#i have a calc test today and i really would like to get at least an 80 on it

[ificanthaveu]

Don’t Tell The RA || Shawn Mendes

Description: RA!Shawn asks for your help with studying for your final exam, but an RA should always expect the unexpected. 

A/N: Happy 1st day of my semi-not-really-ficmas! I’m positive I’ve used every winter/Christmas themed fic idea, but I scrounged together a few so here’s the first of the installment. These’ll probably all be pretty short (except for 1 probably bc i have a lot of ideas for it). Also.....if this gif doesn’t look like RA!Shawn trying to get his freshmen boys to stfu so they can start and end the hall meeting ASAP.

Word Count: 2.4k

You were the first person out of the room when your History professor dismissed you, meeting your awaiting roommate Micah across the hall. The two of you started walking back to your dorm without much of a word until she launched into how difficult her calculus exam is going to be.

“At least it’s related to your major. I’m about to fail a gen-ed,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “I’ve never liked History, and this is a literal nightmare.”

“Hey, only one more test, and we’re done,” she reminded you.

Before you could respond to her, you heard your name being yelled from behind you. The both of you stopped and turned around to see Shawn maneuvering his way in and out of people, his tall stature poking out from the rest as you smiled at him.

“Have you started studying for the final yet?” He asked as he fell into step with you and Micah, making your way out of the building.

You practically snorted with a head shake before you said, “Absolutely not. I’ve been so caught up in my biology classes that I’ve barely started looking at this. It’s not looking good for me.”

“We get it. You’re pre-med,” Micah mumbled before you elbowed her.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve cracked open the textbook since the first week,” he said.

“Oh, you opened yours? Mine’s still in the plastic wrap,” you said as proud as you could.

That earned a laugh from Shawn as he shook his head at you.

“You may be worse off than I am,” he said.

He paused for a moment, looking between you and where he had to turn to go to the freshman dorms, opposite campus from the junior ones.

“Would you wanna study tonight?” He asked.

You heard Micah choke on her breath as you prayed he didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, I definitely need it,” you replied.

“Can’t do it in our room,” Micah interjected quickly. “Josie is coming over for calc.”

“We can study at mine,” he said. “If that’s ok with you of course. We just might get interrupted by check-out questions.”

“Sounds just fine with me. I could never do what you do,” you said, looking up at him as he shrugged and looked away, the blush almost evident on his cheeks.

“Well, my room and board is paid for, so I’ll deal with throwing up freshmen in the bathroom at 2 am,” he said. “Does 7 work?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said as you turned to go towards your dorm. “See you then.”

Micah followed behind you as you began to cross campus, waiting until you were clearly out of earshot of Shawn.

“You really had to say we couldn’t do it in our dorm?” You asked as you gripped onto her wrist and she laughed. “Now I have to be extra alone with him.”

“That’s the point,” she said flatly. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him all semester. That man is the total package.”

“And we’re studying together, nothing else,” you quickly pointed out.

“Well it may start that way but-“ you cut her off before she could finish.

“Don’t say something that won’t come true,” you said as you swiped into the building and walked up the stairs to your dorm.

“You wish it will though,” she said in a sing-song voice as you unlocked your door and pushed her in.

“So what are you wearing?” She asked as she whipped open your closet.

“I’m not changing,” you said.

Micah turned around and looked up and down at your sweatpants and sweatshirt with a look of disgust.

“Can you at least put leggings on and a clean sweatshirt? Maybe put your hair in a pony-tail instead of that bun that looks like it was slept in - scratch that - a bun that was slept in,” she said as she threw you a pair of black leggings and a school crewneck.

“This is ridiculous,” you mumbled as you changed.

“You’ll thank me later,” she called after you.

It had started snowing by the time 6:45 came around, and you began your trip across campus. You were regretting not wearing a jacket as you shivered and crossed your arms tightly around your chest.

The person at the front desk smiled at you as you made your way up to Shawn’s dorm, scanning the rooms for the one that said “Residential Assistant” on the front.

You knocked twice once you found it, rocking back and forth on your feet and trying to shake the cold. You glanced around at the winter-themed decorations around the hall before Shawn swung the door open.

“Hey,” he said brightly with that big smile that made you weak. “You look freezing.”

“I am,” you said as he welcomed you in. “Big mistake not wearing a coat.”

You scanned over his room quickly as he shut the door behind the two of you. He had white Christmas lights strung along his window, making for a beautiful reflection mixed with the snow. His overhead light was off, but the lamp beside his futon was on. It was surprisingly clean, but you attributed that to him never knowing when someone was going to need to talk to him.

Two mugs were situated on his desk in the corner of the room. He crossed the room and grabbed one and handed it to you.

“It’s mint tea,” he said. “Helps with studying.”

“Ah, of course,” you said, taking the mug and sitting on his, surprisingly comfortable, futon.

“And a blanket,” he said as he pulled it from the back of the couch. “Since you look like you might have hypothermia.”

“Thank you,” you said softly as you wrapped it tightly around your shoulders.

You pulled out your book and binder, flipping to the study guide that was handed out in class.

“Ok, where do you want to start?” You asked as Shawn pulled his slightly crumpled study guide from where it was tucked in his book.

“Well, I know nothing,” he said as he scanned over the paper. “Actually, I know one.”

“Which one?”

“The one he told us the answer for today.”

“That does not count.”

The two of you determined an order to study from as you kept his open textbook balancing on both of your knees, occasionally having to lean closer to the other to take a look at a passage.

Shawn skimmed the page, pointing at a passage and trying to explain it to you as you looked at him. You couldn’t hear a word he said as you watched how into the topic he got, using his hands to try to express his point. You sent the butterflies to the bottom of your stomach by taking a giant sip of the tea and moving onto the next question.

He asked you the next one, taking the textbook from you as you leaned an arm on the back of the futon. You glanced between him and the mini Christmas tree in the corner as you tried to explain it as best you can without the book as a crutch.

You looked back at him, his head cocked to the side and an interested look on his face. A few curls fell onto his forehead as he studied you. You tried to keep talking as his gaze was unwavering.

“Sounds right to me,” he said, his face dangerously close to yours as he also leaned his arm on the back.

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you whispered. “Were you even looking at the book to make sure I was right?” You teased.

“I had something else I had to look at,” he said at the same volume.

You felt him lean in as you did the same. You could feel his breath fan over your lips as your hand rested on his knee.

Three solid knocks sent you flying away from each other.

Shawn cursed under his break as he stood up and swung the door open quickly.

“What?” He said to the kid in front of him, who was significantly shorter than Shawn.

“Kevin knocked over the-“ he paused as he saw you watching from across the room. “Oh, sorry, Shawn, I didn’t realize you had a girl over.”

You choked on your sip of tea as Shawn shoved the kid out the door and slammed the door behind him.

You pulled yourself together as you could hear Shawn’s muffled voice through the paper-thin walls.

“Why the fuck would you say that with her right there?” He said.

“I didn’t know! I would’ve gotten the RA on duty if I knew you were on a date,” the kid yelled back.

You could hear Shawn huff and could imagine him tugging at his hair.

“It’s nothing, Cade. It’s literally nothing at all,” Shawn said quickly. Your stomach dropped.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” the kid - Cade - teased back.

“Just tell me what’s going on, so I can study, which is the only thing we were doing,” he trailed off as you could hear the two of them walking down the hall.

You tried not to let yourself get too disappointed as you half packed up some of your stuff, not wanting to overstay your welcome if he didn’t see anything here. You felt yourself begin to overthink, wondering what would’ve happened if he kissed you. If he just wanted something quick before break, a finale to your semester together in class.

You waited patiently, your chin resting on your knees as you tried to look at the study guide with no luck.

The door swung open once again as Shawn came back. He shut the door behind him, running his hands through his hair as he looked over at you, noticing nothing but your study guide sitting out. He felt his stomach drop but didn’t say anything.

“Ok, where were we?” He said as he sat down again, dangerously close as his thigh grazed across yours.

Your breath hitched as he looked over at the study guide in your lap, looking at your one newly highlighted point.

You looked up at him as he asked you a question on the point. It was obvious he was looking at your lips.

You tried to answer the question and steady your shaky voice, but he leaned closer. Before his lips had the chance to press against yours, you rested your hand against his chest.

“Shawn…” you trailed off. “I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he quickly said. “I didn’t - I thought - I’m sorry, I thought there was…” he trailed off as he tried to motion between the two of you as he leaned back.

“I just,” you paused as you let out a breath. “I really don’t want to be a one-night thing before you go back home.”

“Why would you think that?” He asked, an upset look clearly on his face.

“It’s nothing. It’s literally nothing at all,” you quoted him as you played with the edge of the study guide.

He looked at you confused as you looked down at the page, trying to distract yourself.

“Why would you say that? I don’t think this is just nothing,” he said.

“Shawn, these walls are paper-thin,” you snapped as you looked up at him. “I heard you telling the kid that this was nothing, and I don’t want nothing. So I’m stopping it here.”

He rubbed his forehead softly as you tucked your study guide into your binder, opening your backpack to put it away.

“I’m not going to tell one of my residents that he just interrupted something,” Shawn said quickly. “They’re my residents. I’m not about to tell them about my love life. I didn’t know you’d hear that. I swear I don’t think this is just nothing. I just don’t want them to know that stuff about me. There’s no reason to. I’m so sorry if it came off as any other way.”

You watched him continue to get flustered as he stayed relatively close to you, his hand almost hitting your shoulder as he spoke.

“I’ve been crazy about you since the beginning of the semester. I don’t just want to kiss you and forget,” he explained, leaning close to you again.

“Really?” You asked softly.

He smiled back at you, his hand almost resting against your shoulder as he draped it against the back of the futon.

“Really,” he replied.

This time when he leaned in, you let him kiss you. His hand enveloped the side of your face as you rested your hands gently on his chest. He tugged on your hip, and you followed his lead as you climbed onto his lap, smiling into the kiss as his hands stayed planted on your hips, gripping into your sides.

You pulled back before pecking his lips once more, leaning your forehead against his so you could see his big smile.

You glanced outside to see the snow getting worse as you let out a sigh.

“I should get going,” you whispered.

“But it’s a blizzard out there,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And you don’t have a coat.” Another kiss at the corner of your lips. “Just stay,” he whispered as his lips met yours again.

“I don’t want to get us in trouble,” you whisper back.

“I know the RA. Don’t worry about it. I can pull some strings if he finds out,” he said with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes, leaning in again.

“Won’t the residents know?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Let ‘em talk,” he said as his hand rubbed up your side, sending shivers across your body. “I won’t see them for over a month anyway.”

“Well, as long as the RA doesn’t find out, I think maybe I can stay,” you whispered as Shawn flipped you over so your back pressed against the futon and he hovered above you.  

“I’ll make sure he never finds out.”

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[writing-with-olive]

how to write banter?

Hiya!

Short answer: no fricken clue

Longer answer: okay that wasn't entirely accurate, but it is something I'm still working on

First thing is the question of "what is banter, exactly?" According to a quick google search, it can be defined as "the playful and friendly exchange of teasing remarks." As a writer, I imagine this was fairly straightforward, but having the definition is useful for setting up how to actually write it.

When writing banter, your characters are basically teasing and poking at one another, but they key is that they're not trying to hurt one another. This means that their body language is going to stay loose and relaxed. If one stumbles to come up with a response, they may just laugh or bump shoulders with the other, rather than let it get under their skin. There's also a mutual understanding that neither character really means what they're saying. "You're an idiot." doesn't mean the character thinks the other is actually an idiot (unless there's more serious undertones and the characters are actually saying what they mean under the guise of humor but that's a whole different thing),  but it's more of an "i'm acknowedging you did something that was arguably not the smartest but like in a funny way."

(this got kinda long, lots more below the cut)

The next thing is that it's a back and forth thing. If one character's just teasing the other person and the other person's just taking it, it doesn't feel like banter. Instead, it makes the teasing character look kinda dickish. If you want a scene where a character tries to open up the banter and the other is just Not Into It Today, one comment, said lightly is fine and then the character is like "oh, now's not a good time" and then they either back off or see if the other is okay. Basically, characters need to respect each other's boundaries for this to work.

Speaking of boundaries, there's going to be things that are off-limits. No matter how they're said, it's just not going to feel like a joke. For example, teasing a person and calling them an idiot is fair game for banter, but bringing in their test scores or how they're doing in a class is too much. Some lines are going to be fairly easy to recognise and may be fairly universal (like the above example), but individual characters will also draw their own lines. IRL, my friends and I are all pretty openly queer, so looking over and seeing someone perched on top of a chair instead of sitting normally and going "you're such a bisexual" is fine because it's part of pre-established humor (there's a long-running joke that queer people can't sit correctly in chairs), and also because we're both part of the group that's being talked about. But if that was done in a case where the person isn't out/is uncomfortable that they're bi, or if one or both of the people weren't part of the LGBT community, it would be off-limits. 

Once a line is crossed, it's no longer banter. In some cases whoever crossed the line may realize it immedietly and be like "oh shit I'm so sorry" and try to fix what they just did. Sometimes they may not know they crossed a line. In that case, they may notice that something has changed in how the other person is acting, or they may not and end up actually hurting the other person. This is when banter can even turn into genuine arguments, or can get a lot more vulnerable depending on the situation and characters. Whatever the case, make sure that if your characters cross a line, you stop treating it like banter immedietly. 

Another thing is that the characters bantering are likely going to be friends (or romanticly interested in each other), and they either have a history together, or they're just now getting close. Regardless, they're going to have some kind of shared experiences. If you have a warrior character, you might have something like "so you learned..... nothing about civilization when you were off stabbing things?" or if they're friends who have been in school with one another for years, something like "and here I thought you were crazy for wanting to take calc freshman year, but THIS?"

In addition to jabs at the other person, there's also idle threats. Your characters aren't actually going to follow through on any of them, or at least, that's the subtext. Anything ranging from "I'm just saying - I have your crush's phone number.... I can always text them about that time when you [insert embarrasing childhood story]." The key here is that you don't want to have the characters repeat the same threats repeatedly or resort to always making threats or else it'll feel stale. Basically, it's obvious to both that neither's going to follow through, but when you make only threats, that fact becomes impossible to ignore. 

Don't forget to include what the characters physically do. Bumping shoulders, lightly shoving, slapping each other on the back, are all possible things they can do. But they can also use the way they're acting to up the humor. For example, if you have a character who's like "I have no idea WHAT you're talking about I was perfectly logical about that." the other character might lean back, put their hands behind their head and go "yeahhhh, sure. No no no. Keep going I wanna see how deep you can dig this hole." 

Also - always read the lines out loud - rhythm is a big part of making banter work, and if it doesn't feel right when you say it, it's not going to feel right when people read it. Also, think When it comes to thinking of lines, I guess imagine what it would be like if you and a friend you banter with IRL were in the position of those characters - how would you act?

Anyway, hopefully this is helpful :D

Happy writing!

#writing #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #writers on tumblr #writing asks #writing problems #banter #friendships #asks #no clue #jk i know how it works #i'm just not super great at actually writing it #characters #characterization #writeblr #writblr #healthy boundaries #healthy relationships #healthy friendships #olive's writing vibes

[forevfangirlwrites]

Okay so either a teacher AU, secret relationship AU, more actress Annabeth, or cheerleader Annabeth? I love all of your writing so really anything is amazing

Betting is not encouraged at Jupiter High but that doesn’t stop half the students from forming a pool.

“They hate each other,” Katie asserts, rolling her eyes at the Stolls’ nonsense.

“Or, and hear me out,” Travis holds up his hands, “they’re actually flirting with each other.”

“Who flirts by being mean? That’s ridiculous.”

Travis, looking taken aback by her outburst, rubs the back of his neck meekly. “Some people do…”

Katie rolls her eyes again and turns back to the math homework incidentally assigned by the subject of conversation.

Ms. Chase was one of the hardest teachers at the school, but damned if everyone that entered didn’t walk out with a comprehensive understanding of mathematics.

Silena Beauguard, a senior, who had hated every moment of the class the year before, now sang praises of Ms. Chase and just how easy Calc was now. The girl had even decided to get a math minor.

Katie’s not quite at that level yet, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bell rings.  

“I’m telling ya, you should get in on this,” Connor says. “Will bet twenty that they don’t actually hate each other but aren’t flirting either.”

“What kind of bet is that?”

Connor shrugs. “Don’t know, but it’s easy money.”

Shaking her head, she looks around in search of the other Stoll. Travis is lagging behind, suspiciously quiet, which usually means he’s planning some obnoxious prank on her.

“Travis, hurry up, we’re going to be late,” she urges against her better judgement.

Surprisingly though, he complies, and they make it to history with time to spare.

Mr. Jackson is the kind of teacher that encourages dressing up for a mock historical debate. But his energy is a bit contagious and makes the topics bearable.

He’s got a wide smile on his face today as he starts writing on the board, just as the second bell rings.

“Today,” he turns to address the class. “We’re going to be covering—“

A knock on the door interrupts him and everyone turns their attention to the front of the class.

Despite not getting along, the two teachers often interact with each other. Because standing at the door is none other than Ms. Chase.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she begins in a tone that doesn’t sound like she’s that sorry. “But Ka—”

She interrupts herself as her eyes land on the green letters on the board. “Are you talking about Hamilton? The musical?”

Mr. Jackson, keeping a very neutral face, responds, “Yes. There’s a lot to be learned from it.”

“Are you sure it’s not an excuse to just listen to a musical?”

The conversation is wholly civil with no undercurrent of anything in particular, but the whole class is watching in raptured silence.

“What brings you here Ms. Chase?” Mr. Jackson asks instead of replying.

“Katie.” Ms. Chase turns to the class. “You forgot your homework on the lunch table, I saw it when I was walking by.”

She takes two steps into the classroom as Katie, ears burning red, hastens to meet her. “And given that it’s for my class, I thought I’d return it,” Ms. Chase continues.

Katie mumbles a thank you as she accepts the paper, and hurries back to her seat, not wanting more eyes on her.

“How nice of you, Ms. Chase.” Mr. Jackson says. It’s a complete sentence but it feels like there’s things left unsaid as she turns back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll let you get on with your class,” is all she says before stepping back out of the room. Mr. Jackson turns back to the board as Connor whispers to Travis.

“Dude, did you see? He was totally looking at her when she handed Katie her homework.”

Katie rolls her eyes. Of course, this bet business comes up again.

“But did you hear they way they were talking to each other,” Miranda whispers from behind her, evidently hearing the conversation. “They hate each other.”

Before Katie can shush all of them, Mr. Jackson turns back to the class.

“Anything I’m missing over there?”

Stifling a groan, she shakes her head.  “Actually, Mr. Jackson,” Connor speaks up, immediately overriding her answer.

“We were wondering if you’ve ever seen Hamilton?”

Thankfully, Mr. Jackson is also the kind of teacher to cut some slack, because he responds.

“Yeah, we saw it last year and it’s an incredible stage performance.”

“We?” Connor asks again, in an all too innocent voice.

Any other teacher and he would have been reprimanded but Mr. Jackson looks too caught off guard by the question to even say anything.

“Yes…me and my…girlfriend.”

She will never forget the moment that the whole class collectively lost their shit.

A silent shift, but the bulged eyes say everything, and even Mr. Jackson looks uneasy at the way they are staring at him.

“Right, so let’s get back on track. Hamilton…”

And despite her best intentions to try to pay attention to what he’s saying, the note passing between the Stolls get the better of her as the betting pool started to crumble.

-.-

“Maybe she doesn’t know he has a girlfriend and that’s why she’s flirting?”

Travis nods thoughtfully. “But then why would he flirt back?”

“Guys, lets face it, they don’t like each other.” And with that she turns back to her locker, her final words on the matter.

“Don’t know about that Katie Kat,” Travis says, still contemplating how to interpret this news. He’s not the only one, the entire class burst into conversation as soon as the bell had rang and PE next period made it all too easy to continue talking.

“I agree,” Connor adds with a smirk. “You’re pretty bad at figuring out when people like each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turns angrily towards Connor, only to find him cackling. Travis remains, once again, suspiciously quiet. And once again, before she can think further on what that means, the bell rings.

Walking into math has never been so…charged before today. The entire class is buzzing when Ms. Chase claps for attention.

“Alright class, we’re going to pick up where we left off on—”

But it’s difficult for anyone to pay attention and even Ms. Chase stops in the middle of a formula to address the obvious tension.

“What’s going on with you all today?”

Suddenly the whole class is silent. Her sharp grey eyes scan the class before landing on Travis and Connor.

“Well boys, you always know what’s going on.” She waits for an answer.

“Well,” Travis starts (after a lot of nudging from Connor). “We found out that Mr. Jackson has a girlfriend.”

The surprise is evident on her face. It’s rare to see Ms. Chase look taken aback, but she composes herself quickly enough.

“Good for him, why does that matter to all of you? A teacher’s personal life is allowed to be private.”

One day Connor will stop himself from speaking without a filter. Today is, clearly, not that day.

“Have you met her?”

Ms. Chase is exactly the kind of teacher that would never let anything like this stand but by some miracle of the gods, she’s not only taken back for a second time, it’s enough for her to not actually reprimand him.

“I..uh..yes, I have, not that it should matter to you.” Her composure, however, is lost on the entire class that, for the second time in that day, collectively loses their shit.

“Quiet!” Ms. Chase is still commanding enough to get everyone to shut up though.

“What’s she like?” Some girl in the back asks.

“She’s fine, now that’s not the point of—”

A loud knock at the open door has everyone’s attention.

And of course, of all the teachers, Mr. Jackson is standing there with his arms crossed.

“She’s great actually,” he says loudly.

For the first time, Ms. Chase actually rolls her eyes at the words.

“It doesn’t matter, that should not be a topic of discussion.”

Mr. Jackson nods. “You’re right. But for the record, she’s great.”  And with that he’s walking away again.

Ms. Chase actually rubs her face, letting out a huge sigh. She mutters something that Katie can’t make out.

“Okay, that’s enough, we’re getting through this formula now.”

She doesn’t know how they get through the class.

-.-

“Maybe—”

Katie cuts him off before he can say another word.

“Connor, please do not deposit another theory, I’ve heard like fifteen today.”

“Can you blame me? This is big news!”

She can’t, honestly. Despite her best efforts, she can’t stop thinking about it either. “No, I don’t blame you. I just can’t right now. Plus, I have a theory of my own I need to test.”

She shuts her locker and turns to her right. “Travis? Can I talk to you for a second?”

School’s out and most of the students have left, she’s only staying behind for Art Club and Travis and Connor usually chill with her for a bit before driving off. It’s been a long day, but she thinks she’s figured out at least one thing from all this chaos.

Connor immediately peaces out, walking down the hall as Travis looks nervously at her.

“What’s up?”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She can see a hint of red flushing is face. “I don’t—”

“I’m SO sorry to interrupt but you guys NEED to see this NOW!” Connor’s whisper yelling and beckoning them towards a classroom door.

Without even looking at her Travis immediately jogs to his brother, Katie following behind, shaking her head.

The door is only open a little bit, but it’s enough to hear what’s going on.

“I can’t let you shit talk my girlfriend!” Mr. Jackson’s voice is clearly recognizable.

“I didn’t shit talk and it was so not the time to bring that up.” Ms. Chase’s clear voice is also obvious.

“Okay maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I can’t let anyone say something bad about MY girlfriend.”

“I didn’t even say anything bad!”

“You said fine, FINE. Are you kidding me? That’s—”

“I think I should be allowed to say whatever I want.”

Katie looks over at Travis and Connor, both of whom are staring with wide eyes at the whole exchange. There’s no way she just said that.

“No.” Mr. Jackson’s voice sounds like a pout.

Ms. Chase sighs. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I have to be to date a goddess.”

There’s a small chuckle at the words. “You’re actually ridiculous.” Ms. Chase sounds unbelievably fond.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But you still love me so I’m not gonna change.”

They can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “I would never change you.”

“Even when I disrupt your class?”

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re lucky I love you.”

There’s another chuckle followed by more silence and Connor nods back in the direction of the hallway. They immediately run all the way down to her locker.

“NO FREAKING WAY!” Connor is leaning against the lockers as Katie automatically starts opening hers even though there’s nothing she needs to get from there.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Connor looks at her. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Look, they clearly want to keep it private. We shouldn’t spill.”

Connor makes a face. “I mean it, Connor.”

“Ugh! Fine!” He turns towards Travis. “If you weren’t my brother, I would have kicked you for choosing someone with morals.”

And with that, he walks towards the doors.

It’s the last bit of confirmation she needs. She turns back to Travis who’s still nervously teetering close to her.

“So? Figure out if there’s anything you want to ask me yet?”

Travis makes a face. “You’re making fun of me!”

Smiling, she steps closer to him. “No, I’m not. I’m not mean to people I like.”

The sparkle in his eyes at her words makes her heart soar and she think she gets why Ms. Chase puts up with Mr. Jackson. It’s easy when the other person makes your heart flutter like that.

A/N: Hello! Thanks for the prompts! Another person also requested a teacher AU so I combined that request with yours and added some secret relationship in there! Told from an outside perspective but I hope you liked this! 

#percy and annabeth #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth au #percabeth teacher au

[coldcocoamilk]

hey y'all lousy Levihan lovers - I got a new laptop, which means I can finally write comfortably again. we know what that means - a new fic.

as always, this fic is available on archive of our own at this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32169334/chapters/79707976

Title: I Went to College and All I Got Was This Lousy Degree

Summary: At the start of Hange's senior year, she's told that she must tutor the ill-tempered Levi Ackerman in Biology if he wants to graduate and keep his baseball scholarship. From that point forward, she does everything she can to keep it strictly business with Levi - until they keep running into each other, everywhere. It takes a little time and some self-discovery, but eventually, she finds herself falling for that baseball boy in the midst of her college career.

chapter 1 under the cut :)

1580.

The numbers were bold against her computer screen and seemed to be burning permanently into her retinas. What was that, like, two questions? It wasn’t fair.

“What did you get this time, honey?”

She turned the laptop to face her mother, who frowned. “It’s a ten point increase, at least.”

“I wanted a perfect score,” Hange moaned. “I hate the College Board. This is some crap.”

“Well, that’s three out of three. You’ve still done better than anyone I’ve ever seen,” her mother reassured her. “Can I take these cups?”

Hange looked over her desk at the array of cups, old bowls, and soiled paper plates. “Yeah, but I want the orange one. I’ll help you bring all this down – sorry about the mess.”

“You’ve been studying hard,” her mom reassured her. “I just don’t want any roaches to be drawn in.”

The warmth from the soapy dish water was soothing on her aching hands. Ever since eight that morning, Hange had been either typing, writing, or highlighting, and when her hands weren’t in use, her eyes flew across text resulting in the typical tension headache she felt directly behind her eyes. Now that it was six, and dinner was almost ready? Done. She was done. Hange thought that senior year would be the worst year for her, but so far, junior year was setting the bar pretty high with the combination of exams, state testing, entrance exams, and college applications.

“Leave the water in the sink. I made you some veggies,” her mom told her.

Perhaps it was weird, but one of the few things that Hange enjoyed out of her mom’s cooking was vegetables. Everything else was either too bland or too salty, too mushy or nearly burnt, but her vegetables were always well seasoned and just cooked right. Going vegetarian had been easy for Hange, especially since it was pretty much all she ate at home anyways.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s after dinner still?” Her mom asked as they ate their dinner together.

“Yeah, I’ll probably sleep there tonight, if you don’t mind,” Hange replied between forkfuls of carrots. “By the way, when does dad come back?”

“Wednesday morning, so you’ll have to take the truck into school, okay? And that’s fine, just check in with me at some point. Go ahead and take the truck tonight, too.”

“Yup, gotcha,” Hange replied, finishing her plate. “Thank you for the food – I really like that new sauce you’re using.”

Her mom beamed, a rare sight for her tired face. “I used balsamic dressing in it! I knew it’d be good.”

Hange grabbed her bag from the bottom of the stairs on her way up. It was way too hefty for her plans tonight, and besides, she really didn’t need her calc II book at Nanaba’s, anyways. She packed the usual: laptop, jeans, cute shirt, a long skirt, cardigan, flats, and some pajamas. Her deodorant and perfume got haphazardly thrown in there too, along with an extra hair tie and her chargers. On last thought, Hange reached for a couple of suspiciously heavy balled-up sock pairs, throwing them in there too. Nanaba would appreciate that.

The truck keys were on the counter next to Hange’s wallet, and she clipped them onto her belt loop on the way out. Everyone in the house had ended up with her trusty carabiner trick: can’t lose your keys if they’re always attached to your pants. Her logic was that if you lose your pants somehow, you’ve got more issues than your keys.

“See ya mom!” Hange called out to the house. Her mom’s jazz music was already audible from the bedroom, and the dishes from dinner sat soaking in the sink. It was always much more laid back when her dad was out on a business trip, and a nice treat in comparison to his uptight antics.

Dusk in southern California during April was always nice – it wasn’t chilly enough to warrant a decent coat, but it was warm enough that you could get away with a dress. Sure, the daytime was utter hell, but at night, her dad’s hoodie on the passenger side of the bench seat in his truck was a welcome blanket on her lap as she drove to Nanaba’s house just fifteen minutes away.

Nanaba had been Hange’s best friend since the sixth grade, and they weren’t planning on changing that any time soon. Once upon a chilly November evening, school had just let out and they sat waiting for their parents to pick them up. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour, then a full hour – somehow, the two had ended up being “those kids.” You know the type. Mom fell asleep or lost track of time, child has to try their hardest to remember the house phone number, mom freaks out and arrives in a panic. In that span of an hour, the two started an inseparable bond over Pokémon Sapphire on Hange’s Gameboy Advance.

Hange let herself in with the key under the mat, making her way quietly through the house and up the stairs to Nanaba’s room. She found her with a clear plastic bonnet on her head, cross-legged at the head of the bed on her laptop, and the room reeked of chemicals. “Yo,” she announced herself, dropping her bookbag on the bed and flopping down on it. “That time of the month again?”

“You make it sound like I’ve got my period,” Nanaba complained. “What score did you get?”

“A fifteen eighty,” Hange replied. “You?”

“Fifteen thirty,” Nanaba beamed. “My highest yet!”

“Yooooo!” Hange shot up. “I’m proud of you! That’s, what, a seventy-point improvement? You studied!”

“I took your advice and had my dad buy me that SAT prep book you kept talking about. It really did work, thank you so much,” Nanaba gushed. “I feel like I can finally relax, just a little. Next weeks is finals, but in a couple hours, it’ll be Sunday, which means I’m not studying for a whole twenty-four hours.”

Hange flopped back down on the bed. “Preach. You feel like going out tonight?”

Nanaba leaned against the headboard of her bed, the plastic cap on her head crinkling against the wall. “Nah, I don’t think anything is happening. Besides, I’m doing my hair. I need you to help me touch up the sides again.”

“All right,” Hange replied. “How long do you have left?”

“Ten minutes,” Nanaba closed her laptop and stretched before swinging her legs off the side of the bed. “We’re not going out tonight, but I do have a bottle, if you wanna.”

“I brought shooters!” Hange shot back up, immediately digging through her bag and extracting the balled-up socks. “Some different ones this time, for us to try. What did you get this time?”

Nanaba walked across the room and opened her closet, pulling a bottle of liquor out from a box labelled WINTER. “Eddy orange this time. Haven’t tried it yet, but I thought we’ve abused the lemon enough.” Glass clinked as she pulled out two shot glasses: one shaped like a miniature beaker, and a normal one that simply said BOOBS.

“Beautiful,” Hange grinned. “Today we’re trying… uhh… UV Blue, Jägermeister, and this weird peanut butter whiskey stuff.”

“Did you shoplift again?” Nanaba gave her a glance. “You know, it’s one thing to buy with a fake. It’s another to shoplift entirely.”

“Does it count as shoplifting if your parents don’t drink but keep getting gifted weird alcohol gift baskets from my dad’s customers so it all just ends up sitting in the liquor cabinet for years anyways?”

“God, your dad’s job is weird.”

“Yeah, I know.”

#levihan #my writing #levi x hange #levi x hanji #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #stoplookinghere

[onetwosevensquad]

Dungeons and Dragons and... Love?: Dungeon Master

Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: the kind Dungeon Master who helps guide your team through your campaign also becomes your math tutor.

Warnings: none??

Rose: sorry this literally took forever to write. Hope your all still interested in this mini series. Next member is Renjun.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

———

Why were you here again?

Oh right, cause you’re a giant nerd who needs an outlet.

The poster had caught your eye when you were headed to lunch one day. It was a beige poster with a 20 sided dice in the middle. That was what got your attention.

You had played Dungeons and Dragons with some of your friends before. It has been a few months since your last campaign and you didn’t know when the next one would start. So, in fear of not being able to escape to a fantasy world, you decided to check it out.

It was now 3:45 in the afternoon. School had ended 15 minutes ago, the hours ticking by slowly. You now stood outside of the AP Government classroom where Mr. Jung taught.

The poster, you remembered, said that Mr. Jung would oversee the club. He was your favorite teacher because he was funny and the class was enjoyable.

Finally, you slowly opened the door to the classroom and stepped in. In the middle of the room, a few desks had been pushed together to create a large table.

Sitting around the table were seven boys who were all staring at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for literally anyone to say something.

“Is this the d&d club?” You finally spoke.

“Y-yes,” the only boy who was standing said. You recognized him as Mark Lee. The cute, smart boy from calculus. “Yes, uh, grab a seat.”

You nodded and dragged a chair over to the only empty spot at the table. It was right next to Chenle, the loud basketball player you shared chemistry with.

“Well I’m pretty sure that we all know each other,” Mark said clearing his throat. “I’m not gonna make us do ice breakers cause literally no one likes those.”

“I do!” Haechan, the class clown that you also shared chemistry with.

“Only you,” Jeno, the star basketball player and probably the last person you expected here, commented. Haechan pouted and stuck his tongue out at Jeno.

“Anyway,” Mark said. “It’s my fist time DMing, but I have played before. Just so I know, who here has played before?”

You, along with Jisung, the quiet kid from history, Haechan, and Renjun, the kid from math who doesn’t do math but draws, raised your hands. Mark seemed to relax a bit when he saw there were at least a few experienced players.

“Well I guess this first meeting will be going over rules and how to play, then next time we’ll do character sheets,” Mark said.

———

It was now the third session and the first one of the start of you campaign. Last time, everyone made their characters, the atmosphere becoming less tense as time went on.

You made your character an Elf Wizard, something you’ve never played before. Everyone else had their own unique character combos, having fun coming up with the most ridiculous names for them.

Today, the party was slightly buzzing with excitement to finally start their campaign. You all gathered around the table giving character introductions, ready to get this show on the road.

Three hours, several rolls for initiative, and Haechan’s character almost dying later, Mr. Jung had to finally kick you all out of the building. The sun had already set and he was letting you way past what was allowed.

You realized how late it actually was and scrambled to get your stuff. You said a quick goodbye to the boys and Mr. Jung and sped off to get home before your parents killed you.

You get a ways down the hall when you heard someone running behind you.

“Y/n, wait up!” You turned to see Mark jogging to catch up with you. He stopped in front of you, breathing slightly harder. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, smiling at the cute boy. You’ve never really had a full conversation with Mark. He’s quiet and, honestly, talking to someone attractive was a bit out of the realm of your comfort zone.

“C-can I have your number?” He said. Your eyes went wide and as did his when he realized what that sounded like. “So that I can add you to the group chat! Just in case anyone can’t make it or we cancel.”

“Yea, sure,” you said, slightly disappointed. You heard Mark exhale probably in relief that his save worked. You handed him your phone with your number displayed on the screen and he quickly put it in his.

“Thanks,” Mark said, handing you back your phone. You both stood there in the most suffocatingly awkward silence ever.

“Well bye,” you said turning to leave.

“Oh! Yea, uh, bye,” Mark said waving slightly. He turned back towards Mr. Jung’s room and you saw the other six boys crowded around. They were all giggling as Mark shoved that back into the room.

———

Six sessions and three weeks later, any morsel of awkwardness was gone. It was like you have known these seven boys your whole life.

The group chat blew up your phone with memes from that days session but didn’t you mind? No. Though sometimes at ungodly hours in the mornings, you still enjoyed the content.

On this particular day, you weren’t going to be able to join the session. Your calculus teacher was making you stay after school and retake a test that you failed miserably. You felt bad when you hand to text the group.

You: I can’t make it today

Haechan☀️: whyyyyyyy

You: I failed a calc test

You: I have to retake it

Lele🐬: thats stupid

Sungie: good luck Y/n

Injunie: yea gl

You: thanks boys

Marker: hey if you need any help studying for calc, I’d be happy to

jeNO: oh?

You: yea I’d like that, thanks

Minnie: ann I oop-

You laughed at Jaemin’s comment as you made your way to your calculus teachers classroom.

———

Considering the second time you took the test you barely past by the seat of your pants, you took Mark up on his offer to tutor you.

Today was the first day Mark was going to tutor you in the library. You walked in and saw him already set up at one of the tables in the very back.

“Hey,” you whispered. He smiled at you as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said back. “Ready to get started?”

After about an hour and a half of Mark explaining different theorems to you, you were finally starting to get it. Whenever you asked a question, Mark would take the time to explain it to you carefully, making sure you got it along the way.

When he would give you a problem to solve, and you got it right, both of you would get excited, annoying the librarian. She ended up shushing you more than once.

“Hey, you hungry?” Mark asked.

“Not really,” you said. As if on cue, your stomach slightly growled, making Mark laugh. You looked down at your stomach, a pout on your face. “Traitor.”

“Come on,” Mark said between giggles. “Let’s get something to eat.”

You got your things and headed out of the library with Mark to get food.

———

For the next three weeks, this became your tradition. On the days the D&D club wasn’t meeting, you and Mark would study calculus in the library for about two hours, and then go get food. It always felt like a lot less time with Mark, him always making it enjoyable.

Today, you had a study session with Mark. As you neared the library, you noticed him standing outside the doors on his phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mark said putting his phone away. “But you need a break.”

“Mark-“ you whined.

“No,” he said. “I think that you’re ready. You’ve made a lot of progress over the last couple weeks. Besides, they say you shouldn’t study the night before a test.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” you said crossing your arms.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Mark said waving it off. “But, I do know that you’ve worked hard and whatever grade you get, I’m proud of you.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at Mark’s words. You bit back a smile as he continued.

“So tonight we are not studying,” Mark said grabbing your hand and leading you away from the library. “We are going to the basketball game with the others to cheer on Chenle and Jeno.”

You didn’t protest as Mark led you down to the packed gym and over to where the rest of the boys were sat, waiting for the game to start.

———

After the game where your boys won, the party went out for dinner. Afterwards, Mark drove you home, the two of you talking about the game, D&D, or literally anything.

When Mark pulled into your driveway, he insisted on walking you to your steps. He said it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Hey,” Mark said when you got to your front door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Tell me how it goes, ok?” He said. You nodded giving him a smile that he returned. “Good night.”

“Night,” you called after him as he went to his car.

———

At the end of the day, your calculus teacher had finished grading the tests. She told everyone to come pick them up before they left school.

When she handed your test to you, she had a big smile on her face. She made a comment about how nicely you did and how much you improved. When you finally saw the grade, you nearly passed out.

You practically ran to Mr. Jung’s room. D&D was today and you wanted to show Mark you grade. You arrived at his classroom, bouncing into the room.

“Well someone looks happy,” Jaemin commented.

“Did something mean happen?” Jisung asked. You stuck your tongue out at the younger boy making everyone laugh.

You made you way to Mark at the head of the table, him watching you with a smile. When you reached him, you slapped the paper with a big 90% scribbled at the top down in front of him.

“All thanks to you,” you said as he continued to stare at the paper.

“I told you so,” Mark said standing up. He caught you by surprise when he gave you a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ugh, just date already,” Haechan commented from his chair. You and Mark pulled apart making a face at the boy, but avoiding each other’s eyes.

It’s not that you were entirely opposed to dating Mark. You just didn’t know if he felt the same way. And he didn’t. Right?

———

You and Mark continued your study sessions even after you proved you didn’t need to. You both agreed that it was to benefit both of you and not just an excuse to hang out.

One day, while walking out of calculus with Renjun, the boy made a comment that rocked your world.

“He likes you, ya know,” Renjun said.

“W-what,” you sputtered turning to him.

“Mark, he likes you,” He clarified. “I know like bro code, I’m not supposed to tell you or whatever, but I see the way you two look at each other. We all do. You should ask him out. He’d say yes.”

You stopped dead in your tracks thinking for a second. On one hand, this plan that you were formulating could embarrass you. On the other, you could get a date with your dungeon master / calculus tutor / crush.

“Y/n?” Renjun said turning to you. You quickly turned on your heel and made a mad dash for Mark’s locker. “Y/n!”

———

As you speed walked to Mark, you saw him in the distance talking to Jeno and Jaemin. Mark spotted you coming to him and waved at you.

“Hey, Y/n what’s-“

“Do you want to go an a date with me?” You said quickly.

“W-what?” Mark said.

“Jeno, I think that’s our cue,” Jaemin said dragging Jeno away.

“Do you want to go in a date with me?” You asked again, slower this time. Mark looked at you wide eyed, like a dear in headlights.

“A-a date?” He asked. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake. “Wow.”

“Wow?” You asked.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just never thought you’d ask and I’d have to do it,” Mark said. “But yes, I’d love to go on a date.”

“Oh thank god,” you said leaning against the lockers. Mark laughed at your dramatic reaction. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and turned you around to walk to lunch. As you turned, you and Mark stopped and saw the six other members of your party standing there amused.

“God, finally,” Haechan said.

“Took you long enough,” Chenle said.

As the eight of you walked to lunch, the boys continued to tease you and Mark. But when you looked up at him with his arm still around your shoulder, the teasing didn’t matter when Mark smiled at you.

———

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #nct 127 #nct aus #nct au #nct x you #nct x reader #nct mark lee #nct mark #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #mark x you #mark x reader #nct mark x reader #nct mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark scenarios #nct mark imagines #nct mark scenarios #mark lee #mark #nct dream #nct u

[mybiasisexo]

Desperado

Genre: Angst | Highschool!au

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Length: 3.6k

Warning: Language | Unfinished 

Summary: Your high school sweetheart left you... while still in high school. Cradling a heartache like this is difficult, but you are able to confide in an unlikely student who is just, if not more, broken than you are. Based on the song Desperado by Rihanna. 

Author’s Note: This was going to be the first Sehun scenario I posted but idk I kinda just lost interest in it. I plan on finishing it, I swear! Also, this orange hair??? God tier!!!!! BRING IT BACK!!!!

MASTERLIST

credit

Heartache is never easy.

Especially when it is still fresh.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you squint up at the ominous building. Already the cacophonies of voices swim around you like the wind, sending a sharp chill down your spine. You can do this, you remind yourself. You have before.

You rush through the doors and scan the crowded hall. You missed school the day before and now need an assignment for your calculus class. The first person you find that you share said class with makes you cringe—it is Oh Sehun. You bite your lip; contemplating whether going up to him is even worth the effort, but you really need that assignment, so you give yourself a pep talk as you make your way towards the tall young man.

He’s at his locker, lazily spinning the lock back and forth as you approach him. “Um, Oh Sehun?”

His head slants over to your direction, dark eyes piercing.

“Yeah?” He asks nonchalantly, popping the lock and opening the metal door.

“I, uh, was wondering if you could fill me in on the calculus assignment from yesterday? I missed it.” You hate how soft spoken you sound, but you realize that’s the only way you talk on campus now.

“We have Calc together?” He wonders. You nod quickly and he shrugs. “Never seen you in there before.”

You pout slightly but dismiss his comment, not taking it personally. Oh Sehun never really notices anything anymore, apparently.

“Well,” You continue awkwardly. “We do. So, do you have the assignment?”

He digs through his locker, ignoring your presence, but you remain standing there, pride holding you prisoner. As you wait for him to do something, your head turns on its own accord across the hall. There you see a familiar man leaning against his locker with a pretty girl pressed against him. The pair giggle and share a sweet kiss.

Byun Baekhyun.

This man once held your heart. Unfortunately for you, he decided to crush it into nothing but powder without any warning. 

For two and a half years he was your world. The two of you were deemed the Odd Pair because you came from different worlds, but somehow you both made it work.

He was the popular, smart, rich kid that everyone knew would own his own multimillion dollar business someday, and you were the quiet girl nobody seemed to notice.

But Baekhyun noticed you.

You and Baekhyun had been making plans for the future. Talking about colleges and whether to get an apartment together and the closest bus stops near campuses. Now there is nothing ahead of you. Baekhyun snatched your future and gave it to somebody else and now there is nowhere for you to go.

You are stuck.

Your breath catches in your throat and you try to focus back on Sehun, but your eyes are stuck like glue to the pair. The man cups the girl’s chin, thumb rubbing the flesh tenderly, and you feel the ghost of the familiar action on your own skin. Their happy faces blur, unshed tears obstructing your vision. You don’t try to blink the water back; knowing the fall of droplets will expose your weakness.

You vaguely register paper rustling and a pressure on your hand and your vision clears. You inhale sharply, like you’ve broken the surface of the ocean and notice the math assignment in your hands.

Sehun is watching you intently, you can feel it and when you dare to meet his stare you both stay like that for a long moment—having a silent conversation you are too terrified to actually interpret. Finally, he makes a noise in the back of his throat and closes his locker.

“Tough break,” he murmurs, throwing a strap of his backpack on a shoulder before spinning away, blending in with the rest of the school population.

“You would know,” you reply quietly to yourself, wiping the moisture from under your eyes.

~*~

You notice Oh Sehun quite a bit after the day at his locker. Notice him walking in the halls, somewhat aimlessly, taking his time. Notice him grab his lunch in the cafeteria and leave with it, never sitting with the rest of the students. Notice him in your shared calculus class, never interacting with anyone and always acing the tests. Notice him in the school parking lot, leaning against a rusty Monte Carlo as he puffs on a cigarette.

You notice how he is always alone.

He doesn’t interact with anyone. He never even seems to notice anyone else. He walks with his head held high, but his eyes glazed over, as if he’s going through the motions.

You notice how much he resembles yourself.

~*~

You have one class with Baekhyun—History, ironically—and decide that today you can’t do it.

So you skip it. 

It is stupid and reckless and the first time you have ever in your entire academic career done it, but you refuse to watch them act all lovey dovey. 

There’s only so much your crumpled heart can take.

You stealthily make your way down the stairs that lead to the gym but pause once you notice someone sitting at the bottom steps. You easily recognize the tall frame and wild bright orange hair and carefully slide to the bottom. Once your feet land on the last step, you find yourself sitting beside him for some reason, making sure to keep some feet between the two of you.

“Hey,” you greet nervously.

He only nods in acknowledgement.

You sit there silently staring ahead at nothing for five minutes. The whole time you fight with yourself, wondering why you are even sitting there in the first place, but you can’t deny how comfortable if feels. Especially the silence, it is well needed.

Finally, Sehun leans back against the giant banister and faces you. “So, how are you feeling?”

The question catches you off guard and your body jerks around to face him clearly. His sharp features are unreadable, but his eyes seem bright, the dark chocolate brown melting and twirling in what appears to be concern.

“I—I…It still hurts,” you stutter, still shocked by his sympathy.

“It gets better,” Sehun informs you in a quiet tone. He avoids your teary gaze, finding solace in watching his fingers knot together. “It might not feel like it right now, but it will.”

~*~

Oh Sehun.

Your Junior year Sehun was a bright friendly kid. He was a part of the male dance team and was dating the third most popular girl in school, Lee Hyunhee. The two appeared to be in love—at least, Sehun was genuinely head over heels. Baekhyun’s crowd somehow blended with Sehun’s—you assume populars stick with populars no matter what clique—so you had hung out with the pair a few times, although you wouldn’t have called Sehun a friend. You remember him being happy. 

But Hyunhee broke his heart.

Cheated on him with one of his ‘friends’ on the team and then had the gull to get angry with him once he found out. She broke up with him in front of the entire school, in the busiest hallway, and stormed off with his friend in tow.

You caught the entire fiasco. Watched as Sehun ran away as if someone were chasing him, all while gripping tightly to Baekhyun’s hand.

Now you held a similar pain.

Summer came soon after and once school started again he was different.

He was a loner. He didn’t address anyone, didn’t acknowledge anyone. He never talked and didn’t rejoin the dance team.

He became invisible.

~*~

“You really need to go to class,” Sehun softly scolds you as he watches you make your way beside him on the stairs.

You haven’t returned to your history class for a week now. Instead, you have been joining Sehun at the gym staircase.

Despite his statement, he scoots over a little, allowing you room on the step he was residing on.

“I can say the same to you,” you reply. He shakes his head in disbelief but you’re pretty sure you catch a small grin on his lips. “I brought us something.”

You yank your backpack onto your lap and rummage through it until you find the gift. Pulling out a brown paper bag, you hand it to Sehun who takes it graciously.

He peeks inside and pouts immediately. You can’t help but to be entranced by his eyebrows bunching together.

“It’s crushed,” he whines, pulling out the giant yet flat cinnamon roll you bought. 

You roll your eyes and snatch the dessert from his grasp. “It’s been in my bag all day.”

Taking a bite, you lean back on the stairs. “It still tastes delicious.”

Sehun sighs and you feel his fingers break off a piece. You study him as he chews thoughtfully.

“I guess you’re right,” he allows with a shrug. He then leans forward and takes a giant bite right from your hand.

“Ew!” You squeal, laughing loudly from his antics. He doesn’t join in though, just continues chewing with a look of content. 

Slowly. Slowly you and Sehun have been getting closer. You wouldn’t say you are friends just yet, but you are definitely more than acquaintances. 

You see yourself in him and you believe he sees the same in you. Both have felt heartache like no other, both of you have to look at the person who broke your heart everyday, both of you are still attempting to heal.

But now neither of you has to do it alone.

“Sit with me at lunch,” you say to a busy looking Sehun in your calculus class.

He scoffs, not taking his eyes off the sheet he’s finishing.

“Sehun,” you whine. “You never sit in the cafeteria.”

“Yeah because I hate it in there,” he murmurs.

You sigh dejectedly. 

“You can join me though,” he offers nonchalantly.

You blink up at him. “Really?”

He sits up slowly and finally glances down at you. His face is as unreadable as always, but his eyes are a dead giveaway to you, and now they sparkle with excitement.

“Yeah. I mean, why not?”

“Okay!” You agree quickly, a huge smile on your face. Sehun scoffs again at your reaction, but he doesn’t look away.

The two of you make your way towards the cafeteria. Sehun’s long lanky legs carries him a few steps ahead, and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, to keep eyes off of you both. You bring the book you’re carrying closer to your chest, trying as hard as you can to not draw attention to yourself, to stop your heart from beating any faster than it already is.

You can admit you’re excited. Sehun is slowly opening up to you and you feel honored that out of all the people he could do that to, he has chosen you. 

You glance up quickly and, of course, just so happen to lock eyes with Baekhyun. He’s talking to his close friend Kim Jongdae. His sentence carries as your eyes remain locked, but he quickly shakes off whatever it is he is thinking and continues with his conversation. You quicken your pace so that you’re closer to Sehun. He feels it and peeks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow but you ignore it as the pair of you enter the cafeteria and join the line.

It’s silent as you grab your food and take Sehun’s lead to, unsurprisingly—although a tad disappointing—the staircase.

“So is this our staircase now?” You ask with your mouth full of food.

He starts coughing, choking on the bite he just took and you quickly pat his back and hand him his water. He chugs it empty and then pins you with his dark glare, eyebrows seeming sharper with his intense stare.

“I always eat here.”

You raise your hands in defeat. “But now I’m eating here too.”

“That doesn’t make it ‘ours’. I found it first.”

“And I found it second,” you shrug; enjoying the reaction you’re getting out of Sehun.

He glares at you again and you chuckle softly.

“Are you okay?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Baekhyun.” His name alone causes your blood to run cold. “I saw him look at you on our way to lunch. Are you okay?”

“I….” Your heart is racing, but it is less because of Baekhyun and more because of Sehun’s concern for you. “I’m fine… now.”

“Oh.” Sehun blinks in surprise before facing away from you awkwardly. “Well, that’s good…then.”

The pair of you continue eating in a somewhat awkward silence for a chunk of time before Sehun is calling your name.

You turn towards him. He’s still facing forward as he clears his throat. “You know, you can…well, we can come here to eat lunch. That way you won’t feel the need to keep skipping history. I know you’re getting behind.”

You suppress a grin. “I’d like that, Sehun. Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He shrugs, eating again.

~*~

Time is going by and you’re finding yourself gradually getting over Byun Baekhyun. You deny the cause having to do with spending a lot of time sitting on stairs, that surely has nothing to do with you moving on. You’re relieved all the same, the stinging in your heart now a mute thud from time to time. School no longer is a chore to you—something you have to just endure. You find yourself actually looking forward to it, looking forward to him.

Your friend, Oh Sehun.

It’s mildly hilarious how in the span of a couple months you have grown rather close to the tall young man. You’ve seen sides of him you doubt most have in years and his odd charms draw you in like a spell.

That being said, you can’t find it within yourself to truly like him romantically. There is no denying Baekhyun took something from you when he left. Made you hard, and you are afraid to let anyone else get that close. Afraid of trusting someone just for them to turn on you without any remorse. 

And you know Sehun feels the same way.

Because there are times when his stare lingers a little longer than appropriate. Times when he accidentally slips and says something that makes you lose your breath. Times when he moves his body so close to yours you think you might burst into flames. 

But he always pulls back.

The reality is Sehun is just as broken emotionally as you—if not more. He never talks about Lee Hyunhee, and you’re too nervous to bring her up. There is this unspoken rule between the two of you that she is off limits in conversation. It’s as if you’ve built your wall out of wood and Sehun out of concrete, there is just no getting to him.

But that’s what makes the relationship work, the fact that you both understand that and try your best to help the other.

Isn’t it amazing how healing friendship is?

Not to mention refreshing. Having someone around who gets exactly where you’re coming from without any judgment is a welcoming feeling, something you lacked in your life. You are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s because Sehun is guiding you.

You just hope you’re doing the same for him.

Okay so yeah, you’re getting over Baekhyun, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t still feel some type of way watching him and his girlfriend being all mushy in your shared class with no regard of who may or may not be watching.

They sit directly in front of you and have been touchy since class started and you can’t take it any longer so you ask to go to the bathroom.

While wandering the empty halls, you consider skipping all together, but know Sehun would rip you a new one so you just continue to the bathroom. 

On the way back you hear some voices and pause.

One of them sounds like Sehun.

“I saw you with her.” The other voice, a female, says coldly.

There is a scoff as a reply and now you know that’s Sehun.

“So what if you did?” He snaps. “It’s none of your business who I hang out with. It hasn’t been for a year.”

“So I can’t be concerned for you?” She counters. The question confuses you. Who is Sehun talking to? “Sehun, I still care for you no matter what happened in the past.”

“You never cared about me, Hyunhee!” Hearing her name is like having a bucket of ice cold water poured over your head. “You broke my fucking heart! Someone who cares about someone doesn’t do that!”

“Sehun,” Hyunhee purrs and you scowl. Unable to fight it anymore, you peek over the wall out into the hallway they are in. Just as you expected, Hyunhee is resting a hand on Sehun’s taunt forearm. “I’ve always cared about you. And regardless of what I’ve done, I still consider you a friend. So, as your friend, I’m telling you that hanging out with her is bad news.”

Sehun squints his eyes at the beautiful girl. “Why would that be bad?”

“Because she uses people, Sehun. She used Baekhyun and now she’s using you.”

Baekhyun? Was Hyunhee…talking about you?

“That’s ridiculous,” Sehun dismisses and you swell with pride.

“Is it? Byun Baekhyun is the most popular guy in school and he left her. He was her ticket. Now that he’s with Choi Somin she has to find someone else. The thing is nobody wants her.”

“But I’m not popular.” His voice softens drastically and it makes you nervous. 

“Oh, yes you are, Sehun. You will always be one of us. No matter how hard you try to shut out the rest of the world. We all still see you.”

He remains silent and it urges her to continue. “She sees it, Sehun. You’re vulnerable. She can manipulate you.”

Your body moves on it’s own accord and before you know it, you’re right in front of them.

“Sehun,” you call his name loud and clear. They both turn towards you. Hyunhee does with disgust and Sehun in a daze. He blinks at you lazily.

“Sehun,” you repeat, your voice now lowered to almost a whisper. Tears spring in your eyes and you bite your lip to hide the trembling. “You don’t honestly believe her do you?”

“Looks like it’s time for me to go,” Hyunhee says, collecting her bag from the ground. She throws a look at Sehun. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Neither you nor Sehun break eye contact as Hyunhee saunters off, clearly satisfied. 

Your chest heaves and your hands curl into fists. You’re pissed, but don’t know at what exactly. 

Sehun murmurs your name but it doesn’t hold any warmth. 

“Please,” you beg. “Please tell me you don’t believe her.”

The bell rings, but neither of you register it. Doors swing open and students pile out in waves, yet you both stay frozen staring at one another trying to convey your true intentions.

Sehun’s emotions are always bared to you through his eyes, but right now you can’t decipher anything and it’s driving you crazy.

You’re also drawing attention. Those walking around you slow down and take in the stare down with curiosity. You can feel their eyes on you like pinpricks and it’s adding on to the rising anxiety. You’re going to burst at any minute you can feel it.  

Your name is called and you jolt as if being awoken. Byun Baekhyun is cautiously making his way towards you, girlfriend in tow. They both seem apprehensive, but it might have more to do with the aura around you and Sehun, who is still glaring at you unblinkingly.

“You left your stuff,” Baekhyun says. His eyes jump from you and Sehun but he doesn’t say anything about it. He clears his throat. “I thought I’d bring it to you because, well… yeah.”

You’re speechless. Your throat burns painfully as you take your bag from him and bow thankfully.

“I…” Again he takes in Sehun’s frame. He then leans in closer and whispers with concern, “are you alright?” 

You break. 

Gulping back the bubble forming in your throat you glare at him. “How could I possibly be alright, Baek?”

He flinches at your hostile tone and the use of the nickname you had given him.

“I just… Sehun’s glaring and… you look upset—I—”

“There are people here who think I only dated you because you are popular and that leads me to believe you believe that! I gave you so much of me! I gave you two years of my life and you just left me, Baekhyun! You left me!”

You are yelling now and a crowd is forming, but you are beyond reasoning right now. You never got closure with Baekhyun, never sat down and discussed anything, you guess now is a better time than any.

“I want to hate you so bad for what you did to me. You destroyed me yet have the gull to be friendly and bring me my stuff all the while your girlfriend—my replacement—is right there! You are so cruel, Baekhyun. People think I used you, but the truth is you used me!”

Baekhyun’s face is flaming red with embarrassment. He keeps opening and closing his mouth but nothing is coming out.

A hand wraps around your arm and you see Sehun through blurry eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He tugs you gently out of the hall and everyone parts for you. Once you’re out into the parking lot you break down. Loud sobs shake your frame violently. 

Suddenly, you’re engulfed as Sehun wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his embrace. This only causes you to wail harder, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears.

“That’s right,” he encourages. “Let it out, Babe. Don’t keep it in anymore.”

#Sehun scenarios #sehun scenario #exo scenarios #exo scenario #sehun oneshot #sehun onshots #exo oneshot #exo oneshots #Sehun #sehun fanfic #exo fanfic

[xiaodejunletsact]

launch | mark lee

word count: 25,916 (yikes)

genre: astronaut!au, 1960′s au, angst, fluff, some suggestive content but nothing too crazy, adventure, husband!au, father!au

warnings: death, near death experiences, a lot of crying, emotional baggage

author’s note: hi again!! so im back with a new fic!!i wanna start off by saying that this fic is not meant to belittle anyone’s accomplishments, even though it is based on real events this work is pure fiction, and should be taken as such. I hope you guys like this fic and i know its very long so if you get to the end just know that i love haha thank you!! also, its very possible that tublr will crash if this is opened n mobile so im sorry about that

synopsis: ever since he was a young boy, mark’s dream was to be the first man on the moon. along his journey to accomplish his dream, he finds there are many hardships would have to face in order to succesfully complete his mission and come back home to the love of his life.

Fall, 1949; 20 Years Before Launch

The music playing from the stereo settled in the corner of the living room travels all through the house, mixing with the sound of excited giggles and yelps of children as they play on the floor of Mark’s decorated home, where his eighth birthday party is in full swing. 

The floor is covered in streamers and confetti, a pretty blue cake sits on a clothed table surrounded by bowls of candy, party hats and all types of cheap toys and goodies for the children to take. 

The party was almost perfect, the only flaw being the absence of the birthday boy himself. Mark is currently nowhere to be seen. His mother sighs, having an idea where he could be. 

-

The music can only be heard faintly from where Mark is. The melodies and instruments are replaced with hushed giggles and the thud of his small sock clad feet as he sneaks up to the attic of his house- where he knows his grandfather will be. 

Once he climbs the ladder leading up to the attic, he peeks his head up to see his grandfather hunched over his desk, writing something down before leaning over to take another look out of the telescope that peers out of the open window next to him. The sight of the telescope brings the little boy’s mood up instantly, he had only used it once since his mother told him he couldn’t touch it because it was very expensive and grandpa would be very angry if he broke it. But grandpa can make an exception tonight, right? 

It’s his birthday after all…

“Psst…”

Mark didn’t see this but a smile grazes his grandfather’s face as he hears his grandson’s attempt to get his attention. He decides to tease the boy and pretend not to hear him. 

Seconds later, another hushed noise comes, “Psst… grandpa!”

This time, the old man can’t conceal his chuckle as he turns in his chair to see nothing but top of Mark’s head, his eyes and his little hands peeking over the attic entrance. The way Mark’s eyes scrunch is an indication that he is sporting a sheepish smile now that his grandfather has given him his attention. “Can I come in?”

The man chuckles once again before waving the little boy over, “Of course.” 

Mark quickly climbs up once he had gotten the approval, making his way over to his grandfather’s desk in no time, where his grandfather picks his up and sets his small body on his lap. “Were you not enjoying your party?” 

“I was! I just…” Mark can’t help but side eye the telescope next to the desk in hopes that his grandfather will get the message, which he does. 

With a chuckle he says, “You wanted to come use the telescope?” The words are followed by eager nods from the boy who looks at his grandfather expectedly.

“Why don’t we then?” 

Mark smiles widely before hopping off his lap and hopping to the telescope enthusiastically, his grandfather follows with a slight laugh, shaking his head at how excited his grandson was. (But still secretly glad that he is showing interest in something he himself cares so deeply for). The old man walks towards the telescope that leans half out of the small attic window, his grandson moves out of the way to let his grandfather to set the telescope for him. 

Mark excitedly twiddles his thumbs excitedly while watching him, almost shrieking in excitement when his grandfather moves out of the way and tells him to take a look. 

It's like an explosion. Of all different stars, colors and constellations all for Mark’s eyes to see. The moon peeks from the edge of his peripheral vision, asking for attention. Mark quietly asks his grandfather if he could move the telescope toward the moon. 

When Mark’s eye is pressed against the telescope once again he can’t help but let out a gasp with a wondrous: “wow.” 

The moon stares back at him, gloriously shining and brightening up the night even if it’s just a bit. Mark feels himself falling into a trance. The moon is mesmerizing, he wants to touch it. 

“Grandpa?” Upon hearing a hum of acknowledgement from the old man, he continues. “Has anyone ever touched the moon before?” 

His grandfather chuckles, “Not yet, kiddo.” 

“Yet? So it’s possible?” 

The man nods, “Absolutely. But it will take a long time to make that happen.” 

Mark’s 8-year-old mind is sent reeling. It’s possible! Someone can actually touch the moon. One day at least. Mark doesn’t dare tell his grandfather, but he really really wants to be that someone. 

-

Fall, 1958; 11 Years Before Launch 

Now that he’s in high school, Mark realizes that going to the moon is a lot harder than his 8 year old mind had figured ten years ago. 

While most expected Mark to grow out of this ridiculous dream before he reached high school and settle for something easier and more accessible, Mark knew there was no possible way that he was ever going to let go of his dream. Not when he knows where he’s meant to be. When he knows he’s meant for more than just earth, like his grandfather said all those years ago.

Although his sneakers drag on the cement of the ground in fatigue after having studied all night for an important AP Calc test he has today, he knows that one day all this hard work he put into getting straight A’s will be worth it when he finally achieves his dream and becomes the first man on the moon. 

He sighs out before closing his locker, turning round only to bump into the girl he’s been admiring from afar for the past 6 years: you.

 You’ve lived in the house across from him for your entire life with your grandparents and sister. Unlike Mark, who preferred to be up in his attic looking through his telescope, you spent the majority of your time outside in your grandmother’s garden. Albeit creepy, Mark admits would sometimes watch you laugh with your sister while playing in the garden and feel his chest fill with giddiness. There was one instance where you caught him looking, Mark immediately ducked down to the attic floor, out of the view of the window. He remembers feeling absolutely mortified, waiting a few minutes before peeking again. You were still there and, to Mark’s surprise, instead of sending him a dirty look and telling him to stop being creepy, you wave slightly and the blushing boy. 

Mark always considered this the beginning of your love story. Though, he really didn’t know what he was feeling at the time. 

It was in middle school when Mark realizes there is only one thing he liked more than space: that was you. When he saw you smiling brightly at everyone you met (hence the nickname given to you by your peers: sunshine), he knew he was in bad, and your smile would stay on his mind for the rest of the week… but then that week turned into a year, and that year turned into 2 then 5 then 6, into now. You smile slightly at him and wave your hand in front of his face. “Hello?” 

Mark feels his face flush as you catch his daydreaming about you, “Yeah! Hi! I’m sorry… Are you okay?”

You nod and laugh lightly, “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”

“I really want to kiss you.” He says, except it comes out, “Yeah, just tired.”

“Oh, well then I’ll see you around then.” 

As he watches you walk away Mark goes through every possible scenario in his head that would’ve made that experience much more enjoyable than it actually was. He groans into the empty hallway and tries his best to not think about you during his calc test next period.

-

Mark always waits until it’s night time to leave school, partly because he gets to take the bus alone and not be bothered by anyone, mainly because the stars come out to remind Mark why it is he is working hard, why the tiredness and long nights are worth it. They’re up there waiting for him. And he will do whatever it takes to make it up there. 

Its a while past 6pm and Mark makes his way home, kicking stones and looking up at the sky, when his vision is torn away from the sky to the silhouette sitting alone at a bench. This person’s shoulders and shaking looks lightly as they cry. Mark’s trains his vision, trying to identify the figure. 

His squinted eyes suddenly widen as he recognizes your hair and jewelry. Mark’s body is immediately flooded with concern. Why are you out so late? Why are you alone? And most importantly : why are you crying?

Before he can stop it, his feet are moving him to where you are. Though, once they’ve done their job of getting him there, they immediately abandon him and leave him defenseless in front of you. He doesn’t know what to say or do; his hands sweaty against the textbook he currently has an iron grip on.

You notice him before he speaks, quickly wiping your tears and sending a forced smile his way. “Hey, it’s you again.”

Mark remembers this morning and has to stop himself from cringing. “Yeah…” He stands silently for sometime, kicking some dirt up from the gravel as your sniffles ring through the air around you. Mark looks up at you only when you chuckle. 

There are tears streaming down your face but you still manage to laugh at Mark’s awkwardness. “You can sit down if you want, Mark.” 

Mark breaths in thickly, eyeing the empty spot next to you on the bench before taking up your offer, and setting himself next to you. He briefly glances at you a few times before quietly saying: “You know my name?” 

You bring up a hand to wipe your cheeks, chuckling. “Of course, I do. You're my astronomer neighbor.” It’s an attempt to lighten the mood. “You, always with that telescope of yours.” 

Mark smiles at the fact that you called him an astronomer. But it leaves quickly when another tear rolls down your cheek, your face becoming grim once again. Your hands try to cover up their tracks, Mark’s hands act on their own, grabbing your wrist before you could do so. You startle at this, looking at the boy incredulously. 

Mark tries to pin point what part of him thought this was a good idea as he studies your face. His grip on your hand loosens as he enters the trance that comes with seeing your features so up close. Your puffy eyes staring back at him, and swollen lips so close Mark has to stop himself from making any more drastic decisions that could scare you off. “A p-penny for your thoughts?” His other hand reaches in his pocket and pulls a penny he remembered putting in there when he saw you in the halls earlier, he sets it on the bench between you two.

You watch the boy with confused eyes that flicker between his face and the hold he has on your wrist at the moment to the penny. You become perplexed when you hear his question, looking away as if your eyes will answer the question for you if he looked too deeply. “Just... things. It doesn’t really matter.” You shrug, wanting to abandon the topic as soon as possible. “School, stress about college. The usual.” 

“Oh.” Is all he awkwardly replies, you shift your gaze to where his hand is still wrapped around your wrist. Mark notices and quickly lets it go muttering a quiet, “Sorry.” 

You shake your head, watching him rub his hands on his black pants. “It’s okay.” 

Mark rakes his mind for anything he can say or do to make you feel better; but judging from his lack of experience with the opposite sex, he finds this task very difficult. That is, until he rolls his head back in thought, catching sight of the bright constellations decorating the night sky. He figures he should stay within his field of interest, and take your mind off things.

His voice is rougher and shakier than he thought it would be when he speaks after some time. “Do you know about the story of the Gemini twins?”

A chuckle rises in your chest. You should have expected this to leave the mouth of the boy who had his nose stuck in space books every time you saw him. And even though you didn’t really care much for space or anything related to it, you wanted to listen to what Mark had to say. “Sure.” 

Mark perks up, he mutters a soft ‘Really?’ under his breath that you don’t think you were supposed to hear since he starts talking immediately after. “Well, some people say that the twins in the sky are two boys named Castor and Polydeuces. One who was a mortal and the other who was the son of Zeus himself. Even though they had different fathers, the two were extremely close.” Mark’s wide eyes connect with yours and he interlocks his fingers to emphasize his point, you nod as an acknowledgement. “They spent the majority of their time just reeking havoc everywhere. Traveling, setting things on fire, partying, and basically doing anything they could to assure themselves a good time. They made their mark on the world while always being there with each other. Until one day, they got into a pretty bad fight with some guys over two women and Castor was killed.” Mark smiles when you gasp slightly. “And Polydeuces was so grief stricken that he asked his father Zeus to make Castor immortal like him, so they could be together for eternity.”

Mark pauses to see your reaction, your eyes are bloodshot and swollen but tears no longer leak from them. You lean forward as you wait for Mark to finish the story. “So he did, and that right there,” he points up to the sky where the twins looked down at you, “is them. Spending eternity together like they always wanted to.”

“Sounds great if you ask me.” You say quietly. “To spend eternity with your best friend.”

Mark nods, eyes shifting from the sky to your wonder filled eyes watching the twins. He can imagine the things you’re thinking of, the battles you’re vividly imagining the twins had fought while on earth. Just like when he heard the story for the first time. He wants to know what you think; what you see in your imagination. He just wants to know everything going through your head. (Not just now, but everytime he saw you walking in halls lost in thought, he had collected pennies in the front pocket of his backpack just in case one day he worked up the courage to a (literal) penny for your thoughts. It was stupid, he knew, but it gave him something to forward to.)

Mark doesn’t realize that you caught him staring until your hand rests on his own. Its the first skin to skin contact the two of you have ever shared. Your hand is warmer than he thought it would be although, it doesn’t surprise him at all judging from the fact that you quite possibly had the sun for a soul. 

“Thank you for that, Mark.” You smile at his and Mark’s heart feels like it’s already on the moon waiting for him. “I’m sorry you missed your bus.” Truth is, Mark hadn’t even realized the bus had come and gone having been to focused on you. He shakes his head. 

“It’s okay.” He says, “We can walk together, it’s dangerous to be out alone this late anyway.” He holds his breath and looks away as he waits for you to reply. Mark feels a weight off his shoulders when your soft voice travels through the chilly wind.

“I would like that.”

-

Summer, 1959; 10 years before launch

“Mark!” 

Mark feels your body clinging onto his before he actually registers that you’re hugging him. The force of your impact produces a groan from him, still, he wraps his arms around you and chuckles. “Hey, you.”

Your graduation cap is tilted slightly, he reaches up to fix it for you. This causes you to smile at him lovingly; Mark can’t even begin to explain how much he loves it when you look at him like that. It makes him want to just grab your face and kiss you with everything that he’s got. 

Which… he can, considering he’s been your boyfriend since November, when he clumsily confessed to you under the stars one chilly night. 

You recall the memory fondly, the stars, the increasing coolness in the air and the redness of Mark’s cheeks (which, to this date, he blames on the weather but you know better) when he handed you a coin purse full of pennies nervously telling you there was one for each time he wanted to talk to you, and that he really wanted to tell you before Christmas break came. So he did.

He smiles back down at you as he recalls the events of last winter, he leans down far enough that his words are only audible to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.” 

“Do you now?” He nods while chuckling at your teasing expression.

“If our parents weren’t here right now I would’ve already had you twice.” He says this to tease you, but only manages to frustrate himself even further. You stare at him, mouth agape before slapping his chest. Pushing your body away from him, your blush makes Mark chuckle. You playfully walk away from him, still blushing. He laughs and pulls your wrist so your body is pressed against him, he hugs you. “I can’t believe you just said that.” You laugh against his clothes and he does the same.

“Honestly, me neither.”  

After laughing fondly for some time, Mark grabs your hands. “I have something for you.” He smiles widely, you give him a confused look as he pulls you toward your parents that sit together chatting. “Hey guys, I’m going to show Y/N something real quick in my car.”

Your parents nod, his mother's protests loudly. “Be back quickly, you two and don’t do anything bad!” 

Mark’s graduation gown flows behind him as he side steps away from his scolding mother, hand clutching yours as his feet move quickly. “Yes, mom. We won’t do anything bad, I swear!” He suddenly pulls the two of you into a full sprint towards his car, laughter spills from both your lips and mixes with the air. The two of you bring your unoccupied hands to prevent your caps from flying off your heads. 

The scene is quite beautiful, the sun is setting causing a light orange heugh to fall over your elated bodies. Young love flows in the air. It is wonderful.

You’re still chuckling when you finally reach Mark’s old car in the parking lot, he only lets go of your hand to insert the key into the door. Once the car is unlocked he leans into it, reaching into the backseat. 

You, both excited and anxious, wait for Mark to get whatever it is he has to show you. When the boy finally comes out of the car, he hits his head on the door frame which causes him to falter lightly, however, once he hears your giggles he continues. 

Mark leans out of the car and you gasp as you see a giant bouquet of flowers in his hands. Flowers of all types: roses, sunflowers, lillys, lavender, daisies, and tulips all so different but looking so in place in the bouquet. Mark’s hands hold the bouquet out towards you, “This is for you.”

Your slow hands move to grab to bouquet, touched that he even thought to get you something in the first place. “Mark… They’re beautiful.” You give him a warm smile and hug the bouquet to your body in a small sign of appreciation.

Mark responds with a nervous smile, “I’m glad…” You notice how his cheeks suddenly become tinted and he rubs his hand on his graduation gown slightly. “I have something else for you.”

“You do?” Confused and amused, you go through all the things the boy could possibly present you with. Though, nothing came to your head.

“Yes. but first… I need to tell you something.” His nervous hands come up to scratch the back of his neck, he takes off his blue cap in the process, revealing his flat hair underneath. Mark runs his hands through it, breathing deeply. “Ok. so you know that now that we’re out of high school, things are going to be a lot different. I’m going to have to dedicate a lot of time to my career and once college starts, I’m off and there’s no stopping me.” 

You can’t help but grow nervous at the topic of college, knowing how difficult it will be for you two judging from the career path Mark has decided to go down. A million scenarios race through your head of what he could be trying to tell you and none of them are good. “I know, Mark.” 

He nods, biting his lip. “And everything I do for the next few years of my life is going to have to adjust to my dream…” 

“I know, I support you.” Your worry becomes fear and you figure it's better to voice it now rather than later. “Are you… trying to break up with me?”

The poor boy’s eyes widen to the size of planets and his hands come up to rest on your shoulders. Mark shakes his head vigorously, “No! Oh my god, no.”

“Then where are you going with this?” 

He sighs, looking down at the ground, allowing himself time to think. You watch him with a confused look as his head shoots up, he breathes in deeply once again. “Ok. So you know how I love space, right?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “I love space and the moon but when you look at what the moon really is… it’s just a floating piece of rock, right? The only reason it shines and is beautiful is because the sun shines light on it to make its beauty known. It allows it to be seen. So without the sun we wouldn’t be able to see the moon and everything that it is, am I making any sense?” 

The perplexed look you’re sporting answers his question, he sighs, muttering: “this definitely sounded a lot better when I practiced.” His words make you chuckle, but only briefly because he looks up at you again, this time with more determination. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m the moon and you’re the sun, before we met I was so hidden and no one ever really saw me nor did I make the effort to be seen and  I started to think that maybe I was just a floating piece of rock too…” his eyes turn suddenly soft and you see a bit of the Mark that was for your eyes only, “ but then when I met you, you’re light was so bright and I felt so seen and so real, like I could do anything. That nothing could stop from shining when you even gave me the light to glow bright at night.” 

Usually Mark was either all suggestive comments or shy remarks. This side of him is one that you’ve seen only once before: the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. His words sounded so heartfelt and sincere you felt your insides turning to mush. “Mark…” 

He smiles at you before reaching into his car once again, pulling out another item. Though, this time it’s small enough for him to be able to conceal it in between his two hands. You look at his hands curiously. “I don’t know if this too soon, but i need you to keep me glowing and i love more than... anything.” He breathlessly says the last words and looks directly into your eyes. You don’t notice when his hands move away to reveal what was hidden by his hands until he’s down on one knee and a beautiful silver ring with a small shiny stone look back at you. 

Your hands instantly fly up to cover your mouth that is agape in shock. Mark nervously searches your face for any signs of disgust but finds none, he continues. “Will you marry me?” 

Your momentary silence cause the boy on one knee to grow nervous, Mark feels his insides churning and a slight pang in his heart. Which instantly leaves as soon as you kneel down in front of him, tears flooding your eyes and your hands grabbing the sides of his own. You’re smiling through your tears. Seeing you cry has always made tears come into Mark’s own eyes, soon enough his are growing increasingly wet as well.  

“Are you serious?” The feeling you get when he nods is something you can compare to euphoria. You throw your arms around him and whisper into his ear; “Yes, oh my god, yes.” 

Mark’s embrace becomes tighter around you, every ounce of nervousness gone and replaced with nothing but undeniable love and appreciation. 

He only breaks the hug to cup the sides of your face and kiss you hard on the lips. He uses his thumbs to wipe away your tears while his lips move on yours. The moment can only be defined by pure happiness and adoration for the boy pressed against you. You’re hands wrap around his thin waist and they remain there as he pulls away, tearfully chuckling. His shaky hands move to take the pretty ring out, clumsily sliding it onto your finger. 

Mark’s eyes fill with fresh tears at the sight of your left ring finger adorned by the jewelry that would make Y/N and Mark into Y/NandMark. He rubs his nose, “It looks so pretty on you.”

His voice is shaky. You take his hands in your own and admire the way the new piece of jewelry looks against your skin. “It does, doesn’t?" 

Mark’s hand brings your own up to his lips, closing his eyes as he presses a lingering kiss on the knuckle just below where your ring sat. Your adoring eyes only move away from the sweet action when your grandmother’s loud voice sounds throughout the parking lot. “Did you do it?” 

Mark laughs against your hand and turns to both of your two’s parents who look at you expectedly. 

Your fiance raised your hand for their eyes to see, the shiny ring serving as an answer. Excited shreeks leave the women as they race over, the men trailing behind with amused and proud smiles on their faces. 

You turn to Mark, “They knew?” 

Mark shrugs, wiping his tear stained face as best he could. “I had to get their blessing.” 

The thought of Mark nervously going up to your grandparents asking for your hand in marriage makes you giddy and warm, almost as much as you remember that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with him. 

“I love you so much.” You whisper to him, squeezing his hand.

Mark smiles at you and moves closer to peck your temple. You feel his lips moving against your head when he speaks. 

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

-

Spring, 1961; 8 Years Before Launch 

Even in college, Mark was by far the brightest student in the classroom as well as on the field. Flight school required more than just the ability to fly a plane, it required a lot of knowledge and the skills of calculating and acting fast. The way he worked while airborne and calculations and solutions he could bring up in little to no time left even the professor jaw-dropped. 

It was obvious he was destined for something great. The professor saw it. His envious classmates saw it. You saw it. 

And apparently so did a test pilot for the newly established space research facility (NASA) that Mark has spent hours telling you about: John Suh. 

John Suh was a bright man from the north that had been flying since before he could run, everyone who knew him knew he was going to change the world. Mark was no exception; he finds himself opened-mouthed as the legendary man walks onto the field one spring morning. He carries himself with an aura that is supposed to intimidate others, however, Mark finds himself wanting to know more about the man and his career.

His professor stands, “Students, i’m sure you know who this is. If you don-”

“My name is Johnny Suh, test pilot for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.” The man has a deep voice, a lot deeper in real life than on the speakers of the TV that sits in you and Mark’s apartment. He is taller too, though Mark expected that. “I came to you today in search of brilliant minds, I was told there would be many at Purdue.” 

The excited muttered of the students fill the air, Mark remains silent. Too nervous and shocked to speak. He stays this way as Johnny walks to the side of the runway and stands with his hands grasps behind him. Its a military stance that brings an even more intimidating aura to him. Johnny Suh would remain there for the rest of the period.

 Mark tries hard to focus on the tasks the professor gave the class. 

It’s only when a hand comes down on his shoulder that he realizes that Johnny Suh has been watching him this whole time. 

The man motions him to lean forward, Mark complies. John whispers, “The calculations you presented and the way you get around up there are impressive, even more advanced than what the professor is teaching you.” Mark can only chuckle nervously, shrugging. “Where did you learn that?” 

Mark gulps before clearing his throat. “My grandfather was an astronomer, a pilot too.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise at that, a pleased smile setting on his face. He watches the younger man shift his weight awkwardly, awaiting his response. Johnny leans in closer. “What's your name kid?” 

“Mark Lee, sir.” He reaches out to shake Johnny’s hand. The pilot shakes it back with an amused smile. 

“You know, Mark Lee, the president wants to send a man into space.” Mark perks up slightly, Johnny notices. “NASA is looking for a team.” 

Mark avoids his eyes nervously, nodding his head. “I’ve heard.” 

“So what do you think, can we do it?” The look on Johnny’s face let’s Mark know that the question has a reason behind it, though the words leave Mark’s lips before he even process a better response.

“Of course we can, if a man has already been in orbit, surely we can get to the moon.” When Johnny says nothing, Mark’s nerves increase impossibly. “Of course, there would have to be many preparations and tests and all those kind of things done but surely, it’s not... impossible.” 

John nods, “You’re right.” A fond smile rests on the man’s face as he patted Mark’s shoulder. His eyes follow Johnny as he turns away from him and begins walking away. Mark can’t help but feel dejected, though he had prepared himself for this. The man walks up to the professor, interrupting his conversation with a student to whisper into his ear. John’s hand points in Mark’s general direction all eyes (including the professor's) move to him. 

Mark’s instinct tells him to lean his head down but the look Johnny gives him tells him he has no reason to. Mark uses this confidence boost and keep looking forward as Johnny smiles proudly and makes his way off the field only to be stopped by the loud voice of an envious student.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Suh?” 

John turns once again and looks at the young boy before pointing Mark’s way with his strong hand. “I’ve already found what I’m looking for.”

-

It takes two weeks for Mark to get the call that will put his dream in motion.

The landline rang loudly through the space of you and Mark’s small shared apartment, you two were currently laid down on your bed, Mark’s arms curled around you. You don’t know how long you had been in that position before you had break away to rush to the phone in the kitchen. 

“Hello?” 

A pair of lips smack on the other line, “Yes, good morning. Is the residence of a… Mark Lee?” You shift your gaze to the shirtless man that has now moved from the bed to lean against the wall of the hallway, he smiles as you say:

“Yes, this is his wife.”

“Lovely to speak with you, Mrs. Lee. I’m calling from the National Aeronautics of Space Administration, we have some news for your husband.” Your eyes widen as you pull the phone away from your mouth as not have the man on the other line hear your gasp. Your husband approaches you with a concern filled face. Mouthing: “What’s wrong?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, before fighting a wide smile, you lean closer to him. “It’s NASA.” And excited tone is carried in your voice as you say that to him. Much like you, Mark’s eyes immediately widen. 

You take a deep breath before pulling to phone back to your ear, clearing your throat. “I’m very sorry about that, sir. I will put my husband on right away.” You usher the starstruck man to grab the phone. 

Mark’s shaky hands grab the phone and brings it to his ear, you watch carefully as he converses with the man on the other line. You can’t help but notice how he stands up straighter and carries himself with a different energy, a more professional and manly energy. 

You don’t understand much of their conversation, but you do understand the words: “test pilot”, “offer” and even the name of the well-known test pilot John Suh. You decided you would just ask Mark what the conversation was about when he’s done, though it ends much sooner than you expected when your husband says the words: “I think I would like to discuss it with my wife first if that is fine with you.”

He nods while  the man speaks on the other line before saying, “I will make sure to, sir. Thank you.”

You look at him expectedly as he ends the call by placing the phone back up on the wall. He remains with his bare back facing you for some time, until you reach forward and let the palm of your hand rest against his back. “Well?” 

You let your hand fall as Mark turns around, his eyes are full of excitement and wonder initially, before they turn rather gloomy. “Mark, is something  wrong?”

He shakes his head before looking up at you, “Remember how I told you Johnny Suh came to the university the other week, looking for recruits?” You nod. “Well, he chose me. Now… they’re offering me a job as a test pilot for a new project.”

“Mark! That’s fantastic!” Mark’s worried eyes look back at you. “Why are you upset? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Your confusion at Mark’s expression is intense, you had always pictured him during this moment. Though, it wasn’t ever anything like this. 

“It is.” He pauses, looking up at you. “But now that it’s here… I’m worried.” 

Mark lets his head fall to the side, turning his view away from you. This is a habit of his that surfaces whenever he is upset; you bring your hand up to cup his cheek and turn his eyes to your own once again. “What are you worried about, love?” 

He looks deeply into your eyes, they are so soothing. So familiar. He immediately opens up. “I’m worried about our family, Y/N.”

“Our family?” You and Mark had touched on the topic of children once before, it was clear both of you wanted children, the moment just never came up. 

“I want to have children with you, Y/N. I want us to have a family together and this job is going to so much of my time and it is so dangerous and I-” 

“Mark Lee. This has been your dream since you were a little kid. You’ve wanted this for so long! You can’t give that up, not when you’re so close.” You try to keep your voice even when you want to tell him his worries are very similar to your own.

“That was before we shared the same heart and before I wanted anything like this with anyone.” 

The troubled storm in your husband’s eyes causes your heart to strain.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him that he is right. That he should stay with you and give you children and never leave your side. But there’s also a part of you that knows that Mark has wanted this his entire life, he has studied and worked for this moment. And there is no way you can take that away from him. 

You raise your hands to cup his cheeks, forcing his eyes to yours. You smile reassuringly before sighing. 

“Why don’t we make a compromise?” 

His eyebrows raises in confusion. “A compromise?” 

You nod, “Before everything gets to hectic at work, we can have a baby. That way, when you’re busy, we can keep each other company. And even when you don’t have time, we’ll find a way to make time, we always do.”

Mark eyes are still slightly conflicted. His eyebrows were furrowed, causing burdensome creases on his forehead. You bring your hand up from his cheek to his hair, stroking it as to pacify him while he considers your words. “What if something happens that parts us?”

You process his words before shaking your head softly. “We said until death do us part, and even then I’m still going to be with you. Don’t worry about those silly things.” You continue to stroke his hair, moving your hand down to his forehead. Running your hand gently over the creases, feeling them immediately relax under your fingertips. You trace the bridge of his nose and his lips, him taking the opportunity to kiss your fingers as they pass. Soon enough, your hand finds previous spot cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch and watches you with his big, glossy eyes. 

“Nothing is more important to me than you. I want you to always remember that.” His hands grip the night gown you’re wearing at your waist, his jaw clenches as he suppresses his urge to cry. You nod, he breathes in deeply through his nose. “And I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to come back to you, no matter the circumstances.” 

You feel yourself become emotional at his words, tears filling your eyes. Mark pokes your sides and says with a shaky voice, “Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry.” You laugh tearfully and make a half hearted attempt to wipe the tear that fell down your cheeks, before wiping the ones that have run down Mark’s as he said the words. 

After a moment of silence, Mark leans down to brush his nose against your own. He captures your lips in lingering kiss while holding your back with his hands. 

The kiss serves to let you both know that it will be okay, that no matter what happens there will always be Y/NandMark. 

The two of you pull away breathlessly, staring into each others bloodshot eyes for a some time before you say, “call them.” 

He nods and moves to the phone.

You smile as you watch his talk with the man on the other line. The conversation carries on longer than you expected as they discuss the details of his work over the phone. 

You motion toward the bedroom and Mark nods, watching you walk down the hallway towards your shared room. 

-

Mark starts working that following Monday. 

They said they wanted him working as soon as possible; that a new series of missions named ‘Gemini’ that were to consist of test flights for the grand mission of getting a man on the moon. 

NASA was everything Mark expected it to be. The place was full of geniuses, which, he will admit, intimidated  him to no end; he was reassured when a Mr. John Suh clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Everyone who is here deserves to be here. Including you, kid.” His words settle well with Mark as he nods with a small smile. 

Johnny shows Mark around the facility, while telling him that the two of them are going to have to spend a lot of time together since they work in the same division. He laughs as he tells Mark not to get sick of him too soon. Mark holds back from telling him that he enjoys his company more than he thinks and just laughs at his words. 

As they pass by the number room, Johnny steps in to introduce Mark to the lady’s who work there. As soon as they hear the door open, all their eyes shoot up. Muttered words fill the room as they all eye Mark up and down, some even sending flirty waves. 

“Ladies, this is Mark Lee. He’s gonna be flying with me.” Johnny notices some stares of want in Mark’s direction (who is currently looking at his shoes nervously, not knowing what to do). Johnny chuckles, “Sorry ladies, he’s a married man.”

The single ladies let out disappointed noises, Mark just laughs nervously along with Johnny. Who waves at the women as they walk out. 

As they walk down the hall, Johnny speaks, “So this wife of yours… did you meet in high school?”

Mark blushes at your mention, briefly looking down at the gold band wrapped around his finger. “No, uh, we kinda grew up alongside each other, her house was next to mine.” 

Johnny nods, “so you were childhood sweethearts?”

Mark chuckles, “well… not exactly, i don’t think she paid much attention to me before high school.” 

Johnny hums. “Are you happy?”

With no hesitation, Mark nods. “Absolutely.” A silence falls after Johnny smiles at him, Mark clears his throat. “What about you?” 

“Hm?”

“I’ve seen your wife on TV before… are you happy?” Mark feels like he’s over stepping but it’s too late now that the words have left his mouth. 

John nods immediately, “yes.” He hesitates before adding, “Just worried about the future.” 

Mark holds back a gasp. Is it possible that The John Suh has the same worries as him? “About what?” 

Johnny shrugs, “You know, when you’re in the air every day, there’s a chance. There’s always a chance that something will go wrong and I won’t see my wife and sons again.”

Mark feels slightly comforted that Johnny has the same worries as him despite working in this field much longer than him. But still, hearing it come from someone else makes it much more… real. His face pales. 

Johnny notices, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Mark’s shoulders. “But you can’t forget that there is also a chance that everything will go as planned and you will succeed for them, because of them.” His voice is stern in order to get the message to the younger man. Mark nods, looking up at Johnny and noticing how human he looks; realizing that Johnny Suh is just as real as he is. 

Mark breathes in deep before nodding his head. He repeats the words in his head like a mantra: 

For them. Because of them. 

-

Friday afternoon of Mark’s first full week of work, you walked frantically around you and Mark’s small apartment, hurrying to set the table before your husband walked through the front door. The aroma of the dinner you prepared reaches your nose from the kitchen as you place fresh flowers in the vase at the center of the table. 

You had been cooking since about midday, all in an attempt to make a nice dinner for Mark who had been coming home more tired these days, his new job taking a toll on him. You wanted to give him special treatment to help him relax a bit, and to celebrate him getting a position at NASA. 

You were moving the pot of pasta from the kitchen to the dining room when you hear the sound of Mark’s keys from the entrance of your house. You let out a surprised shriek as you run to the nearest mirror, taking in the sight of your messy hair. You try to smoothen it before Mark walks in, wanting to look nice for him. Though, before you can even react you see his reflection in the mirror. He drops his bag lazily on the couch and walks over to you, watching you closely through the mirror as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

You relish in his scent as he does yours, the two of you standing quietly for some time before he breaks the silence. “Hello there.”

You smile bashfully, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek. “How was work?” 

He smiles, “Tiring. But good.” 

You nod before turning in his hold. He watches you with an amused smile as you get on your tip toes to kiss the corner of his mouth before pulling away quickly. His hands in yours, you pull him towards the dining area. “Dinner is already set.” 

Mark is shocked as he sees the neatly decorated table and the pots full of his favorite foods all set on it. He looks up at you. “What is this about?” 

Shrugging, you explain: “Well, I know work has been tiring you out and we still haven’t properly celebrated you getting the job because of the time crunch so… I just thought it would be nice.” You shyly look down at your feet. Mark feels himself falling for you all over again. He leans down to catch your gaze, his voice is dripping with love as he speaks.

“It’s so nice, love. I appreciate this so much, thank you.” His wraps his arms around you once again and hugs you tight, kissing the side of your head repeatedly. You smile against his chest before pulling away to excitedly lead him to the table. 

“Wait here.” He does as you say, sitting at the table patiently while looking at the pretty flowers in the vase and the various candle your lit up. He smiles to himself. 

Soon enough, you walk into the dining area, one hand carrying two wine glasses and the other carrying a big bottle of expensive wine. 

He watches as you excitedly sit down next to him, handing the bottle over for him to open. It opens with pop that causes the two of you to laugh. He pours you a glass first and then himself. 

“I want to make a toast.” You say, Mark chuckles, leaning towards you.

“Okay. To what?”

You raise your glass as you talk, “To my wonderful, hard working, inspiring husband who surprises me every day. Because you worked hard and persevered to accomplish your dream and it’s finally happening. You made it happen.” 

Mark feels emotional as you finish talking.  He never thought it was possible to love someone this much. “I also want to make a toast.” He raises his glass as you had done before, “To my beautiful wife, who is always there to cheer me on and support me no matter what, to whom I owe my success. None of this would’ve happened without you. We made it happen.”

You bite your lip as he talks, staring at him with heart eyes. The dreamy feeling you got when he first asked you to be his comes back, it seems the young love still remains. 

You raise your glass, “To us, then?” 

He smiles, clinking the edge of your glass with his own. “To us.”

-

You feel like a teenager again as Mark presses you up against the wall later that night, kissing you passionately. His hands wander all around your body feverishly before settling on your waist. The satisfying grip of his hands against you cause you to moan lightly, hands moving down from where they were locked behind his neck to the buttons of his white shirt. Your fingers work skillfully, undoing each button with ease before pulling his shirt down his arms rather roughly. 

His collarbone and neck become exposed to you and immediately your lips are attached to every surface. Mark moans as you kiss down his Adam’s apple, throwing his head back. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of your lips on him. 

You pull away only to grab his hand and pull him down the hall. Seeing him in this state is blissful, hair a mess and flushed cheeks. You can see the strain of his erection in his black dress pants and walk faster. 

Once you reach you shared bedroom, you laugh giddily as you lie down flat on the bed. 

The sight is rather beautiful. You lying there, your hair spread out around you, your dress ridden up slightly showing the upper part of your thigh. Mark wastes no time, crawling over you and capturing your lips once again. His hands move down to the bottom of your dress, pushing it up to bunch at waist. 

Just as he was about to move his hands to your underwear, you stop him by setting your hand on his. He immediately halts his movements and pulls away, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s do it this time, Mark.” Your eyes search his for any signs disgust or hesitation but you only find confusion. “Let’s make a baby.” 

Mark’s eyes widen, “Are you sure?” 

You nod reassuringly, “I’m sure. Do you not want to?” 

Mark nods rapidly, “Oh, I want to. I just…”

“Then give it to me, Mark.” You say bringing his hand back where it previously was. His fingers automatically begin massaging the area between your legs.

“Fuck, okay.” 

And that’s what he does. That night, Mark gives you everything he has. Endlessly rounds of love making keep you up until the wee hours of the morning when the two of you collapse next to each other, sweaty and heavily breathing. 

Mark tiredly smiles, reaching a hand up to move a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “I love you.” 

You smile back at him, leaning forward to capture his lips, pecking them quickly. “I love you more.” 

The two do you slowly drift to sleep as Mark scratches your back and the sunrise creeps in through your windows.

-

Spring, 1962; 7 Years Before Launch 

At some point throughout the passing year, Mark decides that your tiny apartment wasn’t suited for the two of you anymore. He had made plenty of money throughout the year, saving up a fraction of every single paycheck until he had enough to pay for deposit of a lovely house he had been eyeing. 

It really was perfect. It’s double storied, littered with windows that let the light seep in beautifully. The living room is a spacious area fit for slow dancing to the love ballads playing from the stereo placed in the corner of the room. Perfect to fit all the buzzing family and friends that came to celebrate with you today. 

Blue party streamers hung from the ceiling, balloons littering the floor, children race around your home laughing wildly as their parents keep an eye on them while simultaneously socializing with each other.

Mark is greeting another guest at the door, smiling politely and leading them to where they can leave their gifts when you appear from the kitchen and into his line of vision.

He can’t help but smile every time he sees you. Your hair is beautiful cascading over your shoulders and a pretty baby blue dress falls over the swell over the pregnant belly gracefully. You smile at a few guests as you make your way towards Mark, who immediately puts a hand on your waist. “Food’s ready.” 

He kisses your temple and nods, “I’ll let everyone know.” However, before he can walk to the living room where most of the people reside another knock comes from the front door.

He is pleasantly surprised when he sees his tall coworker he has grown  close to standing there. “Johnny!” 

The man smiles brightly bringing Mark into a short hug. Once they pull away, he steps aside to let Johnny, his wife and three sons through the door. Once you catch sight of him you smile widely, hugging him tight. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Johnny makes a face, “How could I not when my favorite couple are finally having a baby?” You smile warmly at  him before moving to greet his wife, a beautiful woman named Lucy who had so kindly offered you her friendship the first time you met about a year ago. She wraps her arms around you and sways your bodies side to side. “My baby is all grown and having babies!” 

You laugh as you pull away, leading her and her sons to the kitchen where the hot food sat ready for their consumption. 

That leaves Mark and Johnny by the door. Johnny brings a hand down to clasp Mark’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture Johnny had taken to doing to the younger man. “How are you feeling?”

Mark smiles, “I’m… good. Great actually.” 

Johnny chuckles, “You’re gonna be a dad.”

“I am.” Mark’s voice carries underlying wonder that causes Johnny to smile once again. 

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

The words warm Mark’s heart, his close friend being someone who never gets too sentimental. He looks directly into his eyes, trying to get his sincerity across. “Thank you, John.” 

There’s a comfortable silence between them, that is broken by Johnny who nods his head towards the view in front of him.  Mark smiles as he sees you chatting animatedly with Lucy, you’re resting your plate on your big belly bump which makes Mark chuckle. Johnny’s sons sit on the floor in front of you, creating hundreds of scenarios and games with their action figures.

“For them and because of them, right?” 

Mark nods but stays silent. You laugh loudly at something Lucy says, your nose scrunching up in the cutest way and your free hand comes down to rub your belly where your son currently was, waiting to join you two. Mark nods once again, only this time it more for himself. 

“For them and because of them.”

-

Summer, 1966; 3 Years Before Launch

When Mark said NASA was full of brilliant people, he meant it. 

Every person in the facility brought something new and revolutionary to the table, whether it be with their impressive brains or how well they can work the aircrafts. 

Mark is positive he hasn’t met a person who hadn’t absolutely blown his mind. This is no exception when he meets the new test pilot that had recruited by Kun, (who was one of the senior pilots along with Johnny; also an excellent flier.) Jaemin Na was his name. He was younger than Mark by a year, making him the youngest test pilot on the field. Though one highly impressive and skilled test flight later, he proved to be just as experienced as the oldest pilots. 

He greets Mark with a firm handshake and a bright smile, “Mr. Lee, I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Mark raises an eyebrow before chuckling. “Please, call me Mark.” Jaemin nods, letting go of his hand.

Jaemin is at a loss for words in front of the now well-known pilot, his talkative self being pushed into a corner as he tries to control his urge to say just about anything that comes to his head. Mark notices. He considers what to do, and ultimately decides to do what Johnny would do. He claps a hand down on Jaemin’s shoulder, though, he doesn’t feel as natural as Johnny does, he tries his best to come back from it. 

“I was just making my way to the cafeteria, do you pack lunch?” 

Jaemin perks up and nods instantly, raising his lunch box to Mark’s face. “My wife made some yummy ribs last night n’ packed them for me.” 

Mark smiles at the man, In that moment he decides he likes Jaemin. 

“Let's head down together, then.” 

On the way to the cafeteria, Mark finds out that Jaemin has been married for 5 years. That he eloped with his wife during their last year of high school and they have two daughters together, twins. Jaemin takes the liberty off taking the locket around his neck off to show Mark a picture of a beautiful curly haired woman with her arms wrapped around two equally beautiful curly haired little girls who smiled widely. “Those are my girls.” He said looking down affectionately at the picture. He asks Mark about his wife, he goes off on a tangent about you, how you met and about your little boy, Elliot. 

Mark finds out that Jaemin joined NASA because of his love for adventure and flying. He also mentions that he would want nothing more than to make his family proud. Mark refrains from telling him that they would be proud of his nonetheless and lets him ramble on. 

It’s halfway through lunch that Mark notes that there is never a silent moment with Jaemin. And he likes that. He’s usually not one to talk much and Jaemin’s voice fills the silence perfectly. His brightness and enthusiasm is contagious, leaving Mark in a good mood even after they part ways at the end of the day. 

-

Some days on the field are better than others. 

The objective was to test the control of the craft everyone called MH-96, it was nothing Mark hadn’t done before. He speaks with headquarters over his head piece as he situates himself into the cockpit of the craft, strapping in all his seat belts and preparing all his other protective gear. “The weather is good so there shouldn’t be any complications.” Mark hears the familiar voice of Johnny from his head set and smiles. 

“What are you doing at headquarters? It’s your day off!” 

Mark doesn’t see this but Johnny shrugs as he laughs, “Wanted to come see you complete this mission so I can brag about you at the Washington test flights next month.” 

Mark chuckles at his friend’s words, feeling flustered that at the thought of someone bragging about him. He kisses his teeth playfully before smiling, “Are we ready for take off or what?” 

Johnny laughs before speaking to a member of the head quarters crew who says something Mark can’t hear. Johnny makes an affirmative sounds before speaking, “I’m gonna let you speak to the professionals now. Good luck man.”

Mark nods before remembering that Johnny can’t see him, he lets out a hum and waits for Johnny pass the headset to the crew member.

-

The mission starts off well. It’s a simple task: test out how high the aircraft can go before coming back down and landing on the designated mark. 

The force of the speed moving the aircraft causes Mark to go flat against his seat, his body becoming immobile. This had happened before so Mark could handle it well, (though, he will admit the force is greater than anything he had flown before) what Mark didn’t anticipate was the red flashes and alarming buzzes coming from the control panel of the aircraft. His worried eyes move to the panel before he contacts headquarters. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

The line silent before a confused voice comes through the headset. “It says here the flight has exceeded its expected maximum capacity of height but the gears are still accelerating.” 

Mark processes the information. He has never experienced anything like this before: a point where he’s not in control of the craft. He begins to sweat. The only thing this situation would compatible to is driving a car with no brakes. 

Suddenly, the aircraft begins to become extremely hot, a panicked voice rings in Mark’s ears. “The temperature is rising, Mark. You need to form a plan for descent now.”  

Mark doesn’t know if the accelerating of heart beat is because of the adrenaline or because of the fear after the thought of you flashed through his head. The thought of you raising your son alone and of moving on without him because he let an aircraft control him. he shakes the thoughts from his head. He has a mission, not only to return safely but to return to you.

Mark brings together all the knowledge his has accumulated in his years of flying. Looking below him, sees the landing mark, where a few men wait for his arrival. After the big landing area, almost outside the fence of the facility, there’s a huge lake he had forgotten was there that served only for crash landing like these, it had never been put to use before but sees it as the only option. 

“I’m changing course to the lake, will operate ejection protocol once I’m closer.” The man on the other line gives Mark an affirmative noise even though Mark can hear his nervous, heavy breathing. 

As Mark approaches the lake, he steers the craft in a straight down. He is sure his heart beat has never beat this fast, he can hear it over the chatter coming through the headset and the creaking and loud alarms from inside the aircraft. He gets an urge to close his eyes but remembers that he has to eject himself before the aircraft hits the water. 

He hurriedly takes off all his seat belts and protective gear, going through the procedure he was taught so many times that he never thought he was going to use. As the aircraft gets closer and closer to the water, the increase in heat and Mark’s heartbeat become more apparent. He makes a pathetic attempt to move his face away from the hottest spots, only to feel another extreme heat wave over his face. 

It all happens so quickly Mark wasn’t even aware that he had ever pressed the ejection button until he was floating several feet above the water, getting absolutely soaked by the splash the aircraft produces as it makes contact with the water. His body slowly lowered to the water as well, (maybe a little too slow for Mark’s liking). The adrenaline still pumped through him, making it hard to stay still as his body made contact with water. 

He uses up all his energy and adrenaline to swim to the edge of the lake. 

Once he reaches the shore, he can barely find it in himself to stand. He hears the sound of frantic voices as his body collapses to the ground and everything goes black. 

-

Much like all his mornings, your face is the first thing Mark sees when he wakes up. Though, unlike other times when you would sleepily smile or groan for another few minutes, there are tears streaming down your face and concern flooding your eyes. 

Your eyes widen as you become aware of Mark’s consciousness. Immediately, you reach out to touch him. “Oh, Thank god!” 

Despite how heavy it feels, he reaches up and sets his hand on yours. He hates seeing you like this. You launch forward to wrap your arms around his laid figure. He doesn’t have enough energy to move his arms but returns your hug by nuzzling his nose into your neck. He lets you sob against him, tears coming into his own eyes before he can stop them. His hoarse voice sounds through the room. “Don’t cry, baby. If you cry I’ll cry.” 

You pull away from him and look into his eyes. His heart breaks a bit as he sees your big beautiful eyes full of tears. “W-when Johnny called me and told you were i-in an a-accident, I thought…” You let silence speak that sentence for you. “I was so scared Mark. I thought I lost you.” 

Your broken voice and choked sobs go straight to Mark’s heart. He feels tears rolling down the sides of his face into his hairline. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m okay. I’m here.” 

He reaches his weak hands against your back and pushes you further against him. Wanting you to feel his body, wanting you to know he was there. 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it goes at a steady rhythm that calms you.

Badum… badum…badum 

Mark breaks the silence, though he keeps his voice quiet as to not break the comfort you two have created. 

“Where is Elliot?” You feel the rumble from his chest on your cheek as he speaks. 

“I left him with Lucy.” He nods. 

The thought of your son makes Mark smile, then frown. The little boy was almost a replica of his father, pretty eyes, and a small nose. Straight, jet black hair and delicate shoulders. Everything except for his personality. That’s 100% you. The way the little boy squeals in delight whenever he sees Mark and runs up to him, hugging him as tight as he can. The way he always tries to make his father laugh when he can tell he had a bad day, even though he still so young. The way he brightened up Mark’s world and helped him shine. Just like you. 

Even so much as thinking of being apart from you and Elliot made fresh tears appear in Mark’s eyes. He never thought he would have so much to lose. 

“Y/n?” 

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” You do, eyes growing wide as you see his newly formed tears. He starts talking before you can question anything. Looking seriously into your eyes: “I want you to know that whatever happens, I will always find a way to come back to you and Elliot. Always. Even if…” he pauses to gulp “even if I die, I will still be with you guys. I will never leave you, okay? I will always be there. Do you understand?” 

You nod your head as silent tears roll down your cheeks. 

“I want to hear you say it.” He says in a stern but shaky voice. His eyes hold sincerity and fear behind them. You nod your head with more force. “I understand, Mark.” His thumbs wipe the tears off your cheeks as you lean in to kiss his lips. 

The kiss is sad but heartwarming at the same time, it served as a promise between you and Mark. A promise to never be broken apart even when anything attempts to do so. 

“I love you, Mark Lee.” You say softly against his lips, he grips your clothes tighter. He rubs his nose against your own, causing you to smile. 

“Not as much as I love you, I can’t assure you.” 

Even though the circumstance was not the best, you allowed yourself to think for that time that everything was perfect. 

Even if it was just for a moment. 

-

Summer, 1967; 2 Years Before Launch

It was rare for Mark to have moments like these. Perfect moments. Your son happily runs and bounces around the house, pulling Mark along with him as he maneuvers his way through your house on clumsy small legs. 

Both you and Mark were ecstatic that he had been granted a short break during the summer. Seeing as that all of NASA’s focus would be on the test flights happening up in Washington D.C. where Johnny and a few other senior pilots were flying and showcasing different aircrafts made by NASA to powerful rich people up north, hoping to get the upcoming Apollo Project on its feet. 

Taken, the break would only be three days long but Mark would take whatever he could get to spend time with you and your son, who kept him occupied by playing games with him  and dragging him all over the house, showing Mark things like paperclips and toy airplanes that might seem simple but still made the little boy’s eyes fill with wonder as he examines it before showing it to his father. It warmed Mark’s heart to no end to spend time with his son, even though he couldn’t possibly make up the time he lost with his son in the next three days, he sure wishes he could. 

Mark is too busy looking at paperclips and making airplane soar across the imaginary sky to notice that the phone had been ringing. Not wanting to interrupt their fun, you reach answer the phone yourself. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N?” You recognize the voice to be that of Kun’s- he was a colleague of Mark’s who had come over to your house a few times before. Though, you couldn’t imagine why he would call in like this. “Kun? Is everything alright?” 

“Is Mark there with you?” You faintly hear giggles and Mark’s voice from the living room. 

“He’s in the living room with the baby, do you want me to put him on?”

Kun inhales sharply, “No- I- fuck.” 

“Kun? What is wrong?” 

“He was doing a test flight and I don’t know what happened, there was some sort of system failure, they couldn’t even explain it, the system just fell and he came crashing down. It all happened so fast, Y/N.” 

“Kun! Slow down! What are you talking about?” 

He breathes in deeply, his frantic voice becoming a slightly more stable but still having a certain shakiness to it. “Johnny.” 

All the puzzle pieces fall into place. A crash, system failure. Johnny. Your hands begin to shake. You bring your other hand to grip the phone as well. “Is he…?” 

Kun’s silence is enough of an answer. 

Your body goes into temporary shock. Before a sob makes Its way up your throat.

Johnny, the man who had inspired your husband to follow his dreams, who became not only his mentor but also his closest friend, who walked through your front door countless times with his wife and children. Johnny who was basically like family to you. Who celebrated thanksgiving at you and Mark’s house every year. 

Johnny. Who will never get to see his boys grow into successful men and will never make it to the moon alongside his best friend like he had always imagined. 

“Johnny.” Was all you could say. 

It isn’t long before Mark emerges from the living room, your son scooped up in his arms, wearing a smile that instantly washes away as he takes in your state. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” 

You didn’t want to tell him. You wished he could spend the rest of his life not knowing; losing his best friend would destroy him. 

He sets Elliot on the ground before walking up to you, he grips your shoulders. “Y/n, what happened?” 

You look into his eyes, trying to remember what the brightness inside them looks like, knowing you wouldn’t see that brightness for a while after this. 

“Mark…” You gulp, “Mark, something went wrong in Washington.” 

Mark freezes, his eyes becoming serious. “Did anyone get hurt?” His eyes are looking directly into yours. They are already flooded with hurt and sadness, like he knows what’s coming. “Tell me.”

“It’s Johnny.”  You say. “I’m so sorry, Mark.” You see as the life slips from his eyes, and his hands slowly fall off your shoulders, hitting his sides. 

His voice sounds so small. “Johnny?” 

You stare back at him as he stares lifelessly at you, tears are streaming down your face. 

You approach him with extended arms, but he steps back out of your reach. He stays there for some time before turning abruptly towards the door, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his car keys. 

“Mark…” you say, in pleading tone. “Where are you going?” 

“I need to be alone right now.” He doesn’t look at you as he says that, his hand already gripping the door handle. 

“Mark, maybe you shouldn’t go out right-“

“I said, I need to be alone right now!” He angrily yells, causing you to take a cautionary step back and watch as he slips out the door.

-

Mark goes to the only place he could think of, the one place he feels most confident, the place where he and Johnny carried out all their mission and cheered each other on: the runway field at NASA. 

The place that had always been full of pilots, military men, NASA employees, and planes is now empty, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts. 

As he looks across the field, he can practically see the image of everything that happened here applying in his mind. Johnny teaching Mark how to fly an aircraft. 

Johnny ridiculously dancing in front of him to help relieve Mark of his nerves when it was his first solo mission. When Johnny told him that he was sure Mark was going to be on the crew that would go to the moon. That they would go together. No matter what. All the late nights they had spent working together, all the laughs, all the flights, all the near death experiences, all the plans.

 “ALL FOR NOTHING!” Mark shouts into the emptiness before his hands grip his hair tightly. He finally lets the tears fall, his body crumbling onto the ground under him. He cries out loud for his friend. The pain becoming too much to bare. He screams and shouts at no one. “Oh my god.” He says between sobs. 

-

Johnny’s service passes slowly throughout the rest of the week. 

Mark can do nothing but stare blankly as they lower Johnny’s coffin into the ground. He’s standing alone. Elliot and Johnny’s three sons play in the grass, oblivious to the tragedy that has just struck their lives, and you are sitting on the ground, the shaking body of Johnny’s wife wrapped tightly in your arms as you let her sob into you. 

You could've said you felt her pain as she breaks down in front of everyone at the cemetery, but you know for a fact that what she is showing is only a fraction of what she feels. You had imagined this happening to before; losing Mark and having to raise Elliot on your own. The pain from the thought alone is unbearable. All you can do is hold the woman closer to you, whispering encouraging things to her that really, in hindsight, do nothing but its all you had to offer. 

Mark watches you attempt to comfort her but he finds himself thinking that there is no way for you to ever comfort her enough to make up for what she has lost. He feels like pulling you away from her, he doesn’t know why. He knew how comforting your presence was to everyone, yet he wanted to take you away and tell you to leave Lucy alone. Maybe it's because he wanted to be alone. Maybe its because he wants to let her mourn in peace. Or maybe its the hurt inside his heart when he sees her suffering, knowing Johnny’s heart would have broken if he saw her like this. Maybe its because one day it could be you in her shoes. He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know anything.

-

It is raining when you arrive home that afternoon. Mark walks into the house first, solemnly heading straight to your bedroom. You can only watch him sadly. Elliot was asleep in your arms, you close the front door with your foot before walking down the hall to his room, laying him down on the rocket patterned sheets. After planting a light kiss on his head, you enter you and Mark’s shared bedroom carefully. 

The man comes out of the walk in closet at that moment, adorned in his work clothes. His NASA badge hanging from his neck. He only spares you a brief glance as he sits on  the edge of the bed, slipping his shoes on his feet. 

“Mark, where are you going?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” 

“But…” You say, sitting next to him. “Didn’t they say you had a mourning leave?” The last place Mark should be right now is work, too many memories of Johnny and what could’ve been. You knew it was best he stayed home. He, however, seems to not hear you at all as finishes up tying his shoelaces, getting up at glancing at his reflection in the mirror briefly. Before making a brisk walk toward the front door. 

“I’ll be back after night falls, don’t wait for my arrival and just sleep.” His voice is thick and strict and so unlike the Mark you know, it’s almost intimidating. It’s also void of any emotion. 

Perhaps that’s what scared you the most. 

-

Winter, 1967; 2 Years Before Launch

The next months after Johnny’s passing go by agonizingly slow causing Mark to dive fully into his work.

Things at NASA go back to normal after a few months while everyone recovered from the shock of Johnny’s death, things were slower and the big project Johnny was working on -Apollo- was put on hold. 

Johnny had told Mark about the ambitious mission that’s main purpose was to get a man on the moon, though he had only heard of it briefly before that day.

Harsh rain is falling on the blue coat Mark held over his head as he runs into the facility in an attempt to avoid the inconvenient weather on the day his life would change forever. 

He was shrugging off the bag at his desk and tusking at the sight of his soaked coat when Kun comes rushing over to him, anxiously tapping his shoulder. “Mr. Jung wants to conduct a meeting with us.”

“Mr. Jung?” Mark can’t help but grow nervous at the mention of the head executive. “Why does he want to conduct a meeting with us?” 

Kun looks around them, before saying quietly. “He wants to launch Apollo.” The younger man steps back and looks at Kun incredulously, mouth agape and eyes wide open. 

“A-Apollo?” His voice slightly shaking, though he can’t find it in himself to care as he processes Kun’s words. 

“Yes, so let’s go! He is waiting on us.” 

After a brief pause Mark forces himself to move, peeling off his bag and setting it on his desk before following Kun down the hallway.

-

Once they arrive to the meeting room, two men are already sat there waiting. Mr. Jung is dressed in a neat suit with his hair nicely styled to the side, his hands rest on the polished table. Across from him sits Jaemin Na, his hands are resting on his knees as he bounces them nervously. Mark almost sighs out loud at the relief of seeing a familiar face in here with them. Mr. Jung greets them as they take the seats next to Jaemin, who nods at Mark with a smile which he can tell was partially forced.

“Good morning pilots, I can assure that you have an inkling on what this meeting could be about.” Mr. Jung’s deep voice carries throughout the room, the three men across from him nod. 

Kun speaks up first. “This is about Apollo, isn’t it?” 

A smile grazes Mr. Jung’s face as he nods. “Yes, it is. I am happy to inform you that the men who will carry out the first man mission to set foot on the moon are in this room with me right now.” 

A gasp catches in Kun’s throat, as he grips the arms of the meeting room chair tightly. Jaemin immediately sits up straighter and stares at the executive with wide eyes momentarily before looking to Mark for a reaction. The man in the middle, however, shows no emotion. His stoic expression causes confusion among the other men in the room. Jaemin taps his arm. “Mark, are you alright?” 

Mark avoids looking at the younger’s face as he nods, hands intertwined tightly on his lap. He really wants to tell Jaemin that he is not alright and Johnny should’ve been in this room with them and been the one to carry out the moon mission. That even though this is everything he has ever wanted, it feels so so wrong to do it without him. He clears his throat. “I’m alright.” 

The rest of the meeting is a blur in his mind, Mr. Jung discusses the details of the mission, the vigorous training the men would have to go through in the next few months and the many tests that had to be done before the mission could be carried out. He ends the meeting with a smile and a “Congratulations, men.” 

As they leave the room Mr. Jung calls out for Mark to stay back for a bit. The pilot tells his still wonderstruck colleagues to go ahead without him as he steps back into the room. “Yes, sir?” 

“Take a seat, Mark.” Mr. Jung says, setting the Apollo mission folder on top of the table. Once the other man is settled, he begins to speak. “I wanted to start off by saying I’m sorry for your loss, I knew you and John were very close.” 

Mark nods and looks down at his hands. “Thank you.” 

“And I realized you didn’t take the news of this mission very well, judging from your expression.” Mr. Jung clicks his tongue and opens the file, pointing to a part on one of the many pages. Mark recognizes Johnny’s neat penmanship and blinks his eyes furiously to suppress tears as he read the words. “John wrote in the details of the Apollo mission we were developing together that you were to be on the mission as first in command. He chose you for the passion you showed to flying and overwhelming trust he had for you.” Mr. Jung leans forward to emphasize his point. “Even before his passing, Mr. Suh has chosen you to lead this mission. Because he knew you were the best for it.” 

Mark leans back into his chair, shocked. Why would Johnny make him the leader of the mission he was planning? What not make himself the leader? What had been going through his head when he made this decision? Mark couldn’t comprehend the situation and he feels as if his chest becomes heavier and the air becomes thicker. He can’t seem to catch a breath but he does manage to stand from his chair and croak out a: “I would like to discuss this with my wife beforehand.” Before rushing out of the meeting room. 

-

The moment you hear the sound of Mark’s keys from outside the door, you stand up straighter and smooth down the wrinkles of your dress with your hands.You hate that you have begun to wonder when your husband would finally talk to you, after all this time and that you have to keep your guard up and anticipate when the man who used to go on and on to you about every detail of his day would finally even so much as breathe in your general direction. (Elliot had grown a full two inches since the last time Mark had spent a full day with him. This made you wonder how much more he would grow until you couldn’t handle Mark’s silence any longer.)  

Once he is in the house, you watch as he hangs up his coat in silence. Suddenly, to your surprise the man turns to you causing you to perk and smile immediately. (You don’t know this, but Mark’s heart string tug as he sees you so excited to talk to him. He forces a small smile back.) “Hi.”

“Hi.” He replies, hands gripping the back of a dining room chair. “I uh-” It’s almost like he has forgotten how to talk to you. “Mr. Jung held a meeting today.”

You lean forward, urging him to continue. “And…?”

“And… it’s a go.”

“What is a go?” You furrow your eyebrows at him, he looks up at you. 

“The lunar mission. Kun, Jaemin and I were brought in today to discuss it.” You stay in stunned silence, Mark grows increasingly anxious. “What do you think?” He asks, itching to know what’s going through your head.

You snap out of your stunned state, out of all the millions of thoughts rushing through your head. You’re terrified, you will admit only to yourself that your blood ran cold the second his words settled in your mind. Nevertheless, you smile. “What do I think? Mark, this is wonderful!” Confusion overshadows your fear as you see that your lover’s face isn’t full of excitement like you expected it to be, but rather discomfort and turmoil. You carefully step closer to him. “Mark? What’s wrong? Is this not what you wanted?” You make sure to keep your voice gentle as you spoke to him, though it seems your words only made matters worse for him. “Do you want to talk? I can make some tea and w-”

“No.” His stern voice resonates throughout the room, at the same time he takes a step away from you. “This is what I want and ill do it even if it kills me.” 

You gasp quietly as you step back from the pilot who is looking at you with cold eyes that have built a fortress to contain what he feels. “Mark…”

The man allows you no more words or touches as brushes past you, down the hall to your bedroom, his doesn’t slam the door but he closes it loud enough that it shakes the picture frames on the wall next to it and makes your heart beat quicken. 

You think about how this is the first time Mark has made your heartbeat accelerate in a negative way and you run your fingers through your hair is distress, wondering how much more your tired heart can take.

-

The next few months pass by in a similar fashion, Mark dives fully into his training and his duties at work and you force yourself to focus on Elliot and what to answer every time he asks where his father is. You try to explain to him that his father has been busy, that soon everything would be back to normal once Daddy does some things he needs to do. You don’t dare mention the possibility of Mark not coming back, partly for him and mostly for yourself. These days, you and Elliot learn how to depend on each other and support Mark from afar no matter how much it hurts to watch him push you away, hoping that in the end this will all be worth the pain.

-

Spring, 1968; 1 Year Before Launch 

Night falls and Mark still hasn’t returned, you still hope the result of all of this will justify the pain but you are sure it will not justify the anger.

His work days usually end at around 3pm, you knew this by remembering all the days when Mark’s would come home to eagerly greet you and your son before telling you, in detail, everything that happened that day. You sigh when you look towards the clock on the wall. 11:32pm.

Elliot had gone to sleep a few hours ago, hugging his toy airplane tightly against his chest. You are left alone with your thoughts as you wait for Mark. 

The man has been absent in your life for the past few months. He lived in the same house, slept in the same bed and went with you to all his events, he was there but he wasn’t there. 

He had lost a part of himself when Johnny died. You caught him staring at walls often, silent and thoughtful. You had to yell his name to get his attention sometimes. 

You can’t help but feel like you aren’t just mourning Johnny but also Mark. The thought makes your hand ache and an angsty feeling to bubble in your chest. 

The sound Mark’s keys interrupt your train of thought. The clock now reads: 11:49pm. You walk quietly to the kitchen where Mark currently was, taking off his coat. 

“Hi.” You say is quiet voice, afraid that you will somehow trigger him. Mark’s eyes move to you, he nods. 

“Hi.” “Where were you?” You dare.

“Just out.”

“With who?” “Why do you want to know?” 

The answer is so cold, so unlike Mark. You are taken aback. You can’t stop yourself from raising the tone of your voice slightly. “Because you’re my husband, Mark.” 

He sighs, looking away. He chooses not to answer, hanging up his keys. 

Your patience begins to wear thin, you approach him. “Where were you, Mark?”  You want to ask: ‘Where are you?’

He kisses his teeth, “I just went out for a drink with some of the guys, okay?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, the sound straight to Mark’s blood, angering him. The tone of his voice is loud when he speaks. “Does that bother you? What is the problem with me going out to drink everyone once in a while? I’m stressed, I’m tired!”

“I know, Mark. I understand that but I just wish that you would come home more, I’m worried about you!”  

He gets closer to you, there are traces of anger all over his face. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red. “Its my job, y/n! What do you want me to do?” 

“ I just want you here with me and Elliot, that's all I want!” You throw your hands up in frustration. 

“This mission is important to me. You know that this is my dream and so fucking what if i want to go out after working all day? I deserve it!” It’s scares you how little of the him you once knew you see in these cold eyes, you don’t recognize the person in front of you.

“Believe me, I know how important this mission is to you and i'm not asking you to give that up at all, but please sort out your priorities, Mark, we are your family for god’s sake!” 

“Why can’t you understand that this mission is my first priority? NOTHING is more important than this mission.” 

Your words are caught in your throat. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as his words settle in your mind. You two stare at each other in silence, chests heaving. 

You watch as his eyes softens slightly upon seeing the hurt and exhaustion that reside in your eyes. He dares to step forward, only for you to step away from him and turn your back to him. He can see the faint outline of your shoulders blades under your skin when you reach hands up to grip the sides of the kitchen sink. Your knuckles turn white from the grip and your shoulders rise and fall slowly as you try to conjure any words. 

“Y/N-“

“You know what, Mark?” You scratch your nails against the wood of your counter. “I know that you’re hurt and I understand that you need time… I get that. And I try my best to respect that but all I’ve done for the past ten years of my life is love and support you and your dream which I’m so happy that you finally get to achieve. Like, you don’t know how absolutely ecstatic I am for you.” You turn to Mark, who watches you with furrowed brows. You desperately try to get your point across to him. “And…, you can put this mission before everything and you can put everything before me and I would understand.” His lip quivers for a millisecond before he bites down on it. You poke an accusing finger at his chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “But don’t you dare prioritize anything over Elliot, okay? He needs you. He needs his father and you’re leaving no guarantee that you will ever come back.”

The last words spill out quickly, they cause tears to spill out of your eyes which you frustratedly wipe away. “So, just take some time to be with him, please?” 

He doesn’t have time to answer because you move away from him, racing down the hall to your shared bedroom. 

He stands alone in the kitchen. Thinking over your words. He realizes how selfish he has been. 

How could he have forgotten that you were also mourning Johnny? That he wasn’t the only one who had lost someone the day Johnny died? How could he not realize that on that day, you lost not just Johnny but Mark as well because he let his own grief get in the way of his judgement. How could he have forgotten that he is a father? That there is a little boy who is wondering where he is. That in his moment of fear when he thought of you in Johnny’s wife’s shoes, he tore himself away from you and Elliot. How could he have been this way to you? After all the promises he had made you. 

For them, because of them. 

How did he forget? 

His feet act before he does, moving down the halls of your house, stopping at the door of your shared room. He opens the door carefully, peering inside. His shoulders sink in defeat when he sees the vacant room. His pillow is lonely on the bed. He wanted to believe you would be in the room, waiting for him for him to come in and apologize, that everything would be instantly fixed. 

He is careful not to make too much noise as he walks down the hall, once he reaches the decorated door of your son’s bedroom he turns the handle carefully. 

The sight breaks his heart into a million pieces. You and Elliot were squeezed into his small bed, curled into each other for warmth, the duvet thrown on the floor next to you. It breaks his heart to know that he left the two of your alone due to his own selfishness, that you two had to protect and take care of each other when he was supposed to be doing that all along. It breaks his heart to know that he failed you as both a husband and a father. 

He moves carefully into the room, taking the abandoned duvet and draping it over your bodies. He watches Elliot’s chest rise and fall, his peaceful face causing fresh tears to form in Mark’s already bloodshot eyes. His shaky hand comes up to brush his black hair away from his forehead. “I’m sorry, Elli.” 

-

The next day is Saturday, meaning Mark has the day off. Still, he finds himself waking up before the sun, wanting to get away from the cold, lonely sheets that haunted him all throughout the night. 

He peeks into Elliot’s room, seeing the two of you still sound asleep. He smiles sadly, before reminding himself that he has to make it up to you two today. Mark carefully walks towards the bed, leaning down to give you each a kiss on the forehead before slipping out the door. 

-

You awoke that morning to the faint sound of Elliot’s laughter. Confusedly sitting up, you notice that you’re alone in Elliot’s blue walled room. You smell the sweet aroma, surely coming from the kitchen and immediately spring to your feet. You race to the kitchen, thinking Elliot was up to something only to be face to face with your husband who carries a tall plate of pancakes in his right hand and a spatula in the other. 

He startles when he sees you, putting down the plate rapidly and dusting the flower off his clothes. His nerves obvious to you. “Good morning.” 

You stare at him before looking at Elliot, who happily munches on some pancakes at the table, humming softly. You feel Mark’s gaze on you. “Morning.”

The sound of your voice makes him feel a bit better. “I made pancakes.”

You nod, “I can see that.” 

Your cold tone causes him to deflate lightly, you can tell but you remember the words he said to you last night and you feel like maybe he deserves it. 

“We can eat together, if you want.” His eyes look hopeful. Your heartbeat quickens. It reminds you of when he asked you to be his girlfriend or to marry him; it’s the kind of hopefulness you have never said no to. 

You say nothing as you push past him to grab a plate of pancakes before moving to the table, taking your chair beside Elliot. 

Mark stays frozen, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anger you further so he stays in that spot, watching you two eat. 

“Are you coming?” 

Your mouth is stuffed with food but Mark immediately understands and moves to his place at the dining table across from you. 

Elliot giggles, “Mommy! Daddy is here today!” 

You put on a happy tone, “He is!”

Elliot looks over at Mark, who was already looking at him. “I missed you, Daddy.” 

If Mark thought his heart was broken before, he was wrong. “I missed you too, Elli. But from now on Daddy is going to spend more time with you, would you like that?” He blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears away from his eyes. Elliot nods eagerly. 

You watch the interaction and can’t fight back a sad smile. You reach your hand out to wipe some syrup off of Elliot’s cheek, before looking Mark’s way. 

He is already looking at you. His eyes hold something in them. They want to tell you everything he is thinking, all the regret, apologies and sadness. 

“Daddy?” Elliot’s soft voice ends your long eye contact. Mark looks at your son, humming. “At school, a girl told me that when a boy looks at a girl for a long time, that means he likes her... Do you like Mommy?” 

Mark chuckles at your son’s innocent question, reaching a hand up to ruffle his straight black hair. Smiling, you lean back on your chair and watch the two of them talk. 

“I like Mommy a lot, Elliot.” 

You hide your smile from him, looking away. Elliot gasps, little hands covering his open mouth in a frantic gesture. “Does that mean you want to kiss her?”

Mark laughs once again, before looking over at you, he feels the pieces of his heart getting pulled together slightly when he catches your small smile and the blush on your cheeks. “Yes, I do.” 

You scoff, looking away. You stand up grabbing the empty plates and walking towards the kitchen, missing the moment where Elliot leans close to Mark and whispers: 

“I think she likes you too.”

-

Mark can’t believe how happy being a dad can make him. 

After breakfast, Mark had suggested going on a walk together, you declined telling him to take Elliot and spend some time alone with him. Although you’re rejection bruised him slightly, he begins to think that spending some time alone with his son is what he needed. 

Just like you, Elliot is talkative. He talks about everything under the sun, dramatically flailing his arms in order to get his point across. Mark listens and nods, laughing at the strange things his toddler had to say. 

While skipping through the park, Elliot suddenly gasps, halting all his movements. “Daddy, look!” He lets go of Mark’s hand and leans down to grab a circular pebble off the ground. 

The pebble is grey and has all kinds of bumps on it, Elliot brings it up to Mark’s face. “It looks like the moon!” Mark takes a good look at the rock, realizing his son is right, it does kind of look like the moon. 

“It does!” 

Elliot grabs Mark’s hand and sets the rock in the middle of his palm. “You can take this little moon with you when you go to the big moon. For good luck!” 

Mark’s heart bursts with love as Elliot looks at him hopefully. “That’s a great idea, buddy.” 

A big smile identical to his own forms on his son’s face, as he grabs Mark’s hand once again, pulling him down the sidewalk towards the swings. 

-

Later that night, after you hear all about their day out from an excited Elliot, Mark finally manages to convince the little boy it was time for bed. 

You hear his protests through the walls, along with Mark  coaxing and bribing him with different candies.

After a while, all the noise stops. You hear the sound of his door opening then closing before the sound of Mark’s footsteps coming down the hall. 

You look up at your reflection in the mirror of the vanity you sat at, picking up the hair brush, trying to look busy as he steps into the room. 

At first, he just stands by the door and watches you. You try your best to not look back at him even though you really want to. 

He decides to break the ice, walking up to you slowly. He holds out his hand, “Let me.”

You look up at him before setting the hair brush in his open hand. 

His hands are gentle as they weave the brush through your hair, working tentatively on every strand, making sure every knot was gone. You watch him through the mirror, his focused gaze to busy working on your hair to notice. 

“Done.” He says in a soft voice, setting your brush down on the vanity before moving behind you once again.  

The two of you look at each other through the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers.

You quirk an eyebrow before replying “You think so?”, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your robe as you look at your husband who nods rapidly. 

“Of course I do.” He moves around you, facing you directly. Mark kneels down in front of you, resting his hands on the sides of the bench of your vanity. He looks up at you with his big eyes. You stare back at him, keeping your hands locked together instead of cupping his face like they were itching to do at this very moment. The two of you just look at each other for what feels like hours before Mark’s face changes suddenly, scrunching up as he lets his head fall onto your lap. You feel his hands grip you waist as his body begins to shake. You feel his tears on your thighs.

Hesitantly, you rest your hands on his head, stroking his hair in an attempt to calm him. “Mark…”

He sniffles, looking up at you with red eyes. It pains you to see him this way, so broken and sorry. You can see how much he has suffered through the exhaustion in his eyes. Guilt rises in your chest as you see your love in such a vulnerable state. “Mark, don’t cry.”

He shakes his head vigorously, “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you, y/n. All the promises I’ve broken and how much I’ve been lacking for you and our son.”

You listen to his rant with furrowed brows. “I’ve failed you. I didn’t mean it when I said the mission was more important than you, please know that I never meant it.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, Mark’s words making you feel emotional. “I told you all those years ago that nothing is more important than you and that still stands. There’s nothing in this universe I love more than you, sunshine. And I will never be able to forgive myself for thinking differently for even a second.” 

He hiccups between his words, shoulders shaking as his hands grip the fabric of your robe to keep you with him. Not daring to let you go. 

“Mark, it’s okay. You’re here now, aren’t you?” You try to soothe his pain while your own cheeks are becoming wet with salty tears. He shakes his head against your thighs, a sob leaves his lips. 

“I should’ve been here always. I left you like I promised you I wouldn’t.” He cries rather loudly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I just… saw what losing Johnny did to Lucy, and it made my heart break even more than it already was to picture you in that position. I never wanted that to happen to you, so I guess I started to push you away.” He sniffles and swallows thickly. “Now I see that was the wrong thing to do, and I’m so, so sorry.” Mark’s head falls into your lap once again as his body continues to shake. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this broken before. You’ve seen him cry plenty of times, sure. But the way he hunches over, his shoulders shaking as his cries leave his mouth. You bring your hands down to caress the top of his back. 

“Lay with me, won’t you?” Mark looks up at you upon hearing your borderline shaky voice. He looks so small and fragile as he nods and stands on his two feet before you, grabbing your hands and allowing you to lead him to your shared bed. 

He never lets go, never allows even a brief moment of your skin not touching his own. 

He lays on his side, same you. The two of you are facing each other, you bring your hand up to caress the side of his sad face, his eyes immediately close. 

“I’m sorry too Mark.” You whisper, Mark’s eyes open. His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry you were having a hard time with everything that happened.” 

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t your fault.”

You go silent for a moment. “Mark… Johnny would be really proud of everything you’ve accomplished, you know that right?” 

There they are. 

The words Mark has been waiting to hear for the last two years. The words he worked towards. He has been waiting for them, though he never said it.

His breath hitches and his eyes become wet once again. Mark’s jaw clenches as more sobs come from him. He cries into the palm of your hand, his tears pool onto it and run down your wrist. Your lips quiver as you see the love of your life breakdown completely in front of you. 

“Sh… it’s okay, baby.”

Mark pulls you closer to him, moving down to rest his head on your chest. You stroke his hair and let him cry, whispering calming words to him. You didn’t realize that Mark had been this burdened by Johnny’s death, and how sincerely regretful he was for being absent.

It takes a while for Mark to finally pull away from your tight embrace. He looks up at you with his tear stained face. 

His voice is only a bit over a whisper but still fills the silence that occupied the room, “Thank you for always being there and for raising Elliot so well.” 

You smile. “He was happy today.”

Mark chuckles, his arms were still wrapped around your middle as he nods his head. “I was happy too.”

“I am happy to be here with you, close to you.” He corrects himself,  you chuckle lightly, scratching his back. You’re glad the man has started feeling better once again. 

“You don’t know how happy I am to have you here.” Mark moves up after hearing your words, squirming and moving until the two of you are face to face. He is so close your noses are touching, brushing against each other in a fleeting delicious moment of skin to skin contact. He stares deeply into your eyes before looking down at your lips which were still swollen from crying. Mark’s eyes move to yours once again before fluttering closed when he leans down, pressing his lips on your own. 

You had spent the last 10 years of your life kissing this man. He had never kissed you like this before. So regretful and trying to portray every ounce of love he had in his body for you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling his chest flush against your own.

Mark kisses you like it was his first, but also like it was his last. Breaking away only when the burning in his lungs becomes too much, his heavy breath still fans across your lips, adding to the intimacy and heat of the room. 

-

The next morning, you wake to the feeling of a hand shaking your shoulder lightly. When you open your eyes, Mark is the first thing you see. He has a soft smile on his face as watches you. “Hey.”

Your voice is rough when you speak. “Mark, what’s wrong?” A glance at the clock hung up on the wall of your bedroom tells you in about half past 5 in the morning. “Why are you up so early?” 

“I want to show you something.” The man moves out of the bed quickly, pulling your hand and causing the sheets to falls off your body. You shiver upon feeling the coolness of dawn on your exposed skin when you stand. Mark notices and steps closer to you, his bare chest against you clothed one, bringing a certain amount of warmth to you. His eyes pour into your squinted ones. The pretty dark brown gems are fully open, which makes you suspect that he has been awake for a while. You reach hand up to smoothen out his messy hair as he watches you with loving eyes. 

Your voice is quiet when it breaks through the silence. “What is it you wanted to show me?” 

-

It had some time since you and Mark had been on a date. 

Especially one like this. 

Mark drags you up onto the roof of your house, trying his best to not be too loud to avoid waking up Elliot. He had set up his telescope on the roof, along with a small makeshift picnic including two mugs filled with hot coffee and some slightly burnt toast with jelly spread. 

He loves the way your eyes light up when you see what he set up. Feeling accomplished, Mark tugs at your stunned hand urging you to go on. You chuckle in disbelief before letting him lead you. 

Mark gestures for you to sit down on the spot next to him on the gravely roof. 

“What’s all this about?” You say to him quietly, as if anyone would be up this early to hear you. 

Mark squeezes your hand that remains in his own. “I figured this is the only way to have some time alone before Elliot wakes up.”

“There’s more.” You say as-a - matter of factly. 

“The sky's awake.” You hum, looking up at the bright sky. Mark tries to look up but he can’t seem to take his eyes off you in this moment. Maybe it’s because he has kept himself from seeing this image for a long time or because you were more beautiful than the sky anyway (maybe a bit of both). Either way, you realize Mark is looking and nudge his arm playfully. He snaps out of his daze with a shake of his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I asked it to wake up for you and I today.”

“Oh, did you?” 

Mark nods rather cutely which cause you to smile. “Well, it was very nice of the sky to lose her beauty sleep for some little specks on earth like us.” 

Mark laughs at that, before leaning over you to grab the mugs he brought up here, handing one to you before taking his one. The cold breeze that blows through the air causes you to shiver and hold your mug tighter, while Mark lets you sandwich your feet between the folds of his bent knees to keep them warm. 

The two of you sit in silence for some time just enjoying companies after so long with no tears, rencor, or tension. Just Y/N and Mark Y/NandMark. Like you always thought it would be. 

The cold reminds you of something and you giggle lightly as you look up and them, Mark raises an eyebrow at you (though there has been an ever present smile on his face). You leans forward, as does he. 

“Do you remember the story of the Gemini twins?” 

He smiles softly, becoming mush as he recalls that night. “Of course I do.” 

A lot have things have changed since that night. Things you never even imagined that night have occurred. Getting married, having Elliot, Mark getting a job at NASA, commanding the moon mission,losing Johnny, being torn apart by grief and being brought back together. 

All things you never in a million years thought would happen between you two he found you crying on the bench that day. But they did. And you wouldn’t change anything. 

“We are kind of like the twins now I think.” You say, looking up at the constellation in question. 

“How so?” Mark soft voice meets your ears and you smile. 

Shrugging, “We’ve been through a lot together. We’ve loved. We’ve created. We’ve suffered. We’ve fought. We’ve cried. We’ve been to the ends of the earth and back; without letting go. We’ve wreaked havoc on this world and have surely left our mark somehow.” 

Mark is stunned when you finish speaking. His heart swells with a feeling he can’t describe perfectly but it definitely feels lighter. It feels like the last year of his life has fallen off his shoulders like a discarded coat. For a moment he thinks the two of you have gone back in time to high school and are falling in love all over again. 

“I also forgot to mention that I get to spend eternity, at least what I have, with my best friend. Which is pretty… cool.” 

Suddenly, his mug is put to the side and his arms are wrapped around you tightly. The position is a bit awkward due to your legs being sandwiched between you two. But neither of you seem to mind, just holding on until the sunrises and the toast gets soggy. Only letting go when you hear Elliot’s calls of your names from downstairs. 

-

Summer, 1969; 1 Month Before Launch

Your lives do a complete flip after that. Mark goes back to being his old self. He still mourns the loss of his friend, of course, but he has finally allowed himself the opportunity to heal. He spends more time at home, pulls you in for random slow dances in the living room like he used to, helps you cook and watches as Elliot grows another whopping 4 inches. It still shocks him from time to time how much he has grown (sometimes even bringing tears to the corners of his eyes, but no one other than you has to know that). 

He still prepares diligently for the mission, never missing a training or practice at the base. The work is tiring, yes. But Mark knows it will be worth it in the end, when he has finally reached his dream and made everyone he loves proud. When he feels unmotivated or tired, he thinks of your smiling face, his son’s bubbly laughter, and the fact that Johnny trusted him enough to leave such a big mission on his hands. He doesn’t want to let any of you down. 

And he won’t.

These very thoughts are the one that dragged him to work this early in the morning. The sun is still in slumber and Mark wonders why Mr. Jung would’ve called the house phone yesterday and asked him to come in early the next day for a meeting. 

He brings his coat closer to him as he approaches the facility, smiling upon seeing Jaemin standing outside the door, doing the same thing. Jaemin flashes Mark a big smile and waves him over. The two shake hands when Mark finally reaches Jaemin, “I was waiting for you to get here before going in.” A gust of wind blows causing them both to shiver. “You’d think that in the summer, it would be hot,” says Jaemin, “Let’s go in before I lose my balls.” 

Mark laughs as he enters the doors of NASA. Mr. Jung is already waiting on the other side, talking to Kun who nods in greeting at his teammates. He lifts his head up upon hearing the door, smiling as he sees the familiar faces of the Astronauts. “Mr. Na, Mr. Lee, thank you for coming so early, I just wanted to get this out of the way before the busy work day ahead. Shall we move elsewhere?” 

-

They move to the meeting room where it all began, it feels strangely nostalgic to be back here again. Mark chuckles when he realizes they sat in the same order they did that day. Jaemin, then Mark then Kun on the end. Mr. Jung across them. 

Mr. Jung smiles, dimples form on the sides of his cheeks as he does. “You’ve been through a lot this year, pilots.” 

The men nod and Kun lets out a chuckle. “Just get to it, Jaehyun.” Mr. Jung laughs out loud at this. 

“Okay, okay. We have to make an important decision. As you know this will be the first man mission ever in the moon, having said that, we need to decide who will be the first man to step foot on the moon.” 

The air suddenly grows tense. None of the men ever thought of that. Silence settles for a few minutes before it is broken by the sound of Jaemin’s deep voice. “This first man should be Mark.” 

Mark turns wide eyed to the younger man. “What?”

Kun nods, “I agree, you have the best resume out of all of us, and your commander of the mission for Christ’s sake!” 

The oxygen momentarily leaves Mark’s lungs and is only knocked back in when Mr. Jung speaks to him. “What do you say Mark?” 

“I-“ he stutters, breathless. “I don’t know.” 

“Mark,” Kun says, in the most sincere voice he had ever heard him use. “Johnny would’ve wanted it to be you too, you know.” 

He does know. He takes a deep breath, and leans back in his chair, “I can’t say no to that.” 

-

Mark tells you the news that afternoon, you crash into his arms and hug him tight. His fingers weave into your hair and he pulls you impossibly close. “I’m so proud of you, Mark.”

You pull away and brush at strand of stray hair that has fallen off onto his forehead. “Who knew that astro nerd would be the first man on the moon?” 

Mark pulls away, gasping in fake offense. “What do you astro nerd? I was super cute in high school!” 

“I didn’t say you were ugly, I said you were a nerd.” You say pushing playfully. He grabs the hand you pushed him with and pulls you close to him. 

“A nerd that stole your heart, right?” He says quietly, you can’t help but giggle, feeling the bubbliness in your heart of not young love but love that has been around for some time. Love that has gone through ups and downs and to hell and back. Love that has grown stronger and stronger as the years passed and shaped you into new people. Love that has no end. Love that goes to the moon and back (except like, a million times). 

“Right.” You smile. “It’s still all yours.”

-

Summer, 1969; 1 Day Before Launch 

Elliot is so tall that he can finally reach the doorbell of Jaemin’s modest suburban house when you arrive for the house party he decided to throw the day they were given off before the Launch. He used his big smile and promises of some of his wife’s delicious ribs he’s always talking about to convince Mark to come. 

It takes about two minutes until Jaemin’s bright face appears from behind the door. He smiles upon seeing Mark, going in for a side hug immediately. “Ohh, Mark. I’m glad you could make it.”

He moves to you and give you a brief hug, telling you its been too long since you last saw each other and that it’s nice to see you again. He ruffles Elliot’s hair and bends down to his height. “Look at you! You’ve gotten so tall!” 

Elliot giggles, “Mommy says I grew 4 inches!” To emphasize, he holds up 4 chubby fingers. Jaemin’s eyes widen and he plays along. 

“No way!” 

The three of you laugh as Jaemin leads you into the house finally. It's full of people, some talking, others eating  and some dancing in the spacious living room. The atmosphere is wonderful. The kind you wish to be in all the time. 

Jaemin’s wife- Victoria-  finds you as soon as you walk in, excitedly greeting you and Mark before dragging you off somewhere. Elliot makes friends with one of Jaemin’s twins, Gaby, and sits down on the floor to play airplanes with her. 

Mark and Jaemin find their way to the backyard, sitting down as they sip on cold beers. 

Jaemin coos as a big golden retriever approaches him excitedly and licks his hands. Jaemin turns to Mark. “This is the only other man in the house, Jojo.” Mark laughs, petting the dog who instantly leans into his touch, enthusiastically licking Mark’s hand to show his appreciation. “He’s gonna protect my girls while I’m gone.” Jaemin looks down at the dog who watches him unaware of the task he was given. “Right, buddy?” 

The dog barks back, as if answering. Jaemin laughs, “That’s right!” 

Mark watches with a smile. “Maybe I should get a dog for Elliot when I come back.” Mark realizes this is the first time they had ever talked about what would happen after the launch. It makes him feel assured in some way. 

Jaemin smiles softly, “I’m sure he’d like that.”

-

The party goes by quickly, to you and Mark’s dismay. Lucy drops by with her sons, Mark remembers you had mentioned the party to her. Still, he was pleasantly surprised to see her there. She is sporting a big smile and a pretty baby blue dress. 

“Lucy, hi!” Mark says as the woman hugs him tight. 

They engage in small talk until Lucy tells Mark she has something for him. 

They walk out on the front patio. “I thought really hard about but I concluded it was for the best.” She opens her handbag and pulls out something that seems to be wrapped in layers of newspaper. She hands it to Mark, who unwraps it carefully. Eyes widening and immediately becoming teary as he sees the badge. “Those are his wings. Please take it with you when you go up there, it will make me feel like he completed his mission.” 

Mark runs his hand over his face, wiping his tears. “Yes, of course.” Lucy nods, smiling, looking off at the road. 

“Johnny would be really proud of you, you know.” She says. “He would always come home and go on and on about how good you were and how much he wanted to see you succeed.” She looks at Mark, touching his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “That man really cared about you. You were his best friend.”

“He was mine.” Mark says, in a shaky voice. Clearing his throat, “I’m sure I don’t have to mention how many times he talked to me about you, right? He was crazy about you.” Lucy smiled bashfully, somewhat sadly.

“Well let’s not make it a competition now…” she says with a laugh. “He never let me forget how much he loved me.” She adds after sometime, bringing a hand up to wipe her cheek where one tear had managed to slip. 

Mark steps closer to her and rests one hand on her shoulder, and clutches Johnny’s badge with the other. “I will make sure Johnny completes this mission with me, and that he goes down in history for everything he did.” 

Just like that the days became hours.

-

 Summer, 1969; 7 Hours Before Launch 

You were awake hours before the alarm went off. So was Mark, the two of you laid side by side, facing each other in silence for hours that night until Mark’s alarm went off before dawn. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he reaches over to switch off the alarm. 

He will admit, he’s scared if he takes his eyes off for even one second everything will become too real for him to handle. He traces a delicate hand down the side of your bare arm slowly, trying to memorize what your skin feels like. 

You are the first to break the silence. “You should have breakfast before you go.” 

Mark nods, but stays where he is. Not moving a muscle. Not until his alarm rings again, reminding him that time is ticking. You shut it off this time, pulling him out of bed and into the bathroom for his morning routine. “Just think of it as a normal day of work.” You say. Mark nods and undresses to shower in front of you. He leans towards you and wraps you up in his arms, bringing you close to his naked body. Mark reaches a hand up to unclip the gold clip that held up your hair, letting it fall down. 

“Shower with me? Please.” 

So you do. Solemnly washing his jet black hair for him as he just relishes in your presence for a long as he can. 

After your shower, you prepare breakfast as Mark goes into Elliot’s room. The little boy is sound asleep, sleeping all curled up just like you do. Mark can’t help but let out a sad smile. He sits on the edge of Elliot’s bed and brushes his fingers through his son’s hair, careful not to wake him. His voice carries out into the room with a whisper. 

“I’ll be back home, Elliot. I promise.” He doesn’t notice he is crying until he sniffles lightly. “And I’ll get you a dog like one Uncle Jaemin has, he said you would like it. I think so too.” 

He receives nothing but soft snores in response, he leans down and presses a long, firm kiss onto Elliot’s forehead. “I love you. To the moon… and back.” 

-

Mark feels like all his pennies have been spent as he stands across from you at the door way. He had told himself this would be the worst part, (and he was right) but he also told himself he wouldn’t be like this. However, he can’t help it. Not when the fear of this possibly being the last time he sees you creeps up on him. 

You pull him into a final hug, scratching his back soothingly and trying to engrave how his warmth felt to your memory. Mark’s fingers shakily clutch the fabric of your nightgown, scared to let go even when you attempt to pull away. “Just a little longer.” He whispers.

You feel a tear fall down your cheek down your neck, you wipe it away as you step away from him. 

“Don’t do that.” You say sternly. “Don’t act like we won’t see each other again. Because we are. Everything will be fine, you know that right?” (You don’t know if you’re saying this for him or yourself at this point.)

Mark doesn’t know. Still, “I know.” 

He leans forward and presses a long kiss on your lips, your hands cup the sides of his face lovingly. Once he pulls away, he walks slowly at first before suddenly gaining speed and finally reaching his car. 

Mark takes one last glance at you. 

“I’ll see you later, sunshine.”

-

Summer, 1969; 5 Hours Before Launch

Jaemin is waiting outside as usual when Mark arrives to the facility. It almost makes it feel like any other work day if it weren’t for the tears rolling down Jaemin’s cheeks Mark sees when he finally reaches him. It’s the first time he had seen Jaemin cry, he can’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the sight of the usually bright man in such a state. 

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice him at first, Mark places a hand on his shoulder to both alert him of his presence and comfort him. Upon seeing his coworker, Jaemin sniffs harshly, rubbing his hand over his face, forcing a smile at Mark. “Mark, good morning.” 

Mark watches the younger man avoid his eyes, looking down at his clothes and the floor. 

He thinks of what Johnny would do, since he always knew what to do. He rubs Jaemin’s shoulder. “Everything will be alright.”

Jaemin bites his lip, balancing himself on the balls of his feet restlessly before looking back at Mark. “I know, but I can't help but worry.” Mark knows the types of thoughts going through Jaemin’s head, and he would love to do anything to ease him, however, all he can do is listen. “Those are my girls, man. My wife and my babies, if I don’t come back they’re gonna be all alone.” Jaemin makes himself more emotional with the thought. “I’m supposed to protect them.”

Mark feels a lump in his throat. He has never heard Jaemin talk so negatively, he wants to tell him that he knows exactly what he is feeling right now and that he should be worried. He remembers his plan of doing what Johnny would do.

“I am worried about that too, if I’m being honest.” He starts, Jaemin looks up at him. “I’m scared Elliot will grow up without a father and I’m scared of making my wife a widow. Terrified, even.” Mark’s eyes find Jaemin’s -who waits for Mark’s next words patiently. “But then I think of why I decided to do this. To make them proud, to give them everything they could ever need and want. Because they told me I could do it, and I know they would never lie to me. Because they supported me everything step of the way and always believed in me.” 

“Johnny used to say this thing that I carry with me every day.” He pauses. “For them, because of them. Whenever I was worried about anything I would tell myself this over and over.”

Jaemin smiles, “For them, because of them.” 

Mark nods. “You’ll see your girls again, Jaemin. Just so they can say how proud they are of you.” 

The other pilot smiles, nodding. “Thank you, Mark.” 

Mark smiles, feeling better than when he arrived. Feeling like if Johnny were here right now, he’d clap a hand on his shoulder and tell him he’s all grown up, laughing at Mark’s seriousness. He’d tell Mark he made it and Mark would smile. 

Because he did.

-

Summer, 1969; 2 Hours Before Launch

Mark can barely hear the questions being asked over the loud flashes of the bulky cameras being held by the interviewers and journalists. They had been informed there would be a press conference before the launch, which is why  him, Kun and Jaemin are sat a long table behind name plates that stated their names and positions in the mission.

Mark squints his eyes at the short woman who was selected to ask a question. 

“Hello, I have two questions for Mr. Lee, as the commander of the mission do you feel any added pressure?” He almost says that he absolutely does, (which would be the truth) but he knows that as commander his duty was to reassure the team and keep everything in control. 

“I think, uh-” He clears his throat, “I don’t feel that much pressure due to the fact that i know i have a good team backing me up.” He gestures to the men next to him, who smile nod at him. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Says the woman, “My second question is: Are there personal items you will take with you on this journey?” 

Mark thinks about Johnny’s badge that sits in the pocket near his chest, and the small pebble Elliot had given him months ago. And the hair clip he snatched out of hair this morning that is clipped to the right wrist of his undersuit. He chuckles and nods at the woman. “Yes, there are a few.”

“Care to share?” 

He shakes his head after a few moments. “Perhaps when we return. Just know I take many of my loved ones up there with me.” 

The rest of the conference passes smoothly, Jaemin answers some questions about his family with a wide smile that leaves everyone in the room’s hearts melted. Kun stuns interviewers with his impressive answers, and even talks of his wife- Pom-  who also worked at NASA herself as an analyst. 

Mark watches proudly as they speak, thanking the heavens for giving him the team he got, he couldn't even imagine completing this mission with a different set of people. 

-

Summer, 1969; 15 Minutes Before Launch

Elliot’s small hand is engulfed by your bigger one as you pull him along with you to the viewing area of the launch. You can feel the pool of your sweat against your son’s hand and tell yourself it’s just the heat of the summer and not the fact that your husband is about to risk his life. 

Once you arrive to the seating area, Victoria and Pom are already there. As soon as they see you they motion you over. Your immediately engulfed in Victoria’s arms, her hug is warm and tight, Pom also takes this opportunity to drape her arms over the two of you bringing you into a group hug. It brings you comfort, and you’re overwhelmed by gratefulness over the fact that you’re not alone in this. 

Once you pull away, Victoria’s worried eyes meet yours, there are tears lining her waterline but she still manages to force a smile. “We got this, right?” 

You nod, rapidly. Wiping away the tear that fell from your eye and then reaching up to wipe her cheeks as well. Pom rubs your arm comfortingly, no tears in her eyes as she tries to stay strong for the two of you. “Everything will be alright, ladies. They will be back in no time.” 

This time, Victoria nods along with you. The three of you walk together to your seats, Elliot sits down next to Jaemin’s twins who immediately invite the boy into their conversation. You smile faintly seeing them interact. 

You’re about to mention how cute they are to the others when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn abruptly and are met by Lucy and her three sons. She smiles down at you affectionately. You jump up to hug her, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions, you begin to sob on her shoulder. “T-thank yo-u for coming.” Lucy leans back and wipes your face in a motherly gesture.

“How could I not?” She says in a soft voice. “They’re making history, plus I knew my baby was gonna need someone to be there for her.” It makes you smile that after all these years Lucy still calls you her baby even if the age gap between isn’t much, you remember the day of baby shower and smile softly. Bringing her into another hug, you whisper. 

“You’re the best, you know that? You’re so strong.” Her arms hold you tighter and her voice meets your ears not much later, the answer being one you should’ve expected from her.

“I know.” 

-

Summer, 1969; 2 Minutes Before Launch

Mark bites his lip as he listens closely to the words coming through the headset. There’s sweat running down his forehead onto his neck. He looks over at Kun and sees the sheen of sweat on the man’s face as well as he presses all the buttons the person at headquarters is instructing him to press while trying to control the shaking of his hands. 

Mark hears Jaemin curse through his headset. “This feels like a dream.” Mark can agree with this but has taken to staying silent for the time being. 

He leans back and closes his eyes with a sigh, shifting under his many seat belts. He gulps loudly as mission control call the beginning of the launch. 

The three men to their practiced protocol for launch and move to lay flat on the seat as they were told to do. 

-

Summer, 1969; 30 Seconds Before Launch 

On land, you bite your fingernails and Victoria looks away in fear. Pom throws an arm over her, and rubs her back but there’s a shake in her hands that gives away her nerves. 

In the aircraft, Mark breathes in deeply and thinks of things that calm him. Jaemin has taken to gripping the seatbelts anxiously and Kun rests his head on the back of his chair and sighs out loud. 

Your six minds are restless. 

Mark thinks about dancing in the living room with you and kissing you after you’ve both had too much wine. He thinks about Elliot crawling into your bed in the mornings. He thinks about the times he and Johnny laughed until it hurt and all the times Jaemin and Kun would crack jokes while practicing for this very launch. 

-

Summer, 1969; 6 Seconds Before Launch 

He thinks about his grandfather and what he would say if he saw Mark right now. He thinks about his attic window where it all started, about the tulips your grandmother had planted in her garden. 

“5..” He thinks about how you might be feeling right now. 

“4..” He hopes you’re not scared.

“3..” He wonders if you’re holding Elliot’s hand.

“2..” He wants you to know he loves you. 

“1.” 

-

Summer, 1969; 0 Seconds Before Launch

The force pushes his body flush against the seat of the aircraft, making hard to breathe for a brief moment. The rattling noises are all he can hear as the craft ascends. His hands clutch the seat tightly as he waits for the worst part to be over. 

You watch as the rocket blasts off the ground and into the air. Biting your nails and praying to every god that everything goes well. 

Elliot excitedly tugs your hand. “Mommy look at that!”

You smile forcefully at him and pat the jet black hair on his head. Then looking up at the craft that holds your everything as it disappears into the sky. 

-

Summer, 1969; 7 Hours After Launch

The voices through the television ring throughout you and Mark’s house giving updates of the coordinates of the spacecraft and telling the billions of people watching that everything is going just as planned. 

Victoria, Lucy, their children and Pom have decided to come over after the launch and wait for any news together. 

The children are happily playing on the floor in the living room and the woman are talking only briefly and silencing whenever the reporter comes with an update. 

Night falls and you are all still in your house, you offered for them to stay in your guest rooms which they accepted. Victoria stayed with her girls in the guest bedroom, Lucy and her three boys stayed in Elliot’s bedroom while Pom slept in the next guest bedroom.

You and Elliot take your bedroom. The little boy lays close to you, cuddled into your side. It's nearing 1am and your eyes are still wide open, you run your hand through Elliot’s hair to try to calm your racing mind. A smile moves onto your lips as you touch his hair, which is a replica of his father’s  just like the rest of him. 

“Mommy?” You startle slightly as Elliot’s small voice meets your ears and he turns in your hold suddenly. 

“What’s wrong, Elliot? Did I wake you?” The boy shakes his head, he leans forward until your noses are touching, he lets out a giggle which makes you smile. You rub your nose on his before leaning back. “What is it then?”

“Daddy’s going to be okay.” He says, “And we’re going to be okay too.” You blink your eyes furiously to mask the burning that arose around them at his words.

You pinch his cheek briefly before kissing his forehead and pulling his head into your chest. “I know, baby.” 

“Daddy told me to tell you that.” This makes you chuckle sadly.

“I’m sure he did.”

-

Summer, 1969; 3 Days After Launch

Once they finally reach the moon, they are instructed to orbit around it a few times while the crew members prepare for landing. The pilots complete this part of the mission and in no time they have the aircraft hovering over the lunar surface. It docks on the surface with no complications. Kun’s takes control of the aircraft, sitting up front as Mark and Jaemin move to the spacious area behind the seats where everything they needed was found. 

“Are you ready for this?” Says Jaemin, who is currently stepping into the tight undersuit he was to wear under the space suit. Mark is zipping his up and chuckled nervously. 

“Yeah, you?” 

“Shitting my pants, but yeah. I feel ready.” Mark knows it’s half truth and half to release the tension floating through the air. It makes Mark and Kun laugh, Mark appreciates the gesture. 

The two help each other into their main suit, the bulky expensive material is a lot lighter but also a lot more complicated than it looks. It takes them 10 minutes to completely get their suits on, in this time the crew members at headquarters have stated it was safe to leave the aircraft. 

Mark and Jaemin finish putting on their helmets, sealing them and waiting for the oxygen supply to reach the helmet space completely before approaching the opening dock of the aircraft which would lead him to a smaller area excluded from the main aircraft area. An area that was exposed to the lunar surface. 

Mark takes a deep breath and reaches for the handle. “You’re making history today, Mark.” Kun says, watching his colleague and long time friend, open the hatchet. Mark turns and smiles at him, he says something but the words reach Kun’s headset a few seconds delayed.

 “We’re 

making history.” Kun nods, as does Jaemin. 

They see Mark off with a good luck.

Once on the other side of the door, Mark immediately reaches for the next door, opening it wide and looking out. 

It’s quiet. It’s so so quiet. The only sound being the static of the headset and Mark’s breathing. The sky is vacant of any blinking stars, making it just a black abyss. Oddly enough, Mark finds it beautiful.

The tension begins building up once again as he is instructed to use the ladder latched onto the side of the aircraft to make his descent to the lunar surface. His gloved hands shake violently as he grabs the ladder and steps his first foot on it. Mark takes his time going down the steps, taking deep breaths and pauses after each one until he was finally at a distance where he could step down. 

In the calmest voice he could muster, he says. “I will step on the lunar surface now.” 

As he lets go of the ladder, and he left boot touches the dusty surface of the moon Mark’s hit with the realization that he finally is that someone. That kid who looked through the attic window that night with his grandfather is that someone. A million thoughts rushing through his head that are interrupted by the sound of cheers and applause through the headset. “Any words, Mr. Lee?” 

Mark suddenly remembers the words he had practiced with Mr. Jung a few weeks before the launch and chuckles in disbelief. “It’s one small step for man, but a giant leap for mankind.”

The applause erupted again. Mr. Jung’s voice sounds through the headset. “Not bad. Billions of people are watching you right now.”

Mark seemed to forget that the mission would be broadcasted throughout the world. “They can hear what I’m saying?” 

“Yes.” 

Mark sighs shakily, “Is it okay, if I say something personal?” Jaehyun hums Yes. 

Mark looks at the marble looking place he calls home and feels an overwhelming amount of pride, tears arise in his eyes. “Y/N,” he breathes out, “We did it.” 

-

“One small step for man, but a giant leap for mankind.” Sobs of happiness immediately rack your body as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes. The other woman are around you cheering and some even crying too. 

Mark finally got to achieve his dream of being the first man on the moon. You are so unbelievably proud proud of him, you knew no one else deserved it more than him. You cry even harder when Elliot jumps up at the sound of his father’s voice coming from the TV. “Daddy’s on TV!” You laugh and nod at him, pulling him close and kissing the crown of his head, tears still streaming down your face. 

“They can hear what I’m saying?” You hear your husband’s voice and chuckle at him asking such a question on national television. However, you freeze when you hear what he says next. “Can I say something personal?”

You’re breathing halts when he says your name, “Y/N,” you lean your head on Elliot’s and close your eyes tightly. “We did it.” 

You smile despite the sobs rising within you, you whisper, hoping the messages will somehow get to him. “To us.” 

-

Victoria’s shoulders relax and tears leave her eyes as Jaemin follows Mark onto the moon, and the speaker of the television transmits his excited, “Look at us!” She laughs at her husband’s bubbly behavior and wipes her eyes, leaning over to kiss her two girls, thanking God that at least the first half of the mission went as planned. 

-

Mark and Jaemin spend 2 hours exploring the area before it’s time to board the aircraft. Mark let’s a hand rest on his chest where Johnny’s wings are, he pats them twice. He knows Johnny is probably watching from somewhere and proudly bragging to anyone who would listen that Mark had been the rookie he recruited all those years ago, he tells him in his head that he couldn’t have achieved his goal without his guidance and friendship. They started this together, and they will finish it together. 

-

Summer, 1969; 4 Days and 20 Hours After Launch 

The descent of the aircraft to Earth had every person on the planet biting their nails. This part was said to be the most dangerous, due to having the most risks at hand. Also the fact that NASA lost connection to the aircraft and therefore could not contact any of its crew members. 

The children were currently taking their afternoon naps, leaving the three of you alone is nervous silence to imagine the worst. “It’s ok,” says Pom, “This was very possible occurrence since the speed they must be going at prevents the connection from staying stable. They’ll report back in a bit.” You take her word for it, she does know more than you do about these things. She is nervous, but you expected her to be since the aircraft carries her beloved as well. You appreciate how strong she has been for you two this whole time, and place a hand above her, hoping the action will express your gratitude.

After waiting an impossible 6 silent minutes, static begins to sound and the three of you perk up. “Houston?” It’s Kun’s voice. Pom clutches a hand over her heart in relief as the crew gets back in contact with headquarters. 

-

Summer, 1969; 7 Seconds Before Arrival

Overwhelming heat is the only way Mark can explain the atmosphere in the aircraft right now, the craft is going in a downwards trajectory a few hundred thousand miles per hour into the Pacific Ocean and Mark briefly fears it might burn up before it gets there. 

However, Mark’s fears have no time to become a reality because the aircraft is suddenly splashing down in the ocean. 

Mark let’s go a breath he had been holding and thanks god a million times. The mission was a success, and they had arrived to planet Earth safely. Jaemin laughs in relief. “Holy shit, we made it.” 

For the first time since the launch, Kun genuinely laughs out loud. “I can’t believe it!” 

Mark chooses to stay silent, but is smiling widely, anticipating seeing your face when they finally get home. 

-

Jaemin is the first one to emerge from the aircraft. Immediately finds the camera attached to the helicopter hovering above them and throwing a peace sign, then a kiss which is obviously intended for the crying woman next to you who finally allows herself to breathe for the first time in 4 days upon seeing her husband’s face. Kun is next, Pom cries for the first time and laughs when she sees that Kun opts for an awkward wave at the camera rather a bright entrance like Jaemin did. 

You hold your breath, you don’t know why, but you do. And then you see the crown of his head emerging from the opening and let it go. He looks up at the camera only because Jaemin tells him there is one and smiles awkwardly while saluting. You laugh in relief, in happiness, and suddenly Victoria is jumping over you and Pom, causing you both to crash on the couch in a group hug. “They did it!” 

All you can do is laugh and cry, but that’s okay. Because the Launch was a success and Mark was coming back home to you. 

-

Summer, 1969; 12 Hours After Arrival 

After the arrival, the 3 men go into a mandatory 21 day quarantine at the NASA facility, Mark’s heart ached to see you and he restlessly paced the small room they were given within the confinement area.  There was a bed shoved into the corner and a desk in the other, it would’ve felt like a prison cell to Mark if it weren’t for the people who pass by his room every now and then to congratulate him and thank him for his bravery. And although he was grateful for the praise and the nice comments, you were the only thing on his mind. 

He is rubbing down his face with both his hands when a female worker wrapped in a protective suit knocks at his door. Mark perks up and rushes to the door, opening it. He greets the woman with a nod. “You have a visitor, Mr. Lee.”

His heart races and he breaks into a smile, the woman chuckles at the man. “Mrs. Lee was very eager to see you as well.”

Mark nods, staying quiet with a smile on his face as the woman leads him down the hall to the room you were waiting for him in. Upon seeing you through the glass division separating you two when walking through through the door, something snaps in him and he instantly runs to the chair set opposite to you and falls weak into it. 

You let out a teary laugh of relief as you finally see your love walk up to you. Tears began streaming down his own face now, and he knows if it weren’t for the glass dividing you, you would’ve already wiped them away for him. He leans forward and smile while watching you with loving eyes. 

It feels like he can finally breathe. Ever since he made this his dream, he always wondered about all the what if’s of the mission, about whether he would live to see another day or to see Elliot or you. He breathes knowing he no longer has to think of whether that mission could cost him his life, because it didn’t and he's here.

And he is never ever leaving your side. 

You motion to the landline phone placed next to you, then to the identical one on his side. He nods, picking it up.

Neither of you says anything. Just sitting in silence and staring at each other wondering if any of this is even real. “You’re okay, Mark.” 

Mark sniffles quietly, wiping his tears. He sees your tear filled eyes as well. Words keep leaving you as you try to calm him. “You made it back, thank you for keeping your promise.” 

He face contorts as he cried harder, the sound of your voice doing a number on his heart. He looks down at his lap as he cries, you observe your husband with furrowed brows. “Hey Mark,” your soft voice meet his ear and he looks up, he expects you to say something. Instead you bring your left hand up and press your palm against the glass. He does the same on his side, pressing his hand as hard as he can into the glass as if it would break away and allow him to interlace his fingers with your own. 

The eye contact you two share is sweet, sad and love filled. Yours eyes conveying so many emotions of relief and happiness. 

After a long silence, Mark’s hoarse voice sounds for the first time. “Now, I’ll spend all my days with you and Elliot. I’ll get him that dog I was talking to Jaemin about, a puppy so they can grow up together, you think he’d like that?” His voice is a sweet song that entrances you, all you can do is smile dreamily and nod.

“We would get to work on our second as well.” This makes you laugh, you can tell Mark was trying to brighten the mood. 

“Oh hush you.” You say playfully, leaning back in your chair with a wide smile on your face. Mark smiles along with you before adding: 

“Maybe a girl this time?” His voice sounds partially playful but there’s also some underlying genuity to his words. “Would- would you like that?” His words suddenly sound nervous. 

You feel fresh tears blossom in your eyes, nodding.

“I would like that a lot, Mark.” 

Another silence falls over the two of you, but it’s comfortable. Your eyes watching each other; carefully studying every detail of each other’s faces that had already been engraved in your minds. He leans forward and leans his forehead on the glass, eyes watching you as he waits for you to do the same. (You momentarily apologize in your head to the person who has to clean this mirror later on.) 

“Hey, Y/N…”

You hum, eyes closed. The air you exhale creates a mist in the area right before your lips.

 Mark feels invincible. He always has with you, even when he pushed you away, you still held on and made him feel like he could do anything. With you, in a way, he feels immortal. Like the two of you are engraved in the sky and will forever be sparkling bright in the night sky when the sun finally lays to rest. 

“The Gemini twins wish they had a story like ours.”

#mark #mark lee #mark scenarios #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct fanfiction #wayv #nct dream #xiaodejunletsact #nct u #kpop fanfic #kpop #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines

[threeletterslife]

Insurrection (It’s About Time)

→ [4/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: If you told Park Jimin he was going to fall in love with a young cult leader, he would've laughed. But honestly, who's laughing now??

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: 90% angst, 9.9% fluff, 0.1% crack | high school!au

→ warnings: death, mentions of suicide, academic dishonesty, cult-like activities, profanity, school threats (bombs & shootings)

→ wordcount: 18.3k

→ a/n: this is a story that is near and dear to my heart. it actually kind of hurt to write because a lot of these scenes are similar to my experiences or the experiences of loved ones. i’ve had this idea for almost two years now and i finally decided to write it out. i hope you enjoy (:

Jimin is punctual. In fact, he is on another level of punctuality. At any given event, he arrives at least fifteen minutes early. For what reason? His answer would be 'just in case.' There are a plethora of events that can go wrong, a multitude of catastrophes that can erupt in his face last-minutely. Jimin's not going to take any chances jeopardizing his own future.

Especially his future in education.

Much accordingly, since he is exceedingly punctual, Jimin can not—for the love of god—stand people who dilly dally. The atrocity of them to dare to be late and waste others' time!

This is the exact reason why he absolutely despises his calculus teacher.

I sacrificed my goddamn lunchtime studying for this exam. And now he decides to be late.

Jimin's hands shake violently as he brings up his notes to his face, eyes boring into the paper filled with equations and example problems. Hands clammy and sticking to the paper, he balances himself on the balls of his feet and rocks in an attempt to try to settle his spiked nerves.

This is definitely not a good way to start off finals weeks.

Jimin has exactly an 88.3% in AP Calculus BC, and a morbid B+ will do no good in his future—at least that's what the school propaganda and his parents say. He'll have to score extremely well on this fall semester's final exam, especially because his teacher refuses to round up the grades.

Goddamn. He's really late. Late to his own final.

Jimin starts biting his nails again. At this point, there isn't much nail to bite left, but he manages to gnaw at the skin around it. It's a small habit that goes far; he does it when he's nervous, but nail-biting always does such little to do away with his gargantuan amount of stress.

In frustration, Jimin lets out a massive sigh, clutching at his chest where his lungs threatened to collapse on him. His stomach feels tight and queasy, which doesn't have much to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten. He is just anxious. Unlike the others around him.

Next to Jimin, Jeon Jungkook, his friend, casually leans against the brick wall, eyes focused on his phone screen as he mumbles nasty profanities under his breath. "That's motherfucking right, die, bitches," he mutters. Jungkook moves his body along with the avatar inside his game. He's so into it that his eyes gleam when he reigns victorious. "Ha!" he screeches, throwing up his hands. "Fuck you, you cowards! I win!"

Jungkook finally looks up from his game and meets eyes with Jimin. He grins. "Hey, bro, wanna log on too?"

Jimin's mouth hangs open with a mixture of complete surprise and utter disapproval. "We have a final this period, Jungkook. Aren't you the tiniest bit worried?"

He regrets asking that because he knows the answer he's going to get.

"No, not really," Jungkook snorts. He looks back at his phone screen and hoots. "Fuck, yeah! He's not here yet! I think I can squeeze in another game."

If Jimin's parents knew that his friend—aside from his straight A's and musical accomplishments—played video games, namely Fortnite, to pass time, they'd probably transfer Jimin to another school. A school that could be worse than this one. Which might as well be a prison.

Jimin shakes his head, harshly gripping his notes and looking away from Jungkook. Jimin doesn't want to admit it, but he's jealous. While he's stuck having a mini internal breakdown over the teacher's tardiness, Jungkook's taking the extra leisure time to play some shitty mobile game.

It's unfair. Jungkook gets his straight A's without moving so much of a goddamn muscle. While Jimin, on the other hand, has to stay up until four in the morning every other day, studying or doing homework from the moment he's awake to the time he goes to bed. He will never understand why, despite his grueling efforts, that he has a fair share of B's in his transcript.

It's a shitty, unfair system. But then again, it was set up to be unfair, anyways. Here at Welton High School, every student has taken a rigorous entrance exam, of which only the top 25% scoring students are accepted. Every student is well above average—they are students from all over the world and have probably never heard the word 'average' spoken to them in their entire lives. Until they faced Welton, of course. Now of the top 25%, only 1% can truly be special.

Jimin sometimes thinks that when he was accepted to Welton, he must've been barely at the cut off line. He speculates that he must've been in the top 24.99%, and was very lucky that he wasn't waitlisted.

He worked twice as hard from freshman year until now, junior year, to be on level with the young, walking Einsteins of Welton. But no matter how hard Jimin tries, he has never been able to outsmart the intellectuals who were born to change the world with their IQ's alone.

Competition is way too fierce.

No, Jimin thinks. Competition is deadly.

And it is. Student suicides, school shooting threats (from the students), student protests... Teenagers crack under pressure. But what can Jimin do about it? The system's shitty, yes, but he has no choice but to follow it, or else the promise of a stable future goes down the drain and into the sewer. For that exact reason, Jimin studies like there's no tomorrow every day.

Wake up. Go to school. Eat. Study. Sleep (if he's lucky). Wake up (sometimes). And do it all over again.

So fine. Jimin's jealous of Jeon Jungkook. Because he doesn't seem to put in the effort for his perfect grades. And it irks Jimin. But it shouldn't. Jungkook's his friend, so Jimin should be happy for him.

It's hard though when the person you're closest to is so far beyond your league that you begin to think yourself inferior to them.

"Sorry, class!" Jimin's calc teacher huffs as he nearly spills over his coffee while skidding to a stop in front of the classroom door. "We've lost time for the final! Get in your seats, take out a pencil, eraser and graphing calculator! Be ready in your seats so I can pass out the exams!" he orders in a frenzy.

How can you be so irresponsible? Jimin thinks, glaring daggers at the back of his teacher's head.

He's almost blinded by rage until he realizes what he's really here for: to take the test. Right. His stomach flips at the thought. Jimin shoves his notes into his backpack, wincing when he hears some of the papers ripping.

Shit, this is the moment. He's been dreading this exact time for weeks now. Each step into the familiar class makes him feel like he's walking the plank, inching closer and closer to his impending doom.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Jimin feels a migraine creeping in already. I don't know if I can do this.

Next to him, Jungkook is still playing Fortnite. Jimin doesn't know if he should spitefully tell his friend to stop or to let him continue. God, it's not fair.

Jimin's teacher is all over the place, holding his cup of coffee while also carrying dozens of test booklets in the other hand. For a split second, Jimin wishes his teacher would spill his coffee on the tests. Maybe that would delay the final. Maybe Jimin would get his first stroke of good luck in the nearly three years of high school he had already faced.

But luck is not on Jimin's side today. It never was.

The test booklets make it out in perfect condition, and Jimin's slightest bit of hope is crushed when his teacher finally sets down his coffee on his desk.

"Get your tests! Come on, pick them up!" his teacher shrills. Jimin breathes in deeply. At this point, he's just going to accept his fate. He might as well accept a B+ in this class. God, I feel faint.

"Don't write on the test," the teacher continues. "The scratch paper is up here if you need it and—"

The loud, blaring fire alarm interrupts him. It echoes deafeningly through the class, the raucous noise piercing through Jimin's ears to such an extent that he covers them with his hands. Jimin shakes in his seat, making eye contact with Jungkook.

For once in his life, Jungkook looks confused in a class setting. 'What the fuck??" he mouths aggressively to Jimin.

What the fuck, indeed.

Sometimes, the administration liked to schedule secret fire drills to get the students and staff better prepared in case of a real emergency. But really, during finals week? When students are already nerve-wracked from exam season? God, they had no shame for fuck's sake.

Jimin's teacher sighs, running his fingers through his head of unkempt hair. "All sorts of things happening today," he mutters to himself. "Must be a mistake," he declares with an affirmative nod of the head. "Class, as I was saying before—"

"Holy fuck, the other classes are evacuating!" Jungkook shrieks, pointing out the classroom window. Sure enough, teachers are already herding their students outside to the evacuation areas on the soccer fields. "I don't think this is a dr—"

Before Jungkook finishes his sentence and the teacher disciplines him for his explicit choice of language, the intercom buzzes, momentarily halting the horrendous fire alarm. Everyone freezes and it goes completely silent. So silent that Jimin can hear his own heartbeat.

A loud crackle and another buzz ring from the intercom, then the principal begins to speak in a hurried voice: "This is not a drill. Please proceed to evacuate out of the buildings. Thank you."

The moment he finishes, the intercom crackles again and the fire alarm carries on.

Jimin's anxiety flies to the roof. Not a drill? What could've possibly happened?

His teacher looks almost as—or even more—shaken as Jimin and he yells panicked directions to the students. "I'll be the last one out! Meet me at our safety corner on the field!"

Jimin quickly finds Jungkook and the two of them walk side by side out of the building. As soon as Jimin can see the sky, he looks up instinctively to check for smoke. But there is none. In fact, the sky looks clearer than normal today.

"Do you even think there's a fire?" Jimin asks his friend. He almost lets out a scoff of disbelief when he sees Jungkook playing his mobile game again.

"No idea," Jungkook replies nonchalantly, jabbing at his screen with his thumb. "Don't think it's anything serious. Probably just a small fire in chem class. Nothing to worry about."

Jimin's still uneasy. "You don't think anyone's hurt, do you?"

At that, Jungkook hums, his forehead creasing slightly as he finally shuts off his phone and pockets it. "There's no ambulance," he points out. Jungkook turns to Jimin fully, grinning at him to Jimin's shock. "Loosen up, Jimin. This is junior year. We might have a chance at canceled finals because of this real evacuation! Now isn't that nice?"

"I guess..." Jimin mumbles. But I need the final to raise my grade...

It's strange to see his peers smiling and laughing as they walk side by side with their friends. It's almost as if the fire alarm isn't threateningly blaring in the background. Do none of them care that this could be a serious matter??

"By the looks of it, we're definitely going to skip the calc final today!" Jungkook shouts victoriously, pumping his fist in the air. "No more fucking math!"

"True..." Jimin admits nervously. "But he might have to take the final after school..." He's almost too embarrassed to say that he needs this final to raise his grade.

Jungkook snorts. "Welton's not allowed to keep us after school with such short notice," he says. "If things go right, we might not have finals for the rest of the day."

When Jungkook puts it that way, the thought sounds heavenly.

"Yo! Bros!" a familiar voice calls, breaking Jimin from his reverie. "Y'all okay? We could've literally died!"

It's Taehyung, Jimin's other friend. The only guy in the whole school who's unafraid to use the word 'y'all' and be judged for it.

"Man, I heard the girl's locker room caught on fire!" Taehyung announces.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. "Unless you were in there, how would you know?" he teases.

Jimin laughs as Taehyung huffs disapprovingly. "Some girls told me. I would never sneak in there," he pouts, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Jimin says. "How would the fire have started in there, though?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised to see what goes down in the girl's locker room," Jungkook says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What went down so hard to cause a fire??" Jimin asks.

"Nah, don't believe him, Minnie," Taehyung laughs. "Jungkook probably sneaks in there from time to time to be a little perv."

Jungkook shrugs, unfazed by the accusation. He even plays along with it. "Well, I need something interesting to do in my high school career."

At that, Jimin and Taehyung shoot each other a look. Them and a majority of the students at Welton don't have enough hours in the day to study, let alone to seek for 'something interesting to do' in their high school careers. It's so like Jeon Jungkook, the genius, to say shit like this.

"Whatever, y'all," Taehyung says. "I don't even care what happened. We're still alive, you know? I'm just glad I'm missing out on that stupid physics final."

"Lucky," Jimin says. "I'm supposed to take that shit tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah, if there even is a tomorrow," Jungkook says, scrolling through his phone. Jimin thinks he's playing some mobile game again, but he soon realizes he's reading something. "It's not a fire in the girl's locker room after all..."

The three boys immediately stop walking, Taehyung and Jimin looking over Jungkook's shoulder to read what was on his screen. It's an email sent from the principal to all attending students and their guardians:

Dear Welton Community,

Today at approximately 12:48 pm, an unidentified caller phoned in a bomb threat to Welton High School. The caller stated seven pipe bombs had been planted on campus and were going to detonate in 25 minutes. The Police Department was called and immediately responded. Along with them, the School Administration decided to evacuate all buildings and bomb-sniffing dogs were called to search the entire school. When they have completed their search, I will send out another message to our community with the all-clear.

Thank you.

Bombs. Bombs?!?! Jimin panics again. Actual bombs! Seven pipe bombs could do serious damage—maybe even decimate half of the population of Welton High. What if they go off? Will this really be the end?

"Well, that explains the excessive amount of helicopters flying above us," Jungkook says, shrugging.

Before Jimin can shoot his friend a look of utter incredulity, he hears the sharp voice of his calc teacher. "Jimin! Jungkook! What are you doing out of line? I'm taking roll!"

"The Grinch is calling," Jungkook snickers. "We'll see you later," he tells Taehyung who salutes the two of you.

"See you guys," Taehyung says before sauntering off to his physics class.

"Text us!" Jimin calls.

Taehyung doesn't turn around but gives two big thumbs up indicating that he had heard Jimin.

Quickly, Jimin and Jungkook get in line while their dratted teacher takes roll. Once they see that their teacher isn't eagle-eyeing them, they slip out their phones, opening their group chat with Taehyung. It looks like Taehyung had already sent them multiple texts. All cries of pity.

Group: dead men + kook

[half-dead cowboy]: y'alls

[half-dead cowboy]: literally save me

[half-dead cowboy]: idk anyone in this class

[half-dead cowboy]: keep me entertained

[half-dead cowboy]: don't leave me hanging

[half-dead cowboy]: guyds

[half-dead cowboy]: guys*

[nO yOu]: serves u right for deciding to take physics ii lmfaoo

[half-dead cowboy]: shut up kook

[half-dead cowboy]: where's my boi minnie when i need him

[lil dead man]: Shit Tae I keep forgetting to tell you not to call me that

[half-dead cowboy]: you know why?

[half-dead cowboy]: because you not-so-secretly lobr it

[half-dead cowboy]: ugh

[half-dead cowboy]: love*

[nO yOu]: how did u even get in welton tae lmfao u can't even spell

[half-dead cowboy]: no

[half-dead cowboy]: i can SPELL i can't TYPE

[half-dead cowboy]: there's a difference you jerky

[half-dead cowboy]: ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[half-dead cowboy]: jerk********

[lil dead man]: AHAHAHAHAHAHAH

[nO yOu]: i feel quite honored to b called a jerky

[half-dead cowboy]: stfu

[nO yOu]: no for real bro

[nO yOu]: thank you

[lil dead man]: Back at it again with the sarcasm Kook

[lil dead man]: Anyways what's the girl's locker room like ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[half-dead cowboy]: not the lenny face

[half-dead cowboy]: please no

[nO yOu]: nO yOu

[lil dead man]: How long have you been waiting to say that

[nO yOu]: months

[nO yOu]: thanks for noticing. u my man

[nO yOu]: also if tae won't say anything bout the girl's locker room i will

[lil dead man]: What the fuck bro I thought you were joking when you say you knew the shit that went down????

[nO yOu]: lmfao i'm still jokin chillax minnie

[half-dead cowboy]: i hate you guys :((((((

[nO yOu]: damn that frowny face has 6 chins holy mothatruckafucka

[half-dead cowboy]: :(

[lil dead man]: That's more like it!!

[half-dead cowboy]: hold up hold up

[half-dead cowboy]: oh shoot y'all hearing this?

[nO yOu]: no?? we're texting? wE hAvE nO vOicE

[half-dead cowboy]: no you illiterate f*cks they just cleared the school the bomb threat as phony

[lil dead man]: Whew

[lil dead man]: I'm happy I won't blow up into smithereens but also pissed off as fuck that we'll have to live to take finals??

[nO yOu]: agreed, minnie

[nO yOu]: k but more importantly

[nO yOu]: tae did you just censor out a fucking cuss word

[half-dead cowboy]: i'm trying not to cuss as much anymore if you haven't noticed. but y'all make it f*cking hard. f*ck

[lil dead man]: We'Re sOrRy wE'Re bAd iNflUenCe

[half-dead cowboy]: :(((((((((((((((

[nO yOu]: 15 chins lets git itttt

[half-dead cowboy]: F*CK Y'ALL

It feels strange. The shortened school day had been so eventful... but also uneventful? Sure, there was a bomb threat, but it had been fake. Jimin thought a full-on Hollywood action scene would've commenced after the bombs detonated, but the bombs were never there in the first place. There weren't any finals either. All of them had been rescheduled to take next week, which was good news for most students.

It wasn't just good news, too. It was great news. Superb news. The best news students have gotten since they began attending Welton High School. Now, students are thanking the bomb threat for its rather impeccable timing. Some are even pissed that it hadn't happened earlier (so more finals could have been missed).

"We need to celebrate this once in a lifetime opportunity!" Taehyung announces as soon as the three boys are reunited. "It's not every day that a bomb threat cancels your finals!"

"We deserve a break, anyways," Jimin says. "I'm down. Kook?"

"Mm..." Jungkook makes an unintelligible sound at the back of his throat as he pauses his video game with the tap of his finger. "Sorry guys. Can't. Have to go somewhere."

"You?" Taehyung gasps dramatically. "Have plans?"

"And without us?" Jimin says, feigning a hurt expression. "Are you ditching us?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "No. I'm just... busy."

"Ha! Busy," Taehyung snorts. "Yeah, busy with that little sophomore girl you've been—cough—seeing."

"What the fuck," Jungkook scoffs. "How do you know about that?"

Taehyung opts not to answer the question, instead, he giggles. "It's a date, isn't it?" he sings.

Jungkook puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. "Fine," he says, slipping his phone inside his back pocket. "It's a date."

"Oh, we are so following you," Taehyung says.

"Don't you dar—"

"No, we're following you," Jimin grins.

"No, I swear to fucking g—"

Jimin and Taehyung are following Jungkook. The boy's surprisingly agile as he zig-zags around stumpy trees, tall bushes and overflowing trash cans. Sometimes, he quickly looks behind him as if to see if someone was trailing his back. Every time, Jimin's heart sinks with the fear of being caught, but Taehyung seems to love the thrill of the adrenaline rush.

At this rate, Jimin feels like an outlaw. But he's only just chasing his rather suspicious-looking friend. Or maybe he really wanted his relationship with the sophomore girl as a secret?

Or maybe there was no sophomore girl in the picture at all. Jimin's not too sure.

"It's as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's dating a teeny weeny 10th grader," Taehyung whispers, a mischievous grin stuck on his lips.

Yeah. If the girl exists. But Jimin doesn't say that. "I wonder who she is," he whispers back. "I mean, who on earth is worthy of dating our Kook?"

"My expectations for this girl are high," Taehyung snorts. "She better be the most intelligent girl I've ever—wait, what the fucK??"

The latter is more of a reaction. Taehyung grabs Jimin's arm, pulling him to take refuge behind a particularly bushy bush. He points at a rather unsettling scene unfolding before them.

Through the leaves of the shrub, Jimin can make out Jungkook, all right. There's also a girl—who might be a sophomore, standing confidently on a tree stump. Jimin doesn't even know if you go to Welton. But what makes the whole situation peculiar is that there are others—including Jungkook—gathered in this little half-forest clearing. And they're gathered around the tree stump in which the girl is standing on.

Jimin tries to make a rough estimate of the number of people—seemingly students because they're all wearing backpacks— in his head. Twelve? Maybe fifteen students? He's confused, furrowing his brows as he squints at them through the bush. "What's this shit for?" he whispers to Taehyung who looks equally confused.

"No idea," Taehyung mutters. "Looks like a cult," he snorts. "But it could be a stupid Fortnite club for all I know."

"I doubt that a club would meet at such a sketchy place," Jimin murmurs to himself.

There is something definitely fishy going on here...

Jungkook blends in way too easily in the crowd of supposed students. The only person that stands out is the girl. The one on the tree stump. She stands casually, favoring her left leg. She's petite, but her posture and stance emit an aura of valiance and authority. Her eyes seem to sparkle with determination and her lips are curled up in a happy smile. A... victorious smile.

"That's her!" Taehyung whispers aggressively. "The girl I've seen our Kook with! The little sophomore!"

Ah... She's a sophomore... Jimin nods, cocking his head as his eyes scan the group of students to see if he recognized anyone other than Jungkook. He sees a few seniors (that he can't quite remember the name of) and finds it weird that they're huddled below the sophomore girl as if waiting for her command.

Whoever she is, she's the leader. The president, maybe? Of whatever club this was? If it even was a club, that is.

Jimin's thoughts are proven when the girl clasps her hands together, taking a deep breath before bellowing out a "Thank you for coming!" She offers a friendly wave to everyone looking up to her (literally) in awe.

Jimin has never seen the genius himself, Jeon Jungkook, respecting an underclassman before. Even the seniors in the crowd look at the girl approvingly. As if she were a queen and not just the president of a small club.

The girl speaks again in her light, lilted voice, turning to a lanky boy with unkempt blonde hair covering his eyes. "Yoongs! Attendance, please?"

"Perfect attendance, Y/N!" the boy deemed as Yoongs reports back to the girl. He winks. And she—Y/N—blushes.

Jimin frowns. What was going on???

You giggle, looking fondly at Yoongs before returning your attention to the rest of the crowd. "So, our experiment worked as expected," you say, shrugging rather casually. "I did feel bad for wasting people's time..." you trail off, unsure.

Experiment? Jimin feels chills run down his spine when he realizes you probably mean the bomb threat.

"It was worth it, babe!" Yoongs calls from the group.

You smile. "It's always worth it," you reply. "I'll make today's meeting short for those of you working on college apps and the others of you participating in competitions."

You're so casual in the way you speak—as if the people you were looking over were your friends. But you're also entrancing. As if everyone else has to be silent to hear what great words you have to say. And apparently, you have a lot on your mind to share.

"As I always say," you start, "never waste your time on your grades. They don't define you. Nor will they shed a light on the person you are inside. Nevertheless, everyone here should have straight A's..." you smile, looking over at Yoongs. "A round of applause for Yoongi's excellent coding skills for which we would've never been able to pull this off without them!"

The crowd erupts in enthusiastic applause, leaving Yoongi beaming from his proud accomplishments.

You wait for the crowd to simmer down before speaking again. "We tricked and cheated the system," you admit. "You might have doubts about that. Morality and integrity may play into your thoughts. But," you take a dramatic pause, "how moral are grades, really? They're tools for adults, which is as far as it goes. Teachers corrupt the system, watch silently as all hell breaks loose from the intense student competition... They make it a game. They know you'll do anything to get the letter grade you want," you take a painful breath. "We're only fighting against something that is as equally as or more morally ambiguous. The world cares about you as a human. They won't care about a robot that spits out impeccable grades but has no soul, no passion, no life. They want you at your best—what you can do that will benefit others. We don't need to take part in something as trivial as our high school grades, do we?" you smile as the students around you cheer.

"Of course... college is a different story. Depending on the college you go, that is..." you trail off. "When you start to learn about things that you have a genuine interest in, that's when grades might matter. But for now, struggling this hard on obscure subjects that you'll never touch again after graduating from Welton? I say it's a good thing we're cheating the system. How great was the system anyway to have contributed to three student suicides in the last two years?"

There's a collective murmur as students nod their heads.

"A moment of silence for Heegyung, Bonsoo and Chaewoon, please," you say, voice barely above a whisper but everyone hears what you say and they all bow their heads down to obey. You, yourself, close your eyes. Your face is etched with pain and actual remorse, which makes Jimin feel a little guilty he wasn't truly mourning the students' deaths.

After a few minutes pass, you clear your throat, blinking your eyes open and waiting for the other students to look up at you again. "Ah, yes," you say. "Thank you for the short mourning period we were able to squeeze into this meeting... But now to get to the purpose of this gathering," you pause for a split second before continuing again. "The finals you will have to take next week shouldn't be as stressful as other school days. Apply our methods and you'll be fine. If you need extra help, text me as soon as possible." You pause again, but this time, it wasn't to gather your thoughts, it was to shift the mood of your speech. A bright grin settles on your face.

"Now, for the moment we've all been waiting for!" you exclaim. "Let's give a special round of applause for Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi for their collaboration on this excellent evacuation plan!"

The crowd does more than applaud. Students whoop, yell and chant their names. But Jimin's not in a celebratory mood.

Jungkook did what?? Jimin shoots Taehyung a panicked look. It was one thing to realize that this group of students probably somehow organized the bomb threat, but it was another thing to realize that Jungkook was a large part of it.

"It was extremely difficult to create an automated call that couldn't be traced—" you begin.

"Eh, it wasn't that bad," Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. "Child's play."

You laugh, eyes twinkling as your turn to Yoongi. "Well, thank you," you say. "Ah, and as for Jungkook, thank you for volunteering to use your voice to record the bomb threat. It must've been so nerve-wracking."

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. "All I really did was speak into a mic. And we totally distorted my voice. Severely fucked up the frequencies and all that."

Jimin's blood runs cold. He looks over at Taehyung with his eyes wide. His friend isn't faring any better with his jaw clenched and fists tightened.

"It took an immense amount of courage to sacrifice your voice for an experiment like this," you say, smiling down at the older boy. "Oh, yeah! How's your album going, by the way?"

Jungkook beams. "It's going great!" he says happily. "I've been having so much fuckin' time to work on it that the whole process has just been insanely smooth."

"Love that!" you say. "Productivity at its finest, right?"

Everyone nods eagerly.

"Well!" you sigh, placing both of your hands on your hips. "The meeting's officially over, now! Please text me your work progresses, guys. They're due before midnight. Thank you so much for coming!"

"Thank you for hosting it, babe!" Yoongi says, rushing over to help you off of the tree stump by offering his hand. You take it gladly, stepping back on the dirt ground.

You start waving at the students who begin to file out of the meeting place. When Jimin sees them start to move towards him and Taehyung, he grabs his friend's arm. "Shit, Tae, we've got to—"

"Hey, Jungkook?" you call. The boy turns around, looking at you expectantly. "Can you please tell your two friends that hiding behind a bush is quite ineffective?" You giggle when Jimin falls to the ground in shock. "Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, was it?"

Jimin's in shell-shock, unable to move or dust off his pants. How the fuck did you—

"You can come out of hiding, you know," you reassure them with such a honey-like quality to your voice that it's almost impossible to resist. "We don't really bite," you giggle. "But... I mean, Yoongi might," you tease, earning a flirtatious shove from the boy.

At your invitation to quit hiding, Taehyung jumps out from behind the bush, dragging Jimin along with him. "Who the fuck are you and how do you know our names?!" Taehyung roars.

Guess he already gave up his no-cussing streak, Jimin sighs. But he's also glad that he's not the one who has to stand up for both of them.

"Don't be so rude, you ass," Jungkook scoffs. "Motherfucking stalkers. I told you not to follow me."

Stalkers?? We were just looking out for you! Jimin thinks. "We're sorry, Kook," he manages to say. "But you lied to us! And more importantly, you obviously haven't been telling us things."

Jimin's frankly hurt by his friend's lack of honesty, but it seems so that Taehyung is more vocal about it.

"Yeah, Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck?" Taehyung yells. "You're a cheater!" he accuses Jungkook, stepping closer and poking at his chest harshly with his pointer finger. "You're a fake! You're a bomb threatener!!"

"Wait a minute!" you cut in. "Let's not get into accusations like that so early. Jimin, Taehyung, I—"

"How do you know our fucking names?!" Taehyung screams. "We don't even know who you are, you cheater!!"

"Watch it," Yoongi says dangerously. He tries to take a step forward, but you stop him, placing a hand on his arm.

"I'm Y/N," you say. "We're all students of Welton, so there's no reason for the animosity. Besides, I memorized the yearbook." You shrug, but you gesture apologetically to Jimin and Taehyung. "I'm very sorry, but I didn't invite you two to join our little group for a major reason. Of course..." you trail off. "Now you have to join... For safety reasons."

"Little group?" Taehyung snorts. "Where did the specificity go?"

"Hmm," you hum. "What do you think about a school revolt?"

Jimin does not like the idea of a school revolt at all. It sounds stupid. Students would never be able to pull it off. Even Taehyung, who's usually more open-minded than Jimin, seems skeptical.

You ask Jimin and Taehyung to meet up in Panera, later that day with Jungkook, to discuss the specifics. By the time Jimin and Taehyung get there, you and Jungkook have already saved a corner spot in the cafe.

Jungkook's eating pieces of sourdough bread while you sip your frozen lemonade. It looks to Jimin and you and Jungkook are getting along as both of you gesture wildly as you speak. You even let out a large laugh after Jungkook says something funny.

Jimin feels weird interrupting the already happy conversation, but Taehyung seems to have no problem. Taehyung slides into the seat next to Jungkook, leaving Jimin to sit with you.  Jimin suddenly feels very self-conscious about himself.

"Glad you two could make it!" you chirp, setting down your frozen lemonade. "Want anything to eat or drink? They have hibiscus lemonade here and it's literally amazing!"

"I'd rather you cut to the chase," Taehyung says, frowning as he folds his arms.

Jimin agrees with a short nod.

"Oh," you say, "sure!"

"You said something about a school revolt," Taehyung says. "Explain."

"God, would it kill you to say please?" Jungkook rolls his eyes. "She's doing you guys a fucking favor. Man, if Yoongi was here, he'd whoop your asses."

"It's fine, Jungkook," you say. "I get how confusing this can be... Our little group has one goal," you start. "I want to help struggling students. You know what Welton is... Ruthless competition. Kids cramming without actually understanding the material. Rote memorization... Wasting time by doing four pages worth of math homework every night... Way too specific reading quizzes that have nothing to do with the storyline of the novels..."

The more you talk, the more Jimin begins to relate.

"It's horrible," you sigh. "That they're making us become a servant to the school. They use the students to boost the credibility of the teachers. They thrive off of our hard work, you know."

"They're bitches," Jungkook snorts. "Never really care for us. Remember Chaewoon? He told his counselor about his suicidal thoughts and she didn't do shit. He might still be alive with us if the counselor cared."

You nod. "Yes, our mental support system at this school amongst the grown-ups is preposterous," you say. "There are too many problems with Welton. And I reach out to deserving students to offer them a solution."

"A solution?" Jimin mutters.

You turn to him, nodding politely. "Yes! A solution. Students have dreams, Jimin. Taehyung, don't you ever wish you could be putting in your time somewhere else instead of studying for a subject you don't care about?"

Taehyung nods. "Who doesn't wish that around here?"

"Exactly," you say. "I'm offering you, Tae, and Jimin a great chance to follow your dreams. High school is when you feel the spark growing inside you. The spark is an extracurricular or a hobby of some sort that you've always loved with your whole heart. You probably had to sacrifice a lot to join Welton's elite debate team, right Taehyung?"

"Never even liked debate that much," he answers. "I had to quit theater for that shit."

"And you couldn't do both because...?" you say.

"Because the debate coach told me theater would interfere with the debate practice schedules," Taehyung says. "And he said that debate is much more intellectual than theater. He said that I won't be able to balance my studies with both debate and theater."

"Exactly," you say. "It's utter bs, don't you think? Why do we have to sacrifice our hobbies, our passionate dreams to do what some adult tells us to do? You do realize that they put down the arts because they want their smartest students participating in their intellectual or STEM-related activities? The more intelligent students that are in these activities, the higher the school rating skyrockets. It's purely selfish reasons."

"That is utter bullshit," Taehyung scoffs. "You're right. That is pretty fucking selfish."

"Right," you say. "I want to teach you, Tae," you say, looking the boy dead in his eyes. "I'll take care of your grades. I'll teach you the best ways to get away with outsmarting the teacher. I'll plan class distractions—like today—and if things still don't go well, my boyfriend—you met Yoongi today, right?—can make a last-ditch effort to hack into the grades system and work his magic. You'll have extra time to do theater—at school and at other professional intern sites. How does that sound?"

"Fuck," Taehyung curses. "That sounds fucking great when you put it that way."

Jimin's not so sure. "What if someone snitches?"

You laugh. "Oh, they wouldn't," you say. "I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"She does," Jungkook says. "There's no one she doesn't know. C'mon she's the first sophomore Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper. You'll be safe if you join."

"You're juniors as well," you say. "There's a lot of pressure to do perfectly in school now. And you'll be in college before you know it. I reckon that you want to know your ride-or-die interest before you attend university."

Jimin looks down at his hands. This is wrong, he tells himself. But it'll do so much good. Not moral good, of course. But still.

Taehyung already seems sold on the idea, a fast grin spreading across his face as he nods his head enthusiastically.

You notice Jimin's skeptical look. "Hey, I'm gonna run to the bathroom," you say. Jimin gets out of the seat to let you through, and as soon as you're out of sight, he collapses on the seat and groans.

"Great, she's fucking gone," Jimin says. "Tae, you can't possibly think this is a good idea."

"What do you mean? It's a fucking fantastic idea!" Taehyung says. "Dude, don't you understand? I'll get to do what I love without sacrificing my grades! Once in a lifetime opportunity, bro."

Jungkook snorts. "Yeah, well, I have my music and you have your acting shit, Taehyung, but Jimin doesn't know anything other than the pages of a stupid fucking textbook."

It hurts because it's brutally true. Jimin bites his lip and shakes his head.

"Fifteen people is awfully small for a cult," Jimin grumbles.

"It is not a cult," Jungkook argues, crossing his arms over his chest. "And no one knows how many students are actually involved except for Y/N. She figured it'll be safer that way."

"Bro, I'm in," Taehyung says. "I was in like seven minutes ago."

"Good choice, man," Jungkook says, slapping Taehyung's back approvingly. "And honestly? Jimin? You don't exactly have a choice. You have to join."

Jimin scoffs. "Why?"

"Because you know this group exists and it's likely you'd snitch on us if you don't get anything out of it," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "Y/N's being really generous with you right now. You're basically going to freeload."

"Freeload?" Jimin says, glaring at the man with intense ferocity. "I didn't ask for any of this!"

"Hey, it's okay!" Taehyung says. "You can just find some hobby or something. So you're still following protocol."

"Um, easier said than done," Jimin mutters.

It's silent after that as Jimin sulks in his seat and Jungkook and Taehyung awkwardly watch him do so. You come back from the "bathroom" (you were gone for much longer, so Jimin suspects you were just giving them time to discuss) only to see the three boys sitting in complete silence.

You cock your head. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Taehyung says. "It's final. Jimin and I are joining!"

"Great!" you say, smiling as you clasp your hands together. "Oh, you'll have to get started on your theater process right away," you tell Taehyung. "And Jimin, it's fine that you don't know what you like now. You can hang tight until you find something, all right?"

Jimin lets out a grumbling, "Yeah, sure."

"It's set, then!" you say, sipping your not-so-frozen lemonade drink. "Thank you, Jungkook. I owe you."

"No, it's fine, really," Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. "Just doing my job."

You smile at him fondly before turning to Jimin and Taehyung. "I'll text you the details pertaining to each of you, okay?" You glance down at your watch and gasp. "Oh, shoot, I'm late for my date! Um, I'll see you three at our next meeting? Or at school. Bye, guys!!" With that, you grab your drink and practically fly out of Panera, never looking back once.

Jimin and Taehyung are a bit dumbfounded.

"I gotta go work on producing my album," Jungkook says. "See you guys, too?"

"Yeah, duh," Taehyung grins as Jungkook slides out of the seat. "You basically saved our lives."

Jungkook snorts. "Sorry I didn't say anything about it earlier, by the way," he says. "We're not allowed to talk about it to anyone. Mostly because we don't really know who's involved."

"Nah, it's fine, man," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "At least we know now, right?"

Jimin stays quiet.

"Well, see you," Jungkook sighs as he glances at Jimin but doesn't say anything further. He leaves quickly.

"God, Jimin, he's your friend," Taehyung says as soon as Jungkook turns a corner and is no longer in view. "You shouldn't be that cold."

"Oh, really?" Jimin says. "He was living lavishly all this time and didn't bother saying anything!"

"He just said he didn't have a choice, Jimin!"

"God!" Jimin says, running his hand through his hair. "Now how are we any different from the motherfucking cheaters out there?"

Taehyung frowns. "I don't mind cheating. Y/N didn't even call it cheating. She called it 'outsmarting the teachers.' And besides, we have a reason for it too."

Jimin shrugs. "Yeah, whatever..."

"You'll come around," Taehyung smiles, shaking his head. "But what the heck do you think Jungkook meant by saying no one knows who's in the group??"

"No idea."

But it soon becomes quite obvious when Jungkook escorts Jimin and Taehyung to their first official meeting. Jimin and Taehyung gape as they realize no one they saw last time was here. You must hold several of the same meetings. All with different people.

Now it's for sure that nobody knows how many people are in the goddamn cult except for you. It dawns on Jimin that he's getting himself into something much, much larger than he had previously believed.

You've created quite an advanced system. So advanced that it took Jimin a while to get used to. It was a cheating plot so elaborate and well-planned that it almost didn't feel like cheating. Instead, it was like embarking on an evil heist in the adult world.

You had a master plan behind every single class in Welton. Jungkook said you harbored hundreds of paper documents (not digital, or they could be hacked) that had information about every teacher, every subject in the school. From there, you would investigate each subject and find the students who were genuinely interested in pursuing it in the future—the experts. Those students would then be in charge of making and organizing all of the class lecture notes; it would be their responsibility to fully learn the material and redistribute it to the other students who, more or less, didn't give two fucks about the class.

Homework was rotated amongst the "expert" students, and they'd send the other students the answers. (But, of course, there were always different versions of the homework so teachers would never suspect.)

Tests weren't a problem either. Somehow, you'd get a copy of every test or quiz before the exam date and distribute it to the experts. In a day's time, the rest of the students would obtain the answers (and work, if it was a math-based test). But to ensure that not everyone got the same exact score, you'd implemented quite a simple but complex system.

Test grades were higher for experts (especially experts who were able to make large progress on their personal projects). From there, the non-expert students were given scores solely based on how well they have updated their progress to you, and how much they have advanced in their extracurriculars.

The hardest questions on every exam were hand-picked by the experts themselves. And only the experts were allowed to answer the question correctly.

Essays were different. Not everyone read the given book, but the experts would always be ready for all kinds of topics—the holy grail was definitely the database of all past Welton essays that you handled yourself.

In that way, you had every single class in the whole school covered for the students in your group. (Which was ultimately a huge bummer for the students who had no idea of the behind-the-scenes 'outsmarting' that was going on.)

Jimin thinks the system is good. Could be better, but it works.

He's just pissed that he never has any progress to report back to you, so he always ends up scoring a high B on exams. It happens to be a pretty good deal, though, factoring in the fact that he didn't study for them. Scoring B+'s on exams was enough to keep his grades at an A.

But sometimes, it just feels wrong. Especially on his physics tests (where the class average is 60%, but he ends up with a raw score of 88% without having to put in the minimal effort). No matter how many times you call the action 'outsmarting the teachers,' Jimin thinks he's just plain cheating.

He's been wanting to report it for a while... Just because the little angel sitting by his shoulder is telling him that this is unfair to all the other students who were truly trying but weren't even getting close to the scores that Jimin was getting just by copying others' answers. Jimin remembers when he had been in that unfortunate position. When he'd watched students do suspiciously well on certain subjects while having time to do other activities, while he, himself, had to study for eight hours straight to get a C on the test.

But Jimin's not part of that unfortunate group of students. He's now pretty damn fortunate.

And he can't stay fortunate if he reports the cheating. Jimin's desperate. He's desperate to obtain decent grades without spilling countless tears and studying from early morning to the next morning after. It's the only reason that he hasn't reported your little group yet.

Besides, Taehyung is seemingly adapting better to this non-student-like lifestyle. He's already joined two theater productions and is applying to work as extras in films and such. And Jungkook's been continuing to work on his album too.

Jimin's friends seem to love being a part of the group.

Maybe Jimin's just salty because he hasn't found his passion yet. Though he doesn't know everyone in your little school cult, it seems like everyone involved in it has a passion, a dream they want to reach for, except for him.

A part of him wants to find a hobby just to say he has one when someone asks. But another, larger, part of him wants a hobby because of greed. Finding a passion and pursuing it meant Jimin would get a higher chance of getting better test grades for texting you about his progress. But Jimin can't just latch on to any existing hobby... He needs some advice.

Well, you'd told him that he should come to you if he needed advice... It's weird to think that he, a junior, has to ask advice from a sophomore. But maybe he's that desperate.

You're usually in your own little private newspaper office (as the Editor-in-Chief). So Jimin decides to give you a visit. But when he walks into the room after school, he sees you comforting a crying girl. Whether she's part of the cult is unclear, but Jimin immediately discerns her as one of those band girls—with frizzy hair, leggings and a boxy t-shirt. The girl's crying so hysterically that Jimin feels uncomfortable intruding. He leaves without another look.

Crying girls are not a good sign; he'll just come back tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes and Jimin walks into your private newspaper room, there is no crying girl to his relief. You're on your computer, probably reading or editing some student-written articles. Jimin feels awkward disrupting you being so focused on your work, but the longer time he spends just waiting for you to finish, the more time he wastes.

So: "Um, hi... Uh, Y/N?" Jimin says. He grabs a chair and pulls it up next to you.

"Oh! Jimin!" you greet him, turning from your computer to face the boy in front of you.

"I came yesterday," Jimin says, shrugging, "but you were busy with someone else... I came back today."

"Ah, you mean Chunseo," you say, nodding. "She was having a hard time yesterday."

Jimin's silent, waiting for you to elaborate, but you don't. It becomes quite clear to him that you don't like to talk about others behind their backs.

"So, what are you here for today?" you chirp. "Advice? Questions? I know everything must be new to you, so I just hope you feel comfortable with the whole system."

"Oh, uh..." Jimin would like to tell you that you're doing a great job and that everything's going fucking great, but that's unfortunately not what comes out of his mouth. "I still don't know what to pursue. I mean, I have so much extra time on my hands now, but I'm just spending it on my phone. My friends have been advancing in their passions, but I have nothing... I was just wondering if you could um, help me? Help me find a passion, maybe? I don't know."

"Hm," you say, looking thoughtfully at Jimin. "I can definitely help you with that..." you trail off, looking Jimin up and down and cocking your head. Jimin thinks you're analyzing him—not just his physical qualities but his personality as well. He feels almost vulnerable under your gaze.

"Have you ever had any hobbies, Jimin?" you ask him.

"That's the thing," he sighs. "No, I haven't."

He looks so miserable that you have to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Hey, it'll be fine, Jimin," you say. "I'm sure it'll come to you one day. A hobby isn't something you should necessarily force out of yourself. When you feel a connection with an activity—when you aren't exactly looking for one—then that meets you've found your hobby. And if you really love this hobby, then it can grow to be your passion. You just need to be patient. Don't worry," you smile, "you'll find something."

Jimin glances at your hand on his arm and then glances up at your face. God, you have a way with words. He feels much better, even though you didn't exactly offer him a cut-out solution.

"Thanks," he says. "I needed that."

"No problem, Jimin," you beam. "I know not having a personal project to work on leaves you with the lower grades, but you're probably only at the A- ranges, right? That's not too bad," you say. "Hm, how about this?"

Oh? It looks like you're going to offer him a plan. So Jimin scoots closer to you on his chair and listens intently for your next words.

"You're a junior, and before you know it, you'll have to write your college apps. Maybe instead of spending time on your phone, you can start with your college essays now? Is that all right to suggest?" you say, cautiously. "It never hurts to get a head start, you know."

You're right. Jimin should probably be productive, just like everyone else in the group. "Yeah," he says. "That's a good idea, actually."

"Great!" you say, clasping your hands together. "And I really appreciate you coming here to tell me the truth. You'd be surprised that a lot of others don't do the same as you."

"Oh..."

"Yeah," you giggle. "Hey, what about this? We'll compromise. I'll ask my boyfriend to change something for you as a thanks from me to you for being open and honest."

"Really??" Jimin says, his eyes growing wide and a small smile appearing on his face. "Thank you!"

You shake your head. "No problem, Jimin. Good luck on your college apps!" you call to him as he leaves the room.

"Thanks!"

Wow.

Jimin's heard a lot of great things about you from his friends, but now he realizes they really weren't kidding. You're a leader, all right. But a balanced one too.

Not only did you offer him emotional support with your words of affirmation but also you showed him a solution—at least a temporary solution to his problem. And you're also incredibly generous as well.

Hm. Now Jimin can't possibly think to report your little cult. Of course, it's still half wrong, what you're doing... But after talking to you, after receiving your feedback and help, there's no way Jimin would be able to double-cross you. As weird as it sounds, you kind of have a nice smile, and he doesn't want to cause you stress or grievances that you're actively trying to avoid with your group. In other words, he doesn't want to be the cause of your frowning.

Jimin's never seen you frown before, but he doesn't exactly want to see it in the future.

"Damn, I was such a bad procrastinator before joining the student group! The study group? The group? I don't even know what to call it," Taehyung laughs. He takes a large gulp of his boba drink and continues, "I feel like being a part of this community is improving my lifestyle. Like seriously, though. I haven't had a normal or healthy lifestyle since eighth grade!"

Jungkook nods vigorously. "Dude, I know! I've never been this productive before I met Y/N! Doesn't it feel so nice to be able to dedicate time to your strongest fucking passions?"

"Duh!" Taehyung says. "Man, what if this makes me peak in happiness in high school?"

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh, but Jimin doesn't find it so amusing.

Instead, he feels a bit left out. While his friends were diving deep into their passions, Jimin had yet to find a hobby. "Why doesn't the group have a name, anyway?" he asks. "Seems kind of inconvenient."

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows at Jimin teasingly. "Because..." he trails off spookily. "A name can always be traced back to the source. Haven't you thought of that?"

"Apparently Y/N did," Taehyung snorts. "Sometimes I wonder how she's so big-brained. God has favorites, I'm telling you."

"She's a fucking legend," Jungkook says. "I would worship her if I wasn't so stubborn about holding onto my dignity."

Jimin laughs, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl doing so. "Too bad she has a boyfriend, huh?" he jokes. "Jungkook sounds like he'd totally hit her up."

"I do not!"

"Sure, bro," Taehyung snickers. "When you talk to her, your pupils dilate."

"They fucking don't!" Jungkook says. "I have my interests elsewhere. Thank you very much!"

"Another girl?" Jimin gasps, placing a hand to his chest in shock. "Who?"

"Not a fucking girl, you bimbo," Jungkook says exasperatedly. "My music! I have interests in music. You guys fucking suck."

Jimin and Taehyung spiral into a fit of laughter. And the teasing and back-and-forth passive-aggressive remarks continued until the boba cups were empty and the three friends realized they talked up enough of a storm.

It used to be rare to meet up like this—because Jimin and Taehyung would always be overwhelmed in schoolwork—but now that their academic life was taken care of by you, they've been able to give themselves healthy breaks.

Jimin feels refreshed albeit a bit tired after parting with his two friends. He decides to walk home because his mother would kill him if she had to pick him up from the boba place when he should be studying at home.

The outside air feels nice against his cheeks, and Jimin finds himself becoming much more attentive to his surroundings. Back when he was a full-time serious Welton student, he couldn't ever spare to look at the intricacies of the vicinity—he always had to jump straight to the point, skipping the little moments to shove his face into his textbooks. It's a nice change.

Jimin notices a whole bunch of stores and studios on his walk home and he takes the time to admire each logo and memorize each name.

Damn. I never even knew some of these places existed...

There's even a dance studio called Hart's Dance Studio that Jimin swears he's never seen. The logo is an eye-catching red with a silhouette of a ballerina jumping over the 'Dance.' Jimin finds himself staring at it. Then, his eyes gravitate to the glass walls where he can see the dancers just... dancing.

And a lot of them are good. Like dancing is as easy as walking to them. But an unmoving figure amongst the active dancers catches Jimin's eyes. When he squints to get a better look, he realizes the stationary figure is you.

You're furiously typing on a laptop, occasionally looking up to watch the dancers once in a while.

What are you doing there? From your skinny jeans and lace top, it doesn't quite look like you're there to dance. Maybe you have a sibling in dance class?

But then again, Jimin remembers that Jungkook had once told him in a hushed whisper that you are definitely an only child... only after you lost your older sister to suicide, that is.

So really, what are you doing there?

Jimin cocks his head at you but realizes how weird it is to stand in front of the studio and stare. So finally, he just walks away.

But you're quite the mysterious figure. You're the exact type of person who makes others want to get to know you. You have an open quality where everyone feels welcome to talk to you, but you're also enigmatic, refusing to tell people a lot about yourself. Jimin sometimes even wonders if he's ever seen you at school with the same friend group. It looks like you're always jumping around.

Maybe you don't like to get to know people in a deep way. It's possible that you're a fan of shallow relationships, which there is nothing wrong with, of course. But then again, you have a boyfriend, whom you seem to really like. You're very hard to crack.

And even when winter break comes, Jimin's still been wondering what you've been doing at the dance studio, typing on your laptop. He's run all kinds of scenarios in his head. Maybe your mom works there? Or your friend dances there? But something inside him tells him whatever reasons he came up with are incorrect.

Meanwhile, Jimin's still waiting to find a hobby. He's already been to Taehyung's play and listened to the rough draft of Jungkook's album. But nothing seems to give him the inspiration that he needs.

Jimin just decides to go on a walk. The cold winter air nips at his skin, so he tightens his coat around himself, breathing steadily as he looks around at his surroundings. It's then when he finds himself stopped in front of Hart's Dance Studio.

He walks a bit closer to get a better look into the glass windows. And he smiles when he sees you. There is no one else around you, but you don't seem to mind. This time, however, you're not vigorously typing on your keyboard. You're... dancing.

Jimin doesn't know what prompted him to enter the dance studio, but the next thing he knows, he's inside.

You don't see him because your eyes are closed. Jimin takes the time to notice that you're wearing a simple black outfit consisting of a tank top and leggings. Your feet are left completely bare.

But the strangest part—you're not dancing with music. It explains your rather awkward movements. As if you can see yourself dance freely in your head, but you can't quite execute it in reality. Still, no matter how awkward you look, you radiate a majestic aura. So much so that from far away, you could look like a professional dancer.

Jimin doesn't realize he's staring until you startle him.

"Hey! Jimin!" you say. Your eyes are bright and wide open now and you wave at Jimin, motioning him over to you. "Hi!"

"Hi," Jimin agrees as he walks closer to you. "I didn't know you danced. Is that your passion?"

"Oh, god no," you giggle, shaking your head. "God forbid, no. It's for this book I'm writing!"

It finally makes sense. She's part of the school newspaper, and I'd seen her typing on her laptop.

"What kind of book?" Jimin asks curiously as he sits down on one of the metal benches in the dance room.

You take a sip of water from your water bottle before smiling. "It's this fictional book about a broken dancer. I'm an aspiring author! I've really been trying to get into my character and experience dancing so I can write her more realistically!"

"Oh, wow," Jimin laughs. "That's dedication."

"It's what I do to try to get good content," you say. "How's your winter break been going, by the way?"

"Pretty uneventful," Jimin says, leaning back on the bench. "I wrote and rewrote five drafts of my college essays. I don't think writing's my thing."

You laugh. "Well, we can rule that out in the list of possible hobbies you can partake in."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees. "I'm still trying to find—but not actively look for—a hobby."

"It's hard," you shrug. "You shouldn't stress too much about it, Jimin. I'm telling you, it's gonna come. I can see you be so dedicated. You just have to wait until the time's right."

"Sometimes I feel like my time will never come," Jimin admits. "Taehyung's already been writing, directing and filming his own short film these days and Jungkook's adding four more tracks to his album. I don't know whether I should feel inspired or pressured."

You shake your head. "You need to get out of your competitive mindset, Jimin," you say. "Realize that you should be doing things on your own time. Everyone has different paces, you know. Maybe you should take your mind off of everything you've been thinking of these days. Wanna dance with me?"

Your question catches Jimin off guard. "Sorry, what?"

"Would you like to dance with me?" you repeat, giggling. "Sorry, it was kinda abrupt but my character needs to experience partner dancing and so do I to write that scene. I've already asked Yoongi, but he won't budge! That boy hates dancing! So maybe you can dance with me?"

"Uh," Jimin awkwardly fidgets his fingers. "I've never exactly danced before."

You snort. "Well, honestly me too. I suck. But whatever, you know? We're going to try."

"What kind of dance?" Jimin says. "I think the only dance steps I've ever learned were the square dancing steps from fourth grade."

"We could try waltzing," you say. "It's pretty simple, I think. C'mon!"

You drag Jimin to the dance floor, guiding his right hand to lay on your back and taking his left hand in yours. Jimin feels awkwardly close to you, but when you laugh and joke about how preposterous the two of you must look, he feels a little more comfortable.

"This might end up with me stepping on your feet constantly," you say apologetically, "but I'm trying to capture the feeling of dancing with a partner. So essentially, it's the emotions that count, not the physical steps."

Jimin laughs. "I'll try not to step on your feet."

"No way," you say. "How are you better at this than I am right now? I thought you said you didn't know how to dance!"

"I don't!" Jimin protests.

But something feels right. Something kind of clicks. And the moment Jimin parts from you and rushes home, he watches dance videos online. He finds out that there are many genres, and the ones he finds the most moving are contemporary and lyrical. There has never been something that has enamored him more.

Jimin irrevocably and quite willingly falls into the rabbit hole of dance.

It's been two weeks since Jimin danced a simple waltz with you at Hart's Dance Studio, but the time seems to have flown by too quickly. The next time Jimin passes by the studio, you're still trying to dance. And when he walks in to greet you, he's met by music. You're dancing to music this time!

"Hi, Y/N," Jimin speaks over the music, breaking you from your reverie.

"Oh, gosh! Jimin! Hi!" you say, immediately turning to pause the song. "Long time no see! How's school?"

"Great," he answers. "Um, just thought I would visit the studio. Do you still need a dancing partner?"

You grin. "Well, kind of," you say. "I need to see an amateur dancer do a little improv routine. Do you mind? I tried doing it myself and recording it, but it's just not fun seeing myself be a fool on camera."

Jimin laughs. "I don't mind at all."

You gesture to the dance floor. "It's all yours."

"Thank you."

Jimin stares curiously at the dance floor, the bright lights flooding the whole room. He feels like he's on stage, but he likes that feeling. He closes his eyes and sees the hundreds of dance videos he binge-watched every day for hours. And then he dances.

Somewhere along the way, you turned the music back on, which makes it even easier for Jimin to dance. He moves instinctively, fluidly like he's water. And he stops only when he finds himself out of breath.

Your jaw is dropped open when Jimin opens his eyes.

"Jimin!" you exclaim, hands thrown in the air. "You're a natural! How did you do that? What the heck??"

Jimin shrugs bashfully, shrugging. He doesn't mention the hours and hours of stretching and practicing he had done before coming here. There would've been no way he would have agreed to improv dance for you if he hadn't felt so confident. And it's funny. Dancing is the only thing Jimin's found in his life that makes him feel self-confident so far. He would've never expected it.

"You should enroll in this studio!" you say. "With some training... You could do great things, Jimin, I mean it!"

Jimin's not too sure about that. Yes, he likes to dance, and maybe it was a hobby. But enrolling in the studio meant full-time commitment. He isn't so sure if he is ready for that. He isn't sure his parents are ready for that.

"Okay," Jimin says. "I'll um, think about it." But not really.

It's like you can see right through his lie, though. "Oh, okay," you say. "Then maybe you can practice dancing in this studio by yourself. I'm friends with the owner so she lets me swing by whenever I want. Wanna meet here every Friday? I could use a beginning dancer like you to really write a story about a dancer's progression."

Jimin's face lights up. Getting to dance one day a week in an actual dance studio?? "Yeah, sure!" Jimin says. "I'd really love to." Now I have an excuse to go to the studio and dance.

This could be the start of something great.

The start of something great it was. Fridays quickly become Jimin's favorite day of the week. After school, he rushes to the studio to meet you and work on learning the basics of dance by watching tutorial videos on the internet. Usually, he works in silence—except for the clicking sounds of your laptop, but today, when he strides onto the dance floor, you're waiting for him in the middle.

"Do you have music requests?" you ask him, scrolling through your phone as if you are deep in thought. "I always feel like it's easier to express yourself with the music you actually like."

"Music?" Jimin frowns. "I, um, don't listen to music that much."

Your jaw drops. "What??"

"I don't even have earphones," he laughs awkwardly.

"You don't have what??"

And that was all it took for you to teach Jimin music for the whole day. You went through the hundreds of songs in your playlists, putting Jimin on the dance floor and making him dance to the songs he likes best. By the end of the session, Jimin still feels like he's soaring. His heart in his chest beats to the rhythm of the music. When he steps out of the dance studio and parts ways with you, he can't help but wish it were next Friday.

But at least he has a whole week to go music hunting. Jimin's never been much of a music man, but he's found that certain songs make him want to dance. He'll search them out and practice with them in the following days.

At school, Jimin feels like a mindless machine. He's still on the fence about cheating the system that's supposed to help him; the ethical part of Jimin wants him to stop—of course it's nothing against you. Jimin just thinks that if the system to help the students exists, every student should be involved. Even he was invited into the group much later (and technically, at first, he was forced to join for catching a meeting in progress).

Yet at the same time, Jimin owes it to you and your group that he's able to do what makes him happy. And he can't bear the thought of betraying you.

At home, Jimin lies on his bed, listening to all of the songs you showed him on repeat. His family doesn't have any music streaming services so he secretly started a three month free trial on iTunes. But he knew his parents wouldn't approve of his music taste (they usually don't approve of anything too teenager-y, so Jimin borrows his father's pair of earbuds.

Jimin didn't know, but earbuds bring a whole new dimension to music. He lies face up, closing his eyes as he pictures himself jumping, dancing, moving to the sweet rhythms of the songs. It's like he's been introduced to a whole new world.

Friday rolls around way too slowly for Jimin's taste, but when he's finally there, talking to you and dancing upon your request, it feels like he's on cloud nine. Today, you ask Jimin to describe what it feels to dance.

Jimin's not exactly very good with his words but he tries his best.

"I don't know," he says at first, blushing as he looks down at the brightly lit dance floor. "It makes me feel like... how do I say it? Like I'm just in a vast room with no one but myself? The moment I hear a good song, I just get this heavy gut feeling to move, I guess. And then I see the colors and the movements... And I dance."

"A vast room?" you say in awe as you unceasingly type across the expanse of your keyboard. "Elaborate, please."

"I guess it feels like I'm on my own stage. And it's a good thing because it feels like no one's watching me," Jimin says. "Uh, kinda like I'm dancing for myself. I'm dancing to express how I feel. And if there's someone watching, I don't really feel it because I'm so uh... I'm so..."

"Enraptured by your own world?" you finish for him.

"Exactly!"

You smile. "Thank you, Jimin! You meeting me here every Friday is so helpful. I really don't know how to thank you properly."

"Oh," Jimin shakes his head. "You've helped me so much already. There's nothing you could possibly do to help me better."

After exchanging a few more words with Jimin, you deem that you have to go home early to celebrate your mother's birthday. Jimin bids you farewell, but he remains in the studio. It feels empty without you, but it doesn't really matter. He's always by himself when he dances, anyway.

Jimin turns on his music, which echoes across the dance room, ringing against the walls and thumping in his chest. He can't stop himself from moving. His body twists graciously and he leaps across the dance floor as the synths in the song sing their melodious tones. He's so into the dance that he doesn't notice a tall woman watching him in the background.

Jimin finishes off his improv dance by striking a majestic pose he had come up with himself a few days ago. He didn't expect anyone to clap when he had finished, but there was this sharp-looking woman who was applauding and smiling at him approvingly.

"O-Oh," Jimin stutters. "I'm so sorry. Uh, Y/N left a bit earlier so I just thought it was okay to stay..."

"You're Jimin!" the lady says. "I'm Miss Hart. I run this dance studio. Y/N's told me how talented you are."

Jimin blushes. "I don't know about talented."

Miss Hart shakes her head, walking closer to Jimin in graceful strides akin to that of a ballerina. "I want to offer you a spot in my dance studio. This is a personal offer."

"I-I, uh," Jimin stutters. He's caught off guard by this sudden invitation and he looks left to right in a very panicked manner. "I-I don't think my parents will allow it... Um, sorry... I have to, um, go..."

He flees before Miss Hart can get another word out of him.

It's the sad truth. Jimin's parents would likely never approve of his current hobby—even listening to music while he studied was a stretch for them. But the more Jimin thinks about Miss Hart's offer, the more he realizes how great of an opportunity that is for him to progress in the path to find his true passion.

As nerve-wracking as is it, during dinner, Jimin asks his parents if it would be okay if he started taking dance lessons. Their reactions aren't as severe as he had expected, but his parents still seem pretty surprised.

"Isn't it too late to start something new?" his mother says. "You're a junior now, Jimin. You should already know what you're good at."

"I agree with your mother," his father says. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I don't know," Jimin answers truthfully. "It just happened. I really, really like it though..."

Jimin's father raises his eyebrows. "Really?" he sighs. "I don't think so, Jimin. Think about it. I know your grades are good right now, but now you should be busy with getting ready for college, shouldn't you?"

Jimin had expected this. "Oh..."

"And have you been taking my earbuds?" his father says.

"Oh, yeah... sorry," Jimin winces. "I'll give them back right now." He trudges up the stairs, feeling dejected and miserable at the same time. He decides to give the earbuds one last listen, plugging them into his phone and placing the buds in his ears. The familiar light-hearted, serene music floods into his head. Jimin can't help it. His eyes close, his mouth parts and he begins to move. His feet take him across his room, leaping over textbooks and dirty socks as his arms move fluidly to support his upper body.

Time has a mind of its own when Jimin enters the dancing world.

He doesn't notice an audience member at the entrance of his room. Jimin's father stares at his son, taken aback by the pure emotion and passion put into such a performance. He cannot hear Jimin's music, but he is able to feel it through Jimin's movements. Jimin's father watches the dance a bit longer, then leaves. When Jimin tries to return the earbuds to his father, he rejects them. "Keep the earbuds," he tells his son. "I don't need them anymore."

On Saturday morning, Jimin's surprised when his father calls him downstairs to talk. Truth be told, Jimin's a little nervous to have a serious one-on-one talk with his father. But his anxiousness melts away when his father asks:

"Have you been learning dance by yourself?"

Jimin perks up. "Uh, yeah! Um, well, kind of. I just saw YouTube videos... And I go to a dance studio every Friday with a friend to um, practice..."

"What studio?"

Jimin freezes. "H-Hart's dance studio?"

Jimin's father nods. "All right. Here's the deal. The moment your grades slip, you're going to have to quit, okay? Let's go enroll you right now."

Jimin almost faints from the sheer amount of happiness.

It is official. Jimin is to have private dance lessons (to make up for being such a late starter) once a week. This was a bit like a trial run; Jimin might get more lessons per week if he really decided to pursue dance.

And now that Jimin's actually a student at the studio, he can come in to practice anytime he wants! Which was every day after school for three hours.

When Jimin tells you the good news on Friday, you insist that you ditch today's dance-writing sessions and get some celebratory boba.

It's the first time Jimin's with you, alone, outside of school, without being in the confines of the dance studio. If he didn't know any better, this felt like more than two friends meeting up on a Friday afternoon. It felt like a date.

You're rather chatty with Jimin, making him feel comfortable and trying to get to know him better. But it comes to the point that Jimin wants to get to know you. So he finally asks the question he had been dying to know the answer to since he'd first met you in the dance studio.

"Do you mind if I ask what your book is about?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" you say, aggressively sipping your boba as you think. "Hm, okay, well, I kind of changed the plot halfway through... So now instead of a broken dancer, the story's about this newborn dancer who realizes her talents rather late in her life, but she throws all of her doubts—and others' doubts—away because she realizes if she's passionate about something, it doesn't really matter how long she's been pursuing it. What matters is that she is pursuing it in the present."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Yeah," you giggle, tucking back a strand of your hair behind your ear. "It's a coming of age story. I want it to be heartbreaking, bittersweet and heart-wrenching." You sip your boba. "But I might have to rewrite a lot of scenes because I'm thinking about changing the gender of the main character from female to male. I think it feels more right."

"Oh, that's gonna be a lot of work," Jimin says.

"But it's going to be worth it."

Jimin nods. Of course it will be. You put your best effort into everything. "Do you know what your title is going to be yet?"

"Eh," you laugh, shrugging goofily. "I'll think of it one day."

The light-hearted conversation takes a twist as the outside of the boba place gets darker and the afternoon morphs into the night. Jimin finds himself talking about his personal struggles as an "average" Welton student. He reflects vocally upon the times in which he had to beg to receive an A in his classes. The times in which he despised himself and didn't understand the exact point of life. The times when he was existing and not living.

It's then when you reveal your own darkest moments. And what lies beneath the smiling curtains was a murky past.

Your freshman year at Welton hit you like a bomb—it was the same year that Jimin had been suffering in the depths of sophomore year's turmoil. You became miserable, competing for first place in your classes in subject matters that you had no interest in. The tests contained little material about understanding and more about the nitty-gritty details (that were barely significant). You used to write your stories the moment you came home from school until you had to go to bed. But now, you would be lucky if you could even get a few paragraphs down before being pressured into studying something tediously and frankly, useless. It drove you nuts.

To the point that you were tempted to be pulled under into the dark world of self-hatred and suicidal thoughts. Your older sister had jumped off a building when you were only eight; you watched her stuck in a coma in the hospital with twelve broken bones until she died in her sleep. So you figured if your sister did it, so could you.

But slowly, gradually, rationality took charge of your head, driving out the demons. You garnered your anger and self-hatred towards Welton and not yourself. And during the last few weeks of school in your freshman year, you decided that you were going to make a system to help every student in need—for those with big dreams but little time.

Jimin watches and listens in awe as you continue to tell your story.

"I met Yoongi in freshman year when I was interviewing him for winning first place in a tech comp so I could write about him in the school newspaper," you explain. "He was the first person I told my idea to. And then from the summer between freshman and sophomore year, I planned the whole system. Yoongi assisted me a bit, too, but I didn't want him to be burdened."

Or, Jimin thinks, you don't trust other people.

"Yeah, and then we really kicked off," you say.

"Wait, you and Yoongi? Or the whole system you created?"

"Both," you grin. "Yoongi and I started dating during the summer. And as you can tell, our whole group flourished too. Now you're here!"

"The group's relatively new then," Jimin says. "So um, I don't know if I can ask but, how many people are really involved?"

You smile, shaking your head and denying Jimin an answer. "The trick that I use to run this system is to never trust anyone."

"Oh... wow. Not even your boyfriend?"

"Oh, it's the people you're closest to that end up failing you. Just ask my sister," you shrug. "And you never know. You aren't still thinking of reporting me, are you? I know you were contemplating that for a while..."

"O-Oh!" Jimin stutters. "Oh, shit. No, uh, definitely no. Not anymore. God, I didn't know you knew. I'm sorry."

"It's really no matter," you tell him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I think it was really nice talking to you. When we usually meet up, you're dancing and I'm taking notes or writing so this is a really nice change."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees. "I had a lot of fun, getting to know you." He glances at his watch for a split second and his eyes turn huge. "Shit, Y/N, it's almost 10 p.m.!"

That's when Jimin's able to notice that there is no one else in the boba place except you and him. The store must be closing soon. And the outside is nearly pitch black.

"Oh, wow, we've been talking for a long time," you laugh. "I guess that means we'll have to leave, huh?"

Jimin wants to be in your company for longer, but he nods, agreeing with you. "Yeah, I guess," he says. "I'll see you on Monday?"

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Goodnight, then, Jimin."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

Jimin's now been getting dance lessons three times a week now, and according to Miss Hart, he's improving at an alarming rate. Miss Hart proudly tells Jimin and his parents that he would be able to compete in local dance comps in three months and easily place.

"The boy's born to dance," Jimin overhears his teacher tell his father. He repeats those words over and over again to himself until he falls asleep that night.

His parents took his success in dance a whole different way. Immediately, Jimin was to train his muscles and stretch every day to accommodate three days' worth of hardcore lessons. And he was also ordered to join the school dance team—even though Jimin tried to tell his parents that tryouts had already been held ages ago.

But when Jimin expresses his problems to you, you bring a solution the very next day. Apparently, you had some inside sources in the dance team; you just had to pull a few strings, and the next thing he knew, Jimin was in Welton's elite dance team.

For the first time in the cult, no, group meetings, Jimin has something to show. He's able to track his progress by videos and live performances that you watch on Fridays. With all the advancement in his newfound passion, you reward Jimin with the second-highest scores on every exam (because the highest scores were reserved for the "experts").

Jimin's now sitting at the peak of a figurative mountain. His grades are soaring. His passion is soaring. He feels like his whole life has become a never-ending, high-velocity dance.

And he loves it.

There are no more meetings left after this one, you explain to all of the students. It's the last meeting for it's the week before finals. The school year will end soon, which is a huge relief to every Welton student.

You claim that outsmarting the teachers with the finals would be easy, especially with your advanced system, so there was really no need to worry. The meeting is short, concise and sweet. You douse everyone with your love and passion and thoroughly thank each and every individual for allowing another wonderful school year.

The meeting ends on a great note. You tell everyone that you have great plans for next year. Something that'll top the bomb threat. Something that'll effectively help the students and put the teachers and administrative staff to shame.

Everybody is excited.

The first time Jimin meets you during the summer is in the dance studio. He'd dressed in his workout clothes but still had enough self-dignity to spritz some cologne and put on some deodorant before seeing you.

But when he walks into the studio, he finds that you're not alone—you're with your boyfriend. Laughing. Joking. Touching. Yoongi has his arm around you and you have a casual hand placed on his thigh, leaning into him as you talk animatedly to your boyfriend.

Yikes. Jimin thinks it's going to be awkward before he actually feels awkward.

You and Yoongi really seem to like the time you're spending together and Jimin doesn't exactly want to interrupt. And there's something about the way that Yoongi tugs you closer and looks at you with sparkling mirth in his eyes that sets Jimin off.

He quickly recognizes the feeling as jealousy. It confuses Jimin even more.

Oh, fuck it.

"Hi, Y/N!" he says, waving at you. "Hey, Yoongi."

You stand up immediately rushing to greet Jimin as Yoongi stays in his spot, nodding his salutations to Jimin. "Yoongi just wanted to know what I was doing every Friday after I said no to a fifth Friday night date," you giggle. "Is it okay if he joins us today?"

"Of course," Jimin says. "I don't mind."

I kind of do.

Meeting at the dance studio was an activity exclusive to you and Jimin only... It's weird to see Yoongi butt in.

"Okay, great. Thanks!" you say. "Just do your thing, and I'll be taking notes as usual!"

Jimin nods, bracing himself to dance after he turns on the song he'd been listening endlessly these days. But today, he feels stiff. Rigid. Something's not quite right.

Today, he doesn't feel like he's on a stage alone. He feels someone watching him from the audience with scrutiny. Suddenly, Jimin can't move. He feels trapped in his own world. When he turns to look at you, he finds that you and Yoongi are immersed in a deep conversation. You're usually watching his every move.

Jimin tries to focus again, closing his eyes to immerse himself into the music. But he can't do it. Not when you and Yoongi are talking like that. Shit. Why is that so distracting?

Jimin figures one day of giving up practice wouldn't kill him. He turns off the music and walks over to you and Yoongi and plops down on the bench.

You smile but Jimin watches as Yoongi flinches just slightly, and a disgruntled look flashes across his face just briefly. Jimin ignores him.

"Yoongi and I were just talking about legacy," you explain to Jimin. "You know, what we'll leave at Welton High School."

"Oh, wow. You'll be leaving a whole elaborate system," Jimin says. "But what's going to happen to it when you've graduated?"

You shrug. "We'll have to wait and see," you say teasingly.

"I'll already be gone by that time," Jimin huffs.

"We'll keep in contact," you say. "I promise."

It's a small promise but Jimin's heart skips a beat. He wonders if you'd still be dating Yoongi then.

Why am I like this? This definitely isn't the right time.

Maybe Yoongi senses Jimin's thoughts because he tugs you closer to him. "Come on, babe, do we have to stay here forever? I want to take you out on a date..."

"Aw, Yoongs," you coo. "I don't know... Maybe the three of us can go get boba or something?"

"Babe..." Yoongi whines softly, intertwining your hand with his.

Jimin watches the movement and another pang of jealousy hits his chest, this time larger than the last. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you. Jimin concludes that he's not jealous because Yoongi is your boyfriend, he is jealous because he's stealing you away when he and you should be hanging out.

But he doesn't exactly want to get in the way of Yoongi, who already seems to dislike Jimin for hanging around his girlfriend.

So Jimin shrugs. "I don't want to intrude on a date. It's fine, Y/N, enjoy your date night."

Yoongi shoots Jimin a grateful look and even lets out a beaming smile. "Really, Jimin? Thanks!" you say.

Jimin has to admit, seeing you skip away with Yoongi arm in arm makes him happier. Fuck, no. He's starting to mirror your emotions.

This isn't a very good sign.

Jimin's right. It isn't a very good sign. He's starting to feel weird around you—emotions that he can't quite explain or justify with words.

The more he hangs out with you, the more he notices little things about you—your little habits, your speech patterns, your dimples when you smile...

It comes to the point, you confess to him one day, "You know, Jimin, I've been hanging out with you more than my boyfriend."

Jimin feels honored by that, "Well, I've been hanging out with you more than my own to friends."

And it's true. Taehyung's been busy with his theater things and has picked up a girl along the way—the girl who was notorious for spilling tears arbitrarily. Jungkook's got his eye on some shy girl Jimin doesn't really know. So the friend group's already pretty split up. But Jimin doesn't really mind as much as he should. He and his friends are happy and have split to pursue their interests. There are no regrets.

Sometimes, when Jimin notices the blush on your cheeks after he teases you, he wonders how you truly feel about him. If all the time you spent around him was doing any good.

"I guess we've become quite the team?" you smile, nudging Jimin's shoulder. "I would've never been able to come up with a revamped idea for my book without you."

"I don't think I would've come this far in dance without you."

"No, it's your pure talent," you say. "I didn't do anything." You giggle, admiring the ruffles on Jimin's dance costume. "Break a leg out there, Jimin. I know you'll kill it in the solo division."

"Thanks, Y/N. I swear, I'm not even that nervous."

That's a lie. Jimin's so nervous he's been feeling like he needed to use the bathroom for two hours now. What if I forget a step? What if I'm offbeat for a split second? What if I trip on my costume? What if the wrong song plays?

There's absolutely no pressure that you've offered to come to watch Jimin dance to write about a dance competition in your book. Jimin has to get his routine down perfectly unless he wants to wind up embarrassing himself and disappointing his eager parents. He needs to be perfect. Maybe to impress you.

But this will be the first time that Jimin will be on stage with a true audience. Even though he will dance like he's the only one in the world, he will have hundreds of watchers and a panel of judges who will scrutinize his every move.

Jimin tugs at the ruffles of his white blouse and looks to the stage nervously.

"Hey, you've got this," you whisper to him, patting his shoulder. "What matters is dancing. It doesn't matter what place you get."

You're right. Jimin's here to dance. He is not here to flaunt his talents to others; he is here to make his own progress for himself, for his passion. What matters is that he has fun on stage.

Jimin keeps that in mind when he walks on the platform. The lights shine down on him, and his ears ring incessantly. But as soon as the cello begins to let out its low, elegant sound, he dances. The music envelops his body, and he sees nothing but colors. There is no need to think of which step is next when it comes to him naturally. He twists and turns accordingly to the rueful tones of the oboe, leaps at the entrance of the violins and finishes the dance with a grand pose in the middle of the stage.

He doesn't hear the clapping when he shakily gets off the platform.

Jimin's numb. He can't remember the performance, nor can he remember if he had gotten all of his steps right. But when you lunge at him with open arms and a bouquet of flowers (that you hadn't had before) in your hands, none of his performance matters anymore.

"JIMIN!" you screech at him, almost knocking him over with the force of your hug. "YOU WERE AMAZING!"

He's so taken aback, he can't answer, just holding you to his chest as you laugh happily in his arms.

"I hope you don't mind that I recorded the performance," you tell him. "It was just... wow. I can't even think of words to describe it because... wow."

Jimin pulls away from you, grinning wildly and his heart thumping in his chest—from post-dancing or from hugging you, he doesn't really know.

"Was it that good?"

"Yes!" you say. "Come on, we just have to wait to see how you placed. Not that it matters."

And it really didn't. Even though Jimin took home silver, otherwise known as second place, everyone—his parents, Miss Hart, you—was proud of him. No one could argue that his dancing was the most emotional—the most beautiful. The dance competition was only the beginning of Jimin's journey.

Now it's even more normal for you and him to hang out. Even outside the dance studio to just talk and keep each other's company. Anyone can find you typing on your laptop and Jimin dancing and think it's a normal occurrence. Especially with the two of you on summer break, it became insanely frequent to spend a whole day out together.

Sometimes it seems as though you're flirting with him, but Jimin just tells himself that it's his imagination. You have Yoongi, for fuck's sake. You would never go after Jimin because you've said it yourself—you and he are best friends.

Yet it's socially unacceptable, apparently, to only be friends with the opposite gender (especially a younger opposite gender in Jimin's case) and expect the relationship to be purely platonic. Jimin's been noticing you stealing a couple of extra glances at him when he stretches before he dances. And he's been guilty of staring at you when you write because he likes how focused you can get in your typing sprees.

A couple of times, Jimin swears he could've leaned in to kiss you. But being rejected scares him away to ever take the chance. Besides, he doesn't want to come between you and Yoongi. That would be unfair and immature of him.

God, Jimin's mind is mixed up and his feelings are confused. He's not ready to admit it to himself yet, though. So he stays confused until a new school year comes around.

Being a senior opens up Jimin's eyes, and he realizes he had been just plain stupid—and blind. He likes you.

Fuck.

It's not a question of when these feelings had developed, but a question of why. You have a boyfriend. Jimin's already a senior, which means he'll be gone next year. You're the leader of a group—that's practically a cult, according to Google—and you keep secrets from everyone no matter how much you love them. It's just not going to happen.

And if it did happen, then what about Yoongi? He's an essential member of your group. If you break up with him to be with Jimin, assuming that you even feel the same way, then what might Yoongi do? Would he ditch your group and let it fall to the ground? Would he report you and your system to administration? Would he get revenge on Jimin?

No way is Jimin going to get involved.

He should've seen it coming. He should've prevented himself from completely falling for you the moment you started caring for him, hanging out with him, helping him... But he didn't and now he doesn't know what to do.

Well, actually, he does.

Jimin's just going to simply get rid of his feelings for you for his own sake and yours. He just won't see you for a couple of months, and by then, his feelings for you would be gone, vanished into thin air. At least, that's what he hopes.

So, Jimin creates an elaborate plan of his own to avoid you for several months, max. He secretly changes his dance lesson times and tells Miss Hart to keep his schedule from you. And when his teacher inquires why, Jimin makes up a bullshitted lie that he wants to surprise you with his next performance. Then, he skips all of his individual practices and dances at home instead so you won't be able to find him. He even misses scheduled group meetings, texting you that he was sick (when he was only lovesick).

She's just using me to write her story, Jimin tells himself. I'm nothing but a character for her.

Deep down inside, Jimin knows that's false, but he makes himself believe it. Maybe it'll help him dislike you—which isn't exactly possible—but it could at least help him stop liking you.

But it turns out that maybe you never liked Jimin the way he liked you. All too soon, Jimin finds out from Miss Hart that you haven't been coming to the dance studio, so he switches his lessons back to his normal time. You've stopped texting him about coming to group meetings too. Which was strange because Jimin was still given homework copies and test answers when he needed them.

Maybe you took the hint that Jimin didn't want anything to do with you? Jimin doesn't know.

He does know that still, every time he thinks of you, he thinks of a generous, beautiful, mature, thoughtful person who chases after her own dreams and encourages others to do the same. It's hard to stop liking you, in other words.

Already, finals week is around the corner. Jimin has a few suspicions that you're going to hatch a complex plan again to put an end to student stress altogether, but he wouldn't know because he hasn't been attending the meetings. But whatever you were planning, it would be better than the last bomb threat for sure. Because you were always looking to improve, to better yourself to help others.

God, fucking shit. Jimin can't seem to think of one bad thing about you.

His days are spent dancing mostly as he'd submitted his college apps early (thanks to your suggestion), but he also can't get you out of his mind. Your absence makes him grieve for your presence. But he can't give up now. He doesn't want to show up in front of you one day and have to explain why he avoided you for months.

So he continues with his plan.

It's the Friday before finals week.

Jimin sits around in the corner of his school's dance room as the rest of his teammates go over the routine for the winter dance competition. He'd told the captain that he was getting a bad migraine, so he was allowed to sit out for the rest of the practice.

In reality, Jimin can't stop thinking about you. He knows you're here, after school, in your newspaper room, finishing up your last edits before publishing the paper on Saturday. He wonders if you'll welcome him if he meets you. He wonders if he should apologize for avoiding you. Maybe he can get rid of his feelings by hanging out with you more. Or he'll just act like the two of you are best friends and pretend he doesn't want anything more than a platonic relationship.

Jimin doesn't know what courses through his veins to make him stand up.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he murmurs, trudging out of the dance room and outside. He'll have to cross the quad to reach the newspaper room. Jimin nervously checks his watch. 4:42 p.m., it reads. You usually leave by 4:45 p.m., so Jimin doesn't have much time.

Or maybe he shouldn't go to you at all? He hesitates, lurching forward but taking a step back.

He sees another girl, not that far away from him, walking across the quad. There's a boy behind her, yelling "Wait up!" as he tries to catch up with her while holding a stack of heavy textbooks. The girl looks back around and laughs, taking half of the boy's stack and nudging his shoulder. They continue to walk across the quad, side by side. They must be dating.

Jimin quickly recognizes the tall boy to be Namjoon, his acquaintance, and as soon as he's about to wave, there's a loud bang!

Jimin flinches. Was that a...? He can't quite believe it. But there's a lot he didn't believe but still has come true at Welton High School. Or maybe this was another one of your plans. Fake a school shooting to cancel finals. He wouldn't know. He didn't attend the meetings.

But the blood rushes out of his face and it dawns on him that this is reality as he watches Namjoon's girlfriend fall to the ground in slow motion. His own breath quickens and his eyes are alert but he's almost frozen. No. This has to be fake. This has to be a trick. There's another bang! and this time, Namjoon lurches forward, hitting the ground with a resonating thump.

Jimin's frantic, trying to find the source of the loud bangs. Maybe Namjoon and his girlfriend are part of the group. Maybe it's all a plan. Time flies too quickly and slowly at the same time. Jimin sees blood leaking from the girl as she lay face down on the cement. Namjoon is knocked unconscious. That has to be fake. You can buy fake blood, right?

But deep down inside, Jimin knows the truth. He panics. It's hard to breathe.

Then there's another bang. Jimin feels searing heat engulf his chest. He feels himself fall backward, and he clutches his wet chest—not in pain but in shock.

He tilts upwards, and his last view is of the soft gray clouds in the darkened sky.

Then everything becomes black.

Two students, two seniors are reported to be dead. One shot in the head, another in the heart. One has miraculously survived a gunshot wound and is being treated in the hospital.

"Do you know them?" you say in a shaky breath.

Your boyfriend hugs you. "You know one of them..."

"Oh, god," you whimper. You can hear the police and see the bright flashing red and blue lights from afar. "The shooter was targeting students involved in after school activities. How cowardly. When there would be fewer adults around. They were looking to attack the students."

"I know, babe," Yoongi says. "The girl... she was part of the volleyball team. Her boyfriend is the one who survived, apparently. And the other boy... He... He was on the dance team."

Your eyes turn wide as you pull away from your boyfriend. "H-He..."

"Jimin, Y/N. It was Jimin."

You feel like you're falling down a pitch-black abyss with no one to catch you or help you. "A-Are you sure it was him?" you manage to whisper. "What was he doing outside the dance room?" you sob, throwing yourself into Yoongi's chest as your boyfriend tries to comfort you.

"Park Jimin, yeah... It was him," Yoongi says, petting your back. "I heard from the dance captain that he was having a bad day. Something about migraines..."

You can't speak. Nor can you even think straight.

"Jimin's body was found significantly away from the other two," Yoongi says. "He could've run away."

A heavy weight tugs at your heart and you let out another sob of despair. "Yoongi, he could've thought it was fake."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it?? He thought it was like the bomb threat!—fake! Planned! God!" you shriek, pushing Yoongi away and standing up, starting to walk around in frantic circles. "I killed him, Yoongi! I fucking killed him!"

You collapse on the ground with your hands on your head. "I killed him..."

"You didn't kill him, Y/N," Yoongi says. He crouches down with you. "Hey, it wasn't your fault. He's the one who wasn't coming to your meetings. If he did, he would've known we weren't going to pull off a stunt like that until next year's finals."

You shake your head, hitting your forehead repeatedly with your palm. "It doesn't matter, Yoongi! I should've never faked such a serious ordeal!"

"Y/N..."

"I deserved to be out there in the quad."

"You're the students' hero, babe... Don't think otherwise."

"Oh? Really?" you scream. "If I really were a hero, then why the hell was the school shooter a student from our school, huh? I obviously wasn’t keeping everyone happy!"

Yoongi falls silent.

"I don't care what you say, Yoongi," you say, your voice shaking from anger and devastation. "I failed. I tried making a system, but it didn't work... And now, people are dead... And I never got to say goodbye..." And he was avoiding me for months. I never got to know why...

"Hey, hey. Your system is perfect, baby," Yoongi answers. "It just doesn't work on psycho murderers."

That makes sense, too.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi," you say. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. Thank you. For comforting me. God, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," he says. "Things will be fine." He pauses. "You know, on the bright side, they might cancel finals."

[2 years later]

The moment you graduated out of the hellhole of a school, you discontinued your idea of a school revolt, and your system collapsed without you nurturing it.

Welton High School went under investigation after hundreds of parents and students protested. Counselors were fired and replaced. Administration was put on probation. It didn't take until two students' murders to fix things.

Funny.

Three student suicides weren't enough for them to realize something was wrong with the school.

You're bitter, but you try not to let it get in your way. Jimin will never get full justice because he will never get the life he deserved back. He was supposed to win hundreds of dance competitions. He was supposed to get to the end of the path of his dreams. But his life cut him short.

You dedicate your debut novel to him.

Now, when you walk around a supermarket, a library, a bookstore, you see your book on the stands or stacked up on tables. The white cover contrasts from the title inked in a black font: To Jimin (It's About Time I Told You I Love You).

The book tells the tale of Jimin. A newborn dancer who becomes tangled in the depths of a rigorous high school. There's one twist, though.

The story is told from a girl's perspective. A girl who loves Jimin, but never admits her feelings until it's too late. She watches him grow, blossom and become a star. But she isn't there for him when he dies.

She is you.

And you think it's about time you admit to yourself that you loved Jimin. Except he probably never loved you.

—masterpost

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #jimin #park jimin #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #insurrection #this story just makes me so 😭😭 #sometimes when i envision the scenes i just get so eMoTionAl

[taterfics]

Genuine

When she was younger, Jailyn Heard always felt that the fire escape was the one place that you could find solace, and all of the bad things just went away. As an adult, she would probably laugh at her younger self, thinking that a set of old, rickety stairs well on their way to collapsing in on themselves was some sort of magical escape from reality, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The screams coming from inside of her house felt as if they were miles away, her problems felt as if they were miles away. Well, almost miles away. The small cardboard box that she clutched in her palms was a testament to that. How something so small could cause a cataclysmic display of chaos in the small, two bedroom New York apartment was an enigma, but it did. Hell, if she knew the fallout of the product, she wouldn’t have opened her mouth. She could remember the start so vividly, but somewhere in the middle, she fled the scene of food flying from one end of the dining room to the other.

A couple hours earlier:

The sounds of utensils clanking against porcelain was a sound that Jailyn had become used to in the past few years. She almost didn’t remember that there were days where the small room was filled with laughter and lively stories about what had happened in her or her parents’ school and work lives. Sadly, that was a distant memory, one that countless hours of therapy and forced outings were going to fix. This time, however, she wasn’t really sure if it was a result of the phone call her mother got from her school counselor or her parents’ failed marriage. She’d been told to think more positive, that their marriage was simply failing, that there was some hope of them rekindling their relationship. Sadly, that didn’t change the fact that her father had retreated further into his “work” and her mother was sleeping with her English teacher.

“So how was school today?”

There it was. She could feel her father’s eyes boring a hole in her head as he stared at her over his lasagna, unblinking as he waited for her to answer. She didn’t even know what to tell him. Should she tell him the simple truth? That she’d gotten into a fight in gym class that earned her a week long suspension? Simple details seemed to be more his thing. He never really wanted to get into the specifics of what it was that she’d gotten into trouble for anymore seeing as her mother tended to go on long winded rants to complain about her behavior to him when she came home following an incident. Hearing it twice was pointless, and it was usually that simple. This time, however, it was not. It wasn’t simply something she’d done to “act out”, as he therapist had said. Hell, she’d been good for the past three months. Hadn’t even gotten into any altercations in months.

“Well,” she started, placing her fork down on her plate. “I made an A on my Calc test.” Sadly, that was the only bit of good news that she could give him. “I got suspended,” she said. His deep sigh caused her stomach to drop, fork dropping to her plate as she looked down at her open palms. 

“You can’t just fight everyone that says something to you. I don’t even see why we pay for you to go to this therapy if it isn’t working.”

“Now wait a minute Janine-”

“What, Deion?! It isn’t! I don’t spend a hundred dollars a session for her to talk to someone who clearly isn’t qualified to do their job! First there was the disrespectful attitude, the stealing, now she’s fighting?! I didn’t raise my daughter to act like one of these little hoodrats-”

“SHE CALLED ME A TAR BABY!”

The room went quiet after her outburst, her mother’s glare directed towards her. At that point, she wanted to explode. Turning to her dad, she took a deep breath, brown eyes pleading with him to listen to her. Her mother’s outburst told her everything she needed to know, and that was that the full story had not been previously told to him. It likely had something to do with her mother’s involvement in worsening the situation more than it already had been. Seeing that she’d gotten his full attention, she began to relay the story from start to finish.

...

Honestly, being called a tar baby wouldn’t have bothered her at all, seeing as the person it had come from had been calling her a tar baby since they were small children. Her name, was Erika Jones. Ericka’s mother and Janine had been friends growing up, and they’d hoped that their daughters would also be friends, but that was just not the case. When the two were left alone, the first thing Ericka did was as her if she was sure that her mother was her actual mother and she simply wasn’t adopted because Janine’s “high yellow” complexion didn’t match Jailyn’s much darker one. She told her mother, but her mother simply told her to just ignore it because Ericka was just being silly. Sadly, the name never went away and she’d been called Tar Baby for one day too long.

They were in gym class, that much she remembered, and after coming from the communal showers in the girls locker room, Ericka approached her and then she saw nothing but white. The room filled with laughter and giggles, and as she looked down at her towel, which was conveniently black, she saw nothing but the same whiteness. Instantly, she realized that from her head to her toes, she was covered in baby powder. The laughter got louder, and one look at Ericka’s smug expression had her seeing red. Before she knew it, they were on the floor fighting, and the occupants of the gym were trying to pull them apart with no luck. It took their PE coach, Mr. Derrick, to pull them apart. He helped Jailyn preserve her modesty with the towel Ericka had snatched off and led her back to the showers so that she could clean herself off. Once that had happened, everyone watched as the two of them were led to the dean’s office, where their parents were called.

Ericka’s mother came in raising all nine circles of hell, demanding that there be an explanation, and once one was given, she screamed at her daughter about the consequences of bullying all the way up until Janine arrived. At the sight of her, the two left, Ericka’s mother telling her that it was no less than she deserved and that she didn’t raise a damn bully.

Janine was much less understanding of the situation, taking at least ten minutes to scream at Jailyn before telling her to apologize to her teachers and then carting her out of the office by her arm to their car outside. By that time, things were much more calm, and Janine gave Jailyn another lecture about fighting being unladylike and that she’d got her something from the store that would help her with her Ericka issue.

…

Before she could even part her lips to finish that portion of the story, Janine spoke up, eyes wide as she stared at her husband.

“I wouldn’t care if she called you dirt under her shoes, that does not give you the right to put your hands on anyone!”

This outburst seemed to pique her father’s interest, his eyebrow raised as he looked between them. It was obvious that Janine didn’t want Jailyn telling him whatever it was that she’d bought her from wherever she’d been. 

“Jailyn, what yo’ mama don’t want me knowing she went and bought you?” Honestly, she didn’t even have to tell him. She hadn’t taken the product from the pockets of her sweat shorts since she’d gotten it. With the soft rustle of the dark bag that likely came from some random beauty supply store, she pulled out the laminated purple and white box.

Genuine Black and White BLEACHING CREAM

For about ten seconds, there was complete silence. Her father said nothing. Her mother said nothing. Hell, she was so scared, she was scared to move. Then, it happened.

“Jailyn, go to yo’ room.” She opened her mouth to protest. To say something that would make the situation any less tense, but her father’s next worst came swiftly. 

“ROOM, JAILYN!” She grabbed everything from the table, including the cursed box and bolted from the dining room. As soon as her door closed, the screaming started, then the sound of plates crashing into the walls followed suit.

Present time:

“Damn, Jailyn. Sound like World War Three happening in there! What the hell your moms did no- What the fuck is that?” She jumped, turning sharply to the stairs behind her, making eye contact with the one person that didn’t seem to judge her every movement. 

“Hey Erik,” she sighed, twirling the box in her hands. He seemed to have forgotten all about what he’d asked her, glaring at the box as if it had personally offended him. Before she could even say anything, he reached out and roughly grabbed the object from her hand and flung it over the railing of the fire escape. Her eyes widened as a gasp escaped her, though that didn’t last long, as before she knew it, he was in her personal space, backing her up into the dark railing.

“The fuck you doin with that poison?” She wanted to ask him what the fuck he wanted to know for, but suddenly, with him towering over her, dark eyes filled with intensity as he stared down at her, she couldn’t find the words. If anything, she was almost terrified. Sure, she knew that her neighbor could be a little… intense at times, but she’d never seen him be that intense. At school, he was often getting into certain levels of mischief, but his foster parents didn't seem to mind as long as his grades were up to par, and boy were they. He got top marks in their class and was on lots of sports teams. Everyone knew that Ericka was dying to sink her claws into him, which was why she tried to keep him at an arm’s length to avoid more social torture. This was definitely not an arm’s length. 

“I wasn’t doing anything with it, I swear. I was just,” as she trailed off, she realized that she didn’t know what she was doing with it. Common sense would’ve told her to just leave it at the dining room table when she ran out of the room, but rethinking the situation, she vividly remembered it being the first thing that she grabbed. Was she planning to use it? Had the snide comments from her mother about the length of time she’d spent in the sun, or how yellow hair made her look like a duracell battery gotten to her? Or was it the constant jabs at her appearance by Ericka, or any of the other girls at school. Sure, Ericka was the main one, but she wasn’t the only one. How many times had she been called Aunt Jemima when she wore a headwrap? How many times had a teacher turned a light off in the classroom and people said, “Where’s Jailyn?” Had she really wanted to bleach her skin deep down inside?

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay, Ma.” She didn’t realize that wetness coated her cheeks, or that a noise had escaped her as she felt her chest constrict tightly, her hand covering her mouth as he pulled her into his chest, leaning his back onto the railing as he supported her weight. His large hands rubbed comforting circles in her back as she let the tears flow, inhaling his scent. He smelled like weed and sage, and somehow, that comforted her. 

“You too pretty to have some ugly ass bitch have you feeling less than.” He told her that all the time, when she was sitting on the fire escape ranting and raving about how stupid the mean girl mentality that Ericka had was, or how colorism was the dumbest shit she’d ever heard of. She couldn’t have those types of talks with her father, he found her cursing during intellectual discussion to be distasteful and juvenile. Sadly, that didn’t seem to apply to the rather heated discussion he was still having with her mother in the house. Any other time, she would’ve been embarrassed that someone heard her parents fighting, but at this point, it was so common at this point that the neighbors had taken to placing bets on them. 

“Why are you so nice to me?” It had been quiet for a minute, save for the muffled screaming match happening in her house. Her eyes itched from shed tears, but she couldn’t even muster up the energy to wiped them. Hell, she didn’t even know how she mustered up the energy to ask that question. He was so nice to her, she didn’t understand. If any coming of age movie or drama was correct in their assumption, he was conspiring with the higher ups in the social hierarchy that he seemed to be a part of to lure her into a trap. He walked with her to school, he walked to the store with her, he sat with her whenever she went to the park to study, and he even ate with her at lunch, even though it was clear that those that were more popular made fun of him for it. One time, when her parents were both out of town on “work trips”, he invited her over for dinner let her sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch, which was likely horribly uncomfortable for him, and dumb because she fit comfortably on his foster parents’ couch. That and her house was easily accessible to her because she had a key, but him and his fosters demanded that she stay over because of recent break ins.

“I can’t have my girl out here thinking that she not good enough, now can I?” She scoffed at his words, rolling her eyes as she looked up at him. 

“So I’m your girl?” The smile that spread across his face warmed her heart in ways she didn’t even know it could. She’d heard the stories about his real parents when his foster mother was on the phone one day. Evidently his dad was killed in a home invasion when he was a kid and his mother was in prison. It made him very distrusting of a lot of people and he had been bounced from foster home to foster home in his younger years, and that affected him a lot. 

“Shit, it was taking you too long to see it, so I decided to just let you know in case you decided to cheat on me with Alex Lopez in chemistry.” She hit his arm and laughed, both of them knowing that she ran like her pants were on fire whenever that guy entered a room. 

“You good though?” Honestly, this man deserved an award for how quickly he could switch from serious to joking and back again!

“Well, I beat up my childhood bully, started a fight between my parents, and evidently discovered I’ve had a secret boyfriend that I didn’t even know about. On a scale of one to ten, I’d say I’m sitting at a strong twelve and a half.” He laughed and for the first time in a long time, she could truly say it.

She was good.

Hello! This is a rewrite of a fic that I previously wrote called Pretty Lady, and I hope that you all like it. It was a little rushed, so if you see any errors, I sincerely apologize.

#taterfics #black panther #erik killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fic #erik stevens #black panther x reader #killmonger imagine #killmonger x oc #black panther fandom

[ficklewish]

Pre Calc Sucks

a Tendou x Reader Soulmate AU

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Tendou x reader

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

If you were told that you'd meet your soulmate through a texting app way before you did, you'd probably laugh at their face and tell them that it's not possible for that to happen, as it only does in movies or books. Or that's what you believed. Never in a million years did you think that it would happen to anyone you knew, let alone you yourself. It was a shock, but it was welcomed with open arms, as you had finally met the love of your life, the one fated to be with you. Meeting Tendou was, by far, the best day of your life. How you first met him however…now that would be a funny bedtime story. 

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

You were struggling with your art and school when you had downloaded discord. A school friend had suggested it to you, as certain servers had places for school or art help, and you had given in due to the huge lack of inspiration you had. Making an account and picking your username, it had finally been done, but once again, you were stuck. How exactly did discord work? Would it just…randomly suggest servers everyday or did you have to find them? You had left it for a while, just empty, waiting for it to be filled. Your friend had asked if you had made any online friends, and responding with no, they became confused. "Haven't you joined any servers?" You awkwardly laughed, turning away from them. "No…I don't know how discord works." You look back up at them and see the most judging look in their eyes. "You're hopeless. Here, let me help you." Taking your phone and opening your search engine, they go to a random site and start scrolling while you look over their shoulder. Seeing them go through multiple windows, they give back your phone. “There, I added you to one, you can figure out the rest from there.” Giving a small thanks, you turn to your phone, reading the instructions. “Hmmm, this is gonna take a while…” After doing a few tweaks and introducing yourself, you finally started to talk to the people on the server, learning their names and pronouns, acknowledging their age for appropriate conversations, and even adding a few friends. You had completely forgotten you were still at school, even though it was currently your lunch period. “Who knows, maybe your soulmate is in there.” Startled, you turn towards your friend then roll your eyes. The whole soulmate concept was something you used to like, but now, it was just a reminder that you hadn’t found yours yet. The whole “first place they touch you” thing was just a taunt, at least to you. Your mark was what seemed like someone's arms wrapped around you, including your upper arms. So many of your peers had already found theirs while you felt almost forgotten. It brought thoughts to your head, such as what if...your soulmate was across the world? Would you ever meet them? Did you even have one? Shoving the last thought deep into your mind. “I doubt it, shit like that only happens in movies.” Your friend looked at you, then smirked. “I don’t know about that.”

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

After classes ended, you went home, a bit excited to start talking online, as childish as it sounded. You had to keep reminding yourself that you joined for school and art help, but making a few friends never hurt. Taking off your shoes and dropping your things, you sat on the couch and noticed you were home alone for the time being, your parents most likely at the market. Taking your phone out and opening the app, you begin to interact in the correct chat for school. 

"Hey! I was wondering if someone could help me with my pre calculus homework? I'm a bit stuck"

You noticed that someone was already going to respond, which comforted you greatly. 

"I could help with this! Just give me a moment!"

Checking their profile to not accidentally misgender them, you notice that they are actually a he, and he has similar interests as you. Going back to your bag and getting your notebook and textbook, you turn back to your phone and prepare to fry your brain with math. (fucking hate math, it's so COMPLICATED) 

"Alright, what did you need help with?"

Telling your "tutor" about which problems you were confused about, they immediately begin to guide you through it and point out any mistakes you made, all while not exactly telling you the answer. He had helped you understand the concept much more easier than your teacher ever did, and you were extremely grateful for that. He had even given you some extra tips on how to remember certain formulas for when exams and tests are assigned. You thanked him multiple times for helping you with your homework

"Of course! Just DM me anytime you need help, I'd gladly do so!"

And that's what you did, texting him every now and then for homework help, mainly pre calc as it was your worst subject, and you didn't want to burden him with your other classes in case he had his own to pass. Sometimes, you'd even text him because you were actually interested in him, as he had been an interesting person to talk to. Learning a bit about him and sharing a bit about yourself, you quickly formed a friendship with, who you found out a few days ago, Tendou. He'd talk about how he was a part of a volleyball club, being a 3rd year, being part of a powerhouse team, and even some personal facts about his life. Of course, he never told you exactly where he was located, which was perfectly fine, as you didn't want to disclose that information either. However, you soon started to notice that whenever Tendou would text you, you'd become giddy no matter what the conversation was about, and when someone other than Tendou would text you, you'd deflate a bit, hoping it was him. Whenever you'd be doing anything else, you were hoping that he would send you something, you were just hoping to talk to him. These feelings scared you, as you might've had a soulmate, yet you fell for Tendou, and you prayed that maybe, it would somehow work out. 

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

4 months later, and Tendou being your "tutor" was still going strong, and your friendship even stronger. You had brought up meeting with him a few times, and the both of you had even planned it sometimes, but never actually went ahead with those plans. Your schedules never met up, as he had practice and you had a part time job. You grew wary, wondering if you would ever meet your online crush. It was then that you realized you had absolutely no idea of what Tendou even looked like, which meant you could've passed him on the street multiple times without noticing. You would constantly hope that one day he would stroll into the little cafe you worked at and notice you, but that was a far stretch, as he had no idea of what you looked like either. Today was no different. Each time a customer would waltz in, you had hoped that it was Tendou, but it never was. It was currently near closing time, and you had begun sweeping the place while a coworker cleaned the kitchen in the back. It wasn't until you were about to begin putting chairs up that you felt a vibration come from your phone. Taking it out, you look at your notifications and see you had gotten a text from Tendou, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Scanning the text, the happiness you had felt quickly melted into excitement and nervousness. 

"I found the place you work at, and I think I see you. Are you the one who's holding a broom?"

Rereading the text a few times to check if you weren't seeing things, you began to grow panicked. Today was an extremely stressful day, and you knew that you looked horrible. Your hair was a mess and you had even cried once due to an overly loud and rude man whose order was messed up, and you knew that the tear stains were still slightly visible. Quickly answering his text with a "come inside then :)" you continued to put chairs up in hopes to distract yourself from the nervousness and panic growing inside you with every passing second. Hearing the door open and the small bell above it chime, you freeze. "Um…are you possibly Y/N?" Turning around slowly, you're met with a tall boy with red hair and tired eyes. He reminded you of a lizard, and you thought he was really cute. Remembering that he had asked you a question, you answered. "Yes I am. Are you Tendou?" His eyes widen, and a smile grows on his face. "Aahhh, I finally get to meet you!" Realizing that he is indeed Tendou, a smile of your own grows on your face, and you couldn't stop yourself from engulfing him in a hug. The hug is cut short however, since you feel a searing pain from where Tendou had wrapped his arms around you. Pulling away, you look into his eyes, and does the same. Realization floods his eyes, and he looks as though he's about to cry. "Well shit, who knew you'd be my soulmate too." You immediately run back into his arms, shedding a few tears into his hoodie as he hugs you as if his life depended on it. 

"I guess stuff like this really does happen in real life."

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

a/n: HOOOO this took me a while to write, had to start over 3 times 😔 neways, I hope you liked it!

#haikyuu!! #hq tendou #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n

[snow--blanket]

good morning kisses

pairing: isaac/napoleon fandom: ikemen vampire word count: 2405 ***

“God’s breath—”

“I don’t—” Napoleon ‘the terror of France’ Bonaparte started, but cut his sentence short. “How?”

“I don’t…. know. Sodium bicarbonate was supposed to—um, make the…” Isaac struggled to word it in a way Napoleon could understand. When faced with panic and distress, his brain immediately resorted to scientific lingo like a liar did with high pitched intonations. “The black thing float.”

“I was out for an hour—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

Napoleon walked to the fridge and tapped the sign kissed to it, as if asking for an explanation. It read: NO SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN.  He tapped the sign, once, twice, three times, all with increasing tempo, until the paper slid off the magnet and fell to the floor, much like Isaac’s heart did. He hated disappointing Napoleon. “What happened to our friends with benefits contract?”

Benefit was a loose term used in between them—namely, Isaac would help him with his calculus homework (trig too, if Napoleon was particularly loathsome that day) and Napoleon would help Isaac to not get bullied by Arthur and Dazai. It worked, but he really should talk to Napoleon about toning down his manly hero voice when he came to his rescue. He felt too much like a damsel in distress then. Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he would like to keep that portion for future use, like when he corrects the barista’s spelling of his name. But he had made more trouble than benefit to Napoleon, and his face flushed as he berated himself. “I’m sorry,” Isaac said in a panic. He would play his trump card, what he called the Coward’s Calling: just beg for forgiveness until Napoleon got irritated and shoved it under the rug. It had a limited use though. If he were to use it now, he couldn’t use it for the next two or so weeks as it had a cooldown period and he needed time to gather his pride again so he could throw it away and grovel for mercy. 

“You already said that.” Drat. Napoleon often let it pass, but he supposed today’s… grievances were too big to let it slide. They both looked at the foaming pot of yesterday’s burnt curry. In Napoleon’s words, Isaac was to clean up his own mess, and he had to clean out the pot with the charred bottom without scratching it silly. You’re a genius, Napoleon told him. Figure it out.

Contrary to his expectations, Napoleon broke out in a laugh. Isaac hated it when people laughed at him—Leo’s was a condescending, older brother laugh, and he hated that. He was not a child. Arthur and Dazai’s were teasing, and he hated that too. They weren’t close friends. Strangely, his flaming cheeks were not caused by anger at Napoleon’s laughter, but rather embarrassment, for he knew that Napoleon always laughed at him like he was an idiot. Isaac truly felt like he should retreat into the cupboards as Harry did. “Are you done laughing yet?” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just…” Napoleon wiped a tear from his eye. “Y’know, this is why people with theoretical physics degrees still don’t have jobs. You’ve used up so much of your brain thinking about—black holes, or something—”

“The fabric of time and space,” Isaac mumbled.

“—That, yes! Proved my point! You’ve used up so much of your faculties thinking about whatever that is that you don’t know that Arthur probably mixed in citric acid into your baking powder solution to…” Napoleon gestured to the foaming pot, and it looked like a witch’s cauldron. “...cause this. This is a textbook prank, ma cher.”

He might not hate Napoleon, but he sure hated the way that epithet rolled off his tongue. It made his chest feel scratchy, for some reason. “You’ll see,” he said instead. “When this physicist figures out how to make planets habitable, I’ll give you the opportunity to eat gourmet space dust when I leave this place.” Like he said, he didn’t have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he wouldn’t let Napoleon drag the name of science through the mud. Physicists weren’t largely responsible for making a planet habitable, but he hoped Napoleon wouldn’t catch on. Isaac wasn’t very good at this comeback thing. Arthur and Dazai forced him to use his wits for driving them away instead of focusing on lectures. And he couldn’t even do it well!

“Ha! I’d love to taste it.” Ugh, he hated the way Napoleon smiled when he said that, too. The itch on his chest doubled. Now he had to figure out a way to phrase the symptoms to Arthur and let himself play patient for a while. The last time he went to Arthur for a consultation, he couldn’t forget the face he made when he said “it feels like my whole skin is being flipped inside out”. Even a savant doctor can’t figure out what’s wrong with you if you don’t know how to express it.

“Step aside, genius.” Napoleon bumped Isaac out of the way with his hip, looking much like a mother who had her work cut out for her. 

“Don’t come crying when calc comes up in class,” Isaac said bitterly, and then tested the word on his tongue. “...Jock.”

Napoleon chuckled at that, and then shooed Isaac away. He felt embarrassed that he wasn’t able to clean up such a simple mess, but being called a genius—even if it was said mockingly—made his chest inflate in pride. At the very least, he would be of use when it came to academia.

***

It was raining—storming, even. Isaac’s bleary gaze wandered to the glaring neon numbers on the alarm clock. 5:34 AM. Maybe Vincent would be up at this time. He got up from his bed, rubbed his eyes awake, and walked to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. He vaguely recalled Vincent saying he wanted to paint the sunrise, and knowing the kind of person he was, he was probably staying up until sunrise. Unlike his reputation as a “bad boy”, Theo was the earliest to sleep in, and earliest to wake. He could use more hours, but he liked to spend the early mornings to make pancakes for Vincent, especially if he was feeling anxious the night prior. 

As Isaac passed Napoleon’s door, he stopped, clasping his hands together in a prayer. May whoever who wakes him up be blessed with questions with graphs in their exam. Then he remembered Arthur, and he changed his prayer. May whoever wakes him up gets his face punched. It doesn’t even have to be by Napoleon. Anyone will do. After that, he wished some more, hoping that he was his British counterpart, and that all his coffee was third-grade and cold. When he finished praying, he headed to the communal kitchen, where he found Arthur fiddling with an empty tin of coffee. They were fresh out, it seemed. Isaac held the physical and psychological urge to fist pump the air. “Finished?” he asked, even though he knew they were, indeed, no more. God was by his side.

Arthur rattled the coffee tin, offended. The smart, clever, golden-tongued part-time mystery author and full-time medicine major was reduced to a witless man when he was caffeine deprived. It felt like the sun had died to let the moon breathe a little, except the sun was Arthur’s dreadful tongue, and Isaac wished it was eternal night. There was something that bothered him, though. “Working on a new manuscript?”

“Not today, though, shame.”

Isaac hummed, moving past Arthur to reach for the powdered chocolate malt stashed in the cabinet. “I actually read some of your novels, you know. They’re not bad.”

Arthur cocked a brow at this, leaning on one side of his body as if he was a seesaw. “Oh?”

Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yeah. I can see why you’d want to be a doctor.” Hm. Vincent wants it with milk, if I remember correctly...

“Pray tell,” There was a Cheshire grin playing on his lips, and try as he might, he couldn’t truly wish for Napoleon to kiss those lips of him to shut him up. The thought made him feel itchy again. 

“The line of reasoning you use to explain things for your mystery novels,” he started, putting in three spoonfuls of the chocolatey goodness into the mug. Vincent’s had some dabs of yellow and blue paint on them, so it was hard to mix them up. “They’re a bit similar in how you would diagnose a patient. You take a glance at them, try to infer their history and habits, and then you would investigate further for a diagnosis. I think it’s quite…” Isaac hesitated—not because Arthur was undeserving, but it was the first time he recalled ever talking to him in this manner. “...Brilliant. You are, that is,” Isaac finished, pouring some hot water into Vincent’s mug as he stirred it. Saucer, saucer...

Was it the trick of the light? As Isaac reached for the saucers behind Arthur, he swore it  looked as if he was blushing, the light dusting of embers on his cheeks as if the light above them both were a fire. Isaac took a sip of his own mug of chocolate, peering at Arthur all the while. He breathed in, steeled himself. “As I am a scientist, allow me to hypothesize, instead of deduct.”

His flustered British counterpart seemed all too accepting of the offer. Strange. It wasn’t normal for Isaac to be the one in this position. Isaac stifled a sigh. How he wished the night would last indeed… “You usually stay up late writing for your books, but I haven’t heard you write anything for the past week when I walked by your room.”

When Arthur was silent, Isaac continued. “You only use about two spoonfuls of coffee beans when you make coffee, but even factoring the fact that Theodorus and Mozart drink coffee, the amount seems to be decreasing exponentially, instead of it’s usual rate.”

Isaac eyed the ticking clock on the wall. 5:40 AM. It was nearly sunrise, and he was sure Vincent was painting without a care in the world. “Thirdly, your clothes smell like paint sometimes.” This final proof put the fire in Arthur’s face again. Isaac offered his hand that held Vincent’s mug and saucer. “It’s almost sunrise. Go bring this to him.” 

Arthur took the mug and saucer with a dumbfounded look, and Isaac savored that look for a while, knowing it was as rare as a blue moon. Feeling awkward, Isaac took his mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and glanced at the witless, silent mystery writer. Take that. Maybe he was good at this comeback thing after all. “Well… just pretend you didn’t see me, I guess.” He wasn’t good at lying, so feigning ignorance was the best he could do. 

When he turned, Arthur’s voice stopped him. “I have a deduction.”

Isaac turned his heel, looking at Arthur, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It had gotten slightly cold. “Yeah?”

“You’re in love with Napoleon.”

“Wha—” He choked, searching for the right words. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t even allow him the slightest shred of decency or subtlety! After he was so gracious in merely insinuating his crush towards Vincent! “You—”

Arthur grinned his cocksure smile, and Isaac truly wished Theodorus was here to punch him in the face. This blathering, insensitive, witless, shameless, atrocious man! “Your face tells it all. You should never become a detective.”

“I don’t—” Isaac said, and then sighed when Arthur kept a level stare, his blue eyes like discerning glass looking through him. Isaac put down the mug of hot chocolate on the counter and then sank his face into his hands in embarrassment, bracing himself for the teasing laugh from Arthur. He hated that. “Was it that obvious?”

As if to apologise for his sudden declaration (which may or may not be truth), Arthur hummed, taking his time. “Not really. It shows on your face, though.” He put down Vincent’s mug, leaning his elbow on the counter.

He lowered his hands—eyes still averted from Arthur’s gaze, and chuckled bitterly. “What? Do I look like I’m researching him or something?” That was usually the case with whatever held his interest, whether it be astrology, chemical compounds, physics problems that seemed impossible at  first, and then revealed themselves to him, like a magician that made a one second mistake in the sleight of his hand, and Isaac began to understand. He wasn’t that self-aware of his own expressions, only the things he’s said. And he’s positively sure he’s never spoken of Napoleon in an intimate manner, much less romantic.

“No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Isaac scrunched his brows. “The opposite of love is hatred.” 

Arthur laughed, and Isaac just tried to be patient with that. “Not at all, chap. I’m saying—when you’re with him, you don’t try to… dissect him, and whatnot. Your love for him makes you human. There’s no glaze in your eyes when you understand something, no foaming at the mouth when you don’t. You’re just…” Arthur stretched his arms wide. “Here. With us, on the ground.” The mystical way Arthur said it made it sound like the kitchen was the entirety of the world. It might as well could’ve been. Arthur was quiet, and his gaze returned to Vincent’s paint blotched mug. “He makes you feel alive, doesn’t he? Like you’re here.”

Isaac stared into the small waves the water made when he nudged his own mug. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Then that’s that,” Arthur said, grabbing Vincent’s mug as he patted Isaac on the shoulder. For once in his life, Isaac didn’t shudder when Arthur winked at him. “Good luck,” he said, and left the kitchen. Probably to Vincent’s room. 

Isaac sighed. Right then. If Arthur could do it, then he could at least try. He brought the cup of hot chocolate with him and knocked at Napoleon’s door, knowing full well that he would be asleep, and that he would try to kiss him again.

His chest itched, but he didn’t bother to question it this time.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp writing #ikevamp fanfic #isaac/napoleon #with a sprinkle of #vinart #uwu

[jungle321jungle]

Ten Of Swords: Level One

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Ao3 - Masterlist 

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar

~~~~

Level One: A Place That Doesn’t Really Exist

He had gotten the game on a whim out of boredom. It was something he heard of a lot from kids at school, but with a laptop as old as his he had never considered getting it himself. And then he got a new laptop for his birthday. And a few days later, knowing he’d be bored during his family’s Christmas party, he downloaded it. It had taken forever honestly, and he kept going back and forth to his room to see when it would finally be ready for him to play. When it finally was prepared he had sat on his bed surrounded by younger cousins who had made their way into his room (past the door he had been 80% sure he had locked) and made his character. They had opinions on his character’s look, and even the name. But finally he thought he had found a way to both trick and satisfy the kids, and typed the name of the toddler in. He had fully expected the system to reject the name and then the kids couldn’t complain when he changed it to something he actually wanted. He hadn’t expected the game however to fucking accept “Anthony” as his screen name.

It had been a stupid introduction gaming, but back then Virgil didn’t realize how much of an impact Swords of Power and Conquest would have on his life. At one point he had thought the name was cheesy, but soon enough just like the rest of the world of Lirya, Virgil fell in love with it.

The intricacies of the many skills available, the complex fighting system which interpreted those skills, and the way it seemed to thrive without any form of class systems, were all mesmerizing to Virgil in ways he couldn’t describe. He had thrown himself into the game playing day and night (much to his parents’ dismay), and fell more in love with it each moment.

He had tried other games, at the urging of friends who claimed Swords was too pointless with all the holes in its main quest. Those games had been fun, and Virgil had even tried a bunch of different genres. But there was something about Swords which always pulled him back. Maybe because it was his introduction, or perhaps because the constantly updating side quests and his in game friends were too great to give up. So much so that years later Virgil found himself not only playing, but wanting to go into game design. He wanted to create- to work on something just as good, if not better than Swords. To give someone else the feeling he had when he first started the game.

He was a true geek wasn’t he?

“I could’ve told you that,” Simon commented.

Virgil rolled his eyes as he typed out his reply, you can’t tell but I’m rolling my eyes

He heard as the guy gave a slight laugh, “You know the point of this feature is to talk right?”

My roommate’s napping, he was feeling sick

“Rude of him... I just got a message from Tact. Apparently he wants to meet and talk.”

What about?

“Doesn’t say. Just says he has some info worth paying for.”

Go handle it. I’ll watch things here

“Sounds good, don't get more handsome while I’m away.”

Virgil rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to reply as Sam teleported out. He gave a stretch as he looked about his screen and the empty shop. On the other side of that virtual wall would be customers hanging out and lounging around, he supposed he could switch outfits and join those working, but he wouldn’t gain much from that. Maybe it was time to sign off for the night, he could watch some of the Twins’ videos. The latest guild had apparently done a large raid against one of the sphinxes of legend, that would be a cool video to watch. With that thought in mind he logged off and when the window was closed he noticed his calendar open.

His calendar with words written in red for the following day.

CALC TEST

A curse slipped from Virgil’s mouth as he glanced at his clock. 5:34. If he skipped dinner and studied straight until midnight maybe- just maybe something would stick. Hopefully.

~~~~

Virgil was on the brink of committing murder.

Not only was he stressed about his exam in the morning, but his roommate’s, Jonas’, NyQuil fueled snoring had been loud enough on its own. But on top of that there was  the sound of their neighbors. Virgil had never been a fan of those living in the room to his left. This was usually on account of one them seeming to have an “overnight guest” over too often subjecting Virgil to sounds he wished to erase from memory. But tonight that wasn’t the case (at least not yet), tonight was a party.

A loud party which had gone on far too long.

The party had begun probably around nine or ten. And since it had only persisted and grew in volume. At first Virgil had knocked on his wall annoyed, but when that had yielded nothing he had gone over right before midnight to complain about the noise. The one who had opened the door had been taller than him, and if Virgil wasn’t so annoyed and tired he probably would’ve found himself spending more time staring at that gorgeous face as opposed to bitching about the noise. The guy had nodded once and had promised to quiet down.

But that had been two hours ago.

And it seemed Virgil’s second trip to yell at his neighbors to shut the fuck up a few minutes prior had done just as much good. So there was only one course of action left.

“You told the fucking RA?”

Virgil looked up from where he had been staring at his Calc notes in preparation for the test about to begin to the face (of who else but) his neighbor. “I asked you to quiet down twice,” Virgil replied looking back down to the equations in front of him.

“But tattling? What are you? Five?”

Virgil took a deep breath as he looked back up to that face. “It was two am.”

“I don’t care. No one else on the floor seemed to care.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Alright everyone!” The professor cut in. “It's that time!”

As if calculus exam’s weren’t bad enough on their own, his neighbor’s eyes were glaring holes into the back of his head the entire time. He definitely failed that test. And the pop quiz in CS. And then he had left his Spanish homework in his room (and turns out the asshole neighbor is in that class too). Oh and of course he couldn’t forget he still had an essay due.

Today was just shit in its purest form.

And there was only one shovel Virgil knew how to use.

He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief which escaped his lips as he sunk into his desk chair.

“I take it you had an amazing day?”

Virgil just gave his roommate the finger as he pulled his laptop from his backpack. After glancing at the clock he could play for about an hour before needing to switch to writing his essay in order to be done before it’s due at 11:59. “Hey will you yell at me to stop in an hour?”

“Set a timer,” Jonas advised. “I’m not being yelled at again for forgetting.”

Virgil rolled his eyes before doing as he was told. With his timer set he pulled his headphones on and logged in. Logging in was accompanied by a message from Ralph.

The Silver Green Sharks and the Zora Regime are warring today on the Sheriyan Ruins in two hours. I’ll send a follow up with the exact coordinates soon as I know.

Virgil glanced at the time the message was sent with a smile as his inbox refreshed with a new message. Ralph seemed to have perfect timing as always.

He found a spot toward the outer ring of the ruins where he’d been hidden in the shadows of the collapsed building. And not a moment too soon, because it was then others began to arrive at site. But after nearly forty minutes, Virgil was finding neither guild seemed to be timely. They just seemed to have taken sides, but neither had bothered to attack. Virgil’s fingers were itching for something- anything to do. They needed to start fighting soon, before Virgil spent too long playing and his essay (and grade) suffered as a consequence. He sat there, spinning his phone’s ring stand in his hands and biting his tongue, and then a shout sounded over his headphones. He hadn’t been paying attention enough to know what it said, but the moment the voice ceased the two armies charged.

The chaos was instant, and Virgil had to stop himself from smiling at the sight- he had nothing to smile about just yet. His eyes scanned the details of everything in his character’s field of view- which wasn't much in this spot. But even if he moved further out he wouldn’t have enough information... He’d need to get to higher ground to see anything, but he’d need to risk being seen. But then again the risk was a portion of the fun. Virgil’s eyes flickered to his skills list, his mind already running through the combinations he knew. This was the true fun of Swords. To a new player a single skill was simply that. To a veteran its a building block, a string meant to be interwoven in an unseen pattern with others to create even better ones. The combinations were near limitless overall, and every pattern held potential. But even with so many patterns only five patterns could be saved to be used a single click before the level cap. Others would take long casting time purely based on the abilities of the player.

The skills, the skills, the skills.

Virgil could and had gone on and on explaining to friends the combinations he had found and written down, and he could go on about theories he had for new ones. But this mission wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the time to think about improving his skills to get what he needed, right now he had a single saved skill, which would be useful in this situation, Silent Presence. A sneaking and cloaking skill which would keep him hidden for five seconds before a cool down too long to let him use it again if needed. Virgil took a deep breath and poised his fingers on his mouse and keyboard. He’d run, look for higher ground while looking out for any possible grabs, use his skill and then steal the best thing he could.

He took a deep breath and then he was going. He ran out amongst the masses fighting, dodging them as he went. If anyone noticed him, they didn't say anything or try to fight him, most likely assuming he was a mercenary. He moved quickly spotting a higher bit of a crumbling wall, a few feet higher than the rest and everyone’s heads- perfect. He gave another deep breath, and then charged the wall. He jumped up to another crumbling piece and then double jumped up to the top ensuring he used Silent Presence as he did.

Virgil bit his tongue as his eyes scanned the screen and zeroed in on where a few of the The Silver Green Sharks and a Zona regime commander surrounded, and she was failing to fight back. But regardless of who would win, there would be some nice drops. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how much longer that fight would last, but with Silent Presence ending he had no choice but to move and hope for the best. He hopped down and started running going wide to see the fight going on his left. But as he went Virgil’s gaze couldn't help but slip to his timer and he bit his tongue noticing how much was left, three minutes. Maybe he’d go a few minutes past, he’d just need to get a good drop to make it worth it.

The Silver Green Sharks had forced the Zora Regime’s commander back away from her troops. There were three of them, surrounding her, forcing her to back up as they attacked him from long and short range with all the skills in their arsenal. From his angle none of them looked particularly impressive by Virgil’s standards, but it didn't matter. She was failing to fight back despite the impressive looking sword in her hand (a high level one no doubt given the Zora Regime’s status), so her HP wouldn’t last much longer. And that meant Virgil needed to move faster. He glanced at his remaining skills debating if he should save his Speed Sprint for before or after this grab. But looking at how badly this commander was doing he didn’t have much of a choice. He charged forward watching as the commander fell and the Silver Green Sharks began to jump for joy. Virgil didn't waste time jumping with them. He used the last of his speed burst to run up to the dead character.

The sound of his timer pierced his psyche and Virgil’s fingers slipped causing his character to stumble, but he tried to regain his momentum as he reached the fallen commander. The moment his hand was on the sword he wasn’t even sure if anyone was following him but he didn’t bother to check as he continued to run as fast as he could. He gritted his teeth as he ignored the sound of the timer ringing loudly in his ears, he couldn't think about that right now. Right now he needed to focus on the game. So in case of pursuers, he switched the sword strapped to his back, for the higher level one he had stolen. He had never been good enough with long distance weapons to rely on them. He could only rely on how fast he could run. He ran for the outer edge of the Ruins where he could dive into the forest. His fingers were flying across the keyboard queuing up a teleport crystal. For a moment he thought he was free-

“Turn the thing off!” Jonas shouted at him.

Virgil grimaced but didn’t bother responding as enemies began to come his way. He gave a swallow, eyes scanning the map for an escape as he tried to ignore Jonas’ bitching in the background. Damn he should’ve saved the fucking sprint.

The cliff. It was a gamble but if he managed to get the edge, maybe they would slow down enough rather than push him off the edge. He just needed enough time to plug in the coordinates to the crystal. That would only take what? Four seconds? Could he buy himself that much-

“Virgil!”

“Shut up.” He returned, or was he directing it at the shouting voices in his headphones. Quite frankly he didn’t care. They were gaining on him, but as he reached the edge his character skidded to a stop. The enemies behind him didn't close in but they were too close for comfort. If they shot an arrow he was dead. Virgil gave a swallow as he finished typing in the last of the coordinates a risky plan before him.

“Virgil!”

He jumped from the cliff and hit teleport at once, and as he began to teleport he felt an overwhelming amount of relief. He couldn't help but smile as Jonas snatched his phone away, nor did he care about the angered shouts in his headphones.

And then came the deafening static.

It was sudden- it was loud- it was piercing and Virgil let out an involuntary scream of pain. He reached to rip off his headphones only to feel his body crash to the ground as his vision flickered. Until he was left completely alone in the darkness.

A groan escaped Virgil’s lips as he pushed himself to his knees. He rubbed at his closed eyes wondering how the hell he had managed to take such a hard fall from his chair before he opened them.

He was greeted with the sight of grass. Grass and trees.

Virgil gave a swallow as he pulled himself to his feet trying to annoy the way his heart had leaped into his throat which was already constricting itself. He tried to force down his panic and the rising bile- he tried to breathe - but his gaze was focused on the sign.

On the sign he had once helped put in this exact spot. But that didn’t make sense, that spot- this spot- that sign- was at the fork leading to the tavern- to a place that doesn’t really exist...

At least, not outside of the game.

~~~~

Level One - Level Two

#the bois get swords i dont make the rules #idk how to tag this ill figure it out #anxceit will come #so will logince and intrulogical #video games #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders

[zukuthehero]

Schedules and the Big Three

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

##  Doctor POV ##

I studied the readings on the project All for One requested.

It was a delight to get to work on such a difficult piece, the unique combination of quirks, plus its appearance demands. It’s extremely delicate still, but soon it will reach the time for the next stage.

I grinned, everything is still holding steady, looks like I can add the next quirk.

##  Aizawa POV ##

I groaned as I rearranged the papers in front of me.

Not only do I have to grade all the homework from last week, make up a full training schedule for my students, make sure they’re on top of their normal classes, and make sure they all get therapy, now I also have to be a quirk counselor for Midoriya, change his schedule around to fit the classes Nedzu was demanding for him, and deal with an obnoxious hero constantly popping in to make sure I’m no ‘overdoing it’.

This is so tedious.

Plus, I also still need to watch the press conference release, didn’t get the chance when I was in the hospital and certainly not since I got out.

I can turn it on while I finish changing Midoriya’s schedule.

Of course, that requires grabbing the remote.

I glared at the offending object, just out of reach.

Stupid bandages.

I could use my capture scarf…

I stiffened when I heard knocking on my door, turning slowly to glare at it.

Now I have to get up.

I grumbled and slowly moved over to the door, opening it and glaring more.

“Hello Aizawa-san, how are you? I brought you something to eat.” All Might in his shrunken form stood there, holding up a bag, presumably holding food.

It took all my self-control not to slam the door in his face.

“Yagi what do you want?”

“Just thought I’d check in, make sure you’re doing alright. I told Nedzu I’d help you with the grading.”

Damn it Nedzu.

I glared some more, “Fine, but we’re gonna talk about how you know Midoriya then.”

He blanched, and I hid a smirk, stepping aside to let him in.

“Ah, haha, uh, sure…” He moved inside, still stupidly tall.

I moved back to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning to the press conference (thank goodness Mic recorded it for me).

All Might awkwardly sat, pulling two bentos out of his bag.

They smell delicious damn it.

“So what are you doing right now?” All Might handed me one of the bentos as he studied the papers.

“Don’t try to change the subject.” I grumbled, taking the bento with as much grace as I could with my movements so stiff from the bandages.

I watched as the press conference started.

“Well uh,” He looked anywhere but at me.

“How do you know Midoriya?”

“Uh…”

Nedzu started speaking.

‘Today during the first practical course for Rescue training for Class 1-A villains attacked the USJ.’

“He’s… I… Well…”

I turned to glare at him again, “Don’t give me an excuse, just tell me how you know my student.”

‘-split up around the facility by the warp villain-‘

“I must ask you to keep this top secret Aizawa-san.”

My eyes narrowed, “Alright…”

‘-fought off the villains and headed back to the entrance to rendezvous-‘

“I’m-“

“Yes?”

“I’m his, uh, uncle! Yes, his uncle! Uh, but you must not tell anyone. It’s top secret and all.”

I stared, “His uncle?”

‘-creature had multiple quirks and managed to take down one teacher-‘

“Yes!”

I thought about Midoriya greeting him, seemed to stumble over it. Hmm.

“I see. You’d best not be giving him favoritism, are you related through his mom?”

“I would never do favoritism!”

Liar.

‘-the students came to aid All Might, though unnecessary it was very brave of them and helped-‘

“And no, it’s uh, through his dad! Yes, his dad and me are brothers. Hehe…”

He quickly started eating.

I hummed, turning back to the screen. I’d double check with my problem child but despite his nervousness I don’t think he’s lying. Just nervous about revealing it.

‘-and the creature known as Nomu was captured, along with the majority of the villains. Unfortunately due to the nature of his quirk the warp villain was able to get away with the leader of the villains-‘

The detective is a friend of All Might’s too, so makes sense that he would know Midoriya, even if they’d never met.

‘-the students had minimal injury, only one needing medical attention which he received from Recovery Girl-‘

I dug through the papers, looking for his file.

The vagueness surrounding his dad would make sense if the number one hero was trying to protect his family, guess that answers that question.

‘-escaped and we do warn the public to be aware of this. The police are trying-‘

“Well uh, anyways… how are you?”

I frowned, glancing back at him, “Fine.”

He nodded, “Uh, any grading I can help you with?”

‘-but the public should remember to be on guard as they are still at large-‘

“Those papers need grading,” I motioned to a pile at the edge of the table I’d been saving for later.

“I’ll just… do those then.” He murmured, picking up the papers.

‘-whether sports festival will still happen is uncertain at this time but we will make an announcement when it has been-‘

All Might started working on the papers while went back to Midoriya’s schedule, putting the bento aside.

Okay so Nedzu said to toss out his strategy class entirely and put him down for Private Lessons with Nedzu instead, lovely the world will burn.

That means that he’ll have Nedzu on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday… That’s way too much Nedzu in my opinion.

The class had their first strategy class yesterday, it would’ve been just opening up the subject though, they would’ve done that last Saturday, but they had the day off.

‘-promise that we will take care of the students mental health, a schedule is being made to speak with our on-site therapist-‘

I shuffled through to check his English grade, Nedzu recommended cutting that class out and using it for quirk counseling, since it’s one of my free periods. I teach Human Theory and Communications for the upper years, so I need to make sure the class switched out works, and unfortunately English does.

I’ll have to have Problem Child test out of English, at least first year English, or he’ll have to do self-study. But if Nedzu says he’ll be fine then he probably will.

‘-setting up new security measures to insure the safety of our students-‘

Right so, I checked again and raised an eyebrow. Have him test through Geometry and stick him in Pre-Calc? Really? If he continues Maths after that he’ll have to take them with the business classes…

I sighed, well, Nedzu says to so. I marked him down for that then shuffled through the stack, he’ll be taking it with Class 3-A it looks like. Joy.

‘-are there any questions?’

Okay so the schedule looks settled, it will take a bit to adjust, Midoriya will start with Pre-Calc tomorrow so it’ll be right off the bat. I’ll have to show him to his new class just to be safe.

“What are you working on?”

‘-if it happens again?”

I looked over at All Might, “What?”

“The papers, are you grading?” He was studying the mess of papers around me curiously.

“No, right now I’m finishing Midoriya’s schedule. Nedzu is having it changed up.”

‘-excellent question. We are implementing-‘

He frowned, “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t need some classes and does need others.”

He nodded, “I see.” He shifted, marking something on the page.

“Do you know about his quirk?”

All Might broke into a coughing fit, bringing his hand up to stop the blood from getting all over the papers.

‘-being done to compensate the family of the student that was-‘

“Wha-What?”

I stared, “You okay?”

“Fine, what did you say?” He wiped at his mouth.

“Do you know about his quirk? It just recently evolved apparently.”

‘-and furthermore there will be a memorial service held for him-‘

He coughed again, lighter this time, “Ah, yes, I do. I helped him train with it some. Helped him build up muscle and the like. It works a bit similar to my own so…”

I nodded, “What can you tell me about it?”

He coughed, “Uh well, I’m not certain that my advice will be much help, my quirk has never hurt me the same way so…”

I nodded, scowling. I’ll have my Problem Child give me an analysis of his own quirk, he seems pretty good at them.

Now to make a training schedule.

##  Izuku POV  ##

Aizawa-sensei just dropped me off at the pre-calc class after homeroom. How fun.

I swallowed, apparently I tested out, who knew?

I stood awkwardly to the side while Aizawa-sensei talked to Ectoplasm (who’s ability to create clones is apparently very useful since he’s also teaching Algebra for my class).

I was sent to a seat behind a blonde-haired kid with blue eyes, I swear I remember him from the sports festival I just need a minute to think about it, and beside a black haired who ducked his head.

I shifted nervously.

“Alright class, Midoriya Izuku has tested up to Pre-Calc, he’s from class 1-A. Please give him a warm welcome, he’ll be in our Pre-Calc class for the rest of the year.”

I offered a nervous smile to the class.

“I’m sure someone would be willing to catch him up on what he missed last week and on Monday. Now then, moving on.”

He started writing on the board, “Let the domain of a function be this set of values: A = {0, 1, 2, −2}”

The chalk moved across the board and I scrambled to start writing notes.

The class was stressful, I was missing some of what we’d learned, but I’d also done some of this before because Dad wanted me to. So at least I wasn’t totally behind.

Class passed almost in a blur, we had a mini quiz, but I was excused from it for this week, next week I’d have to start taking them though.

I stretched when the bell rang and started to pack things up.

“Hi!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, the boy in front of me had turned around.

“Um, hi?”

“I’m Mirio Togata, it’s nice to meet you Midoriya-kouhai!”

“Um,” I tugged the first part off my pen, “Nice to meet you…”

“Mirio, too bright.”

“That’s Tamaki Amajiki.”

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hello! Are you really from Class 1-A? What was it like getting attacked by villains? Is your hair naturally green? What’s your quirk?”

I shrunk away.

“Nejire! We’re not supposed to ask about the villain attack.”

“Oh yeah, oops,” She offered me a grin, “I’m Nejire Hado!

“Midoriya Izuku,” I mumbled

“So why are you in our class now?”

I shifted, remembering the story I made plus the test I had to take, “Well uh, I tested out of the lower level math’s, um, the Principal had me take some tests, uh, my quirk… I um learned something new about my quirk which is why I took the test so…”

“Cool! We’re happy to have you! Tamaki has the best notes too so if you need any don’t hesitate to ask him!”

“Oh, um, thanks,” I peered at them shyly, “If it’s not too much trouble…”

Tamaki nodded, hiding behind Mirio. “I’ll make copies and give them to you tomorrow,” he whispered.

I smiled brightly, “Thank you.”

He blinked before hiding his face in Mirio’s shoulder, “Too bright.”

I tilted my head confused.

Nejire laughed and hooked an arm with mine, “What’s your next class?”

I straightened, glancing at the clock, “Ah! I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late!”

“Well where is it? We’ll take you just to be safe, we have English next.” Nejire dragged me out the door and Mirio grabbed my bag with a laugh.

“I have Modern Art Hero History next.” I stumbled as Nejire dragged me down the hall.

“Oh, with Midnight! How fun. I remember that class, it was so fun learning about art and how it’s changed since heroes became a thing! What’s your favorite class? Is it math? I hate math, it’s so hard! I much prefer the language classes personally, one of the options for electives is a self-study language. They used to have an actual language class, but no one took it. Now we have to do it ourselves! Isn’t that crazy? I’m also taking business now as an elective, it’s hard but useful for when I graduate. Have you considered what kind of hero you want to be? It’s important to figure it out so that you can pick your courses based on it, or just take fun ones! Tamaki is taking the painting class cause it’s calming to him, except the deadlines. Aren’t deadlines annoying? I just want to be able to do it in my own time but nooo, we have deadlines! Its so- oh look we’re here!”

I blinked, was that what it was like to talk to me? Wow.

“Um, thanks for bringing me.” I quickly bowed, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem!” She chirped.

“Here’s your bag, see you tomorrow!” Mirio handed me my bag and the three headed off.

I stared after them for a moment, wow.

I shook my head and focused back on the door, getting inside and to my seat just as the bell rang.

“Hey Deku!” Uraraka chirped, “How was your new class?”

Kacchan scoffed in front of me.

“Um, it was good, harder but it seems fun…”

“Really? That’s great! How-“

“Alright class!” Midnight stood at the front, “Time to get to work!”

With that class started and everything was a haze.

Lit was much the same, scrambling to take notes as we were assigned our reading, all the teachers were trying to catch us up after we got the end of last week off.

Computer Tech was fun, I’ve never really worked with computers except for research purposes, I’ll see if I can’t find more for it later.

Then came lunch.

“YOUNG MIDORIYA!” All Might skidded to a stop as I exited the room, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE LUNCH WITH ME?”

The other students stared, I flushed.

“Ah- sure.”

I followed him to the teacher’s lounge to eat, pausing in the cafeteria to grab lunch since I only brought snacks today (pop-tarts are delicious I’ve found).

We sat down and nibbled on our food quietly for a few minutes.

All Might cleared his throat.

“Ah, I must apologize to you young Midoriya. Aizawa was questioning me on how I knew you and I panicked and told him I’m your uncle.”

I froze with my food half-way to my mouth.

“… What?”

He coughed, “Ah, yes… I’m terribly sorry, if I’d known he’d corner me like that I would’ve discussed with you what cover you would be comfortable with, he hasn’t questioned you on it yet?”

I slowly shook my head.

All Might said… said he was my uncle.

All Might said he was my uncle.

ALL MIGHT SAID HE WAS MY UNCLE!!

“I’m sorry if this upsets you Young Midoriya, I should’ve spoken with you first-“

“NO! I mean,” I flushed, straightening my plate from where I’d knocked it aside, “it’s okay, I don’t mind. Um… what should I say if I’m asked about you? Should I use that as the cover too?”

He relaxed, “If you want. I told him I’m your uncle on your dad’s side, if you could just not disprove that, and maybe tell me a few things about him…”

“Oh yeah sure.” My dad, wow what to say, “Um, his quirk is fire breath, he calls it dragon’s breath said it sounded cooler. Let’s see, he works in a private company, I’m not supposed to talk about his job and I’m not supposed to know it either so…”

“That’s fine! Anything that you can’t share I wouldn’t be able to either, so you don’t have to tell me anything like that.”

I nodded, relaxing. “Okay um, he likes spicy food, he had a brother? He died a long time ago though, he doesn’t talk about him much.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No, I never knew him, just knew that dad loved him a lot even though they apparently were fighting when he died.”

“Ah, well still.”

I nodded, “Right um, he likes analyzing quirks like me, his hair is white, he’s really smart… He hasn’t been home for a long time…. He doesn’t like corrupt heroes but I don’t think anyone does. He likes books a lot, sends me a bunch and uh, his shoe size 26 shoe size, his hand writing is really neat and I have all his old letters. He’s really good at getting rare comics. He’s busy a lot, doesn’t have a lot of time to call but he tries. I don’t know, it’s been a long time since he was home.”

All Might nodded, “Thank you my boy. That should be enough to let me cover for us.”

I nodded, “Should I call you anything different?”

All Might frowned, taking a bite, “Well, in front of people who we give the cover to I suppose calling me Uncle Yagi, at least in my shrunken form works. And if you want Uncle Might when I’m in my hero form.”

I nodded, “Right.”

He sighed, “I’m going to tell my friends about the cover, they’ll go along with it, they know you’re my successor. Or at least some of them do. The one’s that don’t I’ll be telling… I’m not sure.”

“You could say, if you’re trying to keep the story as close as possible for all of them if they aren’t in the know, that you didn’t tell them about me because I was previously diagnosed as quirkless and you worried that I might get targeted for it and now that I’m in UA and my quirk has evolved to the point that I can fight with it that you feel more secure in the knowledge that I can sorta defend myself and if not I’m surrounded by pros so it should be okay… Only if you wanted too of course!” I squeaked, waving my arms.

“That’s an excellent idea young Midoriya! Though what do you mean evolved?”

“Oh! That’s the cover I’ve come up with for One for All. I’ve named it Enhancement and I’m saying that it enhanced me mentally before and that’s why I was diagnosed as quirkless, it’s basically invisible. Then the stress from the villain attack plus all the training I did after caused my quirk to evolve to enhance me physically as well!”

He blinked, “That’s…. an excellent cover. I never thought of doing something like that. The previous quirk evolving is the normal cover for the previous holders I believe, but your explanation works a lot better than the one Nana-“ He coughed, “Right, well, that’s a good explanation.”

I peered at him, who’s Nana?

“Anyways, did you have any thoughts or questions Young Midoriya?”

I considered asking about Nana but… he seems to not want to talk about them.

“Um, if I’m supposed to call you Uncle Yagi around the others you should probably call me Izuku or something… er, if you want of courseyoudon’thavetoyoucanjustignoreme-“

“No that’s true, if you don’t mind me doing so?”

“It’s fine!” I squeaked, clutching my bowl as I stared down at the Katsudon.

“Alright then… Izuku… is that too impersonal? Do your parents have a nickname for you that I should use? Or is that too much? That’s probably-“

“Dad calls me little dragon sometimes, off of his quirks name… the only other nickname I’ve had is Deku, Kacchan calls me that.”

All Might nodded, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Anyways, I did want to see how you’re doing after… everything.”

I shifted nervously, reaching to take a drink from my untouched water, “Well… It’s hard? I mean, I’m doing okay! But I couldn’t do much to help. I need to get stronger, improve this quirk you gave me. I need to make it mine and get strong enough to defend everyone.”

He nodded, “I think you’re doing well so far. There’s plenty of room for improvement, but for a beginner you’re not doing bad.”

I smiled shyly, I’m glad he thinks I’m doing better. But it’s not enough, I still have to improve a lot.

“I’m able to hold it in my hands now! So that’s that at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh!” I moved my bowl away, I was basically done anyways.

I focused for a moment, holding my hands out, and called the well of power up. I carefully scooped the little bit that I needed into my hand and grinned as the red lines wound over it and the green sparks brightened to a glow.

“See!”

I looked up to see All Might staring wide eyed.

“Young Mid- Izuku, that’s… very impressive. I’ve never seen the quirk do that before. How are you doing that?”

I frowned, “I’m just, reaching for the power and scooping it into my hands?”

He stared, “I’m sorry, I’ve never done it that way before. And… my predecessor had it mastered long before we met so I’m unsure if… they had a similar phenomenon.”

I blinked, peering at my glowing hands, “Oh, strange. I wonder why it does that? Maybe like you said it gets stronger each time and now it’s just too much to not have a visible change? Your eyes glow blue so maybe its something like that? Maybe my eyes will start to glow? Maybe it’s that my body can’t handle the full power, so the glow and sparks are the excess? Maybe it’s how I’m visualizing the power that causes that? Maybe-“

“Woah there Youn- Izuku. We can’t know right now but do take note of the event and see if you can make it… less flashy in time. But there’s not rush yet.”

I peered up at him, “Are you doing okay? After the USJ incident…”

He sighed, “Sudden subject change, but alright. My time limit has gone down, I can stay in my strong form for about an hour a day now. A little under really. That fight did damage.”

My stomach sank, “That’s not good!”

“No, but I still have enough time and strength to train you! And to teach the students. Though I have to be careful, I have two classes to teach a day and each is three hours. I’m having to have another teacher assist me, so I’m sorry if I’m not active in your classes as much.”

“No no, it’s okay. I understand. You should take care of yourself now, recover as best as you can. You can’t help anyone if you’re not healthy!”

He smiled, “Don’t worry Young Midoriya, I’m alright.”

I nodded, faltering when the door opened and Aizawa-sensei came in.

He paused, “Yagi, Midoriya.”

“Hi Aizawa-sensei,” I murmured.

“Hello Aizawa.” All Might coughed.

“I thought you said you weren’t showing favoritism Yagi?”

I flushed.

“I’m not! I’m just having lunch with- with Izuku.”

Aizawa eyed him, “Is that so, Problem child?” He turned to look at me.

“Yes! Um, yeah, I’m just having lunch with Un-Uncle Yagi.” That was strange to say. But it was nice.

“Right, well… Problem child I’ll need you to write me a report on your quirk, what you know about it and what you hope to accomplish while I help you with quirk counseling. Have it ready by tomorrow.”

RING

“Looks like class is about to start, you have Rescue Theory next, better head off.”

I nodded, scrambling to grab my things, “Yes Aizawa-sensei! Bye A-Uncle Yagi!”

I hurried to the door.

“Don’t forget you have lessons with Nedzu after Rescue Theory!”

“Yes sir!”

I closed the door.

“Lessons with Nedzu!?” I heard All Might cough.

I headed off to Rescue Theory.

#izuku midoriya #genius izuku #izuku #deku #dad for one #All for One is Midoriya Hisashi #all for one #aizawa #all might/aizawa #eraserhead #erasermight #older brother tomura #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #smart izuku #good dad for one #all might #nedzu #dadzawa #dad might

[stoplookingupforheaven]

alright friends here we go. @goodlesson tagged me (thank you 💙) so we are doing this. all 73 questions!!

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? 4, fuck you coronavirus

describe yourself in a hashtag? #yeet

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? no. can i just get a hug or maybe steal a hoodie from dan smith or tom holland

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? it’s a disaster but hopefully you’ll love it anyway!

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? one time i won a spelling bee and it was so traumatizing that i swore i’d never do another one ever again

what’s your wake up ritual? wake up, pretend i don’t have to do anything, remember that i do actually have to do stuff, start school. and breakfast happens somewhere in there

what’s your go to bed ritual? snack and tumblr and music

what’s your favorite time of day? i’m a big fan of golden hour because photography. also midnight, i dig it

your go to for having a good laugh? john mulaney

dream country to visit? besides all of them? the czech republic or new zealand!

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? signing to run in college? i know i did it, but i surprised myself with it honestly

heels or flats/sneakers? yes.

vintage or new? new styles purchased at thrift stores

who do you want to write your obituary? i’ve written my own epitaph six times and i don’t even want a gravestone

style icon? shailene woodley, taylor swift

what are three things you cannot live without? trail running, music, sweet tea

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? parmesan fucking cheese. i said what i said

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? oh no who from bastille do we kick off the dinner invite

what’s your biggest fear in life? rejection in any form 

window or aisle seat? window cause i like my views

what’s your current tv obsession? working my way very slowly through NCIS

favorite app? pandora

secret talent? i can sing the entire Hamilton sound track. any part. from memory.

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? i ate a mango with cayenne pepper on it in panama. i did this knowing full well that i a) hate mangos, b) hate cayenne pepper, and c) was already sick. aside from that, it was the best trip i’ve ever taken!

how would you define yourself in three words? adventurous, cynical, smart

favorite piece of clothing you own? chacos baby

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? sneakers. with arch support.

a superpower you would want? i’d love to be able to move undetected

what’s inspiring you in life right now? oh god. um. all the people giving us access to livestreams and musicals and arts in general. and not just the artists - the organizers, the computer people who are making it functional, you are all doing amazing jobs and i adore every single one of you.

best piece of advice you’ve received? sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission

best advice you’d give your teenage self? when people invite you places, go. you’ll like it more than you think you will

a book everyone should read? the immortal life of henrietta lacks

what would you like to be remembered for? trying new things and being kind.

how do you define beauty? if it makes you happy, it’s beautiful. no one else gets a say in what makes you happy

what do you love most about your body? i’m really good at running and i wouldn’t be able to do that without my legs or my lungs. so.

best way to take a rest/decompress? music, read a book, cup of tea

favorite place to view art? outside always. if you take me to a sculpture garden i’ll love you forever

if your life was a song, what would the title be? "Is This My Decision Or Am I Just Following Everyone’s Advice”

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? can i say singing? i wish i’d joined choir so much

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? possibly my back?

dolphins or koalas? why would you make me choose

what’s your patronus? penguin

best gift you’ve ever received? my grandma gave me my grad present early and it’s a quilt made of all my old tshirts!

best gift you’ve given? i gave my grandparents prints of some of my photos and they loved them!

what’s your favorite board game? i... honestly don’t love board games that much. i love cards against humanity but that’s cards so

what’s your favorite color? teal

least favorite color? orange

diamond or pearls? diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore always

blow-dry or air-dry? air-dry bc i’m lazy

pilates or yoga? yoga

coffee or tea? yes

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? hippomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is both improbable and ironic

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk chocolate but i love them both

stairs or elevators? hi, future collegiate cross country runner here, i’m that jerk that literally runs up every flight of stairs

summer or winter? winter

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? ice cream

a dessert you don’t like? lemon anything ew

a skill you’re working on mastering? i’m trying so hard to practice drawing but i am struggling so much and i’m not getting much better and that doesn’t help motivation. but i’m doing my best!

best thing to happen to you today? running in the rain!

worst thing to happen to you today? ap calc test that i will surely fail

best compliment you’ve ever received? this lady that i absolutely idolize from my church told me that she was amazed by the depth of wisdom i possessed and i definitely cried

favorite smell? cinnamon

hugs or kisses? HUGS ALWAYSSSSSS

if you made a documentary, would it be about? effects of climate change in developing countries and how they are fighting it because no one talks about them enough

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? legitimately i never cry at anything. but i just got done watching Help Me Chase Those Seconds and since it’s late and i’m already emotionally compromised, i came pretty fucking close.

lipstick or lipgloss? lipstick

sweet or savory? sweet

girl crush? shailene woodley or bea miller

how do you know you’re in love? um

a song you can listen to on repeat? the entire wild world album

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? des linden

what are you most excited for about this time in your life? moving to college if covid clears up in time

tagging: this is so, so long so definitely don’t do it if you don’t want to. @prismaticheretic @atrophicgalaxy you’re up!

#tag games #this one was so long but so good #rain talks

[inkofamethyst]

March 11, 2020

It’s not been a necessarily glamorous day (woke up late, took a nap that was waaayyyy longer than intended, stayed up really late into the wee hours of the morning doing two post-lab sets and one prelab), but I will classify day 71 as a successfully cute day because I did feel cute despite most of that.

You know, I think I was mostly in a good mood because a) BBC America has started showing Star Trek Next Gen episodes again and b) I’m getting to experience two weeks of online classes.  You heard me right ladies and gentlemen.  Found out yesterday that coronavirus has scared my university enough to cancel classes completely for a week following spring break then hold online-only classes for the following two weeks (at least).  So I officially get a week less of school (...might affect my ability to learn all of the concepts correctly but whatevs am I right ladies?) which I’ll probably use to both catch up on schoolwork, get ahead on schoolwork as much as I can, and work on personal projects (sewing/finishing(!) my swing dress (I need to add buttons and a hem and the waist part, I think, along with some handsewing to make everything lay real nice) and writing my audiodrama script draft and probably recording some acapellas).  This should be fun?

I do have a calc 3 midterm on Friday though and that’s pretty sucky because I’d really rather not take it (mostly out of laziness tbh), and I’m hoping that the school confirms a case or two or ten soon so that they can cancel Friday classes.  And, uh, also to protect the immunocompromised/suppressed individuals and elderly professors.  Or to protect those of us going home over break to see our loved ones!  Like, this is a viral spread (...I’m beginning to understand the origins of the term “viral” when it comes to online videos and such...) that’s not slowing down.  The more possible exposure we have, the more likely it is that we’ll spread it.  And like, I’d rather not put my family and friends or their family and friends in danger.

Never thought I’d live through a pandemic, but I have been wondering when society would implode upon itself, so.

That’s mostly it.  I’ve got some homework and studying to get done (which hopefully won’t matter because they’ll cancel classes on Friday), so I’ll catch y’all later.  Oh and also, I’m still feeling residual sickness (no coughing or breathing issues, just a runny nose and a little fatigue) from last week, and I’m wondering if I need to take more medicine.  I’m a huge proponent of “let your body fight it off” but after learning in anatomy that the process can take 10-17 days, I’m kind of over it right now.  

Today I’m thankful for this new experience.  I don’t know many people who can say that they’ve had school cancelled due to a pandemic, so I’d say this is pretty unique.  I just wish the test kits weren’t being rationed, you know?  I’d really like to find out if I’m positive for the virus because the literal only place I could’ve caught it at this point was this campus.  I’ve been on campus for weeks now, so, yeah.

This world be wack.

[writehardwhumpharder]

First Fic!!

Hey everyone, I finally finished my first fanfic! It took a while to get over the writer's block and stop trying to make everything perfect. I decided to start with my fav whumpee, Peter Parker, right after the bite when he goes through the transformation and he's still vulnerable and clueless to what is happening to him. So here it is, I think I'll just keep writing and posting fics and hope that the blog makes itself from there.

Ned jogged up to Peter on their way to the bus. The field trip was only an hour and a half long but his friend already had so much to say to him.

"Peter! Pete, did you see that exhibit on DNA mutation? It was amazing wasn't it? Too bad all the girls wouldn't stop screaming at the spiders, I could barely hear our guide."

"Oh I got you, you can look over my notes. The assignment is due tomorrow." Peter offered.

"Thanks, man." Ned smiled. Usually that was enough to put Peter in a better mood but today he was dragging his feet.

"Mmhmm." He mumbled as they found their seat on the bus. Ned kept going on about some new sci-fi show but Peter couldn't pay attention. He rubbed his neck absentmindedly. At some point at the end of the tour it started to itch, maybe even sting a little. He debated whether or not to mention it but decided it wasn't important. He pulled out his notes for his friend and went to immediately lean his head against the window. The cold glass soothed an ache he didn't know he had. The bus ride back to Midtown High was only 20 minutes, so they'll probably get back during third period. He groaned, it's not even lunch yet.

"Did you.. want to take a nap? I can wake you up when we get back." Ned said cautiously, seeing how tired Peter looked. Peter was never very good at telling people when something was wrong with him.

"Huh? No, I'm good. What were you saying?" He said, straightening up in his seat. Immediately regretting the sudden movement when a sharp pain started behind his temples. He grimaced before he could stop himself. Ned was definitely worried now, but for his sake pretended not to notice.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur and the headache only seemed to get worse. Peter resolved to wait until lunch then get some caffeine and aspirin. He just had to get through AP History first.

The bus came to a stop just outside the school. The slight jolt sent an unexpected wave of nausea through him. He blinked slowly to get his bearings then followed Ned off the bus to head to third period.

"Dude, aren't you going to grab your backpack?" Ned asked.

"Hmm?" Peter questioned, completely unaware. Ned sighed and grabbed both bags like the dutiful friend he is.

"Nevermind..." Ned went as far as to carry his bag until they got to Peter's next class. Ned would be in a different class but MJ would be there and he knew she'd keep an eye on him. Peter dazedly accepted his backpack when Ned held if out to him and walked into the classroom. Ned was still a little concerned but he was probably just tired like usual.

Peter quietly made his way to his seat, so not to disturb to teacher's lecture. MJ sat a few seats behind him, pretending to be absorbed in a book. He got out his notebook to make it at least look like he was paying attention. He needed some coffee and he needed it now. May didn't exactly approve of this but the school sold it at lunch so it couldn't be that bad, right? He rested his head on his arm, the teacher droned on and on and soon he felt his eyes closing. The light was starting to hurt his eyes but he forced them back open again when something hit his arm. A wadded up ball of paper landed by his feet. Leaning over to pick it up he felt that pang of nausea again. Maybe it was time to consider that he might actually be sick. He took a deep breath and it waited a moment for it to subside then flattened the paper.

"Are you okay?" - MJ

He wasn't feeling great but he didn't feel any worse than when he pulled an all nighter finishing a paper. He offered her a weak thumbs up without turning around. Class was almost over, he just had to make it through lunch then take his Calc. test, if he still felt bad then he'd go home.

He must have been dozing off when the bell rang. He lifted his head off his desk quickly, rubbing his eyes a little. His neck didn't itch anymore, that's progress. Peter tried to get out of the room before MJ could question him but she caught up with him easily. She fell into step beside him and gave a piercing glare.

"You didn't answer my question." She said pointedly. He sighed as they turned the corner toward the cafeteria.

"I'm just tired, and what's your deal today? I'm literally always sleep deprived." Peter said defensively.

"Have you looked at yourself? You're paler than that one day when you-"

"Alright, point made. But I swear I'm not sick."

"Fine, I don't really care anyway. But I don't believe you for a second." MJ turned and walked away toward her locker, masking her concern with annoyance.

Ned waved to him when he stepped into the cafeteria and Peter headed toward their usual table near the corner. Ned's smile faded when he saw him, despite Peter's attempts to seem normal and happy. Or at least not as lethargic as he really feels.

"Heyyy... Peter.. you okay, bro?" Ned asked when he sat down, sliding a styrofoam cup towards him. Coffee, thank god.

"I'm fine, really. I just have to get through my Calc. test then if I'm still tired I'll text May, okay?" Peter said, sipping the hot coffee graciously. He didn't notice at first but holding that hot coffee made him realize how cold he was. He shivered slightly.

MJ sat down at the table a few feet away, scribbling away at something by herself. Some days she sat with them, but most of the time she preferred to be alone. Peter pulled out his notebook and pathetic sandwich, intending on studying a bit more before his next class. Ned started talking about some robotics thing and Peter tried to listen. He even gave some suggestions on the design. But suddenly Ned stopped talking. Peter didn't look up until a red drop fell on the paper he was working on.

"Peter, your-" Ned pointed at his own nose. Peter quickly brought a hand up to it to see that it was in fact, starting to bleed.

"This dry winter air, man..." He said with nastily voice, trying to play it off. The napkin he held up to it wasn't doing a very good job containing the mess. Ned was visibly worried now. No way was this a coincidence. MJ looked up then and raised her eyebrows when she saw the blood. Her book snapped closed and for a second she just stared at them. Feeling their eyes on him he got up and started heading towards the bathroom. Other students gave him strange looks as he staggered through the cafeteria trying to keep the blood from getting on his sweatshirt. Ned scrambled to keep up with him and he barely had time to lock himself in a stall before Ned followed him into the bathroom. He grabbed some fresh toilet paper to staunch the flow and took a deep breath as panic began to set in.

"I'm fine, Ned. This happens all the time, leave me alone." He said, trying not to snap at his friend.

"I've known you since we were six and this is not normal. Really, just come out and we'll go to the nurse okay?" Ned pleaded. Peter just leaned against the wall and put a hand on his knee. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded to tell the truth. He felt himself drifting away from reality just a little bit. He was just panicking, everything is okay. Knowing Ned was just outside the stall was comforting and he let himself close his eyes for a moment. The bleeding had mostly stopped but he wasn't feeling any better. The fatigue was starting to get to him, and he was hesitant to leave his spot by the toilet, just in case the nausea came back, but he reluctantly agreed to let Ned take him to the nurse.

He was running out of excuses and each second left him feeling more detached. Ned hovered anxiously around his friend. Peter caught a look at himself in the mirror and understood what everyone was talking about. His skin was deathly pale and a thin layer of sweat was forming on his neck. His skin was red and flushed on his cheeks and neck where he had that bump earlier. He found himself leaning heavily on the sink as a dizzy spell washed over him. Ned was trying to get his attention and despite how much he wanted to sink down to the floor right there he figured he should get to the nurse before this got any worse. Maybe this was some kind of allergic reaction.

"Wait... what about our bags, my phone, I need to text..." he trailed off before his words could start slurring together. Ned grabbed his shoulder and steered him towards the door.

"Don't worry about it." To his surprise, MJ was already standing out in the hallway with a small pile of backpacks at her feet.

"Peter, what's going on?" She asked as Ned grabbed their things. They both looked at him like he might fall over at any second. He crossed his arms and shrunk into himself with discomfort.

"Uh... he doesn't feel very good." Ned added before turning back to his friend. Peter screwed his eyes shut, the florescent lights suddenly too much for him. "Come on." He urged.

Peter tried to take a step and faltered. "I don't... I think I should..." he threw a hand out to the wall and tried to sit down. Ned caught his elbow and helped lower him to the floor.

At that moment, students starting filtering out into the hallway. Flash turned the corner toward them.

"What's wrong Parker?" He sneered, "you gonna hurl?"

Peter made no attempt to answer him, only vaguely aware of his surroundings.

"We don't have time for this." Ned said, hauling his friend to his feet, determined to get him to the office before the hallway filled with any more people. Peter managed to stay on his feet but his head lolled forward onto his chest. Things had really taken a turn for the worse and any hope that this was some minor illness was long abandoned. Flash stopped laughing when he saw how serious it really was. Peter's feet dragged, lazily trying to keep up.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" MJ barked, "help them." Her tone left no room to argue. Flash groaned but ran ahead to get the nurse.

Peter was pretty sure that he was about to die of embarrassment. Ned helped him walk slowly towards to the office but it was becoming clear that they weren't going to get there. It was getting harder to see and hear let alone put one foot in front of the other. Darkness clouded his vision and for a brief second he felt like he was going to throw up before the darkness claimed him completely.

Peter went slack in Ned's arms, and he did his best lower his friend to the ground gently. Seconds later he stiffened again and started to shake.

Ned felt tears running down his face before he was really aware of them. MJ shrieked, as did a few other people at the sight before them. Flash finally returned with the nurse just as Peter started seizing. The rest was chaos as they waited for the paramedics to arrive.

---

His hands closed around the soft blanket. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't in his own bed. Something was different. He blinked his eyes open, only to be assaulted by blinding bright lights. His head hurt, actually, everything hurt. He moaned quietly. Aunt May rushed to Peter's side.

"Ben, turn the lights off, they're bothering him." May said as Peter started to stir. With the lights off it was a lot easier to open his eyes, his Aunt hovered in his vision. "That's great Peter, open your eyes for me." She said soothingly.

"What happened?" His voice croaked. May's fingers combed through his hair gently and uncle Ben stood just to the right of her, resting a hand on his calf.

"You've been in the hospital for a few days so take it slow. The doctors still aren't sure what happened. Do you remember collapsing at school, sweetie?" Peter's eyes widened.

"No.." he whispered, "oh god, what did they see?"

"Well the nurse said that you basically passed out in the hallway and had a seizure, then an ambulance brought you here. Ned told us you weren't feeling well before that." May said. He remembered the field trip and feeling crummy but that's about it. "Ned really wants to see you, if you're up for it."

"Sure." Peter was dead tired but he felt he owed it to him after doing so much to help. Ben slipped out into the hallway to fetch him and Peter fought to keep his eyes open.

Ned beamed when he walked in, May left to give them a minute to talk. " I can't tell you how happy I am to see you awake, bro, you really scared us. How do you feel?" Ned asked.

"I don't know, fine but... somehow different." said Peter.

#whump #sickfic #peterparker #collapse #seizure #fanfic #IhopeIpostedthisright