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lostandfoundbook · 6 months ago

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Chapter 8

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Sitting in the bars captivating glow was a new experience for Alex. She was used to the dampening sounds of drug addicts next to her. All of them fiending for their next fix, her included. The rooms would be dark and damp, offering little comfort to the people around. This was different, however.

The bar was warm in a way that was very settling for the outfit she was wearing. It lit an orange tint over all the patrons resting there, partaking in what little small talk they did. She felt at peace with her life for the first time in quite a long time.

She was sat with Everette across from her who was nursing a whiskey cocktail to his lips. The conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the room, but these two were silently watching each other. Sight reading whatever emotions they could gleam from each other.

Alex sat sipping her own drink, a glass of rose pinot, the alcohol taste making her cringe each time she went back for another taste. She never did like the flavor of alcohol, instead favoring the effects it had on her body.

"So, the play?" He finally spoke. "How is that going?"

He sounded a bit incredulous. Alex swirled the wine around in her glass. "It's going well. We're performing it next week. It'd be really cool if you came"

Everette rolled his eyes a bit before a smile spread onto his face. "Of course I'm coming. I may not like theatre but I'm always going to support you"

This earned a grin from Alex's mouth. "It's gonna be awesome. We've worked so hard to pull this piece together. We're doing Spring Awakening but the director has drastically changed everything, so if you think you know what it's going to look like already, you actually don't. I think it's really cool, but the other cast mates hate it."

"You like it though?"

Alex's face brightened. "Yes! I love ballet. It's such an expressive art form. I've always wanted to be apart of a professional ballet production and now I am. The others are so used to doing ballet so it's not special for them the way it's special for me. It's like a little secret I get to hold to myself"

Everette took another drink of his whiskey, masking the dislike in his choice of drink. It tasted like a burning wood-y sensation as it went down his throat. Whiskey isn't meant to taste like wood, he thought. "That's really cool, Andie. Hey, listen. About those photos..."

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes focused on the man in front of her. "Right now?"

"Better than when we're shit faced"

Alex cringed a bit at his tern of phrase, but he was correct. Better now than later. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

He quickly finessed his phone out of his pocket before sliding over to the camera option. Alex put her arm around his shoulder and smiled. "Why don't you kiss my cheek?" He added.

"Oh. Alright"

She placed a kiss on his cheek and watched as he snapped a couple of photos. The situation was very odd to her. It felt like taking a photo with a fan, not taking a photo with her boyfriend. Were they even dating at this point?

"Everette?" Her voice rang out as hollow, lacking any confidence she previously had. "Yeah?"

"Would you say we're dating?"

He turned to face her front on and took his hands in hers. "We're whatever you want us to be, baby." His hands were warm in hers, almost sweaty, and she noticed that they were much larger than hers. "I could be your girlfriend" she added, not making eye contact.

It wasn't that she didn't mean it. She WOULD like to be his girlfriend, but she couldn't help fighting this funny feeling like there was something she was missing. Like she herself was an incomplete picture, painted only in black and white, just waiting for somebody to come along and splash paint onto the canvas that was her life.

Maybe Everette would be her paint.

"That would be nice. We need to talk more, though. I don't like being out of contact. It's like long distance dating and I was never good at that. You can't form a connection that way"

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. She'd made many great friends through online forums, and she felt like he was trying to contest this. "You haven't met anybody online you can connect with?" She added

"No. Not really. I know you have. It's not the same, though. Not for me. For me, It's like building up walls around a relationship that box you in, and you're limited to a key set of interactions. It's like a game."

A game. Was that how he viewed their relationship thus far? As some sort of a game he could win? Was this all some sort of a game to him? That's what it was starting to feel like for Alex at this point. The pictures, the limited interactions, the text-to-call dialogues. All of it felt like.. a joke.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know about me?" Alex eventually blurted out, suddenly switching the topic. "What?" Everette asked back, true confusion in his eyes.

"You keep talking about things I've said or things I've done, and nobody around here" she gestured to the bar they were in, indicating she meant the hotel, "will tell me. Why don't you just tell me what you know about me? It would make things so much easier." When she ended her sentence, she picked up her glass of wine and finished it.

Everette eventually nodded, picking up his own glass and taking a drink. "Well, you and I make music together. You stopped doing theatre because of how it limited you in the sphere of creation. You could perform all you wanted, but people never showed up to the things you created. So you stopped creating and started in a different field. Music."

He took another drink out of his cup as Alex listened fervently. "You and I were trying to find a way to mix the two. You didn't want to do a tour but you did want to keep performing. We figured we could host pop up venues around the city and start enough hype to go to other cities and do the same thing. It would've been like the Survive tour, but just us."

Alex frowned. She didn't remember what happened after the Survive event. It was the one memory that stood clear in her head once. The one memory she could grasp onto, hoping it would lead her way back to all of the others. "What do you mean the Survive tour?" She asked.

"You were going to keep performing after the Survive event. Going around the city and doing the same thing I just said, the pop up shows."

The thought hit her suddenly. THAT'S why they were breaking into the hotel. The hotel had multiple theatre's connected to it, and it only made sense that they were trying to find a way in to host their own event behind Oliver's back. "So, the night I fell..."

Everette nodded quickly, like he didn't want to continue the conversation anymore. "Yeah."

"Alright then."

Logically, it all made sense now. Alex was living with Everette and furthering her career. She was trying to plan events and she was blacklisted. Oliver hated her, and the only person she could rely on was Everette. She stopped for a moment to think about the rumors of fighting.

"What about--"

"Listen. It's been a really long day. I don't think I want to keep talking about this." He sighed and finished off his whiskey, finally grimacing at the flavor. "Bartender?" he called out, pointing towards both of their glasses. "Actually, I think that's probably enough for tonight" Alex said, raising her hand and smiling towards the bartender. He smiled in return, walking off.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You brought it, right?"

Everette was taken off guard for a moment. "Yeah. What does that have to do with my drinks?"

Alex shook her head in amusement, a smile growing on her face as she did so. "I've got a mini bar in my fridge in my room. Let's go up there."

Everette met her eyes, a smile forming on his face as well.

* * *

Sitting in her room in the evening glow was quite nice. It reminded her of all the times she had talked with Oliver, except this time, it was different. "So, where'd you put the stuff?" Alex spoke out as she watch Everette grab a beer from her mini-fridge. "It's in my satchel. I put it on the couch."

Alex leaned herself back to get momentum on the bed and kicked herself up. She walked over towards his bag and reached in. "I didn't even see you bring this." She said.

"It blends in. I wear all black. Do you need help with that?"

"No. I remember how to inject."

Alex went about her process. She pulled the vials out of the satchel along with the needles. "Give me your belt" She spoke out, wiggling her fingers in a 'Gimme' motion. "How do you even know I'm wearing one?"

"You're wearing a button up shirt with slacks. If you weren't wearing a belt, I'd shame you."

The sound of his belt buckle being undone was all that could be heard throughout the room. the 'zwip' sound of it being unsheathed from his belt loops was the next thing she heard, along with his voice going "Here"

"Do you want any?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. She liked having gab sessions. Spending time with her boyfriend might be nice. "No." He responded. Her heart fell a little bit at this. She couldn't quite place why.

"I'm going to do this out on the balcony. You keep watch." She responded, taking all her items with her. She walked out and shut the door slightly behind her, leaving open ajar. It was a see through door, but it was the distance that made her feel better about it.

The air was getting warmer each week and yet the air this time threatened to nip at what bare skin she had revealing through her outfit. She repositioned her clothes as she sat down on the couch. She quickly tossed her jacket off, offering the wind even more of her body to blast away at.

She looped the belt around the underside of her lower brachial artery and squeezed it tight under her arm. She felt it begin to go numb, so she looped the belt shut and wrapped the dangle-y bit around the inside of her arm.

She grabbed for the needle and vial, tipping the vial upside-down as she drew out the medication. 'Medication' She bit back to herself in spite. She set the needle down for a moment and looked back towards the door.

From where she was sitting, she could see Everette sitting on her couch watching TV, drinking a beer. It was a far contrast to all of the conversations she'd sat here having with Oliver. A big piece of her yearned for Everette to come outside and sit with her. Talk to her. About anything, at this point.

But she had told him to keep watch. She turned back around to face the needle in front of her. She looked at her arm, turning a bright shade of red. She slapped at her cubital fossa, looking for a good vein. She picked the needle back up and she injected the Morphine into her system.

The feeling of the needle in her skin was pinching tight, but she had become used to this feeling at this point. She welcomed it. She put pressure on the insertion point of the needle as she pulled it out, apply pressure continuously. She set the needle down, capping it, and gathered all of her belongings again.

She walked back inside and put the stuff back in the satchel. "Are you letting me keep this?" She spoke out, the effects of the drug beginning to take effect. Her entire being down to her bones felt relaxed and heavy, like lead weights had entered her system instead of Morphine.

"Yeah, if you want. Just don't overdose on it, or something." He spoke out, turning to look towards Alex. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

Alex walked over to the couch and sat herself down next to him. Her arm hurt, but it wasn't bad. It felt like a pin prick at most. If she twisted wrong, it felt like a pinch. Her head was swarming with emotions. One thing she remembered liking about Morphine was the way it didn't numb her, emotionally. It took it away, sure, but she could still feel. Feel the love, feel the joy, feel the pure euphoria.

She turned to look towards Everette, who was staring at her with a weird face. This is when she realized he was leaning in for a kiss. She turned to meet him in the middle, their lips planting on each others. There was no love in the kiss. It was nothing like she remembered from any of the flings she had in her life time. It was connectionless. No spark.

He kept kissing her, though. Attempting to deepen the kiss. She continued kissing him, his lips warm and soft against her. He was so close to her that she could smell his scent, strong and reminiscent of 'Man'. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like a flame burning the inside of her stomach. Like something was wrong.

He continued to kiss on her neck, moving down near her collarbones. She just realized she left her jacket outside. She didn't want this. She was beginning to remember why she didn't want this.

"Get off of me" Alex called out, pushing him off.

"What the hell, Andie?! We were having fun"

She stood and and put distance between the two of them. "No. You were having fun. You didn't ask me how I felt about this situation. About our relationship"

He stood up too. The look in his eyes was dark and foreboding, with an essence of hate in them. "You're the one who asked me to keep dating you" He growled out, taking a step closer towards her. "You're the one who invited me up to your room. You're the one who came onto me. You asked for it"

"Excuse me?!" She shot back, closing the distance between the two. "What the hell do you think you're talking about? You're in MY room, you have no right to talk to me that--"

Slap. The back of his palm made contact with the side of her face. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled out.

She stood silently for a moment while he continued to ramble on about how he was the man in the relationship.

"Get out."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer towards him. "You can't tell me-"

She pulled her wrist away from her and pushed him away and into the couch causing his knees to buckle underneath him. "Get the hell out of my room!" She screamed.

"Now hold on--"

She walked up to him and began to pound on his chest. "Get out! Get out, Get out, Get out!" She said, each time with more conviction and force. There was no need to steady her voice. There was no need to stop and think. The morphine may have weakened her punches, but Everette got the point quickly.

He stood up and quickly hauled ass out of the room, Alex continuing her attack all the while.

"You're insane!" he screamed, swinging the door open and running down the hall. "And you're an asshole! I never want to see you again!" She screamed, slamming the door behind her.

It wasn't long before she had Oliver banging on her door, questioning her about the noise. His room wasn't located too far from hers. That was the whole point in why she was placed here. Currently, she resented it.

"What is that matter with you?!" he called out while shutting the door behind him. "It's 10 o'clock at night. There are people trying to sleep after working hard all day. What gives?!"

Alex walked over towards her mini fridge and grabbed a mini bottle of moscato. Maybe this was the way her life was destined to be. Life of revolving doors of men screaming at her. "Piss off. I'm not in the mood."

She looked around her room for her purse. She still had a couple of 'Shitty Joints' that Everette gave her before. "Can I smoke in this room? Isn't there cleaners who can clean these? Or is it different with suites."

Oliver stood there, dumbstrucken. "Are you okay?" was all he managed out.

"That didn't answer my question." She frowned.

"Yes, you can smoke in here, I guess. It's not gonna kill me. Now answer my question. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She spat the words out as if they were vinegar on her tongue that she couldn't swallow. She was a great actress, but even she didn't believe her own conviction there. She knew Oliver wouldn't but it either.

"What happened? I saw Everette running away"

She didn't want to tell him the truth. The truth was... embarrassing. She had started a relationship with another abusive asshole. What else was there to say? How else do you dish out such a heavy dish of emotional honestly without cracking under the weight of the pressure?

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it." was all she had the courage to get out. "I can't find my purse"

"The one with the shitty joints?"

Alex sighed. "Are you going to help me look or not?"

"No. I'm going to go get you better weed. I'll be right back." he turned to head for the door before Alex responded "It's going to take too long!"

He kept walking anyways. Whatever. He was out the door without another word and Alex was left to fend for her purse by herself. It figured. When were men ever useful? Besides the nice job her got her. And the nice two story suite with a whole floor she's never used. And the weed he's going to get.

She still hated men.

She looked over towards the satchel and sighed. It contained three vials of Morphine and multiple needles. She walked over to it and picked it up turning to head towards her closet.

When she made it there, her feet were exhausted. She had been on them all day, walking all around the hotel. She had likely gotten her 10k steps in for the day at this point. She'd walk around and look at all the different plants they had blooming throughout the hotel. Gazing through all the aquariums they had set up in different locations of the floors. Admiring the local art they had hung up on each wall.

She'd come to realize that the entire hotel wasn't just full of life, but was in it of itself alive. Bustling with people. Filled with culture. Each corner told a different story from a different decade, and each floor shared a different mystery of history being held behind it's walls.

It was invigorating to be able to stay there. Like somehow her head injury had been a blessing in disguise, and the universe was replacing her older, bad memories with newer, happier ones. Not counting the one that just happened with Everette.

Everything felt more... special. Maybe she was just high. She threw the satchel onto the floor of the closet near the island sitting in the middle and she rummaged through her drawers to find a pair of sweat pants she liked. She settled on a pair of gray ones. She peeled off her previous outfit and put on her pants, quickly finding a tank top to wear over top. A simple black one with a band's logo on it.

When she walked out of her closet, she bumped into Oliver, causing him to drop whatever he was holding. "Sorry!" the both of them muttered out.

"No, I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going" she quickly replied, bending down to pick up the joints he'd dropped. She handed them to him and gave him a fake smile. "Your face is red." He said, grabbing the joint.

"What? Like, I'm blushing? Humans do that you know."

"No. It looks like someone hit you."

Alex tensed up. "I don't want to talk about it." She said and quickly brushed past him to walk towards the balcony. The room really was massive. It wasn't just two-stories, but it was a full on live in suite with a kitchenette attached that she never used and an entire library full of books. There was a little reading section upstairs, and Alex knew she was going to attack those sooner or later.

"Fine, sorry, I didn't know it was related. Whatever." He said as the two of them reached the balcony, sitting down. "You were out here earlier?"

"You are SO bad at not talking about it!" she blurted out, picking up the jacket and putting it over her shoulders. "It just shocked me, is all! I'm sorry"

"It shocks you that you live in my own house?"

"It's a hotel room, and technically I own it" he said, handing her a joint. She reached to grab it and extended her arm. "What happened to your elbow?" He asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, yet instead she coyly turned her elbow to face him instead of her cubital fossa.

"I think my elbow looks fine" She said, turning it. She had her arms tucked into the inside of her shoulder to hide the proof. "I'm fine. Stop worrying, dad."

"I am not your father." he shot back, reeling at the comment bestowed upon him. "Then stop acting like a dad. You aren't my dad." The two met in eye contact, a silent air of agreement between the two. They weren't going to talk about it, and that was it.

She put the joint up to her mouth and and lit it up. The familiar taste of lemon-y pine hits across her taste buds hard, dancing and inviting her flavors to peek their heads in. Slight tastes of grass and dirt, which sounds bad, but was actually invited by Alex. It tasted fresh. Green. New. Unlike Everette's Dirt Weed.

"So, when are you going to tell me about your arm"

Alex eyed him up, looking at his stance. He looked relaxed and unguarded. Happy, she thought. "When you stop being normal and start being an addict."

he guffawed at her. "When exactly do you expect me to become an addict?!" he retorted, completely missing her confession. Maybe he got it, maybe he didn't. "I don't! That's NOT my point!"

"And what exactly is your point? Why don't you spell it out for me?"

She gritted her teeth together and gave a sideways frown. "I'm not good with confessions."

"I never was either. What if I tell you something about me, and you tell me about you. Deal?"

She thought for a moment before nodded in return, looking out at the distance of the skyscraper skyline. Stars littered the night sky and the twinkled and gleamed so bright, as if they were reaching out to Alexandria herself to thank her for seeing them. They were so beautiful.

"I love stars." She spoke out. "That's not really a confession, not a statement" she added.

"Okay. When I was in college..." he paused as he spoke and looked out towards the city as well. They mirrored each other in positioning, both staring out to the sky in the hopes that it would eat them alive if they stared long enough. Anything for release from this situation.

"My mom got really sick, and my dad was already dead. I was going through business schools at the time, but I instantly switched majors. For her. The hotel could wait with shareholders for just a few years. By the time I got back into business the hotel had so many expansions I'd never thought of. I continued growing it from there and..." He trailed off.

Alex looked down towards the floor. "What happened with your mom?"

"She died."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Maybe to honor her, she thought to herself. Partially because she didn't know what to say. There were days she wished death upon her parents, but she highly suspected their situations were different.

"I'm sorry. There are no words to describe that loss"

"I know. I put so much of it into the business, but it's a big reason why I'm so closed off from people, I think." It was a bid of emotional honestly that Alex didn't really expect from him. So raw and honestly that it felt 10 times easier to do what she needed to do. "I did morphine earlier."

It's like a band-aid. You have to rip it off all at once, or else it hurts a LOT worse in the long run. "Well, I kinda expected that. No offense. Not tonight, either, but eventually."

She pouted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everette is a really bad influence on you."

She scratched at her injection site and frowned. "I think I agree with that."

"What happened with you two, anyway?"

She sighed. Everything else felt easier to talk about, but this felt a million times worse. How was she supposed to rip THIS band-aid off? "I don't know. I still don't want to talk about it."

"I told you my mom died." He said, sort of in disbelief. "You're really not gonna tell me? It's that bad?"

She stopped and questioned it herself. Was it that bad? "Yeah, to me it is."

"Well, alright then" He said, and took another puff off of his joint. "I'm sorry" She said.

"You don't have to apologize to me. You're the one who has to live with it."

She felt guilty in the pit of her stomach. She took another drag off of her joint before standing up and walking back inside for a minute. She ignored the 'where are you going' and 'what's wrongs' as she grabbed her wine and walked back outside.

"Liquid courage." she said as she sat down. "It's been a really shitty night for me, anyways. Do you want any?"

"Of that? Hell no. That taste like ass." he laughed and crinkled his nose. "It does not! It taste like... floral-y... and grape-y... and good!" She popped the lid off of the bottle and took a drink of it, only barely cringing at the taste. "You don't even like it!"

"I do! I don't like the alcohol in it." She giggled at her own statement. "Drinking alcohol but not liking the alcohol. It's silly. I get that." She verbally thought out loud. She took another drink, cringing less and less each time she did. "Anyway."

"What happened" he finally said, exasperated this time.

"I think it's obvious. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? He came onto me. I rejected him. He hit me. I hit him. A lot. He ran away. Is it not obvious?"

Oliver shook his head looking as if he himself had been hit. She guessed it was a lot of information, after all. "Can we ban him from the hotel already or something?" Oliver said, looking for recognition in her eyes. She looked down. "I don't know... He still has a lot of information."

Oliver shook his head as his expression hardened. "No, why do you need your memories? They'll come back eventually. He's just a prick and he's not worth your time or presence. You don't have to be around him to piece your life back together.

Alex scratched at the back of her neck and reached for the bottle again. She took another swig. "And how do you suppose I'm going to get my memories back? How do you suppose I can do any of the things I want to do without Everette? My music, my career, my life, it revolves around him."

It struck her as she said it.

"That's not a good thing, Alex"

She sighed and put her head in her hands. Her Joint had gone out at this point, and she was left with a muted haze of a drunken high. Morphine, Moscato, and weed. "I know. I'm realizing this, slowly. But... It's hard."

Oliver looked down at the floor. "I know. I can't relate to you, but I understand."

Alex looked out at the city and took another drink of her wine.

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hopelessromance21 · 11 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sʟɪᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʟɪғᴇ,

ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴀᴡᴋᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ,

ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴏᴄ ᴄᴀᴍᴇᴏ, ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪᴍᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴏʀɴ,

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏɴsᴛɪᴘᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ

[ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏᴄ] 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝙄𝙏𝙃𝙔𝙈𝙄𝘼” (1/3)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,093

╚═══════════════╝

so, uh. some context? this is a fic i wrote for christmas for my bestie. 11k words of purely self-indulgent simping for her own character :) annnd yea, i got her permission to post it here as well.

(Ialsomightveprintedandbookbounditsoshehasaphysicalcopybutthatdoesntmatterhaha)

June, Lune, and Ruebris belong to @simpymf

Sorel and Ange belong to me :)

Enjoy part one~

THE SURFACE

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘

[𝟐𝟒 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐓. 𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓]

21XX

[ᴘ ᴀ ᴄ ɪ ғ ɪ s ᴛ]

You met Lune at the same time that monsters joined the world. Well, correction: you met June. Lune you met a few nights later, as you ran up, expecting to be greeted by the bubbly, cheerful demeanor of June and instead met by a sour face and look of indifference.

As first impressions go, Lune never made good ones. When you asked her, mistaking her still for June, why she looked so sour, you got a snappy remark and scowl. The next day June called you in a panic, and explained everything at lunch later that day.

But you got over it, introduced yourself properly next time you encountered Lune and invited her to get coffee with you, at whatever time she liked.

She scoffed at you with this look of disbelief, taking your kindness as something degrading and demeaning. A form of pity and attempted inclusion. It took her a while to get used to the idea that your kindness was only that; kindness.

Five dates in, she still met your interest with doubt and pessimistic dread.

Standing in front of the mirror, Lune hated that you made her dress up nice for dinner. Nice for Lune was a short black skirt and a small black shirt with some lace on the shoulders— not that anyone would see with the leather jacket dwarfing her top.

She kicked on her platform boots reluctantly, scowling as her pink hair got in the way of her vision.

‘Quit acting all grumpy! We’re going to see her tonight!’

June, as peppy as ever, scolded Lune within her mind. Her tone dripped with a sappy puppy love that made Lune grimace.

“Ugh- can’t believe you’re making me do this…”

‘Wh-! You like seeing her too! I know you do!’

If she could stand in front of her right now, Lune knew that June would poke at her chest indignantly, her cheeks puffed with insistence. Lune would roll her eyes and shove her away.

Instead, Lune just struggled to tune her out as she left her apartment, June yapping incessantly about how Lune should be lucky that she keeps getting dates with you.

It was late in the evening as Lune walked down the street, knowing the way to this classy, upscale restaurant that you didn’t ask, but told her to meet you at. You learned to give her no choice in the matter, only telling her where and when she had to be there.

Even if you had given her the choice to say no, June would bitch in Lune’s mind until she had to say yes, for her own sanity’s sake.

Though there was a bit of chill in the air, Lune’s jacket shielded her from it, and her black tights kept her legs warm. She knew how to dress for the weather, unlike some people…

‘Why are you walking?? Get a cab, or an uber!’

‘It’s a seven minute walk. And it’s cheaper, since we’re dining so extra tonight.’

Lune barely felt the tickle of impatience that ebbed from her shared SOUL with June. She ignored it, rolling her eyes at how hopeless her alter was.

June’s chattering seemed to die down as they grew closer to the restaurant. The glow of the neon lights could be seen on the street, a bright orange-red spelling out MTT RESORT II. Lune scoffed.

From afar Lune could see you standing outside the front doors, looking around expectantly. She had a thought to ditch you, as much as June would bitch about it later. But you looked down the street and saw her, your face brightening so obviously. Lune sighed as she continued forward.

“… hi,” she greeted you flatly.

“Hi,” you replied with a smile, stepping closer.

Lune saw your silent offer for a hug, and permitted one, though stiff and from the side.

“I’m so glad you could make it! I had to make this reservation a week in advance. I guess it’s pretty popular.”

“Mm.”

Sensing that the outside conversation was hitting a dead end, you flashed another smile as you let your jacket slip off your shoulders and stepped towards the door.

“Let’s head in.”

As you stepped away, Lune looked you over, her eyes devoid of obvious interest. You wore baggy whitewashed jeans and a pink shirt with a strawberry print scattered across. The neckline was low, accentuating your chest.. Your coat was unimportant; a cream white and long, reaching your knees.

Inside the restaurant, it was warm and bright. Basically the same layout and colors as the first one. Lune found it even uglier than she remembered.

A human stood at the hostess podium and quickly found the reservation under your name. She gathered two menus and utensils before leading you and Lune into the dining room. You reached behind and grabbed Lune’s hand, walking in with her.

Lune stiffened as your hand gripped hers with certainty. She stared at your back as she followed you, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The hostess brought you to an intimate table for two, set with a tablecloth, dishes, and a centerpiece of candles. Faint jazzy music played, filling the dimly lit room with a cozy aura. Lune grimaced.

‘Smile!!’

‘No one likes my smile and you know it.’

‘Th-that’s not true! People just need to… t-to get used to it!’

Lune rolled her eyes, taking her seat unceremoniously. You seated yourself across from her, shrugging your jacket off completely and letting it drape over the back of your chair.

Lune slouched back into her seat, letting her eyes wander around the room. Other tables around them were occupied by two or three, and across the room was a loudly chatting party of five people. A bunch of monsters listening to a tall skeleton tell an animated story. Lune subtly tugged her jacket collar up.

“So, what have you been up to this week?” You asked, opening your menu and passively looking over the options. What in the world was a Glamburger?

Lune avoided looking at you, studying her menu as well. Her eyes glanced over the listed options, nothing looking appetizing in the slightest.

“Uh… worked. That’s it.”

She could see from her peripheral that you smiled and looked at her over your menu.

“Oh yeah, June told me you started a new night job. How’s that going?”

Lune grit her teeth, overcome with irritation that the little blabber-mouth told you about her new position as a dressed-up cocktail waitress. It was not a job she wanted to brag about, and she explicitly told June not to say anything.

“Yeah. It’s fan-fucking-tastic. I get groped every night for tips.”

Your expression wilted noticeably, and for some unknown reason it brought Lune’s gaze to flicker upward.

“Really? It’s that bad?” You asked, your concern weighing on your face with your frown.

Lune sighs, sensing June’s inner urging to console you.

“No, it’s not that bad. I give off enough of a vibe to keep the creeps off of me. It’s just a seedy joint. Not a place you’d be into.”

At this, you perked up, grinning in a way that Lune still couldn’t decipher in the few times she’d seen it.

“Oh really? You don’t think I’m the type to go there?”

“Pffft,” Lune snorted, taking a drink of her curiously bedazzled water. “No way.”

You kept your next thought to yourself, keeping control of your smile as you looked back down at the menu.

Lune had no appetite for any of the listed items on the menu, but she obliged with a Glamburger while you ordered The Show Stopper Salmon.

The idle minutes spent waiting for your meals were spent with you doing most of the talking. You told her about your job and how it was going, some of the annoying customers you handled in the past week, your excitement for the first Monster Comedy Special premiering soon; every mundane detail you shared was something Lune couldn’t care less about, but sat there and listened with brief head nods or gruff “mhm… uh-huh…”s.

‘Don’t act like you’re bored!! You’re not doing anything for this conversation! You’re making her do all the work!’

‘Well she seems to be doing just fine! All she’s doing is talking about herself!’

‘Because you barely answered any of her questions!!’

Lune grimaced at June’s accuracy, though you read it as dread for this ongoing conversation— promptly alerting you to how much you talked about yourself.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too much-!” you laughed at yourself and waved your hands.

Lune’s eyes passed to glare at a corner of the room, her lips pursed in reluctance.

“Nah, it’s fine. You’ve got a nice voice.”

‘!!!’

Your eyes grew wide, face flushing a noticeable shade as you stared at Lune.

“O-Oh-! Uh- th-thank you!”

“Mhm..”

Seconds ticked by in silence, punctuated as the waiter arrived with your plates. You thanked them politely as your meal was set before you, readying your utensils to dig in.

Lune unfolded her napkin slowly, watching you begin to cut into your dish.

“… I wouldn’t mind seeing that Monster Comedy,” she spoke up, taking a bite out of her burger immediately after.

You paused mid-slice with your steak knife, looking up at Lune in momentary shock. If you were reading into it right, and you hoped you were, Lune was proposing a future date…

Your eyes lit up with anticipation, watching her chew her burger with an expression of bewilderment directed to her meal.

“Yeah? I think the local theater is showing the premier next Tuesday. Do you wanna. . .”

You trailed off in the hopes that Lune would ask you outright, a clear sign that there was something here, some progress being made and some effort being put in by her.

“Yeah, sure. I can come get you at six.”

Her tone was only apathetic, borderline disinterested in the notion of another date. But watching her, you could swear you saw her blushing.

Your smile reappeared as you cut into your fish and took a bite, ignoring the odd, tingly sensation that spread across your tongue from the edible glitter, and the fluttering in your stomach from the woman across from you.

“So, tell me about your first day at work…”

𝐓𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘

‘I’m so proud of you!!’

“Shut up,” Lune muttered between her teeth.

“Hm?” You asked, walking down the street on Lune’s arm.

“Just talking to June.”

Lune caught the slight surprise that crossed your face, not expecting her to admit to speaking to her other half.

You knew she did, and that June did the same when she was out. But Lune never admitted it or outright ignored you in the past when you caught her mumbling. You took to assuming her irritated expressions were directed internally about 50% of the time.

“Oh, okay,” you laughed sheepishly and tucked yourself closer into Lune’s side.

Lune grimaced as she looked down at you, her face turning a slight red.

“What are you doing?”

You looked up at her, feigning innocence only to give yourself away with your flustered smile.

“I’m cold,” you answered and shrugged your shoulders underneath an obviously warm coat.

Lune scoffed in dismissal, clearly seeing through your ruse. You had appeared warm and comfortable enough when she arrived to pick you up, greeting her at the door in a cozy sweater (that June had lent you and then forgot about-) and form-fitting leggings.

However, she put her arm around your body, pulling you close as you walked along.

“Should’ve layered up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I should’ve.”

Stepping into the theater that was several degrees warmer than outside, Lune removed her arm around you to pay for the tickets. You busied yourself with buying popcorn and two drinks, feeling Lune step up behind you after her transaction was finished.

You turned to her and handed her one drink with a smile.

“Ready?”

“Yep,” she answered, handing you your ticket stub.

You took the paper from her, before taking her hand in yours to hold as you both found your theater room.

‘You’re blushinggg~’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

You both walked into your theater room, up the carpeted walkways until you reached your seats. You sat down and settled in, waiting for the rest of the theater to settle and the show to start. Around you people whispered in conversations of excitement as they took their seats.

“NYAH-HA-HA! I CANNOT WAIT!”

‘Oh my God-’

“I know Papy, but we have to be quiet! We don’t want to be kicked out, hehe-!”

“Do you want some

popcorn, Rueb?”

“Oh… sure…”

“‘scuse me, don’t mean to make a production over here- ererer…”

“Oh my God-”

You were about to ask Lune about the mutter of dread you just heard from her, but were interrupted by a shrill gasp before you could speak a word.

“Oh, Lune!!”

“Shhhh-!”

“SHH-!”

“Shhh!!”

“Shh!” “Shhh!”

Grimacing in her seat, Lune attempted to slump lower to hide herself. But even in a dark theater, her bubblegum-pink hair was unmistakable.

“Lune!! What a small world, hehe-!”

You turned in your seat, viewing a familiar mossy green monster looming over Lune’s seat. Coils of her willow-branch hair dangled over Lune’s sour expression, the monster’s bright yellow eyes glowing in the dark as she stared down at your date.

“… hhey, Ange,” Lune greeted her begrudgingly. You saw the monster’s elf-like ears begin to flutter.

“It’s so nice to see you out! I didn’t know you enjoyed comedies!”

Lune stared forward with a look of regret, her face blooming with a red hue. You couldn’t help but grin at how helpless and disgruntled she looked.

“Yeah… trying something new,” Lune muttered through her teeth.

“How wonderful! It’s always good to broaden your horizons! Even if you don’t enjoy it, you still tried it!!”

“That’s true!” You chimed in. The moment your voice met her fluttering ears, Ange turned her head to stare at you. Her eyes widened and grew brighter in recognition, her ears turning to green blurs on either side of her head.

“Oh!! Lune, I didn’t know you were on a date!”

You laughed at Ange’s sudden shift in attention and smiled up at her. Lune stared into the middle distance with an expression of wishing she was anywhere else other than here.

“What a coincidence, we’re on a date too!”

“Oh God…” Lune groaned. You smiled at her with sympathy.

“We’re on a double date with Sorel and Rueby!”

“… mhm…” Lune mumbled in hesitant acknowledgement.

“What if we made it a triple date?!”

“That sounds like fun!” You answered, holding Lune’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Ange kicked her feet excitedly, bounding back to her seat where Papyrus, who you had met briefly in the past, sat. She leaned close to whisper to the flustered skeleton. In reply he bellowed, in what you could only assume was his lowest voice, “WHY, THAT IS WONDERFUL ANGE! WE WILL SOON HAVE A COUPLE ARMY!”

“ey, i don’t mean to make a scene over ‘ere…”

“Oh my fucking God-”

Craning her neck to see the short, pudgy skeleton that continued to crack movie-themed puns, Lune glared venomously at Sans, who only grinned back smugly.

“but the show is starting so… we need quiet on the set…”

“Fucking die.”

“Lune!” You laughed, pulling her back into her seat. You curled your arm around hers, feeling her reluctantly settle down beside you.

“Tch- he’s so fucking annoying…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fend him off,” you joked. Lune only rolled her eyes, the theater falling into silence as the show began to play…

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…

As the comedy show concluded, you laughed along and grinned at the jokes sprinkled into the ending. Occasionally you turned to glance at Lune, viewing her either stone-faced or allowing the occasional chuckle or huff of amusement.

Once the lights brightened the room, everyone stood and began collecting their things. You gathered your bag and trash, Lune standing behind you and watching you collect yourself. Once you stepped out into the aisle, Ange rushed up to Lune, leaping up to hug her tightly.

“Hi Lune!”

“Eh… hi…”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed the comedy show! I heard you laugh three times!”

You caught the way Lune’s face flushed with shame, her eyes looking left and right to see if anyone else saw this embarrassing display.

“Yeah… wasn’t horrible.”

“YES, I BELIEVE MOST OF THE JOKES WERE TOLERABLE. FAR BETTER THAN MY BONE-HEADED BROTHER’S!” Papyrus chimed in, stepping into the conversation as Ange released Lune from her hug.

“ey, c’mon now bro, i think i’m pretty.. humerus.”

You snorted at the play on words and heard Lune scoff at the same time.

“AHEM- ANYHOW… SINCE YOU ARE A PART OF OUR COUPLE ARMY, YOU MUST JOIN US FOR SOME ICE CREAM!”

“Oh yes!” Ange squealed, clapping her hands excitedly. “Please join us, Lune!”

Lune made no reaction as all eyes landed on her, only turning to glance back at you. You smiled at her and shrugged; willing to join them or to leave if Lune wanted.

She sighed, turning back to the eagerly awaiting monsters.

“… okay, fine.”

“Oh goodie!” Ange cheered, hugging Lune once more.

Now absorbed into the party of monsters, you and Lune walked out with them into the lobby of the movie theater. Ange chatted excitedly with everyone, asking their opinions on the jokes since she didn’t understand any of them. You made friendly small-talk with Sorel, you and him seeming to mirror each other as you both had stoically silent partners on your arm.

Lune cast her eyes out on the collection of monsters surrounding her, all the while feeling the warmth of your touch around her arm. Everyone’s voices clamored around her in a jumble of irritating noise as the group traveled down the street.

“OH YES, MY SWEET ANGE, THAT WAS A VERY FUNNY JOKE—”

“Ohh, so that’s what it meant??”

“and then i said to him, i said, ‘that ain’t a scientific prop, that's my mom!’ ereererer—”

“Heh… that is

very funny, Sans….”

“So, are you and Lune having a good night?”

“Oh yeah, I think so!”

Hearing your voice ring out with tentative hope, Lune glanced down at you as you continued conversing with the Screenface.

“Last week we went to the MTT Resort. It was pretty nice despite the wait and all…”

“Oh! That-that’s really nice!”

“Mhm!”

“… D-Did you enjoy the Resort, Lune?”

Lune stiffened as she was caught by Sorel, who didn’t spare her for eavesdropping on their conversation and instead invited her input.

Lune frowned as both he and you turned to look at her. She looked away, searching for her opinion of last week’s date.

‘Tch- I didn’t really care either way—’

‘It seemed like a shitty restaurant, especially with those insane prices—’

‘I dunno why she insists on dragging me out every weekend or whatever—’

“It was fine, I guess. They fucked up hamburgers, which I thought would be impossible.”

You and Sorel laughed at Lune’s dry and genuine criticism of the restaurant, Lune looking at you both with a blank face.

Sorel sighed, leaning into Ruebris’ arm. “Yeah, I never did get the Resort’s food. Whatever sells I guess…”

Ruebris’ brows knitted together as he thought back to a memory. Through his mandibles he muttered; “there was even glitter in the water…”

You laughed as you slipped your hand down to hold Lune’s hand. “Yeah.. I still had a good time, though.”

Lune felt your eyes settle on her, staring in apparent admiration. Though she kept her gaze fixated ahead, her features unmoving, her cheeks did glow with a subtle pink. She blamed June… somehow.

“Ooh! We’re here!” Ange exclaimed, clapping her hands.

The party stopped in front of an idyllic ice cream shop, looking warm and cozy inside while it remained frosty and cold outside. No one wasted any time stepping in, the party of seven filling the somewhat small store.

“WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE, MY DEAR SWEET ANGE?” Papyrus asked the short Moss Maiden with tender sweetness, leaning down to meet her face. Lune grimaced as the two brushed noses in affection.

“Mint chocolate chip, please!”

“ONE MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP FOR MY LOVELY MOSS MAID!”

Queuing up in the line, Papyrus stood with his brother to make his order. Ruebris and Sorel stood together behind them, with Sorel reading the menu that hung above the cashier while Ruebris squinted blindly.

You parted from Lune’s side, taking out your wallet with one hand.

“What would you like?” You asked her.

Lune stood in silence, considering refusing to let you buy her ice cream— but she wouldn’t buy herself any either, and she figured the group would complain about her lack of participation.

“Hh… whatever’s cheap.”

You blinked in surprise, the questioning clear in your eyes. But you just smiled and nodded, stepping into the line behind the other monsters.

Lune expected to just stand around in wait, boredly watching the line shuffle along. However, her mundane plans were ruined with Ange pulling her to a table in the corner. Lune found herself sitting across from the energetic and always-cheery monster, and already felt like she fell into a trap.

Her ears fluttered softly as Ange stared with bright yellow eyes. Lune’s sour gaze stared back, blank and dull.

“I’m so happy to see you out, Lune! Normally we only see you if you’re spending time with us!”

Lune glanced left and right, shifting in discomfort in her seat.

“Yeah…”

“And it’s so nice that you’re going on dates with _______! It seems like you’re having a good time with her!”

Lune blinked, struck with slight surprise at Ange’s words. She almost didn’t believe her— how could she look like she was having a good time?

“I-… I do?”

“Mhm! Well- I mean, obviously you can’t very obviously show that you’re enjoying yourself, but you are acting warmly towards her! Letting her hold your hand or lean on you! I see that as you enjoying yourself— otherwise you would just leave!”

Lune shifted again, her discomfort growing as she found herself stuck in one of those introspective, emotional talks with Ange.

“Mm… I guess…”

Ange tilted her head at Lune, propping her head in her hands. “What, is that not the case?”

Lune glanced from Ange to you still waiting in line. She frowned in thought, always finding it difficult to be introspective about her entirely absent feelings.

“I guess I just feel obligated to stay… if I ditch, it’ll make her upset.”

Looking back at Ange, Lune’s frown worsened as she read that Ange was delighted by her words.

“Oh Lune, that’s wonderful! That means you care about her feelings! I’m so happy for you!”

“Wh- I… no I don’t— tch-”

Ange giggled softly, shaking her head and making her willow locks shuffle around her shoulders.

“Well, you care about my feelings, don’t you? Or- you’re aware of them. Isn’t that why you agreed to join us here, even though it wasn’t in your plans? And I’m just your friend!”

Lune stared pensively at a spot on the table, her gaze so intense it almost appeared she was trying to burn a hole into the patterned surface.

“… yeah, I guess.”

“All I’m saying is I’m happy to see you doing things without us. I want you to have a life and interests outside of me and Sorel and Papy and Sans! It’s good for you!”

“— ONE MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP FOR MY LOVELY ANGE!”

Arriving at their table suddenly, Papyrus swooped to Ange’s side with a waffle cone topped with bright green ice cream speckled with chocolate. Ange gasped in surprise and took the treat, her ears fluttering happily as she kissed Papyrus’ cheek.

“Oh thank you, my sweet Papy!”

“Ugh-” Lune groaned, rolling her eyes to the right. As she did, you fell into her view, walking up with two separate cups of ice cream.

“I got you vanilla,” you said, taking the seat beside her and passing her the ice cream.

Lune looked down at it in contemplation, a mound of creamy white with a spoon stuck into it. She glanced at you as you ate a spoonful of ice cream— also a cream white, but blemished with frozen mounds of edible cookie dough.

She huffed as she draped her arm around the back of your seat, taking a spoonful of her ice cream. From the corner of her eye, she saw you smile.

“Thanks…”

#undertale #undertale fic #discord rp origins #discord rp oc #undertale oc x reader #x reader #this is entirely for simpy #4k words #part 1 #alexithymia #no one perceive me #simpy finally wins

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allovertheplaceficrecs · 1 year ago

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Like A Model by matildajones

“What if I could get you off desk duty?” he finally says. Stiles looks up, eyes wide. “Can you? Please, please, please. I’d love you forever.”

Derek’s heart skips a beat. “We need you to go undercover as a model.”

Stiles starts laughing instantly. His grin is bright, his voice is loud, and Derek waits for him to calm down.

“Me?” he says. “A model? Shut up.”

Words: 4,706

Miss Congeniality AUs are my favourite niche trope and I LOVE how this author did it.

#teen wolf fic #teen wolf au #derek x stiles #4k words #teen wolf

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camillamaecaulay · 2 years ago

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graves grow no green that you can use.

gwendolyn brooks

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mycharacterdump · 1 year ago

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To Those Who Bear Fangs

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

Maisie was uniquely aware of her unlikeness to that of most girls her age. However it wasn’t the deafness that provided a wedge between herself and others — rather the way she hid in closets when a thunderstorm barreled through; wrapped herself tightly in the heaviest blanket on the shelf so she could regulate each emotion that arrived slowly, like the tide wading in and out; her avoidance of prolonged eye contact (or any eye contact); the confusion that nestled in her gut when someone told a joke; her obsession with celestial bodies and, oddly enough, ferrets, which wormed its way into every conversation she held. All of these things and more contributed to making her a singularity among her peers. While she had the support of her triplet siblings, they couldn’t always be there for her, and as time wore on she distanced herself as a measure of consideration so they didn’t risk being as isolated as she felt everyday.

She thoroughly enjoyed her time spent by herself. She could focus on what truly mattered: like studying and re-reading the same three books over and over (always Dune, her mother’s old grimoire, or The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a book wherein she could actually understand the jokes being told). Still, there were extended lulls in life that left her uncomfortable. She tried filling the empty gaps with more of the same, but it never cured the emptiness she felt in her chest every time she was excluded from something simply because it was assumed she’d dread even being asked. She was fourteen when she first realized she had been experiencing life on the other side of the glass, watching everyone else soak in the sunrays and enjoy the cool grass while she remained perched on the windowsill feeling a distinct otherness and an aching heart.

Her first foray into a social life was on the Halloween nearing her seventeenth year. It was widely celebrated on the island, garnering more time and attention to detail from the residents than Christmas. The diced up suburbs all had their own celebrations taking place, and depending on where you were located they ranged from something as quaint as a small gathering at a friend’s house to a parade held after a Trunk-Or-Treat event in the town square. Rather than pick one of the two, Maisie overheard her sister, Mim, mention a party being thrown at the Albrights’ residence in the Westside. She had planned on appearing as Velma from Scooby Doo alongside her best friend Lark, who was meant to be Daphne, spending two hours in their shared bathroom painting her face and suffocating herself in a garishly orange turtleneck before she announced she was ready to leave.

While Maisie didn’t have a costume, she quickly stitched together an outfit from her closet. After stealing a red corset from Mim’s side and pairing it with a long, flowing black skirt, she squeezed into the bathroom after her sister and used up their final fifteen minutes before they were meant to leave willing her fangs to protrude as she drew on intense eyeliner. She was only one fourth vampire, but she and all her siblings exclusively fed on blood as infants and they had developed sharpened canines upon losing their baby teeth that couldn’t quite sink as deep into one’s pulse as someone like her father’s — who were nearly half an inch larger than all of his children’s. She held up the others as she shuffled desperately through the kitchen cabinets for red food dye, miraculously finding an expired tube in the very back and hurriedly smearing it over her mouth before she scurried out of the house in the Chuck Taylors she didn’t think to bother changing.

As her brother Max drove them in their shared Jeep across town, Maisie ignored the pangs in her ribs every time she exhaled, stretching the corset around her torso. She normally enjoyed that kind of compression, finding it gave her an anchor into the earth, but the texture of the food dye on her lips and her skirt flowing in the steady breeze left her feeling restless rather than confident. She cranked down the passenger side window, leaning her head out and allowing the wind to caress her flushed cheeks. She looked up at the stars above, glad that it wasn’t cloudy out for once, and recounted the tales of each one she could identify as they cruised along the streets of Deer Isle to the sound of a Kanye song that she felt the intense beat reverberating throughout the car, under her seat and beneath her feet. In the backseat, Mim and Lark were enthusiastically rapping along, while Max paid strict attention to the narrow backroads that linked the Northside and the Westside.

They arrived at half past nine o’clock, which is typically when Maisie was beginning her nighttime routine — only consisting of showering, stealing some of Mim’s skincare products for herself, and reading in bed until she fell asleep around midnight. She stepped out of the Jeep and as her feet struck the earth, she could see the world spinning around her and reached out for Mim’s arm.

“Maisie?” Mim spoke up, her voice filtering through Maisie’s implant and catching her attention. “Are you okay?”

Maisie swallowed dryly and gave her what she thought was an enthusiastic smile, holding up two thumbs affirmatively. Her sister eyed her suspiciously before she led the way up to the front steps of the house. She watched as Mim was greeted at the door by Briar, who wasn’t the host of the party, but was always sweet enough to take up the responsibilities of one. She walked up each step one at a time and focused on leveling her breathing. Flinching when she closed in on the porch and her implant began translating the admixture of sounds flooding in from every direction, she instinctively switched it off. She greeted Briar and followed her siblings inside, ignoring how her younger brothers remained at the door so they could continue pestering the poor girl.

Like the kind boy he was, Max remained at Maisie’s side as they ventured through the first floor of the party. She was led along by his hand, which she eventually recoiled from whenever her palms began perspiring. It didn’t take long after that for her to lose him in the dense crowds, and as she felt the music reverberate her skeleton and the film of smoke infiltrate her lungs, the corset grew tighter and tighter around her core until it was like her ribs were cracking beneath the pressure. She could feel tears develop on her waterline, threatening her makeup, which she hurriedly blotted away as she went to find reprieve in a less populated corner of the house.

She found herself in the kitchen. Only a few people lingered on the isle as they poured themselves drinks and ravaged through the fridge and pantry for drunk snacks. The gentle glow of a hanging light gave her a sense of direction as she moved toward the nook where a table was situated by the bay windows, sitting farthest away from everyone so that she could catch her breath. Before she could properly collect herself, a familiar face approached her and began speaking. Overwhelmed by everything occurring around her, Maisie found it difficult to read her lips, and instead switched her implant back on.

“— you deserve a drink, you look like a deer in the headlights.” Zelda laughed warmly as she offered Maisie a shot glass that looked like melted honey. Her eyebrows fixed together and she raised the glass to her nose, sniffing and scrunching her nose up at the pungent smell of cinnamon. “It’s Fireball. Baby food, really. You’ll like it. Relax some, Jensen!”

Maisie gave an awkward smile, pressing the glass against her lips and beginning to nurse the shot before Zelda grasped onto her wrist. “You’ve got to throw it back.” she said, eyebrows raised expectantly at the younger girl. “All at once.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she obeyed the other, tossing the shot glass back and feeling the alcohol burn her lips, then tongue, and finally her throat which started warming up considerably after swallowing. She coughed into her elbow and tried to keep the imminent nausea at bay. That was horrible. How did Mim and Max drink that?

“Good girl,” Zelda praised her, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You enjoy yourself, okay? You look hot, by the way. Tell me if there’s any boy I need to beat up to defend you.”

Maisie nodded along as Zelda waltzed out of the kitchen in a costume that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She had worn a bleach blonde wig and a red spandex suit, a tail protruding from her tailbone. The devil? She did have an uncanny resemblance to the heirloom dolls that Maisie and Mim shared as children. Regardless, she likely looked much better than the thrown together costume Maisie had adorned.

She sat at the table for another fifteen minutes before she could feel comfortable standing again, wading through the people that had started coming into the kitchen for more drinks and trying to find her way back to where her siblings had been left. It would be an uphill battle, she knew that much, as it was closing in on eleven and the party was beginning to swell with more life. Smoke swirled at her ankles, rendering her unable to see her own shoes, and there was the persistent scent of weed that circled in from outside. She worried it would stick to her t-shirt and hurried upstairs in an attempt to avoid it, finding herself more at peace as the vibrations under her feet faded away and people became scarcer to see.

Before she could cower away in a bathroom, she felt someone grasp onto her elbow and she tore herself away with widened brown eyes. There was a boy, standing at what seemed to be an entire foot taller than her, with glazed over hazel eyes and a cheshire grin creased in her corner of his pink lips. He wasn’t terrible to observe, but Maisie didn’t have any intention on pursuing more than that.

“Sorry, I’m looking for the bathroom,” she said, her volume elevated as she felt she needed to compensate for the loud music still blaring downstairs.

“I can show you,” he returned. Her chest tightened up and she eyed him warily. “It’s Wesley. Henderson. From homeroom?” He extended a hand, to which she stared at before reluctantly grasping onto it and shaking politely. “I never thought I’d see you in a place like this.”

Maisie wished she’d have kept her implant off. “Well, here I am.” she said, awkwardly curtseying, which made him laugh. Did she do it wrong? She smoothed out her skirt and waited for Wesley to calm down.

“Come on, bathroom’s this way,” Wesley nodded down the hallway, leading the way for them as he took ahold of her hand. She grimaced — debating pulling away before deciding she could brave through it. He greeted those they passed while she remained quiet, feeling flighty as her nerves buzzed underneath her skin and she heavily considered finding her own way to the bathroom.

Alas, it wasn’t long until Wesley finally pulled them away from the strangers and invited her into one of the bathrooms. She stepped inside, moving so she could shut the door behind her before Wesley held a hand against it and grinned down at her, sliding in beside her smoothly. She could feel her heart sink into her stomach. She would never find a moment’s peace, would she? She yearned for Mim in that instance, knowing her sister was likely having the time of her life pining after her best friend while under the neon glow of the lights strung along the living room walls.

Maisie awkwardly leaned back against the sink, her corset riding up without her realizing. All she could think about was how her entire body pulsed, wishing she could cower into herself and hide her head in her knees like a child. His eyes followed her every breath and she wanted to purge the sick feeling she had in her gut.

“You’re even quieter now than you are at school,” Wesley chuckled, reaching out to brush some chestnut curls out of her face. A reactive blush painted her features. He grinned. “Look at you, all red. Even cuter, too.”

“I’m not cute,” Maisie finally spoke up as she stared at him.

Wesley perked a brow at her, caught off guard by her intense stare. “You are. I’m looking at you right now. What are you supposed to be, anyway? A pirate?” he wondered, his fingers skating across her jawline. She could feel her mouth begin watering, her fangs protruding more then than when she was trying to force them out before leaving the house.

She shook her head at him. She really, really didn’t want to have to be reduced to what she feared was bubbling beneath the surface — she always considered herself more of a witch than a vampire, considering how much wix blood coursed through her veins and her ardent passion for the art of magick. She had collected not only her mother’s grimoire but others, which had weathered considerably worse with time, and even went as far as owning a faux wand that she could fidget with. It was gorgeous; crafted from rowan wood with detailed engravings at the handle, boasting a supple flexibility and a shiny finish. It had been the best Yule present she ever received and she—

“Macy?” Wesley said, his fingertips scorching the side of her neck.

Maisie blinked out of her thoughts and gave him a once over. “It’s Maisie,” she enunciated the ‘Z’ in the middle of her name, watching him adorn another insufferably sly grin. Overstimulated and irritated as a result, she parted her lips as she leaned in closer to him. He was extremely responsive to this, mirroring her until she ducked her head underneath his chin and sunk her fangs into his neck. She could hear the breath being driven from his lungs and it was oddly satisfying, clinging onto him until he managed to shove her away. She panted as she was forced back against the sink, fresh blood staining her lips more so than the food dye.

“You’re — you’re fucking crazy!” Wesley exclaimed as he held onto his neck that was dribbling blood. You should be lucky I’m not with my father, or else you’d be dead, she thought to herself, enjoying watching him scramble for a towel so he could stop the bloodflow.

The bathroom door came swinging open and, much to Maisie’s surprise, she recognized underneath some light makeup and a white dress with accenting wings, Zelda’s boyfriend.

“What are you doing in here?” Jules asked them with brows furrowed in concern.

Wesley began pushing past him. “She fucking — bit me!” he hissed loudly. “She’s fucking insane, man!” “Why did she bite you?” Jules immediately countered.

“We were just hanging out—”

“I wanted to be alone.” Maisie interrupted with a deadpan.

Jules stared at Wesley, not letting him pass by just yet. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get the fuck out of my girlfriend’s house before I let her loose on you.” he said through gritted teeth. Maisie had never seen the normally subdued young adult hold such a temper before.

“Are you fucking serious?” Wesley asked, scoffing loudly as Jules held their stare until he eventually crumbled. “Fucking lame party anyway. You’re so screwed.” he said to Maisie venomously, shoving past by Jules and leaving his wings crooked as he hurried downstairs.

Once Wesley was out of sight, Jules looked over to Maisie. “Do you want to sit out back? There’s no one out there,” he offered gently. She swallowed and nodded, feeling a bit of relief that she’d finally run into someone that had her best interests at heart. They threaded through the crowds, Jules keeping a hand placed on the small of her back as he stopped when he saw Zelda and informed her of the situation. All Maisie could see was flames in the young spitfire’s eyes as she took off to presumably find Wesley or her sisters to make sure they remained unharmed as well.

The back porch was peaceful. There, Maisie felt comfortable enough alongside Jules to undo her corset, leaving her in her t-shirt and skirt as she gave a sigh and felt the pain gradually melt off her bones. She sat on the steps, letting the cool autumn air soothe her just as it had in the car ride over, her sneakers planted on the earth in front of her. She could still taste the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth, and as she reached up it was still slick on her mouth. Wincing, she wiped it away as much as she could with the hem of her shirt, glancing over to Jules occasionally as he let her take a breath.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Jules nodded along. She hoped this wasn’t too insufferable for him — he was a wolf and she was a vampire, after all, albeit not as much as one as she could’ve been. “Of course. I don’t need anyone hurt at a party. How’d you get dragged here, anyway? Never pegged it as your scene.”

“Never pegged it as your scene.” she returned, which earned a chuckle out of him.

“It’s not. But I’m here for Zelly. She insisted on these costumes, too,” he held up the skirt of his dress.

“The devil and an angel?” Maisie assumed, reaching up so she could poke at the halo fixed on the crown of his head.

Jules smiled at her. “That’s right. I insisted we switch roles, but she found this dress in my dad’s closet and wanted to see me in it. Kind of a sadist. Which is probably why she’s the devil between us.”

“... She gave me a drink earlier. Fireball,” Maisie told him. His mouth quirked up into a grin. “I think that’s what made me bite him.”

“I think you bit him because he’s an asshole,” Jules immediately denied.

Maisie rubbed her hands together, wanting nothing more than to forget about the entire night and fall asleep in her own bed with a good book in her hands. Maybe that grimoire, so she could practice more defensive spells. “That too.” she agreed, her chin tilting up to see the sky. “... I can see Pegasus.”

“Sorry?” he hummed, cocking his head sideways at her curiously.

“The constellation,” she clarified as she kept her eyes fixed above them. “It — it was first catalogued by Ptolemy in the 2nd century. The constellation was named after Pegasus, the winged horse in Greek mythology. It’s known for the Great Square of Pegasus, and for some bright stars and deep sky objects, like Messier 15 and Stephan’s Quintet of galaxies… um, the Einstein Cross, too, that’s a gravitationally lensed quasar. And an unbarred spiral galaxy.”

Jules was taken aback by the shift in conversation, but he coasted along with it much like he did whenever Zelda’s Uncle Cody began spouting what sounded like utter nonsense about his work. “Wow,” he said. “Sounds impressive.”

“Very impressive. Seventh biggest constellation in the sky.” she informed him. “Messier 15 has nine stars with actual confirmed planets. Can you imagine living out there?”

“Seems like a dream to me.” Jules laughed a little. “Did always felt a little alienated here.”

Maisie turned to face him, giving him a soft smile. “Me too.”

Jules rubbed her back comfortingly as the back door came creaking open and Mim and Max rushed out toward them, huddling around Maisie as they worried over her while Jules remained on the sidelines just to make sure the young woman didn’t become too overwhelmed. She let Mim help her up off the steps, leaning into Max’s welcoming arm.

“Thanks, Jules,” Mim said, holding tightly onto her sister. “We owe you one.”

“You don’t,” Jules denied with a shake of his head. “Just get yourselves home safe, alright?”

Mim nodded, her and her brother escorting Maisie off the porch while Zelda snuck by them with worry etched on her features. The wolf looked up to her boyfriend, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Is she okay?” Zelda asked. “Are you okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, Zelly,” Jules confirmed as he pressed a kiss against her temple. “I think I may call it a night, though. Do you mind?”

She snorted loudly in response. “Absolutely not. Fuck this party. We can leave Aly in charge and head to the Squeeze In for some burgers. You good to drive? I’m a little fucked up.”

Jules smiled and wrapped an arm around her. “Always good.”

At the Jensen residence, Mim and Max carefully brought Maisie upstairs to their room without alerting their parents’ that they’d returned from the party. After double-checking that she was okay, Max was given the relief to leave for his own bedroom, only the two girls left. Without hesitation, Mim had her sister strip and ran a hot bath for her, dumping half a box of soothing minerals into the water and a pair of oversized pajamas on the marble counter. She waited, perched on the edge of her bed, having gotten undressed herself in the meantime, texting Lark an update whenever Maisie emerged from the bathroom.

Quickly, Mim tossed her phone aside and went to pull back the sun and moon duvet that decorated Maisie’s bed, inviting her sister to lay down. Once she was settled underneath the covers, Mim leaned over her and gave a sigh.

“What?” Maisie murmured.

“We should’ve stayed close with you,” Mim said, her words slurring together a bit. It had just occurred to Maisie that her sister was slightly drunk. “Max and me. I’m sorry, Mai Mai.”

Maisie lifted herself up onto her elbows, shaking her head at Mim. “Don’t apologize. I don’t need to be looked after.”

“You kind of do,” Her sister said as she reached behind her ear to take off her implant. “You bit a dude.”

And I’ve learned my lesson. No more parties. Maisie signed.

Mim chuckled softly and stood up from where she sat, tucking her sister in tightly. No more parties, she signed back.

As her sister quickly fell asleep in the bed adjacent to hers, Maisie stared out the window that allowed her to see into the night sky. She gave a gentle sigh, already feeling the bruises forming on her middle. But she didn’t think too much about it — looking up at Pegasus and remembering the myth behind the constellation.

The most famous myth involving Pegasus was the one of Bellerophon, the hero who was sent by King Iobates of Lycia to defeat the Chimaera, a monster that breathed fire and was devastating the king’s land. Bellerophon found Pegasus and tamed him using a golden bridle given to him by the goddess Athena. Then he swooped down on the Chimaera from the sky and defeated the monster with his lance and arrows. After this and several other heroic deeds for King Iobates, Bellerophon let the successes get to his head. Riding Pegasus, he tried to fly to Olympus and join the gods. He didn’t succeed. He fell off the horse and back to Earth.

Pegasus did however make it to Olympus. There, Zeus used the horse to carry his thunder and lightning, and eventually placed him among the constellations.

Turning over, a single tear escaped her eyes before she shut them so she could finally fall into the embrace of sleep, knowing that it’d do no good to stay up any later than she already had. She hoped that somehow, she would be deserving of a place like that one day among the stars, rather than being immortalized as the monster she had become on earth.

#self-para #4k words

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lostandfoundbook · 6 months ago

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Chapter 15

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The two of them said their goodbye's to Benji before making their way out of the apartment. The day was still young, and there was so much to do. Alexandria could feel all the memories brimming with threats to expose themselves to her, a feeling she hadn't felt in quite a long time.

Nostalgia. She missed this part of town. She was staring down all the grassy lawns as she hopped into the car and shut the door tight behind her. It was a quaint little piece of property that Benji had inherited, and it was nothing in comparison to Oliver's theatre.

Both were places she lived as she worked, but one of the two she was more fond of. She couldn't help but favor Benji's little theatre over Oliver's massive one. There was something so home-y about her best friends place. For a short period of her life, she continued to grow up there and thrive.

Getting to see it again almost felt like a dream. Sitting with the two boys by her side sipped away at her coffee. It really didn't energize her. Instead it brought her a sense of tranquility that just washed away at whatever fears or anxieties she previously had. It was a good cup of coffee. It tasted like home.

She lugged the duffel bag off of her shoulder and unzipped it, reaching back in for the journal. She pulled a pencil out of the bag and flipped to a free page on the book. She started writing down about what happened, and her experience at Benji's. She wrote about Everette a bit too, but not too much. Just enough to reference in her call out post.

She tilted her head to the side as she wrote. Oliver went on to pop his own car door and hop in, side eyeing her before pressing the keys into the ignition. "What are you working on?" He eventually said as they started to pull away from the theatre. Away from home. "Just journaling." she replied.

"I've heard that's really good for you. It's supposed to help you work through a lot of things" Everette added on. It was true. She had taken it up in her high school years when a school counselor had told her it was a good idea. They never could afford therapy, and it's left Alex with dozens of lost journals full of her thoughts throughout the years, with zero clue as to where those could've gone.

"Yeah. I really like being able to just talk through my feelings."

The car ride home was quiet aside from the radio quietly playing the top 2010 hits. It was a good year for music, Alex thought towards herself. She leaned her head back in the car and set her journal down. "Do you think the call out post against Everette is a good idea? I haven't talked to my PR team about it and I don't think they're going to approve."

Oliver shot her a glance. "You're asking if I approve of it?"

Alex grimaced with her lips. It had come off a bit odd. "Yes, I think that's what I'm asking."

The car slowly came to a halt as they stopped at a stop sign, and turned to look towards her. "I'll always support the things you want to to. I don't think it's a bad idea, I just think the timing needs to be perfect or else it might not have the same effect."

The girl searched around the car for something to stare at. "You're right. I want to put it out this week, or next week by the latest so that when the song comes out, people have the full context."

He nodded. "That's a good idea. I think people having the full context matters. You don't want them to associate it with any other ex you've had."

The car began to pull away again.

"Right, exactly." Alex shoved one of her legs up onto the dashboard and felt the AC blowing on her, slightly ruffling her hair. It was extremely frizzy today, and she figured it had to do with the increasing temperatures. Summer was quickly making it's way around the corner and Alex wasn't sure how she was going to cope with the heat this year.

Her thoughts were broken short by Oliver's voice ringing out. "What do you think about me hosting a gala?" Alex paused. "What about it? You do them yearly. It's about that time."

A small sound left Oliver's mouth that was reminiscent of a laugh. "No, I mean, what do you think about it?"

Another pause. She let the silence sit comfortably. Was she supposed to have an opinion on this? "It seems like a good idea. I've always wanted to go to one." Oliver perked up at this. "Great! I want to do one this month before we start putting on Big Feelings, that original musical we're doing, and I was thinking maybe we could go together. I usually take Avery."

The non-question weighed in the air. Did she want to go to a gala with him, where they would be openly photographed together? Did she want to deal with the press and rumor train that came with it? She already knew it was coasting down that track ever since the red carpet event. People noticed the way they looked at each other, and they remembered the photos of her sitting in the booth with Oliver.

Now, they had the ice skating photos to include with it. Some people were vehemently against the idea of Alex dating Oliver, which, was a good thing because she didn't intend to date him. Does she want to add fuel to the fire? She considered how easy it was to wash out Everette's bad press just by going out with a friend like this.

"I think I'll go. It sounds fun, and I think it'd be great for my career."

Oliver smiled towards her as the car came to another stop, this time because of traffic. "What else do you want to do with your career?" he asked her. "Oh, so many thing. I want to make visualizers and music videos, and I have this EP idea planned out that's slowly turning into an album... I want to do more press tours. More talking, and getting involved with my fanbase."

Oliver nodded his head. "And have you ever thought of working for me, like, in a serious manner? I'd take on your PR in a heartbeat."

It was an exciting offer. Alex wasn't particularly fond of her current management. Greg was great at his job, but he already admitted that there's not much he can do in regards to Everette. It seems Oliver can.

"I hadn't really thought about it before. It's something I'd consider."

She didn't have the same connection with her old PR team like she does to the Haven Industries. Alex trusted Avery and Oliver, meanwhile Greg was just some guy who was related to her career path with Everette. Why not consider letting Oliver give it a shot?

"You'd also want to read your contract, which you're going to want to get a copy of. If I need to, I can buy out your contract. It'd be worth it in the long haul."

In the long haul? Alex truly didn't consider her future much. As a kid, she didn't even expect to make it past 18. Now, she's shocked she's still alive. Planning for the future was something she never really learned how to do, and it seemed Oliver did it so easily, even with other people.

Alex drew her bottom lip between her teeth before speaking out, "You know, there were a lot of rumors about you and I before recently?" Oliver shot her a side glance. "Oh?"

"They said you wanted to use me to better your image." Alex replied and Oliver let out a snort. "You can't possibly believe that's why I'm offering this?"

A small exhale of breath left her mouth, almost a laugh but not quite. "Of course not. I think it's a silly rumor because I've got a lot of bad publicity around my name. If anything, I would be the one using you."

Traffic began to let up a bit between Alex's declaration, leaving Oliver focusing on trying to not get hit. "You know, this is why I never drive?" He added in while cruising past slow-moving people in the left lane. "This is supposed to be a fast lane, people!"

Alex smiled. "You yell at the road. What happens if people hear you and get out of their car?"

He smirked in response. "Yeah, right. They're gonna get through the armored car. I'd like to see them try." He waved his hands around to emphasize his point.

The lanes were slowly opening up and the freeway came out of its stand still, with a few cars sitting off to the side. A car accident that people were slowly driving past. This was the culprit of the jam they had just been apart of. "How lovely." Oliver spoke out as they passed.

"People don't know how to drive in New York. They're all used to walking. They act like driving is some sort of video game and get into all these crashes"

She stopped to think about it, life as a video game, that is. It bordered on simulation theories, which Alex totally believed to a certain extent. Life was so confusing and complicated, and she had somehow found her way to the top. How'd that even happen?

"I think you're right about the walking part. People just don't know how to drive."

The small talk flowed naturally as they filled up the cars small space with chatter and conversation. Topics came naturally towards them at this point, and there was no awkwardness between the two.

"I love the city, still." Alex spoke out while staring at the city as they re-entered their side of town. "It's so beautiful."

Oliver grunted. "It's a city, I guess. I'm so used to it." There was no question about it, Oliver viewed this city as something he had already conquered. He'd been down every avenue and walked every path there as to walk in this city. There was no need to revisit the places he had already been.

"It's beautiful, though. The way every corner tells a new story? It's amazing. I could get lost in it forever."

He looked over and watched as the girl stared out of the car window at the vast landscape of artificially re-created nature scenes along all the sides of the buildings. The terf grass there to mimic the lush greenery you see back at Benji's side of town. The trees are much sparser here too, meaning it was much hotter over here.

Alex reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She slipped through her contacts list and finally landed on Greg. She shot him a text that said "We need to talk" and quickly backed out of there. She didn't want to see if his green text bubble shot back at her, giving her an answer or reply. She scrolled back over towards Benji's contact and started writing him a message.

"Thank you for letting me bring Oliver. I know you two don't get along, and I doubt I'll ever get the full story out of either of you, but I'm glad you can put aside your differences for me. It was a really insightful day."

She smiled and hit send. She looked up from her phone and continued to city-watch the way she was used to doing while driving. She looked down when her phone pinged off another message from an unknown number.

"Stop ignoring me, you bitch!"

It was likely Everette. She swiped the notification away and shoved the phone back into her pocket. "Who was that?" Oliver questioned out as they slowly pulled up on the hotel parking lot.

"Just Everette, I think." Alex could as an annoyed look appeared on Oliver's face. "He needs to leave you alone." He returned as he parked. "Like, seriously. You might have to get a restraining order against him or something."

The girl looked up at the man as she reached for her bag. "You think? I figured, there's not many places he can get access to me. He's going to have to give it up eventually, right?" She was tired of the whole situation. She just wanted to be left along to write her music in peace. Perform theatre without being judged. Ice skate with whomever she pleased.

She pulled the bag around her shoulder before opening her car door. "I don't know, Alex. He could be really dangerous. You don't know him."

She slid out of the car and watched as Oliver did the same. "I'll consider getting a restraining order if it'll make you happier, but I think I'll be fine without it." The two made eye contact over the hood of the beamer. It was soft and solemn, a small moment of agreement. Alex would contact the police and see what she could do.

She dropped the eye contact. "Also, I think I do want you to run my management. You know, if that's something you can do." She started walking up to the garage area that Oliver had designated for just him, right up close to the hotels entrance. "I can do that, for sure. You'd need what? Management, PR, stylists, maybe even an assistant one day?"

She let out a small snort. "Slow your roll. I think I know somebody who can do make up for me, and you and Avery are practically my stylists already. You run the management side, and I don't know who controls PR. So it's not a lot of things. I've pretty much got all of them covered, I think."

She and Oliver carted their way through the revolving doors and into the building, being met with the beautiful scenery of white walls with gold trims, big open windows that dared you to gaze through them all day, and a big open walk way through the foyer. She could see the receptionist desks, and the way the walls of the entrance opened up past a certain height.

All of this spawned a new memory in her brain. One of her sitting in a harness, dangling in the air. She stopped and shook her head a bit. When was that? Where was that? Was that here? Alex didn't remember this memory, yet it stood out clearly in her head. She stopped walking and Oliver turned to give her a look of confusion.

"I think I remember breaking into the hotel" she said out.

* * *

Alex was sat in her bedroom with Avery, Oliver, and her journals laid out in front of them all. "So, what exactly am I here for, again?" The ginger girl spoke up, with a shy look on her face. "You remember things about me that I don't, and I can't gather many other people. I could try to invite Brandon, but he'd be more confused than he would be able to understand any what I'm saying. You two get it."

Avery looked over towards Oliver who gave her a simple nod. "Alright. What do you need?"

Alex sighed and sat down. They were all surrounded the couches that made paralleled each other in the middle of the bedroom, with the TV sat out behind them on a handing stand. It was her room. She had made it lived in, and she was familiar with it.

"I want to expose Everette. I remember why we were breaking in. And I remember a lot of other stuff, too. I want to write this big expose, but I don't have the full time line down. I want to clear it up, and get it posted tonight. The song about him comes out in a week and a half, and I think it's been long enough."

Avery nodded in approval and listen with a sense of understanding. Alex didn't know how much she knew about Everette, or how much Oliver had told her. She figured he told her a lot, consider she was one of his closest friends and assistants. She knew more about him than Alex did, and she was extremely aware of that fact. Avery held information about Oliver, while both of them held information about Alex. It was a tricky situation.

"I hate to repeat myself, but what am I supposed to do in this situation? I don't exactly remember much.."

Oliver turned towards her. "She's getting a restraining order against Everette." Avery's eyes widened and she turned towards Alex, who sat there nodded in agreement. "Really?"

"Yes. He wont stop messaging me and I've made it clear that I don't want him to talk to me anymore. He said he wanted to talk in person, and I have really really bad vibes about that. It's not gonna happen. We're through, and if he can't get that message, I'll get the police involved."

Oliver turned back towards Alex. "Not to mention, he tried to break into the red carpet event when he wasn't invited. None of us know how he figured out the location."

Alex shrugged. "That ones not too difficult. I could've figured it out if I were still living with him. Against you, I mean. It wouldn't be hard to find." Oliver sighed and knitted his brows. "But he was actively seeking it out. That's my point. He's trying to find you in person. That's not good."

Alex shook her head and raised her brows. "I know! I'm just saying, It wasn't the most evident example of stalking. We don't even know if the order will be approved. That's why I just want to focus at the information at hand. Everette used to abuse me, and I have lots of proof of that. I want to post it tonight. It wont be hard."

Avery raised her head. "I could write out the timeline for you.." She meekly spoke, as if she didn't dare cross the boundaries between the two. There was a line drawn in the sand between her and Alex and she wasn't going to be the one to leap across. "Really?!" Alex replied in an excited manner.

Oliver pipped in "Yeah! You said you've got it all written out, she can go based off of your notes and just write it as if she were you."

Alex frowned. "Well, you can write it, but I'm gonna change a few things in it to make sure it sounds like me. I want people to take this seriously." Oliver eyed Avery up. "You good to do it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I can do it. Where's the laptop?"

"Woah, right now, right now?" Alex called out, standing up and headed towards her bed. "Yeah, I have nothing else to work on!"

Alex retrieved the laptop off of her bed and Oliver frowned. "Didn't I ask you to write up multiple documents for me?" She smiled coyly. "I already did them. I'm a fast typer."

The blonde girl handed the laptop off to the ginger girl and sat back down on the couch. "The notes are all here. Everything's in chronological order and all the photos to reference are in the hard drive, labeled by dates and referenced by types of abuse."

"You would make a good lawyer" Oliver said, smiling. "Yeah, maybe in another life. My sister's more the one to be the lawyer kind" She said and wiped her palms across the pant legs of her jeans. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous. She had no clue how people were going to receive the news of Everette.

Would they be happy that she was no longer dating him? Would people be upset that she's using her voice so proudly? What exactly was going to happen, and who was going to pick this story up? Alex could feel the anxiety in the pit of her stomach, and remembered some book she read once.

'Anxiety is a stimulus without a source'

She had a source, she thought. Everette was the root of all her worries. Without him, she would be free. A piece of her wished he would just die. Or maybe be arrested. One of the two. Whichever got him out of her life as quick as possible. Maybe he could move halfway across the country and she'd never have to see him again. That would facilitate him forgetting about her first, though. That would be a long shot.

Jail. Or death.

"We can get people to pick up this story in the news" Oliver spoke up as he watched Avery work. She had gotten the word document up and was referencing some pretty heinous bruises when Alex stood up and walked into the bathroom. She stopped and stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked more familiar, like she could recognize the person she was looking at. Over the past couple of months of staying at the hotel, Alex felt unrecognizable. Like she was living in a shell of who she was supposed to be. Now she feels like she'd broken whatever mold she was thrusted into and was butterflying her way out of the cocoon.

She started at the white t-shirt she had thrown over her body this morning. Some band t-shirt for somebody she didn't recognize it. She didn't own it. None of these clothes belonged to her, and yet she was endowed with an accumulation of clothing from the hotel. From Oliver. She tried to remember that.

Oliver provided this all for her. She turned the sink on and splashed cold water onto her face. She didn't wear make up often, so this was no issue for her. She wiped her face off with a towel, and walked back out of the bathroom.

"You okay?" Oliver questioned as she sat back down. "I'm fine. Just tired." She lied. She was exhausted. Tired wasn't enough of a word for it. She felt like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and all she had to do was remember everything to keep the pressure off her back. Without that, the world would come barreling down and crush her clean off the map.

"How are you doing, Avery?"

"I'm almost done." She replied, looking up from the keys she was previously spent tapping away on. "Really? Already?" Alex queried

"Yup! You'll just need to change what you want to change, add the photos, and you can post it."

Alex sighed. She could feel the world lift just a bit higher on her back. Just a little bit of pressure releasing. She clamped her hands together and felt around her wrists. They were thin. She hadn't been eating as often as she should've been. There wasn't time. She hadn't been drinking enough water, either.

Just focusing on her career, theatre, and exposing Everette. She stared down at the floor. "....And... done!" Avery said, and flipped the computer around to face Alex. She stared back at the masterpiece placed in her lap.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" She added on. "No, this is perfect, thank you!" Avery smiled back towards Alex and tilted her head. "Anything for you. I'm always here... but... not literally. I have to go. I'll check up on you later, okay?"

Alex looked her in the eyes and nodded. The ginger girl stood up and meandered her way up to the door, unlatching it, and making her way out. Oliver scooted over to be sitting in the middle of the couch instead of off to the side, sharing it with somebody else. He made it his.

"So, what do you need to change?" He asked out, kicking his feet up onto the table to rest them. Alex pulled the laptop onto her lap and began rearranging the wording. "Not much. Just need to change some things here or there."

Oliver started to beam at her. "What?"

"You just look so different sat over a laptop than you do sat over a mic."

Alex could feel her cheeks go red. "Well, it's a much different process, isn't it? Writing versus recording? I have to give my all when I'm recording."

Oliver's lips formed an amused line. "And you don't have to give your all for this?"

Alex looked up at him and shook her head. "No. Avery's done most of the work for me. I'm really just editing it."

He nodded in return. "I get it. Hey, I'll swing back around later, yeah?" He started to stand up and pointed towards the door with his thumbs. "Go" She replied, a smile spreading across her own lips. He was a busy man. He had a whole hotel to run. He couldn't partake in her silly games of retribution today, and that was fine by her.

He made his own way out of the hotel suite, leaving Alex to her lonesome. She looked over the wording a bit more before making her final edits. She copied and pasted it and went onto her photo software to compile all the photos together. She put them side by side in a collage so that it would all fit, because most social media sites had a limit on how many photos you could include.

Alex had a lot of photos, and videos, and journal entries. She had so much. So much evidence. She put as much of it as she could into four slides for Twitter, and ten slides for Instagram. She added text on the screen of the Instagram slides to explain what was happening, because not everyone read long captions. She took a deep breath in and hit 'Post' on all of the websites before closing down her computer.

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jkvjimin · 7 months ago

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I refuse to believe he's real 😩 cr. namuspromised

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starmocha · 2 months ago

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Remember when I said the Grassland!Sylus childhood friends/arranged marriage/soulmates AU was at around 4.6k words?

she grew and I still have like three scenes I need to finish writing, but instead of doing that, I kept writing new scenes and...I think I lost control of the story and my life (╥_╥)

So I'm posting another snippet, because...my brain is tired and I really, really, really want to finish this by Sunday because I have another AU wip that I'm also obsessed with I mean I need to finish part 3 of that other Sylus breeding kink fic I promise it's coming

Reminder that this story will include light breeding kink, pregnancy kink, smut, body worship, gratuitous usages of terms of endearment ("my bride" and "my beloved"), Sylus being grossly in love with you, basically lots of fluff. Anyhoo...

The following morning you were lazing in the field as the flock of sheep grazed peacefully all around you. The warm sunlight had you yawning, already feeling yourself being lured by the tempting sun into drifting back to sleep. As the time passed, your eyes felt heavier, and you nodded off a little. Another yawn escaped before you decided a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Slowly, you closed your eyes, letting them rest for a few minutes. “Is this what you do when I’m not here?” You immediately opened your eyes when you heard Sylus’ approaching voice. You let out a soft surprised squeak when he knelt down next to you, his face looming just mere inches from yours. He was smirking. “Lazing around and sleeping? What if your sheep gets stolen by wild beasts, my beloved?” You glared at him. “I was not sleeping. I…was blinking.” “Your eyes were closed for far longer than a blink should be.” “I had some dust in my eyes.” “I’m quite sure I heard you snoring.” You blushed and shoved his face aside, glowering when he started laughing at you. “Did you come all the way out here just to tease me?” “Mmhmm,” he answered with a pleased nod as he sat back with his legs propped up. His elbow rested on top of his leg while he cradled his chin in his hand. You noticed in his other hand was a wreath crafted from leaves and berries. Your heart quickened and you gasped softly. You looked at him expectantly. It was at that moment that you noticed the dark bags under his eyes. You crawled over to him and he sat back, allowing you to settle in between his long legs. You reached up and touched his face. “Did you not sleep last night?” you asked him worriedly. He simply smiled and shook his head. Without a word, Sylus placed the wreath on top of your head. You reached up and touched it tentatively as you looked at him confused. “I wanted to finish this for you,” he explained, smiling, “Just as I had thought. This suits you.” “R-really?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed again, nodding. He leaned in to steal your lips. “You look beautiful.” “Sylus…” You could feel your cheeks warming up as he spoke. “Now everyone will know you are mine and I am yours.” You felt touched by his gesture. Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, surprising him into losing his balance. Sylus laid on the grass with you on top of him. You grinned and kissed him happily. He looked up, gasping softly when he saw the sunlight had formed a radiant halo behind your head. How…ethereal... He smiled, his hand gently grasped your chin, his thumb brushing over your soft, trembling lips. “We are already promised to one another,” he said, “but if I may be presumptuous, I would still like to ask.” You looked down at him confused. “My beloved,” he said, voice soft and sincere, “will you be my bride?” You stroked his cheek, and as you leaned down closer to his face, your wreath tilted on your head. “What do you think?” He smiled. “Your wreath is going to fall off.” “You’ll put it back on for me, right?” He huffed in amusement at your audacious question, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, reaching up to fix the wreath for you, “I will…my bride.” For that brief moment, you felt like your heart had stopped, and then you smiled again as you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you and holding you close to his body. “This is my vow to you, my bride” he said, “There is only you in my eyes. In this life and all of the lifetimes afterwards, I will always choose you.” “Same for me,” you answered, gazing back at him fondly. You stroked his cheek, letting yourself drown in those passionate crimson eyes. “I will always find you,” you promised, “In all of our lives together, I will always find you and choose you, my love.” Your ardent words beckoned his lips to yours, and for the rest of the day, you lay together under the warm morning sun on the grassland, lost in your own world of bliss.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #x — fanfics ⋆ wips #can i just say #my average word count is typically around 2-4k words #not #whatever has been happening lately with the sylus fics #this is not normal behavior for me #the sylus brain rot is an outlier and should not be giving people any expectations of me #（┬┬＿┬┬）#but i am lowkey excited about this fic #so i will try to finish by sunday #ಥ‿ಥ

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sollucets · 10 months ago

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veiled zhou zishu

#word of honor #zhang zhehan #zhou zishu #rowan gifs #💜💜💜#userbon #tusermona #baek1nho #tuserashinlae #roserayne #lizlookatthis #seamayweed #tostrangers #i got my hands on 4k woh as u can perhaps see #i am doing my best with it in honor of this Absolute Look.#he and wen kexing are fighting during the conference so what im hearing is i have a chance #with this beautiful man and his divorcee disguise

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cheese-n-crack · 5 days ago

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doodles for an au that i may or may not ever post

#princezam #kaboodle #squiddo #lifesteal fanart #lifesteal smp #i only have 4k words of it written and like 2 of them make sense #this was kinda just an excuse to test out photoshop #cus i needed it for a class

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silverskye13 · 8 months ago

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Helsknight showing up bloody at Welsknight’s base please I need suffering 🙏

There was something to be said about the stupid things he was willing to do in the name of self preservation. Damn his fears, and the unfairness of the universe, and the uncertainty of living [and dying] and everything else. The unknown had always been his greatest weakness, his greatest betrayer. Pity it was also one of the few inescapable things about living in general.

To say Helsknight stepped into Hermitcraft would be a terrible injustice of what stepping normally, let alone gracefully, looked like. What he actually did was stagger and drag himself into Hermitcraft on unsteady and shaking limbs. There were holes in him. He hadn't really taken inventory of them yet. Admitting he had a wound [or several] was enough. The minute he admitted the wounds were bad, in certain terms his mind could comprehend, was the minute shock would steal his senses. He was on Hermitcraft for the specific reason of dodging death, and it seemed to him shock, on any level, meant dying. If he wanted to die and roll the dice of respawn, he would have died in hels, in the alley he'd been jumped in, where he could at least take comfort in familiar cobblestones and the knowledge he'd dragged all his attackers down with him. But he didn't want to die, so he was here.

It was dark. He was inside a building. He was bleeding. Wels was nearby. Those were the only things he needed to know for certain. Helsknight looked around, trying to ignore the sluggish tilt his vision offered when he moved too quickly. The double vision of trying to parse memories of a place that weren't his battled with his wounded animal double vision and together they made him feel nauseous, more so than his wounding already did. Helsknight balled a fist against his sternum, like he could hold himself together that way, and concentrated very hard on walking and nothing else.

Helsknight didn't like being this close to Wels. Not while he was this injured. He could feel the awareness of his other half like a spider on his skin. There was a reflex-like urge to shout and try to shake it off, the instinct-like certainty that if it rested on him long enough it would find a reason to bite him. And he knew, in the way only experience could teach, that if he could feel Wels, Wels could feel him. Helsknight had the sensation of walking a tightrope: his body insisted speed was the only thing that could save him, while his mind insisted he must stay unnoticed. He must balance necessity with making his thoughts and emotions small, and it was hard work to do when he was losing blood.

Helsknight blinked slowly, tiredly. He picked a direction and walked, a hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself upright. Wels's potion room was nearby, a borrowed half-memory informed him, he just had to get there. He searched his drifting thoughts for a poem to repeat in his head, to keep fear and uncertainty from rising. His heartbeat was quickening, a symptom of something; panic, or fear, or blood loss, or all three combined. He was fixing one of those things. He needed to carefully manage the other two, before Wels felt them. The only poem he could think of was in Middle English, and mostly gibberish to him, which told him it came from Wels's memories somewhere.

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Rhyming child with child was a lazy, but this was written back when one could convincingly spell "down" as "doun" so he supposed he shouldn't be overly critical. The real trick was figuring out if "derling" was supposed to mean "darling", or some other archaic word lost to time. He could only figure out so much from context clues. "Mourning" apparently transcended centuries, and that seemed fitting. Everyone knew mourning, in some form or another.]

An ache opened up beneath his clenched fist, or it had always been there, and his body was only just now reinforcing the fact that it was important. It felt like the mother of all cramps in his muscles, and he stubbornly pretended that's what it was. He needed more potassium in his diet or something, and the gods would forgive him the smear he left on the wall when he leaned on it, waiting on the intensity of his pain to ebb. The doorway he was walking towards seemed close, but also very, very far. Closing distance with it was going a lot slower than he thought it would, and it was only one short hallway. He was glad he'd decided to do this, instead of his other half-considered option of attempting to walk across hels to the Colosseum. He wouldn't have made it.

Dread pooled in his stomach. Dread, and other more physical things, like blood, probably, but he pretended the dread bit was more important. He could feel Wels pricking on his skin again, an insistent spider twitching at a breath on his web. Helsknight breathed out the steadiest breath he could manage.

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Sorwe. What medieval idiot thought "sorrow" was spelled like "sorwe"? Maybe it had something to do with inflection. Poetry was half words, half rhythm. Maybe "sorwe" was supposed to indicate they wanted the reader to pronounce "sorrow" as a single syllable, so it sounded more like "sore". That's also probably why "bothe y-same" was sitting there like word vomit. They meant "both the same", but wanted it read without a pause between the first two words. It was really the method for the madness that mattered with poetry.]

Helsknight blinked. He was in the potion room. He couldn't fully remember the walk down the hallway, but that didn't matter. What mattered was there should be health potions in here somewhere, his salvation. Relief edged his vision in stars, and he once again felt Wels's attention cant in his direction, confused and curious. Wels didn't associate feelings of relief with Helsknight. It wasn't an emotion they felt in each other's presence, and it was far too strong to be muffled by the distance to hels.

[He knows I'm here.]

Helsknight opened a chest and rifled through it. His vision was protesting. Stars and tilting that would turn to spinning soon made a clutter of his eyes. It got hard to distinguish the colors of the stoppered bottles. He picked up one that felt overly warm to his cold and shaking fingers. He was pretty sure it was a health potion. It felt too hot, but he reminded himself he was cold from losing blood, so it should feel hot. Hesitantly removed his fist from where it was balled in front of his sternum, and let his eyes unfocus when he grasped the bottle's stopper. His hands were so unsteady, it took a couple tries just to grab it, and when he pulled on the cork, his fingers slipped off weakly. He tried again, eyes closed with concentration, pouring every ounce of his strength into the act of pulling a stopper out of a bottle, only for his hand to slip right off again.

Frustrated, nearing desperate, he looked down at himself for a clean place to wipe his hand on his tunic. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he did it. His eyes were inexorably drawn from the fabric to the poke-holes in it, to the wine-dark stain that flowed down his front and still dripped tak-tak-tak slow and inexorable onto the floor. It was a woeful amount of blood. He was honestly surprised he wasn't dead yet. Chalk it up to fortitude, and ignorance, and size. He had more blood to lose than some people did.

Helsknight's world suddenly gave an awful twist, vertigo and the crescendoing, cramping agony of his wounds, only staved off by how his now shattered ignorance, kicking him off his feet just as surely as a horse could. He slumped against the wall, and then to the floor, and the awful jarring of it hurt him worse. Half a dozen other wounds on him aired their grievances, and the big one near his sternum pushed blood onto his fist when he clutched it. Helsknight sat pinned, unable to breathe for many long seconds, feeling a bit like he'd been struck by lightning. The pain was blinding and numbing and overwhelming all at once.

Why-- have no-- have ye no-- something something...

[Words. Breathe. Think of words.]

[Gods... But it hurts......]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

[And what the hels did "routhe" mean, anyway? He knew the word "route". He knew the name "Ruth". Neither of them fit, unless his bloodless brain was missing something. There was a chance "routhe" was supposed to be read like "bothe", as a double word slurred together, but that still left "routhe the" which made less sense in context than "routhe" did.]

Right. He was supposed to be doing something other than bleeding to death on the floor. Helsknight blinked, looked down at his hand and realized the health potion he'd grabbed was gone. He must have dropped it when he slumped over. Looking around, he spotted it just to the side of his left boot, unbroken, thankfully, but it might as well be a lifetime away for all the good it did him. Helsknight knew without a shadow of a doubt he couldn't reach it. The idea of tensing his muscles and dragging himself forward to reach was exhausting, and he hurt so much he knew the movement would feel like tearing himself in half, and there were just some things a mind couldn't power through. Helsknight laughed dismally and let his head fall onto his chest. Both motions were white hot agonies, but all his pains were starting to blur together into a smear of overwhelming sensation that took thought away. It occurred to him he was breathing too fast, like he'd run too far too fast, and his fluttering heartbeat agreed.

[... It hurts...]

[Gods and saints it hurts.]

[I'm dying.]

A feeling he could only describe as doom fell on his shoulders, a cold grasp of fear that wrapped stony hands around his heart and squeezed. He'd heard of this. Never felt it himself. The utter sureness that if he didn't do something now, he would die. All the unconscious bits in his body in charge of keeping him working all unanimously agreeing they needed divine intervention, preferably right now, before they started shutting down. It wasn't something he often had occasion to feel, though he had heard people tell of it after particularly grizzly matches and bloody tournaments. Death was normally too quick in the Colosseum, or else he'd won his match, and even if he was falling to pieces there was a health potion too close to hand to let him dwell on his harms. This was so terribly different. Death stalked toward him unhurried and unbothered, waiting on him to finish drowning in blood. He might panic, if he wasn't already so cold and scared.

"Ah. This makes some sense, anyway."

Helsknight, who had stopped seeing the world in front of himself without really closing his eyes, refocused his vision on the open doorway. Wels stood there, an angel of death in azure and silver, his sword in his hand. His eyes were the ruthless blue of hels freezing over and lifeless corpses, and Helsknight thought there was no one else in the world he would rather not watch him die. But the universe hated him, so here Wels was, just as surely as if he was fated.

"I didn't think all that fear could possibly be for me."

Helsknight tried to reply, but all he managed was a dying-animal noise that strangled itself out when he tried to breathe a little steadier. He tried again, and this time managed a very weak, but vaguely defiant, "Fuck off."

"Rude," Wels said chastisingly. A glow of something like smug satisfaction prickled Helsknight's skin. The feeling came from Wels. "Especially given I'm the only person who can save you."

Helsknight chuckled, and then stopped when his body seized painfully around the motion. "We both know you don't want to save me."

"No," Wels admitted. "But I don't want to do a lot of unpleasant things I agree to do anyway."

"How... charitable."

"It is a virtue."

"Sure."

Wels didn't move. Well, he did move, but only to sheath his sword. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, the image of patience, as though they had all the time in the world.

[Hungry spider. Waiting on a web for something to struggle.]

"If you're waiting on me to beg," Helsknight informed him through staggering breaths, "I won't."

"Too prideful?"

Helsknight searched himself momentarily for pride, and came up short. Pride would've dictated he die in the alley, instead of here where Wels could lord it over him. This was something different than pride.

"No."

"Then why not?" Wels asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just say, 'Welsknight, please give me a health potion'. Or if you're feeling monosyllabic, just 'please' will work."

Helsknight managed a smirk. "Why not help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"I don't have any kindness for people like you."

[People like you. What a loaded phrase.]

Have ye no routhe on my child?

There was an entire philosophical debate that could happen in the phrase 'people like you' that Helsknight had neither the time or the energy to bother with. Besides, it was all words Wels knew. Wels pretended to be a chivalric knight. Chivalric knights helped the weak. Chivalric knights saved the defenseless. Helsknight, for all the grievances of his existence, was both right now. Then again, the chivalric knights were also supposed to make war against their enemies mercilessly, so he supposed Wels would be in his rights, as a chivalric knight, to walk away and let him die slowly and painfully on the ground.

As if sensing his thoughts, and likely because he could actually sense his thoughts a bit, Wels said, "You are always going on about how I need to be a better knight. There's something ironic here. No matter what I decide, I think you'll owe me an apology regardless."

The feeling of doom, of bone-deep, agonizing dying mantled over Helsknight again and Wels stopped existing to him. His sense of urgency, of desperation to live clawed its way up his throat. He tried to move his arm, his leg. He got his fingers to twitch. He tried to lean forward, to drag himself with willpower alone towards that stupid potion just out of reach. The potion he wasn't even strong enough to open. His vision collapsed in quickly, and he only knew he'd cried out because he was breathless. But he hadn't moved, besides managing to lull his head forward onto his chest again. Cold fear crawled around in his empty guts, a relentless, caged animal that refused to stop squirming.

[I'm dying.]

[Breathe.]

[I'm dying.]

A shadow fell over him, a presence freighted with hate, and deserving, and dissonant guilt. Wels had come forward, only to stop short when Helsknight's terror swept over him like a wave, and he stood baffled by it, and guilty for it. The fool knight probably thought Helsknight was scared of him. If only. Helsknight thought he would prefer that. At least then he could manage to die gracefully. Wels's fortitude bricked itself up against him then, a bitter soul trying to will itself to be cold and cruel, and Helsknight was thankful for it. It staved off his fear, if only a little.

"What did you do to bring this on, anyway?" Wels asked breathlessly, trying to recover his resolve. Looking for a reason to hate him.

"I was... walking home."

"That's it?" He sounded so skeptical, it was almost funny.

"I committed the terrible sin..." Helsknight laughed out a breath, "... of being fearless when I should have been cautious."

"Hubris."

"Habit."

"Yeah right."

"If I got stabbed like this every day, I wouldn't have come crawling here."

Wels glowered, parsing this statement for truth. Helsknight might have mustered some hate in him for it, if he wasn't so scared. His vision had taken on a permanent blur, and he was getting cold. He hadn't gone numb yet, which was something he found profoundly cruel. He wanted to be numb. To stop hurting. To stop fearing.

[Breathe.]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Derworth... "Dearworth", probably. Beloved. So "derling" was probably "dearling", which turned into "darling". Middle English was strange. Just slightly to the left of normal. He didn't think "tak" was a word anymore, except where it existed as pieces of words. "Tak" to "take", to take hold, maintain, maybe. "Tak" to "tack" like a nail. "Prik" also, like "pricking" flesh, like a point digging.]

"Hold down the road, my dearworth child," Helsknight muttered. "Or pick me a road with my darling."

"What?"

"Stupid poem."

"How much blood have you lost?"

Helsknight laughed, and his whole body flinched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because his pain was so alive and electric it almost stopped being pain. The concern from Wels was laughable. He wished Wels would make up his mind about whether or not he cared. Then he could get on with dying, and the terror would stop, and the universe would take him or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, he would respawn and sleep for a week. He felt Wels's hand on his wrist, which was its own kind of hilarious.

"Trying to figure out how many heartbeats I have left?" Helsknight asked.

It would be nice to know. If Wels figured it out, he hoped he would share the information. Then Helsknight could keep count.

"Your heart's too fast."

"That happens."

Wels stood up and paced, all nervous energy, back and forth across the room.

"You don't deserve my help," Wels told him scathingly, angry for how conflicted he felt. "You don't. You've been nothing but cruel ever since we met."

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

["Pine", like pining. Or pain. More pain? Punishment maybe. "Don" to done. Something like: More pain to me could not be done than to let me live in sorrow and shame.]

Helsknight decided whoever wrote this poem had never been stabbed. He'd felt both sorrow and shame, and neither of them packed quite this amount of punch, in his opinion.

"It probably goes against my tenets anyway," Wels continued, still pacing. "And yours too. Aren't you the one who follows some crazy death god?"

"... Saint... of Blood and Steel."

"He probably thinks dying in a puddle on my floor is glorious."

"... they."

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Maybe he was just getting better at this, or maybe this part was just easy. "As love I'm bound to my son, so let us die, both the same." It didn't flow very neatly when it was simpler. Maybe Middle English wasn't that stupid.]

"I can't help but think you did this on purpose to... I don't know. Test me somehow. Prove you're better. Weak again, Welsknight! For helping your enemy when you should have let him die, or speed him along. Don't you know knights are supposed to be cruel?"

Helsknight tried to call up his own tenets, or Wels's tenets, or anything to do with knights and their duties. He got a little lost on his way, his thoughts meandering and dying, and gasping back to life again when they remembered they were supposed to be searching for something. Something he was scared of. Dying. A wave of fear crashing over him that made Wels flinch, and bid Helsknight keep breathing, because any agony was worth not confronting that one, great, crippling unknown.

"What would you do in my place?" Wels asked him suddenly. "Answer me that, perfect knight. What would you do if the person you hated most showed up one day bleeding on your floor?"

That... was an excellent question. Helsknight searched briefly for the answer, and found it wasn't very hard to find.

"I would help."

"You're lying," Wels said guardedly.

"I... can't lie."

"Then you're dodging the truth. What would you do?"

"I would heal you if I could. Or I would kill you if I couldn't." With strength he didn't know he even still had, Helsknight leaned his head back against the wall. It was easier to breathe that way. To talk.

"Why?"

"No creature is deserving of dishonor or pain."

"That's not a tenet."

"It's not a chivalric tenet." Helsknight shrugged one shoulder weakly. "Chivalry states you can hang my guts from the ceiling if I'm your enemy."

"It does not."

"It might as well."

Wels didn't seem to have a ready reply for that.

"What is routhe?"

Wels blinked down at him, guarded and confused. "Routhe?"

"Routhe." Helsknight repeated, as though it were helpful. "Middle English."

"As in?"

"Poetry."

"Use it in a sentence."

"Why have ye no routhe on my child?"

"Ruth." Wels said, a bit too quickly, like he'd known what Helsknight was asking and was trying to avoid the answer. "We don't use it as ruth anymore. It shows up in rue, like regret, or sorrow. And... ruthless."

"Merciless."

"Yes."

Why have you no mercy on my child?

"Why are you asking about Middle English while you're bleeding to death on my floor?"

Helsknight let out a breath. It hurt, but everything did. "Stupid poem."

"Can I hear it?"

"I'm busy bleeding to death on your floor."

"Tell me and I'll heal you."

There it was again, asking for an excuse. That was Wels's real cowardice, his failing as a knight. He was scared of making decisions. Scared of dealing with the consequences of his actions. Paralyzed by indecision. He wanted to hate Helsknight because it was justified. He wanted to watch him suffer, because hatred allows suffering. He didn't want to label himself cruel, nor be accused of weakness, or softheartedness, if he showed mercy. And he didn't want to pick up his sword and kill, if it meant killing someone defenseless. He wanted Helsknight to give him a reason to act, so he could blame it on him later if it turned out wrong. Given it would likely be Helsknight rubbing his nose in it later if it was wrong, he couldn't really blame him for that.

Helsknight closed his eyes and counted his heartbeats, and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Do what you will."

An hour long minute ticked by. Helsknight felt the time moving like it was physical, like he was falling through it and he couldn't catch himself, and he was nearing his limits. He thought the only thing stopping him from begging for it all to stop was the crushing weight of his fatigue, the exponential strength it took to take his next breath, and that stupid poem, skipping in a circle in his head. It kept his thoughts away from his fear, from bearing the weight of the unknown that came next. It was still there, a nameless, formless anxiety that formed the undercurrent of his thoughts. But he didn't have to think about it when he was busy being annoyed about a poem stuck in his head.

Wels moved. He stooped to pick up the potion Helsknight had dropped and unstoppered it deftly. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped him drink, aware that every movement could cause pain. Helsknight could feel Wels's caution in the air like wings, like a bird hovering before it lands. The first potion wasn't enough to heal him completely, so he got a second from his chests and helped him with that as well, one hand hovering over Helsknight's wounds, waiting on the skin to knit back together. Helsknight got to his feet, shaky, and feeling like he'd been wrung dry of all vitality. There was no pain to speak of, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and exhausted.

"You should rest before you go anywhere," Wels said, words of pragmatic care that sounded stilted coming from him. "I can get you some water."

"I'll be fine," Helsknight told him, allowing himself some hesitant pride now that the smothering pain was gone. Even exhausted, he could think so much more clearly now -- think at all, really. And he thought the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance Wels would come to regret his decision to heal him. They were not made to like each other. They didn't even respect each other as enemies. And Helsknight knew if they fought now, he would lose, and he might lose very badly, if Wels decided to leave him to bleed out again. It was something Wels had never done before, but if he could convince himself Helsknight deserved it, he would.

"Do what you will, then," Wels said, bitterness creeping into his tone. He probably thought he was being coy and ironic. Helsknight mostly thought it was annoying.

"The poem isn't mine," Helsknight said. "It's one you've read before. Middle English. Why have ye no routhe on my child. I don't know the title. It might just be the first line. I think it's a lament."

"... I see."

"Next time you find yourself bleeding out on someone's floor," Helsknight snorted, "Pick something stupid like that. It makes things... manageable."

"Right... manageable."

Helsknight gave a helpless sort of shrug, as though what he'd just said were perfectly normal.

Wels mustered an enviable facsimile of concern when he said, "I've never felt terror like that before."

Helsknight felt his already parched mouth somehow go drier. The sympathy he felt rolling off of Welsknight was sickening. Literally. He could feel himself becoming nauseous.

"What are you so scared of?"

Shame, red hot and searing, clawed at the inside of Helsknight's ribs. He wished so badly he could hide it. Distract himself from it. At least turn it into anger. But he was tired, and he didn't know how to bring his emotions back to heel, and Welsknight was already giving him an open, piteous look like maybe they'd stumbled onto something significant. He could feel hope there, like maybe there was a reason they hated each other like they did, and if Wels could figure out where that fear came from, they could find common ground -- or at least the leverage Wels needed to make Helsknight relent.

"I don't need your pity, white knight," Helsknight snarled. "Go sate your savior complex somewhere else."

Wels scowled. A cold wall of loathing, resigned and inevitable, closed itself around anything else he could possibly feel.

[As it should be.]

Hours later, home and safe, Helsknight cracked open his journal and wrote:

Why have you no mercy on my child?

Have mercy on me, so full of mourning;

Take down the road my dearworth child,

O give me a road with my darling!

More pain to me could not be done

Than to let me live in sorrow and shame

As with love I am bound to my son,

So let us die then, both the same.

#Situations Asks #rns asks #anonymous #tw wounds #tw blood #tw dying #tw fear #welsknight #helsknight #[jazzhands] mind the tags she's an intense one!#And also very long #4k words woooo #The poem in Middle English is Why Have Ye No Routhe On My Child #it is supposedly from the 14th century #but i had a very very hard time finding sources for it #so take that with a heavy grain of salt #i will say the middle english -> modern english translation is mine #done using the Chaucer Dictionary from the University of Cambridge #As well as the Oxford Middle English Compendium #take the translation with a grain of salt its one of maybe twice i've done something like this #but i think it stayed decently faithful to the source material #as faithful as someone who sucks at reading Middle English can make a translation anyway #rns ficlet

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pangeen · 2 years ago

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“ Wise Words From a Legend “ // Sir Christopher Walken

#Motivation #Inspiration #wise words #quotes #Video Quotes #selfcare #relationship #friendship #4K #8K #reels #aesthetics #explore #follow #discover

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jeyunhos · 5 days ago

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Reputation | jyh

pairing: professor!yunho x college student!fem!reader cw: power dynamics, professor x student, cunnilingus, 18+ minors do not interact. Summary: Your creative writing professor is so hot you're about to fail his class. Dying to help you, the both of you figure out a new method to increase your penmanship. A/N: glasses yunho is driving me crazy, you hear me, CRAZY

You ever had a teacher with a sort of reputation? The crazy one, the smelly one, the strict one... There's probably a repertoire of clichés and boxes you could fit every single one of this semester's teachers in, but recently, you had grown fond of one particular class: Creative Writing, with professor Jeong Yunho, the dreamy one.

Yunho had a reputation alright, a reputation as the one teacher every girl fell for. Leave alone his absolutely stunning looks, he was kind, patient, and gentle, an all-rounder of a teacher who could instruct a rock on how to write wonderful pieces if he put his mind to it.

One problem, you didn't care for his class at all. Sure, it was fun to try but you were close to failing due to your enormous crush on the man, and you figured your were doomed to continue that way, since the only way to get over him, was to get under him.

You were busy daydreaming about being tied to his office chair as you walked the corridors when you heard your name bounce off the walls and a light trotting behind you. You were snapped back to reality and turned around only to see professor Yunho himself joining you with a huff of his cheeks.

"Phew! I got to catch you." he said excitedly, panting lightly from the sudden outburst of energy he had used.

"Professor" you started, trying to hide your delight and surprise "Is something wrong?" you asked, wondering what he would probably need you for.

"Do you have ten minutes before you head home? I've got to talk to you about your recent piece." in between his large hand he wiggled a foldered set of printed sheets with your most recent submission written on them.

"Sure, right here?" you asked, looking around at the vast prying eyes around you.

He answered with a shake of his head "Join me in my office for a bit."

You followed behind the man through the crowded maze that your school was, he was fast due to his long legs, and hence you were walking slightly behind him. The breeze would carry a bit of his cologne into your nose whenever it blew, heightening the infatuation you already held for him.

Rumors were also true, he was a complete gentleman. The second you got to his office he opened the door and moved aside to let you past and held the chair out for you to sit.

"So," he started as he fixed his suit jacket the moment he sat down "I'm worried about your final grade." Yunho went straight to the tone, which let you know that whatever fantasy you were having about being bent over the desk was not happening.

"What do you mean?" you feigned innocence, knowing damn well that you were close to repeating the class. Well, not that you would mind staring at him for another whole semester, but it wasn't exactly something you could afford.

"Yes, however..." he started, pulling the file open to look at the printed version of your work "Despite having submitted every assignment, your scores have been constantly low and that's because," he cleared his throat, as if trying to find less harsh words to describe your work "the pieces are just not good."

You felt a blush, proof of your embarrassment, creep around your face through your neck, your sight lowered in shame, something he immediately noticed. Your final project was writing a short story about romance, with a twist, and an ending of your choice.

"Let's go over some lines slowly" he said with a gentle, charming smile "For example, this one 'in that moment they felt they were falling in love'" he explained. "Do you see what is wrong with that line?"

"They weren't falling in love?" you asked innocently, not really sure of what he wanted you to answer.

Your little joke caused him to laugh in the form of a chuckle. He was mostly amused by the hardness of your head. He leaned backwards and looked up at you.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked nonchalantly, as if he was asking 'how have you been?' to an old friend.

With you, you thought to yourself, but of course that couldn't leave your lips.

"Not exactly sure." you admitted finally.

He let out a sigh and nodded mostly to himself .

"In writing, you don't really want to tell the audience what the characters are doing or feelings are experimenting, it reduces imagination to a mere instruction." he explained "You want to tell them about everything else but the actual feeling. So, say, if the characters were falling in love, instead of saying it straight out, you want to describe the way their hearts raced, or how they couldn't pry their eyes from each other despite the chaos around them, or how they longed for something so much more than a mere graze of their lips." he tried to explain to you, but in your face he could see you were not grasping it. "But I guess that's hard if you've never experienced it first hand."

You nodded along with every bit of his explanation, and there was a hint of disappointment and hurt on your face when he finally finished his sentence.

Picking up on this, he gently tapped his hands on the desk and reincorporated himself to lean forward "Let's try something else." he proposed, catching your attention "I'll give you a week, rewrite the thing, but don't do romance, do erotica instead." he asked with a smile on your face.

"Erotica?" you inquired, quite surprised by this new task.

"It's hard to say we have experienced love" he said "But we've all been aroused, it's in our programming as mammals" with a grin, he handed the folder over to you "All my notes are there, write some erotica, send it to my e-mail, and we can talk about your final grade, alright?"

With a swipe of his hand, he ended up dismissing you. You obliged and left the office, albeit reluctantly since being alone with him had been a delight, and headed home to begin working.

Not that you were foreign to fantasizing about sexual scenarios, especially involving him, but putting them into words was a whole other ordeal. 'We all have been aroused' these words resonated in your head, and so, you got all hands on deck.

Four days later, your final manuscript was in his inbox, and only a few hours afterwards you got another e-mail:

[email protected]: Please meet me at 8:00pm in my office to discuss the grade.

8? That was kind of late, but you figured he was in a rush since the semester was ending soon and all the final grades had to be uploaded to the school online system. Plus, it's not like you were exactly in the position to refuse anything, your passing grade was at stake.

You dolled yourself up a bit right before the agreed time, just in case you figured, and went on your merry way. The university halls were creepily abandoned due to the late hour save for some offices with the lights still on, part of being the end of the semester you guessed, and it made you feel uneasy; said feeling disappeared almost immediately once you reached the right door. "Professor Jeong Yunho" it read.

"Come in" you heard a raspy voice call after you knocked.

He himself was a sight to behold. Hair slightly disheveled, suit jacket laid over the back of the chair, black turtleneck shirt on. He looked tired and felt like so.

"So?" you said with a cheery voice, trying to lighten the mood, as you approached the chair.

He let out a sigh, similar to last time but now more exasperated "Still not good." he blurted out.

You could tell his guard was down, because the Yunho you knew as your teacher wouldn't talk so roughly, yet there was something thrilling about said demeanor, something inherently hot to seeing him so worked up.

"You keep describing the actions, this is even worse than the romance one." he added some salt to your wound "'they kissed roughly and she was pinned down to the bed'? This is not a report, this is supposed to be exciting, where's the erotism, the magnetism, the-" as he was ranting on his own with you sitting across his desk, looking amiss of words to be honest, he stopped himself half way when he came to a sudden realization.

"The...?" you tried to ask once he was staring at you in utter silence.

"Close your eyes." he ordered.

"What?" despite your eagerness to obey him, almost naturally, you had to double check that you were listening correctly

"We're going to do a little exercise, close your eyes." he said once more.

You finally obliged and shut your lids. You weren't entirely sure what was happening around you, but promptly you felt a presence behind you.

"I'm going to do a couple of things, I want you to describe to me how you feel when I do them." you could tell he was the presence you had felt from the direction of his voice.

Fuck. You had to be careful, this was getting dangerous. Despite your eagerness to be his little toy, you knew if you didn't tread lightly you could find yourself reported or expelled if he didn't feel the same. So, you made a mental note to actually pay attention and figure out if this little predicament could work out in your favor.

As you were conjuring your evil plan in your brain, he began to work on his own. You felt the tip of his fingers on the back of your hands, slowly crawling up through your forearms, your biceps, and finally your shoulders.

"Talk to me" he urged when you didn't respond "How do you feel?" he repeated himself.

"Warm." you said out loud, your eyes still shut.

It's not like you weren't trying, really, but his touch had wiped your mind blank effectively.

His head shook firmly in disappointment, there was no getting through to you no matter how complex the method he was using, and how certainly... risky. But he couldn't deny this new way was getting him excited, possibly in ways it was not exactly code-of-conduct-appropriate.

"I'll help you." he leaned over further to repeat the movement he had done seconds before, his head hovering next to your ear. "When I touch your hand your skin feels soft, almost silk-like. I grow curious, so my hands travel further up, your forearm is delightful, it sets within me a hunger I can only sasiate with the subtle violence of a bite, but I can't bring myself to do it, not just yet, there's so much I want to explore, so I continue my path until I get to your neck."

His words were beyond arousing to you. The way his hands and body mimicked everything he spoke of was setting your skin ablaze. You wanted him badly, and you had made it your resolve to finally get him to sleep with you, you didn't know how, but you were determined to lead him where you wanted.

"Try again." he instructed, his hands moving away from your neck. "Tell me how you feel."

You were slightly disappointed at the lack of contact, and you were worried you might have missed your window. However, something else entirely caused a gasp out of you. His lips were now grazing the base of your neck and you could feel the hot breath that came out of his mouth straight onto your skin.

"My skin feels like crawling with heat," you began to say "A tingle travels from my hand, following your touch all the way up to my neck; my expectations grow and I wonder just how far you will take this. Your lips wake the goosebumps whenever they touch, and I crave to feel them over my body."

As you spoke, you could lightly hear his breath hitch and, for a second, you could swear he was going to do it, he was going to kiss your neck, but he stopped.

"Seems like you got it" he said as he pulled back after clearing his throat. He moved from behind your chair to lean against his desk, his rear almost laying on it; his arms were crossed over his chest once you opened your eyes.

"Hardly" was all you could say, and you stole a glance at how his pants seemed to have gotten tighter on the front.

"Hardly?" he asked, his head tilting "Is there anything else you're struggling with?"

It was going to be like that, huh? He was not going to drop the teaching charade. Well, you knew a thing or two about playing the student in despair.

You stood up from where you were sitting and walked over to Yunho, your hands hidden innocently behind your back. He was getting a kick out of it, you could tell, perhaps Mr. Jeong was a lot more sinful that he looked at bare glances; well, you'd indulge him.

"Kisses, for example, how do you go from 'looking at each other' to 'kissing' without saying something lame like, I don't know, 'they kissed'?" now you were guiding the situation to where you wanted it to go, you figured.

"Well, with kisses you want to start slow, not quite jump right to it." he began to explain, still keeping his intellectual facade "Like..." he continued, his hand slowly raising to land on the back of your neck, his fingers playing lightly with the back of your hair. His eyes landed on yours and you could finally feel the desire that had been pooling between your legs mirrored in the darkness of his pupils "...this."

Once he finished his sentence he leaned in closer, his lips brushed yours and you tried to close the gap, but he pulled back the slightest. 'Fuck' you thought, but the second you wanted to pull back the hand that was holding your neck forced you otherwise.

Your lips melted together with his almost immediately and he had to inhale a sharp breath; it was only innocent for a couple of seconds, because after his free arm snaked around your waist, his palm to your lower back, all logic fell off the window. From both parts.

The chaste, educational kiss faded quickly and was replaced by his tongue brushing against your bottom lip in attempt to ask for entrance, a permission that was granted immediately. He was exploring the entirety of your mouth, ravishing on the taste of your tongue against his.

It wasn't long before both of you were consumed by the unmistakable desire to break one sacred rule, of diving into unexplored taboo of sleeping with your teacher. He picked up on it rather quick, and shortly he was pulling away.

He bounced himself off his desk and his hands guided you by the hips to turn around, flipping your positions. His hand was certainly gentle, but with such sturdiness you wouldn't even dare disobey his silent commands. One of them held your hair and pushed it down, bending you over his desk with your clothes still on.

This last statement didn't remain true for long, as his needy fingers quickly dived on your lower garments, dipping roughly inside the waistbands and pulling down altogether.

His lips pursed at the sight of your bare ass and cunt all laid down for him, his right thumb trailing your slit and clit teasingly.

"I don't have to narrate what happens next, do I?" he asked. It was his own version of asking for consent.

"I'll still take notes." you teased back, looking over your shoulder.

He let out an amused chuckle and you saw him begin fumbling with his zipper. There was a rumor that he was packing down there, and you were now confirming it with your own eyes. Not ginormous, but certainly a bit above average.

From his pocket, he pulled out a condom which he carefully ripped open to roll it over his shaft; once securely wrapped, he positioned himself on your entrance and slowly began to push it. The slightly painful stretch was delightful, poetic almost, to you.

"You okay?" he grunted under his breath, trying his best to not start pouding right away.

You simply replied with a positive hum and that was everything he needed. With enough force he began to thrust into you, deep and sensual at the beginning, and you could feel him gradually getting rougher.

You were smart enough to keep your moans at bay, but when he started to push all the way in to the point it felt like rearranging you, it became harder and harder. He couldn't be sure that there weren't other teachers around, since it was still around eight thirty, so he had to help you somehow; one of his hands as kept on your hip as grip and the other one had to be pressed up against your mouth. The palm was so wide it almost covered your nose too, and he was extra careful not to accidentally suffocate you.

As a result, your head was pulled back and slightly to the side where he was pressing from, leaving an area of your neck free to his admiration. His thrusts continued to pick up the pace and roughness, and at some point they became so strong the desk began to slide backwards, making an annoying, dragging sound with every thrust.

Yunho was forced to let go of your hip and bend over to hover over you. He was tall enough that his head reached yours and his hand was able to hold the other edge of the desk to stop it from dragging on the floor. As a consequence, your skin was near his lips once more, and he decided to give in to his previous temptation and bite down gently on your skin, leaving a hot mark behind but not a bruise.

"I can't hold back much longer." he said into your ear in an almost apologetic tone.

Your agreement was muffled by his hand, but you let him know it was okay. He continued to grunt and pant heavily against your skin with rough, powerful thrusts into your cunt, but the rhythm was more erratic, and you could tell he was close.

Finally, with a moan of your name that he muffled with your neck, he came.

Being honest, you were a little disappointed that you hadn't gotten to orgasm yourself, but having fucked him was already prize enough, you were not about to get greedy on an already wrong and thoroughly enjoyable sexual encounter.

As you were sunked in these thoughts, he pulled out from you and began fixing his clothes rather quickly. Following his lead, you leaned back up and reached down to pick up your own until his voice stopped you.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing?" he asked, reaching quickly after putting himself back in his pants to avoid you from putting your own back up. "No, no." he continued quickly, his free hand bending you over once more. "Rule number one of erotica: the woman is never left unsatisfied."

You weren't sure what he meant by that, was he going to fuck you again? Maybe, but you weren't sure he could just right away, sure he was young but.. oh.

The long lap at your clit from behind surprised you greatly and caused a long, quiet moan out of you. You could feel him lapping and sucking at your slit with renewed energy, and it was driving you insane just how well he was eating you out.

As he continued his ministrations with his tongue from behind, one of his thumbs reached for your clit, circling it slowly and deliberately, he knew pretty damn well where everything was and he was not about to be shy about it.

Your legs began to tremble, and he was moaning into your womanhood with every taste of it which only added fuel to the fire within you. It wasn't long before you started to feel the familiar tingle on your stomach., and seconds later you allowed yourself to cum against his mouth.

Satisfied with his performance and having reached his goal, he helped you with your clothes back up and walked over back to his chair with you still bent over the desk as you regained your composure. His head tilted so his cheek was almost touching the wooden surface and he could be eye-level with you.

"I expect your story by tomorrow, okay?" he said with an innocent smirk.

"Yes, professor" you said in between pants before you raised to your feet again "And thank you, this was very useful." you added.

That night, you went back to your home and began writing in extreme detail everything that man had done to you; all while changing names, locations, and times, of course. Nothing more erotic than keeping a secret, after all.

The story came out naturally and easily, with a newfound talent that you could have sworn was not there before, somehow Jeong Yunho had managed to fuck it out of you, and so, when you began to struggle with the last lines of your work, the image of his smiling face gave you a strike of genius:

'..and as the young girl hardly waddled out of the room, feeling refreshed, brought anew, she came to the realization that some men really do live up to their reputation."

#jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x you #jeong yunho x you #ateez x reader #ateez x you #fic: mine #i got carried away lmao #this is almost 4k words #buuuuuut i do hope its good enough so here you go

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