#AND I WROTE DOWN EXACTLY WHAT SHE SAID AND IT MADE SENSE IN CLASS

[watery-melon-baller]

its so fun :)) and awesome :)) that i cannot fucking make my brain focus on my homework :))) holy shit im gonna kill someone :)) why can't my brain just work for five fucking minutes :)) this is easy homework too I just can't concentrate on it at all :)) and it's due tomorrow morning :)))

[buildgrist]

I wrote this last year on Twitter, but since Empty Spaces has sort of abandoned ship, I'll post it here too:

"Funeral"

A woman's whole life changes the first time she sees a combat doll.

First-person, combat doll setting by Twitter user mars_phobos_L1

CW: Harassment, violence, military context, blood, personality changes, conditioning, surgery, unreliable memory

Story below cut:

1.

I washed out of combat training almost immediately, but it wasn’t enough to get me off the hook. I’m sure you all know how it goes – just because you can’t fight doesn’t mean you can’t support the ones who do. If you can’t carry a gun, you can fix a gun, if you can’t fly a plane, you can fuel a plane.

Nothing wrong with that, of course! It’s simply efficient use of resources, and I’m certainly in no place to criticize that, especially not given my current status, so to speak. But even then I wasn’t exactly bothered by it -- I would have rather not been conscripted at all, but maintenance would be safe and interesting and I was already pretty good at it.

2.

The first time I ever saw a combat doll was when I was at the range, trying to get in enough practice to pass my pistol qualifications. I didn’t even know she was there, at first - there was no fuss, no fanfare - but as soon as her handler started barking those sharp, staccato orders I realized what was going on.

I looked over, of course. I know, we’ve all been taught not to make eye contact with the dolls because they might take it as aggression, but how could I not be curious? Can any of you say you wouldn’t be tempted to take a peek?

I hadn’t expected her to not be wearing her mask. All the publicity photos, all the technical diagrams, all the battlefield footage always shows dolls with their masks on, so I assumed that was just their usual state – but no, I was wrong. That was her natural face, with her implant jacks and her surgical scars and her delicate-looking skin. I truly hadn’t expected her to be so pretty…

She caught me looking, of course. Dolls are the apex predators of the battlefield, and noticing a maintenance trainee staring at her was trivial in comparison. She met my eyes before I could look away, and then I couldn’t look away. I knew nothing except her eyes and my heart pounding in my ears, and I had no idea what was coming next… and then she grinned at me.

That grin did something to me, something strange and frightening and wonderful. It felt like lightning running down my spine, like watching a sunrise after being blind my whole life, like finding my way out of a forest I’d been lost in since birth. I was never the same again.

3.

I needed to know who she was, of course. She could pick off targets faster than my eyes could follow, with a perfect bullseye every time. Her handler ran her through everything in our arsenal, and more besides - pistols, rifles, machine guns, throwing knives, on and on - and she was perfect every time. How could I have not wanted to know more after watching a display like that?

Well, apparently, that made me the weird one in the battalion. Everyone I asked about her just shrugged or gave me sidelong glances. Why would they want to keep track of which doll was which, they asked? They were all equally frightening, after all. What did it matter what the shark swimming next to you was named?

It took more than a week - and a couple cases of beer - for me to find out who I’d seen. My buddy on the security team had seen the handler’s name and done some quick research, and he was willing to pass on that information… for the right price, of course.

Victoria. Her name was Victoria, and the next thing he said to me was “be fuckin’ careful around that one,” which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me at the time. We’re taught to use caution around all dolls, combat or not, why the extra warning?

Because, he told me, there were stories about the Victory-class dolls. They weren’t the fastest dolls or the most powerful dolls, but they were notoriously unpredictable, and dangerous even to their allies. I won’t get into the details right now, that’s not what I’m here to do - but some of your classmates went pale the moment I said her name, so ask them about it later.

But what did that have to do with Victoria? I had to ask, because I used to be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. In case any of you haven’t put all the pieces together: Victoria is the first Victory-class, the flagship, the template upon which all others were modeled – and that meant if there was some fault with the Victory-class dolls, some flaw in their design or their conditioning, Victoria would definitely have it.

4.

Even with all he’d told me, and all I’d learned on my own afterwards, I still couldn’t get her off my mind. Not that I was thinking about her every second, or even every day, but that moment never quite left my mind. I’d lay down and try to sleep, close my eyes, and behind my eyelids I’d see that bare face, that grin, and my heart would start pounding all over again.

By the time we were given our assignments, I knew what I was going to do. I knew what I had to do. I got the cushiest possible position – 8th Supply Battalion, well away from any combat zones, where the greatest danger would be a private driving a forklift drunk. The perfect position to serve out three years of compulsory service and go back to my old life, right?

Except I didn’t want it. I hadn’t wanted it since the moment I’d seen her.

As soon as we were dismissed, I went straight to the commander’s office and asked for a transfer – which they don’t usually do, of course, but he was willing to hear me out anyway, so I told him I needed to be on Victoria’s maintenance crew. Once he was done laughing he asked me what I was really there to ask for, and I repeated my request. I explained to him that I was serious, that I wanted, needed more than anything else, to be assigned to maintenance for Victoria.

He didn’t understand – which is no surprise, because I don’t think any of you do either. Why would I have wanted to be transferred to the only role that had higher casualty rates than front-line infantry, right? Truth be told, I didn’t understand either, and I still don’t. There’s nothing I can point to, no specific reason, just this surety that I belonged there and nowhere else.

Someone needed to do maintenance on the dolls, right? Why shouldn’t it be someone enthusiastic about it, someone fully committed to their role? I don’t know if my argument won him over or if he was just tired of listening to me, but in the end he just shrugged and wrote out my transfer orders: maintenance crew, Victory-class combat doll “Victoria”.

I still remember what he said when he handed me the orders:

“It’s your funeral.”

5.

Just because I’d volunteered for the position didn’t mean I was any less nervous when I first reported for duty! The rest of the crew had already been giving me a hard time - I was the squeaky-clean new girl, fresh out of training - but honestly, they weren’t why I was nervous. That was just some laughs and some hazing, nothing I wasn’t used to by that point.

No, I was nervous because of the six-plus feet of exquisite purpose-built killing machine standing in the middle of the maintenance bay.

The thing is, though.. the reasonable thing would have been to worry that Victoria was going to kill me, right? That’s what you’d be afraid of, that’s what any sensible person would be afraid of! But it wasn’t what I was afraid of.

I’d done my research, I knew the numbers, and I was certain - beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt - that I wasn’t going to survive three years in her maintenance crew. I’d made my peace with that before I ever even walked into the commander’s office.

I was worried that Victoria wasn’t going to like me.

6.

I know that probably sounds bizarre to you - after all, nobody worries about whether their tank likes them, right? - but trust me, it was absolutely the biggest thing on my mind. So much so, in fact, that I decided to introduce myself to her immediately! Why hang around hiding behind the rest of the maintenance crew when I could just walk right up to her and make a good first impression instead?

So that’s exactly what I did. Right into the maintenance bay, right past the rest of the crew, right across those painted lines on the floor… one foot in front of the other, listening to the pounding of my heart until I was within arm’s length of an active combat doll.

I took one more deep breath, accepted that it could have been my last, and gave her the usual introduction: name, rank, and role. She just stared at me, with those intense eyes I remembered so well, and I offered a little bit of extra politeness – just a simple little “I look forward to working with you, ma’am.”

7.

The moment the words were out of my mouth, she grabbed me by the collar and dragged me in, my body pressed up against hers, and as I stared up at her in shock and fear and excitement, I heard her voice for the first time.

“You’re cute,” she said.

There were teeth in my neck before I could even make sense of her words - combat-specced teeth, the kind that can slice through bone - and it was unbearably painful… but also something about it felt right. I was helpless in her grip, completely powerless, and I realized that I’d wanted that all along.

I saw her true face for the first time, then. That flat, blank non-expression she’d been wearing when I walked up to her had simply been another mask, another disguise… and she’d let it fall away. As she licked my blood from her lips, I understood – she was a hunter, a predator, hungry for more and strong enough to take whatever she wanted… and I was her prey.

I suspect your instructor would kick me out of this class immediately if I described what she did next, so I’ll just say ‘she had her way with me and I had no desire to stop her.’ You’ll have to use your imaginations for the rest… or come find me sometime and I’ll be happy to tell you all about it!

8.

Anyway, even though it seemed like I’d made an excellent impression on Victoria, the rest of the maintenance crew was pretty clear that I’d made a pretty poor impression on them. As soon as we were off-duty and the dolls had all been escorted back to their bunker, they made their feelings known in a very direct fashion.

I got off easy, they told me, pointing out maintenance staff for other dolls. One man had a bloody bandage where his ear had been, and another was completely unresponsive – just blankly staring at a wall. In comparison to things like that, a bite and some fucking was downright gentle for a Victory-class doll!

The crew insisted that I’d better not expect special treatment from Victoria to mean they’d give me special treatment too – I protested that I’d never once expected that, but I don’t think they were listening to me by that point. From all the shouts and cursing, it seemed like they were upset that I, the death-wish rookie who walked right up to a combat doll and introduced herself, had been treated more gently than maintenance staff who simply wanted to carry out their duties safely.

I tried to answer them, I tried to explain that all I’d done was to be friendly and polite, that I’d just wanted to treat Victoria with the respect she deserved. They didn’t like that answer.

Nobody told me about this, so I’ll pass it on as a warning to you just in case: maintenance crews aren’t just wary of their dolls, they’re downright resentful of them. From their perspective, the dolls are the thing that stands between them and getting home safely, and they’re not particularly fond of people who see the situation differently.

I, not knowing this, made some helpful comments about the dolls not being our enemy, about our purpose being to support the dolls so they can carry out their Purpose. Shortly thereafter, in a totally unrelated event, I slipped and fell down a staircase – completely by accident, of course.

I’d been hoping that the maintenance crew - and the staircase - had gotten all the vitriol out of their system by then, but it only got worse. Someone had found out that I’d volunteered for the maintenance crew, while they’d all been unwillingly forced into that position, and it was all over. That was all the proof they needed to decide I wasn’t like them in some indescribable way. They might not have been able to explain how, exactly, I was different from them, but they all agreed that I was, and they all wanted to make that my problem.

9.

I next saw Victoria for post-mission diagnostics two days later. The procedures would be routine, and yet the crew was far more anxious than they had been for our previous visit to the maintenance bay. A doll just back from an operation, having spent only a few minutes being gentled by its handler before being sent off to maintenance, was the most dangerous kind of doll as far as the maintenance staff was concerned: all keyed up on adrenaline and battle stimulants and potentially unsure as to whether or not it was actually safe or still on the battlefield.

The crew all talked like they were off to the firing squad, and I had no idea what to expect as we all walked down to the hall… especially when they all hung back, in ones and twos and threes, lagging behind me while I walked up to the maintenance bay first.

I was the tribute, the offering, the fresh meat tossed to Victoria to sate her hunger - and oh, did she ever take the bait. She ran to me, snatched me right off the ground, and sprinted back to her designated zone as if to convince everyone she’d never left.. except now she had me clutched in her arms, her deadly teeth tracing up and down my neck, that beautiful voice giggling in my ear.

The maintenance team had to conduct their diagnostics around me, in the end. Victoria simply didn’t want to give me up, no matter how they tried to convince her -- and I had absolutely no desire to argue with that. Where could I possibly have wanted to be more than her arms?

In fact, I didn’t want to leave her arms. Even once our duty shift was done and she’d turned me loose, bloody and weary and deeply content, I lingered in the maintenance bay as the others fled for the mess. I knew what was waiting for me there - the same thing that had been waiting for me since I first met Victoria - and I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

10.

I hadn’t expected her to notice me hanging around - surely I was unworthy of her attention, right? - and yet, as I lingered behind, she spoke to me for the second time. “Not joining them?”

“No ma’am,” I told her, quietly enough for nobody else to hear. I hadn’t meant to say anything else, but the prospect of having a sympathetic ear was just too much, and the words just tumbled out of me. As she stared down at me with that blank expression, I explained how the crew had decided I didn’t belong, and how they’d been treating me since – the punches, the kicks, the fish in my bunk, the thousand other little reminders that they’d decided to hate me.

Eventually I ran out of words and found myself simply staring up at Victoria. She hadn’t said a single thing the entire time, and her expression was the same unreadable blankness that I’d seen before. While I tried to figure out whether she was sympathetic or simply bored, I suddenly realized that she’d met my gaze, staring into my eyes as if she was looking for something. I couldn’t imagine what she was looking for - and, truth be told, I still don’t know what it was - but I stared back up at her and let her look for it.

I guess she found what she was looking for - or perhaps found an absence of the wrong things - because she simply grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me right out of the maintenance bay. What was she doing? Where was she going? She ignored my questions, of course, so I stopped asking them and simply walked along with her in silence.

You probably haven’t seen a doll bunker yet, but they’re extremely sturdy – downright overengineered, even. They’re even more heavily reinforced than munitions bunkers, and the only route in and out is through an extremely sturdy-looking steel door. It’s the sort of thing that makes the vault doors in heist movies look like tissue paper… and that was the door Victoria had led me to.

Even though I’d walked to the bunker with her willingly, I couldn’t help but protest a little as she swung the bunker door open. I had been told, upon my assignment, that only handlers and commanders were permitted to enter the doll bunker – all support staff were required to stay out in order to avoid ‘unnecessary manpower shortages’. Not that that stopped Victoria, of course! She simply picked me up by the back of my uniform like an uncooperative pet and tossed me right through the door.

11.

Have you ever walked into a room and found eight combat dolls staring directly at you? Sixteen eyes fixed on you, unblinking, like cats that have just spotted a mouse? Presumably not, but if you’re very lucky - or very unlucky - you might get to someday.

That’s where I found myself as the bunker door slammed shut behind me – gracelessly picking myself up off the floor under the hungry gaze of eight combat dolls. They waited a moment, graciously permitting me to get back to my feet, and then… well, I guess the best way to describe it is to say each one started trying, in her own way, to draw me away from my host.

Not a word was spoken, but carnal offers were made, and one or two dolls began to creep toward me as if stalking prey – and then suddenly they all froze at once. I couldn’t receive dollchat yet, so I didn’t know what Victoria said to them - and even now she just giggles when I ask! - but whatever it was, it was enough to convince the other eight dolls not to steal her guest away.

I spent that night in her bunk. I didn't do a lot of actual sleeping, of course, but the moments I did get... having a combat doll holding me close and murmuring sweet reassurances in my ear was maybe the safest I'd ever felt in my whole life. To be told I'm safe now, that the squad will look out for me, that I'm theirs forever…

12.

I hardly ever left the bunker after that. I would have never left, if I’d had the option, but there were still two things I was expected to handle: work and food.

I was still a member of Victoria’s maintenance crew, expected to be present for those duties, and since the necessary hardware was in the maintenance bay, that was where I had to be too. My first duty shift after being taken to the bunker, I’d hesitated – I was even more uncertain about showing my face around the rest of the crew now, after all! Victoria had just returned from a mission, so she would be waiting for me there, but I still had to get from the bunker to the maintenance bay on my own…

Before I figured it out myself, one of the other dolls took pity on me. She took my hand in hers, as if I was a child, and led me to the maintenance bay herself. It was permitted - after all, she was being escorted by maintenance staff - and nobody dared to say she couldn’t stand by while we Victoria received her post- mission diagnostics and I received an entirely different kind of post-mission attention.

I’m not sure if the crew ever appreciated just how much lighter on them she was when I was around, you know? I don’t know if they even noticed, or if they were too busy hating me. It didn’t matter, though – when we were done, Victoria and the other doll walked me back to the bunker, hand in hand, as if they were concerned I’d stray – or flee, perhaps, but there was already no chance of that.

If any of you ever get invited to a bunker, be aware: there’s nothing for you to eat. There is food for the dolls, although it’s terribly bland, but those meals are measured out to the last bite. Even once the whole squad had fully accepted me as their own, they still didn’t have anything to give me – every bite of food for me was one less for them, and dolls are always hungry.

The only way for me to get food would be to get it from the kitchens myself. I’d have to brave the hallways solo, avoiding any other staff, and throw myself on the cook’s mercy in the hopes that they’d be willing to let me take something back with them – and I’d have to do it two or three times a day! It’d be absolutely miserable, right?

As it turned out, that was practically a nonissue. The kitchen staff recognized me on sight - word spreads quickly, especially when you’re escorted to the bunker by two dolls! - and realized that we could solve each other’s problems: I needed food, and they didn’t want to interact with the dolls. If I could come out of the bunker to receive each day’s rations, rather than the staff needing to hand-deliver it directly to the dolls, they’d be more than happy to throw in each day’s worth of meals for me! Teamwork and problem-solving, that’s what we’re trained for, right?

13.

With food resolved and my duties sorted out… well, one day started to blur into the next. There are no windows in a doll bunker, after all -- there’s no sense of time unless you’ve got a chronometer built in, and I sure didn’t. I slept when they let me, I did as I was told, and every time the rations were delivered I felt a little more like I was walking through a dream.

The kitchen staff stopped looking straight at me, eventually. It wasn’t that they were afraid of me - I was no doll, no battlefield predator - but something about me unsettled them. Maybe my body language had changed – after all, I’d been spending more time around dolls than humans, even I could tell that I was picking up their mannerisms, that I was absorbing the way they spoke and moved and held their bodies.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe there was something in my eyes. I had prostrated myself before the squad and worshipped them for the goddesses they were. I had licked blood from a doll’s body without ever stopping to wonder who it had belonged to. I had given myself to them over and over, even after my stamina was exhausted and I could do little more than accept their desires.

They had made me theirs - with pleasure and pain, with fear and adoration - but they decided I was ready for more.

14.

I’d tell you it was a day like any other, but I don’t even know if it was a day. It was just another moment in the bunker, a moment of laying on a bare concrete floor, my limbs tangled with giggling dolls who simply couldn’t bear to let their plaything go… and then it wasn’t.

They hauled me up off the floor and pushed my back against the wall, one on each side of me, and the rest of the squad parted as Victoria approached, as the doll who’d claimed me first stood over me once more.

“You’ve been fun,” she told me, “but you can be better. We want you to be better. Don’t you want to be better for us?”

Even after all the time I’d spent with them, I still hesitated. I knew what they meant, and I had learned exactly what it entailed. The surgery, the conditioning, the experience of not being human anymore – but wasn’t I already seen as no longer human?

Victoria saw that hesitation, she saw the fear in my eyes, and stroked my head like a pet. She promised me she’d stay by my side the whole time… and she promised to do my conditioning herself.

How could I say no to that?

15.

The surgeons broke me. There’s no way to sugarcoat that. Even without all the modifications combat dolls get, having an arrhythmia control device implanted in your chest without any anesthetic is simply more than any human can bear and stay sane – so I didn’t. I screamed, I struggled and I let myself fall apart.

Victoria put me back together. She reminded me how much I liked being helpful, and how much I enjoyed being useful. She dug up my memories of how much I loved each and every member of the squad, and she made those memories into the core of my personality so I could never, ever forget again. As for the rest of my memories… well, I told you this whole story, didn't I? But everything before the dolls took me in feels distant, removed from me, as if they're someone else's memories instead of my own. It's better that way – I have a whole new life and a whole new family to love.

Speaking of which, Victoria had a surprise for me once I'd recovered, a way of celebrating me as the newest part of their family. One at a time, each doll got up on one of the bunks like it was a makeshift stage and delivered maudlin, overdramatic speeches about the person they imagined I had been before, and we all giggled along together.

In the end, it was my funeral after all.

16.

There you have it, that's the whole story. That's how I went from being just like you to being who I am now. Your instructor wanted me to share it as a warning, a cautionary tale, and I'm sure for most of you it is. But for one or two of you, if it appeals–

Yes, sir?

Understood, sir.

Thank you for your time, everyone! May fate preserve us! Good luck on your quals!

[loserboyfriendrjl]

lyall flipped a page of his book (the lord of the rings — the hobbit, obviously; it had been remus’ favourite book when he was little, he used to read it to him), sitting on the old, worn out armchair.

remus had asked him, in his last letter, not to come to king’s cross to pick him up, and instead let him apparate back home. lyall had, reluctantly, agreed, yet his heart felt a twinge of sadness when he wrote the letter back; remus was growing older, undoubtedly. he didn’t need them anymore. but the prospect of him splinching himself to wales hadn’t been exactly exhilarating. however, he decided to give his son the chance to… he didn’t even know. he missed remus.

his thoughts were interrupted by hearing the door open and seeing his son enter their cottage, carrying his shabby suitcase in one hand. remus seemed to have grown considerably over the school year, making him appear gangly and unsure into his body. he was also in dire need of a haircut; his mother, hope, would surely take care of that later. (lyall almost chuckled, already hearing her voice: “cariad, do wizards not have scissors?”)

remus looked almost exactly like his father. the same curls, the same hooked nose, the same dropped eyes, rimmed with long eyelashes, the same crooked teeth. however, lyall knew better; his son had his mother’s warm smile, the same dimples in their cheeks, the same mischievous glance.

as if he could read his father’s thoughts, he put his arms to his side. “intact,” he said, rather awkwardly. “i didn’t splinch myself; apparition classes seem to have been a success.”

“i knew you wouldn’t,” lyall lied, licking his fingers before flipping the page, as his son made his way into the kitchen.

he sat down on the couch, and saffron, their ginger cat, considered that to be the perfect opportunity to jump next to her owner and start kneading against his thigh.

they sat in silence for a while; a father, pretending to read, and his son, looking at the pictures on the shelf above the fireplace and obviously engulfed in his thoughts, yet lyall didn’t ask what he was thinking about.

finally, he put his book down. “did i ever tell you about how your mother and i met?”

remus’ lips were parted by a small chuckle. “yes, about a billion times.”

“well,” he said, clasping his hands together. “you know, son, the first time I met your mother, it was quite the adventure. she was out for a walk through a forest when she stumbled upon a boggart — and i’m not going to explain to you what that is, because considering your OWL results, i can very well tell you know.. for her, it turned into a large, terrifying man. i don’t know who it was supposed to be. you mother was frightened, she screamed; i, being nearby, rushed over and with a quick wave of my wand, turned it into a little mushroom.”

“what a hero,” remus chuckled, pulling his longs legs up his chest.”

“i made sure she got home safely, and well, that was the beginning of something special. a few months later, i told her that the boggart posed no danger at all, but by then, we had already fallen in love. not long after, i asked her to marry me, and she said yes. we got married about a hear before you were born, and your mother, with her wicked sense of humor, decided we should have…

“the boggart-shapper topper,” remus finished, grinning. “classic ma.”

“then, as you know, or well, don’t, since you were just born,” lyall continued, (remus snorted) “on march the tenth, the following year, you came into our lives, and our little family was complete.”

his son chuckled, kicking his feet up on the couch. he chewed on his lip. “what’re you reading?”

“the hobbit,” he answered. “i had a bout of nostalgia. you’ve grown up so quicky; it feels like you’re not my little boy anymore.”

he saw remus’ adam apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“i mean, look at you. your mum’s got to stand on her tiptoes to kiss you, and i know she’s not the tallest woman, but she had to bend down to be able to hold your little hand once. and you could fit between my arms, remus, with your head on my chest when i read to you. you used to be so little, and in a few months you won’t even be living with us anymore. you’re of bloody age,” he let out an airy laugh, “now.”

lyall didn’t know when remus had stood up and was behind him, his arms wrapped around his dad’s shoulders. “i’m still your son,” he said, his voice as small as it used to be when he was little.

“i know,” he reached out awkwardly and patted remus’ shoulder, ignoring the sniff he heard remus let out. “you’re always gonna be our son, cariad.”

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Academic Validation | Mike Kiernan x fem!student

Summary: The principal pays Mr. Kiernan a visit after school to ask after a promising young student.

Warnings: FLUFF! I made this for me and the other girlies who crave male-academic validation lol. The student isn't actually in this story, she's just talked about but she isn't there to hear it.

word count: 1186k

Hello My Old Heart- The Oh Hellos 🎶

Not proof read, sorry folks!

Mike Kiernan shuffled through a short stack of student papers on his desk. His gradebook was sitting open in front of him as his fingers worked down the pile. 

“Mr. Kiernan?” A man knocked on the gray door frame and poked his head into the classroom. Kiernan jumped slightly when he saw the principal at the door but laughed it off and beckoned him inside his empty classroom. 

“I’m glad I caught you alone,” the principal started. 

“Oh?” Kiernan chuckled as he watched the principal move a seat in front of the teacher’s desk and sit. 

“I had some questions about a student and you seem like the best person to ask.”

“Which student?” Kiernan asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He pulled open his desk drawer and slid his finger across the row of labeled folders. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the principal responded and crossed his legs, “she’s up for an award at graduation. I said I’d talk to you first and try to get a recommendation from a teacher that knew her best.” 

“Oh, well I wouldn’t say that. Though she has been in most of my seminars.” The teacher laughed and found the file with the student’s name written across the top. 

“Well,” Kiernan started and opened the file on top of his gradebook, “what exactly do you want to know?” His blue eyes looked gray through the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. 

“What kind of student is she? What kind of stuff have you noticed about her as you’ve taught her?” The principal offered. 

He smiled at his boss before looking at Y/N’s file for a moment in silence. 

“Well I wrote her college recommendation letters.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.” 

“She’s going to NYU, right?”

“Oh yes, she’s done well for herself.” 

Awkward silence fell between them again and Kiernan glanced out the window for a moment. He sniffed and pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose.

“Well in regard to her ability as a student, she’s one of the most talented students I’ve ever had. She engages in class and tries her best to contribute even if she doesn't understand the reading…”

Mr. Kiernan stared off into the distance as he recalled the girl. She was a memorable student, one that he’d miss having in class to make the hour-long period less awkward. When his questions fell flat and he was met with silence, the girl always raised her hand hesitantly and tried to answer. She had a remarkable sense of empathy, the ability to understand his job as a teacher and extend simple gestures of support. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. 

“She's an exceptionally bright young woman,” Kiernan started again and cleared his throat, “her last essay for my seminar was on Atonement, talented writer. She wrote about the ethics of lying in memory. There were of course parts I didn’t agree with but her argument was strong and well-researched. Things like that are always promising in a young student’s work.

“She’s going to do great things, I’m sure of it. We’re holding her back here. She’s better than my class, she’s just itching to be better somewhere else.”

“You obviously think very highly of her,” the principal smiled and folded his hands together. “What about her personality? The award considers who she is as a person outside of class, how she carries herself in other parts of academics.”

Kiernan bit his lip and tented his hands in front of his puffy lips. He could see her picking up her backpack and fixing the hem of her skirt as she stood up from her desk. He loved the way that she flicked her eyes up to his to make sure he didn’t see her fix her wedgie. She stayed after class sometimes to ask him questions and academic advice. 

I don’t know what to do after college, Mr. Kiernan.

That’s ok, Miss Y/L/N. Barely anyone does. I didn’t. 

I think I may want to be a teacher like you. 

You can, or you can strive to be even better.

But I want to be like you. 

You flatter me, Miss Y/L/N, but I know you’re capable of doing better. 

But who says being a teacher isn’t ‘better?’

I do. 

She was insecure sometimes, especially academically. He noticed quickly in the school year that she flushed bright red if he agreed with her during discussions, as if she was surprised that she had gotten the question right. She wanted to learn and get better but she was afraid to make mistakes. 

“She’s a bright student, as I’ve said, but she’s also humble and even insecure sometimes. She doesn’t think she’s as smart as she is which makes me sad sometimes as an educator. My job is to encourage confidence in the children I teach.”

“Right,” the principal nodded.

“She’s kind and passionate about the topics she feels drawn to in the literature we read. She’s a very kind young woman. She helps students outside of class and spends most of her free time reading in the library. She’s the kind of student that every teacher wants.”

She was always nervous to talk to him, nervous to be natural. It was sweet, tenderly sweet. She tried her best not to stand out too much in class but her questions and thoughts were too different not to be unique. Her mind worked in incredible ways. He bragged about her to the other teachers. She was just wonderful. 

“She’s just going to blow us all away. I don’t know which award she’s up for but I’m sure she deserves it. She’d honor the award as it deserves to be. I am so so proud of her.” He smiled politely and closed the student’s file. The principal nodded and sighed. He stood up and shook Mr. Kiernan’s hand before stepping up to the door. 

“Well thank you for speaking with me, I think you’ve just made my job very easy.” 

“I’m glad I could be of some help.” 

Mr. Kiernan watched as the principal left his classroom and stared at the student’s file that was still closed in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and massaged the sore points above his eyebrows. 

Was it appropriate to say that he was going to miss having her in his class next year? Perhaps he had taken her for granted. He might never have a student like her again. His thoughts ran away from him as he stared at the empty desks in front of him. If it weren’t for the professional barrier between them, he would have told her how much he admired her talent and skill. He’d written as much in her college recommendation letter, and so others had started to notice it too, he guessed. She was the kind of student a school takes for granted. He hoped that he would never take her for granted and put the file back with the others. A sentimental smile tugged at his lips as he closed the drawer and returned to grading. 

[sideprince]

Hello hello, love your blog and all the meta! Do you have any thoughts or saved meta on Snape’s accent? I don’t remember us seeing any indications in book-canon about him having an accent that stands out in any way, but I’d imagine that a poor boy growing up in the midlands (or in the north, as we thought before Spinner’s End was revealed to be in Cokeworth), to have a strong regional accent. Since this is an obvious class marker would he have tried to tone it down or hide it as he got older in Hogwarts? Thoughts?

Hello! Thank you, I'm always surprised anyone reads my posts so that's such a nice thing to hear! I've actually been thinking about Snape's accent lately so I love this ask and also get out of my head.

The books seem to show Snape speaking the Queen's English (ie. the dialect spoken primarily in the South of England and considered by some to be "proper" English, those people being dismissive of regional dialects in ways I personally don't agree with). This can be deduced more from seeing how the dialogue of characters like Dobby and Hagrid are written than anything else. Hagrid is written as speaking with a thick West Country accent, with a lot of "yeh" instead of "you" and "ter" instead of "to" etc. You also see similar clearly denoted regional dialects with characters like Mundungus Fletcher (whose accent is Cockney):

“Blimey,” said Mundungus weakly ___ “Keep your ’airnet on!” said Mundungus

-Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 2

“Well, you’re a bunch of bleedin’ ‘eroes, then, aren’t you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself -”

-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 11

Because we see these characters with their pronunciations clearly written into their dialogue, we're meant to assume the other characters speak the Queen's English, as no specific dialect is otherwise indicated. McGonagall is Scottish but it's never mentioned that her accent might be as well, and her dialogue doesn't indicate it is either. In fact, if you do a quick search on potter-search.com for the word "Scottish" the only instance that comes up in any of the HP books - which are set in the Scottish Highlands with McGonagall as a prominent Scottish character - is at the end of Deathly Hallows when the dragon the trio break out of Gringotts deposits them in the middle of a Scottish loch. It’s the only time the word Scottish is used in the whole series. I think that says a lot about JK Rowling as the writer and what her own biases are when it comes to writing representatively of the places her story - and its characters - inhabit.

I don't think Rowling put that much thought into Snape's accent and where he's from. The underlying message is that the Queen's English is the "default" accent and peppering her books with regional dialect in the dialogue of folksy characters like Hagrid gives them a bit of color, or that giving someone like Mundungus a Cockney accent denotes his being an untrustworthy criminal (and it's not exactly a revelation that she has unchecked internalized biases that show through her writing). But I also think that she wrote Snape with Alan Rickman in mind and that made her vision of him a bit conflicting, ie. she wrote his backstory as growing up in a Midlands slum and yet he speaks like the RADA trained actor she envisioned him as in her mind.

That won't stop me from coming up with meta about Snape's accent, though! I've been thinking about it lately, actually, because I see a lot of posts that talk about how he must have lost his accent at school to fit in with the other Slytherins, since there are, historically, many pure-bloods and Sacred 28 families in that house and he would have had a hard enough time fitting in as it was. I've always thought these theories made sense but lately I've been wondering if there could be an alternate reading of Snape's accent.

We don't really know much about Snape's mother but I've thought about how she might have come from a reasonably well-off wizarding family, or at the very least from a higher class background than she ended up raising her son in. Although most Brits grow up speaking with the accent of their region, some do grow up speaking how they're taught to at home if it diverges from other locals. The example that comes to mind is how John Lennon always had a scouse accent having grown up middle class in Liverpool, while Paul McCartney - also from Liverpool - spoke the Queen's English because his mother insisted on teaching him to speak it at home, despite their family being working class, in order to give him a leg up through the classist confines of British social classes.

So my own meta has lately been to play with the idea that Snape always spoke with the accent we see his adult self speaking with, because his mother wanted him to have a chance to do better in life than what she was able to give him (again, given how classist British society is, and was especially back in the 60s). It may also explain why he had so few friends as a child: if he was raised to speak the Queen's English in a working class slum, the other children may have ostracized him for it and he may have inadvertently alienated them.

The idea that Snape has always spoken with the accent he has as an adult is partly supported by the conversations we see between Snape and Lily as children, where Snape's accent isn't written in the regional dialects we see other characters having. There are a few minor moments where young Snape seems to have a Northern lilt, but it comes off more as something that slips into his speech than characterizes it, when compared to Mundungus or Hagrid (emphases mine):

‘We’re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you’re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you’re eleven,’ he nodded importantly, ‘and they start training you, then you’ve got to go careful.’ ______ ‘They wouldn’t give you to the Dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban, you’re too -‘ He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing. ‘Tuney!’ said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. ‘Who’s spying now?’ he shouted. ‘What d’you want?’

-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33

There's a bit of Northern in how he says "you've got to go careful" and shortens "do you" into "d'you" but overall his speech is fairly standard Queen's English. It sounds more like a kid trying to sound cool, the way the Weasley twins and even Ron often do (Ron saying "geroff" to his mum, the twins shouting "oy" to each other or saying "blimey" even though they all grew up in Devon and their speech is generally also written following standard Queen's English).

Young Snape's accent may also have been something that caught Lily's attention or just put her at ease - seeing this skinny, twitchy kid wearing odd looking clothes and looking uncared for and poor but hearing him speak with a more familiar accent and vocabulary would have made it easier for her to connect with him. We see from Petunia's dialogue as an adult that she speaks the Queen's English, so we can assume the two girls grew up speaking it at home. There aren't really any colloquialisms in her speech, and what little (and it's really so, so little) we see of Lily seems to show the same.

Some people claim that Snape’s Northern accent comes out when he's triggered, but I can't find examples of it. At his most triggered in the Shrieking Shack in PoA, he still speaks as he always does:

'SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!’ Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. ‘Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck, you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he’d killed you! You’d have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black - now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!'

-Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch. 19

Even in HBP when he's fleeing and Harry triggers him, his speech is consistent with hiw it’s written through the rest of the series:

'No, Potter!’ screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backwards, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenceless as Dumbledore had been. Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. ‘You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so … no!’ Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. ‘Kill me, then,’ panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. ‘Kill me like you killed him, you coward -‘ ‘DON’T -‘ screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, ‘- CALL ME COWARD!'

-Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 28

There isn't really much in these moments to suggest a Northern accent coming out. So in a radical departure from the fandom, I've been mulling over the meta that Snape always had the accent we see him with. It's not as unlikely as people think, and certainly not impossible.

[whorediaries-09]

so you pack your life away

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort. a/n- for the story's worth, reader was in gryffindor.

little train. series masterlist.

you crossed your leg over the other, stretching out your limbs. sirius handed you an ice cream before he sat down beside you on the park bench. the night had fallen, but somewhere within the quiet revering silence amongst the chilly breeze and sirius' presence made you lose your presence of mind, which further resulted in losing the track of time.

yet, it was nice to actually have company apart from your colleagues. also somebody who you remembered being a part of your youth.

'if you don't mind sirius, why are you wandering about here? i mean don't you want to rewind in the wizarding world?' sirius took a bite of his ice cream sandwich before answering you.

'i mean, the press is after me. i don't exactly want rita skeeter rushing about in the daily prophets. we all know how she is. i also read the recent articles she wrote about you, and save you, you've been absolutely crushed by her.'

'we all know how rita skeeter is,' you chuckled. sirius shook his head, agreeing with you, letting out a bark like laughter into the wind. it ruffled with his hair, tousling them. suddenly, he felt a pang tug at his throat.

'i wouldn't be here without you, i'm so grateful for you.' he said, taking your hand into his. your hand melted into his warm, rough and calloused touch. you nodded, staring into his deep gray eyes. the sparkle of life had been enlightened into the true sirius black gaze. and from within, you felt it slowly burning your heart. slow, calm and tepid. but you let it.

you let him escape his quiet treason.

'i told you, sirius, i stand for true justice. i believed in you. dumbledore betrayed you, i know.'

sirius felt his eyes pool with unshed tears as you talked to him softly, treating him like a person, not a deranged criminal. the voices in his head screamed horribly shrill and loud, as he escaped his quiet treason, and into your arms.

'how did you know it was not me? there have been countless prisoners with no trial. why me and not them?' the moment sirius spilled those words from his lips, you knew you'd been doomed. while you had been expecting the question at some point of time, you didn't know the time would come so soon.

'sirius, i was with you at hogwarts.'

'what! i don't remember you being there! and for what it's worth...you look younger than me...'

'you don't remember me because i am three years younger than you. so naturally, we never shared any classes. but what we did have in common was the quidditch team. i was on the quidditch team. i'm not sure if you remember, however i still owe my beater's skills to your teaching. you taught me a few significant steps and tricks.' sirius awkwardly glanced at your face, bubbling with curiousty.

'i remember your group- the marauders. the pranks, the mischief each and every one of you caught up. significantly, i remember remus. he used to tutor me, since i'd gotten too distracted with quidditch. he was quiet and seemingly timid, but i sensed their was some sort of mischief behind his facade. james who was the better one between the two them, at transfiguration sometimes joined. i think mcgonagall never asked james to tutor me because she knew he had a very low attention span. he was always fidgeting with the snitch. although i do think for the most part, james went to the library to solely woo lily.' sirius silently laughed, letting the words consume him. he noticed you'd carefully dodged their other friend, peter.

'and what about me? do you only remember me being your mentor at being a beater?'

'of course not, sirius. i remember a lot of things about you. especially about you, actually because i could never go a day without hearing your name. my friend had a huge crush on you and she wouldn't go a day without talking about you.' sirius grinned, sparing his sparkly white teeth.

'is that so? did that annoy you?'

'it did annoy me sometimes yes, but who didn't have a huge crush on sirius black at hogwarts? everybody had the hots for you back then. my friend initially became jealous when she learnt that you had been teaching me, so i decided to keep myself away from you and not be more than a sort of teacher and student. and a few days later, she asked you out and you declined because she was too young. and the feelings disappeared like poof.'

he laughed heartily at your articulate description. 'i also remember in my second year, something became very grave within your group. after a few years, the news broke that you had escaped and walburga black had disowned you. we never knew where you went, but by grace, i had guessed that you were staying at james'. the point is, you two were like two peas in a pod, almost like brothers. which told me everything i needed to know. you didn't kill him, no you couldn't. so, while studying the trial less cases for my examinations, yours was the most recent and the most deranged- and the most unjustified. i had my mind made up the moment went through it, that you deserved the freedom.'

he bit his lower lip, carefully sliding his front row of teeth upon his lower lip.

'you don't know me yet you did so much for me, i can never thank you enough.'

'you packed your life to move into a shit hole even when you didn't deserve it. if you think you owe me something, no you don't. the ministry owes you, sirius. the years of youth and mourning they snatched away from you, keeping you bound to a prison. you'd escaped one when as a child, but they tied you down again. the prejudiced fuckers will never understand the things you went through.' sirius felt the tears escape as you strengthened your grasp around his hand. you were spewing anger, hot and boiling which brimmed at the edge of your patience. you clenched your jaw as the silent breeze struck into his hair.

sirius wanted to calm you down. while he wasn't sure how to, he awkwardly moved closer to you, so his knee was brushing with yours. he freed his hand and cradled your face into his clasp.

'thank you,' he whispered, 'can i hug you?' he said, desperate to comfort you. more than you, perhaps he wanted to feel your touch - the same touch that had calmed him down during the trial. the same touch that had made him feel safe after being touch starved for so long. you nodded. his arms wrapped around your body, engulfing you into his warm, comforting embrace. your crumbled body within his arms felt like the serene touches of maa on his scalp as she rubbed coconut oil.

he had packed up his life, and for a fortnight, he thought he'd acquired the freedom he had ruined his life for. he had allowed the joys to relish him in warmth.

but when your arms wrapped around his body, pulling him closer, he felt a sliver of hope to unpack his life.

****************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[maikissed]

being a girl in love

Kylian Mbappé x reader drabble, au

angst

i've literally wrote this in an hour, idk what this is, the rainy weather made me feel like this. sorry for any typos, kisses

She readjusted her skirt feeling the coldness of the seat making her skin grow numb. The girls kept giggling and rattling about some trivial things but she didn’t keep her mind on the conversation as she sat immensely focused on the boys playing football on the pitch in front of them. She acted interested in the game but kept her eyes specifically on one of them. The sight of him made her feel a tad warmer. She loved watching him play, no doubt he was the best of them.

“Oi, Kylian!” she heard one of the boys shout as he thrown his hands in the air in frustration.

She smiled when he scored. He was smart on the pitch and fast, obviously, and it made the rest of them helpless and furious. They simply couldn’t keep up with him. He’ll become a star one day, that she knew for sure.

She heard him laugh as he celebrated. For a second she thought he looked her way.

“He’s something else” a comment caught her attention and so she turned her head “And he’s very skilled, not only with his legs but also with his fingers”

She scrunched her eyebrows with confusion as she listened to her friends. Laura gasped and giggled shortly after, pulling on Lea’s arm “And you said nothing?! Did you fuck him?”

“It was this weekend, at Theo’s party, he made me come with his fingers”

She shivered and went rigid then, trying to comprehend if she heard right. She blinked fast, wondering how this unexpected information made her feel, but she felt cold back again and squished her thighs together at the thought of him with someone being so intimate. Not in excitation but repulsion. It made her slightly dizzy and uncomfortable.

“God, I want details!” Elisa jumped on her seat and it made her stand up abruptly, but the girls didn’t seem to notice her skittish reaction.

On shaky legs she strutted down the stairs to stand by the gates, closer to the players. He noticed her and smiled but she didn’t return it. The unwanted vision kept replaying itself in her mind and she felt like she might vomit any second. Why would she feel this way if she haven’t any right to this boy? Matter of fact despite the all-consuming affection she felt for him, she sensed that he never felt nor will ever feel the same for her. He treated her more like a little sister, he was friends with her older brothers after all, so it all kept on going for some time now - little sister and big brother. He would never touch her the way she’d want him to. What a pity, what a heart-breaking realisation.

“Hi” he approached her, breathing heavily.

He seemed hot, covered in sweat and she stood there almost freezing. Of course he’s been warmed up because of the game, she looked down his muscular arm. What should she do to make him look at her different? Wear shorter skirts? Paint her nails? Put some red lipstick on her lips? Fuck other guys? Maybe the last one will do, since he haven’t even noticed her becoming a woman yet, or so she thought. But she made an invisible note in her mind.

“Congratulations” she muttered with her hands crossed on her chest, her gaze hard and sharp.

What exactly did she congratulate him on? She wondered if her girlfriends watched them now.

He smirked at her nodding his head “Do you have any classes left?” he asked wiping his face with a towel.

“No, I’m going home” her voice emotionless.

“Wait for me? I was about to go see Nico now”

“I’m in a hurry” she murmured coldly.

“It’ll only take me 5 minutes”

“Bye, Kylian” she turned around feeling slightly embarrassed by her own behaviour.

Being a girl in love is not a privilege, it’s a curse and she wished she could rip her chest open to get rid of every organ inside her body that fluttered anytime she looked at him. Stupid and immature little girl.  

[hoonzluv]

HEART’S ECHOES - NISHIMURA RIKI

chapter 5: goody-two-WHAT?

yn sat alone in the study room, surrounded by books, papers, and notes. she had reserved the room for the tutoring session but felt a bit nervous. even though she had told her teacher she was happy to take on the task, she wasn't entirely sure how it would go.

suddenly, the door opened, and ni-ki walked in, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a carefree expression on his face.

"hey," he said with a light smile.

"hey," yn replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "how are you?"

"i'm good, i guess. a bit tired from classes, but good. you?"

"i'm good too, thanks. so, what do you want to study today?" yn tried to keep a professional tone, wanting the session to be as productive as possible. "i have these papers for us to go over." she pointed to a stack of neatly organized notes. "these are my class notes. i also have my personal notes if you need something more specific."

ni-ki sat down across from her, pulling out a notebook and a pen from his backpack. he seemed a bit lost, like he didn't know where to start. "uhm, well, i think what i'm struggling with the most is math. i don't get any of the stuff from the last unit."

"perfect, let's start with that," yn said, sifting through her papers until she found the math notes. "i've got everything we've covered so far right here. if you point out what you don't understand, i can help you better."

as yn spoke, ni-ki found himself staring at her for a moment. he'd never really paid much attention to her before, but a few days ago, when they were texting about the session, he had seen her profile picture and realized how pretty she was. now, seeing her in person, he confirmed it. yn was strict and structured, sometimes a bit stubborn, but she had a dedication and passion that he was starting to admire.

ni-ki flipped through his notebook, showing a page full of equations and messy notes.

"it's this part about derivatives. i don't get when to use which rule, and i always mess up the steps."

yn looked at the page and nodded. "okay, let's start with the basics." she grabbed a marker and began writing on a whiteboard mounted on the wall. "there are three main rules you need to know: the power rule, the product rule, and the chain rule. i’m going to explain each one, and then we'll do some exercises together."

“wow, you’re such a goody-two-shoes, ynki teased, grinning at her. “always so prepared and organized. how do you do it?”

“oh, it’s easy,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm, “just years of practice being responsible while others slack off playing with balls.”

ni-ki’s grin faltered for a moment, feeling slightly offended by her comment. “yeah, well, not all of us are perfect,” he muttered, trying to brush it off.

as yn explained, ni-ki paid attention, though he occasionally scratched his head in confusion. she made sure to go step by step, pausing to check that he understood each concept before moving on.

"does that make sense so far?" yn asked after explaining the first rule.

"kind of, but i still feel a bit lost," ni-ki admitted.

"that's okay, it's normal at first. let's practice some examples together." yn wrote an equation on the whiteboard and asked ni-ki to try solving it using the rule they had just reviewed.

ni-ki took the marker and started writing, hesitant at first but growing more confident as yn gave him little nudges of encouragement.

"exactly, that's correct." yn smiled when ni-ki finished the equation. "now let's do another one, but this time using the product rule. remember, the key is to identify the parts of the function and apply the rule correctly."

the session continued this way, with yn patiently guiding ni-ki through different problems. after a while, she noticed that he was starting to grasp the concepts better.

"how do you feel now?" she asked after they solved several exercises together.

"better, definitely. i think i'm starting to get it," ni-ki said, smiling slightly.

"i'm glad to hear that." yn returned the smile. "we can review this as many times as needed. i also have notes on other units if you need help with something else."

"for now, i think this is enough. but i'll definitely need more help with math and maybe with chemistry too."

"perfect, i'm here to help with whatever you need." yn gathered her papers and organized them again. "next time, we can focus on chemistry if that works for you."

“yeah, that sounds good. thanks, yn."

"you're welcome, ni-ki. see you at the next session."

as ni-ki left, yn felt an unexpected relief. he first session had gone better than she expected, and although there was still a lot of work to do, she was confident they could achieve good results together and so she will be able to have one more thing in her extensive school record.

prev - m.list - next

note from now on the chapters will be based on different weeks because i need the story to progress... this stressful to do but i enjoy it XD

©  hoonzluv all rights reserved. 2024.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 17: The Man, The Myth

In which we return to the present, where Danny and Cyrus debate the existence of a certain man. Contains: 2.3k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Christopher Penn is a man who’s been missing for almost ten years now.

Danny’s eyes widened, but she tried to hide the reaction on her face as best she could. Christopher was a giant—how the fuck could he go missing? “What do you mean missing?” 

Cyrus’s rather unkind smile only widened. “Oh, Danny, I was hoping you could enlighten me on that matter. Perhaps you can start with telling us exactly where you’ve been for the past month.”

She narrowed her eyes, glancing between the faces of the men Cyrus had brought with him. As much as she hated to admit it, they were outnumbered here. Cyrus knew exactly what he was doing. 

She couldn’t figure out what Cyrus’s angle was. Why did he care so much about Christopher? She seriously doubted it was for any sort of benevolent reason. He was acting so smug about it—like he felt he was catching Danny in some sort of scandal. Which would have been hilarious, given she didn’t have any romantic attachment whatsoever to either Nathan or Christopher, but she could sense something slightly more sinister under the surface of this whole interaction.

She decided it would be best to avoid giving Cyrus what he wanted.

“I’ve been with Christopher, you deaf motherfucker,” Danny spat.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes back at her, and she could see his patient facade wear away slowly. It was almost satisfying. “And where does Christopher live, dear?” 

Danny’s lip curled. “I don’t see why it matters, bastard.”

“Christopher Penn has been missing for nearly a decade now,” Cyrus said slowly, like Danny was the idiot, “so I think that knowing his current whereabouts would be rather important, don’t you?” 

Danny rolled her eyes. “You know, maybe you’re thinking of a different Christopher Penn. Because I seriously doubt we’re talking about the same guy here. I bet there’s plenty of people with that name.” 

“Oh?” Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “And how do you figure that?”

Because he’s a fucking GIANT. “Because, clearly, he’s not missing. I was just visiting him.”

Cyrus scratched his scraggly beard and took a seat at their table, leaning back in the chair like he owned the place. “Here’s the deal, Danny.” He maintained eye contact with Danny as he held up the note from earlier, pointing towards the seal on the bottom. “The seal is unmistakably that of the same man who’s missing.”

He slid the note across the table, and Danny snatched it up. The seal was made in red ink, an elaborate design with a bird Danny now recognized at its center. A peacock.

“Ten years ago, this man vanished from the public eye—no one who looked for him could find him, or his old residence. He made no contact with anyone, except for these mysterious payments to people who should have no connection to him. People like…you both,” he said derisively, an obvious insinuation twisted in his words. People of a lower class.

Danny snarled, but Nathan pressed down on her shoulder again. 

“And here’s the strange part, Danny. None of those benefactors seemed to know Penn—not even Mr. Hayes here could tell me what the payment was even for.” Cyrus’s eyes bore into Danny, taunting and hungry. “Until you. You’re the first person in ten years who remembers a man that everyone else seems to have conveniently forgotten about.” 

Danny’s head was swimming. How could Christopher have gone missing in the first place, if he was confined to his mansion? He mentioned he wrote letters—but surely no one actually knew the giant that lived there, right? 

“He’s a friend. I don’t really know why you care so much, Cyrus, but I really don’t think there’s anything here to discuss.” 

“Oh, but there is.” Cyrus leaned forward. “Penn and I have some unfinished business to take care of. And you are going to tell me where your little friend is hiding.” 

Danny laughed, only partially by the use of the word little. “You have business with him?”

There was no way Cyrus actually knew Christopher—surely, he would have mentioned the fact that Christopher was a giant by now. Maybe the seal just looked similar to another one. Maybe, if she just showed Cyrus what Christopher looked like, he’d leave them alone. It couldn’t be the same person. It wasn’t possible.

“I seriously think you’ve got the wrong guy,” she snarled, “and I can prove it.” 

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as she picked up the mirror that laid on the table in front of her. 

She stared into the reflective surface for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and spoke clearly. “Show me Christopher Penn.” 

The mirror almost seemed to hesitate before its surface swirled to reveal the face of the giant she’d spent a month with. She saw the hint of his horns growing back already—just barely poking out from beneath his hair, which hung over his shoulders limply. He looked exhausted, like he was draped in a melancholy veil that weighed down all his features. Her face fell slightly as she looked at him, though she wondered what it was he was sad about. She’d said she would be back, hadn’t she? Did he not believe her? 

Slowly, she turned the mirror around to show Cyrus and the men that stood on either side of him, scowling at them all. “This is my friend. He’s not the same guy, is he?” 

Cyrus’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward even further in his seat as he stared at the mirror, completely entranced. “What kind of witchcraft is this?” 

Behind him, a man that bore an extraordinary resemblance to a soggy weasel in a coat went as white as a sheet, his eyes fixed on the mirror as though he’d seen a ghost. “I-I-I’ve s-seen that guy before,” he muttered quietly.

Shit.

Cyrus turned slowly around in his chair, scowling deeply at the man. “And you’re telling me this now, Max?” 

Max all but curled in on himself as he began trembling. “I-I forgot!” he squeaked. “He did—he did something to my mind to make me forget.” He pointed an accusing, shaking finger at the mirror. “H-he looks like a regular man, but he’s…he has to be at least a hundred feet tall, everything in his house is his size—”

The lines in Cyrus's brow furrowed deeply, as if he was trying very hard to comprehend everything that was happening and sort it into something that made sense. “A giant?” he mumbled in disbelief. “Interesting…” He idly ran his fingers over the stubbly beard along his chin, lost in thought. And then suddenly, his face went rather placid—eerily so—as he met Danny's eyes again, almost in a challenge. He looked much more smug than before. “You didn't mention that your friend there was a giant.” 

Danny glared hatefully at Cyrus, but she could feel her stomach twist with unease. Should she tell the truth? Max regaining memories about Christopher was…less than ideal, but surely he'd just sound crazy. 

She put the mirror, which had gone blank, into her lap and crossed her arms. “Is he the same guy, or not?” 

Cyrus's eyes lingered on the mirror for a while longer, a thoughtful expression reappearing on his face. Something in his eyes had changed—something that made her skin crawl—but she couldn't figure out what.

“No,” he finally said. “I suppose you're right. It must be a different man.

“But Max,” he began, still staring right at Danny as he spoke. Knowing. Calculating. “I would like to hear more about this so-called giant.”

Danny laughed out loud, effectively still hiding all of her anxiety around this situation. “You really believe that? He's clearly lying. Giants don't exist, dumb fuck. You saw him. He's just a normal man.”

“I'm not lying!” Max squeaked out indignantly, cowering slightly under the stares of everyone else in the room as his outburst was followed by a vacuum of silence. “He…he trapped me in his house, kept me in a cage, and then he…he…”

He quivered uncontrollably. Danny felt her mouth go dry. No. Don't—

“Spit it out, Max,” Cyrus growled.

Like a boiling kettle, Max's words came out at once in a high-pitched squeal. “He ate me!”

Absolutely no one spoke or moved at first. Danny could hear her heart pound in the deathly silence, fighting not to show a hint of recognition or fear on her face. 

Cyrus's face went whiter than the snow outside. The men behind him, who had been whispering to themselves, all stared between Max and Danny with looks of absolute horror.

“How…” Cyrus began, his eyebrows pushing deep, deep lines into his forehead, “...did you survive?”

Max did not seem to enjoy the attention on him, nor did he seem to enjoy what little he could recall of the memory. “I-I don't know! I…it was so long ago, and he…my memories, he must have messed with them. Like…like magic or something. Th-th-that weird fucking mirror thing proves it.” His head retreated further into his coat, like a turtle trying to hide away. “But I do remember…being eaten,” he whimpered, swallowing nervously. “Clearly.”

Out of everyone, Cyrus probably looked the least horrified at Max's revelation. In fact, he seemed to sit up a little straighter, his chest almost puffed out a bit proudly. “If what I'm hearing is to be believed, it sounds as though there's a magical monster nearby who poses quite a threat to the people of this city.” He gave Danny a look of barely feigned sympathy. “Did he lock you up in a cage too, darling?” 

Danny wanted nothing more than to leap across the table at Cyrus. Instead she grit her teeth together. “I was there of my own free will,” she seethed. 

Nathan gave her a slightly confused look, but he nodded along. “She was.”

“And he's not a threat, or a monster. He's nice, and kind, and…gentle. He lives out in the woods and minds his own fucking business. Unlike you.” 

She'd never heard a laugh so unkind as the sound Cyrus made. “Oh, Danny. You can't expect me to believe you'd stay with a monster like that willingly.” He stood up, prompting Danny to do the same, her hands slamming against the table as she did so. 

He sneered at her. “A prisoner falling for her captor. There's a tale as old as time.”

“I didn't fall for him, fuckface. We're just friends. Though I'd still pick your hypothetical giant monster over you.”

Cyrus clicked his tongue a few times, staring Danny down. “You know, I really don't like your tone.” 

He snapped his fingers, and the men behind him came around the table to grab Danny and Nathan. She'd been ready to give the one coming towards her a right hook square across the jaw, but there were just too many. Max came up behind her and held her arms behind her back, snarling in her ear. 

“Danny!” Nathan cried out as he was dragged away from her by three men even larger and burlier than he was. She scowled and thrashed in Max's grip, trying to hook her foot around the man's ankles to trip him up. Unfortunately she wasn't quite quick enough—Max jammed his knee into the back of her own, making her stumble in place. 

Frustrated and filled with rage—and for once, rage directed towards someone her own size—she stepped on Max's foot with the heel of her boot, slamming it down as hard as she could. 

“Motherfuck—”

She hadn't noticed Cyrus's swaggering approach until she felt the man's hand grip her chin and tilt it up towards him. He was close enough for her to smell the residual tang of a cigar on his breath. 

She scrunched up her nose in disgust, before she spat at him. He twitched as Danny's saliva splattered onto his cheek, and he wiped it off with the back of his other hand.

He leaned in even closer, glaring at her. 

“The thing is, Danny dear, I believe this makes you either a mind-controlled victim, or a friend to a rather dangerous monster, doesn't it?”

She glared back at him, imagining Cyrus's face exploding into flames. “Go fuck yourself, Cyrus.”

He let her go, took a step back, and folded his hands beneath his chin as if he held even an ounce of piety anywhere in his body. “Frankly, I'm not one to believe such far-fetched rumors about things like magic and giants. But rumors…you see, they spread. People talk. And people don't want to trade with a city when the roads could be in danger from a nearby giant.”

He shrugged much more nonchalantly than he should have, holding far too much confidence in his posture. “Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. But, on the off chance that there really is a giant out there…” He gave Danny a cruel, sinister smile. “Maybe I can put the worries of the townsfolk to rest by slaying it.”

She couldn't hide the fear that rose in her face at that. No. No, he couldn't. He can't. He'd kill Christopher? Does he really think he could kill a giant?

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she felt her mouth run dry again. “Yeah, good luck. Bring your pointiest fucking sword, too. He needs a new toothpick.”

Could Sam warn him in time? Even if they could, Christopher can't leave…

Danny gave Cyrus a vicious scowl. “You don't even know the fucking way. You're gonna get lost, or freeze to death, or—and this would really make my day—get eaten by wolves. I'm not fucking showing you how to get to him.”

Cyrus seemed wholly unimpressed by her display, rolling his eyes and gesturing toward the men holding Nathan. “We'll bring them both. Give our little princess some motivation.”

It felt as though Danny's lungs collapsed in on themselves. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Nathan—fearful and shaking. “You…you can't bring him! He's sick! He can't—”

Cyrus closed the distance between himself and Danny in a single stride, grabbing her chin again and leaning in close. “Then you'd better get us there quickly, sweetheart.”

* * * * * * * * * *

How will they get out of this one? Does Sam have a plan? Is Cyrus as competent as he thinks he is? Find out soon...

Thanks for bearing with me and having patience for the longer than usual update. I might have to keep updates biweekly for a little longer, but we'll see. Thank you, as always, for reading and for your support! It means a lot to me.

[mari-writes]

🦉⭐️❤️

Six months.

It had been six months to the day since Bokuto had seen his best friend.

He kept track with his daily planner—a graduation gift from Akaashi—absorbing the dates as they passed with a growing sense of unease.

The planner was a bright gold color, with a cartoon owl on the cover and on the bottom corner of each page. It made Bokuto smile when he used it which, surprisingly to some, was every day.

“It will help you f-focus,” Akaashi had said shyly, holding it out with shaky fingers. “I know you’re nervous about college, with balancing classes and practice. So, um, I hope it helps.”

Bokuto smiled at the memory. It was helping! He’d even taken Akaashi’s advice and color coded his schedule (purple for volleyball, pink for classes, blue for personal stuff).

On the surface, things were going well for university student Bokuto Koutarou. But that creeping unease, as more days passed without seeing Akaashi in person, continued. 

Something wasn’t right. 

He knew he missed Akaashi’s sets; they were still the best he’d ever had. No genius or overachiever would surpass him. There was just something special about how Akaashi set to him. Like he knew exactly what he needed. Like they were on the same wavelength. 

(Admittedly, it was sort of scary sometimes, that connection.)

He also missed their lunch hangouts. Taking the train together. Going to the convenience store for onigri and ice cream. He missed watching movies, pouring over Akaashi’s favorite books and poems (Bokuto had learned so many new words).

But there was something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. And whatever it was kept him up at night.

He found himself pondering the unfamiliar feeling at all times of the day: As he walked to class. When he prepared to serve a volleyball. At a party, dancing and mingling with other students.

It wasn’t like he didn’t talk to Akaashi anymore. They were in contact at least twice a week, sharing photos and updates about practice, articles they’d read or some food they’d tried.

They video chatted too. Bokuto loved seeing his friend, even just through a screen, with his piercing blue-green eyes and hair that had been getting a little long recently. Talking to Akaashi made him happy. Content.

Which made these weird feelings all the more confusing. Why did he want to see Akaashi so badly? Why did the sixth-month mark sting so much?

What was wrong with him?

Bokuto’s final class of the week was English on Thursday afternoon. Despite his emotional morning, he was in good spirits. He’d completed the class readings and even watched the English film his professor had recommended. Bokuto loved that she embraced art and pop culture as a way for them to learn.

He shuffled into the classroom, text book and planner held close to his front. He greeted his professor and made his way to sit, thanking his classmates as they congratulated him on his team’s success at a recent match. 

Class flew by. His professor took that last ten minutes to explain the homework assignments, and give them a new playlist of English pop tracks to listen to. Bokuto eagerly wrote the list down in the margins of his planner.

He wondered if Akaashi knew any of the songs.

Bokuto shook his head as he headed to the volleyball gym. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “He’s not here. And that’s okay. You’re okay…”

Volleyball practice went smoothly. Bokuto kept pace with his team, earning a few high fives and pats on the back from his upperclassman.

He felt okay. Stable. Good, even. 

But as he walked home, the strange feeling returned. An ache deep in his gut. A tightness in his heart.

It didn’t go away. Not when he entered his apartment. Not when he was in the shower. Not when he was making dinner, hunched over his stove listening to his teacher’s English playlist. 

And somehow, he knew it was for the lack of Akaashi at his side.

Bokuto sighed, stirring his noodles absently. He didn’t get it. He’d just chatted with Akaashi the night before. Why wasn’t that enough? He didn’t miss his other friends the same way. He was fine just seeing them sometimes. But with Akaashi, he couldn’t even—

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says: ‘You're my best friend.’ And you knew what it was: He is in love.” Bokuto froze.

The song continued, the chorus echoing through his small kitchen, and now Bokuto was zeroed in on the words.

“You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love, true love. You're in love.”

He dropped his spoon, hearing it clatter loudly onto the floor as his entire world shifted on its axis.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

“Oh,” Bokuto said. His own voice sounded far away, like he was outside of his body. He glance at his phone. He recognized the singer, she was one of the biggest artists in the world, but he’d never heard this song.

He scrambled to start it over, this time closely following along.

“One look, dark room, meant just for you. Time moved too fast, you play it back…”

Akaashi, was all Bokuto could think. Akaashi, Akaashi… 

“You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once you let go, of your fears and your ghosts.”

Bokuto sucked in a breath. He grabbed his planner from the kitchen table, hands shaking as he flipped it open.

He stared at the faded Polaroid photo of him and Akaashi, posing together at his graduation, still taped to the first page. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders and Akaashi was smiling softly, leaning into his embrace. 

And Bokuto was looking at his friend, eyes full of a fondness that at the time, he hadn’t really understood. 

Now he did. 

“Oh,” Bokuto said again, blinking. “I’m in love with him.”

The revelation was like a slow descent into a hot bath. Heat traveled from Bokuto’s toes, up through his limbs into his belly. When it made it to his throat, he gasped for air. Something between a sob and manic laughter burst out of him.

“I love Akaashi Keiji!” He exclaimed, swinging around to shut off the stove and move the pot off of the heat. He had to do something. Dinner could wait. There was no way he could do homework right now, and for once, even volleyball felt insignificant.

He grabbed his phone, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt like he’d just finished a five-set match. Sweat erupted on his fingertips as he brought up Akaashi’s contact. He stared at the sight of his friend’s profile photo. He was beautiful. Bokuto had always thought so, but now that he understood his feelings, it was different.

Soft-looking hair. Stormy eyes. Bowed lips. Everything about Akaashi was so pretty, and strong, and sexy, and Bokuto realized he had never been so attracted to another person in his entire life. 

So, that’s why he felt different without Akaashi. Why he missed him so much. Why he craved his presence, his touch. Why six months without him had left Bokuto feeling so empty.

He didn’t want Akaashi as only a friend. He wanted him as so much more than that. In every way.

Bokuto finally managed to press the call button. It rang once, twice, and almost a full third ring before Akaashi picked up. 

“Bokuto-san?” 

The sound of his voice sent a full-bodied shiver up Bokuto’s spine. “H-hey, ‘kaashi.” He swallowed and took another deep, calming breath. “So, I need to tell you something…”

*

They met that weekend. Bokuto requested Saturday practice off, citing family matters that required him to go home, and his coach thankfully agreed. He took a cross-city train to Fukurodani on Friday afternoon, too impatient to wait any longer.

The volleyball team was just leaving when he arrived, and some of them noticed, waving and eagerly asking him about his new life as a collegiate player.

“Captain’s in there,” Onaga smiled, motioning towards the gym as he encouraged the other players to move on. Bokuto nodded. He wondered if Onaga knew what was happening between them. But he didn’t dwell on it. He had more important things to do.

He found Akaashi stood in the middle of the court, fiddling with his fingers, obviously waiting for him. When he heard Bokuto enter, his head shot up.

Their gazes locked. 

They moved into each other’s orbit like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bokuto barely registered closing the distance. He didn’t recall who initiated the kiss, either. It didn’t matter.

They didn’t say anything, because they didn’t need to—they’d talked enough last night. Words were no longer required. 

All that had been missing from their relationship had been made right.

Bokuto had no more reason to hold back.

//

Written for BokuAka Week Day 1 on Twitter. Thank you so much for reading this little thing! If you enjoyed, please comment and share. It really helps me out. You can also tip me on Ko-Fi if you’d like. 🥰❤️ 

(Song: “You’re in Love” by Taylor Swift)

[xoxiu]

autumn outside the post office - jin x reader

chapter two table of contents masterlist

≪ how long will beautiful things last? ≫

summary: it wasn't your fault that dr. kim was the most beautiful man you've ever seen. falling for him was entirely your fault, however. first semester at college and you're already dreaming of a student/professor relationship- so naughty and against the code of conduct. you like the thrill, though.

tags/warnings: smut, teacher!jin, college au, cute yet forbidden romance, daddy dom!jin, love triangles, frat boys jungkook and taehyung, age regression, age play, ddlg, spanking, eating disorders, mental health, first love, exhibitionism, lots of blowjobs, age gap

"Very few classical Korean works have been translated and appreciated outside of Korean culture. I hope to change that with the class." Seokjin started his lecture, basing it on a PowerPoint he had created the night before. The students listened quietly, jotting down notes on their laptops or notebooks. The professor took note of this, reminding his pupils that they learn better by physically writing notes on paper.

You didn't need to be told this- your purple notebook had been opened right as class started. Your notes had been very organized, jotting down key points of the PowerPoint as well as Dr. Kim's lecture. In high school, your notes made you a star student often used as an example for others. You badly wanted to blurt that out to make Dr. Kim proud, but you managed to control yourself.

"Does anyone know a famous classical Korean writer?"

"Kim Shisup!" The blonde from the bus stop spoke up from the front row. Seokjin looked her way with a smile.

"Good job, Cara! Someone paid attention in history class." The professor gave the student a wink. You felt rage and jealousy fill your entire body. Glaring at the back of her head, you tried to make her explode with your brain. Sadly, it did not work.

This was only your second time in Seokjin's class. You barely knew the professor, yet you wanted all of his attention solely on you. Seeing him act friendly with other students made your blood boil. Your notes soon turned messy as you aggressively wrote.

"Classical Korean literature was written in Chinese, and dealt with themes surrounding loyalty."

Oh, you'd be loyal to Dr. Kim. You only had eyes for him, unlike Cara. Cara probably went after every male professor in the Asian Language department. It was so obvious she wanted him; you could see her flirtatious gaze on him from your seat. As the class went on, you caught on to the playful banter between Dr. Kim and Cara and began to worry that something was going on between them.

Class ended on time, with Dr. Kim giving a quick wrap-up. He timed his lecture perfectly, allowing for a quick summary right at the end of class.

"And my apologizes to you Korean majors, most of today probably felt like the information you already knew."

"It's fine. Having a refresher is never a bad thing!" Cara said as she stood up. She waved goodbye to Dr. Kim before leaving the classroom.

You sucked your teeth to avoid calling her any rude names. Frantically, you tried to think of a question to ask now that class was done. Everything today made sense to you, but you needed time to talk to Dr. Kim one-on-one.

"Dr. Kim, I have a question," you said, walking up to his desk. He smiled at you, turning to give you his full attention. Somehow you missed him eyeing up your outfit- a purple plaid skirt with a flowing ivory blouse. What you didn't miss was him licking his lips.

"Anything for you, miss y/n," His voice made you blush, almost forgetting what exactly you wanted to ask him.

"You mentioned that whiteness was seen as a symbol of purity in ancient Korea. Could you go deeper into that for me?"

He blinked at your request, looking rather shocked by your question. The smile soon returned to his face, happy to answer you.

"That's an excellent question, y/n. I may have brushed over that too much," He leaned back in his chair, preparing to give you his spiel. "White is a very important color in Korea even today. It represents the sun, harvest, origins, and the foundations of humanity. When Westerners came across Korea, one of the first things they noted was the white clothing Koreans wore.

"I'm sure you meant to imply a sort of racial bias with your question, which is okay, as pale skin has always been seen as a status symbol in Korea."

You nodded as he answered your question, sheepishly smiling as he picked up your hidden intentions.

"Pale skin seems to be a status symbol in many cultures back then. I know Greeks held paleness to a high degree as well." Seokjin smiled and laughed at your statement, happily clasping his hands together.

"You're such a smart girl, y/n. I'm sure you know how all this applies to present-day racial bias and supremacy, too." You blushed hard at the compliment and were about to excuse yourself when Dr. Kim spoke up again.

"If you have any more good questions, feel free to stop by my office hours. They're listed on the syllabus," he paused a second before continuing. "Or feel free to email me anytime. Although, I prefer you visit me instead. I get rather lonely."

—————

Despite being much larger, the dining hall was much quieter than the cafeteria in high school. Everyone spoke at a normal level, watched videos with headphones in, and didn't goof around with the food. It was a nice change in pace for you.

You grabbed a tray and began to walk to the various food bars, hoping to find something good. Dinner service had only started a couple of minutes ago, so none of the lines were too long. In the end, you decided to make yourself a salad and grabbed some baklava from the Greek bar. You sat in the far corner of the dining hall near the exit. Balancing your phone against the condiment basket, you turned your attention to Netflix as you ate.

A notification popped up on your screen- another email from Dr. Kim. You went to swipe it away only to see that it was directly addressed to you. Curiously, you picked up your phone to read the email.

'y/n,

I couldn't help but note your curiosity about foreign cultures. I'm very impressed. I'd like for you to join us at our next Korean Cultural meeting this Friday at 6 pm. I know you're not a Korean major, but I think you'll get something out of this club.

- Dr. Kim Seokjin'

You smiled at the idea of Dr. Kim thinking about you, even well after class had ended. Looking over the email again, you frowned as you realized you had a meeting at that time. The meeting wasn't exactly necessary- it was just a check-in for first-year students to see how the first week of classes had gone. But at the same time, you weren't sure if the club was meant for you. You weren't Korean and had no cultural experience in that area. You only took Korean Literature because you needed a foreign literature credit. Not wanting to fully commit just yet, you didn't reply to the email.

Leaving the dining hall, you made your way up to your dorm room. Jennie was already back, diligently working on homework at her desk.

"I don't know why I have so much homework during the first week of classes. It's- oh! You look happy!" Jennie's frustrations faded as she noticed the large smile on your face. "Is it a boy?"

"Maybe," you teased, sitting down at your desk. You opened up your laptop to work on the chemistry homework you have due tomorrow, but your mind kept wandering to Dr. Kim.

"Wow, you must really like this guy," Jennie jokingly elbowed you with a smug smile. "That grin is just getting bigger and bigger."

You opened up the class page for Korean Literature, checking to see when Dr. Kim's office hours were. They were Tuesdays and Thursdays, 1 pm to 3 pm. Perfect, you thought, your chemistry class ended fifteen minutes before the start of his hours. You grew more giddy as you realized you were able to see him tomorrow.

Chemistry homework in college was much harder than chemistry homework in high school, you quickly learned. The questions were so confusing and the diagrams were borderline unreadable. It all made your head hurt. 

A knock at your door drew both you and Jennie out of your intense concentration. Taking off your headphones, you went to go see who was at the door. Jimin, your RA, smiled at you.

"Hi, y/n! Hi Jennie!" He leaned in to wave at Jennie, who politely waved back. "I'm just letting you know there will be a hall meeting in the kitchenette in five minutes."

"We'll just head on down now, I guess," Jennie said, closing her laptop and walking out the door with you. Jimin continued knocking on doors, letting the other residents of the hall know about the meeting while you and Jennie got comfortable in the beanbags in the corner of the kitchenette. 

Ten minutes had passed, and no one besides Jimin,  you, and Jennie sat in the kitchenette. Jimin looked very displeased, looking down at his plate of brownies with a frown. He baked them for the residents at the meeting, expecting a room full of twenty students. Instead, the meeting turned into small talk between the three of you. 

"Well, this sucks. I guess you two can have the brownies if you'd like."

[sunnylighter]

ask game

"It's like we're reclaiming part of our heritage," Mei remarked as she and Luh-Loyd put together a test bike. "We were born to jump worlds, and now we can."Something about the way she said that gave the boys pause."We?" asked Luh-Loyd in confusion, pushing himself out from under the bike on a roller board."What do you mean?" asked Lil'Loyd from where he was perched on the motorcycle's seat."Well, yeah," said Mei as she worked on the engine, smiling like she was in on a joke. "Don't think I didn't catch on that you two are dragons too. You can't fool me."There was a long pause after that causal declaration, and Mei looked up to see the two boys staring at her with identical comically wide green eyes."We're-" Lil'Loyd started to say."-What?" Luh-Loyd finished for him.Mei frowned as she glanced between the two of them. "Oh, wait, you didn't know?" she asked.The blonds exchanged a look that held a whole conversation before Luh-Loyd sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "To be honest… we don't know what we are," he admitted, fidgeting uncomfortably. "We just know we're not entirely human. There are just too many things about us that we've noticed.""Our grandfathers were basically a god, and you take classes with his dad," said Lil'Loyd, pointing at his counterpart. "Mine used to look about the same as him when he was evil. And both he and Uncle Wu are, like, suuuuuuper old. Normal people aren't still alive when they were born 'before time had a name'."Mei nodded. "Yeah, dragons can live pretty long," she said."You really think we're part dragon?" asked Luh-Loyd curiously.Mei squinted at both of them, studying them up and down before she shrugged. "Hmmm, hard to really tell. At the very least, you two are mostly human," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "And if your Dads' four-armed looks are anything to go by, maybe something else too. Lord G looks a little too demony to be a coincidence, and something about it sets my teeth on edge. But there's definitely some dragon in you guys too. I can tell because the dragon traits I've seen in you are ones I have too."Lil'Loyd's eyes widened. "Like the growling!" he exclaimed. "I thought I heard you growl like we can when MK was talking about people being jerks to him.""Exactly," said Mei brightly. "That's what was the final clue for me to figure it out. The rest was just stuff I noticed that suddenly made sense. Your aura, the flashing eyes, the protective instincts, the desire to create, they're all traits of dragons." Her eyes then lit up. "Hey! Maybe we're related! Like waaaaaay back, but still!"

Ever have a show you just HAVE to write a fanfic for. Monkie Kid was that for me. It kicked me into high gear into finishing One Heck of a Wedding just so I could write More Fun than a Barrel of Monkies and include Monkie Kid in my Ninjago multiverse.

And once that happened, I'd opened myself up to writing more character interactions between the two casts, and there were some that I was really excited to get to.

When I first saw Monkie Kid and saw that Mei was a dragon, one of my first thoughts was, 'I want her to meet Lloyd'. Green dragon kids unite!

I always wanted them to bond over their dragon heritage. At this point in the series, neither Lloyd knows about the dragon-oni thing, but they no doubt must suspect there's something going on with their biology. Kay Hau and I both wrote some stuff about them confiding in each other about shared traits and trying to find out what they are.

Having Mei confirm at least half of what they were seemed like a fitting way to do it, as she'd recognize what they are, and be able to tell them. It was fun to write this scene of them coming to that realization and bonding over it.

[starlitwinter]

XI

Back in the house, Nenlissë wasted no time hanging around in the hall and went straight up to her room where Artanis and Eärwen were waiting for her. The older of the two approached her adopted daughter as she entered the room and took her hands in hers.

“I guess Finrod must have told you about our project…

-Yes, and I think it’s a good idea. But could I invite some people?”

Artanis had a mischievous smile form on her face and placed a hand on her sibling’s shoulder.

“Do we have a lover to introduce?”

Nenlissë blushed slightly which did not escape Eärwen and her daughter. Both of them could not help but want to know more and after five minutes, Nenlissë let herself be convinced to tell them.

“I met him today, so it doesn’t mean anything… but…

-But?” Artanis asked, impatient as ever, “tell us everything!

-He’s a friend of Finrod’s, his name is Teivel and we’ve… maybe spent a lot of time talking and walking around the gardens?”

Artanis seemed to search her mind to paste a face with Teivel’s name, but it was Eärwen who reacted first.

“Teivel? Has he come back? He is a great friend of your brothers and a very nice elf. I’m sure you’ll do well together.

-You will show him to me, I really can’t remember…” Artanis said before changing the subject and opening the doors of Nenlissë’s wardrobe, “Well, enough of this chitchat, we have a ball to prepare and dresses to order!”

Eärwen nodded and took her daughters in her arms.

“Artanis is right, this will be your first ball Nenlissë, so you will have to learn some things, like dancing…

-And you’ll have to find a partner!

-Partner?

-Yes!” exclaimed Artanis, “that’s the whole point of a ball! You find yourself a beautiful partner and you show him to everyone! Plus, since this will be your first dance, your partner is very important because he will have your first dance!”

Is it like the Middle Ages? Like a debutante ball and everything? It sounds like it… Nenlissë thought, but the idea of wearing a beautiful dress and dancing with a fairy tale partner filled her with joy.

So, in the good mood and excitement of the coming ball, Artanis, Nenlissë and Eärwen spent the late afternoon preparing lessons, appointments and talking.

~

It was only two days later that Nenlissë, between dance lessons and extra etiquette to know exactly what to do at the ball, was able to quickly write a letter to her new friend. With her heart pounding, she wrote only a few words and gave the paper to a servant to bring it to her as soon as possible. She then took a few minutes to calm the pounding of her heart and the butterflies that swirled in her abdomen. You see, Nenlissë unfortunately had no experience with love, which made her idealistic about love and she fell in love way too quickly.

Once her classes were over and the last appointment with the tailor was over, she went to change into a lighter dress, gave herself a little makeover and hurried down the stairs of the manor to return to the pool where she had first met Teivel.

When she arrived at the fishpond, Nenlissë recognized Teivel from behind and trotted towards him. Thanks to his hearing, he had heard her coming and had turned around. He came to meet her and was ready to take her in his arms before changing his mind, taking only her hands in his.

“How are you?” he said, caressing Nenlissë’s palms with his thumbs, “Aren’t you too tired with the preparation of the ball?”

The young woman shook her head before answering him.

“No, it’s more of a sense of wonderment that I feel.

-You’ve never been to a ball before?” he asked, his tone of voice more worried.

-Uh, yes. Is that a problem?” Nenlissë answered, tilting her head to one side, and putting a little pressure on Teivel’s hands.

The elf seemed to hesitate to answer but did so with a blush.

“It so happens… I wanted to ask if I could be your date but… if this is your first dance…”

Before he could really finish his sentence, Nenlissë threw herself into his arms, a big smile on her lips before quickly pulling away from him. What the hell am I doing? She thought before speaking:

“I was going to ask you if you would be my date, so…

-Really?” Teivel asked, his voice betraying surprise but the expression on his face was that of someone who had just gotten what they wanted.

-Yes, my brothers already have dates and then you are my friend!” Nenlissë said before thinking, “well if you want to be my friend. And do not think that you are a last choice.”

Teivel let out a laugh at Nenlissë who had turned scarlet again and was making hand motions to try to get out of the mess she was in. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a radiant smile.

“Don’t worry my dear Nenlissë. Of course, we are friends! And it is truly an honour to be your date.”

Nenlissë calmed down slightly, and they stood there, looking into each other’s eyes for a few minutes before Teivel spoke again.

“I guess we’ll have to agree on a colour. No?

-I guess so… But damn, I didn’t think of that… I already chose my dress.

-It doesn’t matter, it’s your ball after all, my only regret will be that I couldn’t admire you with your dress before the ball… but don’t tell me, just the color.

-It’s blue.” replied Nenlissë, even more red from Teivel’s compliments, “Blue like your eyes.”

Teivel nodded and took a lock of Nenlissë’s hair in his hand, delicately, before bringing it to his lips and placing a light kiss on it.

“It’s getting late, and I don’t want to bother you anymore, we’ll meet again on Friday, beautiful Nenlissë.

-Yes, Friday. But… can I send you letters?

-Of course, come on, go home now.

-Good night Teivel.”

~

The days went by at a crazy speed in the eyes of everyone in the household. Artanis slightly annoyed her sister, when she learned that she had found a date but knew exactly who it was. Many letters had been exchanged between Teivel and Nenlissë, but Nenlissë, knowing how complicated love was for the elves, decided to calm things down and decreed on her side that they were only friends for the moment. Indeed, love for the elves was a difficult subject because they only loved once in their lives, but their love could be compared to what we call soul mates on Earth. They knew from the first glance if the relationship they would have would be friendship or something else.

The big day had finally arrived. It had been several hours that everyone was getting ready in their rooms. Artanis and Nenlissë had decided to share a room to keep each other company and under the skilled fingers of the make-up and hair stylists, they were discussing the latest gossip that ran through the lands of Arafinwë.

The time to put on the dresses had finally arrived and Nenlissë dressed quickly before opening a small box on her desk that contained several pieces of jewellery. The young woman turned to her sister for her opinion.

“What do you think of this necklace?

-The pearls?” Artanis shook her head and picked up a thin necklace adorned with a few diamonds, “this one will do better, if you ask me. And…,” she rummaged around a bit more before pulling out some earrings to match the necklace, “you have the matching earrings.”

Nenlissë thanked her sister before putting on the jewellery and looking at herself in the mirror. I’m pretty though. She ran her hands over the fabric of her petticoat, feeling the texture under her fingers. Artanis interrupted her sister in her contemplation and pointed to the door where someone could be heard knocking.

“Your date is here.” Artanis said, a hopeful smile on her lips, “go ahead, we’ll meet you in the hall!

-See you later!”

Shyly, Nenlissë opened the door and found herself face to face with Teivel. The elf smiled at the young woman and offered her his arm, where she placed her hand. They began to walk in silence before Nenlissë broke it.

“How are you?

-Good,” Teivel replied, “I’m glad to be by your side for this day.

-Thank you…,” Nenlissë felt her cheeks flush and mentally argued with herself for being so weak in the elf’s presence.

-You look beautiful today.

-Because I don’t look beautiful all the time?” Nenlissë answered mischievously.

Her answer made Teivel laugh, and he shook his head before retorting.

“You are beautiful every day, but I must admit that you are even more radiant today.

-You don’t look bad yourself today.” The young woman replied, a smirk on her lips.

Indeed, Teivel had chosen to dress simply, but the small blue reflections on her black jacket made her eyes stand out elegantly and matched rather well with Nenlissë’s dress.

Do you know who will be there?” asked the elf.

-Not exactly… but I know that my family will be there, some of my cousins, uncles, and aunts…” The young woman searched in her mind who could be there, “ah yes, I almost forgot, I sent an invitation to Manwë? But will he be there, good question.

-Manwë?” Teivel seemed taken aback and stopped in the middle of the corridor. “Manwë could be present?

-Yes, is that a problem?” Nenlissë asked, not really understanding her date’s reaction.

-No no,” Teivel swept the air with his hand, “I’m just surprised. How do you know him?

-Uh…,” Nenlissë tried to find a way not to reveal too much about her origin, “We have… crossed paths? And it was he who introduced me to Arafinwë and Eärwen.”

Teivel nodded, assimilating his friend’s words before smiling at her. Nenlissë, too busy continuing to chat with him did not see how Teivel’s smile had no life in it and his eyes were as cold as ice. But as soon as her gaze returned to his face, it was as if a flame had been lit in Teivel and his expressions were warm again.

“We’re almost there, ready? he asked.

-Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be.” Nenlissë replied.

Arriving at the door to the ballroom, they exchanged one last look before Teivel nodded to the elf in charge of opening the door and announcing the people.

“Lady Nenlissë, daughter of Lord Finarfin and Lady Eärwen and Knight Teivel!”

[san-fics]

Blanch And Blush

OR 4 times Felix made Marinette blush and one time Marinette made Felix turn pale

PV Felinette

(Ao3 / Wattpad)

[day 1] [day 2] [day 3] [day 4]

Felinette November Prompt Week, Day 4, Thur. (Nov 24): Blanch & Blush

Hey guys! Felix's journey from lying to himself to realizition of his feelings - for @felinettenovember week and for you!

______________________

“There’s a blush for won’t, and a blush for shan’t, And a blush for having done it; There’s a blush for thought, and a blush for naught, And a blush for just begun it.” John Keats ________________________________

1. “There’s a blush for won’t, and a blush for shan’t…”

It wasn’t that Marinette Dupan-Cheng was particularly secretive about her affection for him. Rather the opposite. She didn’t hide it at all and the whole class knew about her crush.

Including him, of course.

Perhaps in some ways Felix was even flattered by her attention – although he would never confirm that he admitted this to you, so you don’t even have to try to betray his secret.

But the thing was, there was something about this girl… he couldn’t say what exactly. There was too much of everything in her, really. Joy in her worldview and vital delight in her eyes, freedom of creative flight and care for everyone, as if they all were precious and important to her.

Basically, everything that Felix was deprived of in the midst of the icy shards of what was once his family.

Perhaps this was also the reason why he tried to stay away from her and her huge cheerful soul.

Felix had long forgotten how to feel affection for people and couldn’t give her what she was waiting for.

And this was probably why, when she once again approached him with tickets in her hands, which Felix noticed even before that, and by which he knew that another invitation to the cinema awaited him, – he didn’t wait until she said the right words and spoke ahead of her.

“Not gonna happen.” He said, and Marinette froze with her mouth open.

She was staring at him, not reacting in any other way, and for a moment it even seemed to Felix that he was mistaken and she approached him for some other reason, but then the girl lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed with a thick blush.

Then she nodded silently and ran away.

Felix forced himself to turn away and not look after her. As much as he wanted to – it didn’t make any sense, – he reminded himself.

But a sigh of disappointment for something that couldn’t be in his life, unnoticed by anyone, still escaped from his lips.

2. “And a blush for having done it…”

It was a free period, and his classmates decided that the most intelligent way to spend this time was playing ‘Never have I ever.’

Of course Felix wasn’t going to take part in this stupid event! He took out the book he was currently reading from his bag and sat down at the teacher’s desk, – away from the noise.

And don’t ask him why he didn’t go to the library to read! Maybe he would have left, but Marinette was going to participate in the game... And it had nothing to do with anything, of course, but...

Anyway, get away from him already and read the story! He just stayed, that’s it!

Besides, the noise wasn’t that loud…

His classmates’ lines began with minor “Never have I ever been sick on public transport” from Alix and “Never have I ever lied to someone in this room” from Rose, but quickly took on a more serious turn when Kim spoke with his “Never have I ever sent a dirty text to the wrong person.”

Marinette probably never sent dirty texts, – Felix thought. Then he caught himself on this thought and immediately discarded it, – everyone in his class was already eighteen, but this didn’t mean that what they wrote in their texts made any difference for him...

“Never have I ever touched myself thinking about someone I like.” Chloe said, and was immediately bombarded with incredulous comments with doubts about the veracity of her statement from her classmates. “What is so surprising about it?!” The blonde exclaimed indignantly. “I just don’t like anyone!”

Felix didn’t understand at what point he lost his intention to ignore what was happening in the classroom, but his gaze slid upward from the book on its own, instantly rushing to Marinette. Her face was turned towards the window, but the fact that her cheeks burned with a bright blush was obvious.

He didn’t know if she’d bent her finger, but her blush suggested she had.

And some unusual sensation stirred somewhere deep inside him at the thought of what that meant, considering the “thinking about someone I like” part…

3. “There’s a blush for thought, and a blush for naught…”

They were sitting in a small school hall with subdued lights and chairs arranged in a semicircle.

It was a sex education lesson, and the teacher decided that they urgently needed to watch a film about how the fertilization process took place.

To be honest, the film was almost devoid of anatomical details and the emphasis was more on starting relationships and building a family, so in Felix’s opinion it could be more classified as propaganda than educational. But at least his father won’t sue for inappropriate content in the learning process...

Looking at the smiling couple on the screen, where the man held his hand on the woman’s stomach and the voice-over said something unobtrusive, Felix found himself wondering if Marinette wanted to have children, and how many, and when, and how would she like to name them...

For some time he was lost in thought and only came to his senses when his eyes met hers.

Marinette’s eyes widened in slight fright, as if she was caught doing something unsightly and she immediately turned away – her cheeks colored with embarrassed blush, noticeable even in the subdued light of the hall. Although the only thing he could catch her for was watching a movie, and, perhaps for her own thoughts…

Felix swallowed and that strange sensation deep inside of him stirred again, growing warmer and becoming more insistent.

But maybe he just ate something wrong at lunch today?..

4 + 1. “And a blush for just begun it.”

Of course he wasn’t going to help.

But Marinette clapped her hands loudly and said that this is their common home class, so everyone should participate in decorating it before Christmas. He didn’t understand why this was necessary – after all, everyone would be at home for the holidays – with their loving families and decorated houses, and he – in his silent house, strict and gray, like on any other day…

Maybe that was what made him stick paper snowflakes on clothespins, that Marinette handed him, to a string. It could also be that she herself was very close to him, climbing onto a stepladder to fix the decorations at the top, and he could steal a glance at her – for no particular reason – just… observing...

Then something went wrong, because when Felix glanced at Marinette again, she was reaching to the side, trying to connect the two upper garlands – but he could see that the point of their connection was clearly too far away for her to safely reach it.

The stepladder staggered, and Felix’s eyes widened as all the blood drained from his face and he rushed off, anticipating where the girl was going to fall, – because it was too late to hold onto the ladder to prevent it.

Marinette squealed, and in the next moment, he already held her in his arms, squeezing her so tightly as if she could fall further than his embrace.

That unusual sensation deep inside him exploded and Felix stared at the girl with a dazed look, – his heart beating so fast as if he had never forgotten how to feel affection for people. And the person who could give him this feeling again was the one he held tightly in his arms right now.

Their classmates, who had been decorating the walls all over the classroom before, came running towards them at the sound of a collapsing stepladder and surrounded the couple from all sides. But Felix didn’t seem to notice them, – still terrified at what could happen to the girl who was the only one that mattered to him, and to whom he wanted to give what she wanted.

He couldn’t say exactly when it had become so, but without it he could no longer see himself.

Felix woke up only when Chloe cleared her throat and he realized that he was staring at Marinette, as if she could disappear without a trace at any moment.

“So, guys, have you finished your hugs yet?” She asked, clearly trying to sound calm and detached, although in her voice there was also a hint of fear for her friend.

Felix forced himself to loosen his grip and finally reluctantly released Marinette from his grasp, feeling his body ache almost painfully from the loss.

But Marinette didn’t seem to plan on going too far.

In fact, she didn’t even look away from him. She moved closer to him and leaned into his arms, into which Felix readily accepted her – it seemed that no amount of self-deception could stop him from hugging this girl anymore.

“No, Chloe,” Marinette said quietly, continuing to look into Felix’s eyes as a soft blush filled her cheeks. “We’ve only just begun.”

_____________

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[tyonfs]

high-waisted shorts

❝ i noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way. do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look? ❞

PAIRING ▸ huang renjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, one night stand trope, fingering, palming, oral (fem. receiving), more oral (m. receiving), choking, raw sex (pls use protection), in this society we make important decisions with rock paper scissors, copious amounts of anime references, ft. jaemin, hyuck, and jeno tormenting poor renjun

SUMMARY ▸ huang renjun might be the least committed to all this “bitch hunting” bullshit, and he doesn’t want to stoop to the level of stupidity his friends are at. that’s why he’s pissed when you’re strutting around in those high waisted shorts wherever you go, making renjun lose all sense of reason.

PLAYLIST ▸ like by bts • cravin by danileigh, g-eazy • 23 by chase atlantic • sparkle by radwimps

WORD COUNT ▸ 7,850 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ first installment of the bitch hunters series !! wrote this while i was angry bc my discord got hacked and i was furiously typing LOL but hope u enjoy ♡

THE FIRST TIME HUANG RENJUN LAID EYES ON YOU, HE FELT LIKE A SINNER.

He wasn’t religious by any means, but some force in the universe had to be frowning down on Renjun for the way he was staring at your ass. His housemate, Donghyuck, had thrown a party at their house for the sole purpose of meeting new girls, and Renjun found this whole thing absolutely ridiculous. His roommates were dead-set on finding a girlfriend this year, and they had taken it to the extent of creating a contract to detail the rules of their “bitch hunting.”

On the other hand, Renjun thought he could find love naturally, so he wasn’t too keen on indulging himself tonight.

However, looking at the way your shorts were riding up whenever you jutted out your hip, Renjun felt like he could let go for a night.

It had been ages since he hooked up with someone. The last time was probably during his second year of college. For his third year, he was committed to just passing his classes and trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do with his life. Now that Renjun was in the final stretch, he supposed he could take it easy on himself and get his dick wet.

“You’re drooling.” Renjun looked over to fellow bitch hunter Na Jaemin smirking at him, handing him a red solo cup with a shot of tequila (or, more like a shot and a half because Jaemin sucked at measuring drinks). His best friend slash housemate added, “Go talk to her.”

“What?” Renjun asked, startled. “No, no, I’m not trying to hook up with someone.”

“I said talk,” Jaemin reminded. “You’re the one who said hook up.”

Renjun balked. He stared at his triumphant-looking friend for a moment before downing the tequila in his cup. Warmth spread to his chest in seconds, and he was starting to feel the self-control in his brain fog over. Renjun liked the feeling of being drunk; it allowed him to stop caring about stupid things, like talking to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“You know what,” he grumbled, “fine.”

But, sometimes, it also made him do stupid things, like walking over to talk to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“Hey,” Renjun greeted when he approached you. You were standing alone at the kitchen counter for a while, eyeing all the drinks spread out. “Are you liking the party?”

You turned to him and shrugged. “I guess. My roommate brought me here, but I don’t know anyone except her, so it’s kinda awkward.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

You looked over your shoulder and pointed to a girl with short hair. “Minjeong. She knows Jeno, I think.”

Renjun snorted. He recalled Jeno and Minjeong having a thing for a brief period. Since the walls were rather thin and Jeno wasn’t exactly quiet, he vividly remembered the filthy words he heard from his housemate’s room. Renjun would routinely kick the wall to shut Jeno up. In fact, he was doing Minjeong a service by rescuing her from a man who played League of Legends.

But Renjun didn’t know Minjeong had a roommate—and a hot one at that. He regretted not encouraging Jeno’s hookup to come to more of their parties.

“Well, now you know me,” Renjun said and held his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Huang Renjun.”

You giggled and took his hand. Yours was so much smaller than his. Maybe Renjun was thinking too much about how nicely his hand fit with yours. Maybe he was taking too long to shake your hand.

He realized this once you started talking and he was still clutching on.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced, and the little glint in your eyes made Renjun wonder if you were charmed. That was a plus for him; Renjun wasn’t terrible with girls, but he never made such strong first impressions. “What brings you here, then?”

“I live here, actually,” Renjun answered with a grin. He noticed you glancing at his cup, so he set it down to pour a shot for you in another cup. “You’re at my party, and I have no choice but to socialize. My friends would probably drag me out of my room if I tried to ditch.” He held out the cup to you, and then paused. “You’re not a lightweight, are you?”

“Why would it matter if I’m a lightweight?” you asked with a coy smile, taking the cup in your hand.

Renjun shrugged. Maybe it was the liquid confidence spurring him to act bolder, but he could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth next.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a room tour.”

To his surprise, you laughed, delighted. “A room tour?” you asked. “Sure, why not?” You set your cup down and grinned at him. “Also, I can handle my liquor just fine.”

Renjun lifted his brows, amused. He slid his hand into yours and led you to the staircase, a small smile playing on his lips. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily, but perhaps you both were experiencing a surge of adrenaline that made you want to do anything and everything.

If Renjun was Jeno or Donghyuck, he would’ve had to ask you to wait outside for a minute. Thankfully, he didn’t live like a slob and wasn’t ashamed of his living conditions. He kept things neat and tidy, and the only thing he probably had to worry about was his lotion and tissue box being right next to each other.

He hoped you wouldn’t pick up on that detail, though.

“Nice room,” you complimented when he opened the door. You looked around curiously before walking in, and Renjun headed in after you. “Do you normally bring girls up here like this?”

“Only the cute ones,” Renjun said, leaning against his door frame. “Do you normally follow guys into their rooms like this?”

You shot back a knowing smirk. “Only the cute ones,” you echoed, and Renjun wondered if he had died and gone to heaven.

He wasn’t on his A-game right now. It had been years since Renjun got laid, and the only reason he was functioning in front of you was because the tequila made him a smidge less over-analytical about everything he said.

“I noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way,” you added shyly, even though nothing about you seemed the least bit shy. Renjun wished the ground would swallow him whole. Before he went on a tangent about how he respected women and their bodies and started to apologize profusely for making you uncomfortable, you walked right up to him and continued, “Do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look?”

Clearly the universe had monumental plans for his dick tonight.

Renjun swallowed thickly and shut the door with one hand immediately. The booming music from downstairs grew more muffled, and he returned his attention to you once he locked it.

He was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, so he let his hormones take over and cupped your sex. Through your shorts.

Granted, the material was rather thick, but Renjun could feel your core pulsate through the fabric, and it drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” he growled when you started grinding your hips against his palm. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“More,” you begged, desperately rocking your hips to get as much friction as possible. Renjun smirked at how you clung onto him. “Want more.”

“Yeah, ‘course you do,” he mumbled, adding more pressure to his slow, torturous hand motions. Renjun walked you back so that the back of your knees were hitting the bed. “Can I take off your clothes?” You nodded in response but Renjun just grabbed your chin with his free hand and ordered, “Use your words, Y/N.”

You giggled a little, off-beat. “Go ahead,” you responded, looking at Renjun with newfound excitement.

Renjun’s lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he undid the front of your shorts. It felt like ages since he had done something like this, but it felt so natural for Renjun to rub your dripping slit with two fingers. Slow, torturous motions of his fingers, and then you were whimpering and squirming under him, begging for him to put his fingers inside of you.

“Patience.” Renjun chuckled, tugging your shorts down until they were at your ankles. You arched your hips to help him take off your underwear along with it. The sight of your bare cunt made Renjun a weak man. “Holy fuck.”

His fingers returned to rub your slit, and when you were drenching Renjun’s fingers with your arousal, he decided it was high time for him to give you what you wanted. He made direct eye contact with you as he slid his fingers inside of you, and the way your breath hitched and face contorted made Renjun nearly lose it.

He hadn’t even put his fingers all the way in and your walls were clenching around him. Renjun fought down the groan that dared to slip—simply from how tight you were around his digits.

“Jesus,” he grunted out, “you’re gonna feel so good around me.”

“You’re gonna give it to me?” you asked in a breath, and your tone was bordering on hopefulness and surprise.

“Yeah, of course.” Renjun’s eyes darkened when he coupled his fingering by planting his thumb on your clit, relishing the broken moan that escaped your lips. He had to use his free hand to manhandle your hips firmly to the mattress.

“S-sorry,” you apologized, and Renjun could tell you were trying your best to stop yourself from bucking your hips. He decided there was a simpler method to go about this, so he pulled his fingers away and scooted back. You frowned and looked over at him before whining, “Why’d you st—oh.”

Renjun held your hips down so that he could lick a long stripe between your folds, flattening his tongue once he got to your clit. He smirked at your reaction, proceeding to eat you out like a starved man. Renjun relished each moan and whimper that fell from your lips, barely audible over the muffled, booming music from downstairs. He was sure their neighbors would call for a complaint sooner or later, but nothing could pull Renjun from the intoxicating taste of you.

His motions must have been hitting the right places because you were squirming so much that Renjun had to grip your thighs tighter to remind you to stay still. He returned one hand to rubbing your clit in a steady motion as he ate you out, and he was pleased with how reactive you were.

A tingling flush spread across Renjun’s cheeks when your back arched against his bed, and he sucked on your ball of nerves a little harsher to coax you into your orgasm.

Then, he changed his mind.

You gasped when he pulled back. “I was so close!”

Renjun nearly laughed at how offended you looked before explaining, “I wanna make you cum on my cock instead.”

“Your cock?”

Renjun hummed. He wasn’t trying to edge you, but while he was going down on you, bringing you closer and closer to your release, he realized he wanted to see the look in your eyes when he brought you to your orgasm. He wanted to see how you fell apart because of him.

Exasperated, you hurried to sit up and maneuvered to get over Renjun, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Renjun didn’t intend to imply that he wanted you to ride him, but he was liking this turn of events more and more.

“Wow,” he got out in a breath, hands ghosting your body with an awestruck look on his face. “You’re gorgeous.”

Your reply, though, was blunt. “I want you to go raw.”

Renjun blinked at you for a second. At first, he was indifferent about it and just supposed you had cut out the extra step of getting a condom from his nightstand and sliding it on. Then, he realized how unbelievable this situation was—unbelievable and incredibly sexy.

“Are you sure?” he asked, although he was beaming at your words. “I mean, we just met.”

“As long as you don’t give me an STD, I’m down.” You drew Renjun closer and scooted up higher on his lap. “Plus, Plan B is only six dollars at the health center.”

“I’ll Venmo you three,” Renjun replied, dazed as you tugged his pants down and palmed his bulge. He stifled a groan, gripping your waist tighter. “Y/N—fuck.”

You had already rid of Renjun’s briefs, tracing the underside of his head once his cock sprang free. He found it awful how turned on he was by the way you eyed his size, so Renjun did the one thing that kept clouding his head and he pulled you into a fervent kiss, drinking the pink lemonade smirnoff right off your tongue.

Dizzying. Hazy. Intoxicating.

There was so much shuffling as Renjun kicked off his pants and underwear properly, adjusting his position so that you could ride him properly, but the both of you couldn’t pull away from each other’s lips.

“God,” Renjun growled out against your lips when you raised your hips to lower yourself onto his throbbing cock. He drank in the way your face contorted and your thighs twitched as you tried to take him in. After much easing and filthy words that Renjun whispered against your skin, you finally took him fully. “Good girl,” he praised, smirking at your whimper that followed his words.

He broke from the kiss to help you. Renjun held your hips firmly, guiding your movements so that you could ride him at a steady pace. He grunted at the way your walls clenched around him, and he was already so, so sensitive.

“You’re h-huge,” you stuttered, screwing your eyes shut when Renjun’s hand moved up your body, caressing each curve and dip. “Oh my god.”

His hand moved up to grope your tits through your shirt, and before he tried to slip his hands under your shirt, he slid his hand further up to choke you instead. Renjun was delighted at how you sped up when he pressed lightly against the sides of your neck.

You placed your hand over his, much like someone admiring a diamond necklace would. Your back arched as you continued bouncing on his cock, your head thrown back with moans trapped in your throat. Renjun was a little disappointed that he couldn’t freely let you be loud, but watching you hold it in might have been even better.

Renjun’s breathing was ragged when he drew you close yet again, and though you looked fucked-out, you seemed to understand right away that all he wanted was to taste your lips again. Renjun kissed you with hunger, driving his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours in a desperate union.  

“C-close,” you mumbled between kisses, and Renjun only smirked and deepened the kiss. Some twisted part of him wanted to keep you quiet against his lips as you came undone.

He fucked up into you as your motions became less coordinated and sloppy. Renjun’s heartbeat was drumming in his ear when he witnessed you fall into your orgasm, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock so fast that he came into you right after. His grip on your neck tightened ever-so-slightly when you dared to moan louder, yet it only seemed to turn you on even more.

He pulled back and leaned against the headboard, absolutely spent. Renjun helped you off his cock, groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Renjun said, wondering if you’d mind if he played with your clit for a while. He ended up doing so, and it was strangely domestic by how casual you were about it.

“Can I sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes, and god, Renjun couldn’t refuse you when you were giving him those eyes.

“Need a shirt?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

When Renjun woke up the next morning, you were gone, as expected. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to figure out where the fuck his shirt was. Eventually, he gave up on his search and threw on a sweater that was strewn over the head of his chair.

There was an acrylic nail laying on the pillow next to Renjun. He snorted at the sight. Cinderella left her glass slipper behind for the prince; you left your acrylic nail.

He chucked it in the trash, deciding that he would rather get rid of the nail instead of making you feel embarrassed for letting it get caught on the fabric. Maybe he was a little upset that you hadn’t even left a note behind, but it wasn’t like Renjun was expecting to meet the one at a house party. Hell, he wasn’t even as dedicated to his housemates’ “bitch hunting” antics as they were.

He trudged downstairs to make himself a bowl of cereal. Renjun forgot how tiring sex was, though the post-orgasm haze was always nice to bask in. Coupled with drinking last night, though, he craved something to scarf down so that he could regain a sense of his bearings.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Donghyuck greeted. He was sipping a cup of coffee next to Jeno in the kitchen. “Jaemin told us that you were getting some last night.”

Renjun grimaced. He recalled how he could never keep his hookups private because someone would snitch on him to the rest of his housemates. This invasiveness was something he never got used to.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered vaguely. “I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

“Is she not cuffing material?” Jeno asked. “C’mon, you can’t be fucking around when we’re supposed to be getting girlfriends.”

Rich coming from the guy who screwed your roommate.

Renjun grabbed his Frosted Flakes from the shelf and opened the other cupboard to get a bowl. He promptly ignored Jeno so that he wouldn’t let some crucial information about your identity slip. He would’ve rather kept you on the down-low, so that his housemates wouldn’t mess with the both of you.

The last time Renjun had a crush on a girl, it resulted in both him and Kim Yerim being incessantly teased. Jaemin did everything in his power to make sure Yerim’s bottle landed on Renjun when they played Spin the Bottle at a party in freshman year. He even to the extent of shoving Jeno out of the way so that the bottle was closer to Renjun.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck started, “Y/N seems like girlfriend-material to me.”

Well, that secret lasted for all but five seconds.

The shock must have shown on his face because Jeno burst out laughing immediately, Donghyuck following suit and slapping Jeno’s arm playfully. Renjun shook his head and returned to pouring his milk and cereal in the bowl, trying to ignore how obnoxious his friends were.

Keyword: trying.

“Ow!” Jeno winced when Renjun jabbed his side.

“Dude, for real, though,” Donghyuck started, “we’ll help you out if you really like her.”

“Don’t make it such a big deal.” Renjun tried to wave it off with a dismissive hand gesture, and his friends shrugged in response. “I don’t even know her that well.”

“You don’t want to get to know her?”

Did Renjun want to know more about you? Well, he was probably addicted to the taste of your lips and the way you looked underneath him, but he hadn’t had too many conversations with you to gauge whether he was interested in more. However, the way you looked in those high-waisted shorts did make him a touch curious about seeing you again.

“Nah,” Renjun lied coolly. “Forget it.”

Renjun couldn’t get you out of his fucking head.

Well, it was pretty hard to do so when he discovered you sat right in front of him in his aerospace thermodynamics class.

In those damn high-waisted shorts.

It was another pair this time—white with the hem fringed. Renjun couldn’t even focus on the lecture about the Carnot Cycle when he kept getting vivid flashbacks to the previous night. Your lips dragging across his skin. His hands traveling up and down your body. Your nails digging into his back.

“... and those will be your pairings for the final project. Please come see me if you have any further questions, otherwise refer to the module,” Renjun’s professor finished.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in to look up at the screen. Renjun scanned the document the professor had pulled up with a list of names, running down until he saw his name right next to yours.

This had to be a joke. It was something straight out of a movie. Some shitty rom-com where the two main characters slowly fell into a pure relationship through a forced partnership, but there was nothing that was pure between you and Renjun after what had happened last night.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Renjun muttered under his breath, nearly gasping when you whipped your head around to look at him questionably. “Oh. Hey.” He raised a brow before stupidly asking, “You come here often?”

“I’m a student here, so yeah,” you answered.

Figured.

You continued, “We’re partners.”

“We are,” Renjun confirmed, “so we’re gonna be working together for a while.”

A slow grin spread across your face, making Renjun swallow thickly. Your eyes shone with a mischievous glint, and your gaze dropped a little before drifting back up to look Renjun in the eye.

“I look forward to working with you, partner.”

“Yeah.” Renjun coughed a little. “Me too… partner.”

The first time you and Renjun met up to “work together” after exchanging numbers was exactly a week later. It wasn’t very productive, to say the least. You offered to start it at your place, and Renjun realized this was probably a bad idea, but it had to be 0.1% better than working at his house, so he obliged.

He realized that he had no idea what the project was even on until he was sitting in your living room, looking over your shoulder to see the project guidelines pulled up on your laptop.

“Which one of these do you wanna do?” you asked. “My concentration is aeronautics so I’m leaning toward the cooling method design one.”

“I’m astronautics.” Renjun snorted. “I like the jet propulsion one.”

Renjun and you stared at each other for a minute. He wasn’t sure how to diffuse this tension; he could kiss you, but the fire in your eyes made it clear that this was competitive tension, not sexual tension. Then, you held out your hand in front of you, balling it into a fist and placing it in the palm of your other hand.

“Let’s rock, paper, scissors this,” you decided.

Renjun raised a brow. “You’re using rock, paper, scissors to decide the outcome of our final grade in a major class?” he asked, and when you nodded, he shrugged. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

1 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

2 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

Your face fell, and Renjun found it cute how distraught you were at the realization that you were losing at your own game. You were relentless, though, and held out your fist again.

“Best out of three,” you said.

“Even if it’s best out of three, I still win,” Renjun argued. “I literally won it twice.”

“I’ll suck you off if we can do the cooling method design.”

Renjun nearly choked on his own spit, coughing for a moment before he calmed down and tried to take your offer seriously. There was something ethically wrong about all of this, but only a fool would turn down a blowjob. At least that was what Renjun tried to convince himself of.

That was how the first work session went to shit.

Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, pants sagging at his ankles and head thrown back as you went down on him. He curled his fist in your hair, guiding your movements and admiring the way tears streamed down your cheeks as you deepthroated him.

He grunted, breath caught in his throat for a moment when your tongue ran along the vein on his cock perfectly, and without warning, Renjun was cumming down your throat.

You were panting when you finally pulled yourself off Renjun, having the nerve to tease his sore and sensitive head while your lips were wrapped around it. He tried to glare down at you, but he was too spent to do anything but catch his breath, leaning back on his hands.

“So…” You smirked devilishly. “Cooling method design, right?”

Renjun scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, though he knew that one more bat of your lashes and he’d end up complying. Whatever spell you had him under, Huang Renjun knew he was royally screwed around you.

Renjun was puzzled.

You two had been working on the group project for a month and a half now, regularly going to each other’s apartments, but absolutely nothing was happening. By nothing, Renjun meant that you seemed to tame whatever aggressive sexual libido you had when you first met him. Now, Renjun was leaving your house bi-weekly with blue balls. It was torture.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy your company. It was nice having someone to work with that wasn’t only productive but engaged in quality conversations. Sometimes, you went on long rants about your roommate problems, and at this point, Renjun was half-convinced that he knew more about Minjeong than Jeno did.

Later, when Renjun confided in Jaemin about it (why he chose to confide in Jaemin was beyond him, but at least the guy was useful for something), his roommate replied, “You’re in the talking stage, dude.”

What the hell was a talking stage? Renjun wanted immediate obsession.

“Renjun’s getting cuffed?” Donghyuck questioned. Before Renjun could respond, too dazed from Jaemin’s response, Donghyuck’s lips curled into a smirk. “Attaboy.”

“She got Renjun to watch anime with her.” Jaemin scoffed. “Can you believe it?”

“Which one?” Jeno chimed in. A pout settled on his roommate’s face. “You don’t even watch anime with me, Renjun.”

“I didn’t even agree yet!” Renjun defended, pulling out his phone with the texts from you as proof. “See? She just sent me a list of her recommendations. I didn’t even decide if I was gonna watch one of them yet.”

“Some of the summaries she wrote are concerning,” Jaemin said, looking over his friend’s shoulder to see the list. “Would you watch ‘girl gets in a car crash while she’s trying to save a loser god and her soul leaves her body sometimes to chill with the other gods’ or ‘gay volleyball players that are actually not gay and just have a wholesome friendship and play volleyball a lot’?”

“My personal favorite is ‘bad bitches gamble in high school,’” Donghyuck added. “Sounds heartwarming.”

“Don’t watch that one,” Jeno cut in with a serious tone, which was a refreshing change from the torment that Jaemin and Donghyuck were inflicting upon Renjun. “The two that Jaemin suggested are way better.”

Jaemin leaned in to whisper to Renjun and Donghyuck, “Jeno takes this stuff seriously. He even has a whole anime tier list.”

Unbeknownst to his housemates, Renjun had already done his extensive research on the shows already. He had looked up every summary and review for each show, and he already mentally selected the anime he wanted to start with. Renjun liked to reciprocate with these sorts of gestures; if someone was going to put in the effort for him, he wanted to show the same energy back.

So, the minute you sent Renjun that extensive text, he got right to researching the suitable anime to watch. He weighed all the pros and cons before coming to a conclusion. It was the only right thing to do after you put so much work into sending him that text.

(In reality, you probably only spent a few minutes typing it all out.)

“I didn’t choose either of those,” Renjun announced. “I’m going with Your Name.”

“My name?” Donghyuck asked stupidly, pointing at himself. “There’s an anime called Hyuck?”

“Yeah, it’s called the Goofy Movie,” Jaemin retorted. 

“This is why you’re a piece of shit, Jaemin.”

“No, Your Name,” Renjun corrected. “It’s an anime movie, dumbass.”

“Is that on your tier list, Jeno?” Jaemin asked.

“Yeah…” Jeno trailed off, rubbing his chin as he tried to remember where he placed it. His eyes shone when it clicked in his head. “It’s in the ‘astronomically down bad’ tier.”

Well, fuck.

Office Hours for aerospace thermodynamics was held on Fridays at eight in the morning, and Renjun found that to be an abomination.

For one, he despised waking up at such an ungodly hour because every hour Renjun had to cut out of his beauty sleep meant a higher risk of breaking out. While it was such an easy task in high school, the few extra years on Renjun now seemed to be a burden on his body. He could barely drag himself out of bed without at least ten alarms that went off five minutes apart.

Secondly, the walk to campus was unbearable. It was too close for Renjun to take his car, but it felt like miles when he went by foot. He was always a sweltering mess by the time he got on campus grounds, speed walking to get into the first air conditioned building he could see.

But, now, Renjun had something to look forward to: you.

“You’re late!” you scolded in a whisper. Renjun was huffing when he approached you in front of the door to their professor’s office. He bit back a smile at how cute your fake-angry face was. “Did you run here or something? You’re all sweaty.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “You sure know a lot about me being sweaty, huh?” This got a laugh out of you—one that Renjun had to sneak a look at through the corner of his eye, beaming at how your eyes lit up at his joke. He asked, “Is he talking to another student?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be with us in ten,” you replied. “I brought my laptop so we can show him all the slides we made.”

“Perfect. That’s plenty of time,” Renjun said. Before you could ask what he meant, he pinched your inner thigh—a gesture that felt more endearing than sexual—and he started walking ahead of you. “Follow me.”

While you were tailing behind, hounding Renjun with questions, he was scanning the windows down the hall to see which classroom was completely empty. When he finally found one void of students and teachers, he opened it and grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside with him. Your questions ceased once you caught onto what he was suggesting.

“Cute shorts,” Renjun commented.

“You couldn’t take it anymore, huh?” You ran your nicely-manicured fingernails down Renjun’s chest, biting back a smile as he closed the door behind the two of you. “I know you’d cave sooner or later.”

Renjun’s mind went completely blank, like the static when tuning to a different radio station. Then, it dawned on him.

“You planned this.”

“Not completely,” you defended. “I knew you had a thing for me in these kinds of shorts, so I wanted to see how long I could wear them for until you finally exploded.”

“Oh my god,” Renjun breathed out. He cornered you against the wall, looking down at you in awe. He nearly popped a boner with the way you looked up at him with that coy smile. “You little devil.”

Renjun turned you around with no proper warning, pressing up against your back while your front was against the wall. You turned your head to the side as you gasped, trying to crane your neck to look back at him, but to no avail. Renjun reached down the front of your shorts and started rubbing you through your underwear—agonizingly slow.

His smile was a little unhinged as he palmed you, relishing the way you crooned and moaned because of his hand movements. Renjun loved the way you were arching your back against him, each stutter of your hips against his crotch reminding him of how he ached for you.

For some reason, Renjun could only think about ripping your clothes off and having his way with you. If he could, he would completely ignore Office Hours, but you seemed too adamant on attending. Something about getting those stupid slides approved. (Renjun could honestly care less with his 95% in the class, but he wasn’t going to gloat.) So, you rushed him through the foreplay, begging him to not make you two late for your meeting.

“Good girl,” he simpered when he had one of your legs wrapped around his hips, easing his cock into your walls as slowly as he could, all the while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You whimpered. “I haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Seriously? Ever since we hooked up?”

When you nodded, Renjun felt like all the blood from his head rushed to his cock. He was a little lightheaded, but he was incredibly horny. He waited for you to adjust properly, and then Renjun settled for a ruthless pace, fucking into you so abruptly that your arms slung around his neck immediately.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as he thrusted. You returned it immediately, eyes fluttering shut and melting into him. It was sweet and somewhat out-of-place given the magnitude of what you two were currently doing.

The feeling of your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair and your broken croons against his lips was absolutely divine. Something about being so close to you coupled with the risk of being caught made Renjun feel so connected to you on levels he hadn’t felt before. He, for one, would never do something like this for someone who he was just hooking up with.

He was a man of reward, not risk. You, however, made him consider both.

“Oh! Right there!” you yelped one he hit that one perfect spot. You tried to quiet down your cries, but it was clearly not working, so Renjun did you a favor and clamped a hand over your mouth as he fucked you against the wall.

“Come on, love,” he taunted, “you better cum fast before we miss that meeting. You don’t wanna be caught, do you?”

Your eyes were glossy with tears rimming the waterline. Renjun nearly got lost in them, breath hitching when tears started rolling down your cheeks and your hips continued bucking up against his, begging for more contact. That was when Renjun realized you were on the edge, and he figured it out too late because one final thrust had you clenching around him and letting out muffled moans against his palm.

You spoke against his hand, almost inaudible because of how muffled your voice was.

“What was that?” Renjun asked, removing his hand.

“Don’t cum,” you clarified, hazy as Renjun kept thrusting into you like a well-oiled machine.

“Are you denying my orgasm? That’s kinda hot.”

“D-don’t make a mess,” you said, reaching up to grab his cheek. “We still have that meeting.”

“Alright, alright,” Renjun said softly, slowing his thrusts until he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away. He was still aching and hard as a rock, so he was going to have to take a quick bathroom break and have you stall the professor for time. “This isn’t just gonna be a monthly thing, right?”

“Bi-monthly?” you joked. Renjun snickered and nudged your shoulder playfully. “C’mon, I’d be stupid to not let that happen again.”

“Wanna come over tonight?” he offered. “Not… not to do our project. Let’s, like, actually hang out. We can watch one of your anime recommendations.”

You smiled at him. “Tonight? Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Y/N, I…” Renjun started, and when he realized what he was going to say, he cut himself off, shocked.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “I have to go to the bathroom to take care of my little problem,” he mumbled. “Stall the professor for me, will you?”

You threw your head back and laughed—well, it was more like a cackle. It sounded kind of evil, and Renjun was a little miffed at the thought of you enjoying the thought of him suffering with blue balls.

When you agreed and fixed your appearance before you left, Renjun had to lean back against one of the desks and process what had just happened. It wasn’t the sex that he was so worried about, but it was the words that died on his tongue. The words he would’ve let fall from his lips if he had just a little less self-control.

I like you a lot.

“I think I’m gonna ask Y/N out,” Renjun blurted out that evening at the dinner table.

Jaemin choked on his cereal. Nobody asked why he was eating Frosted Flakes while everyone else was eating a proper meal; it was probably just a Jaemin thing. Renjun was more curious as to why he had a second box of cereal next to his bowl, though, like he was ready to devour both.

“You’re asking her out?!” Donghyuck asked, an excited glint playing in his eyes. Renjun knew that look all too well, and he was a little scared of it, but part of him wanted to believe it was genuine excitement from his friend.

“I like her,” Renjun admitted. “A lot.”

Jeno whistled lowly. “I didn’t think this day would come. Mark would be proud of you, Renjun.”

“I never needed Mark’s validation, Jeno, but thanks.”

“So, when are you gonna ask her?” Jaemin asked, spooning a bunch of cereal and milk into his mouth.

That was what Renjun was stuck on. He had no idea what “good timing” was, and he wasn’t sure if asking a girl out while watching anime was very romantic. Then again, he didn’t expect you to care too much about formalities like that.

Plus, it was clear that you had some feelings for Renjun. He could feel the mutual intimacy when he split you open, as odd as that sounded.

“Tonight,” Renjun decided.

(“Need us to leave the house? We can chill outside,” Donghyuck offered.

“No, you’re good,” Renjun told him, “and I’m saying this because I saw the binoculars in your backpack so please stay in your room, for the love of God.”)

Huang Renjun was meticulous.

Because of this, he actually watched Your Name before you came over. He didn’t pay too much attention to the plot because he wanted to get into it while you were by his side, but he noted the three ideal points in the movie to drop the question of the night.

So, when you knocked at his door, he was prepared.

“Hey,” you breathed out, and Renjun felt winded for a second because you looked absolutely gorgeous with your scarf pulled up to your chin.

“What’s up?” He rubbed the back of his neck and was starting to wonder if he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was.

“I dressed up,” you told him. “Isn’t it stupid? I dressed up to watch anime.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Renjun replied, and he could hear miniature replicas of his roommates screaming in his head, telling him that he was fumbling the bag. So, he quickly added, “But it’s cute.”

Fumbled and saved. Renjun was too lucky sometimes.

“You think I’m cute?” you asked as Renjun opened his laptop to stream the movie. He was a bit distracted with entering his password in, but when he processed your question, he did a double take. You giggled at his reaction. “Well?”

“I mean…” He hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as he thought they were. “I guess so—yeah.”

He patted the space next to him on his bed before you could tease him any further. Renjun thought his heart would go crazy if you continued being so annoyingly adorable in front of him. So, he fixed his gaze on his laptop screen, only glancing at you when you slid into the sheets next to him and leaned against his arm. Renjun placed half of the laptop on your lap so that it was centered.

Normally, instances like these would result in a cuddle session. However, Renjun had to understand that you took your anime seriously, and that there would be nothing sexual or romantic happening while you two were watching the movie. He decided to buckle down and watch it seriously himself.

However, that resulted in Renjun missing all of the ideal points in the movie to drop the “will you be my girlfriend?” bomb. He wound up being so immersed in the movie, and he only realized that he had actually fumbled the bag when they reached the climax of the movie.

“This part makes me so anxious,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Renjun replied bitterly. Thankfully, you didn’t have the mind to question why he sounded so indifferent. “Same here.”

When Renjun recalled the possibly romantic ending scene, he realized he had another chance to make things right.

Unfortunately, he got so distracted by the movie again that he completely missed the opportunity to ask you out. He was mentally scolding himself for being so out-of-character.

“Renjun,” you started, and he turned to you with a raised brow. “You look disappointed with the ending.”

“I’m not disappointed with the movie, I’m disappointed in myself,” he answered honestly. “The movie was incredible, really. Five out of five stars on Yelp.”

You gently touched his arm. “Why are you disappointed in yourself?”

“Because I wanted to ask you out!” Renjun exclaimed. God, he was stupid. He was so, so, so stupid, but the words were slipping out without any proper filter. “I picked out, like, three good moments in the movie where I could’ve popped the question, but I was being an idiot and missed them all. Jesus, this is so—”

“I like you, too.”

There was a feeling Renjun got sometimes when he was around you. It was when his chest felt fuzzy and his stomach kept dropping. He supposed it was what people described as “butterflies,” but Renjun despised butterflies, so he didn’t want to call it that.

But, here you were, laying your feelings bare in front of Renjun. He felt like the sun, Earth, and the moon had all aligned for this very moment. It was like a collision of supernovas in his chest, making him buzz and glow with the amount of inexplicable joy he felt.

You liked him. You liked him.

“You…” Renjun trailed off. “Huh?”

“I like you, stupid,” you insisted, punching his shoulder lightly. “Do I have to scream it in your ear?”

“I might be dreaming.” When you brought your lips to Renjun’s ear, he panicked and held you back by your shoulders. “Okay, relax, I get it. You like me back. Understood.”

You grinned. “Well, do you have something you wanna say?”

Renjun blushed. He couldn’t believe he could feel flustered to this extent, but you had a strange effect on him. When he regained his composure, he moved the laptop off your laps and turned to face you a little more.

“Y/N,” he started. “I like you a lot, so will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. “Of course.”

Renjun looked you dead in the eye. “So, ready to seal the deal?” he asked.

“What deal?”

Renjun’s hand moved to hold the back of your neck, leaning down to pull you into a sweet kiss. He was surprised by how easily you fell into the rhythm, kissing him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Renjun pulled you closer by your hip, nearly going further until you placed your hands on his chest.

You pulled back for air, looking up at him with a glazed-over expression. He was definitely going to have to make this impromptu first date up to you with something more romantic, but, for now, Huang Renjun was too lost in your eyes.

“Up for a round?” you asked.

Renjun’s cheeks heated up before you handed him the game console. “Smash Bros. Right.” He took it from your hands and sent you a lopsided grin. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

A grin spread across your face. “Don’t be too sure of yourself,” you chided. “Even though I’m your girlfriend now, I’m not showing you any mercy.”

Jeno groaned as he slapped a ten dollar bill into Donghyuck’s palm. The two of them and Jaemin had been eavesdropping on their best friend’s confession earlier, and they were glad for two reasons: one being that Renjun was the first bitch hunter to attain a bitch, and the second reason being that they didn’t have to listen in on them nearly fucking.

“Jaemin, I need ten dollars from you, too,” Donghyuck chided. “I said they’d get together within two months and they did, so I won this bet fair and square.”

“I was close enough!” Jaemin complained. “Three months was a pretty reasonable estimate.”

“But not the closest, so cough it up.” Donghyuck gestured for his housemate to place the money on his hand, and Jaemin reluctantly did so after much reluctance. “It feels so good to be right all the time.”

“I thought they’d get together in two weeks.” Jeno crossed his arms across his chest. “But, damn, Renjun was the first to get cuffed out of us, and he didn’t even care about bitch hunting.”

“It’s okay, boys,” Donghyuck assured, though his bravado was simply just boosted by his $20 reward, “all of us will find our respective bitches.” He glanced at Jaemin for a moment and made a face. “Actually, I’m not sure about Jaemin, but Jeno and I for sure.”

“Funny,” Jaemin replied bitterly, “I was just about to say the same about you, Hyuck.”

Jeno, sensing the tension rising between his two friends, grinned sheepishly and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “We should get to campus before we’re late, you guys.”

The other two agreed despite bickering the entire walk to the car. Jeno snickered at his friends, but all he could think about was how the heat was on now. Since Renjun was victorious a month and a half into the semester, Jeno knew that Donghyuck and Jaemin would be even more fired up to find their special someone. He, too, wondered when the day would come that he found someone that made him soft around the edges.

For now, though, Jeno could just enjoy listening to his friends banter back-and-forth.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ huang renjun: no bitches to bitch attained >:) thank you so much for your patience with the first installment !! i can’t wait to write the rest <33 i wanna scream it from the top of the building bc i feel like that’s the only way i can truly show my gratitude but i deeeeeply appreciate all the love and support i’ve gotten on this series !! to think this was supposed to be for my 5k follower special and i’m at 6k now!! that’s insane???? i’m so honored that you guys choose to read my works so thank you thank you thank you and i hope you enjoyed the first installment! ♡ (p.s: i hope you caught onto the lil segway to jeno’s at the end :D) 

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[destinysbounty]

Wrote a oneshot! Inspired by this fanart made by @spinchip! Basic premise, what if Zane's sixth sense had warned him about his impending death beforehand?

(Read here on AO3!)

We Were Overdue (But It'll Be Over Soon)

Zane had never taken much issue with his sixth sense. It may have been cryptic and disorienting at the best of times, but it frequently proved itself a valuable asset to his team nonetheless. And Zane couldn’t bring himself to truly dislike anything that helped his friends.

That being said, sometimes he couldn’t help considering it a bit…annoying. Inconvenient. Bothersome, even. 

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it started, but if Zane were to hazard a guess he’d say it all began about two months after the Final Battle and roughly one week before his father’s second death.

It’s also hard to pinpoint exactly what ‘it’ even is, but the closest approximation would be to call it a ‘feeling’. The ‘feeling’, for lack of better term, was a deep, profound, almost cosmic sense of sheer dread that clung to his edges like a shadow. No, not even a shadow. It was more of a black pit with no end, yawning and stretching far into a dark, foreboding expanse. Foreboding for what, he didn’t know, and was anxious to find out. But just the presence of it alone was enough to saturate his circuits and catch on the clicks of his gears, like a snag in a sweater.

He initially wrote it off as a natural byproduct of his father’s impending departure. He’d already witnessed Dr. Julien succumb to old age once before, and it seemed reasonable that he’d be apprehensive about watching it happen again. And for a short while, this explanation mollified him somewhat. 

But then his father passed away.

And then they held a funeral.

And then Dareth subbed for his classes while Zane took five days of bereavement leave. 

(Wu had offered him upwards of six weeks, of course, citing the fact that Dr. Julien had been his sole companion for over 40 years and losing him was bound to be a particularly mournful experience, but Zane had politely declined. He’d already grieved for his father the first time, after discovering his memory switch, and while these past few months had been a wonderful vacation from the status quo, that’s all it was - a vacation. Now Dr. Julien was back to being dead again, and everything had returned to how it was meant to be. He’d always known it wouldn’t last, and he sought comfort in the fact that it'd lasted as long as it did. Not to mention he now had a loud, vibrant, loving family to fall back on should his grief overpower him. With this in mind, he felt confident that five days was all he needed.)

Surely after all that, the sense of dread would fade at least a little, right? If the feeling spawned out of fear of losing his loved one, then it made sense that the feeling would go away once the inevitable finally occurred. Like a release of tension, in a sense. 

Yet somehow, the dread didn’t go away. In some ways it actually got worse.

Once more Zane sought a rational explanation. Surely this was just an unexpected but not unwelcome part of the grieving process. He was only a nindroid, after all - far be it from him to claim any expertise regarding how emotions are supposed to work. But over time, as more troubling symptoms began to emerge, even that explanation lost its edge.

First was the occasional hot flashes - quick bursts of heat igniting in the false flesh of his palms, spiraling up through his wires and all the way to his heart. The flashes occurred sparingly, but just often enough (and just painfully enough) for him to seek diagnosis from Jay and Nya. But to their mutual confusion, none of them could find anything wrong with him.

“Well, you weren’t exactly built yesterday,” Nya said after yet another hour-long diagnostic procedure. She set her goggles down with a sigh, tenderly rubbing the red marks left behind under her eyes. “Your hardware is decades old at this point, and I highly doubt you kept up with maintenance while you had amnesia. You were bound to run into some issues sooner or later.”

Jay struck a conniving grin in response to Zane’s confused expression. “Basically, what she’s saying is that you’re dealing with old people problems, and we’re gonna have to fix you up with the robot equivalent of prune juice. Who knows, maybe we’ll even find a nice nindroid nursing home for you.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Jay." She gave her boyfriend a playful shove. "You gotta respect your elders, y’know.” And with that they both dissolved into fits of laughter, rendering Zane even more confused than he already was.

So while the rest of his family delighted in teasing him with a plethora of ‘old man’ remarks and other such jokes about his age, Nya and Jay set to work upgrading portions of his hardware - careful to avoid the more intricate aspects of Dr. Julien’s original design while still changing enough of it to boost Zane’s mechanical efficiency. 

Of course, while this dramatically enhanced his processing power and overall performance speed, it didn’t fix the mysterious spark-flashes.

The dread and the flashes weren’t his only symptoms either. He’d started growing anxious around spiderwebs - not spiders, just their webs, and anything that resembled their webs for that matter. And he would often dream of strange, incoherent nonsense that he never remembered in the morning, yet for some reason always left him scrambling up to a mirror to make sure his faceplate hadn’t loosened in his sleep. 

The two most concerning symptoms, however, were probably the following:

First, Zane’s quickly developing fear of gold. Every time he saw something that looked like bright, shimmering gold, the sensors in his face would sputter, and that burning sensation would light up in his palms again, and he would begin to hyperventilate, and his power core would throb in ways Pixal later explained were the nindroid equivalent of a panic attack. And worst of all, the dread would triple its pressure against his steel joints, asphyxiating his circuits into a caustic seizure. 

(According to his father, Zane’s breathing mechanism not only served to make his replication of humanity more authentic, but also as a form of manual air circulation. Moments of high stress and intense emotion could lead to his system overheating, so he was programmed to breathe more when under duress to prevent this from happening. He used to think it was a bit silly, pointless even, but after experiencing the intense heat caused by both the spark-flashes and the phantom melting sensation that accompanied the sight of gold, now he was just glad for any relief he could get.)

The second especially troubling symptom was also the only one he never dared share with others: his developing fear of Lloyd .

This one didn’t have a rational explanation, no matter how many hours he devoted to parsing out for one. For reasons unknown, the mere thought of Lloyd would cause the dread to slice into him with an unmatched intensity, like wire cutters slicing away the thermoplastic insulation from the nerves in his hands. The flashes and the heat and the gold would overwhelm him all at once, overloading his neural drive with so much false input that he had to run off into another room whenever Lloyd came to visit.

Zane quickly got better at finding excuses to leave, and later he learned how to bury his fear altogether, so as to spare Lloyd the pain of this unfair phobia. Lying was immoral and Zane would never forgive himself doing so, but as much as it pained him to admit it, deceiving his friends on this matter had certainly come in handy. Lloyd didn’t deserve to think Zane was afraid of him, or that Zane didn’t trust him. He’d saved the world! He’d sacrificed his own childhood just to protect Zane and the rest of their family! And more than that, he was their little brother. Chosen one status and golden destiny notwithstanding, he had earned Zane’s affection simply by being family.

It was probably just a glitch. Like Nya said, his hardware was old, and it had been placed under a lot of strain since becoming a ninja. He just needed to let his OS sort itself out, and soon everything would go back to normal.

Right?

After a particularly intensive system update yielded no improvements, Zane was forced to reconcile the one truth he’d feared most: that all of these symptoms weren’t due to an issue with his hardware but were somehow foretelling a tragedy yet to come.

Sharing this realization with the rest of the team had set everyone one edge for a while and rightly so, as Zane’s premonitions were never wrong - but after three weeks passed with no signs of his dread becoming reality, the others steadily abandoned their apprehension and moved on. And Zane would have moved on too, but the dread addled to his side like chewing gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

When the Digital Overlord revealed himself, Zane was equal parts horrified and relieved. Horrified for obvious reasons - the Overlord was back, he was now targeting Lloyd specifically, he had Wu in his custody, and he was using modified versions of Zane’s own blueprint against him. But he was also relieved because finally, after nearly a year of watching and waiting with baited breath, his premonitions had at long last received their payoff. His dread was because the Overlord was still alive, his fear of gold was because of the Overlord’s plans to make himself corporeal using golden power, and his fear of Lloyd was due to the curse of the golden master and the fact that Lloyd used to be the golden master. All his premonitions finally, finally, had a rational explanation. 

And yet, still the dread didn’t fade. The symptoms remained as loud and obnoxious as they’d always been. Fragments of visceral, forgotten dreams still clouded his CPU and cluttered his storage drive. Spark-flashes still singed his servomotors and grinded at his actuators, threatening to melt the fake skin off his hands and burn the metal framework underneath. The dread still infected his receivers and emitters, tangling itself into a mess of inputs and outputs, and coloring all his sensory data with a sepia filter of foreboding. 

He knew what this meant, of course. It meant that no matter what the Overlord was doing now, no matter what he’d already done to the likes of Pixal and Lloyd and Mr. Borg and Wu, it was bound to get worse. Much, much worse.

Sometimes, he really did find his sixth sense to be quite troublesome. 

But for all the pain and misery it had caused him for the better part of a year, he couldn’t bring himself to dislike any of it. Because of the nervous edge he'd been dangling over all this time, he knew to be ready. He knew to never fully let his guard down. And if even the tiniest millisecond of anticipation gave them a much-needed advantage, then he would rather spend all his time an anxious, dread-ridden wreck than ruin his friends’ chances of survival.

It was that same split-second advantage, that unease manifesting as preparedness, that allowed him to back away from the Overlord’s grasp just in time, while all his friends became ensnared in the new golden master's tentacle grip one by one. 

Standing there on the edge of that roof, watching his friends struggle and gasp as the Overlord squeezed the life out of them, the dread returned anew. And it sang into his heart in ways it had never done before. No more was he haunted by disjointed visions and nebulous premonitions. All of it had fled his systems at once, circuitry now almost painfully bereft of the foreboding that had tormented him for so long. And in its place came a new feeling. 

No, ‘feeling’ wasn’t the right word. It was…it was as if someone had taken his spirit, his soul, his conscious mind, and harshly yanked it out from its hiding place nestled between his gears, and laid it bare for all to see. 

He didn’t know he had a soul to begin with. And yet here it was, twinkling bright from its perch inside his power core. Singing to him.

This is it, it said.  This is what you’ve been waiting for. 

“The armor!” Cole cried out, wheezing as the Overlord’s glowing tendril tightened around his chest. “Why isn’t it working?!”

The Overlord’s warped voice came through in a sickening perversion that scraped against Zane’s ears. “Because your time is over!” 

Around him, golden webs weaved the city streets into a tapestry of chaos. Down below, Serpentine helped guide their fellow civilians down into the sewers. Just in front of him, his friends struggled in vain to resist the sheer power of the Overlord.

And inside him, a knowing chorus sang.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

That much was true. For better or worse, this was exactly what he’d been anxiously awaiting all this time. This moment right here was what his sixth sense had spent the last year preparing him for. 

The golden net on which the Overlord stood resembled the spiderwebs Zane had grown to fear. The glowing energy that rent the air asunder and suffocated his teammates - his family - was the reason gold had begun to scare him so much (the reason Lloyd had begun to scare him so much).

The only symptom yet to explain itself were the spark-flashes. Originating from his palms and spreading out into the rest of him and dissecting his artificial skin with a fierce destruction, converging on his heart and threatening to choke everything that made him whole in a thick layer of gold.

Coming from his…hands…

Thanks to the Golden Armor, the Overlord was nigh unstoppable. The only thing capable of defeating him was something or someone just as powerful. And it’d be a gamble, with low odds of success, but if he could jump the distance… 

No, that was - that was ridiculous. It would destroy him! His heart couldn’t even handle powering a measly spacecraft, what hope did he have of withstanding all that Golden Power long enough to actually wield it ?

A memory came to him, unbidden.

“That’s why it’s called hope, Zane.”

Zane took a deep breath. At times like this, he appreciated that his father had built him with the ability to do so.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

You know what to do.

“Support me, friends,” he said. “For one last time.” And, armed with nothing but love for his family, he jumped.

The pain from his premonitions had always originated at his palms. Now he knew why.