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favefandomimagines · 4 years

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Knight in Shining Armor (g.w.)

Summary: the three times george saved you and the one time you saved him

AN: mentions of death and injury obvs if you know where this is going

It was no secret to anyone that you and George had shared feelings for each other. Except it was a secret to the two of you. The stolen glances, the touches that lasted longer than they should have, the very obvious flirting.

Though the two of you were completely oblivious.

It was your fifth year at Hogwarts, Quidditch season being in full swing. You were a Chaser for the Gryffindor team and a damn good one at that.

You were currently sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, sitting between Alicia and Angelina. “Are you ready for the game today?” Alicia asked you. “She’s always ready. She’s our prized possession.” George interjected, him and Fred sitting across from the three of you.

“Aside from our Seeker, Georgie.” Fred added. “I guess Harry too.” George said. The younger twin sent you a wink as you tried to cover the redness on your face.

Angelina and Alicia nudged you, knocking you out of your bashful state. “Are you two ready for the game?” You asked. “Of course! We’re going to crush them.” George answered. “Cocky isn’t a good look on you.” You teased. “It’s not cocky, love. It’s confidence.” George replied.

The game against Slytherin wasn’t going according to plan. You knew Slytherin played dirty but during this game, it was worse than usual. Every time you got the Quaffle in your hand, another Chaser came out of nowhere to try to knock it out of your hands.

Usually you could get away from them quick enough but you were currently sandwiched between two Slytherin Chasers and they were trying to force the Quaffle from your hands.

One of them seemed to give up his pursuit until he slammed into the side of you, causing you to lose your balance and fall off your broom. You fell to the grass below and the world around you went dark.

You woke up seemingly a few hours later since it was dark outside and you seemed to be in the infirmary. Trying to sit up, a pounding headache stopping you from doing so.

“Whoa, easy there, Y/N.” A voice stopped you. You looked to your right and saw George, Fred and the rest of your friends standing around you. “What happened?” You asked them.

“Slytherin Chaser knocked you off your broom. Thankfully you only have a concussion. It would have been much worse if George hadn’t stopped him.” Hermione explained.

You looked at George for some sort of a confirmation of his actions. “Definitely worth the five points we lost.” He said. “George sent him into one of the towers. He’s in way worse shape than you.” Fred added.

“Thanks, Georgie. For defending my honor.” You joked lightly. “For you, darling, always.” He replied.

The Quidditch World Cup was something you looked forward to every year. Your parents were wealthy pure bloods and you got to go the World Cup every time.

This year, you got invited to go with the Weasley’s and you couldn’t pass up that opportunity. Your parents were okay with the idea because they trusted Arthur Weasley to no end.

You had arrived at your tent with the Weasley’s, plus Harry and Hermione, and were blown away with the set up. “Girls, pick a bunk and unpack.” Arthur instructed you, Ginny and Hermione.

“This is incredible.” You commented with a large smile on your face. “A change of pace from the fanciness you’re used to, aye Y/N?” Fred said. “It’s so much better.” You replied.

“Why? Because you’re away from the parents?” George asked. “No, because I’m with you.” You corrected. A red tint crept its way up George’s neck and painted his cheeks at your comment. Causing Fred to laugh at how flustered you made his brother.

“Besides, I need someone to cheer on Ireland with me. My parents love Bulgaria.” You added, sending him a wink.

Before game time, you all were walking up the stairs to your designated section, George helping you up the steep stairs because you were so incredibly clumsy.

Even when you got to your section, he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Once the game was finished, you were all back at the tent. The boys were all hyped up about the game and you were just laughing at the craziness of the four.

You were standing by watching when George grabbed your hand and spun you around. He then wrapped an arm around your waist and dipped you back, causing you to laugh. “How does it feel losing to Krum?” He joked.

“It was all luck.” You answered. George laughed at you as the two of stared intently at each other. When Arthur stopped the celebration, he mentally cursed him in his head.

It all happened so quick, it was hard to comprehend what was going on. You were ushered out of the tent by Arthur and your jaw dropped seeing the chaos ensue.

“Oh my,” You started before George grabbed your hand. “Y/N, we gotta go.” He told you. “Wait, where’s Harry?” You questioned. “I don’t know, but we have to get out of here.” He said.

He had a tight grip on your hand but the amount of people pushing past you made it hard for you to keep holding on. You felt his hand slip out of yours as you got pushed to the ground by some bystander.

You tried to get up but the people running and fleeing the scene made it difficult too.

“I lost Y/N.” George told his twin and Ginny. “What?!” Ginny exclaimed. “I have to go find her.” He said. “George wait!” Arthur called as his son ran back in the direction of the tents.

You finally were able to stand as you looked around you, hoping to spot a familiar head of red hair. You were looking around when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

A scream left your mouth as you turned around quickly to see George standing there. “Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, hands cupping your face as he looked at you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” You answered before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“We have to get out of here, okay?” George said to you. You nodded your head and he took your and and pulled you away from the scene.

If the Death Eaters were truly still there, they knew who your parents were. They were members of the Order and worked at the Ministry, besides Harry, you’d be a prime target.

Once you were far away enough, George wrapped his arms tightly around you, afraid to let go.

“Thank Merlin you’re okay.” He whispered. “I’m okay thanks to you, Georgie.” You whispered back.

—

Your final year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the best year yet. You were made Quidditch captain of the Gryffindor team, you had a good feeling you were going to pass all of your exams and you had the best group of friends.

But what was supposed to be the best year turned into the worst year. Umbridge had basically taken over Hogwarts. Your parents never had a nice word to say about that woman.

You were starting to see why. She banned Quidditch and all other student activities and you were devastated. Which caused you to act out more than normal.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was usually your favorite class when she wasn’t teaching it. She was going on and on about different scenarios where we’d use certain spells. Never once actually letting your class practice said spells.

As she explained yet another spell with no demonstration, you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Is there a problem Ms. Y/L/N?” She asked you. George turned around to look at you, shaking his head to tell you it wasn’t worth it. But that never stopped you.

“Would it be possible to actually practice the spell?” You asked. “There’s no need for that, dear.” She said in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I respectfully disagree with you, professor. You are aware my parents work at the Ministry. I believe they are of higher rank than yourself and they have reason to believe that Voldemort is back and I think we should be able to defend ourselves. So yes, professor, there is a need for that.” You said, your voice surprisingly confident and calm.

The class fell into various hushed whispers as students talked quietly amongst themselves. George looked at you with a mixture of utterly proud and terrified for your well being.

“Detention after class, Ms. Y/L/N. And your parents will be hearing about this.” Umbridge told you.

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair as she continued on with her lesson.

After class, you arrived at the woman’s office and stepped inside. The amount of pink on the walls was enough to make anyone cringe. That and the various cat plates.

“Please sit, Ms. Y/L/N.” She instructed you. You sat in the desk across from hers and noticed the piece of parchment and the quill next to it.

“You will be doing lines for me today. You will right ‘I will not be disrespectful.” She said. “How many times?” You asked. “Until you feel the message sinks in.” She answered. “I’m going to need some ink for this.” You said. “That’s a very special quill, dear. You won’t need ink.” Umbridge told you.

You picked the quill up and began writing the sentence and soon a dull stinging presented itself on your other hand.

As you kept writing it only got worse. You looked at the top of your hand and noticed the words you were writing were being written into your skin.

You dropped the quill and clutched your hand, seeing the words already starting to scar.

“I think the message was well received. You may go.” Umbridge told you. You quickly picked up your bag and exited the office.

You didn’t think you could run so fast as you sprinted towards the common room. Your trek was cut short when you ran into someone.

“Whoa there, Y/N, are you in a hurry?” Fred joked. “Uh, yeah, you can say that.” You said quietly, not making eye contact with the twins. “What’s wrong?” George asked. “Nothing. I was just on my way to the common room.” You lied.

“Then why are you holding your hand?” Fred questioned. The twins have known you since first year. They could easily see through your lies no matter how convincing they seemed to others.

You pulled up the sleeve of your robe and showed them the top of your hand. “Umbridge did this, didn’t she?” George asked. You nodded your head though you knew they didn’t need any confirmation.

The matching scars on their hands was proof enough.

“I’m going to kill her.” George sneered marching towards Umbridge’s office. “George, don’t. She’s not worth it.” You rebutted. “She hurt you, Y/N. That’s more than worth it.” He said.

“I think what she’s trying to say, mate, is that you’ll get more than just a detention.” Fred interjected. “Please don’t do anything. We will handle her later.” You said to him.

George looked down at you for a moment before groaning. “I hate it when you’re right. Especially when Fred’s right.” He said.

You smiled at him before looping your arm through his.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked as the three of you walked back to the common room. “Just you being here is enough.” You answered.

Fred inwardly groaned at the obliviousness the two of you had. He then made it his life’s mission to get the two of you together.

—

Nothing really made sense anymore. Not after the war. Of course you came out victorious but not without paying a price. A price you’d rather pay with your life than anyone else’s.

Everything happened so quickly. You had lost sight of Fred and George halfway through and the next thing you knew, Ginny was pulling you through the Great Hall.

You made eye contact with George and you knew the second you looked at him something was wrong.

“No,” You muttered as he walked towards you. “No, no, no. Tell me that’s not him.” You cried. “He’s fine, Fred’s fine.” You added. George shook his head as he pulled you into him. He tried to shield you from seeing your best friend’s body but it was no use.

Fred was gone. He was gone and you never got to say goodbye to him.

It had been eight months since the war and everyone was slowly starting to get back to normal. Or whatever the new normal was.

You and Ron got the twins’ joke shop back up and running. George still wasn’t able to step foot in the building, staying at your flat since that day.

“Mum keeps asking how George is. I have to tell her he’s fine and just getting back on his feet.” Ron told you. “You can’t lie to your mother like that, Ron.” You replied.

“Maybe you can convince him to come visit the Burrow. He listens to you more than anyone.” He said. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me this time.” You said. “He loves you, Y/N. He might’ve been too daft to say it in school but he really loves you.” Ron admitted.

You were quiet for a moment before nodding your head and apparating back to your apartment.

The living room was dark but there was a blanket on the couch, signaling that George left his room.

“Georgie?” You called. “In here.” You heard, which was a good sign. Usually he never replied when you called his name.

You opened the bedroom door and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed with a picture frame in his hands. It was a picture of the three of you the day the shop opened.

George had his arms wrapped tightly around you as Fred hugged the both of you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, sitting next to him. “My brother died, how do you think I’m feeling?” He snapped at you. He saw you noticeably tense at his harsh tone and he instantly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He added. “It’s okay.” You said quietly. “It’s not okay because you’ve been nothing short of incredible taking care of me, making sure I’m eating, reopening the shop for me. I really don’t deserve you.” George said.

You took his hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I do it because,” You started, thinking about Ron’s words. “I do it because I love you, George. And I hate seeing the person I love so broken and I know I can never fill the void that’s left, there’s a pretty big one for me too but I’m hoping I can help.” You finished.

Your gaze remained fixated on your hand in his, afraid of what his response would be.

“You love me?” He questioned quietly. “Yeah, yeah I do.” You replied. “I’ve loved you since third year. Fred kept trying to get me to tell you but I was too scared you’d reject me.” George explained.

“I would never reject you, George.” You said. “You saved me too many times to count. Now it’s time for me to save you.” You added. George nodded his head as he looked at you and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You pulled him into you, his head near your chest, as you just let him cry. The only sound that calmed him was the sound of your heartbeat and the knowing that you were his.

#imagine #imagines #harry potter imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley #draco malfoy #george weasley x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years

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let's talk about severus snape. he's one of the most controversial characters the internet has to offer, with several blogs, channels and pages dedicated specifically to hating him, despite him having one of the most—if not the most—intriguing character arcs the series has to offer. so, as a result of me coming across far too many of said blogs, channels or pages, here's an extremely detailed explanation of why i like him and think he's easily one of my favourite characters :)

1. he's not that bad of a teacher.

just so you know, i'm a teenage girl fresh out of high school. so, my experience with teachers? still keeps me up at night :)

my family is pretty strict about religion. you can guess what that means. anything that was magic-adjacent, especially something that, god forbid, had an entire school dedicated to witchcraft and wizardry was a hard no if i wanted to have any sort of freedom over the media i paid attention to, and any opportunity to go about my life without being monitored to make sure i wasn't suddenly possessed or something. thanks to this, i ended up secretly reading the philosopher's stone in my last year of primary school. i would've been 11 at the time, just about to turn 12, so a little bit older than harry and co. going on what i'd heard from those who had already read the series, i went in expecting to absolutely despise this man. i went in expecting to read a demon. i finished the book and came out thinking... that really wasn't that bad.

my mom found out, so i didn't get to read the rest of the series until i ended up on the executive committee for my school's book club and my friends were appalled that i'd only read the first book. at this point, i'm still expecting him to get worse and... he just doesn't. when i was in primary school, i had multiple teachers break wooden meter-long rulers across my classmates' backs. the first time it happened, i was in infant year 2 (about 6/7 years old). i had teachers who would insult us, based on anything from hygiene to behaviour to intelligence if you looked at them wrong. my sister (who was three years ahead of me) had a teacher who kept her in hours after school was over because the teacher had a written a note in her workbook upside down, and when my sister corrected her, the teacher made her rewrite it, turning the book each time the note was written so it would never be done the correct way.

in secondary school, i had teachers who would actively humiliate us in front of the class if we didn't do as well as they wanted. i had teachers who would throw markers and whiteboard erasers at us if we did something they didn't like during class. i had a teacher who looked for a friend of mine who was petrified of attention and then mercilessly picked on her until she went to the bathrooms to cry. these are the kinds of teachers that i was used to. so, when i read harry potter and read snape, who would have probably been one of the nicer teachers i met in my lifetime, i thought to myself, he's really not that bad. he's just... strict.

antis claim that he traumatised every kid that ever went through his class, that he straight up abused them and... no. he didn't. all of them are comfortable talking back, they talk during his class, no one trembles when he walks past, except for neville, who usually bore the brunt of snape's anger because he was consistently messing up in a potentially lethal class.

after school, i hated the thought of formal education, so now i'm working until i feel ready to do university. coincidentally, one of my jobs is teaching maths and english to kids writing the end of primary and secondary school exams. given the sheer amount of annoyance i feel sometimes, i actually respect him for not being more harsh with them, especially when they're all running off into danger or exploding cauldrons.

he really isn't that bad of a teacher, and we know this, since his classes' owl results are said to be consistently good.

plus, he was written in the 90's when all this was okay behaviour for teachers. hell, compared to some of the teachers in text, given that he goes out of his way to make sure the students are always protected, he's a lot better than most people give him credit for.

2. i relate to him.

come on, the man grew up to be a dramatic, queer-coded, petty bitch who wears all black all the time and likely has at least one mental disorder. i'm a petty, emo bisexual with (actually diagnosed, don't worry) depression and anxiety and I'm in a theatre group. what did you really expect from me?

on a serious note, both of the schools i went to were considered "prestigious". i got into my primary school because of a teacher's recommendation (she was a family friend). the second school i got into was because i scored ridiculously high on the placement test that would determine which school i went to. in primary school, i was the poor, really awkward, really smart kid who got left out of everything, and my best friend was the only kid who was worse off than me.

in secondary school, i was just as smart as everyone else... but i was still poorer, and still more awkward and still got left out of everything.

i got that isolated feeling, that feeling of not being good enough, that feeling where life always seems to have it out for you and that's even though i still got dealt a better hand than snape ever did. so, i get it. i'm never ever going to have it as bad as he did, but i acknowledge what he went through and i sympathise, because i have a chance, but it only ever got worse for him.

3. i genuinely enjoy his character.

this dude went through absolute hell for basically his entire life. the best years he had were probably when he was neck-deep in the group of people who hated witches and wizards like him, but somehow managed to treat him better than the good guys.

all of that, and he still manages to be one of the most entertaining motherfuckers in the whole series, with one of the most interesting character arcs ever. it's the witty lines, the sheer dynamic of his character, the change from the twitchy, hypervigilant kid from the slums to the adult that managed to spy on the Dark Lord himself and save the wizarding world in the process, while still being a hot mess of a person. it's the managing to get shit done while everybody hated him and everything was going to hell. it's the everything, and i haven't even talked about how badass he is.

come on, potions prodigy turned master, exemplary duellist (cough, cough, winning 4-on-1 vs McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, and leaving a scratch on nobody, while managing to not take a single hit himself, cough, cough), spellcrafter, spy and one of the only wizards to ever figure out unaided flight. dark arts master, proficient at healing (dumbledore would've been dead a lot sooner, if it weren't for him, most likely). he's one of the most powerful wizards of his time. i've said that any universe where he's actually a bad guy—or just legitimately loyal to the death eaters—is a universe where voldemort wins and this is why. if he was motivated by literally anything other than lily, the wizarding world was more than likely fucked.

the point is, i just think he's neat.

4. spite.

every time i appreciate snape, a snater feels like someone is walking over their grave. every time i appreciate snape, a snater turns blue out of sheer rage. every time i appreciate snape, a snater loses their mind looking for their non-existent reading comprehension.

the spite in my veins is tempered only by the broth of instant ramen and ungodly amounts of sugar, and i'm going to use them all in my mission to cause antis pain when they refuse to acknowledge their lack of critical thinking and analysis skills.

so, yeah. why do i actually like snape?

tl;dr: he's not that bad. for a teacher written in the 90's and compared to teachers i've had within the decade, the guy's just strict. sure, he's a dick (who i personally think is hilarious), but he always makes sure the students are safe and he didn't leave any lasting effect on any of the students. he's really not that bad of a teacher. and hell, he's not even that bad of a person. i fully admit that he was an asshole and i entirely believe he was prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he still tried to atone for his mistakes and he did, is the thing, even though the odds were stacked more or less completely against him. i like him because he entertains me, and because i relate to him, as a teen who went through some shit and probably would have joined up with some bad people if it weren't for my friends and family, and as a teacher who really can't stand my students sometimes. i also like him because it irritates people who don't like him :)

also, istg if any of you respond to this with "bUt hE was ObseSsED with LiLY and just WAnTEd to FUCK hEr," i'm crawling into your bedroom window with the most unrealistic, mangled interpretations of your favourite characters and making sure they haunt you in your dreams. meet me in the fuckin' pit, babe. reread the series, actually think about it and come with receipts that aren't Voldemort, because i don't think you want to have the same opinion as the character who canonically doesn't understand love, now, do you, sweetheart? when you do that, then, and only then, will i consider entertaining your bullshit :)

that's about it from me, thanks for reading!

#severus snape #pro snape #why do people like snape?#i can't speak for anybody else but here's me #i probably left something out since i haven't written a good essay since my literature exam #but it's fine #let me like my chaotic bastard son in peace please #snape #snapedom

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adragonhoardingstories · 5 years

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Of Blood and Bonds- Chapter 5

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Tag list for this is closed!

On that note, this book will contain swearing, mentions of rape and torture. I will try not be explicit but that's really relative. Read at your own risk. There will be warning before if I make a explicit scene so that you can skip it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and don't hunt me down for this.

Happy New Year

---------------------------------------------

Another day she had needed to spend with the idiots in her class. Once again, she felt like cursing her parents.

Marinette was by all means done with Lycée, she was following University courses but after Tom and Sabine had disowned her in all but name, it's not like they knew that. Most of her old relations had no idea what she was up to and it suited her not seeing them ever again.

But despite everything, the Dupain-Chengs she didn't consider herself one anymore did to her, they still didn't want her to dishonour their family even more so they made an arrangement with her and her Lycée.

She had to at least show up for the exams and any school functions and they would leave her alone to do as she pleased instead of sending her to a boarding school and well with all her responsibilities, she never really had a choice.

Which brought her here - on the Gotham Field Trip. She really didn't know why they had even sent her here, they were only wasting their money and Sabine must have known that the chances of her meeting Bruce were high, especially since their activities were centered around Wayne Enterprises.

Today they were going to be assigned to one person they had to shadow all day - it was supposed to help them get some actual job experience.

Marinette was chosen to shadow the CEO - how surprising - and it just so happened that today was one of the rare days Bruce Wayne was in the company so she would have the pleasure of helping both him and Tim depending on who needed her most - yay her.

She was willing bet her future fashion empire that Bruce had orchestrated this in an attempt to get a chance to talk to her.

However she had to admire that one good thing come out of this - Lila Rossi got served.

Like she had mentioned it before, she didn't have anything to do with her past classmates except the bare minimum but it seemed even now the liar still felt threatened by her every time they met. And honestly, she couldn't care less except that wench was the reason her parents had turned against her and of course how could we forget the worse thing of all? That Lila Rossi was willingly working with Hawkmoth - a known terrorist.

So the jobs had been announced and Lila has started her usual act and name dropping and oh there must have been a mistake, Timothy told me that I would be chosen to work with him since I'm already used to helping him. That had received a sharp look from the one delegating and a simple comment about Miss Rossi you are to report to our legal team, they have something prepared especially for you. Seeing Lie-La pale and shut up so yeah that had been the highlight of her day.

But now, now she was most certainly going to be forced to speak to her father and she kind of wished that Lila had succeeded for once.

Just as the lady she had grown to like was about to show her the way, her father magically appeared not really, she had seen him hiding in the shadows for the last five minutes and offered to guide her himself.

As she predicted, he said nothing else, until they were in his office but once the doors were closed…

"Mari-" He started to speak but then the doors banged open and a haggard looking Tim Drake stumbled in.

"Nette, I heard I got you today. Thank fuck I didn't get one of the brats." He stumbled in on the couch, paying Bruce no mind and grinned at her. "Plus, I get sister bonding time so win-win for me."

Marinette looked from him to Bruce. "You have impeccable timing." She informed him. "So I'm going to make you coffee."

"You are an angel." He declared. "An absolute angel. Now I understand why Damian likes you so much."

Marinette laughed it off. "Damian likes me because I don't call him Demon Spawn Timbers."

"In my defense." He groaned. "He was a brat back then and now, well it's basically a nickname. Call it brother's privilege if you want. And he knows it."

Marinette smiled gently at him as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him and Bruce, and sat down drinking her own cup. "Does he know that?"

Tim blinked at her, a thoughtful expression taking place on his face.

It lasted until he tasted the coffee, then it was replaced by awe.

"This is so good, how is this so good, it's literally the same thing I drink everyday? Can you work for me permanently?"

She was amused and this conversation seemed to shock her father so it was a plus. "But Timmy, if I change my career how are you going to get your special MDC suits?"

That strangely made him go serious.

"About that, I needed to talk to you."

Marinette raised an eyebrow, this should be good.

"What would you think if Wayne Enterprises becomes the main sponsor for MDC?"

She leant back in her seat crossing her feet and took a long sip of her drink.

"Now why would I agree to that?"

Tim looked surprised while she was careful to keep her own face carefully blank but he recovered quick enough and seemed to thrive on the challenge.

Marinette could pinpoint the exact moment when he changed to his game face. "Why wouldn't you? This in the long term will benefit you especially when you decide to release your line or officially start your company."

"Who said anything about releasing a line? Right now I'm on a clientele only basis and the greatest thing about MDC right now is my anonymity. My business is flourishing and I'm on high demand, especially among celebrities so you can imagine the price I get for each of my works. Why would I want to change that?"

"While that is true, the novelty will eventually wash off. Your designs may be good enough for you to get some loyal customers but you won't be as you put it in high demand anymore. And I may have known you for only a while, but I doubt you haven't planned for the future."

Marinette could admit, she was a little impressed. "Also true, but I'm currently a millionaire and have more than enough money to launch a line by myself."

Tim opened his mouth to interrupt but she continues before he could.

"And yes, I do understand how accepting your offer will benefit me more but signing with you also means that will represent my brand and how can I - bearing my own interests in mind - accept knowing is publicly involved with Wayne Enterprises?"

He looked completely lost and Marinette was probably having more fun that she should with this. "I'm not sure I follow?"

"I mean that even if people don't outright state it, everyone knows that the Wayne finances and outfits the Gotham vigilantes."

"And your point is?" The poor boy was going to make her say it.

"Your costumes are a fashion disaster Timmy, an eyesore if not a horror?"

"They're not that bad!"

"Do not get me started on the first Robin's costume. Were you not in your right mind when you allowed it?" For the first time in the day, she spoke to Bruce.

"Wait, you know?" She shot Tim a questioning look. Why hadn't told him, she figured it out? The boy just shrugged and she sighed.

"It's not that difficult to figure out Bats. You and Mom literally met while you training in extreme martial arts and the way she described you doesn't match up with the idea the media has of you so I was already suspicious and then I met them and I saw them in costume, they have the same build and everything and their alibi was frankly terrible. Also the rate at which you take in kids matches with the appearance of each new Robin."

"When was the last time you got your IQ tested?" He demanded.

Marinette elected to ignore that comment in favour of finishing her conversation with Tim. "So?"

"So if I get everyone to agree to a costume redesign by you, you'll sign?"

"I get to re-design and remake all of your costumes as well as become the go to for the family for all your events."

"That's a lot of conditions."

She shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. "Those are my terms but if you'd like, you can consider the part about your costumes a favor to you sister so that she doesn't get a heart attack everytime she sees you suited up."

"I'll agree as long as you admit you're exaggerating."

Marinette gave him a deadpan look. "Have you ever seen the Red Hood helmet. I have nightmares about it."

He considered it. "Yeah okay that's fair. So should I start working on the papers?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm going to rebrand once and for all once I'm 18 along with my face reveal."

"Rebrand, why?"

"Like you rightly pointed out two nights ago MDC stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Well I don't want to be a Dupain-Cheng for longer than I have to. I'll be changing my name hence the rebranding."

"Would you consider Wayne?" Bruce asked softly. Marinette paused. She had been considering taking Master Fu's name actually. "I don't know B."

"I'll leave you two to talk." Tim said slowly getting up and she would have protested but she could not run from this forever and the Kwami pressing against her leg seemed to agree.

"Yeah just…" She took out her phone and send him a contact. "That's my lawyer, you can send her the papers to review. I'll talk to her about it."

Tim checked his phone and went slack jawed. "Elle Woods. Elle Woods is your lawyer." He threw his hands up in defeat. "I don't know why I'm still surprised at this point but I'm gonna ask, how did you get her to work for you?"

"She's one of my regulars. "

"Of course she is." Tim muttered. Marinette watched silently as he went to refill his cup of coffee but ended up taking the whole coffee machine with him and walked out of the door.

Marinette turned to Bruce. She was not looking forward to this but she sighed and got up. "I'm supposed to be working so give me something to do."

"I thought you agreed we need to talk Marinette."

"I never agreed to anything." She reminded him. "But yes we'll talk." She pointed a finger at him. "While I work. So, give me something to do."

"You need this to be on your terms." He noted.

"I know you've researched what happened. After having been stripped from my senses and having my will taken away from me, yes I do enjoy being in control." She dared him to say something. "So. Give. Me. Something. To. Do."

"You can arrange the paper on the desk. According to the project names, put it in alphabetical order with A being on top."

Marinette set to work without another word. Bruce took that as his cue to start speaking.

"You know about Batman. The year I stopped talking to you was when when I was assumed dead-"

"Then why?" She cut in sharply. "Did Alfred not even deign inform me that my father was dead? Or what about after you came back?"

He stayed silent.

"The truth B is that even before that you were speaking to me less and less. Your phone calls, rare as they were, were always so short I was never able to tell you what i wanted." She gave out a humorless laugh. "You know I used to be scared that you didn't want me. I mean why else would you keep me a secret from your other children? So I didn't complain because I didn't want to stop having the little time you even gave to me. Guess, I was right in the end."

"No." He stood up and came to stand in front of her. "Marinette sweetie, please believe me. I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you. I've never not wanted you but my lifestyle was always very dangerous but I never realised how much it really was until Jason died and then shortly after I returned Damian died. Every child of mine has been traumatized in some way by my enemies. I didn't want the same to happen to you. There are villains out there who know who I am. I got scared Marinette, distancing myself from you was me trying to protect you. I know - I know it doesn't excuse me not being there for you but you need to know I am so so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. "

Marinette felt the kwamis on her person press against her, offering their silent support.

"I'm willing to try." She said at last, finishing arranging the last of the documents. She looked up at him and could basically read the hope in his expression. "But you need to give me space. I'm not coming to live in Gotham nor am I going to defer to you. I've built my own life, you're not going to interfere with in. You can be in it but you don't get to try and change things."

"Okay, okay I can work with that."

"Then you've got yourself a deal." Marinette offered him her hand to shake and he did shake it but right after, he pulled her in a hug.

Bruce realized his mistake when Marinette stiffened up but she relaxed in his arms and she slowly, almost hesitantly clutched his shirt, like a small child holding their dad's shirt, trying to hide in his arms.

And a father's heart broke all over again.

#MLB X DC #maribat #platonic daminette #mentions of rape #torture #lila salt #adrien salt

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nightofthemeteor · 4 years

Text

Falconry/Bonsai

(Also here on AO3)

“Tobirama, can you come help me with something?”

“What?” came the disgruntled answer from down the hall.

Hashirama stuck his head out the door. “I need you to take a picture for my Instagram!”

He could hear his little brother stomping down the hallway, so Hashirama returned to his table and picked up a pair of pruning shears, considering the lighting in the room and the best angle to take a photo. A moment later, Tobirama walked into the room, saw Hashirama, and immediately turned around and walked out.

“Hey! Come back!”

“No way,” said Tobirama, without turning around. “I am not taking a picture of you in your underwear.”

“I’m not in only my underwear!” Hashirama protested. “I’m wearing a shirt!” Granted, it was the shortest shirt he owned, and it did leave a substantial strip of skin bare, but still.

“Can I ask,” Tobirama said witheringly, stopped in the doorway but without turning around, “Why you’re posing for a half-naked picture to put on your gardening blog? Don’t tell me you’re that desperate for exposure.” He was forced to turn around for this last part, because he had to raise his eyebrows at Hashirama to make sure he got the double entendre.

“Very funny, Tobirama. No, it’s not for more followers.” Although that could be a nice side effect, come to think of it. “It’s a…” Hashirama knew there was a word for this, if only he could remember – “Thirst trap!” he announced, proud of himself for getting the terminology right.

Tobirama wrinkled his nose. “Please never say that again, Anija. Do I know the person you’re posting this for?”

“Nah – I just met him yesterday! I ran into him on the subway as I was bringing home this very bonsai.” Hashirama affectionately patted the pot containing his newest leafy charge, a lovely boxwood tree rescued from the back shelves of a garden store on the other side of town. “I’m telling you, Tobirama, this tree is good luck!”

“Are you out of your mind, Anija? You gave your Instagram handle to some random stranger on the subway, and now you’re posting – ” Tobirama made a vague, sort of circular gesture to encompass Hashirama’s general state of undress “ – for him to see? I’m begging you to have just a shred of common sense.”

“No, this guy is fine, I promise! I have excellent judgement about this sort of thing.” Tobirama crossed his arms and gave him a flat look that said, Your judgement is terrible and we both know it. Hashirama sighed. “If you help me, I’ll buy you that expensive, iced coffee you like,” he wheedled.

“Two coffees,” Tobirama snapped. “And when you end up with some creepy stalker, I’m not going to help you.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Hashirama shoved his phone into Tobirama’s hands before he could change his mind and struck a pose next to the boxwood, shears in hand. He’d just finished pruning the tree, in fact – this picture was to show off his handiwork with the bonsai, too. The guy on the subway - Madara, he'd said his name was - had asked about it, after all. “Is the shape of the tree still good from that angle?”

“It’s fine,” Tobirama sighed in exasperation, and then, apparently resigned to his role, added: “Maybe turn it clockwise a little.”

Hashirama complied, spending a few more seconds arranging the miniature branches. “Did you get your exam marks back yet?” he asked, to keep Tobirama occupied while he fussed with the tree.

“Just got my mark for organic chem,” his brother replied, lips pressed together in an angry pout. “One point away from perfect. I swear, that TA was just trying to find some excuse to take marks away; he was a huge asshole to me all semester, just because I pointed out his synthesis problems had more than one correct solution.”

That explained why Tobirama was even grumpier than usual. “Well, you must have done an excellent job, if this TA could only find one point to take away,” Hashirama tried, in an attempt to mollify him; Tobirama’s stony expression remained unchanged. “Plus, the year is over, so you’ll never have to deal with him again!”

That got a grudging half-smile out of Tobirama. “Yeah – at least there’s that. Are you ready, Anija? I want to get this over with.”

---

The picture was…it was…different from the majority of Hashirama’s posts. Madara had been stalking his Instagram for the past half hour – was it really stalking if the guy had given him his handle and invited him to look for updates on the bonsai he’d been carrying? Probably not, right? – Madara had been looking at his Instagram for the past half hour, and it was all innocent pictures of trees, flowers, and houseplants, meticulously cared for and clearly thriving. Occasionally, Hashirama’s smiling face appeared in the background of a photo, or his hand showed up in a close-up to showcase some clippings, but there was nothing like…that. Broad shoulders in a loosely draped shirt; smooth skin over taut muscle at his stomach; sharp hipbones leading down to –

“What are you looking at, Nii-san?”

Madara jumped, fumbled his phone, and dropped it onto his chest. “Izuna! How many times do I have to tell you to knock?”

“Oh, it was porn? Sorry,” said Izuna, sticking his face obnoxiously through the crack between Madara’s bedroom door and the wall.

“It wasn’t porn,” Madara replied reflexively, before realizing that not only was he now going to have to provide an explanation, but he sort of had been looking at porn. Almost. “It’s this guy I met yesterday,” Madara mumbled at his phone. “I'm on his Instagram.”

“You met someone?!” Izuna exclaimed in delight. Madara sighed – there was no keeping his little brother out of his business now. Sure enough, Izuna threw open his door the rest of the way and bounded over to sit next to Madara on the bed. “How did this miracle occur?”

“It was…kind of accidental.” Madara wasn’t exactly the sociable type, and he certainly didn’t strike up conversations with strangers on public transit – in fact, he usually did his best to maintain a menacing aura so that people didn’t talk to him. But yesterday, after staring for probably a solid five minutes at the impressively muscled forearms of the guy standing in front of him, Madara had realized even those muscles might get tired of holding an entire bonsai tree, and he should probably offer the guy his seat. The man had accepted the offer with a very genuine-sounding thanks, and then had proceeded to flash Madara an implausibly sunny grin, gesture to the bonsai in his lap, and say, “Trees-ed to meet you!”. The line was so terrible Madara hadn't been able to let it go without comment, and before he knew what was happening, he’d been talking to the guy for twenty minutes and had acquired his Instagram handle.

“Well, can I see a picture?” Izuna demanded.

Madara winced, rapidly weighed his options, and reluctantly unlocked his phone to show Izuna the picture he’d been looking at. Izuna, shockingly, didn’t comment on the nature of the photo, but squinted down at it and said, “Hm…I think I know that guy.”

“You do?”

“I’m pretty sure I met him on campus one time, when I was waiting for your lab to finish. He was waiting for someone too, so we chatted for a few minutes. Nice guy.”

With sudden, dawning horror, Madara asked, “Was he hitting on you?”

“No, no! Nothing like that. I think he’s just a friendly type of person.”

Well, a man who flirted with anything that moved – or worse, Izuna – would have been a crushing disappointment, but a ‘friendly type of person’ was nearly as bad. Hashirama had given him his Instagram handle and told him to watch for a post with an update on ‘his’ bonsai, and said bonsai update had included a half-naked Hashirama. Madara had nearly dared to interpret that as interest…but if Hashirama was just a ‘friendly type of person,’ Madara could have been reading the cues entirely wrong. Perhaps their conversation yesterday had just been a fun way to pass the time, and the photo was intended for somebody else.

As if reading his mind, Izuna said, “You should ask him out for drinks or something.”

“I followed his Instagram,” Madara announced, “And that is exactly the number of moves I am willing to make. I’m busy, you know – I can’t go chasing all the time like you.” Just one of many excellent reasons to save that picture for his fantasies and never meet the real person ever again.

“You just finished marking all your exams,” Izuna countered. “I know you’re not that busy. Come on, Nii-san, be reasonable: when are you ever going to get another chance like this again?”

“Thanks for that, Izuna,” Madara muttered. Who said he was even interested in dating, anyways? Relationships were messy, confusing, and time-consuming; not at all worth the hassle –

Madara’s phone buzzed. Instagram message from Hashirama: Hey, sorry if this is presumptuous, but do you want to meet up for drinks sometime?

Madara stared at his screen. Then, disbelieving, he held out the phone for Izuna to read. A stunned moment of silence, and then Izuna shrieked, “You have to go!”

Well, maybe this wasn’t quite as complicated as Madara had feared. Izuna was right; he wasn’t that busy. Pursing his lips in concentration, Madara typed out a reply.

---

Tobirama had been completely wrong, as it turned out: Madara was neither a creep nor a stalker. He was a grad student with an acerbic tongue, passionate opinions, and a lovely embarrassed blush. Hashirama had become so absorbed in the conversation he’d completely forgotten to order more drinks, which was seriously unlike him – although, since he’d made up his mind to pay for the date, it was probably for the best.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Madara remarked abruptly, somewhere around hour three or four.

“You mean existentially?”

“Literally here, in a bar, having drinks with you,” Madara clarified. “I mean – my younger brother is convinced I’m incapable of socializing. He was probably planning to set me up with one of his friends from…art school…” He leveled a suspicious glare at Hashirama as he said these last few words. “He didn’t put you up to this, did he? What’s he paying you?”

“It wasn’t your brother,” said Hashirama seriously. “It was the bonsai.”

“The bonsai paid you to take me out for drinks?”

“The bonsai brought us together.” Hashirama raised his glass; Madara followed suit, looking a little bemused but playing along, nonetheless. “To the bonsai!” Hashirama announced. He drained his glass, surreptitiously watched the way Madara’s throat moved as he drank, and thought. Tobirama would definitely judge him for thinking it, but though Hashirama barely knew Madara, he felt an immediate connection to him. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity.

“Madara,” he said. Madara looked at him with his dark, expressive eyes, shadows from his hair falling across his face, and Hashirama bit his lip. Careful, he thought. “I really am glad you’re here, in this bar, having drinks with me.”

Madara flushed again, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red; Hashirama wondered if he could make Madara flush anywhere else. “I’m glad, too,” he said, low and a little shaky, as though he was unused to saying things like that.

Hashirama immediately abandoned his caution of just a moment before and said, “Do you want to get out of here? We can go to my place – my brother won’t be home.”

“Yes,” said Madara. “Yes, definitely.”

---

Hashirama had the bonsai – Madara’s bonsai, the one he’d toasted that evening – set up in pride of place in his bedroom. That should have prompted Madara to suspect Hashirama had planned for this to happen, and make him annoyed at Hashirama’s confidence. He should also have been a lot more panicked when he looked at Hashirama’s face, sleepy and content, with his previously immaculate hair tangled on the pillow, and felt a tug somewhere under his sternum. Instead, he looked at that bonsai on his way out of the room and thought, Thanks.

Hashirama’s apartment wasn’t very large, considering it housed two people, but it was still annoying to search for the bathroom in an unfamiliar place. Madara had been sure Hashirama had told him it was down the hall on the left, but now he was in the entranceway. He was about to retrace his steps and try again when he heard a key jingling in the door.

“Hey, Anija, I just came back for – ” The man in the doorway spotted Madara and froze. Madara, too, had frozen in horror, because even in the dim light he’d immediately recognized Hashirama’s brother.

“You!” yelped Senju Tobirama.

“No,” Madara said, backing up a step. “Absolutely not.”

Tobirama pointed an accusing finger at him. “I was supposed to be done with you!” he hissed. “You took off that one mark on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Oh, because you think all your solutions are perfect, do you?” He’d certainly acted that way all through that torturous organic chemistry class.

“Tobirama?” came Hashirama’s concerned voice from the hallway.

“Tell me you’re not sleeping with my TA, Anija!” Tobirama practically wailed, and suddenly, Madara’s annoyance at the appearance of his least favourite student was replaced with pure schadenfreude.

“I’m afraid he very much is,” he said, before Hashirama could reply. “So you’d better get used to seeing a lot of me.” And to his great satisfaction, he watched Hashirama’s face brighten in delight, and Tobirama’s drop in utter horror.

#I don't actually know how instagram works but i did my best #inspired by art by thelistening #plus the time the two of us had to lug a huge lavender tree on the subway #hashimada happenings 2020 #hashimada #naruto #my writing

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jinmindeulle · 4 years

Text

of love and other poems | myg

word count: 3.2 k

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: art gallery au, pianist/artist au, pianist!yoongi x artist!reader ∣ almost smut?, fluff

warnings: minor cursing

a/n: and with of love and other poems, i officially get started with my bts works! i have been waiting so long for this moment, especially because i love bts with my whole heart and they are my ultimate everything. although seokjin’s my bias, i had to get started with the bias wrecker. more things to come!!

happy reading! ♥

My hands were tinted with every colour of my palette. Most of my paintbrushes were used, spread over my dark wooden table, also painted with multiple colours and materials. Luckily, my floor was covered with a thousand plastic sheets that Taehyung had given me after seeing how messy my art room got every time I stepped inside it. That’s why I recently stopped trying to clean it. There’s no use when I literally have been spending my entire afternoons here.

“Could you book it, Tae? Are you sure that no one’s taking my place that day?”

“Relax, y/n” he chuckled, showing me the Seoul’s National Art Gallery’s website in his laptop “I have already booked yours and mine, and I checked twice. It’s going to be alright”

“You know that this is no joke, and I always get anxious over fucking everything!” I sighed, walking backwards some steps so that I could take a look at my last piece “What do you think? I’m planning to have this one at the entrance”

“So that’s the intro? It’s stunning, y/n” Tae smiled, displaying his boxy grin “You’ll graduate with honours! I’m so proud of you!” he hugged me tight, shaking our bodies with excitement.

“You too!” I giggled, hugging him back.

Although I was constantly worried about how well my art would do in every class, Taehyung was always there to reassure me and make sure that I was satisfied. Nearing our college graduation, however, my insecurities got worse and worse. Surrounded by talented people, including my best friend, I knew for a fact that I was going to have a hard time coming up with something creative and meaningful to display as my final exam. At the same time, we were not only in charge of our work, but also of booking our place at the Seoul’s National Art Gallery on the weekend that our delivery was due, of arranging our pieces and exhibiting them for the general public as if we already were the professional artists that we hoped to become after that damned exam. My anxiety levels were reaching their peaks as that day got closer, so Taehyung made sure to spend as much time with me as possible.

“Don’t you need to get back to your apartment? You had to finish your last piece too” I pouted.

“I can manage”

“Tae…” I whined “You know how much I appreciate and thank you for being here with me, but you need to focus on your exam too. Go home, I can deal with myself for a bit”

“It’s okay, really” he took my chin with one of his large hands and playfully shook my head “Jimin is practicing his routine for his own final exam and I-”

“Need silence to paint, I know” I interrupted him, chuckling “So you’ll stay the night, then?”

“Seems like you want to” he teasingly wiggled his eyebrows, earning an arm smack from me “Ouch!”

“Go order some pizza while I take a shower, dummy”

Although some say that taking a shower is a way of relaxing, I highly disagree.

Less than two days away from my final exposition, my head wouldn’t stop thinking and re-evaluating every aspect of my already finished pieces, going over every detail that could go wrong that day. I knew I had taken care of everything and anything, but it still felt like something was missing. My art was there, ready to take to the gallery and exhibit, I rehearsed and rehearsed what to say about each piece probably a thousand times and my outfit was already picked up, obviously by Tae. What else was there to complement my artwork?

As I dried my hair, going over the poem that was behind my paintings in my head, Taehyung’s deep, caramel voice came muffled through the bathroom’s door. He was singing that same old song that complimented his tone like no other. Enjoying the melody, I turned off the hair dryer and got started with my night-time skincare routine, softly humming along Tae’s voice.

It was then when it hit me.

“That’s what I fucking need!” I yelled, running out of the bathroom with half of my face covered in my green facemask.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide upon seeing me desperately going in circles around the coffee table, screaming nonsensical words and having the eleventh mental breakdown over the course of the afternoon. But as he was too used to my stupidity, he got up from the couch and stopped me on my tracks, putting his big hands on my shoulders. “Calm down, y/n, what’s wrong now?”

“I need music!” I panicked “My art gallery won’t be complete if I don’t fucking have live music to accompany the mood! It’ll be utterly horrible!” my eyes watered “How the fuck do I find a decent musician in less than 48 hours?!”

“God, y/n, I thought you were questioning your life choices again” he sighed, engulfing me in a comforting hug. I felt some tears go down my face, angry at myself for letting those dumb things get to my head as fast as they pop up. I embraced his waist, cuddling closer to his neck but trying not to stain his pale-blue linen shirt with my facemask. “I know someone that could help”

“You do?” I sobbed, dethatching my face from his collarbone and looking up at his bright orbs.

“He’s a wonderful pianist and has brilliant taste in music. I’ll call him tomorrow first thing in the morning”

“You’re amazing, Tae” I cried, going back to his tight hold “I don’t know what I would do without you”

“Me neither” he chuckled, kissing the top of my head.

“You’ll do like no other, honey bunch. Just breath in and out, calm yourself down and most importantly, enjoy. You’ve been working so hard for this day and you cannot let it go to waste. You’ll smash it”

Once again embraced in Taehyung’s arms, I breathed in his scent as an attempt to calm down my beating heart. No one had arrived yet, but I was already at my fifth mental breakdown. All of the hard work that I had non-stop been carrying out for the past four years was hanging by a thread today, and as my best friend said, I could not ruin it by being a dumb bundle of nerves. Just when I was finally keeping my heartbeat under control, Tae’s phone started buzzing inside his suit’s pocket.

“That must be my pianist friend” he muttered, taking a look at his iPhone screen. “Yep. He’s here already, let me go get him!”

“Okay” I sighed, straightening my dress as he jogged out of the room.

My art pieces were already hanging on the walls, telling the story that I had wanted them to tell for so long. Each one had their own meaning, their own reason to be. Unlike those first paintings of mine, these had a purpose and they were able to talk to the observer, but only if they closely paid attention to every detail.

“That’s spectacular”

Such unfamiliar voice took me out of my thoughts, making me turn around to find the face that matched it. And goddamnit. Dumbfounded, speechless, mouth dried. That pianist was indeed spectacular.

“Th-thank you” that was all I could say. Damn, y/n, get it together!

“Min Yoongi” he stretched his hand, and I awkwardly shook it, praying to whatever God was above us to just let my blushing cheeks go back to normal as soon as possible.

“y/n l/n”

“Taehyung told me” he smiled, shoving his hands inside his pockets and looking around the gallery “I meant it when I said they are incredible”

“I-I appreciate it” I tightly closed my eyes, breathing in and out to help my heart beat at normal pace once more “And thank you for coming on such a short notice” I opened them up, just to find his endearing face looking at me with a soft smile over his rosy lips “It was a last-minute thought and I really needed music for my exhibit”

“I had the day off, so no worries. I know how important music is and I just wanted to help. Plus, I owed Taehyung a favour”

“It means a lo-”

“y/n! Professor’s here with a bunch of people!” a frantic Taehyung came running into the room, interrupting my exchange with the ravishing pianist “Get into place, you dummy! And you too, hyung!” and immediately after screaming at us, he went back to his place as my gallery’s receptionist.

“Good luck, artist. I’ll do my best to reach your standards” and with that, he walked straight to the giant shiny piano that was laying right in front of my last, ‘outro’ piece, and smoothly ran his expert fingers over the keys.

[BGM: i need u, piano version]

I could not take my eyes off of his veiny hands the moment he got started with his fascinating art, making me instantly regret having Taehyung take care of my one a.m. requests.

“How stunning, Miss. y/n!”

I was nearly running out of energy when Taehyung informed me that the last visitor was out of the room. He hugged me so tightly that I thought I was about to pass out, but at that point I could not care less.

“I’m so proud of you, honey bunch!” he giggled, picking me up from the ground and squeezing the life out of me, as he always does “It was impressive. Everyone loved it! You should have heard how they complimented your pieces as they left the gallery!”

“Tae…” I answered with difficulty, trying to catch some air “You’re clutching… me too… tight!”

“Sorry!” he put me down, arranging some of the hairs that went out of my perfectly styled bun.

“Thank you Tae” I sighed with a content smile “You made this possible too. And I will be there for you next week just as you were here today. I love you” I kissed his cheek, making him get flustered just as I wanted him to. “Now go home. You need to rest”

“But-”

“Kim Taehyung!” I interrupted him “I’ll finish here. I want to stay for a bit on my own and then I’ll go home.”

“Fine” he pouted “But you text me when you get home, please. It’s too late for you to be walking on the streets all alone”

“M-hm” I nodded, watching him go backwards as he waved at me “See you, babes!”

“Be careful!”

“Yes, dad” I shook my head, giggling at his antics.

Once he was out of the room, I heavily sighed and glanced back to where my paintings where. I studied them once more, pretending as if I was looking at them for the first time. Maybe the story that I wanted them to tell could be something else when a different eye observed them. Art is relative, and so were interpretations.

“W.H. Auden?”

His deep, raspy voice startled me once again, but this time I didn’t have to turn around to see him. He was right by my side. I could perceive his calm breaths while taking in the sight of my ‘intro’ piece, his eyes sparkling with something close to admiration, to esteem, to wonder.

“How’d you know that?”

“I like poetry” he softly smiled, tearing his gaze away from the painting to fixate his eyes on my own “It’s ‘The More Loving One’, right?”

“Wow… that’s… that’s impressive” I bit my lip, astonished by the man’s capacity of interpreting my intentions in mere seconds “I thought that nobody was going to get it”

“I just like art in general” he shrugged. We fell in a comfortable silence, both of us immersed in our own thoughts. However, the pianist was quick to keep the conversation flowing once again. “Let me guess… Looking up at the stars, I know quite well… That, for all they care, I can go to hell… But on earth indifference is the least… We have to dread from man or beast” he recited, with no rush and honeyed deep voice. He gently took my wrist with his hand and slowly directed me towards my second painting. My heartbeat rapidly increased upon feeling his warm touch, and I thanked Taehyung for letting me wear comfortable heels, or else I was soon going to end up collapsing on the floor “How should we like it were stars to burn… With a passion for us we could not return?… If equal affection cannot be… Let the more loving one be me.”

When we reached the following set of paintings, I was, by this time, in Cloud 9. Despite this, I still needed him to stop his astounding display of knowledge about my favourite poet, because he was already becoming something else for me. So I took over “Admirer as I think I am… Of stars that do not give a damn… I cannot, now I see them, say… I missed one terribly all day”

“Were all stars to disappear or die… I should learn to look at an empty sky… And feel its total dark sublime… Though this might take me a little time” he finished for me, as we arrived to the last trio of paintings “As much as I worship Auden, I disagree” he muttered, observing my ‘outro’ painting. “Do you think that love is fleeting and impermanent?”

“It depends… He’s talking about unrequited love, though. That kind of love should be fleeting and impermanent” I looked at him, studying his gorgeous features. He pressed his lips together and his brows snapped together, returning my gaze.

“Is unrequited love less than the requited one?”

“Of course it is” I chuckled “You cannot expect someone to love you just because you love them. You need to get over them, even if it takes you your whole life”

“Still… do you love someone any less when they do not love you back?”

“Not really. But the difference lays in the fact that you won’t ever get that with the person who doesn’t love you. Imagine having to deal with that kind of indifference just because you adore them”

“Wouldn’t you rather your lover be indifferent towards you when the other possibility left is hating you?”

“Oh, c’mon! Does self-love apply here?”

“I don’t think you ever get to love yourself more than a person that makes you feel alive” he replied, his velvety voice becoming deeper and mesmerizing, his eyes never leaving mine “Do you love yourself more than your lover?” Yoongi murmured, getting closer. Our breaths were now blending together, making it difficult to distinguish which was his and which mine.

“I-I don’t…” I stuttered, feeling the intensity of his eyes “I don’t have a… lover” I finally muttered back, unable to tear my eyes off of his.

“Let’s fix that, then”

Yoongi’s mouth found mine in a heavy, hot kiss. His lips took over mine without much effort, slowly angling his face to deepen it. I was quick to let him in, feeling how his soft tongue gradually brushed my own. I took the initiative, pulling him by the neck to get him closer, as if that was even possible by now. His hands gently caressed my hips, securely taking place on my lower back. I tugged my mouth away from his, trying to catch some air, but he was shortly after chasing my lips to pepper light kisses over them.

“I need…” I breathlessly muttered in between kisses “to close… down”

“I’ll help you” he replied, giving me one last, sloppy peck. “I’ll take you home after”

I could hardly close the door as soon as we entered my apartment. My hand was struggling, trying to get inside the lock as Yoongi peppered wet kisses down my neck while caressing my waist from behind me. A few minutes went by, my mind getting cloudier. He must have realized, because he chuckled against my neck, taking my shaking hand with his and rapidly locking the door “All set”

I turned around, taking his cheeks with my hands and directing his lips to mine, parting them to get better access to his hot mouth. I started walking, slowly but surely taking him down the corridor and right into my room, loudly closing the door once inside.

“Do you still agree with Auden?” Yoongi whispered, softly caressing my arm.

“M-hm” I muttered, fluttering my eyes open, throwing my leg over his own and getting closer to his collarbone “It is always better to be the one who loves.”

“Would you be willing to love even then, y/n?”

“One does not choose when, how or who they love, Yoongi” I detached myself from his chest, supporting my weight with my arm as I looked at him “And I think it’s better to love rather than being at the receiving end without even acknowledging it. It hurts, yes, but the feeling…”

“Yet he emphasizes the fact that he can, and will get over them. Is his love as strong as he claims?”

“It can be the strongest feeling, of course. Still, you cannot hang in there just because you are unable control it”

“Have you noticed that in those last lines, he openly admits he hadn’t missed them when they were gone? Is that what love is about?”

“If they hurt you, maybe” I yawned, going back to the comfort of his touch “You won’t miss them, but you still love them. It’s easy, young man”

“Is love easy?”

“Can you please shut your stunning mouth for a second, please? You’re the loudest hook up I’ve ever had”

“You were the loud one some minutes ago” he chuckled, caressing my back, and taking my chin with his hand. Making me look up, he left a couple of short but soft, tender kisses over my swollen lips.

“Goodnight, pianist”

“Goodnight, artist”

My phone woke me up from my slumber. Cold sheets met my hand, and I lifted my head from my pillow to take a look around my room.

He left.

I rejected whoever was calling me and got up from my bed, stretching out my limbs as I made my way to the living room. Empty.

Should have known that.

“It was just a hook up, y/n…” I murmured to myself, trying to get that in my head as fast as possible to avoid any kind of heartache. “He left as he shou-” I cut short my sentence when I noticed a scribbled piece of paper on my coffee table that wasn’t there the day before. I quickly took it, a smile plastered on my lips as soon as I started reading.

‘Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed Together in my dream, through some dim glade, Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss. The air was dank with dew, between the trees, The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent. Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze Mingled our hair, our breath, and came and went, As sporting with our passion. Low and deep Spake in mine ear her voice: “And didst thou dream, This could be buried? This could be sleep? And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!” Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss.

Let’s meet again.

Min Yoongi’

in case you’re wondering, the poems featured here are ‘the more loving one’ by w.h. auden and ‘assurance’ by emma lazarus.

hope you enjoyed!

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riseagainstals · 6 years

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The Diagnosis

It started with pain on the inside of my ankle. A little pain in my ankle at 40-something years old after 30-plus years of practicing Martial Arts was not surprising, and certainly not particularly worrisome. I’ve had strains and sprains and bruises many times over the years. I’ve broken fingers and ribs and collar bones, even had an orbital fracture. So the pain in my ankle, while annoying, was not cause for concern. It was a nuisance, a bother that barely affected my early-morning mitts and gloves session with Shihan Scott.

We’d been meeting at the gym a couple of mornings a week before the sun was fully up to get in a workout before most people were even out of bed. I loved those workouts. There was no better way to start my day. But after a few weeks, the pain got a little worse and I started to notice that it was affecting my kicks. I could deal with the pain; in fact, fighting through pain provides its own rush of adrenaline. But my kicks were not as strong as they’d been a few weeks before and that bothered me. My roundhouse kick, which had always been my gold-star kick, wasn’t hitting its mark on the pad every time, and when it did it wasn’t doing so with the force that I was accustomed to. Rather, it was kind of slapping against the pad and rolling.

I made an appointment with an orthopedist, assuming I’d sprained my ankle, or at worst, after years of hard kicks against pads, bags, and people, I’d developed some arthritis. Perhaps I’d even need a cortisone shot.

After taking x-rays and doing a quick examination, the doctor basically confirmed what I’d been thinking. He put me in a boot for 6 weeks and sent me off to physical therapy. I hated to miss 6 weeks of workouts, but I figured it would be worth it in the end. I wore the boot and went to physical therapy twice a week for 6 weeks, at the end of which the pain had markedly diminished. I went back to my regular routine of early-morning workouts and thrice weekly evening karate classes.

The pain had subsided, but my kicks still weren’t as strong as they once were. Assuming I just needed to work harder, I continued to train until the pain in my ankle came back with a vengeance a couple of weeks later. Another trip to the orthopedist, and an MRI showed that I had posterior tibial tendonitis. So, it was back in the boot for another 6 weeks and back to physical therapy.

I went to a different physical therapist this time and during my initial evaluation he asked me to stand on my toes and on my heels, neither of which I could do. He asked me to walk down the hall and back. When I sat back on the table, he remarked that I had foot drop and that he thought I should see a neurologist. I was a little taken back by the suggestion and told him I assumed my being unable to move my foot up and down was due to the pain. He asked if he could take a video of me walking and send it over to my orthopedic doctor. I obliged, finished up with the appointment, and went home.

No sooner had I walked in the door when the phone rang. It was my orthopedic doctor asking me to come to his office that afternoon. I was a little annoyed about having to make the 30-minute drive back to Easton, but I did, and after walking up and down the hall again and attempting to stand on my toes and heels again, the doctor echoed the physical therapist’s belief that I needed to see a neurologist.

And so it began.

A week later I was sitting in a neurologist’s office in the same building as my ortho, baffled by how this went from tendonitis to potentially something neurological. My ankle hurt; why am I sitting in a neurologist’s office?

The doctor asked a bunch questions and conducted a thorough exam. He took several vials of blood and ordered an MRI of my knee, offering some explanation that I wasn’t paying much attention to about nerves that run from the knee to the foot and damage that may be responsible for my current symptoms.

My ankle hurts, I kept thinking. How did this go from that to possible nerve damage in my knee?

So, I had an MRI of my knee, and when that didn’t reveal any explanation for the foot drop, I had another of my brain and another of my cervical spine and another of my thoracic spine. This all happened over the course of several months, and during that time, the weakness in my foot got worse and seemed to affect more of my leg. The MRIs cast light on some interesting things inside my body: a uterine fibroid and several cysts, including a renal cyst and one on my spine that caused a bit of a panic when the doctor thought it might be a tumor. He ordered another MRI, this time with contrast, to get a better look. Just a cyst, he concluded. No tumor. Thank God.

After ruling out things like tumors and Lyme disease and vitamin deficiencies and multiple sclerosis, the doctor decided I should be seen by a neurologist in one of the Boston hospitals. The thought now was that this could potentially be an autoimmune issue. So, into the city I went and was subjected to more tests, more poking and more prodding. I had vials of blood taken, underwent a PET scan, had an evoked potentials test and an EMG. Finally, the test I’d been dreading: the lumbar puncture. It is as dreadful as it sounds. Actually, I shouldn’t say that. The test itself wasn’t too bad. Mostly because I was so high on Xanax (prescribed) that I barely remember it. The recovery, however, was a flaming bag of suck.

At the end of this battery of tests, I was told that it was time for me to be seen by Dr. Berry at the motor neuron clinic. By now I had foot drop in both feet, my left side was markedly weaker all the way up my leg, and the right was becoming noticeably weaker. My left hand was also affected.

Until this point, I never doubted that I would be back in the dojo at some point, back to my early-morning workouts, back to classes at night, back to normal life. Eventually some doctor would figure out what this was, give me a pill or a shot, and I’d be on my way.

My first visit with Dr. Berry left me feeling that this might not be as a quick a fix as I thought. After going over my history and giving me a very thorough exam, Dr. Berry started talking to me about motor neuron disease. His explanation was scientific, but in terms I could understand. My symptoms, he explained, were mostly upper motor neuron. His tentative diagnosis at the end of the visit was primary lateral sclerosis, or PLS. I’d never heard of PLS, but from what I understood from his explanation, it was progressive and would affect my voluntary muscles. Any strength or function that I’d lost I would not be getting back.

Several months later, on July 24, 2018, I was back at Dr. Berry’s clinic for a follow-up. After asking about any progression over the last 3 months, he started the exam. The exam was like the others I’d had to this point: he tested my reflexes, my strength, all the usual things. When I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, he seemed to stare at it for an inordinately long time. He took a closer look at my hands, then back to the tongue. He had the fellow that was shadowing him that day take a look. It was a little disconcerting really.

After spending some time typing up some notes on the office computer, Dr. Berry told me that I was exhibiting some lower motor neuron signs now and that he was changing my diagnosis to upper motor neuron predominant ALS. That one I’d heard of. My heart sank when he said it, but he explained that my progression was comparatively slow and that this change in diagnosis opened up some treatment opportunities for me that otherwise would not have been available. That’s a silver lining. I guess.

So, part of the process of me dealing with this diagnosis is definitely going to include writing, because for me that has always been the strongest tool in my arsenal when I have to deal with life’s little surprises, for better or for worse. I named this blog ALS and Me because it seemed appropriate at the time at which I was asked to choose a name. Some of the posts will deal with how ALS is affecting me on a given day and some won’t, because ALS is what I have, it’s not who I am. For anyone reading this: thanks for stopping by, and feel free to drop me a line with questions or comments.

#als strength karate

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senpai-no-lie · 4 years

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So I Finally Finished A Route in Three Houses: A Review of Mechanics

I also finished the DLC, but I figured I’d split my thoughts of the DLC, the first route I played, and my general opinions on the mechanics into separate posts for length and coherency reasons

Overall: I liked the idea of a lot of what they tried to do, but the execution was hit and miss. Additionally, some of the stuff that was interesting and new at first quickly became a chore. Purely on mechanics, I would say 3H was worse than both Fates and Awakening; Echoes is a toss-up.

What I Think 3H Improved Upon:

Combat Arts! I loathed how combat arts worked in Echoes. Attached to the weapon? So freaking dumb. I thought there was a good variety of different arts your unit could learn, and if they decided to keep weapon durability, I think having combat arts tie into that was a good idea

Forging. Ugh, do I hate weapons durability, but at least I could repair my weapons pretty easily (outside of the Relics, which I hardly used, as a consequence). Realizing I could craft Levin swords was also a big game changer for me. I also hated how limited and mysterious forging was in Echoes, so I’m glad 3H didn’t hide what the weapon could become behind ???. Still think Awakening had the best forging, as broken as it kinda was lol

Paralogues...? I thought most of the paralogues were a fun challenge and were good opportunities to learn more about the characters who aren’t as vital to the main (meager) story. Sort of wished you could’ve recruited some other the other houses’ members via paralogues (akin to picking up your children from Time Travel/Deep Realm daycare)

Demonic Beasts I liked them. They were a change of pace from regular enemies, which is a plus in my book.

Stat Gains and Level Design, at compared to Echoes. I feel like they borrowed a lot of ideas from Echoes, since that was the last game (excluding Warriors), but with some improvements. The stat gains in Echoes were notoriously awful, and as someone who is a bit...anal at times about evenly leveling all my characters, it was the Literal Worst to put all that work into chumps like Est and Atlas and Clive and they still sucked. Also, the maps in Echoes started to run together and just be like a slog, so good job, 3H, for not being as bad as your predecessor. (Though the general lack of gimmicks in the story chapters and reliance on fairly so-so maps with objectives like route the enemy/defeat the commander over and over could’ve been furthered improved upon)

What Was A Bit Meh:

Timed Activities This is petty, but it just stressed me out when a game put a timer on something. I stopped doing the advice box and didn’t bother with tea parties pretty quickly because while I could suspend the software to have the extra time to look answers, it wasn’t fun or a good use of my time.

So Many Activities During Exploration Too much, in my humble opinion. A good chunk of them were ways to gain support with units or minor increases in skills, so I think it would’ve been better to condense activities. Like, lost items??? I was able to A support every single available unit on my first playthrough without to much difficulty without that. I’d scrap the advice box and also combine seminar with the tutoring in some way.

Classing System It was a neat idea, to have that much freedom with classing units, and tying reclassing to skill level instead of purely level, but it was also equally annoying to spend in game weeks trying over and over to get a character to pass an exam. And the concept of the exams make even less sense post-timeskip. I liked the flexibility, but I think they could’ve scaled it back a bit (especially to make the game less intimidating to new players) so it wasn’t so tedious.

DLC I like the creativity of deciding to just do an entire side story DLC instead of typical bonus maps. However, having completed the DLC side story, outside the notion the chapters were a bit more challenging (which in itself is a balancing act between engaging and tedious), and perhaps giving us more info about Byleth’s mom... it was kind of meh. Story was fairly cookie-cutter and the lack of any animated cutscene was a bit disappointing, those some of the stills were nice.

Things I Just Didn’t Like:

The General Aesthetic Is this a mechanic, not necessarily, but it’s more appropriate to talk about it here than another post. For one, I just never liked how plasticky all the characters look. I commend them, I suppose, for deciding to fully voice act the game like Echoes, but I wish they hadn’t if it meant I had to look at vacant-eyed characters talking in a half-circle before every fight and after every fight. You can’t unnotice that almost every cut scene if all the characters standing perfectly still, talking in a half-circle. Additionally, sometimes their mouths don’t even move when they talk!! The face portraits had maybe a quarter of the personality they’ve had in previous games, and I miss how crits were done in Fates.

Non-Mission Activities Made the Actual Story Chapters Feel Secondary For my first playthrough, I just decided I was going to grind for as many supports as possible, since the first half (or more than half) of each route is exactly the same. However, I noticed that I often felt that having to stop and do the mission was getting in the way of my other aims, or I would more or less forget what was going on in the story by the time I had to do the mission.

Reliance on Using the Monastery as Homebase I know a lot of people ripped on Fates’ My Castle, but I feel like that was a much less intrusive base of operations than the monastery, because none of the things in My Castle had to be acknowledged if you wanted to bulldoze through several chapters in a row or do paralogues or DLC or whatever. I understand they put a lot of work into the Monastery, but it was hell to navigate around (I just fast traveled rather than navigating lol), made a lot of story chapters feel awkward (we’re in the middle of a war, but after every battle we gotta go back to the Monastery and dick around for a month), and really bloated up the game.

Recruitment At first, I was pretty gun-ho about getting all the units I could, and it was exciting to get a bunch of new units based on my efforts to seduce recruit them (especially Ferdinand-- he was such a bastard to get despite being the second unit I tried to recruit), but then you have them all and suddenly Edelgard’s enemy forces feel like a joke (it’s just her and Hubie Dubie, p much) and you realize everyone feels like a flake if they’ll join pretty much any side no matter. Additionally, because of how recruitment works, outside of Byleth and the main lord, and to a lesser extent the retainer, a good chunk of the characters have very limited to no importance to the plot. The rest of your house has about average FE involvement in the plot, such as commentary or exposition dumping, but they don’t feel like they matter when you can feasibly never use them if you recruit enough from the other houses.

#fire emblem three houses #FE 3H #fire emblem 3h #my opinions about fire emblem

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stratus-skye07 · 6 years

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Sense Of Love [Seven] (M) | Minho

Seeing the truth

[Masterlist] [Six]

MINHO

“At the tone, please leave your message.”

I hang up after calling Y/N for the hundredth time today. Since taking her home last night, I’ve been worried about her. She doesn’t answer my calls or texts, she wasn’t at the cafe and the school is closed today. She could either be anywhere or at home. Neither of the places I could really go to and expect her to open the door for me.

Today I had another photoshoot with Bohee. One that was for sure going to be the last. Things were going fine until she pushed Y/N to try and intimidate her.

“Has Cinderella gone back into hiding?” Speak of the devil.

I ignore her and continue to where the shooting was taking place. She followed and continued to say things to get my attention but I kept my silence with her.

“When are you gonna get your head screwed on straight.” She whispers in my ear as we’re posing, “She’s a nobody and always will be. Down the line what could she give you?”

The more she talked the harder it got to keep a cool expression. I just had to endure it for a couple more shots and I can rid myself of the trouble that I caused for myself and Y/N.

“Okay, that’s it. Good job, you two.” The photographer says.

We finally separate and end the shoot. I head over to Onew so we can finally leave this place. Thinking that it was done, I can sense Bohee following close behind me.

“Yah!” She smack the back of my shoulder, “What’s so special about her?”

It’s my fault that Bohee is so clung onto me that it’s my responsibility to set things straight, “She has a heart!” She freezes in her place, “You and I have no connection. I’m sorry for making you think that we had anything romantic going for us. We both knew that things were just physical. This is where we end things off as clean as possible. I don’t want you to ruin your career because of me. You can hate me all you want. I’m willing to accept your hate because I deserve it but don’t take it out on someone that I found to have feelings for.”

Bohee’s eyes begin to water, “We could’ve made it work if we wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

Driving the nail into the coffin, Bohee turns her back and walks away. I know it was harsh but she needed the reality check that I should’ve given her a long time ago.

Onew pats my shoulder, “It seems like Y/N really has made an impact on you.”

I smirk, “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve never apologized to anyone about anything before in your life.”

I shrug, “Sometimes you just need to grow up and stop being an asshole.”

Onew and I begin to get our things together when I notice a figure standing nearby and watching intently. A figure I wasn’t expecting to see but at the same time was anticipating.

Taemin calmly speaks, “I need to talk to you, right now.”

I nod leading him out towards the back of the building’s alleyway. Once the area was safe to talk in, I turn to face him but I’m met with a fist to the jaw instead. Any other person I would’ve laid them out just as quick but considering the circumstances I take the hit.

I look back to see that Taemin’s calm demeanor was gone. His nostrils were flaring with anger as he looks at me.

“I deserved that.” I say clutching my cheek.

“I told you to leave Y/N alone. Now you’ve pushed her too far.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve been trying to call her since last night. Is she okay?”

He shakes his head, “Like you give a shit. Just stop whatever plans you had with her. She doesn't need you complicating her life any further.”

“I have no intention in leaving her alone because I have feelings for Y/N. I hated what happened to her. I hate myself even more for putting her in that situation. I can understand your anger towards me and you can hit me as much as you want for it but I wanna know what’s going on with her. Is she really okay?”

Taemin’s breathing begins to even out when he hesitate to continue this conversation. He turns to leave but I grab him by the shoulder to stop him.

“Please, just tell me so I don’t make the same mistake twice. For Y/N, I need to know.”

He swipes my hand off his shoulder before turning back to face me, “You know how she ended up blind?” I shake my head, “She was in a car accident that killed her parents.”

My heart drops remember how Y/N mentioned her parents but never putting that and her blindness together.

Taemin continues, “The doctors had no hope for her seeing again. Y/N wanted to take the chance and go forwards with eye surgery. In the end, she managed to regain her vision. It was too good to be true though. One day she had an anxiety attack and her vision went blurry for a short amount of time. Her doctor says that if she puts herself in stressful situations or suffers any kind of traumatic events it could cause her to go blind again. This time, the next operation won’t be as successful.”

Y/N

Deep down, I’d hoped to never sit in this exam chair again but at the same time I knew that it would never stop. My eyes were always going to be a problem for me ever since I first went blind. I’d experience the temporary blindness before but for some reason this one felt like it was going to be the one to end it all.

I woke up in the morning with my vision back to normal, but I was still worried about it so I called Dr. Park as soon as possible. I called Key and told him about the incident that led up to the vision going blurry. He said he would take care of the cafe. I’ve been in his office for most of the morning running test on my eyes. I’ve even had to put my glasses on as if it would help anything but comfort me.

Sitting in the familiar office, Dr. Park came back in with a stack of papers in his hands. He’s going through all of them before taking a seat at his desk.

“So?” I ask him.

He closes the folder to turn his attention to me, “I’ve looked through everything numerous times and you’re eyes are coming up normal.”

“So they’re fine?”

He nods, “They don’t look any different than the last time you came in.”

“Then why do I keep getting these cases of temporary blindness. They can’t be normal for someone who’s recovering from successful eye surgery.”

“Technically, your surgery shouldn’t have been as effective as we thought. This could be your eyes’ way of rejecting the results.”

“So what do I do now? Will my vision get worse over time or will I go back to being blind?”

“From the results we have, your eyes are fine. It doesn’t mean your vision is deteriorating. It could just be a symptom from your attacks like shaking or breaking out in hives. As of now, there’s nothing wrong.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

He sighs before leaning forward, “As a doctor and as someone who’s watched you grow up like a niece, I’d suggest you just live your life as normal as you can. Don’t let this stop you from helping others and living. You’ve come so far to let it affect you now.”

Growing up, I made sure nothing in my life changed. It was hard after losing my parents but I did everything I would’ve done if they were still alive. I went to school, I work, I volunteer. I did all of that with and without vision. Living in fear of losing my vision shouldn’t stop me from living in general. I can do it with my eyes closed.

Waiting to cross the street, I pull out my phone to see all the missed calls and messages from Minho. He was another fear that I had to face. I don’t deny my feelings for him but I worry about his feeling towards me when I tell him everything. Was he ready for that kind of commitment when it came down to it? Was I?

Crossing the street, I turn the corner where the front door of the cafe is when my question was about to be answered. Minho is leaning against the wall but jumps off when he sees me approaching.

He starts rambling, “Y/N, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’m so sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have pressured you into going with me in the first place. Plus, I should’ve taken better care of you.”

I smile at his frantic apology. I take his hand in mine and ask, “Do you have some time to spare?”

MINHO

I don’t know if Y/N was angry with me or not. She simply asked for an hour of my time to talk about something. The whole ride to her apartment building was quiet. She stayed silent as she stared out the window.

Once we arrived, she waited for me to get out of the car to follow her. She walked towards the stairs but instead of going up them she walks past them. I continue to follow her towards the door that’s right below her apartment.

She flicks the lights on to reveal a whole room filled with all things related to art. Canvases are hanging on the walls. One side of the wall was covered with shelves of pens, pencils, and brushes in jars along with a long table where someone would sit to draw or paint.

Y/N walks over to some of the artwork, “This is where my artistic past is. Locked away below my apartment building.” She points over to a staircase that must lead to her apartment.

“You did all of these?” Most of the canvases looked like professional ones that you would get from an art museum.

She nods, “Yeah, I’m not so sure if I still got it or not. It’s been years since I used any of this stuff.”

I walk around to take a look at all her work when I stop at a painting that catches my attention. It was a painting of her parents. I could tell it was them. Y/N had bits of her features within them.

Y/N chuckles beside me, “One night my parents and I were coming home from an art contest, I ended up winning. This was the portrait that I entered to win. I remember yelling at my dad to stop moving so much. He’d complain about getting work done but I knew deep down he didn’t care as long as I could finish this one.”

“Your parents must’ve been really supportive of it all.”

“Extremely supportive. Everything art-wise I could get my hands on I wanted to do it. They bought me all the supplies for it. They’d both come to my art shows. They’d even pretend to not be my parents and had critique discussions with the people to lure them into liking my stuff.”

“I wish I could’ve met them.”

She looks up at me with a smile, “I think they would’ve liked you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Think?”

“Well,” she shrugs, “you were kind of a dick when we first met so I don’t know if that really would’ve swoon them.”

I sigh, “Fair enough.”

Her smile slowly fades away as she looks back at the painting, “The night of my last art show, it was raining when a careless driver cut my dad off causing him to swerve. The car lost control and ended up flipping into a pole. I woke up in the hospital and I couldn’t see anything anymore. My parents didn’t make it. My mom was pregnant with my little brother or sister and they were gone too. Once I regained my eyesight I moved all my art work and supplies with me. I wouldn’t use them again but I didn’t have the heart to throw them away. They were gifts from my parents.”

“You regained your eyesight though, why did you stop art? You have a gift for it.”

She shrugs, “I felt like it was selfish for me to continue doing it when I’d lost the people I loved the most because of it.”

I grab her by the shoulders and turn her to face me, “Y/N, what happened to your parents was not your fault.”

She smiles again as her eyes begin to water, “You wanna know why I don’t want anyone to get close to me? It’s that fear that lives in the back of my mind that I might go blind again and my significant other will have to care for me more than necessary and that they’ll worry too much about me, that they’ll forget to take care of themselves. I’m scared of being loved to the point where I’ll have to count on them because they can’t stop worrying about me.”

“Don’t cry.” I swipe my thumbs along her cheeks.

She begins to speak through light sobs, “I’m telling you all this because of how bad my feelings have gotten for you. I pushed you away at first for that reason.”

This whole meeting was about her opening up her heart to me. Starting with her past and current fears of herself along with the person she would let in. That person being me.

Y/N separates herself from me to walk towards a blank canvas, “My doctor doesn’t know if the next time I lose my sight I’ll get it back like I have before. Thinking that I might end up going blind again makes me want to appreciate the little things again, like seeing colors.” She picks up one of the jars filled with colored pencils, “Do you mind if I draw you?”

I smirk, “Like your French girls?”

She chuckles, “I had a feeling you were going to say that but sadly I don’t think I can make you as sexy as them.”

“As long as you’re up for it then I would be honored to be your model.”

Y/N directed me to sit in one of the stools by the table as she walks around the room collecting the materials she needs for the drawing. I watched her pick each item cautiously as if she was trying to remember what each color would look like once it was on the paper. I could tell she was getting flashback each time she stopped.

After gathering all the materials, she sits down on the other corner so she would be in front of me. She reorganizes the supplies around the white piece of paper so they were easy to grab.

She sighs, “I have to warn you that this will be time consuming so I need you to keep the same facial expression at all times so just focus on something that will keep your face still.”

I nod, “Okay.”

Y/N

It felt really weird drawing again after nearly ten years. I almost forgot how to start once I set all the pencils, pens, and markers out on the table. Looking at Minho’s face helped get me started. Each time I had to look up at him, I almost got lost in his eyes and how they were watching me so intently. His expression never changed once I started. He had this look of pure happiness even though he only had a small smile on his face. His eyes and smile said it all.

It probably took me about two hours to finish the drawing. I could’ve taken breaks in between but once I started I didn’t want to stop. It was like riding a bike again. Everything started coming back to me as I went on drawing. Minho didn’t move much. I would constantly ask him if he was okay or if he needed a break but each time he said no and to continue on.

Dropping the colored pencil, I stretch my arms. “Okay, I’m done.”

Minho starts moving his neck and shoulders around in relief, “How does it look? Obviously not as good as the real thing, right?”

I chuckle taking another full look at the realistic drawing, “I mean it’s not too bad. I am a little rusty after all.”

I hand him the drawing for him to judge. His eyes widen along with a smile, “Is this what you call rusty? It’s amazing. It makes me want to kiss myself.”

I crack my knuckles, “I guess I still got it.”

After cleaning up the art supplies, I invite Minho up to my apartment for a drink since he had to sit still for so long. The sun was beginning to set outside but I didn’t really want to let Minho go just yet. I’d let him into my heart where there was a lot of grief that I’m afraid once he leaves that’s it.

I look at him for a moment and begin to think what kind of things he’s been holding back that he might not have the courage to talk about. The discussion with Key begins to pop in mind. I wonder what his story is.

“Minho,” he hums in response, “can I ask you something?”

He puts his glass down, “Sure, what is it?”

“Last year, you lost the championship. People say that you loss the fight on purpose, is that true?” He looks at me for a moment without answering that I begin to regret asking him so suddenly.

His eyes shift down to his hands as he sighs, “Yes, I did.”

“But why? You worked so hard to get that far. How could you throw it away like that?”

He raises his gaze to meet mine, “My parent’s own a restaurant. They were about to lose it. At the time, I was just a rookie and I had no sponsors yet. I didn’t have the money to help them. I couldn’t let their dream get taken away because they supported mine for so long. I had to do something. At the time, I was friends with a guy, or so I thought I knew him as one, but what I didn’t know was that he was into betting and other things to make money. He came up with the idea.”

“That idea involved you losing your championship. Minho, you could’ve gotten sponsors after the win.”

He nods, “I couldn’t wait for them to come. I needed the money right then and there. I make it to the finals and have everyone bet on me. We bet on the other guy and split the money. I’m not proud for doing it but it was for my parents and I would do it again if I had to.”

I reach over to take his hand, “I don’t blame you. If I had to choose to give up art completely to have my parents back I would do it.” I was in awe of his choices but he did it for his family and for that I can’t judge him so harshly.

I take my glass over to the sink. I’m about to turn around when Minho’s arm embrace me from behind.

“You’re the first person to not make me feel guilty about it.” He whispers in my ear.

I turn to face him. He has somewhat of a sad smile on his face as he looks at me. I can tell that he’s been burying the incident while trying to rebuild himself all over again. It hasn’t been easy for him which is probably why he’s had such a snobby attitude when I first met him.

I pull him into my embrace. The feelings were almost like us being released from our worries and guilt about ourselves.

His hold tightens before slightly pulling away. I became disappointed of the distance until his mouth immediately covers mine for a hungry kiss. His lips are just as soft as I remember the first time we kissed. This time I wasn’t going to pull away because I’m sure of what I want without fear of anything.

The kiss was never ending as our breathing became heavier. Minho’s body began to press further against mine causing a moan to release from my mouth as the counter kept us firmly against each other. My hands slid up from his neck to run through his hair while the other found its way into the collar of his shirt to feel his toned shoulder blades.

I begin to feel the spark in my core igniting as Minho’s strong hands touched the nape of my neck while the other hand was slowly finding the bottom of my blouse. Once his fingers grazed the skin under my shirt, it sent a satisfying chill between my legs.

I started to feel like Minho was being extremely careful with his next approach that I begin to get impatient of what’s to come next. In order for him to know that I’m sure about this, I reach down to the bottom of his sweatshirt to pull it up. Minho breaks the kiss to get the sweatshirt over his head. I bite my lip once I get the chance to admire his lean body.

“What? Did you think my training was just for show?”

Making eye contact, he smirks before wrapping an arm around my waist to lift me onto the edge of the sink. I nearly fall back when Minho grabs me by the waistline of my jeans to pull me closer to his bulge.

In response, I pull my blouse over my head, “Are you trying to show off right now?”

Minho chuckles before bringing his lips back onto mine where they didn’t stay for very long. His mouth travels down my neck. He’d kisses, suck, and even bite on every inch of my skin as he made his way down towards my breasts. His hands slid up my back until he found the clip on my bra. Just as quickly as he found it, he was even quicker to undo and slide my bra off my shoulders.

Feeling the sensation in between my legs slowly growing, I push Minho’s chest to get some space as I jump off the edge of the sink, “Not that I’m not having a good time but my butt’s going numb on this counter.” He laughs as I take him by the hand to lead him towards my bedroom.

Halfway there, Minho’s arms wrap around my bare abdomen and his lips continued to leave behind wet kisses along with his teeth biting at the skin of my shoulders and neck. My hands had a plan of their own as I struggle to undo his pants backwards. It gave Minho the idea to do the same as his travel down to unzip my jeans followed by his hands finding their way into the waistline to slid them down.

Reaching the bed, Minho whispers in my ear, “Bend over.”

I instantly obey placing my hands on the edge of the bed as Minho slides my jeans, along with my underwear, down my legs. Stepping out of them, I begin to feel shy at the vulnerable state I was now in.

Tossing my clothes aside, Minho’s hand starts gliding up my legs until he reached my thighs. He stands over me when his fingers slowly traces towards my inner thighs. Ultimately reaching my folds. His lips leave kisses up my spine until the heat of Minho’s body touches my back.

His hand continues to explore between my legs, “Minho...” I try to beg for him but my mind ends up going blank at his touch.

He shushes me, “I know. I have to be sure you’re ready for me.”

Before I could come up with something to say, his fingers slides up and down my slit until pushing past my folds. I gasp from the sudden intrusion and end up squeezing down on his fingers. He groans in my ear before removing his fingers, leaving an empty feeling.

Minho turns me back to face him where his lips find mine again. This kiss felt more needy like he didn’t think it would last so he wanted to savor the taste.

“Lie down.” He orders. I’m barely able to speak at this point from how much his touch is causing my brain to go blank with little to no response from it.

Minho followed as he crawls over me. Reaching down between us, I slide his pants down his thighs as he takes over to remove the rest down his legs until he manages to get them completely off.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He runs his hands through his hair as he buries his head in my shoulder, “I don’t have a condom on me.”

I chuckle at the disappointment on his face. I reach over into the bedside table drawer where I kept a pack of condoms that Key had given me for my birthday in hopes that I would get laid this year. I never figured they’d actually come in handy.

I hand him the condom as he tilts his head in curiosity. I wave him off, “Don’t ask.”

After wrapping his erection, he leans over me with his length teasing my entrance. Minho combs the loose strands away from my face as his eyes bore into mine before pushing his hips further against my thighs. The tip of his penis slowly pushes past my folds causing me to groan from the lustful feeling. My walls welcomed and squeezed him which caused Minho to take a breath before moving anymore. It isn’t until he begins to move at a steady pace that I grip at his skin for support.

I press my knees against his hips to pull him deeper into me each time he thrusts. Goosebumps formed when his low groans would sound in my ear. It felt as though each time he sunk into me I was going to fall a part.

Once he begins to change the speed, I found myself having a tight hold on his shoulder to pull his body closer to mine. My moans got louder once I started to match his rhythm, hitting the sweet spot that’s deep down in my core. The pleasure in my body continued to rise to a point where I felt that knot in my stomach begin to tighten. We stayed in sync up until that spring in my core released leaving my leg feeling like jelly.

Minho’s lips traveled up and down my jaw as his hand strokes my hair. Our breathing was the only sound in the room. We stayed like that for a long moment until the grogginess began to take over.

I open my eyes to see nothing but a dark room. There was a slight shift in movement as the warm feeling that was covering my body starts to move away. Instinctively, I reach for the feeling to keep it close by.

I hear a chuckle, “It’s okay.” The warmth returns to pull me in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

MINHO

Y/N slept in my arms so naturally. I stayed awake continuing to replay the night over and over again until sleep finally caught up to me. I tried to change my position away from her body but her arms reached out to pull be back. I couldn’t help but smile at how cute she reacted. I never wanted to leave her side.

The bright sun woke me up to the morning. Trying to adjust to the brightness of the room, I feel this ticklish sensation on my stomach.

“If you keep moving I’m gonna mess up.” I rub the tiredness from my eyes to find Y/N sitting on my hips, painting on my torso.

“What are you doing?”

She smirks, “I was just checking to see if these paints still work.”

“By using them on me?”

“I don’t have any canvases to paint on. Your abs were the only thing hard enough.”

I stretch my arms over my head, “Give me a minute. Something else will get hard for you to use to paint on.”

She laughs but it doesn’t stop her from painting. “I hope you don’t mind me wearing your sweatshirt.”

It’s not until she mentions it that I notice that she’s wearing my shirt with the sleeves rolled up, “Not at all. It’s only a hundred thousand dollar shirt.” Her face falls and I chuckle from the reaction, “I’m kidding.”

She sighs, “I already owe you those sunglasses. My debt is about to be worth more than this apartment.”

I watch Y/N continue her painting. I look down to see what exactly she was painting. It was an ocean view of a sunset. She finishes lining the ocean ripples with the brush around my belly button.

“You're like a female version of Bob Ross.”

“There’s no mistakes, only happy accidents.” She smiles as she places the brush and the tray of paint on the bedside table.

I sit up but she instantly pushes me down, “Are we not done?”

“No, you have to sit still until the paint dries or it’ll smudge.” She leans down to give me a teasing kiss on the lips.

I bite my lip at the sight of her cleavage showing from the oversized sweatshirt. Sighing, I look up at her, “Do you know how hard it is for me to wait with you hovering over me?”

She laughs, dropping her head on my shoulder. “Fine. Since you’re so impatient.” Her lips glide across my cheek as she kisses my jaw, “I’ll make the process go by faster.”

With a playful grin on her face, she begins to lower her head towards my chest and blows on the damp paint to dry. She continues to do this until she reaches the end of the paint where she placed a towel over my waist area to keep the paint from landing in the sensitive areas.

I groan in frustration, “You’re really doing this to me right now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to dry the paint.” Her hands begin to press against my thighs as she start to pull the towel further down my legs.

Suddenly, her cell phone starts to ring from the kitchen. She groans as she looks at the time then her expression changes.

She sits up, “No one calls me this early.”

“It’s probably Taemin checking in. He seemed really worried about you.”

“No, I already talked to him before I met up with you. The only other person that would call me this early would be Key and he only does that when something’s wrong.”

Y/N gets up from the bed and disappears to where the ringing was coming from. In the meantime, I continue to admire her artwork in detail.

All of sudden, I hear my phone vibrate from my pants. Carefully, I get up from the bed to pull out my phone from the back pocket. There’s a missed call from Hyun-Ki along with a text message. I guess he’s finally chosen to take my offer. I open the message. My hand clenches the phone in anger.

The text message read, “I think we should renegotiate.” Attached to the text was a photo of Y/N leaving the cafe.

Y/N

I reach my phone before the call could go to voicemail. I begin to have this unsettling feeling when I saw that it was in fact Key calling. He knew that I wasn’t going to come in today so something isn’t right.

I answer, “Key, what’s up?”

He was breathing loudly, “Y/N, I-I don’t know what happened!”

“Key, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“I came in like I normally do and it was like this.” He was frantic in explaining the problem that I can barely understand where he was getting at with the call.

“Okay, you’re not making sense. Are you hungover again?”

“Y/N!” He calls my name with a much serious tone that I rarely hear from him, “Something’s happened to the cafe!”

[Eight]

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

Text

doctor, doctor (give me the news)

A short expansion off this post. Just know that their first meeting definitely went exactly the way I wrote it there. And my first stab at Al’s POV. I feel like he’d be much crotchetier in this scenario, but he’s a softy, too, right?

read on ao3

As far as Al was concerned, there wasn’t a single reason for him to stay in the hospital a minute longer. He’d had his surgery, knew which medicines he needed to take and how often to change his bandages and even which parts of his new diet were going to make him the most irritable; surely that meant he could go home and convalesce in peace.

Not even getting sponge baths from the pretty nurses was enough to make him want to stay.

Unfortunately, his daughters and his doctors were of a different mind.

“Dad, you’re healing from open heart surgery, not a cold,” Natalie had pointed out after she caught him trying to pack his bag to leave. “You need to rest.”

The fact that he’d had to sit down and catch his breath not even halfway through was certainly a point in his daughter’s favor. Not that he would ever admit it.

So, in the hospital he stayed.

On the plus side, and he really could not stress how very few pluses there were to this situation, Al did get front row seats to the performance art that was Mike Lawson struggling for the first time in a long time to impress a woman.

And what a woman.

Dr. Ginny Baker was, if Al had ever been petitioned for his opinion on the subject—the fact that he wasn’t now, nor had he ever been, solicited for this kind of advice was a matter of some ruffled pride—exactly the kind of woman he’d pick for Mike. She was smart as a whip and warm and funny to boot. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty easy on the eyes, either. Maybe she was a bit on the young side, but she’d already worked her way through medical school to land a coveted cardiothoracic surgery internship at San Diego Memorial. As the proud father of a surgeon, Al knew exactly how hard that was. If Dr. Baker was mature enough to handle all that, she could certainly take on Mike Lawson.

Not, however, that she seemed to have much interest in that.

(Whenever he got particularly bored during the day, which was often, Al took great pleasure in recalling the dumbfounded look on Mike’s face turning to grudging intrigue after his first altercation with the doc. He hadn’t seen anyone put Mike Lawson in his place so efficiently in what felt like a decade, and never someone who looked the way Ginny Baker did.

That he’d then gotten to witness firsthand Lawson’s intrigue turn to curiosity to interest to respect just spoke to how long Al had been stuck in this goddamn hospital.)

Honestly, it was good for the kid. He’d been getting too big for his britches lately, with all the carousing and hound dogging. Yeah, the divorce was rough on him, but Mike wasn’t made for all this casual nonsense. The boy didn’t do casual, though he’d done an okay job of pretending lately. It’d be a nice check to his ego if Mike had to work a little for something for once.

And he was definitely putting in the work. After making daily visits for the past week and a half, coincidentally always right around the time Dr. Baker made her rounds, Mike was finally beginning to make progress.

It probably helped that he’d given up on needling the poor doctor into lashing out at him just for a little bit of her attention. She was generally too cool a customer for that, having treated Mike, and the observing Al, to a seemingly endless supply of barbed zingers nearly every time he’d tried.

(”I don’t believe you actually have a license to practice medicine.” Mike had declared once as Dr. Baker went over Al’s chart.

It was only a few days after their first meeting, if Al remembered correctly. Mike was still raring for a fight, arms crossed over his chest, chin jutted out in challenge. Clearly, the man had been waiting to strike while she was unaware. But given the way his catcher’s eyes roved over her form as she flipped through pages, Al thought he was maybe hoping for a more favorable outcome this time around. Al managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close call. What was so wrong with behaving like an adult around a pretty woman?

“This isn’t some Doogie Howser situation, is it?”

Dr. Baker hadn’t even bothered to level him with a withering stare the way she had at their first meeting. Instead, she just continued reading and absently replied, “I don’t see what’s so unbelievable about it. If you can still get paid to play ball at your age, I can be a doctor at mine.”

Then, without missing a beat, she’d turned to her patient, said, “Your vitals are looking good, Mr. Luongo. I’ll see you for evening rounds,” and walked out the door, leaving Mike stunned for the second, but certainly not last, time.

Al hadn’t laughed so hard in a good, long while. They’d had to check and make sure he hadn’t burst any of his stitches.)

Since then, things had gotten better. Then again, they couldn’t have gotten much worse, could they?

It was all much to Al’s approval.

Not that Lawson ever specifically asked for it. In fact, Mike was very careful not to mention Dr. Baker at all to his manager. He just continued to show up every day, like his timing was purely coincidental and he hadn’t sweet talked one of the nurses into giving him the good doctor’s schedule.

(Mike wasn’t the only one who could charm information out of nurses. That Louise sure did love to gossip.)

Well, if Al had to wait for any of his guys to ask for approval of their personal lives, he’d go to his grave before any of them managed to pull their heads outta their asses. No one ever said ballplayers were the most emotionally open guys in the world.

So, yes, things had gotten better, but that didn’t mean it was a painless process. In fits and starts, Mike had stopped acting like a little boy tugging on pigtails in the schoolyard and begun to act like an actual gentleman. Some of Mike’s first attempts at honest pleasantries, did not, it was safe to say, go over well. But it wasn’t as if the boy didn’t deserve it.

Dr. Baker’d been rightfully suspicious the first time Mike said something conciliatory, shuffling self-consciously under Al’s reproving stare. Her bewildered gaze had bounced between Al and Mike, looking for some sign of mischief. Although there’d been none to be found, that exam had gone quickly, the doctor beating a hasty retreat and leaving the two men in bemused silence.

Luckily, Lawson hadn’t been deterred, and Dr. Baker was a pretty quick study. Once it became clear Mike was determined to show off only his best side, she adjusted easily enough. She hadn’t given up on her zingers altogether, but Mike started laughing at them rather than sulking and could rally back without sounding like quite such an ass.

Slowly, a tentative alliance formed. Together, Dr. Baker and Mike were pretty successful in bullying Al into taking it easy where his daughters and grandchildren so often failed. It would be a hell of an inconvenience if Al weren’t so satisfied at being proved right. They made a pretty good team.

But it seemed like they’d stalled out at that single-issue alliance.

Which didn’t mean Al was about to put his nose where it didn’t belong. For his part, he mostly stayed out of it, even if the one thing keeping him entertained was starting to get pretty stale. It was far less interesting to watch two people gang up on him while pretending they weren’t sneaking as many glances at the other as they could without getting caught.

If these two stubborn idiots kept moving at this snail’s pace, Al might expire of old age before anything came of it.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Al Luongo may not ever be the best manager in MLB, but he hadn’t gotten this far in baseball without knowing and catering to his strengths. He was wily and never underestimated the value of patience.

Even so, every day he had to watch his catcher flirt ineffectually with his doctor, that patience was wearing thinner and thinner.

Which was where his wiles came into play.

If the two of them weren’t willing to see what he did—and act on it for God’s sake!—then Al would make them.

He was still waiting for the perfect setup—why was it suddenly so much harder to concoct a strategy when it was only two people on the field? shouldn’t fewer moving parts make it easier?—when Mike blew into his private room, a little later than usual. Dr. Baker had already arrived for her daily check in.

(Al knew he hadn’t imagined the flash of disappointment on her face when she came in and Mike wasn’t there and was privately thrilled by it. It was nice to have a little confirmation that his plans were based in reality and not just figments of his bored and overeager imagination.)

Since the boy brought a bag from the sandwich shop across the road with him, though, Al forgave him immediately. There was only so much hospital food a man could eat.

The doc’s shoulders smoothed out under her white lab coat when Mike flashed a boyish grin her way. Al had a feeling he wasn’t the only one forgiving the man his late arrival.

As the good doctor began to check over Al’s chart—which she’d delayed doing before Mike showed up, dawdling like she was giving herself a better chance of seeing him today—Mike set up lunch on the rolling table. Though he was sure there was no reuben, and certainly no BLT, waiting for him, the smell of fresh baked bread was more than enough to soothe Al’s disappointment. He answered Dr. Baker’s questions, the same ones she’d asked for weeks, with uncommon good humor.

In no time at all, Mike finished laying out the spread.

Well, nearly finished.

One last item came out of the bag.

Grape soda? What the hell is he doing with that?

Thankfully, Al didn’t have to wait long for answers.

“Oh, here ya go, doc,” Mike said, like it was an after thought. Al was immediately on high alert. Even if this wasn’t the opening he’d been planning for, it’d make for some great intel. Without an office full of scouts, he had to do his own information gathering. It wasn’t often Mike gave him the chance to steal his signs, but the man was an open book right now. His ears were tinged pink, focus trained conspicuously anywhere that wasn’t Ginny Baker.

The boy was nervous as all get out.

Doctor Baker took the bright purple can with an absent thanks, though her attention was still focused on Al’s chart. It wasn’t until she’d popped the tab and taken a sip that she blinked and looked at the drink in her hand. Her bewildered gaze turned to Mike, who was still doing his best to look nonchalant.

“How did you know this is my favorite?”

“I didn’t,” Mike protested, pinking up even more. It was his ears that were the giveaway. “The guy at the deli talked me out of getting a Coke when he found out it was for you. Looks like someone’s a regular.”

Unfortunately, Dr. Baker didn’t have the same experience as Al did in reading Mike. She didn’t realize that the kid was lying through his teeth; he absolutely knew her preferred beverage. Had probably spent a not inconsiderable amount of time sleuthing it out in order to keep the nurses from gossiping.

And Ginny would ever know. She simply looked charmed beyond belief.

“Well,” she said, smiling a little shyly, her pretty dimples popping, “thank you anyway. I missed my lunch, so this hits the spot.”

“Aw, doc, why’d you go and do that for?” groaned Al. Dr. Baker turned her attention back to him sheepishly before offering him a winning grin. Al didn’t give in, just frowned in disappointment. He’d raised enough girls to know when he was being played. “Didn’t you just tell me a proper diet is the foundation of a healthy lifestyle?”

Since she’d said exactly that, and on several occasions, the poor girl couldn’t very well say she hadn’t. Al’s heart may’ve been shot, but his ears were not. He still had a mind like a steel trap.

A steel trap that had just been sprung.

“Mike, take the lady to the cafeteria and make sure she gets something to eat.” When it looked like they both wanted to protest, Al held up his hands and cut them off. “Go on,” he urged, “I promise I won’t have gone belly up by the time you get back."

“Al,” Mike groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. Even the doc frowned at him, and she usually at least gave his gallows humor a pity laugh.

“Lawson,” he returned, perfectly willing to play the disapproving, grumpy old man to get his way. It was the role he was born to play, after all. “I can’t have my doctor fainting from hunger on me. The longer you stand there with your thumb up your ass—pardon my French, doc—the longer I have to wait for my check up. Since I’m not gettin’ any younger, you should really get a move on.”

They looked torn for all of two seconds before Dr. Baker ventured, “He has a point.”

Mike narrowed his eyes at his manager for a second longer, as if he was trying to figure out the play. Stupid boy, it was obvious! Take the pretty girl to lunch and do it quick. Women like Ginny Baker didn’t just wait around forever.

“I guess he does,” he finally agreed, turning to the lady in question. All at once, the suspicion on his face melted away, leaving behind something awfully close to tenderness. Then, in a stage whisper, “And if we don’t humor him now, who knows how he’ll make us pay later.”

Al rolled his eyes, but the delighted giggle that came from his surgeon did not escape his notice. Neither did the way Mike grinned, light and carefree, as they walked out the door. And the way they bumped shoulders, but didn’t pull apart? He’d have to be blind not to see that.

Well, good. All the signs were there. The conditions were just right. So, he’d put the live ball in the field. It was up to them to make the play, now.

Good thing Al always had faith in his team. Even if it took them a little longer than he’d like to execute.

Well pleased with himself, Al settled back against his pillows and gazed around his domain. Hey, he was stuck here until his daughters and doctors decided to release him, he might as well think of this place a little fondly. His eye caught on spread of food on the table, just waiting to be eaten.

Unlike him, though, it wouldn’t be left waiting long.

(Not that Al minded. Or wanted to know what Dr. Baker and Michael got up to in the entire hour and a half they were gone. Or why they came back and Mike’s flannel was buttoned unevenly.)

As he bit into his sandwich—Mike never said the meatball sub wasn’t his—Al sighed in contentment.

A just reward for a job well done.

#bawson #bawson fic #bawson au night #Pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #i'm the least qualified person to be #writing about medical professionals #yet here i am #that's actually just true of any au i write #i have a very limited skill set #if you want me to write about #camp counselors or receptionists or bakers #or insomniacs #that's my expertise wheelhouse #i am admittedly generally okay with baseball

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halothenthehorns · 4 years

Text

AT FLOURISH AND BLOTTS

Harry began reading eagerly, he loved his time at the Burrow, he knew that without remembering anything that happened, but now he was getting to hear about his time there, which would be fun

and help reinforce those memories.

Harry quickly found that life at the Burrow was the complete opposite of Privet Drive.

"Probably fainted from the shock of watching a real family," James said bitterly.

The Dursleys liked everything perfect and in place;

"Boring old gits," Sirius huffed.

while the Weasleys house burst with the random and strange. Harry got quite a shock his first morning there when he glanced in a mirror, and it told him to tuck in his shirt.

Lily giggled at the look of shock on Harry's face as he read that.

There was a ghoul that lived in the attic who would randomly clang on the pipes, and random explosions coming from Fred and George's room were deemed perfectly normal.

"Wonder what they're up to," Remus said eagerly.

"Nothing good," James assured him.

What Harry found the most odd though, was that everyone at Ron's house liked him.

All four of them winced at that, hating that Harry seemed to find this so odd.

"Do you find that odd here?" Lily asked, wondering if she was going to burst into tears if Harry said yes.

He hesitated for a long time, but when it seemed they weren't going to let the subject go, he said, "At first, yes. After a while though, I got used to it. I'm really comfortable here now. Just took me a day I guess."

"I'll take that," James said brightly, really they were lucky Harry even liked them so quickly. All he had were twelve years' worth of memories of his family hating him.

Mrs. Weasley made sure to feed him extra helpings at every meal and fussed over the state of his clothes.

"Bless her," Lily sighed.

Mr. Weasley often insisted Harry sat next to him at dinner so that he could ask him all sorts of things about muggle objects, like how telephones worked.

"It was kind of difficult too, since I wasn't always sure, but he loved whatever answer I gave him," Harry said, smiling.

Whatever answer Harry gave, he would always receive a 'fascinating' from Mr. Weasley as he exclaimed how Muggles had managed to get on without magic.

"Agreed," The other two purebloods said.

About a week after he'd arrived Harry and Ron had come down to breakfast to find Ginny already present, and the moment she caught sight of Harry, she accidentally knocked a bowl onto the floor.

"Poor thing," James said in sympathy, knowing the feeling of having that kind of crush.

"Bet she did that a lot," Sirius laughed.

"Just when I first walked in," Harry said, blushing a bit.

Harry pretended he hadn't noticed as Ginny ducked down for the bowl,

"Nicer than Lily was," Remus said, grinning fondly over at her. "She'd just laugh at James whenever he did that."

James huffed and Lily had the decency to look embarrassed.

as Harry sat down and took an offered piece of toast as Mrs. Weasley announced their letters, passing them out.

"How did Hogwarts know I was there?" Harry asked.

"The ink is magically addressed, remember? The letter always goes to the person, not the house," Remus reminded him.

"Even after first year?" Harry asked, sounding pleased.

"Every year," Sirius agreed.

Harry cracked his open to find the standard letter of when and where the train to school would depart, plus a new list of textbooks he'd need this year. The first on the list was entitled Break with a Banshee, by Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Clearly he wrote more than the one book," Lily said in shock.

"'Break with a Banshee?' That doesn't sound like a study of Banshees, more like a fable," Remus said in surprise.

"They're all like that," Harry told them, reading down the list.

"How many are there?" James asked in disbelief.

In lieu of an answer, Harry read the rest.

There were several more like it, also including such titles as Travels with Trolls, by Gilderoy Lockhart,

"How many are there?" Sirius repeated James question, sounding skeptical, when it seemed Harry was going to keep going.

"Three more," He said without looking up.

and Wanderings with Werewolves, by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Remus couldn't help but snort at the title, along with his two friends who really had wandered with a werewolf. It wasn't exactly a stroll in the park.

Once Harry had finished reading his own list,

"There are seven of them!" Lily exclaimed with incredulity.

"Who requires seven books for one class, 'cause they've got to all be from the same teacher?" James balked.

"I don't think I'm going to like this new DADA teacher," Remus said dubiously. Harry had said that Quirrell had been a bad teacher last year, now this one was using what were clearly fantasy books, how long until Harry actually started learning in a very important class?

"Can't be worse than the first one," Lily said, "and let's not judge. Maybe the books have some real information and uses in them, and the teacher's going to pick them out."

"There are better textbooks for that," Remus disagreed.

"Let's just get on with it," Sirius said, when the two were clearly going to start arguing over the fact.

Harry read on gratefully.

he looked around to find Fred and George had joined, and had the exact same list.

"All seven years are going to be using the same texts?" James demanded of nothing.

"This isn't very encouraging at all," Sirius agreed with disgust.

George speculated that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was probably a fan of Lockhart's, most likely a witch.

"That would be ridiculous," Lily spluttered. "Dumbledore wouldn't simply hire a fan of a fantasy writer for the job. I'm sure there must be a good reason for this."

Harry thought it was nice his mum had such faith in the teacher this year, but privately thought it was wrong. He decided to keep that to himself though.

Fred was still frowning down at his list as he pointed out to his parents that this lot of books wouldn't be cheap, Lockhart was known for his expensive books.

"Yet another reason this is annoying the crap out of me," Remus said with distaste.

"Maybe some of the siblings could share," Lily offered weakly, feeling bad for this poor family. "Since they're all in the same house, I'm sure they could swap books in between days or

something."

Harry sighed, feeling suddenly guilty for the huge pile of money he knew he had stored away.

Mrs. Weasley tried to brush it off, saying they would manage, and probably get a lot of Ginny's things second-hand.

"Oh," Lily said, finally distracted from this new teacher mess. "Well she's not nearly as young as I was thinking then, if she's starting school."

"Just her fangirl side made her seem that way I suppose," James chuckled.

Harry politely turned to Ginny and repeated that she was starting school this year, but she was clearly still too embarrassed to say anything out loud so nodded and instead put her elbow in the butter dish. Nobody noticed this as Percy made his appearance, his prefect badge pinned to his already pressed sweater.

Sirius scoffed, "he wears that during the summer?" he asked mockingly.

"He's a bit of a show off," James agreed.

He went to take his seat, but lept out of the chair at once when he realized he'd sat on Errol. The owl was fairly old, with dark grey feathers and prone to falling asleep in random places.

"Ron wasn't kidding about his owl being old," Lily said in sympathy.

Ron quickly took the owl, and the letter he was holding, explaining to the others that he'd written to Hermione about them planning rescuing Harry from the Dursleys and this should be her response.

"I love that he uses the word rescue," James said with glee.

Ron set Errol on his perch and tore open the letter, and began reading aloud first Hermione's greeting, then her saying that she hoped everything went alright and that she really hoped Ron hadn't done anything illegal to get Harry, because that would get Harry in trouble too.

"Well we know who she's looking out for," Lily giggled.

She also wrote that she did hope Harry was okay, she'd been worried about not hearing from him to. She was very busy with school work, and Ron cut himself off to exclaim in disgust that how could she be, they were on vacation.

"You mean he doesn't do his summer homework?" Remus asked.

"I never did until the last minute," Sirius laughed.

She offered to meet them in Diagon Alley the next Wednesday. Mrs. Weasley agreed that would be a good time to go, and excused all of the boys who decided to go out back and play a pickup game of Quidditch.

"And here I thought The Burrow couldn't get any better!" James said with glee.

They didn't play with real balls, but instead tossed apples around while flying in the air. Harry's own broom was by far the best, managing to outstrip Ron's old Shooting Star which was often passed by butterflies.

"Poor kid," Sirius said in sympathy.

They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them,

"Well at least they're trying to be friendly to him," Lily approved.

but he had said he was busy.

"And Percy's not making an effort at all," James snorted.

So far Harry had only seen Percy at meal times, otherwise he stayed shut up in his room. Fred pointed out that this was rather odd, as his OWL results had come in and he'd gotten twelve, but hadn't been bragging a bit.

"That's supposed to be a good thing," Lily pointed out.

"But if it's out of character for him, then I guess it is odd," Remus disagreed.

"How did he get twelve though," James pointed out with a frown. "There's no way you could have attended all of those classes to get that, a lot of them happen at the same time."

"I'm sure his brother was just exaggerating," Sirius rolled his eyes, "unless he payed to take the extra exams over the summer."

"Sounds exactly like the extra something Percy would do," Harry couldn't help but agree.

Harry looked rather confused, and George explained that OWL's were Ordinary Wizarding Level exams,

Sirius grimaced, realizing Harry hadn't asked about that this time, again, and really wished he could get it through his head it was okay to interrupt and ask those questions.

then he went on to say that their other brother Bill had gotten twelve as well, and if this kept going, Percy was likely to make Head Boy.

"I wouldn't be surprised one bit," James said with a shrug.

Harry had never met Bill, or Charlie, both Weasleys having gone out to work abroad. George had kept talking though, worrying how their parents were going to afford all of those new books, plus all of Ginny's new school things. Harry felt awkward at this turn of the conversation and kept his mouth shut. He personally had a Gringotts vault full of a fortune his parents had left him,

'At least we could leave him something' both parents thought sadly, Lily feeling worst of all. That money belonged to James side of the family mostly, as did Harry's cloak. Lily hadn't been able to leave him anything.

but it was only Wizard money. You couldn't use their currency in muggle shops.

"You can exchange it for Muggle money though," Lily told him. "Didn't Hagrid tell you that?"

"No," Harry said, thinking back and wondering if he'd ever figured that out.

Harry had never mentioned this vault to the Dursleys, fearing they may have some way to take it away from him.

"Thank Merlin for keeping that quiet," Remus said. "I really don't need another reason to want them dead."

The narrative time jumped to the upcoming Wednesday when they were all due to go to Diagon Alley, and Mrs. Weasley was having them all take up a pinch of green powder. Harry however just stared, unsure what he was supposed to be doing.

"Guess they didn't realize you don't know how to use Floo Powder," Sirius said sadly.

Ron realized Harry didn't know how to travel by Floo Powder, and Mr. Weasley eagerly asked how Harry had gotten there last year? When Harry said he used the underground, Mr. Weasley tried to ask if there were escapators there,

"I think he meant escalators," Lily said fondly.

"Easy enough mistake," Sirius agreed.

but Mrs. Weasley told him he could ask about that later and then kindly explained to Harry what he had to do. Traveling by fire was quite simple, all he had to do was step into the fireplace, drop the powder and declare where he wanted to go. She let the twins go first as examples, and they both vanished as green flames came up to encircle them.

Harry felt rather stunned you could travel by fire of all things, but found this no more odd than anything else magical he'd heard so far.

The rest of the Weasleys continued giving Harry advice as he stepped into the fire, and Mr. Weasley told his wife to quit fussing as he made to go next.

"Oh I would fuss," Lily disagreed. "I'd hate to think you wound up somewhere you shouldn't be."

"I'm with Arthur," James disagreed, "don't stress the kid out with too much information. Tell him what he needs to do, then let him do it."

Lily huffed, still disagreeing, but more eager to hear Harry's first experience.

Mrs. Weasley worried that, if something happened to Harry, what would the Weasleys say to Harry's aunt and uncle?

"They wouldn't mind," Sirius said bitterly.

Harry promised the Dursleys would probably get a laugh if they found out Harry had gotten lost.

"Wish they thought you weren't kidding," Remus sighed.

The Weasleys continued giving Harry all sorts of advice about what he should do once he gets in the fireplace, most of them speaking at once,

"Jeez, I'm agreeing with James now," Remus said, "I think they kind of overwhelmed him" he was eyeing Harry, who looked a little cross-eyed trying to keep all that in mind.

as Harry finally took his turn stepping into the warm green flames, he dropped his soot and coughed in shock as he stuttered out Diagon Alley.

"Well that's not good," James said tensely.

"Yeah, I stuttered like that once, wound up in some old abandoned shop," Remus said. "Took me ages to figure out where I was, and how to get back to Diagon Alley."

Lily looked a little panicked, but Harry just looked relieved he wasn't the only person who had messed up his first time. Lily misinterpreted that expression, and so she thought he must not have any bad feelings about where he wound up.

Harry was sucked away in a whirl of colour, and started feeling sick as everything flew past him to fast.

"Oh dear," Sirius said, looking a bit anxious now as well. "I think Arthur should have just gone with him."

"Could two people go together?" Lily asked, never having seen that.

"It's not recommended," James said. "But a lot of parents do it with small children. Harry should have been small enough at the time he could have."

"Well no one thought of it," Harry said with a shrug, "and I don't think I wound up in too bad of a place."

"By that, you mean you didn't wind up where you were supposed to," Lily muttered.

He finally slammed back down in a dusty old shop, breaking his glasses as he face planted the ground. He got unsteadily to his feet,

"Great," all four of them muttered, not very happy at this confirmation.

glancing around he saw all sorts of creepy things, including an assortment of human bones lying on the counter.

"Harry needs to get out of there," Sirius said, going paler by the second. "Now."

"Why?" The rest of them asked anxiously. This was clearly not a shop in Diagon Alley, but Sirius' response seemed a little worse than called for.

"Because the only people who shop in a place like that, we don't want Harry meeting" He responded, eyeing his pup warily.

"Do you know which store specifically, you know where he is?" Lily asked.

"Not exactly, but I've got a few ideas," he said grimly.

Harry looked around at them all, then sighed and just kept reading, curious himself where he was.

When Harry glanced out the window, he couldn't even spot anything familiar from Diagon Alley outside.

"Guessed that," Remus muttered darkly.

Harry was still going to head for the door and try his luck anyways, when he spotted someone fixing to come in through the window, Draco Malfoy.

"Bloody hell!" James yelped. "The only worse person it could be was...no that's about it. That was the worst person who could walk in right then."

Harry nodded in agreement, knowing he wasn't going to like the person who came in with Malfoy any better.

Looking around in a panic, Harry spotted a black cabinet and dived inside, not really closing the door behind him as he now crouched inside,

"Smart kid," Remus praised. "I'd rather you hide than run into them right then."

Sirius had a rather bad feeling about Harry going anywhere near an item in a shop like that, let alone in one, but he decided it was still better than Harry alone running into Malfoy, and, he

suddenly realized, who ever had accompanied him there.

Not a second later a bell rang and Malfoy entered, closely followed by someone who could only be his father.

"Bloody hell," James repeated, as all four adults groaned, they had feared this, but now it was confirmed. What could be worse than Harry, lost and alone, running into someone who was most

likely a Death Eater? One of the worst ones, at that, right in Voldemort's inner circle!

"Harry, I really want to know where you have gained all of this awful luck from! It seems like if it can't get any worse for you, it will still somehow get worse than that!" Sirius groaned, his face in his hands.

Harry couldn't help but agree, wondering how it could get worse, and knowing it just might.

Malfoy began wondering the shop at once with curiosity, but Mr. Malfoy called out to him not to touch anything. Malfoy whined that his father had said he was going to buy him a present, and Mr. Malfoy corrected the he said he was going to buy his a racing broom.

"Like that little prat could ever make the Quidditch team," Sirius snorted.

Harry pursed his lips, unwilling to admit that he had a feeling about that as well.

Malfoy grumbled that was the point, he wasn't on the house team. Harry Potter had gotten on in his first year, with special permission and a special broom.

"Jealous much?" James smirked.

"I'm sure every student in the school was jealous of that," Lily agreed.

Going on to say he wasn't even that good,

"Not that good?" Sirius scoffed in disbelief. "Ignoring the horrible sides of the two games he played last year, what's more impressive? Staying on a bucking broom your very first game, or

breaking the record for the fastest Snitch catch in his next one?"

"Both," Remus decided. "Both are equally impressive, and more than merit Harry's place on the team."

muttering that he just got it because he was famous for having a stupid scar,

"Wish I wasn't," Harry muttered under his breath, he'd give anything to not be famous.

and snarling that everyone at school that Harry Potter was just the best.

"Jeez, I don't think Snape even whined this much," James scoffed.

"Severus never whined," Lily snapped. "He cursed you lot to high heaven, but he didn't whine."

All three boys exchanged a look, annoyed she was still defending him, but after last year, not willing to argue the point.

Mr. Malfoy finally cut off his son's tirade, snapping that Malfoy had been complaining like this all summer, then he turned his attention to the shop owner who had just entered, Mr. Borgin.

"Oh bollocks," Sirius groaned again, this time looking truly upset and pushing his hands against his eyes.

"What?" Lily gasped.

"I've got good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?" He asked, without looking up.

"The good news," Lily said at the same time James said, "The bad news."

Sirius snorted and said, "He's in Knockturn Alley at a store called Borgin and Burke's."

"What was the good news?" Lily demanded.

"The good news was I know where he is," Sirius said, finally looking up and forcing a cheerful smile on his face. "He's not too far from Diagon Alley, but he's in one of my Dad's favourite

shops."

"I think I heard the good news in that," Remus said slowly, eyeing both Harry and Sirius warily. "As long as Harry hides long enough, then he can get out without being seen."

"But he doesn't know how to get back to Diagon Alley," Lily disagreed, still worrying her lip. "He could still get lost, even if he is close by."

"I make it back fine," Harry reassured them, noting that both of his parents kept getting tenser the longer this went on. "I run into someone else there. I think it's a good someone though."

"Who's the good someone down there?" James asked in concern, wanting to believe Harry, but knowing very well that if Harry ran into anyone down there, it probably wouldn't be good.

"Let's just read," Harry said patiently. "I'm sure it's going to be fine."

He greeted Mr. Malfoy with a professional air, saying he was always happy to see them, and offered a new item he'd just gotten in. Mr. Malfoy cut him off, saying that he was selling today and offering a list of items, making Mr. Borgin's attitude drop a bit.

"That's business," Lily said shortly.

Mr. Malfoy mentioned that the Ministry had been performing raids, and it would be inconvenient for him if someone happened to find certain items on this list.

"Very curious to know about this," James said, eyes gleaming. If he could put Moody on to this now, eleven years before Malfoy would have even been expecting it, he would prove to the Head

Auror for sure that he was serious about this career.

Mr. Borgin pointed out that the Ministry wouldn't dare go after Mr. Malfoy's home, and Malfoy agreed he hadn't been visited yet, as his name did still hold power,

"In all the wrong ways," Sirius spat bitterly.

but it would still be better to do this now before they meddle. He went on by saying that a Muggle Protection Act was being started, insulting Mr. Weasley colourfully for being behind it.

Harry tensed up in disgust as he read this, along with everyone else in the room.

"Arthur Weasley is worth twelve of you," James snapped, then he and Harry shared a smile at this old joke.

Harry felt himself tense up in anger as he heard this, but obviously couldn't say anything as Mr. Malfoy kept going by saying that a certain few poisons on this list might appear- he trailed off suggestively.

"I can only imagine," Lily muttered, her eyes lighting as well "and Harry, if you can, I'd like to hear more about this Muggle Protection Act. It seems like something I'd like to help him with."

Harry shrugged, "I didn't know too much about it, but I'm sure you can talk to Mr. Weasley about it now. Something like that must be in the works years before it's at this stage."

Lily nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Draco was clearly not paying any attention to the adults, wandering around the store and stopping to look at the different objects, coming to rest on what looked like a rotting hand on a cushion. When he demanded to know what it was, Mr. Borgin was happy to go to his side and explain that was a Hand of Glory.

"Creepy thing," Sirius shuddered in disgust.

If you put a light in its palm, only the person holding it would be able to see. It was of fantastic use for thieves, and then praised Mr. Malfoy for his son's fine taste.

"Not really," Remus muttered.

Mr. Malfoy snapped that he hoped his son would amount to more than a common thief,

James couldn't help but snort, unwilling to admit that was a good comeback.

and Mr. Borgin quickly retracted, apologizing and saying he'd meant no offense. Mr. Malfoy continued coldly that if Draco's grades didn't pick up, that may be all he was good for though.

"Here's hoping," Sirius said cheerfully. "Then Harry won't have anything to do with him."

Draco tried to defend himself by saying that the teachers played favourite, how they all prefered Hermione Granger.

"Don't start hating on a genius when I doubt you've ever cracked open a book," Lily said hotly.

Mr. Malfoy shot back with spite that he was insulted a girl of no wizarding history had beat out his son in every exam.

"Why does he even know the exam results?" James asked.

"Bribed someone probably," Remus said in disgust.

Harry laughed with glee under his breath while Mr. Borgin agreed, saying how wizard blood was counting for less everywhere.

"It should never have been counted at all," James said through gritted teeth.

Mr. Malfoy agreed, and then said that he'd like to get back to his list, as he was in a hurry.

"Children to terrify, Death Eaters to visit, busy schedule," Sirius agreed, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The two adults went back to haggling while Draco continued prowling around the shop, taking a special interest in a necklace laced with opals, the sign in front of it stating that it was cursed and had claimed the lives of Nineteen Muggles.

"Guess a cursed necklace would be pretty inconspicuous," Lily agreed sadly, thinking that Harry's odd look was for the act of the object, not realizing he was trying to understand why he may

vaguely recognize this thing later in life?

Just as Draco spotted the cabinet and began going towards it, hand outstretched as he clearly intended to open it, Mr. Malfoy declared they were done at the counter.

"Never thought I'd be thanking that man," Sirius sighed in relief.

The two Malfoys exited the shop, and Mr. Borgin dropped his professional manner to grumble under his breath how he was sure that Mr. Malfoy had far more dangerous things tucked away in his manor.

"Probably," James agreed darkly, wishing Harry had gotten just a hint of where those items were being kept.

He went back behind a door and out of sight again, and Harry took the opportunity to slip outside of the store for good.

"Good," Sirius breathed. "I didn't want Borgin catching you anymore than the Malfoys."

"Now I just want you out of Knockturn Alley," Lily agreed, shivering in disgust.

Holding his broken glasses to his face, Harry looked around with mounting unease as he continued to not recognize a thing. He headed off, still hoping for a sign or something to point him out of there,

"It didn't say which way you set off," Sirius said with worry, "remember which way you headed?"

Harry puzzled for a moment, before saying, "I'd gone left from the shop."

Sirius nodded, looking relieved and said, "okay, you started going the right way, got a few more turns and you'll be right back in Diagon Alley."

"Should I be worried you know that area so well?" Lily asked.

"I went there a lot as a kid," Sirius said with a shrug. "You should be grateful, I know exactly where Harry is, and could guide him out of there easily."

Lily nodded, agreeing with him, but unwilling to remind him right then that, no matter what Sirius said now, it wouldn't do Harry any good in the book.

He did spot a rickety sign saying that he was in Knockturn Alley, but this didn't help him at all as he'd never heard of the place.

"Something I'm both grateful for," James said sadly, "and vaguely upset about since now you've no idea where to go."

"Note to self, take Harry into the deep, dark, creepy places of the wizarding world, so that if ever he gets lost down there, he'll know where to go," Remus said, forcing a cheerful tone into his voice.

"On one condition," Lily snapped, "I want at least James or Sirius to go with you."

Remus nodded, understanding Lily's logic. She, a pretty public and well known Muggle Born, couldn't go down there with them, but James and Sirius, though blood traitors, still had a status

that was hard to ignore.

Harry speculated back and decided that he must not have spoken clearly back in the Weasleys fireplace. Forcing himself to remain calm, he continued looking around and trying to decide what to do, when a soft voice whispered behind him if he was lost.

"Not good, very not good," James started muttering, getting a little jittery again.

Harry jolted around to find an elder lady leering at him, holding a tray of what looked grotesquely like human fingernails.

"Ew," Lily muttered, crinkling up her nose in disdain, and hoping Harry's eyes were deceiving him.

"Why would she even have those?" Harry demanded in disgust.

"No good reason," Sirius muttered, thinking of a couple of dark and advanced magic that tended to require human body parts.

"I know that West Country accent," Lily said with glee. "That's Hagrid!"

"Thank Merlin," James breathed.

"What's Hagrid doing down there though?" Remus asked, unable to help a spike of confusion and wariness.

"Don't question it," Sirius smirked, "just thank Merlin."

"Did that," James said proudly all fear gone and joking manner back now that he was sure his son was fine.

Harry felt elated at once as he spotted the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, Hagrid. He was hardly uneasy to spot, being three times the size of a normal person with wild black hair but kind black eyes, which could currently be seen frowning behind his beard.

"I imagine he would be a bit angry," James said agreeably. "Harry hasn't written to him in months, then he runs into him at a place like that."

"Well, let's hope he lets Harry explain, rather than trying to give him a pig's tail!" Remus said, lips twitching.

Harry tried to explain himself, but Hagrid wasn't really listening as he pushed his way forward, grabbed the scruff of Harry's shirt, and steered him with practiced ease into the familiar light of Diagon Alley.

Though they had all been relieved once Harry had mentioned Hagrid, they couldn't help but be even more relieved that Harry was now back in familiar territory.

They stopped outside an apothecary, Hagrid's concern coming through as he noticed that Harry was a mess, and tried to use one of his shovel like hands to wipe away the mess, almost managing to knock Harry back into a barrel of dragon dung.

"That would cap off this perfect day," James said, trying not to laugh.

"I ducked," Harry chuckled.

Hagrid was still muttering to himself in concern, finding it rather dodgy that Harry had been creeping around Knockturn Alley,

"I can never thank Hagrid enough," Lily beamed, "he looks out for you so well."

Harry agreed he'd rather not have been there, then asked what Hagrid had been doing down there.

"Rude to ask like that, but I am curious," Lily agreed.

Hagrid explained himself by saying he was looking for Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent,

"Oh, suppose he doesn't want them eating up his garden," Remus nodded.

Lily mentally added this to her growing list of garden things.

but wouldn't stay deterred and asked what Harry had been doing down there. Harry properly explained his situation, and then Hagrid asked why Harry hadn't written to him all summer as they started walking the streets.

"He's going to love the answer to that," Sirius chuckled with hope that for once Harry would really say, and maybe something worse than a pig's tail would come of it.

Harry briefly explained that the Dursleys had locked him up, and while Hagrid began to grumble about those Muggles and if he'd have known, but was cut off by a voice calling out to Harry.

"Aw," James groaned, "I wanted to hear Hagrid threaten them some more."

"I wanted to hear about Hagrid doing more than threatening again," Remus muttered darkly.

It was Hermione, jogging forward to meet them. She greeted them both, then fixed Harry's glasses and began escorting them towards Gringotts. Harry said he'd meet her there once he found the Weasleys, and Hagrid pointed out they wouldn't have to look far, as he spotted all of them coming towards them now.

"Yeah, that would have been a scare for them," Lily agreed, not having come around to thinking about that yet. "They had no idea how far away you were."

They greeted Harry with clear relief, saying they had been really worried about how far away he'd gone. Hagrid told them where he'd ended up, and Ron was quick to say he was jealous because they'd never been allowed in.

"For good reason," Lily rolled her eyes.

"I talked Sirius into taking me down there one day," James said grimly. "Only went a few buildings in before my parents caught us, and we didn't try going back any time soon."

Hagrid agreed that this was definitely a good thing, as that was not the place to go looking around. Mrs. Weasley was now pulling out a duster and kindly wiping away the rest of the soot clinging to him that Hagrid hadn't managed to beat off.

Lily smiled sadly at the mothering her son was finally receiving, while all of the boys rolled their eyes at the same thing.

The Weasleys thanked Hagrid again for finding Harry, and then Hagrid excused himself, and Harry began filling in Ron and Hermione on what he'd seen in Knockturn Alley as they headed off towards Gringotts. Mr. Weasley overheard that Lucius Malfoy was there, and asked if he'd bought anything.

"Eavesdropping much?" Remus asked, lips twitching.

"I think he's allowed, since they were hardly whispering," Lily pointed out, "and right in front of him."

Harry told him no, just selling, and this pleased Mr. Weasley as he pointed out this must mean Lucius was worried about something. Mrs. Weasley cautioned her husband to be careful, as the Malfoys were trouble. Mr. Weasley got mildly offended, demanding to know if his wife really thought he couldn't handle Lucius,

"That's not what she meant," Lily sighed. "She was just telling him to be careful."

"But to put it in that way, and in front of all of his kids," James disagreed. "She could have been a little better at phrasing it."

Lily just snorted, thinking 'men are far too sensitive'.

but he quickly got distracted when he spotted Hermione's parents, who were muggles, and waiting with some unease to be introduced.

"That will make Arthur's day," Sirius said brightly.

Introductions were made, but then the Weasleys temporarily departed to go down to their and Harry's separate vaults.

Harry grimaced, suddenly wishing he hadn't found the Weasleys until after he'd been down to his vault, to avoid the scene he knew was about to happen.

Lily noticed the look and asked, "so, does that mean Hagrid handed you your key at some point? He had it last year."

"Oh, yeah," Harry agreed, only answering with half his attention. "He gave it back to me last year, in case I need to come on my own."

After a wild cart ride down into the lower bowels of Gringotts, they stopped at the Weasleys vault first, which was pretty close to empty. Mrs. Weasley reached inside and had to scrape around every corner, managing to empty to lot.

"Oh dear," all four adults murmured, even Remus wasn't that badly off. Then again, he wasn't feeding a huge family plus school supplies. Though, if he couldn't find a job soon, he would be.

The other three were trying to think of ways they could help wizarding families like this, while Harry simply wished the Weasleys would accept his offer to take at least half the money in his vault.

Harry felt even worse when they reached his own vault, trying to quickly shovel a random amount into his own bag so they wouldn't see his own wealth.

"Can see that being a problem," Lily agreed out loud.

They made it back outside and the group began splintering out, Mrs. Weasley making sure to tell Fred and George not to go near Knockturn Alley.

"She's such a killjoy," Sirius snorted, without really meaning it. Knockturn Alley could be dangerous, even to a pure blood, if they didn't know what they were doing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione began wandering the crowded shops, entering a few random places for fun, and at one point coming across a tiny old junk shop filled with half broken objects, including wands, to find Percy in the back reading a book.

"Why was he in there?" Lily asked, confused.

"And who would keep broken wands in their shop?" James snorted. "It's not like they're good for anything, or can be fixed."

"He was looking at a book, I guess he and his family went in there a lot to shop," Harry shrugged.

Ron read the title of Percy's book out loud, which was called Prefects Who Gained Power. Ron said that it sounded fascinating, and Percy told them go go away.

"Charming," James snorted.

"You know, he did assume Ron was being sarcastic," Remus said, frowning at this. "Ron really might have been trying to start a conversation with him."

"No," Harry said honestly, fighting back a smile. "Ron was being sarcastic."

They did indeed leave, Ron explaining to them that this brother was very ambitious, having dreams to be Minister of Magic one day.

"Well ambition can equal power if you do it right," Lily said sadly, "but please tell me someone told that boy that power goes to your head."

"Judging by his attitude," Sirius laughed. "I'm going with not. Since his parents praise him for it in fact, I'm going to outright say he doesn't think that one bit."

Lily shook her head sadly, knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

They continued there trail, coming across a common bookshop Flourish and Blotts, that happened to have a line out the door.

"Jeez, did the whole of Hogwarts decide to come on that day?" Remus laughed.

The reason being a large banner in the window declaring that Gilderoy Lockhart was inside, signing copies of his autobiography.

"Great, another book by him!" Sirius snorted. "Let's hope it doesn't get assigned as well."

Hermione squealed with pleasure, saying that he had written half of their booklist.

"Seems we've found another of his fans," James said, grinning.

"Hermione would squeal at meeting anyone who wrote a book," Sirius joked.

They crammed inside to find the rest of the Weasley's inside as well, Mrs. Weasley in particular looking rather anxious as she kept patting her hair down and assuring they'd get a glimpse of him in a moment.

"Why are they standing in line?" Lily asked. "Does Molly own a copy of Magical Me?"

"She might," Remus shrugged.

"No," Harry said, "all of Lockhart's other books were in the back where he was signing his autobiography. If we wanted those stupid books, we had to wait in line."

James gave Harry a puzzled look, wondering why his son's first instinct was to call them stupid, but said nothing.

Some people in front of them shuffled out of the way, and they did get a full view of Gilderoy Lockhart smiling widely at the crowd. A man was dancing around, holding a camera and snapping pictures like crazy, though clearly not paying attention to his surroundings as he stamped hard on Ron's foot and told him to get out of the way,

"Rude," All five of them sniffed in disdain.

he was taking pictures for the Daily Prophet.

"Was that supposed to impress me?" Sirius asked snootily, "because it didn't."

Ron snapped what was the big deal? Lockhart must have heard, because he looked that way, and his eyes landed on Harry. He got to his feet with a flourish, calling out grandly that it couldn't be, Harry Potter!

"Oh no," Remus groaned, along with everyone else in the room.

"It's going to be like that stupid Leaky Cauldron scene all over again," Lily agreed disdainfully.

"With any luck, one of the Weasleys will step in," Remus said hopefully, then he noticed how red Harry's face was getting, with remembered embarrassment, and he lost hope in that idea.

He dived forward, caught hold of Harry's arm, and eagerly pulled him to the front while the crowd muttered in excitement.

"Let go," James grumbled, much more irritable than he might normally have been. He just hated the idea of anyone forcing his son to do something he didn't want to do.

Lockhart began vigorously shaking Harry's hand, grinning so widely all of his teeth were showing as he told Harry to do the same, together the two of them were worth the front page.

"Again, is that supposed to be an impressive accomplishment?" Sirius scoffed.

When he did let go, Harry could hardly feel his hand as he tried to slide away, but Lockhart threw his arm on Harry's shoulder, still smiling wildly as he kept Harry at his side.

"Bloody prat," Sirius hissed, when would he leave the poor kid be?!

"If he doesn't move his arm, I'm thinking about adding him to the list," Remus said in disgust.

"You've got my vote," James agreed.

He began addressing the crowd, exclaiming what a marvellous event this was and the perfect time for him to make an announcement. When Harry had come into the shop today to buy his copy of Magical Me,

"Big headed bloody prat," Lily agreed.

giving Harry no chance to protest otherwise, he kept going on loudly how pleased he and everyone would be to hear that he would be taking up the post as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.

Harry paused, looking round at his family, but none of them really knew how to react to this.

"Well," Remus said slowly, "I suppose he is still better than Quirrell."

"His books may still hold some good content," Lily agreed cautiously. "So it will be good for them to get a teacher who knows a little about those magical creatures."

"I'm kind of ticked off the jerk set his own books on the list," Sirius snapped. "He's promoting his own sales."

"I don't like him just because of the way he's acting around Harry now," James snorted, "but I've got to agree, as much of an ass as he seems, he's still better than the last guy."

Harry simply shrugged, he had a bad feeling about Lockhart, but of course he couldn't really remember why.

The crowd cheered and applauded, and before Harry knew it he had the entire stack of Lockhart's books being thrusted into his arms by the man himself.

"How I was able to hold eight books that size and not fall over was beyond me," Harry mutter in disgust.

Harry finally managed to slide out of the spotlight and scuttled back to the Weasley's, and the first thing he did was dump the books into Ginny's cauldron, telling her she could have them, he'd buy his own set.

"I bet she wouldn't even take that as charity," Lily said proudly. "Since they were free too!"

"Yep," Harry agreed, "Mrs. Weasley thanked me for it all night, but I liked doing it."

A cold voice behind Harry drawled out that he was positive Potter enjoyed that attention.

"Hmm, now what twat do we know that calls Harry by his last name?" Sirius said in false puzzlement.

"Probably not a teacher, so most likely a student," Remus agreed, mock confused.

"Who do we know that's already been seen in Diagon Alley today, and loves mocking Harry?" James said, pretending to look stumped.

Harry was laughing at the lot of them, he would never get tired of watching these three men joke around.

Harry turned slowly on the spot to find himself facing Draco Malfoy.

"No way!" They all gasped, feigning surprise, sending both Harry and Lily into a real laughing fit.

Malfoy was still going, mocking that Harry couldn't even get into a bookstore without making the front page.

"You should see where he ends up when he goes into the Apothecary," Sirius agreed sarcastically. "I heard there's a new magazine out that writes whole articles about that!"

Ginny snapped that Malfoy needed to leave Harry alone. Harry looked at her in surprise, since this was the first time she'd spoken in front of Harry, and she was glaring hatefully at Malfoy.

"Well, she'll most likely end up in Gryffindor with her brothers," Lily said fondly.

Malfoy cackled that Harry had gotten himself a girlfriend, causing Ginny to blush to her roots as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both cradling their own stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Good projectiles for throwing at him," Remus offered.

Ron saw who Harry was talking to and scowled in disgust, and Malfoy began insulting him at once, mocking that his family would probably go hungry for months having to pay for all of those books.

All five of them went red in the face with anger. Malfoy insulted Ron enough last year with this bit. He clearly hadn't found any new material over the summer.

"Look on the bright side," Sirius said. "At least they're not in school. Malfoy can't go running to Snape to save him. Ron can get his well-deserved payback."

"They're still in public," Lily said, looking almost disappointed she had to point this out, "and around at least Ron's parents. There's no way he can get away with it."

"At this point I don't care about getting away with it," James huffed. "I just want to see someone hit him."

Ron dropped his books and looked ready to punch Malfoy in the face, but Harry and Hermione quickly stepped forward to grab him and stop him.

"Why?" James and Sirius whined.

"Because, like Mum said, we knew Ron couldn't get away with it," Harry said, mouth twitching to hide his own smile. "At least, that's why I did. I'm sure Hermione would have said something

more along the lines of 'fighting is wrong'."

"Oh I don't know," Lily said fairly. "Even Hermione has to lose her temper with this bug at some point."

Harry felt something flash through him for a moment at this, but it was gone as soon as it had come, and he just decided to keep reading.

Someone else called Ron's name, and it was Mr. Weasley making his way over with Fred and George in tow.

"Well damn," Remus muttered, "both backup, and a parent."

"I don't think Ron needed backup," James snickered. "I still remember the bloody nose from last year."

He told all of his kids they should be getting outside, it was too crowded, but he was

interrupted by Lucius Malfoy making his entrance.

"Double damn," Sirius winced. "Now we've got to put up with his arse."

He sneered at Mr. Weasley with an identical look on his own son, picking up one of Ginny's books and scoffing at how tattered it clearly was. He drawled that was the point of being such a disgrace if he wasn't even paid for it.

"Why that-!" Lily exclaimed, as they all burst out into their own verbal abuse, largely cursing the blond twat's existence. Harry, surprisingly, was the loudest. The Weasleys had treated him so

well, better than anyone else ever had in his life, and he couldn't stand the idea of anyone insulting them like that.

Harry now looked more livid than he had before during this entire time while reading, nothing made him angrier than insulting his friends, but he managed to read on, breathing heavily as he did so.

Arthur flushed with anger, only just managing to control his voice as he snapped back that he had a very different idea what disgraced a wizard.

"Good on ya!" James grinned.

Lucius was not impressed as his eyes traveled around, landing on Mr. and Mrs. Granger who were hovering nearby, saying that the company the Weasleys kept was disgraceful, and he'd thought their family couldn't sink any lower.

"Well we already know yours can't, so don't even start that mess," Sirius hissed.

That was all he could manage to get out though, as Ginny's cauldron was knocked to the side when Arthur slammed forward and knocked Lucius back,

All four of them went wide eyed, stunned into silence as they only hoped they were hearing Harry right.

knocking him into a bookshelf.

"Did he curse him?" Lily yelped.

"Even better," Harry cackled, reading on gleefully.

Books began clattering to the ground amongst cheers from Mr. Weasley's sons, and Molly crying out that Arthur should stop!

"They were wrestling?" Sirius demanded, looking as if Christmas had come early this year.

"Well, that sort of implies an equal give and take, really Mr. Weasley was just punching Lucius Malfoy in the face, who wasn't reacting very well, so I wouldn't exactly call it wrestling," Harry said, sharing a proud look with all of the boys.

Lily pursed her lips, knowing she would have been in Molly Weasley's shoes at the time, but privately thinking she would have liked to throw a punch or two herself.

Mayhem was beginning to brew as the rest of the crowd started trying to get away from the pair, the shop assistant was crying out for them to stop, but loudest of all was Hagrid coming forward, telling them to break it up.

"Aw!" The boys groaned.

"Sorry, but I'm rather glad," Lily shrugged, "Malfoy would have been getting his wits back about him soon, and we all know the kind of nasty spells a Death Eater would have sent at him," she

explained to their mildly offended look.

They still huffed, but decided this whole instance was a good payback for now.

He managed to pull Arthur and Lucius apart, Mr. Weasley was sporting a cut lip,

"Malfoy got a hit in?" James asked in surprise, he didn't seem the type to throw an actual punch.

"No," Harry shrugged, "a book did that."

"I'll take that," Sirius laughed.

and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools.

"Very hard, by Mr. Weasley," Harry added on, noting the book hadn't said that. "It looked like it was going to be a fantastic black eye!"

"Well I applaud him for the irony," Remus said, making as if he was going to start doing just that.

Sirius smacked him lightly though, so Harry could keep going.

Mr. Malfoy was livid as he thrust Ginny's book back towards her, snapping that she may as well take it back, as it was all her father could provide. Then he stalked out of the shop.

"Tail tucked between his legs," James cackled.

Hagrid was encouraging them all to leave now, telling Arthur he shouldn't have let Lucius get to him. The shopkeeper looked like he wanted to stop them, but one glance at Hagrid and he backed down.

"I'm sure he would have wanted someone to at least apologize for that," Lily agreed.

"Don't blame the chap for not stopping them though," Sirius snickered.

They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright,

"Why?" Remus asked in bewilderment. "You mean to tell me they've never seen a fight in their life?"

"Yeah," James agreed. "They were lucky only a few books got thrown around. Wands didn't even make an appearance."

"They are Muggle's," Lily defended. "It's fair to say that this was only their second time in a place like that. It would have been kind of scary for them to see this. They're probably wondering if brawling is commonplace amongst wizards."

All three boys just shrugged, they still didn't really get it.

and Molly was beside herself with fury as she ranted at her husband he was setting a horrible example for his kids,

"Standing up for yourself," James nodded sagely. "The best thing to teach your kids."

Lily rolled her eyes, that was not the point either of them wanted to make, but she didn't disagree with him either.

brawling like that in public, and what Gilderoy Lockhart must have thought of them. Fred had overheard as they were leaving though, the man asking the photographer if he'd gotten any pictures. Apparently their new teacher wanted to use the whole stunt for publicity.

"And my opinion of him just got a little higher," Sirius laughed.

"Really? Mine just went the other way," Remus snorted. "While I don't blame Arthur one bit for his actions, what idiot would want to say that was a publicity stunt?"

"Someone who spins their career however they can," Lily agreed with Remus.

It was a quiet group that made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, now loaded down with their days shopping. At the bar Mr. Weasley looked like he wanted to stick around and have a drink with the Grangers, but one glance at Molly and he seemed to deiced he'd do it some other time.

James made to laugh, caught Lily's eye, quickly stifled it, which caused an eruption of giggles from Remus and Sirius to occur.

Harry took off his glasses this time and tucked them away as he went forward for his turn with the Floo powder again, already deciding it wasn't his favourite way to travel.

"That's the end of the chapter," Harry said, tossing the book over to Remus.

"You didn't get lost again did you?" Lily asked concerned.

"No," Harry said with relief. "Ron told me earlier how to use it properly without panicking, and it helped that I knew where I was going to end up."

#Harry Potter #Fanfiction #The Life that never Lived #James Potter #Lily Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #complete

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mystic-messenger-writing · 7 years

Note

Hope you'll take up my request :D with RFA + Saeran + V's reaction when they swapped soul with MC (you know like Saeyoung swapping soul with MC and vice versa) for 24 hours. Thank you!!

Okay so I had a lot of fun with this request, it’s super creative! These were originally long, like wayyy too long so I cut them down a bit so let me know if they sound too choppy! Anyways, thank you for the awesome request and I hope that you enjoy!! ^^

Yoosung

Yoosung stretched his arms one morning as he was waking up, feeling slightly unusual

He shrugged and went to get out of bed until he felt something heavy on his chest

Yoosung shrieked as he saw a pair of breasts where his flat chest should of been and as he looked over the bed next to you, he saw, well himself

Being awoken by shaking, you rubbed your eyes to see yourself looking panicked but that didn’t make any sense, how were you looking at yourself like this?

“WE’VE SOMEHOW SWITCHED BODIES MC!!!” Yoosung yelled into your (well his) face as he started to hyperventilate

“Calm down Yoosung! We’ll figure this out together okay?” You tried reassuring your crazed boyfriend

“But I have an English exam today! How am I suppose to take it if I look like you?!” Yoosung resumed his panicking

You explained to him that you were good at English when you were in school so you’d take the exam for him

Since he didn’t have much of a choice, Yoosung agreed as he waited anxiously for you to return from his classes

Trying to distract himself, Yoosung stared down at your chest, wondering what breasts felt like and gave them a squeeze

“YOOSUNG KIM STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!” You screamed at him when you walked through the door, telling him that you finished his exam

Since it was late, the two of you decided to get some sleep and figure out a solution tomorrow

And when it came, you and Yoosung were back in your own bodies, both of you more then relieved to be back to your true forms as you both hugged each other

Although Yoosung would miss having boobies

Zen

Zen woke up one morning feeling a little different but shrugged it off as nerves for his opening night for his latest musical

But just as Zen was about to run his fingers through his long silver locks, he noticed that his hair felt different

Panicked, Zen turned to you sleeping in bed expect he saw himself instead

“This is a dream, this is just a dream. Calm down it’s just opening night nerves.” Zen tried to ease himself

But when you woke up, the two of you screamed, somehow your bodies had been switched

“What are we going to do MC?! Opening night is tonight and I can’t perform if I’m not me!” Zen cried out as his anxiety skyrocketed

“Listen it’s okay Zen, just teach me what I need to know. I know that I can sing since I have your voice. We can do this!” You encouraged your boyfriend

So you and Zen had a hardcore acting training session where Zen, in your body, taught you how to be him plus the lines for the musical

Thanks to your determination, opening night was a success as Zen cheered loudly for you

Opting to sleep the night away, you and Zen woke up the next day back in your own bodies as Zen hugged himself saying how much he missed his perfect body

Jaehee

One morning Jaehee got out of bed not feeling like herself and looked down to see a completely different cup size plus you pajamas on her

Jaehee quickly turned to your sleeping figure expect she wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at herself

“MC get up right now! I’m you and you’re me!” Jaehee yelled as she shook the shoulders of her own body

You woke up to find yourself staring at you, unable to find words to process what was going on

“Our bodies have been switched somehow MC! And I have to go to work, Mr. Han would never let me take a day off! What are we going to do?!”

You grabbed the shoulders of your body and told Jaehee to calm down

“It alright Jaehee, we’ll figure this out somehow but until then, I’ll go to work as you okay?”

As much as Jaehee wanted to argue with you she knew that this was the only way so on the drive there Jaehee explained what you needed to do

Although you almost failed a number of times, you managed to make it through the day as Jaehee without anyone noticing

You came home to a cup of coffee and Jaehee thanking you for going to work as her

With the both of you beat, you thought you’d figure things out tomorrow except you were both back to normal by morning

Jaehee gave you a hug saying how relieved she was while you told yourself to remind Jaehee more often how awesome of a worker she is

Jumin

Jumin woke up one morning instantly knowing that something was off

He was about to put one of his hands to rub his temples when he saw that his arms were shorter and his chest was bigger

Jumin’s eyes widened slightly as he looked down to see himself sleeping, he had somehow turned into you

“MC, get up right now. Something urgent has happened plus the way your laying is causing drool to get all over my satin pajamas.”

You woke up to see yourself staring at you, with wide eyes you started patting down to find that you were somehow put inside of Jumin’s body

“This isn’t good MC. I have a meeting today with multiple investors that I need to attend but I can’t since I’m you. What a mess we’re in.”

You saw yourself looking worried so you put a hand on your own body’s shoulder and reassured Jumin

“I can go to the meeting as you Jumin, just tell me what to do and I’ll make sure to impress the investors!”

So with Jumin’s training you managed to impress the investors and gain all of their support

The two of you were still confused but decided to go to bed and figure things out the next day but when you both woke up, everything was back to normal

You and Jumin were both relived with Jumin thanking you and taking the next week off from work to recover from all of this

Seven

Seven had woken up one morning, feeling more groggy and tired then usual

He reached over to put his glasses on but when they were on, they made his vision blurry

Seven looked down to you except he saw himself sleeping, pinching his cheeks but saw that he was somehow in your body

“MC! Wake up! Something strange has happened and it’s not my fault for once!” Seven yelled at his own body until you woke up

You woke up to see yourself looking panicked and that you became your boyfriend

“This isn’t good MC! I have to exchange a file to another agent in person, but I can’t go as you! What are we going to do?!” Seven exclaimed as he shook your shoulders

“Calm down Seven, I’ll just go as you. Tell me what to say and how to act, everything will be fine.” You said in Seven’s voice as you saw your own face soften as Seven calmed down

So Seven explained to you what to do and soon enough, he was watching you as him deliver the file to the other agent

Seven sighed in relief as you gave him a thumbs up, wearing his signature smile as he laughed in your voice

The two of you still didn’t know how you two switched bodies but you both decided to just sleep the night away and figure things out tomorrow

But when the two of you woke up, you were both back in your regular bodies, you and Seven a little upset that you couldn’t have had more fun as each other but Seven promised to try and make it happen again someday

V woke up one morning thinking a miracle had occurred, he could actually see clearly through his eyes

He turned to your sleeping figure to tell you the amazing news expect he was actually looking at himself instead

Confusion washed over V as he looked down to realize that he was somehow in your body and he assumed you were in his

“Erm, MC you need to wake up now something very… interesting has happened to us. What are we going to do?”

Waking up to see a blurry imagine of yourself was not the best way to wake up, you screamed to V that you couldn’t see but as he explained the situation, you calmed down

“MC, I have to attend that important art gallery today. What should we do dear?” V asked in a panicked voice

You told V to take a deep breath as the two of you tried to sort things out then an idea came to you

“V, why don’t I go to the art gallery as you! Just tell me about your exhibits and stay by my side for the night and we can pull this off.”

With a shaky breath, V agreed and the two of you went to the gallery with him helping guide you since you still weren’t sure how to maneuver as V

The night went smoothly and no one noticed that you were V and V was you

You and V still weren’t sure how to resolve he situation but by the next morning, the two of you were back in your correct bodies

V gave you a hug as you told him how relieved you were but he thought about how much he missed having vision and started seriously considering the eye surgery

Unknown

Saeran hated waking up in the morning and felt even worse then usual

He went to turn over in bed and cuddle with you except when Saeran opened his eyes, he saw himself sleeping

You woke up to see yourself screaming and as you looked at your hands, you saw the rough, calloused hands of Saeran

“What the hell is going on MC?! Why are you me and I’m you?! I-I don’t know what to do!”

You watched Saeran, as you, start to have a panic attack so you wrapped Saeran in a hug as you watched yourself cry

“It’s okay Saeran, we’re going to figure this out. For now let’s just calm down and get some ice cream!” You told him in reassuring voice

Seeing Saeran as yourself having a panic attack was strange but it didn’t matter, you were going to help Saeran even if he was you

You and Saeran spent the day indoors, trying to find ways to return to your normal selves

Watching Saeran as you shovel down scoop after scoop of ice cream made you giggle, which was something you’d never hear Saeran do if you weren’t in his body

By the end of the day, Saeran calmed down but neither of you had any idea how to fix the situation

So you and Saeran decided to sleep it off and think of some solution then next day - But you and Saeran woke up in your regular bodies with Saeran giving you a bone-crushing hug because of how happy he was

You however ended up having a stomachache because of all the ice cream Saeran ate when he was you so as an apology, Saeran spent the day taking care of you

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger Yoosung #mystic messenger Zen #mystic messenger Jaehee #mystic messenger Jumin #mystic messenger Seven #mystic messenger V #mystic messenger Unknown

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loughlinpatrick · 6 years

Text

I Took a Film From Script to Screen in Under Sixty Days. Here’s What I Learned.

Photo: Jakob Owens on Unsplash

If I’m honest, I don’t really know why I decided that making a five minute film in 2 months was doable, let alone something that I — a full-time high school student with exams and assignments coming up — should undertake.

To non-filmmakers (which was me until recently), that doesn’t sound like a lot. How long can shooting five minutes of footage really be, anyway? Now that I think about it, that was probably why I decided to make the film in the first place: ignorance toward the massive storm that was about to come my way.

Juggling school and this film proved to much harder than I originally anticipated, but through this baptism of fire, I learned two key lessons.

Lesson One: “Outwit, Outlast, Outplay.”

Making the film was extremely challenging, to say the least. “silhouette of five persons walking on hill” by Justin Medina on Unsplash

Throughout the filmmaking process, there was one constant: Australian Survivor. I followed the show religiously as the film progressed, and began to notice some similarities between the brutal blindsides on screen (Fenella deserved better!) and the production process of Purple Haze.

Every day was another blindside.

First, the camera that we planned to borrow was lost in transit (thanks, Amazon). Then, one of our actresses called in sick on one of our shooting days. Next, we didn’t have someone who could drive a car in one of our scenes (none of us had a licence yet). Every day was another blindside.

We could’ve let this tank our film and gone back to studying for our exams. Time was already very tight; the only day more than one of the people in our cast was available was on Saturdays, and the afternoons we had to film after school always went by in the blink of an eye. Plus, assignments were piling up.

But that’s not what we did.

Creativity doesn’t end when you finish penning the script for your film. On a good day, only half of what you organised will go to plan, and the rest needs to be fixed with creative thinking.

We ended up shooting the entirety of Purple Haze on my iPhone and iPad (in 4K, mind you), and making the most we could out of the few hours we had to shoot on Saturdays.

We adapted, and if you want to make a film, you should be prepared to do the same.

Lesson Two: Finished Film > No Film At All

I’m now in the 1% of creatives who follow through with their ideas! Will you take on the challenge? “person standing on top of mountain” by Oliver Schwendener on Unsplash

Throughout the editing process, I looked over the footage for the film with a critical eye, as one should. However, I quickly became obsessed with little details — tiny mistakes that couldn’t be fixed.

“This film is a travesty,” I thought.

Because I was making the film for a competition with a due date, I had to ignore all the little mistakes that could be fixed to focus on the bigger ones that could.

To make matters worse, we’d had two more ‘shooting Saturdays’ than originally planned, cutting down my editing time from two weeks to two days.

Your art is still art, warts and all, and its presence in the world is always better than it not being there at all.

When I submitted the film, I watched it back with a massive sense of disappointment. Because I’d watched the film hundreds of times during the editing process, I knew where all the mistakes and errors were, and it was eating me up inside.

That’s why I was so surprised when the friends I’d sent it to — people who usually criticise me mercilessly (it’s our dynamic, I swear) — started telling me how much they loved it. Because they were outside observers, they didn’t notice the little details I was so hung up on, and even thought some of them were intentional.

So, am I saying to ignore all of the mistakes in your work and not self-edit at all? Of course not! But your art is still art, warts and all, and its presence in the world is always better than it not being there at all.

How many people who I go to school with made films and put them on the internet for everyone to judge? I can only think of one. Putting yourself and your art out there is one of the bravest things you can do, and doing it already puts you into a special 1% of people. Isn’t that better than languishing in the 99% of artists who have ideas but don’t try?

I hope you got something out of this post, even if it’s just the motivation to embark on your filmmaking journey. I don’t have a newsletter to subscribe to, but I would appreciate if you watched the film that taught me all these lessons! You can see it below:

youtube

#filmmaking #creativity #motivation #inspiration #writing

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ikonislife · 7 years

Text

My Professor. (1/?)

-Hanbin x Reader (Professor!Hanbin)

-1 | 2 | 3 | 4

-It was universally known that friend with benefit between best friends would be a chaotic ride from the start till the heartbreak of either one or both party. No one says anything about being in one with your dear professor...

-What is this? I don’t know what this is... hahahaha 🙃🙃🤔😏 Read it and decide for yourself. (then maybe let me know what this is haha...Sigh, I need help.)

-Rated M for language, mention of sex (secretly rated B for bullshit 😏)

-S/O to @7n13bang for being MVP AF for requesting and read through 2 (soon 3) novel sized pieces of my shitty ass writing.

-M.List

Jolting awake from a sudden thunderous bang in the pin drop quietness of the lecture hall, you raise your head up angrily and stare up still in a daze. Your hands rub your eyes sluggishly to rid them of the leftover blurriness of sleep before trying your best to locate the source of the disturbance. Looking around the room, a few frustrating expressions pair with the scribbling sound of pencils on exam papers, you concluded that you had for once not slept pass the ending of the class. Finally, your eyes land on a boy 5 rows in front of you who’s nervously picking up his textbook, apologizing profusely to the 20 pairs of eyes glaring daggers his way.

Fucking Brian, always with his clumsiness.

A low grunt escapes your lips as you glare down toward the flustered boy nervously pushing his textbook underneath the ugly blue plastic chair of the rundown lecture hall with his foot. Now, normally you’re not so uptight that you’d be cussing someone out for an accident. It happens, especially during a high stress period like midterm week. However, what he did just now cost you one of the most amazing dream ever, or dirtiest... or maybe you need holy water kind of dream, depends on who’s talking.

Dozing off in class wasn’t a rare occurrent for you. Math has always been one of those subject that comes to you without much struggle which leaves plenty of time for day dreaming about nighttime activities. Actually, what is a rare occurrent would be you attending class. Sign up for a late class, your best friend had said, it’d be easier to get to class since you’re already awake, he said. No chance of being late to class from oversleeping. Well he was right about the not being late to class part. You can’t technically be late if you never bother with showing up to begin with. What a load of bullshit. If anything, the tiredness built upon itself and by 4 o’clock, your body physically give up. Regret welcomes you in its cold embrace every single time you drag your feet across the grossly worn out, stains filled carpet of the 100 years old math building. If it wasn’t regret, it’d be the constant stress to your poor heart every time it creaks from the settling cold of dusk. You wouldn’t be surprise to see it completely in ruined one of these day. Honestly, how is the building even in function still.

Having nothing better to do after finishing the exam early, you resorted to your usual activity during class time. As much as you enjoy the thrill of solving problems, sitting through a 2 hours lecture just isn’t your thing, even worse when there’s nothing to do after an exam. You lost count of how many people that had asked why you even bother showing up to class just to fall asleep 5 minutes into the lesson.

“Oh, they threaten me if i don’t start showing up to class, i’d get academic probation. Plus they say they’re considering kicking me off the cheer squad so you know, sleep here sleep at home… it’s the same shit.”

That was one of those lie you told so often it’s slowly becoming the truth. You could be strap onto a lie detector right now and neither will you sweat nor blink. What choice do you have but to deceive everyone. Plus, it’s not even that important of a lie, white lie even. If you told them the real reasons, probation would be the last thing you’d need to worry about. It’s not as if you can publicly declare your love for the hot professor. Actually, that in itself isn’t really the problem, 70%-99% of his students secretly mentally undress him during class anyways, boys and girls alike.

Seriously, who wouldn’t.

Being one of those genius kid that had everything figured out by the time they graduated high school, he’s barely even 4 years older than you with a Master and a Phd. under his belt with a fancy job at a prestigious university. Towering over most at nearly 6 ft, he pretty much stands out in any crowd. Even if his intimidating height doesn’t do its job, his impressive look will take care of the rest. Despite being a professor, he looks anything but with perfectly sculpted face, even better figure, and a fashion sense that shamed even models. He pretty much could be standing there reciting the phonebook and it’d somehow be interesting.

The problem itself is that you actually acted upon your desire when the opportunities arisen a few months back. Well, that opportunity wasn’t just a simple heat of the moment thing but rather months of intense push and pull, suppressing and wanting to unleash a fury of unimaginable desires on each other. But let’s leave that tale for a later date.

Staring up at the center of your deepest darkest secret, you muster up a sleepy smile when your eyes meet his. He had been busily grading away at his desk while simultaneously proctoring the exam before now, looking ravishingly stunning under the rare appearance of his oversized brown tortoise specs. A playful smirk rests upon your mouth without your knowledge, tongue breaching its barrier for a slow sensual meeting with the lower lip. He often wears contacts, only busting out the glasses whenever he knew he needed to get on your good side.

You’ve never meant for this little preference to be made known, much less to Hanbin. Late night spend in his office in reality is much less exhilarating than what one would anticipates of a willing single lady and an open available man lock in a room, wee hours of the darkness with nothing else but the quiet cricket of night as companions. He had been on the 3rd pile of paper scribbling away furiously with a few disappointing sigh. It had only been the first exam of the quarter and already, stress bestowed upon the poor professor. His brows furrowed in frustration of where could he have gone wrong that resulted in such detrimental way to the class learning curve. A soft “God” slipped through his lips like the most dainty of wind rushing through the leaves. Your heart ached for the young professor blaming himself for the lack of the class. Seconds of sympathy turned into minutes of absentmindedly staring at how his hair no longer holding its shape but rather flopping over in evident of a exhausted long day. Even with the guilt of not being able to do more to help him coursing through your blood vessels, you couldn’t stop the primal calling of the pooling heat in between your legs.

His svelte fingers rubbing his brows vexingly as his head twisted in discomfort. Judging from the amount of red blooming on the page, it had to be one of the stoner kid that’s even worse at showing up to class than you are. When he wasn’t nibbling gently on his knuckles, his teeth would be busy gnawing away at the redden abused lips, rolling and licking them to smithereens. You let your attention engulfed in the slight sheen on those high cheekbones, eyes lingering along the sharp jawline that had definitely had every girl in the department wishing they could trace them with their tongue. His jet black locks messily draped over the peeking undercut, no longer sinfully neat from the constant ruffle of his hand rummaging through in disappointment. A near moan-like sigh escaped your lips when his index effortlessly push the oversized pair of glasses up the bridge of his noise, tugging it gently by the end piece. Hanbin is undeniably handsome, that’s for sure. But God forbid how immorally good he looks with his specs on, playing into his part as a professor so damn well. Unknowingly, your legs less than inconspicuously crossed over themselves, clumsily rubbing hard knocking the underside of his desk a few times, begging for any sort of friction. All from the way his glasses framing his ethereal face so perfectly. You had been so lost within the mesmerizing view that you nearly lost your soul from the sudden rasp of his voice.

“Baby girl, what are you doing over there?” Checking in on you was something he had always done. Even grading get rough and tedious so you provide the right amount of distraction for a quick break.

“H-Homework...” You stuttered out in an almost incoherent mess, chest heaving, breaths steadily rising. Heart rapidly drumming against your ribcage out of shock.

“How’s that going?” He sighed, a slight smirk nestled itself on his lips.

“Uh-Uhm. Good!” You shamelessly stared at the busy man in front of you that was sparing you no glance. He continued with jotting down comments, circling mistakes.

“Are you working on art?”

“Huh? No. Physics.” For once, you wished for nothing more but for him to return to ignoring you, leave you to your day dream. You whimpered pathetically, losing command over all your senses.

“Judging from the way you’ve been absentmindedly doodling circles on your paper, I’d have guessed it’s a kindergarten art assignment for learning shapes. But hey! What do I know, right?” Not even one single second spared. He didn’t even look up while cooly making his observation. “Then again, I could be wrong. I think your legs are busy doing something else though.” His tone remained as calm as ever. As if he was just making a passing comments on how pretty the night sky was, not the fact that you were pleasuring yourself off the jaw-dropping sight of him hard working. “Or should I teach you some anatomy lesson right now. We’ll start with picking up your slacken jaws off the floor...” Finally, that haughty, mischievous expression graced itself on his features, his eyes glanced upward just enough to witness all the color disappeared from your skin.

“C-Can you blame me though? It’s late and I-we should be in bed by now” You somehow managed to still be the least bit sassy while throwing down your pen after the mortifying realization that he was right. Atop your free body diagram a jumble of scribbles and circles layered themselves in no particular order. Your hands immediately went to press down your awkward legs in hope of controlling your dampen core. You bit your cheek out of pure embarrassment, physically impossible to look his way. You must’ve looked so stupid drooling over him with your mouth gaped wide open while drawing random shit on your homework.

“Is that so? I did said you don’t need to keep me company when I grade exam. You can go home first...” Clearly amusing himself from watching you suffer, he quipped playfully.

“No... I’ll stay.” You insisted, wincing a bit from a particularly hard chomp against on your own lip.

“You’re way too distracted today. What is it? Is it because I’m ignoring you?” He halted his movement, right hand placed over his left matter of factly. You tried your best remaining still in your seat, eyes glancing around, sweating like a sinner in church.“Hmm, that’s not it. I’ve ignored you for weeks before when my folks came to town. I bet it’s not my clothes either. You’ve seen me in these slacks plenty of times...” You swallowed hard, fingers nervously tapping on your thigh. He eyed you up and down, inside out, left to right with an inquisitive note to his burning gaze.

“Ah...” Like the devil had just thrusted himself upon the man lost in thought in the mere microsecond it took you to blink. A wave of indiscernible mix of ego and arrogance submerged him in its toxic lake, darkening the light in his star filled eyes with lust. You felt lost gazing in those blown out pool of brown, feeling its seductive calling drawing you closer to losing yourself. You tried to resist but like a spell bound fool, you found yourself wandering further into his embrace.

The sudden shift in mood had you sinking into your seat as if it could somehow eject you out of the thick tension of the room that was overworking your lungs with harsh gasps. Curiosity burned away and contentment bursting out with life like a phoenix reborn from ashes, his eyes still following you closely, latching onto the way yours darted between the collar bones peek-a-booing beneath the unbuttoned collar of his disheveled button up and his face. An all too familiar grin spread across those plump hot lips of his, a smuggest of a smirk.

“So. My baby girl got a thing for glasses huh... Why didn’t you said so in the first place.” He leaned back into his chair, legs spread wide as if daring you to perch atop them. With a swift motion of his finger, you hopped out of your seat and straight to his side as if you just won the lottery.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about... What glasses?!” You stumbled a bit, catching yourself on the messy desk of his. A few brown rings of dried out coffee and the jumble of red mess on top of the paper he was amidst of working on sadden your elated heart. A sudden wave of clarity washed over your muddled mind, changing your goal of merely getting yourself off to something a bit more meaningful.

Pulling you to rest your ass on top of his thighs that was threatening to burst out of those well fitted slacks, he smashed his lips onto yours messily, conveying the neediness of a well deserve break. His fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of your side, grasping desperately. Hands tangled, tugging gently at his dark locks elicited low grunts to vibrate across the air. Hanbin looked even more divine up close but really, he had always been, glasses was just a bonus cherry on top that got you going harder than usual. You reciprocated with all the pent up passion from watching him for the past hour before smoothly slid off his lap, landing gently on your knee. Your fingers danced up his thighs, lips attaching themselves, sprinkling small kisses along the way that seemed to affect him greatly even through the pinstripe fabric of his pants.

“Babe, you don’t have to. We’d have more privacy for that later, just you kissing me is enough for now. Let’s just do that, huh.” His voice return to the kindness it usually possessed. He sat up straight, finger supporting your chin, lifting it up so he could get a better gaze upon your face.

“I want to... And you need it. Plus, it’s not like anyone else is around, Hanbin. It’s literally almost midnight, on Friday.” You whispered, almost in fear of someone eavesdropping from the other side of the walls despite the confident in your words. With a few nods, he leaned back, letting you have your way. Satisfied with the sight behold, you creeped your way up to undo his pants. With a playful smirk, you pulled out the throbbing member, aching to be touch. “You’re wonderful, you know that Hanbin? Don’t let a few bad exams define you as a professor.” You ended the sentence with a long sensual graze of your tongue from the base to the tip already wet with precum. He groaned impatiently, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the sudden overwhelming pleasure. You weren’t playing around and he knew it. There was no denying him of your touch, no playful teasing licks, your eyes were now just as dark as his letting known you meant business. “Those shitty kids that don’t bother to study will never get to experience the joy in watching you teach, learning the wonderful things you have to share, get a glimpse into that beautiful mind of yours.” Your voice dropping fast, barely even holding steady at this point. The sight of him in a melting mess from your ministration had got to be the best reward of all.

You knew of the insecurities drowning your professor, being so young and so inexperienced. Although his bright and cheerful facade tells otherwise, beneath all the confident is a crumbling mess of doubts that he’s even good enough to teach, if he’s even doing his job correctly. If only he could understand the joy you take in listening to him so passionately preach his skill. The way he glowed so brightly with a soft smile on his lips reciting the steps to correctly do a formal proof had you lost for words. By the 3rd lecture of the course, you knew this wasn’t just a job for him. It’s his joy, h life, his whole world.

With a long well prepared breath, you sunk your head fully down his length, feeling the firmness pressing tight against your throat. Tear rolling down your cheek but you didn’t dare close your eyes, forcing them to stay on his flickering one. You swallowed hard, feeling the twitches of joy emanating through your mouth, basking in the cusses and groans of a man losing his mind. You pulled away with a pop, clear drops stringing from the top of his dick to your lips as you smirk proudly watching his nearly closed eyes so burning on you. “Fuck them. You did an amazing job with all your lecture. You gave your all to the class, staying late even when you’re not legally obligated to. Tell me, who in this damn department got enough passion for the job that they’d spend all weekend running 5 different review session to prepare those ungrateful brats for the midterms rather than going out drinking with friends?” You clearly no longer abled to control your breathing as you growled so low you were sure it was inaudible. With a swirl of the tongue over the small slit atop his tip, you sent him sinking further into his throne, hands grasping so tightly on the armrests they’re sure to crack in half any second now. “Who? Tell me!” Removing all form of gratification to his elated body, you sternly questioned with your arms crossed, face backing as far away from him as possible, needing to hear him.

“M-Me. It’s me, no one else.” A ragged answer found itself satisfying your demented way of reassuring his ego.

“Damn right, it’s you.” Stealing the devilish smirk right off his face, you resumed gliding your small fingers over his length, earning a loud groan from the high returning to his tightening abs. “So don’t you dare even start with the ‘I’m not good enough for this job’. I can tell you right now, baby. You’re better than at least 4 of the other senior professors I’ve taken. Damn sure none of them cared enough to give us even a review guide let alone going the distant like you do. I don’t wanna hear none of that bullshit, got it?” Your pace increase as his legs could barely stayed still any longer. You forced yourself onto his lower body, elbows pinning down the jerky movements of his thighs. Mouth hovering, caressing the tip, you took the rest of his aching, twitching dick in your hand, pumping fast, occasionally grazing over his scrotum.

“Fuck, baby. S-stop... You gotta stop. I’m not gonna be able to hold back. Baby!” He grunted in desperation for relief or for you to stop, he couldn’t differentiated.

“NO! you let go of all your stress. It’s about you right now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll do this all night and more if it means you get the stupid thought out of that big genius brain of yours. You. Kim Hanbin. Is awesome.” From the low muttered cusses, you knew he was close. From the way his lengthy fingers grasping harshly on your hair to the point of pain, you knew he was going to let it all go just for you. With a few murmurs of your name, still in fear of lingering soul late at night hearing your intimate session, he let go, just like you asked him to. Your action never ceased, continuing on well past his breaking point. You reveled yourself in the way he squirmed so helplessly from his orgasm through the oversensitivity of coming down from heaven. Softness return and you finally let go of the man slicked with sweat, immobilized in his seat.

A lustful moan mingled with the leftover scent of the bashful scene that just happened caught you by surprise. You glanced up to see his face twisted up in pleasure watching you wiped the last bit of milky stain from your lips, licking it off your finger unknowingly turning the spent man on once again. Motioning for you to come close once more, he pulled you into a fervent kiss, no doubt basking in the pride of tasting him and him only on your tongue.

“How the hell do you look so innocent sitting there wiping cum off your lips. What the fuck, baby. I don’t get you.”

“You feel better though?” You murmured against his quivering lips, panting still from coming down.

“God, I’m lucky. Of course. Thank you so much.”

“Good, I did my job. Don’t you ever forget how amazing you are, okay? My admiration for you goes beyond physical attraction and I believe that’s the way it should be. Don’t you ever question your self worth. I’ll be really angry if you do.”

With a nuzzle into the crook of your neck, he let himself rest for a second, regaining his strength, a few quiet thank you reaching your ears.

“So this had got nothing to do with the specs I’m wearing?” The playfulness in his tone returned without much warning, scaring the butterflies in your stomach awake without much effort.

“Oh God...Please forget about that...” Red tinting your cheeks as your hands acted without being commanded to covering, pressing the heat rising away from your skin. He chuckled in amusement at just how easy you flipped from this sinful personality to blushing intensely while innocently resting on top of his lap.

Since then, he’s near impossible to say no to. Unstoppable that man is smugly under his damn glasses. He insisted the only reason he wears them was to avoid another spectacle like the one a few months back where he nearly went blind scratching his eyes while putting on contact in a rush that ultimately put him out of commission for a good week. But really, who does he thinks he’s fooling. You know his game too damn well to know it’s mere coincident he’s donning the cursed piece of accessory during exam day.

God know how long it’ll take him to grade the exam and one could only pray for the stress about to bestow upon the young professor. You, on the other hand, completely free of all obligation now that the exam had past. There was no homework for another week,it’s not as though you worry too much about the new material. Which means, your night completely open, wide open for the usual meeting.

Nodding lightly to let you know he noticed, he quickly goes back to moving his red pen as to not draw attention to whom he was staring at. Although by the subtle complacence dancing on his handsome features, you’d say he’d much rather continue this forbidden banter than staring at the messy proofs of vector spaces. Sadden by the sudden break of attention, you pout before resting your chin on your own table and watch as everyone else struggle. You can’t blame him for his coldness, it was necessary to keep your relationship going, whatever it may be.

Even though during your many times getting physical he’d casually slipped out a “You’re mine”, he had never really made it clear what he sees you as. From the beginning, you knew this was going to be the devil’s deal and nothing good would come from it. Well, lots of good things but that’s beside the point. It was a fuck up “love story” from the start and you were both just trying to make the best of a weird situation. Never once did he made a move on you despite on multiple occasions he said you hold a special place in his life for being able to understand him on so many levels. The amount of time you’ve had intellectual conversation with him was just as often as the times he fucked you practically on every single surface of his house that could support both of your concupiscence.

Often time one thing leads to the other. After a heated session of bodies crashing into each other, you’d be wrap up in his blanket with a cup of tea in hand deep in conversation about every corner of the universe. If anyone seen you two then, they wouldn’t suspect what sort of dirty unimaginable fleeting things were whispered just moments before. He couldn’t be anymore amazing: handsome, nice body, definitely know how to pleasure a girl. But the things that had gotten you strapped down, holding onto your dear life in this crazy ride in the first place had to be was the amazing personality, and that big brain of his. He possesses the vast wisdom of an old soul yet the eccentric knowledge and open-mindedness of the young folks. It was slowly becoming a pet peeve of yours to listen to mindless gossip about how hot he looks, smack the shit out of the girls that drone on and on about the ways. Why? You weren’t really sure, it just rubs you the wrong way. If only they know what kind of shit he’s into when the bedroom door shut.

Boredom driving away the slumber you long for, you let out a frustrating sigh earning dagger glares from quite a few folks. Whispering sorry, you look up to see him slyly pointing at his phone then you. Taking the hint, you reach into your pocket and get out your phone.

[8:31] Nerd👓: I know you hate being in my class but could you not disturb everyone else?

[8:32] Who was it that forced me into attending every session? 🤔 But sorry... I didn’t mean to ):

[8:32] Nerd👓: Bad girl don’t get what they want… We talked about this.

[8:32] 😳 I

[8:35] Nerd👓: 🙄

Bad girls don’t get what they want

That was becoming his favorite phrase these past recent days. You had accidentally let slipped your most shameful secret about a month back during one particularly stormy night while being entangled in his soft blanket. Forcing to keep each other warm with body heat and rhythmic movements, neither of you really minded that the central heating was completely out of service and wasn’t being fix for another week. Moans lost within the noise of the badgering storm outside, you completely forgotten about the tick of time that doesn’t stop for anyone until it was well past 1 AM. Being the gentleman he is, you driving home alone wasn’t an option with the darkening rain outside. You vetoed his suggestion of him driving you home since that would make for a very complicated situation. Not to mention the risks of him driving alone in the rain after a 15 hours day at school, exhausted was not one you were about to take. Then there was the issue of how would you retrieve your car the next morning in time for school. You couldn’t damn well as your roommate, who by the way has an intense crush on Hanbin, to drop you off at his house. When he offered to pick you up the next morning, a bigger problem presented itself. Nobody could see you two together in such a intimate manner. Being a broke ass college student, you share an apartment with 2 other girls. How was it that you made it home but your car didn’t.

“How did you get his home address? Why do you have a key and his security code. Oh and by the way, was that the hot professor dropping you off at wee hours of the night? Wait he’s picking you up tomorrow too? What’s going on?”

You remember yourself pacing back and forth enunciating everything sarcastically to make your point. He chuckled at the unraveling worry mess in front of him which pissed you off even more. None of this was funny, if you two get caught it’d be big trouble in paradise. Walking up the embodiment of stress in the middle of his living room, he pulled you into a big embrace calming your nerve almost instantly. Once you had calmed down, his hands traveled to cup your face tenderly. Pressing a haste kiss onto your cheek, his lips curled into a soothing smile.

“You’re overthinking it. Stay with me tonight.”

He never needed to do much to get you warp into this carefree pocket of life. Every time was like the first time being with him all over again. All your worries, all your caution went out the window the moment his soft lips meet yours. Scratch that, all your thoughts and senses also go out the window. Your arms immediately retreated back to their favorite position around his body, gently ghosting over the soft skin of his naked torso. At your consenting touch, he ran his hand through your hair pushing the kiss deeper. The other hand assumed its favorite resting place on your ass signaling the start of another storm of your own kind.

Knowing where this was heading, you hopped up quietly when his hands grabbed your thighs and pulled your body up. Walking back to his bedroom, he laid you down on the bed before gingerly crashing his whole body weight on top of you. Hanbin’s a very passionate lover - gentle and delicate with just the right touch of firmness. To him it wasn’t just casual sex but rather making love. He took time caressing every part of your body with either his hands or his mouth, letting you know in between touches how much he appreciate the moment. His touches were soft but by all mean straight to the point. Sliding his finger up and down your clothed slit, he whispered lovingly “you’re all mine” before another collision of lips happened. Arching your back in pleasure, your hands tried their best to get in contact with whatever skin they could find. God, how could someone skin be so smooth and velvety. Feeling the desperation in your touch, he sat up and let you worked on his pants. Pushing his hip up to help you slide away the piece of clothing that was getting more and more constricting as the seconds passed from his growing member, he slid off your pants and panties as a whole. A mischievous smile danced on his lips before his strong hand spread your legs wide open and his face hovered in between. He wasted no time in making out with your hot core. Tongue ravaging your sweet cave, his eyes focused intensely on your hands that was now shoving inside your shirt to reach his 2nd favorite part of your body, first being your eyes. Your hands tugged your lust filled nipples to further the gratification that’s radiating from your clit. Clearly enjoying the show, the contact from his kisses get sloppier and quicker as your moan amplified. Breaking away for a moment, he let out a very rare firm demand for you to remove your shirt. It was an unusual thing for him to do since if he wants it, he’ll get it done himself. It’s almost like you don’t have to lift a hand, just respond to his touch is enough. Slightly turn on by the commnad, you flung your shirt off at the speed of light and he resumed his activity. Gentle Hanbin is your favorite but something about the rare split second where it almost seemed like a his hidden, rougher and harsher self slipped through the crack his carefully well maintained controlled one that turn you on like nothing else in this world. The need for release increased and your hand caressed through his hair, pushing his face in even further. In response, 2 fingers were shoved inside your messy core suddenly causing you to hiss while his tongue still having fun on your clit. A third finger caused a sensory overload on your body and what came out next forever changed your entire dynamic. A sudden aggression filled his movement making you cried in utter pure lust.

- “Shit, that feels so good daddy. Please, Hanbin...Harder”

The second the desperate pleading left your mouth, both your hands flew toward your face, hiding it in embarrassment and your eyes jerked open. He was clearly caught of guard as all contact on your body ceased, doe eyes staring down at you in a rush of debating whether he had heard correctly. Scared that you might have driven him off, your fingers parted slightly so you can take a peak at your lover. What you thought would be shock on his face were actually a mix a devilish smirk and something you never thought you’d see from him, cockiness. Confused by his expression, your hands dropped away from your face and you stared in awe. It was like you had just seen the 8th wonder of the world. Out of nowhere, his thumb went back to kneading your clit gently while he moved in closer. Startled from the sudden touch, you jerked your body upward but his hand firmly on your chest pushed your body back onto the bed, hovering dangerously close to your throat. A dark cloud of lust took over his gentle eyes while the weird mix of expression still lingered. Finally he spoke.

- “Oh, baby girl… you really shouldn’t have said that. Do you even realize what you did just now by calling me that?

You shaked your head hesitantly while your hand felt up his perfect abs. Even though his finger was still working on your core, it was nothing compare to the waves of pleasure from a moment ago. His free hand grabbed yours and slid it up across his chest then back down. He placed your hand on his hard glistened with precum dick and motioned for you to continue rubbing. Eyes still gazing deep into your soul, his lips curl into a grin.

- “Do you know how hard daddy had to try and hold back because I thought I’d scare you off? That I might hurt your little fragile self?”

- “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted me to… If I had known….”

- “Well, no matter. Just know, you just did a very, very bad thing. Are you sure your body can take whatever daddy wants?” His voice sultrily tickled your bare skin, raising all your hair on their ends.

- “Yes.”

- “Yes, what?” He grunted, voice dropping to the depth of the deep sea as displeasure curled his lips into almost a snarl.

His fingers pinched your clit causing you to yelp out in surprise. Fulling understanding he’s no longer playing around, you complied to his every request thinking to yourself maybe that slip up might not be so bad after all.

- “Yes, daddy” you squeaked out timidly, putting up the best innocent eyes you could mustered up under such corrupted situation, fearful of being deny pleasure.

He bent down and pressed a hot kiss to your forehead, momentarily went back to his usual soft spoken self to make sure you were really okay with everything. Pulling his lips onto yours, you murmured a yes onto his lips before he harshly pulled away. You had dreamt so many time about calling him daddy but never once thought he’d be the type of guy that’s into such kink. Although your sex was nothing close to being vanilla, he was so gentle and loving, not a mean bone in his body. Who would’ve thought he’d play into the role so perfectly. Disappointed in the lack of contact, you pouted and he just simply smirked at the new found power.

- “Maybe if you beg hard enough, daddy will do whatever you want.

That marked first day you officially stay overnight and the day everything changes. After that night, an accident turned into a routine. A routine lead to many more discussion about each others’ sexual limits, pushing boundaries and setting new ground. Even with the new dominant side, he would always make sure you were okay with things before acting upon his desires.

Glaring back up after reading his text, you spot your beloved professor with a smirk on his lips while penning away at the stack of exams. You were never one to back off from a fight despite letting him dominate over you most of the time. If he really want to play this game, so can you.

[8:33] I’m sorry daddy… I just wanted your attention. I got sad cause you barely even looked at me ): I just had the most amazing wet dream about you before i got woken up. I just want daddy’s hands all over me.

The moment the little check mark indicate ‘read’, his face went pale and cold from the shock that’s crashes down on him like a tsunami while you’re sitting there glaring in stone cold arrogant. Hand still clutching his phone tightly, his head immediately snaps toward your direction with the most dumbstruck with terror expression on it. You tease him even further by putting on the best doe eyes pouty face you could. You were never brave enough to do anything like this so publicly, you know better than to risk getting caught. However today, seeing how you carefully chose to sit in the very last row in the very corner seat next to the wall, what’s the harm. That meant no one could see what you were doing from behind and luck was on your side, you had the whole entire row to yourself as everyone else chose seats up close to the board. Not even a minute later your phone buzz in excitement.

[8:33] Nerd👓: Baby girl, what do you think you’re doing? You know better than this… Don’t make me angry.

[8:34] But Dadddyyyyy… I’m bored. I finished my exam already. Can’t you cancel the class and play with me? Look how wet I am for you…

You pull up the hem of your skirt slightly to reveal the dampen underwear before spreading your legs and inconspicuously snap a photo under the table. Praise the heaven no one is sitting within 5 ft radius of you. You can see his hand hesitate for a moment before letting out a sigh and opening up your text. He knows all too well a picture message from you could be nothing but trouble. His fingers furiously type a reply before going back to grading. If his expression was stone cold before, it was now stiffening to a slight shade of fury as his eyebrows furrow and nose scrunches up a bit.

[8:35] Nerd👓: You need to stop this instant. I’m serious, stop playing around. What did I say about texting me dirty things in class?

[8:35] You’re so boring. I was gonna tell you about my dream and all the things I want you to do but whatever. I don’t wanna play with daddy anymore. By the way, interesting choice in accessory today. Don’t say I started this, you did.

You don’t need to be told twice to know he’s not into the game. You strut down the steps of the room, exam in hand. You muster up your best resting bitch face and stare him dead in the eyes before sliding the paper neatly on top of his desk. His expression has gone back to being soft after seeing you up close, wanting... needing nothing but one smile from you as salvation to the tedious work ahead. He give a small smile but you chose to just ignore him, keeping a straight face. His smile drops and guilt begin tapping at your heart but still, you made your bed now you’re laying in it, keeping true to your cold facade. Walking back to your seat, your hips put on their best performance swaying back and forth to tease him, the hem of your skirt swings freely with each step. Getting frustrated, you flop your head back down onto the table and forcing yourself back to sleep ignoring the buzzing of messages radiating from your pocket.

As you run through the perfect meadow of your dream, a sudden tightness on your thigh sends distress to your peaceful mind. A gasp escapes your mouth from being jerk away from sleep so suddenly. As your eyes flutter open, you feel warmth on your lips while the tighten hold on your thigh persist as it slides up higher on your thigh. Your hand put a dead stop to the foreign hand as it was now reaching under the hem of your skirt, finger squeezing as hard as they can hoping your nail could do some damage and ward the stranger off. Your eyes shot open quickly before a calming voice put ease into your whole body with soft pets over your hair.

- “Time to go home, you can’t sleep here all night.”

Recognizing the sweet voice, your hand loosen its grip letting the strong, large hand continue on its destination, tips of his finger playfully toying with the seam of your underwear. Your lips returning the warmth it received while murmuring quietly.

- “Hanbin?”

- “Yea. Come on, let’s get going.”

- “How long was I sleeping for? I’m so tired.”

- “Not too long. I didn’t want to wake you up before everyone left. Daddy needs some alone time with you.”

He groans as his hand still running up and down your thigh, teeth grazing your earlobe slightly. Finally lifting your head up from the table, your haze filled eyes caress every inch of the tall body in front of you with insatiable hunger. Motioning for you to get up, his arms grab hold on your waist after you stumble slightly. Pulling your body close, he whispers for the usual meeting. You gather up your belonging before giving him a haste goodbye kiss and head out the door. Walking toward a coffee shop nearby, you figured some coffee would be good for whatever he had in mind when he asked for ‘alone time’. Also,it would probably be a good idea not to show up to his office right after the exam in case of stragglers wanting to talk about how badly they did on theirs. Coffee in hand, you stop off to get him a sandwich as a reward seeing how hard he worked during class. As usual, you surf the net till you get the go ahead

[10:15] Nerd👓: the coast clear

[10:15] Comin’ (:

Getting the safety confirmation, you hasten your way across campus toward a habitual path. Walking down the dark hallway, you have to admit being at school so late is kind of creepy. Most of his hallway office mate had gone for the night, thus the dark room behind the locked door. The rare room with light was tightly shut, probably staying late to grade exams. Who said teachers have it easy. Finally reaching your destination, you knock timidly with your foot as your hands are preoccupied with the coffees. A few second passed and you hear clicking of the lock. Slipping in quickly, he sticks his head out to make sure no one was watching before locking the door. Setting the food and drinks down, you throw your bag pack clumsily onto the floor earning a groan from him.

“Kid, I know you don’t care for school but can you at least take care of your school stuff.”

Turning around, you press your body onto his, hands resting on his chest.

“I do care for school, i just think it’s tedious.”

“Is that what my class is to you? tedious? is that why you either skip or sleep during it?”

“No, your lectures are great, and funny… It’s just i’d rather sleep.”

To hear his life work taking lower priority than a physical necessity, he smacks your ass hard causing you to jump backward, stupefy about what had just happened. Without warning, his eyes take on a shade of seriousness that instill fear on your poor nerve still recovering from the sudden switch as he slowly struts toward you. Sensing the looming event, you subconsciously back away from his large stature. Still moving forward, his hands begin to unbutton his cuffs and rolls them up.

“Now about what you did in class earlier… Did you think you can play around like that and expect daddy not to punish you?”

Playing along with his pretend anger, you mewl out your best cry and beg for mercy.

“I’m sorry daddy, please. I didn’t mean to upset you, please. I won’t do it again.”

At the same time, you stop backing away and drop onto your knee. Once he’s within arm reach, your hand shakily play with his belt buckle. As much as you love how tightly his slack hugs his ass, he looks much better with it off. He let you go as far as pulling the buckle open before bunching up your hair and pulls you away from his body. You let out a whimper at the sudden cut of contact.

- “What did daddy say about being a bad girl?” his voice lowers, tickling your spine.

- “Bad girls don’t get what they want.” You whimper almost pathetically compare to his firm tone.

- “Right! Now would you rather me ignoring you for being so bad or take your punishment like the big girl I know you are. I gotta warn you, my punishment won’t be pretty.” He muses over the option, brows raise in anticipation of your choice. Deep down, he’d much rather you choose the latter because his poor soul could never ignore you for long.

Obeying his every words, you bend over onto his desk and wait in silent, making your choice known. You don’t need to look to know he’s taking his time admiring the view, smirking victoriously. Another second passed before you hear clinking of his buckle and the swift sound of it being pull away from his pants. His hand rubbing your ass slightly before pulling the hem of your skirt up to reveal a lace cheeky pair of undies that’s already soaked. Hand still grabbing your ass harshly, he leans so close you can feel every breath.

“Do you know how much i love when you’re willing to bend to my every words? how much I adore seeing you so utterly obedient to all my will and wish?”

“Yes, daddy” You quipped without hesitation, adoring the way his rough hand kneading at your soft flesh.

“Good. But doesn’t that make you even more guilty for defying my words like you did in class today? Knowing it’d make me mad? Why?” The way your eyes flutter close and gentle smiles radiate jolts of intense satisfaction all through his body. Your face almost looks serene despite the near skin splitting bite sinking into your lower lip.

“Because… I know daddy will punish me if I do.”

“So you like it when i get rough with you?”

“Yea… Sometimes...”

“What is it, baby?”

“Sometimes I just need you to be rough. You won’t break me, I promise!” You said with almost an innocent glee to your voice, completely unsullied by the sinful acts that was happening. It honestly break his tough shell faster than any other force on this planet. He fully realizes by the 3rd time sharing skin with you that you do it completely unintentional, not even realizing what it does to him.

“If that’s what my baby girl’s wish, who am I to deny her.”

You peek over to see him folding his belt in half before snapping it loudly. Preparing yourself for what’s going to happen next, you quickly grab his jacket and clutch onto it tightly for some sort of comfort. Smirking at your action, he smooths his hand over your ass before snapping his belt onto your left cheek quickly. Walking toward the other side, he places a hand onto the dimple of your back indicating another hit was coming. You let out a loud muffled whimper from biting on his jacket just as the whipping sound echo through the room. Running the cold belt buckle over the large red hot stripes blooming on your ass, he bends over to kiss your hair. finger pulling back a few strand of hair and tucking it behind your ears, he places more kisses on your cheek before whispering for you to get up. Dropping the belt onto the table, he pulls you into a warm embrace, palms pressing tight against the hot skin soothing it.

- “Did I hurt you?”

You whine and nod onto his chest while arms tightening around his body.

- “I’m sorry.” he whines kisses your lips. “It’s all done. Are you gonna behave like the good girl I know you are now?”

His hand move away from your face and down onto your breasts. Eyes focus completely on your cleavage while thumb absently rubbing circles around your nipple.

“Yes, I’m sorry for upsetting you. I just want you to touch me.”

“I know, I wanted so badly to take you then and there. I have a meeting in 10 minutes so how about you go home and wait for me? It shouldn’t take too long.”

He senses the disappointment in your pouty face and so he presses big wet kiss onto your lips. Pulling away from him, you frown, dropping your arms off his body.

“ Awe. Don’t be like that. I don’t want to rush it.”

Mumbling a quiet okay before turning away to pick up your bag, you were anything but happy. Before you could reach the bag, one of his arm wraps around your waist flushing you impossibly close against his body, pressing his bulge tight on your backside. the other arm snaking down pass your skirt and resting on your core. Fluttering kisses on your neck and shoulder had you slumping over in completely lost of control over your own body. You squirm under the intense gratification blooming fast with every touch of his lips, his fingers rub hastily on your clit. You let out a gasp from the sudden flood of pleasure, your knee buckle causing you to grab his muscular arms for support. Never cease contact, he move you back toward his desk. Turning your body around, he lifts you off the ground and set you sitting atop the wooden piece of furniture. Without warning, he drops to his knee and dine away in between your legs. You squeeze your thighs around his head trying your best to cope with the rush of gratification. Leaning back on your elbows, your back arch and cusses slip out of your mouth when he pushes 3 fingers into you, pumping fast. Breaking contact for a moment, he peers up at the sight of the melting mess he’s causing and smile.

“I’m sorry, I thought we’d have more time for this. I didn’t think the students would stay that long.”

- “It’s okay, I can wait. You don’t need to, I’ll wait for you to get home.”

You somehow manage to mutter a comprehensible sentence despite the pulsating wave of satisfaction from your core, a deep puddle building up fast in your stomach. Your hand move to grab his hair and pushes his face further in indicating you were close. His tongue works harder as his fingers pump even faster. A mischievous grin breaches his lips from the sight of your fist shoving knuckle deep into your mouth, muffling the harsh pants and moan. Not a minute later, your nectar gushes all over his lips and fingers. Dropping your body onto the desk heavily, your chest could barely keep up as you try to catch your breaths. Your eyes lazily gaze over to see him pulling his dirty fingers out of his mouth with a loud pop. Smiling softly, you raise both your arms up and he walks over to pull you up into a hug. Leaning on his shoulder, you reach your finger up to pull his chin toward your face. Noticing his fingers trying to wipe your left over stickiness on his face, you help out by licking and kissing whatever remnant you can reach.

- “Okay, i don’t think licking is working… that’s making it worse actually” he lets out a chuckle but did nothing to stop your tongue.

- “Okay, stay there.”

You quickly hop off and make your way over to your backpack. Pulling out a pack of wet-wipes, you proceed to wipe his chin and neck while he lean on the desk to rest. Tossing the wipe away, you pull down his sleeves and buttoning it back up, straightening out the wrinkles as best as you can. Grabbing the source of the forming bruises on your buttcheeks, you loop his belt around his slack and buckling it back up while giving him a small kiss. Staring up at his messy hair, you let out a small chuckle before moving your hands up to style it back to how it was before. Sliding your hands off his shoulders for the finishing touches, you back away and stare him down with a satisfying smile.

- “There, good as new and totally presentable.”

Pulling you back toward him, he presses a kiss on your nose and you let out a giggle.

- “I can really use to this. You should stop spoiling me before I do.”

The smile on your face fades off from his comment fast completely unaware of by the happy man. There he goes again saying things that confuse the shit out of you. Glancing back up at the clock, he stands up and begins to gather his things.

- “Alright cutie, I gotta go before I get yell at. I’ll see you at home okay?”

Snapping out of your daze, you smile and nod. Grabbing the sandwich you’re forcefully shoving into his hand, he stares at you in confusion.

- “I know you’ve been working all day and skipping dinner. Pastrami and black coffee, your favorite. I hope at least this will make the meeting go faster.”

Smiling and pinching your cheek, he plants another kiss on your lips before walking off. Staring up and down the hall to make sure no one was around, he motions for you to come out.

- “You’re seriously so cute. I don’t think anyone ever notice that i skip meals while simultaneously sleep in class before. That’s a pretty amazing skill set, definitely list that on your resume. But stop spoiling me, if i get use to this then you’re in trouble.”

- “I don’t mind. I’ll see you at home okay? If you come back and the sandwich is still not eaten, you’ll be the one in trouble.”

You whisper lowly in case someone still lurks around the empty hallway. Turning your heels, you begin walking toward the exit to give some distant between you two. Before reaching it however, you turn around to see him locking the door.

- “By the way…” his hands stop and he looks over your direction. “ … I record your lectures and listen to it at home. You’re a great professor.”

You flash your best smile at him before continuing on your path. The young professor stands there completely at peace with everything that was happening. Joy erupts on his handsome features as he basks in the sunshine of something new, something he was now sure he wants with you.

Part 2

Okay so like I was looking for a gif of Hanbin in glasses or at least a suit to go with the professor theme. Miracle if I could find him in both... and I got this little gem of fetus Binnie. Just thought I’d leave it here.

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