#and i was just discussing becoming a substitute teacher today

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

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[lady-rose-moon]

Stay after class || Loki x Reader || 18+

A/N: I am so sorry that I have been absent for so long. I am suffering with really bad writers block and I can't come up with any fics. Something really surprising happened when writing this... I struggled writing smut! I'm horrified! I'm going to try to knock myself out of it but if I disappear, I am still supporting all of you from the sidelines! <3

My Main Masterlist

Warnings: smut, teacher-ish x student (over 20)

“Y/N,” his voice called through the bustle of the students leaving his hall, preparing for their next lecturer. You looked up from packing up your books to stare at the substitute teacher. “Stay behind for a few minutes,” Professor Loki continued, his hands leisurely sliding into the pockets of his black slacks, “I wish to speak with you.”

You froze for a moment, recounting any instance within the last hour and a half of the lecture that could warrant a conversation after and when you could think of nothing, you were perplexed. 

After all of the students had filed out and the two were on their own, you shifted your feet nervously as Professor Loki stood in silence, observing you. Under his gaze, it seemed as if you were being analysed through every muscle in your body. It unnerved  you. 

“Well done today, your participation was quite… encouraging,” professor Loki began after a moment, filing through some of the papers on his desk, “I shall report to your usual lecturer that you are one of the good ones, Y/N.”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathed, your nerves still going haywire with panic, wondering what else this boy might have to say.

“And another thing,” Professor Loki spoke up after a minute, his smile warm and welcoming, his eyes locked onto yours intensely, “please call me Loki. I am not your official lecturer after all, just a substitute temporarily.”

You nodded and bit your tongue, your heart starting to race the longer you looked at this man. Professor Loki smiled professionally and leaned against the oak desk, tilting his head curiously as he took in your expression and the rising blush on your face. “Is there anything you wish to discuss with me?” the man asked softly, carding his fingers through his hair and pushing it back, causing a wave of arousal to rise within your gut as you stared at the professor in front of you.

“Nothing, sir-Loki,” you quickly corrected with a blush, “I have nothing to ask, thank you.”

“Alright then,” Loki nodded his head with a genuine smile, inclining his head towards the door, “you best be off before your friends get worried.”

You nodded and walked towards the door leading out but before you could go, you felt Professor Loki’s hard chest up against your back and his hot breath on your neck. “Y/N,” he whispered lowly, making you gasp with arousal at how his voice lit a fire in your core, “your bag.”

Your brain short-circuited as you realised that Loki was holding your bag in his hand and you quickly took it from him, whispered ‘thank you’ and rushed out of the lecture hall. 

While you were walking back to your accommodation, all you could think about was that hard chest against you, the heat of Loki’s breath curling around your nape and raising all the hairs on your neck. You had fantasised a lot about Professor Loki from your best friend having him as her lecturer and you were tempted now to ask Mrs Lawrence if you could switch to Professor Loki’s permanently. The heat between your legs grew as you remembered how alluring the professor looked leaning against his oak desk. 

Professor Loki would only be a substitute teacher for another week while your teacher was away on annual leave but you knew that you had to become his permanent student. 

That night, after you had prepared for bed and were already asleep, your dreams formed the fantasy that had plagued you all day. 

You nodded and walked towards the door leading out but before you could go, you felt Professor Loki’s hard chest up against your back and his hot breath on your neck. “Y/N,” he whispered lowly, making you gasp with arousal at how his voice lit a fire in your core, “your bag.”

Instead of your embarrassed exit, your dream self turned to the professor and a coy smile appeared on your lips as you gazed up at the emerald green eyes of your substitute professor. “You could have just called out to me,” you whispered, attitude coating your tongue and you saw how it riled up the professor in front of you, “why didn’t you?”

“Will you make me say it?” Loki’s low voice awoke that dormant arousal in the pit of your stomach, his tones so alluring and seductive that your knees almost collapsed, “I desire you, darling, I desire your glorious form against mine, tangled in the throes of pleasure with you calling my name.”

You gulped, cornered against the door with your substitute professor pressing himself against you, his hardened erection pressing against your hipbone. Desire pooled between your legs as you stared up at the professor, forcing down the drool building up in your mouth. 

“I long to see you on your knees before me,” Loki growled, watching as you shuddered with arousal at the growl in his voice, “do you long for that too, pet?”

You gasped as you looked up at him, feeling a flood of emotions in your chest at the use of the nickname. You weren’t supposed to get this close! He wasn’t your professor but he was a professor! Yet, while half of your instincts told you to run and stop this, another egged you on, arching your back and pressing your hips to his harder. 

“What if I wanted you to fuck me up against this door, where anybody could walk by and see you compromising your contract?” you hissed, arousal clear in your voice as you glared up at him..

Loki purred as he leaned closer, his breeath wafting over your face and neck, fillingg your nose with the scent of mint and his morning coffee. You shuddered at the closeness. He was all that you wanted and all you needed to stay away from at the same time. 

Loki’s hand cupped your heat through your jeans and smirked at you as he growled, “do not tempt me, pet.”

You don’t know who kissed who but soon enough, his lips were on yours and you were both kissing as he pressed you up against the door, eliciting a moan from your mouth as he hungrily pressed his tongue into your mouth as his knee pressed between your legs.

You woke up after that and huffed as you thrashed in your bed, your body on fire with need from the realistic dream and you sighed as you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for your lecture that day. 

The lecture was mostly spent with you staring at Professor Loki but you did manage tto draw up a few notes that would be vital for your final but you knew that it wouldn’t quite be enough. Every ttime you felt that Professor Loki’s eyes were going to be on you, you hastily looked to the board or down at your notes, your cheeks heating up like fires. 

“Y/N,” Loki called out at the end of class, not looking away from the essays that everyone had just handed in, “stay after class.”

The whole class chittered around you and you felt your blush worsen. “Actually, professor, I can��t,” you trailed off, looking at the time as if you had another lecture after this.

“I know that you can,” Loki insisted, looking up from his papers to glare at you. The professor’s glare only reminded you of the dream that you’d had the night before and the fires in your core lit up again at the memory. “Now stay after class,” he hissed.

The class began to file out and soon you were left alone with the handsome professor. You stayed by your seat and nervously filed around in your bag, trying your best not to look at the professor even if you were now in the same room, alone.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Loki asked from the front of the class, his voice easily slicing through the silence of the room. You gazed over at him and saw him leaning against the oak desk with his hands spreading his arms on the oak. “Did I say something wrong to you yesterday?” he asked, tilting his head and studying your expression, “or is it… something else? Something - may I say - darker? Do you lust for your professor, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Of course not!” you protested a little too quickly, a heat rushing up your neck and colouring your cheeks, “that would be very irresponsible!”

“Indeed,” Loki hummed, smirking at you and making his way over to you slowly, his eyes like a predator hunting its prey, “and yet you do it anyway.”

He was in front of you now, the scent of his Dior aftershave wafting over your nostrils and adding fuel to the flame of desire in your core. You reminded yourself that this was not a dream. That this was real life and the things you did now held consequences. 

 “I…” you trailed off, unable to meet the professor’s stare, choosing to look over his shoulder with a grimace.

“What are you looking at over there, darling?” Loki purred, his smirk pulling tightly at his lips as he lifted your chin and directed your eyes back to look at him, “I’m here, not over there.”

You stared at him, desire filling your mind as you stared at his ebony locks flowing around his shoulders, his eyes a shining emerald green and the pull of his smirk on his lips. “I desire you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire, “but I cannot have you, it is not allowed.”

“Who says so?” Loki whispered with a purr, his eyes locking with yours as he whispered, “I am not your professor, am I? Only temporarily and I do have a life away from my tutoring.”

You sighed and took a step away from him. “You may have a life away from your lecturing and tutoring but on campus, you are my professor and…” you trailed off as you bit your lip.

Loki smiled and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “I understand,” he whispered, his eyes flicking down to your lips, “I’ll be going to the club with Profesor Strange tonight. If you must know.”

With that, he left the room and you were left shocked by your packed bag. Did he just suggest that you go clubbing to hook up with him? How unprofessional! Yet, curiosity brimmed inside you and you knew you had to find him in the club that night.

So, a few hours later, you and your friends were standing in line waiting for entry into the best club in town, the only club that you knew would be worth Professor Loki’s time of day. 

“It’s strange for you to suggest going out drinking, Y/N!” your roommate, Clara, whispered to you with a grin, “any reason?”

“Shitty day at lectures,” you responded with a grin, tilting your head and adjusting your outfit a bit. You had dressed appropriately for the dress code but you didn’t know if it would be enough to catch your professor’s attention. If he was even here. 

When you were ID-checked and granted entry, Clara quickly guided you over to the bar and ordered the first round of shots. You quickly downed the alcohol, smiling over at Clara before taking yourself to the dancefloor.

The music was so loud, it reverberated throughout your body and you felt it deep in your gut but yet it was still a fine volume you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hear the person next to you over the noise and banging of the music. 

You danced with a few drunken men for around half an hour before gentle hands gently slid down your forearms before wrapping around your wrists, a hard body pressing against yours to grind against your body to the music. The scent of him alerted you to who it was. 

Professor Loki Laufeyson.

You turned in his grasp and suddenly it was only the two of you in that club full of drunken men and women seeking a one-night stand. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” you whispered, knowing you were close enough to hear each other.

“I didn’t think you’d take the invite,” Loki replied with a smirk. His hand groped down your side, his head nestling into the crook of your neck. “Now, my dear,” he purred into your ear, “shall we drink the night away or do you want me now?”

You smirked and winded through the crowd with Loki still holding your wrist and you whispered to Clara, feigning a drunken slur, “I’m gonna go home! I have a headache! G’night!”

“G’night!” Clara replied, throwing her head back with another shot, “make sure you get a good dicking from that one! He seems familiar but I can’t place it.”

You grinned and left the club with your professor. Instead of heading to your accommodation, Loki guided you down the streets to his apartment complex. When you got inside, you instantly knew that there was more to Professor Loki than his love for English Literature. From the looks of his bookshelf, he was a Shakespeare enthusiast and also collected a lot of ancient texts like old Norse and greek mythos. 

“Wow,” you whispered as you looked around his apartment, “do you lecture on any other topics?”

“Just literature, I’m afraid,” Loki replied with a smile as he walked up to you, beginning to kiss down your neck and he smirked when you hummed happily and pressed into his touch, “I would love to lecture about other subjects but no one has ever asked before.”

“They should,” you replied, reaching your hand back to play with his long curls and tug on them slightly, forcing a pleasured moan from the professor’s throat.

Loki chuckled and guided you to his bedroom. Inside, the curtains were pulled closed so the professor had to switch on the light for you to see where you were going. His room had walls painted green and black highlighted with golden flecks over the paint. There was a bookshelf across the far wall with a built-in TV and then a door that you assumed led to a walk-in wardrobe. 

His bedspread was emerald green with hints of black and when he pushed you down onto it, you moaned at the feeling of silk beneath your back. Loki hungrily glared at you and took a step closer to the bed, pulling on his tie and loosening it. “I have desired you for a while,” he whispered, lust coating his voice, “every time I saw you in the corridor, every time you came to the staff room for advice from your actual lecturer, when I first saw you in these temp lectures. My body burns for you, Y/N, perhaps I can quench my thirst now.”

Your desire was obvious in your face and you shuddered as you nodded. “Please,” you whispered, a pull in your heart telling you that this is the correct choice, “I need you.”

Loki smirked and kelt above you, his hands ghosting over your wrists before your lips were on his and you were consumed with the pleasure that had filled your dreams the night before. His body arched in a way that almost caused you to moan, his seductive eyes only fuelling the need in your cunt. 

“I bet you’re absolutely dripping below these clothes, am I correct, pet?” he whispered in your ear and you gulped, feeling his hands pull down your leggings and panties. “Oh,” he purred, making you clench and whine, “you’re gushing.”

Loki then took no time ridding you of your dress and a strapless bra. “Won’t be needing this,” he smirked, taking a moment to savour your surprise before he threw the dress across the room and began to press gentle kisses down your body. 

You felt as if you were about to sleep with a God! Loki was so attentive and gentle in a way that you’d never seen before in another man that you’d slept with. You feared that he would ruin you for all other men! 

Your cheeks reddened as his lips made their way down to your hipbone. You'd had sex before, yes, but never had they attempted to pleasure you in such a way. "Professor there's no need…" you began with a nervous bite of your lip.

"Loki," he growled, catching you off guard, his growl rumbling through your body and making your cunt throb. 

"Huh?" you whined through the thrill of him touching you.

"Call me Loki," the man growled again before latching his lips onto your needy cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit as he listened hungrily to your desperate moans.

"Loki," you played the name on your tongue, your moans rising as Loki's tongue teased at your entrance, swiping up to your clit regularly before entering you, exploring your entrance keenly. "Lokiii-ah… fuck," you cursed, your hand clamping over your mouth, afraid of making noise.

Loki's hand caught your wrist and he pulled it away from your mouth. "Moan all you want, darling," Loki purred, his voice hoarse yet still alluring, "I have no neighbours so you can scream and beg all you need."

You didn't have time to form a reply as his mouth was back on your dripping core. His attentive tongue spun circles around your clit as his nimble fingers played at your waiting entrance before sinking in, filling the room with sounds of your moans and slick. You threw your head back and moaned, "Lokiii- mmmn fuck."

Loki steadily began to pump two fingers into your needy cunt, his smirk only widening as you lost the ability to speak. "Is this what you wanted, pet?" Loki purred, taking a moment away from suckling on your clit to smirk at you, "is this what you fantasise about in my classes?"

"Ye-es," you moaned, your body arching as his fingers hit that special spot inside you that made you see stars. The professor simply chuckled and returned to suckling at your clit, teasing the nerves as his fingers scissored inside you, releasing noises into the otherwise silent room. 

That coil in your gut tightened as you rolled your hips against his knuckles, pulling his fingers deep inside you and ripping a moan from your throat.

Spurred on from your noises, Loki continued to suckle and pump his fingers deep into your cunt and that coil tightened even more before it snapped and you came with a blissful shout, your head flopping to the side as you heaved for breath. 

“Oh, darling,” the professor cooed, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb to force you to look at him, “your face is so beautiful when you cum for me.”

You were so blissed out but your body yearned for more of him and you knew that he knew that as he chuckled and knelt between your spread legs. “Shall we give her what she wants?” he asked you with a sultry smirk, his fingers lazily circling your overstimulated clit, “or would you like to sleep?”

“Please…” you whined, rolling your hips against his lazy fingers, biting the inside of your cheek with irritation, “fuck me.”

Loki’s smirk widened and he whispered ‘with pleasure’ before ridding himself of the last of his clothing and pumping his cock as he watched your eyes rove over his sculpted body.

Okay, you thought, your mind half coming up with thoughts through the sinful imagination running wild alongside rationality, this man had to be sculpted by Gods. There is no way that a human looks this good.

Your legs spread wider as Loki leaned down to seal your lips into a kiss. His tongue toyed with your bottom lip before sliding inside your mouth as his hands roamed down your supple skin and he aligned himself at your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased himself inside you and pulled away from the kiss to hear the pleased moan on your lips.

The professor pushed in all the way and when you were full to the brim of his cock, the only thing you could do was moan blissfully as you stared up into the emerald world that was his eyes. No dream could live up to this reality that you were living right now. 

Loki then pulled out to the tip only to thrust deep into you again, taking the pain of the stretch with him. You were consumed by thoughts of this man in front of you. As he began to push into you again and again, you were consumed by the man above you, overwhelming you with the power that he held over you.

“Fuck, darling,” Loki purred in your ear, making your stomach curl with interest as his movements became more routine and the head of his cock hit against the spot inside you that flashed stars behind your eyes expertly, torturing you with the promise of bliss. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you moaned aloud into the silent room. Keenly, you wrapped your legs around his hips and released a deep moan as you felt him sink deeper into you. Holding him close to you, you felt him start to thrust harder into you and you moaned as your fingers found his ebony curls again, "Lokiii! Oh, L-Loki!"

Loki watched as you squirmed with anticipation and felt pride bubbling inside him as he did. You wanted this. You wanted him. 

Smirking, Loki continued to make love to you and he pulled away from your neck to sit up on his knees and he pulled one of your legs up to wrap over his shoulder and you screamed with the pleasure as he increased the pace of his thrusts and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you in this bed until his dying day.

You gripped the pillow underneath your head as you stared up at him, gasping for air and begging for more before finally, you called out his name, "L-Loki! I'm gonna cum, Loki!"

Loki groaned and his cock twitched before he started to increase his pace and how hard he was fucking you until your eyes squeezed shut and your breasts bounced from the force of how good he was fucking you. "That's right," he encouraged quickly, his hand slipping to circle your clit as he moaned, "say my name, pet! Scream it!"

Your eyes rolled back into the back of your head as an incredible orgasm ripped through your body and you keened, your hands flying up to bring Loki down into a deep kiss as you rode out your orgasm and he moaned as he came deep inside you, releasing the kiss to press his brow to yours.

The silence in the room after that was heavy and when your arousal melted away and you watched as the professor cleaned you up, you realised the severity of what you had just done. You had slept with a professor! How did you allow that to happen?!

But when his arm wound around your waist and he pulled you into the warmth of his hard chest, your regrets melted away as you felt comfortable with him. You’d wanted intimacy like this. Even if it turns out that he might leave in the morning, these hours you have now are the most important.

You could just allow yourself to believe that you two could be something. 

Main tags:

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique

[rosejigglypuff76]

Cookie Run Kingdom Kimura AU - Chapter 6 (Preview)

Author's Note

I've made something like this for the first few chapters. That being a small preview of one of the scenes in my upcoming chapter in my Cookie Run Kimura AU.

As of posting, Chapter 6 is halfway done. And I'll be posting the link and artwork for it once I get that chance!

Feel free to check them out once they're fully complete on my Wattpad and/or AO3. Thank you again!

Cookie Biscuit High School, Classroom 2-C Wednesday, 8:49am in the Morning

"Hmm… I do admit the organization is quite impressive.", Espresso stared at the current state of the classroom.

Cherry Blossom is shown putting the final box of decorative cupcakes on the long side table, for once acknowledging the items that were there prior and putting them on the nearby shelves.

"Me and the rest of the Cooking Club made about five boxes of cupcakes in total.", Cherry Blossom bounced all around, "I made them work on two boxes, while I did the remaining three boxes before heading to bed!"

"Admittedly, it's quite impressive that you can do that in one day.", Espresso shrugged nonchalantly with the visually sarcastic and slightly tired looking expression, "The class assigned to me will be heading here according to what was listed for given locations. Calculating that we usually start classes at 9am, they'll be arriving at around 8:55am and we can start going to the School Theatre at 9:15am for their introductory for their field trip."

Cherry Blossom was pretty occupied with taking photos of the cupcakes, not even bothering to listen to what Espresso was saying a couple of seconds ago. Looking at the cupcakes, giggling with passion of how cute and well made they all are.

*creek*

Few minutes later, the classroom door opened up again. A cookie with pastel colored hair of various types went inside, approaching Espresso.

"Greetings. It's nice to become an acquaintance of yours, Akemi.", Espresso formally spoke, reaching out his hand to the brighter-looking cookie for a handshake.

Didn't seem to matter, as they immediately pulled him into a hug, "Formal as always I see? Come on Espresso, you need to brighten up for the little ones!"

Cherry Blossom skipped towards the two, jumping straight in and joining their conversation, "Professor Espresso? Who's this cookie?"

"The teacher for the group assigned to me.", Espresso muttered sternly, "This is Mx Akemi. They're a substitute teacher for the given class from Cookie Crumbs Elementary, and also a Dream Guardian."

"Please, please! I prefer being called Mx Cream Unicorn. Or just Cream Unicorn with cookies around or close to my age.", the younger teacher replied, feeling a little embarrassed to be introduced in such a formal manner.

Espresso silently shook his head, letting the pastel-haired pony cookie talk about how excited their students are. Some discussion between him and them sometimes shows up.

"Cream Unicorn", Espresso began, "I suggest you bring your students in already. It seems quite unprofessional for you, a teacher just like me, to leave them out at the door. I understand that you're just a substitute, but you still need to know about the basics."

Cream Unicorn's eyes briefly widened in realization, "Oh yeah! Heh heh, sorry about that Espresso."

*creek*

They opened up the classroom door, in a whimsical and enthusiastic fashion. Popping their head out to say, "Okay kids! Sir Espresso said you guys can come in now!"

The older of the two teachers facepalmed, "I already allowed your students to come in. I was just waiting for you to let them in- Gah!!"

In a matter of seconds, the little ones quickly dashed right inside the classroom, all hyped up and excited for what could possibly await them.

"This trip will be all high! Wonder if they planned out some fireworks? POW!! PEW PEW!!"

"I wonder what fun we'll be seeing today? Even Mx Cream Unicorn wasn't given much info."

"So this is what big brother's classroom looks like?! (Is it perhaps where our brother goes for class…?)"

"There seems to be quite a lot of things relating to Coffee Magic. Maybe I can ask for a sample of it!"

Espresso almost tumbled onto his teacher's desk from the sudden impact on the kids running inside the classroom. Trying to stand up and back into a proper position, which was proven difficult due to the minor stampede of little ones.

That's when he saw Cherry Blossom happily offering her hand for him to reach, "Let me help you up, Professor Espresso!"

"Th-Thanks, Cherry Blossom.", the dark brown-haired teacher replied, which he briefly shuttered at the start since he was feeling overwhelmed by the sudden add-on with such events.

*BASH*

The door opened up even further and much louder, where one more young cookie can be seen at the slightly cracked doorway.

"Mx Cream Unicorn! I'm sorry that I got lost!", it revealed a smaller light pink-haired girl wearing an outfit inspired by one of her favorite Fairy Tales.

Cream Unicorn waved their arms around, something they do to show that everything's alright, "Don't worry about it. Your classmates and I are glad that you managed to find your way-"

"Oh my cherries!! Cherry Bomb!!!"

Without any further questions Cherry Blossom dashed towards the younger cookie, who happens to be her little sister Cherry Bomb.

This prompted her to let go of Espresso's hand while in the middle of helping him back up. But at the same time Cream Unicorn caught him before he could hit the ground, chuckling at the enthusiasm of the room with the idea to also try and cheer the older teacher up.

Espresso quickly slapped their hand away once he's fully back on his feet, letting out a frustrated groan, "Eclair was originally the one to handle them. But unfortunately for me the Student Council requested for him if he can be there to supervise the Science Fair."

Turning to where Cherry Blossom was, about to scold her. Stopping at the last second however, as he saw how she was with her little sister.

"Eeee!! I didn't know you were in their class!!", Cherry Blossom happily bounced around, which seems more controlled as she just bounced rapidly in the same spot.

Cherry Bomb did the same, happily bouncing rapidly in place with the same amount of excitement, "Teehee~!! It's so great to see you onee-chan!"

"Hooray!! Yippee!!"

This side of Espresso caused him to choose not to scold Cherry Blossom. Looking around to see the kids and their substitute Cream Unicorn smiling just by how these two sisters are.

Feeling someone tugging onto the cuff of his pants to get his attention, speaking and looking up once he noticed them, "Don't be afraid and join in on the fun, Mr!! (Don't worry and please enter in on the excitement, Sir.)"

Espresso heard the two kids that went up to him. They were Blanc and Noir, also known as the Chess Choco Twins. A smart pair who act like two sides of the same coin in some way.

Knowing them only by name thanks to Sparkling, he nodded silently and took what they said into consideration.

Nevertheless he gently placed his hand on Cherry Blossom's shoulder, a method he always does to make his students (usually Cherry Blossom) pay attention in class, "It is slightly past 9am in the morning. And we need to head to the auditorium before starting the tour for their field trip."

Cherry Blossom frowned, which inadvertently brought the entire room down, "Aww… Okay then…"

He quickly proceeded to rethink what he said to the pink-haired teen, making him soften his facial expression again just like in his apartment complex last name.

Sighing, acknowledging that what he said won't do with those with a lively attitude. He gently opened up the door, turning to face them, "It'll be okay. There will be a reasonable amount of fun after the orientation in the auditorium."

In an instant Cherry Blossom, Cream Unicorn, and all the kids in the classroom bounced and cheered.

The dark brown-haired teacher would be lying if that didn't put a smile on his face. But it did, which was kept on while he led them to start off the field trip.

[liminal-librarian]

Well said!

And sometimes ...

I feel this sometimes about forests instead of mountains, but I think it's not about the mountains, but about the wilderness.

Sometimes when your career becomes too heavy or your identity too burdensome, you just want to put it down for a while and walk free for a time. Not necessarily to see if the grass is greener elsewhere, just to rest.

Maybe, The problem is not with the wilderness, the problem is with where I'm at when I look at it, that the sacrifices that it takes to maintain my identity is too costly.

In an old phrasebook I flipped through to learn 'Indian' by some European who didn't even seem sure which Native American Language he'd been picking up from his neighbors, he recorded phrases to mean, "I have forgotten my name."

And he went out of his way to say that he'd determined that they weren't "just being cagey," this literally was a thing that sometimes happened, and mostly no one made a big deal about it.

I wonder how many of our mental and social problems today are from losing support networks, and how many are from not having the option to lose ourselves when we need it.

Sometimes I need to do more than touch grass, sometimes I need to walk deep enough into the woods to not hear traffic, nor see sunlight.

Sometimes I need to sit on a log, or even a park bench, and feel confident that the wildlife that comes up to share my trail-mix *won't* know my name, [given, family, or blog handle], nor care about my bank account balance.

And with the physical exercises of getting lost, there are mental exercises of discarding parts of your identity that no longer fit.

Does my major still fit me? Does my political party still fit me? Does my religion / denomination still fit me? Does my favorite TV genera still bring me joy? Maybe I could donate my library of obscure reference works about a denomination debate that I no longer care about.

There has been discussion about de-cluttering our houses: (does this vase spark joy?) But I think there might be a corollary in de-cluttering our identities.

Does my grandmother's crockery bring me joy? or does it just entice me towards rage and depression whenever any of it breaks. Would it feel less threatening, less of an impossible commitment to live up to, were I to donate it to someone else?

Or is all of that fine, is my reputation / identity a beautiful set of clothes just the right size for me, but I would never wear a ball gown scuba-diving, (pearl motifs not withstanding). Sometimes the point of a vacation is to (temporarily) leave your cares behind. and sometimes the place you're going doesn't recognize your status as mattering at all, the preschoolers don't care that you're an Eminent Trial Judge, you're just today's out-of-touch substitute teacher's assistant, or Pat's Mom and that's ok.

A couple of my family members like to look around while on vacation and imagine themselves into new careers in the new location. Not because they *want* to change careers I don't think, but because trying on the fit of a new career, or even just window shopping, is an integral part of stepping out of the identity and modes of thought and giving your thought processes a good stretch, that the exercise of 'taking a vacation' is meant to impart.

Or something.

Appalachian urge to just start walking into the woods and never stop.

[badboyjuyeon]

mind reader

Pairing: Chanhee x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: “One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do you see your crush flinch.” 

prompt credits to writing.prompt.s

Eyes glued to the clock, you counted down the seconds before class would start. 

It’s not that you particularly enjoyed English or any of the books you were discussing. Your teacher constantly droned on and on and, with practice, you had finally mastered the art of tuning his voice out. 

So it wasn’t exactly the class that you looked forward to, but a special person within that class.

And that person was Choi Chanhee, who had just entered with his bag slung lazily across his shoulder. Though his hair was ruffled and he was sweaty from gym class, he still looked as radiant as ever. He flashed his signature smile, the one that melted your heart, and waved at Changmin who had saved a seat for him.

Pretty people “herd” together, so it’s not a surprise that he often hung out with Younghoon, Sunwoo, and Changmin, the other popular boys that stole the hearts of every person in the school, including yours. You accepted that this crush would not go far because of his popularity, and you were perfectly content with just enjoying his presence. 

Before seeing him fifth-period four days of the week, you had only ever seen him in the hallways. You never had any real reason to talk to him, and given the chance, you’re not sure you would even try to hold a conversation with him. You know you would just become a stuttering mess and embarrass yourself. So instead of making any real efforts to do something about your crush, you just made sure to come to class a few minutes early so you could secure the seat that gave you the best view of him. 

Your English class was currently doing student-led discussions and your teacher claimed arranging the seats in a circle would help the students interact more with each other. You hated student discussions but had no complaints sitting in a circle, as it allowed you the perfect excuse to steal glances at Chanhee from any angle. 

Currently seated within the circle that seemed more like an oval, all of the students tried their hardest not to unintentionally make eye contact with the person sitting across from them. Your teacher introduced the topic the class would be discussing and you doodled at the corner of your page, letting your hand move on its own accord. Your doodles often reflected whatever you were thinking of, so your page was filled with drawings of the pink-haired boy you were currently infatuated with. 

The person sitting next to you spoke up, reminding you that you were still in class and needed to contribute to the discussion. 

You spoke once to satisfy the participation requirements and tried to ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. That feeling was 10 times worse knowing that Chanhee was one of the people that was looking straight at you. You avoided looking in his direction, knowing that you would completely freeze up at the mere thought of him. His eyes were finally off of you when you finished speaking, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing. It would take another five minutes before your heart would return to its normal pace. 

Having participated, you were now free to be alone with your thoughts. 

Running out of creativity to doodle, you decided that you would play a game with yourself to pass the time. This game never failed to amuse you during all of the boring classes you’ve taken. You scanned the room to see what some of your peers were doing. Younghoon was currently speaking, Chanhee was dozing off into space, the girl from your biology class was very clearly trying to flirt with Sunwoo, who was ignoring her. 

You decided that Sunwoo would be the first person you tested. This game consisted of you trying to find out if anyone in the room could read your mind. 

Sunwoo if you can hear me, write down something in your notebook. 

You took notice of Sunwoo’s immediate actions, which would prove if he could listen to your thoughts. 

He picked up his pen. 

Your eyes widened as you waited to see what he would do next. 

He started fiddling with the pen mid-air, and it never ended up touching the paper. 

Sunwoo was not in fact a mind reader. You moved on to your next test subject. 

You shifted your undivided attention towards Younghoon, who had just finished speaking. He was staring at his notebook, the corner of the page curling underneath his fingers. 

If you can hear my thoughts, look at me within the next three seconds. 

You counted down and waited to see if he would prove himself to be a mind reader. Younghoon raised his head and his eyes scanned the circle. 

You sat up in your chair as you waited to see if he had heard you. 

Unfortunately, his eyes did not land on you as he chose to focus on the classmate that was currently speaking.

You slumped back down into your chair. This game was not as fun as it used to be. Either no one was a mind reader or they were too good at pretending not to hear you. 

I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME AND I’LL CATCH YOU. 

You screamed in your thoughts, looking around to see if anyone noticed. 

Chanhee, who was still staring into space, suddenly flinched. 

What the f-

And then Chanhee’s eyes met yours. 

You immediately shifted your gaze to focus on the notebook on your lap. He never looked at you if you weren’t speaking, the timing was all too suspicious. You made sure not to look up from your notebook for the rest of class or think about him, just in case.  

After the teacher dismissed the class, you hurriedly packed up your belongings and rushed out of class. But your shoelaces did not cooperate, and you knelt down to tie them. You heard a soft voice call your name from behind you. A voice that you knew all too well. 

Why was Chanhee trying to talk to you, today of all days? 

There was only one answer. Chanhee was actually a mind reader and he knew about your crush. He was coming to confront you. You quickly shoved your shoelaces in your shoe and ran out the school building, not looking back. 

Chanhee watched as you dashed out the school doors, the notebook that had fallen out of your backpack in his hands. He was sure he called your name loud enough but he reasoned that you probably hadn’t heard him with how hectic the hallway was. He placed your notebook in his locker and reminded himself to give it to you before the next class. 

You slammed your locker shut, startling the student next to you. You lost your notebook for English class that you’ve reused since freshman year. Sighing, you headed into English class with a substitute notebook and the motive to pay attention, since you didn’t have any of your notes. You searched for the one person that could instantly lift your spirits. 

“Chanhee?” Your teacher called out during attendance, waiting for his response. 

You quickly glanced around the room to see where Chanhee was seated, but to your dismay, he was nowhere to be found. 

On the bright side, you could think about Chanhee all you wanted without worrying about whether he could hear your thoughts. You breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in your chair. 

“Present.” 

Hearing the familiar voice, you looked up to see Chanhee standing in the doorway, out of breath, as he rushed towards his seat. You dared not to make eye contact with him again.

You wondered why he stopped to call your name after the last time you had class. There was a chance that he wasn’t actually calling your name and that you might have just imagined it. 

But you were quick to dismiss the theory that it was all in your imagination when Chanhee called out to you again after class. The hallway was rather empty and you couldn’t use the chaos as an excuse to avoid him. You nervously turned around to face him. This was technically the first time you spoke to him. 

“Hi, (y,n) right? Is this your notebook?” He held out a notebook that looked a little too similar to your missing English notebook. “I think you dropped it after class yesterday.” 

You took the notebook from him and sure enough, it was yours. Finding your lost notebook should have filled you with satisfaction, but that was the last thing you were feeling. The doodles of him scattered throughout the pages flashed in your mind. You immediately snapped the notebook shut. 

“Thank you so much.” You managed to say, hoping that he hadn’t flipped through the notebook. 

He gave you a small smile, unaware of your internal panic. “No problem.” 

Not knowing whether to continue the conversation or not, you also smiled, before turning to walk away. 

“Oh, and by the way, I know what you’re thinking...” 

What- there’s no way. How would he know what I was thinking? Oh my god. Is he an actual mind re-

You stopped in your tracks, grateful that you were turned around so he couldn’t see the sheer look of horror on your face. 

You faced him and prepared yourself for what he would say next. 

“...You’re probably wondering how I knew it was your notebook.” He looked down at your notebook, which you held protectively against your chest. 

Not expecting the words that came out of his mouth, you giggled. The question hadn’t actually crossed your mind, so it was good to know that he was NOT an actual mind reader. Your name was not on the cover, so it was a valid question to wonder. 

“I wasn’t wondering but, now that you mention it, how did you know?“

“I recognized your art style from the doodles on the cover. You’re really talented.” He continued to speak comfortably as if you had known each other for years. Your art teacher often hung up your drawings in the art classroom for everyone to see, but you were surprised that he had recognized your art style. 

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.” You finally found the courage to hold eye contact with him. You were confused as to why he kept continuing this conversation when it could have ended much earlier with little-to-no words involved. 

The corner of his lips lifted into a smirk and a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes. He cleared his throat, “I like my eggs scrambled in the morning...if you were still wondering.” 

Eggs scrambled in the morning?

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you tried to remember why that expression sounded so familiar. Or why he claimed you would be wondering that. 

Chanhee bit back a smile, as he saw your expression change from confused to panicked in a matter of seconds. Your cheeks turned as pink as his hair. 

You were just joking when you claimed that Chanhee was a mind reader, but now you were starting to think that it wasn’t a joke anymore. How do you like your eggs in the morning? That sounds exactly like something you would think.

 “What...how did you...“ You struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

Instead of answering, he just shrugged and backed away, before heading to his next class. He left you standing in the middle of the hallway unsure of what to believe.  

Remembering the notebook that was still pressed against your chest, suddenly it clicked. He had seen the last page of your notebook. 

The last page was where you wrote absolute nonsense to relieve your boredom during class. You used to write notes back and forth with your best friend back in freshman year. She would talk about her crush on Changmin and you would talk about yours on Chanhee. 

That means he read all about your crush on him. Of all the ways you imagined him finding out, this was the last and most embarrassing way ever. There was no way to save yourself in this situation. 

chanhee is so gorgeous

changmin is SO FINE 

i wonder how chanhee likes his eggs in the morning 

i want changmin’s number so bad

You cursed your younger, boy-obsessed self for setting you up like this. You groaned, any chance you had with Chanhee was officially out the window. 

Rereading the page, you noticed that there was a new addition to your conversation with your friend. The unfamiliar handwriting did not match yours or your best friend’s, and the ink seemed to be fresh. 

idk about changmin’s but i can give you mine: XXX-XXX-XXXX

p.s. i want you to draw me like one of your french girls

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let's go back to school with a rival teachers AU

(inspired by this lovely anon)

When it comes to science teachers - and indeed, teachers overall at the school - Miss Raya is one of the most popular. She's not much older than the oldest students themselves, full of a somewhat chaotic energy that keeps the classroom energized, and a willingness to blow things up in the name of science and education, no matter how much it exasperates Headmaster Dang Hai.

Miss Raya is also popular thanks to her legendary (at least amongst the students, although arguably also in the teachers' lounge) rivalry with the History teacher Miss Namaari, whose classroom sits opposite her own.

Miss Namaari is simultaneously feared and admired by the students. She rarely cracks a smile, and there are so many stories about how scary she can be when angry, that no-one tries to misbehave in her class. Despite this, she keeps classes interesting with her lesson plans, forever challenging her students and ensuring they are engaged enough to receive some of the highest marks in the school.

There are all sorts of rumours as to why both teachers seem to be in an endless rivalry, starting from the week they both began work at the school.

Some students believe it's because they are always in competition to win the "Teacher of the Year" and the "Best Department" trophies at the school's annual award shows, and are therefore trapped in a battle to see who can encourage their students for the best grades and feedback.

Others think that it's simply because they have very different views of the world. Between classes, when the students are shuffling to their next subject, it is common to see both teachers standing on guard beside their own classroom doors, arms crossed and glaring at each other from opposite sides of the hallway. Most of the time, this is accompanied by an ongoing debate of the day, where they argue with raised voices over the general noise of the students on a dizzying array of topics. There seems to be no coherent theme to their debates, but no doubt whatever they are discussing, they'll be on opposite sides of the argument.

The most believed, and perhaps most simplistic answer, is that Miss Namaari is simply and consistently annoyed by Miss Raya and her unusual ways of teaching, and in return, Raya thrives on annoying her further. At least once a week, and undoubtedly after one of her signature loud scientific experiments, the door to Raya’s classroom will bang open, and Miss Namaari will be peering inside with a glower on her face, saying ‘Yet again, Miss Heart, your classroom is being utterly disruptive to my students.’

Sisu however, has a very different theory as to what is going on between her two teachers. ‘Sexual tension,’ she says wisely, between mouthfuls of her lunch. Noi makes a disgusted sound next to her – at her eating habits or her theory, it isn’t clear. ‘Can’t be sexual tension,’ she refutes. ‘Firstly, because ew. And secondly, because Miss Raya is happily married.’ Sisu doesn’t have an argument for that second point – Miss Raya indeed does seem very in love with her wife.

It was something the students discovered early on in Raya’s time teaching at the school. She wears a small and simplistic silver band around her finger – not something that appears to be a wedding ring at all. But one day, a student makes a joke about her ‘husband’, causing Miss Raya to flush bright red. ‘Wife, actually,’ she mutters, and then continues on with the class as if nothing happened. But her smile in that moment lights up the room.

A while later, one of the braver students asks her about her wife, and the ring. It’s so unusual for them to meet an adult in a non-straight relationship, and there are many teenagers who hang onto her words curiously and hopefully as she explains the origins of the ring. ‘We were 18 and had no money,’ she explains with a faraway smile on her face. ‘She proposed anyway, because we didn’t want to wait. And this ring was all she could afford. She’s asked me several times if I want a new ring now we have money all these years later, but there’s no need to change perfection.’

Students are smart, and students are sneaky. They are quick to notice if they ask at the start of the lesson about Raya’s wife, even a quick ‘how is she?’, then Raya will be a lot happier and cheerier during class…leading to more chaos and excitement.

‘My wife made me watch an entire marathon of Star Trek,’ she says one day, with a bright smile, when they ask about her weekend.

‘She tried to make you all cookies, but accidentally set the oven on fire,’ she explains another day, when she comes in looking slightly tired and smelling faintly of smoke.

‘She beat me in sparring – it was a very impressive one-two kick-punch,’ she tells them another morning, when they notice a bruise on her face. The faraway look in her eye tells them that she is now thinking fondly of her sparring fight with her wife, a strange habit it seems to the teenagers, but clearly something Miss Raya enjoys.

One day, Miss Raya comes in looking extremely upset. Her wife is ill, and she’d much rather be home than teaching for the day. The students are almost as upset as she is – ‘Miss Raya’s wife’ has become a beloved figure to them, someone they’ve never met but feel as if they know anyway. They send her home with get well cards by the end of the day, and for the rest of the week, Miss Raya takes vacation days so she can play nurse.

‘Miss Namaari won’t know who to yell at today,’ Noi jokes, but Boun leans over his desk while shaking his head. ‘Miss Namaari’s class has a substitute also,’ he informs them. Sisu’s eyes narrow slightly. ‘Must be something going around,’ she says slowly.

The discovery comes several months later, and purely by accident. Sisu is on the other side of town to her usual haunt, searching for the perfect gift for Tong’s birthday, when she decides to get some caffeinated fuel for her shopping mission. She slips into the nearest café, lining up for her order before something out the corner of her eye catches her attention.

Miss Raya is here, sitting on one of the comfy couches and drinking coffee. Her clothes are casual, and her hair falls loosely around her face as she laughs loudly at whatever her companion has just said, leaning forward to lay a hand on the person’s knee. Sisu is just about to call out a greeting to her teacher, when she suddenly notices who exactly is with Miss Raya.

‘Come on, dep la,’ Miss Namaari says, standing up and then bending down again slightly to grasp Miss Raya’s hands and pull her up also. ‘Let’s go home.’ Miss Namaari wraps an arm around Miss Raya’s shoulder, kissing the side of her head softly, and Sisu, hiding behind the person in front of her in the queue, witnesses the same bright smile flash across her face as Miss Raya’s whenever she talks about her wife. Miss Raya’s nose crinkles in amusement, and then two women walk out of the café slowly, eyes only for each other.

The next day at school, Noi and Sisu are walking together towards Miss Raya’s classroom when they hear the unmistakable voices of their two teachers, bickering back and forth in yet another debate of the day. The bell rings loudly, making them hurry their footsteps so they aren’t late, but before they reach the door, Sisu sees a bright smile on Raya’s face as she winks to her debate partner across the hallway.

‘You know, you’re right,’ she whispers to Noi as they settle into their seats. ‘Can’t be sexual tension – Miss Raya is far too in love with her wife.’

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you specially celebrate his friend’s birthday

This work, 当你特意帮他身边的人庆生, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

After finding out when Goldman’s birthday is, you decide to rope Wei Wei into the celebration to create an opportunity for the two of them. You give yourself a round of applause for your ingenuity. After all, there aren’t that many bosses out there who go to such lengths for their employees, right?

[Note] Wei Wei is an intern from MC’s company who appears in Victor’s Chinese Wedding date, which has not yet been released in EN!

“I heard that it’s Assistant Goldman’s birthday tomorrow,” you hint during an idle conversation with Wei Wei. “He mentioned wanting a new tie. Hmm, I wonder if he’s bought one already.”

The innocent-minded girl immediately rises to the bait, and she bites her lip. “Boss, could you accompany me in picking out a tie for Assistant Goldman after work? As a... ‘thank you’ gift for how he usually takes care of me.”

“Sure,” you respond eagerly, wanting Wei Wei to just tie the knot with Goldman already.

After work, you and Wei Wei pick out a dark blue tie from New Light Mall. After making payment, you speak up just as she’s about to hand the tie to you.

“Come with me to LFG tomorrow, and give it to him personally.”

Blushing, Wei Wei nods.

-

The next day, the both of you reach LFG early. 

“Good morning. The meeting hasn’t started.” Goldman tidies up documents on the table. “Lady Boss, the CEO is in his office.”

You hurriedly wave your hands. “No no no, we came specially to find you. Happy birthday Goldman~” You hand him the gift, and use your other hand to prod Wei Wei forward.

Wei Wei walks to Goldman timidly. “Assistant Goldman, happy birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” The sudden voice takes all of you by surprise.

“CEO.” Goldman instantly sets the gift down.

Seeing this, you grab Victor’s arm. Pushing him towards the office, you turn back to Goldman. “I have something to discuss with your boss, so help me take care of Wei Wei~”

-

In the office, Victor watches as you press yourself against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop. 

“You specially came here for Goldman?”

Your back is facing him, and you wish your ears could travel outside the door. “My main goal is to be a matchmaker for the two of them.”

“You know when his birthday is.” It’s not a question, but a comment.

“I flipped through his materials.” 

The office has quality soundproofing, so the sounds outside are quite hazy.

“And even gave him a gift?” His pitch elevates slightly at the end.

“It was along the way.”

Hearing some anxiousness in Wei Wei’s voice, you feel the strong urge to rush out and confess to Goldman on her behalf.

 “...”

Hearing no further sounds from behind you, you finally turn to look at him. “Victor, what’s wrong?”

He lifts his wrist and peers at his watch. “In the three minutes and seventeen seconds since you came in here, you haven’t looked at me once.”

...that’s very accurate.

“You even specially prepared a gift for Goldman.” He pauses, adding on in a softer voice. “And have nothing for me.”

It’s rare to see him like this, and it tickles you. “Are you jealous of your own assistant?”

“Idiot.” He lets out a soft ‘hmph’, and picks up a report at the side.

Laughing on the inside, you pull out a wine-red tie from your bag, encircling it around his neck.

Stunned, Victor runs his fingers across the tie.

“How could I possibly give Goldman a present and not you?” Your eyes crinkle, looking at him mischievously. “Little Vic, don’t get jealous for no reason~”

He takes off the loosely strapped tie on his neck, then removes the tie he was originally wearing. “Childish. How could I possibly be jealous?”

“Yes yes yes, I’m childish. Want to return the tie to me then?” You reach out, as though you’re going to take the tie away.

“There’s no such thing as returning a gift.” Victor shifts in his chair, avoiding your hand.

“Yes yes yes, you’re always right.” You continue perfunctorily.

“Dummy.” With this familiar address, he puts some distance between himself and the office desk. 

“Aren’t you going to put it on for me properly?”

[ GAVIN ] - Important context: they haven’t started dating yet

As Minor’s high school classmate, you naturally know when his birthday is. Since he’s Gavin’s number one fan, you decide to invite Gavin to the celebration.

“...you know... what he likes?” Gavin watches as you pick out a gift for Minor, his expression a little difficult to read.

“He mentioned wanting to change his gaming keyboard in the office,” you hold up a keyboard, giving it a look-over. “How’s this?”

“Any one will do.” He reaches out to pinch a leaf of an ornamental plant.

“Oh yes, Willow and I plan to organise a small birthday party on the day of Minor’s birthday. You’ll be there, right?” You ask while making payment.

Since a long time ago, you could already sense that Willow and Minor were somewhat interested in each other, but neither have broached the topic. 

You plan to seize this opportunity to make something happen between the two.

He takes the bag from you. “Will you be there?”

“Of course! I’m one of the two people in charge.”

Gavin is silent for a while, but eventually comes to a decision.

“...I’ll go.” 

-

The gathering takes place in a karaoke lounge not far from the office. That day, you dismiss everyone from work early, then head for dinner before going to the karaoke lounge together. Gavin doesn’t join in for the dinner gathering, but goes straight to the karaoke lounge first.

The moment Minor sees Gavin seated on the sofa, he rushes over excitedly.

“Bro Gavin, you really came! That’s amazing! Even in my dreams, I wouldn’t have thought my beloved Bro Gavin would help celebrate my birthday!”

“’Beloved’, huh?” You nudge Willow, who rolls her eyes.

“Officer Gavin is a male. It’s fine.”

Gavin lifts a cup of chrysanthemum tea from the table. “Your boss invited me.”

Minor immediately rushes to you. “Boss, you’re the best. You know me so well!”

His grip around the cup tightens.

Embarrassed, you step behind Willow. “If anyone is deserving of praise, it’s Willow. She suggested it.”

With a reddened face, Minor thanks Willow.

Watching them look abashed and not speaking, you lean towards Minor. “In order to plan for this birthday, someone lost several nights of sleep. She wasn’t even that tired when working together with you in the same team.”

Gavin balls the hand resting on his leg into a tight fist.

“There are many things I’m not in a position to say, so I’ll have to trouble you to say it yourself.” You pat Willow’s shoulder.

Oh, so she was referring to Willow, Gavin releases a shaky breath, setting down the tea cup he almost shattered in his hand.

He even planned to drag Minor out to give him a beating if you were to confess your feelings to him. 

The last thing he wants to do is give you up - the person he’s been protecting for such a long time.

Seeing that the two of them are finally becoming a thing, you select a love song. With a motherly gaze, you plop yourself next to Gavin.

“What’s wrong? You look terrible.” Even the dim lights aren’t enough to conceal his pale face.

“I thought you...” Gavin speaks, but pauses halfway and doesn’t continue.

You lean back against the sofa. “You thought I liked Minor? And that I was going to confess to him?”

“Mm...”

You burst into laughter. “How could that be possible!” Turning to face him, you add. “But I do have someone I like.”

“Who.” His voice is stern.

Supporting your chin on your palm, you blink while looking at him. “He’s very tall, very handsome, likes basketball and growing succulents even though he usually fails. But he treats me really, really well.”

“...” His amber eyes dull. Gavin doesn’t speak, staring at the lyrics appearing on the screen.

Now that your feelings are off your chest, you feel relieved. But you put on a deliberately troubled expression and sigh. “I just don’t know if he likes me, and whether he’s wiling to be my boyfriend.”

“You’re such a good catch. Of course he’d be willing.” Gavin lowers his eyes, fingers rubbing the rim of the cup.

“Really? Gavin, you’re really wiling to be my boyfriend?” Your eyes sparkle, hearing your voice grow louder involuntarily.

Gavin turns to you, dumfounded, eyes filled with disbelief.

...

...

...he thought you were talking about somebody else?

The dim lights become warm, and a rare tenderness flashes across his eyes. 

Because of the person next to you, all your emotions soften by a hundredfold.

“I’ll leave myself in your care then, my girlfriend.”

[ LUCIEN ]

Recently, Lucien has gone on a business trip, and Loveland TV has been rushing to produce a documentary episode involving biology. As such, you didn’t see a need to inform Lucien about it, and have been communicating directly with his assistant, Ah Ming, to obtain his input for the shoot.

To thank him for his help, and because his birthday is coming up, you decide to make a few cream puffs as both a ‘thank you’ and birthday gift. 

Today, you didn’t notify Lucien that you’d be heading to Loveland University to give the present to Ah Ming.

Carrying the nicely packaged cream puffs, you push open the doors to Ah Ming’s office.

“Happy birthday, Ah Ming! Thanks for all your help in the programme. I made some cream puffs to express my gratitude.” You hand the gift box to him.

Ah Ming accepts the gift box, then scratches his head a little abashedly. “Thank you, Teacher’s wife. It was really a small matter.” 

[Note] Ah Ming addresses MC as 师母 (”shi mu”), which refers to the wife of one’s teacher. It sounds a little weird in English, but I couldn’t think of a better substitute T^T

He opens the cover. “Looks delicious. You must have taken a lot of trouble to make these.”

“Ah Ming, the data for the experiment...” Lucien suddenly appears at the door, and is visibly shocked by your presence. “...Wife?”

Lucien’s line of sight flits to the cream puffs on the table. With a flash in his eyes, he asks, “Is this a dessert you bought? Could I have a try?”

You purse your lips, a bad feeling surfacing in your gut.

Although Ah Ming is a little confused as to why Professor Lucien, who doesn’t usually eat sweet foods, would suddenly want to try the cream puffs, he obediently hands the box to him. “Professor Lucien, please.”

Lucien takes a cream puff and plops it into his mouth. He closes his eyes, carefully giving it a taste. “Mm, it’s delicious. Could I have all of them?”

You can’t help but pipe up. “Lucien...”

“Would my wife like to try one too?” He asks, holding up a cream puff.

When I meet his meaningful gaze, the words I had prepared are lodged in my throat. 

“If Professor is the one who wants it, of course.” Ah Ming closes the box and passes it to Lucien.

“Thank you very much,” Lucien takes the box, then holds your hand as the two of you walk towards his office. Before that, he turns his head and smiles. “Oh yes, happy birthday. I’ll give you your present later. I hope you’ll like it.”

-

Along the way, you notice that Lucien’s gripping you tightly, as though he’s afraid you’d run away. Only after reaching the office and locking the door does he loosen his grip. 

You grumble. “Lucien, how could you snatch the ‘thank you’ gift I gave to Ah Ming?”

He sets the box on the table before taking a seat, propping his chin on his palm as he looks at you. “You made him cream puffs just because he helped you once. As the programme’s consultant who has helped you on so many more occasions, how should my wife show her gratitude?”

From his tone, you can tell that the Great Professor Lucien is suffering from a bout of jealousy.

“Isn’t devoting the rest of my life to you enough?”

Hearing your response, Lucien nods in agreement. “I hope you’ll only do such things for me.”

“Not even as a birthday gift?”

“No.” Lucien’s eyes narrow. “Especially if it’s for a male.”

Every time he has this expression on his face, you know that he’s being calculative. You compromise. “All right. Since you’ve snatched Ah Ming’s gift, your present better be more thoughtful to make up for my guilt.”

“My wife is very thoughtful.” Lucien retrieves Ah Ming’s thesis out of a thick stack of documents. “I will definitely. Mark. His. Final. Year. Thesis. Properly.”

“...”

What’s with this sudden shiver running down your spine?

As though something occurs to him, Lucien pulls out a notice from his drawer. “I’ll be responsible for the gift.” With a pen, he writes Ah Ming’s name on it. “I’ll give him the opportunity to work in a Tibetan-inhabited area. That way, he wouldn’t have to compete with others.”

...Professor Lucien, Ah Ming will cry after receiving such a gift. Deepest condolences to him.

“Also,” he lifts his head to look at you. “We’ll account for how you have been giving presents to other males in the school behind my back tonight when we’re at home.”

You purse your lips, asking a question. “But how did you know I made them myself?”

He pats your head. “As long as it’s made by my wife, I’ll remember how it tastes after trying it once.”

Oh, okay then. Next time, you’ll just give them something he’s never eaten before.

He encircles your waist and draws you into his arms. Tilting your chin up slightly, he sounds mildly threatening. “I hope you’re not thinking of giving them something I've never eaten before. I’ll be able to tell.”

[ KIRO ]

Savin’s birthday is approaching, and the both of you have been counting down the days, planning to spend an unforgettable birthday with him.

“I think our well-wishes will be better expressed if we bake the cake ourselves.” You’re in the kitchen with a hand on your hip, staring at Kiro, who looks like he’d rather perish than let you touch the bag of flour.

“No way. Miss Chips can only bake cakes for me! Even if it’s Savin, I won’t allow it!” Kiro hugs the bag of flour to himself using a death grip.

“Kiro!” You exclaim fiercely.

Kiro looks wronged. “All right, but Miss Chips can’t lift a single finger. Give me instructions, and I’ll bake it.” He places the bag on the counter, and prepares a bowl to knead the flour.

“Hold on, you have to separate the egg whites from the egg yolks first. ”You stop him before he can pour flour into the bowl. “Be more careful - the egg shells will get in!”

Kiro trembles and falters as he removes the egg shell from the bowl. “Don’t be so fierce... it’s the first time I’m using the kitchen...”

“...” Who was the one brimming with confidence earlier, and asked you not to lift a��finger?

After sending the kitchen into disarray, Kiro manages to bake an edible cake.

“The cream is ready too. I just need the pastry bag...” Kiro fills the pastry bag with cream. “I paint really well, so it’d definitely be a beautiful cake~” 

You recall the time the both of you did painting together, and toss him a mischievous glance. “Of course, you’re Picasso’s apprentice after all.”

“...Miss Chips!” Kiro’s flushed face expresses his unhappiness at your comment. “Forget it, I should leave such artistic endeavours to you.” Reluctantly, he hands you the pastry bag.

Since you learnt how to do it from a dessert shop in preparation for Kiro’s birthday, you draw an adorable shape on the cake with a skilled hand.

“Miss Chips, leave some space for me! I want to make a snowman for Savin.” He comments, leaning over.

Kiro holds the pastry bag slightly unsteadily, resulting in an oddly shaped snowman which looks... not that great...

Since there isn’t much time left, you store the cake in a box, grab the gift, and rush over to Savin’s place together.

The moment he opens the door, the both of you express your well-wishes in tandem: “Savin! Happy birthday!”

“Thank you. This cake looks pretty good, just that that lump of cream in the middle looks a little strange.”

Kiro is silent for a while before he says, “It’s you.”

“...”

You stifle your laughter while sticking candles onto the cake. “Savin, make a wish.”

Kiro pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I’ve prepared your birthday wish for you. Just listen and repeat it: Number one, that Kiro will not put on weight. Number two, that Kiro will have an unlimited supply of snacks. Number three, that Kiro will suddenly get rich quickly. Number four, that Savin will not be fierce towards Kiro. Number five, mmhfffm-”

You cup a hand over Kiro’s mouth before Savin can shove the cake knife into Kiro’s throat. “Hahaha I’ll keep him quiet for you, Savin. Please think of your own wish, hahaha...”

Savin wordlessly sets down the knife in his hand, closing his eyes to make a wish.

Kiro grumbles softly at your ear, “You’re actually siding with Savin? Your Kiro is unhappy.”

You roll your eyes. “I was saving your life!”

Savin’s eyes snap open. “Let’s dig in. Kiro, you’re only allowed to eat the base!” He slices the cake, carefully avoiding the snowman in the middle, trying his best to retain its shape.

Kiro whips out his phone and snaps several photos. “Wishing Savin a happy birthday every year~”

Kiro’s Weibo Caption: Happy birthday Savin! I was the one who baked the cake - definitely not Miss Chips. I’m the only one who gets to eat what she makes, hmph~

After getting home, Kiro has his arm wrapped around your waist as he speaks to you in a low voice.

“Miss Chips sided with Savin today. When Kiro is angry, punishment awaits.”

[ SHAW ]

As a frequent visitor of Live House, you’re pretty familiar with the members of the band. Hence, it was no surprise that Adam would invite you to his birthday party. Not wanting to go empty-handed, yet not knowing what would be a good gift, you decide to be responsible for the cake that day.

When Shaw discovers that you’re going to specially get a cake for Adam, his brows are knitted so tightly that they could squish a mosquito. 

“Don’t be late,” he grunts.

“Got it, I’ll go immediately after work, okay?” You pack your bag and prepare to head out.

“Lower your volume, I’m not deaf.”

“...”

If domestic violence wasn’t a crime, you would have beaten him into a pulp.

-

The birthday gathering is held in a karaoke lounge. After singing a few songs, the group decides to play “Truth or Dare”.

When the tip of the bottle points towards you, you click your tongue. 

“Dare.”

One of the band members reads out the words on a “Dare” card.

“’State three positive traits of someone from the opposite gender.’ Since it’s Adam’s birthday, you could talk about his positive traits.”

Initially planning to compliment Shaw, you’re momentarily stunned. Lowering your head, you think about Adam’s merits.

You begin with a superficial trait. “Mm... he looks pretty handsome.”

Shaw crosses his legs, expressing his scorn. “Tch, someone gets a huge stack of love letters in his drawer every day.”

Pursing your lips, you suppress the urge to whack him. “I heard that Adam received good grades in university.”

Adam scratches the back of his head. “They were all right.”

Shaw takes a gulp of his mixed cola. “Someone’s twenty this year and is already a graduate student in Loveland University’s Archaeology Department.”

The band member lifts a finger. “One more.”

You think for a while. “I think you’re very skilled at the keyboard.”

“Tch, it’s just a keyboard. Someone not only knows how to play the keyboard, but also the bass and skateboard.”

“...” 

Even the summer insects are silent.

Looking at each other wordlessly, you decide to break the silence. “Shaw, why do you keep bickering with me today?”

Shaw turns away from you while Adam shrugs as though he isn’t bothered by it at all. “He’s always like that. We’re all used to it.”

The other band members nod in agreement.

“Come, let’s have cake.” Adam opens the box you brought. After sticking the candles on and lighting them up, the guitarist standing closest to the switch flicks the lights off. Everyone sings the birthday song while Adam makes a wish.

Suddenly, a sharp streak of lightning flashes across the sky. Dull thunder resounds, shattering the joyous atmosphere. The sound recording of the birthday song pauses abruptly, and Adam trembles. “Let’s turn the lights back on.”

The guitarist clicks the switch, but nothing happens. 

“I can’t. Maybe there’s a power outage? The lightning struck the circuit box, so the staff are trying to fix it now.”

Adam shakes his head in resignation. “All right, let’s just use candles for now. After finishing the cake, we’ll head back.”

--

Along the way home, you glance at Shaw, who has been silent. Poking his arm, you ask, “The lightning just now - it was you, wasn't it?”

“So what if it was? If the karaoke lounge didn’t install a lightning rod, I’d have struck them all. Why would I strike the circuit box?”

You laugh softly, tousling his lavender hair. “Such animosity - do you have to be so vicious towards your own band members?”

With a cold ‘hmph’, he turns away. “They made my girlfriend compliment another man - of course I'm angry!” 

He faces you. “Also, your boyfriend has so many merits. How could you compliment someone else in front of him?”

You burst into laughter. “It’s just a game! I was originally going to pick you, but they told me to compliment Adam instead.”

Shaw grabs your hand and quickens his pace. “You can’t do it even if it’s a game. You can only compliment me. Let’s get home quickly.”

“Walk a little slower please!” You stumble, struggling to keep up with him.

“Let’s go home! Give me compliments!”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[acquariusgb]

The Clinton Tapes extracts of Bill as a father

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day in the US, here are some cute extracts from the book the Clinton Tapes by Taylor Branch about Bill being a wonderful father to Chelsea.  

-  Chelsea stopped by, neat as a pin, talking about an exam on Spanish verbs. She said good night and a preliminary goodbye for his long trip. When she was gone, Clinton said former president Bush had been encouraging him to spend more time at Camp David. Bush was hearing of low morale in its vast, attentive support staff, which remained isolated and idle because the Clintons almost never visited. The president said that while he appreciated such concerns, he saw few opportunities to change soon. Chelsea was fourteen years old. The last thing she wished for was a weekend at Camp David, which to her was the middle of nowhere. She stayed home, and her parents wanted to be apart from her as little as possible. So Camp David must wait. May 1994

- When Chelsea stopped by, the president tried to set a time to play cards, or just to talk. He said he had not seen her for a while, but she excused herself to get up early. Clinton looked a bit forlorn, telling me she had a summer job at the National Institutes of Health. July 1994

- Chelsea came in fretting about homework. In an exercise to hone succinct composition, she was writing an essay of no more than one page on the best and worst qualities in the legendary character Dr. Frankenstein, with illustrative passages from the Mary Shelley novel. Chelsea said her draft spilled stubbornly onto a second page, which was unacceptable, and she expressed doubt about her choice of quotations. The president paused to give counsel, and I left the recorders on as he read most of her essay out loud. He liked its cited images of Frankenstein’s passion for learning, enthralled in his lab, cheeks sallow with intense discovery, but he thought Chelsea was slightly ambiguous about whether his best quality was curiosity or ambition. On the negative side, where she wisely pinpointed an overbearing pride as the chief fault, he said she might find shorter, more precise quotes. We both complimented her language about the progressive blindness of Frankenstein’s zeal. Instead of creating life, Chelsea concluded, the mad doctor faced a “monster who had become his bane.” She went off to make revisions, and Clinton promised to consult her again before saying good night. May 1995

-   A festering wound could damage sensitive U.S.-Japanese relations for years, Gore warned. Clinton must visit Japan quickly to make amends. Just today, the president told me, he and Gore had tramped back and forth over a crowded calendar. December was out because of nightly Christmas parties, and so on, until Clinton circled dates next April. Horrified, Gore said that would be months too late, especially since the White House was announcing a peace trip to Europe for next week. Why not substitute Japan for Northern Ireland? Alternatively, Gore zeroed in on three lightly committed January days, but the president pronounced them vital to Chelsea’s schoolwork. Gore blinked. So what? He stared through Clinton’s halting explanation why this would be a bad time—because Hillary must join him in Japan, and junior-year midterms are the most pressure-packed events in all of high school. Mutual exasperation spiked. “Al,” Clinton told him, “I am not going to Japan and leave Chelsea by herself to take these exams.” Gore erupted. He thought Clinton had lost his bearings. They had a big fight, said the president, and were still wrangling about dates for Japan. November 1995

- During this preview of the campaign, Chelsea popped in the doorway to say she was sorry she may have disturbed us. She had been singing to herself in the hall, and did not realize we were here. Before he could reply, she vanished, and while I was rewinding the tapes shortly afterward, the president rummaged around the big Ulysses Grant desk. A decade ago, when she was about six, he said Chelsea had skipped into a ceremony at the governor’s office with a briefcase, which he was obliged to open in front of everyone. He showed me a photograph of little Chelsea doubled over in laughter as Clinton squeamishly displayed a boa constrictor inside. His daughter was cheerful and courteous, he said, but she was mischievous, too. May 1996

-  His voice surprised me again on Sunday, July 7. He had just finished testifying by videotape for one of the Whitewater criminal trials, in which Ken Starr’s deputy prosecutors were trying to tar him with far-fetched charges against Arkansas bankers. The president was tired, and really needed to spend time with Chelsea. So we must cancel our session tonight. He vowed to catch up soon. Of course, I replied. His staff always handled such logistics, but for some reason he delivered this notice himself. July 1996

-   Clinton told stories about Chelsea on our way down the hall. He and Hillary had just returned from her ballet recital. “She’s not an ideal body for a ballerina,” he reflected. “Far from it.” Chelsea was bigger than most of the other girls, who were flat-chested and tiny. She had big bones. Her feet had bled after practice ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she pursued ballet above other arts or sports for which she was more naturally suited. “I’ve always admired that,” he said. “I’ve wondered whether I could ever stick with something for its own sake.” He was inclined to obsess about competitive standing and talent, he said, whereas Chelsea, though smartly aware of her limits, loved everything about ballet including the hard work. August 1996

-  Then he lingered on Chelsea’s seventeenth birthday. Because Hillary had been late to dinner at Washington’s Bombay Club, Clinton found himself the delighted sole host to a dozen high school girls in raucous discussions of love and the world. [...] The president glided into stories wholly off my list. Chelsea’s Sidwell Friends School had welcomed seniors to make two-minute spontaneous remarks at a gathering of fathers. On a theme of candid revelation, one girl told the assembly why she and her dad communicated by letter in the same house. Chelsea almost knocked Clinton over, he said, with raw eloquence cutting through the inhibitions of youth and the public eye. She confessed setting her heart all year on tryouts for a part in The Nutcracker, which she did not get. Life’s first major disappointment, as she called it, left her depressed and sleepless, consumed by failure. She could think of nothing but wasted sacrifice. Both parents talked with her late many nights, but she was inconsolable until she woke up fitfully to a letter only an hour old, headed “3am” on her father’s White House stationery. It said he could not sleep, either, being upset because she was upset. He loved her, was proud of her, and believed one day she would find new value in her years of ballet. Somehow these words dispelled a cloud of absorption, she told Sidwell. She still read the note every day. As for his work, she admired what he did in the face of so much invective, but it had not always been so. In preschool, she had cringed as the other children stood proudly to declare their parents’ jobs—doctor, fireman, teacher. Not even she had a clue about governor, and so Chelsea in turn said her mom was a lawyer and her dad cooked the French fries at McDonald’s. She became an instant hit, with by far the coolest dad, but of course the grownups made her promise not to tell lies. Apologizing later to the class, she thought her father just talked on the phone and made speeches, which got the kids briefly excited again because they thought she said he made peaches. February 1997

[blu-archer]

Go Home

Right... So, I’m obviously new here. I’ve been posting my work previously on AO3 [Usernames: Blu_Magic or Indigo_Archer] and someone told me that I should think about posting them here as well.. So I am here. Just reposting what I have so far and hopefully whoever sees this enjoys it.

Main Pairing: Jimin/Yoongi 

Alternate universe - Hybrids are a thing and magic is real.

Warnings: ??? I really don’t think there is any... like maybe... slight mentions of self esteem issues, if you squint? If that’s a warning?

This is snz based, I haven’t ventured into writing anything else really.

Enjoy it! Hopefully there’s no errors... *Awkward peace signs*

*****

“You look wonderful today.” Taehyung greeted sarcastically as he swirled through the entrance of the staff room, making a beeline for his best friend huddled in the corner away from the other members of staff.

The cat hybrid ignored the comment, letting his chin droop into the palm of his hand. Jimin didn’t need to make himself feel any worse than what he already felt like. He had woken up with a piercing headache and the few off hand sneezes from the day before that he had chalked up to allergies, had definitely not been allergies. Honestly, he wouldn’t have even gone in to work that morning if it hadn’t been for the fact that exam season was rapidly arriving, and he couldn’t just leave his students in the dark. His class was practical based, so leaving it to a substitute was out of the question.

So, there he sat, perched pathetically in his thickest sweater with a face mask and tea while the other staff hovered around in their faculties, discussing how far in the syllabus they were. 

He felt awful at not being more of a help towards that particular conversation, but after an unfortunate occurrence earlier involving scolding coffee, a folder of fresh math assignments and an older woman jam packed full of spite and aggression that had left him in a puddle of tears; he had considered it best that he stuck to the shadows. If something important came up then Hoseok would come find him.

Taehyung gave him a pitying smile before helping himself to a seat beside his friend.

Despite not being a teacher at the academy, the witch got away with a lot. Jimin had been amazed to see how quickly Tae had been accepted on the campus just by speaking with staff – starting with the security guards and working his way all the way up to the principal. He seemed to just flash a boxy smile, and everyone just felt compelled to let him do what he wanted. It was almost as if he had them under a spell, which Jimin would believe if only he didn’t know just how much Taehyung unfortunately sucked at using magic. Jimin wasn’t even amazed at how easily his friend had appeared at his work – in a staff only section – without him knowing. It had become almost second nature to just see Taehyung wherever Jimin was.

Jimin was almost envious of how easily everything seemed to come to Tae – almost. He knew the man too well to be blind to the troubles in the witches life. It was very much the same as how Taehyung knew Jimin.

Which was exactly why he had arrived with whatever spiced potion he thought would help the poor calico hybrid, along with a large familiar grey scarf that filled Jimin with both a sense of ease and longing. Jimin coughed into his fist as Tae wrapped the scarf around him, the younger man smiled knowingly as Jimin huddled into it to try and breathe in his boyfriend’s faded minty scent.

“How many classes do you have left?” Taehyung asked, leaning over so that he could pour the potion into the tea which Jimin clutched close to his chest – choosing to remain oblivious to the dread-filled eyes of the poor sniffling hybrid. He had faith in this potion, unlike the others that he’d tried to recreate away from the supervision of Yoongi and Namjoon, he was almost certain that this one would serve as a source of healing. Like 90% certain…. Maybe 85%.  “Namjoon told me that Yoongi should be back from that business trip this afternoon, apparently it went well so he’s finishing early.”

Jimin nodded, his lips twisting into a soft smile at the thought of the older man’s return. Yoongi had been gone for almost three months. The only thing that was keeping Jimin sane was the old articles of clothing that the Warlocks scent clung too, and the video calls that they had worked in every second or third day. Maybe it was his feline genes kicking in, but Jimin really despised the distance. He would much prefer being able to touch and cuddle up to his boyfriend while the elder would pet him or tell him about his day or.. well anything. Anything with Yoongi was better than not being with him.

“I have my last class in half an hour.” Jimin breathed heavily.

His nose had become completely useless after the first two hours of being awake and had yet to show improvement. He tried not to think about the mess of a person he had been throughout the day. Even his students, as hard working and determined to do their best as they were – had encouraged him to sit on the side lines and not join them in the dance session like he usually would.

“Shouldn’t you be with Namjoon? I thought that mentoring those two meant that you are supposed to be with at least one of them during working hours.”

“Don’t be a grouch.” Tae pouted playfully, tossing an arm over Jimin’s shoulders, and carefully reaching up to scratch behind the calico’s ears. “Namjoon had to guest lecture an extra class at the university, so he let me go. Why don’t we head back to my place when you’re done? Jungkook and Hoseok won’t mind. Jungkook has actually missed seeing you, I don’t think he knows as many other hybrids as he claims. If you want to go now I can ask Hobi to cover your class?”

Jimin pursed his lips, gingerly swirling his tea that had taken on an odd vermillion shade. He really did want to leave, but the other two contemporary instructors either had left already or had a conflicting schedule. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he wished that he hadn’t even left his bed. He could have slept the whole day and then maybe he would have felt better by the time Yoongi got back.

 “Hoseok teaches a different style, Tae.” Jimin murmured, leaning into the witches soft scratches with a sigh. “And he has his own classes to go through.”

“His class ends in twenty minutes. Exam preparations have actually opened up his schedule at the school a bit. He gets home earlier with the disadvantage of being buried in paperwork. Honestly, I don’t know why either of you think that teaching is fun, the homework is no joke.”

Jimin chuckled only to break off into a hoarse cough that left him wincing. He felt Tae’s hand move from his fluffy ears to his back, calmly rubbing circles into the knitted material of his clothes.

“I’m going to ask him to take your class. It can’t be that difficult, maybe the fact that he has a different technique and specialty will help your students find their own self-expression or whatever you guys call it.” Taehyung said, deciding to not give Jimin a choice as he whipped out his phone to fire off a message to his older boyfriend. “Have you taken anything today?”

“Pain killers and cough drops.” Jimin mumbled, already feeling the witches gaze pierce through him with annoyed concern. “I couldn’t take anything else. It makes me too drowsy and I will not let this cold stoop me to a level of taking catnaps during class.”

Taehyung hummed. His hand that wasn’t rubbing against Jimin was pushing the tea concoction closer to his face – pulling the face mask to sit below his chin. If he was worried about the pink hues that Jimin new stained his nose and cheeks, Taehyung didn’t mention it.

“Drink this and when we get to my place then we can put some proper medicine in you. We bought a whole bunch of stuff a couple weeks back when Jungkook had his bi-annual ‘exam session flu’ as he calls it, so we have everything you need.”

Jimin sipped the tea with a nod, accepting his fate before immediately regretting it as he choked on the liquid. A few other staff members shot him some sharp looks that he couldn’t fault – if he was them he would want to avoid anyone sick as much as possible as well, especially at such an important time of the year. But he had no control over this. What had once been a moderately decent cup of tea was now a thick, syrupy fluid that tasted oddly like melting rubber and pears.

Jimin pushed the cup into Taehyung so that he could smother his coughing into his hands, failing to stifle how thick and grating it sounded. His face was a blaze and he wrapped his tail around his waist while he panted, far too short of breath.

Tae frowned and took his own sip of the drink, moving quickly to spit it back out into the cup. “Damn it, I thought I had it this time.”

“Stop - trying to kill me.” Jimin whined, only half amused as he fixed his mask back over his face.

Feeling like enough time had been wasted, Taehyung pulled the hybrid to his feet.

“Let’s just go find Hobi, it will be quicker than him checking his messages.” His face still contorted in a mixture of disgust and disappoint as he led Jimin along to where Hoseok held his classes.

They disposed of the drink as soon as they could and avoided as many people as possible. Jimin preferred to try limit the amount of people he came into contact with, more out of fear of embarrassing himself more than he had already, so they had taken the chillier outdoors route to the dance studios. Tae didn’t listen to any of the weak excuses that Jimin had presented and kept mumbling on about all the nice relaxing things they could do as soon as they got back to the apartment. Jimin wasn’t strong enough to fight the promises of warm store-bought hot chocolate [that had no special additions from Tae], soup and the prospect of animations with cuddles.

Hoseok’s class was technically still in session when Tae pulled Jimin into the studio room. Thankfully the senior dancers seemed to be doing their own cool off routines and Hoseok was hovering off to the side on his phone when he saw them.

“Hey, I just saw your message now.” Hoseok bounded over to greet Tae with a chaste kiss. His face morphed into one of disgust when he had impulsively licked his lips. “What is that taste?”

Tae waved his hand with a deep sigh. “I almost poisoned Minnie again. Sorry to just come in, I really wanted to see if you could take his class. He hasn’t taken any medication, so I want to get him home.”

“Of course.” Hoseok pulled Jimin into a tight hug that had the hybrid sinking into his embrace. “Ah, Min. I can’t believe Taetae tried to poison you again. How have you survived so long?”

He could vaguely hear some of the students commenting on it and Hoseok merely lifted Jimin into his arms, letting the smaller man link his legs around his waist before leading Tae out into the hallway. Jimin pushed his head closer into the elders neck, hovering over where the scent gland should have been.

Out of their weird friend group Hoseok was the only one that was human, the rest being a mix of hybrids or witches and warlocks, but Jimin had always found that besides Yoongi and Jungkook – Hoseok had the most calming scent and embrace. In fact, there were many times when Jimin preferred Hoseok to Jungkook. The bunny hybrid was often a bit too active and always smelled of all the different people he had befriended in his uni classes.

“I thought it was weird that I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning.” Hoseok murmured gently, letting Jimin rub his nose into his shoulder and the crook of his neck. He smiled at his boyfriend as Tae reached to pet Jimin’s hair tenderly. “You should have told me sooner, Kookie could have come and fetched you. He only had a morning class today.”

Jimin tightened his hold for a second before pushing away. Hoseok set him down, swiftly running a hand over the hybrids forehead and then through his hair. He didn’t have a fever at least. Jimin could have easily stayed in Hoseok’s arms but he knew the elder must be tired. It wasn’t fair to fall asleep on him or make him use up his strength.

“When is the class?”

“It’s at three.” Jimin answered, shying away with regret. There wasn’t much of a time gap for Hoseok to take a break, but the other dancer didn’t seem to mind.

“Cool, its seniors right? They should all be working on their own routines and such, shouldn’t be too difficult to give some pointers. I’ve watched you enough to know what to talk about.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure I can push through. You must be tired.” Jimin pouted and Taehyung chuckled, pulling him back into a hug.

“Hobi won’t mind. He’s secretly always wanted your class, they’re more behaved. Plus, you don’t know when Yoongi will arrive. It would be easier to fetch you from our place.”

“Yoongi is coming home today?” Hoseok grinned brightly, not denying the fact of wanting to steal Jimin’s class. “Go Jimin. Go cuddle my precious little bunny and rest up for your man. I’m sure you must both be excited.”  

It hadn’t even sunk in for Jimin that he would be seeing his boyfriend again – almost two weeks earlier than they had originally planned. A small piece of the heaviness that had made a home in his chest seemed to dissipate at the thought of going to sleep beside his own personal warlock. Jimin hadn’t even truly acknowledged how much he had missed the elder, preferring to bury himself in his work and spending more time watching old anime that he had forgotten about.

He may have still had a pounding headache, and his chest, throat and sinuses were definitely going to give him troubles for days with how much his symptoms had progressed in such a small amount of time, but at least the momentary gap in is life will be filled again.

“I just want to wake up next to him again.” Jimin admitted, his voice dipping low enough for his voice to crack.

He cleared his throat and gave a tight chuckle, looking away from his friends sympathetic eyes. Neither of them had really had to experience being away from each other, it helped that there was three of them in their relationship. Perhaps that’s why Jimin hadn’t spent as much time with them recently as he usually did. The atmosphere of bonds and love may have been something that he was subconsciously avoiding.  

“You will, Minnie.” Tae murmured softly, his fingers finding their way back to Jimin’s tri-coloured ears. “Let’s get you some medicine first. Don’t want this to linger like it usually does.”

Hoseok gave Jimin a tight hug before he pressed a goodbye kiss to Tae’s cheek – avoiding having to taste the contaminated tea still on the witches lips. Taehyung had to tug Jimin away at first, the hybrid was determined to make sure that Hoseok truly was okay and equipped to handle his class, but eventually the pair had gotten Jimin to leave the building.

**

It hadn’t taken him long to get settled in the Jeon-Jung-Kim apartment.

Either Tae or Hobi must have texted in advance because Jungkook had met them at the door with his largest, warmest hoodie and a tall mug of hot chocolate ready to take control of the situation. While Taehyung had finished off the soup that Jungkook had started and gathered medication, Jungkook had set Jimin down in their small lounge which he had transformed into some sort of fluffy wonderland and managed to pull the huge hoodie over the smaller man’s head.

After sipping at least half of the hot chocolate Jimin had sunk right into the soft blankets and pillows with a deep purring sigh, allowing himself to just doze lazily while the other two prepared for their afternoon in a rushed silence.

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when Jungkook shook him lightly from the slumber he had slipped into and gestured for him to sit up in order to place the steaming bowl of vegetable soup in his lap.  Jimin had pawed at his eyes and nose lethargically before leaning against the younger hybrid. Whatever sleep he had gotten hadn’t exactly helped. His head felt heavier than before and there was an irritating itch that had embedded itself in his sinuses.

One of Jungkook’s floppy black ears kept brushing against Jimin’s cheek while he ate, despite being comforted with the contact Jimin could tell that between that and the steam from the soup, he wasn’t going to be able to sniffle back the itch for long. After suffering through a few bites of food and numerous amounts of nose swipes, Jungkook moved to find a film in his room. Jimin took the opportunity to try relieving himself of some of the problems that were becoming somewhat problematic.

“Tae-ah” Jimin ran a sleeved wrist under his nose as he set down the soup bowl on the small portion of floor visible beneath all of the blankets that Jungkook had dragged out. “Can y-you get some ti-hih-tissues.”

Taehyung didn’t reply, although a box of tissues levitated over to Jimin from the kitchen, dropping almost directly into his soup. Jimin scrambled to try catch it with his breath hitching teasingly as he did. It was infuriating to be crumbling into a mess, especially with company. He knew that his friends didn’t care about how disgusting he may currently be, but Jimin despised that he wasn’t able to be in control of his symptoms. He pressed his wrist to his nose hard, trying to stave off the inevitable at least until he got the tissue box open. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work like that.

Jimin’s breath stuttered off into a harsh, wet sneeze – which was quickly followed by two, three, four more. It left him coughing into his fist, sitting miserably and too tired and embarrassed to move his hands from his face. He could only cringe at the mess on his hands and upper lip.

“Bless you.” Tae called, only for it to be the trigger of the next flurry of sneezes being torn from Jimin’s throat.

“That sounds awful.” Jungkook winced sympathetically as he returned with what Jimin assumed was Finding Nemo – always the first to start in an animation marathon.

Jimin wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, his face burned even though the other two seemed to just move on with life. The bunny called out to Taehyung to organise the movie while he shot Jimin a soft smile and tore open the box the elder had been struggling with. He pulled out a few tissues and handed them to Jimin, looking away to make a spot more comfortable for himself while Jimin tried to clean himself up.

Tae appeared from the kitchen, a dark robe adorned him as he dropped some water and pills beside Jimin then moved to put the movie in. He sent a tired look back at Jungkook when he saw the title but didn’t argue at the choice. The robe made Jimin nervous about what exactly Taehyung was getting up to and whether Jimin was going to have another potion poisoning him soon, but he didn’t have the energy to put in any complaints.

“Are you going to eat some more?” Jungkook asked, pressing against Jimin’s side. “You barely got halfway.”

  “I – Hih’eitiishhew, eheHISHiew… Argh.” Jimin reached to trade his tissues for new ones, sniffling and gradually losing any pride and dignity he had left. He shook his head and pressed the tissues to his nose, letting the old ones fall to his lap. “‘Not hungry. Just tired.”

“Okay…” Neither Jungkook nor Taehyung were too happy about the food being taken back to the kitchen but they weren’t going to force the cat hybrid to eat anything when he didn’t feel well, not after the last time Namjoon and Jin had done that and had resulted in Jimin throwing up on Hobi. Which of course had caused an unfortunate cycle that no one wanted to ever remember. “Come here and lay with me then.”

Jimin finished blowing his nose, not entirely satisfied with how it was left feeling itchy and raw, then he swallowed the pills without hesitation. He climbed into Jungkook’s side, purring instantly as the bunny preened and scented him until he was numb – being doused in calming pheromones and affection. Taehyung lay behind him after cleaning up and pressing play on the movie, running his one hand through Jimin’s hair and casually stroking the end of the hybrid’s flicking tail with the other. Jimin wasn’t able to focus on the film at all, slipping in and out of a dazed state while the other pair murmured to each other. There were a few moments when they all had to shift for Jimin to collect tissues or when he broke out into rough fits of coughing that usually ended with him snuggled into Jungkook’s neck, but most of the time they had spent bundled comfortably keeping movement to a minimum in case any of them fell asleep.

Jimin couldn’t recall the exact moment he had fallen asleep, but he did remember waking up briefly when Taehyung had left the cuddle pit to join someone else in the house. Vaguely he made out that Hoseok had probably arrived home, if the credits running along the screen were anything to go by then the dancer had probably just finished with Jimin’s class. Jungkook was snoring deeply beside him with his arms pinning Jimin to his chest, so Jimin couldn’t push himself upright like his weary and sick muddled mind had originally planned. When he heard Hoseok speak again he made a noise in his throat, wanting to gain attention to ask about his students but only resulted in coughing into Jungkook’s shoulder. Almost immediately fingers danced through his hair, scratching pleasurably at his ears before resting on his cheek with a sharp tsk.  

“Go back to sleep, Minnie. Just for a little longer, ‘kay?”

There was something so soothing about how the human had reacted to him that Jimin didn’t fight Hoseok’s smooth words, couldn’t fight them as his eyes were lulled closed, letting himself be petted back into darkness.  

**

Jimin blinked himself awake. It was colder. His brows furrowed in confusion at how dark the room had gotten. The places where Tae and Kook had lain were vacant. Padding the empty spaces Jimin could tell they had been gone a while.

His chest ached at the thought of them leaving him, but he pushed the thought aside- biting down on his lip to divert whatever pained him to be physical and more manageable. He could hear faint laughter from deeper into the apartment, the clinking of cutlery and plates. It must have been late already.

Jimin coughed tightly into his arm before rolling over to where Jungkook had been. He felt warm and tight, and he ached in a way that made him seem hollow but at least his headache had disappeared. He breathed as deeply as he could in an attempt to grasp at Jungkook’s soft floral scent, failing to smell anything more than a slight wisp of what should have been there. Being sick was so annoying.

Jimin was used to being reliant on scent, relishing in how different scents made him emote different feelings. Now he was left to just experience a bland, empty world.

He sat up, suddenly hating the soft fabric of blankets under his fingertips. He ripped off Jungkook’s hoodie, almost doing the same to the scarf Taehyung had brought him earlier , the paused. Instead, he brought it up to cover the bottom half his face. It wasn’t as soft as everything else since it was worn with age, but it brought him a sense of ease. A sense of home.

Hoseok’s loud, contagious laughter sounded through the apartment again and Jimin couldn’t keep himself from standing and wondering to where it was coming from. He moved passed the kitchen and down into the hallway, the guest rooms and study were empty, but a light shown dimly towards the end of the passage. As he got closer to the master bedroom he could hear a number of familiar voices speaking over each other excitedly. Namjoon and Jin must have arrived while he was asleep. His stomach twisted a bit at his previous thoughts that his friends had just left him for nothing. Of course, if they had other company they should be with them and not babysitting him.

He was indecisive to join at first before deciding that the only reason they weren’t with him was probably because he was asleep , so he moved to push open the door when he froze, hovering in the hallway just outside the door. Jimin pressed the scarf to his nose then pulled away and tried to sniff at the air. It was difficult but he could make out the sharp earthy mint that lingered.

His throat grew tight and his blood pulsed in his ears at the prospect of what waited for him in that room. He took a step back, running his hands through his sleep tussled hair. He no doubt looked awful - he knew that he did. No one looks attractive after spending their day gradually feeling more and more like a walking plague ad. Not to mention he probably smelled. No, he definitely smelled, he had danced with 5 different classes that morning and didn’t take his usual immediate shower when arriving home, because he hadn’t arrived at home. He couldn’t walk in like this, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to step away again. Now that he had had that taste and awareness of the fresh mint aroma he couldn’t stop it from amplifying despite not being able to smell anything else.

Jimin took a shaky breath, leaning his back against the wall opposite the door. The heat had bubbled up inside of him and a jittery smile danced on his lips. From inside the room he could hear Jungkook mumbling something, only catching his own name and the words ‘awake’ and ‘next dose’.

“I’ll get it.”

Jimin held his breath at the sound of the familiar deep dialect. Then that heat from before turned cold. He couldn’t be seen like this, what was he thinking? He at least had to wash up. He wasn’t ready. He had to –

“Jimin?”

Jimin looked up only to feel his stomach flip nervously at the deep brown eyes that brightened at the sight of him.

Yoongi.

He looked just like he had when he had left those months ago. His dark hair swept forward into his face and his fair skin shining with that unearthly glow of magic. Perhaps he looked a bit sharper, a bit more real. Jimin couldn’t stop staring at him, even when his heart beat rapidly against his chest and his cheeks flamed. He hadn’t even realised he was shaking until Yoongi reached out for him, bracing the hybrid with firm hands. Jimin croaked out a gasp and sunk into Yoongi’s arms – his previous concerns dissipated as Yoongi embraced him and pressed his lips to Jimin’s temple. Soft praises were whispered against Jimin’s skin that made him dig his nails into Yoongi’s chest – his nails subconsciously transforming to claws to gain a better grip.

How was this real? How was Yoongi even real? What had Jimin done in his life to deserve someone like the warlock that held him tight, as if he was just as scared to let Jimin go as Jimin was to step away from him. Jimin clung harder.

The world was suddenly too loud – deafening. His breath kept catching in his throat and he was sure that he had started coughing, but he couldn’t quite recall. All of his actions were blurring together.

“Shhh don’t cry, love.” Yoongi stroked Jimin’s neck tenderly. Earning another whine out of the hybrid. “Please don’t cry.”

Was he crying? Jimin rubbed his face against Yoongi’s neck, pulling away momentarily to see that – yes, he was in fact crying. For what, he was unsure, but no matter how much he sniffled and bit at his lips it didn’t seem like he was going to stop soon.

“Is everything okay?” Hoseok peeked around the door that Yoongi had half closed in his rush to leave the room. The dancer’s eyes widened at Jimin’s sobs, every so often broken by a grating cough. Hobi wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin woke up the next day without a voice.

“He – he feels a bit warm.” Yoongi answered rationally, but a voice crack betrayed his emotions.

The warlock felt close to tears himself.

“I’ll go fetch you some water.”

Neither of them argued, and Yoongi didn’t even glance up at the now silent room. He knew that their friends were probably watching with concern, but he didn’t want them near Jimin right now. Just him. Only him.

Yoongi had underestimated how difficult it was going to be when he had agreed to take the job in the UK. He had missed Jimin with every fibre of his being and struggled to communicate with him through electronic devices. He usually hated relying on the manmade crafts, but his magic was being used in his task and had left him practically depleted after each day. Even now he could tell how weak his job had made him. He’d surely be drained for a few days still – perhaps even a week. Yet nothing made him feel more powerless than having his beautiful, charming, strong calico hybrid brought to fevered tears in his arms. It made him regret ever choosing to leave, no matter how much his client had needed him – he and Jimin needed each other more.

“Shh love.” He felt Jimin lean into him completely and Yoongi took his weight, using the wall as support to gradually sink them both to the floor. He hugged the smaller man close with one arm and used his free hand to wipe at the tears staining the hybrids cheeks. “You must be feeling awful, Minmin.”

Jimin shook his head and burrowed deeper into Yoongi’s neck, mumbling something inaudible.

“What was that?”

Jimin pulled away, his breath hitching as he tried to control his tears. “ ‘missed you.” He ran his sweater-covered wrist under his nose which had been running, much to Jimin’s disgust and horror. “ ‘missed you so much, and now you’re here and I’m gross and … you’re perfect.”  

Yoongi pressed a kiss just below each of Jimin’s eyes, then his jaw and then finally – despite the noise of protest from his boyfriend – to the hybrids lips. He kisses were salty, but Yoongi didn’t care. Jimin’s tears had almost rolled to a stop, but it pained him to imagine that Jimin’s tears were partially due to insecurities. Yoongi had thought that they had moved past this in their relationship already, but he should never have been so quick to dismiss it.

“You will never be gross, okay? I am nowhere near perfect compared to you, and being here with you - no matter what state of health you’re in, makes me so happy, Min. I cannot even begin to describe what these months with not being near you have felt like and I would rather I lose my limbs than have to go through that again.” Yoongi pushed the dark sweaty locks of Jimin’s hair back from his face as he did a once over of his face. Taking in the swollen eyes and bright red nose, then moving to those familiar plush lips that looked puffier than usual – no doubt Jimin had been biting them. “I don’t want you to ever think that I wouldn’t be elated to see you every second of every day, okay?”

Jimin nodded. A small smile breaking out on his face. Yoongi took that as a sign to run his hands down to the hybrids sides and immediately the smile widened into a hoarse laughter as Jimin tried to wiggle away from Yoongi’s reach. He only stopped when a small bout a coughing broke the giggles, thankfully not as harsh as before but still worrying to Yoongi.

“Hey.” They both looked up to see Hoseok standing with a clear glass of water, smiling at them as he gave it to Jimin. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt. Do you two want to stay the night? I can set up the guest bedroom if you want?”

It was Yoongi who shook his head first, although Jimin wasn’t far behind him. “I think it would be best if we head home. I want to make sure Jimin is comfortable. Thank you though and thank you for giving us some time.”

Hoseok grinned knowingly, somehow always being the wisest out of the lot. “I’ll get Jungkook or Jin to pack you guys up some food to take with you, since it’s getting late.”

He didn’t wait for a reply merely turning to push open the bedroom door fully, revealing Namjoon and Jin sitting on the bed laughing lightly at the pair huddled on the floor close to the entrance. Jungkook had an arm over Taehyung’s shoulders while the witch had tears staining his cheeks with blood shot eyes.    

“Tae why are you crying?” Hoseok questioned with startled amusement.

The witch sniffed and rubbed at his face with an embarrassed chuckle, glancing around at where Yoongi and Jimin watched him from with wide, somewhat bemused eyes.

“It’s nothing. I got caught up in it, is all.” He explained sheepishly, earning a full round of amused chuckles.

“He started almost as soon as you left.” Jungkook added, directing his gaze to Hobi.

Hoseok sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, although he supposed there was something sympathetically charming about it. “I’m dating literally toddlers.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at his apprentice, although he couldn’t blame him. He had come close to crying as well. Yoongi moved to adjust Jimin onto his lap, relishing in the deep purr that came from Jimin even before Yoongi pressed his hand to the base of the hybrids tail. Usually he didn’t pet Jimin’s tail in public, since it generally always led to something more, but he knew the younger loved when he did it, so he was making an exception.

“Let’s go home.” Yoongi murmured, wiping at the others’ cheeks before deciding to just leave his hand cupping Jimin’s warm face. “I am one hundred percent okay with closing my practice to spend the rest of this week with you, get you better.”

“I have school.” Jimin replied with a pout. Whether it was due to having to go to work or the fact that Yoongi was implying that he wouldn’t be going to work, he wasn’t sure.

“You have a cold.” Yoongi corrected. “And it will only get worse if you don’t take the time off now. Plus, we can catch up. Its deserved.”

Jimin didn’t have it in him to fight it, not after how tired his crying had made him and especially since all he wanted was to spend time with Yoongi.

“I’ll get someone to stand in for you.” Hoseok promised. Not wanted to give Jimin a chance to even deny Yoongi.

It appeared a plan was being formed, but Jimin zoned out of the moving of bodies and their soft voices, only choosing to focus on Yoongi’s scent, his breathing, his warmth, his touch. It was intoxicating.

Jimin barely even recalled being lifted up and carried outside to the car, having a thick blanket from Jungkook’s monstrosity being wrapped around him to protect him from the icy weather. He definitely wasn’t conscious when Yoongi drove them back to their shared cottage along the coastal edge, or when he was carried inside and surrounded by all of his favourite soft and scented pieces of clothing and blankets. Despite not being completely aware, Jimin’s dreams were swamped with the aroma of mint and the gentle strokes of a large, warm hand from the base of his tail all the way up to his twitching cat ears, easing any fatigue or pains that he may have had.

All in all, it was a pretty magnificent end to a very long and exhausting day, and Jimin couldn’t have been happier.

[sepublic]

Sorry about the double ask so here's a fun idea, Emperor Belos wrote The Good Witch Azura books. Like he wrote them in his younger years before becoming a parasitic tyrant. - Pixel Anon

           That seems like it’d be the perfect opportunity to segue into a lesson about Death of the Author, which- Given Sense and Insensitivity, and how this show already discusses how fiction affects reality and connects with it… Would be VERY refreshing to see, especially as a moral that I don’t really see other kids’ shows exploring! I do recall OK KO bringing it up with the Hero Cards not representing Kappas, but the more the merrier. It’d also be fitting to discuss Death of the Author, and separating a work from a terrible creator- Given the show’s frequent references to Harry Potter, which has a rather infamous author…

           For neurodivergent kids who really get into hyperfixations and fandoms, which Luz and Amity basically are- It’d be fascinating to see them navigate this kind of twisted revelation! And it’d also force them to really re-examine The Good Witch Azura, because sometimes a work can’tbe separated from the harmful ideas of its creator, especially if it was made to transmit them… If Azura ever talks about dealing with ‘savages’, that’d be VERY sus and make matters a lot more complex. But then again, Azura also reconciles with Hecate, so it could be a matter of recognizing a work’s more problematic areas and criticizing them, while still enjoying it.

          And, this makes sense, as The Owl House really does convey that experience of engaging with media and fiction, and how it relates to real life… And how media and fiction CAN mean a lot to people, it’s perfectly valid for one’s hyperfixations to mean the world to them! It’s treated as objectively terrible for Luz to throw away her Azura book, and bar a few social misunderstandings, the Azura books have otherwise brought nothing but happiness for her and Amity, and even functioned as something for them to bond over!

          It’s perfectly okay for fiction to mean a lot to Luz, and she’s not being childish for wanting to hold on, to keep enjoying it- So it’d be an interesting discussion when Belos’ authorship is thrown into the mix, amidst potential problematic bits here or there. Then again, Luz is an ND-coded kid who continues to find solace in these stories, which would suggest that there isn’t anything there that would bother her- At least, nothing she’d have really noticed until someone pointed it out to her.

           Then there’s the appropriateness, of Belos’ own fantasy being what could’ve led to Luz being deluded in her own right, projecting fantasies and dreams onto reality, wanting to be a chosen one… It’d be an extension of the kind of harmful delusions and ideas he puts into others, tying it back all the way of Luz herself, prior to arriving on the Boiling Isles! It’d give us insight to Belos as someone who really gets people to believe in the idea of being special, of being chosen, specifically for the Emperor’s Coven… And how this could relate to HIS character, if he himself is also a victim of these kinds of issues. If Belos is Luz, in that she never learned to differentiate fantasy from reality, and felt entitled towards bringing her stories to life.

          Perhaps Belos isn’t REALLY chosen by the Titan, he just likes to think of himself as a Chosen One- Or he was, but others can also quality for this honor, which is something that aggravates Belos because it alludes to him not being more special than others. Because to Belos, it’s not enough to be unique and valid in your own way; You must be actively better than others, and the creation of the Emperor’s Coven above all reflects this. The belief that magic is a privilege, a luxury, something you must actively earn or be more worthy of than others for…

           It’s also an interesting contrast, as if Belos has also been influenced by his works, or his works are a reflection of that- Then it’d set him apart from Luz as someone who actively deludes himself. As someone who is voluntarily blind, and willfully ignorant- Just like Lilith, who was inspired by Belos and looked to him as a role model when she was younger. Even before becoming a parasitic tyrant, Belos was a dark reflection of Luz, subjecting others to fantasies and delusions… Maybe not initially maliciously nor willingly, maybe it was just him having fun like any author. But then this innocuous action became very dark in retrospect, as Belos and his ‘hobbies’ worsened and took on a more harmful role for the people of the Boiling Isles.

          I suppose it’s worth noting that Belos’ imagery invokes a lot of white, which is also seen with Azura’s predominantly white-and-purple robes… While Belos is white-and-gold. If Belos is a dark deconstruction of Luz’s assumption of a Chosen One narrative and fantasies, then maybe he’s also a deconstruction of Azura herself; And this of course suggests that he actively emulated his own creation. He’s artistic and a writer like Luz is, but it seems Belos got TOO convinced by how good he was, and couldn’t take constructive criticism- Which could be like King as an author in Sense and Insensitivity, up until he realizes that Luz’s input helped make him so great!

           Luz and Amity can still engage in fantasy and fiction, the show always lets them find joy in this… It’s just a matter of finding the distinction between the two and recognizing it. Fully indulging into fantasy is what could’ve led Luz to accepting Adegast’s illusions… But entirely rejecting is is the path that is the Reality Camp, which would’ve sucked the fun and joy out of Luz and turned her into a hollow, soulless imitation of herself. It’s okay to find comfort and media and even be inspired by it, to even take lessons from it; And while you should always prioritize listening to real life when it says otherwise, I think it’s worth observing that Luz’s quest to be a good person like Azura… Well, influences her to be kind!

          And it’s this desire to emulate Azura that influences Luz to learn magic, which creates yet another hyperfixation that brings the girl joy, and leads to her connecting with Eda and everyone else in the Boiling Isles in the first place by staying there! Perhaps Belos will contrast with Luz in that while he recognized media’s ability to make him feel happier, he ultimately used it as a crutch, a substitute for actual meaningful interaction and connection with other people- Thus creating the monster we see today. There could be the idea of finding role models, people you want to emulate- But also recognizing their flaws, where to criticize them, and not be like them. That could tie into how Eda is a teacher to Luz, but isn’t always right and excels by taking Luz’s feedback into consideration, instead of assuming she always knows better and will never be wrong.

           All in all, this is a fascinating idea Pixel Anon! Even if Belos has no literal connection to the Azura books, I am a big fan of the idea of him being a dark reflection to Luz… A Luz as we see her start out in the series, only to be a Luz who never learns the lessons we see her go through. Belos wanted to be a hero, a main character; But he never went through the actual arc and character development of one, and instead ended up as the static villain, the main antagonist who causes problems for actualheroes. If some characters become what they despise most by trying to avoid that, then perhaps Belos is someone who avoids becoming what he wanted to be, in his attempts to be like that.

          Whether or not media has played a role in Belos’ life has yet to be seen, but there is the idea of him having lived out a traditional ‘fantasy’ without realizing it as such, because to him this IS his reality- So it’s ironic then that Belos deludes himself while Luz doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of this, because Luz has that self-awareness to consider the divide between her fantasies and what reality actually is; Because she has an actual frame of reference for what fantasy and fiction is. Suddenly I’m reminded of that joke in Lost in Language, when Gary sees “Fiction-Fiction” because the Non part, the reminder of reality, was erased; And he has an existential crisis, wondering if any of his life was real…

          Imagine this being foreshadowing to BELOS, of all people, having an epiphany- Realizing that so much of his ‘reality’ was just his own fiction, that he questions what things were real and what things never were. Belos realizing he forgot to consider reality, and now he’s questioning everything he knows, if his arcane knowledge is all for naught if he can’t even distinguish facts from fantasy… etc. What is real and objective- What if all of his ‘Non-Fiction’ was simply just Fiction, and Luz the troublemaker must reveal this to Belos? I’m just imagining Luz very awkwardly cringing and navigating around Belos’ breakdown, but also sort of relating to his dilemma and helping him recover; At least for the sake of everyone else, because a reformed Belos makes life easier than a dead one.

          Plus, Luz is very compassionate in that sort of way… And while Belos’ radiance has blinded him for so long; Now, it’s Luz’s less harsh Light, which helps open his eyes and allow Belos to properly see the world around him. Eyes DO seem to be a major motif in the Boiling Isles, and with Belos, whose eyes need to be fixed by some palisman bile… If Belos’ light has blinded all, himself the first victim; Then Luz’s more Night-time, Star-oriented Light can bring a sunset to Belos’ shining era, for now the sun sets on his empire after all these years. And with the lights dimmed, Belos can appreciate the darkness around him as a contrast, and truly recognize things for what they are… And Luz can metaphorically open his eyes and mind.

          If Luz illuminates others to the truth of their situation and what they’re doing- Then maybe her final obstacle can be Belos… Alongside her mother Camila, when Luz reunites with her and reveals just how much happier she’s been in the Boiling Isles, instead of the Reality Camp that was actually going to hurt her. THAT would be an unusual parallel, Belos and Camila, as two significant adults in Luz’s life… Potentially ones who taught Luz everything she knew prior to Eda, with Camila providing social interactions to the girl, while Belos provides lessons through his Azura fiction and media. If Azura and Camila were all Luz knew and learned from, it’d be interesting for her to teach THEM something herself- Again, a continuation of that theme of the teacher having a lot to learn from the student, and not being so infallible and all-knowing themselves. Even a teacher like Eda can still enjoy the wide-eyed opportunity and curiosity to learn as a student, once more…

[sardonic-courtney]

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. P3/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Mention of loss, Spelling mistakes, you go to church?

Around 2500 words.

Let’s Get Coffee.

“Yay thank you” You yelled heading up the stairs to get changed…

Training went well, although you didn’t really do much. Bobby who was still reluctant helped you to shoot inanimate objects and some basic hand to hand combat with no weapons, because in his words “you won’t always have a weapon on you so that’s the best place to start.” You are pretty sure it’s just because he is buying time before the brothers come into town so they can deal with the more athletic training. Not because Bobby wasn’t good, he was but he was quite impatient and not the best Teacher.

Time Skip to the Next Saturday Night brought to you by Juliet.

The last week consisted of a few training lessons here and there, you were starting to get really good with a gun, and to Bobby’s ‘luck’ he did some blade training and you actually weren’t half bad. Right now, you were eating takeaway, 8pm, on the sofa with Bobby watching some old tv show.

“So kid, Winchesters are coming round tomorrow. Want me to pick you up from church to save you walking so you can see the two idjits sooner, I know you miss them”. He said emphasising miss in a teasing manor.

“Oh yeah soo much” You replied rolling your eyes. “But no, I’m good, I’m actually going out after for some coffee”.

“So, you and Lena finally meeting outside of church?”

“Nope”

“Wait so who are you meeting with then? A new boyfriend of yours? If so, I want to meet him first.”

“What? No, I’m not completely sure, just a group of us meeting up after church.”

“What do you mean you don’t know. Who asked you? That old woman that lives next to the church because if so, I wouldn’t go she will just talk everyone’s ear of about her cats”

“No, the Priest actually just to share ideas about the bible after.”

“Right well err have a good time?” He replied unsure

“Thanks Bobby I’m gonna head up now and sort everything out and go to bed”

“Don’t use up all my water, I’ll see you after your coffee, call me if you want a lift.”

“will do, night”

“Night kid.”

*Beep Beep* Your alarm read 8:30 Sunday. You go up and got showered and dressed. You opted for an outfit which made you look good but it was still simple and casual, whether you were trying a bit harder because you were seeing Crowley or because the boys were coming you wouldn’t say. You grabbed an easy snack and decided to take the scenic route as you had 30 minutes to get there and you didn’t want to wait around. You arrived exactly at 9:32 and waited a few minutes before walking in, no sign of Lena anywhere, strange. Your seats however remained empty, so you sat once again on the seconded row back. Just as you received a message.

Lena- Sorry my mums not feeling well so I’ve had to take my brother to football. Hope service is good.

(Y/N)- No problem, have fun at football.

You replied before muting your phone and sliding it away just as Crowley came out.

“Good Morning…………………………………Thank you all for coming. Bless you all and I shall see you next week.”

Looking up at the clock reading 10:30, everyone stood up and headed out the door, you however being unsure of where you were going for coffee waited at the end of the pew, letting other passed. You didn’t really focus on the topic at hand but hoped you could blag your way through the teachings of rich man and Lazarus. As everyone left Crowley once again was behind you smiling.

“(Y/N) how are you?”

“Hi, I’m good thank you, how are you doing?” you reply, once again you feel strangely flustered.  

“Better now that’s over and we can go get coffee.”

“Oh yeah about that where are we meeting?”

“I was thinking the little café down 3 blocks over. Small and easy to find a table.”

“Mrs Wolowitz’s?”

“Yes, That’s it”

“I think I know the way; well you better go, and I’ll meet you guys there” You say about to head off.

“I’m sorry love, you must be mistaken I meant just the two of us. If that’s alright”

“Yeah no sorry that more the fine, I just assumed.” You stuttered out. You hadn’t meant to jump to a conclusion but that seemed more likely then just you two going out for coffee. Alone in a small café. Damn it (Y/N) stop thinking again.

“Do you want to follow me in my car? In case you get lost?”

“Oh um.” You awkwardly laughed. “I actually walk here so I’ll get it up on my phone”

“No, no don’t be stupid you’re going in my car.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”

“No come on let’s go.”

The car ride was short and pretty much silent but not awkward. You were nervous but also happy you weren’t going to be stuck with a bunch of old Christians arguing about meanings. Before you got out the car, he took his clerical collar of leaving him in a normal black shirt. You got out, got a table and ordered your drinks, and reluctantly allowed Crowley to pay.

“So, Y/N how did you find todays service?” Crowley asked looking straight at you for an answer.

“Oh um, it was good” you replied suddenly feeling nervous and unsure of how to answer. You were sat in a café, with an attractive Pastor whose stare seemed to go straight through you.

“Anything to add? Any views on the passage?” Crowley said seeming slightly distracted.

“Not really no. Sorry maybe you start an idea and I’ll add?”

“I don’t really have any either, well to be honest with you I would rather get to know you then your views on the bible.”

“Me?” you smiled, this just got better now it’s apparent you probably aren’t going to be sat discussing the bible over the next half hour or so.

“Yes you” he replied a small smile resting on his lips.

“Well what do you want to know?” you didn’t really know what sort of thing to tell him so thought it best to just ask.

“Well how about we play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yes, a game, you know an activity one engages in for fun?” his smile turning slightly into a smirk.

“Oh, thanks I didn’t know what a game was, what sort of game?”

“I ask a question and you ask one back?” he paused “if you would like, if you wanted to sit around and talk about bibles, we could ask biblical ones”

“No normal questions are fine; you can start since I don’t know what games are” you say sarcastically.

Just then the waiter came and delivered your drinks, nodding his head slightly at your companion before he left. You took a sip of your drink as Crowley moved on; this wasn’t what you though this evening would be but it’s definitely an improvement.

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

“(Y/A) {your answer}”

“Why?”

“It just seems perfect. I could see myself walking around and just admiring everything there you know?”

“Well hopefully one day you’ll go.” Crowley took a sip of his steaming drink and returned to looking at you. Really looking at you, it was weird, like he was genuinely interested in what you were saying. “I’ve been a few times and I must say the {landmark} is beautiful to visit.”

“One day I will see it, anyway you seem like you’ve been to loads of places where have you been?”

“Pretty much everywhere, I do enjoy travelling.”

“wow, I wish” you sigh out.

“Do you travel?”

“Not really, when I was younger me and my parents would move around America but that stopped a while ago.”

“Oh, how come?”

“They died so I moved in with my godfather and haven’t left town since, I know if he could we would go but he needs to stay here for work and everything and now I’m blabbing on again sorry.” You said it more as a fact mentally ready for the normal oh I’m sorry and what happened and are you okay to come.

“No don’t apologise I’m interested and I’m sorry to hear about them but your godfather sounds like a good man, and maybe one day you can travel again, maybe even the world, what do you plan on being in the future?”

“Definitely the plan, and I’m not sure yet. What about you have you always dreamed of being a pastor?”

“No, definitely not. I’m only a substitute pastor anyway if there’s such a thing.”

“what do you do then when you’re not?”

“I guess you could say I’m a businessman, I mainly make deals and such.”

“oh, is that why you always travel?” You say looking down at your drink and sipping.

“Exactly why my job requires a lot of popping to places. Now if you will humour me, I’m curious, you go to church but don’t seem completely religious, is that so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but I notice you zoning out during teaching and you just seem… I don’t know how to put it.”

“Well if I’m honest I’m not sure about it really. The whole believing in God thing. I mean I’m sure he’s there, but I don’t think there’s much he can do.”

“So why go?”

“Well my mum used to always take me and well it makes me feel closer to her, I’m sorry if that offends you.”

“Not at all, not at all” he said a slight smirk on his face again.

This was weird, not in a bad way but weird. As the time passed, he started to become even less like a pastor and more like a friend. You continued sharing random stories finding out how he grew up in Scotland and all about his random like and dislikes. He was a nice guy and you no longer felt nervous. Time went by and you both ordered another drink. Now your cups were sitting empty and you were discussing what the best era would be to live through, when your phone beeps.

12:51

Bobby: Hey, hows the discussions going, what time do you think your going to leave I dont know if I can deal with them alone any longer and theyve only been here 3 hours as it is.

You: oh, sorry I didn’t realise the time, um ill finish my drink and leave soon. Tell them I say hi.

You slid your phone into you pocket and looked back up at Crowley. Wow you had been sat talking for over two hours.

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yeah everything is fine just didn’t realise the time. Sorry I’m going to have to go in a minuet I have guests over and completely forgot.”

“No problem, would you like a lift back?”

“I can walk it’s fine.”

“Please at least let me drop you of at the church, I need to pick up some things there anyway.”

“Okay.”

With that the two of you got back into his car and arrived back at the church both getting out and standing in the completely deserted parking lot.

“Thank you for the lift, and the drinks.” You smiled checking you had everything and looking up at him.

“No problem I had a good time, and maybe if you would like I could get your number and we could do it again sometime, get to know each other a bit more, maybe over some food.”

If you didn’t know any better it would sound like a date offer, in fact part of you wishes it had been but pastors don’t date, do they?

“Yeah sounds good today was fun.” You grab your phone pulling up your number.

“I’m sorry that may not have been clear enough” he said looking at your phone and entering your number into his. “I was referring to going out on a date.”

“But you’re a priest?” you blurt out before thinking. Mentally slapping your head.

“A substitute priest love, and like you I don’t hold religion too close to my heart” he said chuckling and putting his phone away.

“Well in that case that sounds great. I better start heading back but text me.”

“I will, safe walk home, if you’re sure you don’t want a lift.”

“I’m sure, goodbye Crowley”

“Goodbye Y/N”

And with that you left. What just happened?

*Times Skip Home*

You walk through the door into the lounge greeted with the boys and bobby drinking beers and talking, coming to a halt when you walked in.

“Y/N, hey how have you been” Sam asks looking up at you smiling. Before you could answer Dean butted it.

“Y/N Bobby here tells us you’ve been out talking about the bible, please tell me you haven’t it’s like half one.”

“Nice to see you to Dean, and no I haven’t I met with a friend. I’m great thank you Sam, how are you?” you reply going to sit down before realising a pair of legs in the way. “Deans move your legs”

Reluctantly he swung them over the coffee table allowing you to sit down.

“Good thank you” you’re not sure if Sam would have continued but bobby spoke up.

“A friend? You said you were meeting with a group of you, lying, now are we?”

“what? No, I just got a bit confused we were going to talk about the service but we got distracted. But what’s more important is what you two have been up to.” You reply casually leaving out the fact you had spent the last two hours with a male and had half planned a date.

“No, what’s more important is you are 18. And we have something for you.” Sam said poking his head around Dean.

“Sammy’s right Dean said pulling something out his duffle bag. It was neatly wrapped and slightly battered around the edges. Sam definitely wrapped it.

“Guys you shouldn’t have.” You said unwrapping it. At first you saw a leather-bound book. It was bound with a rope wrapped around and decorated with a light house on the front.

“Open it up (Y/N/N)” Sam said.

Unwinding the rope, you opened it up to find postcards and pictures from the boys, all in Sam’s writing.

“We, well I thought you could have a journal to note down anything you want its always good to have one. The postcards and stuff are from each of the places me and Dean have been. We knew you wanted to go, and you always want to here stories so I thought it would be a good way to make it seem like you were there.”

“Sam it perfect thank you so much.” You stood up and hugged him before taking a seat back down noticing Dean had a scruffier package in his hand.

Accepting it and opening it Dean began.

“I’m not as thoughtful as Sam but I saw this, and thought would like it.”

It was a rope necklace with a stone on the end. Under the stone was a small piece of card with a handwritten message explaining the stones properties of protection and healing. You read it and put it on twiddling the stone in your fingers (You can change stone to your liking).

“It’s beautiful Dean thank you very much” you say leaning over to hug him.

“I’m glad” he says pulling back smiling.

The evening goes on, you order food and joke with each other, Bobby leaving to go to bed and the three of you falling asleep sprawled out on the couch and armchair around 11pm

Wow that was long and mainly build up, but don’t worry romance will be in the next one.  I hope you enjoyed this though, thanks for reading.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, inatshej!

For @inatshej. I’ve never written a high school AU before, but I wanted to make Inatshej’s secret santa dreams come true. I hope I did your wishes justice <3

CW for homophobic bullying, but it's not the focus of the story. Also, there is brief mention of the death of Stiles' mother.

Read On AO3

*****

To Be Held By You

Derek knew there must be something wrong with him from a young age. He knew because how many times had his parents given their speech about the importance of raising the next generation for werewolf society? How many times had his uncle given the “werewolves will become endangered species if we don't procreate more” speech at a pack meeting? His purpose in life was to raise more cubs, and that required Derek to kiss a girl.  He tried touching himself to pictures of Taylor Swift, but at the moment of truth his mind wandered back to Taylor Lautner.

High school proved even more challenging. Derek tried to join in his teammates’ objectifying discussions about their substitute teacher, Ms. Argent, but he felt like an obvious impostor. After basketball practice Derek hung back to shoot extra baskets to avoid being in the locker room. Later, to his dismay, someone else drew his eye in chemistry class.  

“Mr. Stilinski. Glad you could finally join us,” Mr. Harris bit out as Stiles’ desk scraped against the floor.

Stiles looked lovely with flushed cheeks, Derek grudgingly admitted to himself.

“Sorry, I overslept. I had a busy night looking for that dead body in the woods.”

Mr. Harris gave a tight lipped smile while the rest of the class laughed at Stiles. Stiles either didn’t seem to care or didn’t realize the laughter was directed at him.

Jackson’s voice cut above the cruel raucous. “Stilinski here thinks he’s Scooby-Doo.” And then Jackson started barking obnoxiously.

Derek wanted to crawl under his desk. They sounded like a butchered version of a pack of angry basset hounds and it grated at his sensitive hearing. Not to mention poor Stiles. Derek watched to see his reaction, but Stiles just caught Derek’s stare and rolled his eyes. Derek’s face heated, and he glanced away.

***

Erica nudged Derek’s side. “Scott and Stiles are here.”

Derek glanced up from his plastic cup. The pounding beat of the bass almost drowned out her voice, and Derek had no way of hearing what Stiles was saying across the huge loft. His eyesight was certainly good enough to admire Stiles’ tight t-shirt though. “You know him?”

“Who, Stiles? Of course. I had a huge crush on him in middle school actually.”

Derek coughed on his next sip. “I thought he was a new kid.”

Erica waved her hand. “Nope. Actually, he’s the sheriff’s kid. Just took some time off last year because his mom was in the hospital.”

Derek braced himself. “Is she…?”

Erica nodded gravely. “She didn’t make it. But he seems like he’s back to his old self now. Want to see if they want some company?”

Derek tried in vain to grab her sleeve before she sauntered off. “No, Erica, wait-!” Derek waved away a girl’s paintbrush as he craned his neck to see what Erica’s was planning. Luckily, Derek could see through the throngs of people in the dim lights and glowing that Erica got sidetracked by running into Boyd. There was no distraction more helpful than the guy Erica was currently crushing on. However, unluckily, Stiles also got distracted. A pretty brunette with neon orange lips grabbed Stiles’ hand and dragged him to the dance floor. Derek strained to hear, but to no avail.

All the DJ’s songs blended into one another, so Derek couldn’t tell how much time passed. Eventually Erica sauntered over, happily under Boyd’s arm. In tow, was Stiles. It seemed they were all in the middle of a conversation.

Erica poked Stiles’ arm. “I thought you were into guys?”

Stiles took a gulp of his drink. “What do you mean?”

“You were making out with Caitlin. What about your crush on Danny sophomore year?”

Stiles scoffed. “Erica, I will have you know I am an equal opportunity lover.” At her smirk, he added, “I’m bisexual! Ever heard of it?”

Boyd gave Stiles a fist bump. “That’s cool, man.”

Stiles grinned and cupped his hands around his mouth to shout into the mess of writhing bodies. It was impossible he would be heard over the pounding music, but his new friends would hear. “I’M BISEXUAL AND I’M SINGLE!” His laugh warmed the already hot loft space. “Hey, I’m Stiles, by the way.” And then he winked at Derek.

Oh shit. Derek’s crush just got slightly more attainable. And that scared him.

***

On Monday at school Derek found Stiles waiting by his locker. “Hey dude, you’re looking pretty as ever.”

Derek gulped. “Um.”

Stiles stepped out of the way of Derek’s locker so he could put his backpack away. He licked his lips and his heart beat wildly. “So...Harris is making us pick lab partners today in chemistry. And I was thinking-”

Jackson’s bellow from the end of the hall cut in. “Yo Stilinski! Who let you into the party on Friday? Everyone knows you’re a narc!”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous I wouldn’t dance with you, Whittmore.”

Jackson strode closer. “You hear that everybody? Stiles wanted me to dance with him.” He loomed over Stiles then and Stiles had to push his shoulders back against the lockers. “Too bad. I don’t dance with f*gs who run home and tell the Sheriff I host parties at my parent’s loft property.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jackson sneered. “Don’t play innocent. My parents took my car keys and you’re going to pay for it. Just you wait.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “You seriously think the Sheriff’s department gives a shit about you? Your parents probably found out because Matt tagged you on Facebook.”

That only seemed to enrage Jackson more. “You calling me stupid?” Jackson clenched his fist, but before he could move his arm, Derek wrenched Jackson’s arm back. The growing crowd backed up, expecting a brawl.

Derek usually tried to stay under the radar. If he got in any fights it could put their whole pack in jeopardy. The student body witnessing a 17 year old kid win a fight with ease and then walk away without a scratch always seemed too risky. But for Stiles, Derek acted without thinking.

Stiles’ eyes widened as Derek grabbed Jackson’s shoulder and shoved him to the other side of the locker bay. “Don’t touch him!” Derek’s barely contained strength hinted at a power Jackson could only dream of.

Jackson struggled against him, but couldn’t get loose. “Whoa, chill out, Hale,” Jackson sputtered. “It was just a joke.” Derek smelled the beginnings of fear now.

Derek leaned over Jackson to growl in his ear. “Leave Stiles alone or I won’t hold back next time.” He released Jackson, but not before flashing his eyes for good measure. Jackson’s veneer of superiority completely dropped away to reveal wide eyes. Satisfied, Derek dropped his arms and stepped back.

Jackson pushed his way through the onlookers. “Get out of my way, Greenberg.”

Derek shuddered. Shit. If his mom got wind of this…

“Dude! That was awesome!” They both glanced at the still gathered crowd. “Let’s get out of here.”

Derek followed Stiles down the hallway and around the corner into an empty classroom. “Isn’t this room usually locked during first period?”

Stiles grinned, eyes sparkling. “I have my ways.” Up close like this Derek could see they were about the same height.

The lights were off, but Derek’s eyesight picked up bean bags strewn in the corner.

“Don’t worry. I’ve memorized Ms. Blake’s schedule, because Scott and Allison sneak in here all the time to make out,” Stiles whispered into the dim light.

Derek took a shallow breath and scented the arousal permeating the bean bag chairs. He visibly blanched.

“Oh! Not that I brought you in here to make out!” Stiles reddened and took a step back from him. Derek missed the heat of his body. “I just wanted to get you away from the prying eyes before someone realized you were a werewolf.”

Derek’s stomach dropped. Had he let his family’s secret up after all? “What did you say?”

Stiles stopped short. “Was I not supposed to say anything?”

“How-, What-What do you know?”

“Relax, Derbear. I’m not a hunter or anything. My best friend’s a werewolf.” Stiles reached for his shoulder. He probably meant it to be a reassuring hold, but Derek couldn’t help but think this is the first time Stiles ever touched him. The heat and pressure of his hand left Derek reeling.

It took Derek a second to comprehend. “...Scott?”

“Yep,” Stiles said. Stiles gave his shoulder a final pat and took his hand off. “Bit by a rogue alpha a few months ago.

“Oh,” Derek managed. He supposed he remembered something familiar coming up in a recent pack meeting.

“We good?”

Derek let out a breath, and his lips turned up. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Stiles grinned back. “So, what I was trying to say earlier. Do you want to be my lab partner in Harris’ class?”

“Sure, Stiles,” Derek said, still smiling.

The shrill bell interrupted the warm stillness. Derek listened at the door and nodded to Stiles. “The coast is clear.”

Stiles poked his head out, then strode back toward the lockers. The hallways were now deserted. “I guess Jackson didn’t send the dean over.”

Derek’s face darkened. “And he won’t if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Man, the toxic masculinity really does it for me apparently,” Stiles muttered. “Hey, do you think I’m attractive to straight guys?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

***

After that Derek’s friends unanimously adopted Stiles into their group. It seemed Stiles’ best friend since childhood spent all his time with his new girlfriend anyway. Erica loved having someone to talk boys with and Boyd enjoyed practicing lacrosse with someone who hadn’t betrayed him for the basketball team. (Derek tried to get Boyd to understand that it was easier for him to hide his wolf strength in basketball than in lacrosse, but Boyd wouldn't listen.)

After Scott’s particularly sappy winter formal proposal to Allison during lunch Stiles rolled his eyes and turned to the rest of the group. “So who’s going to the dance?”

Boyd glimpsed up from his chips and shared a smile with Erica, like they were in on the same secret.

Stiles stole Erica’s apple while she was otherwise occupied making doe eyes at her new boyfriend. “I meant other than the obvious lovebirds,” he grumbled. He glanced at Derek and his cheeks flushed.

Malia cut in before Derek could flounder over his words. “Derek’s taking Kira for me as usual. My dad would literally flip a table if he knew Kira and I are actually a couple.”

Stiles’ gaze broke away from Derek to gape at Malia. “Oh shit, seriously? Well aren’t you a good cousin, Derek.” Stiles got that calculating look that promised gears were turning in his head. It was never a good sign when it was directed at Derek. With a perfect air of casual he added, “Then I should take you, Malia, to avoid further suspicion. Derek and I can be de facto dates once we get to the dance and let you and Kira do your thing.” He winked at Derek then, and it was Derek’s turn to feel his face heat.

***

Up until then Derek’s crushes were unattainable, like a famous person or the cute counselor at werewolf summer camp. Now his crush was his “de facto” date to the winter formal. Against his better judgment Derek couldn’t stop staring at Stiles. He watched Stiles’ nimble fingers put Malia’s corsage around her wrist, and he shivered imagining what Stiles’ touch would feel like on his own skin.

“Everything okay, Derek?”

Derek started and turned to his mother. “Of course.”

“Kira seems awfully quiet today.”

They turned to see Kira watching Stiles and Malia posing for pictures with an unreadable expression.

“Um, I think she’s feeling awkward being the only kitsune here.”

“Right,” Talia said. “You know, that Stiles sure is charming.”

“I guess,” Derek grumbled.

“We’d better finish up with pictures soon then.” She winked at Derek. Addressing everyone, she said, “Alright everyone. One more group picture.” She motioned to the boys to line up. “Girls, stand in front of the boys.”

The wolves had been devising ways to avoid the lens flare. This time everyone was directed to look at their dates. The girls angled to look up at the boys, but at that moment Malia leaned over to whisper something in Kira’s ear, and the two of them giggled at one another. The shutter also caught Derek turning to gaze at Stiles at the same time Stiles happened to eye him too.

***

Stiles nudged him as they stood in line to the gym. “You clean up good, dude.”

Derek glared at his shoes. “You too.” That was an understatement. Stiles looked stunning in his fit, dark black suit. Stiles usually wore baggy flannel or sweatshirts. This was a new side of him Derek could absolutely get used to. The fact that Stiles left the first couple buttons of his shirt open made Derek’s mouth water. He wanted to bite that hint of collarbone.

Even Lydia, Jackson’s ex, eyed Stiles appreciatively and sent a sly smile his way. Stiles beamed back at her for a moment.

Once inside Derek’s ears had to adjust to the DJ’s booming volume and the smell of cologne overpowering the faint smell of gym socks. Stiles needed no adjustment. He grabbed Malia’s and Kira’s hands and pointed to the dance floor where Scott and Allison already were. Derek watched with amusement as Stiles and his friends formed a circle, Stiles dancing frenetically.

Derek himself wasn’t much of a dancer, but he was content to watch Stiles bounce around. While Stiles finished up a fast rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree with Lydia the tune changed to a slow ballad.

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas... the speakers crooned.

Derek expected Lydia to find Jackson for this one, but to Derek’s horror Stiles turned to Lydia and pulled her close.

Derek may have been enjoying the occasional brush of their hands during chemistry labs, and he still savored Stiles’ hand on his shoulder, but he never got to be held by him like that. The song never seemed to end. If Stiles hadn’t had a partner for this one then maybe he would have turned to his “de facto” date.

Derek knew he was scowling, but hoped Stiles wouldn’t be able to tell from his vantage hooked over Lydia’s shoulder. Finally, the song ended and Derek could breathe again.

After the song ended Stiles strode up with punch in one hand. “Why so sour, Sourwolf?”

Derek’s jaw tightened. Something dangerously close to the truth flew out of his mouth. “You and Lydia looked pretty cozy.”

Stiles rubbed his hand over his buzzed hair. “When we were dancing?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles nudged him goodnaturedly. “Were you jealous?” Stiles teased.

Derek blushed. “Shut up.”

“You’re such a sweet talker. Of course I’ll dance with you.” Stiles took Derek’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

It wasn’t the slow song Derek dreamed of. However, even with a fast song he could be close to Stiles. Stiles’ scent wafted around him; a mix of the dry cleaning on his suit, his pine deodorant that made him smell like the woods, and that exquisite scent all his own. Every now and then Stiles would take Derek’s hands and pull him closer or shimmy against him.

Dancing with Stiles almost made Derek forget they were in the same room where he had to practice basketball every weeknight. He could tune out his classmates shamelessly grinding on each other with the warmth of Stiles’ body. The twinkling lights on the ceiling actually seemed to transform the space to a winter wonderland as the winter formal posters had promised.

Just when Derek thought he might be getting a hang of where he should put his arms while dancing Erica and Boyd bounded up to them and pulled them apart.

“Who’s coming to Jackson’s party with us?”

Stiles seemed to shake himself. “Right now?”

“Yes, now, silly! No one stays after the DJ starts playing remixes of Jingle Bells.”

Derek’s scowl returned. He didn’t want the night to end yet.

Stiles shrugged. “I’m not keen on going to another Whittmore party.” Stiles eyed him, then said. “If everyone’s going to the loft party you and me can just hang out at my place and watch a movie or something.”

At that Derek had to duck his head to hide his grin. “Sure.”

***

Stiles’ home was small, but cozy. A warm lamp lit the couch in the living room, and the tree’s twinkling lights sent a sparkling glow across the rest of the room. The room was filled with Stiles scent mingled with the tree’s needles. Best of all, Derek couldn’t hear anyone else in the house.

Stiles gestured to the couch. “Make yourself at home. My dad’s working somet overtime tonight so we have the place to ourselves.”

Derek gulped. He sat on the couch and rubbed his hands over his thighs. Stiles’ long fingers undid the buttons on his suit jacket as he spoke, and Derek couldn’t turn away.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Uh…” His mouth was suddenly quite dry.

“Dude. Earth to Derek.”

“Water’s fine,” he managed to croak out.

While Stiles tripped to the kitchen Derek glanced around the room and took in the family photo frames decorating the space, the homemade quilt that smelled faintly of perfume hanging over the back of the couch, and the impressive collection of DVDs.

“See anything you like?”

Derek jumped in an uncharacteristic startle. “What?!”

“Did you see a movie you want to watch?”

“Oh! I’m good with Marvel I guess.”

“Avengers it is,” Stiles said.

Derek couldn’t tell what time it was, but time seemed to stop in the Stilinski house. The old couch was worn and soft, with cushions deep enough to sink into. Stiles sat down close enough to bump their legs when either of them shifted. Stiles’ breathing echoed in Derek’s ears, and his heartbeat drowned out the battle sounds. Out of the corner of his eye Derek admired Stiles’ freckles on his neck and the enticing part of his lips. Stiles hypnotized him. That must be the only explanation for Derek letting his guard down.

“Chris Evans can get it,” Stiles said, practically drooling at the screen, oblivious to Derek’s admiration.

Derek harrumphed, arms crossed. “I like Tom Holland better.”

That got Stiles’ attention away from the screen. The devilish upturn of Stiles’ lips made Derek realize what just came out of his mouth.

“I mean…”

Stiles’ eyes traveled up and down Derek’s torso, his half smile never wavering. “I knew it. I knew you were into guys.”

“I don’t-, I mean...Fuck.” Derek hung his head. “Yeah.” For some reason Derek wanted to cry.

Stiles paused the movie and scooted closer to Derek on the couch. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Despite my chatterbox reputation I can keep a secret.”

“No, that’s not it. I just...I’ve never said it out loud to anyone before.” He admitted it. He admitted he liked boys and the world was still spinning. Derek took a deep, shuddering breath. For years he feared his secret would disgust those he cared about, but instead the secret was out and the boy he liked was staring at his lips with a hungry gleam in his eyes. Suddenly it felt like he could do anything. “I’ve never kissed a guy before either.”

Stiles’ teeth grazed over his bottom lip. “Should I put my licorice down or am I reading this wrong?”

Derek huffed. “Put the licorice down, Stiles.”

The words were barely out of Derek’s mouth before Stiles plastered himself to Derek with a whimper. Derek arched against him. This was the most friction and heat he’d ever gotten from Stiles and he never wanted it to end. Derek’s lips were drawn to Stiles’ like the pull of the moon; it was impossible to fight. Every time Derek thought they should probably stop he leaned back in for just one more, and then another.

Stiles seemed equally transfixed. When Derek licked along the tendons on his neck Stiles uttered a series of desperate “Oh my god”s that left Derek gasping into a particularly sharp bite with his human teeth.

The unfamiliar crunch of tires drew Derek out of his haze. “Stiles, there’s someone in your driveway.”

Stiles pulled away. His chin was pink from Derek’s stubble and his lips plumped from their kissing in a way that made Derek want to dive back in. Gods that mouth. “...Shit my dad’s home. I didn’t know it got so late.”

They both sheepishly realized the movie ended ages ago.

“Do you want me to go?” Derek asked reluctantly.

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Stiles sighed.

“Okay,” he said. And Derek sealed it with a brief peck before pulling back to give some semblance of composure for Stiles’ father, the sheriff, oh crap.

Stiles beamed at him from the other side of the couch. “Seriously?”

Derek nodded. He’d never been more sure of something before in his life.

***

Having a boyfriend was one thing. At school Derek could openly gaze at Stiles in class now and Stiles would blush and wink at him. But at home Derek hadn’t told his family just yet. When his mom came into his room the night before winter break he knew he wanted to start telling them the truth about him and Stiles.

“Knock knock. Derek, honey, do you want to bring Kira to Christmas Eve dinner?”

Derek gulped. “I’m not dating Kira.”

“You broke up?”

“Mom...Alpha. I have to tell you something.” Derek took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like girls at all actually. I like boys.” He couldn’t meet his mother’s eyes.

“That’s wonderful, honey. I’m so glad you finally told me.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “You’re not mad?”

Her forehead creased. “You know I love you beyond the moon and back. Why would you think I’d be mad about your sexuality?”

“I’m not a good pack member if I don’t father children,” Derek said, studying the patterns in his floor.

Derek’s mother held him close and scented his neck. “Oh my darling Derek. You’ve been carrying so much in your heart.”

Derek’s breath hitched, but he tried to hold in his wet gasp.

She pulled back to sandwich his cheeks between her hands and meet his gaze. “There is no expectation of heterosexuality in our pack. Or in most packs. That is human nonsense, and I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Uncle Peter’s spent too much time in the Bible belt it seems. I should have removed his voice box years ago,” she grumbled. “Now, have you heard of the male penguin couples that raise abandoned eggs?” At Derek’s blank expression she continued. “Homosexual werewolves hold a great honor in our society. They fulfill the needs of adoption and foster parenting orphaned or abandoned cubs.”

“So I can still be a father someday?”

“Of course! I’m sure you and Stiles can find a way to raise children however you see fit.”

“Mom!”

“Really dear, you can’t expect a werewolf nose not to realize you were canoodling with him the night of the winter formal. You came back reeking of- Well let’s just say, a werewolf household doesn’t offer as much privacy as one would think.”

Derek groaned. “Well, I guess in that case no one will be surprised if I bring him as my boyfriend to Christmas Eve dinner.”

“He’s always welcome here.” She kissed his forehead and Derek felt tears prick at his eyes. He couldn’t wait to call Stiles to tell him the news.

[olliedollie1204]

everything fits (2/8)- the follow up

Single father Patton is utterly devoted to his son Virgil. Recently divorced Logan is utterly devoted to his twin sons Remus and Roman. The pieces come together.

Pairings: Romantic Logicality

Word Count: 4,795 words

Tags: Single dad Patton and kid Virgil, Divorced Dads Logan and Janus and kids Roman and Remus (their split was mutual and their relationship is good)

chapter 2 babey! this chapter features that past romantic Loceit-- just a reminder that there’s no drama or conflict regarding their divorce at all!

warnings for general discussion of divorce, siblings bickering, brief descriptions of injury, and arguments between ex-spouses!

(Read it on AO3!)

Logan mostly pushed the morning’s incident out of his mind, switching gears into what Janus lovingly referred to as his “Robo-Teacher” mode. After he relieved the substitute from her position watching his class, he wasted no time in getting the second graders back on schedule.

They were good kids, if a bit rambunctious, but Logan enjoyed the work. Children are so much brighter than society gives them credit for. All they want is what anybody would want: to be heard, and respected, and taken seriously. Logan could understand that; he remembered feeling exactly the same way when he was a child.

So even though he had a reputation as a stickler for rules, order, and schedules, he actually didn’t mind too much when a student would interrupt math time with an unrelated question like, “Mr. Croft, why can’t we drink hand sanitizer?”, or when one would come up to his desk during silent reading with a request of, “Mr. Croft, can you tell us about stars, please?”

He would simply nod and change the subject, giving an impromptu lecture about alcohol poisoning or Alpha Centauri, and within minutes his pupils were satisfied and engaged again.

This attitude was a little unorthodox among his peers, but made him a hit among the children. Every holiday would result in his desk being covered in candies and coffee mugs and handmade cards (which he saved in his bottom right desk drawer— every single one).

So the day was not wholly unenjoyable, even though it had gotten off to a rocky start. Truthfully, he really had never once been late to work, not even when the twins were little.

Logan sighed to himself as his work was once again interrupted by thoughts of his children. At least he didn’t have any reason to worry about them at the moment. They were happy, healthy, and safe— three things that were becoming harder and harder to maintain in his prepubescent sons.

In hindsight, babies are remarkably uncomplicated compared to the minefield that is nearly-teenage children. Babies simply have certain physical, mental, and emotional needs that must be met in order for them to grow up happy, healthy, and well developed. And Logan, not to brag, was very good with babies.

Especially cute little twin baby boys, with their gurgling coos and their sweet smiles and their tiny, pudgy hands, one for each of their daddies to hold—

Logan shook his head, attempting to read the words in front of him for the third time, but he still found his mind drifting to his sons.

That was the main problem, really: Logan was constantly thinking about the twins.

The thing is, there was really no reason for Logan to worry as much as he did. Roman could be a little self-absorbed, and Remus had no concept of a filter whatsoever, but they were generally kind, courageous, and so unbelievably creative, it made Logan wonder where on Earth they got it from. Certainly not him; the arts were admittedly not his forte, although he did know a great deal of trivia about art history. And although Janus was crafty and charming, even he had to admit that he had no idea where the boys got their innate sense of innovation and originality.

Logan hummed, tapping his pen against his desk as his mind drifted from his children to his ex.

His relationship with Janus was about as healthy as ex-husbands could be— you’d think that getting divorced from a lawyer would be hell on Earth, but Janus Sanders had gotten to be one of the top attorneys in the city for a reason. He was so furiously thorough at ensuring everything was fair and just in their divorce papers, Logan hadn’t doubted for a second that everything would end on equal terms.

He’s a good man, Logan thought, not for the first time. They still liked each other, but they weren’t in love, not really— not anymore. It had taken them so long to get to the point where they could make that distinction, and even though they knew it would’ve been easier to carry on in their marriage, neither could deny the somewhat sombering realization that their separation was for the best.

That was a year and a half ago. And things were good between them, sometimes better than they were when they were married, but if he was being honest, Logan just missed his kids.

He had stayed up all night last night thinking about them; their goodnight phone call had been cut short when Roman burst in on Remus’ time, begging his brother to help him add something to their current art project before they had to go to bed. And Logan understood how important their projects were to them, he really did, but he couldn’t deny the twinge of hurt when the line went dead, his sons on the other side of the city. They might as well have been a world apart.

So he had gotten very little sleep the night before, and this morning, he had overslept.

Logan knew, rationally, that it was not a big deal: he had immediately called the school, requesting a temporary sub to watch his class, and set about preparing for his day. He lived relatively close to the school, so despite the increase of morning traffic due to him leaving at a later time, Logan knew he would be there before a substantial amount of time had passed.

But still, it was the principle of the thing, to be on time for work. And then he had remembered that he needed to make those photocopies for his students, and he had been in such a rush to get to his class, until—

He paused, letting his mind drift to the interaction he had had with the man— with Patton— this morning. He found himself flushing a little, even hours after the conversation, as he thought back on the awkward way he had first invaded Patton’s personal space, then spoke to his child without his permission, and then proceeded to continue to converse with him when he and his son were very clearly in a hurry.

And Patton had been so polite, trying to let Logan know he didn’t need to walk them to the office, and he had replied, what? ‘It has nothing to do with you’? ‘I would be going this way regardless’?

He groaned internally. It was not a pleasant interaction to look back on. Normally, he would push it out of his mind altogether, but…

But Patton had been kind, not judging him for his somewhat stilted way of speaking. He had asked him about his kids, a topic of conversation which Logan could never possibly tire of. And he was clearly a doting father to Virgil, who was, in Logan’s professional dad opinion, objectively adorable.

He hadn’t meant to duck out right before the two of them had to leave; he had seen Virgil coming to rejoin his father, and Logan could tell that the boy was at least moderately uncomfortable around him. He had quickly stepped away to give them space, entering the break room and beginning the photocopying process, but when he heard Patton make a comment about getting Virgil to his classroom, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t let them go without saying something.

So when he saw that they were mere seconds away from stepping out the door, he acted without thinking, calling out Virgil’s name on a whim.

He remembered how the two had turned to him, identical looks of confusion on their faces, and how he had scrambled for something to say to the shy boy, something that would perhaps make up for all of the mistakes he had made earlier in the conversation.

So he took a swing, and complimented his hoodie.

In no way could he have predicted the reaction he got. Virgil, who up until this point had barely even looked at Logan, broke into a delighted smile, chirped “Thank you!” in a clear, sweet voice, and waved his free hand at Logan so hard that the hoodie sleeve flopped around in the air.

And Patton— Patton’s reaction was almost as good: the half-second as he registered that Virgil had spoken to Logan directly, and the uninhibited joy in his face as he looked at his smiling son made Logan feel… well. He didn’t know what exactly that smile made him feel. Maybe satisfaction, that he was able to help Virgil in a way that made Patton so happy? He pondered it for a moment more before shaking his head. Feelings were really not his area.

And right before they left, as Virgil practically skipped into the hallway with Patton in tow, the two men met eyes yet again, only this time there was something different in Patton’s gaze— not just friendliness, but like he was… exceedingly grateful. Yes, that was it. His gaze was full of gratitude for Logan, for the small act of kindness that apparently would leave a big impression on his son. Then he, too, raised his hand and waved at Logan, and Logan waved back, and then the door shut, and they were gone.

Logan stared into space for several seconds, picturing Patton’s smile in his mind’s eye, before straightening up in his chair. He would think about this interaction in greater detail after his work day ended. In the meantime, he picked up a pen, continuing to decipher the scrawled handwriting of his students.

He was glad his class had electives for the last section of the day; he had the classroom to himself for 45 minutes up until the final bell, which usually gave him plenty of time to finish his work before the school day officially ended. But today, his attention kept drifting to the clock on his desk, until he looked up as it read 2:03.

His fingers twitched slightly as he did the math in his head: school let out at 2:00 on the dot, his classroom was on the second floor of the main building, and it was approximately a five minute walk to here from the gymnasium; so if two little boys were to, hypothetically, sprint at full speed from the gym as soon as the bell rang, in order to come join Logan in his classroom, then they should be arriving right about—

“Dad!”

Logan dropped his pen, spinning haphazardly in his desk chair just in time to catch the child that was diving in to wrap his arms around his waist.

Immediately he felt himself break into a large smile. “Hello, Roman.”

The boy in his arms pulled back, grinning wildly. Both of his sons were on the scrawny side, but Roman was already building up a bit of muscle mass, while his brother seemed content with somehow becoming even more gangly and bony with each passing day.

“Where were you this morning?” Roman demanded, shifting to sit on Logan’s knee.

“We thought you got hit by a bus!” Remus interjected with glee, running in to give Logan a quick hug before hopping up to sit on a desk.

Roman frowned. “No, we didn’t,” he insisted. “I said you were probably running late, and— oh!”

He suddenly tugged on Logan’s shirtsleeve. “And Remus called me stupid! This morning! He called me stupid, Dad!”

Logan shifted his eyes to his other son.

“Remus?”

Remus shrugged, not looking sorry. “He said something stupid. You’re never late.”

“First of all, although it’s true one might say something which may be qualified as ‘stupid’,” Logan began, rubbing circles on Roman’s back as he lectured Remus, “it’s inappropriate to assume that a single statement is indicative of one’s intelligence. Second, don’t call your brother stupid, you both have big, beautiful brains,” he continued, planting a kiss on Roman’s temple, which the young boy attempted to duck away from.

“And third,” he finished, “Roman was correct. I was running late this morning, and I did not arrive until school had already started.”

“Ha!” Roman exclaimed in a gloating fashion. Remus seemed unbothered by being proven wrong, instead leaning forward to taunt, “I’m gonna tell Papa you were late for school!”

“Please do,” Logan replied dryly. “He’ll probably find it highly amusing.”

As he spoke, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out two packs of fruit gummies. Both boys gasped as Logan passed one to each of them.

“Thanks, Dad!” they said simultaneously, ripping open the snacks. Logan grinned.

“Now, if my memory is correct, I believe it is Remus’ turn to tell me about his day first.”

Roman’s jaw dropped. “No, it’s not!”

“That was rhetorical,” Logan replied. “I am positive it is Remus’ turn. You went first yesterday, because you wanted to show me your paper mache project. Remember?”

Roman paused, then groaned. “But that’s not fair!”

“Yes, it is!” Remus jumped in, his mouth full of gummies.

“Not!”

“Is!

“Not!”

“Is!”

“Not!”

“Is!”

Logan sighed. The twins would literally keep this up for hours if he let them.

“Time out,” he interjected. The boys shut down immediately, turning to him with matching sheepish expressions, and Logan would have to remember to thank Emile again for suggesting he and Janus implement that technique back when the boys were first learning how to talk.

“Roman, will you please staple these papers for me while Remus talks about his day?”

Roman huffed and slid off of Logan’s lap, sticking his tongue out at his twin as he did so.

“What would happen if I stapled myself?” Remus asked Logan with idle curiosity. “Would it hurt?”

“Depends on where, exactly, you stapled yourself,” he replied as he passed Roman the stapler and stack of papers.

“My finger?”

Logan hummed. “It would hurt like a pinch, but as long as you pulled the staple out smoothly and made sure to disinfect and bandage the wound afterwards, you would be fine.”

“Can I try it?”

“If you feel like you need to experience the pain in order to learn why you shouldn’t staple yourself, go ahead, but I will not feel sympathy for you when you get a booboo.”

Remus wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Don’t call it that, I’m not a baby!”

Logan bit back a smirk. “Of course not.”

Roman cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he interjected. “Will you start talking about your day, so that I can talk about my day?”

Remus made a face at his brother, but he did turn to Logan and begin rambling about his day, from the bus ride to school to the food they had for lunch to the game he, Corbin, and Sloane played at recess. He was halfway through explaining the increasingly incomprehensible rules for the game (something about who could perform the most dangerous stunts on the playground equipment while simultaneously answering trivia questions about their favorite cartoons) when Logan caught sight of the clock, realizing almost fifteen minutes had gone by.

“Switch,” he interjected the next time Remus took a breath.

“Aw, what?” Remus protested as the two boys swapped places, Roman hopping onto the desk while Remus grabbed the stapler.

“Your bus arrives at 2:30, and I still need to hear about Roman’s day.”

“But I didn’t even get to tell you about the bee that got in the classroom,” Remus grumbled.

“Save it for tonight,” Logan commented absentmindedly. Silence followed for almost two full seconds, which was a clear sign of trouble with the twins.

Logan looked up from his gradebook to see the two having a silent conversation. Whether it was from growing up attached at the hip or a genuine case of twin telepathy, Logan couldn’t be sure, but very often the twins could convey rather convoluted ideas to each other using only their faces.

“What are you hiding?” he asked bluntly. Both children jumped.

“Nothing!” Roman insisted, turning and giving him what he probably thought was a winning smile (it was, but Logan would not be distracted).

He turned to his other son, who was suddenly very interested in sorting the papers into neat piles.

“Remus?”

“Hm?” he replied, looking up innocently. “Did you say something, Father?”

“Boys—”

“We’re going to a sleepover tonight!” Roman blurted out. Remus groaned.

“Why did you say it?” he asked accusingly. “You suck at lying.”

“Stop.” Logan held up a hand. “Explain, now.”

Roman took a deep breath. “It’s Sloane’s birthday today, and he invited all of us—”

“He invited me, and told me you could tag along—”

“Falsehood! The invitation had both of our names on it!” Roman shot back with a dirty look at his brother. He turned back to Logan, continuing, “He invited us and Elliott and Corbin to a sleepover at his house, and, um, he said we could come over at six, and we know we usually do our goodnight call at nine, but—”

“You will ideally be busy gorging on pizza and playing video games at that time,” Logan finished, giving them a measured look. “That’s why you didn’t want to tell me?”

The boys looked down in guilt, nodding.

Logan toyed with the pen in his hand.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, patting his lap.

Roman and Remus hesitated, glancing at each other for a moment, before Remus bound over and sat down on Logan’s left leg. He leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder, and Logan’s hand instinctively came up to stroke his hair. Roman soon followed, taking his spot on Logan’s right leg.

Logan gave an exaggerated groan. “You’re almost getting too big for this,” he said, bouncing his legs as much as he could under the boys’ weight. They both giggled at the movement, each clutching onto his shirtsleeves to avoid falling off.

Logan took a deep breath. “I love you.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “We know, Dad.”

Logan leaned forward to kiss Remus’ forehead, causing the young boy to squawk.

“I love you,” he said again. He turned his head, catching Roman with a kiss on the cheek.

“Ew, Dad!” Both boys were blushing at the display of parental affection, but they were smiling, too.

“I love you,” he repeated once more. “Nothing you can do will ever change that. Even missing our goodnight call.”

Both boys seemed to relax, and Logan felt his heart swell a little bit.

“Don’t lie to me again,” he finished sternly.

“We won’t!” the twins chimed in unison. Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Falsehood,” he muttered, before asking out of pure curiosity, “What was going to be your excuse for when nine o’clock rolled around and I didn’t get a call from you?”

“Rats chewed the phone wires,” Roman and Remus replied instantly. Logan registered this for half a second before he let out a bark of laughter.

“That makes perfect sense.”

~

“So, the boys are at a sleepover tonight.”

“Yes, I walked them over to Sloane’s house about an hour ago,” Janus replied, his smooth voice losing its hypnotic effect over the phone.

“And when, exactly, was I going to be informed of the whereabouts of our children for approximately the next 18 hours?”

Silence came from the other end of the call before Janus gave a huff of annoyance. “They told me they told you about this days ago.”

Logan smirked, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he carried his dinner to the dining room table. “I’m beginning to see why we should not trust our children to act as go-betweens.”

Janus heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Croft. I don’t have any idea why they would lie about something so minute.”

“Falsehood, we both know they were doing it to protect my feelings,” Logan replied in a clipped tone.

“You know, I did think it was weird when they insisted they would be okay making their goodnight call from Sloane’s house,” Janus remarked idly. Logan could picture him sitting in his home office, his feet propped up on his desk as he spoke. “I had assumed they had reached some level of maturity where it’s not embarrassing to love their parents.”

“An obvious mistake on your part.”

Logan could also picture the smirk Janus was currently trying (and failing) to suppress. “Clearly.”

Logan resituated himself as he sat at the table, turning on speakerphone and placing the phone next to his plate.

“Speaking of our children being liars,” Janus continued, “Remus had this crazy story about you being late for work.”

Logan reached over to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher. “Crazy indeed. I didn’t arrive until almost eight.”

“And the school descended into anarchy and chaos,” Janus deadpanned.

“My students were merely happy for a break,” Logan replied. “I should’ve slept in a little longer to give them the entire morning off.”

The conversation fell silent for long enough that Logan leaned over to check that the call hadn’t dropped.

“You overslept?”

Logan blinked in surprise at Janus’ incredulous tone. “Correct.”

“You. Logan Croft. Overslept.”

“Is our connection failing? Are you having trouble hearing me?”

“Logan,” Janus said with the air of someone who was explaining something very simple. “I have known you since you would bike to school on four hours of sleep and three energy drinks, stay awake in all eight classes, go to at least one extracurricular after school, work retail for a few more hours, do homework until you passed out, and then do it all over again the next day. You have never overslept in your life.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replied. “In fourth grade—”

“Why did you oversleep today, Croft?”

Logan paused. “I was… thinking,” he admitted.

Janus waited a few seconds before prompting, “About…”

“About the boys,” Logan confessed, suppressing a sigh.

Immediately Janus dropped his overcasual schtick. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing at all,” Logan rushed to reassure him. “I was merely reminiscing about some of their childhood antics, and it prevented me from going to sleep on time.”

“… Antics like when they accidentally ripped a book of stickers they’d been fighting over for an hour, and proceeded to scream like banshees in the middle of a crowded Walmart?”

Logan smirked. “Antics like when they ran around the house with pull-ups on their heads, calling themselves aliens and demanding we take them to our ‘leader-ers’.”

Janus snorted with laughter. “Oh, God. I’ll have to find those pictures for their next birthday party.”

“I’m sure they’ll thank you for bringing up such delightful memories in front of their friends.”

“Snarky today, aren’t you?”

“Only for you, Sanders.”

A companionable silence fell as Logan finished his dinner.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked, gentle in the way he only got when he spoke to Logan or the twins.

Logan hesitated for just a moment before answering, “Of course.”

“Because if you want to take the boys out somewhere tomorrow night, I’m sure they’d—”

“It’s important we stick to the schedule,” Logan interrupted, a touch more defensively than necessary. “It’s your weekend with them, and I don’t wish to complicate things.”

Janus paused, and then scoffed. “It’s not… complicating things if you want to spend time with our children, Logan.”

“You’re already sacrificing one of your nights together for the boys to attend this sleepover,” Logan insisted, feeling himself becoming increasingly irritated that Janus wouldn’t drop the subject. “I don’t want to take another night away from you.”

His ex-husband’s voice dripped in derision as he cooly remarked, “I love how it doesn’t even cross your mind to consider that the two of us could possibly spend an evening with our children together. So glad to know you would rather spend your night alone than have to be near me for even a sec—”

Logan hung up, his hands shaking as he attempted to hit the button to end the call. He hadn’t realized he was clenching his jaw until he forced himself to release the tension in his body. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Logan had known Janus for over half his life. They had been married for almost as long— 18 and fresh out of high school, Janus insisting he was only doing it for the tax benefits right up until Logan had kissed him in the middle of city hall. They had spent the last decade raising their sons together.

Logan did love Janus. Which is why moments like this, moments that reminded him why they shouldn’t be together, were so particularly painful.

He continued to fume for a few moments, replaying his ex’s callous tone and harmful accusations, but his mind also drifted to how he had shut down Janus’ genuine attempt to be considerate of his feelings, how abruptly Logan himself had left the argument when he didn’t know what to say.

The anger seeped out of him, replaced with something akin to shame. Logan curled inwards, leaning his head on his hands.

It made sense that all of their worst fights in recent history had been over their children. Janus was an excellent father, Logan recognized, his thoughts turning somewhat bitter as he continued, a better father than me—

Suddenly he saw Patton’s face in his mind. Patton smiling at him kindly when Logan had slipped up and made his divorce obvious. His quiet voice, telling Logan, ‘I reckon you’re probably a really great dad’. Logan focused on the words, allowing himself to remember the sincerity in Patton’s voice.

It didn’t make sense how much comfort Logan found in the memory. Patton didn’t even know him, had never seen him interact with any children besides Virgil, and even that had started off poorly.

But for some reason, when Patton had reassured him, Logan wanted to believe him.

Logan realized he had been staring into space for a few minutes, finally shaking his head to bring himself back to reality.

He reached over to grab his phone, muscle memory taking over as he dialed the familiar number, but when it rang in his hand Logan remembered that his ex was just a little bit faster than him when it came to self-reflection.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” came Janus’ voice as soon as Logan answered. “I didn’t— I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Logan sighed. “I apologize, as well. Ending the call in that manner wasn’t productive or healthy.”

Again Logan could visualize the way Janus was waving his hand in the air dismissively.

“Pobody’s nerfect.”

Logan’s lips quirked into an involuntary smile. “What a ridiculous statement. I had assumed an attorney would have a more advanced vocabulary than that.”

“Lawyer, shmawyer.”

Logan laughed lightly, and he swore he could hear Janus’ grin through the phone.

“While I do appreciate your offer,” Logan eventually continued, breezing past the topic of the previous argument, “I have plans tomorrow evening regardless.”

“Oh?” Janus questioned casually. “Hot date?”

Logan scoffed. “An all-day teaching seminar,” he replied with distaste, “in which a group of corporate-funded administrators are going to spend twelve hours lecturing the faculty of the top school in the state about how we need to be making them more money.”

Janus clicked his tongue in sympathy. “Plus on Monday, you’ve got that parent-teacher meet and greet thing at the school.”

Logan paused for one, two, three seconds, before letting out an unceremonious, “Fuck.”

He heard Janus laughing on the other end of the call. “Sorry I said anything.”

“No, it’s fine.” Logan heaved a sigh. “I had forgotten that was this week as well, and I still have to prepare packets for all of my students’ guardians—”

He froze midway through his sentence.

“Logan?” he faintly heard Janus ask. Patton’s smile flashed through his mind again.

“Yes,” he responded, a little too quickly. “I apologize. I just remembered I have more work to do than I thought, and I will need to hang up now to complete it.”

“Uh huh,” Janus replied slowly, sounding unconvinced. “Cough twice if you’re being held hostage.”

Logan coughed once, pointedly falling silent.

“... Oh, you’re funny, you know that? Just absolutely hilarious.” The sarcasm in Janus’ voice was palpable, making Logan grin.

“Goodnight, Janus,” he said with affection.

Logan could hear the fondness in his ex-husband’s voice as he responded with a quiet, “G’night, Croft”, before the line went dead.

Logan turned his phone over in his hands, his mind far away. The likelihood that Logan would see Patton again at this event was causing him to feel a strange sort of tension. He didn’t understand it. Why was he still thinking about this man, this stranger, really, who he had spoken to for less than five minutes?

Logan couldn’t answer that question. All he knew was that he would most likely have trouble falling asleep again tonight.

[bluejeanlouis]

COMING SOON: The Yellow Roof, 1970s AU by kiddle

Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. 

Preview under the cut:

With a deep sigh, Louis leaned his chair on its back two legs, propping one of his feet up next to the till in front of him. The sun was blinding between the trees of the neighbourhood across the street, striking his eyes through the drive-thru window. He yanked the blind closed even though he wasn’t supposed to when the Fotomat was open. But there was no one around and his ability to give a shit had decreased significantly today. Slurping on the can of Coke he brought with him, he pulled out his lyric book.

Louis was not a poet. In fact, the pretentious and dull poetry class he took in his second semester at college was detrimental in his decision to drop out a year later. He didn’t like the confusion of poetry and the rules despite being an art form that claimed to be free of them. Don’t get him wrong, he was confident in his own writing, he just didn’t want to be taught how to do it.

But one look under the cover of that notebook would reveal pages and pages of poetic garbage. Some of it was great, and a couple had even ended up as actual songs back when Louis was performing solo at bars before he gave up on that too. Most of it was scribbled chicken scratch. That was just his process.

He held the notebook against his knees, tracing dark lines across the last words he wrote last night with his pen. It was some bullshit angsty heartbreak harnessed from his high school first love mixed with the anger of being sacked from a band that he was the best instrumentalist in. Sometimes that kind of emotion makes for a perfect writing session, and sometimes it’s a diary entry you never want to see the light of day.

Louis bit the end of his pen, rereading the words on his page. ‘Heart’ had to be the most overused word in love songs, and he had it down in every verse and the chorus. Love songs weren’t even what he wanted to write about. It wasn’t the only feeling out there. It sure as hell wasn’t the most predominant one in his mind.

A loud and abrupt knock on the window made Louis nearly leap out of his seat. His notebook and pen tumbled to the ground as he dropped his feet from the desk. He yanked on the string to make the blind spring back up, knocking his Coke over in the process. He picked it up just as quick, groaning at the mess it made. All the commotion caused the stack of pickup envelopes next to the widow to splay out over the desk in front of him. Now that the customer could see him, he tried to push him all out of the way before he slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to— Shit!”

One of the envelopes had landed in the small puddle of spilled Coke. He tried to wipe it off on his jeans as quickly as he could before returning it to the scattered pile with the others. Once he finally composed himself, he tried to greet the customer properly.

But then his face fell to disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly yesterday, we didn’t have the chance to talk,” said Harry, the lead singer of Louis’ former going-nowhere band. Harry had one hand casually rested on the steering wheel, the other elbow poking out the window, and sunglasses sitting low on his nose. Louis hated how effortlessly cool he could always look. It made him the perfect goddamn lead singer.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Beg for you to let me stay? ‘You’re out of the band’ was pretty loud and clear.”

“I mean, I thought we could have a discussion about it.”

“So you showed up to my work to have a discussion about it?” He hunched over so just his head was sticking out the window, his fist squished into his cheek to hold his head up.

“You wouldn’t answer the phone last night.”

“Take a hint,” he snapped, then slid the window shut with enough force to make it bounce halfway open again. He pushed it the rest of the way closed in a huff.

But Harry hadn’t driven away yet, so Louis slumped over in his chair and refused to look in his direction. Why the hell would he show up here? Just to rub it in his face? The new guy always loses the band argument. Louis was over it, and he had the faint remnants of a hangover to prove it.

He took a swig of his Coke that was now almost empty. No one ever left any napkins around here, but a few tissues seemed to do the trick to sop up that puddle. As he tried to avoid getting sticky hands, Louis could see Harry getting out of his car in the bottom corner of his eye. Then he heard the window opening again.

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry pressed. He had his hand in the way so Louis couldn’t shut it, but it did cross Louis’ mind to crush his fingers just to get him out of here.

“Go away,” he stated, pulling the roller blind between them. If only it was soundproof.

The blind sprung up again, revealing a wildly frustrated Harry on one side and an indifferent Louis on the other. He was pretending to read a copy of Vogue that one of the girls from the after-school shift left behind last night.

“We have a meeting with a record company in L.A. and they’re expecting a four-piece to show up. There’s no time to find a new bassist, so you’re back in the band.”

Louis folded down one corner and peeked his eye over Carrie Fisher’s head.

“How’d you get a meeting? The band sucks.”

Harry stared at him, angrily chewing on his lip, then turned around with a huff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, opening his car door.

Louis waited for him to start the engine and leave, but then the words “L.A.” and “record company” flashed with lights and sirens in his mind, and he imagined this opportunity driving off and never looking back.

“Wait!” Louis called out, tossing the magazine to the side and launching himself out the back door. He ran across the front of the car and slammed his hands on the hood so Harry couldn’t move the car an inch further. They eyed each other, and when Louis trusted that Harry wouldn’t speed off the moment he moved, Louis ran around to the passenger seat and got in.

Harry shook his head, both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for ten years, man,” he said.

So maybe Louis wasn’t being totally truthful about what happened with the band.

Louis met Harry in his first year of middle school. They ended up in the same gym class, which was hell for every twelve-year-old, but for people like Louis and Harry, it was just a little too much to bear. They found skillful ways to ditch whenever possible, especially when it came to running the mile. Sometimes they’d hang out near the back of the group when everyone was filling out the gym doors, then slip out the side and circle the building before the teacher saw. The equipment closet was full of plenty of hiding spaces that begged to be taken advantage of. The best days were when they had a substitute who wouldn’t even notice that they never came back from a bathroom break in the change room.

In high school, they drifted, hanging out in the same group of freaks and burnouts, but not often with each other. They’d find themselves at the same parties and bickering in the same cars full of friends, but that initial bond had faded. Once college rolled around, they weren’t surprised to find out they’d be going to the same state school, but discovering their dorms were across the hall from each other was quite the shock.

They had become inseparable again, except for the inevitable monthly fights that left them not speaking to each other for days at a time. That went on for about two years until Louis dropped out and Harry continued with his literature degree. During that time, they hardly saw each other at all. Louis began to wonder if their friendship had only ever been one of convenience. But just as the year of 1972 was beginning, Louis got a phone call from that on-and-off best friend of his asking if he wanted to join his band.  

Harry and Louis fought from day one, but just as much as they hated each other’s guts, they loved each other too. Louis would still consider Harry his friend, but he would have no problem telling him what an insufferable bastard he was right to his face. It was a brotherly bond. Sort of.

“How’d you get the meeting?” Louis asked, turning sideways in his seat. “When is it?”

“We sent in our demo and they want to talk to us. That’s it,” he said. “The meeting is next week and they want all of us there.”

“Me included?”

“You’re on the demo.”

The demo was pretty shit if you asked Louis, but he decided to keep that to himself. They recorded it at their old college in the crummy basement studio run by students, and you could guess that by the first listen. Louis looked out at the empty parking lot ahead of them. He had memorized every detail of this parking lot. It had become the scenery for his life. He couldn’t wait until he never had to look at it again.

“Do you actually want me back in the band?” Louis wondered, sincerity in his voice for once.

“I—” Harry started, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be at a place where you could be in the band without the two of us constantly at each other’s necks.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Louis sighed.

They sat in silence, Louis weighing his options and Harry wondering if he really should’ve taken that ignored phone call as a hint.

“So, what, is this to discuss an album deal?” Louis asked, hoping more detail might help his decision.

“It’s to discuss our potential. They didn’t tell me a whole lot, but if they want to spend their time on us then they gotta have some hope.”

A car horn blared loudly behind them, an impatient customer waiting his turn to desperately develop the photos from his five-year-old’s birthday party, surely. It startled them, but that was Louis’ cue to get back to work, he supposed.

“Can I think about it?” Louis asked. He was already halfway out the door.

“Not for too long. We meet them next week.”

The horn blared again.

“One second!” Louis called out. The guy in the car flipped him the bird and Louis wasn’t hesitant to send him one right back.

“What’s the label?”

“CBS,” Harry said.

Shit, Louis thought. CBS was no joke.

“Move your fucking car!” the guy behind them hollered out his window.

Harry glanced at the angry face in his rear-view mirror, then ignored it completely. Louis looked like he was about to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. “Before you go, take this.” He dropped a roll of film into Louis’ open palm.

Louis looked at it curiously, his other hand on the door handle. “What’s this?”

Harry laughed. “Photos I need to get developed. This is a Fotomat, is it not?”

“It is,” Louis said slowly.

“I’ll be back in twenty-four hours,” Harry said, plucking his sunglasses off the dash and sliding them onto his face. “For those photos and for an answer.”

[neverneverlouisland]

summer love [l.t]

fandom one direction/louis tomlinson

pairing louis x reader

word count 2811

summary reader is a teacher in Australia is also a mentor and counselor at the school’s summer camp. her second summer there, a new teacher is hired and the two are drawn to each other. the seasonal months roll by and at the annual end-of-camp party, they realize their time is running out.

warning(s) none

a/n any extra characters mentioned by name will play a bigger role in future fics

-

If there was one thing they were sure of, it was that their lives changed after meeting.

For the past three years, she’d been a teacher at a school down in Australia. While it was thousands of miles from home, it was an opportunity that both allowed her to see more of the world and gave her hands on experience handling kids in a high activity location. She wanted to be a traveling teacher. It sounded a bit unusual, and she had instances of needing to prove that it was a legitimate career choice, but if she could bring knowledge and joy to such small kids while being able to see the international sights, that was all that mattered. After graduating college with a bachelor’s degree, she decided to take a couple of years off to get experience doing what she wanted to do for her long term job.

With the amount of money saved up, she managed to get temporary substitute and teaching assistant positions on other parts of the globe. After some hopping around that first year, she found that the city of Melbourne was where she needed to be. The sights from the plane’s view her first time flying over captured and ensnared her, so much so that all she wanted to do was explore instead of going to the meeting about the teaching job.

When that first summer in the Southern Hemisphere came to, she was offered a summer job as a counselor at the camp the school hosted every year. It was a program that cost families money when it came to transportation; all the kids and their chaperones would fly over to Cairns, Queensland in order for everyone to stage their tents and settle themselves in the camping grounds of Daintree National Park. She remembered being awestruck by the stretch of winding rivers, long, sandy beaches and forestry that went on for miles. Going along the trails that lead to the tops of the rainforest with her group was one of her favorite activities, and the admiration for it only grew when a man from England made his way over just a few months later.

Having just graduated from his own degree program, he fished for the perfect place where he could both enjoy his surroundings and be able to educate children in the best way he knew how. Being accepted into the program was a sight for sore eyes - all he could do the day he received the email was stare blankly at the worded screen in surprise. He was fresh out of university, so he was sure someone more qualified would have been given the job over him. Still, nothing was able to beat the excitement he felt about working abroad, and he was ecstatic to what the future there would hold.

What he didn’t expect was to meet an American who was so passionate about her work and ensuring the happiness of others that she ended up pulling him in.

When he first arrived, she was set as the tour guide. It was a whole week of showing him around the site, leading the hikes and co-planning the lessons and activities they would be doing with the children each day. There was zero judgement on her end when she learned that he didn’t have much experience in the field prior to the work that was done during his years of schooling. “If you love what you do and you’re good at it, that’s all that matters,” she said, and those words stuck with him for the rest of that night.

The time flew quickly, and he found himself falling for her more each day.

He lived for the hour-long sessions where both of their groups would be sharing a class or going down the trails towards the waterfalls buried within Daintree Rainforest. The heartfelt talks, encouraging compliments and bonding over their goals and love for the children they watched over would play in his mind like a movie each night following the one he realized his feelings.

Summer nights passed by in a blur of smiles and laughter, each moment spent with everyone was only leading up to the bittersweet moment of the end. For most of the kids and faculty, they attended or worked at the very elementary school that hosted the camp. This year, however, the addition of himself never came with a warning label. He was only hired for the summer position. It was a seasonal position that - while he thoroughly enjoyed to his heart’s content - was only meant to be a learning experience. He never expected to become so endeared by her. To become attached and obtain something so pure it would take months or years to be rid of.

Every second counted today, and each one flipped through his thoughts as he made his way to the program director’s cabin after being called down. The sky was getting darker by the minute, the crescent moon already a faded image in the changing atmosphere and the rolling clouds blending in with time.

He passed by the one she shared with the girls of her faction. The door was ajar and music could be heard from inside, along with small, extra voices belting out lyrics to a song by an American band he didn’t know the name of. The curtains of the two front windows were drawn back to have a light filter into the room, and with that he could see her almost perfectly. Seeing her dance around the confined space with the little ones was a sight for his bright eyes. It didn’t even occur that he hadn’t moved from his place until she spotted him a moment later, brows furrowed as she moved went to poke her head out of the open door. “Did you want to join us?”

“What?” He blinked, the realization hitting him once he took a look around and saw no one else in his vicinity. “Oh- no, thank you. I mean, I’d love to but I’ve been called to see the director.”

She smiled at him, suppressing a giggle at the dumbfounded expression on his face. “Alright, well-”

“Louis- there you are!” A raspy voice called out. The younger man turned his head to find said teacher walking out of the main cabin of the grounds, walking over to him as soon as their attention was on one another. Louis stayed as much in his spot as possible, wanting to continue the conversation with her even if it was only a distraction to what he actually had to do. The elder of the two counselors reached them in two minutes, a light smile on his face as he greeted the girl before addressing the one he was looking for. “Are you ready to talk about what we discussed?”

“Yeah, I am.” He responded, nodding his head to return the smile with his own.

“Great! Let’s be off, then. We don’t want to linger and miss the start of the closing campfire.”

“Right. That would just be tragic, wouldn’t it?” He questioned sarcastically, issuing a form of a laugh out of not only his superior but her, as well.

When he went to excuse himself, she was already shaking her head. “It’s fine. I was kind of keeping you from your meeting,” she laughed out, making his heart sing.

He gave her a sheepish smile and went on his way, calling behind his back to ensure that they would just see each other later in the evening. She waited until the men were out of earshot to show any hidden emotion, letting out a sigh as she sat on the tiny porch attached to the set of three steps. She folded her arms over her legs, letting the music from inside fill her with joyous warmth as the children continued to sing along as loudly as they could.

There was plenty to say when it came to the British addition to the mentors, and yet she could never say them when she was in his presence. It felt straight out of a romantic comedy - the way she found heart tumbling and stomach fluttering when he was mentioned or near. Even with all the time they spent together once she was assigned his tour guide, she never once thought the first person she would truly fall for would be someone she wouldn’t be seeing nine months out of the year. Though long distance was an option if it all worked the way she wished, those were always hard to maintain. She could only imagine how tough it would be to keep one between countries afloat. The head counselor calling him down for a talk made her even more nerve racked. He was originally hired for a seasonal position, meaning he would only be in Australia from the first day of camp to the last. What if that offer was being revoked? Or he changed his mind and decided this location wasn’t for him, so he went to look for one that suited him better? He was amazing with the kids here and they all loved him to pieces. 

“Miss Y/N? Are you done dancing?”

The counselor turned her attention to the small girl exiting the cabin, a smile on her face. “For now, yeah. I’m just thinking. You can go back and play with the others if you want.”

Now, while she always insisted that she didn’t have any favorites in the sizable group that dragged her around, she most certainly had a soft spot for this one. Evelyn was part of a newer academic program at the school - one that gave foster parents the opportunity to send the less fortunate children towards the best education that was offered in Queensland. It was a random selection each year for the past three years but she was one of the kids that got accepted, and deserving of it.

The attention she paid to what went on around her and others always left the twenty-six year old astounded, even more so once the eleven year old took a seat beside her. “Are you sad that Mister Louis is leaving?”

“What? How did you know he was leaving?” She glanced over to find wide, green eyes looking up at her innocently. The way someone so young could ask such a question without knowing what meaning could lay behind it was beyond her.

She shrugged her small shoulders, “I heard you talking last night.” She began wiggling her feet around on the wooden step, looking down upon them with a tilted head. There was a pregnant pause between the two of them as they watched the rest of the campers and mentors walk around with plentiful arms to decorate the area for the night. The notes and competitive singing were still finding their way out the jarred doorway and into the open air of the camp. “I don’t want him to go. He’s really fun to play with, and he always finds extra snacks when we go to the beach.”

“I think those are actually meant for him,” Y/N chided, making the little girl giggle. A large smile graced both their features, although hers was more loose. They enjoyed all the time the groups had together throughout the twenty one weeks, yet she never fully took the kids into consideration. She wasn’t the only who would think about him or recall all the silly moments they’d had visiting the sandy shores, rainforest or waterfall sanctuaries. The more she thought about it, the more she reached the epiphany that life had a way of doing things. “I don’t want him to go, either.”

-

It was lively.

Since there were so many new recruits who joined the program this year, it was decided that the ending event would be done down on the beach. The volleyball nets were set up on opposite sides of where everything was set up, fairy lights decorating them both in erratic fashion. The sun was already set, showcasing a few dozen stars and the moon that finished its game of hide and seek to display itself for the night. There was one table farthest from the beach that held all the food, snacks and gift bags put together by the team for the young ones to enjoy on the way home.

They stood a distance away from each other while Louis talked to some of the higher ups and she hosted a game for anyone that was primary age by the edge of the moving sea. He watched from his peripheral as the large band of small members spun and danced circles around the other counselor with sparklers in their hands, the joy on her face making a mark in his memory.

“I’m sorry, will you excuse me?” He pardoned himself with a quick nod and wave, making a beeline for the only person he really wanted to speak with before his departure. His speed could only increase so much while crossing to the other side in the uneven sand, his arms nearly brushing the sparks from the thin sticks being waved in the air.

“Louis!!” She spotted him when he was a mere three feet away, the grin on her face growing even wider if it was possible. Right when he reached the edge of the wide circle of little dancers, a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him through an opening.

“I’m not that good of a dancer.”

“That’s okay - neither am I.” She gave him a close-eyed smile, her dark/light eyes meeting his baby blue ones. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you,” She went on, placing a hand on the back of her neck sheepishly, “but for the moment I’m kind of stuck here.”

His head tilted as he gazed upon the soft expression on her face and twinkle in her gaze every time she made eye contact with one of the many children surrounding them. He gave her a gesture that reassured her he was going to listen to what she had to say, however his thoughts on the fact were delayed. Should he ask her what she wanted to discuss or should he tell her his news first? He wasn’t sure what the priority should have been if he did the latter, a debate in his head making an appearance. There wasn’t much to lose no matter how he chose to approach everything; there were only a thin multitude of ways this night could end. He only hoped that he made a choice that impacted both their lives in a positive light.

Her lips parted before closing, the anxiety of the situation beginning to get to her. How much was there to lose on her end if this didn’t go the way she hoped? Would they stay friends or would it become too much or too awkward for either of them and they would gradually stop communicating? There was only one way to find out, yet it was also the only thing holding her back from actually telling him.

The pair examined the other’s features closely and as discreetly as possible while being so close. Neither knew how to act or bring it up - it started to look as if the only option was direct with a bit of faith and confidence on the side. With the children around and the other counselors lost in their own worlds of conversation, he almost hesitated to do what he decided upon. Still, being able to analyze and take a guess on the way she was acting made him believe there was a good chance. As she opened her mouth once more and took in an anxious breath, he took the open opportunity to lean in for a quick peck, wanting to express everything without displaying too much in front of the kids.

Her eyes widened. Silence ensnared the shared bubble.

He looked on in worry, the event processing in her mind. After what felt like an hour passed by, she looked up at him with a grateful smile. The confidence that was temporarily slipping away made a reappearance, relishing in what had just occurred. “It’s only been three months, but is it too early to say I love you?”

He was able to put on an act almost instantly, stroking his chin in pretend thought, “I’d say give it another year or two and come back to me.” She nudged his arm with her elbow, giving him a small grin that eased his fretfulness immediately. The gentle laugh that resonated from him made the butterflies in her stomach rampage; her heart feeling as if it was beating miles a minute.

“I love you, too.” He finally countered, giving her a more lingering kiss, earning them hues of youthful disgust that only caused more laughter to ensue.

[truecrimesposts]

ANDREI ROMANOV CHIKATILO

The Butcher Of Rostov

Andrei Romanovich Chikatilo, or The Butcher Of Rostov, as he would come to be known, was a Soviet serial killer who murdered at least 50 people between 1978 and 1990. I've chosen to discuss this case mostly due to the political side of the case, as the countries communist views actively got in the way of the case. In the Soviet Union at this time their ideology asserted that serial murder was impossible in a communist society, making it even harder for the police to protect the people of Rostov.

Chikatilo was born on the 16th of October 1936 is Yablochnoye, Ukraine. Growing up in Ukraine at this time was extremely difficult, since the country was still dealing with the aftermath of an extreme famine which led to millions of deaths, and people resorting to cannibalism in order to survive. In fact, during his childhood Chikatilo would be told frequently by his mother that he had actually had an older brother, but he had been kidnapped and actually eaten by the townsfolk during the worst of the famine. While this story could never be officially verified it is believed that this story is actually what motivated Chikatilo to cannibalise some of his victims. He was an avid reader, and his favourite books to read would become heavily inspired by his own life. During the second World War, Chikatilos father was conscripted to fight in the war against Germany, at which time he was actually kept prisoner. His father was vilified when he eventually returned home, which would in turn affect Chikatilo. He was brutally bullied by his schoolmates because of his father's perceived cowardice. After his father's return Chikatilo began to develop an interest in stories about how German soldiers had been tortured by their Soviet captors during WWII.

However his surroundings would not be Chikatilos only issue. It is believed that Chikatilo was born with hydrocephalus (water on the brain) at birth, which would cause several issues for Chikatilo. One of the most noticeable problems caused was his genital - urinary issues, which would cause bedwetting quite late into his life. It is believed that Chikatilo wet the bed until at least his late adolescence if not his wary adulthood. These genital - urinary issues would also cause Chikatilo to be unable to sustain an eretion later in life.

At 15 years old, Chikatilo experienced what would be his only sexual experience during his adolescence. Chikatilo attempted to overpower a young girl, and he acyally ejaculated almost immediately during the short struggle. Instead of taking this seriously, getting him help or telling anyone what had happened, his schoolmates instead just began to bully him even more aggressively than before. It is believed by psychologists that this event is what triggered Chikatilo to conflate violence and sex, a trait which would stick with him forever.

After failing his entrance exam to the Moscow State University, and completing a brief spell of military service, Chikatilo moved to a town near Rostiv-na-Donu with his younger sister where he got a job as a telephone engineer and married a local girl called Fayima whom his sister had actually introduced him to. Finally, in 1971 he managed to get himself a degree from Rostov Liberal Arts University and managed to get himself a pretty good job as a teacher. However Chikatilo was forced to move from school to school doolowed by complaint after complaint of sexual assault from his young students and their parents. However nothing official was done about this and he ended up settling at a mining school in Rostov.

Chikatilos first documented murder victim was 9 year old Lena Zakotnova. Lena was lured into a shed by Chikatilo, where he then attempted to rape the young girl, during the attack Chikatilo slashed at the young girl with his knife, ejaculating as he did so, confirming his psychological connection between violence and sex, which would go on to become a component in all of his attacks.

There's was actually a witness during this investigation, who claimed to have seen Chikatilo with Lena not long before she disappeared, however despite police taking this seriously and investigating it, they would get nowhere. Fayima provided him with a strong alibi which enabled the killer to avoid any further suspicion in regards to this crime. Desperate to make an arrest in this case, the police arrested a 25 year old man who had a previous rape conviction, Alexsandr Kravchenko. After a brutal and extended interrogation by desperate police, Alexsandr actually confessed under duress for this crime that he didn't commit. He was tries for the murder and in 1984, he was actually executed, and Chikatilo got away with his heinous first murder.

However the close brush with the law clearly got to Chikatilo, and as far as we know today, Chikatilo didn't kill anyone else for 3 years. Tragically though, he hadn't stopped committing crimes. Accusations of sexual assault and abuse kept popping up and finally in 1981 he lost his job at the mining school he had been working at and was unable to find another teaching positions because of this long list of previous accusations. Instead, Chikatilo began working as a clerk for a raw materials factory in Rostov. This should have been a good thing right? Since his access to children had been taken away? Tragically this was not the case. Chikatilos new job involved huge amounts of travel which would give him pretty much unlimited access to a multitude of young victims over the next 9 years.

Larisa Tkachenko, 17, would be Chikatilos next victim. On the 3rd of September 1981 Chikatilo gagged the young girl with dirt and leaves to prevent her from screaming before strangling and stabbing the young girl. The brutal force used is what gave Chikatilo the satisfaction he longed for and the murderer had started to form his own twisted MO.

Chikatilo would find young runaways, usually at train stations or bus stops, before luring the girls and boys into forests and woodlands nearby before beginning his attack. Chikatilo would attempt to rape his victims but due to his inability to sustain an eretion, he began to instead use a substitution, a knife. In a nber of cases, Chikatilo would actually eat the sexual organs of his victims, or remove other body parts like the tip of the tongue or the nose. However, in his earlier cases somothing which was almost always present, was the fact that Chikatilo would target his victims eyes. Slashing and even removing the eyeballs of his victims. Chikatilo would later claim that he did this because he believed the eyes of his victims held an imprint of his face, even on death.

Serial killers were not a very well known phenomenon in the Soviet Union at this time. This was down to a combination of cultural differences and most noticeably the suppression of information at the time, especially information about murder or child abuse cases, in an attempt to maintain public order.

However the Soviet authorities couldn't Bury their heads in the sand when it came to Chikatilos crimes. The similarities in all the attacks, especially the eye mutilation during earlier attacks, was to to much to deny or ignore, and the authorities were forced to face the fact that there was a serial killer operation in Rostov, and a particularly brutal one as that. The media coverage was minimal, but that didn't stop the speculation of the people in Rostov, and rumours of foreign plots and incredibly, werewolves, began to circulate the area, and fears really began to grow.

Major Mikhail Fetisov was transferred to Rostov in 1983 in order to take control of the investigation. Having no doubt in his mind that there was a serial killer on the loose, Mikhail Brought in specialist forensic analyst Victor Burakov to head the investigation in Shakhty. The investigation centered on convicted sex offenders and the 'mentally ill' but the interrogation methods used by investigators at this timeed to a large number of confessions that Burakov was hesitant to believe since they were likely made under duress like Alexsandrs had been. At this stage in the investigation, police had no idea how many murders had actually taken place since not all of the bodies had been discovered, but they did know one thing, with each new body came more and more forensic evidence. The police were operating under the believe that the murderer was blood typed AB due to the semen samples thst were discovered at several crime scenes. Chikatilos blood typed was actuallt type A, but he happened to be a part of a minority group called 'non secretors' which meant that his blood type could not be found out from anything other than a blood sample. The police also had hair samples, since multiple identical grey hairs had been found at several of the crime scenes also.

There were 15 more victims during the course of 1984 and the police efforts intensified drastit, mounting massive surveillance operations canvassing most of the bus stops and train stations in the area. Incredibly this actually did lead to Chikatilos arrest after he was seen behaving very suspiciously at one of the bus stations that were under surveillance. He was imprisoned for just 3 months for a number of minor offenses, but since his blood type didn't match their suspect, (due to his non secretor status) he evaded suspicion for his crimes once again. If this crime had taken place in present day, this would likely have been it, this would probably have led to Chikatilo being discovered as murderer due to the advances in forensics.

After being released from his 3 month sentence he found work in Novocherkassk as a travelling buyer for a train company, and as far as I could find he didn't commit another killing, or any crimes for that matter until 1985, when he murdered two women in two separate incidents.

Burakov was growing frustrated with the case, and another specialist was brought in in an attempt to further assist the investigation. This time it was psychiatrist Alexandr Bukhanovskys turn to help investigators by refining the profile of the murderer. Bukhanovskys defined the killer as a 'necro-sadist' and placed the mans age as between 40-50 years of age, which was a fair bit older than the police had believed him to be previously. Burakov was so desperate to bring this sick killer to justice, and he actually made the decision to visit and interview serial killer Anatoly Slivko shortly before he was executed, in an attempt to get inside of the mind of someone who was capable of committing such heinous crimes.

Around the time of this interview, the attacks seemed to stop. As usually happens when serial killers have breaks in their crimes, the police theorised that one of three things had happened, either he had stopped killing, been arrested for unrelated crimes, or that he had died. However, in 1988, he was back, with a slightly altered MO. This time he was keeping his attacks outside of Rostov and he was no longer finding his victims at bus stops and train stations like he used to. Chikatilo killed a documented 19 people over the next two years, and he seemed to be killing much more irrationally than he used to, and taking bigger risks than he had previously. He was now focusing primarily on young boys. And his crimes would often take place in locations thst were pretty public, and at a higher risk of discovery.

Massive pressure was now being put on the police in the area, and police were patrolling the streets almost constantly which did little more than make people feel a bit safer at first. Burakov then brought in ununiformed officers to patrol likely areas. Chikatilo had actually evaded capture on several occasions, but his luck would soon run out. On the 6th of November, shortly after killing his final victim Sveta Korostik, he was noticed by patrolling police station due t oh his suspicious behaviour. His information was taken and when he was linked to his arrest back in 198r, Chikatilo was put under surveillance.

Chikatilo was finally arrested on the 20th November 1990 due to even more suspicious behavior but he refused to speak. This was when Burakov had an idea, he allowed Bukhanovski to interview Chikatilo, claiming that he wanted Chikatilos help to try and understand the mind of a seru killer from a scientific perspective. This 'flattery' was all it took for Chikatilo to open up to the psychiatrist. He gave Bukhanovski very detailed descriptions of his crimes, and even led the police to previously undiscovers bodies. He claimed to have taken the lives of 56 victims but only 53 could officially be verified. The police had no clue that there were so many victims, they had only linked 36 murders before this.

Chikatilo was deemed fit to stand trial and on the 14th of April 11992 he was taken to court. The killer was kept in an iron cage for the duration of the trial to keep him away from the families of his victims and to be be honest, to keep him away from everyone in the room. He was referred to as 'The Maniac' by the media due to his behaviour in court. His behaviour ranged from bored to manic, singing,talking gibberish and pulling his trousers down in the middle of court. The judge residing over the wasn't exactly impartial, he often overruled Chikatilos lawyer and it was very clear that he'd already decided that Chikatilo was guilty. However despite this, there would not be a verdict on the case for another two months. On the 15th of October 1992, Chikatilo was found guilty of 52 murders, and sentenced to death 52 times.

Chikatilo appealed his conviction, claiming that his psychological evaluation was biased and that he was never fit to stand trial to begin with, but his appeal was denied, and 16 months later, on the 14th of February 1994, he was executed by a shot to the back of his head.

A positive not to end, Alexandr Bukhanovsky, the psychiatrist who was viral during the investigation, actually went on to become a celebrated expert on sexual disorders and serial killers.