction out of you 🥲

Astrology

When Aries and Aquarius come together in a love match, the combination of Aquarius vision and Aries action makes them a highly creative pair.

Their relationship is anything but static; they can be competitive, but life with these two is never dull!

Zodiac Signs that are two apart tend to have a special connection, and these are no exception.

They are great friends as they communicate really well.

They have a special understanding of one another’s idealistic, enthusiastic outlook on life.

They both crave excitement and new experiences — the wilder and stranger, the better.

They’re both into thrills and showing off.

Many Aries-Aquarius relationships are based on mutual admiration.

Aries loves how unique Aquarius is, their inventive vision of the world; Aquarius loves Aries for their energy and initiative — Aquarius gets new ideas all the time but sometimes finds it hard to carry them out.

Since both Signs prize independence, Aries’s tendency toward possessiveness can push Aquarius to become aloof or detached as a self-preservation tactic.

Though they have that special connection, they do see the world in very different lights, which they both need to understand.

Aries can be too involved for Aquarius’s taste, and Aquarius in turn may be too unpredictable for Aries.

As it turns out, Aquarius is the one Sign that has Aries beat when it comes to spontaneity!

As long as both partners reassure each other that the relationship is important and secure, things will be just fine.

Overall Aesthetic

Grunge

My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone

Verbatim - Mother Mother

DVD - Robbie Jet

IFHY - Tyler The Creater

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #suna #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x y/n

[halstudandruz]

Watch My Lips (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Antonio steps up to teach the reader a few things

Warnings: Smut (18+), swearing

A/N: I took a small page out of the Peter and Gabby book (I really miss Mills) anyway I don’t in any shape or form speak Spanish so blame google translate if anything is wrong, what they’re saying will be in English in parenthesis after just in case.

“Dawson, we need you.” Hailey yelled coming out from the back. Looking up from his desk he gave Jay a questioning look, “he only speaks Spanish.” Upton explained. Antonio nodded closing his file before locking his gun up and following her back. You contemplated between continuing to work or going to watch your partner question the suspect for a few seconds before giving into yourself. Against your better judgment you saved your file on your computer getting up to walk back as well. Kim catching your arm as you passed her desk amused smirk covering her face,

“What?” You asked.

“Where are you going?” She wondered.

“Just going to watch.” You shrugged making her smile grow wider,

“And is there any particular reason you’re going to stand back there and listen to people talk in a language you don’t understand?” She raised an eyebrow at you making your face blush a deep shade of red shifting on your feet,

“Shut up!” You begged looking around to make sure nobody was watching, making her laugh loudly.

“Hey I ain’t here to judge just here to enjoy the show.” She winked, turning back to her computer. Sighing loudly you shoved her in the arm taking the steps to head back to the room opposite of Antonio.

So, Kim may have been your best friend and might have known about your crush on Antonio. Of course taking any opportunity to tease you about them as if she wasn’t doing the same things with Ruzek. Antonio was hot any day of the week, but add on him speaking a different language, being able to watch the way it rolls off his tongue, and the confidence he has while doing it, had you sweating, heat rising in your body.

“Hey.” Jay spoke coming up behind you, making you jump a mile as he laughed out loud. “Looking a little flustered there [Y/L/N].” He smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Halstead.” You huffed.

“Yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that. You might want to pull yourself together before Voight comes in though.” Jay winked, an accusing smile on his face.

————

You were a little zoned out heading back to the district later in the day. Antonio was talking your ear off, but your mind kept drifting. You were normally really good at keeping your thoughts and feelings at bay, but looking at him today for some reason caused a wetness to pool between your thighs. Could’ve been his new haircut, could’ve been the way his jeans fit him just right, or maybe the v-neck he was supporting that day because damn you weren’t sure how his arms even fit in it to be honest fighting the urge to reach out and squeeze them.

“Earth to [Y/N]?” Antonio cleared his throat making your eyes shoot up to meet his face immediately turning red.

“Yeah? Sorry what were you saying?” You swallowed, turning to look away from him.

“I’m just saying someone is going to have to learn Spanish before I retire.” Antonio pointed out.

“Yeah cause lord knows that’ll be sooner rather than later.” You teased, stealing a glance as his eyes focused on the road.

“Haha, very funny.” He shook his head hiding a chuckle, “I think you’re going to have to be the one to step up though,” he continued making you laugh,

“Yeah let’s pretend that would happen.” You rolled your eyes, but the smirk on his face never left making you suspect he wasn’t joking, “Antonio, no. I’m not taking a Spanish class.” You crossed your arms against your chest.

“You don’t have to, I'll teach you.” He shrugged, putting the car into park after reaching the district’s parking lot.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to hire someone who speaks Spanish?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Probably. This will be more fun though. Come over to my place at 7. I’ll even make you dinner.” He smiled getting out of the car.

“Antonio! I don’t-“ You started to protest before he closed his door cutting you off and heading back into the district without you. Sighing you followed him knowing it was going to be a long night ahead of you.

——————

“This is so a date.” Kim giggled helping you with your makeup.

“It is not!” You retorted for the thousandth time.

“No? Then why are you so concerned about how you look?” She questioned.

“Maybe cause I never get to look nice and for once I’d like to take advantage of it.” You shrugged knowing deep down she could see through you.

“Sure. Okay. We’ll go with that.” She nodded an obvious smirk on her face. “You’ll tell me how he is thought, right?” She continued after a few minutes, making you groan, covering your face with your hands.

—————-

Walking up to Antonio’s door your heart was in your throat. This was nothing new, being at Antonio’s house. He was your partner and you were together regularly even outside the job, but knowing you were going to have to listen to him talk to you in Spanish all night while simultaneously keeping your composure already had your knees weak and your head doubting yourself.

Dinner was good. He had always been a good cook and you enjoyed watching him. You had talked mostly about work which wasn’t a surprise. Eva and Diego coming up frequently too as they were his pride and joy. Which you admired even more. You loved watching him with them even on the bad days the love you could see in his eyes was more than any words he could ever string together and that had you falling even deeper every time.

You were now seated on his couch nursing a glass of wine as he sipped a bottle of beer. Seated just close enough to him that your knee would slightly bump against his every so often.

“You know it’s really not that hard.” He teased.

“It’s your first language! I’d say the same thing about English.” You retorted.

“Do you know anything?” He chuckled, resting his arm against the back of the couch which caused his hand to land against your shoulder. Taking a deep breath you tried your best to ignore it before answering,

“Uh no not really. Just the real basic stuff we have to know. I didn’t even take it in high school. I took French.” You shrugged while taking a drink.

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” He asked, amused.

“I don’t remember any of that either anyway.” You chuckled. It started off simple naming things around his house. Following his lead.

An hour later your body was starting to heat up from the wine and listening to Antonio’s hidden accent come out even more prominently had a certain impact as well. So, whenever he started rolling his r’s you could hardly contain yourself wondering what it’d feel like against your own tongue.

“Come on try it again.” He laughed setting another empty beer bottle aside.

“Tonio, I can’t.” You whined setting your almost empty glass on the coffee table next to you.

“One more time. For me?” He smiled brightly at you as you huffed giving in. “Just start slow. Por favor (please).” He repeated and you could swear you heard a whine slip through your own mouth, breath starting to get heavier as you listened to his smooth words flawlessly falling out of his mouth. Taking a deep breath you tried again,

“Por favor.” But it ended as ungraceful and clunky as all the other times, making Antonio laugh loudly. “It’s not funny! I told you I couldn’t do this.” You frowned laying your hand on his knee.

“Alright just watch my lips.” He tapped his mouth, and he didn’t have to tell you twice. As if you hadn’t been already. Nodding you chewed at your bottom lip, inching just a little closer unintentionally. “Por fa-“ he started your lips cutting him off without a second thought. You didn’t remember leaning in, you didn’t remember your mind telling you to do it, but now your lips were tangled with his, hands fisted into his shirt. Antonio didn’t move, didn’t react to your lips on his. Which had you pulling back, your mind catching up to what you were doing.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” You begin to apologize, backing away from him, going to stand up in a rush, panic beginning to set in as you realized what you did. Before he grabbed your wrist pulling you back down to him, but this time closer.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Am I sure about being sorry? Yes, I di-“ But he cut in.

“I don’t believe you.” He smirked one hand landing on your waist, the other on your neck. You gulped not saying anything making him smile and lean into you this time. You gladly welcomed the feeling of his lips on yours again this time relaxing into it. Noticing how he smelled even better this close, how soft his lips were, and how smooth his hair felt as you threaded your fingers through it pulling him impossibly close. He picked you up, sliding you into his lap effortlessly. Pulling back to get a breath before moving to your neck.

“Antonio. Are y-oh,” you moaned feeling him nip behind your ear trying to compose yourself as you continued, hands grasping at sleeves of his shirt, “are you sure about this?” You eventually got out between a few deep breaths and whines. Antonio kissed your shoulder gently before leaning back to look at you, hands resting on your hips.

“Completely. Are you?” He answered.

“If you think you can keep up, old man.” You teased. Laughing he pulled you back to him, tongue immediately sneaking into your mouth, beer taste still existent, but you couldn’t have cared less, hands slipping under his shirt to feel his stomach and you were pleasantly surprised at the hardness. Curious now to see what was underneath up close you tugged at his shirt breaking to pull it over his head when he lifted his arms. Throwing it to the side, hands returning to his abdomen to admire his broad shoulders and perfect chest. “Oh hell yes.” You gaped causing him to chuckle below you.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as you traced your fingers over his scars, leaning down to answer,

“Lots of bad, bad things.” You replied nipping at his ear lobe which earned you a growl from grinding against him at the same time. He moved to pull your tank top off leaning down to leave gentle kisses across the neckline of your bra once it was tossed to the floor. Slowly unclipping it behind you and letting it fall between the two of you. Watching his eyes roam over your body had you immediately self conscious which he sensed.

“Hermosa.” He whispered, hands moving up your body.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“Beautiful.” He smiled, taking your breasts into his hands, moving his thumbs over your nipples as you sighed loudly. Closing your eyes tight when his mouth attached to one. Trying to keep from making too many sounds so early on you bit your lip feeling his fingertips digging into your hips encouraging you to move against him again. Gladly you moved your hips teasingly slow against the stiff cock pushing evidently against his jeans earning you a hard bite on your chest that without a doubt would leave a mark. “You want to tease now?” He looked up at you, cockiness in his voice, lips swollen from yours. Lip still trapped between your teeth you nodding looking down at him to see the lust in his eyes grow by the second. “You know I’m not stupid, right?” He chuckled moving to unbutton your jeans, “I could feel your eyes on me all day baby. Even in the two-way glass. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were watching me.” He leaned up to kiss you reaching his hands under your thighs to pick you up and move you to his bed. Laying you down gently when he reached the edge, “Admit it, [Y/N]. Tell me I’m not wrong.” He pushed one hand holding himself up as the other cupped your face looking down at you.

“You’re not wrong.” You admitted flattening your palms against his chest and slowly moving them down. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you no matter how hard I tried.” You swallowed hard one hand moving to cup him and push against his jeans making him gasp eyes closing tight for a second as he pushed against your hand.

“I wanted to take you in that car today. So bad. Feeling your eyes all over me. Trying to be inconspicuous. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, [Y/N].” He confessed rubbing a thumb against your cheek staring hard at you.

“Me too.” You agreed smiling up at him.

“That’s all I needed.” He smiled back giving you a quick kiss before leaning up to slide your jeans and panties down your legs, humming in satisfaction when he leaned up to look over you, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined every night.” He winked, kneeling down landing on his knees before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed moving your legs so they rested on his shoulders. He kissed from your ankle to the top of your thigh before stopping and moving to the other leg leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks along the way of each. No doubt purposely avoiding where you needed him most. You could feel yourself growing wetter every second at the anticipation, starting to drip onto your thighs absolutely in awe at the sight of a shirtless Antonio in between your legs.

“Antonio...come on, please.” You whined wiggling closer to his face and feeling the huff of his laugh hit your core causing you to buck your hips unintentionally.

“That’s not what I taught you.” He teased leaving tiny kisses closer and closer to your center.

“Baby..” You huffed running your fingers against his hair.

“Just like I taught you, princesa (princess) and I’ll make you feel so good. I promise.” He bargained moving his hands to hold your hips down.

“Antonio...” you cried before seeing he wasn’t gonna give in sighing you tried, “Por favor.” coming out better than before but still not perfect.

“Good girl. I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier.” He winked before moving his mouth to connect with your core, a moan immediately escaping you as your head fell back. If you thought he was good with his tongue before you had absolutely no idea. It took mere minutes for you to be a moaning mess shoving his face deeper into you and thank god he had your hips pinned down or the man wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

“Yes baby that feels fucking incredible.” You croaked. Your head was swimming as his tongue covered every inch of your pussy in the most amazing way possible. Summoning all of your strength to push him away seconds before you came. You watched as he backed away using his shoulder to wipe his mouth off leaving it glistening as he came back to his feet. Leaning down again to kiss you,

“Sorry I was too close.” You apologized once you broke apart.

“That was the goal.” He joked kissing your cheek and standing back up to undo his belt stepping out of his jeans and boxers and kicking them to the side. Whistling you moved up the bed some pulling him back down on top of you catching him by surprise.

“Ugh. Careful love.” He laughed adjusting himself.

“What? Am I gonna hurt you or something?” You teased moving your hand down to wrap around his shaft. Pleasantly surprised to find how thick it was in your hand.

“Yeah you wish.” He groaned when you started moving your hand. “Fuck.” He cursed.

“What?” You asked.

“I don’t have condoms.” He sighed, closing his eyes as you started to speed up your hand.

“What? You didn’t plan for this?” You joked.

“Maybe in my dreams.” He smirked thrusting into your palm.

“I’m on birth control. So as long as you're clean...” You trailed off letting go of him to lick the precum that had leaked out onto your hand.

“Of course I am.” He looked down at you in disbelief.

“Hey, shit happens.” You shrugged.

“You think the hottest detective in the city wouldn’t be a little careful about who they jump into bed with?” He joked.

“Well you know Halstead isn’t always the brightest.” You shot back.

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. You shrugged, grabbing ahold of him again and guiding him to your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer., shivering at the feel of his cock rubbing against your clit for the first time. Using the tip of his cock to your advantage you moved it through the lips of your pussy adoring the way his dick slid perfectly between them, mouth parted soft sighs escaping every time the head brushed against your clit. Enjoying every second before you had enough of your own teasing moving your hips up to let him slide in, “Tell me one more time.” He looked down at you nervously.

“I want you, Antonio.” You reassured him. Sighing in relief his palms landed on each side of your face before he started to push himself in. Breathing through the slight sting your nails dug into his back pulling him closer. Enjoying the pain more than you ever had in your life. Each inch clenching him even deeper. He wanted nothing more than to thrust into you as hard as he could but he talked himself through his impulses stopping every few seconds for you to adjust until he finally bottomed out. Breaths heaving in your ear. He started slow obviously trying to keep his control, only pulling out slightly before pushing in. Just worried about loosening you up first or he was going to lose it before it even started, but as you started to feel the pleasure taking over it started to get agonizing, never having felt so full in your life, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You had never been so happy to be on birth control giving you the ability to feel every throb, every twitch, every inch of his dick inside of you and that thought had you moaning out loud.

“Oh my god, baby.” He groaned against your neck at the sound and feeling of you.

“Come on handsome. I’m ready. Give it to me.” You encouraged holding his face in your hands. He moaned louder at your words, closing his eyes to avoid looking at you as he started to move faster and with each thrust the more you both lost yourselves in each other. In no time Antonio rested one of your legs on his shoulder giving him even deeper access than you ever thought possible, filling you to the absolute brim. His groans and sounds from his thighs hitting yours filled the room with each thrust making it even hotter. Shuddering his hips forward caused you to scream, hitting your sweet spot dead on. With his free hand he captured your wrists holding them tight above your head. You couldn’t believe the pleasure that was coursing through you was even possible before he leaned down capturing a nipple in his mouth and you swore you blacked out for a second screaming Antonio’s name. “Nobody has ever fucked me like this baby. You’re mouth, your tongue, your cock my god. You love making me scream from it all don’t you?” You got out between a series of moans. Antonio couldn’t answer you fully only able to get out a loud,

“Fuck, [Y/N].” You could tell he was close. From his sloppy thrusts and his moans to his cock starting to throb in you. You were close too right on the edge ready to fall any second. Moving your eyes up from where you two were connected up his body that was glistening from sweat rolling down from his chest, to his face where his mouth hung open groans and curse words flowing from it without shame and when you met his own eyes completely full of lust staring down at you that was the end. Stars clouding your vision as your eyes closed tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream, hips bucking up, and thighs tightening around different spots of Antonio. You came back just in time to feel Antonio’s cock twitch, his body stiffening, nails digging into your wrists, and head falling into your shoulder muffling a moan that would’ve been sure to wake up the whole neighborhood as he spilled himself into you completely. Eventually the room was silent besides your heavy breaths. Antonio eventually pulling out slowly and rolling off you. No words were spoken or movements made for a few minutes until you decided to break the silence.

“Every night huh?” You smirked turning on your side towards him making him chuckle.

“Maybe not every night.” He smiled pulling you to his chest.

“But close to?” You continued.

“Damn near.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I might have to send you some material then.” You looked up at him wiggling your eyebrows.

“Cannot say I’d be opposed to that.” He kissed you gently before standing up and walking into his bathroom carrying a cloth and water with him when he returned handing you the glass and nudging your legs apart to clean you.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman.” You took a drink before setting it on the night stand.

“I made the mess might as well clean it up I guess.” He shrugged kissing the inside of your knee as he did, before laying back down beside you gladly letting you cuddle back into him.

“You know that was like really incredible right?” You laughed looking up at him.

“Yeah? Not so bad for an old man huh?” He smirked.

“Yeah...young enough for round 2 yet?” You joked kissing at his chest squeezing his biceps.

“Only one way to find out I guess.” He lifted you back into his lap pulling you towards his lips. Later that night you would be sure to send Kim plenty of thumbs-up emojis (and maybe a few eggplants.)

#antonio dawson x reader #antoniodawsonxreader #antonio dawson smut #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd smut

[poisonedapples]

Roman Gets Help 1/5: Bad Nights

Part One: Virgil

Part Summary: Roman is always trying to make his anxiety more manageable with a bunch of different tactics. But a disorder is a disorder, and some days are worse than others. But at least his best friend Virgil is around to help.

Part of the Service Dog AU!

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Warnings: Past panic attacks, medication, anxiety, Remus making poop jokes because he’s Remus, swearing and food mentions

Word Count: 2,751

Taglist: @hold-our-destiny @pricklyfish777 @romansleftshoulderpad

Notes: Cornybird on Ao3 deserves Many Squishmallows for editing so much of my stuff, including this. So send visual squishmallow vibes to her, she deserves it

Virgil really should have known something was weird when Roman didn’t text back.

The two had made plans during lunch to meet up at Roman’s house so he could help with Virgil’s Spanish homework. Roman was infinitely better with language stuff than Virgil could ever dream to be, and even when the work was done, it was always nice to hang out in his room and get away from his wild parents every once in a while. But since Roman left school early and Virgil had to stay after for band practice, he hadn’t heard or seen Roman in a while.

That in itself wasn’t weird, though. What was weird was that when Virgil texted him that he was on his way, Roman didn’t respond. Not even with an emoji reaction or a simple ‘okay’. But even then, what was even weirder was that Virgil was right outside his door, texting Roman to open it for him, and he still wasn’t responding.

Virgil checked the last three messages he sent to Roman’s phone. All of them were marked as delivered but not read, which was also very concerning. What could Roman be doing that he hadn’t checked his phone in thirty minutes? Virgil got anxious when he didn’t read messages immediately, let alone waiting half an hour.

Virgil sent him one last text before putting his phone away. You there? I’m outside.

No response. Virgil knocked on the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting and shifting on his feet for someone to open the door. After a couple minutes, he started to think Roman had just forgotten.

However, a slight spark of hope rose up in him at the sound of the front door opening. But when Virgil looked up from his shoes to the person at the door, he felt his shoulders sag.

It wasn’t Roman who had opened the door. There was no shy and apologetic smile with Princess right under his feet. Instead, it was his bastard brother in ripped jeans and a green tank top, blowing bubblegum like a bully in a 90s Nickelodeon show.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite emo! What brings you here, Raven Way?” Remus asked, leaning on the door frame with a cocky smile.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ve already used that one.”

“It’s my favorite nickname for you. It’s the perfect brand of insulting. It has spice to it.”

“I’m glad you’re entertained then. Is Roman out somewhere?”

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “No, he’s been up in his room. Last I checked he was as passed out as a corpse.”

“Okay...can I come in then?”

Remus smiled and opened the door for Virgil, taking a bow as he stepped inside. Virgil rolled his eyes again. This guy is so fucking weird. “You know where his room and the shitter is. Just follow the trail of dog hair to his royal highness.”

“You terrify me, Remus.”

“Good! That’s the aesthetic I’m going for. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bigass thing of chili dip in the fridge that may or may not be expired. We’ll see!” Virgil’s eyes narrowed as Remus skipped back to the kitchen and right to the fridge, but he really didn’t want to be around for that mess. Instead, Virgil went upstairs and turned left to Roman’s room, the colorful Disney decorations covering his door. Virgil knocked twice, but when met with no answer, he came inside anyway.

The first thing Virgil noticed was the lights. The windows and blinds were shut tight so no sunlight could get through while Roman’s fairy lights around his room were turned on. The soft twinkling gave the room a feeling of calmness, but the sight on the bed was more concerning than tranquil. Princess was sat down on top of the bed comforter with two arms wrapped around her, Roman blending in with the sheets he was under as he shoved his face in his dog’s fur. At least she didn’t seem to mind.

Roman looked up at the sound of the door opening. Virgil felt his heart sink when he saw the tear streaks down his face and his messed up hair, but Roman tried his best to respond to Virgil anyway. “Hey…”

Virgil took off his shoes and threw his backpack onto the floor next to the door. “Hey, dude. You look like shit.”

Roman made a strange huff sound, probably meant to be a laugh. “Thanks.”

He buried his face back into Princess’ fur, and Virgil felt that pang of worry grow stronger. He moved to the other side of the bed, sitting alongside Roman and his pile of blankets and pillows. “You okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m doing better.”

“What happened?”

“Panic attack.”

Virgil sucked the air through his teeth as a way to say yikes. “Seems like it was a pretty bad one.”

Princess rolled over onto Roman’s chest, and Roman cuddled even closer than what Virgil thought was possible. He looked so small when he did that. “Worse than usual.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No. Sometimes it just happens.” Roman kissed the top of Princess’ head. “Anxiety just...does that.”

“Yeah, I get it. Trust me, out of everyone you know, I’d probably be the one to understand it the most.”

“...Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of them. Virgil didn’t actually know what to do when Roman was like this. He’s stopped him from having panic attacks in the past, but he’d never seen him look this bad. Roman was curled in on himself under the covers, gripping onto Princess for dear life in an attempt to soothe himself. His pile of stuffed animals usually spread around the bed were now in a giant pile around his body, and his weighted blanket poked out from under the comforter too. It looked like he was trying his hardest to get comfortable, and Virgil didn’t know what else he could do. A distraction? A nap?

Well, only one way to find out.

Virgil took a deep breath in. “...Is there any way I can help?”

Roman shrugged again. “Not that I know.”

“Did you take a nap? That usually helps me the most.”

“I just woke up. My meds knocked me out.”

“Your meds?”

Roman took a pill bottle from his nightstand and showed it to Virgil. He read the confusing label that all medicine bottles have, but the name of the pills was long and unfamiliar in Virgil’s mind. Roman placed them back once Virgil got a good look and curled in on himself more. “Panic attack meds. They help you calm down really quick when you’re having an attack. They always put me to sleep after. Remus likes to call them my tranquilizer dart.”

Virgil snorted. “I mean...accurate name. I’ve just never seen you with those before.”

“I only take them on bad days. My therapist warned me about how I shouldn’t take them after every panic attack, because then I’ll never learn how to deal with them on my own, and I might get addicted. Which I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, I know about the addiction thing. I used to be on anti-anxiety until last year.”

Roman tilted his head up to look at Virgil for the first time. “Really?”

“Yup. I got eased off them after a while, though. Now I just take an antidepressant, which honestly isn’t much. I think everyone in our friend group is on some kind of meds.”

“...Patton?” Roman asked.

“Patton’s one depressed mother fucker. I say that out of love, but yes, he’s also on antidepressants.”

“And Logan?”

“...Dude. Epilepsy.”

Roman let out a silent oh. “...I forgot you take meds for that.”

“Our brains are fucked up and we accept this.”

Roman flashed a small smile but didn’t respond. After that, the two had fell silent as Virgil awkwardly patted a beat on his leg to put his nervous fidgeting to use.

What do you do for someone getting out of a panic attack? It was obvious Roman wasn’t in a talking mood, but it was killing him inside to just...sit there while he looked so helpless. But he’d never had to deal with this with a friend before. The worst he’d dealt with were Patton’s bad depression days, and those had nothing on how horrible Roman looked right now. And if he already took a nap...what else were you supposed to do after a panic attack?

Virgil thought back to his own experiences. Of course, Virgil’s anxiety was nothing compared to Roman’s, but it was better than nothing. And comfort worked no matter how bad you felt, even if it was only a little.

He thought back to his own parents. How his mom would hold him and let him cry into his shoulder if he needed to, but that was too awkward for him to do with Roman. His dad would let him curl up and watch him play games on the console, which could maybe work…

...Then Virgil remembered another thing his mom did once after one of his worst panic attacks. It might be a bit embarrassing because of intimacy, but it would help Roman feel better. And that’s all that matters.

“I’m gonna go get some stuff, okay?” Virgil said, “You stay right here.”

Roman hummed. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but okay.”

With that, Virgil hopped out of Roman’s bed and left the bedroom.

First, he needed a water bottle. Roman probably had some water when he took his meds, but it likely wasn’t enough to stop a headache after all the crying. Virgil went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. While he was there, he looked through the rest of the fridge and noticed that there was no container of chili dip in there anymore. Gross.

Expired chili dip aside, he would need a face rag as well. Virgil went through a hallway on the first floor to the older bathroom downstairs, looking through the drawers for a decent cloth. A small one was hidden in the back of the drawer with some bottles of face wash and lotion, so Virgil grabbed that and took a mental note to put it back later. He stood in front of the faucet and stared at it for a while.

Was cold or hot water better for getting tears off someone’s face? Warm water seemed like it’d be more comfortable, but cold water could also be more refreshing. He thought about the possibilities for a while and settled on warm based on his own preferences, turning the hot and cold handles to where the water was only slightly warm, wetting a side of the cloth then turning the faucet off.

Before he left the bathroom, Virgil grabbed a couple squares of toilet paper and then headed out the door. He was back in Roman’s room not even five minutes later, setting his stuff on the nightstand for a second as he grabbed his DS from his bag and turned it on. Roman glanced up from the bed with a confused look, but didn’t say anything. Virgil came back next to the bed and motioned for Roman to move to the middle. Reluctantly, and with some shifting of Princess still at his side, Roman did so.

Virgil sat in Roman’s old spot and grabbed the wad of toilet paper. “Here, sit up and blow your nose. The last thing you need right now is more breathing problems.”

Roman grunted as she shimmied out from under his weighted blanket to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He took the toilet paper from Virgil and blew. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Now just stick with me for this next part, because I’m not good with touchy-touchy shit, so this’ll be a little awkward.”

Roman gave Virgil a confused look, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the damp cloth and silently tilted Roman’s head to face him. Virgil tentatively lifted the cloth to his face and wiped the tears from under his eyes, the gesture mixed with the warm water making Roman hum in content. Virgil didn’t acknowledge what was happening, he just wiped off his friend’s face, flipping to the dry part of the cloth to dry him off after.

“There. That should help you feel less gross, anyway.”

“Thanks...it helped.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Virgil set the cloth to the side and handed Roman the water bottle. “And drink this, it’ll help with that nasty headache you probably have.”

Roman twisted the cap open and chugged the bottle, finishing half of it in record speed before putting it down again. Virgil could tell by how fast he chugged it that his head was probably throbbing.

“Feeling a little better now?” Roman nodded. “Wanna watch me play Harvest Moon until you probably pass out again?”

He nodded again, Virgil scooting closer to him so Roman could place his head on his shoulder as he watched. His hand combed through Princess’ fur as Princess trapped the other under her paw to lick. Most people would think it was gross, but considering licking was one of her grounding techniques, he was desensitized to it by now. “Which one do you have?”

“A New Beginning. I’ll show you all my cows because they’re bomb as fuck. My first cow is named Oven and I have a baby one named Chaos.”

Roman laughed as Virgil started up the game. “Awesome. You play it often?”

“Eh, sometimes. It’s not my favorite game, but I carry it with me because it’s good for calming anxiety down. All I gotta do is feed my animals and mine and shit. Nothing else matters, you know?”

Roman nodded as best he could from Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil loaded up his save file and started to show Roman around his farm, mostly skipping the crops and going straight to the pets and farm animals with the most ridiculous names Virgil could get away with using only six letters. Virgil chatted away about his game and read all the speech bubbles out loud, showing off his wife who he swears he married platonically since his character was obviously gay and talking about his rivalry with the hair stylist. Roman wasn’t responding much, just a few hums and little laughs here and there, but Virgil didn’t mind. So long as his friend was feeling better, that was all that mattered.

A while later, Virgil was baking desserts for a contest being held in town when he spoke up again. “I’m shit at cooking good stuff in this game, but I can make some neat pancakes, apparently. I’m gonna make this contest my bitch.”

There was no response. That wasn’t very strange in itself, but usually when Virgil sweared, Roman at least made a small huff of a laugh from his shoulder. But this time, he was completely quiet. Virgil looked over at his shoulder when he almost awwww’ed out loud.

Roman had fallen back asleep, his mouth open slightly with his arms cuddling Princess extra close as she seemed to relax alongside him. He was adorable, and in a moment of softness that Virgil would deny to the end of his days, he helped Roman to lay back in bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Roman still clung slightly to him even as he slept, so Virgil accepted his fate and moved to curl up alongside him, continuing his game with a smile on his face.

“Your sleep schedule is gonna be absolutely fucked, dude.” Virgil said. There was no response, obviously, and Virgil didn’t talk to his sleeping friend after that. He just took a mental note to tell his parents he was staying the night before it got too late and kept caring for his farm.

Maybe later he’d wake Roman up and get him some dinner, letting him recharge and take a shower before they actually had to go to bed. He’d be too awake to actually sleep at first, but the company of his friend and the comfort of his dog would keep him calm through that, even when Roman hated being awake past eleven. Patton may even find out and tease Virgil about having a heart after all, which Virgil would deny until the end of his days. But his edgy reputation wasn’t what mattered right now.

Instead, Virgil smiled and cuddled closer as Roman slept peacefully.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #service dog au #ts roman #ts virgil #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety #food mention #panic attack mention #ts remus #remus sanders #medication mention

[honey-hippie-harper]

The Day Gatlon Fell

(TW: VIOLENCE)

IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)

This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But  I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.

Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).

And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA

Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.

As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.

Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.

For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.

Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.

By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.

“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”

Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.

Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.

There was always a defect they could find in him.

When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.

And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.

Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.

It really was never enough.

When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.

Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.

But courage came from the same place as fear.

And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.

Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.

He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?

“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.

So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.

“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because somebody has to fight for us.”

“You want to fight for us.”

“I want us to fight for us.”

At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.

“They can’t kill us all.” She said.

“Oh, but they can.”

Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.

“Then how come we’re still here?”

As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.

They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.

Because somebody had to.

And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.

Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.

As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.

They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.

So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.

Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.

Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.

Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.

Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.

Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.

They were many. Too many.

And they couldn’t kill them all.

When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.

Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.

Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.

To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.

It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.

Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.

Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.

Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.

It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.

“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.

“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.

“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”

It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.

“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.

Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.

Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).

Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.

“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”

“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“

“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”

“I see.”

“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”

Being that said, she winked.

By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.

“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.

Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.

Which was fitting for their current situation.

The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.

The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.

When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.

With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.

The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.

In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.

The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.

Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.

Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.

Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.

With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.

“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.

“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”

They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.

Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.

Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.

They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.

He just said Gatlon would fall.

And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.

Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.

There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.

Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.

Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.

In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.

He heard the bullets.

Bang, bang, bang.

It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.

They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.

Bang, bang, bang.

Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.

Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.

One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.

Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.

Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.

It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.

Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.

“… When we remembered Zion…”

They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.

After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.

Absence.

There were no more bullets.

They were alone.

“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”

“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”

“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”

“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”

“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”

That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.

Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.

There was anarchy.

And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.

They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.

Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.

His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…

And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.

If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.

Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.

But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.

Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.

“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.

The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.

“I SAID…!”

“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”

The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.

“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”

“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”

“STEP BACK!”

Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.

It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.

But he didn’t.

Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.

The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.

Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.

However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:

“So be it, then.”

Being that said, he lifted his chin.

The bullets turned around.

Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.

The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.

They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.

Shoot the canyons, they said.

But the canyons fell too.

Bring the bombs, they said.

And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.

The planes, they said.

And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.

Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.

There was blood.

Tons of blood.

That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.

His powers didn’t act like this.

His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.

It was…

It was the helmet

“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.

To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.

If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.

First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.

The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.

Gatlon City was starting to look red.

But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.

“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”

“Clear the bridge?!”

“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”

Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.

“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”

Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.

He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.

“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.

“Excellent.”

Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.

Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.

And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.

Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.

Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.

“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”

Acey.

Fucking Acey.

Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.

“I… “

BANG.

An explosion.

A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.

Good thing they weren’t.

That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.

“Acey, wait, I…! “

“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.

Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.

And maybe he knew him well enough too.

“Later.” He promised, empty.

Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.

Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.

Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.

Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.

Because they were.

They were just fighting back.

Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.

The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.

Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.

A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.

First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.

Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.

At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.

Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.

It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.

She screamed in pain.

Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.

“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.

“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”

Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”

Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.

Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.

And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.

Very useful.

On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.

Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.

“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.”  Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”

Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.

She stared before grabbing it.

“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”

And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.

The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.

She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.

The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.

Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.

With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.

And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.

And there they were.

The three of them.

Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.

Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.

Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.

“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.

“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.

And then, he lifted.

Honey was the last one to let go of him.

Next, he was gone.

Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.

Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.

Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.

All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.

The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.

Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.

They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.

Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.

Everything was in flames.

The light became brighter.

The wails became louder.

Time became slower.

Time became torture.

Time became endless.

And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.

Then, just like that, it fell.

Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was made of paper.

And it fell.

And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie Writes #Leroy Flinn #Cyanide #Honey Harper #Queen Bee #Alec Artino #Ace Anarchy #Im not an ace apologist #not even a honey apologist #even though i love them i also want them to choke and die bc thats what they deserve #does that mean im only and exclusively a Leroy apologist? yes #yes absolutely #hes my grandpa #Las crónicas de gatlon #el viejo rancio la patrona y el 100tifiko #theres two mexican references here because mexico is so wild i base Ace's movement upon it lmao #TW: VIOLENCE

[ksyescribe]

The Boys™ Speaking A Foreign Language (HQ Edition)

Featuring: Oikawa, Osamu, & Ushijima

Warnings: Some slight manga spoilers!

A/N: This headcanon is centered around these bbs speaking Spanish but I think they can really be applied to any language! I hope you guys enjoy! Also thank you @cttnclouds​ for the Osamu fusion idea you’re literally an angel and i love you.

Oikawa Tōru

Why he learned: 

He moved to Argentina. It’s either learn or get really got at using hand signals.

Learning Process: 

Honestly? Probably tried the whole DuoLingo thing the first few weeks after he got the okay to move to Argentina. But after a while he burnt out.

He probably got up to like the introductory phrases and then fell off. Probably because he had to deal with all the logistical stuff that comes with moving.

(Someone help him cause he literally thought moving would be an easy one two three job :’) Iwa-chan help!)

The next time he remembers that he’s literally going to a new country with a new language is like a month before he moves.

He’s shopping with Iwaizumi for some new clothes and stuff when Iwaizumi just goes “So how’s your Spanish coming along?

freeze frame, his face looks like this: (∩╹□╹∩)

Anyways he really like stress buys like three different Japanese books that he then FORGETS ABOUT for the rest of the month.

He reads them on the flight to Argentina. The only things he learned were how to ask for the time and directions. 

Oh boy, Argentina’s going to be fun :’)

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

Right so, the first time you see him use his sorry excuse for Spanish is at the little corner coffee shop down the street

Of course everyone’s like eyeing him cause, why is a foreigner here in the hidden gem of the city? But also he’s kinda cute what?

Anyways, you’re minding your own business until you hear the heavily accented Spanish.

And pues, we’re all little chismosos so of course you pay attention to what he’s trying to do (order a coffee but he literally cant remember what the word for sugar is dear god someone help this man)

After cringing you step up with the translator app on your phone open and obviously help him out. 

He’s a little impressed because: 1. Your Spanish is so smooth and flowy it sounds like you’re reciting poetry and 2. Why didn’t he think of the translator app tf??

So you get his order shoot it back to Sandra over the counter in fast Spanish and then order your own stuff before moving off to the side to wait for your coffee.

Oikawa might be an idiot right but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to ask you to teach him Spanish?? 

I mean you’re cute, you’re obviously a local from the way you were greeting everyone inside the shop, and well, you’re the only person who’s tried to help him out so far and that means a lot to him.

For some odd reason you actually agree? You still don’t know what caused you to say yes. Probably the pitiful look he had when he told you he had to move cause of work and he knew nobody else here.

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

Honestly, he bitched a lot at the beginning but forcing him to only communicate in Spanish really helped him out. 

So taking him on town trips and having him tell you about what he’s seen or what he wants to do in Spanish really helped him. Also having your friends come with is really fun cause he tries to teach them some Japanese words while they translate that into Spanish.

Also being immersed in the language is a big plus.

But I think the #1 thing that really helped him was watching novelas with you. 

Like he wants to understand what Gabriela is yelling to Sofia about in real time not through the subtitles. (But damn Gabriela really slept with Sofia’s fiance? Wack, that man is not worth it hun)

You know his Spanish’s getting better when you walk into a completely new bread shop that the two of you are visiting and he just goes ahead and orders in fluent Spanish.

Leaves both you and the attendant in shock. But he just comes back and asks you in Spanish too, “Lo hice bien? No me trave verdad?”

The woman literally swoons from the whole encounter. He is now a danger to any woman within five miles of the vicinity. Gets all cocky about it.

Favorite Spanish Word: Alborotar - Disturb? That’s what google says but it’s more like mess up.

Miya Osamu

Why he learned:

Honestly? This Mexican-Japanese fusion place opened up and he just wants to talk to the chef about where he gets his ingredients from because this shit tastes amazing!!

Learning Process:

Went home the first night after eating at that restaurant and bought a year subscription for Rosetta Stone. 

He’s kind of regretting it because like, maybe he should’ve gone with the monthly plan? Fuck he shouldn’t have gotten ahead of himself.

He tries to do an hour of the program a day minimum. There’s some days where the hour like drags on and other days where he’s so pumped that he does more than one hour.

His max was one day where it snowed so hard that nobody could go out so he spent like 10 hours doing Rosetta Stone.

He tried going to like one of the Brazilian stores around his house to try out his Spanish with them but was sorely disappointed to learn that Brazilians do not speak Spanish.

Still got some bomb ass brigadeiros though so who’s the real winner here huh? 

Actually put up a craigslist ad for a Spanish partner. 

It’s up for a whopping 5 minutes before he promptly deleted the ad. 

Instead!! This man signs up for one of those international pen pal services and gets matched with someone fluent in Spanish (it’s you hello).

And it turns out said person is coming to Japan soon for a year abroad?? And they have a basic Japanese foundation?

Yeah dude he lucked out.

Out of all three boys, his alone learning goes pretty well. Gets a good foundation of Spanish.

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

This one’s so cute!! He actually does it sort of by accident?

He’s made friends with everyone at the fusion restaurant including the chef because he actually managed to hold a decent conversation in Spanish.

His brain just automatically switches to Spanish when he enters the restaurant.

So when you hear him bust out into a full fluent Spanish conversation with the waiter you kind of sit there like: (・о・)

This man even orders and asks you if you want to split a bottle of wine in Spanish.

You could only nod because holy shit. 

Like yes you’ve heard him speak it over the discord calls before but in person?? That’s a whole nother story.

Specially because his pronunciation is so good?? And he has the right accent? It’s so smooth like it just flows naturally from him.

And he can actually roll the r’s god damn sir

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

So he has a pretty good grasp on the language which means he doesn’t need much help with learning.

But you can help expand his knowledge. Like teaching him about how in some countries/dialects things might be said differently. (Like how there’s 17 ways to say straw. Hondurans say pajilla and that’s all I knew for a bunch of years)

He’ll also need help with learning about a lot of food names. He only knows the basic names, not any special fruits or like combination dishes so that’ll be fun. 

You actually start cooking new latin recipes every Saturday so he can familiarize himself with the cuisine.

Some ingredients are hard to come by but the adventure in finding them is so worth it.

His favorite recipe so far? Making Pollo con Tajadas from Honduras. The Bandeja Paisa from Colombia is a close second.

Favorite Spanish Word: Popote: Straw (in Mexico)

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Why he learned:

His last current concern is literally “he would like to work harder at studying languages”. 

Fair, makes sense. 

But instead of going with a familiar language he just says fuck it time to learn the latin alphabet with Spanish. 

yeah okay why not

Learning Process:

Ushijima is more of a visual learner. 

Which in it’s own makes sense. He’ll probably get a book that has like those floating numbers over items and it tells him what it’s called in Spanish right?

Wrong.

You know what he does?

This man. This 24 year old man. Goes home, opens up Netflix, and puts on... wait for it... DORA.

I kid you not!! Ushijima Wakatoshi will always begin learning a new language by watching children’s shows.

You know why? 

Because he read an article a while back where it said that the best way to start learning languages is by watching children’s shows due to the fact that the shows are literally tailored to teach kids the language.

See what he did there? Y’all thought he was a big dumb dumb but in reality he’s a big smart smart.

Uh, anyways.

He will sit down to watch the children’s shows with a notebook. He takes very good notes, has a Japanese translation for everything.

His show watch list: Dora la Exploradora, Plaza Sesamo, Maya Y Miguel, Go Diego Go, and Handy Manny.

The crazy thing? It actually works. He literally gets his Spanish base from these shows. 

Crazier thing? HE LITERALLY PICKS UP THE CORRECT ACCENTS.

I kid you not bro, he literally somehow managed to sound like a FLUENT speaker. I-

But from there he picks up some more books and audio files to try and increase the complexity of his knowledge.

He’s the best speaker out of the three.

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

Honestly? He’s been looking for a Spanish partner for a while and he genuinely doesn’t know how to go about it. 

One day though, he overhears you on the phone with your mom. 

He’s seen you before. You’re one of the girls working under the main manager and you’re actually really helpful. If he remembers correctly, you’re the only co-manager that can wrap the compression sleeves just how he likes them.

Anyways, not uh, important.

He’s not one to eavesdrop but, well you’re in the equipment room and he needs to grab one thing. Just a quick in and out. He’ll even turn off his ears.

But then you start speaking like fluent Spanish? And suddenly his ears are very active. 

He doesn’t harass you while you’re on your call. Instead he waits until after practice.

Then he just comes up to you and goes, “Perdóname por molestarte pero, estabas platicándo en Español anterior?”

Kind just sat there like: ◉‿◉ - (￣ー￣) - ⚈ ̫ ⚈

You can’t even speak, you’re still processing that he just spoke Spanish like a natural??? So you just nod.

He launches into a whole talk about how he’s been learning but he needs a speaking partner so that he can get better.

At some point during his whole speech you sit down because your brain IS NOT CATCHING UP.

In the end you agree to become his partner. He’s paying you in food how the hell can you say no?

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

Like I said before, he’s already good.

You mostly help broaden his knowledge about the culture from Spanish countries and their cultures. A lot of it is through food and the small glimpses of hispanic life from Japan. 

Can’t really teach the customs and traditional stuff unless it’s in person.

You’re actually getting ready to go back home for your once a year family reunion when suddenly this man invites himself to your trip?????

I mean, it’s not a bad idea in the first place but then he offered to pay for your trip and well...

You’re kind of broke and he’s rich so it works alright?

God but going back home? Ultra boosts his spanish.

Not sure if it’s the atmosphere, your family, or just the fact that the country is now in a whole nother language, but this man just adapts. 

It’s really uncanny. 

While he’s here, your family teaches him a lot of Spanish idioms and phrases that don’t translate over well and he starts incorporating them into his every day usage.

Someone on the team got hurt and he literally walked over and rubbed their wrist and went “ Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.”

When you leave his apartment? “Te veo Mateo”

But he also gets to see how unique and beautiful the culture in your country is. 

His favorite part of the trip? Probably your family’s land that’s just surrounded by nature.

He also really liked the traditional shops that the old ladies from the village ran. (They also liked him and pinched his cheeks and called him a big strong boy so maybe that has something to do with it.)

His favorite Spanish word: Topogigio (to-po-i-yo): In Honduras, frozen ice cream (? not really but don’t know how else to describe) that is typically sold in a small bag. Flavors: Fruit juice or traditional ice cream flavors. 

#hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #oikawa toru imagine #miya osamu imagines #ushijima wakatoshi imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa toru imagines #oikawa imagines #oikawa toru x reader #miya osamu imgaine #osamu imagines #osamu imagine #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi imagine #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima imagines #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #ushijima headcanons

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Fourteen - There’s a Hole in the Wall

Word Count: 2714

Author’s Note: So I wrote all this, and then remembered that during this episode Dwight was working at Staples... So, variation on the story! Dwight never quit. Ok, with that settled, enjoy! (And did I make all you readers a lil gay? Yeah, I fucking did. Enjoy it. In this reality, you like girls and Jim Halpert and good for you!)

WARNING: angry Andy, discussion of sexual orientation (?), kinda cheating...

April, 2007.

The last few weeks had been crazy, and you hadn't really had a second to catch your breath. Between moving into a new flat and adjusting to your new workload, you hadn't had much of a chance to do anything with Pam or Jim. In fact, Jim was sort of, not talking to you...

You came in to work one sunny April morning to find Pam putting up a banner behind her desk, and you helped her off the counter once she was done. She smiled, and both of you examined the sign:

Welcome Back Oscar

"That's today?" You asked, and Pam nodded, giving you a quick hug hello.

"Yeah, did Toby not send you the email?" Pam asked, and you shook your head. "Oh! Maybe he hasn't added you back to the list..."

"I'll chat with him today about it." You assured her, and you both stood quiet for a moment. "Do you want to come over tonight? I just... We haven't hung out in ages."

"Oh my God yes, please. I didn't want to ask until you were properly settled in." Pam breathed out, and you grinned, walking over to your desk in a much better mood. Jim and Karen arrived in the office, by Dwight's stopwatch, 6 minutes and 13 seconds late. You smiled at Jim as he sat down, and while he smiled back, no words were exchanged.

Your phone rang, and after checking the area code number, you cleared your throat and answered.

"Esta es la oficina corresponsal extranjero de Dunder Mifflin, Y/N hablando. ¿Cómo puedo ayudarlo esta noche?" You said quickly into the phone, to be met by a loud exhale from Dwight across the table. You looked up from the phone, raising an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to try it again. "Si lo veo..." You glanced at the clock, listening to the Spaniard on the phone ramble about an issue with an online order, all while Dwight started to, very loudly, sharpen his collection of pencils. "Un momento, por favor." You said quickly, holding the phone to your chest and looking at Dwight.

"What?"

"Keep it up, Schrute, and I'll hurt you." You warned, only to receive a laugh in response. You looked around the office quickly, a surveillance check. "You don't speak Spanish, do you Dwight?" You asked, and Dwight shook his head. "Exactly, that’s the whole point... Stop what you're doing, meet me in the breakroom in ten minutes... Make sure we aren't watched." You whispered loud enough to peek Jim's interest, before returning to your call.

"Perfecto, lo trasladré de immediato. Gracias por su patiencia." You finished the call, transferring the client to the Rochester branch after five minutes of trying to talk him through the terrible set up of Dunder Mifflin's online presence, and you looked up from your phone to see Dwight had disappeared.

"He's scouting the breakroom..." Jim said quietly, and you glanced over at him, a goofy smile on his face as he typed away at his computer.

"So, you're talking to me now?" You responded, keeping a low voice, pulling up your email to get in touch with Rochester, and IT. The shitty website would, sooner or later, lose the company big clients.

"Was I not talking to you?" Jim feigned innocence, but you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the monitor, prompting him to sigh. "Okay, I kind of was, but I'm sorry and I would really like to help with the whole Dwight thing..." He pleaded, clearly bored out of his mind. Jim's pranking habits had certainly dimished a little, and by the desperation in his eyes, he was in withdrawal.

"Deep cover... I'm actually Agent Robin DeMarco with the CIA, here to monitor Dunder Mifflin for a spy implanted by the Russians... After he was compromised at Christmas, Pam told me all about that one, good job by the way, I was sent in to replace the returning Y/N Y/L/N, who is currently in Barcelona on holiday. Keep him safe, prep him for a new mission." You explained, and Jim clapped his hands together, biting his lip.

"Wow... Pam, you want in on this?" He asked, and Pam nodded from her desk, still on the phone. You sent off the email and looked at the time, about to leave for the pranking when Karen sat on your desk.

"How can I help?" She asked, and you stopped for a moment. You hadn't thought of her being involved at all, and a part of you didn't like her intruding on the joy you shared with Jim and Pam. You shook it off quickly.

"Oh! Yes! Ok... Wait, I got it." You grinned. "Would you like to be the Russian spy?" You asked her, and Karen's smile turned micheivous. She coughed a little, and took a deep breath.

"Why, I would love it." Karen said in her best Russian accent. "Oh, wait, let me learn something in Russian." She ran back to her desk, and you stood up from your desk, heading through the kitchen and to the break room to find a pacing Dwight.

"Sit." You said in a deeper voice than usual, closing the door behind you as Dwight sat down. "What I say must be kept confidential, Agent Schrute. Do you understand?" You walked to the vending machine, slotting some coins in and getting yourself a chocolate bar.

"But... How could you... Are you-"

"Agent Robin DeMarco, CIA. I've been in deep cover since "Y/N's" return." You said with a sigh, trying your hardest to not crack up. You turned to look at Dwight. "Didn't you find it odd that your old coworker came back from Europe skinnier?" You asked, sitting across from him.

"They do have a very carb-heavy diet over there."

"I have been surveilling this company for months now, Dwight. We got tipped off that there was a spy based here, in Scranton." You looked around quickly. "We had to make sure you weren't going against your country."

"I would never!" Dwight said, outraged, and you shushed him quickly. He hunched over. "I thought I was compromised..."

"You are, one of your coworkers is a spy Dwight. We believe they intercepted our messages before Christmas." You couldn't quite grasp how easy it was to fool Dwight, but it was entertaining nonetheless. The door suddenly opened, and you sat up straight, turning to look at Karen. She walked in, a swagger in her step as she smirked at the pair of you, getting herself a packet of chips.

"Я надеюсь, что вы рады возвращению Оскара. Дуайт идиот." Karen muttered under her breath as she left, and you shared a shocked look with Dwight, which was only half fake. You couldn't quite believe that Karen had managed to learn something in Russian in the last ten minutes.

"Was the spy in anyway Russian, Agent DeMarco?" He asked, and you nodded slowly.

"We have to keep this hush hush for now Dwight... This is dangerous stuff... Threat Level Midnight." You couldn't help but add it in.

"That's a real threat level?" Dwight asked, and you took a bite of the candy bar you had bought.

"Indeed... We had considered Michael for a time as the spy because of his knowledge." You whispered, standing quickly and walking to the door. You turned back in as movielike a fashion as possible. "You are now an active agent, Schrute. Keep quiet, watch closely... And don't fuck this up. We don't know who to trust anymore." You warned him, and he stood up, saluting as you walked back through to the main office, highfiving Karen on the way back to your desk.

--

By lunchtime, you had managed to convince half the office to get in on it and really boost Dwight's paranoia. With Karen playing the villain, constantly coming over to Jim and flirting with him for the sole purpose of giving you and Dwight cruel looks, everybody involved took on roles. You established Pam as a confidante via an email to Dwight, Jim was a suspected conspirator, Phyllis, Kevin and Meredith agreed to talk in hushed voices in the corner while looking at Dwight, and when Oscar arrived back, Pam filled him in on the ongoing prank, to which he happily agreed to speak constantly in Spanish to you while Karen glared over.

The mass conspiracy was brilliant, and as the end of the day rolled around, Oscar had told you all about his extended leave: mentioning amongst tales of London and Berlin that he went with his partner Gil.

"Wait... I didn't know you were gay." You said, in Spanish, after Oscar recounted a rather romantic trip to the Effiel Tower. He looked surprised, and then a little worried. You hadn't been around for the fiasco that was September. You quickly realised the worry, and sat up straight. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that-"

"No, I get it. It's hard to wrap your head around..." Oscar said with a sigh, disheartened by the reaction. You quickly decided to save yourself from losing a friend on their first day back.

"No, Oscar, honest. I'm not straight." You quickly cleared up, causing Oscar to look up in surprise. "Guys and girls... That's me. Girlfriend in Spain for, like, five months." You added, glad the office surrounding you was so bad with languages. Oscar laughed, giving you a tight hug, which you reciprocated.

"Hey! Why does Y/N get to hug you?" Michael called from his office, and Oscar pulled away.

"Does he know?" Oscar asked, the pair of you continuing in Spanish, and you shook your head.

"Jim and Pam do, but otherwise, I am straight to the office." Oscar nodded, and the pair of you glanced at the clock. "Almost party time..." You muttered, switching back to English, and Oscar stood up.

"I'll talk to you later, DeMar-Y/L/N." Oscar corrected himself, looking over at Dwight. Your desk mate had been entranced by your entire conversation, though he wasn't the only one.

Across the room, Andy had been desk sharing with Oscar for the day, and trying to translate every word you had spoken that day in the foreign language, and was more than freaked out by the mumbles that had been going around the room, intended to cause paranoia in Dwight. Not only that, his day had been pretty terrible since Michael shot him down on weekend plans, and Andy was convinced the whole world was against him.

He came over to your desk as the clock hit 5, the office shutting down for the party Angela had set up with the help of Pam and Phyllis, pinatas and all.

"You know, a workplace with secrets is no fun, Y/N..." Andy sat against your desk as you closed down your computer. "So, what have you been talking about all day?" He asked, and you shrugged, catching Jim sending you a wink behind Andy's back.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You and Dwight have been sneaking off to empty rooms, the oldies have been congregating on the hour, Pam keeps sending you and Dwight faxes, Jim and Karen keep staring around the office. What are you hiding from me?" Andy asked again, and you shook your head, holding back a laugh. Jim decided to torment you, making faces behind Andy's back, and you couldn't help it.

You laughed in Andy's face.

Now, you had heard reports of how Andy could get a little heated sometimes. You had seen a least one very angry phone call, yourself. However, you really didn't expect him to start shouting in your face.

"REALLY?!" Andy yelled back, and the whole office stopped what they were doing. "Why don't you just tell me what's going on, huh? Are you all plotting against me? Is that it?!" He was loud, and you could feel yourself panicking, and you couldn't help it as you began to hyperventilate. Jim's face went from shock at Andy's actions to concern for yours.

"Andy, it was a prank on-" Jim began.

"On me?! You thought you could prank me, Halpert, huh?" Andy yelled louder, and Michael came out of his office.

"What is this? Y/N, are you ok?" Michael asked, noticing how pale you were.

"No! I'm the victim here! You are all talking about me in foreign languages, thinking I'm stupid?! I'm the best sales person here! And all this? It's not funny! It's pretty freaking unfunny!" Andy screamed to the room, his anger finally collecting in his fist, and a loud thud caused you to jump, gripping onto Michael's arm.

Andy had punched a hole in the wall. A full-on hole.

The silence that followed was deafening, and no-one moved. Andy removed his hand from the damage site, and chuckled nervously as he turned to the room.

"That... Was a bit of an overreaction... Sorry about that." He smiled as he spoke, but no-one responded. "I'm gonna head to the break room... Anyone want anything? Pam, you good? Kevin? No?"

"Dwight, pack up Andy's stuff... You, in my office. We need to make some calls. Someone get me Toby... Everyone else, enjoy the party." Michael said, giving your shoulder a squeeze and gesturing for Andy to head into his office. He did, with his head hanging down and his shoulders slouched, much to Dwight's delight. He never liked Andy.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Jim was the first to speak up, and you nodded silently, smiling to reassure him.

"Let's... Let's just celebrate Oscar's homecoming." You said with enthusiasm, trying to lighten the mood. "Meredith!" You called over the office, the redhead looking up as you got her attention. "Do you have any tequila, by chance?" You asked, and she held up a bottle. "Great, the work day is over, let's make margaritas and stereotype an entire culture. You good with that, Oscar?" You asked, and Oscar let out a laugh, nodding.

"I could use a drink." He admitted, and the office slowly migrated into the conference room, eating and idly chattering away the sudden events that had transpired. You really didn't know how to feel about it all, when Dwight came over, sombero on his head and a glass of milk in hand.

"So, who was Andy working for? I always suspected he was an agent..." Dwight whispered in your ear as you took another shot, causing a smile to spread over your face. Dwight still believed it.

"Keep your ear to the ground, Schrute... I have to meet with an associate." You lied quickly, grabbing Jim's arm and pulling him out of the conference room and into the hall outside the office, falling into giggles as the front door closed.

"Is... Is everything ok?" Jim asked, worried you were processing trauma in an unhealthy way.

"Dwight is... He still thinks...." You couldn't help but start laughing again, this time Jim joined in. And stood alone in that hallway, laughing together about Dwight's incompetence, all the fear of Andy's outrage faded to nothing, and you felt safe. Secure. And that smile on Jim's face, the crinkles by his eyes and the way he held onto the wall for support because he couldn't quite control his balance.

You would never be sure if it was the tequila talking, or something else that you had buried deep down in the name of friendship, but you decided in that moment to kiss Jim. Your lips on his, soft and sweet, and while Jim was frozen still at first, he kissed back, his hands going to your waist and yours resting on his shoulders, needing to stand on tip toe to reach him. It only lasted a few seconds, and he pulled away, leaving you lightheaded and heart fluttering.

"I shouldn't..." You began, but Jim shook his head.

"I have to go." He said quickly, walking back into the office, back to his girlfriend, and leaving you alone to wonder what the fuck you had just done.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801​ @onceuponahuntersrealm​ @poppirocks​

#au #jim halpert #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #jim halpert x reader #jim x reader #office au #reader #reader insert #reader is female #reader is bi? #romance #friendship #pam and jim #jim and pam #slow burn #from season 1 #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #john krasinski #steve carell #jenna fischer #rainn wilson #jackryanplz #part fourteen #queue

[47-shades-of-hitman]

In Your Likeness | Chapter 5 - A sliver of humanity

“Hey, you down for a run?”

Agent 47 looked up from the folder Diana had given him and saw you standing on the threshold, hands on your hips. Your hair had been tightly tucked behind your ears and instead of your usual Assassin’s attire, you now wore a somewhat more casual fit.

“Why not.” he said, standing up and putting away the documents.

You hummed and plopped down on one of the available chairs.

“Well then, I’ll wait here for a bit until you’re ready to go.”

He frowned. “Wait for what?”

“For you to put on your training gear, or something more breathable.” you said.

After a moment of silence you turned to him.

“You aren’t going to tell me that your plan was to… To run in that suit?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, a lot actually.” you explained, “People will stare. Besides, it’s very hot outside.”

“I function just right in this no matter the heat.”

You arose from your seat and crossed your arms, opposing him. “It looks ridiculous. A man sprinting in a suit like that through ancient Jerusalem. Tell you what, we’ll take an alternative route instead.”

Agent 47 wasn’t sure what you meant – “Alternative route?”

Instead of answering, you turned on your heel and left the room, the hitman soon following. He easily caught up to you and in silence, you left the Brotherhood’s quarters.

Despite the scorching heat, you broke out into a slight jog to warm up.

“Do you do parkour?” you quizzed upon approaching a wall.

“Excuse me?”

You flung yourself onto it, grabbing ridges and bricks that were sticking out, climbing up with practised ease. In about six seconds, you stood on top of a two-story building, peering over the edge to see what was taking him so long.

“I’m not sure if I…”

You pointed at the drainpipe on the side of the wall, shrugging. “Just use that. You’ll learn.”

47 climbed up and dusted down his slacks right after. “Heavily reliant on scaling buildings, aren’t you?”

You chuckled dryly. 

“The Assassins have been doing that since the beginning of the Brotherhood. If anything, it’s one of our most important skills. It’s a fantastic way to go from A to B unseen, and way quicker at that. I don’t carry them on me at this moment, but on one of my bracers I do have a grappling hook which I can use to my advantage.”

Walking over the flat rooftops, you hopped from one house to the other, staying out of sight from balconies and cameras.

“The beginning of the Brotherhood,” Agent 47 repeated. “How far back does it date? Golden Age? Middle Ages?”

A laugh fell from your lips and you jumped down a ledge before propelling yourself up a higher wall, gripping the edge. After hoisting yourself up, you turned back to help 47 out, but he managed just fine on his own.

“No, 47. The Brotherhood of Assassin originates in ancient Egypt.”

“Egypt?”

“In the time of Cleopatra. The Hidden Ones were the first ones, but no one knows who they really were. Eventually, it grew out into a Brotherhood for people carrying out assassinations and protecting our employers. Long story short: through the ages, we spread all over the world. Greece, Italy, America, France, England… You name it.”

47 let out a sound of surprise, since he had never known that it dated so far back.

“Our cause was to fight for peace above all things. Protect the people who needed us to do so. Working in the dark to serve the light. Our motto –  nothing is true, everything is permitted .”

You halted and looked out over the Wailing Wall, folding your hands on your back. Taking in the sight of Jews gathering to pray brought a sense of serenity.

“We fight for peace in freedom. And in that, we differ from our enemies, the Templars, or their more public name nowadays, Abstergo Industries . Once founded in the early thousands, set on claiming back the Holy Land under a veil of Catholicism, but under the surface, a whole lot less to do with whatever peace the church preaches. The Order of the Knights Templar once believed that peace could only be gained through oppression of lesser people and dictatorship.”

You shuddered even though the weather was far from cold – thoroughly appalled by the idea of them.

“And eventually, it became an institute of rich men seeking to become more wealthy and powerful. And then came the Pieces of Eden. Of course they already existed, but the more modern war about them, I mean.”

For a moment, you looked over at 47 to see if he was still listening. His eyes were as blue as the sky and made your heart skip a beat. Every time you saw that colour you remembered that they were the bluest shade you had ever seen.

Deciding to proceed walking, you stepped away, 47 in tow.

“I promise I won’t bore you for any longer.” you said, “If I’m talking too much, just say the word.”

“Well,” 47 began, “I was the one who asked you to teach me about the Brotherhood of Assassins, did I not?”

Your lips quirked upward and you exhaled. “I suppose. Tell me about you first, it would only be fair.”

“If you insist.” he said, “At the moment, I work for the ICA. It’s an organization handling contracts given by clients. I’m their hitman for particularly difficult jobs.”

“Like seeking out a secret organization created by both of our enemies.”

“Correct. As you know, I’m genetically made to be the best assassin one can create, with a very low failure rate.”

You hopped down a few roofs and reached a lower wall, where you jumped off, landing on the cobble street. Your conversation hadn’t made you able to do some parkouring through the town, anyway.

“Since you told your story quite quickly, I shall make mine short, too. I killed Ort-Meyer, who created me through his experiments, wanted to leave the world of killing by living with a priest, but eventually, he got kidnapped and I was pulled back into the trade. After all, I barely know how to do anything else.”

A large grin spread over your face as you two walked down the street, pushing past a few tourists in the process. “A priest? Never expected you of all people to take interest in such things.”

“I tended to the garden.” 47 explained, unsure why he was telling you this – after all, he barely knew you and whatever he was telling could be used against him, for he couldn’t be seen as weak.

But your eyes were kind and glimmered in amusement as you looked at him.

“Look at you, the one purely created to take lives, tends and cares for it.”

47’s gut twisted in confusion at the lack of humour in your voice. Where he had expected you to mock him for it, you were inexplicably accepting. “I suppose.” he mused.

“And here we are.” you added. “This way.”

You guided him outside of the ancient city and went uphill for a while, the Mount of Olives at your right hand.

“The Pieces of Eden, then.” 47 reminded you.

“Oh, yes.” you breathed, “The Pieces of Eden grant the holder great power over others. The Templars want those artefacts for themselves, so the Creed countered by making it their duty to do all to prevent that. And if we know where those artefacts are, we can keep an eye on them, take them to hide them away and most importantly, avoid conflict.”

“Avoid conflict? That clashes with our current mission.”

“Well, if it  can  be avoided. We’re not afraid to fight for it. Peace through freedom, I mean. Sometimes force is needed, and so it shall be done.” you concluded, shrugging a little.

“And you, what is your story?” 47 quizzed as the pair of you halted on top of the Mount of Olives. You were slightly out of breath because of the heat, holding your hand above your brow to shield yourself from the sunlight. The golden Dome of the Rock stood shining brightly.

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n), thirty-five years old, Master Assassin of Jerusalem’s Brotherhood. Nothing that you don’t know of.”

Agent 47 huffed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Why the interest?” you softly quizzed. “It’s not that it matters.”

“You said you wanted to become acquainted.”

You smirked, folding your hands on your back, closing your eyes to enjoy the light of the sun on your cheeks.

“I was born into the Brotherhood, like my father and his father’s father. Needless to say, we have a long history in the Creed. Not the most prominent or anything, but quite famous. My father’s side of the family consisted of ruthless Assassins, living for their trade. My father fell in love with a young female Assassin and married her – my mother. They had my brother, Joseph, and me. All was well and my parents were loved by the Brotherhood, but one day, my father died while on duty.”

Your voice faltered upon ending your sentence, and you looked at your boots for a moment, exhaling deeply. “I never really got to know the man who he was behind the blade. He trained us, and everything I know, I know from him. In hindsight, he was more a mentor than a father. I respect him greatly, but I never felt like I was his daughter. I suppose it’s a bit strange… Well, not for you. In theory, you killed the man who put you onto this Earth.”

Agent 47 hummed, breathing in the scorching air.

“And your mother?”

“She’s in Thailand, in a retirement home set up by Assassins. There she can live her final days in peace, try to forget about the passing of her husband and her son, but with her later stage of Alzheimer’s, I’m not sure where her emotions are at the moment.”

Gesturing to the side, you told Agent 47 to head down the street.

“What happened to Joseph?”

You halted in your tracks, a few tourists that had been walking behind you nearly bumping into you, muttering something angry in what you recognized to be Spanish –  Perdona , you murmured, shaking your head before resuming your walk, albeit at a quicker pace now.

“I don’t like to talk about it.” you said, “Maybe another time. I’ve already told a lot about myself. Enough for now. We should get to actually working out, now.”

Breaking out into a jog, you started running down the street, passing by tourists every now and then.

“Do you often run?” 47’s voice was unusually steady given that you were dashing forward at quite a pace.

“As often as I can. Keeps me fit.”

He hummed in agreement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You went running through a few streets before speaking again – “Mind if I spice this up a bit?”

Before 47 could respond, however, you were already scaling a high wall on your left, pushing yourself up with practised ease. He spotted a drainpipe and sighed in acceptance, soon following you up the roof.

When he finally vaulted onto it, he saw that you were already a few buildings away, leaping from one with so much as the bat of an eye.

“Are you seeing this?” he asked, then realizing that Diana couldn’t hear him – after all, he wasn’t on a mission and thus he didn’t carry his trackers – and he knew that pursuing you wouldn’t bring him anywhere. Another thing he recognized was that he lacked an important skill he hadn’t realised he didn’t have, until now. You leapt further and further away, gracefully so, as if you were dancing.

Where he mostly blended into the crowd, hiding in plain sight, you were away in the blink of an eye, gone with the wind.

You looked over your shoulder, seeing him just stand on the roof where you had left him. He was watching you with an odd posture, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of your antics.

Smirking, you shook your head, resuming your trip back to the headquarters. Bouncing to the edge, you peered down the side of the roof to see if it was all still clear, and upon seeing that the bushes were still soft and plump enough to fall upon, you spread your arms, diving off.

Agent 47 felt his stomach churn in shock, his breath hitching as he watched you jump. As if snapped out of a trance, he darted to the end as quickly as he could, immediately figuring out the importance of scaling and parkour in the speed at which he was currently going.

He came to a halt at the edge and leaned over it to find you standing with your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I thought you…”

“Hm…” you replied. “Come on, let’s get back to the headquarters.”

47 slid down a drainpipe and walked up to you.

“That was… Impressive.” 47 stated as you resumed your trip back to the base.

“Thank you.” you mused, “That dive was a  Leap of Faith. Took a long time to master.”

“I can imagine.”

You turned your face away, smiling in amusement.

Even though it was tiny, a bond was starting to form.

These months were going to become interesting, you figured.

#agent 47 x reader #agent 47 x female reader #Assassin's Creed X Hitman crossover #hitman #agent 47 #reader insert #In Your Likeness

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 23

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 1.

A/N: This is the first part of possibly a long-ish Halloween 'arc' that is to come. I have to warn you that I only have 1 more chapter as a draft version and the said chapter is a mess and has caused me a lot of insecurities so... I'm not entirely sure how long it will take me to work through the issues that chapter has. I still hope I will have something to post next Friday! Please be patient with me, I promise I have every intention to continue and finish this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments the previous chapter got! You guys are the best :) And keep them coming because that is literally the best reward I can get :)

Words: 3200+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

“Hey Sunshine, you ready?” Leo asked her flatmate one November Friday as he was pulling his winter coat on in the hallway.

“In a minute!” Calypso yelled from her room. “Just… One final touch up!”

Leo checked his watch. “Okay, as long as it’s really a minute! You know Argo II isn’t waiting!”

“You do know that Argo II doesn’t have feelings, right? It’s a car,” his non-understanding flatmate argued.

“You better hope he didn’t hear that!” Leo protested. “He may just not turn on at all if you claim such things.”

“Oh my gods, Leo. Sometimes I wonder if you care about your machines more than people.”

Leo didn’t respond to that. To himself he mumbled. “At least I know how to fix them. And can’t hurt them.”

The flatmates were getting ready to leave for Jason and Piper’s late Halloween party. Most of the members of their friend group had been busy doing their own things on the real Halloween weekend but they had decided that they’d still want to have a small gathering at Jason and Piper’s house on a later date. Percy and Annabeth would be there, as well as Jason’s sister Thalia, her ‘friend’ Reyna, and Jason’s friend and a distant relative Nico. To Calypso Leo had told, that he had only met Nico a couple of times, because apparently Nico was a bit of a lonely soul and he wandered around the country doing who knows what. That fall, though, he had apparently met someone who had managed to keep him rooted to his home, so Leo suspected that there was a possibility that Nico really would show up this time.

Leo snapped out of his thoughts when Calypso’s door was pulled open, revealing the girl in her costume. His mouth opened involuntarily as he took her in. She was wearing a white chiton like dress with golden decorations around the neckline and accessories that matched the theme. Those included a golden headband and a belt, a bracelet made of real flowers, strappy leather sandals and since her own hair was short now, she had gotten a caramel colored wig that she had braided to one side, reminding Leo a lot of the hairstyle Calypso had had when she had moved in. She smiled at Leo shyly. “Well, what do you think?” She asked, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to show it off better.

“You’re… you’re…” Leo felt the words escape him again. With frustration he wondered how one person could do that to him. Leo Valdez never ran out of words.

“Calypso?” she tried to guess what he had wanted to say.

‘What?” He asked with confusion, unable to follow Calypso’s track of thoughts. In his mind he had answered her question ‘prettier than greek goddesses’ but he realized too late that she had meant that she was dressed up like the Calypso from the Greek mythology. “Oh, now I got it. Must have sniffed too much machine oil or something…Anyway, I see you have some self irony, dressing as your name sake.”

“That was kind of the point, Valdez. A girl named Calypso who studies Greek mythology? People comment on my name so often that I decided it’s time to make it clear that yes, I’m aware of that coincidence.”

“Ooh, the great revenge,” Leo chuckled. Suddenly he noticed that Calypso had turned more serious, her hands fiddling with her purse.

“Really, though, what do you think of this? I made this dress and these bracelets myself. And my mum gave me this before we moved here,” she pointed at her headband. “Apparently it’s something that’s been running in our family; my grandma wore it in her wedding picture and so on…”

“Oh… Well… that’s cool,” Leo said, mentally cursing the ‘error’ message on his brain. “You did a good job. I mean… I once saw a painting of Calypso in the Indianapolis Museum of Art and I think you look nothing like her… in a good way!”

“Aww, thank you.” Calypso seemed happily surprised about Leo’s comment, and he swore the expression made her even cuter. He also wondered if he should have a doctor check his heart because it seemed to do funny things in her presence...

“You’re welcome?” he replied stupidly.

“So, where is your costume?” Calypso asked curiously, apparently only now paying attention to the fact that he indeed wasn’t wearing one yet. “I thought you said we’re in a hurry.”

“I can’t drive in mine, it’s difficult to see from under it,” Leo explained, returning to his room to get a huge sports bag where he had packed his creation a bit earlier. He had spent several days making it and he was kind of proud of the final result. Although, seeing Calypso now, for a moment he still wondered if he had made a mistake with his costume choice, but it was too late to change his mind now. “I’ll put it on when we get there.” He gestured towards the bag.

“Okay,” Calypso nodded while changing her shoes into more fall suitable ones. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you have come up with.”

“Good, because it will blow your mind,” Leo claimed.

“I will refrain from forming any opinions before I see it,” Calypso noted, putting her keys into her pocket. “Now, come on, mister Mysterious, I hear Argo II isn’t very patient.”

Leo secretly loved it when Calypso attempted to joke back, and he grinned at her as he held the door open so she could leave first.

“Let’s go then, Sunshine.”

…

The drive to Jason and Piper took about 20 minutes so Leo and Calypso had a lot of time to talk about whatever came to their minds. At first Calypso gave Leo pretty short answers and he got worried that something was wrong between them again, but eventually Leo got her curious about the guests at the party that she hadn’t met yet.

“The Hunters are traveling a lot because of their competitions so I haven’t met Thalia that often. She’s a little bit scary, though. She has this edgy look going on and I’ve heard she is super strong; she’d ninja throw me on the floor before I’d have time to say Festus if given a chance. I’m trying very hard not to give her any reasons to do that.”

“Ouch. She sounds like something else,” Calypso said.

“She is,” Leo confirmed, almost getting chills only thinking about her. “She can be nice if you get to her good side, though.”

“Is it just me or does someone have a crush?” Calypso asked teasingly.

“What? No!” Leo exclaimed, glancing at Calypso’s reaction briefly. “Alright, maybe I used to have but that was when I didn’t know what was the best for me. But that was a long time ago. Besides, she’s totally dating someone even though they won’t admit it.” ‘And I wish I was dating someone else as well’, he thought, but left that unsaid.

“Oh? Will I get to meet that person today?” Calypso asked with curiosity.

“I think you will. From what I know Reyna’s always with Thalia. They claim they are only best friends but Jason has told me that they are keeping a low profile because it’s forbidden inside their team to date their teammates.”

“That sounds like a basis for a tragic love story,” Calypso said while staring out of the window with a dreamy expression. “I don’t even know these people but as a hopeless romantic I hope they will find some solution.”

Leo thought Calypso was very cute when she talked like that “Yeah. I hope.”

“So, do you know this Reyna personally?” she asked then, distracting Leo from his thoughts.

“You could say that,” Leo answered, trying to focus on the road instead of the girl next to him. “The team visits Waystation regularly because Jo and Emmie used to coach them back in the day and as a fellow Spanish speaker Reyna has always paid special attention to me. I swear, sometimes she treats me like I was his little brother…”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet in my opinion. What is this team you were talking about, though? Did you say Hunters?”

“Oh, yep. The Artemis’ Hunters, named after the Greek goddess Artemis, naturally. It’s an archery group… Hey, is everything alright?”

Leo couldn’t help but notice that Calypso had shifted uncomfortably on her seat and adjusted her seatbelt a bit looser around her shoulder when he had said the name.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I just… used to know someone who was in the Hunters as well, so I was surprised they have some connections here, that’s all.” Calypso turned her head to stare out of the window, sending Leo signals that he should drop the topic. He decided to push it a little bit further, though.

“You did? But you said ‘was’. Is she not in it anymore?”

“No,” Calypso shook her head, but didn’t elaborate.

“OK.” Leo sighed. A few moments earlier Calypso had been smiling and teasing him about some old crush and now she was acting cold again. Clearly the Hunters were a painful topic for her, but Leo couldn’t figure out why. Had something happened to the person Calypso had known? And why did she have to be so secretive? Leo wanted so badly to be able to help her and understand her, but when she was not opening up, it was very hard to do anything about it.

“Any guesses about what my costume may be?” He decided to change the topic. That seemed to cheer his flatmate up a bit.

Calypso closed her eyes while thinking, a tiny smile forming on her face. “Hmmm, I imagine it’s probably something flashy. But knowing you it could also be your work coveralls and working boots. I know how much you love those, after all.”

“It’s flashy, alright,” Leo said, his grin returning back to his face. “I’ll give you another hint: it’s a character from one of my favorite TV shows or movies.”

“You have a lot of those,” Calypso reminded him. “Ooh, now I know!! You’re Dalek! That’s why you would have a hard time seeing from under the costume.”

“No,” Leo shook his head, “But now that you say that, that would’ve been cool! Why didn’t you give me that idea earlier?”

“Because you already had an awesome idea? Or that’s at least the impression I got,” Calypso reminded him.

“Well, yeah. I still like my current idea. Maybe next time I’ll make a Dalek.” Leo had a goofy smile on his face as he imagined building a Dalek costume from the scratch.

“Sounds like a plan. So, will you reveal to me what you will be this time?” Calypso asked.

“Nah, you’ll see soon. Good things are worth waiting for, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Calypso shrugged. “Although our opinions on what’s good tend to differ a bit based on our previous TV watching experiences.”

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s good we are flatmates. It’s good to broaden your horizons sometimes and learn about different things that other people like,” Leo pointed out.

“Maybe you’re right,” Calypso admitted. “But are you saying you have learned something from me? What could that be?”

“That olives taste bad? That sometimes Venusaur can be more useful than Charizard?”

“Not exactly what I was looking for, but I’ll take that.” Leo turned his head just enough to see a small smirk on Calypso’s face.

“I was just messing with you because I think you secretly like it,” Leo said with a grin. “But really, you have taught me a lot. That we shouldn’t let fears control the direction of our life. That Greek mythology is actually pretty fascinating even if tía Callida made it sound boring as hell, and we should all learn to understand different cultures better. And, you know? There’s no way we can know every single thing about someone else so we just need to learn to trust and give them a benefit of the doubt sometimes. And finally, I shouldn’t underestimate your Mario Kart skills.”

Calypso snorted at the last part. “Sometimes you do surprise me, Repair Boy. That was a good answer.”

“I can feel my reputation as the Bad Boy Supreme getting shattered to pieces. What about me, though? Have I taught you something?” Leo asked. If he was honest to himself, he didn’t want to know because what could he possibly teach to a smart girl like her?

“You taught me that chilis are evil and you should never eat them the way I did,” Calypso replied, and Leo was fully prepared for more teasing. But it never came.

“You have also shown me sometimes persistency can be a very good thing – otherwise we probably wouldn’t be friends now. We also shouldn’t judge a book by the cover – I’m just saying that when I first saw you I was kind of prejudiced… but since learning to know you better I realized I was wrong. And remember that time when Jo and Georgina were visiting us and you came home a bit late? Jo told me some stories about you before you arrived and that made me understand how far hard work can sometimes take us. You’ve come a long way… and while there are always things we can work on and improve, I think it’s important to be proud of the things we have already achieved, even when looking ahead.”

“Wow… those are some really nice things you just said there…” Leo stumbled to find the right words. Especially the last point had hit him hard because he had had a very hard time with his self esteem recently. He still didn’t know if he would be allowed to retake his lab test – and more importantly, if he was even capable of trying. That was just the tip of the iceberg; it definitely wouldn’t be the only time he would have to face his fear during his studies and later on in the work life, and he would eventually have to make the difficult decision whether it was worth going through. He did want to get over his fear, but with her own issues on her mind, he hadn’t wanted to ask her to help until the situation was better.

“Hey,” Calypso squeezed his knee gently and Leo was afraid he’d accidentally brake so fast they’d crash somewhere. Thankfully he managed to contain himself. “I know I nag and tease you sometimes, but I hope you know despite that I actually care about you and respect you for the things you do. I’m… glad you’re my flatmate.”

Leo was very thankful that it was dark in the car because he was positive that he was redder than a chili pepper. After swallowing hard, he managed to croak: “Yeah. Thanks. You’re pretty neat too.” “Pretty neat?” Calypso asked, cocking her eyebrow.

“Argh, sorry, you can’t expect a guy to be able to think straight after you tell them something like that!” Leo exclaimed. “But, uh, I mean, I think the same way. That it’s nice that you’re my flatmate.”

“Glad we have that established.” Calypso smiled at him. Again Leo wondered what it was about that smile that made his heart go crazy. He had had a couple of short term girlfriends before Calypso had moved in and even though he had liked them, there was something different about how Calypso made him feel. But now that Leo thought about it, he realized that for example Khione, his first girlfriend (who had turned out to be quite an ice queen in the end) had had a smile that had never quite reached her eyes and made him wonder what was truly going on in that head of hers. His second girlfriend, Echo, had been a sweet girl but something about her smile had said that she’d rather be free of relationship bonds. Leo thought that he had probably sensed that from pretty early on because it had been a smaller shock for him than his first break up. But Calypso’s smile? It made Leo want to see it over and over again, and instead of wanting something from him, it seemed to give him more energy. It made him feel restless, but in a positive way.

When Leo snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that Calypso was staring at him weirdly, as if he had been in his daze for a while.

“What?” he asked a bit nervously.

“You just completely missed my question,” Calypso stated, frowning a little.

Leo tried to shake his head to clear his mind a bit. “Sorry, I was just… remembering something. But what did you ask?”

“I asked if there’s any news from your professors about your studies. It’s been a while since you’ve said anything about that.”

Leo gulped. “Yeah. Right. Um, at the moment I’m continuing to attend the classes except the lab one. I guess I should ask the lab professor if he would still let me redo the test at some point. But the other problem is, I’m not sure if I can. You know, if I have it in me to get over my stupid fear.”

“It is not a stupid fear, Leo. You have your reasons. But I do believe that you can get over it. And I want to help you. We should start working on it soon, how about tomorrow or some time next week?”

“Tomorrow is fine to me.” Leo started tapping his fingers against the wheel, a sign of him feeling anxious about the topic. “I… really appreciate your help. Is there something I can do in return?”

“You already did!” Calypso said to his surprise.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Remember that flower shop you mentioned to me?” Calypso asked. “I guess I’ve been so busy this week that I forgot to mention this but it looks like I’m getting the job! The interview went well and the boss invited me to see how they make their flower arrangements and they even let me do this.” Calypso showed him her flower bracelet that had some small roses and several other flowers the names of which he didn’t know. “She will make her final decision on Monday but I might start working there already next week.”

“That’s awesome news! Congrats!” Leo said, genuinely happy for her.

“Thank you! And sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it seems we have both been rather busy this week, I feel I’ve barely seen you…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I was useful for something! But look, that’s Jason and Piper’s place.” He nodded towards the building in front of them.

Leo looked from the corner of his eyes how Calypso would react to seeing the house. From what he knew Calypso hadn’t been there earlier; she and Piper had hung out more at their flat due to the closeness of the university. He wasn’t disappointed when he saw Calypso’s mouth open a bit.

“I know, pretty impressive.” Leo said.

“I have seen big houses before but this looks way nicer than the ones I know…” Calypso noted. Leo wanted to ask more about that but he knew that the friends were waiting so he decided to leave it for later. Once he had parked the car, some strange instinct told him to rest his hand on hers for a moment before he gestured to Calypso to step outside.

“After you.”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au