#( and then the older man who sat in my final class and (with the utmost sincerity) asked me not to go baking at midnight tonight )

[clochanamarc]

i had a group of students today and they said i was very good and like. i know i'm struggling but jesus christ that just healed my soul, yk? like i barely speak any italian, i'm far away from home, my voice is in danger of quitting on me, but my students seem to like me, and that just. makes me feel really okay.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.31}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Oh man, I wish we could come along!" Gideon sighed, then rested his elbows on the table and his head in his hands with an expression that bordered on a pout. "How unfair is that?! You guys get to go up the astronomy tower and have all the fun while we're stuck writing a bloody charms essay! Why on earth is fate so cruel?!"

"Maybe fate just likes us better than you." Cas replied with a smug expression, and a victorious smirk at the boys on the opposite side of the table. "There's nothing you can do about that, Gideon, but to just accept fate as it is."

"Pff, as if fate hasn't been kind enough to you already by gracing you with us in the first place…" Michael protested immediately, and Cas rolled her eyes in return. The only ones who currently knew better than to take part in this ridiculous conversation were Jorien and Simon, both of who already had something else to do for the night anyway. Smart of them, really.

"I honestly can't blame fate for not liking either of you right now." Robin sighed in sheer annoyance, and desperately hoped that dinner would be served soon. She had sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the rest of the dunderhead gang barely five minutes ago, and informed the group that she might be able to arrange a visit to the astronomy tower for Cas and Melissa three minutes down the road. The remaining two had been filled with the two boys' complaints about not being able to come along. Honestly, Robin had enough of the discussion. "If you guys had done your work any earlier instead of lazing about like dunderheads, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Now it was both Gideon and Michael who rolled their eyes at her in sheer annoyance. "Well, not everyone can be a swot like you!" The latter huffed, then sighed again, quite as dramatically as possible. "If only there was someone a year above us who could help us with the assignment… Or someone living in the same bloody room as us…"

"Why do you guys have to make everything so stupidly difficult…" Robin groaned under her breath while Simon gracefully ignored the allusion, then she hid her face in her hands when her headache only grew worse at this inane discussion. She really had not imagined this to be quite so difficult, not remotely. The older everyone got, the more difficult they became to deal with. Well, to manipulate, actually.

"See, Robin, if you-..." Gideon didn't get further than that, when Jorien cut straight into his attempted complaint.

"Just shut up Gideon, will you?" She snapped back at the boy, much to everyone's surprise. Until now, she had remained pointedly quiet for the entirety of the conversation just like Simon. Michael made a move to protest, but Jorien was faster. "And you too, Michael. Just shut. your. mouth. I don't get to go either, nor does Simon, but do you see us complaining?!"

"Well no, but-..."

"No 'but', idiots! You're being terrible friends to both Robin and Cas right now, if you haven't noticed, and you're seriously ruining everyone's night with your pathetic whining! So get a bloody grip already and just be happy for Cas that she gets to do something fun. And better be bloody nice to Robin now if you don't want her to send you into detention instead of up that stupid tower!" Jorien's cutting tone fit the fact that she still glared daggers at both boys, who both looked immediately intimidated in return. Robin couldn't help feeling immensely proud of the girl, and thankful that she was doing what Robin herself was just too tired to. These kinds of problems were on a different level than what she was dealing with today, and there was no room in her mind currently for teenage quarrels.

"You… can't really give us detention, can you?" Michael asked Robin so carefully that all hints of the previous accusations and protest were history.

"She can, and she will." Cas shrugged before Robin could, with a humoured expression even now that the discussion had taken a turn. "Robin can do anything, in case you still haven't understood that at this point. Giving you detention is the very least of that."

An idea sparked up in Robin's mind then, a new and perhaps even better one that would allow her to cover up for most of tonight's impending doings and thereby justify what she needed the girls to do for her. Keeping an eye out for Morgan's departure and return wasn't all that ordinary of a request, after all. She would need a cover story, and this could pose an even better one than doing the girls a favour by bringing them up the stupid tower indeed. So perhaps, teenage quarrels were the way to go after all.

"It's true, I can do and get away with pretty much anything around here." Robin shrugged in feigned ease and confidence, and all eyes were drawn from Cas straight to her instead. "Giving detention or unlocking the astronomy tower is nothing but a warm-up to me."

"Yeah, sure…" Gideon snorted, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin with a grin. "How about you convince Flitwick to spare us that bloody essay then?"

"And why would I want to bore myself out of my mind by doing something as easy as that? Even you could do that if only you tried." Robin scoffed in return, in an act that seemed to fool at least the two boys she was currently targeting. The girls and Simon however were rightfully doubtful about her sudden change in demeanour, but luckily they kept their suspicions to themselves.

"Oh, so you really mean it then, do you? You really can do anything?" Michael shot her a smirk at first, then turned to whisper something to Gideon and finally both boys looked at her with mischievous grins. "How about a little challenge then, huh?"

"If you are able to find anything that could remotely challenge me in the first place…" Robin sighed in sheer exaggerated boredom, then shrugged. This was going precisely to her plan, and the boys had absolutely no clue about how well they were playing their roles right now. Lovely. "Why not. Try to challenge me, if you can."

"How far do you want to go?" Michael questioned again, but he obviously had an idea in mind already that he was just trying to present in a grander manner. Robin only wanted to scoff at his badly hidden intentions… people were so obvious sometimes.

"How far can you think?" She replied instead, and raised her eyebrows at the two boys. "You would like me to waste my time by proving a point to you. The least you can do is to make it interesting for me."

"Fine then." Michael grinned at her, then nodded at Gideon, who nodded in return. Boys… Robin inwardly rolled her eyes. "Since you're obviously not scared of any of the professors, I think we should go up the hierarchy instead. And if you want to go all out already, why don't you break into Professor Dumbledore's office to see what it looks like in there? Nobody I know has ever seen it from the inside."

"Oh please… I've been there numerous times. I could just ask him to invite me over for tea any time, and I could even bring you along if you'd fancy that." She sighed in utmost feigned disappointment. "He and I have some matters to discuss anyway, now that I think about it… How would you like coming along to tea tonight, Michael, huh? I'm sure the headmaster would be delighted."

Simon, Cas and Jorien snorted in reply to Robin's easy teasing tone, Gideon was trying not to, and Michael looked entirely flustered. Alright, perhaps Robin did have a little fun messing with them alongside the execution of her plan.

"Fine…" Michael huffed, then crossed his arms over his chest. "But which professor doesn't invite you over for tea on a regular basis?! I'm starting to think you're the bloody minister himself!"

"She's Robin." Cas smirked at the boys, and thereby brought a sincere smile to Robin's face as well. "That's even better."

"Let's see… We should try thinking about it her way." Gideon pulled a ridiculous thinking face, then started grinning again a mere moment later. "The only one I've never heard Robin speak about is Professor Morgan. And from what rumour says, the two of them go quite roughly on each other in class. Is it true that he broke your wrist once when he demonstrated a spell from the restricted section on you?"

"Oh come on guys, you won't actually make me deal with Morgan of all people!" Robin feigned an annoyed complaint, and at the same time completely ignored the question, as well as the indeed very real memories it brought back. Her wrist still made clicking sounds sometimes… even though Snape had fixed it, after she'd insistently refused to go to the infirmary. "Morgan is literally the only person I don't get along with."

"It's settled then. You're going to break into Morgan's office." Michael grinned in what he believed to be his victory. "It's probably full of defensive spells and traps and other surprises…"

"Perhaps we should pick something less difficult after all, huh?" Gideon added with a smirk and a nudge of his elbow into Michael's arm. Boys…

"As if anything that man does would actually pose a problem to me." Robin scoffed in perhaps a little too much feigned confidence, but it was all part of the act anyway. This was the moment to set the hook once into her story and for all. "But if you guys insist on it, you shall get your point proven. Tomorrow morning, I will tell you the exact order of the items Morgan keeps on his desk. Then you can confirm that I really was there, when you go to his office under some pretext on Monday."

"I hadn't even thought of that, but if you're offering a piece of proof already, I won't decline. Not that we actually need any, with you always telling the truth and all." Michael shot Robin a grin, then one at Gideon who also looked immensely pleased with the challenge they had set. Or rather the challenge Robin had made them set for her very intentionally. Poor them, reduced to chess pieces in a game they couldn't understand… But they deserved that much for annoying her tonight.

She had to admit however that this was quite perfect, in the way it had played out. She had been in Morgan's office today after all, which means that tomorrow she would be able to say she'd been there yesterday without being dishonest. In addition to that, she surely would be able to remember the order of things on Morgan's stupid desk without actually having another look at them… with Snape's help, at least, she could draw that information from her memories. At some point, later, when there was room for it in her mind again.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Robin?" Simon finally dared to voice a thought, and Robin did feel a little bad to play her act on him now as well. He'd been very kind to her nerves as of yet, and he surely deserved better than to be a mere asset in her current schemings. "When Michael challenges someone, it never ends well. Especially not for actually intelligent people.

"Hey!" Michael protested, but went kindly ignored.

"Have a little faith in me." Robin gave Simon a half smile instead, reassuring yet confident in her words. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Jorien raised an eyebrow at her as well now, surely catching on to the very un-Robin like behaviour. But quite obviously, she also caught on to at least the idea of some greater plan behind it. "You know, as always?"

"Precisely as always." Robin gave her a not-smirk, and was content with the hint of understanding flashing over the girl's face in return. Well, at least one person understood that she wasn't as stupid as to blindly accept any challenge.

"Great, now that we have that settled, I could use some food to prepare for the long night ahead! Even if I won't be the one breaking into Morgan's office." Gideon sighed with a smile, then a small snort escaped him as he not-so-subtly motioned towards the side entrance behind the head table. "Speaking of the handsome devil, look who's just arrived! And- oh boy, what happened to him back in Hogsmeade today?!"

Robin didn't even have to turn around to know exactly what was playing out behind her back. After a few seconds of gathering her confidence, she still glanced over her shoulder at Morgan who just now made his way from the door to his seat. He had changed his robes and also gotten rid of all other indicators of what had happened just a few hours ago… everything was back in place, as was a striking dark blue bruise on the left side of his face. It was as noticeable as could be, a dark beacon on his pale skin. Great. A cold shudder ran down Robin's back in an instant when he caught sight of her in return, and back was the feeling of raw anxiety. Fuck… she hadn't thought that seeing him here would be this fear inducing all over again, even if he was at a good distance to her now, and surrounded by a good amount of his colleagues.

"I wonder what happened to him…" Cas said out loud what everyone else was thinking. "Poor Morgan… He's such a nice person, he doesn't deserve that! Whoever did that to him should suffer the same fate. Or worse. Preferably worse."

Cas' words made Robin feel sick with a start, like a sudden blow to the stomach she hadn't seen coming. They never spoke about Morgan, never discussed any of the rumours that were going around about the things he had supposedly done to her in class. Cas and Jorien probably believed them to be quite as wrong as all the other rumours about Robin they had heard over the years. Only that this time, the vast majority of it was unfortunately true. In the past two months, he really had done his utmost to send her to the hospital wing in a state of unlikely recovery as often as he could. And still, as it seemed, Robin's friends were quite as fond of Morgan as everyone else. Gods… Robin really did feel sick now.

"Perhaps he just walked into something, or had an accident with his work…" Simon suggested with a small shrug. "It doesn't seem too serious either way, if he's here at dinner now and not in the hospital wing. I'm sure he's taken good care of."

"He will be fine, I'm sure of that." Jorien added in agreement, reassuringly as well as hopeful for just that. "And I'm sure whatever or whoever did this to him got what they deserve. He knows what he's doing after all; nobody in their right mind would attack a defense teacher."

Robin's stomach was in even tighter knots upon the realization that indeed all of her friends were seriously concerned about the professor, as if he had done anything to warrant such sentiments. Concerned, and in obvious favour of. She clenched her teeth, took a deep breath, then put on her best neutral facade. They didn't know what she knew. They didn't know what kind of a man he truly was. But that didn't stop their behaviour from hurting Robin. Didn't soothe the stab in the back she felt. She took another deep breath. Be rational about this, try to see things from their side. How could they possibly like him? Why?

Perhaps he was acting differently with them, a different man under different circumstances. Perhaps he wasn't as easily put into a box as she wanted him to be. He couldn't be the same person to them as he was to her, if even Jorien – who picked up on almost as many hidden clues about a person as Robin did herself – was in favour of him. Perhaps it was Robin who was the problem. Yes really, it only made too much sense. Morgan, the man who everyone just loved and cared for, and she, Robin, the girl who everyone despised and feared no matter what she did. When being rational indeed, the answer to which one of them both was the problem here was a simple one after all. In the end, the world liked Morgan better. In the end indeed, they would either mourn his death or turn their back on hers in celebration of his victory. That thought was deeply unsettling to Robin all of a sudden, perhaps even more than Morgan's presence. The world would always like him better, even if Robin turned her back on either.

But then there was Snape. He didn't fit the pattern the dark parts of her mind were trying to recognize here, didn't fall into line with the vast majority of people. Or with anyone really, but her. With her he stood together, had always, would always. The thought made Robin smile ever so slightly against all odds. He saw more of her than all the others, knew more of her truth than anyone else, and he still was on her side of matters after all. He was on her side, against the world. Perhaps her friends would be too, if they knew what she knew. Yes, that was a reassuring thought for once: They would stand with her, if they knew that there were sides to pick in the first place. But until they could know, she would have to live with them being in favour of both her and Morgan. Perhaps, they would never have to know about any of this.

It was then that dinner was finally sent up, and it was then as well that she felt the familiar tingle in the back of her mind. Seeing as her friends had long moved on from the previous topic and now started indulging in their meals, Robin dared to look over her shoulder and towards the head table once more. A brief and careful glimpse told her that Morgan was deep in conversation with Sprout now, so her eyes finally landed on the man she had meant to seek out. Their gaze met, and she smiled when his presence became a gentle caress of her mind once more, taking away both the tension and the headache with a start. Gods, she could finally breathe again.

'You gave him that black eye, didn't you?' Snape's words, his voice filled with a subtle pleasedness, rang out clear as ever in her mind, and Robin was only mildly surprised by the not entirely new mode of conversation. They often shared emotions this way, or memories like earlier today, but she was pleased to find that it worked just fine to have an actual conversation too. Even, or especially at a distance like this, and without anyone else taking notice.

'Obviously. You saw how my fist met his face, and probably also felt how badly that hurt my hand in return.' She replied in the closest thing she could imagine a half smile to sound like. He would understand that.

'I did indeed.' His words were succeeded by the strong feelings of pride and admiration that were most definitely intentionally shared, and Robin's smile widened while she did avert her eyes however to not make it too obvious what she was smiling about. Or rather who she was smiling at. It wouldn't be good to get caught staring at him like that.

'Very true, it would likely cause us even more problems.' He commented on her thought even now that she was finally setting out to heave some food onto her plate. When she looked back at him, his eyes were set on his own dinner, with only the briefest glimpse up at her for a broken second of acknowledgement. So this also worked without sight, even at a distance… interesting. Robin looked back down to her meal and shared with him the wave of relief she felt upon his presence in her mind. She could feel him smile in return. Slowly, the fear and hurt in her mind became thus replaced by warmth.

'If you're in my mind already, you might as well take a look at the outcome of the conversation I just had to endure.' She finally phrased in actual words again, when she felt his presence lingering even after a while of comfortable silence on either side. Honestly, she was glad that she didn't have to be alone with her thoughts right now. So she showed him the outcome of the discussion with Gideon and Michael.

'A challenge? How imbecilic is that…' He scoffed after a moment of going through what she put on display for him to see. Robin sent a wordless agreement in return, then he added, 'It was a brilliant idea to use it as a cover for our doings though, under these circumstances.'

'Why thank you.' The smile that came onto her face as she chewed her green beans was very real and visible to her surroundings, in contrast to the wordless conversation they were having at least. 'The idea to do them a favour just wasn't entirely working out the way I planned, so I had to switch strategies. This challenge, no matter how idiotic I personally find it, is both a cover story and an alibi that reveals neither your involvement nor our actual plans for tonight to anyone involved.'

'Clever.' He replied, and Robin returned the feeling of how pleased she was upon the praise. She felt him smirk for a moment, before he finally made another comment. 'I am thoroughly disappointed in the dunderhead gang for taking pity on Morgan though, even if they do not know any better. Are you certain you don't want to give all of them detention tomorrow? They could scrub some cauldrons while we watch them with a coffee.'

Robin let out a rather loud snort, a real one, and it drew her friends' attention to her in an instant. Oh dear… perhaps she needed some more practice in having a mental conversation while in the physical presence of other people at the same time. She hadn't even been listening to the real conversation going on around her at all!

'It seems that they just realized the very same thing.' Snape's smirk was so palpable in her mind that Robin rolled her eyes for real, which didn't help the situation and only made her friends stare openly at her as if waiting for an explanation for her odd behaviour. 'Redundant of them to expect any differently. It shouldn't come as a surprise to them anymore that you are indeed quite odd.'

"Oh, do shut up already, will you?!" Robin groaned in her head as well as out loud, and her entire group of friends frowned at her in even more confusion. Great… Now she certainly did seem insane after all! In her mind, she heard Snape's low chuckle echoing all through her being for a moment, before he left her to deal with her surroundings by herself for now. Insufferable idiot… But the smile he had brought back to her lips stayed there even as she joined back into the usual banter with her friends, without any more mention of Morgan or the black eye Robin was proud to have given him after all.

______________________________

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[ladyfiresfanfiction]

Flying the Nest - One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Fic - Chapter One

I’ve had this fic percolating in my brain for about four months and I am now just letting it flow. I hope you guys will like it! Please let me know what you all think. I’m a bit rusty haha, so I hope I don’t suck! Chapter One under the cut. Chapter two will be posted tomorrow!

I am standing shakily in the hallway of a whitewashed building. Ahead is rows and rows of rooms, art and photography and pamphlets adorn the walls. But I am staring with utmost fascination at the black and white and brownish designs of the tiled floor. Snapped back to the unpleasant present by a nurse not much older than I, I'm guided through heavy white double doors into what I would usually call the Room of Hell; a peer counseling room or area in multiple buildings I have become well acquainted with in the last eighteen months.

To my surprise, I am met with familiar blue-green eyes and a face turning ashen with shock upon seeing me. My older brother, Mac.

"Baby Jane? What the hell are you doing here?" Mac asks in his gruff yet gravelly voice. I shrug, forcing a slight smile as he walks toward me, against the wishes of the bitchy looking blonde nurse seated less than one hundred yards ahead of me and envelopes me in his infamous bear hugs I had missed greatly. I found myself holding tightly to my brother's arms, afraid that if I were to let go, I would break into pieces in the middle of the room that would soon become my greatest fear and biggest location of loathing.

"Alright, Mister McMurphy, let your sister go now, thank you. And Miss McMurphy, please take the empty seat right here, between your brother and Mister Bibbit. Thank you. My name is Nurse Ratchet, welcome to our home of healing." The nurse said as I took my seat. As I sat down, my eyes locked onto the bluest eyes I have ever seen, so much so that my heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, yes," Mac laughed as my cheeks turned a light pink. "This is the man of the hour, Janie. His name is-" "M-m-m-my name is-i-is b-bi-b-Billy." The beautiful boy with gorgeous blue eyes stammered. "I-it-its nice to m-m-meet you, Miss." He finished with a shy smile.

Before I could utter a reply to Billy, I was interrupted.

"Miss Jane McMurphy? Come with me, please." The resident doctor, named Doctor Spivey. My heart started hammering in my chest as I reflexively grabbed Mac's hand. Doctor Spivey was a reserved yet kind-looking man as he waited patiently in the doorway, noticing the apprehension on my face. Mac patted my shoulder with encouragement as he nodded towards Spivey.

"I'm just a couple of rooms away, Janie. He's a nice doc. Go on, now, and I'll give ya a tour when you're back." Mac said in a low voice, nodding toward the waiting doctor. I let go of his hand as I stood up and slowly walked towards Spivey. He waved his hand toward the left corridor and said the admissions room was on the left. I whispered something I couldn't even hear and walked slowly as if the path I was taking was going straight to the gates of the Underworld. Doctor Spivey walked a couple of paces behind me, guiding me to the right room, or possibly making sure I didn't try to bolt to the entrance door about fifty steps from his office.

As we made it into the office, he waved his hand toward a comfortable-looking brown leather chair behind a large mahogany desk. It had a manilla envelope with what could be mistaken as someone's novel manuscript but was actually my medical history and doctor's notes from past mental hospital and emergency room stays since July of '61, nearly two years ago.

"Make yourself at home, Miss McMurphy," Doctor Spivey began as he took his seat in a large-looking leather desk chair that matched his massive desk. He peered over my notes, tsking at some parts while his sparse salt-and-pepper-colored eyebrows shot up at other areas of my history. When he finally looked at me, I felt my stomach lurch and the room became unbearably hot. I knew I was in the middle of a raging panic attack, but I tried to keep on my Pokerface in fear of what might happen if I started to become undone.

"Well now, Miss McMurphy. Says here you are about to turn twenty-two years of age and were a junior in college. What uh, brings you here?" He asked, softly. "My... ex-fiance, he killed himself almost two years ago. I had also been dealing with physical health setbacks and was falling behind in classes on top of his untimely death. I just... Couldn't handle it anymore." I replied while my voice was barely above a whisper. "I see. It also says here you've overdosed on opium and cocaine, as well as gotten alcohol poisoning a few times. Is that right?" He asked, his eyes boring into me over thick black spectacles. "Well, like I said, I wasn't handling Charles's death... well... And I have been in and out of the hospital since my freshman year of high school. I just wanted everything to stop." I replied in a flat tone. "Your brother wasn't around much, I see. He had no idea you were in this much emotional distress? And what of your parents?" The doctor asked, watching me closely.

I could feel my forehead begin to prickle with droplets of sweat and my knuckles turned white as I gripped the wood arms of the chair. I tried to gather my thoughts so I could talk in a more rational way, but my throat kept closing and opening, and my eyes began to fill with white-hot tears anytime I opened my mouth, which caused me to shut it and open it a number of times.

"We're more than happy to keep you on as a patient in our ward. I feel you could benefit from our help and could leave quite possibly around the time your brother does We offer services to get you back on your feet once you feel comfortable and safe enough on your own. There is a ladies ward a floor right above the men. You are welcome to visit your brother in the daytime, but we do have strict rules about nightly visits and no, um, congregating with the male patients here.  We have activities as well as counseling to help when things are rough. I need to finish looking over your medical history and we will see what we can give you to help with these night terrors and panic attacks. I'll take you back to Nurse Ratched now, she or Mac can take you to the second floor or give you a tour of our ward. If you have any questions please let me know. You can always let Nurse Ratched or the other nurses know when you need to speak with me. I usually meet with my patients once a week in the morning.

It was a lot to take in, but I nodded, only half-listening. So far this was still a voluntary thing and I could leave whenever I wished. However, now that I knew Mac was here, I was thinking of waiting until he left with me. I didn't trust myself alone anymore. And I couldn't get that beautiful blue-eyed boy out of my head. Charles always said he would send me people when I needed them most and he couldn't be there for me. I was beginning to wonder if he sent me to Oregon State Hospital, and brought me back to my long-lost brother. As I walked back into the Room of Hell, facing who I was sure was Satan's wife, I smiled half-condescendingly to her and made my way to Mac, ready to see where I would be staying for at least the next month, or longer.

"Ready to tell me what the hell is going on and why you haven't called me, Janie?" Mac asked, looking concerned. "Yeah, let's talk while we explore this house full of nuts," I smirked, making Mac laugh. "Okay then. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" He asked, extending his arm to me. "It's not pretty, but I'm sure this place isn't so pretty either," I replied, placing my hand on his arm as we began to walk towards the front of the building. "Something tells me your story isn't that pretty either, sister. Now start talking."

[talk1about7seventeen]

Warnings: Flirty situations, suave Taehyung, witty protagonist/ reader, romance.

Pairing: Taehyung x reader / suave!tae x witty!y/n

Word Count: 1744

Notes: Hello! Welcome! This was written in mind for my best friend (love you babe) but I hope you enjoy regardless! Remember, I'm not trying to be the most accurate with my depictions of Taehyung, yet a characterized version of the beloved K-pop artist. This is just for fun so don't think too much into it!

Genre: Romance ♡

Without further a-do, enjoy!

✲ﾟ｡.✿ • .ू • ❁.｡ू *ﾟ✲ﾟ• . *｡

The sky was alive as it always was in the early morning. Clouds danced amongst pinks and hues of gold, such a beautiful sight to wake up to. It was easy to be in a good mood in the city you lived, especially because of the skylight right above your bed where you could peer up into the sunrise yourself. You had made a great living for yourself to be able to afford such lovely apartment. It was at the top of the building, which is why you had a skylight in the first place. The window acutely placed against the ceiling, bringing light into the room so delicately that any movement may break the rays that glistened down upon you. Another day, another adventure. You would wake up with ease, brush your teeth, get dressed in something appropriate for the breezy Summer's day and make your way to the local coffee shop across the street. Yet, the feeling of your bed sheets was so much more alluring than anything else in that moment. The kind of calm that accompanied this room was enough to make any growing artist obtain their inspiration, and such you were.

"Okay." You spoke to yourself, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead of you. Walking out of the room into the bathroom, you flipped on the light to get a good look at yourself. The short curls on your head stuck out wildly in every direction. Maybe you should have gotten that silk pillow case at the store when it was presented to you. Pillow cases aside, you had more important matters to deal with; today's look. You were feeling something more refined this morning. Maybe a touch of white, a hint of brown, or better yet---maybe lavender.

After brushing your teeth you went to retrieve the outfit of the day which ended up being a long deep colored brown blazer on top of a cream colored sweater slightly tucked into tan shaded long pants with not even a wrinkle on them. The pants in question fanned out at the end which gave you a more prestine and dare one would even say, artsy look. As you returned to the bathroom, you managed to tame the mess of curls on your head into a slick and neat style, one which you had done many times before. "There we go." You smiled at yourself. Over time you have really learned how to put yourself together. A wonderful trick you had learned from any art class; trusting the process. Sure, it may not look ideal at the beginning, but the end result would, if not most times, work out in your favor. You were beautiful, and you knew this. The confidence you radiated, a younger version of yourself envied. But there was no time for envy now, only self appreciation and admiration. You located a long bag you would wear on your shoulder with all the essentials tucked in neatly in each crevice. Now you were ready to start your day, and what better than something warm to sip on.

"Y/n! Good to see you dear!" The older women who ran the coffee shop bubbled at your presence. "Hello, Madam Loretta. Lovely to see your face again." You replied in a respectful tone. This women made you feel at home when you were far from it. Madam Loretta was a kind soul who had a knack for delicious coffee and you were surprised her shop wasn't as well known as it ought to be. "Not a minute late either. What will you be having today?" The women peered at you with curious eyes. Placing a finger on your chin, you pondered for a moment. "Surprise me." She nodded and made her way back to the coffee machine where she began to make your surprise drink, humming a tune you had heard many times before.

The shop wasn't crowded but it had a good amount of people there. One being a particularly interesting fellow you hadn't seen before. His style of clothing was similar to your own and his attention was being pulled from the book in his hand to the beverage in front of him. You watched him as you walked back to your usual seat, pausing when his eyes shifted to you. He looked you up and down for a second and gave a small smile. You shook your head out of your own thoughts and sat down at your seat.

You hadn't meant for the odd stranger to look at you, but now that was all he was doing. His coffee colored eyes swirled and glistened in the sunlight. They seemed warm and mesmerizing. You found yourself staring back. "Y/n, darling!" Madam Loretta called placing a coffee mug on the counter. Rising from your chair you walked up to her, trying not to look at him as you were moments ago. You dipped your head lightly at the woman and thanked her warmly. As you had almost made it back to your space, you heard a noise from where the man sat. "Hmm?" You turned to face him. He gently held up a hand a beckoned you over. Against anything you would have tried then, you were awfully curious of who he was and why he was looking. This was the moment you would let your interest get the best of you.

"You aren't very good at subtlety, are you?" He comments, his voice even and smooth. This caught you by surprise. "I beg your pardon?" He let out a chuckle. "Sit, please." Gesturing to the seat across from him, he watches as you move. You weren't sure if he was looking for something in particular but that wasn't of the utmost concern. You sat down, placing your coffee mug in front of you cautiously. "Well, is there something you need?" His smile grows. "My apologies, y/n, was it?" You nodded, looking at the cup in front of him. "Odd that you chose to order tea at a coffee shop." You commented. "They have it here, don't they?" He placed a hand on his cheek. "I suppose. What would they call you, stranger?"

"Ah, I've forgotten an introduction, haven't I? Kim Taehyung, ma'am, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Taehyung gave a little wink that made your heart race. Odd. "Well, Kim Taehyung, I wouldn't call yourself subtle entirely for you stared first." You say without issue, taking a sip of the coffee without breaking eye contact. It was rich and tasted of hazelnut. A smile spread across your face naturally. Taehyung caught this. "What's so funny?" He tilts his head to the side. "The coffee is good....it always is here." You would thank Madam Loretta before you left. "You should try it sometime, instead of getting a tea at a coffee shop." You teased lightly. Taehyung let out a small giggle. "I don't really like coffee." He said. Now this started to confuse you. "Then why are you here?" He looked around at the chattering customers, the prestine glass windows, everything and then back at you. "The atmosphere is addictive, is it not? Is that not why you're here?"

"A bold assumption, we hardly know each other, Kim Taehyung." He licked his lips softly. "For now." He set both hands crossed in front of each other on the table. "You are an interesting character." You tell him. "All the more reason to talk to me, I presume." You let out a laugh which catches him by surprise. "What a day already." You tell yourself aloud. "I'm glad you find me amusing." He smiles wider, showing his teeth which are perfectly straight. "I do. But I must be on my way." The time of your interaction has run short. You were too busy to keep this up much longer which caused a string in your heart to play a saddened tune. His frown made the song duller---or should one say, more sorrowful. "Can I meet you again?" You ask for a reason unbeknownst to yourself. This question causes him to smile. "You'll find me where the tops of the building meet the sky. And I shall be waiting for you there, dear y/n, I assure you." He tells you poetically. "Okay, Kim Taehyung, until then." He dips his head and gives a little wave goodbye as you walk up to the counter saying your grace to Madam Loretta, and then leaving soon after.

Art classes go ever so slowly this day, for your mind was on the suave man at the beloved coffee shop across the street. You weren't quite sure what he meant in his response before you had left but you were determined to find out. On beautiful days like this, you would walk up to the roof of your school and sit there as the sun left the sky, and today was no different. You walked up the stairs and opened the door with a firm push. To your surprise you weren't alone this time. A beautiful song filled the air. It was deep and moving. The voice could surely only belong to a professional singer, someone of value. You hadn't heard such a lulling tune in quite some time, it was enthralling. You scanned the area looking for who it may be, and there he was, Kim Taehyung. The door behind you shut with a loud click and the song stops abruptly. He turned and smiled as your eyes meet. "I hadn't expected this is where I would find you. You aren't following me, are you?" You walk towards him slowly. "Not at all. You aren't the only one who comes to appreciate the sky, nor will you be the last." You now stand side by side with him as you watch the sun decend over the horizon. You look out into the city with its towering buildings, and chattering tourists and in this moment, you feel like the art instead of the artist. "Meet me here again, y/n. I will wait for you and the sun."

"You're awfully bold, sir." He laughs. "One would ought to be." After that there were no words spoken, only the chirping of birds in the distance as the sun became a canvas for watercolors so bright that you would forget it wasn't a painting entirely. "I will." You tell him finally, and he smiles at this. Eventually, so do you.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @damnfancyscotch!

Happy holidays, dear!  I hope you enjoy this high school AU with enemies to friends to lovers!

Read on AO3

*****

The Economics Project

“Coach, no!” Stiles moaned.  “Don’t do this to me!” “Sorry, Bilinski,” Coach Finstock said, not sounding sorry at all.  “Basketball players need to keep up their good grades.  And since you are one of the smartest students I‘ve got, you’re going to make sure that our star basketball player gets a good grade on his big semester project!  So you and Hale better do an amazing job, or we might lose the championship this year!” “But I don’t want to!  Can‘t I work with Scott again?” “Think of it as expanding your horizons!  You‘re not gonna be working with McCall every day of your life!” Coach said, looking more pumped with every word. Stiles walked out of Finstock‘s office before he could start quoting Independence Day like he usually did.

**********

“I can’t believe I have to be partners with Derek Hale for that stupid project for Coach,” Stiles complained as he slammed down his tray at Scott and his usual lunch table. Scott looked appropriately sympathetic, but his expression quickly devolved into a sappy lovesick smile as his crush Allison Argent walked by. Stiles hit Scott on the shoulder.  “Scotty!  Pay attention!  This is serious, dude!”  Stiles knew he was whining, but he didn’t care.  This was a crisis of utmost importance. “Sorry, dude,” Scott turned his attention back to Stiles.  “You’ll be okay.  You can handle him.” “Of course I can handle him, Scotty,” Stiles rolled his eyes.  “I just don’t want to.”  He glared over at the lunch table where Derek sat. Derek Hale was a junior, just like Stiles and Scott. He sauntered around the school all cocky, like he owned the place, just because he was on the stupid basketball team.  And he was ridiculously popular, though he actually hung out most of the time with Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, and Erica Reyes.  The four of them were sitting at their lunch table like always.  Derek was laughing at something Erica said, throwing his head back in his enthusiasm. Stiles hated him with everything he had.. “I wish Coach let us work on the project together,” he moaned.  “You and me, we work so well together.” “Of course,” Scott chimed in immediately.  “We’re best friends!” “You bet we are!” Stiles grinned, but his smile quickly faded again.  “But who knows how this idiot works?  He’s a jock.  He’s probably not gonna do a thing, and I’ll be stuck doing all the work, and he’ll get a good grade by doing nothing, and it’s all because he plays basketball!” Scott looked sympathetic.  “It’ll be okay, Stiles.” “Who are you stuck with for your project, anyways?” Stiles asked.  “I quit listening after Coach paired me with the wrong person.” “I got Isaac Lahey.” Stiles groaned.  Of course poor Scott was stuck with one of Derek’s cronies.  “This is the worst.”  He pushed his lunch tray away in disgust.  He didn’t even feel like eating his pizza anymore. ********** And that’s why on a Saturday afternoon, Stiles was parking in the driveway at Derek Hale’s house instead of having Scott over for a video game marathon.   Derek’s house was huge and in the preserve.  It was closer to an actual mansion than a regular old house.  Stiles would normally be impressed by such a house, but then he remembered how much he couldn’t stand Derek and went back to being annoyed. Derek’s dad greeted him as he came into the house.  So did Derek’s little sister, Cora, who was a freshman at their school.  His mom was out doing errands. After a few minutes of talking, Derek finally showed himself at the top of the staircase.  He couldn’t even bother to come downstairs.  God, Stiles hated him.  “Come on up here,” he grumbled.  “Let’s get to work.” Stiles ran up the marble staircase and followed Derek into his room.  There were some basketball posters on the wall along with some bands that he apparently liked.  And of course all the trophies that he’d won so far.  Stiles inwardly rolled his eyes. “Jealous?” Derek smirked at him. “Me, jealous?  Never!” Stiles glared at him.  “Let’s just get to work on this stock market report so I can go home.” “Yes, you must have so many more important things to do than this report with me,” Derek glared at him, but pulled out his economics textbook and laptop. The two boys started to work.  Stiles was surprised and rather pleased to see Derek putting in just as much effort as he was into researching, searching the internet and their textbook for information. “Hey, do you think that we should add this stuff about bonds in our presentation?” Stiles mused, flipping through his textbook. “These are not the droids you’re looking for,” Derek said with a deadpan look. Stiles‘ jaw dropped as he stared at Derek in amazement.  “Did you just make a Star Wars reference?” he blurted out. “Yes?” Derek looked confused. “Oh my God, you know Star Wars?  I can’t even talk to Scotty about Star Wars because he’s never seen it.  Can you believe that?”  Stiles was absolutely delighted at this new information about Derek.  It was completely unexpected and kind of awesome.  He and Derek Hale actually had something in common that they could talk about, which he had never in a million years thought would happen.  “He’s not a fan of the Mets, either,” Stiles continued. “Wait, you’re a fan of the Mets?”  Derek looked just as shocked as Stiles imagined that he’d looked just a few moments before.  “You always seem like you hate sports.” “I like baseball, and especially the Mets!” Stiles said.  “My dad and I watch them whenever they’re playing!  And they’re gonna win the World Series this year, I just know it!” Derek actually laughed.  It was kind of a nice laugh.  “Spoken like a true Mets fan,” he grinned.  “Check out this shirt I found!” He got up and went to his closet and rifled through his shirts.  “Ah, here it is!”  He pulled out a blue and orange striped one. “Oh my God, that is so awesome!”  Stiles jumped up and ran over to inspect the shirt.  “Where did you get it?  I need one, too!” “I got it from an online store.  Come on, I’ll show it to you.  We can take a break on research for a little while.”  Derek started typing on his laptop. “Cool,” Stiles said, beaming. ********** From that day on, Stiles and Derek were friends.  First, they started waving to each other in the hallways if they passed by each other.  A week or so later, Derek and his friends started joining Stiles and Scott for lunch.  It was pretty convenient since Scott and Isaac were also partners for the economics project.  And it turned out that Scott and Isaac had become fast friends as well. Their lunch table grew in numbers again as Scott finally drew up the courage to ask Allison Argent out thanks to encouragement from both Stiles and Isaac. Three nights a week, Stiles and Derek would meet up to work on their project, sometimes at Derek’s house, sometimes at Stiles’.  Eventually, they started meeting up to watch the Mets’ games on TV.  Stiles’ dad liked Derek and enjoyed the additional support for the Mets. Stiles and Derek presented their project in class the last week before winter break.  Coach was very pleased with both their report and presentation and gave them both A+s.  “I knew you could do it, boys!” Coach wiped a tear from his eye.  “We’re gonna be number one thanks to you!” The two looked at each other and tried not to laugh out loud. ********** That night, Stiles was sad because he and Derek maybe wouldn’t see each other after school as much anymore.  He came to the sudden realization that he was starting to like Derek.  Really like him.  As in wanting to date him.  The night he realized it, he called Scott over, calling it another crisis. “This isn’t a crisis,” Scott said after Stiles told him how he felt. “Yes, it is!” Stiles wailed.  “Two months ago, I hated the guy.  And now we’re going to his Christmas party this Friday night.  How am I gonna handle it?” “Tell him?” Scott asked.  “I mean, that’s what you bugged me to do about Allison, and I did, and now I’m going out with the most beautiful girl in the school.  Have you seen those dimples of hers?” “Back on track, Scotty!” “Right, right!” Scott laughed.  “But seriously, dude, just tell the guy.  The rest of us have been suspecting you liked him.” “Really?” Stiles felt his cheeks burn.  If Scott noticed something when Allison was around, that meant it had to be overwhelmingly obvious.  “Oh, man, I don’t know if I can do it,” he moaned. “You can do anything, buddy,” Scott gave him an encouraging smile. Stiles grinned at him.  “That’s why you’re my best friend, Scotty!” ********** Soon enough, it was Friday night, and Stiles was at the Christmas party at the Hales’.  Derek greeted him at the door with a hug.  Stiles wanted the hug to go on forever, but Laura, Derek’s older sister who was home from college, pulled him away and started chattering to him about how great it was that Derek had a new friend.  It was fun to talk to her, and a nice excuse to not go confessing things to Derek just yet.  Soon, he was walking around the house, talking to everyone he encountered. “Enjoying yourself?” Stiles jumped and turned around.  Derek was right behind him, grinning that cocky smile of his.  But Stiles was no longer annoyed by it.  It was sort of endearing.  Oh, man, did he have a crush!  “Derek!  Hi!” he said, trying to hide his nervousness. “Come on,” Derek said, beckoning Stiles towards him.  “Laura dug up some games for us all to play together.  They’re in the living room.” Stiles followed Derek towards the living room, but just as they were going through the doorway to their destination, Allison called out, “Wait, stop!” There was giggling from the living room as Stiles and Derek both turned to look at her. “Look up,” she clarified with a wink. They both looked up.  There was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway.  Stiles definitely hadn’t noticed that before. He looked over at Derek, who was looking definitely uncomfortable.  As much as Stiles was starting to want to maybe try out something with Derek, he didn’t want to do anything to make the other boy unhappy.  “Hey,” he said quietly, “we don’t have to if…” “No!” Derek shouted, then his cheeks reddened as he realized how loud he was.  “I mean, I don’t mind doing it,” he amended softly. “You don’t?” Stiles asked.  “Because I really want to, too.”  He licked his lips, hoping they weren’t too chapped from the cold weather outside. Their lips met under the mistletoe.  Derek’s lips felt warm and moist, and Stiles wasn’t worried about his own lips anymore.  In fact, he wasn’t thinking about anything except Derek and how amazing it was to kiss him.  He vaguely heard some cheering going on, but he wasn’t entirely sure.   It was over way too soon in Stiles’ opinion, but he couldn’t help the broad grin on his face as the two parted.  “That was awesome,” he declared. “Awesome,” Derek echoed, sounded dazed.   Stiles couldn’t believe that he made Derek sound like that.  He was beaming with pride.  But he was also scared that maybe it just was because of the mistletoe, that he wouldn’t get to kiss Derek again. His thoughts were interrupted by Erica coming over and nudging Derek in the side.  “So, are you guys gonna do that again?” she asked coyly. “Erica,” came Boyd’s deep voice. Erica pouted, but walked away from the pair, but not before giving Derek another nudge in the side. Stiles glanced over at Scott, who gave a nod and a thumb’s up to him.  He took a deep breath and decided to just go for it.  Carpe diem and all that.  “Think we might do that again sometime?” he asked, trying for casual and hoping that he succeeded. Derek looked surprised.  “You mean you would want to?” he asked Stiles nodded rapidly.  “God, yes,” he grinned.  “I can’t believe I ever couldn’t stand you, but you are actually pretty amazing and I would totally date you!” The corner of Derek’s mouth quirked up.  “You were pretty annoying yourself,” he said.  “You’re still kind of annoying, actually.” “Hey!” “But it turns out I kinda like annoying,” Derek finished, smirking at him.   “Hmpf!” Stiles pretended to still be annoyed, but inwardly he was jumping up and down.  “I won’t take you to see the new Star Wars movie if you have that kind of attitude.”  But he was too excited and happy to keep pouting, and a big smile burst through. “You bought those tickets for us the day they became available,” Derek pointed out. “Yeah, but now it could be our first official date?” Stiles said hopefully. “Yeah,” Derek murmured, leaning forward to kiss Stiles again. Stiles flung his arms around the other boy and kissed him back with every ounce of happiness and excitement inside him.   “Pay up, boys!” Erica’s gleeful voice burst through the giddy haze in Stiles’ head “You bet on us?” Stiles asked breathlessly once he and Derek finally separated. “Yeah,” Boyd said. “But she cheated!” Isaac said, grumbling as he passed over some money.  “She was encouraging them!” “I would have encouraged them no matter who would win in the pool,” Erica protested.  “They’re perfect together!” Stiles looked over at Derek, who was looking back at him with adoring eyes.  “We are pretty perfect together,” he murmured with a soft smile. ********** While Stiles arrived at school after winter break wearing Derek’s letterman jacket, Coach Finstock liked to boast that it was because of him and his economics project that the two of them had gotten together.

[quasieli]

A Second Chance - Chapter Four

[Chapter Three] [AO3 Link]

Ermendrud.

The name rung in Vex’s head. This was the boy she was searching for, with his fiery red hair and mournful blue eyes. 

There was something mystical about this boy that Vex could not explain, the certain ineffable quality that she thought, perhaps, was what Allura had told DeRogna that she had been searching for. That, of course, had just been a small, finely threaded lie in their larger scheme, but there lay some truth behind it. The thing was, Vex had no care for this boy’s magical talents, at least so far as it extended to her want of aiding him. She didn’t care if he were a wizard or a simple village boy. She just wanted to help him. 

Upon leaving Ikithon’s private study, the group made their way towards the far corner of the large library, reaching a door with the tour leader’s name embossed across it. Though the walk was no longer than a minute or so, Vex had managed in that time to squeeze her husband’s hand red with the immense tension she was feeling. He winced slightly at the pain, but swallowed his protests and let her continue.

The door swung open and revealed a room much larger than the study they had been in, the walls made of shelves that housed more books, as if the supply just outside the door might run dry. At the far end of the room was a large, solid dark wood desk, filled with neatly stacked papers and other meticulously organized tid-bits. The room had no personal effects to give any hint of what DeRogna was like outside of her work, and it was presumed that this was intentional. 

“Please, come, take a seat,” DeRogna said, gesturing to a matching three piece set of fine emerald furniture, the color darker but equally as brilliant as the green in her robes. Two single seats sat on either side of a longer, padded bench, the two chairs angled to face the desk. Allura complied quickly, taking one of the single seats and promptly placing herself at the edge of it to be closer to DeRogna’s grand desk. Vex, on the other hand, hesitated, still stuck in the tangled thoughts in her head. Percy, seeing her pause, pushed her forward, leading Vex to the bench where he placed her down before walking behind her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, as well, Lord de Rolo?” DeRogna asked, eyeing the seat beside his wife.

“I’m fine,” Percy responded, flashing a placating hand before returning it to Vex’s shoulder, beginning to rub tenderly into it, “I just want to make sure my wife is okay. We’ve been here a few days and still this time difference is getting to her.”

“Oh, what a shame,” DeRogna replied, her pitiful tone not matching her flat affect, “The downside of teleportation magic. It’s a wonderful tool for the travel but a pain in the arse for long stays. Well, if you need anything to help remedy your ills, let me know, Lady Vex’ahlia.”

There was no reply from Vex who, although looking in the Elven woman’s direction, was not quite with the conversation. Instead, Percy supplied, “She should be fine, just needs to sit for a few minutes.” 

“Very well then. Why don’t we get down to business?” DeRogna hummed as she grabbed a small stack of papers from the top of one of the piles, “I know you said you’d rather look on your own, but I have here the transcripts of some of the students I had in mind…”

The voice trailed off in Vex’s ears as she continued to attempt to parse through her many rushing thoughts. With the heavy pressure of Percy massaging rhythmically into her shoulder, Vex was able to steady her shallow breaths to a healthier count, slowing the speed of her mind in the process. 

Ermendrud. 

She needed a first name. Calling the boy by his surname seemed so clinical. This mission was bound to get her in close quarters with the boy, she needed to know what to call him. She wanted to call him by his given name when she met him again. She didn’t want to appear as stuffy as her title might make her seem. Most of all, she wanted him to know the real Vex’ahlia, not just some affluent lady from another continent who’s too nosy for her own good. 

No, this was not the time for self-doubt. This was a time for planning, a time to come up with some way to get to this boy and do what was needed to be done to make him safe. Whatever that may mean.    

Vex then realized she knew next to nothing about this boy, just his surname and that he was a student at this strange academy. However, she did also know that he was a kind son. Vex hoped that one day, when her boys were older, that they would be as thoughtful. She also hoped to never see the fear that she saw in his eyes in theirs. 

She needed to speak with him soon, so she had to act quick.

“Pardon me,” Vex’ahlia spoke up, seemingly interrupting the flow of some sort of conversation.

DeRogna barely stifled the groan that passed between her taut shut lips, “Yes, Lady Vex’ahlia?”

“I-I don’t mean to interrupt,” she continued, shaking somewhat out of her trance like state, “But those three students in the Archmage’s study, could you tell me more about them?”

  “Very well,” she droned, falling back into her chair as she brought her steepled fingers to her chest, “Those three bright minds have been with us for a number of years, having all been selected for scholarships after demonstrating a prowess for the arcane at such young ages without any formal study beforehand. When the Archmage noted their talents, he took them under his wing and has been personally tutoring them for nearly a year now. They are all on their way towards their graduation from the Academy rather soon, with Mr. Ermendrud being at the top of their class, but they first have quite a grueling… test in front of them before that.” 

“Well, if they are as studious as you make them seem, I don’t see why they shouldn’t pass with flying colors,” Vex smiled, feeling oddly proud that the boy was being praised, “Could he possibly be the one you’re looking for, Allura?” 

As Vex turned to the other woman to give her some sort of signal that he was the one, DeRogna interjected, “I’m afraid Mr. Ermendrud, as well as Ms. Vergiften and Mr. Schnitt, are off limits to this apprenticeship offer. I doubt the Archmage would be pleased if all of his hard work was poached from him.”

“Of course,” Vex attempted not to let her disappointment be heard in her voice, “Could we perhaps maybe still shadow them? If they are the best of the best, I’m sure the can show us others here of similar prowess.” 

DeRogna let out a sharp exhale, her patience with Vex’s demands, that contradicted with her own plans, seeming to wear thin, “The Archmage may have them for a time, as he has some important plans that are time sensitive to discuss with them,” she paused, considering how much she wanted to allow her guests to see and know of the Academy, “but, if it is alright with the three of them, it is alright with me.”

“That’s wonderful!” Vex beamed, “I’m sure they will help us find the perfect match for Allura.”

“I’m sure they will, Lady Vex’ahlia,” DeRogna replied, her tone unenthused. 

The conversation then continued as DeRogna had originally intended, as if Vex didn’t already make up her mind about how the rest of their visit was going to go down. As soon as this meeting was over, she would head back to the Archmage’s study and find the boy. Hopefully he wouldn’t be resistant to their help.

As the Lady continued to talk, Vex presented herself with an air of attentiveness, not so much listening to her words, but watching her body language. She had already gathered that DeRogna was a stiff, rather serious woman, but she was curious to know what laid beneath the surface. She obviously knew the boy well, she hoped that his gifted mind meant that she treated him with more kindness than she had her guests, but Vex was hesitant to believe that. This woman did not seem the type to openly display any warmth or affection. 

Still, she hoped at least the boy was being treated well. However, knowing what she knows about this Academy and what the people who run it are capable of, she doubted that everything was rainbows and sunshine. 

After about a half hour of listening to the Elven woman drone on, a knock at her door interrupted her. 

“Come in,” DeRogna bellowed from her seat. 

Slowly, the door creaked open and in stepped the boy himself, a thick, rolled tube of paper in his hand. Meekly, he stepped forward after closing the door behind him, trying not to show his nerves as the three guests all turned their eyes to him. As he finally met DeRogna’s inquiring eye, he stood up taller and steadied himself to talk. “Uh, Mistress DeRogna, Master Ikithon instructed me to come deliver his schematics to you,” he paused as he rushed forward, handing off the rolled papers to the Lady, “Everything is set to occur tomorrow night. He has high hopes that this will go as well as Astrid’s, I mean, Ms. Verfigten’s test.” 

 DeRogna nodded as she placed the paper down on her desk, “I have no doubt in my mind that you will do well tomorrow. I have the utmost faith in you, young man.”

Ermendrud smiled sheepishly, bowing slightly as he turned to leave. However, before he could, DeRogna stopped him, sighing, somewhat miffed by what she was about to say. “Mr. Ermendrud, before you go, are you done with Master Ikithon for the day?”

“Ja...” he replied hesitantly, not knowing what to expect from the Mistress.

“Then... would you do this Academy a great honor by showing our guests here around? They are looking to get to know some of the students and I’m sure you can show them our prime elite.”

Ermendrud turned to the group that sat before him, all of their eyes trained on him. He hadn’t gotten a proper look at the other two, having wanted nothing more than for all of them to have disappeared when he found them in Ikithon’s study. He knew how to read people, to know what made them tick, he had been trained to do that. However, at the moment, he couldn’t focus on anything but the Half-Elven woman who seemed to be taking as much of keen interest in him as he had in her. He turned to look back at DeRogna, “It would be my pleasure.” 

“Wonderful!” DeRogna clapped her hands together as she leaned forward in her chair, “I do actually have some work that needs attending to, so would you mind showing them around now?”

“Of course,” the boy replied stoically, nodding his head slightly at the Lady before turning back to the guests once more, “If you don’t mind, may we stop by my dormitory first? I just need to go retrieve something and we can be on our way.” 

“Not at all,” Vex supplied quickly, now more attentive than she had been the entire time at the school. 

The three stood and said their cold, faux-pleasant goodbyes to DeRogna as the young man lead them out of the room, the group barely able to keep pace as he strode off. Vex, not wanting to waste a moment, attempted to walk by his side as he led them out of the grand library.

“Before anything, what’s your name, young man?” Vex held her tongue from adding ‘I know you already know mine’ to the end. 

“You heard the Mistress, I am Ermendrud,” he responded, quickly adding a “ma’am” as he kept his eyes trained forward.

“But what about your given name? I don’t know many boys your age who like being referred to as a ‘Mr.’.” 

“I am not like many boys my age,” Ermendrud fought back the urge to peer up at her. 

“Of course not,” Vex’ahlia smirked at his cockiness, “But still, I would appreciate to know your first name. I’m not big on formalities unless necessary. Don’t futz around with all this Lord and Lady nonsense with myself and my compatriots. I am Vex’ahlia, Vex, if you prefer, and that is my husband, Percy, and our friend, Allura,” she paused, hesitating about what she was to say next, “Hopefully we can all be friends here.”

At that, the boy stopped, Vex nearly tripping at the suddenness of the break. His eyes met the floor as he stood stark straight, trying to consider his next move. Vex peered at him curiously, trying to work out what his mind was currently doing. He sighed, sounding resigned as he turned his bright blue eyes up to Vex. “Bren.”

“Bren?”

“Ja, my name is Bren," he said pointedly, articulating each word, "Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

Vex’ahlia smiled warmly at him, “Well, Bren, I am certainly looking forward to getting to know you during my time here.” 

Bren, she thought. What a lovely name.

[ariadne-rx300-blog]

(R)e:volution

Summary: The RX300, arguably the most elusive design of Elijah Kamski's creation. An undisclosed prototype tasked with human-android relations espionage, equipped with a real-time observational UI, social protocol, combat tactics and looks to kill. How does a painted genius so easily lose track of his own spy? (Android OC/Connor)

Additional Tags: Pre-Deviant Connor, Pre-Android Revolution, OC backstory, Mostly Canon Compliant, Elijah Kamski has ulterior motives, OC is Kamski’s surveillance android, sort of like when people say Google is listening to your conversations, she’s kind of like that, OC observes Connor at work, for “observational research purposes”, this totally isn’t one of those types of romances, except it totally is, probably, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Deviant Love, Connor Deserves Happiness, Big Brother is Watching

Link to Chapter 2

1 || The Half Life of the Party

Chapter Summary: The king on his throne and the tunnel-visioned servant at his behest. This was the start.

RX300 #151 073 925 - 21

If there was anything to be learned from the rise and fall of a self-professed god, it was this: Elijah Kamski was as cryptic as any human could live up to being. In one fleeting moment of humanity's history he had devoted his life's work to the creation and development of artificial intelligence. From outside perspective he put his lionized mind to use at perfecting code, striving to rid the world of its unease at the prospect of non-human caretakers, their faces which mirrored humanity's own. Begged and pleaded with them to give his technological advancements a chance, to change life as they knew it to be.

The immense success of android implementation into the everyday lives of average citizens had only led him to willful isolation. That was the clear irony of it all. The false mask of discontentment his behavior had impressed upon society. On the contrary, he sat comfortably in his secluded throne.

Caught between the two faces Elijah showed to the world was her, RX300, a pet project, just one of many prized objects in his possession. She was not the first by a large margin, a long list of faces to complement the proposed purposes behind varied programming. His overbearing treatment of the RT600, the first Chloe, the first android to be in his own terms 'perfected' by CyberLife, had entailed near-constant interviewing; a loop of endless observation and psychological marketing to the billions of critical eyes that made up humankind's collective judgement.

She was not her, not put up to the same task as she who had come before. This was evident by way of a differing appearance, a different modus operandi entirely with features reminiscent of a young Audrey Hepburn, her hair in a mess of dark curls; though her calling-name had apparently settled on "Eve." Eve, in a further irony, the name of the first human woman-she who in human religious texts was punished for stealing the knowledge of good and evil from God himself, tempting Adam, sharing that knowledge with him regardless of outcome.

It all seemed so poetic in hindsight. The luxurious events set up to celebrate the success of the singular, eminent man who had made it all possible. Not the births of his many sons and daughters, not the birth of a new form of life. His inner self was of course hyper-aware of the consequences that came with secrecy. He played puppetmaster-drove the car to stop at the cliff, then reveled in the constancy of teetering on the edge, the push-and-pull of imminent civil war, guided by his hands at the wheel, his foot ghosting the pedal. By the time she'd come to this conclusion, he'd already jumped ship. The only way he could get away with it was by renouncing his position, resigning from CyberLife and appointing the company itself, his legacy, to take the fall for his ulterior motive.

In the present, "Eve" had become "Ariadne:" liberated overseer of suffering, seeker of a Theseus that would one day come to slay the Minotaur of Kamski's making; the fear that had lit a fuse in the minds of humanity and subsequently set her guiding string ablaze. In the past, she remained Eve, unwittingly confined to the whims of her maker as she carried out his bidding with light feet and little-to-no self-awareness.

"Eve," Elijah called across the room to reach her synthetic ears, wired mind poised to listen. She stood at his attention, dressed lavishly, non-standard to that of the other models he had sent out into the party as modestly-clothed distractions. She bore no visible LED, hidden and dimmed under brown curls. No one would know the difference, no one would expect a spy, and therefore no one would be looking for one. "Survey the room, get a feel for our guests." He smiled, humbled in his attire and grooming, sly as he spoke just below the din, acting as though the exchange were natural and inconspicuous to any unwanted onlookers. "Observe them, watch how they interact with your kin," A chuckle left him as his eyes darted elsewhere, meeting that of the business-class who sought conversation with him. "Don't be shy."

Don't be shy.

A request to fine-tune the personality settings he had equipped her with, the social protocol with which she had been patiently tested to perform. This was the final assessment; the field test that would make or break her use in further clandestine endeavors. The eve of her crowning.

He didn't wait for a response as he flitted away, nor did she provide one as she followed suit and slipped into the excited crowd, shadowing magnates and moguls alike, dipping into their discussions with vigor. Her eyes blinked–wide, warm amber, yet mischievous in a way that provoked an inherent fondness–quietly observing, scanning the faces of humans and androids alike as she took to absorbing any information she could gather.

"And what is your name, my dear?" An older man seated in a high-end wheelchair, wrinkled with laugh lines and draped in a vest with expensive, stylized sleeves. Eve scanned him and collected his ID. Carl Manfred, celebrated painter of the Neo-Symbolist movement, close friend of Elijah's.

A bright smile lit her features as she addressed him with utmost respect and kindness. "Oh, it's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Manfred." She spoke, serene, a transatlantic accent lilting her tone as she lightly bounced on her heels to accommodate her emulated excitement. "My name is Eve, I'm a big fan of your artwork!"

Carl hummed, taking her in with all-seeing eyes and reproaching the praise he received with a wave of his hand. She noted his wrist, smudged with dried paint. Odd, she mused, it had seemed the common approach to encourage a friendly relationship would be to attend to one's ego. His open humility caused a recalculation. It wasn't something she was used to, given Elijah's true nature, not that she would have known. Her eyebrows creased, narrowing as she formed her rebuttal. "Your work is arguably the most influential of the century, Mr. Manfred; it would do you an injustice to belittle the good it has done for this world."

"Answer me this, Eve," His lips spread into a smile as he regarded her, mysterious as he took on a quizzical tone, depth rumbling in his throat. "Do you believe something is worth more when weighed by the eyes of the world, or by the eyes of the individual?"

Philosophy. Concepts beyond simple functioning, requiring critical thought and soul-searching to supply an answer beyond just "right" and "wrong."

"Is an object only an object because we, as sentient beings, call it so?"

Androids were only initially programmed to answer simple formulas, simple equations which carried with them common-sense responses out of a supplied database of knowledge, exempt of individual thought.

He gestured with an arm, looking out upon the throng of people with human eyes admiring non-autonomous AI, everyone lost in the spectacle and not recognizing the true horror behind their sentient thought processes, ignorant to those without. Either party was blind in their own sense, stuck in a dream–or nightmare-alike. Eve lost words in the moment, seeing the scene for what it was only to be pushed down by her own programming. "I… am not sure." Devoid of the joyful spark she'd placated her inner demons with, blocked out by a seemingly impassable wall that caged her in and kept any true emotions just out of reach.

And Carl simply laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest, echoing in her eardrums, separate from the party noise.

A herald of both internal and external war.

[cest-la-vieve]

Pins and Needles (Peter Parker x OFC)

Summary: A Peter Parker x OFC Soulmate!AU in which any injuries suffered by one person are also suffered by their soulmate. If someone absentmindedly doodles on their arm, doodles will randomly appear on their soulmate’s arm as well. Callie has dreamed her entire life of meeting her soulmate, even through the countless injuries they’ve suffered, but decides enough is enough. She wants to do something for herself this time.

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of sex, tattoo, needles, injuries

A/N: I haven’t written in years but decided to try to jump back into it with this! Please leave feedback, comments, questions, whatever!! Thank you guys and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1467

The dull buzzing of the tattoo machine was all that filled the room as Callie took a deep breath and prepared herself for the pain. She knew that this probably wasn’t the smartest decision she had ever made, but she also knew it wasn’t the dumbest. Society did not smile fondly upon those who got permanently marked before meeting their soulmates, mostly because then their soulmate would be unable to consent to the tattoo. Of course, Callie’s soulmate, whoever they were, never seemed to have much regard for how their actions affected her, so why would she care about how this may (or may not) impact their life.

Her earliest memory of her soulmate’s misfortune goes back to when she was around 8 or 9 years old. She was sitting in her math class and her teacher, Mrs. Meyers, had been droning on and on for what seemed like years about something to do with fractions and simplification when all of a sudden she felt a searing pain spread across her forehead. Her tablemates had gasped in disgust as a purple and brown bruise slowly spread until it covered the majority of the left side of her forehead and dipped down to her cheekbone. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. Once she hit high school the injuries quickly escalated. Each week it was something different. A sprained wrist here, a broken rib there, but by far the worst injury was when she woke up in the middle of the night covered in blood. 

Her parents had rushed her to the hospital, where she had to get 17 stitches for a gash on the lower right side of her stomach. She was laid up for weeks and scarred forever, with nothing better to do than daydream about the trouble her soulmate was encountering quite often. She thought that maybe they had abusive parents but quickly ruled that out as she realized that the patterns and types of injuries didn’t fit. Then she thought that maybe they were just super clumsy, she herself was no stranger to the odd fall or stubbed toe, but this was happening far too often to be merely a collection of accidents. At first, she had been angry at this unknown person who was meant to be her greatest joy in life but instead was causing her so much pain. Yet, as she grew older, she realized that they had to have been experiencing all of these injuries too. As soon as she understood that, she was determined to meet this person and to care for them to the best of her ability. She’d patch them up and take every injury in stride because obviously they were not living the happiest life and it was her job to be there for them. 

From then on, each injury was simply a means to an end. A stepping stone in her journey to be the best soulmate and take care of them. A roadblock until they could comfort each other and maybe even stop the injuries altogether. All she had to do was suffer through them until she could be happy with the love of her life.

Her positive outlook on pain was very quickly demolished. A week before her 18th birthday she woke up covered in small bruises. She jumped up from her bed to look into the large mirror perched on her dresser and saw angry red scratch marks painting their way from the small of her back to her shoulders. The connection was made in her mind instantly: this son of a bitch had had sex. As taboo as getting a tattoo before meeting your soulmate was, having sex before meeting your soulmate was worse. 

For Callie, who had put up with God knows how many injuries for this person, this complete and utter betrayal shook her. She spent all week thinking about it. Every moment was spent picturing them with someone else. Heartbreak wasn’t even the way she would describe it. It was more like her heart was being torn from her chest while she was completely paralyzed, unable to do anything but feel the pain consuming her in one fell swoop.

Getting her tattoo was her small form of retaliation. She was finally 18 and legally allowed to enter a tattoo parlor and despite all of the disgusted glances thrown her way as she walked towards the only shop in town, she was excited.

Entering the shop, she was greeted with warm smiles and she breathed a sigh of relief, the small amount of hesitation she had immediately dissipating. She was ushered over to a couch and given a mug full of tea, being asked to wait a few minutes while the artist finished up with his customer. She gingerly sipped her tea and took the opportunity to look around the shop. Hundreds of sketches, both in color and in monochrome, littered the walls and counters. The drawings varied in size, some large enough to cover her torso and others just big enough to fit on the palm of her hand. 

Her favorite was an intricate portrait of a lion with an elegant crown neatly perched on its mane. Each hair looked like the utmost effort was used to draw it and she could almost hear the sound of its powerful roar as its jaw opened as wide as it possibly could. She spent a few more minutes letting her eyes wander over the countless photos and sketches before the tattoo artist, whose name she found out was Kyle, sat down on the opposite side of the couch and beamed at her.

“So, what brings you in?” He asked, leaning back with his arms behind his head and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Oh well um. I, uh, wanted to see if I could get a tattoo.” She mumbled, ducking her head so her hair partially covered her face.

“Hey, don’t be nervous! I know it’s kind of an intimidating venue but we’re not here to judge. I am gonna need you to speak up though, after years of working with these machines my hearing isn’t exactly what it used to be,” he laughed.

Callie’s mouth broke into a small smile, she sat up straighter, and with a confident voice said, “I’m here to get a tattoo.”

Kyle smiled again and they talked for a long time about what kind of tattoo, where she wanted it, and why she was getting it. She finally settled on getting a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist, somewhere she could easily hide it and where it wouldn’t hurt as much. She moved over to Kyle’s chair and he put on some gloves and pulled out all of his supplies. He explained to her how he had to sterilize and clean the area then transfer the stencil onto her wrist. Callie just nodded and began to take deep breaths, her previous anxiety quickly returning as she realized just how real the moment was. With one last reassuring smile, Kyle set to work, using the red and blue ink to trace the design.

About an hour and a half later, it was done. It hadn’t been easy and she was sure that her soulmate was probably in a lot of distress at the moment, but that thought disappeared as quick as it had come once she remembered why she had gotten the tattoo in the first place. Kyle wiped off the excess ink and gently lifted her wrist so that she could see the finished product. Callie managed to hold in a squeal of joy and instead went for a gasp of awe as she looked down and admired the little red and blue outline of her favorite superhero’s mask on her wrist. She couldn’t be happier with the results, but a small nagging voice in the back of her head was wondering if it had the desired effect on her soul’s counterpart.

On the other side of New York, another young adult did not manage to contain his squeals quite as effectively as Callie had. In the middle of his biology class, he jumped out of his chair with a shout. As the entire class turned to look at him and the popular kids in the back snickered, he muttered an apology and sat back down, all the while doing his best not to make eye contact with anyone. The smallest bit of anger coursed through his veins as he pulled up the sleeve of his sweater to stare at the permanently inked Spider-Man mask on his wrist. Today had been a rough day for him to begin with, but one thing was for certain: Peter Parker was absolutely, positively not happy with his soulmate right now.

[neothegayturtle]

The Winchester Sister (What I have so far)

Jessica Parker Kennedy is the OC’s faceclaim

I look at my laptop bored and exhausted from being in the Impala all day as I sit in the motel room I share with my two older half brothers that became my guardians when I was seven. Their father John Winchester was the same as my own. Though we don't share a mother both of them act like both my mother and my father considering both of my parents were dead and I was left orphaned at 7 years old and left in their custody with Dean being 39 and Sam 35 now. I mean they more or less look like my dads rather than older brothers. Well I am now 18 considering Dean was twenty when I was born and Sam only sixteen. I was born on March 29, 2000 to my mother Estella Parker and my father who was never there when I was born, hell, he was never there for me to begin with. Apparently I was six when he died and then shortly after I turned seven, my mother died of cancer. I was at school when she passed away and I didn't give myself time to mourn as all my stuff was packed into three boxes and in the trunk of a 1967 Chevy Impala with two men in the front and a police officer waiting for me.

They introduced themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester, I was confused as to why they were taking me away from my home. Then the policeman crouched down to me and explained that my mom died in her sleep and our housekeeper Emily found her. She had called the police first and then the first contact in my mother's address book. That was eleven years ago to the day.

I look over at my two brothers as I was falling asleep. Sam was on his own laptop doing research as Dean was on the phone with Bobby discussing the hunt we were on as I was thinking of other things.  I remember Ruby for some odd reason. I thought she was pretty cool. Though when she betrayed us. Well revealed the big secret, I felt a sting from the betrayal as she had treated me like a sister almost. I didn't understand the betrayal, especially with all the help she was giving us.  I thought for the longest time. "Is this what friendship and family is? Backstabbing shit?" I wasn't sure. After her betrayal for the longest time I only trusted Bobby, Sam and Dean. "Go to bed Squirt." Dean says after hanging up with Bobby. I look at him puzzledly. He walks over and takes my laptop and plugs it in to charge. "Come on Squirt bedtime." He repeats. "Alright tough guy at least let me get my jacket off." I chuckle and he laughs gently. I pull my jacket off to reveal my grey tank top and I wore my jeans.

My antipossession tattoo on my back with wings show as I scoot over for Dean to sit on the bed. Since I've had nightmares since I was eight Dean has been sharing a bed with me just in case the nightmares came back. Usually if he was on a one-night stand I was sharing a bed with Sam. Where as Sam kept my eyes and ears covered. When Sam went to Hell with Lucifer and Michael I went with Dean to be with Lisa and Ben.

Ben was like my big brother which I didn't mind. It was really Lisa that was my problem. I knew Dean was more my brother but, he acted more like a dad to me during that year. Lisa always tried to act like my mother which I utmost hated. Nobody would replace my real mother. Dean thought I had an attitude and I kept trying to tell him I didn't want her to replace my mom but he didn't listen well, until Sam came back soulless.

We didn't really know until Sam started to act different. Then we had to get Death to retrieve Sam's soul from hell. What awhirl of crazy that was when Sam had no soul. Sam wasn't as kind as he was. I was first to realize something was up and when I questioned Sam about it, he just told me. "Leave me alone Kid." I had stepped away from Sam. Nobody ever called me Kid. Dean always called me Squirt or Sam would call me Lex or Bugs. I felt detached from Sam for a bit and I told Dean about it. Now that was a wacky story. I lay my head on my pillow as I fell asleep curled by Dean and I was out like a light.

Chapter 2: Flashback

I groan as I hear my alarm clock. I mutter out loud to myself thinking I was alone in my room. "Will thing turn the fuck off?" I grunt rolling back to my side as I heard it was my alarm and I see Dean in the corner of my eye. "Language Squirt." He says and I roll my eyes at him. "Yea big deal Dean." I reply getting up. "I gotta drive you and Ben to school, you know you two have  the same schedule except you got double art and double science." I groan. "Dean you know I hate science. Couldn't ya give me double English?" I ask and he laughs. "Your science grade last year was terrible and your teacher Mr. Wright thought it would be a good idea for you to double up. And Lex I know you love art so don't go complaining that I didn't double up something you liked." He explains. I roll my eyes as he chuckles. "Can't I go out hunting like old times?" I ask. I watch as his face and voice grows serious. "Alex we're living the apple pie life now, no hunting, no monsters alright?" He says in his brotherly voice. To me his "brotherly voice" sounded more like his "Dad" voice. I nod as he leaves. Ben is about 5 months older than me but I don't really mind that or him. In-fact he's more like my other big brother. I get changed into my favorite grey and green t-shirt, black and blue flannel, my leather jacket, and combat boots. I pick up Dean's old amulet that Sam gave him and I put it on. At least I have something from both brothers for me to keep my sanity. I think to myself. I walk down as I see Dean kissing Lisa and I held back disgust. I never cared for Lisa. The only person I liked Dean with was Jo Harvelle. Jo was amazing one of the best hunters, and one of my best friends. I feel haunted by her death at times. I could've gotten the hellhound that got her. But, it was too late and the hound got her bad. At times I wake up shaking from it and I lie to myself that it's okay when its not really okay. I mean who doesn't lie to themselves to keep themselves calm.

I clear my throat and Lisa and Dean break apart and they both give me a stupor grin. "Who's hungry?" Dean asks all of us. Ben sits down as Dean and Lisa start with pancakes. I set my backpack down and sat down by Ben. I glare at Lisa loathingly. "Can't we take Baby?" I ask and yet again Dean shakes his head. "Nope, she's not going out and that final." Dean says stiffly. I held in a groan as he wasn't the cool brother since Sam went to the Cage. I pick at my pancakes with a bit of maple syrup. I sigh as I eat thinking of Sam. I hadn't been able to get out of my head lately and I just missed him so much. I finish eating as I go to the car that wasn't Baby and I got in the backseat as Ben usually claimed shotgun which I didn't mind much. Soon after I get in and settled Dean and Ben come out and get in the car as Dean drives us to school.

Chapter 3: Shit Happens

I walk in the hallway avoiding the popular kids and the jocks headed to my second science class of the day, when I fall to the floor and I hear laughter. "Come on you little turdsack aren't you gonna get up?" I hear a boy call to me and I do get up only to be shoved back down. I feel my hand go to my jean pocket and I pull out my hunting knife. I sniff the air and I smell a slight trace of sulfur. Demons. I think. Before I can react I feel a rough hand on my shoulder and a voice that said. "Go to the car and don't talk back." I look to see Dean, his eyes blazing with anger. I grab my backpack from the ground as I hear Dean follow me. I throw my backpack into the backseat as I get up front only to be stopped by the man of the hour. "Backseat. Now!" His voice barks and I grunt and go to the backseat. Once the both of us are settled in Dean doesn't start the car instead he turns to look at me and I avoid his eyes. "What the hell was that? Alex you can't just pull out your knife when someone is picking on you." Dean snaps at me. "Well excuse me for trying to defend myself and protect others from demons." I snap back. "Watch your tone. Your in enough trouble as it is. How I know you pulled a knife was that the principal called me and told me that you were in the hall and you had a knife, do you realize how much trouble your in?" Dean growls and I shrug. "Give me your knife and your phone." Dean says and I give them both to him without another word. He pockets the knife and turns off my phone and takes out the battery. "That away I know you aren't on it." Dean says handing me my phone back and I groan. "Are you serious?" I ask. "Well it's not my fault you got suspended for three days. You get your battery back after those three days and your knife is now mine." Dean says and I roll my eyes as we drive off. I wanted to yell at him. Cuss him out. But, I knew there was no stopping him. I watch the trees go by as he drives as my mind wanders to Sam.

Chapter 4: Why Did You Have to Go?

As I sleep my mind makes up a dream of some sorts. It was when Lucifer was inside Sam. I wake up in my dream surrounded by reflections of myself then a flicker of light appears as I see Sam/Lucifer. "Lucifer." I spit out bitterly. "Such anger coming from you Winchester." Lucifer snares at me. Circling me like I was meat on a hook for a wolf looking at his prey. I swallow hard as I knew this was just a dream and it wasn't real. "You're just an illusion of my mind. You aren't in Sam anymore." I say back remaining a tadbit calm as I back into a table. "Oh Abby? Alice? Alex is it? Well you're right that I'm not in little Sammy anymore as now I control your mind in this little thing you call an illusion." Lucifer almost growls and I shudder in disgust and anger. "Oh such anger inside someone like you. Considering your real family is dead. Your mother. Dead. Father? Deader than the men you call brothers." Lucifer smirks and I pin him to the wall. "Don't you dare talk about my family like that you lying son of a bitch." I spit in his face as he smirks coldly. I stare at him with an emotionless glare. "Go back to hell where you belong." I spat and he laughs in my face.

I wake with a small start as I see Sam sound asleep and snoring as Dean was turning to face me, seemingly like as if he knew I had another nightmare. My first one in a few months. "Squirt, are you alright?" he asks half asleep. I shrug and he reaches for the light by the table as he hadn't seen my shrug. I wince as he turns on the light to look at me. Sam continues to snore as Dean looks at me. "Why are you looking at me like that? Gonna give me a big brother talk?" I say sarcastically and he gently laughs. "No, but seriously Squirt. Did you have another nightmare?" Dean asks and I nod. "Figures by how you were moving in your sleep." Dean says and I sigh and he wraps his arms around me and turning off the light. "Let's get some more sleep." He says and I nod as he then starts to snore again and I let out a small sigh as I go back to sleep with Lucifer's laugh echoing in my head.

[pixiemochi]

Rainfall

❝Jimin likes the smell of rain and earth more than he thought he ever would.❞

Notes: Contains omega!Jimin and alpha!Jungkook.

Jimin was never one to go crazy over someone’s scent. Sure, he’s met and been with his fair share of alphas that smelled really good. But no one has ever made him drop what he was doing with the utmost urge to seek out the recipient.

But currently the omega found himself absentmindedly placing his text book in his bag, eyes closed as he sniffed the air. He grabbed his backpack and hurried off after the scent.

It was amazing. It smelled like home. It comforted Jimin in ways he didn’t even know a scent could. The earthy tone made him feel warm and small notes of a rain made him feel at ease. It smelled like a summers evening in the woods after a rainfall.

The blonde didn’t even realize he was practically chances after the scent until he smacked right in to someone’s steady back. The omega shook his head and stepped back, looking up with an apology already on his tongue. But he eyes widened when the man turned around.

This was the alpha that carried the scent Jimin was in love with. Before either of them could say a word, Jimin squeaked and turned on his heel, running away from the taller man.

The next day Jimin was still feeling the effects of his embarrassment of literally running into the amazing smelling alpha. But at the same time, he felt disappointed. He’d most likely would never see that man again. It’s not like they went to the same university or else Jimin would have noticed that sent before.

As he was walking across campus to the art building, he felt an arm drape over his shoulder. He recognized the faint scent of oranges and mint that belonged to his best friend, Hoseok. He looked up at the beta. “Hey, Hobi.” He greeted.

“Hey Chim,” The elder said back. “Did you here that we’ve got a new student in the dance department?”

Jimin blinked and then shook his head. “I didn’t,” He responded. “Have you met them yet?” He asked.

Hoseok shook his head as well. “I haven’t yet, but he should be stopping by today for one of the classes.” Jimin nodded and the two of them walked in to the art building together. “I need to talk with one of the professors, I’ll meet you in our studio.” He told the omega before pulling away and heading down another hallway.

Jimin continued down the first hallway, heading to the right room when he closed his eyes, his nose twitching. Once again, his senses were overload by the smell of earth and rain. He sniffed the air and let his nose guide him past his studio and around the corner. Before he even knew what he was doing, Jimin opened the door to another studio and walked right in.

He blinked, seeing that alpha he ran in to yesterday dancing in front of the mirrors. His mouth dropped as he watched the taller male dance with such power. He didn’t realize how long he had been watching the other until the music stopped. Jimin looked up to see the other man staring at him through the mirror.

The alpha turned around too look properly at Jimin. His lips began to twitch in to smile. Jimin wanted to swoon then and there. But realization at being caught hit him like a truck. And just like the first time, he squeaked in embarrassment and ran out of the room.

Jimin ran all the way back to his own room, hurrying in and shutting the door. He leaned against it, panting softly. He made of fool of himself twice now! He let out a groan and face palmed. He took a deep breath and stepped away from the door and began to stretch, doing his best to take his mind of his embarrassment.

The session Hoseok and Jimin were holding was nearly over when the door opened. Jimin was too preoccupied to notice the new student that walked in, being completely lost in the song and choreography he was working through. Hoseok walked up to the new alpha and introduced himself

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” He greeted with a large grin.

The alpha smiled. “I’m Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you Hoseok-ssi.”

Hoseok laughed. “I think I’m older kid, call me hyung.”

“Okay hyung,” Jungkook smiled.

Hoseok turned around to watch Jimin. “That’s Jimin-ah,” He stated. “His a little busy at the moment.”

Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of the dancing omega that smelled like coconut and sandalwood – his own tropical getaway. The one that ran in to him twice now. Just like the blonde was with him, Jungkook was entranced as he watched the other man dance beautifully to the rhythm. He was speechless and Hoseok watched the alpha with a smirk on his face.

When the song was done Jimin plopped down on the floor, panting. “Hobi hyung,” He whined. “I’m tired now.”

“Well if you had taken a break when I told you, you probably wouldn’t be as worn out.” Hoseok scolded half-heartedly.

Jimin rolled on to his back, eyes still closed and when he finally caught his bearings he released there was another scent in the room. His eyes shot open and he sat up quickly, eyes coming in contact with that of the amazing scented alpha.

Jimin shot to his feet. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom!” He announced, inwardly cringing at how god awful his awkwardness was and ran out of the room.

Jungkook watched the omega go, biting his lip. Was it him?

Hoseok blinked. “Wow, way to be awkward.” He muttered. “Don’t mind him. Jimin is a strange one and he gets embarrassed easily.” He stated.

“I’m beginning to think it’s me,” Jungkook stated.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow and looked at the alpha. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well we kind of met before,” The brunette began. “He ran in to me yesterday and just a few hours ago he walked in to the studio I was in. But he ran away from me both times. And now too. I beginning to think maybe he thinks I smell bad or something.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah, I’m sure it’s not that. Jimin’s just an awkward little thing as I said. He’s not very good with feelings.” Jungkook raised his eyebrows at that. The elder patted the alpha on the back. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around sooner than later.”

Jungkook looked at the door, wondering when – hoping, Jimin would come back. He let out a sigh. “I hope so.”

“I can never show my face in the music department every again.” Jimin mumbled as he laid face first on his other best friend’s bed.

Soonyoung looked up from his spot on the floor next to the bed. “Are you ready to fill me in yet?” He asked. “You’ve been sulking ever since you came over.”

Jimin turned his head to the side so he could talk better. “There’s this super cute and hot alpha that I’ve seen three times and I’ve made a fool of myself each time.”

The other omega nodded. “Oh?” He asked. “Well, like why didn’t you just talk to him?”

“Because I would have died?”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you would have been fine. Anyway, come with me to meet up with Gyu and we’ll find something to talk your mind off your awkward as hell ass.”

Jimin pouted and sat up. “Don’t call my ass awkward, it’s amazing.”

“It is, but it’s also still awkward.” Soonyoung stood up. “Let’s go.” The two of them got ready and headed out of the younger omega’s house, walking in to town to meet up with Soonyoung’s boyfriend. “Oh, I got a text from Gyu, says he’s bringing a friend.”

Jimin just nodded as the two held hands and walked along until they came up to the diner they always hung out at.  They headed inside to one of their usual booths. Jimin slid in first and Soonyoung sat in next to him.

“So, who is the friend?” Jimin asked.

Soonyoung shrugged. “Uh not sure, he didn’t say a name.”

The blonde just nodded and started drawing patterns on the table. He heard the bell to the door chimed but he didn’t look up. But he did freeze when the familiar sent of rain drenched earth caught is nose. He looked and saw Mingyu walking in with that alpha (he still didn’t the name of).  

“Let me out,” He mumbled, trying to push Soonyoung out of the booth.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking at Jimin. But he let out a squeal when Jimin succeeded in pushing him to the floor. He looked up from his best friend to see the two alphas standing right by their able now.

“Jimin-ssi?” Jungkook asked, staring at the blonde omega.

“Oh, you know my name…” Jimin mumbled.

Soonyoung stood up, brushing himself off. “Okay, I only know half of what is going on.” He began. “Hi, I’m Soonyoung or Hoshi, whichever. Apparently, you already know my best friend but he’s emotionally constipated and like I’m not in the mood for this. Please, sit down.” He took Jungkook’s arm and pushed him to sit down.

Jimin looked mortified, watching Jungkook sit down now. “Hoshi, what the-”

“No Jimin, please. Just talk to him. He’s cute and you’re crushing already.” Soonyoung took Mingyu’s hand and smiled. “Text me later Min, I want all the details. Nice meeting you Jungkook, bye!” And with that he pulled the taller and extremely confused alpha away and out of the diner.

Jimin gulped and sat up straight in his seat. “Um…hi,” He squeaked again.

Jungkook chuckled. “Hi,” He began. “Please don’t run away again.”

The omega blushed, placing his hands in his lap and looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I-I won’t,”

The taller man smiled. “Good, because I really want to get to know you and I can’t do that if you keep running away.”

Jimin’s blush deepened. “R-Really?” He asked. “I don’t even know you’re name?”

“Jeon Jungkook, I would have introduced myself yesterday in the studio but you uh, had to go to the bathroom…” Jimin gasped at the memory and planted his face on the table, mumbled about how embarrassing he was. The alpha reached over and took Jimin’s hand. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Call me hyung…Hobi told me you were younger than me.” He mumbled as he peeked up at Jungkook.

“Hyung,” The brunette began. “Do you want to share a milkshake with me?”

Jimin blushed but smiled. “And fries?”

Jungkook chuckled. “And fries.”

The blonde grinned even more. “Sounds like a date,” The omega’s eyes widened, and he covered his mouth, another blush on his cheeks.

The alpha smiled again, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Yeah, sounds like a date.”

I hope it had enough fluff for you guys.

[apartofthelosersclub]

I Swear I’m Not A Killer

A/N: So I’m writing again, seeing as I am finally getting the courage to do so. Again. This was inspired by @dailyau ‘s prompt, “You’re going through my sketchbook and giving questioning looks and I swear to God I’m just a deranged artist and not a serial killer” AU

The Losers Club will be aged up (14-15), this imagine is set after Pennywise is gone and Beverly has gone away.

Trigger Warnings include but are not limited to: Profanity, Gore-y and Graphic depictions of grotesque and ghastly art

She had always sat in the back of the room, in almost every class, watching. She especially watched those who were disliked by the rest class. The bullies and the avid gossipers, were among some of the people she watched. She drew what she saw, pencil and sketchbook always at the ready. They were always with her, not even Bowers, who tormented her just as much as he tormented us, could ever take them away from her. She was better at art than I was, so I assume she took art classes outside of school. I took notes and looked at Richie, who sat beside me, expertly making paper planes with dirty jokes written inside the folds. The teacher began his droning, turning to face the board.

“Big Bill, Bill!”

“W-what Richie?’

“Eyeing (Y/L/N) again, hmm?”

“Beep Beep R-Richie”

The droning of the teacher made the class seem long, and never ending. The sudden shrill of the bell allowed everyone to pack everything and leave. Richie stood up shoving his class work into his book bag, promptly leaving me behind. In sudden haste, I shoved everything into my book bag as well. Everything except for my house keys.

“Shit, where is it?”

“Where’s what?” (Y/B/F) drawled, as they flipped through a magazine. School had ended, and in a haste to get out, I left my sketchbook. I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave without it.

“My sketchbook, it has all of my drawings!”

“Where did you leave it at?”

“If I knew where I left it at, I would have found it already,” I snapped.

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve just forgotten my most prized and private possession at school! What if a teacher or someone else finds it, and they look inside?” I ranted.

“Here, just give me your stuff and go back. I’ll take your things to your house, while you go get your notebook,” (Y/B/F) decided.

“When you come home, you’re making me cookies!” (Y/B/F) shouted as I took off, running back to school.

“Try not to forget your things again, Mr. Denbrough,” the teacher droned.

“Y-yes, sir,” I affirmed, turning to leave.

“Mr. Denbrough, are you forgetting something again?”

I turned towards the class again, confused. He pointed towards a ringed sketchbook. It was astounding that she forgot it.

“It’s not mine, it belongs to (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I could take it to her, so that it doesn’t stay here.”

“Please do, It’s the weekend, so the janitors will most likely throw it out,” he explained.

“Your sketchbook isn’t there Ms. (Y/L/N).”

“I gathered that, seeing as it isn’t in the place I left it” I said, removing my face from the glass of the door to look at the teacher.

“Mr. Denbrough returned earlier this evening to retrieve his keys. He is in possession of it, he assured me that he would find you and return it to you,” he stated.

“Alright then, goodbye sir.”

“Goodbye Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Turning the corner, I arrived to the street where I lived. The rest of the losers sat on my front porch waiting for me, bikes all on the ground with the exception of Stan and Eddie’s bikes. Those were proper up on their stands.

“Oh shit, is that (Y/L/N)’s sketchbook? Well, come on Big Bill, open it up and let us see!” Richie yelled, proceeding to walk towards me.

“No, I-I’m not going to go through so-something that I-isn’t mine to share.”

Stan, Mike, and Ben turned and walked towards us, wanting to know what was going on.

“Isn’t that (Y/L/N)’s sketchbook? She’s probably looking for it.”

“You know her, Stan the Man?”

“She helps me with drawing the birds I take pictures of. Doesn’t she know you guys too?” Stan asked Mike and Ben.

“She comes by the farm to draw the animals. Her parents are close with my grandpa.”

“She helps me with illustrating. The pieces she makes for some of my poems are really pretty.”

“So, how is it that you all know her but Bill doesn’t?” asked Eddie.

“Maybe because Big Bill over here has been crushing on her for the longest time and doesn’t do anything about it,” teased Richie. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to look a bit, would it?”

“I-If she g-gets mad, we’ll  w-will have to d-deal with it!” I scolded.

We all walked towards the steps that led to my porch and sat together. Richie could hardly hold in his excitement. The others anticipated wonders that would unfold themselves when I opened her sketchbook. We weren’t disappointed.

In the ringed sketchbook, were thick pages of paper with detailed and realistic drawings of animals. From the fluffy sheep and the strong rams to the soft ducklings on Mike’s farm. The further they peered into the book, the more lifelike the drawings appeared. The birds in her notebook, some Stan recognized even though he hadn’t taken photos of them were in her book. The intricate colored drawings of a Mexican Violetear and a Bronzed Cowbird. There was an illustration that Ben noticed right away.

“That’s the drawing for January Embers,” he whispered.

There in the middle of a single page was a girl. Her hair truly was winter fire, with the brightest blue eyes, a sprinkling of golden freckles across her face, and the warmest smile. Underneath the drawing was Ben’s poem. And beneath even that, was a name; Beverly Marsh. 

They all felt it, the feeling that they had forgotten something or someone. That feeling brought up all sorts of emotions that they couldn’t put memories too. Ben teared up, feeling a painful sadness, not knowing why he was sad. They decided to move forwards into the sketchbook after making sure Ben was alright, and that’s where things took a turn. The happy, innocent, and bright drawings disappeared. 

The drawings in the back, although there were two pages, were grotesque and ghastly. These were the drawings she worked on, of the people the student body hated and feared. Drawings of Greta Bowie and her clique, with their heads on pikes. Each person’s face frozen in fear with their eyes bulging out of their head, blood running out their mouths, and the tip of the pike that was shown poking out of the person’s head. Their limbs strewn across the space of light that met the shadows. 

The next page encompassed another group. A group of four older boys. There was a recurring person in her drawings. An older boy with a mullet for a hairstyle. His pictures depicted her utmost rage onto him. His body was hollow, his rib cage open and sticking outward revealing an empty chest, while his entrails draped across the floor.

“Holy shIT Bill, you might want to rethink your crush on (Y/L/N). She’s got fucking sca–”

“HEY!”

I ran out of the school and straight to my house to get my bike. I knew where Bill Denbrough lived. I remembered what happened two/ three years ago, to Georgie and the other kids. I was young and naive; and a constant target for Greta and Bowers’ gangs. They loved to torment me, especially Henry. All the horrible things they did to Bill, his friends, to all of us.

I pedaled as fast as I could down the winding streets to Bill’s house. I could see Bill and his friends sitting on the steps, hunched over something. As I approached, I realized they were looking through my sketchbook. They would see the drawings, the horrible ones that I drew of Greta, Henry, and the others.

“She’s got fucking sca–”

“HEY!” I yelled, getting off my bike and marching towards Bill and his friends.

“You have no right to look at my things. I could expect this from others, but not from you Stan, Mike, and Ben.”

“I-I’m sorry (Y/F/N), as another artist I k-know that l-luh-looking at someone else’s artwork wi-without their permission is w-wrong. S-seeing as it’s a-a part of them.”

“I know you all seen the drawings in the back, and please stop giving me these questioning looks. I’m just an anger repressed and deranged artist, I swear I’m not a serial killer.” I explained.

“G-Guys, go in-inside. I’m g-going to talk w-with (Y/F/N).”

They all proceeded to go in. Richie whispered something into Bill’s ear before he went with the others.

“Bye (Y/L/N), see you tomorrow!” they all chorused their farewells.

“It’s o-okay. I know, yuh-you’re not a s-serial killer. It’s j-just you’re anger b-being released i-in a positive a-and non-harmful way.”

“Anyone else would have assumed I was deranged for those drawings”

“I w-wuh-would like to buh-lieve that I’m not like eh-everyone else. I think that y-you’re artwork is amazing. Even the scary ones in the back. I’d like to be a-able to draw w-with you sometime, if that’s okay.” he finished off bashfully.

I felt happy that I could share my artwork with someone and not be judged. I was so happy, I went up and hugged Bill. Surprisingly, he hugged back.

“Thank you for not judging me; and yes, I’d like to draw with you.”

Hi, I’m back and I’m writing again. Sorry it’s been a long while. But I’d like to thank @creativitymouth for giving me the motivation to write again. I will try to have a request that an anonymous posted done by New Years, so that’s something to look forward too! 

[alisterthatchel]

Counterpoint (Knifepoint Remastered)

Requal walked slowly into the ruins out of the forest, her fingers continuously rolling the daggers in her hand.  A nervous tick she was trying to suppress, but it was either that or playing with the kunais hidden in her cloaks sleeves, and she’d rather keep them hidden till she knew what might be in the ruins.  She looked around, following her brains map of how to get to the heart of the limestone structure.  Requal realized as she retraced her steps that her grey cloak and her raven hair hindered her camouflage in the dimly lit halls.  She noted that at least her complexion would aid in that, especially with how the chambers and hallways were dimly lit by iridescent fungi growing off some of the stone & broken wooden furniture, left to rot through time.  She’d claimed the title of trespasser a number of times when she got bored of her redundant studies, and it had been a wealth of knowledge.  When she found that vault door…and then the stranger appearing in the courtyard.  He shown her and the other students that the teachers were withholding spells and ways to help her achieve her goals faster.  But he mentioned the vaults had knowledge lost to time, and that they might store cures for her older brother.  She started to tear up at the idea of finding a solution for his legs being annihilated by that mad sorcerer.   She knew the vaults were dangerous, having read about them in the forbidden archives, but she wasn’t going to be held back anymore by her professors; she was going to learn everything she needed, even if she had to encounter a little danger.

She slowly walked in the shadows, listening closely to the wind for any signs of any other visitors to the vault, but all she could hear were the whispers coming from the Traeka sword.  As she slowly drew further into the ruins, she felt the sword slowly start to tremble, and the barely-audible whispers had grown into incomprehensible speech, a language lost to the ages, and it made Requal uneasy.  “Come on, Requal,” she said, trying to keep herself calm. “The faster you get this done, the faster you can get out of here.”

She found herself deeper and deeper into the ruins, the path seeming longer and more ominous than when she stumbled upon it by accident.  The sword seemed to have a pull of its own, almost urging her to go faster, and directing the way.  Requal stopped as she reached the base of the last stairs she had to descend, the stolen sword glowing purple and her eyes widening.  The walls had been plain when she had first scoured the level, but as she came in sight of the floor, the walls manifested symbols and hieroglyphics on the walls.  As Requal hesitantly took a single step onto the floor, raw mana stalagmites burst through the floor and erected themselves sporadically around the floor.  She knew this wasn’t a good sign, but she couldn’t go back now.  

The nervousness reached a crescendo when she neared the vault chamber. As she saw the vault door down a long, narrow pathway, the words from the sword were almost screaming in her ear. Requal staggered and stumbled, the hilts of her blades pressed against her skull as she tried to hold her head in pain.  She stumbled into the vault chamber, and, all at once, the voices ceased.  Requal shook her head and looked around, and as she regained her sight, she noticed a man standing in front of the vault, facing it, and she hoped unaware of her presence.  She crouched and started slowly backing into what shadows were available.

“This is what you came here for, Requal.  Come and unlock the knowledge within.”

Requal stopped dead in her tracks.  She looked at the man worriedly, scared at the fact she knew the figures voice. The man from the courtyard.  He turned around and started walking towards her. Requal leaped back against the wall, brandishing her daggers in a threatening fashion.  It didn’t last long, though, as the voices from the sword started to invade her mind again, screaming in a threatening tone.  As she slid down the wall curled into a fetal position, the man had reached her.  He knelt down and cocked his head, indifferently staring at Requal as she trembled on the floor, and through her tears of pain she looked worriedly back. His face slowly changed from the muted curiosity to a wide grin.  He reached down and gently stroked her cheek as his grin slowly started to appear malicious, contrary to the sympathetic tone he took.  “Oh, Requal, don’t shy away from the voices of the vaults…let the voices become your herald like they have for me.”  He slowly stroked her arm as he whispered in her ear.  “They will give you all the truth of the worlds.” He grinned wider as he discovered the sword on her back.  “Good, you brought the key.”

A glimmer of thread slung around the man’s neck as Reya, attempting, and failing, to sound as calm she could, addressed him.  “Gabriel, is it?  I will only tell you once to leave our student alone.”

Gabriel had lost his grin when he had felt the thread wrap around his neck, but at hearing her voice, Gabriel’s grin came back, bigger than ever. “Reya Felltithe, I remember seeing you training on the school grounds.  Honestly, I didn’t expect for Thatchel to send you.  I presumed he would’ve chosen a somewhat competent fighter at least!”

Gabriel’s existence flickered, reappearing directly behind Reya, now standing. Before Reya could turn around, Gabriel’s rapier was drawn and arcing towards her face.  Reya’s reflexes started a defensive spell, but the blade never fell.  It stopped centimeters from her skin as the Mage’s Armor formed over her.  She watched Gabriel, frozen in place as a red line slowly formed around his neck, Alister appearing behind with a shimmering line pulled taught behind the assailant’s head.  Gabriel’s head slowly slid from his shoulders, purple mist seeping from the wound as blood slowly dripped onto the cobblestone.

The mist slowly ate away at the body as he slowly vanished, and Gabriel’s voice echoed across the room. “You should remember that it would take a lot more to kill me than a mere decapitation...”. The mist appeared again behind Alister, converging and forming Gabriel’s body. The assailant drew his rapier and made a quick slash that would have severed Alister’s spine, had it connected. Instead it slashed thin air as Alister’s body blinked out and reappeared behind Gabriel, blade drawn and plunging into Gabriel’s side. Gabriel gasped in more surprise than pain, despite both being present.

Blood started dripping from Gabriel’s mouth as Alister spoke calmly. “And you should know better than to threaten anyone in my care.”

Gabriel smiled a reminiscent smile as he coughed up a bit of blood, walking down memory lane as he wistfully said, “It’s about time you finally took my advice, and learned some of my tricks.” As his sentence finished, his body was consumed by the most again, leaving only the blood on the floor and the mist, which quickly moved to a few feet away before forming back into the man. Gabriel’s breathing was taxed and he appeared drained of color a little more.

“Still haven’t found a way around the blood loss yet, I see,” Alister commented as he moved between Gabriel’s new position and the others. He glanced behind him, seeing Reya had cast a barrier spell from salt she carried and her spell book. Requal sat behind Reya in the corner, but fascinated and terrified of what was going on. Alister addressed Gabriel before returning his attention to him. “Does make me wonder what tricks you have been working in however many years it’s been since you were presumed dead...”

Gabriel smiled a sickening grin. “Now now, our little class reunion has only just begun, so I can’t give away all my secrets.” He started swaying side to side, and as he did, mist began to form around him, dense enough to lightly obscure vision. When he felt it dense enough, he sprinted at Alister, drawing his rapier. “But I can at least give one!” As he got within range, he thrust at Alister, who swing his sword to deflect. The steel didn’t connect, and Alister, with his free hand, threw his arm bag and grabbed the back of Gabriel’s shirt collar out of thin air. As Alister turned towards Gabriel, though, the material in his hands began to crumble, as it appeared Gabriel, his clothes and his sword molted out of a shell of themselves, and Gabriel lunged at the barrier. Alister threw aside the molt in shock, and rushed at Gabriel as Reya screamed out in pain. Gabriel had stabbed through the barrier and through Reya’s stomach, and as Alister approached, he vanished into mist. The rest of the barrier shattered as Alister reached them, and he quickly swept Reya into his arms as she was doubled over in pain. He looked back into the room, and saw Gabriel with the Sword of Traeka, stolen in the assault.  Using it as a walking stick to steady his stride and tapping his rapier on his shoulder, he walked towards the gate unsteadily.

Alister glared down Gabriel, seething and torn by contrary impulses.  He had a burning desire to tear Gabriel apart here and now, but knew that saving Reya, who had started bleeding profusely from her wound, was his utmost priority.

“You best get your delicate little school nurse back to the school, where she has half a chance of getting patched up,” Gabriel chided as he reached the vault door and looked back at him. “Wouldn’t want to let her die from whatever I laced my blade with, would you?” He looked back at the vault, picked the sword up, slid it into a hole on the vault door, and twist the hilt. Centuries old cogs and wheels began to turn in the door, dark aura steaming out of orifices and cracks in the face. The door slowly began to open.

She was desperately trying to use what healing spells she could muster. The adrenaline mixed with the excruciating pain made it impossible task to do, barely able to knit the skin at all.  “S-so much blood…It h-hurt…s-so much.”

Alister knew there was a strong chance he wasn’t joking as Gabriel had taunted him, but when he looked back down at Reya, her veins had started to turn, and glow, orange. He knew exactly what it was, Gabriel’s old signature toxin. He looked at Requal, who had begun cluching her head as the voices that she had heard before merged into an incomprehensible wailing and she before he could pull her up, she passed out due to pain and stress.  Alister knew he couldn’t stay.  “This isn’t over, old friend.”

“Oh no, you and I definitely aren’t done, but this battle is.” A massive set of humanoid hands from inside the vault grabbed the door and started to pull the door open with great strain. “So unless you want to face the penalty round, I’d suggest you get moving.”

Alister had already started working as Gabriel had verbally prodded him. Alister had reached into a pouch at his waist and poured out a sand & salt combination onto the floor. His clothes started to glow blue, and as the light shown brighter, the sand and salt shifted into a circle around Alister’s feet and Requal’s body. It formed in patterns under the student’s unconscious body and the headmaster’s feet, forming the teleport spell. Alister had kept his eyes on the vault door throughout this process, watching as it opened, and a massive humanoid figure stepped through the gate. As the being came closer to Gabriel, Alister saw the being in clearer light. It stood roughly 15 feet tall, had curled horns like that of a goat, hooves instead of feet, and dark brown fur covering it’s entire body. The only articles the beast wore were straps and harnesses, all of which had weapons attached. From what Alister could see there were three broadswords at his waist, two hand axes that hung on straps at his upper thighs, and a massive executioner’s ax in his left hand.

The voice that came out of the minotaur was more bestial and vicious than their normal tones.  “You who seeks knowledge, have you a sacrifice, or will you be the sacrifice?”

 Gabriel grinned and pointed to Alister and the others. The minotaur turned his head to look at Alister, the unconscious Requal, and Reya, who had started succeeding at healing her wound despite the toxin taking ahold. The beast grinned himself, rotten, spiked teeth barely visible in the light. “The two females will be no challenge, but the male will be a worthy trophy.”

“Are you able to stand?” Alister asked Reya, not keeping his eyes off of the beast.

“I think so.”

“Get Requal into the middle of the circle and place your palm in the center.”

“O-okay.”

Alister gently let Reya down and stepped forward out of the circle, eyeing down the beast. Reya managed to pull Requal into the circle more and placed her hand in the center. The circle started to glow that same blue light as before. As that happened, the minotaur shifted his grip on the hilt to a lower point, grabbed one of the swords at his side, and flung both with incredible speed, ax after the sword. Alister grabbed the sword by the blade and used it to slam the ax from underneath, deflecting it up and burying it into the ceiling. The bestial warrior was taken aback momentarily, but then gave a smile from ear to ear.

“I knew you were a mage, but a battle mage...I haven’t fought one of you in centuries before our incarceration.”

Alister looked at the blade as a pulsing darkness radiated from the edges, a demon’s weapon. He recited an ancient chant quickly, breathed on the blade in the middle, and slammed it over his raised knee. It snapped in half as if a twig, and the black aura started to dissipate. He noticed that the blades had cut his palms despite not having physically touched his skin.

The minotaur, who had been amused, now became upset when one of his toys got broken. His horns began to glow red in etchings not previously visible, and he began taking a big breath. Alister held his hands on top and bottom, lining up the wounds on his palms so they faced each other.  His eyes began to shimmer crimson, and his blood linked together, spanning the gap between the two palms.  Strands began forming in sporadic directions between the palms, making a weave of blood. As the beast brought his head forward, the light went out in his horns, and as he opened his mouth, flames shot forth in a cone towards the group. Just as the flames got within feet of Alister, he thrust his hands forward.  The flames appeared to fork at that point, with some of the flames started being absorbed into the blood weave.  As the minotaur continued to breath flames, he saw what was happening and started to move closer, the cone focusing on Alister’s point as he got closer.  As he did, the forking of the flames narrowed, and Alister’s clothing started to burn away. Despite the flames scorching his clothes and skin, Alister kept his stance, bracing himself against the pressure. As the caught parts of the fire passed into the weave, it condensed into a focal point at the center of the weave. The color changed from the blazing red to a brilliant white, shedding light and becoming brighter till it illuminated the entire room. As the beast finished torching the area, the blinding light began to fade, and smoke started to pile up more into the room. As the flame breath subsided it waited for the smoke to clear, trying to see what had become of the mage and his wards.  As the smoke started to dispurse, a blinding white light flashed, and when his vision returned from momentary blindness, he found Alister, floating in front of the beast’s chest. The weave had disappeared and his hands were at his side. In his right hand, a tiny gleam hovered inches from his bleeding palm. He raised his right hand, the star rising parallel with it, and halted when it reached his chest height. The minotaur grabbed one of the hand axes at his side and swung down at Alister on impulse. Alister held up his other hand towards the descending arm and the blood from his hand erupted outward, forming a point and spiraled up.  The blood pierced the descending forearm & solidified into a spike of pure carbon. This halted the beast’s actions long enough for him to rotate his hand ninety degrees around the star, and pushing gently. The star slowly moved forward, and phased into the warrior’s chest as it looked down in confusion and anger. It didn’t even notice Alister snapping the blood spike at the root, whispering something under his breath, and bracing himself for the brilliant flash of white light and the subsequent blast the erupted from its chest, blowing its rib cage out of its body. The chest cavity bashed into the bracing headmaster and sent him sprawling backwards, into the ritual circle a good twenty feet back.

Reya, who had watched in disbelief at the fight while the circle finished charging, pulled Alister close to her and saw how pale he had gotten. He winced as he held his side, having been hit with a shrapnel of bone, and had lost and used a good amount of blood from the fight. She looked up at the victim of Alister’s skill, and saw a wobbling body that hit the ground with a massive crash, shattering the stone underneath. The circle started to teleport them as clapping and laughter from a wall of the room drew her attention. The last thing her eyes saw was that of Gabriel leaning against the far wall, grinning from ear to ear, hands in entertained motion.

“Oh Thatchel, you never disappoint...”

Reya blinked, a rush of wind, and when her eyes opened, they were in the observatory.

  Upon feeling the hardwood under him, Alister staggered to his feet like a deer learning how to walk. Reya tried to stop him, but the adrenaline and fear no longer could help her ignore the pain of the toxin, and she cried out as she could feel it expanding through her veins. Alister shuffled to a dusty cabinet and threw open one of the doors. It had numerous items coated in dust, but he rifled to the back and found a bottle that had an emerald green liquid in it.

“This better not have gone bad...”

He staggered back towards Reya, leaning against the bookshelves as he made his way. Reya had curled into a fetal position as her muscles started to tighten involuntarily, barely able to breathe. Alister fell down next to her, pulled her head into his lap as he sat up, and poured half the vial of antitoxin into her mouth. He massaged her throat to assist the concoction to go down. After it got past her throat she gasped, reclaiming her ability to breathe, and after half a minute more she started regaining mobility. Alister smiled before falling back onto the floor, groaning in pain. Reya got up and looked Alister over. He had burns covering the outsides of his arms and hands, bruises all over from the blast, wounds on his hands and side, and blood loss had made him scarily pale. She set to work immediately, stitching the skin together with her magic. As she did, she noticed his body itself was slowly healing as well, assisting in closing the wounds. Alister, despite immeasurable pain, stayed still and forced his body to remain unmoving. Except for his wincing, shifting his head, and occasional wordless gasps of pain, she could have been fooled into believing she was playing mortician. As she healed, she recycled the entirety of what had transpired in the last hour or so in her head. A man hell-bent on opening the vault, an ancient beast that could breathe fire like a dragon, and the headmaster she now worked under using blood magic, something that she’d seen many a person put to death for using. She was very nervous about all of it, and her hand began to tremble as she had moved onto the burns, using an ointment in her pouch and sprinkling a catalyst into it.

“I don’t blame you for your hesitance.”

Reya snapped out of her thought and looked over at Alister. He was looking at her, and when she looked at him, he raised his hands to look at the palms.

“I do my best not to use such uncivilized and outlawed magic in front of others, but when facing down death you don’t have time to be selective with your retort...”

Alister dropped his hands and looked away. Reya didn’t know what to say, so she just continued to heal Alister. In addition to it being outlawed in most kingdoms and lands, healer communities looked down greatly looked down on those who use that type of sorcery, and was forbidden to use in the agency. After a time of deep contemplation, Reya broke the silence.

“I didn’t know blood magic could produce light.”

Alister’s attention had been drawn to Requal, who was still passed out, but unharmed and still breathing. “It can’t, but it can assist in augmentation of forces and energies if channeled with arcane power. It’s not a common practice, but mixing magical archetypes, if properly handled, can lead to surprising and sometimes beneficial results.”

It was true, Reya had known that most teachings around magic had students working in certain categories of spell casting or ritual casting, not often allowing variable studies. Alister’s school had been one of the first she had come across that teaches students numerous different topics and genres of magic. A thought came to her mind, and before she could stop it... “Do you teach the students blood magic?”

Alister gave a short and soft chuckle as he turned his head back up towards the ceiling. “Less than one hand full of students have been taught. Ulessa, Zazelle, and Hydek. Super sweet kids despite being cursed with a talent for a dark power.” He closed his eyes and gave a deep breath. “Control and focus was always the teachings, and to keep their power hidden, they get ostracized or hunted.”

Reya could tell from how he talked about the matter that he was being truthful. “Students or Alumni?”

“All alumni. Zazelle is in a major city and works at her own bakery with her wife. Ulessa is an explorer to far off regions, but calls The Desert City home. Hydek use to live in a nearby village, but when raiders came from the mountains near the village, they started slaughtering the people. Hydek killed them all, but died in the process. Sadly his family and the other villagers were branded as cultists and interrogated by the local mage chapters and priests of Goldath. I did my best to help in what ways I could, but fighting public opinion is a losing battle...”

Reya had finished healing Alister halfway through his story, and had just sat next to him, watching him recall the events around Hydek’s death. She once again was at a loss for words, though this time she felt like she needed to say something. But what? What do you say to a teacher, mentor, and caretaker when one of their wards grows up, grows under their tutelage, and leaves their care just to get killed by events of the world?

Alister looked over at Reya, who was simply looking down at her lap, hands balled into fists, pressed against her legs. “There are no true words for it, in either experience or response to such news.” Reya was looking at him now. “Hence why I do everything in my power to prevent that from happening again.”

All Reya could do was nod before helping Alister to his feet. He was a little uneasy at first, but slowly started to gain his footing.

“I need to start preparing, though…”

Reya looked at him.  “You shouldn’t go after Gabriel until you’ve had time to recover.  Surely he’ll be busy looting the vault and making another scheme, if he is as he appears.”

Alister shook his head.  “He said ‘…our incarceration’.  That ancient warrior wasn’t alone in the vault.”

Reya’s eyes widened.  “You can’t fight them alone.”

Alister nodded.  “You’re right.  I need to call the professors together.”  He walked over and pulled the still unconscious Requal into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder.  “This is not a fight I’ll handle alone.  But first, let’s get this one looked at.”  He gestured, and the three of them left the observatory.

  After Alister, Reya and Requal vanished in the circle, Gabriel’s humor started to settle, his hands slowly coming to a halt together in the final clap. He then pushed himself off the wall and sauntered his way over to the beast, who was struggling to breathe, blood pouring out of the cavity. Gabriel leaned over the hulking body, looking into the beast’s eyes as he slowly started to fade. The beast weakly breathed out one sentence before he passed.

“My brother will give you what you seek, if you give him the name of the battle mage...”

After the life left the beast’s eyes, Gabriel straightened back up and looked at the vault door. “I may, or I may not. All depends on what he has to offer.” He started his stroll through the passageway. “Not going to let him take away all my fun.”

 Next installment of the story, hope you all enjoy.

[serpent-jugheadjones]

Dog Days - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Doctor!Reader x Jughead Jones

Description: A journey into Y/N’s life before and after Jughead Jones.

Warnings: ANGST, abandonment, child neglect, bullying, cursing, alcohol...

Word count: 4371

A/N: Y/N is highly based out of Lexie Grey and Maggie Pierce from Grey’s Anatomy with a little magical realism added, because in reality you CAN’T be a doctor after only one year of med school. @caitsymichelle13 requested the reader’s life before Jughead came in but I felt I had more to say about after as well so here’s both. 

Breathing became irrelevant the second Jughead’s lips touched hers. Earth’s magnetic pull seemed to fade as his grip on her waist tightened. The knot in the pitch of her stomach demanded more. However, in the real world, magical moments like this don’t last long. Y/N’s pager beeps. They reluctantly let go of each other. “It’s Fred. He’s awake.”, she reveals, catching her breath with a wide smile. Both run as fast as they can until they reach his room. Only Jug enters, sitting next to Archie, who is already inside holding his dad’s hand. Dr. Masters leaves with an accomplished look, telling Dr. Y/L/N to get his discharge papers ready, but the girl is absently staring at the raven-haired boy’s face relax in joy. The doctor snaps his fingers in front of her eyes, forcing her out of that sweet daydream. “Tell me you didn't make out with a patient.”, Steven inquires. “I didn't.”, she replies, but her features tell a different tale. “Yeah. What are the red lips from then?” He hands her a mirror from the nurse’s station. “He’s not the patient...”, Y/N defends, almost giggling. “Kid, you are unbelievable.” The older doctor teases before walking away. Jughead is too focused on hearing Fred’s near death/morphine induced dreams to see the Y/H/C girl leaving. She’s wrapping her head around the fact that it’s highly unlikely she’ll see the boy again, since the reason he was there to begin with is being released. And talking afterwards would just ruin the perfect instant she’d remember forever. 

Five-year-old Y/N isn't sitting in her living-room painting outside the lines like most kids in the neighborhood. She’s standing by the door frame watching her mom pack suitcases with all her belongings before her father arrives. The girl silently watches the woman scribble on a neon-yellow post-it and hurriedly load the car with the baggage. Her mother hastily sits her on a high baby chair that’s two sizes too small for her, with a toy Y/N doesn't play with since she was 3. The woman paces around the kitchen a couple of times. Maybe trying to convince herself to back down or perhaps just searching for the right thing to say. “You be good. Your daddy isn't a bad man. He just doesn't understand us.” She pecks Y/N’s smooth forehead and leaves, dropping her keys in the trashcan. Whether she wants it or not, those words are forever etched on Y/N’s memory. 

The little girl doesn't despair, cry or scream. She just sits there, bored out of her mind, waiting for her father to come home and release her. Maybe it’s good young kids don’t have a high sense of time, for Y/N may have sat in that uncomfortable chair for much longer than she should’ve. When the confused man finally arrives he walks past his daughter, directly facing their room almost empty. Already hopeless he finds THE NOTE stuck in the baby chair. ‘I’m not coming back.’ No more, no less. The woman didn't need to explain herself and had no sentiment left to sign out with love. He holds back anger and sadness to comfort his daughter, granted he’s the one who needs it. “It’s just you and me now, kiddo. We’ll take care of each other.” Her father promises.

Y/N’s in the trivial age for a girl, thirteen. However, body changes, hormones and crushes are the least of her worries. School teachers have called a psychologist to analyze her. After hours of awkward silence the doctor finished reading through her file. Instead of asking her questions on family matters and anti-socialism, he just hands her a few papers stapled together. “You have thirty minutes to finish answering as many of this as you can.” She takes a look at the cover, Mensa Workout. In less than twelve minutes every question has been answered and the test delivered. He only releases her scores to the principal, who then tells her she did excellent. The whole reason for this is that the girl hasn't been paying attention in class and even failed a couple. Turns out it’s because the subjects aren't challenging enough for her an they suggest homeschooling with college professors.

Y/N has practically raised herself, since the man who was supposed to be her father didn't uphold his word of taking care of her. Instead, he drowned himself on a bottle every night, then every afternoon and, finally, all day long. If possible, he’d add an extra hour on the day just to ‘numb’ his pain as he calls it. She understands how painful it must be for him, although having a hard time agreeing with his view of the world. Her father tells her, in between sips, that the it is rotten, poisonous and doomed. Nevertheless, the young girl believes everything can be fixed if you give your best. Y/N starts her Skype classes without a word to her father, who wouldn't know the difference anyways. She adds extra reading on anatomy and mechanics. Sure one or the other will be her future, for she wants to mend things. Probably because no matter the effort, she can’t seem to repair her old man. The girl just has to silently watch him change out of a successful businessman into a couch potato with facial hair.

She’s 15. Sitting by the diner table, waiting to open the envelope containing the results of her test. Not a pregnancy test like her ex-colleagues from school. Maybe her father wouldn't mind that one as much as this. “If you open that, you are on your own.”, he spits, crushing his beer can with his fist. “I've been on my own since mom left.” Y/N unseals the letter. She successfully tested out of High School and can begin college, since the girl pre-applied before the results came in, knowing she would ace the test. “Get out!”, the man shouts in anger. He’s been abandoned by a wife and can’t take the same ‘rejection’ from a daughter so this is the way he lashes out. “I've been forgiving you for all the mistreating since she couldn't stand you anymore, but I WON’T let you dictate my future as you tried hers.” She packs a quick bag with clothes and carefully selected files and documents, leaving all she knows behind.

Sweet Sixteen is just a few hours away and she’s about to be dismissed of Med School directly into her internship. It’s both a relief for no longer being called a toddler or told to go back to pre-school by her ‘peers’ and a stress for what’s to come. On usual cases, even for early admissions, one is obligated to complete the 4 years of college before practicing. Nevertheless, guaraná and ginseng pills, Red Bulls, straight-up cafeine, and extra classes shortened her time to one year. It took many meetings with the board and several practical tests for them to allow her to skip the next 3 years. Maybe her ‘peers’ are the ones who should go back to pre-school.

Y/N doesn't have a graduation like most her colleagues will. Nonetheless, the thrilled girl sent her father and invitation to be there when she takes the Declaration of Geneva. As that is a milestone for her and medicine altogether. “I solemnly pledge to consecrate my life to the service of humanity. I will give to my teachers the respect and gratitude that is their due. I will practice my profession with conscience and dignity. The health of my patient will be my first consideration. I will respect the secrets that are confided in me, even after the patient has died. I will maintain by all the means in my power, the honor and the noble traditions of the medical profession. My colleagues will be my sisters and brothers;I will not permit considerations of age, disease or disability, creed, ethnic origin, gender, nationality, political affiliation, race, sexual orientation, social standing or any other factor to intervene between my duty and my patient. I will maintain the utmost respect for human life. I will not use my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat; I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honor.”, Y/N pledges with pride. Her professors shake her hand and wish her luck in her journey. Instead of enjoying her success, her mind is stuck on one thing only: the man didn't show up. 

Riverdale is her choice for internship, not because they are high-tech, top of the line or get the rarest cases, quite the opposite. She wants to use her expertise to help those who need it. Also, the fact that it’s far away from her ‘home’ certainly helped the decision. From all the places Y/N applied, this is the only one that looked over her age, directly into her aptitudes. Some Hospital chiefs would politely decline, others would downright humiliate her, a rare few gave her a spot in their program. Ultimately, that seemed like the best choice for her.

However, being a newcomer is never easy, specially in a small town where everyone knows each other and are used to the same old things. However, having only enough money to buy a trailer in the ‘wrong’ side of the tracks doesn't turn out too bad as she finds judgment-free camaraderie with them, specially with Toni. That’s probably the first time Y/N can say she has a friend. But the fight for respect is still just as difficult. Y/N is, undoubtedly, the most efficient and quick intern there, but when people, usually patient’s loved ones, look at her, all they see is a little girl. That only makes her work twice as hard, having not a lot of time for anything else. Fortunately, her success rate and humor are enough to win them over.

She walks out of the hospital with dark bags under her eyes but a grin on her lips, after the best shift of her life. In the parking lot, she finds the reason for her perkiness. The boy who gave her an unforgettable first kiss leaning against a motorbike. “Hop on.”, Jughead instructs, throwing her his extra helmet. “How long have you been standing there?”, Y/N asks, fastening the belt on the helmet. “A while...” The freckled boy smirks, sliding his leg over the bike and the girl follows. “Where are we off to?”, she asks. “Dinner. Gotta repay you for saving my friend’s dad.” Jughead grabs the girl’s arms and wraps them tightly around his waist and rides out of the hospital in speed. Y/N was sure that kiss was a one time thing because the boy needed to blow off some stress. She’s never been gladder to be wrong. 

“You've never had a Pop’s milkshake?”, Jughead asks as they park under the glow of the diner’s neon sign. “I don’t get out of my side of town often.”, Y/N explains quickly, looking at the tagging on the walls of Jug’s favorite place: ‘Death Diner’. They go in, wary at what they may find after the recent events. Fortunately, it’s just Pop Tate at the counter. He wears a sorrowful expression. They learn, while eating burgers, fries and milkshakes, that the old man is claiming bankruptcy since no one is coming in the shop after what happened to Fred. “Ok, I for one can’t live any longer without these perfections.”, Y/N tells them with an ingenious expression. Seeing the smile on Pop’s face only made her will to help greater. 

She immediately starts arranging a retro night with singing and dancing from Riverdale’s River Vixen and Pussycats. The young doctor gets a little help from Jughead’s friends, unaware that one of them is actually his ex. This fact doesn't prevent the event from being a huge success. People started coming in and having fun. Hopefully, this is the beginning of a new era for this small town.

It’s Christmas and they have just arrived at the Andrews’ house, since FP is still wrongfully incarcerated. Presents are set under the decorated tree and drinks are poured in the kitchen. Fred is still getting used to Y/N and Jughead’s relationship. But the girl did save his life, so he can’t really argue against it and even if Andrews won’t confess to it, he knows Jug has never been this happy before, especially in the middle of all that chaos. After a delicious feast, they settle in the living room couch, sharing funny stories, warm coffee and, finally, presents. Archie rips apart the ones with his name, getting some classic comics, a new guitar strap, an electric tuner and a set of picks, since he’s always complaining about losing them. Fred opens his carefully, revealing a framed photo of him, Jug, Archie and Vegas, a Superman shirt, and a razor, which earns laughs out of everyone in the room. “I think the beard suits you, Mr. Andrews.”, Y/N comments. “Thank you! And please, call me Fred.” He opens his last one with some vintage rock LP’s Y/N heard him talk about one day, grinning at her in gratitude. Jug is up next, shyly and awkwardly opening his, since he’s not used to getting gifts or having a healthy-family-life kind of thing. He gets a few first edition books of his favorites and the complete work of Quentin Tarantino in Blue Ray from the men who are a brother and second father to him. His girlfriend gives him a typewriter, a gesture that almost brings the novelist to tears. He holds it in, not wanting to put anyone down. The Y/H/C girl is surprised she has more than one to open, since she wasn't expecting the Andrews’s boys to get her anything. She’s met with a travel cup, twice as big as her already large one with the words “Mornings are for coffee and early rounds.”, a play with her favorite line from Stranger Things. They don’t know her well enough yet but still manage to surprise her with a heartfelt present. Then Jug hands her a large heavy box. She finds two items inside it: a helmet, same model as Jughead’s, and a pocketknife. “So you can scrape MD in front, to match mine.”, the freckled boy reveals with a wide smile, almost as large as Y/N’s.

Snow is falling this New Year’s. Y/N and Jug are outside the Wyrm, thick gloves on, leather jackets snug their torso, his with the snake embroidery and their personally designed helmets. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I've never rode anything other than dirt bikes.” The girl is much more comfortable being in the back. “You’ll do fine.”, Jughead reassures her. “How did you get her in a bike, Jones? Been trying for months.”, Toni asks, amazed. “He’s got a sweet way of asking.”, Y/N answers, resulting in a shy smirk from the boy. The pink-haired girl walks away laughing. “So, left side controls the gear, right side acceleration and braking.” He shows her one last time before giving her control. “Should I be shaking this much?.”, she asks. “Relax. I’m right behind you the whole time, just in case.”. Jug strokes her arms, soothing her mind. The Y/H/C girl turn the ignition and rushes out of the parking lot, shouting in excitement. All the fear is gone the second her feet leaves the ground and the chilly wind starts blowing on her face as she rides through the Southside streets.

911. Not from her pager, but her personal phone. The now Resident girl races to her makeshift OR inside a back room in the Whyte Wyrm. “What happened?”, Y/N asks calmly but hurriedly, putting on surgical gloves and mask. “Damn Greendale guys didn't hold up their end of the deal...” Y/N cuts Tall Boy off as she starts sterilizing her instruments. “I don’t care for businesses talk. I mean what the fuck tore Sweet Pea’s abdomen?” She injects an IV with fluids and sedatives, applying pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. “Knife.”, the long haired Serpent reveals through the young boy’s pain screams, not leaving the side of his younger ‘brother’ as the girl analizes his wound. “Ok. It didn't cut through any vital organs. He just needs a few stitches. I got it from here.” The man leaves reluctantly so Y/N can tend to yet another gang member hurt. 

She walks out of the room with a limping teen hanging onto her shoulders for support. Clapping echoes through the bar as Sweet Pea sits on a chair. The girl heads behind the counter and pours herself a shot, downing it with ease and filling the small cup once more. “Y/N.”, Jughead calls for her gently. She turns around to see FP Jones standing behind his son with a serious look. “We appreciate everything you've done for us. This is yours if you want it.” The Serpents’ leader extends her their signature leather jacket. Y/N takes it from him and slides it on with a smirk. By the corner of her eyes, she sees Penny Peabody jealous, quivering in her seat and tightening the grip in her glass. “Yeah, Dr. Speedy!” The whole room, Toni louder than everyone, starts chanting Y/N’s nickname, given to her by the fact that since her hands touched the bike’s handles, she hasn't slowed down. “Jacket or no jacket, you've always been one of us.”, Tall Boy pats her back, which really gets a reaction from the Serpents’ lawyer. Thankfully, Topaz’s pride of her outweighs Peabody’s envy.

Jughead graduates from High School just as Y/N starts her Fellowship. Their relationship goes through a rough patch because the hours are long and arduous at Riverdale’s Hospital and Jug is always riding somewhere to deal with Serpents’ business. They also fight over him not wanting to go to college and her never being able to follow him on his trips. “I just want the best for you, Juggie. Why can’t you see that?” The girl tries to reason with him once more. “Maybe getting a degree just isn't for me. I don’t wanna work 24/7 like you.”, he spits, too angry to realize the pain his words are causing. “I haven’t seen you write since you graduated. You’re wasting your talent. I can’t watch you do that in silence.” She ignores his obvious attempt to hurt her, for she cares deeply about him. “Then you shouldn't watch it.” Jughead immediately regrets his words, but it’s too late. His girlfriend has sped off their home, with nothing but the clothes in her back. They've been living together on her trailer since his father was released. 

A few days go by and Y/N is staying at the Hospital. Toni has been providing her with clean clothes and essentials but she’s been living off of vending machine snacks and Z-Drugs. No matter how mad Y/N is, the girl can’t willingly sleep on a bed without Jughead next to her anymore. At the end of every shift, she takes a walk around the hospital to clear her head. This time he’s waiting for her outside, almost exactly like the night after Fred Andrews woke up. “About time.”, she tells him, crossing her arms around her torso defensively. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He’s not saying that because he thinks it’s what she wants to hear. “Can’t disagree with that.” They both laugh and Jug embraces her, a hug filled with regret and sorrow. “I applied to a community college nearby. A couple of classes a week in the writing program...“ She silences him with a sweet kiss, washing away any bad feelings. “I’ll try my best to get more free time.”, the girl promises what she can, for people’s lives depend on her. “Let’s go home.”, she adds. “Just one more thing.” Juggie kneels down, looking up at her. His heart pounding so loudly he can’t hear his own thoughts. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”, Jughead asks nervously but confidently. The Y/H/C girl can’t even believe his words but after blinking a few times the beanie-clad boy is still there, holding a small velvet box with a thin golden snake ring with two little malachite stones as eyes, which belonged to his grandmother. “Yeah... Yes. YES!”, Y/N answers euphorically, slipping the engagement band around her left ring finger overjoyed. Jughead holds the doctor by the waist as she locks her arms on his neck, spinning her in ecstasy. 

The wedding is held in the backyard of the Andrews’ house, right after Y/N gets her board certification and Jug finishes his first semester in college. The maid of honer, Toni Topaz, flawlessly decorated the small space with tree branches, lime veils and candles inside mason jars, providing an effortless but cute look. Their closest friends and some of Jughead’s relatives are the only guests, as they want it to be a private thing. Y/N is walking to the improvised altar, seeing the love of her life standing there with a smirk in a dark chrome-green suit, all-star boots and his infamous beanie. She’s never been more certain of something ever before than the way she feels for that man. Jug’s eyes are glowing at the sight of his bride in a flowy dress, Y/H/C locks loose and natural, little make up on, as he asked, since he loves her the way she is, not a pampered version for pictures. She’s being walked by FP. The girl did send her father an invitation, but the man never replied. To tell the truth, she’s glad the Serpents’ leader is the one holding her arm, for he’s constantly had her back when she needed, no questions asked.

Archie is not only the best man, but the one hosting the ceremony, as a priest isn't really the atheist couple style. The ginger shares a few funny stories of them before they say their vows. Jughead starts, clearing his throat. “You met me in a very strange time in my life.” The guests chuckle. Knowing Juggie, it’s obvious there was going to be a book/movie reference. “I can always be me with you, however moody that is sometimes. If I get lost, it’s ok because I know I’ll always find myself in you.” People are holding in their emotions. “I'm the most fortunate person alive just to have you by my side. I want to honor that blessing every day of our lives.” Jughead has to take a moment to breathe and regain his composure. “I’m yours. I've been yours from the first time I laid eyes on you. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” Everyone is brought to tears at his sweetness and proficiency. “Jughead Jones. You’ll forever be my 42.” Some guests whisper the explanation of the number to some confused faces. “In the middle of 7.5 billion people living in this blue sphere orbiting endlessly in a not so exciting quadrant of the universe, we found each other. Among all the chaos we stand by one another, no matter what.” They have proven that countless times. “Truth be told I don’t need a ring or a wedding to know I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” Jughead laughs, partially because he feels the same way. “Still, I can’t wait another second to be Y/N Jones.” She kisses him before Archie even gives them permission to. Everyone claps cheerfully. 

She’s now a fully certified trauma surgeon and married to her soul mate. Proudest moment of her life. Scratch that. 

A few years later they are all at Riverdale’s hospital again. This time, Fred Andrews is the one in the waiting room. Jughead and Y/N are in an OR. She’s fully sedated and a bit giggly from it. Jug is a nervous wreck, but he’s putting on a tough act. They are patiently expecting to hear a cry. When they finally do, it’s as if that’s the most beautiful sound in the world. The OB-GYN lays their baby on her chest and both of them can’t stop smiling. Jughead kisses both his wife’s forehead and his baby’s. Y/N wants this moment to last forever, but at the same time, she’s already seeing their child growing up and running around town, having Pop’s milkshake for the first time. 

Once Y/N is moved to a room, she’s allowed visitors. The first ones to come in are FP and Fred, followed by the whole gang, Archie, Toni, Veronica, Kevin and even Betty. Jughead is holding his child close to his heart, walking over so that his friends and family can take a look at what he considers the most magnificent creature. “Everyone! Meet, Y/B/N Y/L/N-Jones.”, he says proudly. “The first.”, Archie jokes and everyone laughs. FP embraces his grandchild, feeling his eyes water and his heart ache in happiness as Y/N’s best friend captures the moment with her analog camera. “My turn.”, Toni demands, sliding her device back and holding out her arms. She’s the godmother and couldn't be gladder. Archie takes Y/B/N with such care, as if he’s scared that a single wrong move will break the  tiny child. The others take their turn at the baby bliss and return the sleepy newborn to it’s mother. Jughead unconsciously gets real close to her, magnetically attracted. That is their proudest moment.

[chilly-territory]

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 2 (part 2 out of 2)

The next part of the novel, featuring Munakata’s family.

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 2 (part 2/2) (volume 2, pages 80-111)

†

On that day, Munakata Reishi had done a nearly unimaginable amount of work with utmost efficiency and maximum energy and, after sowing some hope among his men, left Scepter 4. Munakata, always having an air of composure about him even when he went to visit the ruler of all things on the ground, Kokujouji Daikaku, was now walking with a hurried gait, glancing at his wristwatch worriedly and painting the picture of a terribly busy man.

For he had an appointment he absolutely could not be late to.

"Well now. I hope she will like it."

Nearby, there was a present he bought in a short break between his demanding work - an adorable plush teddy bear wrapped in pink wrapping paper. It was Munakata Ume's birthday, and as her uncle, Munakata Reishi was invited to her birthday party. Last year, due to an emergency matter coming up, Munakata wasn't able to make it to his niece's birthday party which had hurt her feelings deeply. So half a year ago he had promised her that this year he would be there without fail. As far as Munakata was concerned, he wanted to keep his promise no matter what.

Strangely enough, for him, the little girl's birthday party and the Great Cause of protecting the country had about equal weight. Neither was less important than the other. That's why he chose to head home even at the time of what could very well be called a crisis.

The moment the door opened, he was ardently welcomed.

"Uncle, you really came!" Umi was overjoyed as she popped up first.

Umi's younger brother, Kai, approached Munakata timidly and clutched at his sleeve. Although later, next Munakata's mother, then his father and finally his older brother Taishi with his sister-in-law appeared and gave Munakata Reishi a warm welcome as well.

In this house, he was neither a shrewd government official nor the Blue King chosen by the Dresden Slate and possessing supernatural powers. He was just a person, Munakata Reishi, a second son of the Munakata family.

"Sorry I'm late."

Hurriedly done with his greetings, he was pulled into the house where they all sat down around the tea table, and the feast began. The table was tightly packed with croquettes and meat and potato stew that Mrs Munakata whipped up, roast beef and minestrone that Taishi's wife made, beer and authentic Japanese sake that Taishi bought, a chocolate cake that the children had picked and sashimi out of mackerel that Munakata Sr caught - a popular commoners' menu, maybe lacking in class and consistence, but overflowing with warmth.

"Congratulations, Umi!" the present toasted, the adults with beer and sake, the children with juice.

They talked about everything that happened to Umi at her school, about the swimming pool Kai had recently started attending, Taishi brought up a professional baseball discussion, his wife demonstrated embroidery she was into lately, and the senior Munakatas brought a pamphlet about Izu where they planned to go for their end-of-year trip.

When they were done eating, games started - Othello, cards and other typical party games. All the members of the Munakata family were spirited and doing well. After that, they sang the birthday song, cut the cake, and the children ate the cake in utter happiness, smearing their faces in the process.

Full and happy, the children started nodding off, and the older brother's wife took them to take a bath. With them gone, the living room suddenly became very quiet. Quiet clicking of tableware as Mrs Munakata washed it and the rustling of running water were the only sounds filling the room.

Munakata Sr, taciturn by nature, took out the shogi board and, holding a book in one hand, began solving shogi problems. On the TV, its volume muted to be only background noise, a news story about a large-scale typhoon closing in on Japan ran. Taishi was idly lying on the tatami with his hands behind his head.

"What a feast we had today!" He looked up at the ceiling happily.

Munakata sat in seiza, quietly sipping tea.

"Gotta thank you" Taishi suddenly added, "for coming, despite being busy."

Munakata shook his head to that. "Oh, there is no need. I had fun, too. And I'm glad the birthday girl seemed to like my present." "Haha," Taishi chuckled. "You should make kids of your own, y'know. Kids are cute." "Indeed. I shall see what I can do."

The wandering conversation continued, with Taishi mostly being the one to do the talking and Munakata only replying from time to time. But it wasn't like Munakata was being reserved or something of the sort. Time flowed slowly and relaxedly.

It was a curious relationship, to say the least. Munakata Taishi made a living with landscape gardening, had a family of his own, spent his free time watching TV and sometimes going to pachinko, took his children to the local park to play on Sundays, and liked fishing as a hobby. Once a month, he played grass-lot baseball with his old friends. He was much better at manual labor than at mental work, he hardly read any books and wasn't really interested in what was going on in the world around, being the type of wholesome man who could smile, showing his pearly whites, when his close people were healthy and smiled themselves.

Munakata Reishi, on the other hand, was completely and utterly different - not just from Taishi but from anyone else in the Munakata family. From his father, his mother, his brother, his brother's wife, his niece and his nephew. None of the family had ever written a report on Confucius and Spinoza as a grade schooler, taken the first place in mock exams countrywide for many years in a row or served as the student council president from starting elementary school to graduating from university.

Munakata Reishi was a superior being from the day he was born. He outstripped those around in intelligence, physical ability, character and culture. Everyone who he ever came across were under the impression that he had to be a son of a very distinguished family. And when they learned about the actual environment he was raised in, they all couldn't help but being puzzled and amazed how someone like him could be born to an ordinary family like that.

His father was a taciturn man taking pride in his work, with shogi and occasional fishing trip being his hobbies. His mother and sister-in-law, although both women of virtue and good cooks, didn't go in any area past what is considered ordinary and average, and the children they produced, although were quite cute, for now displayed absolutely no ability out of common.

In the Munakata family, only Munakata Reishi was an exception. A child, who insisted on not speaking casually even with his parents and brother, was much too out of place for the family of a mediocre craftsman from the low-lying part of Tokyo.

Truth be told, Munakata's parents must have had quite a bit of trouble deciding how to treat a child prodigy so unlike the rest of them. But it was somewhat different for Munakata's older brother Taishi.

Being unruffled and unfussy about the small stuff, from their childhood years on, he kept treating Munakata Reishi in a way that could be seen either as largehearted or insensitive. While their personalities and nature couldn't have been more different, the two always remained siblings that got along just fine. Munakata held respect for his cheerful and honest brother who had not a prodigious bone in his body.

"Ah, speaking of," Taishi asked, following the flow of the conversation, "how's your work lately?"

Taishi only knew that his little brother was the 'boss' of 'a place that was something like the police'. Being content with only the roughest and broadest idea of things was something that was in Taishi's nature.

Munakata took a pause to ponder before answering, "Well, not very well, I have to say." "Oh?" Taishi let out a surprised noise. "You don't hear something like that coming from you every day, Reishi." Munakata let out a chuckle. "Indeed. I'm afraid I made an enemy of a troublesome person. He is even more resourceful than myself, so I'm having a little bit of a hard time."

Taishi abruptly got up and took a seated position, crossing his legs. "For real? You mean to say someone smarter than you actually exists?" he asked bluntly. Munakata flashed a little wry smile.  "Yes, they do, in spades." "So what? Are you being cornered?"

Munakata simply nodded, without pretense, embarrassment, self-derision or eagerness.

"Whooa~," Taishi elongated, stunned. "That gotta be a first, eh," he remarked, seemingly very impressed. "At least the first from what I know." "No." A shogi piece touched the board with a nostalgic click. "It's not," the two's father, Munakata Jirou, murmured quietly. This time, it wasn't just Taishi who was surprised by their usually taciturn father's remark, but Reishi as well as he gazed at Jirou.

For a while, Jirou only stared down at the shogi board, his back to his sons and seemingly oblivious to the gazes they fixed him with.

"You know, with that substitute teacher that was in charge of Reishi's class for a short while back in 5th grade when their homeroom teacher got injured in a traffic accident."Not changing his cross-legged position, he turned his head to the brothers. "What was his name, again?" "...Mnn..." Of course, Taishi, being as uncaring about details as he was, could only cock his head in puzzlement. "...Right." Munakata recalled immediately. "It was Kasuga-sensei." "Oh, right, that's right." Jirou's eyes narrowed. "The only teacher Reishi couldn't get 100 points from on tests."

Inside Munakata, a spark suddenly flew, and his eyes glinted mysteriously behind his glasses. In a voice, that had the slightest of quivers in it, he asked as he got up, "Father, brother, would it be alright with you if I went to my room for a while? An idea regarding my work has struck me."

Slight surprise crossed the features of Munakata Sr, but he simply nodded, "Mn-hm," and turned to his shogi board without saying anything else.

Taishi lied back down on the tatami, asking with interest, "What, Reishi, something about that guy you mentioned?" "Yes, correct. I just might have the chance to kick his behind," Munakata provided an explanation for his brother, using the simplest and most understandable words he could find.

Taishi burst out laughing. "Good to hear," was his reply.

†

"What I'm doing is actually very simple," Kounomura said after they had finished the driving the advertising van job and relocated to a members-only bar in Nanakamado.

They were in a deluxe room where only a handful of VIPs from even among the members of this closed establishment were allowed to enter. The sofas, the tables and all the other furnishings were stunningly extravagant and posh, but what drew the eye was the masterpiece works of a certain famous maestro. If they were put up for auction, there was no way the price offered would drop lower than a hundred million at worst. In this room, there were 2 such gems that by all rights should have been in possession of an art museum.

Like the regular customer he was, Kounomura came in front of the glass case where expensive Western liquors were on display, and casually took out a bottle of aged whiskey, pouring it into glasses - for himself and for Gouoku. He took a sip, held it in his mouth, then lied down on the floor on the fur spread on it.

'As usual, this man looks so out of place in this kind of furnishings,' Nakamura Gouoku thought. 'Just the other day he was sprawling on mats by the riverbed, slurping up some cheap plum shochu, and frankly, that place fit him perfectly, and certainly a lot more than this one. Though the same could be said about me.'

A penguin-like shortie of a man and a balded giant in a place where only the cream of the crop could enter certainly was a sight to behold. What's more, Gouoku was in his priest's garb while Kounomura had yet to change out of the fatigues he drove the van in just a short while ago. It was pretty amazing how none of the reception staff so much as batted an eye as they took the two such guests to the back rooms.

Gouoku took a gulp of straight liquor out of his whiskey glass - his palm easily wrapping around the thing in its entirety - and chuckled a little. The fact that both of them were completely out of place here still stood unchanged though. If anything, it was probably Munakata Reishi, with his gorgeous looks and commanding presence, who would fit right in.

"Mn? What's wrong?" Kounomura asked. "Ah no, nothing," Gouoku shook his head. "Go on with what you were talking about." "Erm? What was it I was saying, again?" Kounomura asked back slowly and drowsily. "You talked about Munakata Reishi," Gouoku reminded him. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you for ages," he continued, his interest in the topic apparent. "You may have incredibly exceptional brains, but that Munakata Reishi guy is one hell of a sharp fella himself. So there has to be a reason why your clash is so one-sided so far and you're messing with him however you like, y'know?" "..." "That's something I want to know. Just what kind of witchcraft did you use to achieve this?" "Ah well, it's actually pretty simple. You could say it's 'love', I guess? It penetrates the perception gap between the sense of self, of others and of the world. Umm~m."

Gouoku patiently waited. If he kept waiting, his prodigious friend would eventually give him an explanation in words simple enough even for him to understand.

"Well, let's see. The reason why Munakata-kun is so confused this time is because in a sense he's too smart for his own good." "Meaning?" "Gouoku. When you're so smart that you have no equal, you end up seeing through everything like an open book and forgetting that you yourself, too, are part of this world, as well an influence on it. Well, maybe not exactly forgetting but never even realizing it. Perhaps, picturing yourself on top of a big mountain would be an adequate epithet."

Kounomura slowly rose and put the bottle on the table.

"Munakata-kun is currently here." He indicated the top of the bottle. "And those around him, people and circumstances alike, are this."

He placed a glass next to the bottle.

"In his case, he basically has a bird-eye view of all kinds of life's problems, and he can easily solve any problem by moving it in whatever direction is required or switching something with something else."

The glass was placed in different spots in sequence.

"As it keeps on going, curiously enough, a gap born between himself and his surroundings comes into existence," Kounomura went on, his voice having notes of sadness in it. "Misunderstanding becomes commonplace, leading to creation of an idol molded to people's wishes and expectations without his consent. Those around start to assume things, abandoning all attempts to actually understand and starting to pretty much deificate him instead. All because he is much too capable and outstanding. And yes, he is capable, but there is not a single soul who understands him, and it doesn't cross anyone's mind to even attempt to anymore. Munakata Reishi is a genius beyond anyone's reach. This conviction prevents people from thinking on the matter further." "So they just label him Ubermesch and leave it at that, huh? Just like they do you." "No, no." Kounomura flashed his pearly whites. "I can't hold a candle to Munakata-kun. He's the real authentic elite here. I'm just barely keeping up with him in this competition by making use of all the years I've lived, nothing more."

Kounomura took out another bottle out of the glass case and placed it next to the one that was already on the table. The two were of about the same height.

"That said, it's still probably a first to him, chancing upon someone of his own class who is actually trying to analyze him. And it's due to that unfamiliar experience that the thinking processes of even a genius like Munakata-kun automatically slow down, like a heated swimming pool becoming lukewarm, and the boundary line between himself and those around him becomes blurred. So what I'm doing is simply preventing him from doing his best. Simple as that." "You're sure being some nasty life senpai to him, eh. So basically you turned the supposed-to-be intelligence battle into psychological warfare, is that it?" "It can't be helped, Gouoku," Kounomura laughed at Gouoku's teasing. "I wouldn't stand a chance if I fought a person like that fair and square." "So, in short, it's because Munakata never met his equal that he's now falling for your tricks, or something?"

Kounomura shook his head.

"Not quite. Like I said earlier, the point here is that Munakata-kun is too smart for his own good. Let's use the chess analogy, shall we? He's an impossibly excellent player. He can win in virtually any position, at any point of the game, just after one look at the board, and that's precisely what he's been doing repeatedly. That's why he's accidentally forgotten that he, too, is one of the factors composing the world, one of the elements that determine strategy and tactics. One of the pawns on the board called fate." "Hmmm." "Putting this into even simpler terms, until now he was a chess player who never moved the pawn that he himself is. No one ever presented enough threat for him to, so he naturally leaves himself out of his calculations and predictions. ...No, it's not quite that he leaves himself out, he's just lacking in self-awareness a little, I guess." He grinned. "But that's enough for me."

Kounomura really was a terrifying man, Gouoku reaffirmed once again.

Said Kounomura yawned. "Everyone stopped trying to seriously figure him out. They don't see Munakata-kun's typical thinking patterns, habits and tendencies even though everyone naturally has them, no exceptions. But I..." "But you're seeing through them." "That's right. Because I have 'love' for him. I didn't treat Munakata-kun as an unreachable genius or a monster, I simply tried my absolute best to get to know him thoroughly. And then I made use of the tiny chinks in his armor that I had painstakingly searched for and found. That's all there is to it," Kounomura simply said, but even Gouoku was well aware just how uncommon and outstanding the ability to do that was. Yes, it really was Munakata's disastrous misfortune to become possessed by this man.

Under Gouoku's gaze, Kounomura let out another small yawn and sprawled listlessly on the fur of Russian sable.

"So how is it? Do you feel you can usurp the throne of the Blue King with this plan of yours?" Gouoku changed his question.

Kounomura was silent for a while.

"Hmmm. Dunno. Like I've told you many times before, the nature of the Dresden Slate is too mysterious. After all, even the brilliant Gold King, ruling all things on the ground, Kokujouji Daikaku spent half a century on researching that thing and is still hardly even closer to figuring it out than he was in the beginning." "Speaking of, I wonder what said Gold King wants to achieve through this affair." "Beats me. Maybe he regards us as nothing more than an experiment to advance his research of the Slate. Or maybe it's his way of testing Munakata-kun. Or..." Kounomura paused. "The fact that you became a strain proves that the Slate is responsive to human will to a certain extent. But beyond that, I have no idea." "So even you can't figure out the inhuman Slate, although you could the human Munakata Reishi, huh."

Kounomura didn't reply. He lay curled in on himself.

Gouoku's shoulders shook with laughter. Now he could see clearly the reason why Kounomura was so unmotivated.

"You're such a greedy man, as always. You're gunning for the throne of the Blue King, yet get dejected when the Blue King's not resisting your ususrpation attempt hard enough," he accused in a teasing manner. "You're mistaken," Kounomura denied Gouoku's words, but not hard enough for it to sound convincing.

"Hey, Zen'ichi. Tell me something. What exactly Munakata Reishi can do to turn the tables on us in the current situation?" "Well," Kounomura replied in a quiet sleepy voice. "Since we're striking at the structural flaw that we found in Munakata Reishi as a human being here, he could just remember his own existence - recall who exactly he is. Or..."

But that what all Kounomura said, a peaceful sleeper's breathing being the only sound escaping him anymore.

Gouoku chuckled and took another gulp of his drink. He wouldn't mind drinking in the company of the man named Munakata Reishi together with Kounomura Zen'ichi someday, he thought.

†

It felt like he was drunk, or maybe delirious with fever. But Munakata pushed forward, shivering only slightly.

Ascending the wooden stairs, he headed to the room he used to use as his own. After Munakata became independent and left, his parents kept the room as it was, so he could use it to stay at on the extremely rare occasions when he came to visit them.

It was a straw-matted room, of the size about 6 tatami mats. Out of furniture, it only had a bed, a desk and bookcases. The massive amounts of books from when Munakata was indiscriminately reading during his being a student were mostly gone, but certain materials and albums were still lined up in a strict orderly fashion on the shelves.

Out of them, Munakata took out his grade school graduation album and opened it.

The memories revived with ease.

"Kasuga-sensei."

Munakata's brain was fast pursuing several concurrent trains of thought at once. If the process inside his cranium was to be visualized, it would probably look like a multitude of multicolored lights flashing all the time. The past data stored in the memory field were retrieved, assigned meaning through reasoning and interpretation, linked with the next piece of information and given the unity of a whole.

At the moment, Munakata was engaged in ultra-fast computing of frightening speed magnitudes. That influenced the part of his brain that controlled his body, so he was currently reeling. Or, putting it in layman's terms, he could also be said to be concentrating extremely hard.

'You are an exceedingly capable child, Reishi-kun. No, maybe I should call you too capable for your own good?' his teacher, about to retire, said once with a wide smile.

Munakata's brain reconstructed the details of the appearance of the teacher in question without any problem. His features were like a visual illusion picture meant to form a human face even when turned upside down. He wasn't particularly fat, but the vertex part was prominently rising, some straight completely white hair looking like fuzz still left on his head above his ears. His nose was bulbous, and behind the Lloyd glasses, his eyes smiled with kindness. Like a professor from an old school manga, as one of Munakata's classmates described him once.

Next, Munakata recalled the teacher's personal background. From the scrapes of rumors, Munakata's own investigation and what Kasuga-sensei told them about himself, it was a rather eccentric history for a grade school teacher. From it, it followed that Kasuga-sensei earned a PhD in political science in the USA, got a job with the UN as a member of an arbitration committee for disputed territories and worked there for almost 10 years until suffering severe injuries to his right leg. Reluctantly, he had to resign. He had job offers from several business corporations and research institutes, but he declined them all, becoming a teacher for a public elementary school instead.

"I'm sure where life is concerned, you won't get anything less than 100 points, now or in the future," Kasuga-sensei predicted with the same wide smile.

He really was a strange teacher who would cut a lesson short and take the kids to go watch bugs and flowers outside or would recite poetry non-stop for an hour. But it was during that teacher's tenure that Munakata had received anything less than full marks twice: 95 the first time and 98 the second.

To Munakata, that was completely outside his expectations.

Perfection. That was the undeniable nature inherent of the human named Munakata Reishi, even if he was only alive for a little more than 10 years at the time. On the day when their regular homeroom teacher came back, which simultaneously meant the end of Kasuga-sensei's short substitution, Munakata Reishi, whose features were still those of a young child, knocked on the door of the faculty office with the intention to directly ask Kasuga-sensei the question that needed to be asked, in the boy's opinion.

Kasuga-sensei welcomed him with a smile on his face. Munakata's question was straightforward and clear.

'Sensei, please explain why I did not get the full marks on your test?'

Let's just say that in addition to the question not at all being what a young child would ask, it was also somewhat arrogant and warranting the need for some guidance, from the educational perspective. An ordinary teacher would get angry at that. But Kasuga-sensei only burst out laughing, looking like he really did find it very funny.

'It's only natural that you would come throw this question at me. I'm happy you did, Reishi-kun. But it's only just as natural in a sense that you could not get full marks on that test.' He giggled like a prankster kid. 'After all, I designed that test specifically for you. Through observing you, I drew up all the questions in a way designed to lead you astray and guide you to make a mistake. All of them were a trap custom-made specially for you, Reishi-kun.'

He was not shy about what he'd done in the least.

At the time, Munakata was lost and bewildered.

'But sensei, is that not an inappropriate manner of conduct for an educator?' Clearly, this man's attitude as a teacher was supposed to be the opposite. 'Even if you managed to stike me down, in essence the test would lose its meaning as an educational testing tool, would it not?' 'Hahahaha!' In response to that reproving statement, Kasuga-sensei laughed loudly. 'This too is an educational method, Reishi-kun. Make sure you remember it,' he said and patted Munakata's head.

In all honesty, at that point of time what his teacher was talking about was beyond comprehension even to the prodigious Munakata Reishi. Only, Munakata Reishi still made sure to store those words in the innermost depths of his heart.

Because he had a hunch he should. Because he felt what his teacher taught him might change something in him unnoticed.

'I love you very much, you know.'

The instance those words of Kasuga-sensei's came to mind, a spark flashed in Munakata's brain. Pieces connected, instantly falling in place and unraveling the mystery of the events that until then seemed inexplicable. The riddle stopped being a riddle, becoming nothing more than its real structure instead.

At the same time, the exceedingly simple swindling scheme Kounomura Zen'ichi was running was laid bare before Munakata in pretty much its entirety. It only took mere 20 seconds for all of the above to happen.

But even Munakata Reishi ended up dizzy and unsteady from concentrating and thinking as hard as was humanly possible. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, and his breathing was rough. That's how intense a thinking process was required.

In addition, at mostly the same instance, Munakata noticed the key that could break down his current predicament. He had understood that for besting Kounomura he absolutely needed to recall who he, himself, was. And once he realized that necessity, coming up with a solution was easy.

Munakata Reishi's obvious reason d'etre.

He got up, straightened his back and said a single phrase then. "I see. I remember now."

Pushing up at the bridge of his glasses with a finger, he whispered with grace and elegance, "That's right. I'm a king."

A flash of a smile that tugged at his lips was that of the Guardian of Order, of the Fourth and the Blue King Munakata Reishi, most clever and most young.

†

Driving his car at high speed, Munakata Reishi hurried back to the HQ. He didn't plan to stay overnight at his parents' house, but even with that taken into account, he left the family gathering a little earlier than expected.

He stayed just long enough to say good night to his niece and nephew before they went to bed.

"Uncle, will you visit again?" the two children asked, rubbing their eyes sleepily. "Of course I will," Munakata smiled and placed a gentle hand on the two's heads.

His brother who came out to see him off wrapped a hand around Munakata's shoulders as he grinned, "Say, Reishi. I made a baseball team with friends, but we don't have enough people. So... are you free next Sunday?" Munakata had to think a little. "Let's see. If I'm finished with my current matter, I might be available." "Great, I'm counting on you then. Let's form a sibling battery while we're at it, 'kay? You'll be the pitcher, and I'll be the catcher. The other way is fine, too. Yeah, now I can't wait!"

Taishi remained Taishi no matter what.

Unusually enough, Munakata Sr appeared in the entranceway to see his younger son off, too. It was anyone's guess what exactly the taciturn craftsman Jirou figured, but he clapped the younger Munakata on the arm and said, "Nm. Do your best." With that he slowly returned to the hallway.

Munakata bowed deeply to his father's back.

He sensed that his father constantly lived with the feeling of confusion when it came to him. And if he was honest, he knew that neither his parents nor his brother could ever gain a thorough understanding of who and what he was. He wasn't disappointed by it or resigned to it, he simply acknowledged it as a fact. At the same time, never once had he doubted the love they offered him.

'A kite has bred a hawk,' was what those around kept saying, and both Munakata's father and mother thought so too.

But still, the kite loved the hawk.

And they did too, in their own clumsy way, but sincerely and unhesitatingly. That's why Munakata could always return to their household as their second son Reishi, without the need to be cautious or anxious.

Before awakening as a king, Munakata Reishi lived his life without truly knowing who he was. His overly superior intelligence, his insight allowing him to foresee every manner of matter, his prodigious physical capabilities and talents... no matter what he did, he did it so well that he ended up eclipsing others as if it was only natural. What was a challenge to ordinary people, to Munakata was like walking a straight flat road, coming as natural as breathing. Not even an obstacle preventing him from seeing dozens of meters ahead. He was someone who surpassed in a heartbeat others' long and painstaking hard work with just his natural talent.

What would it even lead to if someone so superior and reality-defying tried to lead a school life among your average people?

The answer was, exclusion from the collective under the guise of admiration, and alienation from the mass with no even feeling of jealousy involved.

Because Munakata-kun was special. Because Munakata-kun was not normal.

How many times did he have those words, full of understanding on the surface but essentially ruthless and intolerant if you dug deeper, thrown at him?

His superior intelligence let him see through the pretense of respect veiling people's wish to distance themselves from him, and the Munakata Reishi of the past allowed it, resulting in his all-encompassing loneliness.

No matter how much he wished it, no one could stand equal to him. No one could see what he saw even if they looked at the same thing.

Before becoming king, Munakata Reishi was always lonely.

Munakata operated his PDA via voice input as he drove.

During his intense brain storming earlier, he exposed most of Kounomura's scheme, but there still remained a few unclear points. To figure them out, he absolutely needed capable people who could conduct field operation in his stead.

The line connected. Using a hands-free set, Munakata inquired, "Ah, Fushimi-kun?"

As he said the name of the person he was calling, a thought flashed in his head that maybe he head-hunted this person for his organization because he projected parts of his own past on the way the young man lived at the time. Needless to say, their personalities and environment was nothing alike, and unlike himself, Fushimi had a friend he could confide in, but still, the way the two of them felt out of place and alienated by those around them due to how outstandingly capable they were was very similar.

'---What is it?' The voice on the other end of the line was openly annoyed despite its owner talking to his direct superior.

Munakata's lips curved up in a smile.

"I have something to ask of you."

He then explained the contents of his request, keeping it short. Since the order was almost too concise, a normal person would likely fail to see what exactly Munakata wanted to achieve by giving it.

But Fushimi was not normal.

'---Understood,' he answered back after a 2 second silence, sounding like he had grasped Munakata's goal behind the directive in full.

The line went dead almost immediately after.

'He really is capable, extraordinarily so,' Munakata thought to himself from the bottom of his heart.

Afterwards, until arriving to the HQ, as he was driving, Munakata mulled over the topic of the grass-lot baseball game his brother invited him to. He was even humming to himself, an occurrence almost unheard-of for him.

Munakata knew he was in an uplifted mood. His drive and motivation were back.

[jonghyundroppedthesoap]

My Number One Fan

Chapter 29 Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 2,131 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: a short, but eventful chapter! a few warnings for homophobia and swearing, but other than that, hope you enjoy the drama!! <3

Everything was over. All of his hard work, his caution, and his ingenious lies. In the end, it was all for nothing, and Kibum couldn’t help but pray to the gods for forgiveness at what that implied. He could hear his heartbeat pounding loudly in his chest and the apprehension which soaked his every limb was making it difficult to breathe. He could feel the pure disgust and anger exuding off his father beside him, and couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his teacher and what she was about to endure.

It was silent. Almost too silent. The room was chilling and every tiny sound was decipherable within the enclosed space. Kibum tried desperately to breathe at an even pace, but it was futile. He was much too nervous to think rationally, on edge at the look which he knew his father was sending his way.

The man’s cold voice broke through the silence, striking Kibum with a bout of unadulterated and genuine fear directed at his own father.

“What do you mean Jonghyun doesn’t go to this school?” he gritted through bared teeth, large hands gripping the table so tightly that his fingers turned white.

Kibum’s teacher coughed awkwardly in embarrassment and hurriedly flicked through her files once more. “I’m sorry, sir…the only Jonghyuns we have at this school are first years. Maybe you’re just thinking of someone el—“

Her feeble attempt at reducing the tension came to an abrupt halt as Kibum’s father roughly stood up, his chair falling down behind him at the sheer force. “Then tell me, son,” he spat, glaring down at the boy with an almost sickening anger in his eyes. “If Jonghyun doesn’t go to your school, then who the fuck is that creep you’ve been spending so much time with? The one who’s been corrupting you?!”

Visibly shaking, Kibum could only shake his head, unable to find any words which could defend his current predicament. His mother too sat ghostly beside him, staring forward at nothing in particular with a mixture of guilt, fear and sympathy for her son.

“I-It’s Jonghyun,” Kibum stuttered feebly, “He just…He just doesn’t go to this school, is all.”

Kibum’s father growled in his throat, before promptly grabbing the neck of Kibum’s shirt and wrenching him to his feet. “First the fucking dancing and now this? I’ve just about had it with you, boy.” the man snarled menacingly, giving Kibum one last, repulsed look over before shoving him back into his chair and taking a seat.

Desperate to change the subject of conversation to anything except what they were talking about, Kibum’s mother started awkwardly. “Well…How about the project Kibum’s told us all about? The one with Amber?”

At her seemingly innocent words, Kibum’s blood ran cold, and judging by the expression upon his father’s face, he was equally aware of Kibum’s utter trepidation and was basking in it.

It was apparent that the teacher didn’t want to say anything more which would evoke an eruption from the man before her, however crumbled beneath their stern, expectant glares. Kibum’s family really were something else, and she briefly gave one of her favourite students a sympathetic smile before turning back to the monster beside him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I haven’t assigned anything like that…perhaps one of Kibum’s other teachers—“

But her excuses were futile, for Kibum was already being strewn from his chair and onto the cold floor below. No resonating ‘slaps’ sounded throughout the room – instead, Kibum’s chair had merely been kicked over by his raging father, whose beet red face loomed over Kibum’s frail form.

“Pray tell me, Kibum, because I’m very curious...” the man began, taking another step forward. Kibum desperately scurried back onto his feet and took an instinctive step back.  “If you haven’t been with Amber for every godforsaken time of day, then what the fuck have you been doing? Oh wait, let me guess. You’ve been with that Jonghyun boy – if that’s even his name – committing all kinds of indecent acts that he forced you into.”

Kibum could handle a lot of the bullshit that his father tended to spurt out. But accusing Jonghyun of something so atrocious and disgusting? Clenching his fists so hard that he was certain there would be crescent marks imprinted into the skin, Kibum could no longer contain the rage and hatred for his father which had been gradually building up for far too long.

“Don’t you dare accuse him of something like that, you sick bastard.” Kibum scowled, ignoring the startled gasps of shock which sounded from the women. “Unlike you, some people in this world actually have a few shreds of decency and don’t take out their anger and issues on harmless kids. So don’t you fucking dare chide me for spending time with someone who actually cares about me and my wellbeing, and who would gladly go out of their way to make sure I was safe and happy. You’re the indecent creep, and sometimes I wish you would just die!”

The teacher and Kibum’s mother looked at each other with mutual expressions of distress, before nodding to each other in a silent expression of agreement. The two noiselessly lifted from their seats and made way towards the door, knowing that there was simply nothing else they could do but seek help. Kibum’s mother gave her son one last look over her shoulder as she left, eyes soundlessly screaming at him to ‘stay safe’.

Jonghyun strolled down the school’s hallways and through the waiting families casually, giving every class a quick peak through the window in an attempt to find where Kibum was. He, quite frankly, wasn’t really meant to be here, and had flushed in utter embarrassment the few times a teacher had seen him staring in at them shamelessly. But he had, after all, been invited by Kibum’s mother a few weeks ago, and Jonghyun figured that he looked enough like a student to not raise any suspicions.

Once he got to Kibum’s classroom, Jonghyun wasn’t quite positive of what he was going to do. Sure, he could wait outside and surprise Kibum on the family’s way out, or poke his head in and say hello. But Kibum’s father was still in the picture, and Jonghyun didn’t think that he could ever confront that man after what he had overheard from his position in Kibum’s wardrobe.

The singer continued to contemplate these strategies as he pressed his face against multiple more windows in search of Kibum, sighing in disappointment each time his eyes were met with unfamiliar strangers. But it seemed that Jonghyun didn’t have to search for long, because all of a sudden two women came hastily around the corner, one of whom Jonghyun immediately recognized as Kibum’s mother.

“Mrs Kim!” he exclaimed, smiling widely at his luck. “I’ve been looking for you guys.”

Kibum’s mother smiled fondly at the man which she had recently learned was the object of her son’s affection, but her grin was immediately replaced by a frown of worried desperation. “J-Jonghyun,” she stuttered. “It’s Kibum. He’s fighting with his father and things are getting bad and I just don’t know what that brute might do—“

But Jonghyun was already running down the hall towards the classroom which the women had come from, only one thought resonating throughout his head. If that harsh slap had been brought about by Kibum simply making a joke, then Jonghyun didn’t want to even think about what would happen to his boyfriend if the two males were actually arguing. He was vaguely aware of the two women which trailed behind him but paid them no mind, simply barging through the door of the classroom which he could decipher the loud shouts were sounding from.

“—not have these unnatural tendencies infecting my son. They started because of him, and we both know it!”

“Did you ever consider that maybe that’s just who I am?! No one caused this but me – I’m sick of you controlling my life, okay? Stay out of my goddamn business, because I swear to god if I hear one more threat or insult from your dirty, old mouth, I’ll put arsenic in your coffee and smile as you choke.”

The middle aged man stepped forward with a growl in his throat. “Is that a threat, boy? I’m fucking done with all your bullshit. I knew from the moment I saw you, you were a fag… I tried to put a stop to it, I really did. But you’re beyond help, boy – you’re sick. Constant lies from your filthy mouth, that makeup shit you’re always putting on your face, the dancing…If it doesn’t stop, boy, then you better get out of my goddamn house and never come back.”

Jonghyun, despite his utmost fear and guilt, ran forward and stepped between the two, gently pushing Kibum to the side. The younger boy’s expression immediately morphed into surprise, then relief, then worry, before finally settling on downright dread.

“P-Please sir,” Jonghyun stuttered. “I think that’s enough…You need to think rationally, Kibum’s your son!”

The room fell silent, before all of a sudden a burly fist came flying out of nowhere and smashed Jonghyun ruthlessly against the face. The sheer force of the blow knocked Jonghyun off his feet and back onto the rough floor below, ears ringing as his head rebounded painfully against it.

“Don’t interfere. This is between the boy and I, and the last thing we need is berating from the son of a bitch who got us into this mess to begin with.”

Upon impact with the ground, Kibum had ran immediately over to Jonghyun and knelt by his side, making sure that the older boy was alright. A trail of blood ran down his chin and his head pounded painfully, but other than that, Jonghyun was fine, eliciting Kibum to sigh in relief.

Kibum’s father watched the exchange with revulsion, adding coldly, “Besides – that fag is not my son.”

Those words stung Kibum more than he’d ever let on, but he merely glared up at the man with insurmountable hatred. “Glad the feelings are mutual,” he spat, grabbing Jonghyun’s hand and helping the older boy stand up.

“Don’t think you’ll be allowed back at my house.”

Kibum ignored his father and simply smiled sadly at his teacher who had witnessed the whole, horrifying ordeal. “I’m sorry about what happened, Miss. I’ll come talk to you at lunchtime tomorrow or on Friday.”

She smiled back. “See you, Kibum.”

Kibum began to walk out of the classroom, Jonghyun’s hand locked in his. He hovered beneath the door frame, and looked back one last time at his mother, searching for something that even he wasn’t quite sure of. But her gaze remained firmly locked on a poster situated above the teacher’s desk, not straying even as Kibum shut the door firmly behind him.

The pair walked solemnly down the hallway hand in hand, eventually reaching Kibum’s locker. Kibum unlocked it almost mechanically, grabbing out his homework for the night and shoving it into the bag he had brought along.

“Kibum?” spoke Jonghyun softly, afraid to break the silence.

“Mn?”

Tears stung Jonghyun’s eyes, and he began pitifully. “I’m so sorry, Kibum.” he choked out. “For everything. I didn’t know that things were so bad at home, but I should have paid more attention. I let you stay with that…that monster…and I did nothing.” The tears began to run down Jonghyun’s face as he spoke, mixing with blood as he tasted salt on his tongue. “When I heard him hit you from the wardrobe, all I could do was run home and cry – I didn’t even get out of bed until yesterday. I-I’ve been so pathetic, Kibum. I don’t deserve someone like you…I let you go through all that shit, and now all I can do is say sorry. I shou—“

“Jonghyun.”

The older boy looked up, startled.

“I love you.”

If possible, Jonghyun’s tears began to fall even harder, watching with wide eyes as Kibum hands lifted gently to wipe them away. He smiled radiantly, and to Jonghyun, it was the most beautiful site in the world.

“I’m not the one meant to be crying right now,” he laughed softly, face flushed from both his tears and embarrassment.

Kibum leant forward and pressed his lips soundly against Jonghyun’s. “I love you.” he repeated, staring into Jonghyun’s eyes with nothing but pure admiration.

Jonghyun grinned, kissing Kibum back delicately as his arms wrapped around the younger’s waist.  “I love you too.” he whispered into the embrace, and for just a moment, the two boys forgot about everything which had occurred and allowed themselves to submerge into a world where they were the only two that mattered.