#anyway there should be a study method where you and your classmate who with you have homoerotic tension with yell at eachother

[tenaciousrumour]

hot academic men come have conversations with me where we disagree on the analysis of different texts just to rile the other up. call it derivative, lacking detail, watch how the others teeth grind and how saliva blooms on the backs of your gums.

I need someone to challenge me, not mind when I bite too hard. passion has always been an ugly word that misplaces coherency and I need a man who too feels anger in the wrong places. gnaw at eachother all messy with teeth and grieving a boyhood that never had the chance to leave our bodies, we strike with sharp words that no longer hold our feminine softening.

we are both quick, blunt, and I have to keep swallowing around the argument pouring from my mouth like a flood drain. we want eachother in that way that's mostly sin, a vengeful gluttony, a hedonistic lust too indulgent to say in any way that's permanent.

[rrrrinmaru]

my youth (artem x mc) part 2

part 1 wc: 1.8k rating: T Warnings: nil

“I cannot believe you didn’t ask for his name,” Kiki says mulishly, refusing to look at you. The classroom slowly fills up with students, your classmates entering in threes and twos. ���You didn’t even take a picture of him. You’re the absolute worst.”

“There wasn’t an opportunity to do that!” You put up a defence to the best of your ability. “It’s not like I can just ask him to stop talking and pose while he’s walking me to the exit, can I?”

It was disarming. His smile, his eyes, the way he carried himself—genuinely, you weren’t sure of how to react. What were you going to do when he looked like that? There was a sliver of space between the two of you as you walked, just enough for a personal bubble, but it felt like you could physically feel his presence next to yours, a warmth just out of reach, like a flame curling centimeters away from your fingertips. 

There was even a brief moment where you fell into a daydream, and entertained the thought of tripping. He would probably catch you, you thought to yourself, and then a burst of shame washed over you at the thought. What kind of drama did you think you were acting in? He was just being nice. You shouldn’t take advantage of his kindness. 

And there simply wasn’t a moment to ask for his name. You asked what he was studying, and he said History, then the conversation fell into a discussion about the school’s History department and their teaching methods. The student seemed a little stunned at your heated opinions, and he even chuckled at one point—which, that sound is most definitely seared into your brain—with a hand over his mouth, turning to the side to hide his face. 

“Look,” you tell Kiki. “If I see him again, I’ll ask, alright? It’s not like I don’t want to know. I was this close to asking for his number on the spot, and all he did was wake me up.”

“You should have asked for his number,” she says immediately. “This is the most interesting thing that has happened to me in years. Why didn’t you just—I don’t know, confess your love at first sight or something? I need something exciting to fuel me.”

“I also need something to fuel me,” you reply. “Trust me. If I see him again, I’m putting a ring on him. It doesn’t matter what kind of ring. I’ll even go down on one knee with one of those rings with the candy on the top.”

“On your second meeting? You move fast,” Kiki giggles, leaning forward to pillow her arms on the table. “I hope you meet him again soon. Without a picture, I can’t even ask around to figure out who he is.”

Oh, you are just as remorseful. If you had managed to snap a picture of that student, then by now Kiki’s secret intelligence agency would have delivered his full name, class, after-school activity and family lineage into your arms. 

Girls talk. A lot. Especially in toilets. Kiki would have snapped her fingers and given you a whole summarized document on his life. 

It’s not even like there are that many students in this school. With slightly under two thousand students, everyone knows everyone. The seven degrees of separation are reduced to like, a maximum of three degrees. Kiki reduces it even further to one degree, just because you’re convinced she knows every single member of the student population. 

“Anyways,” you murmur, giving her a lazy side eye. “What about that… ghost guy? Any updates on him?”

“I’ve lost interest in him,” Kiki answers, just as lazily. “Now, you’ve got a beau. Ghosts can’t compare.”

“He’s not my beau.” Embarrassment wells up inside of you, but there’s this tiny, tiny thread of pleasure. You would like for him to be your beau. God, his eyes were so blue. Who even has eyes like that? “Before I find him again, we need something else to occupy us.”

Kiki makes a thoughtful noise. “If he really was as handsome as you said, I don’t get why I’ve never heard of him. But talking about the ghost, I guess there is some new information.”

You’re also confused why you’ve never heard of him before. With a face that perfect, how is he not the most popular guy in school? Darius Morgan is kind of attractive, yeah, but he can’t measure up to that person. He couldn’t possibly have flown under the radar for so long. Has he been wearing a mask this whole time, or something?

“Hit me.”

“Apparently,” Kiki says, pausing for suspense, “he’s a brunette.”

The first thought that goes through your mind is this: that person also had slightly brown hair. Dark brown, but when he walked under the bright yellow fluorescent lights, it looked like ripe chestnuts in the summer sun.

The second thought that goes through your mind, you vocalize.

“I didn’t know ghosts were in color.”

“What? You just thought they were black and white?”

It’s not like Sadako had a nice head of blond hair. “I don’t know! Maybe. Or they were like, translucent.” 

Then again, the ghosts in ghost stories aren’t usually so harmless. 

Kiki rolls her eyes. “Well, he’s a brunette. And he’s tall. That’s all I have so far.”

Brunette and tall. It’s no wonder girls were falling left and right for this mysterious ghost. He must be quite a stunner. 

But Literature doesn’t wait for you to day dream about tall, brunette boys.

-=-

The next time you run into him, the library is about to close.

“Do you always stay this late?”

You jump at the voice. You were packing, throwing your workbooks haphazardly into your bag so you could leave before the librarians starting making their rounds and ask you to hurry up. Your back was to the stairs, and you hadn’t expected anyone to be nearby.

The fourth floor of the library was empty, after all. You’re quite certain you’re the only one crazy enough to stay this late.

“You scared me,” you say, turning to face that familiar stranger. “Do you always sneak up on people?”

The smile he offers you is charming. You think he might not even understand his attractiveness—with the way he stands close to the table, leaning slightly against its frame, one hand resting gently on the surface. 

You get the urge to take a picture of him. Capture the moment in a photograph, no matter how poorly it’ll be able to truly catch the sight of him in the dim light. 

“No,” he says, and the flush steals across your face without your permission.

“Just me, then?” You say daringly. 

The student blinks, taken aback by your boldness. His lips part but he doesn’t speak, and he just looks at you for a moment, as if formulating a thought. The embarrassment grows like a bubble inside of you—that was the most brash thing you’ve ever said, and you’re kind of regretting it now, but the words have been said and you can’t retract them. The only thing you can do is hold your head high and pretend you intended to do that all along. 

“I suppose it’s because I keep running into you,” the boy says slowly, tasting the words on his tongue. “You stay very late. In the strangest places.”

Strangest places? You were in a classroom the last time, and now you’re in a library. These are quite normal places for students studying late into the night. 

But the fourth floor is quiet. You don’t even remember if there were any other students on this floor the whole time you were here. 

“Well, it can’t be that strange,” you mutter, slinging your bag across your shoulder. “I keep running into you, after all.” 

The smile on his face is faint. “Are you going home now?”

“It’s not like I can stay here much longer.” You gesture at the low lights and the quiet sounds of the librarian’s footsteps on the lower floor. She’s likely on the way up to catch whatever errant students are trying their luck to study a few more minutes. You glance at the student and chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating.

“You look like you want to say something.”

“Yeah,” you say, and take a step forward. Now or never, you suppose. Only one way to do it. “Do you wanna walk me out again?”

The words escape you before you can think it through. You freeze, fingers grasping at the strap of your bag as you fumble with your evidently malfunctioning brain. You were supposed to ask for his name. Not if he wanted to walk you out again. That is so presumptuous of you. Kiki might think this situation is hilarious, when you retell it to her tonight, but you’re feeling all sorts of mortified.

You can’t look him in the eye. You cough a little awkwardly, shrugging your bag higher on your shoulder and turn to hurry down the stairs. 

Something cold catches you at the wrist. 

You whirl around, eyes wide. He looks at you, gaze darting down to where his fingers are closed around your wrist before glancing back up, eyes just as wide, as if he’s shocked by his own boldness. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says quickly. “I—I’d like that.”

He—you must be hearing things. You swallow tightly, and nod before he gets the chance to retract his agreement. 

His hand is ice cold. Kiki runs cold as well, and she always slips her hand into yours to leech off your warmth. He must have just as poor blood circulation. You’re almost tempted to change the grip he has on you, to slide your wrist out of his fingers and slip your hand into his. To warm him up. A paltry excuse, but it’s the best you’ve got.

“By the way,” you ask, trying to act as casual as possible, “what’s your name?”

His grip tightens imperceptibly around your wrist. 

“Libra.” He gives you a cautious smile. “I already know your name.”

You flush. You didn’t know you were that well-known in school. Is he friends with Kiki’s friends? 

“I didn’t ask for your star sign.” His hand is still around your wrist as he leads you to the stairs. The stairs creak lightly as the two of you go down, and the librarian nods at you as you pass by her. She doesn’t seem to respond at the sight of Libra, though, and he doesn’t react either. “Hey, seriously now, what’s your name?”

He looks back, and you think his eyes are a little brighter than normal. It must be the dull lights in the closing library, making his cerulean eyes shine. 

“Can’t a guy keep a little mystery about himself?”

Embarrassment crosses his face as he says that, and you hold in a laugh. Is this what they call eighth-grade syndrome? A mysterious nickname, a chance meeting; this is looking like something out of those webnovels you read online. 

“Okay, Libra,” you say, teasing the sound of his nickname. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

-=-

a/n: i was really tempted to make artem properly introduce himself, but it is seriously so easy to find people that i know kiki would report back in a day saying he doesn’t exist and then you would feel upset that he lied. instead, a clearly fake name has an element of mystery, doesn’t it?

==

© rrrrinmaru 2021 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[amive2567]

Snowy sneezes

Class 1a x GN! Reader

Quirk: Snowman ~ can produce snowmen with everything that includes water. They can't melt (only by other quirks, not through natural causes), and they do whatever the host wants. If the host doesn't give any tasks immediately, the snowman becomes a body of its own forever. Unfortunately, they can't speak :( The more water there is in the air, (or any other source of water), the bigger the snowman gets. 

Warning: Crack, Fluff, mention of sexual content (because Mineta), swearing (because Bakugou), a bit OOC Midoriya

Summary: Y/n is sick, and every time they sneeze, little snowmen appear in their dorm. They are listening to music and study. Because of that, they didn't even notice that the snowmen disappeared and caused trouble. 

Disclaimer: My hero academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.489

Masterlist

Inspiration by Frozen Fever

Your head pouted, and you barely could keep your eyes open. You had a quirk about snow, so why did you get sick from a snowball fight. "L/N-san, could you please lift your head from the desk and focus on the lesson." admonished you Cementos. "I am sorry, Ishiyama-sensei." you apologized. He continued to teach, but you couldn't focus on a word he said. The lesson dragged on like forever. 

After the day ended, you went straight to your dorm room to replicate the knowledge you got taught today. 

After some time, the headache disappeared, and you could finally focus on your unfinished notes. Your nose started to tingle, and with a loud achoo, you sneezed.  A cold shiver went down your spine, but you didn't think much of it. You were so caught up in the work that you didn't notice how a small snowman waddled quietly around the room. Since listening to music helped you while studying, you didn't hear the rustling steps on your carpet.  The cute snowman watched your back and looked around your room. He investigated your plant in front of your bed. His tiny form tried to stroke the plant, but his short snowy arm couldn't reach the plant. The small snowman was determined to stroke the plant, so he tried to climb up at the plant pot. Since he didn't think about the consequences, the plant pot fell over and covered him with the potting soil. Anxiously he watched if you had seen his plight. You didn't seem to notice it. So he tried to clean himself with his tiny arms. 

Another sneeze shook your body, and another tiny snowman appeared. He looked around the room and found his buddy. The two jumped happily around, and the new snowman helped to clean up his pal. The two snowmen happily discovered your room, as quiet as they could. After they were done, your room looked like you had a fight in it.  They also tried to open the door, but they were too tiny. Exhausted, the two snowmen settled in front of the door. 

A sneezing fit hit you, and about five snowmen developed in your room. The two snowmen got right up and wobbled to the new snowmen. They hugged each other like they were old friends. Silently the two older snowmen convinced the younger ones to open the door together. They built a ladder out of snowmen by stacking themself on their shoulders. With a soft click, the door opened, and they left your messy room.

Your classmates were occupied with their interests and tasks. Some were reading, training, baking, showering, or learning. So they were either outside, in their rooms, or in the common room area. This meant that the hallway in front of your room was empty. The snowmen waddled quietly around the enormous building. 

Since they discovered their new skill, they opened another door. In the room was a blond boy, who laid on his back with a manga in his hand, called Snow white with the Red Hair. He was completely caught up in the book, so he didn't even notice that someone entered his room. The snowmen inspected his room. It has the theme of yellow and blue, and on his shelf were tons of All Might figures. One snowman got his snowy hand on a manga and tried to read it. He failed because snowmen can't read, but the pictures were interesting. He wanted to read it later, so he took it with him. 

The gang of snowmen went downstairs to explore the other parts of the dorms. Loud singing caught their attention. They followed the singing and landed in a steaming environment or, to call it something more simple, the bathroom. It was hot in there, and the snowmen were happy that they couldn't melt by natural causes. Since the bathroom was really a boring place to be, they climbed on the shelves and searched through the products. After the other snowmen had left the room, the last one of them was mesmerized by a big red bottle with the label: red hair dye. He took the bottle with him and followed the other snowmen fast. 

The next stop of the seven snowy figures was another room. They used their secret method again and opened the door. The room was cramped with bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Another weird thing was that there was a shelf only for tons of glasses. No one was there. The snowmen wandered around the room like it was an old museum. The two snowmen that stole something hid in the corners of the room, so their misbehavior wasn't noticed. The smallest of the snowmen looked around and climbed up on the shelf with the glasses. Unfortunately, one of the spectacles fell on the ground and broke. No one seemed to witness it, so the tiny snowman grabbed them and hid them behind his back from the others to see. After they discovered every inch of the room, they made their way to the next one. 

The room wasn't much different from the first one, but it had a more pleasant atmosphere. It was bright and happy. Some snowmen were bored because of the All Might figures they had already seen, but one of them got interested by the rarest of all time. The bronze age All Might figure. Only fifty got produced, and the owner of the room had one. The snowman needed this figure, so when no one watched him, he took the opportunity and stole it. 

They went into two other rooms before they finally got to the common-room kitchen. There stood a tall brown-haired boy with a tart pan. He studied a recipe and was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice how a snowman stole his eggs. After the boy wanted to reach for them, they were gone, and he questioned himself if he forgot to lay the eggs on the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and saw no eggs. But he was sure that he bought them with Koda yesterday. They couldn't be gone, only if someone used them. And he was sure who it was. With angry steps, he walked to the room of a certain angry pomeranian. 

In the meantime, the snowmen discovered that everyone had stolen something. They laid their stolen objects in the middle of their circle. The items they had stolen were a romance manga, red hair dye, a pair of glasses, a rare All Might figure, eggs, lipstick, and a book. All of the snowmen had a panicked expression on their snowy faces. The humans aren't dumb they would soon find out, so they have to hide their items somewhere. Fearfully they collected the things and quickly set about hiding with the stuff in a nearby room. 

It was a dark room, and it got lit by a small source of light. Unearthly sounds could be heard from the computer screen in front of a short, purple boy. The older snowmen tried to cover the eyes of the younger ones. So they couldn't see the horrific show that played on the screen. It was dangerous to be in such a gross environment with young snowmen, but it was better than getting caught. 

"I didn't steal your lame eggs. Now leave me alone fat lips." cursed Bakugou as Sato confronted him. "But I am sure you know where my manga is, don't you?" Bakugou questioned harshly with a raised eyebrow. "Why would I want a manga from you?" Sato asked him. The blond one scoffed and pushed Sato out of the way. "I bet shitty Deku got it," he grumbled and stamped in the direction of his room. Without knocking, he kicked the door open. "Oi, shitty nerd. Give it back," he yelled. But what he didn't notice that the room was messy as hell. "Ah, Bakugou, I wanted to talk to you," Midoriya spoke slowly. His expression was horrifying. Even when Bakugou wouldn't admit it, he was scared of the shorter green-haired boy. "Now, where do you have it?" Bakugou asked, unimpressed. "What should I have? I wouldn't even give it to you. You stole my All Might bronze age figure." Midoriya yelled. He activated his quirk, and before he could Detroit Smash Bakugou into nirvana, Kirishima intervened. "Wait, that's not really manly of you, bro. My hair dye also went missing. I think someone is stealing from us." Sato followed the red-haired. "I think he's right," he said. "Let's meet up with the other ones and think about it before we hurt each other." mediated Kirishima. Still, with rage in his eyes, Midoriya let got of his powerful quirk and noded. "Alright, but I am not done with you, Kacchan." proposed Midoriya. "Whatever you say, shitty nerd." scoffed Bakugou.

As they got everyone except two persons in the common room area, the yelling began. "My lipstick went missing. How can I be able to rock my hero costume." Mina cried and hugged Uraraka desperately. The short brunette patted her back, comforting. "A book of mine also went missing," noted Momo. "Did someone saw my pair of glasses? I need to find Marry the third. Without her, my collection is incomplete." Iida yelled and made his typical hand gesture. At his comment, more than half of class 1a had to suppress a burst of laughter.  "My hair product also went missing," said Kirishima. "My limited All Might figure in his bronze age is missing," said Midoriya grumpily. "You look a bit scary, Midoriya. Is everything ok?" Todoroki asked. "Yeah, of course. I didn't need my All Might figure anyway." he sarcastically answered. "It's just a figure," Todoroki mentioned, and every chatter died down. "Dude, does he have a death wish?" asked Kaminari quietly. "Maybe," answered Sero noiselessly. "A figure... A figure..." Midoriya yelled and wanted to charge for a punch, but a frustrated screech interrupted the argument. 

You finished the last sentence of your work. So you turned around and stretched yourself with closed eyes, but as soon as you opened them, you were met with a tremendous mess. "The sneezes and the...oh shit," you yelled out in frustration. You were so occupied with work that you didn't even notice that you let go of a bunch of snowmen. Your steps stormed to the common-room to start the search for the tiny, snowy trouble makers. The yells in the common-room got louder and louder as you got nearer. "Guys," you yelled over the screeches of Midoriya. "I let go of my quirk, and some snowmen are probably starting some trouble. We need to find them." you got straight to the point. Everyone looked at you with expressionless faces. "Why is even every one of you here?" you asked now, confused. "Your tiny snow fuckers stole our stuff," Bakugou grumbled. "What was actually stolen from you, Kacchan ?" Kaminari asked.  "A manga," answered Bukugou grouchily. "Uh, which genre?" questioned Kaminary. "Shut it, dunce face," Bakugou yelled. "Just asking." waved Kaminari away. 

"Do you know where they possibly went, or how we can get rid of them?" asked Momo calmly. "I don't know where they could be," you answered, a bit disappointed. "If we find them and want to get rid of them, we need to destroy them with fire quirks. They don't melt of natural causes," you explained. "Alright, I think we build two teams. One team goes with Bakugou and the other one with Todoroki," suggested Momo. "Why do I need to be in one team. I can do this on my own." Bakugou protested. "Do you want your manga back asap?" Momo asked after that the ash-blond boy was quiet but still grumpy. "I am not going with Kacchan." Midoriya angrily said. "I don't want to go with you either," shouted Bakugou. "Just like an old married couple." laughed Kaminari. "Shut it, dunce face." yelled the blond boy. 

After you build up the teams, you started to search for the cold troublemakers. The team of yours consisted of Todoroki, Aoyama, Tsuyu, Iida, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, a grumpy Midoriya, Tokoyami, Shoji, Ojiro, and you, of course. The other ones had fewer patient people in their team. Bakugou got Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Jiro, Sato, Koda and Hagakure in his team. Your team searched on the second and third floor for the stolen things and your snowmen. 

The third floor was clear now you searched on the second floor. "Waa, how did snowmen came into my room?" a high-pitched yell caught the attention of your team. You neared the room and opened the door. Mineta was standing in front of a bunch of tiny snowmen. Everyone in the room turned, slowly their hats to the door. "Yeah, gotcha," you shouted happily. The snowmen suddenly let go of the stuff they hoarded and ran in different directions. "We need to catch them. Todoroki, Tsuyu, Iida, Momo, and I are catching them, and the rest of you secure the missing stuff," you ordered. During this time, Momo produced earpieces for communication. The people named ran with you to catch the snowmen.

Since the snowmen were fast and not as dumb as you wished they were, you had to separate. The snowman in front of you ran fast, and you yelled after him. As the snowman had to take the elevator, you could easily catch him. "I got one. Does someone else has one?" you asked in your earpiece. "I've got one too." answered Iida "Me too," said Tsuyu. "I have already burned two," said Todoroki in his calm demeanor.  "I am currently trying to catch one," yelled Momo hectically. "Thanks, guys, that means only one is missing," you said. A loud explosion roared through the dorm-building. "Now, I think only one is left." you corrected yourself. "I got the penultimate snowman," said Momo proudly. "Great." you cheered. As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, the snowman in your arms tried to wiggle himself free. "We need to met up in the common room, so we can get rid of the captured snowmen," you said to the others. 

After you got rid of the captured snowmen. Bakugou stormed into the common room area. "We found only one, are all gone?" he asked grumpily. "Only one is missing," you answered as you watched the penultimate snowman melt. "I got the last one he was hiding in the fridge," said Sato and brought you the last one. 

"Thanks, guys, for helping. I am so sorry that my quirk got out of hand and caused such trouble," you apologized to your classmates. "No problem, that could happen to every one of us. You don't need to apologize." Midoriya said reassuringly. A small smile spread across your face, and you were relieved that everyone agreed and wasn't angry with you. Except for Bakugou, but that was to be foreseen. 

[thesweetestkimberry]

it’s you

pairings: hanta sero x reader

summary: a panic attack is never a fun thing, but luckily, you have your boyfriend to help you through it.

warnings: READER HAVING A PANIC ATTACK, cursing, OOC characters, also contains a dash of latin sero

notes: this was inspired after i had a panic attack of my own, unfortunately i did not have a sero to pull me out of it, so here’s this piece to hopefully help those of you who need someone, even if they are fictional. also in some places i wrote it a bit more personal than most, i hope you all don’t mind

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

numb

that’s all you felt

body no longer felt like your own and your breathing uneven

you cried

we’re you crying? you couldn’t feel the tears running down your cheeks. you tried to move but you felt as though you were trapped inside your own head, the attempt to claw your way out seeming impossible.

you didn’t notice your phone constantly lighting up with notifications and missed calls, your chest tightening, further disrupting your ability to breathe properly.

you wanted to scream, but no sound came out, you wanted to cry out and call for help, but the voice in your head told you no.

you felt like you were suffocating.

then you heard heavy footsteps, shouting, rapid knocking, and eventually the muffled sounds of someone approaching you could be heard.

“(y/n)?...”

sero was in the common room with some other classmates, some hanging out, other eating or studying. he and kaminari were playing a game on their phones when momo and iida shared the idea of ordering pizza.

“aw yeah, pizza!” his friend cheered, bakugou threatening him to keep the voice down. sero looked up when iida walked up to him, hand chopping the air as usual,

“sero! please inform (y/n) that we’ll be ordering pizza, you should ask her what kind she’d prefer as well.” the red eyed boy said, brows furrowed behind his lenses as your boyfriend shot him some thumbs up, “you got it boss.”

“speaking of (y/n), where is she?” mina asked from her spot in the couch, upside down as she scrolled through her phone,

“she’s in her room, said she had some work to do.” he says looking down at his phone, hitting your contact and smiling at the name,

[✨ Mi Amor ✨]

he quickly shot you a text asking you what you’d like on your pizza, setting it down for a moment and looking back at your friend who’s brows were furrowed, “(y/n) never does work.” she says as bakugou arches a brow, “you could stand to be a little nicer.” he says as she chuckles, “shut up you know it’s true.” she finished with a sigh.

“if she says she’s doing work, that usually means she doesn’t want to be disturbed because she’s feeling out of it.” mina explains, sero looking up at her in question, “she doesn’t do it often, but lately she’s been pretty down.”

kaminari also looks at your friend, “how come just yesterday she was looking like she was having the time of her life?” he asks genuinely confused, “you dumbass spark plug, just because someone looks happy doesn’t mean they are.” bakugou shouts at him, remembering all you’d vented to him.

“she always says she feels like a bother, although she never is. she doesn’t want anyone to “waste their time on her”.” she says, accentuating your words with air quotations.

while they discussed you, sero continued to message and calls, noticing that you still hadn’t responded. he had zoned out of the conversation, so focused on you, until what mina said next made him shoot up and dart to the elevator up to your room.

“it’s times like those when she gets these really bad panic attacks-“

he couldn’t hear his own pounding footsteps as he exited the elevator and made a mad dash to your room.

finally getting to your door, he rapidly knocked, his concern only growing more when you didn’t answer, “i’m coming in!” he warned, turning the knob and entering your room.

“babe?” he called out, however getting no response. it wasn’t until he saw something by the bed, seemingly balled up under a sheet.

“(y/n)?...” he said gently, crouching down on his knees to uncover you, only for his breath to hitch when he took a look at the state you were in.

having familiarized himself with the symptoms, he knew you were having a panic attack. he pulls your hands away from where they were digging into your arms, creating deep crescent shapes, one or two of them beginning to bleed.

he thought about ways to ground you, coming to a conclusion that he had to go with a method aizawa had actually taught him.

“hey, baby, i’m here. all you need to do is listen to my voice and try to answer okay?” he tried gently, lowering his head to try and get a better look at your face, only for his heart to clench at your disassociated eyes, a sense of brokenness and anguish hidden behind your eyes. the ones that looked so bright on a good day, the ones that sero fell in love with.

after getting no response, he still decided to begin the grounding anyway, “babe, give me five things you can see.”

at first you gave no reaction, worrying him a bit. he stared at you as he bit the inside of his cheek, nerves getting to him however there was no helping you unless he could keep his own fears and anxieties at bay.

he repeated his instructions and let go of one of your hands to pet your head, gently running his hand over it in a comforting way. as he did this, he took notice of the knotted, oily feeling of your hair. he felt saddened by this, knowing right away that you’ve been suffering in silence and not taking care of yourself.

he was about to repeat his instructions for the third time until he felt your hand lightly squeeze his,

“y-you...” was her first answer, sero immediately letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “good job baby, four more.” he encouraged, sitting in front of her and running his thumbs over her hands, the feeling becoming apparent for you as you slowly regained control over your body.

“..the lights..” the fairy lights he’d bought you when you mentioned how you missed the ones back home.

“the pictures.” the photos on your wall, a collection of both from home and from UA.

“a book.” coincidently, the book had been one that sero had bought you for your birthday one year.

“my hands.” were the last thing you said, the hands that sero held so gently in his, almost as if you were made out of the finest china and he was worried he’d break you.

even though you’d succeeded in completing the first part, you still felt trapped. sero noticed this as well and continued, this time, more determined to help you.

“great job baby, now give me four things you can feel.” he said scooting closer, trying to hear if your breathing had returned to normal, however hearing it continue to be uneven and jagged.

“yo-you...” your voice caught, sero still getting your answer loud and clear. the fact that you had the same answer didn’t go unnoticed by him, but as long as you were responding, that was enough.

“the carpet..” he noticed you wiggling your toes, socks still on, and rubbing against the fluffy carpet beneath you, lightly stained with various foods and other substances, each however a memory.

“my hair..” you said, head dropping slightly as your curls brushed against your face, ticking your skin.

“warmth.” you finished, body twitching slightly and feeling the warm interior of the hoodie you were wearing, sero taking notice that it was his.

“you’re going an amazing job (y/n), now give me three things you can hear.” he encouraged again, gently lifting your chin and resting his forehead against yours. your breathing had returned to normal but you still sat rigid and tense.

“you.” you whispered making sero arch a brow but continued to stay silent. you’d also fallen silent, and if he could imagine little ears atop of your head, he’d imagine that they were twitching in search of sound.

“my-my music.” the fact that you’d given him your second answer almost immediately after the first made him grin. you were right, your music played softly in your room, the feeling of the melody encasing you both, bringing you out little by little.

“our friends..” you said with a shaky voice, noticing your eyes welled up with tears again. sero smiled sadly at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, “we’re almost done, you can do this, i’m so proud of you.”

“two things you can smell.” he instructed, chuckling a bit at how you sniffed the air, even if snot was running out. not seeing a towel or napkin around, he pulled his sleeve over his hand and cleaned you up a bit, smiling once he heard you sniff again and your nose was clear.

“you.”

“do i smell bad?” he joked, knowing you were slowly coming back out, figuring if he made a joke it would help pull you out. you exhaled from your nose and shook your head slightly.

“well that’s good. what’s next cariño?” he urged, tucking a strand of hair out of your face and behind your head, revealing more of your face to him.

“..pizza?...” he sat back slightly and sniffed the air as well, lightly laughing at the fact that the air actually did smell like pizza,

“one more, give me one more baby.” he said cupping your face and lifting it up to meet his eyes. “one thing you can taste.”

your knees finally relaxed and stretched out, arms no longer tense as they ran up his neck to his face. you didn’t answer immediately, only pulling him in to meet your lips, his hands flying to your neck where his thumbs ran over your cheeks,

“you.” your voice was now more certain, even if there was a shaky exhale after it. you pulled away and looked into his eyes, his clean sleeve coming up to wipe your tears away while you both let out light laughter.

“thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me, love.”

“i love you.” “i love you too”

he stood up and offered you his hand, letting you take it and pulling you up off of the ground. with a groan at how sore your muscles were, he chuckled and kissed your cheek,

“how about you go take a shower and i’ll be back with some pizza?” he asks unsure if you were okay to be left alone just yet, however his nerves were put to rest as you offered a small smile and a nod, “sounds great babe.”

sero watched you make your way into the bathroom, not leaving until he heard the water to the shower start.

turning and making his way out of your room and back to the common room, he let out a heavy sigh when he entered the elevator, hand running over his face as he groaned.

he was so scared for you.

the look in your eyes, the way your body trembled, your choked sobs and broke look left a sour taste in his mouth. once the door dinged and opened, the scent of pizza wafted into the compartment he was in, walking into the living room with eyes falling on him.

“is she okay?” momo asked him as he nodded with a soft smile, “yeah she’s good now. just came down to get some pizza for us.” he explains gesturing to the mountains of pizza boxes.

“we got you and (y/n) a half and half! half with your toppings and half for her.” she said opening a box and revealing both of your favorite pizza toppings. “wow! this is great, thank you!” he says appreciatively while kaminari slides up next to him.

“you were gone for a while, you get some lovin’?” he teases his friend, elbowing his side, only to get gently shoved away with a chuckle, “it’s not like that man, we’re just gonna hang out in her room, watch movies, kick it,” sero explained as kaminari laughed and patted his shoulder, “go for it dude.”

entering your room again, sero saw you sitting on your bed, criss cross applesauce while you dried your hair. sero laughed at your childish position and set the pizza down.

noticing something, he was about to ask, only for you to beat him to it, “would it be alright if i borrowed your sweater? it smells like you.” you ask as you last the towel down, finally standing and walking over to him. “of course babe.” he says placing his hands on your shoulders, then moving to fluff your hair, the slightly damp strands sticking to your face,

“your hair is really soft after you wash it.” he says ruffling your hair making you giggle at the attention, his hand went back to their spot on your neck, holding you in his hands as if you were everything, his everything, and that was exactly what you were.

he let you go and went over to your bed, pulling the blanket you usually kept on top aside and sitting down, reaching over to grab the pizza. he set it down beside him and opened the blanket, patting the empty space next to him for you to hop in.

you curled into his side and let out a laugh at the sudden burst of happiness you received, “if you steal the blankets i’m going to put my cold feet on you.” he says making you squeal at the feeling of his cold feet against your leg.

he pulled your laptop into the space between you two and handed you a slice of your pizza, quickly finding a movie to watch and pulling you into his side with an arm around you.

with a sigh of content and a small smile gracing your lips, you leaned your head on sero’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

his free hand found yours and interlaced his fingers with yours,

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

[giyuwu-san]

burn the stage — part 1 // dabi

—  A multi-chapter fic complete with your favorite indie and mainstream bops. Watch as you fall in love with the captivating guitarist of a band one drunken, perfect night. (BAND AU)

↱ PAIRING : Dabi x Female!Reader

↱ WORD COUNT : 5K

↱ WARNINGS : Mentions of alcohol, Suggestive themes, Strong language, Dabi being hot

↱ TAGS : @yusemis​ @lordexplosionsextra​ @astrrnmy​​ @basicallyberry​ @j-brielmalfoy​ (I actually remembered my taglist this time wow)

↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : Thank you sosososo much to @kaikamikazi​ for allowing me to use her likeness for Kai’s character! Happy birthday to my favorite clown <3 everyone please wish her a happy birthday woot woot !!! And also huge huge thanks to @doughnuts-5ever​ and @jojosmilktea​ for helping me proofread/betaread this fic huhu it was a whole ass mess you guys are absolute legends tysm!!

↱ PLAYLIST

↱ SERIES  MASTERLIST 

------------------------------------------------✈

scene one; no song

          "Thousands of years ago, our ancestors looked up at the night sky and saw a field of lights." 

The aged man paced around the room, hands folded behind his back and hair graying by the roots. His side facing the blackboard on the wall, he continued;

          "None of them really knew what they were," he stopped and looked at the vast sea of students perched atop of chairs in the big room. "But, they made a fascinating observation."

You sat listening to your professor, your chin perched on your open palm, and eyes focused on the notebook that sat idly on your connected desks. 

          "They noticed that the patterns were predictable and had clear effects." The man said with some form of self-acknowledged eureka, his left hand coming up to the height of his face, index finger pointing up at the heavily-lit ceiling. "The seasons, the tides, the harvests."

          "Incredible, isn't it?" he resumed.

The man was about to continue on his tangent. But that was until a hand shot up in the air, followed by a voice. 

          "Uhm, professor?" the boy who raised his hand asked. "Aren't we supposed to be learning about chemistry?" 

Your professor looked at him, who now appeared to be slightly frightened by the blank but disrupted gaze of his teacher. 

          “Pfft—” 

You turned around to see your friend Kai, her head resting upon her folded arms. Was she seriously trying to sleep through the lesson again?

          “The one opportunity we got to sleep,” she sighed. “You just had to ruin it, brainy.”

          “Is that seriously what you call a sufficient insult?” you asked as you fully tilted your head towards her direction.

          “Wasn’t saying it to insult him.” She said casually as she massaged her head with the hand closest to her, face still partially buried within her entangled arms. “Wasn’t saying it to compliment him either though.”

You scoffed.

          “You’re unbelievable,” and at that, the darker-skinned girl turned to you with horror in her eyes.

          “Oh no,” she said petrified.

          “What?”

          “You’re being a Karen again.” 

You looked at her dumbfounded, sighing.

          “I am not being a Karen,” you started. “I’m just saying—” 

It was already too late, however, as Kai had both her hands covering her ears, blocking out your protests as well as all her other life issues. 

You sighed once more and turned your attention back to your professor, your notebook still open on your desk.

          “Your semester is practically over,” said your professor, standing idly in front of all the students, his left hand reaching up to habitually play with the fabric of his suit tie. 

          “So, let me have some me-time every once in a while," he continued.

‘You never let us have any me-time—’ is what you could feel the hoard of tired students internally screaming around you. 

The aged man cleared his throat and set along to once again resume his lengthy ramble. 

          “Where was I?” he asked himself, his feet already departing from his standstill position in the middle of the room as he started walking about once more. 

          “Ah yes, so it seemed logical that these lights shaped everything else in our lives. But with the scientific method disproving all these theories, why do people still look for meaning in the stars?”

A hand shot up in the air once again, only to be shot back down by a quick hand gesture from the professor.

          “Calm down now, I’m not done yet,” he said. 

          “Many prolific historical figures of our kind, such as the Iikes of William Shakespeare, have used the concept of astrology as a metaphorical expression, more than an actual study. Whether or not he truly believed in it, he still used the idea of astrology to create some of his most well-known epigrams to date,” he continued.

          “With lines such as; ‘These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.’ from King Lear, ‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life.’ from Romeo and Juliet— I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with that one." He faced the students once more. "And my utmost favorite, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars—’” 

          “But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” 

          “—From Julius Caesar,” the professor smiled. “Well done, Miss L/N.”

Shock settled into your form, having realized that you had said that much louder than you had anticipated. Now with the burning stares of your classmates and uncontrolled laughter coming from a seatmate you used to call your best friend, you let out an exasperated sigh, head falling onto your desk and arms protecting you from the unfiltered judgment of the outside world. 

You sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day before finally coming out of hiding, your chin once again finding shelter in your welcoming palm. You stared down at your open notebook, observing each line and angle. Stared at the drawings of orbits clashing together with the unwelcome intrusion of jotted scientific equations. A picture of the sun as each planet aligned themselves accordingly within their rotation, along with the lengthy compound formula of 4 Bromo, 3-4 Dichloro, Ethyl Hexanoate, written briskly, and uncared for.

But despite your apparent unhappiness and deep-rooted sorrow, you lifted your head forward and listened to the lesson in front of you.

"You seriously need to loosen up," said Kai, her head faced towards you. "When was the last time you danced to music alone in your bedroom?"

You thought about it for a second.

She sighed.

          "You're so sad," she sighed once more and patted your head. "Poor baby."

She brought her hand down from the crown of your head, arm now resting on your shoulders as she brought you in closer. 

          "I'm gonna get you laid tonight," she said with conviction. You looked at her profile, absolutely bewildered.

          "I'm sorry, what?"

          "That's right," she nodded her head in content. "You're having sex tonight, just leave it to me."

          "Shouldn't we work on having me dance to music alone in my bedroom first?" you countered.

          "Even better," she grinned at you with the type of grin your primary teachers warned you about. You know, those creepy man smiles that you should run away from when faced with in a dark, ominous alley? "I'm taking you to a bar."

You could feel Mrs. Peterson screaming at you to run. 

But nobody really listened to Mrs. Peterson. Sorry.

You sighed once more at your beaming friend and nodded your head slowly.

          "Whatever," you finally said. Attention spanning back to the lecture in front of you as you turned your head. "After the class ends."

Kai smiled and leaned back into her chair, legs crossing and folded arms supporting her head from behind. She looked utterly satisfied.

          "Alright Karen," she said. 

          "My name is not Karen," you grumbled.

          "Then stop being such a Karen and let me have my fun," she closed her eyes and smiled. Totally abandoning the lecture playing out before her. Chemistry was all just a bunch of bullshit anyway. 

scene two; black eyes

Ambient lighting and muffled voices were what greeted you and Kai as you both entered the bar. The light that shone down above you cast an evanescent sheen across the tiny, hidden bar. 

You fumbled in with your red dress and heeled boots, bridging the edge of comfortable and painfully exposed. It’s been years since you've last worn a dress. 

          "Are you sure this isn't some kind of ancient speakeasy?" you asked Kai, uneasy. 

          "A speakeasy for bands and stuff sure," she shrugged. "Sadly, no dancing flapper girls, so sorry to disappoint." 

You nodded and started heading towards the bar. No matter how badly you wanted to keep up the 'holier than thou' attitude, college was rough and unforgiving. 

You ordered your drink and sat down on the stool, Kai following you shortly after as she sat beside you. 

          "I heard there's gonna be a good band playing tonight," she rings up the bartender and orders a drink. 

She takes one look at your drooping face and sighed, her hand coming up to massage your shoulder. 

          "Loosen up," she takes a sip from her drink, "just for tonight, okay?"

You sighed and nodded timidly, copying her as you took a swig of your own drink. 

          "Looks like they're almost up," she taps your shoulder. "Mr. Compress is about to introduce them." 

          "Mister wha—" she shushes you before you could continue, leaving you no other choice but to sigh and watch.

The man with the strange name took center-stage with the microphone in his hand. The crowd seemed to know who he was, for they cheered and started gathering at the front of the stage. 

          "Let's go take a closer look too," Kai stood up and started dragging you with her. "Take your drink with you."

You looked at the already half-empty glass and shrugged, opting to chug it down instead. You finished your drink and walked with Kai towards the pit of people, still confused about what exactly was going on.

The strangely named man started to speak.

          "Ladies and gentlemen," he threw his free hand in the air by his side flamboyantly. "What an incredible pleasure to have you all here tonight. I am delighted to see some familiar faces, and some new ones too." 

He grinned.

          "I'm sure a lot of you are here to relieve some stress, no?" he asked, and the crowd cheered in affirmation. The man chuckled and continued;

          "Well, I best not keep my wonderful patrons waiting then." The crowd cheered louder. "Without further delay, may I present to you, The Villain League!"

The crowd roared as four people took the stage, varied instruments at their disposal, but the one that caught your eye was the one that stood at the center, a guitarist, and a good looking one at that. 

He was mostly dressed in dark clothing, aside from the white t-shirt he wore under his long coat. His features were hidden beneath the shadow cast by the dimmed lights.

And that was when the music started.

Electric guitar blinded your senses and opened your eyes. The exhilarating sound numbed the nerves that coursed through your entire body. Every hair on your body stood on its roots, awakened by the new thrill of music.

The lights turned on to the max, and the crowd went wild. Hands flew up in the air, the drinks in the opposite limb gambling on the edge of death.

It was music like you've never heard before. 

          "Holy shit," you said to yourself, the alcohol in your system taking its effect.

The man in the middle started singing, and you gasped as you took in the rest of his features. A good portion of his face and neck were covered in burn marks, as well as the top of his torso, which then spread across his arms. You awed.

How could someone who looked so damaged be so perfect?

Your eyes watched in wonder as your ears listened with delight. You made a mental note to thank Kai for dragging you into one of the best nights of your life. 

So this is what college was supposed to be like.

You smiled, feeling the bricks fall off your shoulders. You stood straighter as your eyes opened wider, and shined even brighter. 

This is so awesome.

You threw your hands in the air and let out a scream with the rest of the crowd. Kai catches sight of this and follows along with your mania, a laugh escaping her lips.

You were enjoying the aura of absolute chaos, but nothing had prepared you the moment your eyes caught his, staring right back at you. His mouth formed a devilish smile that made all the heat rush through your body in mere seconds. 

          "The girl in the red dress," he said into the microphone. Your eyes widened in unalloyed shock as they caught sight of the mischievous glint in his own. "Come out on stage with us."

What the fuck?

The crowd cheered louder and started to look around to find who he was referring to. They soon caught sight of you, who was still calculating the odds of you being the only girl in red. 

The sea of people parted and formed a direct path from you to the stage, and you were honestly shell shocked. 

Kai laughed and cheered you on.

          "Congrats Karen, you've officially been promoted to Moses!" she cheered even louder.

          "What, I—" you sputtered out.

Kai took her left hand and smacked your back, forcing you to stumble forward.

          "Go!" she yelled at you through the howls of the crowd. "Get. Fucking. Laid!"

At that, the crowd burst into an explosion of screams. Whistles and hoots were all that was heard as your shaking legs made its way towards the stage. 

You eventually made it to the edge, and the enigmatic guitarist leaned down to help you. Grasping your hand firmly in his, he hoisted you up easily. 

          "What's your name?" he leaned into your ear as he said it, his steady voice combating all other noises, and winning. 

          "Y/N," you said right back into his ear, a shiver coursing through your body as the current situation was doing its number on your sanity.

          "Nice shoes Y/N," he said cooly, and your head started spinning.

          "Uh, thank you—"

          "Let's have a good time together," he smirked at you, who blushed madly. 

You looked over at the rest of his bandmates. A young girl with a blonde fringe manning the second electric guitar, she looked at you and grinned widely at you. Eyes smiled shut and tongue jutting out, she threw you a peace sign in welcome. 

You looked behind you and saw a strange-looking man playing both the bass and keyboard. You made eye contact with him and he smiled, only for him to completely change his expression and give you the stink-eye, much to your confusion and anxiety. 

Finally, you looked over at the drummer who had dead-looking baby blue hair; he glanced at you and nodded briefly in acknowledgment.

          "Don't mind the last two," the mysterious guitarist chuckled, "they're a lot more decent than they seem."

You nodded and smiled at him.

          "So," he started. "Care to join in on the fun?" 

You took a deep breath.

          "Okay."

It was funny how you had started with not even being able to dance alone in your room. And now here you were, dancing along with countless strangers to music you never felt before.  

scene three; ilysb

            "You're new here, right?" the man said. He was sitting across from you with his head resting on his hand. His piercing blue eyes were focused only on you. 

It had been about an hour since you stepped foot inside the hidden bar and thirty minutes since you were standing on stage with the band having the time of your life. 

You looked over to the stage and saw your drunk friend Kai singing 'I Kissed a Girl,' microphone in her hands as she belted her heart out to the cheering crowd. 

You couldn't help but chuckle, before turning your attention back to the enigmatic man staring intently at you.

          "That's not slightly creepy at all," you answered jokingly. 

The man chuckled slyly.

          "I play here almost every night," he retorted coolly. "I would have definitely remembered you if you weren't new." 

You nodded. Smooth.

          "Fuck men!" you turned around to find Kai screaming into the microphone, one hand on the microphone stand and the other on the microphone itself. You sighed at the common occurrence. 

          "Fun friend you got," the man with burn marks said, attention also brought over to your crazed friend.

You sighed and nodded.

          "I'm this close to dropping her," you said with no conviction.

He seemed to have caught on to your tone and answered accordingly.

          "But you never will," he said.

          "Yup," you nodded once more.

You looked over to him again, the alcohol in your body taking full effect.

          "Wanna get out of here?" you asked him.

He looked at you with his eyebrow raised, a small smirk playing on his lips.

          "And abandon your fun friend?" he asked you.

          "Yes," you looked at him straight in the eyes as you said it.

          "Sounds fun," he said, already standing up from his seat.

You followed suit, casting your drunk friend one last look before following the strange man out of the small speakeasy.

The cold night air greeted your body that clung tightly onto the limited warmth of your sweater jacket. You walked idly with the man standing beside you, the streets painted a dark vignette by the evening sky. The night suited him, you thought.

You let out a deep exhale which invaded the darkness with its cold color, the hues fighting until the dull white was engulfed by the overwhelming darkness of nightfall.

You looked up at the stars that were scattered across the sky, their white twinkle enrapturing the night sky with its light and color. Their light so bright that it couldn't be overthrown by the darkness of black. Instead, they were displayed up in the sky, allowed to show off their beauty with no restraints. 

          "Orion's in the sky," you observed quietly. 

The man turned over to look at you.

          "The constellation?" he asked as he too tilted his head up to watch the night sky.

          "Yeah," you nodded, "I can't find the Pleiades, though." 

Absentmindedly, your feet started moving in hopes to catch sight of the constellation. The dark-haired man watched you quizzically.

          "Do you really think moving around will make them appear?" he asked you, who was now trudging farther and farther away. He sighed and started following you.

          "There're so many buildings around," you groaned in your drunken state. "Can't a girl just see her stars when she wants to?" 

He tilted his head in slight amusement and chuckled lowly. 

          "If it's the buildings you're worried about, I know where there's a field," he said. You turned around instantly.

          "Show me this field, good sir." 

          "It's this way," he tilted his head over to the right, feet already walking towards its direction. You followed him, skipping.

You eventually were led towards an open field located on a small hill in the park. Wow, we had a park?

          "Woah," you said in wonder. Your arms flying up from your sides as you spun around the grass, hair dancing in the breeze from your movements.

The man just watched you curiously, a small smile of endearment flickering on his lips.

You let out a big sigh of contempt and threw yourself down onto the grass floor, feeling at peace as the earthly bodies embraced you. The man who led you here followed suit, leaving little to no distance between your two figures as he laid down beside you.

          "Can you see the Pleiades now?" he asked from beside you.

You looked up and examined the heavens, and your eye immediately catches the open star cluster that painted the sky. A gasp escapes your lips as you point up at the constellation you were looking for.

          "There they are!" you squealed slightly, unable to control your excitement in your drunken state.

          "Why'd you want to see them so badly?" he looked at you and asked.

          "If you catch sight of Orion, then you're most likely gonna find the Pleiades too." You started, eyes focused eagerly on the stars. "There's this whole story behind them you know, about Orion and the Seven Sisters.

          "It was said by Greek mythology that Orion fell in love with the sisters, and pined over them for 12 years. He would always chase after them in hopes that they would become his someday. But that was until one day Zeus decided to turn him and the sisters into stars. So Orion could chase them forever for the rest of eternity but never once be able to touch them."

          "Wow," he said from beside you.

          "Yeah," you said from beside him.

          "You said they were the Seven Sisters," he said.

          "Yeah?" you turned your head over to look at him, his eyes seemingly glowing under the star studded sky.

          "But I can only see six at most," he stated.

          "Oh," you turned your head back to the sky. "That's because those are the only ones visible to the naked eye. If you look through a telescope, a dozen more stars are visible."

          "Is there a story behind that, too?" he asked.

          "Yup," you stated and continued. "According to storytellers, Merope— one of the sisters, is hiding her face because she's the only one of the sisters who married a mortal and thus isn't respected for it. 

          "Her husband, Sisyphus isn't represented in the night sky either, cause he was condemned by Zeus to forever roll a stone up a hill in Hades only to watch it roll down again when he almost gets it to the top."

          "That's..." his voice drifted off, "really sad." 

You hummed in affirmation.

          "You really like astronomy, huh?" he stated. "I'm assuming you're into astrology too?"

          "Yeah," you answered.

          "So, you're some type of zodiac girl," he said. "How quirky."

You scoffed.

          "What type of music are you into?" he suddenly changed the subject, surprising you.

          "I don't listen to music that much honestly," you said, surprising him, but not showing it on his face.

          "Okay," he said. "Very quirky."

You laughed at yourself.

          "Are you okay?" he asked you jokingly, maybe the alcohol was finally starting to get to him too. "Childhood trauma? Emotional baggage? Crazy ex-boyfriend?" 

          "Traumatizing college life," you said matter-of-factly. "And also just downright not having the time to listen to music."

          "Spotify's expensive, too," you added.

          "Ever heard of a radio?" he asked.

          "Yes, but I can never concentrate on studying when music is on," you said.

          "Ah," he said in a moment of realization. "It all makes perfect sense now. What's your major?"

          "Organic chemistry," you said.

          "Yeah," he nodded. "Makes sense."

          "Kindly enlighten me then, cause I can't make sense of anything going on in my life," you said.

          "You're a young adult suffering from the expectations and academically-focused constructs of our society," he said.

          "Damn," you started. "You're right." 

You sighed and placed your attention back at the azure before you.

          "The moon's crying," you stated.

          "What?" he asked, confused.

          "The moon feels sad," you answered vaguely.

          "The moon is sad," he stated beside you, eyes now focused onto the heavenly body in question. "The moon's just a broken planet that needs the sun to make it shine."

          "Just because it needs help doesn't mean their shine is any less beautiful," you said back.

A long silence passed between the two of you, he looked at you, whose focus was still set onto the night sky. Whatever had you so enchanted by them, he might never know, but as he watched your features bloom with the ethereal sparkle of night, the twinkle in your eyes matching— no, outshining that of the stars you looked so fondly upon, he just sighed softly.

          "Whatever you say, zodiac girl."

scene four; still with you

You were walking home with him in the cold night air, wind dancing softly around both of your figures as the gentle shrill tickled your senses. 

It was colder than usual, you thought. But maybe that was just from the thrill of not spending your nights like you usually did, alone in your bedroom studying a topic you couldn't care less about. You sighed.

When was the last time you were able to lay down on your bed listening to music?

You were grateful for Kai, who you just realized had been abandoned at the bar she forced you into. You prayed for your survival the following day. You say that, but in the end, you were nonetheless thankful for giving you a college experience other than cramming every day.

You thought about what you would have been doing if you weren't forced into the bar, and laughed at the predictability. 

You finally made it to your front door.

          "Goodnight," the blue-eyed man said to you. 

          "Yeah," you said back. "Thanks for walking me home."

He nodded and watched as you made your way over to your front door.

You stopped.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system, the cold night air, the thrilling atmosphere of spontaneity, or all of the above. But right now, you weren't in the mood to answer any multiple-choice questions.

You wanted to live for once. You wanted to feel anything else other than the dread of an upcoming deadline or relief after a grueling exam. 

For once, you wanted— needed to be free of the expectations and academically-centered constructs of society. Constructs that you never wanted to question until now.

Even if it was only for tonight, you wanted to do the thing you wanted to do. 

Even if it turns into a mistake, you would gladly take it for a few minutes of freedom.

You turned around and ran towards the man whose names you realized you didn't even know. But you were too far gone to be stopped. 

Your hands found the side of his face and pulled your faces close, eyes meeting and lips almost touching. You breathed nervously.

          "Can I kiss you?" you asked suddenly.

Shock and confusion flickered before his eyes but disappeared just as quickly.

          "Sure—" he said, and your lips finally connected.

The kiss lasted for mere seconds until you pulled away, flustered and drunk and confused.

What were you doing?

You turned back around to enter your home and scream at yourself.

How could you just throw yourself at him like that?

But suddenly, his hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards him, connecting your lips once more. You could have sworn you melted.

The kiss lasted much longer, lips moving against one another and breaths being mixed together in the cold night outside your apartment building. Your hands in his hair and his arms around your shaking frame.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your air puffing up in the chilly twilight.

You pulled onto the sleeve of his jacket and led him towards your apartment, rushing past the other tenants and employees, you quickly got on the elevator where more kisses were exchanged in a drunken haze.

The elevator doors opened, and the two of you rushed out with you guiding him to your door.

You hurriedly put in your key, hands slightly shaking, the door opens and you hastily go inside.

He comes into your small apartment and closes the door with his foot, the door meeting the frame with a soft thud. He pushes you against the wall and your lips meet once again.

You didn't know how much time had passed with his lips moving against yours and hands roaming across your body, the contact sending both heat and shivers to course through your entire being. 

His lips moved to your jaw, slowly making its journey down to your neck. Your breath hitched. 

Some more time passed with low moans and heavy breathing coming from the both of you, now laying on your twin-sized bed half-naked.

You looked out the window beside your bed and saw the stars and moon staring back at you, illuminating your figures in its magical glow. 

It was like time didn't exist when you were engulfed in his arms, his lips peppering your body in kisses and bite marks causing you to moan softly. You wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, with the moonlight shining softly on his features.

Your hands found themselves buried in his soft hair, time passing by faster as more clothes were being discarded around you.

          "Y/N..." he said your name softly. His light voice passes by you, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitched. Having no name to call out to, you whimpered instead. Your bodies intertwined together under the dim light of your apartment, and your heart taking timid steps towards him, tripping and falling deeper and deeper. 

It was colder than usual, the low-pitched hum of the air conditioner you forgot to turn off comforting you from afar. Your body shivered more, not used to the sensations. It felt good, it felt really good, but there was something about it that pained you and made you want to fall apart. 

The unfamiliarity of the pleasure and sweat clouded your mind and made you think back to the times when you were studying instead. This was far different than the dull absence your mind feels when reviewing all your lessons. But even then, thinking back to the simple emotions that came from your textbooks and notes, maybe these simple feelings were special to you too.

The night progressed further, and time was lost once and for all in the midst of your shared pleasure, the night turning darker as the sparkling sky glowed onto your sweaty figures. 

You both reached your climax and breathed heavily, eyes meeting and foreheads touching in what seemed like a hazy afterglow, both your minds fogged and judgments clouded. 

Your hand delicately went up to touch his cheek, his eyes shimmering in the glow of the night sky. He looked at you with the faintest smile. Underneath it was painted the most beautiful purple, his broken and damaged face sending your heart into a fit of shooting stars. 

His body collapsed next to you on the small bed, arms encasing you tightly against his warm body.

You looked over to the window beside your bed. The sun was slowly rising, and the moon began to fade away into the brightening sky. 

You felt your eyes slowly closing, finally giving in to the sleep you denied yourself all night.

Goodbye moon.

And just as the moon left your sky that February sunrise, so did the man who slept next to you that very next day.

[painted-crow]

Submission Time #9

Hi, Paint! Thank you so much for letting your inbox available and taking time out of your day to read this <3 I’ll try my best to make it as short as possible, but I do tend to talk too much, so I’m sorry if this turns out a bit long. Also, sorry about my English hehe.

No way, this is really clear and well-written! You've made things easy for me here ^^

Well, guess I’ll start with what I do know sorting wise! I’m a Snake Primary with a Lion model and one thing I’m very aware of about my secondary is a Bird model that I use for basically everything lol. I think my actual secondary burned sometime around my teens and I’ve been living in this model ever since. I like it, it’s very fun and incredibly useful, but doesn’t really feel like me, you know? Getting things done can end up a bit frustrating at times, especially when I’m overthinking everything and making some half-assed planning I'll most likely end up throwing away at some point.

Okay, so leaning towards one of the Improvisational secondaries. Cool :)

When looking at other secondaries tho, I relate to some aspects of them, but not the core thing about them, if it makes any sense. I mean, I understand that as complex humans we won't relate to our sortings 100% all the time, but it seems like the key characteristic is always missing.

Like Lion, for example. I’ve been told I can give some pretty inspirational speeches and a few times after project presentations classmates told me I should probably get into theater or become a coach lmao. I’ve always been a bit of an improviser, too? I don’t tend to think much before presentations, usually there's just a guideline and then I come up with all the nice words on the spot. I seem to be able to do and learn things rather intuitively too, like getting high scores on essays about books I didn’t read or on tests I barely studied for, if at all. And still have no idea how I did that...

Almost certainly an Improvisational secondary, then. Not sure which. Either that or you have two models happening.

But the actual Lion thing, the need for integrity and being myself at all times? I don’t have it. That "inspirational" bit people mention is probably more related to me being rather good with words and voice intonation, it doesn’t necessarily come from a place of genuineness. It does feel more like a performance, I'm actively trying to be entertaining and catch people's attention while explaining the subject. Guess I also prefer to take more indirect approaches to solve problems, rather than charging.

So it sounds like Lion is less of a thing for you. Let's think about Snake instead.

As for Badger, I think there’s at least some performance going on. The thing about getting unprompted confessions and having people randomly asking for favors? Happens pretty often. I consider myself more fluid too, and I relate more to the Badger description of “mirroring” than the Snake thing of becoming someone that’s “charming” for a certain person. Especially because social cues aren’t exactly my forte haha. So it’s easier to go along with and reciprocate whatever vibe the person is giving off. I’m definitely not a community builder tho. Relying on people makes me anxious and I generally feel more comfortable with smaller groups. I would say I'm a caretaker, but that's it.

I don't think Snakes would have a hard time mirroring if they wanted to. A Snake who wants to give off chill vibes can (consciously or subconsciously) just decide to do the Badger mirror thing. And if you do that a lot, then yes, people are going to feel safe around you and you get the random confessions thing.

That's not to say you don't have any Badger, though.

The hardworking and showing up part are definitely tools I’ve used before and it’s what helped me get hired for jobs more than once now. Work ethic is important, but I guess I focus too much on the end results and “work smarter, not harder” is not a philosophy I tend to go against. As long as I can still be efficient and provide good results, I don’t mind taking shortcuts. In fact, it would feel a little selfish to me to keep up a slower, less updated method if I can be more productive and finish things faster by trying something different (really hope I'm not offending anyone by saying this, it's just a personal view).

"Tools" is the word you use, and I know you said you're thinking your secondary is Burned, but it's interesting how neutrally you talk about this. You don't seem emotionally invested in Badger, either as part of your identity or with those complex mixed feelings Burned Houses often have.

Maybe you use Badger sometimes as a performance, but from the sound of it, it doesn't feel like it's yours.

Finally, Snake. The parts where Badgers and Snakes overlap are definitely the ones I relate to the most. But, like Snakes, I don’t need to believe what I’m saying to make it work. I only have to believe I’m being convincing enough haha. The less I think about it, the better.

Hmm. I was already leaning towards Snake for you, but I wonder if "the less I think about it, the better" isn't a leftover habit you have from pushing Snake aside to use Bird. I'm probably reading too much into this.

When I was younger I used to take some pride in being a pretty good "“liar"”, but I don’t know why I started feeling like people can see right through me? That they’ll think I’m always faking everything and can’t be trusted.

Ooh, imposter syndrome. Fun.

So, you used to take pride in this, but you started feeling like you weren't good at using Snake? And you're thinking your old secondary might be Burned.

Anxiety™ definitely doesn’t help with that, however I started wondering if part of it comes from having a very, *very* loud Lion secondary mom and she always expected our relationship to be open and honest. I’m glad I can be like that with her, I even agree that when the matter is important enough, you should be honest and communicate with your loved ones.

So there's a family/community expectation that conflicts with your using Snake...

But when being so open in general isn’t in my nature and I have to force myself to be a little more like her…. Maybe I internalized that being indirect and reserved is inherently bad and I feel guilty when that’s precisely my first instinct.

So, Lion REALLY isn't your thing. I'm very much leaning towards Snake for you.

But as I said, I’m not a people charmer. More like a negotiator, maybe. And reading some Snake secondary statements, it does come across as a little… “extreme” to me. Like having multiple accounts with personas that don’t overlap? I have three atm, with a lot of overlapping, and it already feels overwhelming lmao.

There isn't a set way to use the secondaries. Snake in particular is very adaptable and it's definitely up to you how you use it. The specifics of how other Snakes use their secondary aren't a requirement for you to be one.

"Negotiator" absolutely is a form Snake can have, and if you can identify yourself with a fluid, reactive word like that, then that's a hopeful sign that you're un-Burning.

And the world better watch out when you do... A Snake with a strong Bird model? Hell yes, that's a combination :D

I wrote this trying to sort myself more than anything, but at the end of the day, guess I’m still a bit lost. If I had to pick one… Maybe I’m closer to being a Badger…. A very impatient one, if that's possible.

Aww, hon, your mom just doesn't realize how awesome Snakes can be.

I think you're slowly recovering your Snake, but you're only letting yourself adapt in ways that look Badger, because Badger is safe and socially acceptable. Especially to your family... you said you're a Snake primary and if your mom is Important to you in a loyalties way, you might find that changes how you treat your Houses.

Anyways, I was curious to know what your considerations would be! Once again, thank you so much for taking the time to read all of this mess and commenting on it. Hope you stay safe and have a great week!

This was very articulate and not a mess at all ^^ hope this helps!

-Paint

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (3/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities that await them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

Other Chapters: 1 2

Link to cross-postings: AO3

It turned out Hange did think the housing plan through.  

"It's a rent to own contract...so after paying this certain amount of rent… within a number of years… we can own the house basically," Hange explained. Her preparation was evident in the wad of papers she had carelessly spread out on the table in front of Levi.

At first glance, Levi could not make sense of what those papers were. Eventually, by carefully scanning through the therefore, herewiths, in the events, the interest rates and percentages, Levi figured out they were contracts and manuals full of buying and renting policies of one particular real estate company.

Levi looked out the glass window of the booth of the quiet diner they had chosen to work in. He had tried to use the mechanical movements of the crowds on a commute home to at least help clear his mind enough to make sense of how exactly a rent-to-own contract worked. Levi was sure Hange was at least attempting to explain everything about the buying policies of the real estate company in layman's terms. Although Levi was somewhat impressed by the dedication Hange put into it, as soon as she started to talk about the policies and agreements beyond ‘we get to own the house after a while,’ Levi ended up spacing out. The prospect of spending, even if it was fake money, caused him enough unnecessary stress.  

He turned his attention to the two flour sacks who were propped by the window of the diner booth they occupied. He had purposefully turned their ugly faces towards the window at the small possibility that Shadis, Erwin or even Zeke were amongst the crowds of people walking through the crowds and into the subway station. A testament to their determination not to waste any unnecessary funds or worse, flunk the program

"If we catch you in public not holding your baby, you pay babysitting dues or you fail." Shadis had said in homeroom class that morning.

After some discussion as a class and with some confirmation from Erwin, the whole class came to the understanding that if they went out separately, they were in no obligation to take their babies with them. It could always be assumed after all, that their partner had their baby with them. Being in public with their partner meant someone had to have the baby with them or they risk pay necessary dues. At any rate, they found solace in the fact that if they were going to look like idiots holding brown sacks with shabbily drawn faces on them, they at least had someone to look like an idiot with.

Levi looked back at  Hange to see that she had not stopped talking. Levi was not too surprised, having the disinterested equivalent of a resting bitch face, he had to master the art of looking like he cared to get past most classes.  

“Where did you get these anyway?” Levi asked, interrupting the tirade of his partner. The answer to that question would at least be something he would be able to understand.

“The procedures manual and their company policies are available online.” Hange answered matter-of-factly. Levi noted how quickly she recovered from having her explanation of policy and business jargon interrupted.

As Levi looked once again through highlighted lines and messy scrawls, he felt embarrassed that he was not even halfway done with the design they had discussed the night before. He slowly brought out his folder where he had at least begun to draw the floor plan from the link Hange had sent him the night before.

“How has the floor plan been Levi?” Hange cocked her head to one side. Levi could not tell if she was provoking him or if she was genuinely curious about the progress of his work. Regardless, the way that she sifted through the papers under her, while looking pointedly at the roughly drawn floor plan on his hands had Levi self conscious.

It was Tuesday afternoon, less than 24 hours since she had bombarded him with messages. Less than 24 hours since she dropped a pdf file of the floor plan and went MIA, Levi guessed it was to prepare all the documents which Hange had just laid out in front of him that morning. As he compared his own progress to hers, he also became aware of one more reality, their first outputs were due tomorrow. Begrudgingly Levi had to admit, despite her naivete and overenthusiasm, Hange had a better sense of urgency than he did.

“I planned everything out already. I just need to outline it.” Levi said, trying at least not to sound as defensive as he felt.

“But can you do it alone? I didn’t sleep at all last night to get this done.” Hange looked more concerned than anything else.”

As Levi looked back at a skeleton of a housing plan that lay in front of him, he started to understand her concern. The house they had selected was huge and designing would take hours if he actually wanted to put thought into it.

“I mean even if we take out the 1800 from our budget of 3600 dollars a month, we still have to consider furniture and it might take you a while to come out with the pricing right? I guess we could leave out 1000 dollars for that….”

Furniture? Levi had stopped listening at ‘furniture.’ Somehow Levi had assumed that it would have been fully furnished when they bought it and they just had to rearrange furniture. “We’re buying an unfurnished house?” Levi had hoped Hange was pulling his leg.

Hange knitted her brows in confusion. “Did I say anything about a furnished house?”

                                         Division of Labor

“There are two methods of accounting used in modern day society: cost accounting and accrual accounting or as I’d like to call them: an idiot’s sorry excuse for accounting and actual accounting.” Zeke wrote the two terms on the board and plopped himself on the teacher’s desk. “Really though, why the hell do people still use cost accounting in modern society, it’s fucking stupid, barbaric, might as well go back to bartering…”

Levi had no idea what either of them were. As he looked around at his classmates, they looked as lost as he was about the mini rant that Zeke gave about the two accounting methods he had failed to define.

After a few minutes of ranting, Zeke finally noticed the blank faces of his students. “Okay Social Experiment.” Zeke cocked his head to the side. “Actually, let’s call it an IQ Test.  Jean stand up.”

“Yes sir!” Jean followed way too enthusiastically.

“You got the investment banker occupation so ideally you should be the most knowledgeable on money among everyone in the room,” Zeke continued. “You have zero dollars and I gave you 100 dollars right now. How much do you have?”

“100 dollars sir,” Jean answered.

“That’s a smart boy.” Zeke slapped his desk so hard, Armin and Eren jumped, having sat so close to the teacher’s desk. “Okay, so if I lent you 100 dollars, how much do you have?”

“100 dollars.”

“So, you’re gonna run away with my money? No plans of paying me back?”

Jean tensed up in confusion. “No sir. I’ll be paying you back.”

“Then is it your money?"

“It’s with me sir… So I think…” Jean paused for a second. “So it’s your money sir?”

“Tell me. The money is with you after all. Is it your money or my money?”

“It’s my money sir!” Jean answered too quickly, probably without even thinking.

“I lent you the money. I expect it back so it’s mine. Calling my money your money is practically stealing Kirschtein. I can call a lawyer on you.” Zeke narrowed his eyes at Jean for a few seconds before shrugging in defeat. “But you’re not a criminal. You’re just an idiot who relies on outdated accounting methods. Don’t take that with you when you become an actual financial advisor. Sit down. I’m calling someone else.” Zeke turned back to the class list on the teacher’s table. “Okay, anyone in this list with a finance related position...” Zeke’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked through the list. He looked at the class with a cat-like grin, his eyes focusing on one boy in the front row. “In my almost sixteen years of knowing you, I did not expect you to be suitable but it looks like you’re the only one in this list other than Jean with an accounting related occupation.”

“Really? It’s accounting related?” Eren had never been one to be good at Math. Everyone in the class agreed and as their professor hinted at his assigned occupation, many began to whisper, possibly theorizing as to what Eren had gotten.

They did not have to theorize for long though, within seconds, Zeke continued to discuss. “Okay Eren, let’s discuss your field of expertise --- insurance.”

Eren slowly nodded in return. It was a nod which everyone in the room had understood at first glance. Insurance was not Eren’s field of expertise.

Zeke did not seem to care though. “Case study time! I have 3000 dollars. Eren the insurance salesman sells me $200 dollars a month worth of insurance and I buy one years worth of prepaid insurance. By the end of this month, how much worth of assets do I have left?”

“By assets, you mean money?”

“Check a fucking dictionary.”

Eren sat down for a second. From his seat, Levi could hear some whispers from Mikasa and some clicks of a digital keyboard, or possibly a calculator.

“600 dollars.”

“Final answer?”

“Yes. Final Answer.” Eren seemed so sure of his answer.

From seeing Zeke’s face at the answer, Levi could not help but think, maybe phrasing it as a question was the better option for Eren.

“This is why your generation is so shit at saving. With this type of attitude, you‘re all gonna get into some shity Ponzi scheme with yourself and some sad saps who actually pitied you enough to lend you money without assessing your credit rating that’s just gonna continue riding on some endless cycle until you all go to jail or declare bankruptcy.” Zeke ranted again as he punched the buttons of the projector, turning it on. “ Scratch that. At this rate, none of you would probably even know how to declare bankruptcy.”

Accounting 101 . Those two words flashed on the screen, the contrast of black words in a default font to the white background of a hastily made powerpoint only getting clearer as the projector whirred to life.

“The amount of debt you can get into in the real world will fuck up your life. So to simulate the real world consequences of unpaid debt, we decided to make your fake debt by the end of the year one of the main determinants of your final grade. And we will be using real accounting to determine your debt. Any questions before we start?”

It was Sasha who raised her hand from the back of the classroom.

“Yes?” Zeke asked with shoddily hidden annoyance.

“So which one is cost and which one is accrual again, Sir?”

                                      Division of Labor

"I told you. I'll handle the accounting," Hange said. "We can make this work." Her words were not at all assuring.

It was Wednesday afternoon. They had submitted their selection for their house that afternoon in class so that meant no more takebacks. Their house plans were due midnight and Levi was not even halfway done. To add insult to injury, Levi was still reeling from Zeke’s lecture just a few hours ago.

Initially, Hange had suggested they buy the furniture in installments. The prospect of buying in installments though became all the more terrifying with the accounting system Zeke had introduced to them that day and the weight of a negative balance sheet on their grades.

As soon as you buy something and enter into debt, the money owed is not yours anymore. Levi shuddered as those words echoed in his head. He narrowed his eyes at Hange. "Really Hange? Can we? After deciding to spend half your salary each month on an unfinished 3 bedroom house?" Levi asked as he gestured to their next tall order that stretched over two aisles. They were in the baby's section in the supermarket.

It was their third round around that aisle, trying to look for a brand of diaper and a brand of formula that would not cost them a total of 400 dollars a month.

“I mean, we still have 800 dollars on groceries if we put our furniture installments budget at 1000 dollars a month,” Hange explained. “So if we spend 400 dollars on baby stuff, we should have 400 left.”

“400 dollars for a month’s worth of meals for a family of four.” Levi clarified. “There must be something here we could choose not to spend on.” Or maybe we could find a cheaper place to buy things in. Levi thought back to the supermarket nearer to his house and made a mental note to check it. The output was due on Friday anyway.

"Hey, Armin and Annie are here too!" Hange said enthusiastically.

Too enthusiastically. Levi clarified to himself. That was not at all good news. If other groups were going to that supermarket, that must mean they think they have the financial leeway to spend there, That could also possibly mean he and Hange had somehow fucked up financially as a pair, struggling to make ends meet. Armin was a studious student with a good head on his shoulders and he chose to shop in a more expensive supermarket. Are we spending too much?

"Let's ask Armin…" Levi did not need to finish his sentence. By the time, he looked to his side, where Hange stood or at least was supposed to be standing, the latter was already on her way to the blond boy..

Levi did not waste anytime. As Hange chatted up Armin, Levi made a few rounds through the two aisles again, his phone calculator on hand.

Just in case. Levi told himself. Just in case they had miscalculated the minimum expense of 400 dollars.

                                      Division of Labor

Hange had a long talk with Armin. By that point, Levi had lost count of the number of rounds he had made around the aisle. He had stopped counting at five. He had done his research on discounts and made some fake accounts and the expense still clocked at $390 dollars.

By the time he and Hange called it quits, the sun was setting. Hange seemed lost in thought and she had been that way since she had finished her conversation with Armin. Levi decided to take over keeping both sacks for the night. He made a small detour to the grocery store nearest to his flat. It was smaller, a little dirtier but it meant a little more room for spending and a bigger chance of saving his grade and graduating. Begrudgingly, sanitation became the least of Levi's issues.

He wrote out all the prices of the important items they had seen in the grocery store. When he got home, he made sure to write them all on a google sheet complete with weight, quantity and prices and sent the link to Hange through an instant message. For some reason, he felt a twinge of disappointment when all he received was a heart react in return.

Of course, Hange still had a lot of things to calculate. Even as they separated less than an hour ago, she had seemed distracted. Levi guessed Armin had told her something game breaking about the accounting process.

What did Armin tell you? You need any help?

Will explain soon. Send the meal plan and house design by 9 pls.

Levi managed to submit the meal plan by nine. He had copied and pasted from some random family cooking website, changing a few ingredients to fit what he thought would be cheaper options. He did not need to think too much of it either. He lived a life many would consider the complete opposite of excess and as a result, had mastered the art of improvisation when it came to food.

His main problem lay with the floor plan of the house. Hange had agreed to handle worrying about the expenses. That was one problem out of his plate.

Even with the money problem out of his hands, Levi found himself working until late anyway. Or not working… Levi was only reminded of his lack of productivity when his phone lit up with a notification.

11:00pm

Hange Zoe

Where??????

Levi only realized then that he had gotten a little carried away with the problem of where to put the washing machine.

                                 Division of Labor

It was a genius idea.

That Wednesday night, only a few hours before the house plan was due, Levi had had fifty tabs open from German and Japanese house designers showing bathrooms and laundry room designs highlighting the novelty and practicality of putting the washing machine in the bathroom. Levi had spent hours pondering the logistics of making it work for the house design Hange had sent him only for her to shoot down the idea an hour before the housing plan was due.

They rented an American style house with a bathroom in every bedroom and the impracticality had dawned on him particularly when it was fifteen minutes to 12am and they were still arguing in chat over how to design the house. In the end, Hange had gotten her way, having brought up the issue of accounting furniture and the fact that they probably did not even have the financial leeway to pay for a washing machine anyway.

Having to deal with the disappointment of losing the opportunity to design the house the way he wanted to and having his unfinished design shipped off to Erwin’s email, with little regard for the effort he had put into the intricacy of both the toilets and the laundry room, Levi was a little pissed. He also considered the fact that he had respected the effort and detail Hange had put into choosing a house and had allowed her to submit a potentially overpriced and unfurnished house as their final product.

And she could not even reciprocate the respect for his whims.

Levi decided then to take a break from it all. It was a silent agreement on both ends. Or there was no need for an agreement anyway. They had finished their deliverables for the week by Thursday.

Everyone had ended up cramming theirs anyway and Levi found himself walking home alone and spending his time outside school hours bingeing whatever was new on Netflix.

By Monday, Levi had not expected to do much. Their breakdown of responsibilities was due Friday, 12am on Thursday to be exact according to the file that Erwin had sent. It was a one page paper with a few questions that just needed answering. They could easily start on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Levi wanted to spend at least just his Monday, peacefully, not considering the program which has been plaguing the start of their junior year since Shadis’ announcement just a week ago. He allowed himself to clear his mind, making sure to just note on his phone to start on the next output by Wednesday. Hange would probably remind him anyway.

He had deluded himself well into thinking the adulting program was limited to those once a week outputs. An announcement was made to meet in the kitchen after lunch for home economics class. His mood that Monday had him living in complete denial of what could actually go on in a school kitchen and for some reason, Levi imagined having a lecture in the kitchen was a completely normal expectation, even with the reminder to bring aprons and gloves. Maybe we just need to put them in lockers or something.

As the students filed in though, some of them panicked and that was when Levi figured out that something was not right. The counters were all lined up with ingredients. Some of the students had recognized the ingredients. Levi looked to Hange to see that she was blank on what the hell the pattern was behind the types of ingredients set out.

There were the essentials--- flour, sugar, eggs. There were exotic ingredients Levi could not even name or pronounce.

“Cardamom, Star Anise, Rose water. What the hell?” It was Jean speaking from behind Levi.

“I’m glad you see the pattern. I’m assuming that means you’ll all do well?” Erwin waited while the rest of the class filed into the room before he raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Today we’ll be having a pop quiz just to make sure you all know what you’re writing when you make the meal plans. In the tables assigned to you, you will see the ingredients for one of the meals you put in your meal plan. Please use them accordingly to make a full course meal from what you had submitted.”

Levi could not remember for the life of him what the hell he had put in that meal plan a week back

[wildflowerhigh]

Second Time Around (c.h.) | Part 8

Read part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, Calum Hood isn’t so cynical about love anymore.

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N:  This is the end! What a rollercoaster to get here, but we’ve finally arrived. I’m genuinely sad this series is over, but like I said before, this is not the end! I’m hoping to post a couple of bonus one shots. Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and reading this till the end. I hope you guys loved this series as much as I loved writing it. Also, y’all are more than welcome to come and shout in my inbox about Harper and Calum! I’m more than willing to keep writing about these two, but you gotta tell me what you wanna read. So… send me blurbs or something, I don’t know hehe. Okay, I’m just gonna shut up now and let y’all read, bye!

---

“HIGH SCHOOL REUNION - CLASS OF 2014,” Harper read off the massive banner hanging inside the school gym. Luke, Michael, Harper and him were at their high school reunion, surrounded by their ex-classmates sipping wine from stem glasses. Ashton obviously hadn’t come, choosing to have a date night with Kaykay instead. Sierra and Crystal had decided not to come either.

“Technically we’re not class of 2014, we dropped out before we graduated,” Luke commented as they surveyed the gym. As Calum scanned the room, different names popped into his head as he recognized each person. Some of them he had actually been friends with, but most he had barely known.

“Yeah, but you’re famous, that’s probably why you got called,” Harper said, smirking, before walking off to talk to someone else she had spotted. The group split, and Calum found himself talking to Jenny Campbell. She had been a cheerleader, and in a quite cliché manner, had looked down her nose at him and his friends. But here she was now, talking to him like they had been the best of friends in high school. If Ashton had been in his place, he probably would have made a snarky comment to her face and walked away, but Calum was unfortunately nicer than him.

“Hey Cal, come with me, I wanna show you something,” Harper slid up next to him, grabbing his arm to pull him away. She interrupted Jenny’s rant about some topic (that was verging on racist territory) and made Calum want to claw his eyeballs out, so he was glad that his girlfriend had stepped in. Jenny cleared her throat, to get Harper’s attention.

“Jenny. Hello,” Harper said, and Calum could hear the mock pleasantry in her voice. “How are you?”

“Calum and I were having a conversation, Harper, before you so rudely interrupted,” Jenny replied scornfully.

“Oh yeah? What you were talking about?” Harper asked, turning around to face her. Calum remembered now that Jenny and her had never actually gotten along; Jenny was fake nice, which Harper hated.

“Something you wouldn’t really understand, Harper.” Jenny smiled at Harper condescendingly, and it was clear that Jenny thought her and Calum were somehow better than Harper. Calum cringed at the thought.

“Right, of course. And how’s the divorce coming along?” Harper asked cheerfully, but Calum noticed the scathing tone in her voice. Jenny’s jaw dropped, and from the expression on her face, he could tell Harper had hit a nerve. “Heard it lasted only ten days, and he cheated on you with your bridesmaid? That’s just so, so, sad.” She looked at her with mock pity. “Okay, Jenny, it was great talking to you, bye!”

She turned Calum around and pushed him away, shooting her a condescending smile. He struggled to stifle his laughs- he managed to say goodbye to Jenny, and she looked like a volcano ready to burst when he last saw her. Harper and Calum made it out of the gym, laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

“That was cold, baby,” he said between laughs, the nickname seamlessly slipping out of his lips. Harper’s grin somehow got even wider. 

“I’m up to here with her bullshit,” she said when they had stopped laughing, gesturing next to her head with her hand. “I never stood up to her in high school, but I couldn’t give less of a shit now.”

“And that’s how it should be,” he said encouragingly, giving her a high five. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly red. “How did you even know all of that?”

“Amy told me all of it, just now,” she replied. Amy had been Harper’s other best friend. She was quite a nice girl, as far as he remembered.

“Oh yeah, how is she?”

“She’s doing great, she’s an entrepreneur now,” Harper said, nodding.

“Wow.” Harper and Calum just stood there looking at each other, smiles stretched across their faces. “Why did you pull me away anyway?”

“Oh!” Harper smacked her forehead. “I wanted to go see our old classrooms.” She grabbed his hand, and pulled him up the stairs.

“My Year 12 classroom,” Harper murmured, peeking into the first room to the right. Calum peeked in too- that was where he would have studied if he hadn’t dropped out. It looked identical to his older classrooms, to be perfectly honest.

“Year 11,” she mumbled to herself, moving on to another classroom. By now she had a lazy smile on her face, probably saturated with memories and nostalgia. Calum joined her in looking at Year 11. He was there for most of it- it had been good in terms of the friends, but he just couldn’t hack the studies part of it. 

“What did they say when I dropped out?” Calum asked, and Harper shrugged.

“Don’t remember, actually. I don’t think people were actually that surprised.”

Calum squinted at her. “I wasn’t that bad at studies, was I?”

“No, but everyone knew the band was your main goal towards the end. It simply became a matter of time,” she replied, and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, love.”

They moved on to the Year 10 classroom, reminiscing about that year, and then finally to the Year 9 classroom. The year Harper had joined.

Harper stepped in and looked around the room, a wistful smile stretched across her face. The room hadn’t changed one bit in so long. “I’m so glad my dad got transferred here,” she murmured, and Calum smiled at the back of her head. He was glad too.

After their evening at the cliff, he had taken her out on a couple dates, which had only cemented his decision to make this relationship work. She was absolutely incredible. He had asked her to be his girlfriend, and to his delight, she had instantly said yes.

Calum walked over to his old table, two rows from the back of the classroom. He sat down on the bench (he was too big, he just barely fit on it), facing the blackboard. Harper looked over at him, amused. “I was sat here, just like this, when you walked in that day. On your first day of school.” He tapped the table slightly. “You introduced yourself, and I’ve been whipped for you ever since.”

"Just like that?" She teased, half giggling, and did a mock catwalk into the room, twirling around like a Miss World contestant.

"Exactly like that, yeah," he managed to get out in the midst of fond giggles at his girlfriend's fooling around.

She smiled at him and crossed him to sit at her own old table, diagonally to the right behind his. He swiveled around in his tiny seat to face her. "You would lean over and correct my maths work," he remembered.

She shrugged. "It was the only way to talk to you," she said, making Calum's eyes go wide. “Yeah! I used to keep looking at your work to see if you made mistakes- and you made a lot of them- and I would correct you.” She chuckled slightly, shaking her head. “I stupidly thought that was the way to weasel myself into your heart.”

“But it worked, though,” he said, and she smiled at him. "I wish I had asked you out then."

"I'm actually glad you didn't. We would have turned out as different people if we had been together then, and…" she walked over to sit on his table, and he looked up at her. His hand automatically moved to her calf, lightly stroking it. "I like the people we are right now."

He stood up in front of her, pulling her legs around his waist. She smirked at him, and his heart flipped like it always, always did. "I like the people we are right now too,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss almost immediately got more intense, her hands ruffling through his short hair as he tilted his head.

"Mr Hood, Miss Romano, maybe don't make out in this classroom," a familiar voice piped up near them, and Harper and Calum instantly pulled away to look at the source. Mr Wayne, their English teacher was standing in the doorway, frowning amusedly at the couple. "There are children who study on that very table."

"Mr Wayne, hello!" Harper said, jumping off the bench, brushing her hair. Calum brushed a hand over his face and hair as well. "We were just reminiscing!"

"By kissing? That’s an interesting method," he commented.

“Sorry, Mr Wayne,” Calum said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Mr Wayne shook his head, a smile appearing on his face. He had been a pretty chill English teacher, Calum remembered.

"I really don't know if you kept him and the others in less trouble, or if they got you into more trouble, Miss Romano," he said, walking closer to them, his hands behind his back.

"Let's just say it was a mix of both, Mr Smith," Harper said, making Mr Lee chuckle.

"And you two are reconnecting in an unconventional manner," he quipped, and both Harper and Calum blushed, his hand moving to the small of her back. 

"Yeah, it... just happened."

"Well, please don't make out again in the classrooms. It was nice seeing you two again." He turned around to leave, and then looked back at them. "And I must say, it’s about time." He smiled at them and walked out, leaving the two of them confused.

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?" Harper whispered.

"I have no idea."

---

An hour and a half later, after a decent dinner hosted by the school itself, the four of them drove back home together. They had gone in Calum’s car, so he was driving. Harper had placed her hand on his that was on the gear stick five minutes into the ride, leading to a constant barrage of teasing from Luke and Michael, but Calum didn’t care- all he felt was contentment. 

They dropped off Luke and Michael at their respective homes, and as the car sped away, Harper sighed loudly. “I don’t wanna go home,” she whined.

“You don’t have to go home right now if you don’t want to, you know, you’re an adult,” he remarked, and her eyes grew wide.

“I’m an adult. Oh my god, I can do whatever I want!”

Calum chuckled at her. “Yeah, being back home makes you feel like a kid again, doesn’t it?”

“It really does, I feel like I should be at home doing homework right now,” she replied, giggling.

“So, Ms. Harper Romano, the adult,” he joked. “Where do you wanna go?” He pulled over on the side of the road- he didn’t wanna overshoot their destination that she was yet to pick. 

Harper looked around; suddenly, her hand gripped Calum’s tighter. “Benny’s Diner. It’s right there.” She pointed at a tiny restaurant on the side of the road with her free hand.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I remember all the couples used to come here for dates back then,” she said. Calum shrugged, stopped the car and got out, his hand disconnecting with hers for a few seconds till she was by his side again. This time, she slid her hand fully into his, and Calum couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face.

The name of the diner sounded kinda familiar to him, and as they walked in, he realized where he had heard it before. “I’m pretty sure Luke used to come here with his high school girlfriend,” he remarked, and Harper nodded.

“Probably. Literally everyone popular ate here. I’m pretty sure they came here after the school formal too,” she replied, settling into one of the booths. Calum sat down next to her, and he reluctantly let go of her hand. “I didn’t go with them, though. I went home after the dance. There’s only so much socializing I can do.”

Calum smiled at her, and looked around. It was a cute place, but he didn’t think he had ever come there before. He definitely hadn’t come here on a date, he would have remembered. “Who did you go to the formal with?” he asked.

“Tommy Huang,” she said, looking up from the menu she had picked up off another table. Calum’s mouth fell open at her answer.

“Seriously?” he asked, for the second time that night. “That guy was such a douche!”

“Yeah, but he was the only guy who asked me, and everyone else had dates.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t wanna be that chick that’s all alone at the formal.”

The waitress interrupted them just then- Harper ordered a chocolate milkshake while Calum ordered a tea. 

“If I had been there, I would have asked you to the formal,” Calum said, after the waitress had left, and she smiled warmly at him.

“And I would have said yes, but you were in London,” she replied. She didn’t sound at all bitter, but the guilt ripped through his heart anyway.

“I’m sorry we abandoned you,” he said, reaching out to grab her hand, and she gladly took it. “And left you to get through the mess that is high school all alone,” he finished, and she shook her head.

“You didn’t abandon me, Cal, you guys were following your dreams! I would be a horrible friend if I felt bad about this.”

“So you don’t feel bad at all?”

“Well, I-” She paused, looking for words. “I was a little lonely, of course, I don’t blame you guys for it,” she said pointedly. “In fact, I’m glad you guys went to London, I mean, look where you are now!”

The universe has a funny way of proving points, and as if on cue, the diner’s speakers started playing She Looks So Perfect. Both of their jaws dropped- while Harper’s expression was more of amusement, Calum’s expression was sheer horror.

“And your song wouldn’t be played at random diners if you hadn’t gone to London!” She clapped her hands in glee, getting up from the booth. Calum put his face in his hands, hiding the smile that popped up from looking at his girlfriend’s joy. 

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, watching her dance and sing along to Luke’s verse of the song.

“I am not kidding, Calum Thomas Hood, now up you get!” She dramatically raised her hands,  gesturing to him to stand. He got up, smirking at her shining face. “The whole world loves you, baby,” she cooed, taking his hands into hers, and he laughed. She forced him to dance, moving his hands like that of a doll, and he sheepishly went along with it, unable to stop laughing. He noticed the waitress staring at them like they were crazy, but at this point, he kinda felt like they were.

During the chorus, he even twirled her around; Harper cackled, which made Calum cackle as well. He felt carefree- like the world was only him and her in this diner, dancing to a song that he had made, acting silly.

When his verse came, he serenaded her, getting down on his knees as he sang the line, ‘If I showed up with a plane ticket, and a shiny diamond ring with your name on it, would you run away too? ‘Cause all I really want is you!’

Harper laughed as he sang, cracking up so hard she couldn’t talk. Calum was laughing just as hard- he could feel his stomach clench from laughing so much. After they finally caught their breath, Harper stood up fully, pulling him closer by his shirt. They were still giggling, and Calum doubted they would stop soon. “What are the odds of them playing this song right-fucking-now?” she asked, amused. He shook his head, his hands gripping her waist.

“Very, very slim,” he replied, and bent down to kiss her cheek. She grinned at him, and Calum felt like he was on cloud nine. The song had reached its end by now, and some other hit pop song started playing.

“I would, by the way,” she added, after a few moments, and Calum shot her a confused look. “If you showed up with a plane ticket and a shiny diamond ring with my name on it, I would run away with you.”

Calum didn’t think his heart could melt for her even more than it already was, but it did. Looking at her cheesy grin- the smile that bowled him over in the first place, that would forever be etched in his memory- he fell head over heels for her once again, as he had countless times before. In this time that he had reconnected with her, which was almost a year, he had found something worth fighting for.

Looking into her eyes, Calum felt a tinge of apprehension, of fear that he would lose her and go through the awful feeling that was heartbreak all over again. But much stronger than that apprehension, crushing it into pieces, rose hope- hope for a future of love, with her. A feeling he hadn’t experienced in so long, it seemed almost foreign.

“Consider it done,” he murmured, and her smile widened. And when she stepped closer to him, her hand brushing his cheek, and pressed her sweet lips to his, Calum knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

---

Masterlist

Join the taglist

Requests are open!

@raabiac @damselindistressanu @cashtonsparadise @rosesfromcth@cthoodsthetic @rexorangecouny @eescapadee @alaulacalum  @sweetpeassweetpea @josierosie  @calntynes @mmxiihood​  @loti18​

[lostinthewinterwood]

Gen Freeform Exchange 2020

Hey friend!

I’m looking forward to whatever you’re going to make for me—if you want to take what was in my sign-up and run with it, go right ahead!  But if you’re looking for more inspiration/ideas, keep right on reading.

If you’re not my assigned person, and are instead a generous person looking at this letter for treating purposes, I’d be happy to get treats in any medium.

General DNW

Rape/non/dub-con; non-canonical major character death; heavy angst; hurt no comfort; graphic depictions of deliberate and methodical self-harm*; graphic depictions of suicide; anything E rated; gore; heavy gender dysphoria; grimdark; complete downer endings; character bashing; incest; cringe comedy; a/b/o; mpreg; full setting AUs (canon-divergence is fine); graphic eye trauma; graphic and/or permanent hand trauma (unless the setting can provide a more-or-less fully functional prosthetic or equivalent); issuefic; unrequested identity headcanons.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. however, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

 General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

All of my requests have way too many tags to relist them here, but if you’re at a loss for what to do, anything in a given request’s tags is obviously fair game; don’t feel bound by them either, since I’m definitely interested in more things than just those which appear in the tag requests.

 Fandom-specific prompts and DNWs

 Mother of Learning

Fandom-specific DNW: physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family, significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction, any implication or presence of romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian, either Raynie or the rest of her tribe being portrayed as Absolutely Right And Entirely Justified in all of their actions

 Neoluma-Manu Iljatir & Zach Noveda

Solo: Zach Noveda

Zach Noveda & Zorian Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d generally prefer something set at least in part after the time loop begins, but beyond that I don’t have a strong preference for where in the timeline this might be set.  Maybe something from before Zorian got looped in—maybe one of the iterations where Zach and Neolu just went off across the country having fun the whole month? Zach doing whatever, possibly very early on, or maybe him freaking out a little because what the hell, time travel is supposed to be impossible, and yet—what did he do in the start? Some canon-type shenanigans with Zach and Zorian together because there aren’t lasting consequences to their actions?

Or for post-canon, I’d really like an exploration of Zach, who’s got the lived-time of a middle-aged man and the body of a teenager—how does he relate to his classmates/other people in the real world, where everyone’s growing again?  Maybe something about his lawsuit against his caretaker, or just a little thing with him, Zorian, and How Do You Live Normally, Again?  This Is Hard, or some such thing.

One tag I like especially—though obviously if you didn’t match on it you needn’t include it—is “Character expected to die but didn’t and now has no idea how to live anymore,” since Zach definitely didn’t fully expect he would get a chance to live through the rest of his adolescence/adulthood, and something delving into that would be really interesting!

 Raynie & Raynie’s Tribe

Raynie & Kiana

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Raynie, and I love the little glimpses we get into her character and her past in canon!

For her I was thinking maybe something after the invasion, maybe her going home again.  I’d love to see a reconciliation between her and her tribe, and a settling of the issues and problems that led to her being sent away.

If I’ve got my timeline right, her brother should be old enough to have reasonable interactions with; I’d really enjoy something dealing with the tension between them, letting them reconcile and build a better sibling relationship.

Alternatively, if we’re going for pre-canon, I’d really enjoy something dealing with her initial arrival in Cyoria and befriending Kiana.

 Cikan Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Solo: Kirielle Kazinski

Nochka Sashal & Kirielle Kazinski

Zorian Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d really like something focusing on Kirielle here—she is, after all, the uniting factor in this set of requests.

I’ve got a few ideas for what could come of this!

-- Kirielle and her mother.  For this one, I’d rather it not be anything where Cikan can be described as “winning” a confrontation—I’d much rather have it be a confrontation where it either ends neutrally or in Kiri’s favor, or a reconciliation when Kiri’s a bit older, coming to understand each other better.  I’d be down for Cikan realizing that Kiri is her own person, and can forge her own way in life, if you can get a story there, but I’m not sure if there’s an in-character way to do so, given how she still relates to Daimen, a successful adult in his own right.

-- Kirielle and Nochka.  They’re adorable and I’d love a further development of their friendship, especially getting to see it grow and develop over the months and years after the invasion.

-- Kirielle and Zorian.  I love their dynamic!  And again here I’d really enjoy seeing their relationship developing in real time, rather than a constantly looping world.  I think it would be great to see either of them defending the other to their parents—and maybe Zorian ends up with custody of Kiri, there’s definitely things to explore there.

-- Kirielle.  I’d be here for any sort of character study of Kiri, really, but I’m gonna prompt a few specific things anyway.

---- She grows up a little, and becomes a student mage—what’s that like for her, especially having received Zorian’s tutelage?

---- She grows up a little, and doesn’t seriously pursue magic—does she devote herself more seriously to art?  Do something else?  Get away from her parents, and get to just be a kid for a little longer than her siblings?

---- By some mechanism, Kirielle gets pulled into the time loop, whether with Zorian, instead of him, or in some utterly unrelated incident. What’s it like to grow older and older in life experience while your body remains stubbornly nine?  How does this change the story?  If you go this route I’d rather looper!Kiri not be erased in the timeline of the fic—ending the fic before it becomes an issue or letting her escape back to the real world are what I’d rather see.

---- For some reason—there’s actually a fair amount that’d have to change here, but shhh this is my ridiculous self-indulgent prompt—Kirielle is the Controller.  How does she react to being in a looping world, with no one else looping she can possibly compare notes with?  What does she do with her time?  Why did the angels choose her?  How does this impact canon—is Jornak even a problem, does the whole Sovereign Gate affair pass much as it was meant to rather than the debacle that became of it in canon?

 Solo: The Ghost Serpent

Solo: Quatach-Ichl

Fanfiction, Podfic

So, these two are just… they’re old.  They’re very old; QI, the younger, is still a thousand years old, and they’ve just seen so much??  I’d love some sort of exploration of the world’s history through either of their eyes.

For the Ghost Serpent, I’d be very interested in what it saw the other Branded Ones do that put it off of them so badly.

For QI, I’m interested both in the world history around him and also how he became what he is—why/how did he become a lich in the first place?  Who was he before?  Why did he get a divine blessing?  What did he think of the gods falling silent?  What was the Necromancer’s War like?

For this prompt, I’d be down for an in-universe document or legend/folktale/fairytale about them, rather than an ordinary narrative. I’d also definitely be down for something like an epic poem or story-song, if you feel so inclined.

  Star Wars Rebels

Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios

Fanfiction

I’m a total sucker for the enemies-to-allies redemption arc that Kallus and Zeb have going and really, anything exploring that dynamic I’d be down for.  Post-Honorable Ones is probably better—there’s a bit more to work with there—but mutual respect/grudging acknowledgement from before that point would be great too.

That being said, I would also be super down for one or both of them mentally travelling back in time and whatever ridiculous shenanigans emerge from that—honestly most of my tags can be interpreted as prompts for that, if you squint at least.

  Star Wars Rebels: Servants of the Empire

 Solo: Zare Leonis

Solo: Dhara Leonis

Zare Leonis & Dhara Leonis

Fanfiction

These poor kids, god.  I love them and I love their siblingship and I just, I want more. A lot of the freeforms I’m asking for are geared towards the aftermath of Secret Academy, and Dhara’s recovery and her relationship with Zare throughout that.  Do feel free to bring in their parents, too, though it’s by no means necessary.

Other things I’d be interested in include various types of role reversals and how that changes things—maybe it’s Zare who’s older, with a Force-sensitive little sister in Dhara, or the ages are the same and the Force sensitivity is flipped, or maybe Zare’s Force sensitive as well as Dhara, or the ages and Force sensitivity are flipped, making Zare Force sensitive and older and Dhara not force sensitive as well as being younger.

Another interesting thing would be exploring Zare readjusting to a civilian life; he’s quite conditioned into being so careful and military in his dress and his living space—does he keep that going? Let it fade?  Deliberately reject it?

 Solo: Lieutenant Chiron

Zare Leonis & Lieutenant Chiron

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Chiron, he’s such an interesting character, and I am Big Sad that he doesn’t appear in any fics on ao3 as of yet.  He strikes me very much as a good man who doesn’t really know most of the bad things his government is doing; he cares about Zare and he cares that there’s abuses of power and murder going on at the academy; he truly, genuinely wants to make the galaxy a better place.

I would love to see a story where he lives through the climax of Secret Academy and, however that happens, is thus forced to question his government from that, since I’m also Big Sad that he died before he had that chance; failing that it would be interesting to have a fic exploring his past and how he came to be part of the imperial war machine, I think.

For him and Zare post-canon, assuming an AU where they both survive, I’d be down to see them rebuilding the relationship they had before and regaining some sort of trust/regard for each other.

  Original Works

Fandom-specific DNW: the word “queerplatonic” being used to describe relationships (writing something that you’d normally consider it is fine!  I just don’t really like the term), fics that are All About Being Trans And/Or Disabled, neopronouns, nondysphoric trans characters.

 Archmage & Apprentice

Failed Chosen One & New Chosen One

Girl Who Killed The Dark Lord & Her New Inherited Minions Who She Would Like To Be Less Scared

Fanfiction

I love fantasy, including space fantasy, and so many of its associated tropes: magic, destiny and fate and the subversion thereof, people being fundamentally human whilst caught up in something far beyond them…

This one’s a bit harder to prompt for, but looking through the tags I asked for should give you a decent idea for what I like; see also the general likes section above.

Thank you for creating for me!! I’m sure whatever you make will be lovely, and I’m looking forward to seeing it :D

[myotomespace]

Ikerev Uni AU! inspired snippets:

WELL HEWWO AGAIN!! I certainly did NOT think i’ll be posting these here anytime soon but...yeah :) someone pls kill me...

Anyway, these are some little shitty ideas inspired by @emeraldtawny‘s University AU (which i love so very much zfnqllksf)

Characters : Sirius, Jonah, Luka, Fenrir, Kyle and Edgar.

note?: Fenrir’s and Kyle’s are basically me roasting them (probably?? i don’t do writing so maybe not...still got Tawny’s seal of approval for Kyle tho :3 yay!). Also i tried making Edgar’s as spicy as i could (which is probably not...*shrug*)

***Sirius***

You made your way towards the greenhouse hoping you find the one you’re looking for there. You needed a few plants for your research assignment and he was the only one who came to your mind when you thought about asking for help. Stepping inside, you were first greeted with the scent of nature. It never fails to make you stop for a moment and just breathe it in.

Hearing the faint sound of water, you return to your sense and glance around. There he is. Just like you thought. Sirius was watering the plants at the back. You walk slowly toward him, taking the time to observe him. He always looked calm and relaxed here, like he left all his problems behind and is simply a man enjoying the beauty of nature.

I love it when you’re like this. And you can’t stop staring…

But before your thoughts could get any more tainted, you call out to him.

“Sirius!”

“Hey there, little one.” Ugh, don’t call me that...You have no idea how it makes me feel...

“Could you perhaps help me getting samples of plants i need. You spend more time here than me so it’d be quicker.”

“Of course. What do you need?” While he puts the watering can down, you dig through your pocket “Here. I have a list.” You hand him the piece of paper, your hands brushing slightly and bringing a blush to your cheeks. You froze. Natural reaction. You love him after all.

“Hmm, most of those are over there. Come with me.” You don’t know if he noticed your reaction or not, but, you were grateful he didn’t ask.

You two spend a fair amount of time moving around and gathering plants. You were most certainly not focused on that though…Being close to him for extended periods made your mind drift to thoughts about him. His scent, his posture, his hands...GOD his hands...You love the feel of his hand in your hair. It’s soothing.

You shift slightly to take a closer look at the plant’s leafs, your shoulders brush together. At this almost non-existent distance, you become really aware of his presence, it starts driving you mad with all the things you’re thinking of.

I want you...so much...I wonder if i’ll manage to taste you later, after this. You’re a patient man, but i know how you look when you let go. It’s not the first time anyway...

***Jonah***

You've been stressing over this part you have to perform for the last week. Your friends tell you that you're doing fine, that you practiced well, yet it didn't ease your mind. 

And here you are now, in the class, murmuring your lines in the script -when you should be paying attention to the lecture- completely unaware of the glare your haughty classmate has been giving you for the past 30 minutes.

Just as you reach the part you are the least confident in, Jonah coughs loudly, unnecessarily so, and points his perfectly manicured finger at you, “Would you keep quiet, and pay attention. You're distracting us!“

Really? Look at him. The teacher's pet. And definitely the student you are least compatible with in situations like these. How is he your boyfriend, you'll never know.

I'm here stressing myself out and all the support you could think to give me is a lecture about attention during a lecture…“You think i give a damn about it? I have a performance tomorrow. If the teacher himself is not stopping me, than i don't care.“ you huff. He's frustrating, sometimes.

The rest of the day passes peacefully…probably not a good sign. With your courses over, you gather your stuff quickly, trying to flee the classroom before your intuition proves right, but…“Where do you think you're going?“ darn it, not fast enough.

“Home?“ you answer warily. Please, Jonah. I'm just anxious, don't make it worse.

“You're going nowhere…not till i apologize.“

“Huh?!“ Ok, this was not what you were expecting. Jonah puts his studies before anything else usually. Even if you ARE his girlfriend, this is your fault anyway and you know it. He was right.

So why is he apologizing.

“I'm your boyfriend, i should have known how you're feeling and helped you, but i didn't.“ Oh. It was bothering him.

The look in his eyes held so much worry and frustration. I'm sorry too, Jonah. You get closer to him, bringing your hands up to hold his cheeks, and just as he starts muttering your name, you kiss him, drinking the rest of the sound. Not enough… i want more. More of you.

Perhaps a deeper apology is needed.

***Luka***

“Is this good, Luka?“ you ask, placing it on your palm, you show him the small delicate sugar flower you were working on. He nods

The assignment you were given was about making a chocolate cake in pairs. Since you were about the only one Luka spent most of his time with in the class lately, you two got paired.

It was fun for the both of you. The most fun you ever had in the kitchen. Simply working, spending your time together, quietly, was enough to fill you with warmth and happiness. You can't fully explain why you feel so at ease with him yet, but you like it. And you hope he feels the same.

Shifting your concentration back to your task, you start working on the next flower, shaping it carefully, making sure it looks decent enough to be worthy as a decoration to one of Luka's delicious cakes.

He kept watching you…observing your expression. How it changes when you work on a detail, how you smile to yourself faintly when you do it right.

How your tongue sticks out slightly when you concentrate on the delicate shape…

His cheeks gain color, red and bright. What is this feeling? He feels like he's been acting strange lately...Ever since he started spending time with you.

He gets easily distracted with, simply, your presence, yet he can't focus on his work when your not there, next to him. It's like he can't bear staying without seeing you anymore, sitting there, beside him, sharing with him what was supposed to be his private, comfort bubble.

What is this feeling?

His burning cheeks heat even more, and he tears his gaze away from you, back to the cake in front of him, hoping his racing heart would calm soon.

“Luka? Is something wrong?“ your voice brings him back to reality. Apparently he's been staring at the cake for a good while.

You put the nearly finished sugary decoration on the tray, and step near him, worried.

Close!

His heart starts racing again, its beat so fast he can heart it, blush covering his cheeks and working its way up to his ears.

You're too close, and i feel this weird heat again. What is this?

He can't put a name on it yet. But it makes him happier than he's ever been.

***Fenrir***

“Fenrir...wake up!” you shake the sleeping idiot, but still no signs of him waking up.

“WAKE UP FENRIR,DAMMIT!” fed up, you smack his head with the book you were holding. He yelps, jumping from his seat. “Yo, What was that for?”

“The class is over. You slept the whole time.” him saying ‘Oh cool!’ Made you want to smack him again, but instead, you just sighed exasperatedly.

“Are we eating lunch or not? We don’t have much time left, come on.”

Walking together to your favorite place, you talk about all sorts of things. Fenrir mentions a party that he wants to take you to tomorrow. He was at a party YESTERDAY, and he's already going to another one?

The timing is not the best though when you think about it.

“Hey, Fenrir… have you finished the assignment due tomorrow?“

“Wait, we have one?! since when?!“ you felt about ready to slam your head on a table, and you thank the gods that there is none here.

“It was given last week!“

“Well, no sweatin’, ain't like i'll fail cause of it.“

“This one is important, and it'll definitely matter in that ‘fail or pass’ scenario.“

His studying habits constantly make you wonder how in the hells is he able to get decent grades. He sleeps in class, ALWAYS at a party somewhere, and plays around too much.

You remember the time you watched him train. how he looked so hot, it turned you on. How his playful teasing, made you want to let go and lose yourself in him more, want to--

You shake your head furiously hoping the blush coloring your cheeks would magically disappear.

“What are you going to do now? The tasks for those assignment do require a week to be done. And you only have a few hours.“ If you say you won't do them, i'll throw you down.

“Nah, i'll manage. I've always said that diamo--“

You cut him to finish his catch phrase for him, sighing all the while, “Diamonds are made under pressure. That's why you leave things to the last minute. I know…“ you give up… there is no way you can keep up with his method of sliding through trouble like nothing.

“Great! Now, are you going to the party with me?“ Fenrir gets closer to you, eyes shining with amusement and excitement, a look that suits him really well. But, when it's this close to your face, just a few inches apart, it does things to you. The only words you could find to describe him are ’Hot Damn!’.

And you can never resist your boyfriend being right here, next to you. You can't resist your need to feel him, kiss him,and…

You close that final distance between you two, your mouth moving to kiss his gorgeous lips, wanting to taste him, and drown in the feel of him. And it is your answer…All the answer he needs.

***Kyle***

“Kyle? Are you still alive?” You call before slowly opening the door and letting yourself in. Whoa...Is this really the right place?

Kyle’s room was absolutely drowning in haphazardly placed books and paper. There was barely space to properly walk. Moving carefully, you make your way toward the source of this mess. Your helpless boyfriend. More like son…

He's sitting on his desk, focused on his books, unaware of your presence. You raise your hand and grip his ear, yanking it. He yelps, finally noticing you. “Hey!“

His smile irritates you even more. “Don't ‘Hey!’ me. What's with your room, i just arranged it last week!“

“I'm just studying, i guess it happened.“ he admits sheepishly.

What the hell?

You look around the room again. The bed was the only organized place. It's like a hurricane passed by. Really, Kyle…How are you still alive?

Shifting your gaze back to him for another lecture, you see the clear bags under his eyes. He seems pale too.

“When was the last time you got out of here?“ you ask, worried for his health.

“This morning, i think?“ Huh, it's night now!

“You THINK?“ you stare at him. Should you ask more? What if it's worse?...

“Last time you ate?“

“3 days ago, when you gave me that salad.“

“Last time you slept?“

“I don't have time for sleep.“

……dear lord

You just stand there, still trying to process this disaster of a man, mouth opening and closing, yet no words coming out. I have so much i want to say i don't even know from where to start!

“Hey, are you okay?“ he puts his hand on your forehead, as if checking your temperature.

Okay? Me? Are you kidding me? Are YOU okay? How come a Health science student is THIS bad at caring for his own health? ARE YOU REALLY ALIVE?

This…this is hopeless. He is hopeless.

“You're coming with me.“ you grab his hand, dragging him.

“Careful! Those are important documents you're stepping on.“

“You think i give a damn? Just follow me.“

You force him to go with you to the small kitchen and make him sit down on the chair “Stay there. Don't move.“ you warn him, turning around and disappearing to cook some food for him.

Not long after you started, you feel arms wrapping around your waist. You sigh exasperatedly, “Didn't i tell you to stay there?“

“Mhm, i'd rather stay here if i'm not gonna do anything.“ you blush, shivering slightly as you feel his breath against the skin of your neck.

This disaster of a man…What will he do without you…What am i ever gonna do without you.

Smiling sheepishly, you continue cooking, so he could eat and then sleep for a while.

***Edgar***

You agreed to help him review his psychology course, and in turn you get to learn new things.

You should have known it would lead into this kind of situation…

Edgar had you sitting on his lap, facing him, with the excuse that he would be able to see your expressions better this up close.

His hands were all over you, curious and studious, teasing and unrelenting, turning you on to the point of madness, the pleasure they provided you too much and not enough at the same time.

You were addicted to his teasing… to him.

He broke the kiss, lips still touching yours. You whined. You want more of him. You want to get lost in him. You want...

“Hmm…That's an interesting expression. You look unsatisfied, like this is not enough. Are you that turned on already?“ he whispered, voice way too collected for your liking, when you’re breathless and head swimming with all sorts of indecent thoughts.

You turned your gaze away from him, his analytic eyes making you want to escape from them, before he catches on what you were thinking, “I'm n-not.“

“Now, now, don't lie to me. Your eyes went down to the right and you hesitated in your speech. Clear signs of lying. And I know you well enough to tell that even without resorting to psychology.“ you wish you were not this far gone already, because you would certainly like slapping that know-it-all smirk off his gorgeous, beautiful lips.

What were they doing not kissing you...not tasting you… not making you lose yourself in more of him…

[wastedstudies]

how i survived ib

hello, kalice here! it’s been a really long time since i used my studyblr, and i was going to do this awhile back, but it completely slipped my mind as i was busy applying for universities and such so here it is~

i took ib from 2017 to 2018, and i sat for the 2018 november paper and got 41 points in total the subjects i took were hl language and literature (6), hl chinese b (6), sl biology (7), sl math studies (7), sl social and cultural anthropology (6) and hl theatre (6)

everyone has their own method of studying and learning, which is why my method may not necessarily be very useful to every person, but i hope it somewhat helps you guys!

1. don’t lie to yourself

everyone at the start of ib was like “i’m going to delete all my social media! i’ll be at the library and be super productive!”, and sure, you were able to keep that up for a couple of weeks before slipping into “i’ll just download and delete afterwards- i deserve a break” and going back to square one for me, i did delete majority of my social media- i was off instagram and twitter and snapchat, but the two things i never deleted were tumblr and youtube. the reason as to why i kept it was because if i got rid of one thing, i would jump to another, and it would get worse over time, but also because i love everything on tumblr and it’s practically my life instead, i would use selfcontrol whenever i studied or went for classes (except for math studies- i won’t lie i went ham on tumblr during that class). the smart way to use selfcontrol is to set it for a couple hours and use those markers as time for studying. so let’s say i have biology class for an hour, and chinese for another hour before my lunch break, i would set two hours to selfcontrol and it wouldn’t allow me to go on tumblr or buzzfeed or anything until lunch. when i’m studying, i would set it for an hour and a half, and during that time i would study. only after that timer is up would i take a break and do whatever i want to do. so don’t completely cut off social media, but rather restrain yourself from using it during certain periods of time

2. class discussions

for classes like chinese, langlit, anthro and tok, it is super important to participate in class discussions. even if no one starts a discussion, you should start one! your teachers are willing to take on any sort of discussion with relation to the topic, and you’ll realise that you’re more likely to remember things in that class through the things that you’ve discussed in chinese, our teacher would always relate the topics back to what’s happening in our country and our society, and it was because of the heated discussions and bad jokes that we had which helped me to remember the class more

3. questions and consultations

to be very honest, i hate asking questions and emailing my teachers for consultations because i always fear that they’ll find me stupid or annoying, but once you realise that your teachers technically can’t reject your questions or need for consultations, you’ll have no worry about booking consultations even though they beg you to stop seeing them in 2018, i saw my langlit teacher a LOT, so many times that she asked me to stop booking consultations with her so that she can consult other students, but i continued to consult her anyway :^) anyway, when you go for consultations, make sure you have prepared a bunch of questions and material for your teacher so your consultations actually help you instead of just wasting both you and your teacher’s time. for langlit, i always made sure that i wrote at least my introduction and first paragraph as well as a brief outline for the rest of my essay to let my teacher review. i would also show her how i did my annotations for paper 1 and 2 so i would know what i need to look out for and how i should annotate my texts better for biology, i would do a bunch of exam papers, mark them and circle the questions that i didn’t understand what i got wrong, as well as do the essay questions!! so during our consultation sessions, i would pass her all the questions i didn’t understand and she’d explain them to me

4. don’t do notes for the aesthetic

literally don’t. i wasted a year and a half doing my biology notes and it was a complete waste of time as i barely remembered anything. in fact, i was overly reliant on my bio notes to the point where i pushed it aside and just did papers during the last few months before ib notes are good to consolidate and summarise, but don’t spend too much time making notes if it’s not going to help you better understand and memorise content. instead, keep practicing papers and questions and let your teacher look at them

5. cry

it’s okay to cry when you’re stressed- in fact, it releases a lot of the stress and tension building up in you. cry to yourself, cry to a friend, cry to a family member. usually i cry to my friends because they understand what’s up, and if everyone is crying, everyone will get better together and you guys will continue to study as if nothing happened

6. enjoy

you might be thinking “how tf do i enjoy ib” but i really enjoyed it because when i think about ib i think about staying back in school till 10.30pm and cooking food in school and going for karaoke and while it was stressful, i also played hard which made it enjoyable

so that’s all i have to say! do note that throughout my ib journey i was not as wild as my friends- i didn’t go clubbing or drinking or get a boyfriend or anything (partially because i didn’t want to get scolded by my parents for doing so) and while i have nothing against anyone who wants to have a good time, please don’t dedicate a chunk of your time on those things. some of my friends had problems with their s/o which affected their studying and i personally believe that they could’ve done so much better if it weren’t for such circumstances, and yes, i did miss out on the “youth experience”, but now i’m 19 and i’m trying new things to make up for the lack of fun in the past two years and while i do regret not being able to experience so much back then and having to cram it all in now, i also don’t regret being one step closer to my dream- besides, you can always take a gap year to do all the things you’ve always wanted to try before going to university! either way, i hope that what you do makes you happy, and you’ll have friends and classmates who are willing to support you along the way!!

[cancerbiophd]

hi julia! i know you probably won't have an answer, but i'm kind of in a rough place and i'd like to ask if you or other students have advice for me. recently, i was withdrawn for my university for not being in good academic standing. i take full responsibility for my failings and understand the decision made, but i'm still disappointed in myself. at heart, i know that this is probably the best thing for me as i've been struggling with many things, including mental + physical health which (1/3)

Has both left me burnt out and just not a good student or even being present in my own life. however, im at a loss. my goal is to work hard to try and orient myself in my personal life and then apply for college again. But, in the moment, like that seems more daunting than I can even imagine. I’m sad and scared and I guess I just want an outside perspective. If you have any advice for what I should focus on to better my chances in continuing my studies and my wellbeing overall. (2/3)

there’s so much uncertainty in my future, but ik it’s too late to go back. I’m going to try my best to figure things out—bc I truly do believe my future is in a university degree and I know I have it in me to make it through college. Eventually. At some point. :( anyways, thanks for being a beacon of light in the community and, if nothing else, for having ur inbox open. (I’ve followed u since original yj days!) (pt 3/3)

Hello my OG YJ days anon! (aaahhh i’m such a bad fan i haven’t even started s3 yet)

I want to start by telling you that everything is going to be ok. I know things are tough right now, but you’re tough too. You’re a survivor, a fighter, and a dreamer. I can tell you’re trying your best to see your life for what it can be, and that’s a fire and a passion that’s absolutely priceless. You’re going to be ok anon, you’re going to be ok. 

And it’s ok to be scared and nervous. It shows you care! It shows you’re invested in whatever decision you’re going to make. You are valid, and your emotions are valid. Acknowledge them, let yourself feel them, but then also tell yourself: “I know I’m scared but I know I gotta do this anyway!”. And you got this! You got this. 

Let’s take things one step at a time. Do what works best for you. Don’t do what works best for me, or that other person; but what works best for you. Perhaps you can start by taking just one class a semester. Just one. You can do this either online, or in the evenings, or in person; at your old university, or a new university, or even a community college. Just take one class, and see how it goes. Give your body and mind and daily routine time to adjust, so you’re not overwhelmed from the start. And then if you feel ok, and your grades are ok, then up that to 2 or 3 classes a semester. Small bites of the cookie is better than no bites of the cookie! And you’ll still end up finishing the cookie no matter what :) 

Visualizing your goals one at a time will also help to feel less overwhelmed. Thinking about graduating and the long to-do list that comes with it can be really daunting! Instead of focusing on 4 years from now, just focus on one semester from now. Picture yourself finishing one class. And then one more class. Break your big goals into more doable bite-size pieces and you may just feel less overwhelmed. 

You deserve the kindness of help. This includes for your physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and academic wellbeing. Helpers come in the forms of doctors, therapists, friends, community members, your professors, advisors, tutors, and fellow students. None of us has gotten to where we are without the help of another person. I am who I am today, and where I am today, because of an army of teachers, tutors, mentors, friends, family members, and hundreds more people. 

I’ve always benefited from finding a study buddy or study group with my fellow classmates, even if it’s just to share notes with in case one of us can’t make it to class. And it’s just always nice to know you’re not alone when you’re writing a hard paper or studying for a challenging exam. Nothing beats that feeling of camaraderie when you’re all ranting in a group text at 2 am before exam day lol. 

I have loads of goodies in my #study-advice tag. Perhaps there are a few study methods there that’ll work for you!

And no matter what happens: you are a valid person. You are important, and the world needs you. The world needs who you are right now, and it’ll still need you if things don’t turn out the way you planned. 

I’m so proud of you anon. I’ll be here for you if you ever want to talk, or know you’re not alone in your journey. I’ve got your back

[cardshcrp]

WIZARDING VERSE.

SUMMARY

Also known as the verse where Jean-Luc LeBeau went hey, you know what though? My kid is all grown up. I'm adopting this one. I don't care if it's a Veela. You know what would be really funny too? I'm going to make this kid my heir to piss off all the other purebloods and probably send them to magic school too. What are they gonna do, question me? I'm rich. Or, the story of how Remy LeBeau tries very hard to get through wizarding school and has to dye his hair every three days, tries not to burst into flames, and is a little tired of having to wear a Beauxbatons uniform even on exchange to Hogwarts, as it involves a cravat and he can be summed up effectively as a French blueberry.

TIMELINE

Jean-Luc LeBeau visits a Veela community in Hungary, offering a trade deal for Veela-made trinkets to be sold in his establishment in order to provide the village a way to rebuild after damages sustained in the war. He does this through a member of the community he had adventured with in his younger years and who in good standing vouched for him; the deal is accepted and contract-writing begins in earnest. 

A few months into the agreement and on one of his visits, Jean-Luc witnesses his old friend’s daughter have an illegitimate child and attempt to pass it off to her mother, refusing to take responsibility for it. Adelaide is uncertain, and Jean-Luc offers a compromise, promising to take the child and raise it as his own, as his only son is now an adult and he has plenty of time and resources. Eventually the family agrees, and Jean-Luc takes the child back to France with him, calling in several favors with the Ministry in order to register the baby Athalie as an orphaned Muggle-born witch and adopt her* as his own, also placing a falsified Trace that will not react to any Veela-specific magical use. 

Jean-Luc promptly learns that Veela babies are rather volatile, and is forced to come up with many, many excuses as to why he is repairing numerous singed portions of his home, but dotes on his new daughter anyway.

At around the age of seven, the first signs of dysphoria and distress begin to emerge, and while Jean-Luc and Henri have no prior experience with these matters they encourage Remy to express himself as he pleases. Ministry records are altered again to reflect that he is male.

At age eleven, Remy enters Beauxbatons as a first-year student, as per his request. He makes the clear decision to remain in the wizarding world rather than return to a Veela community and in fact decides that he will take over the family business later, much to Jean-Luc’s delight, and is named heir to the LeBeau house. Having developed a complex routine to perform nonverbal magic but disguise it as best as possible by simply speaking spells in class and wearing a glamour to color his hair, Remy is able to start passing as a mediocre wizard. He keeps a cat named Oliver, who suffers the tragic fate of always wearing a very large bow round his neck.

In his third year, Remy becomes a Chaser for the Beauxbatons Quidditch team. He also hits puberty, resulting in natural Veela charm emerging and leading to more than a few awkward confessions from his classmates and silently confused male students.

At fifth year, Jean-Luc requests (and is granted) permission to allow Remy to study as an exchange at Hogwarts under premise of wanting him to be comfortable internationally with other wizards, as he will be running an international business. The length of his stay will vary according to interaction, but the default is set to one academic year.

Remy eventually scrapes by as a mediocre wizard with a specialty in potions and an odd proficiency for fire magic. After his graduation he takes over as proprietor of LeBeau’s Curiosities, with his older brother Henri taking care of finances and his father often running the shop while he travels seeking new inventory. His overall reputation is that he is very attractive, a bit odd, but pleasant, and while a few people may have their suspicions, they don’t attempt to pursue them. 

* Remy is referred to as female and birth name here as he is an actual baby and has not grown to an age where he can express his identity, and so this is what his father called him prior to that point, obviously.

ASIDES

Can be set in a few different time periods for convenience, but typically hovers at the end of the First Wizarding War, meaning Remy’s birth was ~1971.

The LeBeau family is, more or less, essentially French pureblood royalty in the wizarding world, having emigrated from Ethiopia about three centuries prior and in excellent community standing. This means that a - Remy’s adoption was an absolutely massive scandal, particularly because Jean-Luc claimed he was Muggle-born, and b - he is unfortunately quite used to attempts at matchmaking as the attractive heir to a very wealthy home. Part of the reason he decided to go to Hogwarts for a bit was to avoid the Boudreauxs’ pushing for an arranged marriage.

As a Veela, he has a few more struggles and a few less worries than your average wizard. For instance, most magical creatures will not attack him - he is perceived as very pretty and generally harmless to most of them. (Though by contrast some may wish to keep him, which can be equally problematic.) He also has an affinity for fire magic, and an unconscious charm that makes him rather appealing to most people. His dance and song, were he to exercise them, would be literally enchanting, so he doesn’t. He also has a very quick temper that he isn’t able to express without outing himself as a magical creature, and thus struggles to keep it in check, meaning sometimes he just storms off without explanation. He also tends to be excessively snarky because of this, as he’s generally on edge to at least some degree.

According to canon lore, Veela are predominantly biological female. One possible reason that they are so seductive to (particularly AMAB people of) other species may be due to this imbalance, which might have simply been the result of evolution through the years. Since they are already known to be compatible sexually with humans, it’s also reasonable to assume that they’re compatible sexually with most humanoids, possibly as an innate method of species preservation, whether or not it is exercised.

His hair grows quite quickly and dye doesn’t last long in it at all, but is more practical than expending energy on glamours constantly, so after his first year he simply learned to cut and dye his hair every few days. If he forgets to, silver-blonde roots may be visible and lead to questioning.

In order to have a passable wand at all, the family had to commission one made with Remy’s own hair as the core. (Ollivander would be horrified.) As a result he is somewhat able to channel through it, which helps him scrape by in spellcasting courses, but the scope of his natural abilities does not change and his affinities lie mainly in pyromanipulation and magic to do with appearance, though he is capable of other minor feats such as extremely basic telekinesis and some divination.

Remy has found that Muggle medical science does not appear to work on his physiology, and that any gender reassignment in magical terms is beyond his capability and his family’s, so it should be noted that he has not changed in body whatsoever and so just binds his chest and expresses as male, with glamours to reflect facial hair and the like later in his life.

LeBeau’s is a traveling magic shop that appears in set locations all over the globe without a set schedule (because Jean-Luc is petty and likes watching snooty aristocrats trip over themselves to buy the fancy things before he disappears again). It is known for having a knack at recovering lost family treasures, and does offer less powerful and pricey trinkets for more casual browsers, much to some patrons’ dismay. Locations include: Diagon Alley, a Moroccan market, the New Orleans vodun community, Hogsmeade, Paris, Cairo, and a few more.

Triwizard plotting is also available, with Remy either as a competitor or accompanying hopeful. 

tagging @prctettcre since this is your fault; i feel like @noxtm may have asked me about a verse at some point and my sad, tired butt didn’t get around to it. and @deviltoothed ’cause i tag you in everything.

[winetae]

⇾ tessellate 02

⇁ hoseok x female reader x jungkook

⇁ smut, slight angst || fuckboi!au

⇁ public sex, exhibitionist themes, angsty sex;

⇁ 10.1k

. . .

“ Triangles are my favorite shape Three points where two lines meet.” (tessellate)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept.

↳ or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory

⇀ start | 01 | 02

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Your life is a mess — figuratively and literally. Empty coffee cups fill up your wastebasket; messy notes are strewn across your desk. Your sheets are in desperate need of washing — not that you can bring yourself to care when you’ve been falling asleep at your desk for the last three days. 

Sleep itself has become a foreign concept. Cup ramen and dry shampoo are now your trusted best friends. Although you do require ten different alarms on your phone to make sure you don’t miss class, your body miraculously manages to function properly enough for you to trudge through the week more or less unscathed. 

The past week in question is a blur; one never-ending, miserable routine that starts and ends with schoolwork. When your days aren’t eaten away by your part-time job and classes, you spend the rest of your time cram studying in cafes or finishing off your semester project in one of the available art studios on campus. You’re too caught up with your mountain-high pile of workload to dwell on any relationship troubles, especially when finals are knocking at your door, ready to promptly drag you down to your grave. 

"Rough night?" 

One of the only classmates you’re acquainted with, Joo, slinks into the chair beside yours, her leather messenger bag dropping to the floor with an audible thud. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts under your nose, and your sleep-deprived eyes are immediately drawn to the venti-sized cup she nurses in her hands. Your stomach growls — a loud reminder that you’ve been living off nothing but shots of caffeine and instant noodles.

"Is it that obvious?" You cover the undersides of your eyes self-consciously with your sleeve-covered hands. 

Has your concealer worn off already? The drugstore brand isn’t renowned for being long-lasting but it should, at the minimum, last longer than an hour… What the hell? You had been relying on the product to make you look somewhat human. You grown inwardly, already imagining how frightening you must look with your panda eyes and greasy hair haphazardly tied into a poorly put together bun. You make a mental note to stay away from the sight of your reflection only because you want to spare your eyes the pain.

Your clothes don’t help your case, either — the wrinkled hoodie that dwarfs your form makes you look like an unidentifiable blob who has been living in the same outfit for the past week...which, admittedly, wouldn’t be too far from the truth. You’re sure anyone who takes one glimpse in your direction would think you’ve given up on looking like a normal human being. Between the fight with Hoseok and finals looming over your head like a dark cloud, you’ve been neglecting to take care of yourself properly. And, in all honesty, you would rather sleep an extra fifteen minutes than get up to apply a layer of makeup.

"Don't worry, you don't look worse than anyone else here..." She gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder after noticing your gloomy expression.

A cursory glance around the room confirms Joo’s statement. Her words, however, fail to cheer you up. To know that you’re not worse off than the rest of your classmates is not the most comforting piece of information. A sea of red-rimmed eyes, sunken expressions and grayish complexions surrounds you; it’s a sight you would expect to see in post-apocalyptic movies, not in a 10 am painting class. 

"I stayed up until four finishing the damned thing. Thank God for coffee, right?" ” Joo’s lips curl into a frown as she pulls out her essay from her overstuffed bag. She curses under her breath when she notices the front page is dogeared and runs a hand over it in an attempt to flatten it out.

"Yeah.... I haven't been able to sleep much. I wish Professor Park would give us some slack.”

"Him? Give us a break? Yeah, right. He gets off watching us suffer. Why else would he give us this much work before finals? Fuckin' sadist.” She leans forward to press down harder, face contorted in a frown. “He can't wait to see us breakdown from the stress alone." Finally, she kicks one of the legs of the chair in front of her and slumps in her seat, apparently having given up on fixing the crease that mars the cover of her assignment.

Right on cue, the door slides open, and she peeks though her fingers, probably expecting Park to storm in right then. Her tense shoulders relax when the last students shuffle in instead of Park. She waves one of her friends over to the vacant chair next to her, her expression perking up.

You don’t recognize her friend, but, then again, you’re disgustingly bad at remembering faces. If Joo hadn’t struck up a conversation with you several weeks ago, you probably wouldn’t remember her, either. Your eyes stay peeled on her approaching form, partly out of secret admiration; unlike the rest of the zombie lookalikes in the class, her skin glows and her hair is perfectly sleek and shiny (the shampoo-advertisement glossy perfection you see on TV, not the gross kind of oily).

"You lot look like you've gone to hell and back again." The tall girl says in lieu of greeting, turning up her nose at the sight of the two of you. The look that crosses her face suggests she’s accidentally planted her heeled boot smack dab in a pile of cow dung… It does wonders for your ego. 

"That's 'cos we have.” Joo grumbles behind the rim of her cup of coffee. “Did you forget the 12 page essay due today?" 

"I'm more surprised you remembered. You're so unorganized, it’s a wonder you get any assignments done on time. It stresses me out every time I see you write your homework down on your hand. You can’t keep living this way… It’s April and you still don’t own a fucking planner!”

"Yeah yeah, whatever, mom. I'm not the only one who looks like death. Why don't you scold ____, too?"

You freeze up as they both turn to look at you, feeling the weight of their stares sweep over you.

The look Tall Girl appraises you with makes you flatten the top of your hair in a half-assed attempt to look more presentable. You don’t need confirmation of your repulsiveness when you're already all too aware that your tangled and knotted tendrils look like an open invitation for birds to come make their nest atop your head.

"I overslept today, s'all, didn’t have time to brush my hair," you mumble intelligibly between your teeth. You tug the sleeves of your sweater further down so that your fists are covered in the soft fabric, silently wishing that the ground would choose this exact moment to swallow you whole.

"It's cool that you're so confident in your appearance. I think if I dated someone so handsome, I would worry a lot more,” she says, leaning forward on her elbows to get a good look at you. You’re running dangerously low on sleep and patience which is why the mention of Hoseok instantly puts you in a crappy mood.

"Not everyone is that superficial, Lin. Exams are next week. Only you would care enough to get a Brazilian blowout four days before exams start." Joo forces out a laugh, trying to dispel the silent tension that had inched its way into the conversation. “Lin is a bit of bitch, don’t take it personally.”

“We all have our faults,” she shrugs, unbothered. “I’m a superficial, materialistic bitch — the kind trophy wives aspire to be. But at least I’m upfront about it. Say what you want, but I’m not the worse of the batch… Some people don’t have any morals.”

“You have morals? I’m surprised that you have a soul,” Joo snickers, earning an eye roll.

“Some things just go against my principles. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing UGG boots, for example. Not even if you paid me to.” You can’t help but look down at her outfit — the sparkly pink ensemble looks straight out of the set of Scream Queens. “I only smoke weed on weekends and I don’t kiss boys who are taken.”

Mr. Park chooses that moment to enter the classroom, and you silently thank him for the save. You’re not sure what you could have replied to that, anyway. This is why you try not to interact with anyone, you think to yourself.

As the voice of your professor drones on, going over the study material for the nth time this week, your mind unwilling drifts back to Hoseok, prompted by Lin’s words.

It’s not like you’re actively thinking of him every second of every day. The God honest truth is that you’re trying your best not to let yourself be consumed by thoughts of him. For the most part, your method works well. You’ve got so much to juggle on your plate at the moment that your romantic woes are on the bottom of your growing list of concerns. Yet there are inevitable times when you’re forced to acknowledge the jumbled feelings you haven’t been able to sort out since the night you walked out on him.

Now being a prime example.

Lin’s words bring you back to last week’s fight, the incriminating messages found on his phone and his refusal to explain himself. You still have no clue what you should make of it. Your experience is limited; none of your past relationships have ever been this complicated or dramatic. The entire situation makes your heart clench with anxiety. Bubbling panic brews in the pit of your stomach when your thoughts linger on this subject too long.

Avoiding Hoseok will only postpone confrontation but you would rather battle one fight at a time. Finals are the most important. That’s what you tell yourself anyway, trying to justify your actions when you refuse to call him back after he leaves yet another voicemail.

Mina [10:21 am] you owe me lunch

Mina [10:21 am] it’s been a week

Oh, right… Mina had ordered you a cheese pizza last week when you refused to come out of your room. You had promised to pay her back, only to eventually forget. 

You glance ahead, trying to type your reply back as surreptitiously as possible.

Mina [10:22 am] pls feed me today

Mina [10:22 am] i’m broke af rn. my paycheck doesn’t come until the end of the month

You [10: 24 am] okay, fine. meet up for coffee at 12?

Mina [10:24 am] yes!!! I love you <33

Mina [10:25 am] is now a good time to tell u I finished your apple pie this morning

You [10:25 am] !!!!!!

You [10:26 am] I fucking hate you

Mina [10:28 am] sorry :-( will do your laundry for a week

You type back the last message with more force than necessary, a frown marring your features.

A voice interrupts your internal monologue, “Miss ______.”

The call of your name makes your head snap up, your wide eyes meeting the stern gaze of your professor. Although you feel like a deer in headlights, you try to mask your dread with a look of innocence. Several students have turned around to glance at you, and your cherry cheeks burn under the scrutiny.

“Yes?” Your response comes out as a nervous squeak, the sound betraying you. As you clear your throat with a loud cough, the hand that grips your phone under the table trembles.

Park heaves a sigh, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. “Please come see me after class.” The expression etched on his face informs you that whatever discussion he wishes to have with you will most likely not bode well for your future.  

“Yes, sir,” comes your meek reply.

Joo shoots you a sympathetic smile you weakly reciprocate.

It seems like your week from hell can get worse, you despair, holding back a groan. Stress eats away at you and you find it impossible to concentrate on the lesson when your thoughts cycle between Hoseok, your professor, and how your life just monumentally sucks. 

When class is finally dismissed, your shoulders sag with the weight of your accumulated troubles. You plod on over to your teacher’s desk, your apprehension visible on your face. 

“Your essay on George Seurat and Neo-Impressionism you handed in last week was, quite frankly, a disappointment,” is what he says once the last students have cleared out. 

Your stomach drops and you think you’re about to feel sick. Being told you’re failing class is not on the list of words you want to hear, now or ever. Back in high school, your work was always highly praised with a stellar grade to prove it, but you feel like your luck is about to change. 

“This isn’t the first month of college anymore. We’re almost at the end of the year, so I expect more from you. If you turn in something like that on the day of the final exam… Don’t expect a passing grade. I’m telling you this because I know that you’re capable of doing better.” 

He hands you your paper, red scribbles smirching the entirety of the first page. You take it back gingerly, afraid to read through all of your teacher’s commentary. Clutching your paper to your chest like a shield, you brace yourself for further criticism. 

“The factual content on the color theory is not false but your explanations are muddled and clumsy. If you follow the methodology we went over in class, you wouldn’t be having this problem. You seem distracted lately, and today was not an exception.” You respond to the pointed look he aims at you with a sheepish expression. 

“You don’t have a lot of time left, so make sure to straighten out your priorities. You have to get yourself back in the game, _____. Don’t lose focus of the objective now! You don’t want to see me next year again, alright?” The small smile he gives you makes you nod automatically. You thank him and promise him that you’ll try harder.

Outside, Joo looks up from her phone when you finally come out of the classroom. Lin stands behind her, inspecting her nails with a bored look plastered on her face. “So, how did it go?”

“Oh...it went fine. He’s not as scary as he looks,” you force out a smile, feeling a little dead inside. There’s a head-splitting ringing in your ears that makes your vision spin — almost as if someone has just hammered you over the head.  “He just wanted to go over the essay we turned in last week.”

“Cheer up,” she pats your shoulder awkwardly, your hand falling back to her side. “We’re going to work on our paintings this afternoon in Studio B. You should come too, if you’re not busy.”

“Yeah, okay.” The corners of your lips hurt, but you continue smiling. 

Your body moves on autopilot for the rest of the day — your feet two lead weights you drag across the floor to your next class. The only thing you look forward to is your lunch date with Mina. You’re so down that you don’t mind spending an extra ten bucks on sweets because you’re in serious need of a pick-me-up. 

The café you usually study in is packed; tables all around you are taken up by the MacBooks of students. You manage to find a seat in the very back, next to a lady in her seventies feeding her Chihuahua the crumbs of her cookie. There is not much elbow room, but Mina somehow manages to fit the tray of Danish pastries and her plate of Black Forest cake on the small table. 

She doesn’t waste a second — her fork attacking the desserts like a woman possessed.

“You aren’t getting that?” she mouths around a bite of Spandauer.

Your phone buzzes four more times on the table, a selfie of Hoseok with his older sister's dog you’ve set as your lockscreen staring up at you.

'Two Missed Calls from Hoseok' your phone alerts you, making your roommate raise an inquisitive eyebrow in your direction.

You choose to ignore both the call and the look she aims at you, your face schooled in a mask of nonchalance. “Hm? It can wait. I’d rather spend my time with you.”

“How sweet,” she says, not without her suspicions. “It's fine, you can answer. It might be important, you never know... And please.” She rolls her eyes. "Don't say that when it’s never stopped you before.”

“Ha ha," you say drily, cursing how she's able to see right through you. "Is it so hard to believe it when I say I would rather talk to you? It's been a while since we've spent time together.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you would rather be sucking Hoseok’s meat stick. Not that I blame you… I’d suck that dry if I could. Not that I would since you’re dating him but y’know. I’m getting pretty desperate... I’m this close to letting Dandruff Dan take me on a date. Don’t look at me like that! You don’t know what it’s like, okay? My vagina hasn’t had any action in so long, it’s starting to feel dusty.”

Next to you, an old lady splutters into her coffee cup, shocked no doubt by the vulgarity of today’s youth. One look at the scandalized expression carved on her face and you don’t know whether to laugh or to feel embarrassed. A nervous, strangled giggle leaves your mouth before you can stop it, earning you another glare. You’re thankful at least Mina has the decency to mouth her apology while handing the elderly woman a stack of paper napkins.

“I’d love for her to have a chat with my gran,” Mina says under her breath after making sure the white-haired woman could no longer overhear your discussion. “She used to be a groupie and followed rock stars around from city to city. If you knew the stuff she did… Makes pornos look tame. Ah, I really miss her… She’d be so disappointed in me if she knew I haven’t had dick in over six months...”

She takes another bite of cake, looking thoughtful. "Are you sure Jimin isn't down to mingle?"

"Dunno..." You twirl your stripped straw around your smoothie, refusing to think about Jimin. Jimin makes you think of Hoseok, and Hoseok is a problem you can't bring yourself to solve.  "Haven't seen him around much lately."

You've never interacted much before, but now that you're giving Hoseok the silent treatment, you're hell bent on avoiding any of his friends as well.

"What's going on? I can tell something's up. You've been biting your straw non-stop since we sat down and just look at your nails." You look down, finally taking notice of the tragic state of your nails, uneven with chips of fading blue nail polish still coloring your thumbs. "And it's not like you to blow off Hoseok twice in a row like that."

"Just, you know...  Stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you. You can tell me what's wrong, if you want. I'm not the best at giving advice, but I don't like seeing you like," she waves a hand around at your face, "this. You look like…”

“Death came knocking at your door this morning," she supplies with a grimace. "Jesus, when was the last time you took a shower? Seriously… What's bothering you so much? Is it Hoseok? Did you guys finally have a fight?"

"Finally? What is that supposed to mean?”

"Well, yeah. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

"Wait, what? You aren’t surprised?”

“Honestly?” Hesitation crosses her features as she mulls over her words. The beat of silence speaks volumes and gives you your answer before she finally speaks again. “Not really. What happened exactly?"

"I found some weird pictures on his phone. This girl he's been talking to sends him semi-nudes."

Mina shoots you an apologetic look. “I’ve always thought relationships built on sex don’t last long. Don’t take offense, okay? But all you two do is fuck. Any of your interactions involve getting each other off some way or another. I’m not saying that he should take you out to a fancy restaurant or anything, but... Do you guys even talk? What do you guys even do?”

“We do talk!” You’re quick to argue, used to defending yourself from accusations. “We text each other and we call each other when we can. Both of us are really busy right now, that’s why we haven’t been able to spend time with each other as much as I would’ve liked...”

“Okay...” She smiles, unconvinced. “And what do you guys talk about exactly?”

“Just, like...normal, mundane stuff. How our day went, what we’re having for dinner. But we’ve never argued before this...”

“So...superficial talk. You could have the same conversations with anyone else, am I right? And what do you even know about him? What’s his favorite color?”

“We don’t have to know everything about each other,” you argue. “We just started dating! You can’t expect us to know every single, little thing about each other. And, besides, I don’t know much about you, either, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t close.  Knowing or not knowing his favorite color shouldn’t be a reason enough to be with him or not.”

“It was an example, gosh. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t see what’s changed between now and the time you guys were just casually fucking. Like, cool, he calls you his girlfriend now, but what does it matter if he’s off wetting his dick whenever you’re too busy to let him come by.”

“I don’t know about that. He did say that he didn’t get with her since he started dating me... I shouldn’t care about who he’s been with before that.”

“You actually believe that excuse?” Mina lets out an unattractive snort. Stabbing a fork into her slice of chocolate cake with more force than necessary, she scoops out a huge mouthful that she somehow manages to swallow in one bite. “Honey, he could at least try to sound a little more convincing. He got that straight from a 'How to be a fuckboy' manual.”

"Hoseok isn't like his friends," you insist, stubbornly.

"Sure, sure. Take off your rose covered lenses for a second and hear me out. Birds of a feather flock together. Even if he's not as bad as his fuckboy posse, he can't be squeaky clean either. He and his friends name themselves the Pussy Terminators... Not only is that cringe as fuck, it's also a quite telling."

"I think Hoseok mentioned Jimin was the one who came up with that..." you add as an afterthought.

"That's not the point here! The point is, those types of guys are good for a fuck, and that's it. I'm glad things were working well with Hoseok, but I also don't want you to get hurt. So talk it out, listen to what he has to say, but don't let him play you like the naive freshman he might think you are."

She takes one of your hands between her own, “Don’t let him step all over you, okay? I know you like him a lot, but I can see how stressed out and miserable you look.”

You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over her words in silence. While she does have a point, you want to give Hoseok the benefit of the doubt, even if you aren’t sure if he deserves it. 

The dilemma that rages inside your heart but be readable on your face, for Mina squeezes your hand in comfort. “Go home, take a hot shower. You’ll feel a lot better, trust me.” 

It turns out that Mina is right about at least one thing. The hot shower does wonders for the crick in your neck, and you feel like a different person now that your hair is clean and the thin layer of grime has been scrubbed off your body. A hot shower is not a miracle solution for all of your problems, but it’s one step in the right direction. 

Feeling rejuvenated in clean clothes, you head on over to the art studio to advance on your semester paint project with a spring in your step. Painting always helps your clear your mind — once you get in the zone, no one and nothing can distract you. 

The scaled down frame forces you to focus on the tiniest details, invisible to the untrained eye. With meticulous brush strokes, streaks of golden brown start to fill in the stenciled field. Every measured stroke is thought out and calculated; your hand is steady, your breath synced to each subtle movement of the paintbrush that glides across the smooth surface of the canvas.

Any of your previous worries are pushed to the back of your mind, out of sight. You don’t even notice when Joo and Lin eventually leave the studio, too immersed in the task at hand. The sun shifts in the sky, casting shadows that make it impossible to continue your work. 

It's when you finally set down the tool in your hand that you begin to register your immediate surroundings. The hands of the clock hung up on the wall indicate how much time has slipped by and, distantly, you tell yourself that you should hurry on home if you want to catch the first few minutes of the TV show you've been into lately.

However, instead of heading back home, you stare blankly at your unfinished painting. Intense dislike twists your insides and you have to fight down a scowl. 

The bright, warm hues of your painting are meant to reflect inner peace and happiness, but one glance tells you that the mix of colors look startlingly wrong. The blue of the sky is too icy, the golden field of wheat grim and inhospitable. You feel nothing when you stare at it, and that vacancy in your chest leaves you feeling bitter. 

Nothing in your life seems to be working out right now. 

You have no idea how to repair what’s been broken or where to even begin. Mina’s right, you think, you are miserable. Being with Hoseok had only been a temporary bliss, but it wasn’t a solution to all of your existing problems. While the rest of your life slowly spiraled out of control, you found refuge in his touch and his whispered words of reassurance. 

A quiet knocking at the door breaks your concentration. Speak of the devil and he shall appear... Somehow, you know who it is before the door even opens. Call it intuition. 

The thick wooden door slides open, and the face of the person you've been avoiding appears. Your heart stops, and, for a second, you think you’ve mistaken a dream for reality. 

Hoseok is dressed in sweats and the university jersey, his hair pushed back beneath his snapback. Being familiar with his schedule, you suspect he’s come straight from practice. The dance studio he trains in is situated on the other side of campus, and judging by how sweat still clings to his brow, his face glowing with a sheen of perspiration, you surmise he must've rushed here right away.

No one makes a move. Time is suspended — seconds seem to stretch into minutes in front of your very eyes. Beneath this silence, there's a tension that lingers in the air, an awkwardness that was never present before.

"Hey." Hoseok has his hands buried deep in his pockets. He tries to sound casual, like nothing is out of the ordinary. 

It only confirms everything you've been thinking about for the last few days. The two of you tend to ignore the problem in the hopes that it will fade and disappear by itself. Still — he's here now, isn't he? That has to mean something. 

"Hi," you say back, but even to your own ears, the greeting sounds contrived. You wonder how long you’ll keep on dancing around the elephant in the room.

As much as you would rather not have this conversation, you know that you can’t keep running away from confrontation forever. This is why your relationship isn’t working in the first place; because the both of you have been turning a blind eye whenever any kind of problem arises. 

Now that you've acknowledge that there's an issue, will you really keep on ignoring it? How can you possibly keep pretending that all is okay when you feel the weight of all that was left unsaid pressing down on your shoulders?

Hoseok must feel it, too.

“Can we talk about this now? Or are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” you clarify with a sigh, setting down your palette.

To this he raises a brow, evidently not convinced, “Well, how else am I supposed to interpret all the missed calls and unanswered messages? Would you have even talked to me if I hadn’t come here and sought you out?” Although he’s trying to stay levelheaded about this and speak calmly, you can detect traces of frustration slowly seeping into his speech. "If Kook hadn't told me where to find you, I wouldn't even be having this conversation with you right now."

He leans his weight against the doorframe, his head tipping back as he lets out a frustrated exhale. The column of his neck is exposed to your stare, making it easy to spot the fading pink bruise you had left him near his chiseled jaw. "I don't blame you, if you are. But we should be talking this out, yeah? You never gave me the chance to explain the other night. Well— " He pauses, chewing his bottom lip as he measures his next words carefully. "That night, I didn't tell you everything so...I can understand why you would misunderstand. I don't know if I'm too late but I'd like to explain myself now."

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I needed some space, but I needed time to think about...us.” A beat passes as you gather your thoughts. You’re thankful he doesn’t jump to conclusions right away and gives you the time to speak free of interruptions. "

“Did you work it out?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Good. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us — especially about this. Yuna? She means nothing to me. Not even — we never… I’ve never hooked up with anyone else since we started being together. I know I don’t have the perfect reputation, so I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Hoseok, who is she?” The silent accusation is loud enough for him to flinch.

His tongue swipes over his dry lips. You expect him to give you a roundabout, vague answer that will only add fuel to the sparking fire.

After a moment of silent debate, he inhales deeply, choosing to stick to the truth. “We hooked up a few times over Christmas break before New Year’s. I thought we were on the same page, that those few times didn’t mean anything but good fun, and for a while Yuna didn’t do anything to make me think otherwise. Sometimes, one night stands think that they’re something more and it’ll complicate things, but Yuna was always chill."

Hoseok notices your expression and continues, "But ever since we started dating, I don’t know what’s gotten into her… No matter how many times I tell her I’m not interested, I can’t shake her off. There’s not much I can do but ignore her messages and leave her calls unanswered...”

“So…you’re telling me that she’s the one making passes at you? And that you can’t do anything but reject her over and over again…” Saying it out loud makes his explanation all the less believable.

“I know. I know it sounds like a weak ass argument. God, I’m sorry, you deserve better," he berates himself, the corners of his lips pulling into a frown. "I wish that I could tell her to fuck off for good.”

“Then why can’t you? Isn’t this harassment? You have to tell her to stop! This isn’t okay, and I’m not just saying this because I’m dating you, or because I’m jealous or want you to myself or—” You inhale deeply, catching your breath before you continue, "This isn’t okay, Hoseok. If a guy kept sending me dick pics even when I clearly told him I wasn’t interested—"

“I know," he cuts off your rambling with an exasperated sigh. "I know and I try to avoid her when I can, I do, but she’s in the fucking Mayday Showcase. If she was any other fuck, I would set her straight, but I don’t want to pick a fight right now. Our teamwork already sucks as it is… The showcase means too much; I can’t let myself screw it up.”

“You’re not the one screwing anything up. If this is true, she shouldn’t be acting this unprofessional in the first place.”

“Yeah, but it’s also my fault for not following the rules. We’re not supposed to fool around with anyone on our team for this exact reason. I should've known something like this would happen.”

“So what? You’re going to let her come onto you until the year is over? How in the world does that help your teamwork?” You cross your arms, lips pursed in displeasure.

“What else am I supposed to do? Jun even told me to deal with it on my own. ‘Keep your side fucks in line’ is what he said. Crude, but he has a point. It’s my fault, right? As the saying goes, I've made my bed so now I have to lie in it."

“Jun’s a dumbass…" Shaking your head, you don't know who you're more annoyed with — Jun for giving the world's shittiest advice or Hoseok for accepting his words without protest. "No wonder the teamwork is shit, when you have him as your captain. Maybe you should take it up with your dance instructor instead. Surely they’ll intervene, right?”

“So they can, what, pull Yuna from the showcase? And mess with the dance formations? We’ve been practicing this for months, it’s not something so easily changeable. If that happens, it’ll take more effort to adjust and rearrange the choreo. Dance comes first, it always has. It’s all I have, you know? It's all I’m good at. If I lose this chance, then there won’t be anything left for me to do.” He trails off, his eyes fixing a stain on the wall with feigned interest. He tries to mask his discomfort but you can see right through his act. It's not often Hoseok divulges his inner thoughts and insecurities; he probably feels embarrassed and regrets speaking too much.

A pause laden with tension follows, filling the empty void between the two of you, as you try to make sense of what he said. You're momentarily at a loss for words. Normally, you would provide gentle words of encouragement, but this time they get stuck in your throat. You still don't know whether or not to buy his explanation. It would be so easy to give him the benefit of the doubt and just go back to how things were in the past...

"Don’t get me wrong." The silence is finally broken with an awkward cough. "I don't care about Yuna; I don’t even consider her a friend. But I can deal with it. It’s a major pain in the ass, but I can deal with it."

You nod, not sure who he's trying to convince — you or himself. What is that even supposed to mean? Is he doing you a favor by letting this girl send him pictures of her in various states of undress? Mina’s words of warning ring through your head again, reminding you not to let him take you for a fool.

“I… I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me this earlier,” is what you say about a bout of silence. “Why did you have to hide this from me? Don’t you think this is just a little bit important?”

“I guess I… It sounds dumb, but I didn’t want to ruin things between us. Things are stressful as fuck right now, but when I’m with you, I forget about all that for a while. For the short amount of time I get to spend with you, things become easier to swallow. No deadlines, no practice, no drama. But I don’t want to make up some lame excuse. It was wrong, I know I should’ve told you right away and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Alright.” The curt reply is all you can manage. Talking has only made you more frustrated. So you’re just a stress reliever to him? That’s what he’s getting at right… What are you supposed to make of that? Does he expect you to be grateful?

The residual anger hasn’t washed away yet, and you feel the traces linger.

“So, we good?"

"Are we?” You’re tired of brushing things under the rug. “I don't think we've ever been good... I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and talking to Mina helped me straighten my thoughts out.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from the confines of your chest. You can feel the thrum of your pulse in your throat. Hands curling into fists at your side, you try to steel yourself. 

“I...I thi— I think it's best if we break up."

“y/n…”

“What we have isn’t a relationship—”

“Is that what Mina said?” He scoffs, slightly mocking. 

“It’s what everyone is saying!” You throw your hands up, your pent up anger exploding. 

“And since when do they matter? They don’t know anything about us.” The exasperated look he shoots you only irritates you further.

“But are they wrong?” 

“Okay, fine." He huffs, his brows pulling into a frown. He continues the next sentence in the same heated breath, "Maybe things aren’t ideal between us. Maybe we aren’t perfect together. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the poster child for any 21st century romance. But since when are relationships supposed to be a smooth sailing? Throw those ideals out the window. The stuff you read about in books doesn’t exist."

The look of frustration he pins you with roots you to the spot. You can't remember the last time he's gotten so worked up over something. Pushing himself off the wall, he stalks over to you, closing the distance in three long strides.

"But you know what’s real?" Hoseok doesn't wait for your answer, "I don’t need other people telling me how I should feel. I know what’s real.”

For the first time since you've met him, the words aimed at you are harsh and scathing. It feels like he’s digging an accusatory finger up against your chest even though he isn’t touching you at all.

“How you feel?" You can't keep the incredulity out of your tone. Scoffing, you cross your arms in the hopes that you won’t waver. You need to be strong, you remind yourself.

"Please don’t try to convince me to stay when you don’t even love me. Do you — Do you even like me?"

"Do I even—?  That's not the issue. Of course I like you.” He looks horribly affronted by your underlying suggestion, the crease between his brows deepening. A wounded expression falls over his face then, and he suddenly avoids your gaze. “But I— You’re right... I don’t know if what I feel is love. But at least I can say that I’m trying. Are you really going to run away at the first sign of trouble? I don't know much, but I don't think that's how relationships work."

“You always claim that you’re not the ideal boyfriend, but I’m not perfect either… I’m selfish, and I want a lot more than I lead on.” Your cheeks burn scarlet as you toy with the hem of your sweater, trying to distract yourself from the embarrassment that comes with your admission. It’s the first time you’ve been so honest, and, honestly, it makes your stomach turn. “I’ve never liked someone like you, I’ve never… I’ve never liked someone as much as you, either. But I feel like I’m investing a lot of myself in a relationship that isn’t going to work out. And as much as I want to be with you, I’m scared that I’m going to end up with the short end of the stick.”

Hoseok repeats your name, one of his hands tentatively reaching up to cup your jaw. His eyes don’t leave yours, like he’s trying to silently communicate the feelings he’s unable to voice out. You fix the tall bridge of his nose instead, then his pink lips — anything but the chocolate brown of his eyes. You’re afraid you’ll end up projecting your own feelings...and the last thing you want is to interpret his look for something else. You don’t need the false hope. 

“I’m really sorry,” he whispers, thumb stroking your chin, your lips. “You’ve always deserved better. If you’re selfish then what am I?”

When his lips meet yours, your eyes have already fluttered closed in anticipation. If you gasp into his mouth, he’s quick to swallow down the sound before it can reach his ears. 

Your hands fist the collar of his shirt, pulling him down closer to match your height. Greedily, you drink him in. His mouth tastes like the familiar, sweet flavor of Wrigley’s juicy fruit gum and the bittersweet taste of finality. You realize then how much you have missed him — his touch, the scent of his cologne that clings to his clothes like fabric softener, the way his lips work against yours with the intent of pulling you apart from the very seams.

"Ah, fuck," he curses under his breath when you nip the underside of his jaw, your tongue soothing over the mark with kittenish licks. You reach to pull off your pink hoodie, discarding it somewhere on the floor. The thin tank top you have on underneath draws attention to your cleavage which Hoseok can’t resist venerating with his gaze.  

The art studio isn't a private space. On the contrary, anyone is free to walk in unannounced just like Hoseok had moments ago. But like every single one of your risky encounters in the past, this knowledge only fuels your arousal. The desire that sparks within you whenever he's around always wins out.

One day, your kinks will surely get you arrested, you think self-deprecatingly. Arrested or kicked out of school. The thought barely forms in your mind before Hoseok tilts your head to deepen the kiss, wiping out your train of thought. His lips dull your senses — or rather they make him your sole focus. Whenever you’re with him, you don’t realize how severe your tunnel vision is. Lost in the moment, all you can do is concentrate on the way he gently cradles your jaw between his palms. Heat blooms inside of your chest with every swipe of his tongue against yours until you can’t remember anything but his name.

Hoseok seems to sense your urgency; he reciprocates your advances, his grip tightening around your waist as he backs you up against the window. Your back hits the cold surface with a thud. A throbbing heat spreads at once, your body reacting to his like it’s been conditioned to do so, but the pain doesn't have time to register, not when he presses himself against you and you find yourself sandwiched between the glass panel and his toned body. 

He pulls back and levels you with a heated look, "You want it here?" 

Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours while waiting for your verbal assent. With the way his arms cage you in his hold, you find it impossible to look away from the expression of lust that paints his face in bold streaks. It's like ripping off a Band-Aid, you think to yourself, convinced that it'll hurt less if you just fuck him out of your system for good. Hoseok interprets your silence for uncertainty so he adds quietly, "You can always say no. It's okay."

"I want this." Your answer spills from your swollen lips, too quickly for your liking, revealing your desire for the man in front of you. Having nothing left to hide, you decide to drop all prior pretences. "I always want you."

It's a truth you don't like to admit but can't bring yourself to deny. How can you pretend any differently? You've always been too honest about your intentions and your feelings, ignoring the warnings from your sister to never wear your heart on your sleeve. Although you understand the need to protect yourself from heartbreak and disappointment, you would rather experience that then live through a cycle of regrets and 'What If's'.

Hoseok's features soften at your admission, his thumbs hooking themselves in the loops of your jeans. Silently, he draws you closer still, your bodies perfectly intertwined, like two puzzle pieces slotting to make a match. Only a few layers of clothing separate you from him — you're so close you swear you can feel the drumming of his heart against your right breast.

From this close, you can't help but notice how the fire in his eyes is now smoldering rather than scorching. Sometimes the heat of his passion is so intense you feel like you'll combust into a mess of flames and smoke. If Hoseok is the sun, you are the fool who can't resist singeing her wings. But this way, it's bearable, you think to yourself, his darkened gaze making you slowly melt into a puddle instead.

"You're so good to me." His breath grazes your skin, his eyelashes fluttering as he stares you down. A thumb traces the curvature of your bottom lip like a sculptor admiring a finished masterpiece. "My good girl."

The words sear through you, no longer providing the comfort they used to. But the ache they leave in their wake is momentary, your mind refusing to dwell on the painful feeling.

Hoseok’s ministrations help distract you. Deft fingers inch under your shirt, caressing your supple flesh as gently as a bamboo brush sets ink to paper. The drag of his digits across the canvas of your skin is feather-light, almost hesitant, and you suspect this is Hoseok's way of making sure you truly want this as much as he does before going any further.

When you don't immediately back out or push him away, he pulls your top down far enough to expose your bra-clad chest, and cups your breasts over the last strip of fabric until you’re moaning against his mouth. The skimpy lace material leaves you vulnerable to his every ministratio — the soft squeezes of his hands on your mounds and the heel of his palm rubbing into you to provide delicious friction — and you can confidently affirm that no other man knows how to get you as riled up as he does. Hoseok is so familiar with your body that he could probably find each of your weak spots blindfolded. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, immediately honing his attention on your sensitive nipples, his thumb dragging over the lace covered buds until they're stiff and aching.

"A-ah, Hobi please..." Your tongue molds the words with familiarity, so used to begging for him.

"I know you enjoy that. Are you getting wet for me? Hmm, not yet?" He pinches you through the lace, the fabric chaffing your sore nipples. Your body jolts, breasts bouncing in his hands as he continues to play with your swollen buds. You have to swallow down your moan, unable to articulate the traitorous thoughts running through your mind. The longer this pleasurable torture continues, the more your body yearns for more. Still, you refuse to give in completely, wanting to test how long Hoseok could hold back.

Whenever you played this particular waiting game, victory had never been on your side. Not because Hoseok was unaffected — but because your desperation eventually became too much to tolerate.  

But expressing your desire through lidded eyes is a challenge; Hoseok chooses that moment to trace the slope of your neck with his lips, his head now buried in the crook of your neck, hidden from you. You tug the hairs at the nape of his neck, trying to make eye contact again but he doesn’t let you steer him away from his goal.

Hoseok presses each kiss onto your skin slowly, with purpose, as if you had all the time in the world to indulge in each other.

Why is he acting like this right now? Your teeth catch your lip in their hold out of sheer frustration. Each delicate print of his lips on your body reminds you of what you can't have, and your heart aches, heavy in your chest. The soft material of his jersey crinkles under your grip as you try to keep yourself upright and composed. You hate it, the way he his tender touch sparks something inside of you, chipping away at your resolve.

Over his shoulder, the clock on the wall catches your attention, and your spine straightens as reality sinks in.

"Hoseok," you tug insistently at the collar of his shirt in your attempt to remind him you were both short on time.

"Mmm, be patient." His teeth nip your ear lobe to accentuate his command.

"But we don't have—"

"If you want me inside your cunt, I want you nice and wet for me. Wait a little longer, okay? Be good." His sickly sweet smile is a hoax; it tells you right away that he's taking the utmost delight in making you squirm in his hold. Upon noticing the glare you sport, the corner of his lips quirk into a smug smirk, confirming your suspicions.

Patience is not your strong suit. On normal days, Hoseok is usually kind enough to cut to the chase, but for some unexplainable reason, he seems to want to draw this out.

Slow sex is welcome on lazy Sunday mornings, under the cover of thin sheets, in the privacy of your room. It's not convenient nor desired when you are running late for afternoon lectures, and even less so when the place you're trying to get it on is an empty classroom anyone is free to walk into. Of all the locations for a quick romp, it had to be the fucking art studio…

You know that if you want him to fast-forward the maddening pace he's set you need to lead the game. Hoseok knows your body inside out — but the same could be said for you; you know what makes him tick, what gets him unbearably hot under the collar, which cards to use to get his heart pounding.

Jutting your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, you lower your voice into a sultry purr "B-but I'm dripping already." You almost tack on the word 'Daddy' for good measure, but you aren’t in the mood to play that game today. You don’t want him to be sweet or caring; you don’t want to trust him blindly anymore. All you want is to wash him out of your system as painlessly as possible. 

If Hoseok doesn't react verbally to your confession, you don't let that deter you. The rigid muscles under your clutch tell you that you've hit your mark.

“It’s not the same without you,” you continue, lust making you shameless. “I need you.”

You’re scared to acknowledge how much truth there is to these words. Deep down, you know they’re spot on, but you refuse to acknowledge it. You don’t want to be dependent on him, not for your pleasure nor anything else.

Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t let you linger on those thoughts for too long. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your legs, pulling your underwear along with the denim. Material barriers now gone, a breeze of cool air caresses your exposed skin. 

“You’re right,” he smirks, thumbing over the incriminating wet patch on your panties. You can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about it, too impatient to get it on. One of his hands reaches past the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls out his hardened member, the thickness making your mouth go dry with desire. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he orders as he picks you up by the meat of your thighs, the prints of his fingertips digging into your skin. You loop your arms around his neck like a lifeline; breath caught in your throat as he positions your hips over his erection. 

“Oh fuck,” you groan, feeling the head stretch out your walls as he pushes himself in inch by inch. You’re lubricated enough so that it isn’t painful, but there’s no dismissing the way his girth slowly works you open. However, the uncomfortable sensation quickly melts away and leaves room for pleasure.

The week you haven’t been with him feels like a month, and your body is eager to make up for lost time. 

“God,” he moans, brow creased, evidently as affected as you. His nostrils flare, muscles in his neck tensing, and he shudders when you clench around him without warning. Sweat drips down the side of his face, the tiny beads of perspiration making his skin glisten under the late afternoon sun. Your eyes drink this sight in, subconsciously trying to commit every minute detail of his face to memory. 

His hands keep you pinned against the wall as he works his hips against yours in careful strokes. You can feel the delicious drag of his cock inside of you as he pushes in and out, your body adjusting to the gentle rocking. He buries his head in the hollow of your neck, mouthing at the spots he knows make your knees buckle. 

"Always feels good with you." You almost miss the way he murmurs the praise against your shoulder blades. It's delivered so quietly, you can barely hear it over the hammering in your chest and the roaring in your ears, and you wonder if he means for it to reach you. The words aren’t said for an added kick or for show, you realize. 

"I want it d-deeper."  

He's already giving it to you so good; the fluidity of his movements, the way he angles his hips into yours and keeps your legs hoisted up around his middle — all of it a lethal combination intended to make you scream out his name. But desperation claws at you — you need more, need the pleasure to numb all other distracting thoughts. You want to overindulge until you’re so full from pleasure that you’ll never need to come back for seconds.

"Yeah? No one can give it to you like me. You love it when I fuck you out," he rasps, the sound rough around the edges. A whine leaves your parted lips when he lifts you back down onto unsteady feet. His hands slip down to your waist, keeping you stable as he turns you around so that your back faces him. “Turn around for me. That’s good, yeah—right against the window.”

Wobbling only slightly, you brace yourself against the windowpane, the position all too familiar. Except now, when you look down, you can see a swarm of students below, some walking to their next class, others sprawled across the freshly mowed lawn as they try to bathe in the last rays of afternoon sunshine. From the fourth floor window, you’re capable of distinguishing their faces if you squint, so you’re sure that if they happen to look up, they’ll be able to spot you, too. Even though the glass panel only exposes your face and the peak of your cleavage, you know any student who catches a glimpse at you whilst in the throes of passion won’t be duped into thinking otherwise. 

Eyes blown to comically wide proportions, your pulse kick-starts at the thought of someone observing you from below. Your breaths come out in short pants, and you can physically feel shivers run down your spine. Hoseok’s hand is steady on your waist, grounding you. 

“If you want to stop at any time, just tell me, okay?”  

“Just go,” you gasp, breath fogging up the window. 

Hoseok heeds your words of advice, not wasting any additional time as he lines up his slick shaft along your weeping entrance. When he pushes into you, your mouth parts to let out a high-pitched moan of pleasure. It’s only now that he’s stretching you out that you realize how much you’ve missed this, craved this. 

With one hand groping your left breast and the other tight on your hip, he fucks up into you, his hips slamming into yours from behind. He quickly abandons the slow, languid pace from before, his thrusts now rough, fueled by the need to reach his end. 

The lewd sounds that echo in the studio could alert anybody standing outside the door of what you’re doing. You wonder who is most likely to find out what you’re up to — a person walking by in the hallway or a student down below. With the way he’s fucking you, there’s no way of knowing.

It’s a miracle no one’s caught on yet. Not that you would have noticed them. Every piston of his hips makes your skin flush, perspiration making your shirt stick to your torso. His cock feels so good inside you — like it was meant for you — and you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions, your arousal evident with each mewl of pleasure to spill from your lips. 

“Is it wrong that I want them to see?” Hoseok breathes into the shell of your eat, the hot air making you shiver. Your mind ruses to supply the image his words conjure up and you can’t stop yourself from clenching down on his hard cock. “I want them to know that I own this pussy. They’ll take one look at us and know they’d never compare.”

His words make you tip your head back and you’re weak to resist the way his tongue finds your own, fucking your mouth to match the steady rhythm of his hips. It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart on his twitching cock, not when he knows how to please you so well. Hoseok’s pace falters as he feels your walls try to milk his cock. He ruts into you, swiveling his hips as far as he can go, his fingers bruising against your skin. He chokes your name between grunts before emptying his seed inside of you in thick spurts.

When your beating hard slows down enough for it to be bearable, your fingers twitch against their position on the wall, yearning to reach down and keep Hoseok inside of you. He pulls out almost too soon for your liking, leaving you truly empty with only traces of semen running down your inner thighs. 

It’s ironic...or maybe it’s fate, you think to yourself as you pull up your jeans, skin sticky with sweat and bodily fluids. 

You and Hoseok have finally come full circle, it seems. You started your relationship with Hoseok with sex and you ended it the same way. A relationship built on sex isn’t meant to last long. 

“I’ll see you around?” Hoseok says awkwardly. It’s strange seeing him at a loss. With you, he’s always taken the lead, so self-assured and experienced. The timid, unsure image of him in front of you makes you soften and grant him a small smile.

“Of course,” you humor, knowing the words are said for formality’s sake. Now that you aren’t dating or having sex, there’s no reason to bump into each other. Your classes aren’t on the same side of campus and you run with different circle of friends. 

Hoseok opens his mouth to say more but ends up swallowing his thoughts and keeping them to himself. You know the feeling. No matter what you try to tell yourself, you know that it won’t be that easy to move on — for you or for him. It’s only a matter of time before both of you somehow find a way back to each other. 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the figure leaning against the oak tree readjusts his cap, dark eyes never leaving the window where your figure was pressed up just moments ago.

[cannywrites]

Stress Over School: Expectations vs. Reality

I'm going to break the bad news: stress is inevitable when you are a college student. Between endless hours of studying, deadlines for assignments and projects, and exams to worry about, it's nearly impossible not to stress out at some point in time during your college career. Even if you are doing well in school, life inevitably throws curveballs that can add to your existing struggles. If you are currently stressed over school or know someone who is stressed over school, this post will tell you that you're not alone!

Expectation: I will be more productive by working in my room all day.

Expectation: I will be more productive by working in my room all day.

Reality: You can be productive anywhere, including in your room, but you may find that a change of scenery provides a better environment for concentration. If you’re struggling to focus on work while surrounded by friends and classmates (or perhaps they are distracting), then it might be best to take your laptop to the library or coffee shop—where there are fewer people around—and use headphones if needed. If even those options aren’t working out for you, consider heading outside!

There are many benefits of working outdoors, especially when the weather is nice. Whether it’s a city park or nature trail near campus, being surrounded by greenery has been shown to reduce stress levels and enhance creative thinking abilities.

Reality: I will spend the whole day being distracted by noise and staring at a blank Google Doc.

You will spend the whole day being distracted by noise and staring at a blank Google Doc. You put off the work until the last minute and then stress about the due date. You go to bed at 3 a.m., roll out of bed 5 minutes before your 8 a.m., get lost on campus, and miss class anyway because you’re late picking up your ID card...the list goes on and on.

I am not going to say that university is easy, but I am going to say that it does not have to be this stressful! There are many things that can be done in order for you not only to survive but thrive in this new environment and eventually begin having fun again!

Expectation: Starting my homework early will make me feel accomplished.

One of the biggest problems people can have with their homework is their expectations. They might think that they need to start their work as soon as they get home, or that they should do all of their homework at once. Both of these methods are flawed because there’s a lot of information out there and it can be overwhelming to tackle it all at once. The best way to approach this problem is by breaking your assignments into smaller pieces—that way, you don’t feel overwhelmed by everything that needs doing, and you won't get discouraged when things get difficult or take longer than expected!

The first step is making sure you pick the right assignment for yourself. If something like math has always given you trouble in class (or if it's just not your favorite subject), try tackling something else first instead: reading an article online about what your teacher talked about during class today could give a good insight into how she/he thinks; listening to music while working on another subject will help keep your mind clear so when it comes time for math assignments later on later in the evening—or tomorrow morning!—the concepts will come easier."

Reality: I put off the work until the last minute and then stress about the due date.

You're not alone in your procrastination. In fact, you probably have company at this very moment. According to a survey by StudyMode, 43% of respondents reported that they tend to put off their schoolwork until the last minute.

Studies have shown that procrastination can lead to stress and poor performance, but there are some simple ways to overcome it:

Set yourself goals and deadlines for each assignment or project before you start working on it. If you're juggling multiple assignments at once, try creating an order in which you'll work on them (so that the most urgent projects get done first).

Make sure you have all of your materials in one place so that you don't waste time looking for them when it's time to start working on something new. This includes notebooks filled with notes from previous classes or readings (and any other information relevant for future assignments), pens/pencils/paper/pencil pencilpaper...you get the idea!

Expectation: Going to office hours will help me understand the material better.

You may think that office hours are a good place to go for help, but you have to be prepared. If you wait until the last minute and then ask for help, it can make the professor feel overwhelmed or stressed. They might not want to talk with students who haven't done their work. Before going in, try reading the chapter over again and taking notes on what still doesn't make sense. Also, it's important not to go off topic when talking with your professor. If they don't understand where you're coming from and keep asking questions that seem unrelated, this might cause them more stress than necessary!

If we think about our professors as people who are trying their best under difficult circumstances (like us), it becomes clear why they may struggle with providing adequate support at times: they have huge workloads themselves! The best way we can help out is by being respectful of their time while also being proactive in seeking out resources outside of class if necessary (such as other courses or tutors).

Reality: Office hours are always full.

If a professor is not available for office hours, you may feel frustrated and confused. You are putting in the effort to learn, but you can't seem to find resources that will help you understand the material.

In this situation, it's important to remember that professors are human too--they might be having a bad day or they might simply be overworked with other things in their lives. As a result of their busy schedules, professors often leave their doors open during office hours so that students can reach out through email or chat without needing an appointment time slot.

This means that instead of waiting until after the class ends (or even worse: arriving late) and potentially missing out on valuable feedback from both your peers and instructors, try contacting them early on via email or chat before class starts! This way there's less stress involved when it comes down to figuring out whether or not someone wants help understanding course material outside of scheduled times/seats/etcetera."

Expectation: I will go to bed early on Sunday night so that I can wake up feeling refreshed on Monday morning.

Expectation: I will go to bed early on Sunday night so that I can wake up feeling refreshed on Monday morning.

Reality: You toss and turn until 12:30 a.m., before finally falling asleep. Then your alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m., and you stumble out of bed feeling exhausted!

If you want to avoid this scenario, there are some easy ways to get a good night's sleep—and wake up feeling awake and ready for the day ahead. First of all, make sure your body is ready for bed by exercising earlier in the day (exercise releases hormones that help us fall asleep), or taking a hot shower before going to bed (hot showers have been shown to relax muscles). Try not to eat large meals close to when you plan on sleeping because they'll make it harder for you to digest food while you sleep—you don't want indigestion interrupting your quality rest! And whatever time you go down for shut-eye, try not to deviate much from it—if getting up early feels impossible right now because of school stress, it may be better off if instead, we get used to going into class late sometimes rather than running ourselves ragged trying our hardest every single day without fail.

Reality: I will go to bed at 3 a.m., roll out of bed 5 minutes before 8 a.m., and then drink three cups of coffee so that I'm not falling asleep in class.

You will wake up at 3 a.m., roll out of bed 5 minutes before 8 a.m., and then drink three cups of coffee so that you're not falling asleep in class. You will have trouble concentrating on the lecture because you are so exhausted from working so hard all night. You'll go home with homework due this weekend, but again—you're just going to sleep it off until tomorrow morning.

Then, when Monday rolls around again and you start another week at school, all of these problems come back: the tiredness, the lack of focus in class, feeling overwhelmed by everything else besides schoolwork that needs doing (laundry? Cooking?). Before long it's Wednesday night again and time for another late night spent writing papers or cramming for exams—and then Thursday morning is here again, waking up early for another day at school...

Stress over school is inevitable but also manageable. It's important to keep in mind that stress is a natural part of life, and it can be managed. It can be beneficial in certain circumstances and situations. For example, your body releases adrenaline to help you react quickly when confronted by an immediate threat. This can be good if you need to protect yourself or others from harm—it's not always bad! However, most of the time we experience stress because we are overworked or overwhelmed by our responsibilities at school and home—things that don't actually pose any threat to our safety or well-being. In fact, sometimes stressful situations can actually make us stronger when we learn how to cope with them effectively!

My intention for this article was to make you feel a little less alone in your school stress. We’re all feeling it, and we’re all doing the best we can to get through it. Stress can negatively affect our health and well-being, but there are actually positive things that come out of stressful situations, too. Studies have shown that stress can increase resilience as well as motivation and productivity. Stress has also been shown to increase creativity and innovation in individuals who work under pressure. So while you might feel like your world is falling apart on a Friday night when you have four papers due on Monday morning, try taking a deep breath and turning the situation into an opportunity to exercise your brain muscles! Eventually, you’ll learn how to deal with stress in ways that will make every situation more manageable—even if it doesn’t seem like it at first glance.

[cathedralreims]

Cuckoo

Submission for the @aphabriefhistoryoftime event 

Read on AO3 

Read on FF.net. 

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Character Death  

Characters: Czech Republic, Slovakia, Minor OCs 

Summary: The Heart of Europe still beats under the oppressive hand of Nazi Germany 

Word Count: 4243/18,982

Chapter I: I Open My Bill 

On the nature of the characters’ human names: 

For Czechia: Kristýna is the derivative of the English form “Christina,” meaning follower of Christ. Her last name Vaněk, feminine form Vaňková, means “greater glory.” 

For Slovakia: Frederik means “ruler” or more specifically “peaceful ruler.” His last name, Procházka, means "stroll.” 

15 November, 1939

The window creaked against the cold autumn wind. A slight draft invaded the library, where students normally gathered together to stress about exams in silent solidarity, among the rows of ancient books depicting heroic figures in history. All of them hoped that one day they’ll be remembered: as a sentence, as a footnote, as a memory.

At the moment, however, the library was not a quiet sanctum; it was a bustling auditorium as they prepared a protest against the parasite. Nevertheless, the library’s intent was preserved amongst all the noise, a stronghold for knowledge and the protector of ideas. Here, the students decided, was when they’ll reinvent the future because no one would do it for them. They came from all grades and majors, united at the notion of freeing their dear country from occupation. There were about a thousand in total, a few dozen of whom gathered at the library for temporary shelter as they waited for the procession.

On the second floor, two twenty-year-olds occupied a quiet corner. One of them, a boisterous man with aspirations in law, and the other, an exhausted woman who dreamed of becoming a physicist.

“Do you think it’ll go well,” asked Frederik Procházka, propping his feet upon the table while precariously balancing himself on his chair. Brown hair swept over his eyes and over a head bandage, an unwarranted medallion from a scuffle with a German officer. “The last time it happened, it caused this,” he waved his hand theatrically at the congregation below, “to pass.”

The question was directed at his companion, Kristýna Vaňková. She toyed with a red ribbon in her left hand; soon she would have to use it to tie her hair in a bun. Her fingers were callused after long hours besides a lamp, gripping a pencil as she wrote down equations. “I have confidence that this one will work out better. The Germans need us…”

She let the statement trail off, knowing what exactly the Germans could do. It was, unfortunately, the only thing they knew confidently, which bothered Kristýna to no end. Frederik merely shrugged in response and turned his attention back towards the window.

Outside, their classmates huddled in tight groups. Soon, they will amass into a larger one for the funeral procession of Jan Opletal, a medical student who was shot and killed last month during Independence Day. Neither Kristýna nor Frederik knew him well, but both respected his actions to the point where they were willing to finish what he started.

Behind them were bare trees spread sparsely on the green. Some of them still bore the vestiges of birds’ nest. Perhaps a few still had eggs. Perhaps nothing will disturb the peaceful robins. The word “perhaps” embodied all of humanity’s uncertainties and all of humanity’s futures.

“You know if things go horribly wrong, follow the plan,” Kristýna said.

She stood up and began tying her hair up, as it helped her concentrate on the situation at hand. She always had a plan. It assured her that there was always a way out, always a light to guide her when darkness suddenly falls.

“And what if the plan goes horribly wrong?” responded Frederik, giving her a sideways glance.

Something inside Kristýna twitched at the notion of one of her plans going wrong. They had a high success rate and on the small chance one failed, review, revise and plan again. But this wasn’t a trajectory problem where she had all night and the next morning; this was a demonstration that always had the present in mind. She couldn’t erase the problem and start over again.

She jabbed her thumb at Frederik as a retort. “Then it’s your job to improvise. Now, get up. Do you hear the voices?”

Frederik sighed, a hint of pessimism lingering in his breath as he stood up. He had doubts on this succeeding but he had a trick: by not worrying about it. Such has been his philosophy for the past decade. Kristýna told him to change it, in fear of him being too zealous, but today was not that day.

He was a lawyer by studies. He would waltz in the classroom wearing a rumpled button-down that he forgot to iron and trousers that were haphazardly put on as he raced across the school for his debate that he read the night before. Frederik never worried about anything, as worrying meant more stress, and more stress meant more likely to make mistakes in his rhetoric. This method so far had an impeccable track record.

Kristýna pushed in her chair and together, they started walking towards the stairs to join the river of other students pouring out of the library. They didn’t brandish posters but planned to brandish their voices. Frederik was naturally loud. Kristýna had the capability to be loud when the situation called for it.

Now, Frederik could yell unrestrained and Kristýna had a reason.

They marched out of the library and integrated themselves in the crowd. They would go wherever Jan’s intentions led them, and that would be the heart of Prague.

The black hearse lead them through the sprawling city. Some of the windows were lighted as evening fell but barely any of them were inhabited as their residents poured onto the streets to observe. Some of them were the parents of the students in the procession and they could hear faint but excited Ahoj matko! Ahoj otče!

Neither of their parents knew they were on the streets. Though Kristýna’s mother probably had an inkling that her daughter was among the throb of people, Frederik’s parents would never think that their dear son would partake in political responsibility.

Of course, it’s not like his parents would know of the protest anyway, though they probably had an idea.  Frederik was sure that him and his family was fine. All of the Procházkas could talk their way out of anything. Whether that ability would be affected by the recent crackdown on Jews is a different matter; he loved learning about new things, but this is the one subject he would abstain from.

The procession came to a brief halt at the train station where they assumed his body would be sent to his home town in Moravia. Everything became quieter, until only snatches of whispering remained. A cold wind blew through the area. Kristýna contracted her body further into her overcoat and Frederik, noticing this, took his scarf and wrapped it around her.

“You really should have dressed warmer if we were going to be out here this long,” he said.

“I am wearing two coats and a long-sleeved sweater,” she fumed, although the faintest traces of a grin were present on her lips. She tilted her head up and straightened her back so that their eyes met. “I don’t think I could be any warmer if I could.” She resumed her stoic silence but she tugged his scarf a little closer to her, where the cloth barely brushed her exposed face.

Frederik’s cheeks were red, but whether it was from the cold or a warm happiness, he did not know. He always loved it when she smiled, genuinely smiled. But he was not sure whether he loved her. They have been friends for so long now that it was virtually impossible to imagine themselves as anything but.

Still, there were moments where Frederik did feel for Kristýna. It happened during spontaneous moments: when they spent long nights studying for their exams, when they sent furtive glances at one another across a room, when they basked in the sun during the warmer months, when she listened to his proposals about some dusty court case. He wasn’t sure if Kristýna felt those moments as well.

In fact, she too grappled with her emotions. The scarf smelled faintly of old paper and coffee. Under her focused expression, a hurricane of possibilities swirled within her mind.

She was well aware of Frederik’s moments, how he would smile brighter when she was there and how he always made her feel radiant after an abysmal day. Kristýna considered herself a free-spirited woman, so she would make him chase her, until they were both tired and collapsed onto the ground.

The both of them knew, however, it would be a long time until that happened.

The procession marched on. Even though Jan’s body was no longer here, his spirit lived on in the heart of his fellow students. The procession transformed into one of reverence to one of protest as bursts of yelling erupted through the crowd. Suddenly, the peaceful, winding river transformed into one of ferocity, whipped up from the incoming storm.

Where is my home, where is my homeland,

Water roars across the meadows,

Pinewoods rustle among crags,

The garden is glorious with spring blossom,

Paradise on earth it is to see.

And this is that beautiful land,

The Czech land, my home,

The Czech land, my home!

Where My Home Is. The national anthem of Czechia rang loud and clear like a church bell tolling. Their hearts were trapped in their lungs and the only way to relieve the pressure was to sing.

As the procession reached Charles Square, they came in contact with the police and quickly scattered into the open doors of the nearby Technical University. Kristýna grabbed Frederik by the hand and dragged him under an arch, squished uncomfortably with the other throb of students. Kristýna’s lungs were squashed under the weight of people’s heavy winter coats and her brain wanted to explode with the force of her classmates’ nervous chatter. Meanwhile, Frederik and his lanky figure had no problem with the predicament.

“What do you think is going to happen?” he said, echoing the concerns of others. “…Do you think we should leave?”

“Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?”

Frederik stood on his toes and moved his head left and right, trying to search for an exit. “I’m just concerned for our safety, that is all.”

“Wait. Let’s see what happens next and then we’ll decide. If you see anything up there, tell me. ”

Anything, so far, did not exist.  Frederik became frustrated and claustrophobic being surrounded by so many people in such tight quarters. He was used to wildly gesturing his arms in an open room. Kristýna did not mind the restless, though static atmosphere; she was used to working in cramped conditions, building mock rockets and boats in the small basement under her house.

And then the parade broke through the wall of uncertainty. Something triggered something amidst a background of nothing. The phenomenon of quantum tunneling was happening before her very eyes.

Besides her, Frederik seemed to have caught this new life. He shouted at the top of his lungs: Down with the Nazis!

The crowd surged forward and out they went, nearly getting trampled by the ecstatic students knowing that they were doing something for the cause. It marched and marched, all around Prague, until they were tired and the day had ended. All the students drifted towards their homes in a dream, the coming nightmare far behind their vision.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” said Kristýna. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck, admittedly with a tinge of regret as soon as the cold touched her bare skin.

Frederik took back his scarf and wrapped it around his own. Now it was tinged with her scent: a delicate lavender. He nodded. “You will.”

And with those words, both of them entered their houses and shut themselves away from the world, succumbing to a nap, and leaving their school work for the morning.

17 November 1939

Morning dawned upon Prague. The alarms of students who had morning classes all rang before eight o’clock, but it was the matter of actually throwing the warm covers off and having the effort to walk to the bathroom.

Neither Kristýna nor Frederik were morning people and would rather stay under the comforting night. The difference between them, however, laid in their work ethics. Kristýna’s awakening was marked with a grudging moan as she stumbled from her bed, turning off the alarm, and doing her normal routine before brewing herself a cup of coffee and walking to the university. A few houses down, Frederik mumbled “five more minutes” three times before blindly slamming his palm down on the clock, rushing his clothes and hygiene, and stuffing papers in his bag, before dashing out the front door. Sometimes he would be on time, and sometimes not.

In whichever case, they would not be seeing each other until later. The most they ever see of each other are fleeting glances in the hallways and of course, during the free period.

Two days had passed since Jan Opletal’s funeral procession. Yesterday passed by with no complaints or remarks. Everyone resumed classes and hustled and bustled and had no reason to panic besides upcoming tests.

But those two days were merely part of the eye of the storm. The second part had yet to come.

They sat near their usual spot in the library. Frederik munched on a sandwich, where the crumbs laid on the folds of his shirt. Kristýna had already ate lunch, since it was against the rules to eat in the library, and instead occupied herself with a physics problem.

“Make sure you clean up, afterwards,” she mumbled.

“Of course. Of course. I’m not a heathen.” He dabbed a napkin on his mouth and put it on the table, only for it to fall down on the floor with a single sweep of his arm.

Kristýna wrinkled her nose in disgust, but still kept writing. “You’re twenty goddamn years old. Pick up after your own mess.”

“I was going to pick it up myself. Calm down.” As he bent down, Frederik peaked at the work that she was doing. Adjacent to the Greek letters and swirly symbols, he saw a paragraph or two next to a numbered step. “Is that for Silvie?”

She lifted her head up, dazedly smiling. “Yeah. In class today, we were learning about integrals in three-dimensional space.”

Frederik resisted the urge to release an affectionate sigh. “And yet, you’re doing homework at school?”

“We’ve been through this conversation a million times already, but I guess you don’t quite understand proactivity considering that your debate is tomorrow. Go check out a book on tax evasion laws in America.”

“Ah… perhaps later.” He shrugged. "I have plenty of time." In fact, seventeen hours was enough to prepare his defense.

Kristýna sighed and continued her work. Now since there are three integrals, you can integrate x, y, or z first. Though, I prefer to do them in alphabetical order… . Frederik closed his eyes and put his head down on the table, wanting a quick nap before jumping into the second half of the day.

Five minutes did not passed before his head jolted up, woken up into a dreamy stupor from a door slam. Annoyed, he put his head down again, but was once again woken up, this time by a jarring tug on his shirt.

"Look," Kristýna said., her voice lowering by several octaves, "they're Nazis."

At once, he roused from his seat, and his suspicions came true. There were repercussions to their actions from two days ago.

Both of them bolted from their seats, with Kristýna leading the way. Unfortunately, her plan did not become obsolete.

It hurt her to stuff the papers into her bag and not place them neatly in their folders. Wordlessly, she jabbed her chin to the next flight of stairs and Frederik followed suit.

As they ascended to the third floor, they peered downstairs and saw with abject horror people getting apprehended. The students fled, heading towards windows in vain or upstairs to the second floor -

Bang!

"God bless them," thought Kristýna. There was no time to stop, not even to flinch. "I'll see you guys soon."

He didn't want to say goodbye, because goodbye would mean the end. Everything follows the First Law of Thermodynamics: energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it is merely changed. She liked to think that it also applied to the human soul. She'll see them again, in one form or another.

Frederik had no such qualms. He knew where they were headed. They will either meet their end in flame or in ice. He was a cynic in this regard - that he will end up in the same place as them. There was no possible way that his Jewish ancestry could be hidden indefinitely.

They exited through the fire escape and down the stairs - but she did not plan on someone getting there before her. Her first instinct was to run, but a soldier yanked her away from escape.

“What are you doing? Let go of me! Frederik? Frederik!”

Unfortunately, Frederik was in the same predicament as she was. "Hey, hey! How about we talk about this for a sec-"

He never got the chance to finish that sentence before one of the soldiers punched him square in the face, leaving an ugly bruise on his cheeks and the wind knocked out of him. He reeled back from the impact and felt something fall down his cheek. Whether it was tears or blood, he could not determine.

Kristýna screamed as soon as she saw Frederik getting hurt. In retaliation with a force unknown to her, she delivered a swift kick to her captor's private extremities, causing him to cry out with a satisfactory enough pain to release her and focus on saving Frederik. For the other soldier, she kicked him in the shin and stomped on his feet, using her short height as an advantage; Frederik also contributed by elbowing the soldier, which finally brought him down.

And then they bolted from the scene, heading deeper into New Town for neither of them wanted their family to be involved in this. They knew the city like the back of their hands. The streets were their veins, interconnecting and interlocking with each other, and this time, Kristýna's intuition lead her to the industrial part of Prague, where rusty warehouses dominated the area.

Behind them, they heard angry shouts, but it seemed like there were no more than two. Frederik knew a little German and based on what he heard, he shouldn't translate for Kristýna. In response, he shouted expletives in Czech and Slovak, but had to refrain himself from saying anything in Hebrew.

Kristýna skidded to a stop and they took refuge in an unlocked warehouse with a few blocks of wood, beams of rusting iron, shards of glass, tools, and rope. Thank goodness she had her hair tied up.

"I need you to help me build a device. Grab the other end of the steel beam and I'll grab the other… Ack! That's good enough. Now is there enough rope to tie it to the ceiling…? Okay there is. I think the sprinklers are enough to support the weight. Frederik! Are you fine there?"

The ceiling was only a few inches taller than Frederik; comfortable for her, cramped for him. If he was any taller, the top of his head would brush the ceiling. Nevertheless, he fastened the rope around the steel beam and around the sprinkler, with Kristýna supporting the beam from her end. When he was done, they switched sides.

"You have the upper body strength. When I give you the signal, I want you to push it through the window when I show two fingers. Do you think you can do that?"

Kristýna stared at him with smoldering eyes, absolutely convinced that this contrived plan involving a hastily constructed contraption will work at the cost of putting herself in danger and then promptly left and appeared a second later in front of  the window. Neither of them had any real training in combat besides what their adrenaline told them to do, so really, he didn't have a Plan B if this doesn't work.

Frederik aligned himself with the far side of the ram and prepared himself. Meanwhile, his partner stood stoically out and apparently, was holding a glass shard in her left hand. Perhaps she did have a Plan B after all.

He was only allotted a few seconds of thinking before he spotted the two-fingered symbol and with all his might, he pushed it towards the window with marvelous success. One of the two soldiers was hit square in the face and fell down, dazed and confused, while the other skidded past but didn't maintain balance.

At the end of the confusion, Kristýna forced herself to lunge forward and stab the still-conscious soldier in the chest and found that Frederik finished the job with a blow to the head. Soon, the second soldier was knocked out.

Both of them breathed heavily as they started at the unconscious bodies. They were both alive, as evidenced by the rise-and-fall of their chests, but neither of the two students wanted to kill them.

They weren’t killers; they refused to be. They wanted to keep their souls intact and didn’t want to pick up the pieces when they broke if they ever will be. And so, they propped the unconscious bodies up on a nearby lamppost and thrifted through their belongings for anything incriminating; they just found a crumpled piece of paper with thousands of names and indeed, among them were written theirs. Every officer probably had the list in their pockets, but they were still compelled to burn them.

“And that is that,” mumbled Frederik. He stared blankly at the scene below him, clutching the confiscated papers in his hands.

Kristýna instead closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and fluttered them open again. “We can no longer exist.”

They stared at each other a silent conversation passed, and then they walked nonchalantly away from the bodies, acting like they returned from a nice stroll, but neither of them spoke to each other as they returned to their homes.

The statues lining the Charles Bridge stood tall and proud, just as one would expect from the magnanimous saints. During the summers, they would walk on its cobblestoned ground and admired the vast view of the Vltava River. St. Ivo, St. Barbara, St. Margaret, St. Elizabeth, St. Francis of Assisi…may they watch over them.

The Procházkas’ house had assimilated itself into the dull brown townhouses as the years passed, but even before, it was rather unassuming. They were preparing to move back to Slovakia. All their papers have been prepared and their tracks covered. France has fallen and Poland a memory. They were trapped on the continent, soon-to-be graveyard with no means to travel to America. If they were going to be in Europe, they will be surrounded by family.

Frederik would be staying with them for only a few months, at least until Hanukah ended. He didn’t want to worry about what would happen on the journey, or when they got there, or if they'll survive or not. Really, it was much easier if he assumed everything would go right.

But Kristýna , with her ever watchful eyes, devised several back-up plans for them. Although the family appreciated the gesture, they doubted whether they were actually doing to use them or not.

She offered her palm. "I'll burn them."

"Thank you," he replied and handed the papers. He saw her regard his response with a nod but before she left, he said, "Wait!"

She turned around with one eyebrow cocked. "Yes?"

His posture slackened and his thoughts were at a lost as he wrestled with his lips to blurt out the words. Kristýna mockingly tapped her foot on the concrete, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Frederik managed to kick himself to say it. What did he have to lose? Surely, nothing could change between them if he offered her it.

He unraveled his scarf once again and raveled it around Kristýna's neck. "I don't know when I'll come back, but if I don't, please have this."

Kristýna felt her cheeks turn red and this time, she knew that it wasn't from the cold. Once again, he managed to transform her organized mind into a state of entropy. Who did he think he was, marching into her heart like this? She didn’t want to openly admit that perhaps, she did love him; to her he was still the boy with the chipped tooth who always cried whenever she did better than him.

Of course, both of them forgot that there are other ways to say I love you without saying "I love you" - such as giving the other a soft nod, a tight hug, and ending a conversation with "Please be careful."

Frederik doubted he will be careful. Subtlety was not his specialty but just for her, he will make a special effort.

They parted ways. He entered his house, releasing a sigh as soon as he did, said hello to his parents, and immediately succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile,  she walked a few houses down towards her own house and quietly opened and closed the door as her mother was sleeping; with a matchbox, she lighted the fireplace and dropped the confiscated documents into the flames, watching the edges of the paper smolder and blacken. Soon, they turned into ash and Kristýna doused the fire with water and swept the ashes into a waste bin.

From this point on, Kristýna Vaňková and Frederik Procházka did not exist.

The main title as well as the chapter titles are based on the song “Cuckoo” by Benjamin Britten.