#could the point of this essay have been reached in about 5 sentences? probably

[racetrackmybeloved]

Did Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink Scab?

To clarify, the question is whether the characters themselves scabbed, or whether the actors played multiple characters, one being their regular newsie character (Tommy Boy, Sniper, Kid Blink), and the other being an unnamed ‘scab’ character.

Most of the posts I’ve seen on here about these characters assume that the characters themselves scabbed, but I disagree:

(Note: this is all based on the 2017 proshot, I know there may be some differences with the original Broadway production and the UK production, but I have not seen those so cannot form an opinion on them.)

David says "Who are they?" when the scabs show up.

All three of them were at the circulation gate on the first day.

Tommy Boy and Sniper were at the circulation gate the next day. Tommy Boy questions Jack ("You got an idea?").

Tommy Boy was at Jacobi's. He was mentioned by name, and given an assignment by Jack ("Tommy Boy, take the east side").

To be fair on him, David did meet a lot of people on those days, and was under a lot of stress. However, even if he didn't know them by name, he should at the very least recognise Tommy Boy well enough to not ask who he was.

2. Finch says "They think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs?"

The implication of "take our jobs" is that the scabs are aiming to replace the existing newsies, and were not newsies themselves at that point.

3. Jack does not appeal to them as individuals.

When Jack is giving his speech to convince the three scabs to throw down their papers, at no point does he name them, or say anything personal. We know for a fact that he knows Tommy Boy well enough to trust him with an assignment. Why did he never appeal to him as a friend? Counter-argument: Jack is a dumbass.

4. IMDB and end credits.

Each of the actors' IMDB pages list them as playing two characters, one being their named newsie, and the other being 'scab'. This is done in the same way as Jack Sippel's IMDB, which lists him as playing both Darcy ("My father owns The Trib") and Kenny (his newsie character). This indicates that Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink did not scab, and their actors just swap between characters.

However, the official credits at the end of the film on Disney+ tell a different story. Michael Dameski is credited for playing both Tommy Boy and 'Scab', while Andy Richardson and Daniel Switzer are only credited for their respective named newsie characters.

From this, I would argue that it is uncontentious that Tommy Boy and 'Scab' are intended to be separate characters. I don't know where IMDB gets their information on character names, and whether it is common for them to be incorrect.

I will mention that there are other instances of characters not being mentioned in the credits. For example, Andrew Wilson plays three characters: a man in the audience at Medda's theatre, one of Wiesel's goons, and a Brooklyn newsie. He is credited as playing 'Willie' and 'Bart'. ‘Bart’ is presumably Andrew Wilson’s Brooklyn newsie character, as that is his last appearance, but which character is Willie? (It is also pretty clear that these are three separate characters, as theatre Andrew has a moustache, and I highly doubt a Brooklyn newsie would be working with Wiesel to beat up Manhattan newsies). None of these characters have any lines so it does not matter, but I just wanted to bring up that the credits may gloss over non-speaking characters. As such, it is possible that Andy Richardson and Daniel Switzer should have been credited as ‘Scab’ as well as their named characters.

Side note: the Newsies Wiki also says that Tommy Boy was a scab, but I do not consider this to be a reliable source.

In my opinion, it is quite clear that at the very least, Tommy Boy did not scab. Whether Kid Blink and Sniper scabbed is up to interpretation, but I believe that all of them were playing alternative 'scab' characters.

Note: Daniel Switzer (Sniper) speaks one line when he is not playing a scab ("So's the Bronx!" - Brooklyn's Here), while Andy Richardson (Kid Blink) does not have any independent lines outside of when he plays a scab. However, even Daniel Switzer's line is not done as Sniper - this is presumably another instance of an actor playing a different character, in this case being a Bronx newsie.

I do question the director's choice of having Michael Dameski play both a scab and a newsie who is involved in the strike.

Michael Dameski has 2 lines as Tommy Boy:

"It's gettin' bad out there" - Carrying the Banner

"You got an idea?"

He can also be heard (at least) 2 more times, but I would consider those instances to be background shouts rather than scripted lines. In addition, these lines are said in the minutes after he throws down his papers, so it is unclear whether he is saying them as Tommy Boy or as 'Scab'.

"That's right!" - Seize the Day

"Hey!" - Seize the Day

As mentioned earlier, his character is also directly named, and given an assignment by Jack. If the scabs were intended to be anonymous unnamed characters who were not previously newsies, it makes sense that Andy Richardson (Kid Blink) and Daniel Switzer (Sniper) were selected. I assume that their choices were limited to ensemble actors who would be in the Seize the Day number, so Andrew Wilson, JP Ferreri and Stephen Hernandez (Brooklyn newsies) were not options. Julian De Guzman (Smalls), David Guzman (Ike), and Jacob Guzman (Mike) do not have any speaking lines in the musical, nor are they mentioned by name. To avoid raising additional issues of one twin scabbing while the other did not (which would be a GREAT plot line in my opinion, but would not be realistic due to time constraints and as it would have detracted focus), the logical choice for an actor to play a scab alongside their newsie character would have been Julian De Guzman (Smalls).

Tommy Boy however, is a character that we recognise. We know he is extremely literal (his confusion when Jack says "would you keep your shirt on?"), and is likely more of a realist than an optimist ("it's gettin' bad out there" in Carrying the Banner). He, along with Specs and Finch are newsies that Jack specifically singled out to bring the news of the strike to the other boroughs. We can infer that he is someone who Jack trusts, is older, and has likely been a newsie for a long time. Him being selected to go the extra mile (literally) to tell other newsies about the strike would make it heartbreaking if they had chosen the narrative of the scabs being existing newsies. It brings up questions that make the plot more complex: what happened in that 24 hour period that caused him to lose faith? What made him betray his friends? However, I don't think that was what they were going for, as the credits explicitly make a distinction between Tommy Boy and the scab.

If we ignore literally everything I have said up until this point, and assume that the intended plot line was that three existing newsies had scabbed, then it was not executed very well. It would have been much more effective if they had selected newsies who we had more prior connection to, such as Romeo, Finch, or Albert. We have zero emotional attachment to Sniper and Kid Blink, as we do not know their names, and do not hear them speak. Even though Tommy Boy is an established character, he still barely speaks, and we have little to no emotional connection with him. The personality traits mentioned earlier would not even be picked up on by the casual watcher. (If he is anyone's favourite prior to that moment, it is 100% due to Michael Dameski's dancing, and not the character itself).

Further, if the characters themselves scabbed, we should have seen some kind of development that made sense. Focusing in on Tommy Boy, with the narrative of him being a scab, he says "I'm with ya!", and then joins in with the other newsies to intimidate the other two scabs into joining them. (He also yells "That's right!" in the background). Where is the reaction from the other newsies? Jojo puts an arm around him, but I do not read much into this, as he also has his arm around Henry. Give me emotion, give me 'my friend/probably housemate just stabbed me in the back, and then realised the error of his ways', give me SOMETHING. He is one of the three newsies that Jack trusted enough to give an assignment to, and one of two newsies who agreed - he is clearly an important part of this family.

Kid Blink and Sniper get even less reaction from the other newsies. The newsies are visibly happy when they throw down their papers, but I do not see their reactions as distinct from how they would have reacted if they had been random unnamed scabs. If the intended narrative was that the characters themselves had betrayed their friends, we should have seen a more personal, emotionally charged reaction. However, we simply do not know enough about these characters to draw a conclusion.

Overall, I think it is uncontentious that Tommy Boy did not scab, due to a combination of factors including the official credits, David's apparent terrible memory, and my (possibly misplaced) faith that if his character had scabbed, it would have been handled better. Whether Sniper and Kid Blink scabbed is more difficult to say, due to conflicting credits, and a lack of information about the characters themselves. In my opinion, it makes more sense to say that all three of the actors played two characters: Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink, and three unnamed scabs.

PS:

Michael Dameski (Tommy Boy)'s scab going from scabbing with Daniel Switzer (Sniper)'s scab to glaring at him and staring him down in the space of thirty seconds is objectively hilarious, whether you think he was still the 'scab' character at that point, or if he had turned into Tommy Boy in that time frame. Top tier, truly elite.

Would love to hear your opinions!

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 1 )

Part1 / Next 

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: This is my first Marvel fic and I am taking it as a challenge. It is opposite of what my account was made, but here I go. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count:  3,281

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU 

Y/N- Your name Y/L/N:  Your Last Name

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

  Through sleepless nights and dark circles, books and pens, through months of work you reached your goal. The moment you received the acceptance letter from Stark University you almost flew out the window without a fear in your mind. This was it!

  Time had passed since that moment, but it is still engraved in your mind- a memory keeping you strong during the hard midterms and piles of work, even the small glimmers of regret. Trying your best wasn’t an option, you could do only that and no less. It was no easy task, lost social life as much as you tried to keep it. You were really lucky you had good friends that understood and supported you. University wasn’t easy for anyone making this one even tougher. People of all ages, backgrounds and cultures were piled up with you in this building. The best of the best as the slogan said, the ones that proved themselves and emerged victorious.

  When you were young ,you used to spend a lot of time with your uncle at his places outside the country. He would introduce you to his work colleagues and things you had never seen before. There was a time where you would spend months on end with him. Not many memories were left from those moments in your head. At one point you spend a few years with him, your mother thought it would be good experience for you and it turned out to be nothing but the truth-at least you hoped so. You learned a lot from him and his friends, it felt like each spend day would offer you more knowledge in areas you never knew of. Computer work, ways of thinking and so much more that had become second nature to you.

  The sky was tinted in a wash of oranges, reds and yellows bleeding one into the other, swirling around the sun emitting them. The day was ending, but you found yourself filling up an application in the library, covered by the silence and smell of exam worry.

  Sponsored and founded by the one and only Tony Stark, this establishment offered an internship. Being part of the Avengers, Tony didn’t let just anyone from the students attending in, even if they were the best labeled by the school. It had been a year and a half since you started pushing yourself harder to be able to apply and there was nothing that could stop you. Pressing your finger over the enter button was very nerve wrecking yet simple. Even if it didn’t work out this year, you planned to do it again and again ,till he had no other choice but give you a chance.

  Usually F.R.I.D.A.Y. went over everything and left only the applications worth going over by Tony himself or Pepper. The next 5 weeks for you were very stressful, but there was nothing more you could do but wait and focus on your own work. The first person you wanted to tell about this was your uncle. He went to work in some distant place where they had no internet so you switched to mail. Not as much paper under his name passed through your hands, as he had stopped answering you. You missed him, but the muddy childhood memories kind of compensated for that.

“Did you send it in?” the phone muffled a bit the sweet voice coming from the speaker 

“Yeah, a few days ago actually.” You answered with a gentle sigh

“And no answer yet?” the girl’s pitch rose at the end of the sentence, amazed at that what she just heard

“I know, I know. Think about it though Nea. Who knows how many applications get submitted. Someone has to brush through them after all.” defending the situation was a form of coping for you, made you feel hopeful.

“So you are trying to tell me Tony Stark’s interface or whatever it’s called, can’t sort them out in a couple of hours? Come on Y/N! You and I both know you are trying to make yourself feel better.” The small pause made you anxious over what Nea said “Listen.” A breathy start of the sentence “ I don’t mean to brag, but I think I am one of the people who know exactly how much you deserve this. You were never the studious type, plus that you were gone for years on end with that mysterious uncle of yours. I never expected you to suddenly go for Stark University. Your dream changed you, from this quiet kid to crazy ol’ you right now on the call with me.I ain’t letting you bust yourself up over this just because it didn’t happen the first time around-”

                Ding ding

  Nea’s deep speech was cut off before she could unleash herself completely, by the slight ring of your phone’s notification.

“Who tf has the audacity to text while the great me is giving this legendary –“

                Ding!

  The second time the sound sung out made her choke up with anger, you could almost see the fumes coming out of the phone.

“WHO IS IT!” a loud hiss pierced your ear

“Maybe if you gave me a minute I could answer your question.” Pulling the call down, your finger ran over the screen to the email, making your notification lamp blink like a car. Almost instantly it opened before your eyes and you gasped. The action made you swallow suddenly and cough out a bit ,giving poor Nea an idea about the level of shock you were in.

“What?What? You can’t just almost die and not tell me what is going on.” She proceeded with a not so tasteful interrogation.

“I-…they accepted my application…” at the end a small smile flowed over your lips contorting the sound coming out

“Stop!?” she choked up as well “You gotta be fucking with me!? No fucking way this is real!”

“I am honest. It says here that they liked my skill set, my grades and the way of thinking I presented in my essay. I got the spot Nea! I fucking did it!” you threw the phone on the bed letting it bounce as you started dancing.

“Of course you did! I told you! You will be working with THE AVENGERSSSS!” at some point it sounded like your best friend was more excited than you “When do you start?”

“Well…” taking a second to calm down and re-establish contact with your phone, you looked up the schedule that came attached with the email “…ok…so it says here that I will be starting on Monday so~ in 2 days? “

“So soon! Any requirements for the job miss Avenger’s sidekick?” and the teasing begins

“A list, surprisingly.” Rolling onto your back, you held the screen away and above your face, scrolling past “ I guess my first job will be with Dr. Banner in the lab. Apparently I will be given some sort of assignments throughout the 5 months work span. I will be monitored by Dr. Bruce Banner and the grading, I guess if you can call It that ,will be done by Tony Stark himself.”

“Basically Hulk will be your babysitter.” once this girl starts teasing she never stops even in amazing situations such as this one, good thing you loved her “That sounds so cool though! You will be able to meet Captain America and Black Widow~! I am so jelly of you I swear! When you leave work make sure to wait for someone from the group to walk by, omgggg I am fangirling so much right now.What if you go to dinners with them!?AAAAA!”

“Fun thing about that.” Your eyes landed on the last paragraph of the email “It says here that I am supposed to move into the compound and stay there till further notice. The whole idea is that if I do things well I will get a permanent job. Weird…” you hummed

“Weird !? How? That is so cool! Who knows you might even become an Avenger! You will be living with them anyways.” at this point Nea was either not breathing or hyperventilating so fast you couldn’t hear it

“Don’t be ridiculous.” your attention landed once more on the thought process you had a moment ago “I don’t get one thing. They say here that my PE grades combined with my IT and overall studies make me a great candidate, but I don’t remember sports being a requirement at all, or even providing them in the first place. Does it mean that if my grades were low in that department I wouldn’t have gotten the spot?”

“I guess people of science aren’t that flexible. Who cares anyways! You got in, no ifs and buts. I am telling you, at this point you could be an Avenger.” poor girl began thinking of names and suit designs for you “ Hurry up and pack those bags before I drop by with take away, so we can gossip over Steve Rogers’s abs.”

“Um…don’t get me wrong he is super hot, I just see the Cap more like an older brother figure than anything.” It was true, you looked up to him since the first time you studied about the Civil War. Fearless, gave his life in a way for his people, astonishing man over all.

“Hey! Let me drool over him! You were always more of a Winter Soldier fan anyways.” Nea pouted audibly . Her words made some lone memory pop up in your head, but it was as murky as the rest. “I don’t know why I am interested in him. Somehow his look is very nostalgic and rugged. Anyways. ”you shook your head out of the mental image of the soldier “I will go pack up, tell my parents and fix up all my documents. Probably find some stuff from former Stark employees online. I want to have a bit of an idea of what he expects and what I am getting myself into.”

“Fine fine, you could have just said you like troubled guys. You were the one who was happy Loki got a second chance after all. I will be over in like 3 hours.” She informed you

“Hey! He deserved to redeem himself, he was used!” a firm Loki supporter as always “Ok then, see ya.”

   Hanging up the call you placed your phone to charge and rolled off your bed. The email gave vague information about what you needed, but clothing wise you would still be able to come home and get stuff if you had to. What was on top of your priorities were papers, documents, all your research materials and tech. Those things had to be organized no matter what ,since they got you this far in the first place.

  Nae came over as planned and you two had a nice sleepover talking about you know who. The night came and left, letting the morning find you in your bed at 11am. Your forearm rested on top of your forehead in a relaxed manner, letting enough space for an exhale to linger in the air in front of you. Your mind was going over everything that was about to happen to you. It was one of your dreams, you worked for it nonstop day in day out, so why were you so worried about meeting the rest of the Avengers? Maybe it was just anxiety or fear of the unknown, yeah made sense.

  All you did during the day was make lists for every piece of tech you were binging with yourself. Things seemed to be in order, but worry kept nibbling on your bones. The moment of truth finally rolled up and so did your suitcase in front of your house. Nea came to send you off as she promised.

“Sweetie, make sure to call us every day. Eat well, don’t overwork yourself and-“ your mom went off with caution about anything and everything that came to mind

“Mom, you know I am going 3 blocks down from here right? Plus I can come home at any time I want to. I am not moving to Mars or getting arrested.” You smirked the panic away from her, giving them a big hug.

“Call me or text me when you get there.” Nea pulled you in, whispering in your ear as quietly as possible “And don’t forget to sneak me a booty pick of good ol’Cap. You know what they say-”

“That is America’s ass.” Your voice came out in a mocking tone

“That i-…let me at least finish it by myself! Geez!” she pushed you towards the door “Ok ok, go now before you spoil me something else” her arms crossed in front of her chest

  The walk wasn’t that long, you were too invested in your own thoughts to notice when the time and distance had passed. The glistening windows of the compound building shined into your eyes. Your lungs filled up with a breath that they kept in for a moment, before releasing it back in the outside world. Pulling out the documents you stepped in. The fresh smelling air hit you making you close one eye for a second.

People were walking around you fast and concentrated. Some looked in a hurry, others were on break with a cup of coffee and a strain-leaving expression.

 Your feet, as slightly shaky as they were, took you right up to the front desk were a lady with a dark rich red colored uniform looked at you. She flashed a professional smile, her eyes asking for your purpose.

“Um, hello. My name is Y/N -Y/L/N.” she saw the logo on your papers and gasped

“You must be the new intern Mr. Stark told us about.” She signed something and reached out “Can you give me your hand for a second.” Your fingers didn’t go past the surface of the desk when she pocked your skin. Pulling in your extremity, your palm wrapped around the spot that began to sting a bit “Don’t worry about it. This is your identification pass. Fancy, no?” she smiled winking. Her body stood up as she pointed at the elevator far in the back of the foyer.

  Instructions were given with each step of the way, calming your nerves a bit. The moment you found yourself inside the elevator she pulled your hand to the sensor on the wall next to the buttons.

Recognized: Code 2514. Welcome Miss Y/N  

 Your head shot up when F.R.I.D.Y.’s voice echoed in the small space. The women smiled giving you a small nod and stepped out of the vicinity. Once her body was outside ,the doors slid closed. Over them glowed a protective blue light layering over the material like a soft veil.

 It felt like you weren’t moving an inch. Your body flinched when the sun stung at your eyes from the window. Your gaze landed over the view of the city, as you went higher and higher, ascending into the clouds  The blues and yellows were covering the inside of the elevator, such vibrant and lovely colors warming your body. For a moment your heart felt heavy- lost memory tugged onto it again. An often occurrence lately, yet you kept brushing off as deja vu. 

Floor 134. Welcome to the Avenger’s compound Miss Y/N

“134!?” the numbers cracked out with your voice. The interface made you turn towards the opposite opening doors revealing a room as big as a hall, if not almost a stadium. The ceiling was high being the lid to this round area. Your heart beat increased pumping blood to your body, dilating your pupils at least twice their original size. It look amazing, almost like you had just entered heaven. The walls were white, the furniture was perfectly placed and cream colored. Stepping outside you jumped at the sound of the elevator doors closing behind you. 

“Wow” escaped your lips, your hand pulling the suitcase closer. So this was the common room or the shared space. The windows were so big they were practically a wall of their own. The bright rays were making themselves at home giving the white paint a new color with each passing minute. The ceilings were probably the equivalent of 3 floors in height. There was this weird feeling of home inside, a bit of isolation maybe mixed in. 

“Miss Y/N?” your head swung to the side when you recognized that shy but bright smile. Throwing the papers on top of your suitcase, you extended your arm at the man.

“Ah.” Good thing your mind automatically responds politely to people without you giving it much thought “Dr. Banner. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” you shook his hand gently a couple of times and let go ,finding the papers and showing them to him “My name is Y/N-Y/L/N.” gentle bow and a smile followed the words skillfully chosen

“Welcome Welcome. Tony is out right now so I might be the only one actively walking around the compound. Well…”he scratched the back of his neck, lightly hunching over with a sheepish smile “I am one of the people you will be working under anyways, so I guess it is good that I came to get you. I would love to show you the lab, but I am sure you would like to set up your things first.” You nodded and he showed you to your room. The corridor had 3 tall doors scattered on the walls, all looking modern and elegant.

“This is the side where usually we have our female members. Natasha and Wanda will be your nextdoor neighbors. Hope it won’t be any trouble.” Bruce looked at you ,when an aggressive shake took over your neck

“No, no. Not at all sir. I am very grateful to have such amazing heroes next to me. As a matter of fact won’t they be troubled with me here?” and here came the normal anxiety that you had for everything

“I am sure they will like you. Don’t worry about it.” Bruce stepped next to the door and waved you over “You don’t have a key or a door handle as a matter of fact. Tony’s idea, don’t ask. If you got up here on your own I assume he made the girls downstairs give you an identification implant. That is basically your entrance for everything here. Kind of an Avengers thing.” You nodded and him wiggling his fingers like a spell. Placing your hand on the door like he told you activated F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Recognized: Y/N. Access and ownership granted.

  The metal frame slid open and you found yourself standing before a big room. It was nicely furnished. The desk was big enough for you to work on it and have everything around. Bookshelves empty and ready to be used on your left and a large bed on your right flush against the wall. The window was once more its own wall right in front of you standing behind the desk. The bathroom door was opening a space before the shelf the same color as the paint in the common room.

“I will let you set up. If you need anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. is always here. The room is interactive, you can ask exactly what works under the interface’s control. The door is one.Take your time.”he was on his way out “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“I would like some tea, thank you very much.” Bruce flashed you a smile “F.R.I.D.A.Y. the door please.”

Door closed 

  Done as said and requested, clicking behind you. 

Would you like an extensive list of my functions as an assistant?

“Please do.”

[dragonturtle2]

Charting Penny's course, on the eve of the V8 finale.

I just realized that one of the lengthiest essays I ever posted online was never copied or cross posted over here to Tumblr.  A huge mistake on my part.  For one, as a big fan of transhumanism, I got a kind of enjoyment mapping out the distinctions Penny Poledina’s series-wide arc, even with the flaws.  Two, I’m actually kind of proud of the predictions I made at the end.  Not because I was correct about one of them; I remarked how I’d LIKE Rooster Teeth to do something, not that they’d actually take the shot.  But some of the stuff I thought of was fun, and I do feel a bit of validation for having my thoughts line up with the actual writers; especially in lieu of how heated other people’s reactions were to something sorrowful and unexpected.  

Tonight I had been responding to a critique I'd found earlier on Tumblr. They had remarked that Penny's conflict in Volumes 2, 7 and 8 were just recycling the question of whether Penny was a real girl. That doing so was just boring as heck, when the question has been answered firmly with Penny becoming the Winter Maiden. I thought the question of “what makes a person a person, and not just a simulated pattern of behaviors with the instinct to survive?” was broad enough to get a few arcs’ worth of visitation.  But I thought just responding with that one lengthy sentence could come off as belittling sarcasm. So tried to offer up an my actual interpretation and clear opinion. I got this monstrosity.

Volume 1 has Penny reaching out to make friends, V2 is finally admitting her robot nature to someone and vocalizing her fears about being a real girl.  Volume 3 dangles the upcoming conflict of her wanting to exercise independent action, step away from the national military organization that bankrolled and housed her, and go to Beacon with her friends.  But that got cut short.

Volume 7 picks up the thread of Penny’s independent actions.  Not just with the ability to disagree with or full-on disobey orders, but her own value system and initiative.  Not only is she asking Winter about how to make decisions in life, she is also silently (and not-so-silently) judging whether Winter is morally right, or even truly happy with her own choices.  When she takes Freya’s hand, she asks something that no one has probably said to Freya in awhile: “Are you OK?”

Volume 8 is focused on the things being taken from her.  Her previous family-unit-facsimile of James, Winter and the Ace Ops have labeled her a traitor and are now hunting her.  Being targeted as the Maiden makes her distance herself from her friends, so they aren’t further harmed .  In doing that, she also leaves behind her previous dedication, protecting Mantle, to launch Amity Tower and assist in the bigger picture of warning the entire planet.  Then in the pursuit of that goal she damages herself, pushes her body to it’s limit, and says goodbye to her father.  

Volume 8 might seem to backpedal, and spend much of the season emphasizing how inhuman Penny is. That’s the point.  After Freya essentially canonizes Penny as human, with her ‘blessing,’ Penny’s new identity (to herself and the audience) is arrested in the most traumatic ways possible.  Her body is peeled back and cut open.  Her schematics are passed around and assessed by characters and factions more than ever.  The hacking is the Atlas military complex literally claiming ownership over her, exploiting the body and code they created alongside Pietro.  (In contrast with the earlier consensual control and teamwork with Pietro, which even then she hardly enjoyed).  How much pain can you inflict on a person until they devolve, or abandon rational thought?  Little wonder Penny ends up begging the team to end her own life.  She’s now taken Winter’s role from Volume 7, her self-esteem having sunken even lower.  “My life doesn’t matter!“

When that ghastly moment was (temporarily) resolved with a quick revelation and Jaune’s Semblance, it was a moment of mixed feelings for me in an episode I otherwise loved.  But I really came around to it afterword.  They have to head to Vault for a permanent fix pretty much immediately, so it doesn’t feel like the writers used Jaune to kick the can down the road until they felt like tackling it.  A very direct benefit is that by pausing Penny’s affliction, Penny gains the ability to actually have a conversation with people, to have scenes beyond just desperately wrestling her.   It also spared us the repeated dialogue of “I must go to the Vault.  I don’t want to!  I must - I don’t! - I MUST- I DON’T!”  Seriously, that routine was wearing thin.  

Whether any fans predicted Jaune’s Semblance being able to help or not, I’m pleased when characters are able to quickly conceive applications of in-universe fictional powers.  This is such a refreshing improvement over how CRWBY previously couldn’t bring Ruby to even ASK about the Silver Eyes that put her in a coma.  

There were missteps along the way.  Ruby really should have reacted more to her friend coming back to life; RT leaning on the Fourth Wall doesn’t fully remove the sting. ("It seems we will have to wait!”)  We also never see any of our protagonists outside of Ruby even react to the revelation of a robotic life form.  When they meet Penny again at V7′s start, apparently ALL of them, even Oscar, were so acquainted with Penny’s story that none of them had any questions for her the entire Volume.  There was no sense of betrayed trust, or trauma from watching one friend be ripped apart by another.  These are disappointments, but not deal breakers.  Now, I want to talk about how post-Ambrosius Penny may fit in with the rest of the story.  Maybe it’s stupid of me to try to get this out by 4 in the morning the day the finale drops, but I’m on a role, and I want to get my ideas out in the open before they’re tainted by hindsight.  Otherwise I won’t feel like even finishing this.  

I’m not going to launch into a tangent with the metaphysical mechanics on whether Penny’s new body would have ‘logically’ been conjured or not.  (For the record I think it works).  I just want to talk about the message the show is conveying, and what they could do with it.  My base assumption is that Cinder is going to get the Winter Maiden power.  It would be great way to coincide with her (GASP) actual character development this volume.  But more importantly, if she doesn’t succeed in her goal, and get an upgrade to compete with our leveled-up protagonists, I can’t see how she can be an interesting or threatening villain going forward.  A few ways this can end for Penny:

Pietro could give up the last bit of his life to bring her back.  He’d probably need to get assistance from Abrosius, since he’s lacking in equipment; he’s a brilliant scientist, so explaining it certainly wouldn’t be an obstacle.  Maybe Penny would be back to being a synthetic, maybe she remains organic.  Either way, it’s a compromise with having a functional villain, while keeping around a fandom darling.  Personally, I think RT needs to evoke the spirit of Volume 3, and make people cry.

Actually killing Penny would be bold and stand-out.  By taking away Penny’s function of a core that can be salvaged (as explained at the start of Volume 7), and having her body get incinerated just like Pyrrha, RT can fully signal “This character is dead, and can’t be resurrected.”  The heart break would be brilliant, with Penny getting to know the joys of an organic body just to be immediately ripped away from life.  This would beautifully parallel with General Ironwood.  James clamped down on human emotion because he thought it would give him the strength to stand against the darkness.  Penny’s friends made her MORE human in a loving act of rescue, but now have to watch as she dies like any other human.  Both characters would be cautionary tales regarding the Atlas Arc’s question of Trust.  To leave yourself open.

Alrighty, now that I’ve gotten to feel like an intellectual by making some proclamations of doom, I want to throw out a tinfoil hat theory that actually combines the two previous versions.  What’s fascinated me for years, and the show hasn’t re-visited, is the nature of Cinder’s parasite.  Can Cinder talk to it?  Will it begin gaining sentience?  What’s relevant to Penny is what exactly this thing DOES.  When it comes to it’s soul-power-absorbing function, we’ve never actually seen it’s full extent.  The process with Amber was interrupted, with half the power just zipping over to Cinder after Amber expired.  With Raven and Penny’s power, Cinder’s arm only got a little taste of them both, since both of their captures were unsuccessful.  What if Cinder’s parasite can absorb more than raw power?  Pinnochio is eventually swallowed by a monstrous beast.  We were all sure it would be The Whale.  But what if it’s Cinder?

I’ll be watching the finale in about 5 hours.  The idea that I could be correct about something that takes everyone else off guard (Penny’s death) has an electric feeling, and I totally understand why people can get hung up on the stories they compose in their head.  But I don’t want to start thinking any of MY ideas HAVE to come true for me to get joy from whatever happens to Penny or Volume 8.  Regardless, reviewing character arcs that preceded wherever we are in the present is always worthwhile.  

[msoogabooga]

The Insufferable Tom Riddle • (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Warnings: None

Summary: Reader has an ongoing rivalry with Tom Riddle. One question shifts the tides.

A/N: Uh hi. I haven’t written fanfiction since 8th grade. (It’s been 5 years). Hopefully this isn’t terrible and, yes, there will be a second part.

•••

Octobers at Hogwarts are nothing short of momentous. While the weather outside is perfect for walks around the castle or a good game of quidditch, it is also around the time where lessons begin to pick up in difficulty. Professors begin cramming down more homework than usual while encouraging you to take a trip to the library during your free time. You decide to take their advice today.

You sit at the end of one of the empty tables, quill in hand and your worn out copy of A History of Magic open in front of you. However, your vision wasn’t focused on the textbook nor the blank parchment paper that was supposed to contain your finished essay. No, your focus was outside the window with a perfect view of the castle grounds. Students all bundled up in their respective house scarves sit outside, talking amongst themselves. A group of Hufflepuffs sit together with their textbooks open, laughing and chatting away. A Ravenclaw and Slytherin walk by, hand in hand. And a single Gryffindor, though alone, seems to be having the time of his life climbing a nearby tree. All you can do is observe and wish that you had a group to join in. You have friends, of course, but they are all from different friend groups. And not a single one could join you in your study session. You don’t blame them, no not at all. Not everyone wishes to be crammed in the library working on a 5 page essay on a beautiful fall morning.

You sigh and close your textbook. Clearly, no work was going to be done today. You twirl your quill in your hand and continue staring outside the window. Observing people isn’t the most interesting past time, but it certainly beats chucking out a painfully lengthy essay over the International Warlock Convention of 1289. Your moment of peace was interrupted by a copy of Advanced Potion Making being slammed in front of you. You look up to see the culprit being a smug Tom Riddle looking down at you.

“Given up already?” He says, referring to the blank pieces of parchment sitting in front of you. He pulls out a chair and sits directly in front of you, not even bothering to ask if he was allowed to do so.

“Do you mind?” You reply, not finding the urge to start an argument with him like how you would usually.

You had a history with Tom Riddle. You never paid much attention to him throughout your years at Hogwarts together. He was always the odd kid who sat in the back. It wasn’t until this year when he made an offhand comment about your grades. This sparked a small competition and rivalry between you two. It was nothing official, but you always boast in front of him when you make a higher grade than him on an assignment and he returns the favor. It has since escalated from just grades. Due to his new Head Boy title, he always makes sure to give you an extra hard time, going out of his way to deduct points for any minor infraction. This always leads to you silently cursing at him, which he also deducts points for. Now he sits in front of you without invitation, wearing the most annoying look you have ever seen.

“I don’t mind at all.” He replies. “I can’t believe you’re just starting on that essay. I finished it days ago. Quite easy, at least for me.”

“I’m trying to study here, Riddle.” You open your textbook back up and begin skimming the pages again. “I’d appreciate it if you went to bother another innocent soul.”

“Oh, but what’s the fun in that? I admit, getting a row out of you is quite amusing sometimes.”

“So all of this is a game to you then? Childish. Don’t you have a potions test to study for?”

“You tell me. How did that Undetectable Poisons exam go?”

You slam your textbook shut once more and shoot him a glare. He knew that you had bombed that test hard. Now, he’s taking any chance he gets to remind you of it. You begin gathering your belongings as he smirks at you.

“Did I hit a nerve there?” He says, watching you as you get up from the table.

“I’ve just about had enough of you!” You walk away from the table, not saying another word to him. To your surprise, he had gotten up and began walking alongside you.

“Just about?” He asks, carrying his textbook in his hand.

“I’ve had enough of you.” You clarify. “I can’t even study in peace without you sticking your nose in my business. You’re so obnoxious.” You head into a random section in the library and begin skimming the shelves. You weren’t looking for anything in particular but you hoped this could make him leave you be. Half expecting it though, it didn’t.

“Obnoxious?” He asks. “Tsk tsk, what a shame. Didn’t know you felt that way. It’s quite unfortunate when I was merely coming to ask you something.”

“What is it?” You ask, annoyed more than ever with him.

“Forgiveness.” Your expression changes at this as you raise an eyebrow. You didn’t trust him or his seemingly good intentions at all. This is probably some sort of joke setup and you were NOT about to be the subject of it.

“I don’t care for your forgiveness.” You brush him off.

“Well I’d like to apologize anyway.”

“I know where this is going, Riddle. This is one of your tricks. You’ll lead me into believing you’re actually sorry and then throw one of your obnoxious comments at me. Well, I know better. I know how you are. There is nothing in the world that you can pull and expect me to fall into.”

“Well if you feel that way, then I will leave you. I will leave you alone for the rest of the year. You won’t hear from me ever again.”

To your surprise, he walks away from you. Fulfilling his promise. You’re relieved, yet, there is something that keeps poking at you. What if he really wanted to apologize? What if this wasn’t one of his jokes? Was the insufferable Tom Riddle actually being sincere for once? Though you fought against it, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Wait!” You call out before he exits the section you were in. He turns on his heel and faces you once more. A giant smile plastered on his face, though this time it didn’t feel obnoxious. It felt like a genuine smile. “What’s the apology?”

“Well,” Tom starts. “first I understand that my actions haven’t been of Head Boy status. I have been given you a rather hard time, haven’t I?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, my apologies. My intentions were not in the right place. I see that now.”

You wait for it. You wait for the big reveal of the joke, but it never comes. Instead you see Tom staring back at you with piercing dark brown eyes. Eyes that make your heart skip a beat whenever you make eye contact with him. You clear your throat and glance away from him.

“Apology accepted.” You say casually. “Now if you excuse me, I should be heading back to my dorm.”

A grip on your wrist stops you dead on your tracks. Your face heats up instantly as you turn to face Tom once more. You shake your arm away from his grip, reluctantly.

“I would also like to make a proposition.” He suggests.

“Which is?”

“I can tutor you. If you’d like. I’ve noticed, and I mean this with as much respect as possible, that you struggle in potions. I seem to have a nick for it so perhaps I can help you out.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

You scoff. “So you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart?” You ask suspiciously.

“Indeed.”

“Hm.” You think about it for a moment. Getting tutored by Tom Riddle? Sounds like absolute hell. But you do need help in potions. More help than you’d like to admit. Especially since Slughorn holds you to the same standard as Tom. A standard that you may never reach without his help. “Alright, I’ll bite. When and where?”

“Same spot and time as today.”

“Deal. You’ve got yourself a date, Riddle.”

“Date, huh?”

You mentally facepalm at your slip of words. “I- I meant study date.” You correct yourself.

Tom silently laughs. “Well a study date makes more sense. Though if you were to ask me on a date, I wouldn’t say no. Just let me know ahead of time so I can dress accordingly.”

With that last sentence, he is off, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your face is painted scarlet as you sink against the bookshelf. You couldn’t believe yourself. How could you let yourself do this? It was time to face the obvious, however. No way around it: You were falling for Tom Riddle.

[sad-boy-mono]

Highschool Casualties

Chapter 5/?

Masterpost with Ao3 link 

Word Count- 3,447

Ao3 link

A/N OK HOLY FUCK. Y'all, I'm so sorry this took so long to make. Not only did I have my own issues going on, but I had so much trouble deciding where I wanted to go with this chapter. Not only did I not know what to do with the story, but also I trouble trying to figure out how I wanted to word certain things and never felt just right. Even now as I'm posting this, I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I think it's the best I can do. So having said that, please enjoy!

“SHAYNE WAIT-” Damien was cut off by a small tone, indicating Shayne hung up on him.

“Shayne?” He pulled his phone away from his ear and looked at the screen.

“God-” Damien moaned as he slammed his hands against the bathroom stalls.

“-Damn it Shayne!” Damien dialed Shayne’s number again.

“Come on, Shayne, please, pick up.” Damien pleaded.

“Hey you’ve reached the number of Shayne Topp! I can’t talk-”

Damien hung up the phone with a huff, and began typing.

Damien

Shayne please

What’s going on?

What happened?

Are you ok?

Is someone hurt?

Are you hurt?

Please

Get back to me soon

At least tell me if you’re ok

Damien stared at his phone as he pealed out of the bathroom and went to his next class: English. He only had to wait out that class until lunch, where he would see Shayne. 

===

Damien entered the classroom, and all eyes turned to him.

"Oh Mr. Haas, glad you could show up. Go ahead and take your seat." His teacher, Mr. Hecox, said, pointing to the empty spot where Damien sat.

Damien nodded, silently thanking him for not making a scene of him being late, and walked over to the desk, keeping his head down.

He got to his seat and pulled out his phone once again. Glancing down at it anytime his teacher wasn’t looking, only partially listening to what Mr. Hecox was saying. 

It was about 10 minutes into his class when he noticed something. Shayne had read his messages. And he was typing. The three dots on his screen showing up and disappearing. His heart was racing.

Shayne

I’ll explain at lunch

And I’m okay for the most part

Damien

For the most part?!

Shayne what happened?!?!

Shayne

Lunch Damien

Damien

Fine

Damien slipped his phone into his bag. His mind was put to little ease, but he just had to wait out this one class. That shouldn’t be to hard. 

Just one class.

===

“Alright class, we have about... 8 minutes of left, and in that time you guys are gonna go ahead and turn in your essays!” Mr. Hecox said as some of the class dug through their bags, others asked if they could quickly print off their essays (which Mr. Hecox reluctantly agreed to). 

“Alright and um, Damien can you go ahead and collect those for me, please?” Mr. Hecox asked, Damien replying with a quiet ‘sure’. “Thank you! And if you could place them on my desk when you’re done that would be great.”

The rest of the class sat quietly. Some people reading a book, others on their phone. The only sounds in the room being Mr. Hecox typing on his computer, and Damien walking around the classroom.

“Thank you Damien!” Mr. Hecox said as Damien placed down the small stack of papers on his desk. He lowered his voice as he continued to speak, “And before you head for lunch, I’d like to speak with you.”

“O-ok.” Damien mumbled, and walked back to his seat. 

Damien stared at the clock. Only 4 minutes until lunch. He just had to wait 4 minutes.

Tick

3 minutes

Tick

2 minutes

Tick

1 minute

Tick

The bell rung throughout the halls. The class stood up and swung their bags over their shoulders. As his classmates robotically walked out of the room, Damien dragged himself to Mr. Hecox’s desk.

This better be quick. I don’t have time for this.

“Yes?” Damien asked, with an annoyed tinge in his voice. It wasn’t like Damien hated his teacher, no that wasn’t the case. He quite liked his english teacher, but he had somewhere to be. And whatever his teacher needed to talk to him about wasn’t nearly as important as getting to Shayne.

“Thanks for staying, I’ll make this quick since I know you want to head to lunch,”

Thank god.

“I’ve noticed that your grade in this class dropping over the course of this month. You’re not turning things in on time if you turn them in at all.”

“Ok?” Damien asked. They weren’t to far into the month, so it was hard to understand the concern.

“I was wondering if there was anything going on at home, or in your personal life. Because you’re usually really active in this class, one of my best students.”

“Well, um thanks... But I guess I've just been sort of busy..." 

It wasn't exactly a lie, Damien had been sort of busy. But in less of a 'I have so many activities going on in my life right now," and in more of a 'Wow I'm so tired and my head hurts all the time :D' kind of way.

“What’s been going on?”

Shit

“Uh, it’s sort of hard to explain. Kinda just a few things that built up these few weeks. Yeah sorry, again, sort of hard to explain. My brain kind of refuses to work when I’m hungry.” Damien hinted, fidgeting with cuff of his sleeve.

“Oh, um, yeah, alright. I’ll let you head to lunch in one second.” Mr. Hecox grabbed a notebook from under his desk, writing a few things down before turning his attention back to Damien.

“So, how does this sound; I let you go for now, and if things still seem to be doing pretty low, and not just in your grades, I’ll check back in with you next Friday. Okay?”

“Yeah, sound good to me.” Damien said, shifting his weight between his feet.

Alright! Then in the meantime you are good to go! Have a good day Mr. Haas!”

“You too, Mr. Hecox.”

Damien gave a slight wave before leaving the room.

===

Damien ran out of the classroom and down to the cafeteria. Speeding by groups of kids and teachers telling him to walk.

If I’m doing pretty low, and not just in my grades? What does that even mean? Ok you know what, it doesn’t matter. Maybe he just noticed that I’m tired or something, fuck if I know. God, stop thinking about it, that isn’t the concern right now, Damien! Just get to Shayne.

Once he got closer to the lunchroom, he stopped running and pulled out his phone. Shayne messaged him.

Shayne

Meet me in the elevator room near the caf

The one they closed down, not the new one.

Well I guess there’s no other Elevators near the caf

Ok it doesn’t matter you know what I meant

Meet me in the old elevator room.

Damien let out a small breath from his nose, amused at Shayne’s always amazing texting skills. He shoved his phone into his pocket and changed his direction to the elevator. 

He sped to the elevator, walking past more groups of students, many giving him a strange look as he went. Damien’s was heart racing harder than ever. Shayne wasn’t one to cause this type of panic. He was usually very straight to the point if he had any issues going on. And with that in mind, Damien realized how dire the situation must be. 

He walked inside, and there he saw Shayne, leaning against the wall inside.

“Oh thank god,” Damien walked into the room and gave Shayne a hug, “dude you had me so worried! I thought you were hurt.”

“Y-yeah, sorry, I-I’m fine.” Shayne said weakly, barely reciprocating.

“Ok, now-” Damien dropped his arms from Shayne, ”-what happened? Is there a reason that Courtney can’t know about this or-”

“She can know about it! And she’s probably gonna f-find out what happened soon...” Shayne mumbled, his voice wavering at the end. 

“And that’s not the point, Damien, but last time I checked, Courtney didn’t call me because she heard what I was thinking in her dream?! Dude how the-what in the- how?” Shayne asked, his hands on the back of his head, a hand occasionally running through his hair. He kept his head down, averting his eyes from Damien's. And Damien didn’t see it before, but Shayne wasn’t himself. 

“Shayne I-I don’t even know what happened!” Damien retorted, a creak coming from the door to the room as it began to close. “And this isn’t the first time I’ve called you because I’ve had a weird nightmare before!”

“Yeah? Tell me the last time you called me because of a nightmare, Damien. Better yet, tell me why you called me.”

Damien opened his mouth, the words getting caught in his through when he realized when it was. 

With a sigh Damien continued. “A few months ago...”

“And why did you call me?”

With another sigh, Damien answered. “We were in the danganronpa universe... and Courtney killed you with a creeper... While Revenge was playing...” Damien admitted, his voice slowly getting more mumbled with his explanation.

“Yeah you weren’t exactly dreaming the most realistic!”

“You have to admit it was kinda funny though.” Damien said, voice still mumbled.

“Yeah it was... But now is not the time for that!”

“Right, sorry.”

“And stop trying to change the subject! How did you know what happened?!” Shayne snapped.

“Shayne, for the love of god. I. Don’t. Know. All I said was that I heard you, and you sounded freaked out. I even asked you what happened when I called you. You said you would tell me at lunch! And I’ve spent the last period wondering what happened to you!”

“But how did you hear me?!” Shayne asked again, desperate for an answer to this strange situation.

“If I knew, I would’ve told you! So please, just fucking tell me what happened!” Damien snapped. 

“OK! Fine! I...” Shayne paused, trying to find the right words.

“I almost killed a someone.”

“WHAT?!” Damien put his hands over his mouth, taking a step back. Shock filling his eyes. 

Ok, should’ve taken a bit more time to think about the wording there, Shayne.

Damien took his hands off his mouth and tried to force words out. A sentence, a question, anything. The only thing to come out were small croaks. 

“Ok no, not killed, I didn’t do that, h-he’s going to be fine. He’s just, Injured? Concussed?” Shayne explain quickly, still trying to find the best way to word this.

“Hurt badly.” Shayne settled on.

“Okay h-how did this happen? Did you trip him or- don’t tell you got into a fight!” Damien’s eyes changed from shock, back to worry. 

“What! No! I’m not like that anymore dude! You know I-I wouldn’t do that!”

“I know! I do! It’s just... How else could this have happened?”

“O-okay so it’s gonna be hard to believe, but you have to trust me. Please.” Shayne, for the first time this conversion, looked Damien dead in the eyes as he pleaded.

“Yeah of course!”

Shayne went on to explain the incident once more, being more detailed than in his previous explanations, though still jumbled up in the troubling nature of what happened. He was shaky, and stuttering. 

“Oh.” Damien replied once Shayne concluded the story. 

“Yeah...”

There was a beat of silence before either of them spoke again.

“A-are you sure he didn’t just... trip? When you hit him?” Damien asked cautiously. 

“Th-there’s no way! It looked like-” 

“I know what it probably looked like.” Damien cut off. “But are you sure you’re not just... misremembering?”

“N-no, I know what I saw! You don’t fly back like that when you trip Damien!”

“Yes I get that but-”

“You said you would trust me on this, Damien!” Shayne said, his voice cracking as he spoke more. Eyes welling up.

“I know! And I do! I do-I really do. It’s just...” Damien sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Adrenaline was running, a lot was happening, and it was probably hard to think clearly. Everything might’ve looked more dramatic than it was.”

Shayne stood their in silence, opening his mouth as if he was trying to speak, but no words were coming out. He wiped the tear from his eye.

He’s right

“Yeah. And I’m not trying to like, dismiss your feelings, it’s just... ya know... You’re strong, but not exactly super human strong. No one is.” Damien said, letting out a dry chuckle. 

“Ok how are you doing that?” Shayne barked.

“Doing what?” Damien asked, taken aback by the sudden harshness Shayne was exuding.

“Am I speaking? Because I swear I thought that last thing in my head.” 

“D-did you not just say something?” 

“No, I didn’t! How are you doing that!”

“Doing what?!” Damien asked, panic flooding his voice and mind.

“It’s been happening all day! I’ve just thought I was saying things aloud accidentally! But it’s like you’re reading my mind!” Shayne’s tone was getting more accusatory. Like he was calling Damien out for a crime. 

“Shayne, come on, you know that’s impossible-”

“Oh and I was literally thinking earlier ‘haha maybe Damien’s reading my mind! Wouldn’t that be funny? Just like the whole joke people have! But nooo there’s no way! I’m probably just more tired than I though!” Shayne lashed.

“C’mon Shayne, are you sure you’re not overthinking this? We already established that today’s been a little off for you.” Damien said, but he sounded unsure of himself. Like he didn’t truly believe what he was saying himself.

“Oh don’t try and change the subject back to me. And things haven’t been off with me all day, just since gym. You on the other hand,” Shayne took a step towards Damien. “Have been acting very off this entire day.”

“I mean, I’m tired dude. Not getting enough sleep does that to you!” Damien said quietly, trying to rationalize his behavior. 

“Oh so not getting enough sleep means you're able to reply to the things I think in my head?” Shayne questioned, taking another step towards Damien.

“But that’s impossible, when has that ever happened?” Damien asked softly, his voiced was laced anxiety. He slowly taking a step away from Shayne.

“Oh? Maybe on the way to school?” 

Shayne’s took a step closer.

“Or when we met up with Courtney?” 

And he was being so loud.

“Or when I was walking you to the nurse’s office?” 

He sounded so angry.

“Or how about when you where able to know what I was thinking, in your fucking dream!” 

“OK!” Damien shouted. The lights flickered, and the clock on the wall cracked. 

Damien backed away from Shayne (who was standing no more than a foot away from him), his arms covering his head as he curled in on himself. 

“I-i get it! Just stop yelling! Please.” Damien kept backing up until he was against the wall. He slid down, choking back a sob. 

Shayne stood in shock, and realization. He hurt his best friend. Things were, literally and figuratively, falling apart.

“Damien I-”

“I know! I-I know. Don’t apologize. I-it’s my fault. The reason you wanted to talk was so you could tell me what happened. This was suppose to be about you, I made it about me. I-I don’t know why I’m upset. I should’ve been less selfish.” Damien hid his head further into the security of his arms. Tears streaming down his face.

Guilt creeping up on Shayne as he stared at his friend. He didn’t know what else to do, so he slid down and sat a few feet away from Damien. Close enough to be able to comfort Damien, but far enough away where he could reject his presence if he needed to.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Shayne said, looking blankly at the broken clock

Damien lifted his head slightly to look at Shayne. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean this wasn’t your fault. There isn’t much behind it.” Shayne chuckled sadly “I pushed it. I was... angry? Confused? I think confused is more accurate, but that doesn’t matter.”

Damien shrugged, he didn’t really have much to say at the moment.

“And you didn’t make this about you,” Shayne continued. “I did. I brought you up. If I wanted this to be one sided, I would’ve just told you what happened over the phone. But I wanted to know what happened on your end.”

“Yeah I guess...”

“And we figured out the situation that’s going on with me. He probably just tripped. But there’s something going on with you. I think it’s more than you being sleep deprived.”

Damien nodded. “Yeah...”

“And I think I know what’s going on.”

“Sure, but I don’t.”

“Damien I think you do, you just don’t want to face it.” Shayne softly said.

Damien sighed and shrugged his shoulders, taking seclusion in his arms once more.

They sat in tense silence, unknowing to the amount of time that had passed due to destruction caused by Damien.

“Shayne?” Damien whispered, pulling his head up to face Shayne once again.

“What’s up?” Shayne replied, the casualness of his response clashing with the tension the situation held.

“I-I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Damien shook his head, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He was at a loss.

“Honestly, I-I don’t know. I just- I thought I was going crazy? I guess? I mean, heh, maybe I am. For all I know, I'm over at your house, still spending the night over, a-and I just haven’t woken up yet. This is all just a bad dream...”

Shayne chuckled, “Wasn’t the last time you slept over like a month ago? That’s a really strange time to pick.”

“Well, that was before... stuff happened.”

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?” Shayne asked, scooting closer to Damien.

“The stuff you said.”

“Well, I never really said anything.”

“But, you know what I mean...”

“Damien, is there something I should know about? Did something happen to cause this?”

“No, nothing caused this! And that’s why I feel like I’m losing it! I don’t exactly have any sort of explanation for why this is happening! I just woke up one day feeling like shit, everything was super fucking loud, and my head hurt all the time; and I kept hearing shit when nothing was being said so I was paranoid all the time and it sucks!” Damien rambled, frustration building up in his voice.

Shayne’s expression morphed into one of concern. “Dude, I had no idea! Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“B-because I thought it would go away! I thought it was only temporary!” Damien let out a shaky breath. “I sure as hell didn’t expect this to happen.”

Shayne stared at Damien and scooted closer until the two sat with their knees touching. He put his arm around Damien and pulled him into a side hug. 

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted something like this.” Shayne said, rubbing Damien’s shoulder.

“I mean, you guys would always joke that I’m psychic.” Damien laid his head on Shayne’s shoulder.

“Well, yeah. But that was only because you were good at guessing stuff.”

“Fair enough. Still kinda funny though. That y’all were right.” 

“Yeah, well, god works in mysterious ways.”

“Oh fuck off.” Damien said, poking Shayne in the side.

“Hehey! I was kidding! Stohop!” Shayne laughed, batting at Damien’s hand.

“Uh huh, suuuuuure.” Damien teased, poking Shayne a few more times before stopping.

The two sat quietly for a moment before Damien started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Shayne asked.

“It just hit me, how fucking weird this situation is.” Damien explained in between laughs. “Like, I have super powers for christ sake!” 

It didn’t take long for Shayne to join his laughter.

“Oh, man, Damien, we gotta have a super hero training montage!” 

“Oh hell yeah!”

“Like, my workout playlist already has a montage-y vibes to it!”

“Dude we have to do this!”

“Dude, can we do it after school?”

“Yes, I’m so down!”

“Hell yeah!”

The two high-fived, interlocking fingers as they brought their arms down.

“God, this is all crazy.” Damien said with a sigh.

“Yeah, but we should probably head to lunch now.” Shayne removed his arm from Damien’s shoulder and stood up.

“Oh shit, yeah.” Damien said, doing the same.

As the two walked out of the room, Damien couldn’t help but notice that Shayne still seemed somewhat off. When he tried to listen to his thoughts, he noticed how tense it felt. Like Shayne was actively trying not to think about something that was very clearly on his mind. Every few seconds, a word would slip out and it was imminently suppressed. It wouldn’t just fade away, it was like if someone was talking and a hand was put over their mouth. The more Damien tried to do it, the bigger his headache got, until he decided to just stop. Shayne probably just didn’t want Damien to know about it yet, but he would tell him eventually.

Right?

A/N: That little creeper aw man danganronpa story is based on something that actually happened to me! One of my friends called me because I was killed via ‘creeper aw man’ by our other friend in a dream he had. I thought it was funny so yeah

[emisfritish]

The risk it took to blossom (Part 1)

Pairing : Sarawat / Tine (2gether the series) 

Summary : Five times someone talked Tine through his self-doubt and helped him see his worth, and the one time he didn't need them to. Chapter : 1/6 

Next chapters : 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 Notes : Because the idea of an insecure Tine has been in my head for the past couple of weeks now, I just wanted a chance to explore that a little more, and for our boy to learn to see his self-worth. So I guess this is my attempt at that !  I’ll post one part a day until Friday’s episode.

--------- 

“I’m sorry, but the idea that the government chose this solution to implement at the time because it was the only one available to them is simply preposterous. I understand it was a different time, but I find the mere concept of it to be completely unfathomable, and I frankly don’t understand how you can even entertain this idea,” argues Marc, and Tine… well. Tine just wants to get out of there, to be honest.

Tine and Sarawat had been eating lunch at the cafeteria, enjoying a quiet meal before they were supposed to make their way back to Tine’s dorm room to hang out with Type and Man who were going to join them there directly, when a guy in Sarawat’s Political History class had stopped by and started to talk about their latest lesson with Sarawat, ignoring Tine completely in the process.

He doesn’t know exactly when he completely lost track of the conversation, but all Tine is hearing now are words like ‘preposterous’ and ‘unfathomable’, and he frankly just wants to go home, where he can have regular conversations with regular people and not feel so dumb all of a sudden. 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Sarawat argues back, rolling his eyes at the other boy. “I’m just saying that you can’t simply overlook the historical context at the time to make your argument fit better. Obviously, it’s going to impact whatever decisions were being made at the time and pretending that it’s not the case is just greatly oversimplifying the issue.”

Marc opens his mouth, probably to argue back with a bunch of words that Tine doesn’t know again, but he decides to intervene before the boy gets a chance to. 

“Wat, I’m going to start heading up to my room so that I can let Type and Man in without them having to wait too long for us. Are you okay to join us later ?” he asks his boyfriend.

Sarawat turns towards Tine at the interruption and smiles softly at him.

“Yeah, I’ll join you guys as soon as we’re done here,” he answers back, prompting Tine to smile at him in answer, before getting up to make his leave, Marc’s voice still audible in the background.

As he is walking towards his bedroom, Tine can’t stop his thoughts from going back to the conversation. He knew Sarawat was smart, of course, but he hadn’t realized that Sarawat spent his days talking with people like that. If those are the conversations he has during the day, what must it feel like when he meets up with Tine. Does he have to constantly dumb himself down for Tine ? Does he even truly enjoy talking with him ? 

Deep in thought, Tine reaches his dorm room quicker than he would have thought and finds his brother, sitting on the floor in front of it. 

“Sorry for making you wait. Where’s Man ?” he asks his brother, as Type gets up and looks at him intently.

“He got caught up on an essay and will join us as soon as he’s done,” he says in answer as both brothers make their way into the bedroom, Tine putting his bag down on his bed before sitting on it with a sigh.

“What’s wrong ?” asks Type, clearly being able to read his brother enough to know something is bothering him.

“Do you ever have these moments where you are suddenly reminded of how stupid you actually are ?” Tine asks in a small voice, and Type makes his way towards the bed, seating himself next to his brother and turning towards him.

“What are you talking about ? You’re not stupid,” he answers back with a frown.

“A guy from one of Sarawat’s classes stopped by while we were having lunch, and they started talking about one of their lessons and I swear I had no idea what they were even talking about half of the time.”

“Well you’re not a Political Science student Tine, you not being to understand everything they were saying makes sense,” his brother tries to reassure him, but Tine cuts him off.

“That’s not it Type though. I’m not even talking about the Political aspect of it..., This guy was talking and I swear I couldn’t even understand a third of the words that were coming out his mouth !” explains Tine, distress clear in the way he keeps running his hands through his hair, almost pulling. “Like what is Sarawat even doing with a dumb guy like me ? I certainly can’t hold conversations like those with him.”

“Please don’t speak of yourself that way. I really hate it when you do,” his brother whispers, frown getting deeper and worry pooling in his eyes. “You’re not dumb Tine. You know so much about different subjects, you’re curious and you know all these tidbits of information about the various interests you have. So you don’t know all the fancy words this guy was using ? That doesn’t mean anything. You got into this university to study law Tine. Obviously, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Tine sighs deeper at his brother’s words. Intellectually, he knows that what Type is saying is probably true. It’s just not what it feels like and Tine just hates his brain sometimes.

“What’s bringing this on Tine ?” his brother asks, one hand reaching towards his shoulder to turn his brother towards him.

“I just don’t want Sarawat to ever feel like he settled with me. He could have been with any of those guys and half of the university has to be pining after him, judging by his fan club. I just don’t want him to get…” Tine starts to explain, voice wavering in the middle of his sentence.

“Bored ?”  prompts his brother, and Tine just nods his head in answer. “Tine, I swear I’ve never seen someone be as in love with another person the way Sarawat is with you. And the only person I’ve seen come close to that is how you feel towards him. And you think he’s bored ? You guys have so much in common ! You’re not the same people and you’re bound to have different interests, but you were friends before you even started dating and you talk so much. About everything. Of course, Sarawat isn’t bored. You know he loves spending time with you, he was in love for you months before you even got together !”

Tine nods his head in answer, recognizing that his brother does have a point. Even before they got together, him and Sarawat would often get lost into these deep discussions about various subjects, and Sarawat certainly never looked bored, at least.

“I know you don’t see yourself very clearly sometimes Tine,” his brother continues. “But I can promise Sarawat doesn’t think you’re stupid. And I know for sure that he doesn’t feel like he settled with you. Going by the look of adoration he gets every single time he looks at you, I’d say the idea that he could have settled never even crossed his mind.”

At those words, Type puts a hand around Tine’s shoulder and brings him closer, Tine resting his head on his shoulder.

The moment is interrupted a couple minutes later when Tine hears his door open. He lifts his head up from his brother’s shoulder, just in time to see Sarawat make his way into the room and smile towards the both of them.

“Hi Type,” he says, greeting the other boy, before he bends forward and takes Tine’s face in both of his hands to kiss him soundly.

“What was that for ?” asks Tine when he pulls away, not used to Sarawat being this forward in front of other people.

“This was a thank you. For giving me the perfect excuse to escape this conversation. Because god… I hate that pompous ass,” he says with a shake of his head, before sitting down in Tine’s desk chair. 

“Really ?” asks Tine in surprise. 

“God, yes,” he confirms, before turning towards Type to explain. “You know the type of people that will like, purposefully use all those fancy words of vocabulary to make themselves look smarter, when in reality what they’re actually saying makes no sense whatsoever ? Yeah. That’s Marc to a T.”

“You don’t say,” says Type, throwing Tine a knowing look.

“Seriously, I can’t take it with guys like him. Look at Tine, for instance ! He’s obviously smart and he studies law, yet he doesn’t feel like he has to walk around talking like a freaking encyclopedia all the time,” he says with an eye roll, and obviously still worked up about his conversation with Marc.

At these words, the uneasiness that has been pooling in Tine’s stomach since the conversation earlier in the day starts receding, and he feels a wave of relief rush through him.

Not saying anything in answer, Tine gets up from the bed and makes his way towards the desk, bending forward to place a gentle kiss on Sarawat’s lips. 

When he pulls back, Sarawat looks at him with a small smile. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what did I do to deserve this ?” he asks with a teasing smile, and Tine just shakes his head and smiles at Sarawat in answer, no longer wanting to dwell on the subject.

When he turns back around towards his brother, Type is watching them with a fond look. He lifts an eyebrow and looks at his brother with a smirk.

The “See ? I told you so,” is left unsaid, but Tine hears it loud and clear anyway. And frankly, he’s never been happier for his brother to be right about something. 

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 8.5

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 3K (Here we go, boys n girls)

Warnings: Rated M/18+. Confused feelings and smut. Impulsive/Slight dom Loki. F/M. Foreplay, slight bondage, and vaginal sex.

Author’s Note: As of 11.5.2020 it has been edited, but not much has changed. This is the other half of Part 8. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! :) x

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

Loki arrived late. He had been stuck at his office in campus checking over a book a student had enquired on using for an upcoming essay. It was odd that Loki had come to care for miniscule things like this. Surely, if he was doing his job as a professor successfully, it would reflect in the students’ test results. If that was the case, Nick Fury might even stop monitoring him completely. So, Loki couldn’t slack.

He had to admit, however, that his productivity did dwindle when you surprised him with your presence.

Entering the flat, he sees you sitting on the sofa, finishing a canned drink. The can joins the other crumpled ones, lying on their side on the coffee table, but there was still more that stood in a bundle together, ready to be drunk.

He gets rid of the band on his head and relieves himself from the strain on his skull as his dark tresses are freed.

He takes a second to check over your visage. You got changed into something more comfortable; summer was closing in, and the nights were becoming humid. You had a satin vest and shorts on, but it must have been something your new lingerie shop job has given you. The vest shaped your cleavage marvelously, and the cut of your shorts bared your thighs in a bewitching manner.

He slacks his tie and begins to unbutton his waistcoat.

“Loki, why did you kiss me?” You question him.

He stills for a moment; your forwardness never ceases to make him smile. “Yes, my day was well, thank you.”

“I’m serious.” You press, eye contact never leaving his. “Why’d you do it?”

He smirks, discarding the waistcoat. It disappears with a glint of light as its removed. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”

“I-…“ You search for words. You weren’t quite sure if being honest to Loki was going to change any of his mannerisms for the better, or if he was going to use your vulnerability as an advantage.

“I haven’t.” You reply, resuming. “…But – hypothetically – if I told you I had been, what would you say?”

You could practically hear Loki’s laugh from his risen brow; it was a stupid response, and you wanted to smack your forehead for it.

He sits opposite you. “Hypothetically, I would say that clearly something about it is bothering you. And, I would ask why.”

You huff. Loki could see your mind in contemplation, wanting to let the topic pass. He has mostly seen you swung by your mood so, observing your solemn ambience, was new for him. Like usual, he didn’t know what to expect with it.

“What seems to be on your mind?” He starts.

“A lot.” You reply. “… I don’t know where to start, probably cause’ I don’t know whether to trust you or not.”

“And why can’t you trust me, Y/N?”

“Because I don’t know who you are besides your title and your magic. I get that some of it’s partially my fault because I tend to be out of the house – even then, how can you blame me when you-… When you mess with the way I feel.” You stand. “Ugh – God, that sounds like I’m some kind of teenager…”

Although you were avoiding his gaze, Loki’s doesn’t lift. Come to think of it, the situations he’d caused, those were odd choices to mess with you. He could have used his Seidr to do much worse, and embarrass you in other ways, or even get you kicked out and he would have had the apartment to himself.

But he didn’t want that.

He acknowledges his behaviour towards you. If you had a serious problem with it, Loki thought you were more than capable in filing a complaint against him, or capable of planning something that would get rid of him from the apartment forever.

But, you hadn’t.

You cross your arms. “We’ve been living together for a while now, and I don’t even know anything about your world, or-… Or, your relationship with your brother-“

“If there is anything you need to know, my brother isn’t one of them.” If anything, Loki wanted you to walk away from the conversation with at least one honest sentence from him. Thor was a renowned hero, there’s no point in getting information from him when you could get it from the internet or on a gossip show on T.V. You could even text Thor himself… Although, now Loki thinks about it, hearing Thor’s side of their past might constrain him to add in actual facts.

You shrug. “Or how about your mom? Or your dad? – Or even something simple like-”

Loki crosses his arms, leaning back into the couch, curious. “And why is it that you’re suddenly interested in all of this?”

“Well, I’d like to if it’s-…” You shake your head. “You know what, I knew this was a bad idea from the start. I just thought that maybe if I got to know you, I’d actually understand you. I mean, I don’t even know what you gain from messing with me all the time.”

Loki’s very nature is chaos, so it was no wonder that Loki found solace in causing trouble. Life lacked lustre after recent events. So, the whimsical universe brought you for him to play and ‘mess’ with.

“If it’s not one thing, then it must be the other…” You say to yourself, clearing the empty cans off of the table. You look at him, a face of forfeit. “If you’re gonna’ bullshit me, then I’m leaving the apartment…“

He had to admit, all those moments he had felt some sense of control, or even lack of, strangely excited him. At times, he didn’t know whether he wanted to break you, or leave you at the cliff, but when you faced him… You were magnetic.

“Stark’s party.” He queries, switching topics. “You wanted to talk about that in particular.”

You stop in your tracks, blinking.

You return the empty cans back onto the table. “… Well, I was in a middle of a phone call-“

“Yes.” Loki’s eyes were intense. “Is that all you remember?”

He swore to himself that nothing, in the many years he had been alive, had stimulated him more than the image of you in climactic bliss. It illuminates in his mind; vivid, and unforgettable.

The creases on your face relax. It seems you had the same image in your mind too, and it was making your knees weak. “W-what do you mean?”

“Did you…Did it feel good?” He interrogates some more.

Your features are softening from the anger fading and, as expected, forms a hue on your cheeks that matched the pink of your lips.

You swallow. “It did.”

There’s a pause that settles between the two of you. Loki’s jaw clenches as he focuses on you; it was your eyes staring back at him. They had that look Loki couldn’t pull himself away from, reminding him from all the past times he had felt breathless from you. It must have been from the heat, or maybe he was tired, but your eyes... They were dilated… And sultry.

Loki reaches over to you, taking your wrists and tugging you towards him. Your legs regain balance, your wrist still within Loki’s hand. You stare down at him, mouth agape.

“Loki,” you stutter, “I know you’re reading me.”

His voice was soft; like it was intended for only you to hear. “Then, let me take closer look at you.”

Another light tug guides you closer towards him, your will to keep the conversation going diminishes to fumbled words. His hands drift to your luscious thighs as they climb on top of him, his lap a perfect seat to gaze up at you.

Feeling his hand cradle your face, his thumb traces your jaw, gently pulling your face closer to his, body leaning towards him. Your hands settle on his chest, and the closeness of it all awakens something in your core, eyes flickering to his lips.

You feel his hot breath as he exhales, the sound of a low tenor sigh making your heart thud out of your ribcage. 

Your ample lips press against his. 

You pull back a little, allowing yourself to breathe. “I... like you, Loki.”

You hear Loki take a deep inhale as he presses himself into you, sinking his lips onto yours. Your tongue slides in, and as he feels yours against his own, he exhales a moan that causes your walls to ache. You whimper as you shift in his lap, rubbing against him, and eventually you could feel his cock pushing itself against you.

His hands holding you, they roam your temperate form; he caresses and squeeze your thighs, they trail up to your hips and waist and graze the sides of your torso. Your nerves sense the smoothness of his skin, and the oddity of temperature; slightly colder than you expected, but it cools you in the humidity of the night.

Breaking the kiss, you pull your vest over your head to reveal more of your skin; your chest, nipples hard and breasts plump, were exquisite to Loki’s irises. Eager to experience all of you, his mouth seizes one of your sensitive mounds, a deep growl sighs from his throat approving the softness and delicacy of it. You gasp as you feel his caressing licks and tender bites, feeling his other hand roam up your stomach to cup and massage the other.

“Fuck…” With each brush of the satin fabric against your clit, you could feel your walls pulse and your folds produce that wetness that made you greedy to be full.

Your fingers were just about to reach the waistband of your shorts to sate yourself, before Loki snatches them away.

His lithe hands stir up on your inner thigh, and your walls squeeze once more. “Let me, my sweet.”

The mist of the cream and rose perfume that Loki could sense was replaced by the beguiling scent of your nectar. You readjust for his closer inspection, and he sees the damage done by your heat; the shorts had darkened from you grinding against him and, as he slides them aside to reveal your delicious pussy drooling for him, deemed unnecessary.

They needed to come off immediately.

He laces a finger in the warmth of your smooth, tender folds. “Was this what you wanted to tell me all along?”

You nod, lip biting to stop yourself from begging to be touched further; his finger just about grazes your gentle bud.

But Loki wasn’t having any of that. “I want you to say it.”

You begin to pant, as you feel his fingers tease your entrance. “L-Loki, I need-”

“Don’t look away from me when you say it, my darling – Say it to me.”

As your shy eyes lock with the compelling inflection in his, your response can’t help but sound like a shameless and sensuous plea.

“I want you, Loki. Please.”

Loki watches your complexion shift to satisfaction as two of his digits dip into the soaked crease. Shorts vanishing, he slowly delves his fingers further, fascinated by how your juices eased them into your snug walls, and his erection twitches from enjoying the view just a little too much.

His free hand aids to keep you still by the waist, tantalizing you by restricting your body from lowering onto his fingers at a faster pace. “Shall we finish what we started?”

You brace yourself, open palms finding their way underneath his loose shirt collar to feel his collarbone. His fingers dive deeper and curl into spot of your crevice, eliciting a moan from your sugary mouth.

“Y-yes, Loki…” You pant more, eye contact proving to be difficult due to ecstasy that Loki was building up inside of you.

His hum is sly, accepting your signature. “Good… Now, let me have all of you.”

He paces his fingers in and out of you, your walls convulse tightly around him and evoke your nectar to drip onto his knuckles like clear honey. Your head swings back from the pleasure, and Loki, seeing your body being bent by his will, is in awe with your nude and flushed form. He had never seen you more beautiful than you were now.

Hips swaying in time with his rhythm, he could feel your body submit to his touch fully. You lean in to kiss him again, and your salacious mewls can be caught upon his tongue.

As you feel his thumb press lightly on your bud one more time, your mind was challenged with the idea of coasting with the pleasure, whilst the other half had a dire need to climax.

Voice uneasy, you whisper against his lips. “Please- ah!- Loki, I’m gonna’ cum.”

He tuts, voice breaking slightly from watching. “Why are you in such a rush, my dear?”

Your gorgeous breaths stop with an abrupt yelp. Loki picks you up to lie you down on to the couch, your naked body beside him. Your heartbeat thumps rapidly, spine adjusting to the awkward surface, as you stare at him briskly taking off his tie.

You whine; your desire had been building, and you could feel it falter. Not wanting to lose it, you touch yourself. You lap the juice onto the tips of your fingers, and drag them up to your delicate bead. You feel that needy pulse in your centre again as Loki unbuttons his shirt, displaying his incredibly toned torso and broad shoulders. You had seen his upper body naked before, but you were still in such amazement as to how his clothes seemed to make him slimmer than he was.

Body calling for him, you slip a couple of fingers inside of you.

Loki slowed in his undressing as he catches what you’re doing; he had wondered what you were like when you pleasured yourself, and he wasn’t disappointed with the truth. He wanted to know all your traits, and all your flaws; your anger, your sadness, your happiness, your awkwardness… And this, this carnal and intimate side of you, was one side he hadn’t realised he’d been patient on waiting for.

Loki was fighting to be composed.

Breathing hard and scattered, you bite your lip. “L-Loki?”

Norns, why did you have to be so erotic.

He grabs both of your wrists, your voice weak in complaint as he binds them together with his discarded tie, preventing you from touching yourself any further. The knot was taut, and any amount of agitation made your wrists cramp, but it didn’t hinder your arousal at all. 

He wanted to have you as he saw fit, and it did not include you cumming without his cock inside you.

Before you attempt to say anything, he gestures for all of his remaining clothes to disappear, and it goes with a shine of light. His cock springs free, Loki grunts in relief that his raging member could now breathe.

Arms slacking from the struggle with the new cuffs, your eyes adjust to his naked physique, your eyes lowering past his abdomen to see his lengthy erection stand. However, you didn’t have a chance to study, or to even admire it, as he grips your thighs once more, pulling you towards him and spreading you open. 

And, within the slick and hot pleat of your core, you feel his hardness slide against you and your bud, and it coaxes your back to arch on the edge of euphoria.

A moan, like caramel to Loki’s ears, cries from your lips as the tip of his cock pushes inside you. He inhales through gritted teeth as his long shaft feels the pressure of your feminine walls, and the sensitivity to its beat. His grasps on your hips tighten, blemishing your skin as he reaches the end of you with another relieving growl. Another precious mewl escapes from the back of your throat as he pulls out, a layer of your aroma covering his shaft.

Not wanting to delay it any longer, Loki thrusts into you.

His thrusts are relentless and deep, feeling yourself stretch and fit around him. He was greeted with your blushing expression, irises glazed with lustful avidity and our lip bitten down, withholding your intoxicating moans. 

But, with each thrust Loki gave you, your lips loosened, and the candy sound of your bliss encourages his movements.

“Loki, I’m-...Ah!” You could feel yourself clutch around him, a release begging to subdue you.

Loki could feel you get close too, and he was desperate to experience that sensation on him. He seizes you by the bind of your wrist, using it to spur his pace, his pelvis rocking and slamming into yours again and again. He savours the aphrodisia of your body, savours the sensuous resonance of his name being cried in wanton need, savours the arousing essence surrounding the both of you, savours the fervor of your warm skin…

And, as your pussy clenches him like a vice, he savours everything about your climax.  

Even after your orgasm, he fills you with every inch of him you could take, voice rasp in nearing his own sexual alleviation. He could feel waves of your peak straining and milking his cock to his own end, your own ears feel muddled with the loud bangs of your heartbeat and the sound of your name being lost from Loki’s lips.

Your skin feeling damp, you survey Loki with bleary eyes, and he surveys you back with same sensual haze.

There you were, splayed recklessly in front of him, looking unashamedly delectable covered with his cum. Like he had finally tamed your wildness, so that he could only have it all to himself.

He kisses you.  Had he known what it was like to bed you, he would have done it sooner.

“You are…” His hot breath runs against your neck. “Divine.”

[veliseraptor]

You might've answered this already but what are some of your favorite Loki quotes? Also, you are wonderful and don't let anyone make you think otherwise

I really thought I’d written one for this! But if I did I can’t find it. (Just a favorite scenes post, which, there will be some overlap.)

But sure, I’ll go for this one. As usual, I wrote an essay! What else do you expect from me, a person who does this on a regular basis.

1. “Satisfaction is not in my nature.”

I have talked before (a lot!) about how this is, to me, one of the most character defining quotes for Loki - because it is so much of his issue. Loki is someone who is always wanting, always hungry, and sometimes he doesn’t even really know what he wants. He doesn’t know what will make him happy, just that he’s unhappy. And even in a positive way, he’s never fully satisfied - driven, ambitious, curious. 

And also there’s the aspect of how even when he gets what he wants it’s very, very hard, if not impossible, to accept it, or believe in it. To trust that it’s real. Not to poke and prod and look for the holes and traps and deceptions in it. Never satisfied. Never settled.

Loki’s not someone who does stability very well, if at all. It’s all constant motion, constant change, constant seeking, never standing still.

2. “I never wanted the throne! I only wanted to be your equal.”

I wrote a little recently about how I think this line is not...untrue, but it’s qualified truth. And in this moment it’s very interesting - falling during the fight with Thor, where he is in a lot of ways trying to provoke Thor’s anger and force a fight. But here he is speaking something that on the face of it could be conciliatory - it’s explicitly saying ‘this isn’t about me usurping your rightful place, this isn’t about me wanting to be King, this is about me wanting to be your equal” - with the implication, never really addressed, that he isn’t. 

That Loki’s understanding of his standing is fundamentally as less than. As inferior. And while I understand why not, it is a little sad that no one says something to the effect of ‘you are.’ (Which, while there’s objections to be made about how that’s expressed, at least opens a conversation about those objections rather than just breezing on by them as though there’s no merit to that emotional response or assumption that, well, he’s just right. But anyway. Communication! This family ain’t good at it.)

This is definitely a line that gets lost a lot, I think, in peoples’ understanding of Loki - that his desire for power is only secondarily for its own sake, and first and foremost for a goal of meeting a standard (Thor) that he’s set himself. (And also as a means to safety, but that’s another thing.) 

But boy is it potent. And, like the satisfaction line, so central to an understanding of who Loki is, and why he does what he does.

3. “If I am for the axe, then for mercy’s sake, swing it. It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just…I don’t love them.”

I wrote some meta a while back about the opening scene between Loki and Odin in The Dark World that I found while looking for something else, here and also here, which doesn’t surprise me that I did that because I have a lot of feelings about that scene. Like, as many as I have about the Vault scene in the first movie, probably.

There’s just so much going on in the whole thing, but this line specifically has stuck with me, because it’s an instance of Loki being flippant while also…not being that at all.

I talk in the linked post about how Loki walks into this scene expecting this to be a death sentence. He’s pretty ready for that, and he’s just going to go out with a bang with the verbal equivalent of a backflip with two middle fingers in Odin’s direction. 

So here he’s basically like “if you’re going to bore me like this you might as well just kill me, because you’re boring me to death, get it, because you’re going to execute me eventually so let’s just get there already” which is just…yeah, it makes me feel things. 

4. “Are you mad?” “Possibly.”

I know I wrote about this at one point when I was talking about Loki’s relationship with his own sanity/instability, but I can’t find that post, so I’ll just have to talk about it again. Good thing I can do that.

Like, this is a flippant response to Thor, but on the other hand there’s an honesty to it (like his flippant response to Odin, above). Is he mad? Maybe. Hard to say, even for Loki - he thinks maybe he is, a lot of the time, and that’s something he’s just kind of rolling with right now. It also fits with Loki’s generally manic energy throughout the scene after Thor springs him from prison, which also gives me a lot of feelings - it’s like…oh, this is a terrible comparison, but it’s like when you have a dog with a lot of energy who has been inside all day and then you take them out and the reaction is like. Running in wild circles because oh finally finally finally. 

And that’s…I mean, ouch, works with my headcanons about how putting Loki in a space where he can’t do much but think is one of the worst things for him. 

I just generally have a weak spot, too, for Loki making jokes about things that really aren’t funny.

5. “You know, it all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

This whole scene is A Lot, and this whole exchange is A Lot, but I settled on this specific line, because woof there’s so much here. There’s the bit about favoring Thor, there’s ‘claim to love me’ (instantly, doubt of that love, it’s not real, none of this has ever been real, his entire identity is thrown into doubt and therefore everything else is too), there’s the feeling of ‘I’ve been set up to fail all along and you never meant me for anything else.’ And the implicit, in the idea of ‘could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne’ bit, affirmation of his worthlessness but also of his inferiority (monstrousness) on the basis solely of his origins.

I’ve talked before about how after this reveal Loki pins a lot of everything that’s gone wrong in his life, and everything that’s wrong with him, on his being a Frost Giant. That it becomes a focal point for all his self-hatred and self-doubt. (That’s here too - ‘it all makes sense now.’ This, this one truth about me, explains everything that’s bad about me and my life.’) That’s where the idea comes from that, well, if I can only wipe out this part of me, completely disown it, prove that it’s meaningless and I am a true son of Asgard...then everything will be fine. 

(Even while he knows, I’m sure, that isn’t true. He needs it to be true, because or else...well, we see what happens when he loses that lifeline.)

This line is very much...everything comes down to this. It is the essence of Loki’s breaking point, of what breaks Loki, where the downhill slide that began with the Frost Giant grabbing his arm on Jotunheim completes and he tips over the edge. This line, right here. And when Odin drops without responding...there’s no going back, because Loki’s is the last word.

6. “You’re my brother and my friend. Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt that I love you.”

I feel like sometimes people read this line with the knowledge that Loki is literally setting Thor up to fail as he speaks and therefore it’s not true, or is somehow disingenuous, but I genuinely don’t think that’s the case. I think Loki does mean it. That he does love Thor, more deeply and intensely than basically anyone else.

I mean, I have talked before about how there is no contradiction in loving and hating your sibling, not really - and definitely no contradiction in loving your sibling so much and at the same time feeling a deep, burning resentment of their place in life and in the family. 

And to the question of Loki’s motivations - whether he does this initially because he genuinely believes Thor is going to be a disastrous ruler for Asgard or because he wants to ruin Thor’s coronation and take him down a few notches (though never, I think, intending to either a) actually reach Jotunheim or b) get Thor exiled), and I think my answer to that question, as with so many of Loki’s motivations, is ‘can’t it be both?’

But none of that negates how much Loki does care about Thor, in a desperate and often horrifyingly codependent way. And I think on some level Loki says this knowing he’s setting Thor up for a fall, because he’s doing that - because he wants Thor to know that, even when everything collapses around him (as it is going to do), Loki still cares about him. 

And also affirming it and reminding himself of that, too, as I figure he does when the envy and resentment gets too strong: remember you love him. Remember he’s your brother. Remember that makes it worth it. 

I read this as a very genuine moment, which also makes everything that comes after that much more painful.

7. “I didn’t do it for him.”

Mostly here it’s the contrast - at the end of Thor Loki’s last line is “I could have done it for you! For all of us,” spoken to Odin, before he attempts suicide. And here, before he (believes he) dies, he says this in answer to Thor’s saying he’ll tell Odin that Loki died with honor. 

He could mean either Frigga, or Thor - I lean toward Thor, in this case, because it was Thor’s life he sacrificed himself saving - but regardless, he doesn’t mean Odin. It’s a shifting of his priorities, and whose approval and/or love he cares about most. Odin is no longer the priority. 

And it just…hurts, too. This whole exchange does (I considered using ‘see you in Hel, monster’ because of what it says about Loki’s expectations about himself), but this line especially is…and also what a gut punch for Thor, too. Having this glimpse of the Loki he knew and loved only for him to be snatched away again.

8. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Being lied to. Being told you’re one thing and then learning it’s all a fiction.”

This is another line I’ve written about before because of the way it’s so double-edged and so very Loki. It is simultaneously pointed and mocking (”see how it feels now, huh? I did this years ago and you didn’t care then”) and also, tacitly (and especially as Loki goes on to offer Thor a way out), a kind of sympathy (”I know how this feels, I’ve been here”). And there’s a certain pleasure in being able to be that kind of magnanimous, and a certain pleasure in the spite as well.

It’s both, at the same time. The satisfaction and the compassion. And that’s what Loki is like, in a lot of ways: those contradictions, the push-pull of conflicting emotions and motivations, always in tension. Which is what makes him such a fascinating character, but is also part of what makes his life so hard. 

[wroteasongabouther]

>> an ending for nerd!harry <<

authors note: basically people seemed to be really liked my nerd!harry blurbs and it was my most requested to continue during my hiatus so i wrote this :) apologies for any spelling errors or anything i’m a bit rusty at all this lol *also the imagine above is not mine*

please come talk to me about it!

word count: 6k

-

Y/N transfer from UCLA to Yale was proving everyone right it seemed, cause my god was it ever hard.

She had lost her way four times already it it was only her first day of classes. Thankfully she had two hours before her final class for the day and she remembered how to get to the Starbucks she had seen earlier in the morning during one of the many detours she had to take due to getting lost. Y/N starts debating over a tea or a coffee, then has to stop herself from ordering a cake pop as she sees them in the glass display.

“And a cake pop please,” she says without thinking twice.

It’s as she’s waiting for her name to be called that she sees him. How could she not notice him, he was her first love after all, and she swore no one carried themselves the way that Harry did. She watched as he held the door open for the person behind him, then giving the stranger a smile before getting in line. She watched as he pondered over the menu, pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his chin with his ring covered fingers.

Out of no where he fishes a pen from his front pocket and opens the notebook that was in his other hand - jotting down something that must’ve come to his mind suddenly. She remembers how he would do that often, randomly figuring out a solution to a math problem or maybe a sentence he could use in an upcoming essay.

“Y/N,” the barista says loudly, causing her to blink rapidly and quit her staring.

She smiles at the young man that hands her her drink and reaches for a straw before turning on the heels of her boots. Y/N is ready to leave the coffee shop and forget she had seen Harry all together, unsure if he’d want to even speak to her to be honest. But as she turns around she sees Harry has left the line and he only a foot away from her now.

“Hi,” she says softly with a smile.

“Hey,” Harry’s corners of his lips tug up just a little. “Can’t say I expected to see you here,” he states, his head tilting as he seems to be taking in her facial features. She worn less makeup now, instead just a few swipes of mascara and some light face makeup.

“Yeah, I uh, I just transferred actually,” she tells him, biting down on the inside of her cheek afterwards.

“You should’ve messaged me, I could’ve showed you around, maybe,” he says.

She had thought of finding Harry’s Facebook profile and sending him a message. But then like any other time she thought of him she got sad. She imagined that Harry would decline, probably still think the worst of her after how she had broken his heart and all. Cause breaking his heart broke hers too, but she just couldn’t do the long distance and the fighting got so bad. Y/N’s thoughts are broken up as she sees a short brunette step up beside Harry, a smile that would typically be contagious she’s sure but Y/N’s body filled with jealously immediately.

“Hey, whatcha order?” She asks him, her voice causes Harry to finally break his gaze from Y/N down to look at the brunette now.

“I, um,” he pauses and glances behind him at the line he had abandoned for Y/N. “I actually haven’t ordered anything yet,” he says.

When he looks back towards Y/N she feels like dropping down and crawling away and never seeing the light of day again. Harry had moved on. And she should have known after two years that he would do so. But it hurt, gut wrenching at the mere thoughts that someone else got to experience love with Harry. It’s then that the brunette looks at Y/N, in which she gives her a smile that Y/N only matches to be polite.

“Bec, this is Y/N,” Harry states. So her name was Bec, and she officially hated that name.

“Oh,” Bec’s eyebrows fly up at the introduction Harry had made. Her reaction causes Y/N’s stomach to twist and turn, had Harry spoke about his ex girlfriend with his current girlfriend enough for a reaction like that? Or did he just explain how Y/N broke his heart. “It’s so lovely to meet you, I didn’t realize you went to Yale,” she exclaims.

“I don’t,” Y/N says quickly, realizing her mistake as she shuts her eyes and shakes her head before looking back at Harry briefly then back to Bec. “I mean I didn’t, but I just transferred for my third year,” she explains.

“That’s awesome, Yale is great,” Bec smiles, then she nudges Harry with her elbow, “right H?”

Y/N remembers when she used to call him that, and how it caused a blush to raise to his cheeks at first before he got used to the nickname. Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at Harry again. He’s already looking at her, maybe thinking of the same thing. But she doubted it.

“Yeah, it’s been great,” he agrees with Bec.

“Alright, well I’m going to go actually, lots of unpacking still and organizing,” Y/N blabbers while jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. She doesn’t even say goodbye, probably looking like an absolute idiot. But that’s what she was. Like who was she to think she could just transfer to Yale and expect to not see her ex boyfriend? Y/N simply didn’t expect to see him on her first day. She shakes her head and sips on her drink, the ice half melted already, as she walks down the sidewalk.

“Y/N,” Harry calls from behind her, causing her to look back over her shoulder. “Wait a sec,” he adds as he catches up to her and she stops walking.

“Yeah?” She asks, trying her hardest to not chew on her lip or inner cheek anymore.

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat, to uh, to catch up maybe?” Harry sounds like the nervous boy she once became infatuated with. The thought brings a smile to her face.

“I have my last class of the day, in about an hour still,” she states.

“Then after?”

The hopeful look in his eyes confuses Y/N like no tomorrow. She narrows her eyes and points back to the Starbucks. “What about Bec?” She asks.

Harry furrows his brows and shakes his head, “what about her?”

“Well she’s your girlfriend isn’t she?”

“Oh,” Harry pauses and seems to be holding back a smile or something. She remembers how he’d smile at the mention of her being his girlfriend. “No, she’s just my flat mate,” he states.

“Oh,” this time it’s Y/N’s turn to say.

Heat creeps to her cheeks as she feels the embarrassment settle in. And here she had been immediately jealous at the mere thought of Harry having a girlfriend. But just cause Bec isn’t his girlfriend doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one at all. You broke up with him Y/N, she reminds herself as her thoughts go crazy again. Y/N licks her lips and meets Harry’s eyes again, he is smiling now. The slight makes her heart quicken.

“So dinner later then?” Harry asks again.

“Um,” Y/N does bite her lip now as she contemplates saying yes. “Sure, yeah, we could grab some dinner later,” she finally answers while nodding her head.

“Awesome,” Harry smiles, “still got the same number?”

She nods, a little surprised he hadn’t deleted her contact after their break up. Harry smiles and then they say a quick goodbye before she’s off to her final class - only a whole hour early but she couldn’t be around Harry any longer than she had. Because only that short interaction and she was all in her head about the past. Reliving the memories of Harry, both the good and the bad.

~~~~

Three and a half years ago...

“You know, we’ve uh, we’ve been hanging out a lot. Like one on one too and not just for studying and I just thought maybe you felt the same way as I do about you-”

“I do,” Y/N can’t stop smiling as the boy she’s got the biggest crush on ever stutters over his words. Harry smiles back, nodding his head before looking back down at his hands in his lap.

“Would you be my girlfriend, Y/N?” He asks, eyes flashing back up to meet hers.

Y/N’s smiles grows - if it’s even possible - then she’s reaching for his hands in his lap and intertwining their fingers together. She immediately takes notes of the cool metal from the ring she had bought him for his birthday only last month. Harry wore it every single day. The one single ring on his middle finger, a simple silver band with the word ‘peace’ engraved on it. Y/N saw it and thought of Harry right away, buying it a whole month before it was even his birthday. That January was 3 months into their blossoming friendship that started one cool October night at the bonfire.

It really only took her 3 weeks tops to fall for the adorable Brit, but after 3 months she knew she loved him. And now after 4 months, he was finally asking her to be his. Y/N wasn’t really upset about the waiting, she always knew they’d become a couple one day and she wanted all the days after too.

“Yes,” Y/N says through her grinning, squeezing his hands in hers before spontaneously bringing her hands up to both sides of his face gently.

Y/N and Harry had only kissed 5 times in the past 4 months. 3 times while drunk, them both blushing like fools and wiping the saliva from their lips afterwards. Twice it was a simple peck on the lips, leaving Harry stunned both times with a smile and wide eyes. And once was like this moment right now. Slow, like they were savouring each other, her hands brushing into his hair while his inched closer to her bum. Then they broke away to catch their breath, looking into one another’s eyes and smiling.

On March the 2nd of their junior year, Harry asked Y/N to be his girlfriend and at that moment she never imagined them not being together - ever.

>><<

The Following Week...

“Okay intervention time,” Y/N’s friends all crowd her. “You can’t seriously want to like date Harry can you? I mean he’s a serious loser, like wears Game of Thrones T-shirts kind of loser,”

“He’s a great guy,” Y/N says, closing her locker and looking at the few friends around her.

“Yeah but he’s so out of your league,”

“No he’s not,”

“Are you kidding me?” One of her friends snort, “he so is, Y/N, what are you blind and stupid now?”

Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at her so-called friends. This was why she couldn’t be happier for high school to be over. She was over these judgemental childish games that they loved to play. Maybe at one point she could laugh along and let it slide, but not anymore. Now she realized that it wasn’t about fitting it, it was about being happy. And Harry made her really freaking happy.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, “I’m dating Harry, and I could care less if you like it or not,”

And with that, she walks away to her class as the bell rings around the halls. Y/N turns into her class, ignoring the looks from Chad and his friends and walking right back to the table that Harry was sitting at with a couple of his friends. She smiles and takes the seat next to him.

“Hey,” he says, mirroring her smile.

“Hey,” she echoes.

“How was your last class?”

“Meh,” she shrugs, “cared more about this one,” she admits to her boyfriend. Queue inner sigh and heart eyes as she watches her boyfriend bite down on his pen to shuffle out his binder from her backpack. Screw whatever anyone else thought, Harry was not out of Y/N’s league.

“Did you get the homework done last night?” Harry asks, snapping her back to reality.

“Shit,” she curses while flipping through her papers. Suddenly a filled out sheet is in front of her blank one. Y/N looks over at Harry, smiling at him, “thank you, I owe you, again,” she whispers as their teacher begins to speak.

“No you don’t,” Harry shrugs.

Y/N smiles at her boyfriend before copying down his smart as hell answers that she would have never gotten on her own.

>><<

One Year Later....

“Wh-What is this?” Harry stutters. Y/N knows what he had catch sight of. She thought she got rid of all of it, but the instructions must’ve been left behind in her trash bin in the en suite of her bedroom.

She stays silent, totally unsure of how to tell her boyfriend of 1 year that she had a freaking pregnancy scare. Hence her trying to just get rid of it all and not telling him. Y/N is in her own head for so long before she looks up at Harry. He is holding the piece of paper that told her how to pee on a stick and how long to wait for the results. My god the look on his face, she thinks as her eyes sting with threatening tears. She notices Harry’s eyes drift down to her stomach.

“You’re p-pregnant?”

A tear falls down her face as her mouth gapes open but no words come out. Harry drops the paper on the floor and makes the few steps to be beside her now. He sits down beside her on the bed and puts his hand on hers that’s resting on her knee. His other hand, the one with the silver ring she got him that now had a red ruby jewelry ring beside it, reached up to cup her cheek. He pushes her face gently till her eyes meet his.

“We’ll get through this together. What-whatever you chose, to keep it or to-“

“I’m not pregnant,” Y/N blurts out.

“Oh,” Harry says.

“It was just like a scare I guess, my period was like five days late and I got nervous,” Y/N explains. Harry brushes away her tears before dropping his hand from her face. That’s when she noticed the change in his expression.

“When?” He questions. Y/N furrows her brows.

“What?”

“When did you have the scare?” He asks further, taking his hand off her knee now.

“Like last week,” she states.

“You-you weren’t going to tell me?” He questions. “I’m-I’m your boyfriend, Y/N, and I love you and would be there through anything with you and for you,” he’s hurt, she knows by the tone of his voice. He’s only ever gotten upset with her once before, she cried then too. Y/N reaches up to wipe her own tears this time, sniffling as she forces herself to look into Harry’s eyes.

“It-it was a scare,” she sniffles again, wiping her nose on the cuff of her sweater.

“Well you still should have told me,” he’s raising his voice again.

“I know,” she croaks, holding back a sob.

“I mean I’m obviously not ready to be a father but I could’ve helped you,” Harry begins to ramble again. “This isn’t something you can’t just fucking hide from me, Y/N,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Y/N says, grabbing for his hands again but he moves. Standing up from her bed and grabbing his backpack from by her desk. “What-where are you going?”

“I just need some space to think,” he mutters before opening her bedroom door and closing it shut behind him.

Y/N hears the echo of his footsteps going down the staircase, the sound of the front door opening and closing and then the beep of him hitting the lock button on the key pad. When she sees his car drive down the street and away from her house she lets herself cry. Laying back in her bed, curling up into a ball and full on sobbing as she replayed the fight her and Harry just had.

Their first big fight, something she prayed didn’t jeopardize their relationship.

The next day she doesn’t wake up to her usual good morning text with an estimated time Harry would pick her up for school. So she finds herself reaching for an oversized crew neck sweater and leggings, throwing her hair up into a bun and not putting any makeup on her face. When she’s brushing her teeth she notices how puffy and red her eyes are from all the crying she had done the night before. Y/N sighs and slowly makes her way downstairs, grabs a banana for breakfast then walks down the hall to her moms studio.

It’s 8:30 in the morning but she can tell her moms been painting for hours, by the paint in her hair and the smile on her face. But when her mom looks over at whom opened her studio door and sees her daughter frowning her smile wipes away.

“Mom, can you drive me to school?” Y/N asks in a quietly voice.

“Is Harry sick or something?” Her mom questions, standing up to where the en suite was for what would traditionally be a guest bedroom.

“We uh,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, “we had a fight,” her eyes fall to the ground before she can take in whatever expression her mom gives her.

“Let me grab my keys and we’ll go,” she says softly, stepping past Y/N but first leaving a kiss to the crown of her head. Y/N nods and follows after her mom.

Her mom doesn’t ask any questions till about half way through the drive. Y/N sighs and looks towards her mom instead of out the window like she had been. She debates telling her mom the truth. She was her best friend after all - but she was also her mom. Before she can over think it too much, she tells her.

“I-I took a pregnancy test,” Y/N states.

Y/N grips the car door as her mom swerves the car slightly. She shuts her eyes and prepares for her mom to go all hellish on her. But it doesn’t come. She opens her eyes again to look to her mom, she’s simply staring out the front window and flicks on her turn signal.

“What were the results?” She asks.

“Negative,” Y/N doesn’t miss a beat to tell her that much.

Her mom doesn’t hold back on letting out a long deep breath, blowing a piece of her paint covered hair. Then she’s chuckling to herself, turning the wheel into the school parking lot and instead of pulling up to the front like she typically would she parks in one of the stalls. After putting the car in park she turns to face Y/N.

“I’m assuming you’re using protection and being safe and that it was just a case where you got scared your period was a bit late,” Y/N nods. “And Harry got upset?” Y/N nods again.

“He was,” she pauses as she feels her eyes water again, “he was good about the potential pregnancy and wanted to help, just didn’t take it too well that I wasn’t planning to tell him I had a scare,” she explains. Her mom nods now, rolling her lips into her mouth before letting them go to smile. She reaches over the console to hold Y/N’s hands.

“Now tell me what high school boyfriend would take a teen pregnancy well? I got pregnant right after graduation and your father still didn’t want anything to do with it all,” Y/N bites her inner cheek at the mention of her father. They didn’t have a bad relationship, he would come around for birthdays and would come for some visits. But he had his own family now, one Y/N never really felt like she fit into.

“So think about that, okay, the fact he was ready to help is amazing. Don’t worry your pretty little mind too much, that boy loves you beyond this world and you’ll be fine by the end of the day, okay?” Her mom exclaims, rubbing her daughters hands.

Y/N nods and just then the school bell rings. She hugs her mom awkwardly, saying their I love yous and goodbyes before Y/N has to face this day on her own. Her mom was right of course, because right before last period as Y/N is reaching in her locker she sees Harry walking towards her. She closes her locker and holds onto her binder, looking at the small heart with H.S. in the middle she had drawn in the top left hand corner.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Harry sighs, stopping right in front of her. “Sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning,” he says.

Y/N shrugs and hugs her binder closer to her chest, “it’s alright, think my mom misses our morning drives,” she states.

“Oh, she can drive you more often than,” Harry says so nonchalantly that Y/N swears her heart stops. Her mouth goes dry at the thought of her and Harry breaking up.

“Are-are you breaking up with me?” She questions.

Harry’s eyes widen and he reaches forward to touch her arms, “god, no,” he says. Y/N let’s out a deep breath and nods. “I just needed the space to think about what happened, and I did that, and I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” he explains. His hands are rubbing up and down her arms gently now, his body closer as they seem to be in their own world in the slightly crowded hallway.

“I was scared, H,” she says just above a whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back, “I’m sorry for getting upset,”

“Well I’m sorry for not telling you,”

Harry leans forward and they share a kiss, not too long since they are still in public in their high school hallway and all. When they lean back to look at one another they’re both smiling. Y/N takes notice of how he’s wearing contacts today, the green of his eyes particularly lovely when he did so. She opens her mouth to tell him she loves him when someone decided to join their moment.

“Hey guys,” Harry’s friend - and now hers too she supposed - Trevor, says with a smile.

Harry takes a slight step back from Y/N and looks at his friend. “Hey, what’s up?” He asks.

“The bell rang, we’ve got last period together today,” he states to Harry.

They hadn’t even noticed that the bell had rung or that the hallway was clearing out. Y/N fixes the strap of her purse and holds her binder with one hand now. She takes one step back and gives the two boys a smile.

“I should go to class too,” she says.

“I’ll see you after,” Harry smiles. She nods and turns on her heels to where her class was at the end of the hall. She’s not surprised when she hears Trevor speak before she’s out of hearing range.

“I still can’t believe you two are together, like some princess and the servant boy type shit ya know,” Trevor says. Y/N chuckles to herself and turns into her class with a smile.

>><<

The Following Month...

Applying for universities was something Y/N had been dreading for her entire time in high school. She was one of those kids that had no clue what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and didn’t know where she wanted to apply. Add how bad her grades were and these past couple months before applications deadlines were terrible. What was even worse was that her boyfriend knew exactly where he was applying and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Harry had talked about Yale for as long as uni talk started.

But Y/N knew one thing for sure - she wasn’t going to get accepted into a top Ivy League school like Yale.

It had been just over a month since their first real fight, about the pregnancy scare, and things were back to being great. Till any time applying for university was brought up. Harry would mention the deadline for Yale, clearly meaning for her to get her application in, and Y/N would simply stay quiet or change the subject all together. She obviously didn’t want to be apart from Harry, she just was grasping the fact it was going to happen regardless of anything she did or said.

“Hello?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her back into reality.

“Sorry,” Y/N mutters and looks back down at her bio homework they were working on in Harry’s back yard. The sun was shining and his family was gone for the weekend, meaning they had the house to themselves.

“Whatever,” Harry mumbles back through his teeth, annoyance clear as day in his voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just kinda annoyed,” he admits, letting out a sigh and dropping his pencil. Y/N looks up from her paper, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. “Why won’t you apply to any of the schools I want to go to? It’s like you won’t even consider it and I just get annoyed,” he explains.

“I did consider it, and then I considered how shit my grades are so I accepted the fact I won’t be going where ever you go, Harry,”

“But you don’t know unless you apply,”

“Can we just drop this, please,” she urges before looking back at her school work.

Harry doesn’t say anymore, and when she glances back up at him and sees the look in his eyes it’s like someone punched her in the gut. They both knew in a few short months this relationship would be over. Y/N couldn’t do long distance, she just knew it’d hurt too much and be too expensive to try to fly back and forth to see each other. And daily FaceTime calls would turn into maybe once a week to then only once in a while as their class work would pile up. They’d both make new friends, maybe meet someone else that made their hearts thumps a bit louder than normal. The mere thought of Harry falling in love with someone else made Y/N feel sick.

“Hey,” Harry mumbles and reaches across the table to grab onto her hand.

She states are their hands for a moment before she stands suddenly, “is there still some watermelon in the fridge?”

Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer, instead she wanders off inside the house and tries to distract herself from what would eventually happen to her relationship.

>><<

The Following Week....

“Then I’ll just go to UCLA,” Harry says.

“No,”

“Wow, you really just don’t want to be with me huh? Don’t want to continue to date the loser nerd kid after high school?”

“You know that’s not it,” Y/N is fuming with anger. “I don’t want you to go to UCLA with me because I don’t want you to give up your dream of Yale for me. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and going to UCLA would be a waste of your stupid genius brain,”

“I’m just getting really tired of this argument, Y/N,” Harry sighs.

“Well,” Y/N pauses, “so am I,”

They go silent again, something that’s been happening more often than not between the two of them. Something that Y/N hated, she hated it so much that it hurt her every single time. Because through that silence she thought of how their relationship was going to end. How she would finally break one of these silent moment by breaking his heart.

>><<

Present Day...

Y/N was beyond nervous. She was just round the corner from where she was to meet up with Harry for dinner tonight. She was almost about to turn around and leave, send him some sort of message to apologize. But she just about ran into him instead.

“Whoa,” Harry says, reaching out to catch Y/N before she tripped on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Sorry,”

Y/N looks up at Harry, then looking down at where his cool hands touched her bare arms just under the sleeve of her shirt. Her arms looked small in his hands. Her eyes drift up his arms, now covered in some tattoos, tanned and toned - he most definitely hit up the gym since their break up. Whoa was right, Y/N thinks before she steps back out of his grasp and swallows in order to clear her dry throat.

“Shall we?” Harry motions towards the front door of the restaurant he had chosen to meet up with Y/N.

Harry was the one to find her old number and text her a time and place, when an unassigned number popped up on her phone - Siri so gracefully made the contact ‘Maybe: Harry’ as it read: ‘hey y/n, it’s harry’. Y/N’s nerves only grew as he held open the door for her and she took in the inside of this locally owned Italian restaurant just off of campus grounds.

The lighting was a bit more dim than a typical restaurant, but not totally in a romantic way just more in a relaxing sense. Every table had the large white cloth napkins neatly folding by the large plates and several utensils, wine glasses and water glasses and of course a few red roses in the middle to pull it all together. Y/N swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat - this was really beginning to feel like a date, she thought as she watched Harry speak to the hostess.

“Reservation for Harry Styles, for two,” he smiles at the young girl, maybe only a year or two younger than them. She blushes immediately and nods, clicking a few things on an iPad before grabbing a couple menus and leading the way.

“Thank you,” Y/N says to the girl as she sets down the menus. She’s about to reach for her seat but Harry’s pulling it out for her before she can do it herself. “Oh, thanks,” she mumbles nervously with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Harry nods, walking over to his own seat now.

They sit in an awkward silence for only a few second maybe, the sounds of the restaurant filling in for them as they both thought of how to start this all off. Harry licks his lips before opening his mouth.

“How was your first day?”

“Good,” Y/N nods, “I, uh, my dad actually helped me move in since he lives close and y’know he went to Brown so me coming here was kinda exciting for him I guess.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Harry says, “how’s your dad doing?”

“Good, he’s good, um Trisha is pregnant again so I’ll be getting another half sibling next March I think,” Y/N shrugs and takes a sip of her water. “Otherwise he’s just doing the usual, putting people in prison and golfing. I was actually surprised he got a day off to come help me,”

“That’s nice that he did though, since he doesn’t take too much time off to see you anymore,” Harry exclaims. He knew about Y/N’s relationship with her dad, she would cry on his shoulder about her stupid daddy issues sometimes while they were dating. Y/N smiles at Harry, which he mirrors instantly, before she clears her throat and adjusts how she’s sitting.

Another moment of silence falls between them as they stare across the table at one another. Y/N noticed how he must’ve cut his hair recently, it’s short on the sides but still a wild mess of sexy waves atop of his head. She likes his glasses, the frames really suited this new grown up version of him. And his style, wow, she loved how good he looked in some tight fitted jeans, boots, a plain T-shirt and a long trench coat - he looked amazing.

“You cut your hair,” Y/N says like an idiot.

Harry subconsciously runs a hand through his hair at the mention of it. “Actually it was a lot longer than you would’ve ever seen it just last month, but then I finally let Bec cut it all off. It was like,” he watches his own hand as he tries to show Y/N just how long his hair was, “about here maybe, always put it in a bun if I could,” he states.

“I can’t imagine you with a man bun,” Y/N chuckles.

“Hey, I looked pretty good if I do say so myself,” Harry jokes. They both laugh now, causing them to be grinning like fools afterwards. “I’ve missed you,” Harry admits without a second thought.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up while her heart aches at the memories of her breaking up with him those few years ago. She rolls her lips into her mouth and let’s out a small sigh. Harry must catch onto her hesitate reaction as he bites on his bottom lip and looks off to look for the waitress.

“I’ve missed you too, H,” Y/N says softly, “it’ll be nice to have a friend at Yale,”

Harry brings his water to his lips and takes a sip, nodding right before the waitress walks up. After they give the waitress their orders, they fall more into a casual conversation full of giggles and smiles. Y/N learnt that Harry had moved into an apartment just south of campus with his friends Bec and Julien, taking control the most in the kitchen. The thought of Harry cooking made Y/N heart ache. Harry learnt that Y/N worked her butt off her first two years of university, missing out on plenty of parties and nearly ODing on caffeine she swears - but it all paid off when both Yale and Dartmouth accepted her transfer applications.  

Y/N thanks Harry once again as they leave the restaurant and he holds open the door for her. She hugs her coat closer to her body as the cool night air hits her hard. Harry falls into step besides Y/N, thoughts banging back and forth in his head. Just do it, he thinks before taking a deep breath and letting it go quick.

“I don’t think I can just be friends with you, Y/N,” he says, causing Y/N to turn fast on her heels to look at him.

“What?”

“I-I mean that,” Harry pauses and licks his lips as he looks at his ex-girlfriend whom he hadn’t stopped thinking about. “I mean that I still care about you, and that I will always have feelings for you and now that you’re here-” he motions to where she stood in front of him. “Right here, in front of me, finally, again, I can’t let this second chance slide away from me.”

Y/N is at a lose for words. Harry had always been good at that. Her lips curl up into a smile, causing Harry’s to do the same. Sure, they only just reunited today but Y/N understood his every word. Their time in the restaurant felt like the most natural thing she’s felt in forever. All the jealousy and head spinning she felt earlier was another sign - Harry was right. Not everyone got a second chance at true love.

“Then let’s have our second chance, H,” she says.

Harry smiles, making Y/N giggle a little but then his hands are moving to her sides. He brings her closer to him, his body radiating heat just like she remembered but she was glad for it in this chilly night. His hands are gentle against the thin shirt she was wearing, one moving under her jacket to rest against her lower back. Y/N’s lips are parted, eyes hooded as she feels lightheaded at how close their bodies have become. Her hands rest against his chest, she watches her finger tips move slightly against him. Then, the moment she looks up to meet his green dreamy eyes he’s leaning down and touching his soft lips to hers.

It’s a short but sweet kiss that has both Harry and Y/N’s heart thumbing in their chests.

“Let me drive you to your dorm,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Y/N nods. Harry grabs ahold of her hand and leads the way.

Suppose her first day at Yale wasn’t so bad after all, Y/N thinks while clenching Harry’s hand.

[chouetteffraie]

table for two (or three)

Atsushi and Kyouka are on a secret mission to uncover the sketchy back alley deals of the resturaunt owner. Dazais on the mission too, but he finds it more important to capture Atsushi's heart when he least suspects it.

ao3 link here!

“Ah- Don’t rub at your chin, Atsushi-kun, or you can say goodbye to that handsome 5 o’clock shadow of yours.”

“I’m sorry, I just have an itch- wait, handsome?!”

“We’re up next,” Kyouka added, the first thing she had said in a while due to Dazai and Atsushi’s back and forth. “Try not to blow our cover before we even get seated.”

Atsushi nodded and gulped, turning red at the thought of being caught while Dazai reached out and patted Kyouka’s hair. As soon as he removed his hand it all fell back into place, yet she reached up to make sure it was setted anyway.

“Of course, Kyouka-chan,” Dazai said as they took a small step forward. “By the way, you look very nice tonight.”

“Thank you,” she responded, turning around while fidgeting with the cardigan around her shoulders. Just then, the host, after giving the trio a once-over, picked up a pen and asked,

“Can I help you?”

Dazai took the lead, giving the fake names they decided on days prior at the agency. For emphasis on the familial bond he insisted on the three of them having, he rested a hand on Atsushi’s shoulders and rubbed with his thumb idly. Atsushi did his best not to flinch, though Dazai squeezed his shoulder when he felt his muscles tense. While they were led to their table, Dazai let his hand slip away and only then could Atsushi relax. Dazai sighed to himself.

They shuffled in their seats, Atsushi making room for Kyouka to slide in next to him as Dazai sat across from him. He pouted as they were given menus. “I see you really do have a favorite parent, don’t you?”

Kyouka only looked at Dazai blankly, picking up a menu and passing it to Atsushi before flipping through her own idly. “Or maybe I’m just less of an eyesore~”

“So, what’s the occasion, Kyouka-chan?” Atsushi asked once the waiter worked, making sure to keep his voice down.

“Yes, which of your outstanding achievements are we rewarding today? Could it be your stellar grades? A lead role in an upcoming dance production?”

Kyouka’s stoic face dropped for a moment, relaxing as she tapped her chin, thinking up a story. They had been told these details didn’t matter much since nobody would ask, but if it meant a more complete disguise, what would be the harm in making something up? She hummed in thought, gripping her chin before finally deciding. “I won a prestigious essay contest.”

Dazai’s face brightened up. “That you did! Congratulations! I can’t wait until the trophy is mailed to us!”

“And I’m competing in a…..reputable violin competition.”

Beside her, Atsushi opened his mouth to say something, interrupted by Dazai who reached over the table to poke him. “Isn’t our daughter incredible, Atsushi?” Dazai asked.

Atsushi nodded. “Of course. It’s just nice the rest of the world is starting to see what we always did.”

“Softie,” Dazai accused while the compliment went in one of Kyouka’s ears and out the other. Her relaxed expression had furrowed into something intense, a fire burning behind her eyes that brought Dazai away from his antics for a moment.

“Hey, Kyouka-chan...are you worried about the mission?” Atsushi asked, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t so much as flinch at the contact.

“No. I was just remembering how you guys told me we were getting a pet rabbit after dinner.”

Atsushi and Dazai blinked owlishly before turning to each other. Atsushi mouthed to Dazai, did we really promise her that? and Dazai shrugged in return. After a moment, Kyouka relaxed again and asked, “So, what are you planning on ordering?”

They spent a few minutes going over their menus, debating appetizers and pausing every now and then to listen in on the conversations around them. Murmurs of work happenings, school reports and gossip drifted around the table, all snippets of the patrons’ everyday lives. Yet nothing they heard related to the seedy underbelly they were trying to find: no mentions of any sort of smuggling or trafficking, anything that would relate to their job. Soon enough, they had given their orders and watched the waiter leave before Dazai leaned over the table to whisper something. Atsushi and Kyouka followed suit.

“Well, we aren’t going to figure anything out here,” Dazai started, narrowing his eyes and looking out of the corner of his eyes.

Kyouka nodded, “Right. If you’ll excuse me.”

She slid out from the booth and carefully made her way between tables, flowered dress swishing as she darted behind a corner in the direction of the bathroom. Atsushi turned to watch her leave, furrowing his eyebrows as he wondered what she was looking for. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to listen for- yet when he turned around, Dazai was watching her leave with an assured and careless expression.

Atsushi turned, straightening his suit jacket as he leaned back. “Did the two of you talk things over without me?” He asked, reaching a hand out to drum on the table.

“Partially. She’s got a good intuition, too,” he replied with a shrug. Instead of relaxing into the booth behind him, he leaned further across the table, gripping his elbows. “And now we’re alone.”

“I see that,” Atsushi replied, eyes drifting elsewhere. He tipped his head, trying to hear a snippet of a conversation that would help them in their mission- and he was being super obvious about it too. Dazai tried to keep the chuckle to himself, but it slipped past him anyway.

“What?” Atsushi asked, suddenly cautious.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dazai answered, waving his hand flippantly. With a suspicious look, Atsush sank back in his seat and craned his head again. As much as Dazai didn’t want to miss out on the sight, he did have a mission to save. “Y’know, without Kyouka here, it kind of looks like we’re on a date.”

A pretty red blossomed on Atsushi’s cheeks in response. “Dazai-san, don’t say stuff like that…”

Dazai hummed, keeping his gaze on Atsushi as he turned his head further away. With the drawn-on facial hair, a touch Kenji had insisted on to make it “seem like a real undercover mission,” Atsushi looked much more mature than he normally did. The kid was still trying to grow out his baby face, something that the now steady income of food might be able to help. Now, despite the choppy haircut, he looked slightly more like a man. Dazai wondered when he would get to that point in reality and if Atsushi would still need him anymore- hell, would he still even be around at that point? Part of him hoped so, if only to see if this was what Atsushi would really turn out to be.

If Atsushi turned out to be anything even remotely close to this, Dazai hoped he was a part of it.

The smile stuck on Dazai’s face as he reached out, gently placing a hand over Atsushi’s drumming fingers. “Hey, you nervous or something?”

“Hm? Oh,” Atsushi responded, finally leaning over the table like Dazai was. “I mean, a little. I hope Kyouka’s ok, and what if we get found out? I’m not exactly the best eavesdropper, you know?”

“Really?” Dazai asked in a voice fake enough to make Atsushi shoot him a glare. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Ha, ha. Thanks for the support.”

Dazai rubbed Atsushi’s knuckles gently, reminding Atsushi of his grip on his hands and prompting another blush. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We probably won’t find anything out here anyway. Our main goal is to get a scope of the place so we can investigate later, or so we know any faces that might become familiar. If we don’t get information, we have other plans,” Dazai reasoned, stooping his head to look Atsushi in the eyes.

“But...the Kyouka’s doing all the work! It feels like I’m not helping at all, so...what’s the point of me even being here?” He asked, casting his eyes further downward. Dazai caught on to his words- he wasn’t just talking about today.

“The point is, Kyouka would raise suspicion by herself. The point is, you have tiger sense that can listen further than I can. The point is for me to see you in a suit,” Dazai reassured, squeezing Atsushi’s hand before slowly pulling it away. He smiled at Atsushi when he looked up again. “Hey, if we can raise a kid like Kyouka, we can do anything.”

“But we didn’t actually raise her.”

“Actually, I’m glad she’s not here. How do you feel about another one?” Dazai asked, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them. “I’m thinking about another kid.”

Atsushi sighed in irritation. “I really wish you would take this seri-”

Before Atsushi could finish his sentence, Kyouka was thrown into their table, sending their glasses and cutlery scattering to the floor. She twisted and landed on her feet, glaring at two hulking men stalking towards her before darting her gaze between Dazai and Atsushi.

“We’ve been compromised,” She said simply before running towards the nearest exit. Atsushi and Dazai looked at each other, bewildered, before scrambling out of the booth and following after her.

[knjoodles]

mismatched pages; jimin x reader

pairing: writer!jimin x writer!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.2K

summary: you love writing. it’s your passion, it’s what you dream to do forever. up until you find out the guy you really like also happens to be the guy who’s stealing your ideas. then it sucks.

lowercase intended.

02 (a lot longer than this first chapter)

“shit!” you exclaimed, tumbling out of your dorm and into the hallway. you were 15 minutes late to class, and it takes 15 minutes to walk there. you stood in front of the elevator, tapping your foot out of pure terror and nerve. “okay,” you said to yourself, “elevator’s not fast. stairs, stairs!” you whipped towards the stairwell on the other side of the hall and dashed towards them, scurrying down the stairs and nearly tripping over at least twice. 

once you reached the ground floor, you let yourself take a breather. “i need to get back into shape.” you groaned, rubbing your temples before adjusting the uncomfortable way your sock was sitting on your foot and, again, setting off to run to your class. “fuck!” you muttered. “dr. yang is going to kick my ASS!”

thanks to the cup of iced latte you downed in ten minutes, your body running on pure adrenaline, and that leftover chinese from last night, you reached your class in 7 minutes. embarrassed that you were out of breath, you spent about 30 seconds catching it before walking in.

you opened the door slowly so to not be embarrassed about your entire class eyeing you for being late and were nicely surprised as none of them even bat an eye at you. dr. yang, your professor, raised his eyebrows at you and motioned for you to make your way over to his desk before starting your classwork.

“(y/n),” he said, “can you explain to me why you were late?”

“i, um,” you fiddled with the corner of your jacket and made eye contact with him; eye contact that was way too direct to not be awkward. “i stayed up last night working on the project you assigned, and then i went to sleep late. i woke up 40 minutes ago and realized how late i was. i'm sorry, it won’t happen again.”  you bowed.

dr. yang sighed, laying down the stack of papers he was filing and looked up at you. “(y/n), why are you working so hard?”

personally? you were stunned by that question. you never imagined in all your life that a teacher would ask you that question. 

“i mean, i assigned that a week ago! it’s due at the end of the semester!” he chuckled, shocked that you’d start that early. 

“but sir, everyone else has started!” you argued, trying justify why you slept at 5 a.m. last night. 

“well, has this ‘everyone else’ stayed up so late that they’re late to the class that the grade is for?” dr. yang queried. “(y/n). i don’t want to discourage hard work and hard working people, but you already excel in this class. you don’t need to do this, and?  it’s better if you don’t. you should live your life the way you want to, but please, if not for you than for your teacher, let yourself rest.”

you were appalled to say the least. you could barely say a word; your teacher just told you to stop working so hard? “i,”  you started, forgetting how to form coherent sentences. “i understand, dr. yang.”

“good. now, if you were here for the first 20-something minutes of class, you’d know that there were two assignments today.” he teased as he stood up. “one assignment was to work on the semester project. but, i knew some people like you would be almost completely done with that. so, i created the second assignment: an in-class assignment, which doubles as me entering my students in a contest. you must write up a fully original short story. it can be about anything you like, any theme you want, any genre, etc. then, once it has been proofread by another student, it’ll be read by a panel of judges, who’ll be judging short stories from all over the world. the top ten writers will then move on to a sequel competition. the top three writers will be awarded a large sum of money, and, if one of my students wins, they will earn 30% extra credit on their final exam. it’s one of the toughest writing competitions out there, so great achievements deserve great rewards. and, everything will be done-” he paused, looking at you.

“wow,” you exclaimed, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. 30% extra credit on your final exam? that’s so many points, you could drown in them. “that sounds amazing, im so glad you’re giving us this opportunity to-“

“-in partners.” he finished, watching your eyes grow like saucers and your jaw drop ever so slightly.

“in... in partners?” you stumbled over your words. ideas for this were already flying through your head. but now you have to work with someone else? in a class where you only talk to two other people? who you’ve known since you were in middle school? 

“yes!” dr. yang hummed, ridding the whiteboard of tiny marks. “but, partners have already been chosen. fortunately, there’s someone else who thought they could get by by themselves.”

“sir, im not sure if i want to-"

“park jimin. he’ll be your partner.” dr. yang turned to you and smiled, placing his whiteboard eraser rag in a drawer and sitting back down in his chair.

“park jimin? you mean, that park jimin?” you motioned over to a man sitting with his nose so close to his laptop, his face was basically part of it.

“do you know any other park jimins in this class?” dr. yang asked, opening his laptop to reply to emails. “get to introducing yourself. he thinks he’s working by himself too.”

with dr. yang quite literally shoo-ing you away with silence and a hand wave, you realized that park jimin was probably going to have to be your best friend until the end of the year. and so you set off, racing up the stairs of your lecture hall, making a beeline for jimin. “excuse me?”

“mhm?” he hummed, turning to you. it would be an understatement to say that it was a change of scenery and what you thought he looked like. you barely saw him; the times you did look at him, his face was masked by his laptop. and the rest of the time, you didn’t really pay attention to him. now, getting a chance to get a good look at him, you studied his features. he had a very attractive facial structure, with high cheekbones and plump lips. his hair was a sleek black color, which really complemented his outfit of beige and dusty blue. you noted how sharp his nose was and how nicely his eyes were shaped. this made life a little easier. at least he wasn’t an eyesore. 

“hi, i'm (y/n).” you held out your hand, which he stared at for a couple seconds before getting the memo that he was supposed to shake it.

“hi, (y/n),” he smiled, clasping your hand with both of his and giving a firm handshake. “do you need something from me? do you need me to write your essay for you?” he giggled.

“no,” you laughed awkwardly. “about the second assignment, the contest one?”

“yeah?” he nodded, resting his head in his right hand.

“dr. yang assigned us as partners, so here i am!”

“dr. yang assigned us as-” he paused to laugh to himself. “him letting me go solo that easily sounded too good to be true.”

a pang of embarrassment washed over you. “i mean, if you don’t want to work with me-”

“no, no! it’s not that at all,” he assured you, pulling over the chair next to him and motioning for to sit down. “i knew he’d do something like this was what i was saying. nothing against you. i’ve just met you!” 

“that's good to know, i guess,” you smiled. “i know that you’re really creative, so maybe later today we can go to a library and bounce ideas off each other?”

“why don’t i treat you to lunch and get to know you better?” he asked. from how introverted he acted in class, you never expected that he’d be so social from the get-go. “i know this really good café only a 10 minute drive from here.”

“well, if you insist,” you said, his smile overtaking any sort of anxiety you felt. you rubbed your thumb on top of your palm in excitement. in huge contrast to high-school, you’re not too social right now.

“great. meet me in front of ginam hall and then we can go!” jimin promised before turning back to his laptop to work on whatever he was on his laptop.

you awkwardly stood up. was that it? dr. yang directly told you to start working on your project after he lectured you. you waited for a solid minute, quietly chewing on your lip and expecting that jimin would offer to share ideas or something. 

anything?

“uh, jimin?” you blurted, the weight of your uncomfortableness outweighing your patience at that point. he turned and raised his eyebrows, lowering his laptop screen and laying his hand on the table.

“yup?” he asked, crossing his legs.

“did dr. yang not tell you our project starts now? like we have to work on it today?” 

“he didn’t say we had to work on it together, today! see it this way, we both brainstorm some deas for our story; plan it out, write down a summary of the plot, make like three of them. then, when we meet up in the library when both of our classes are over we can 

you almost imploded at this idea. it wasn’t  bad or anything, but three plot ideas? three of them? and who said that we were meeting up after lunch? you thought jimin’s replacement for meeting up at the library was lunch! you didn’t sign up for two. “i, um,” you stuttered. “i guess that’s alright?”

jimin beamed, the large round ceiling lights making his eyes glitter. “great! i’ll see you at 12:15 at ginam, right?”

“mhm!” you hummed, flashing him a frail smile and giving two thumbs up before turning around and skittering to your partners in crime, jung hyeyeon and kang jaehyun.

“since when do you talk to park jimin?” hyeyeon pondered, drumming her fingers against the gray of her macbook. 

“yeah, that was weird.” jaehyun nodded. 

“stop it!” you silently scolded, sitting down in between them and fishing out your laptop, letting your bag drop under the desk and on the floor. “it’s ‘cause dr. yang put us in a group since him and i are almost completely finished with our semester project.”

“seriously? is that why you were late?” jaehyun gawked. “i could barely find a topic to report on! how did you finish so fast?”

“i mean, i'm not done done,” you explained, waving your hands as you waited for your laptop to load your project. “i just need someone to proofread so i can make edits. then i'm done.”

“so basically, you’re done.” hyeyeon snickered. “but you and jimin…” she nudged you with her elbow, raising her eyebrows.

“oh, come on!” you laughed. “don’t even start with that. i’ve known him for literally 10 minutes.”

“you guys wouldn’t even look bad!” hyeyeon defended herself, spinning on her chair in jaehyun’s direction. “right, jaehyun?”

“she isn’t wrong,” jaehyun agreed, spinning his pencil with his fingers. “it wouldn’t be ugly.”

“i only know his face and his name. it’s not like i know all of his deep, dark secrets or something. lay off, please?” you half laughed, half begged. 

“fine, fine,” hyeyeon raised her hands in defeat and scuttled her way back to her desk on her swivel chair. “we’ll shut up.” 

you turned your head to the other side of the room to look at jimin, typing away on his computer. you smiled to yourself, thinking about how, as different as you thought the two of you were, you were actually quite similar.

how nice.

[prorevenge]

"You're gonna regret that winky emoji"

Buckle down, because if this was a rollercoaster it'd be the Tower of Terror. It's also very long, TLDR at the bottom, if you can find it..

Now, just as a little disclaimer, the person involved may not read reddit but her son very well might. So, I've changed names, places and specific details, and I'm not going to describe the person's appearance. I will however, be telling you of a revenge that started off petty in nature, has since had a pro outcome - and is still ongoing.

I'm a University student (f,19) in *Canada*, studying *history*. Since September, I've been struggling with both my physical and mental health. The problem with a free healthcare system is that sometimes there is long waiting lists for mental health services and despite being put on medication, my condition was worsening. I'd gone to a member of staff, who we shall call PC, to explain the situation. Initially, she was helpful, giving me extensions on assignments and special considerations for my exams. I passed the first semester with a whopping 62%, impressive given the fact I hadn't really been into any lectures.

After the Christmas break, my mental health was so bad that I ended up in hospital. I also struggled to get back into lectures as planned and submit much work. I was seeing the student support team the university had supplied, and the mental health team the hospital had provided. I have a personality disorder and sometimes find it hard to control my emotions, and PC is well aware of this. However, she is going -above and beyond- her normal duties and it's starting to get a little distressing. She'd offer to come to my GP appointments with me, constantly email me (3-4 separate email chains a day), and then got my personal phone number off the university system and started texting me. Being naive, I thought that having her phone number would be useful, as I check my texts significantly faster than my emails.

What. A bad. Idea.

What was confirming attendance for meetings quickly turned into "hope to see you soon", and asking how things in my personal life were going. The event that knocked me for six was when she turned up at my GP surgery after I had told her my appointment went badly. Luckily I was on the other side of town by this point, but she sent me a string of four texts starting with "I'm at the GP, where are you?" and ending in "I'm not going to nag you" before ringing me 3 times despite me hanging up IMMEDIATELY the first time.

(Side note at this point, she very obviously cares about me, but she's incredibly overbearing).

I had gone in for a routine procedure at the hospital to try and sort my physical health out (a cystoscopy, if you fancy a cringe), so she sent me a text asking how it had gone. I'd been put on the same antibiotics as I was before, and when I tried to explain to the consultant that I was already on them and that the pain hadn't stopped in months, I started getting a little angry and upset. Not enough to cause a scene - but enough for them to firmly tell me to leave. I explained this to PC and she replied with "stop arguing ;)". Now, given the nature of the procedure, the position of responsibility PC has and the fact it's coming from her personal phone number, I found this extremely inappropriate.

This kind of behaviour went on for a couple months, I'm trying to keep her at arms length - I still need her in terms of getting assignments in and stuff, but I don't want her reaching in to my personal life - but she keeps trying. She's told me repeatedly that I will have a "fit to work" procedure put in place due to the lack of assignments put in, which would decide my future at the university - and that the options would be getting suspended or getting expelled. This added a load of anxiety to my life and ultimately destroyed my mental health, so after a *not so helpful* session with the mental health team, I submitted the worst essay I've ever written with a sarcastic note at the bottom (still got 18%, success!). In hindsight, this was probably the worst way of trying to get back at her, as PC called me in for another meeting, but not before ringing my boss and my mental health consultant asking to attend my therapy sessions, and then telling me I'm "making it more than it needs to be".

This meeting was hell.

She started off by stroking my knee - not sensually, but wayyyy too close to be comfortable - which put my back up immediately.

She tried to get me to cancel the submission, which I wouldn't, and then told me I'm going to get her fired or reprimanded if I don't. (hello, emotional blackmail).

I repeatedly tried to explain I was struggling, and it's a case of mentally having to fight myself to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone research and write essays, do complex maths and attend 12 lectures a week. She kept shouting me down with things like "Just because you have a mental health condition doesn't mean you're special" and "it took me 3 years of intensive therapy to sort my head out, so you should be fine by August".

Eventually I was frustrated, sobbing and bent over, head to my knees in the chair. This cut off the circulation to my legs after 40 MINUTES of feeling trapped in her office, so when I finally got the courage to leave, I physically couldn't. I made it halfway across the room before stumbling. I didn't fall, I had hold of the table. PC shot up from her chair like she'd just won the lottery and HELD ME FROM BEHIND. I got out as quickly as I could. She later sent me a text (at 22:50) telling me that "it was really valuable".

Finally, the revenge;

I was so angry I decided I was going to come down on this woman like a ton of bricks. I spent 8 hours collating the year's emails and texts, annotating them all and putting them in a folder alongside evidence I was actively seeking medical help - a condition of the university for students who are ill. I affectionately called the folder The Brick, because if all else fails I'm going to hit her with it. This folder weighs at least 5kg, just to give you an idea of the amount of trees I had to kill for this. I submitted a complaints form for 3 separate issues (emails and texts/blackmail/physical contact), as well as a designated form for harassment. This would normally go to PC, but since I was complaining about her, I took it to THE DEAN. Phase 1 complete.

Phase 2 was the picking apart of her emails and making a case for mistreatment. The fit to work panel I attended (after 5 months of being told that it would happen), were going to expel me completely, until I whipped out The Brick and showed them 8 cases of unprofessionalism in ONE EMAIL. My "sentence" was reduced to only suspension, meaning I still have access to my uni email address, and student union services. Useful for phase 3.

Phase 3 is taking my case to the University Legal Team and holding this over the Dean's head until a satisfactory outcome is achieved, or I'll take it to court. I'll keep you updated.

And so, dear redditors, after successfully enacting phases 1 and 2, I can confirm PC has gone on 6 MONTHS of "sick leave". Let me tell you exactly why she's not on sick leave and has in fact been suspended - she was supposed to be on my fit to work panel, 3 DAYS after going on this sick leave; the whole department has been told not to contact her and if they have an urgent matter, they must send it to a different person through an online reporting system which will be "more closely monitored". We were also told that she would not be replying to emails because she's "ill", which made me laugh because she'd been wanting me to write 5000 word essays despite the fact I am genuinely ill. Given the nature of PC's role at the university (handling sensitive information, dealing with vulnerable students), this will be a major blemish on her record at the least, and could well cost her her job and prevent her from getting a new one in the same field. I have since left the university for health reasons, no doubtedly made worse by the actions of PC.

​

TLDR; tutor at the university harasses me in more ways than one, causes a severe decline in my mental health. I complain with 8 months of evidence and get her suspended/nearly fired, potential legal case pending.

(source) story by (/u/archercolne)

[justmickeyfornow]

How do you sit down and write? Like do you write at tea/coffee shop to increase that anesthetics writer creativity? Or hole up under your blanket? I’ve been trying to write something for 2 months now without much progress. Any words of wisdom?

Boy, do I got a few tips for you!! 

These tips are mostly if you’re writing a story (but some work both ways), so if you’re writing a paper or a dissertation or something with no progress, I’ll gladly do another post for that!

Step right up and welcome to Mickey’s....

Sit Yo Ass Down And Write Crash Course

1. Tip number uno:

Never sit your ass down and write. 

Hear me out, hear me out. If you’re anything like me, then you’re probably a serial procrastinator who’s always in desperate need to just not do what needs to be done. It’s quite simple. All you gotta do is trick that damn beautiful but procrastinating brain of yours. 

How? Well, I’m glad you asked!

I actually do my best writing standing in lines! Yup! Standing in lines has written some of the most intense scenes in PI. Hospital and airport waiting areas? Yup. Lotsa writing done there! Basically, if you find yourself waiting for something, pull up your phone and start writing. Half of PI was written on the subway, on buses, or in cars. I don’t know what it is, but my brain becomes hyperactive at that point. Like I have to finish writing this scene before reaching the front of the line or else I’ll make a fool of myself in front of the pretty barista lady.

For us procrastinators, we like to find any and every excuse not to work. But when you’re not actually working and your doing something else instead, our procrastinating brain doesn’t really identify the action as writing.

Believe it or not I never actually ‘sit down and write’. I only do so when I’m editing. During the editing process, I force myself to sit down on an actual chair, in front of an actual laptop/computer screen, use an actual keyboard, and edit! It’s brutal! Makes my procrastinating brain go antsy!

2. Tip number two:

If you get an idea, stop, drop, and type!

Don’t think about it. Don’t overthink the idea. Just jot it down on your phone. I don’t care if you were talking to someone and it would be rude to do so. Because as soon as you let go of that idea and say, “I’ll write it down later” then poof! it’s gone! 

Repeat after me: STOP. DROP. AND TYPE.

3. Tip number trzy (Polish):

never write perfectly from the start. 

Write in bullet form if you have to. Or just type the idea you have in your head. The more you pressure yourself to writing something perfectly, the more you’ll forget your idea. And this works with both story writing and academic writing as well.

Writing is a lot like drawing. You start with pencil, draw the basics - dialogue, single action,  main thing that happens - then using your pencil, draw some of the details - the he said she said parts, turn the actions into full sentences with adjectives and description - then lastly add in the color - the punctuation, the indentations, and the splitting of paragraphs - and finally you have a picture.

Let me give you an example. This is a simple scene that I’m gonna write on the spot from the random phrase “There’s no space for my ice cream”. (I initially screen recorded a video for you, but then when I came to upload it, I unfortunately realized that Tumblr doesn’t allow videos on asks....)

So here you see just random dialogue. No actions even.

Then I added dialogue above it. So what you write first doesn’t necessarily mean what’s gonna come first.

More dialogue and some action.

Here I started fixing it up. Added indentations. Set a scene with Lena being in the other room and all.

And then Tada!

So, As you can see, I start with basic dialogue, just what I think they might say (it changes a lot btw). Then I add some actions. Then I go back up and write more dialogue before the dialogue I started with. Then I go ahead and indent a few lines here and there. I write the saids (Kara called. Lena answered. She said. Kara exclaimed. Kara whined). And then add in some scenery as well.

And like I said, this works for story writing as well as academic. I used to do the same thing when I needed to write a paper. I would start simple. No big words. Just somewhat of an idea of what I want to write and build up from there.

4. Tip number quatre (French):

Watch to learn. 

This means that when you’re watching something, whether it’s a movie or a tv show, learn how the characters react. Their quirks, their nervous habits, everything and anything that makes them them. I can’t count how many times I had to rewind a movie because I was too busy noticing how the main character’s eyes would linger on the coffee table in front of her before she would say something painful. Or how if a character is shoved to the ground, which body part hits the ground first. Go through scenes of movies and tv shows and learn how people behave.

Movies and Tv-shows could also help you with how a character can cope a certain way or react in a certain way. For example, I was watching this show on Netflix called “Dead To Me” and the main character, her husband was killed in a hit-and-run by a speeding car. And part of her grief was that she would jot down the licence plate number of every car that was speeding and every car that had a bump at its front. That’s a detail of a specific form of grief. You could have your own character be obsessed with finding a cure to heart attacks if their SO died that way.

5. Tip number cinque (Italian):

Use real people as reference. 

Sit in a coffee shop and creepily watch a woman sitting in the corner table. You gotta act all stalkerish here for it to work! Now pretend that it’s your character that’s sitting there. Write down the little things that the woman might do that you’ll probably never even think of if you would have written the scene at home. Like how the woman’s head jerks up when a car passes by and she watches it through the glass window. How her foot taps on the floor to the rhythm of her music. How she frowns when she spills some coffee on her sketch book. Everything. The silly faces she does to the toddler sitting in the other table.

Use real people. If you’re writing a girl who’s somewhat tomboyish, maybe go to a skateboard park or something. Go to a fancy restaurant if you’re writing a rich old lady. A library if you’re writing a college student. 

6. Tip number lix (Somali):

Don’t write in order.

I cannot stress this enough. Write bottom to top. Middle to top. Middle to bottom. Write middle to bottom to middle again to top. Just don’t do it in order. Most of the time I write a paragraph thinking this is how I’m going to start my scene and it ends up being somewhere in the middle of all the chaos! Writing in order doesn’t make sense not even in essay writing. You never write an introduction first because you need a thesis. In order to have a thesis you need to know what the hell your body paragraphs are talking about. So, you start with your body. Not necessarily the first body paragraph either.

Write whatever comes to mind and figure out the order later. Chances are, it’ll change a billion times over before you commit to one. Writing in order gives your brain stress and in turn you’ll probably get a mental block. You’re too pressured to write the opening scene of the chapter that you forget what the hell happens in the end. And you lose that excitement, that flare you have to write the scenes that you had figured out in your head. Which sucks. Because it’s nearly impossible to get that back!

Also don’t worry about how you’ll combine everything in the end. That’s for the editing process, you’re not there yet. And from my experience, things tend to come together in the end on their own so you shouldn't worry too much.

7. Tip number seitsemän (Finnish):

Details, dude! They are everything!

(This one has nothing to do with being unable to write.... I realized this only AFTER I wrote it.....)

sometimes the details have nothing to do with the main characters, but writing them helps the reader feel like there’s a world there being lived beyond the characters he or she is reading about.

It paints a picture. And in writing, it’s very hard painting a picture with a white paper and some black ink. And that’s when details come in hand.

What I like to do is I like to zoom in on the scene I’m writing. Picture the scene in your head. Let’s take for example both characters are sitting on a bench in the park. Now pretend you have a pair of binoculars and zoom in on the scene. You’ll probably see a small ladybug that is sitting on the bench between them that one of the characters noticed but didn’t say anything because they know the other person is afraid of bugs. So they carefully pick it up without letting the other person know and they place it on the other side beside them. Or maybe you’ll realize there’s some carvings on the edge of the bench. A heart with an arrow and two letters on each end. Your character will probably wonder who the letters belong to, what were their names, and whether or not she and the other person would ever carve their own letters on a bench somewhere.

Details make a simple scene of two people sitting beside one another, into a whole picture of everything around them. 

8. Tip number osm (Czech):

Do research!

Top weird things I had to do a ton of research about for my stories:

How to build a gas bomb that you could release through the ventilation system of a buildingWhat kind of metal are the batarangs made of?How to bring someone back from the dead?How much space do you need to build a rocket and is a football field enough?How high should a person’s IQ be for them to be considered ‘genius’ level of smartQuantum Mechanics and matter reconfiguration devicesintracortical microstimulation (whatever that is) and how to use it to create the sense of touch in amputee limbs

The list goes on, trust me!

But research gives you an idea of where to begin. Sometimes, you don’t even know what it is you’re writing and you get ideas from your research. Research gives your readers a realistic sense to your world. Even if it’s not real. Even if all you’ve written is fake. They don’t know that! But what they do know is that your character is hella smart and can create a device using intracortical microstimulation to help create the sense of touch in amputee limbs!

Fun fact: Watch "True Memoirs of an International Assasin”. It’s on Netflix. And it’s every writer’s nightmare. It explains just how much we writers would go for that small detail. It shows you the depths we will take to ensure we know every detail of what it is we’re writing about! Highly recommended for every writer out there!

9. Tip number dokuz (Turkish):

If you’re stuck, act it out!

Yup, you heard me! Get yo ass off that chair and start practicing for your next Oscar because you’r gonna act out the scene you wanna write. Say your character just entered her house and called out to their spouse without a response. Go inside your own house and start jotting down the details of what you see. Your character will probably notice the lack of shoes. How the kitchen light isn’t turned on. Or the hum of the dishwasher not present. No keys in the bowl. All small things that they slowly realize before actually realizing that no one was home.

Acting also gives you ideas on how someone would react. Walk into your own house and imagine finding out you’ve been robbed. All your stuff is everywhere. Now, realistically - and I mean really really realistically - you wouldn’t freak out. At least not physically on the outside. You wouldn’t start jumping and shouting and go looking in your room if your cash is gone.

Because your brain needs time to process. You would have questions. Lots of them. Is the thief still here? Should I call the police? No, what if this is a prank. Is this a prank? Who would prank me like this? Your eyes would go around the room, noting down all the details there. The broken glass, the opened drawers, the thrown pillows. Use your own surroundings to imagine what a robbed place would look like.

10. Tip number umi (Hawaiian):

Always remember, each character is different.

(Realized this one also has nothing to do with being stuck and not being able to write and more to do with character writing... I think I went off topic....)

I always find stories where all the characters are practically written the same way. The dialogue is really generic. Because the writer isn’t really imagining as each character being a separate entity. They’re all characters of a story to them. The way one character talks is often if not always never the same way another character talks. AND a certain character will talk differently depending on who they’re talking with.

Give each of your characters certain attributes or quirks that they add to their dialogue. Like how the more sophisticated one chooses to say ‘darling’ instead of ‘babe’ or how one of them speaks in short and concise sentences having served time in the army and taught that each word counts. I know this tip isn’t that important, but I’ve seen a lot of writers do this mistake where all the dialogue is the same. And that’s because they’re trying so hard to move the story along that they forget that they need time for the characters to react and process differently.

Similarly, make sure that you know that each character reacts differently. I’ve fallen into this mistake several times actually to be honest. This one time I wrote a whole scene where I had Lena be super happy about something (can’t remember what it was) with someone she wasn’t too close with and then I remembered that she’s more reserved than Kara. She less trusting so she rarely shows her genuine side to others unless she knows them to be worthy or good. She’s not too open so she wouldn’t show her happiness by jumping around and screaming with joy. Whereas Kara! Oh, Kara! She would hug the mailman when she would be happy! And she’s probably best friends with her pizza delivery guy! Had to do multiple rewrites whenever I would do that mistake.

11. Tip number vienuolika (Lithuanian):

Drink Green Tea.

Repeat after me: Drink. Green. Tea.

No explanation necessary. Tea is life.

[fictional-affliction]

Under Pressure, Chapter 5

Word Count: 2,020

Link to previous chapter: https://fictional-affliction.tumblr.com/post/185895670430/under-pressure-chapter-4

She could feel them staring and hear the whispers. She heard them when she raced out of Geoff’s house after throwing on some clothes and grabbing Cate; they looked at her in shock as she held back tears. She could hear them again now as she sat in English class on Monday morning. When she had gotten to school the walk down the hallway was as if she was under a microscope. Her classmates spoke like she wasn’t within hearing distance.

They were fucking when she walked in.

I heard they’ve been doing it since freshman year.

Apparently she’s a screamer.

Courtney had heard it all and it was only first period. She breathed in and out deeply to try to slow down her heart rate as her nails dug into her palms to keep them from shaking. Her brown eyes bore into the whiteboard as she tried to block it all out.

A stack of small blue notebooks, that the school provided for written tests, was placed on her desk, drawing her attention.

“Take one and pass it back.” Her English professor prompted. Courtney turned around in her desk to do as she was told and was met with Heather’s smiling face.

“Not so ‘holier than thou’ as we all thought huh? Don’t worry about it though, everyone has their shortcomings.” Heather faked sincerity as she took the booklets from Courtney. Courtney wasn’t so bothered that Heather was being mean, that’s just how Heather was. She was more affected by what she said.

She was ruined. Her reputation down the drain. She had prided herself on being the prime example of a model student. In one night her model student status had been reduced to that of the school slut.

Courtney’s vision went hazy as her thoughts began to spiral. As the professor wrote the essay questions on Shakespeare's Macbeth on the board, her heart beat faster and faster. Her professor saying ‘you may begin’ sounded so far away. She tried to focus and opened her notebook.

The questions on the board were all ones she knew the answers to, but when she put her pencil to paper she couldn’t organize her thoughts. Her brain kept jumping around and when she tried to recall quotes from the reading she was answered with the rumors spreading around about her.

But she had to do this. She had to prove she was still that model student despite what everyone was saying about her.

Before she knew it the bell rang. She frantically scribbled down her last sentence and scanned over her essay. Usually she was done with at least fifteen minutes to spare. As she left the class, instead of turning down the correct hallway to her Calculus classroom she made a bee line for the girls bathroom.

She upheaved the contents of her stomach into the toilet of the first stall and gagged until nothing else came out. After she left the stall she immediately received looks from a couple of sophomores. Courtney kept her eyes ahead as she washed her hands but their murmurs weren’t lost on her. Right as she was about to leave she heard one of their comments.

“She’s probably pregnant.” Courtney turned around wildly.

“Do you have something to say!” The sophomore looked back in fear at her outburst and shook her head quickly.

“Good! Then get out!” She screamed and they all scurried past her. Courtney kept her back against the door. She looked up to the ceiling and fought back the stinging sensation of tears prickling her eyes. She’d cried enough Saturday night after she had ignored Cate’s questions about if it was true, and if she was okay. She’d slammed her bedroom door in her face and wept under her covers where no one could hear her.

Courtney wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of making her cry again and slapped her cheek with an open palm. The pain was something else to focus on besides her humiliation and she hit herself again. The late bell rang and Courtney felt her frustration boil over. This time her fist collided with the bathroom wall.

Courtney winced and brought her hand to her face. Her knuckles were already bruising. She pretended it didn’t hurt as she opened the bathroom door and thought up an excuse for why she was late. She just had to make it though six more periods.  

When she opened the door and briskly stepped out she collided with someone. Courtney was already too annoyed to make a real apology and grumbled a quick ‘sorry’ but the person held by the shoulders.

“I tried calling you... and texted...” Duncan sounded embarrassed to confess that he had spent the rest of Saturday night and the majority of Sunday trying to contact her. It wasn’t his style but he was worried, and he hoped that there was still a chance for them.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” It was harsh, even to her own ears, but the words kept pouring out.

“This would have never happened if you hadn’t made me go to that stupid party. My reputation is ruined and it’s all your fault!” She knew that wasn’t true as she pushed him away from her, but it felt better to put the blame on someone else.

“Who cares what anyone says, they don’t matter.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re probably getting high fives and pats on the back while I’m the skank who spread her legs for you.”

“We know it wasn’t like that. You know people make shit up.” Through her rage Duncan could see how hurt she was and reached out to console her. She recoiled from his touch.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t want you to touch me ever again.” She pushed past Duncan without looking back.

---------

Duncan blew out a long puff of smoke as he sat on the curb outside of the school building.

“I can’t believe it.” Gwen said between drags. “I really need to take up Geoff’s offer and go to his parties one of these days.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair and huffed.

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Gwen tried to reassure him although Duncan wasn’t convinced.

“I ruined her reputation.”

“Why can’t girls hook up without automatically being labeled a slut, yet guys can fuck whoever they want? Besides, everyone knows you and Courtney have been obsessed with each other since daycare.”

“Not obsessed.” Gwen turned to him with a deadpan expression on her pale face. Duncan chose to blow smoke out of his nose instead of giving her any recognition.

“It’ll blow over.” Gwen nudged Duncan with her elbow. Being long time friends meant that she could tell when he was genuinely upset, even if he wouldn’t say. “So...how was it...” Gwen nudged him again, this time with a knowing smile.

“Up until we were interrupted it was...” Duncan drifted off when he started to recall Courtney’s skin against his, her legs around his waist, how her body reacted to his so perfectly; their chemistry was off the charts.

Gwen watched as Duncan got this big goofy grin on his face.

“Ew, forget I asked.” Duncan glared.

“And just where were you Saturday night?” Gwen instantly started to go red and turned her face down. She mumbled something under her breath that Duncan heard but made her repeat anyway.

“I was with Trent!”

“And I’m the obsessed one.” Duncan laughed, Gwen may be all frowns and darkness but she had a weak spot for Trent. Gwen stood up and brushed off her skirt.

“C’mon we gotta go to art class,” she stomped out her cigarette, “just make her talk to you, that usually works.”

----------

Courtney had made it through the day, almost. After her run in with Duncan the rest of her classes had gone like the first. People staring, students whispering, even a few teachers had given her a concerned glance from overhearing the school’s gossip. It was much of the same and by the end of seventh period, she just wanted to go home. Even so, she held her head high. She wouldn’t let them know they got to  her.

She started to walk around a corner of the hallway when she heard her name pop up in a conversation on the other side of the hall, and abruptly stopped.

“Trust me, they were practically doing it when I walked in, he had a condom ready and everything.”

Courtney quickly peaked around the corner to confirm her suspicions that it was that same senior Amanda, who was the true source of her humiliation. Courtney stayed hidden to continue to eavesdrop, but had to silence her reaction to jump when she felt someone’s hand on her arm.

“Court I’ve been looking for you all day-”

“Shh!” Courtney whispered putting her index finger to her mouth. Bridgette had searched for Courtney in all their usual meeting spots throughout the day but she was nowhere to be found. Bridgette was really concerned about her, especially when the only text back she had gotten the day before only said ‘I’m fine.’ Then with everything being spread around about her today, she was worried.

Courtney bent forward to get as close as possible without being seen and Bridgette curiously followed.

“The whole school knows now.” One of Amanda’s friends shamelessly pointed out.

“Oops.” Amanda laughed and her friends giggled along with her. Courtney’s blood began to boil. She’d had it. Next thing she knew she had rounded the corner and was face to face with Amanda.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just go around broadcasting people’s business?” Bridgette was close behind her and tried to get Courtney to back down.

“C’mon Courtney it’s not worth it, let’s go.” At this point Courtney didn’t care, she was furious. Amanda rolled her eyes and twirled a piece of blonde hair.

“Oh please, what are you going to do about it? You wouldn’t dare do anything that could get you into trouble.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Courtney stepped closer and Bridgette tugged on Courtney’s arm.

“If you want to leave, then go Bridgette.” Bridgette didn’t budge, but did take out her phone and sent out a quick emergency text. Amanda took a slight step back from Courtney but didn’t stop antagonizing her.

“Go ahead, prove me wrong, it would at least give some reason for why Duncan would be into you.”

“Is that what this is about?” Courtney thought back to how Duncan had been flirting with Amanda at the party until she showed up. “You ruined my name because Duncan ditched you at the party? Just because you were jealous?”

“Jealous? Don’t think you’re that special, you’re just another notch in his bedpost.” That struck a cord with Courtney, it was enough to make her see red and tackle her to the ground causing the other girls to look on in disbelief.

“Get off of me!” Amanda yelled and scratched at Courtney but Courtney was stronger than she looked. When filled with this much rage, she was almost unstoppable. She wanted to get just one good hit in, enough to teach her a lesson.

Unfortunately she didn’t get that small bit of vengeance she craved because Courtney was physically pulled off right as she took a swing at her. Courtney kicked and flailed but she was held tightly around her waist. Amanda stood up and brushed herself off, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

“Get lost.” Duncan, who still had Courtney firmly in his grasp, directed toward Amanda and her little group of friends.

“You used to love my company remember?” As angry as Courtney was that gained her attention and she stopped struggling to look at Amanda.

“Oh, she doesn’t know?” It didn’t take a lot for Courtney to put the pieces together. It all made sense now. Courtney broke free of Duncan’s grasp and retrieved her backpack that had fallen to the floor in the chaos.

“Don’t follow me.” Courtney harshly threw over her shoulder as she left the scene.

[treasure-my-aurora]

We’ve got Tonight

• Summary: I’d known Felix since before he was born. My tiny preschool hand would often press flat against his mother’s round belly while I looked up at her with surprised innocent eyes as the baby inside kicked against my hand. Known him as a brother, a best friend and a rock to lean against through my whole life. But now, in just a month, he’d be going away to train with some of the best in the industry, and with time running out, perhaps there is more than just platonic feelings between us… something that would bring up more pain, jealousy and sorrow than we could ever imagine.

♥ Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader/Felix

♦ Chapter: 5/9

♣ Words: 4391

♠ Genre (in this one): Angst, smut

Friday. A week since I fought with Chris for the first time and spend the night at Felix. We were still angry, frustrated with each other. But he loved me, I knew that and in the bottom of his heart, he knew that I loved him too. Knew that the five years we’ve spent together hasn’t been fake. That we could push through this, even if it was tough right now. We were at our place again, like we usually were, simply because we lived in the middle of our group of friends and there was a bus stop right below our apartment. We’d just started drinking, or well, most of them had. I was one ahead though, my heart skipping from the thought of having my boyfriend and best friend in the same room again and nervously gulped down a glass of wine before Hyunjin, Jisung and Minho stumbled through or front door. I’d looked behind them, expecting more people to come through the door but Jeongin, Changbin, Woojin and Seungmin had to stay home and study for upcoming essays and I pouted when Jisung told me. I’d wanted to pull the youngest in the group aside to thank him for the other day when he decided to tell a white lie and probably save the friendship with my best friend, but I guess that could wait for another time. Said best friend arrived just a few minutes later, dressed in a white dress shirt with three quarter sleeves, matching black dress pants, one dangly silver earring in his left ear and I quickly closed my mouth as it fell open when I opened the door to greet him. He still saw the reaction though, eyes quick to pick up the barely three second change of my expression and knowing exactly what it meant. Tilted his head as he hung his jacket, a smirk playing on his lips before he placed his arms around me, pulling me closer in a tight hug. “Thank you, you look amazing as well” I snorted out a laugh, closed my eyes as the familiar scent of his cologne filled my senses and almost immediately felt how the anxiousness that I’d been carrying all day melted away. How I finally felt at home, better than I did between the walls I lived. “Hi” Chris voice was heavy. Followed by an even heavier sigh and Felix quickly let me go, looked past me, still with one arm around me and I could see how his jaw clenched as he met the other’s eyes, “Hi, Chris” He answered, and I took a step back, placing myself between them, “For the sake of everyone else, let’s play it cool… ok?” I begged and looked at them both. “I won’t start anything” Felix answered, still with his eyes locked with Chris as the older answered with a small shrug, “I’m cool” I sighed. Reached out for my best friend first and he grabbed my hand before he broke the gaze between the two of them, met my eyes instead and I couldn’t help but reciprocate when he gave me a soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. I reached out my other hand to Chris and he looked between the two of us before he took it, pain hidden behind his eyes as he looked away again. Felix's eyes flicked from Chris to the place where our bodies connected and his brows furrowed, upper lip curling, just for a second and I wondered if he felt disgust, knowing that the hand holding mine had been placed around my throat numerous times since the two of them last met a week ago. That it was that hand that cut off my air supply and caused faded marks on the dips over my collarbones. I didn’t have time to wonder anymore though as I led them into the living room where the energy was already on top, even though we were a smaller group than normal. …. “I know, let’s play Pandora’s box!” It was about an hour later and all of us were fairly tipsy. Hyunjin was giggling through the entire sentence and the rest of us looked at him, a bit confused as to what he meant, “We have a box, or a bowl or whatever, it doesn’t really matter and then we write things, a few each since we are so few, and put it in the box. It could be anything really, but aimed at someone specifically and then that person has to do what the note says” “So, a more anonymous version of truth or dare, and the person who gets picked can’t choose?” I asked and Hyunjin nods, grinning from ear to ear like he was holding onto way too many secrets for this game to be comfortable. “Let’s do it!” Jisung shouted, already hyped and the rest of the group agreed. I felt nervous but still stood up to go and fetch a shoebox from my wardrobe since it was the only sort of box we owned, took out the shoes that were inside and went back to the group while Chris handled our paper and pen to everyone. We took a few minutes to write down some questions and Minho snickered evilly from across the room which earned a surprise reaction from some of us when we looked up, not expecting something like than from him. “Ah, I’m a bit worried now” Jisung complained while he scribbled down something of his own. “Everybody ready?” Chris asked and was met by several “Yes” just as he placed his own notes in the shoebox. We sat down in a circle around the living room table and I changed the upbeat music to something slower, to bring down the tempo. Chris handled the box to Hyunjin, and he looked surprised that his hyung gave him the reins, but only for a second though before he closed his hands around the cardboard edges and placed it in his lap, “Ya’ll ready?” He shouted out, smiling from ear to ear again, excited that we all wanted to play along with his game, “Ok, first one. Jisungie, do you love me?” We all looked over at the munchkin boy just as he took a sip of his drink and he looked back just as confused, “I guess so? I dunno who-” Minho looked away, just as Jisung eyes swept over him, cheeks flushing slightly, “Of course I love you” The younger of the two said when he realized who had written the note and fluttered his eyelashes at him while the rest of us burst out in laughter. “Ok, you’re supposed to ask tougher questions like that, but I guess you get the point… Ah, this one is for me” Hyunjin read it silently for himself first and then rolled his eyes, “Hyunjinnie. If you were forced to date someone in this room, who’s it be and why? Noona is excluded because she’s the only girl” Hyunjin pursed his lips in thought, eyes squinting as he tried to figure out both who’d written the note and who he’d pick, “I’d chose Chris” “Me?” Chris asked and pointed at himself, clearly surprised” “Yeah, you have an income, you are smart, you have an apartment, I’ve seen the way you kiss noona and she’s not exactly quiet when the two of you fuck, so you must be doing something right” Hyunjin counted up the profits on his fingers with a small smile on his lips and I felt my whole body become warm as I flustered from embarrassment. Felix squirmed in his seat slightly, barely noticeable and my eyes still flicked over to him, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “What about noona, where would she live?” Minho laughed and Hyunjin shrugged, “She’ll be fine. It’s not like she’d be lonely” Chris hand on my thigh gripped me harder when everyone’s eyes lingered on Felix for a moment and Hyunjin cleared his throat to break the suddenly tense atmosphere in the room. He continued to read the questions, dared Minho to call his mother and only talk in English (it failed terribly since she immediately recognized his voice and scolded him for waking her up) dared Chris to stare into Hyunjin’s eyes for ten seconds and tell him that he loved him without breaking eye contact or laugh (it failed as well, even though they tried four times) asked Felix to tell everyone the truth if he ever doubted mine and his friendship to which he simply answered “No” and just left it at that, refusing to say anything more since it didn’t say so on the note. So far, everything had been sweet, fun and mildly pg-13. That quickly changed though when Hyunjin picked up the next note and laughed loudly, “I’d suck dick for 122,000 won” “Would you?” Minho looked at him, a mixed expression on his face and laughter bounced off the walls, “It’s a three, two, one question” Hyunjin quickly added, a bit flustered and I giggled and took another sip as I raised my hand on the “One” before bursting out in laughter when I realized that all of us had our hand up in the air. “Wow, that’s sad. We’re all a bunch of poor hoes” Jisung muttered and we all snorted out a small chuckle. “Ok, next one. Noona, would you be into buttstuff if you tried it?” Hyunjin avoided my eyes, slowly folded the note twice and placed it in the pile with the rest of the read notes. Curious eyes watched me as shrugged, “Maybe I tried it already and maybe it was completely fine” I answered and was met by a long whistle from Jisung, “Lucky man, Chris” He was met by finger guns from the older at my left and I rolled my eyes as Hyunjin continued, “Felix, if noona wouldn’t be in a relationship, do you think that the two of you would be a couple by now?” The men beside me froze as they both looked over at me and I met Felix eyes. The conflicted hurt in them. The way that his tongue flicked out to nervously wet his lips. The way his knuckles whitened as he held onto the bottle hard. The way his cheeks flushed as his eyes flicked behind me to meet Chris for a few seconds before he looked over at me again, “No, I don’t think so. I definitely would’ve made a move on her though. Probably around spring this year when I got more confident with myself. She would say no though, most likely. Silence fell upon us and Hyunjin was just about to open his mouth to ask a follow-up question when I interrupted him, “Next question?” He cleared his throat, scrambled around in the box, pulled up one and read, “I’d give my kidney to the person to my right! Three, two, one” All of us had our hand up except for Hyunjin himself and Jisung shoved him with playful anger, “What do you mean no, why wouldn’t you?” He asked and the older of the two looked at him dumbfounded, “I don’t think we have the same blood type” “We do, asshole” Jisung hit him on the shoulder as laughter roared between us again. Two more rounds of both innocent and more mature questions circled before Hyunjin, clearly drunk by now, laughed loudly at the next one. Eyes squinting and the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, “I’m going to attack the person that wrote this with a big, fluffy hug. Noona, who’s the better kisser. Chris or Felix?” I flinched at the unexpected question, felt myself flush, both from the alcohol and the way Felix breath hitched at my right. Looked over at Chris, who clearly was on the verge of having had too much to drink, to look for… any sort of discomfort to the question. But he only shrugged, and I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or hurt that he didn’t seem to care. Glanced at Felix to see if it seemed like he’d flat out refuse to go through with the question, but he avoided my eyes and I felt my heart flip hard in my chest. I started with my boyfriend, to calm my nerves a little. I had stopped drinking as soon as I felt myself standing on the edge of being too drunk, but still stumbled a little as I stood up, bend over and both Hyunjin and Jisung leaned over to the side to see properly as Chris cupped my face and leaned in, like he’d done a thousand times before. Eyes fluttering close as he smirked against my lips and I fell into the taste of him, the familiarity of his cupids bow against mine. The way he knew his way around my mouth had me gasping within seconds. The boys on the couch groaned lightly to the softcore porn that played out before them when Chris buried his fingers in the length of my hair and pulled on it harshly as he licked his way into my mouth. I separated us the second I felt that he started yearning for more and flashed him a smile when he whined to the loss. Pouted and crossed his arms over his chest when I turned to the audience, took a sip of my drink to make the taste of Chris disappear and then shifted my attention to my best friend. I was thankful that he’d placed his drink on the floor, unsure if the bottle would’ve been broken by now because he’d been gripping it so hard earlier. Gave him a look, a silent question if he was ok with what was going to happen, and he swallowed hard. Eyes hooded and slightly blown out from the alcohol flowing in his system and he licked along his bottom lip, nervously as I closed the distance between us with two steps. Unexpectedly stood up as well, scraping the chair against the floor when he did so, and my heart jumped in my chest as he closed the last few decimetres. Carefully placed his right arm around my waist to press my body closer and I quickly glanced at Chris over my shoulder. His face was illuminated by the blue whiteness of his phone screen, avoiding the scene altogether. “Noona” Felix's voice was low and the slightly constricted, husky tone in it, had my stomach doing somersaults. “Felix?” I asked back and he smiled softly, as I placed my right hand around him as well. Felt the lean muscles on his back twitch underneath my fingertips and like so many times before, our movements matched as we raised our other hand at the same time and cupped each other’s cheeks, like a mirrored image. “Are you sure?” He asked and I shivered from the heat of his breath as it ghosted over my face. I didn’t answer. The sick part of me that wanted him so much it nearly physically hurt me, couldn’t wait anymore and I closed my eyes as I leaned forward. Heart flipping in my chest and stomach turning so much that I choked on my breath when his lips pressed onto mine. A soft sigh escaped into the air between us when he quickly deepened it, not even pausing to let me breathe before he coaxed my lips open with a tilt of his head, tongue sneaking out to meet mine and it was easy, simple, given. Like anything else between us. Like I’d been kissing him for years. Knew exactly how to meet every hungry motion against me. Every eager brush of his body. A gasp escaped my lips when his hands tugged on my hair, but unlike Chris, he was careful, fingers playing with the roots behind my ear as his thumb fondly stroked down my cheek. He tasted sugary sweet from the drink he’d been drinking, and I couldn’t help but whine softly to the taste as I melted to putty in his hands, revelling in the feeling as he pressed his body closer against me. The body I was so used to, knowing it almost as well as I knew my own. Groaned as he arched my back in his need for more, an arm still locked around my waist to hold me up. I could feel my arousal burn between my legs. Clenched around nothing when that dark voice of his gasped out a small “Noona” underneath his breath, silent enough that I was the only one who heard. Combed through the soft, lilac hair of his. Felt it ripple between my fingers as the kiss grew sloppy when I tugged at it in the back of his head. My breath hitched when I felt the effect that my insatiable greed for more had on him. The feeling of his half hard cock against my thigh got me lightheaded and I could feel my eyes roll back as I completely submitted to his need when the hand that had been cupping my face scraped my scalp before he tugged on my hair harder, to make me crane my neck backwards as if he wanted to disappear within me. Got drunk on the wet sounds of tongues, lips and careful nibbles that were exchanged between us and couldn’t help but rub my thighs together. Indulged in the burn of ferocious hunger as it clouded my senses and I was pretty sure I’d let him fuck me right there and then, on the floor with our group of friends surrounding us if it weren’t for a loud couch to my right. I paused as the sound send me back to earth like a slap to the face and quickly took a step back, almost causing Felix to fall forward, a thin string of saliva breaking between us and wet my chin as I meet Chris eyes. He didn’t look disappointed, not even angry with the way things clearly went over the line. Just tired, exhausted really and I looked back at Felix, who wiped away at his own chin. Eyes so dark I had to swallow hard to keep a gasp from slipping out. I then turned to the boys in the couch, all three of them leaning forward, mouth open and eyes blown out from the scene that had happened. Hyunjin actually slurped to swallow the drool that had collected in his mouth just as Jisung cleared his throat loudly, “So… you guys wanna have a circle jerk?” He looked over at Hyunjin first, who still stared at us, squirming in his seat as he swallowed hard again. Then to Minho who only gave him a look, brows furrowed while slowly shaking his head, “No? Ok, then” He swallowed hard as well while grabbing a pillow at his side and quickly pressed it against his crotch before leaning back against the sofa, a wrinkle between his brows from the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. …. My heart thumped hard in my chest when Chris closed the front door after saying goodbye another hour later and I watched my feet. Too scared to meet his eyes after what had happened. But he didn’t say anything. Just went to the bathroom, muttering curse words aimed at our horny group of friends while brushing his teeth and I still stood where I was, unsure if I should just spare him the words and pack a bag so I could catch up with Felix before he jumped on the bus. “Why are you still standing there?” Chris asked and I met his eyes, confused at the tone of his voice. “You… you’re not gonna…” I stammered and he shook his head. “You didn’t answer the question Hyunjin asked earlier, you know” He steered off my question and motioned for me to come with him to the bedroom, stifling a yawn behind his hand. I looked at him, puzzled and he laid down on his side bed, patted for me to lie down as well. “You didn’t say who was the better kisser” Chris said, a lopsided smirk still playing on his lips and I realised that he was still slightly tipsy. That was probably why he wasn’t angry with me at the moment. “It’s a secret” I answered while he reached out to trace his fingertips over the curve of my body as I laid on my side, facing him, “You can tell me” He whispered back, and I shook my head, “But then it’s not a secret” “Ah, right” He chuckled, “But it was me, right?” and I swallowed hard before I smiled back, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach and I suddenly wished that I wasn’t were I was. That I didn’t need to take care of Chris and his jealousy. That I didn’t have to feel every fibre in my body screaming out that the person I really wanted to spend time with probably sat on a bus back to his dorm by now. That there even was a rather large chance he’d call that girl to help him take care of the problem that I knew still burned through his bloodstream. “Babe. You know I love you right?” Something affectionate and almost weak suddenly clouded Chris voice and it brought me back from my train of thought as he looked over at me with a slight pout on his lips. Eyes still dazed from the alcohol that still streamed through his body, “I know I’m an asshole. That I get crazy because I want to be the only one for you. I really am sorry” His voice broke as he grabbed my hand, pressed a kiss against my knuckles, and I could feel my heart breaking. Guilt slashed painfully through me as I watched him. My brows furrowing as I questioned myself what I was doing? Daydreaming about a boy that will never love me back in the way I wanted him. Longing for my best friend in ways that wasn’t normal. Hungering for a different touch than the one he usually gave me. The sick feeling in my stomach spread and I sat up slightly, scared that I’d actually puke all over the bed. “I just can’t lose you” Chris moved over to me as I sat up, chasing after my body to seek comfort, “I know that you can easily be fine without me. But you have always been the one, the only one for me. I love you, I love you so much… Fuck” He cursed under his breath and I heard how his breath hitched as he buried his face into my hand, tears wetting the cracks between my fingers and I flinched before I scooted closer to him, cradled him in my arms as he sobbed. I felt bad. He could be an asshole, a jealous one too sometimes but that only made him human and I knew that I couldn’t really be one to judge when my sins were even heavier than his. His lips found mine and I tasted the salt of his tears on his cupids bow. Voice breaking again as he let out a rumbling moan, moving so that he was on top of me instead and I leaned back against the bed, closed my legs around his waist and brought him in closer as he deepened the kiss. “I want you to forget about him. Want to be the only one to kiss you until we’re old and grey. Want to erase the thought, the way he kissed you earlier. The way you sounded” He whispered over my skin as his kisses travelled from my lips down my throat, nibbling on the sensitive area just below my ear. Thrusted hard and slow against my clothed cunt and I gasped softly between clenched teeth as he carefully rid up my shirt, fingers drumming on my stomach as he leaned back to meet my eyes and I swallowed hard when I saw my own reflection in them. “I love you babe. Love your body” He placed a small kiss between my rib cages, “Love your laugh” He nibbled over the thin skin over the bones that hid my vitals and I giggled on que from the ticklish feeling, “Love every part of you” He unbuckled my belt, and I raised my hips so he could slide my pants over my butt and thighs before throwing it aside. A small gasp escaped his lips as he pressed the next kisses on my inner thighs and I groaned softly as I closed my eyes, fingers automatically buried in his hair. “No. I- I want you to watch babe. I need to make sure that you only think of me” Chris voice was low, husky, demanding and I let go of him to raise myself up on my elbows and watch as he slid my panties down as well. A moan rumbling in his chest from the wetness that soaked them, both from earlier and right now. A soft hand separated my thighs, “There we go, ah fuck babe. You’re so pretty” He inhaled sharply and didn’t waste a second before laying his tongue flat over my cunt, lapping up the juices with a low hum of content. Two fingers entering me swiftly and I was a gasping mess within seconds. He knew exactly which buttons to press at which time and it took my breath away completely. It didn’t take long, a swift flick of his wrist, a low hum that send vibrations through my body, a careful nibble on my clit with his lips, his fingertips pressed up on the right spot and I was gone. The pent up need I’d had in my system had been going on overdrive for way to long. I motioned for him to get up, still high from the orgasm, used to the way he worked by now, but he strained against my touch, “No, this was just the first. I need you to come so many times you’ll forget his name. That you’ll forget about him completely. I want you to scream my name. Eyes on me” I nodded and choked on my breath when he went in for another taste.

[obsidianarchives]

Beneath The Surface - Part 5

A Tip in the Scales

Lavender was furious she hadn’t been told about Ron’s poisoning. Hermione felt bad — she had been in a fog the entire weekend, and it hadn’t even occurred to her that no one might have told Ron’s girlfriend. Harry, however, didn’t seem concerned.

“He’s been looking for a way to ditch her anyway,” he shrugged at dinner that Monday.

“That still doesn’t give us a reason to disregard her feelings,” she said, knowing that she would be upset were she in Lavender’s shoes.

Still, her focus was on mending her relationship with her friend. She had spent most of her free time that day writing down homework assignments and deadlines, copying her meticulously taken notes, and creating a priority list. She went to see Ron — who Ginny informed her was now awake — on her Tuesday morning break.

He was up, eating breakfast from a tray across his lap. He looked paler than usual, his hair and freckles standing out in sharp contrast. His face lit up when he saw her.

“Hermione!” he exclaimed through a mouth full of eggs.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, dumping her bag on the chair next to his bed.

Ron swallowed, “Still lousy, but loads better. Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay under observation for the whole week. I’m going to miss Quidditch.”

Hermione had heard about that from Harry, including the unfortunate news that Cormac McLaggen would be subbing in for Ron. From what she had heard of the previous night’s practice, she was sure Harry was wishing she had done something a bit stronger than a Confundus Charm, but she was just glad McLaggen’s energy was being devoted elsewhere.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Look, Ron, we should talk.”

Ron’s face turned sober, “I know, I agree. I, er, want to apologize.”

“Oh!” she had been sure she was going to have to pull it out of him.

“I know I’ve acted like a prat for months,” Ron said, looking a little embarrassed, “I guess I was just...going through my own things and ended up taking them out on you.”

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Ron, I don’t want to rehash everything but...this isn’t the first time you’ve lashed out like this. And not just at me. Harry won’t bring it up because he’s just happy when you two are good, but you can’t keep treating people like dragon dung just because you feel bad.”

The words had been building in her mind for months — years even — and it felt good to get them out. Ron looked surprised for a moment, but his introspection brought on by a near-death experience seemed to be doing him some good.

“You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment before saying, “And you might want to think about how you’re treating Lavender too. She seems to really be concerned for you.”

Ron squirmed, his ears turning red as he mumbled something under his breath. 

Deciding she didn’t want to push it, Hermione reached into her bag. “Now, I’ve got all your homework. I’ve copied my notes to help you understand certain concepts and have marked where you can find further information in your books. I’d prioritize the Transfiguration essay, McGonagall hinted that the Laws of Elemental Transfiguration would come up in our exams—”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, I was just poisoned!” Ron groaned, “Can’t a bloke get some rest?”

“Exams are only twelve weeks away, Ron, and they won’t wait for you to recover,” Hermione said, pulling his work out of her bag and placing it on his bedside table.

…

That Saturday was Gryffindor’s Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and the odds didn’t seem to be in their favor. Harry had spent the week doing his best to dodge Cormac McLaggen, who kept harassing him about making his position on the team more permanent. On top of that, Dean and Ginny seemed to be arguing worse than ever.

“He’s just always around,” Ginny complained as she and Hermione stepped out into the breezy grounds, “I just need a moment to breathe, you know?”

“Maybe you two just need a break?” Hermione offered, “Or at least a bit of time apart.”

“I think we need a lot of time apart,” Ginny muttered, more to herself than to Hermione.

“I suppose you’ll do what you have to,” Hermione said, internally wondering whether Harry would be happy if Ginny broke up with Dean for his own sake, or worried for the Quidditch team’s chances at winning the Cup. 

Hermione bid Ginny farewell at the changing rooms, veering off to the stands on her own. She would be going to the match by herself again — according to Ginny, Luna had gotten the job as Quidditch commentator — and she couldn’t go with Blaise because it was far too public.

She took a seat behind Seamus and Neville, who were chattering away excitedly. The sun above shone brightly through the patchy clouds, the wind mild but bringing with it a slight chill. She watched the clouds glide through the air as people filled in all around her.

Down below on the pitch, the players began to file out in robes of red and yellow. They mounted their brooms and took off to their respective positions, hovering in midair. Hermione could just pick Harry out, shaking hands with the Hufflepuff Captain. Madam Hooch’s whistle screeched through the air.

“And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle,” Luna’s voice floated dreamily across the grounds, “He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he’s playing them — oh look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice…”

Hermione smiled, brushing away a bug fluttering near her ear. Luna sounded like she was having fun.

“...but now that big Hufflepuff player’s got the Quaffle from her, I can’t remember his name…”

Wings tickled her ear. She tried to wave it away again, before realizing that it wasn’t a bug, but a piece of paper. She grabbed it out of the air, confused.

It was small, a scrap of parchment bewitched to flap like a small bird. She unfolded it, revealing a familiar scrawl in black ink.

I can’t see the match through your hair.

Hermione grinned, but didn’t turn around. She tucked the note into her pocket, suddenly hyper-aware that Blaise was just behind her.

Down on the pitch, McLaggen was shouting at Ginny, paying no attention to Cadwallader scoring for Hufflepuff. The stands erupted into cheers and groans as Harry flew off to shout at McLaggen.

Another note perched itself on Hermione’s shoulder.

That McLaggen sure is something, isn’t he?

She could hear the sarcasm in Blaise’s voice as she read it, could see his eyes flash mischievously, his face plastered with innocence. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the match. 

The most entertaining thing, by far, was Luna’s commentary. The Gryffindor team seemed to be slowly unraveling with McLaggen on their side — even while Ginny, Dean, and Demelza did what they could to score points, he kept letting more in.

But Hermione had a hard time focusing. After the second attempt at getting her attention through a note had failed, Blaise had resorted to playing with Hermione’s scarf, using the Hover Charm to make the ends float up every once in a while. She knew he was having fun, and if she hadn’t known him, she would have been surprised by his playful nature. But she kept herself staring ahead as Luna mused about whether Zacharias Smith was suffering from an affliction known as “Loser’s Lurgy,” not wanting to give him the satisfaction even if it was amusing.

“Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!” McGonagall shouted through the megaphone.

“Oh is it already?” Luna said, surprised.

She kept speaking, but Hermione was distracted by a sudden gust of wind, blowing straight through — and only at — her hair. She turned back to glare at Blaise, fighting to keep from laughing, and his face spread into a delicious smile, his eyes triumphant.

A loud gasp ran through the crowd, jolting Hermione back to the present. She turned, curious, and had to push herself up to see above the heads of Seamus and Neville, who were both standing. To her horror, she saw Harry plummeting to the ground.

Hermione turned and pushed her way out of the stands, hurrying to get to her best friend, Blaise’s games forgotten.

…

It turned out that a cracked skull was nothing by wizarding injury standards. To Hermione’s relief, Madam Pomfrey had mended Harry easily, and by that Monday both he and Ron were out of the hospital wing. That morning, she hurried off to collect them before breakfast, passing a bickering Ginny and Dean on the way out of the common room. 

She had to admit she was becoming more excited the closer she got to the hospital wing; this was the first time in months that the three of them would be together with no drama, at least not any of their own. Harry, in particular, seemed very interested in the details of Ginny and Dean’s fight, even though he tried to pretend otherwise. His cheeks turned a slight pink once she informed him that the argument had been about Dean’s amusement at Harry’s injury.

“There’s no need for Ginny and Dean to spit up over it,” he said breezily, “Or are they still together?”

“They are, as far as I know,” she said, trying not to smirk, “But why are you so interested?”

“I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up again!” he said quickly.

Hermione hadn’t planned on pushing him any further, especially not with Ron there, but Harry looked relieved when they were interrupted by Luna, who passed Harry a note from Dumbledore regarding his next lesson.

“Tonight,” he told her and Ron under his breath.

The day overall was a good one, even when it became clear that Lavender seemed to have an issue with Hermione and Ron being friends again. Hermione hadn’t realized how much she had missed hanging out with her friends, and so it put her in a good mood.

That night during Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore, she looked over his Herbology essay, correcting some of his sentences and drawing up a conclusion. He came to join her close to midnight, looking embarrassed.

“Dumbledore told me off,” he said with a grimace as he plopped himself down in the seat next to her, “The memory completely slipped my mind.”

Hermione passed him his essay with a raised eyebrow. “Well, he did say it was important…”

“I’ll do better from now on,” Harry insisted, “He said there’s not even a point in continuing lessons until I’ve got it.”

“So what are you going to do then?”

Harry shrugged, his eyes skimming over his essay, “I’ll figure something out.”

“Figuring something out” mostly seemed to mean a lot of reading and rereading the scribbles in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Trying not to be annoyed by it, Hermione spent her free time trying to think of a way to convince Slughorn to give up his memory. Speaking to him after a Slug Club meeting was out — she had checked with Blaise to confirm that Slughorn had stopped sending out invitations.

That Sunday night, Hermione noticed Harry poring over the Prince’s book yet again.

“You won’t find anything in there,” she said, unable to help herself. Here she was, trying to think up elaborate plans to get the information out of Slughorn, and meanwhile Harry was whiling away the time in some stranger’s notes.

“Don’t start, Hermione,” Harry said, “If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“He would be if you’d just listened to Snape in our first year,” she retorted, “The Imperius Curse is the only way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s illegal—”

“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” Harry said, still staring at the book, “That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell…”

“I don’t think you’re going about it the right way,” she told him, “Dumbledore said only you can get the memory. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where others can’t.”

“How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” interrupted Ron. He was paying no attention to their debate, instead frowning at his parchment.

Hermione leaned over, distracted. Ron’s essay was riddled with strange spellings and mistakes. She pulled out her wand as she shifted the essay towards her and set out to fix it.

Just as she was handing it back to Ron, a loud crack echoed through the empty room. Hermione let out a little shriek as Kreacher appeared before them.

The house-elf bowed to Harry, “Master said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give—”

Crack. Dobby appeared next to Kreacher. “Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!”

Hermione stared at the elves for a moment, a mix of disbelief and frustration rising in her. “What is this?” she asked, turning to Harry, “What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry hesitated, “Well...they’ve been following Malfoy for me.”

Hermione suppressed a groan. Surely he wasn’t being so reckless, especially when he had a far more important job in the fight against Voldemort.

It turned out though, that Malfoy was up to something.

“Harry Potter, sir,” said Dobby, “the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover, but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of students, who keep watch for him while he enters—”

“The Room of Requirement!” Harry said, smacking himself in the head with his book. Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance. “That’s where he’s been sneaking off to! That’s where he’s doing...whatever he’s doing!”

Hermione could see Harry’s wheels turning. He and Ron immediately devolved into theories of what Malfoy could be doing, how he had so many people working for him, and how they could get into the Room of Requirement to catch him in the act. Hermione chimed in every once in awhile, but her mind was elsewhere, on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of the first term. Harry had talked about Malfoy posturing to the other sixth year Slytherins. Was it possible Blaise had known something about this?

She pushed the thought back. She knew Blaise’s relationship with Malfoy was cordial, but it didn’t mean they were confiding in each other. She had to trust that he knew nothing about what Malfoy was doing past his initial bragging. And besides, they had more pressing matters. She stood and stretched.

“I don’t think you should forget,” she told Harry as she grabbed her bag, “That what you’re supposed to be concentrating on is getting that memory from Slughorn. Good night.”

As she turned to the girls’ dormitories, she hoped he’d heard her, and that she would follow her own advice.

…

Things were stressful enough without Harry’s obsession with Malfoy. Tensions in the school had been rising steadily all year, but it seemed to be reaching a fever pitch as the Death Eaters grew bolder in the outside world. People were continuing to vanish, more than a few who were related or connected to students in some way. A third-year Hufflepuff was taken from the school because of their frightened parents, and a young boy had been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents. All at the same time, a good number of pure-blood Slytherins were teasing and bullying their classmates, making it clear whose side they were on.

“Your blood traitor family had better watch it, Weasley,” Nott called to him one morning just before Defense Against the Dark Arts, after it had come out that the Death Eaters were making house calls to some staunch advocates for Muggle rights. His threat had resulted in Ron letting off a few choice words and the deduction of twenty points from Gryffindor by Snape, who just so happened to arrive in the corridor after Nott’s offending remarks.

The name-calling from her classmates didn’t worry Hermione as much as the disappearances and killings did. On one of her prefect patrols, Hermione had run into a sobbing fifth year Ravenclaw, who had just found out his Muggle-born mother was missing. As she tried to comfort him, she thought about her own parents and realized that she had no idea how to truly keep them safe.

She began to bury herself in research, finding that having something to do helped to stymie her worry. When she wasn’t trying to find anything she could about Horcruxes, she nagged Harry about getting the memory from Slughorn. He didn’t seem to be getting any further in his assignment from Dumbledore, and as the month of March wore on, Hermione started to wonder whether Harry even cared.

“Of course I do,” Harry said, clearly offended when she brought it up one evening by the fire, “It’s not that simple, Hermione. Slughorn barely lets himself be alone in a room with me.”

When Horcrux research proved futile, Hermione spent her free time looking up protective charms. While she had put up the standard ones around her parents’ house over the holidays, she knew that they would be nothing should Voldemort come to call. She needed a true plan, especially when things got worse — but what could she do?

A thought had begun to bloom in the back of her mind, but it scared her, so she pushed it away. Instead, she looked up information on the Fidelius Charm, wanting to know everything she could about it. But after her deep dive she realized that it couldn’t work — her parents couldn’t afford to just stop working, to be in their house for who knows how long while things died down in the wizarding world. So then she’d looked up protective charms that were rooted in the person rather than the place, but the magic was too experimental. The only person she’d heard of who had had a semi-successful go at it was Harry himself, but that charm hadn’t been placed on him under the best of circumstances. 

Hermione found herself in the Memory Charms section of the library more than once, a knot forming in her throat. Once, while staring at Altering the Mind: Memory Charms for Beginners, she wondered if it might not be better to just tell her parents everything.

Her stress and subsequent spiral into the dark depths of the library meant that she hadn’t seen much of Blaise lately. She was becoming distracted, and even when they did get a chance to hang out, she was often diving into her book of the day at random moments, desperate to find answers to her constantly worrying thoughts.

Blaise seemed to become more tense as the month wore on, but wasn’t less affectionate when they were alone together.

“Looking for more extra credit from Snape?” he asked after Hermione had pulled out The Mysteries of Blood Magic for the fourth time in that hour. He had taken her free hand and was tracing patterns in her palm.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she skimmed the passage on requirements for familial protection through genetics. “I just needed to…” she trailed off, her mind wandering. It didn’t look like there had been any research on the effects of blood protection on Muggles. The lack of information could prove dangerous were she to try it on her parents. After all of this was done, perhaps she should work to reform Muggle Studies so that it actually looked at the effects of magic on non-magical people.

Blaise waved his hand in front of her eyes, “Earth to Hermione.”

She jumped, her cheeks warming, “I’m sorry,” she said, shutting the book with a sense of finality, though her fingers lingered over the cover. “I know I’m distracted.”

“You have been for the past couple of weeks,” he noted, looking down at her hand in his. He said it casually, but she could see the tension in his jaw.

“Things have just been...hard,” she said vaguely, knowing that she couldn’t explain the Horcruxes, or even that her plans for protecting her parents seemed to have hit a dead end. She didn’t believe that Blaise would run off to tell Malfoy anything, but still it was too dangerous. 

“I get it,” he muttered, winding his fingers through hers.

Still, the tension continued to rise. She gave his hand a squeeze. “How are classes?”

Blaise shrugged, “Same as always. History of Magic is a pain.”

Hermione nodded, “I’m surprised anyone is taking the N.E.W.T.s. It’s a fascinating enough subject, but it’s hard with Binns.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Honestly I wouldn’t be taking it if it wasn’t for my mum.”

“It’s not a requirement for the International Department?”

“No,” said Blaise, and when he cleared his throat he reached up to scratch his nose, “But she still doesn’t really believe I’m doing that. You know she’s been pushing me to do something that’ll make more money.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, now wondering if anyone had written about the ways wizards had protected Muggles from Death Eaters and pure-blood fanatics in the past. “Still, it couldn’t hurt to have an understanding of historical wizarding relationships when you’re—”

Her watch let out a loud chime. She glanced down at it to see the wands pointing at the twelve and five, telling her that it was an hour before dinner.

“What’s that?” Blaise asked.

“I had to start setting alarms for myself,” she told him, sliding her book into her bag, “Things have been really hectic lately.”

“So you have to leave?” was it just her, or was there a hint of accusation in his voice?

She looked up sheepishly, “I told Harry and Ron that I’d go down to Hagrid’s with them before dinner. We haven’t really been down together in months since...you know. But Hagrid’s been having a hard time lately, so we thought we’d pop by to cheer him up.”

“Oh,” Blaise said, his face unreadable.

“I’ll be sure to bring you one of his rock cakes,” she said, pushing herself up from her seat.

Blaise frowned at that, “That doesn’t sound like anything I would be interested in.”

“They’re not so bad,” Hermione said with a smile before leaning over to kiss his forehead, “So long as you’ve got a good dental plan.”

Feeling vindicated by Blaise’s blooming smile, Hermione bid him farewell and hurried off to the entrance hall, where she’d said she would meet Harry and Ron.

…

It was another week before Hermione was able to get more than a brief moment with Blaise. Her breaks were often taken up by her research; she only occasionally allowed even Harry and Ron to join her in. Ginny had started coming to her more often to complain about Dean, and still, she was avoiding making the decision she knew she must.

The last Friday of the month was grim, dark clouds spewing rain nonstop, the lake beginning to spill over. In Potions, they were working on their first attempt at Veritaserum, which Slughorn didn’t yet expect them to excel in, but wanted a benchmark on which they could improve. Hermione found the potion extremely difficult, as the substances used were very sensitive to even the slightest deviation from the directions. Of course, this applied to all but Harry, who seemed to be brewing a near-perfect potion on his first go.

This didn’t irritate Hermione nearly as much as it might have earlier in the year, as she felt just as desperate as Harry for him to get on Slughorn’s good side. His work still didn’t help Slughorn’s frosty behavior much, and the three of them were quickly ushered out of the Potions classroom once lessons were over, Slughorn hurriedly wishing them a happy weekend.

“You see Hermione?” Harry said with a hint of smugness, “I told you it’s not that easy.”

“Maybe a Confundus Charm could work?” Ron asked, “We could try to get him while he’s fawning over Harry’s clearly inherited potions prowess—”

“You just need to persuade him,” she said, refusing to be dissuaded, “It’s not a question of tricking him or bewitching him, or Dumbledore could have done it in a second.”

“Yeah well I was hoping you would find something to help with that,” Harry admitted.

Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyance sparking, “You can’t just rely on me to — oh! I’ve got to go,” she’d glanced down at her watch and suddenly realized that she was late.

“Where are you off to?” Ron asked, suspiciously.

“The library,” Hermione lied quickly. Then, in a stroke of inspiration, she added, “You two are welcome to come with me. Perhaps Harry will find something to help him with Slughorn.”

Harry coughed awkwardly and Ron mumbled something about being busy.

Hermione huffed, “Typical.”

She left them, turning down a corridor that led towards the library, even though she wasn’t actually going that way. Taking a roundabout way was going to make her later than she already was, but there was nothing that could really be done for it if she didn’t want Harry and Ron to be suspicious of her. 

She’d missed Blaise, even in the midst of being so busy with work and — if she was being honest — being afraid they would get found out. He had risked sending her a note, asking her to meet in one of the courtyards, so she agreed.

It was pouring when Hermione stepped outside, so she pulled out her wand and muttered a small shield charm to stand in as an umbrella. Through the rain she could see a familiarly tall figure, standing under his own shield. She smiled, hurrying over.

“Hi,” she said, pushing up on her toes to kiss Blaise quickly on the lips, “I’m sorry I’m late. I got held up with Harry after class.”

Blaise seemed a little stiff, barely kissing her back. When Hermione settled back onto her feet she looked up at him, noticing the hardness in his eyes. “It’s alright.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Everything okay?”

He shrugged, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound it.”

“It’s nothing,” Blaise said tightly, “I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know,” Hermione said, feeling slightly defensive, “I’ve just had my hands full with classes and trying to help Harry.”

Blaise’s eyes flashed at the sound of Harry’s name. “Well don’t let me stop you.”

“What?” she didn’t understand why he was acting this way, “I thought you wanted to hang out.”

“You don’t seem all that fussed to be honest.”

Hermione could feel pressure building in her chest. She didn’t need this on top of everything else. “I thought you would get it — things are getting dangerous. We have to be more cautious.”

“That doesn’t stop you hanging out with Potter.”

Hermione felt like she had been slapped. She had been so excited mere moments ago, but now all she felt was anger at Blaise’s obtuseness. Why was he comparing their relationship to Harry all of a sudden?

“Harry is my best friend.”

“And I’m your boyfriend.”

Hermione’s anger flared, and with it, tears began to well in her eyes. “Have you not been paying attention? This is so much more important than romantic relationships!”

Blaise shook his head, ���You can’t tell me you believe that crap about Potter being the ‘Chosen One’. You’re smarter than that.”

Hermione started to respond but pulled back. She couldn’t talk to Blaise about this, not when it was dancing so close to information not meant for those outside of the Order. She shook her head, “That’s not the point. Everything going on right now is much bigger than you or me — and I’m actually in real danger. You’re just being short-sighted and selfish.”

Fury flashed across Blaise’s face. “Fine then. I’ll just go be short-sighted somewhere else.”

“You do that,” Hermione said scathingly. Her heartbeat was racing. She wiped her tears as she watched Blaise storm away, rain splattering off of his shield.

To Be Continued