#equations forgotten au

[embroideredequations]

As much as I would love to make Marya endgame, Tanya's fate has long since been set otherwise

[ybklix]

the project

★ pairing: softdom!bangchan x inexperiencedfem!reader

✦summary: Just when you were a little upset about being assigned to a partner on an important project because you felt he was not very competent, you gradually discovered how much he can help you, more than you could have imagined.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, college au, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, clitplay, marking, pet names, slight praise and corruption kink, multiple orgasms, slow burn maybe

word count: 7.7k

request ⭑.ᐟ (sorry if it took so long babesss ly)

masterlist - taglist ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

miniplaylist: earn it by the weeknd / motive by ariana grande / fetish by selena gomez

notes: reader wears glasses

“Alright, before you go, I posted in the announcements who you will be doing the project with, please check well who you were assigned with” sentenced the teacher, taking his stuff.

You sighed, you had completely forgotten to check your notification tray for any notice from the app assigned by your professors for your subjects. You quickly grabbed your cell phone, unlocking it to look for your name next to another of your classmates to work together, you wanted to check it now so you wouldn't let go of whoever you were assigned to on a project of high importance to you.

And there it was. Bang Chan. You didn’t have any expression, you didn’t know him very well, but his face sure was quite familiar to everyone. You looked up in search of your partner, reflexively adjusting your glasses, and looked around the room until you found the guy, who was also sitting there checking his cell phone, and looked up to look for you, exchanging glances.

Chan was quite popular, charming, he was attractive and athletic but he also had a taste for complicated subjects, after all he was in a career where merely numbers and physics were required. And your project was something you were not going to take lightly, besides you had a short time period, it was just Thursday and the professor wanted the most perfect project on Monday and, you knew he was secretly hoping for something extraordinary as you were the best in his class.

You saw Chan approach you, and you couldn’t help but judge him at first sight, he was popular, he was part of a fraternity, and he had a reputation among women; deep inside you felt that he was not the perfect candidate to pair in an academic project but you tried to relax and not stress too much, it would only be a quantum model of which you already had your objective and ideas of what to do, the problem was a bit of paperwork where you had to explain in detail perfectly every part of the model, followed by a few long equations that made your head hurt just thinking about them.

You couldn’t help it, school and your major were never something you joked about, you were there to study and excel if at all possible, you loved to retain information and be complimented on your hard work, and you were always an overachiever from day one.

Finally, after years of sharing the same major, for the first time you observed Bang Chan up close and in detail. You looked up as he was standing and you were sitting. He really was handsome and you recognized him instantly, he had a face in perfect harmony with the rest of his muscular body, he was wearing all black, black combat boots, black jeans slightly tight on his thick athletic thighs and a plain black cloth shirt, highlighting more his tanned ivory skin. You suddenly felt nervous, after all you weren’t a robot and you were still a young woman, stressed out and a college student spending more time on campus than anywhere else; so your brain instantly processed that he was one of the most handsome and popular men on campus, near you, paying attention to you.

“Y/n, you’re my partner, for the project,” he said, with a tender smile revealing unusual dimples beside his smile.

You nodded being a little surprised that he knew who you were instantly, also thinking that you had never heard his voice before, the class wasn’t that interactive anyway, in fact almost none of them were, so you rarely heard him speak in the four classes you shared. You didn’t know what exactly you felt inside you… but you liked it, you were starting to recognize Chan’s hype, from what commonly many other girls thought, yes he was attractive and he took advanced physics classes with that face? It seemed unreal.

You suddenly thought that to take advanced physics classes was for a reason, it seemed criminal to have that face, body and reputation but in the mornings to take hard subjects.

“Mmhum” you hummed coming out of your trance, concentrating on the main thing, the project, “I have an idea of what to do, I can divide what materials we would occupy, to work together and do it, if you want to discuss what it is, we can go outside and talk…”

“Okay, let’s go but I’m sure I’ll agree with you” he suddenly interrupted you, leaving you with the words unfinished in your mouth and this one slightly open.

You nodded again and stood up abruptly, finally walking out of the room.

Chan saw you with tenderness, the truth was that for a long time you had caught his attention and he had his eye on you. Since last semester, in one of your final projects before leaving for summer vacation, since then Chan has not stopped thinking about you, since you spoke so clearly and confidently, like a little know-it-all, you were like a challenge for him, something so unreachable and difficult to achieve; since then he did not associate with more women and lived his day to day with the satisfaction of seeing you far away from the classroom. It seemed like he wasn’t, but he really got shy when it came to you, as he had you on a pedestal where you were a beautiful girl, intelligent, worried about her grades and made proper use of the university campus, genuinely studying. Chan had this innocent crush on you —at the beginning—, you had a nerdy, innocent and docile appearance and your voice was so unique, from one day to the next you drove him crazy and, when he found out that by fate you would work on a project and that there was a perfect excuse to get close to you, his heart wanted to burst out of his chest and he almost went running to give head to his professor for choosing such a perfect match, finally, after months of just seeing you.

Chan sighed, following you and listening attentively to you speak, completely fascinated in you and finding it difficult to retain the information you were telling him about something extremely important and which you spoke passionately about, all his mind could see was you, moving your lips, while the wind moved your hair gracefully, for him you were just saying blah blah, Chan; he only retained information when you pronounced his name. Chan licked his lips, absorbed in your eyes and then your lips, leaning towards you, causing you a little nervousness. Chan frowned softly, his hands clasped behind his back, nodding, pretending to be listening to you. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, the excitement and innocence of liking and being interested in someone; before you, he lived from one-night stands and on the edge, trying every girl, until he was satisfied, but you, there really was genuine interest.

“Ammh, can you text me everything anyway to my number?” he said, absolutely lost on the topic as he focused on your sudden closeness.

You nodded with a smile that made him melt, he liked you way too much and immediately handed you his cell phone so you could take down your number.

“Mm, how about if we start working on this from tomorrow? I think it will take some time and if we do it sooner is better” you commented, to which Chan nodded frantically at your slightest request.

Then he thought, he had to tutor students in grades below him, go to the gym and then he had a birthday party for one of his dorm mates; but he couldn’t say no to you, he could cancel everything if possible to spend the whole day with you, plus of course, the project was important.

You bit the inside of your cheek somewhat nervously, feeling kind of silly that the only times you invite a cute guy to meet and see each other is only for college work.

“How about tomorrow at 5?” you said again.

Chan felt so fulfilled, it wasn’t a date but he would finally see you outside the classroom, close up.

“Sure! There’s a coffee shop around here two blocks from campus, let’s go tomorrow to work on the project and if you want to eat I’m buying, it doesn’t matter” he smiled at you.

Now you were the one who was somehow captivated by his smile.

“Yes…”

“I’ll send you the address to meet us there.”

Chan was more than excited to at least spend more time with you.

[…]

You were particularly nervous for some reason, since yesterday you kept thinking that genuinely Chan looked like a nice guy, he was kind, attentively answered your messages and easily understood every single thing you told him about the topic for the assignment. Plus he was quite attractive. And your friends started to bother you a little bit too, making you rethink the whole situation…

In your time in college you only concentrated on your classes, you did have the occasional crush on the occasional guy, but no one worth your valuable time. So you got over it right away and went on with your quiet —and stressful— college life, however… that had led you to be completely inexperienced. The issue never bothered you, until you were about to meet another attractive man whom you had a concept that he was absolutely the opposite of you, partying, sociable and charismatic.

But once you arrived and found him there, you realized the similarities you shared, after all you were both studying the same major. You got to know him a little, relaxing the atmosphere, you learned that he had studied to please his father but that somehow he was great at mathematics which softened his studies. That he tutored and that he played a lot of sports. He really seemed nice and his eyes sparkled when he talked to you, an inexplicable fact for you, a reality that he was talking to his crush, for Chan.

And then it was time to meet you. You didn’t quite know what to say, more that your major choice was a matter of enjoyment and you were happy studying what you had been chosen to study. You felt slightly silly since there wasn’t much to say, or at least you thought so at the time.

Then between the pleasant conversation and a cup of coffee for you, and three for Chan, you continued working on the written work, both concentrated and absorbed that the time passed so fast for you, giving you 10 o'clock at night, just the closing time of the coffee shop.

You both picked up your things in sorrow, you had made enough progress, but there was still quite a bit left to do and that made you uneasy somehow, you couldn’t help it, you were going to be quiet until it was finished or almost done, so you suddenly blurted out:

“You live in a frat, right?”

“Mmhu, yes” Chan replied somewhat embarrassed.

He suddenly felt pathetic to be part of such an outdated tradition system.

You sighed, you both carried all the stuff to make the model and had to assemble it as soon as possible. Once again the cool autumn wind hit your bodies.

“We can go to my apartment to… continue” you added, looking him in the eyes and avoiding using the word finish so Chan wouldn’t be forced and feel it tedious.

Chan nodded softly when in reality he was more than excited to meet your place. The two of you took an app ride to your building just a few minutes away from campus.

You weren’t a big fan of college dorms and you weren't interested in joining a sorority either, so a quiet apartment in a neighborhood in the middle of the busy city was more than enough for you.

Chan didn’t think he was able to contain his excitement, watching you fondly in the night light as you made your way to your apartment; until finally arriving where he naturally asked you:

“And do you have roomates?”

He found it a bit impressive that you live a bit far from campus in a decent building on your own.

“Umhm, at the moment I don’t have any but I’m looking and I have candidates.”

Chan nodded in understanding and inwardly thinking that it would be more than a treat to be able to see your apartment. You really were looking for a roommate, living alone and being a college student paying for everything could be stressful.

“You can leave things on the table” you said, also leaving your laptop there.

He listened to you and slyly looked around the place. It was a nice place, with just enough room for you and someone else, with a big window reflecting the lights from the building across the street. You a little, not uncomfortable, but strange to have a man in your apartment looked so out of the ordinary, if you were even sharing time with another man was something abnormal, let alone a handsome and popular guy like Chan was.

“Well…” you spoke, somewhat nervously, lifting your glasses to rest the bridge of your nose for a second, rubbing it gently, suddenly you looked into the kitchen and were embarrassed to realize you hadn’t eaten and he would probably be hungry, “God, I never asked, do you want some dinner? I tend to forget about food when I’m under some pressure.”

Chan looked at you tenderly at first as you spoke, then his expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you skipping meals? Are you stressed now?”

His sudden answers surprised you.

“Oh, no, it’s just that… I usually work and do homework continuously that it’s very common that from time to time, I don’t eat, but if you want to do it we can order something, it’s kind of late” you answered somewhat nervously, the tiredness and Chan’s attractive image in your apartment were starting to be a certain kind of effect.

“Alright. Let’s order something” he smiled, Chan wasn’t that hungry but hearing that you used to skip meals he wanted you to be fed well instantly, besides if you were going to finish the project, he wanted to have all the energy he needed.

You smiled nervously and soon after you started your activity, you typed fast in your essay, Chan was in charge of assembling the model without difficulty. Then dinner arrived, both of you were already tired, your only time to stop was in the small talk in the coffee shop and when you headed to your place.

“Can you pick up dinner? I’ll go change” you blurted out suddenly, in a deep tone of voice as you were tired, a little more relaxed with Chan.

He saw you, he was surprised, since you had not spoken to each other for minutes since you were both concentrated in what you were doing —unlike him who also paid attention to you from once in a while—, your tone of voice seemed to him suddenly and somehow, something so captivating and seductive that he kept watching you, who you, without taking any notice of Chan standing in front of you on the other side of the table, took off the oversized cardigan you were wearing, somewhat exhausted in search of something more comfortable to be in your own apartment, leaving you only with the thin white tank top you were wearing underneath that garment.

Chan couldn’t believe it, he was transfixed and completely hypnotized by your action, absorbed seeing every detail, slightly exposing your chest through the circular neckline of the blouse, your shoulders, your arms and your figure tightly wrapped in the fabric. Chan swallowed nervously clenching his fist, he felt so pathetic going crazy just because you showed so little of your skin. His eyes traveled quickly all over your body, not wanting to miss any detail.

You noticed it, you felt his gaze on you and saw him confused, you felt so watched and analyzed, you could only say:

“I’ll go to… put on something more comfortable.”

Chan reacted instantly, letting out a nervous chuckle and nodding, turning to pick up the food left at your door. You didn’t know exactly how to feel, his gaze was so new to you, you had never felt such expressive eyes glued to you from another boy…. or probably they used to look at you like that, but you never paid attention to them, but with Chan, it was inevitable not to pay attention to him, he was with you, alone, in such a nice night; your mind was spinning, thinking about the infinity of things that usually means when two young people are alone and attracted to each other but, did you really like Chan or were you already losing your mind because of tiredness and stress, you didn’t know well, you were ridiculously inexperienced that your concept of attraction was maybe based on movies or experiences told by your friends.

Still you decided to ignore the thoughts and wanted to get comfortable at home, you had been wearing jeans for hours and you were dying to take them off, you would take off your bra if you could but you didn’t feel confident enough, so you left that tank top on and put on the comfortable shorts, your body was starting to heat up and you knew exactly why, but you didn’t want to accept it. You returned, finding Chan preparing food on the small nightstand between your living room, greeting you with a smile and gently asking you if it was okay to eat there to which you nodded.

Once again, Chan ran his gaze over your body, he had never seen you like this before, the sudden exposure of your body drove him crazy and made him feel sick, nor did he want to feel this way as it seemed unhinged and depraved, but he couldn’t help it, there was no turning back. At first it was a cute crush on you, then it involved a couple of desires and dirty thoughts that wouldn’t leave his mind. Chan, like any interested guy, casually asked among his friends if they knew you to which none of them knew how to answer, only a guy a year older than him, who was also in the same faculty, saying that you were very pretty but that there was no record of you dating on or off campus, that you were so reserved and that he wouldn’t be surprised that you were probably just studying, in the end he revealed that he had confessed to you and you had rejected him without giving him any reason. Chan’s silly and immature friends joked that you might still retain your innocence and that girls with a certain nerdy appearance used to be somewhat transcendental in sex, that they were shy and innocent at first but once you give them your trust to give them pleasure they were…

Chan refused those thoughts outright, dismissed them as misogynistic and was upset for days. He did get to see your innocence but it wasn’t something he fantasized about sexually, in fact, he never fantasized sexually about you, until that comment fucked with his head.

Because it was true, your private life was so private, you were not known to have had or dated anyone on campus and he found you so fucking interesting suddenly overnight, two intentions merged, Chan could desire you so purely by holding your hand and filling you with kisses, at the same time he could desire from you to fill you with his cum and fuck you to exhaustion. At the moment he was balancing the situation so well, he was doing so well that he had learned to stay away so long, as he didn’t know how to handle it, until now when the opportunity to be with you presented itself.

Chan was thinking about the fact that he hadn’t fucked a virgin woman since high school, when he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend too… but you had him all messed up and he could promise to be just as sweet to you if you give him the chance.

He cleared his throat and tried to come out of his trance, but when you approached him it was his dream and doom, looking to him so beautifully carefree in your shorts and tank top; still Chan did his best to behave himself and not want to ruin what he felt was just beginning.

You both started to eat sitting on the floor, close to each other, at first a little awkward, but quickly Chan knew how to soften the atmosphere, saying the right words and bringing up conversation topic after conversation topic, just to take your thoughts away a little, otherwise an incredible tension would have formed, as you were already starting to look at him closely and by the end of the night, you finally recognized how much you could get to like him, he was funny, handsome and you shared the same interests academically, you thought he could even be almost perfect. When you finished and cleaned up a bit, Chan watched you, so determined towards the project, going quickly towards it, ready to finish it, the truth was that you didn’t know exactly how to react, what would be the next move and you just got distracted escaping towards the project. He, somewhat frustrated, continued with you, just to keep breathing your sweet scent and to see your body in your comfortable home clothes.

Half an hour later, the meal instead of lifting Chan’s spirits did quite the opposite, relaxing him and making him tired and sleepy, plus the continuous hard work was beginning to stress him, but being with you rewarded him for everything except the tiredness in him, unfortunately. Chan watched you carefully, working non-stop, talking to him about the project with your deep and slightly tired tone of voice that seemed to Chan so seductive, he was beginning to lose himself, he was between drowsiness and desire, looking boldly at you, without thinking straight, he was about to hush you, take you and put you on his lap so you could both rest and, if possible, he would take you to bed, telling you how hard you work and that you should rest, that college matters, but not as much as yourself.

You once again noticed his heavy gaze on you, you saw how it was so likely that this time he was not paying attention to what you were saying, how he licked his lips and you became more nervous, more than the previous times, there was something so heavy in his presence that you had never felt before, you did not complain but you felt that at any moment it could get out of control… you thought if this was the sexual tension that you had only heard about.

Chan carved his eyes tiredly, he didn’t know how to stop you or tell you no, but your voice was stimulating him more and more, in a way to put him to bed and not exactly to sleep. Chan could only think of how suddenly he wanted to almost kiss you to shut you up and make you feel good.

You had already noticed his behavior, at times he looked tired, at times he looked at you in a way that made your hair stand on end.

Finally, he called your name, so serious, with a tone of voice that surprised you, made you stop talking about equations for a moment and look him straight in the eye. His gaze was dark and penetrating, you had never been seen like that before. You were both sitting next to each other, working close, so Chan leaned towards you, so ready to say what he felt from the start, he didn’t know exactly what he would say but he’d make sure he had you tonight; he was in agony, he couldn’t take it anymore with the sudden tension that escalated quickly and with your particular voice that was starting to excite him to stratospheric levels, and having him there in misery, unable to do anything, that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

He licked his lips and every part of you saw it coming, you knew it so deep down, you weren’t that dumb, his look and little actions spoke for themselves, you knew Chan was lusting after you and you panicked slightly not knowing what to do.

“You can take a nap if you want” you suggested kindly with a smile, hiding your nervousness at having him around, “You look tired, it’s okay.”

Chan was about to protest, he saw you confused and got caught in your captivating but hard to read gaze, your glasses reflected his tired body and unsweet intentions, so he decided to take a step back and agree, somehow he felt embarrassed and decided it was still better to keep his distance, even though that wasn’t specifically what he wanted.

He nodded, with a smile and somewhat embarrassed, “Really? You’re okay with that? I don’t want to leave you..”

He did get tired, but now he didn’t know if it was from the continuous work or from not being able to do anything with you.

You didn’t know why you did it, but you grabbed his shoulders and nodded, eyes shining, feeling so good to touch his strong body. You hadn’t touched him, maybe you just wanted to play a little and decided to kill your curiosity, how a man like Chan felt.

Chan subtly saw your hands on his shoulders and lost his mind again, but he sighed, calming down and getting up from his chair to rest his body on the couch. You no longer said anything, again the tension returned, with a silence. As much as Chan didn’t want to think about it, he thought of your smile, the way you spoke to him and of your gaze suddenly meaning so much to him, your bright eyes, almost asking to be touched by him, he could feel it, but he felt paranoid for a second, to which he only let his body fall on your couch, with his forearm on his forehead, the other hand on his abdomen and his head leaning back on a cushion, slowly closing his eyes, shutting off every one of his thoughts for a moment.

But it was true, you didn’t know how to say it, but being touched by Bang Chan just now didn’t sound so crazy to you. You were so ready but so not ready at the same time, you wanted to do it, you didn’t know how to tell him, it scared you since you didn’t know how to do it and you were in a continuous internal battle. You were slightly insecure, he was handsome and popular, with much more experience than you and, maybe it was something typical that you like Chan, since everybody likes him, but you were dying to try him even once…

Fifteen minutes later, of which you found incredibly stressful, as you continued to work on the project, chasing away every thought and more than okay with Chan staying quiet and napping on your couch, as you liked him incredibly well, you checked the time and became a little alert when you saw that it was almost one in the morning and you had no notion of time, you understood that Chan’s tiredness was justifiable and almost necessary and you were already starting to feel more stressed, as well as embarrassed by the fact that you had kept Chan working on the project so late. You reproached yourself, debating whether to wake him up and tell him that you could continue tomorrow, that it was almost done and you were missing something so minimal… or if you should let him stay over just for tonight since it was late.

You didn’t think so much about it though, as you suddenly felt large hands on your shoulders, massaging you and scaring you slightly. Chan giggled, he had woken up, more energetic and with the great intensity and willpower to try with you, something in him told him so and it was something he couldn’t ignore, so, without you noticing, he came up behind you, finding you still in the same position, working.

“God, Y/N, you need to relax, okay? It’s late you should rest, you’re really working hard on this.”

Your body tensed incredibly more, you really didn’t expect it, much less that he was touching you, with a slightly thicker voice than usual. You raised your gaze, his long fingers were still resting on your shoulders, magically he looked better than a moment ago, more energetic and with a flirtatious expression on his face.

“You’re awake already…” you replied nervously, not wanting to scare him away, like a few minutes ago.

“Just like you, it’s late. Has anyone ever told you how hard you work? Are you usually this demanding of yourself?”

You didn’t understand what was going on, it was as if he had suddenly changed but at the same time he was still the same and there was something that pleased you so much, like the sudden touch towards you.

You nodded, somewhat submissive with your head spinning not knowing how to react properly. Chan took the chair with agility, sitting down in front of you, stopping touching you and leaving you perplexed, blinking slowly letting you think that you were so tired that maybe you fell asleep deeply and that all this was just a dream. But it was so real and suddenly you were so awake.

“Leave all that for a moment…” he whispered slowly, gently removing the pencil from your hand and placing it on the table, “Let me take care of you.”

“What?”

Chan didn’t touch you again, he just stared at you, long and determined seconds that made you feel the lack of him in you. He leaned back in the chair, enjoying your tender expression of confusion. He had enough, he would try, he would do it for the incredible, heavy tension between you, and if you didn’t want to, he was going to understand but he already knew that was so unlikely. So he was direct, he always was, there was just something about you that kept him shy, but not anymore, he wanted you, he needed you, it was almost as if the night was asking for it too, something in the air drew you to each other irrevocably.

“You deserve to relax. I want you. Just tell me what you want, whether you want it or not, I won’t be weird about it afterwards, I promise, I just… can’t get you off my head, I need you.”

“How?” you mumbled, still in disbelief.

Chan smiled sideways, chuckling softly. “You know how. Want me to show you, sweetie?”

You nodded softly, wanting to put all shyness aside but you couldn’t control it, you were turned on and it was your first time in a situation like this, with intense tension that you even heard every breath and loud heartbeat in your ears.

You had done it before, kissing boys but the experiences were so insignificant that you hardly remember it or count it as experience, since you had learned nothing.

Chan moved dangerously close to you, resting his big hands on your bare thighs, stretching slightly and attractively his neck detonating little veins, his big straight nose so close to your face, with a smug smile, he said again:

“Can I kiss you?”

And it took only a small push of your yielding body to touch his lips, feeling at first the softness and plumpness of his full lips at the impact. Your body temperature rose madly, new sensations were taking over your body, it wasn’t the same ones that you had done before, his kisses were deeper, steady and passionate that it was hard to keep up with him and you were in between enjoying and thinking you wanted to do it right.

You let yourself go but you were still tense and Chan noticed it in the instant, with your body slightly trembling, he just wanted to make you feel good so he gently pulled away from you, leaving you missing the feel of his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, squeezing your thighs, feeling your muscle tense.

But your face reflected something else, your eyes were shining seeing every detail of Chan’s face up close, you were so ready but you had the tingle of wanting to get it right. He could see your nervous body, your countenance begging, still he didn’t want to continue if you were going to be nervous and almost resisting, he couldn’t read you clearly, he was really turned on, the slightest interaction with you made his body very blissful.

You denied, you knew you were so stiff and situations like these needed two relaxed bodies giving themselves, you were nervous but decided to confess it:

“It’s just… I want to do it right.”

Chan’s smile widened, your kiss was so tender and shy that thoughts of your innocence came back to his mind, he wanted to try so many things with you and make you explore, but he didn’t want you to feel insecure so he would patiently teach you step by step if necessary.

“It’s okay, baby, let me handle it” he whispered, with an endearing and understanding tone, still close to you, everything about him made you pleasantly uneasy, “I can teach you, just for your pleasure, okay?”

You nodded, lost in him, you noticed he looked genuinely interested and patient. Chan moved away again, leaning back in the chair, rubbing and patting his thigh with his veiny hand that was having an effect on you.

“Come here, to teach you how to do it better, although I was already loving the way you were doing it, princess.”

Chan ran his tongue over the bottom of his front teeth, waiting for you, and for you, every sentence of his almost made you sigh, you were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed Chan now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed.

“I’m going to kiss you, try to keep up with me and move your sweet lips over mine, relax and let yourself go, beautiful, okay?”

He again took hold of your face with one hand and the other held your waist, you felt his sweet kiss at the same time you were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough denim of his black jeans. Chan was dressed so attractively, in a plain white shirt and leather jacket that he left on the rack in your entryway, with long silver chains decorating his collar and thick bracelets on his right wrist. You could feel how big he was, despite having clothes on, the thought of seeing a cock for the first time made your skin bristle with excitement, just imagining Chan, as something in yourself told you he should look so fucking good naked.

“Open your mouth wider” he whispered, panting and over your lips after a loud crash of your lips, as you parted almost non-existent inches apart.

You obeyed him and agilely he took you again, this time introducing his tongue and making the act slower and more sensual, so captivating that he even managed to relax you, you only lived from the sensation of letting yourself be carried away by him and with your face leaning on his hand. They had never made you feel this way that you slowly resented your throbbing pussy in desperation, suddenly so wet begging for attention.

“Mmm, I love your kisses, fuck” he mumbled senselessly as he pulled inches away from you.

You kept kissing, his face colliding with your glasses, but you didn’t want to take them off as you didn’t want to miss any tiny detail every time you parted for seconds. Chan, sesually and panting moved his kisses down your neck, filling your body more with euphoric and new sensations, his lips brushed your neck, giving soft and small sounding kisses until he subtly licked it, to suck your sensitive skin, using his teeth, causing you a pleasurable and short sting that reached every corner of your body, making you moan and leaving a mark on you.

His hands went down to your torso, to lift your blouse and finally feel the brush of his hands across your soft skin, he squeezed of your body, slowly lowering his lips, resisting the urge to fuck you hard, enduring the pain of his throbbing stiff cock trapped in his pants and being pressed against your body and you continued to feel his lips and the brush of his nose and heavy breathing across your skin going lower and lower, as well as constant little nibbles, leaving fresh new hickeys on you, Chan couldn’t help it, he was going crazy with the idea of you just being his, leaving reddish marks on you and biting your sensitive skin and it just turned you on so much. Reaching your chest, you twitched your body a little, moving it sharply and surprising Chan by the pleasurable friction of you on his cock. He grunted and pulled his lips away from your skin for a second and, almost as if an imaginary light bulb lit up above your head, you understood that being on his erection also made him feel good, as much as it made you feel good, since his erection was rubbing against your pussy, covered only by your wet panties and thin shorts; so you moved, stirring on his cock and intentionally grinding it harder.

Chan moaned, letting out soft, sonorous “A-aah, mmm” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare.

“Fuck, you want to move for me? Go ahead, baby, go fucking enjoy my cock with your clothes on, fuck, are you a little horny? Unable to wait and fucking me with your clothes on. Go ahead, enjoy and cum for me like this” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks burn.

You were so uselessly horny that you were enjoying to the fullest bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard denim, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.

“Yes-Keep moving, baby, you’re doing so good, beautiful.”

His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this. Chan watched with desire and tenderness your very focused and excited expression, sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation.

He admired the marks on your skin, witness and proof of what was happening, the top girl in the class, all aroused rubbing herself on her classmate’s cock, seeking pleasure and her climax. Chan bit his lower lip and caught your lips again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness inexplicably so hot, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat, you were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears:

“Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.”

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy.

Chan also had his breath hitching, yet the thought of still not even remotely finishing with you came back to him, reflecting a smile on his face.

“Let me take care of you, okay?”

You looked at him with big pitying eyes which drove him crazy. Chan thought about the idea of your pussy a little battered from being in constant motion with the hard friction of his clothes, he wanted to treat and tend to your sensitive center, now, he needed it.

“Yes, Chan.”

“That’s my good girl” he said proudly, shuddering every inch of you, you felt so good he said little things to you, “Where are you most comfortable, baby? Huh.”

You looked at him for only short seconds, you were so excited and filled with the accelerated feeling not knowing what his next moves would be on you, you were more than willing for anything, for him to take you and fuck you, you just wanted to be filled with that sensation again and more with someone like Chan, who looked so sure of what he was doing and looked so fucking good doing it and in a mode of excitement and pleasure, every part of him was transpiring sex and you were losing your mind little by little.

“In my room, in the hallway of…”

You weren’t even finished, when Chan stood up, carrying you, grabbing your ass and carrying you to your room where he left you sitting on one of the edges of the bed, your feet touching the floor, he positioned himself on his knees in front of you.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?” he said again, once more so excited, about nothing short of taking your clothes off.

“Yes, Chan, p-please.”

You were so needy again, you wanted to be filled with the extreme sensation that seemed to have no end. He smiled.

“I’m going to take off your tiny shorts and panties, yes sweetie?”

You nodded, excited and nervous that he is about to see your private part, but it was throbbing intensely, it was again getting more lubricated and wanted to be treated with attention. Chan tugged at your shorts and panties at the same time, impatient to taste you and merely seeking your pleasure.

He slid the garments down your legs until they were off and admired your wet, glistening pussy, somehow it looked slightly swollen, begging to be attended to and touched.

“You try hard and work hard, you deserve to get your stress off, let me do it…”

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were so nervous, almost wanting to shiver but you moaned as you felt his lips on the skin of your mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys, nibbling the area, until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs.

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, somehow he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured.

He stroked your clit again and sucked gently but with moderate intensity, humming mmm, that caused a sweet vibration in you, you were feeling so good you could feel your second orgasm again. Chan parted your folds so he could rub his mouth better inside them, you were so satisfied you thought of the myth that college boys didn’t know how to eat pussy, but no one like Chan, doing it so expertly he had you soaking wet, whimpering and shivering just with his lips, tongue, and mouth. He moved inches away from your pussy, to spread your entrance with his hand and insert his tongue deep. At the same time, his finger again caressed your clit, bringing you to orgasm, contracting your legs, being careful with him between them, arching your back, and in a loud moan calling out his name, the great sexual tension built up was released with his mouth on your pussy.

Chan didn’t stop working on you until he stopped feeling your last intense trembling and stopped watching your body collapse until it became softer tremors and he smiled. He didn’t think he could leave you alone for now, let alone finish the project now that you were just starting, but right now, his satisfaction was to fulfill his goal, by making you feel good and de-stress a little because you were worth it and deserved it. He was there to give you a good time.

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

𐙚TAGLIST: @khandzilla @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk @lolareadsimagines

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[howlsofbloodhounds]

personally i think color has way too much integrity to go undercover as a spy he's gonna out himself after some time (although killer might cover for him a bit). however, now i'm thinking of people who can be undercover inside nightmare's gang of hooligans. fiest thought when i think of hooligan is delta, which is just... no 💀 he'll break his cover after five minutes. epic might be an interesting one - he's very chaotically good and doesn't have much qualms with violence himself.

the funniest option is fresh honestly. he has an amicable relationship with core frisk, who might have qualms with nightmare (or not - there's not much interaction or overlap between the two there). although, would be funny if fresh goes undercover because nightmare sometimes allies with error, who definitely has beef with core (why are bad sanses having beef with children this is embarassing 😭🙏).

That’s precisely why i think it’d be funny watching color struggle to go against his integrity 💀. Little bro gonna have to walk a hardline between the truth and the lie and he gonna have to keep his story straight.

I think his biggest issue would be the whole hurting people though, spreading negativity part. It’s probably become extremely obvious the toll it takes on him, even if his hand is eventually forced and he has no choice but to hurt.

When push comes to shove and there’s seemingly no other option, Color has shown to be able to kill—such as with his AU’s human—but here i think he’d struggle a lot. In most other cases, his choice to use violence was always for a reason (punching Undyne) or against an enemy who has proven that they won’t stop until they’re truly dead (the human.)

Thankfully he doesn’t really have to kill, because Nightmare needs victims alive. Perhaps Color earns his spot by preventing Killer from killing, since he does have enough strength and power to overpower Killer before Stage 4 factors into the equation.

Which would make an interesting dynamic if Nightmare assigns Color to be like, Killer’s handler or something… 🤔 Perhaps this is how Color comes to learn more about Killer’s situation because he’s put in a position to see him at his most vulnerable, but in sharp contrast, this only makes Killer more wary of and distrustful of Color—especially if it appears like Color joined willingly. I’d imagine it’d be a lot harder to get Killer to leave Nightmare willingly, because Color would either be a trap or a test that he’s not “stupid enough” to fall for.

Imagine both Color and Fresh undercover underneath Nightmare, it’d be hilarious. I like to imagine that both Killer and now Fresh find ways to disturb and creep Nightmare out.

I wonder what reasons Color would give for wanting to join Nightmare. Trying to save his universe? Get Gaster out of the Void? Defeat Corrupted Chara? Try and Reset Othertale back into Undertale so he’ll be remembered and have his brother back again?

I’m sure the last one, a part of Killer could empathize with—although it’d bring up a debate between Color and ST1 on if it’s better to be forgotten or not. Especially since, in contrast to eachother, being forgotten was one choice Color never got to make himself and being forgotten was one choice Killer ever made himself— without any outside influences.

[shownusgfayoooo]

A Potions Mishap

Pairing: Seonghwa x f!Y/N

Tropes: Hogwarts au, Slytherin!Hwa, Ravenclaw!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining

T/W: injury with a knife, feeling dizzy/sick, f word

Words: ~4k

my masterlist

You normally enjoy Potions class, you really do. But, today, the thought of spending the whole afternoon in the dungeons was filling you with a sense of tediousness and dread. Not only was it a perfect summer day- one that you couldn’t even enjoy because of double potions, but it was also exam season- so, even if you hadn’t had class blocking up the whole day, then studying for your N.E.W.T.’s was enough to ruin anyone’s mood. Add a granola bar for every meal for the past two weeks and barely four hours of sleep from the night before, and the equation spelled a truly annoying and exhausting end to your school day.

Noticing the sour look on your face, your friend and fellow Ravenclaw housemate, Hongjoong waved his fork in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Whaaaaat?”

“Have you seen the time? We have class in 5 minutes, and – did you seriously not eat anything, again?”

You blinked down at your where your plate should be. Instead, you saw your Potions text, riddled with notes in the margins and covered in pink highlights. To the side sat your plate of food, untouched.

“Ah, shit.”

 Hongjoong began to open his mouth to lecture you before you cut him off, “Just save it- as if you haven’t forgotten to eat because you also got caught up in some project at the table!”

He quickly closed his mouth and gave you a stern smile instead. “At least I don’t do it every day. From tomorrow onwards, if you don’t eat, I will force feed you, I swear.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and finally pulled your sandwich towards you. Still, you only managed a few bites before it was time to go.

You sighed as you walked down the stairs. You were really not looking forward to – before you could even finish the thought, you were attacked from behind. Gasping, you almost lost your balance down the last step, but the perpetrators steadied you. You shot a look of annoyance over both your shoulders at the two banes of your existence.

“Aw, noona. What’s got you sighing like that?” San asked.

“Or should we ask- whoooo?” Wooyoung wagged his eyebrows at you.

You huffed as you pushed them both off. “As if. Try to kill me again, and I’ll hex you so bad you won’t be able to sit your exams, I mean it.”

“Oh, noona. Please hex me. PLEASE. I really don’t wannaa take these fucking N.E.W.T.s.” Mingi added.

You pushed ahead of the three Gryffindor idiots, hiding your smile. “Why do I even bother?”

A low chuckle reached your ears. “I ask myself the same question every day, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed to keep your features cool as you turned your head up to Seonghwa who was holding the door to the classroom open for you and the guys. You managed to say hello and thank him before the blush could really bloom on your cheeks and across your nose.

Hongjoong wagged his eyebrows at the look on your face as he took his usual spot next to you at the worktable. He was the only one who knew of your crush on the Slytherin.

It had all started in 6th year. Up until then, Potions had always been taught to you with the Hufflepuffs. As such, you, and Hongjoong for that matter, had never had this class with the Gryffindors or the Slytherins. However, at the N.E.W.T. level, there were barely enough students to fill a single classroom. This is when you first came across Seonghwa in a classroom setting. Even though you were friends with his “band of pirates” as they liked to call themselves, you had never seen or interacted with Seonghwa outside of the group. Here in class, San and Wooyoung were paired up at a workstation, as they had been their whole Hogwarts career, and the same was true for you and Hongjoong. Though Mingi and Seonghwa were from Gyrffindor and Slytherin, respectively, they had never been partners before 6th year. Even though they had always been friends, House always came first. Even you had always paired with Hongjoong, even though you were both close with Yunho who was a Hufflepuff who you had shared Potions with for 5 years.

“I’m telling you, Y/N. We gotta glamour your face or something, you’re as red as a tomato.”

You looked at Joong in horror as your hands came up to cover your cheeks. “Is it really?”

It was at that moment that Seonghwa reached his table and took his seat in front of you two. “Everything alright?” He looked between the two of you.

“Yes, of course!” You laughed awkwardly as you hit Hongjoong on the arm. It sounded a bit too high even to your ears.

Seonghwa’s smile was stiff on his face as he nodded and took his seat, just as your professor started the class.

“Alright class. New orders from above. Today, we are going to be striving towards inter-house unity!”

As the class gave each other unsure looks, the false cheery smile slipped off Professor Nott’s face. “I know it’s annoying guys, but please find a partner from a House that is not yours. And before any of you try to be sneaky- yes, I’m looking at you Mingi- if you already have a partner from a different house, then find a new one! We’re going to be working on the Shrinking Solution today, and you all know that needs two hands for the chopping and stirring that needs to happen at the same time.” The class groaned. “Do not kill me; it was not my idea,” he held up his hands. “Why the Headmaster decides at the very last minute of your academic career to shake things up; I’ll never understand,” he muttered under his breath, not quite successfully.

You stood from your spot with your bookbag, unsure of where to turn. But, before you could even take a breath, Mingi came around your corner of the table, jostling you, and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong. “Dibs!” The Ravenclaw was quick to shrug out of it and yell and start wagging a finger at him, but Mingi just stuck his tongue out at San and Wooyoung across the aisle who were throwing their arms up in the air and giving him the finger.

In the chaos, Y/N didn’t see Seongwa scowl at Mingi as she steadied her balance yet again.

You chuckled and started to make you way over to the Gryffindors you were most comfortable with, before San and Wooyoung quickly and efficiently swapped partners with the Slytherin boys that always sat in front of them, Changbin and Leeknow.

You frowned and quickly let your eyes dart around the whole classroom. Everyone was paired up, except for Seonghwa. He sat calmly at his spot, twirling a quill between his long fingers, almost as if he was waiting for you.

He sensed your gaze and looked up at your from under his long lashes.

“Wanna be my mine?”

Even though you were quick to surmise the true meaning of his not-so-innocuous question, you couldn’t help your eyes from widening as your heart heard a different meaning.

“S-sure, I’ll be your partner.” You took Mingi’s vacated seat quickly and avoided his gaze.

As the class settled, Professor Nott started his brief lecture on the potion. Your knee bounced under the table. You were so aware of every line of Seonghwa’s body, just inches from yours. Did you and Hongjoong sit this close, also? You had truly never noticed. The space between you and the Slytherin felt so heavy with static. Were you moving too much? You stopped shaking your leg, but that lasted two seconds, before your fingers started drumming against the desk.

Seonghwa suddenly leaned forward from his slouched position to place his forearms on the table next to where yours were. His fingers covered the movement of yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your eyes on the board, as you felt him lean his head towards yours.

“If you’re so nervous about this potion, Y/N, don’t worry, I’m the top of this class. I’ve got you.” His whisper was a tickle against your ear.

Was it just you being delusional or did all his words have double meanings? You smirked back even as your heat raced in your chest at both his proximity and his teasing words.

You met his eyes briefly to retort back. “Actually, you’ll find that your tied for that position, with me. So, maybe it is I that will be carrying you.”

He smiled back, and your eyes caught in a moment that lasted what seemed like forever, before it was broken by the sound of scraping chairs.

You both blinked before also standing to start your potion. Pink dusted both student’s cheeks, unbeknownst to the other.

“Oh also, class! I know you know this but be careful when you’re chopping the cowbane. Even the juice on your knife is very poisonous blah blah, get to it!” You smiled at Professor T’s cavalier attitude, even though you knew he cared very deeply for his students and educating every generation of students he could be available to.

You and Seonghwa quickly settled into an efficient routine. It was almost like you could read each other’s minds; without even speaking, you both divvied up the tasks in a way that made sense to you. He had already chopped the shrivelfigs and added their juice to the cauldron, while you intuitively prepared the next steps by mincing the daisy root and preparing the hairy caterpillars as he heated the cauldron gently.

You were surprised, as you had never had such chemistry with another Potions partner before. You always had a hard time doing group projects, because you thought you could just do better on your own and were often irritated at having to go at someone else’s slower pace. You and Hongjoong had always worked well together, with the minor bumps caused by his temper tantrums and your passive aggressiveness, but you had thought that he was the best a partner could ever be. As you watched Seonghwa vigorously stir the potion, a step you always hated because your arm always got tired, you realized you couldn’t have been more wrong. You both naturally gravitated towards the different aspects of the potion that you favored and preferred. It was honestly euphoric to be working together like this, and the academic in you was singing with joy.  

You were working on juicing the leeches when the heat of the room started getting to you. The many fires under the cauldrons made it so that the dungeons were sweltering. Somewhere in the room, Wooyoung started screaming that he had accidentally added rose petals instead of daisy root, and the whole class groaned because any first year knows that combining rose to blood from anything made for the most disgusting smell. The fumes started to make you dizzy, and you were suddenly regretting only eating two bites of a sandwich.

Seonghwa paused in his shaking of the rat spleen you had just handed over, barely a tremble to your hand. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Yes..?”

His eyes looked into yours deeply. You were not used to someone noticing when things were barely off with you. This little bit of dizziness was nothing.

“If you’re sure.” He didn’t look too convinced as he turned to stir the cauldron clockwise.

As you started working on the cowbane, these thoughts took another turn. Not only was he the best partner you had ever had, but he was also so caring and asked after your wellbeing! Your crush reared its big head before you could stifle it down.

You were carefully slicing the second piece of cowbane to render more liquid- the first had not yielded enough for the potion. All of a sudden, the dizziness came back in full force and your vision swam before your eyes. The knife missed its mark and instead imbedded in your thumb. You blinked and swayed.

“Y/N!”

A hand wrapped around your left wrist, while another took the knife out of your right hand.

“Sorry, Seonghwa.” You had ruined the potion. He had stopped stirring because of you.

Along with the dizziness came a new feeling. Your body felt so floaty. Everything was too bright and too loud.

A voice swam in from far away.

“I think the knife had some juice on it, Professor, and she cut herself pretty deep. I’ve been holding pressure, but…”

“No, you did the exact right thing, Seonghwa. Don’t worry; she’ll be okay. We just need to get her to Madame Patil in the hospital wing, and the antivenom will fix her right up.”

There was the sound of a bomb exploding.

“I’ll go take care of San’s potion- he clearly added the rat spleen incorrectly, seeing as it misfired. Are you ok to take Y/N up by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then, an arm wrapped around your waist to pull you up from your chair. His other arm took yours over his shoulder as he began to take you out of the classroom.

“Seonghwaaa.”

“Y/n, just hang on, ok? We’re going to the Hospital Wing.” He looked down at you.

“You’re too tall.”

He looked down at you, confused, but did not stop his hurried rush across the corridor to the stairs. “Excuse me?”

“My arm hurts at this angle.” Why were words coming out so readily right now? Was it the cowbane?

He brought you both to a standstill. “Um, yea, it’s one of the effects of cowbane poisoning. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was uncomfortable.” You could barely feel alarm that there was no filter between your brain and your mouth through the haziness that was descending over your whole body.

He looked unsurely up the stairs and back at you twice before his face set in determination.

“Ok, Y/N, I’m going to have to carry you.”

“No!” You stepped back shakily. You were definitely too heavy. This was going to be so embarrassing. But, also, it would feel so good probably. To be in his strong Chaser arms. Oh my god. Wait, he could hear everything. This is so embarrassing.

He smiled privately to himself before pulling you closer. “I hate to do this without your consent, but technically, you are not sound of mind and actively have a poison in your system, and Professor told me to get you there as fast as possible, so-”

And with that, he swung you up in your arms, like you weighed nothing and started off up the stairs.

The sudden change of position set your stomach rolling and the dizziness came back with doubled force. You whimpered and burrowed your head further into his neck, forgetting to fight him for manhandling you.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Seonghwa glanced worriedly down at your face which was turning an unhealthy-looking shade of green. “We’re almost there, love. Just hang on. I’m getting you there.”

You whimpered and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly. Still, even though you were feeling so sick, the comfort and exhilaration of being so close to Seonghwa was not lost on you. If you threw up on Seonghwa right now, you were gonna kill yourself.

“Please don’t. I’d miss you too much.”

“Ugh, please stop reading my mind,” you managed to say between clenched teeth.

He chuckled quietly before depositing you softly onto a bed. Oh, a bed? Was it his bed? What was he going to do? What did you want him to do? Before your brain could come up with incriminating ideas to answer that question, a soft voice interrupted you.

“Oh, thank Salazar she’s conscious.”

“Um, Ms. Y/N, you are in the Hospital Wing.” There was a laughing lilt to her voice before it turned serious. “Mr. Seonghwa told me of the situation that happened in the Potions class, and I have just administered the antidote. It takes effect in 15 minutes, so just try hang on a little bit longer as it clears out the poison in your system. I also administered an anti-emetic, so just breathe in and out so you don’t throw up the antidote, or we’ll have to start all over and you will just feel worse as the cowbane spreads further. Just these 15 minutes, Y/N, and after that you should start to feel better within the hour. I’ll go whip up a hydration potion, also, because your basic diagnostic charm did not look good, young lady.”

You finally blinked open your eyes to see the high ceiling above you. Madame Patil was not wrong in taking extra measures to make sure you didn’t throw up. You felt like a ragdoll thrown at sea. The nausea was overwhelming, and the panic that it was causing wasn’t helping either. Before you could start hyperventilating in full, a hand grabbed yours.

You turned your head to where Seonghwa sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Sh, just focus on me.” He inhaled exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows at you to follow.

You clamped down your jaw harder and mimicked him. It helped a fraction. Then, the next breath came easier. As did the next.

You don’t know how much time passed, but looking at him helped you hold on and focus even when your whole body was thrown in turmoil. Staring into his eyes and seeing him stare back just as hard at your own anchored you and healed you in more than one way.

You didn’t even realize 15 minutes had passed and that the nausea had stopped until Healer Patil bustled back into the room, a pale pink potion in her hands.

“You did so well, Y/N,” she soothed quietly. At the nurturing tone and the knowledge that you could finally relax a little now, your eyes welled up.

“There, there- none of that. The worst has passed. Now, drink this.”

You wrinkled your nose and glanced at Seonghwa in dread. Rehydrating potions tasted so bad. When will the horrors end?

He shook his head at you sternly. “Hurry up, Y/N.”

“Ugh.” You downed the whole glass, and Healer Patil leaned you back softly onto the headboard.

“All done. Now, you just rest. I’m writing you a pass for classes tomorrow as well.”

“Oh, but-”

She looked down at you sternly. “No buts. I know it’s exam season, Y/N, but if you want to write those exams to the best of your ability, then you need to take care of your body as well as your mind. That means eating well, sleeping enough, and resting when you need to. Your body has just undergone a major ordeal even if it was healed so quickly, so give it the time it needs to recuperate.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’m not that bad at taking care of myself!”

“Do you think my diagnostics lied to me? You haven’t eaten well in the past week and a half from the looks of it and are severely dehydrated! The poison wouldn’t have worked so fast if you weren’t already so compromised!”

At that, you had nothing to say. The older Ravenclaw nodded and sniffed as she walked away.

That left you alone with Seonghwa. As the haziness of your mind started to clear, the events of the past hour came back to you.

You snuck a glance at him. He looked the most worried you had ever seen him. Even more than when Yeosang had been upset- this sent any of the pirates into a spiral. More than when Jongho had to take a break from Quidditch because of a knee injury. More than any occasion before.

You looked back down at your hands. It was surprising to see the cut that had started this whole fiasco. Though it wasn’t that deep of a gash, it was pretty long, almost the whole length of your thumb. You winced as you prodded at it.

“Oh, here. Let me heal that for you.”

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. It’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” He frowned at you. You were scared at his expression. He had never looked at you like that before. Just what exactly had you said in your state of delirium? What if he hated you now?

Before you could suggest that Healer Patil could do it, he took your hand gently in his and pulled it towards him. He softly muttered the incantation as he waved his wand over the cut, and the cooling rush of his magic tingled all the way up your arm. It was so intimate.

The heady feeling of happiness rushing through your chest at the feel of his magic coming up against yours halted in its tracks. What if he hated you now? His whole demeanor was so off. You had to clear the air.

“Listen, Seonghwa. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for noticing what happened immediately and getting me here so quickly and helping me… And, also, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” You were glaring at where your hands were twisting the sheets, so you missed his look of surprise. “I feel bad that you had to take care of me and that I took time out of your learning time, especially when we know that the Shrinking Solution is probably gonna be tested on the N.E.W.T.s, and I – I , whatever I said, I’m sorry. If you could just tell me what I said that offended you, I promise I probably didn’t mean it. Or if I did, then I can just explain-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His hands covered both of your own.

You looked up at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Who said I’m mad? I’m not. I promise.”

“But you- you looked so serious just now.”

“Well, yea! Of course, I am.” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “But not because I’m mad that I had to take care of you or leave class because of you or any dumb reason you just came up with right now.” He smiled at you.

You laughed weakly. “O-oh.”

He looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath, “Fuck it.”

His hand came up to wrap around your own again. “Y/N, I was worried. Just now. That’s why I looked so serious. And who wouldn’t be when you hear that the girl you’re in love with pushes herself so hard that she is physically unwell? That a Healer who was trained for years had to spell that out so clearly for you?”

Where the poison couldn’t finish the job, his words just had- your heart was stopped. But that was surely impossible, because you could feel the telltale burn of blood across your cheeks. Could a girl still blush if her heart was stopped? You dropped your gaze to your hands again.

He chuckled quietly at the look on your face and leaned impossibly closer still.

“But, you don’t have to worry. I won’t look so serious again, because I figured out a solution to my problem.”

“What’s that?” Why was your voice so shaky?

“Since you won’t do it yourself, I’m just going to have to take care of you.”

You looked at his eyes, his impossibly soft brown eyes. And you saw reflected in them for the first time the same feelings you had harbored for him in your own the past two years.  

You teared up at the sudden revelation, the tenderness with which he spoke, and the utterly gentle care you had received from him. And you just knew- this was it. This was it for the rest of your life. He smiled back at you just as brightly as you both were quiet in the reverence of such a moment shared between two souls.

The sudden bang of a door could be heard, not from the entry to the wing but from the Healer’s private office. It signaled that she had stepped out. Seonghwa tilted his head and then smirked mischievously at you before quickly climbing into the bed with you.

“Hey!” You laughed as you poked him in the side.

“Don’t act like this isn’t sooo comfortable for your poor healing-from-a-poison body right now.”

“Mm, I can’t deny that.” Now that you were not nauseous or dizzy or delirious anymore, your body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You sighed against his chest and his arms squeezed around you tighter, only this time you could properly enjoy it.

The silence was peaceful.

“Now, I know I’m in your bed, Y/N, but please try to keep your thoughts a little innocent for now. You’re sick, you know. When you feel better, we can revisit all those things you wanted me to do to you in a bed, ok?”

“Shut up!”

[namusthetic]

The Writers' Series

Who wrote you, based on your aesthetic?

British Edition

---------🖋️

Oscar Wilde

"You can never be overdressed or overeducated."

Irregular sleep schedule

Sprawling on a sofa quoting poets long gone

The forbidden sweetness of guilty pleasures

The gently whispered name of a lover

Losing oneself to sensations and feelings

Writes poems for their lovers

Dressing up only for the pleasure of doing so

That dizzy feeling of late night adventures

Procrastination and unsent letters

An old silver framed broken mirror and forgotten withered roses

Sitting alone late at night. The thick, stuffy air in the room is making you dizzy and dulls your senses

Virginia Woolf

"How many times have people used a pen or a paintbrush because they couldn't pull the trigger?"

The soft first autumn breeze

Spending winter afternoons in hidden library corners

Taking long walks along the riverbank in the early afternoon

Gives good advice but doesn't follow it

Scented candles and gentle nostalgia

The furious, quiet calmness of the ocean before a storm

Orange blossoms and sea salt

The texture of paper under your fingertips and the sound of chirping from outside the window

Wants to change the world one word at a time

Never forgives, never forgets

Reads poems in the golden afternoon light

Romantic but won't talk about their feelings

William Shakespeare

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."

Wine stains on victorian shirts

The sound of footsteps on marble floors

Scribbling random Latin sentences in other people's notebooks

Dark, alluring, and a little bit occult

Writes poems on random scraps of paper and then forgets about them

The line between dreams and reality starting to blur

Loud, contagious laugh

Sword fights back stage

A lone flickering candle in the night

Laughs and cries at the same time when overwhelmed with emotion

Believes in the power of the unsettling and the forbidden

Sprawls on any available surface just to read tragedies and drink wine

Mary Shelley

"When I looked around, I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster?"

The sound of your heart beating in your ears when waking up from a nightmare

Anatomy and science illustrations

Equations and formulas scribbled everywhere

The touch of cold metal on warm skin

The clap of thunder and insistent drumming of heavy rain on the windowpanes

The muffled sound of cracking thunder from outside

Organized shelves and absentminded humming

Cold gravity and solemn silences

The cold shudder of realisation

Pacing back and forth trying to solve grave problems and unexpected results

Empathizes easily

Agatha Christie

"Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking."

"An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it."

Hot chocolate on cold winter days while people watching inside an old Café

Sitting down in parks and reading the paper

The scent of clean laundry

Windswept hair and sharp looks

Spontaneous conversations and smiling at strangers

Could prove anyone wrong solely for their own amusement

Wet pavements glinting in the sunshine after a rain shower

Apricot jam, fresh baked croissants and café au lait while reading the newspaper in the early morning

A glint in their eyes and a spring in their step

Peppermints and vanilla hand cream

Sarcasm and condescending smiles

J.R.R. Tolkien

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

Early morning dew sparkling on spiderwebs

The awareness and clarity that comes with crisp morning air

Daisies, gingerbread and warm comfy clothes

Really into folklore

Snail shells and acorns kept in a jacket's pocket

The scent of fresh homemade bread in the morning

The gentle murmur of the wind blowing through the trees

Nothing could make them miss their afternoon tea

Knows the name of every plant or bird species

Presses flowers in their notebooks

That spark for adventure glims constantly in their eyes

George Orwell

"But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."

The smell of cigarettes and the sound of steps on the wet pavement

Long night walks around the city

The cold winter wind howling against the windows

Cheap black coffee drank in a small almost empty 24/7 coffee shop

Tired eyes and vivid dreams of liberty

Messy, rushed writing

The condensation on a cold window

Minimalist notebooks and black ballpoint pens hidden everywhere

Trying desperately to be free, to feel alive

The deafening silence of loneliness and the gentle quiet of solitude

T. S. Eliot

"For I have known them all already, known them all / Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, / I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."

Coffee and ink stains

Tiny scribbled notebooks carried around in worn out messenger bags

Reads to escape the real world

Reading on public transportation and almost missing the stop

Falls in love five times a day

Strong coffee and dark chocolate

Feels like nobody can truly understand them

Doesn't take care of themselves

Stacks their books randomly around their house, forgetting empty coffee mugs and notepads on top of them

Flopping facedown on the bed and listening to the sounds of the life out the window

[yeyinde]

I'm gonna mention this to you because you also like slashers and COD so I imagine there's a little monster fucking in there possibly? But god imagine Ghost as a non-human tho. Just like an actual beast of a man. Sharp canines, solid black eyes, bigger than what you had thought possible for a human. You barely notice when you first start because you don't want to inconvenience your Lieutenant. But things start sticking out. When he's not working, you notice the way he moves is like he's stalking something. Sometimes he huffs like a wolf. You make eye contact on a mission and really finally look, but there's nothing there. Just glossy black.

You're getting fucked by Soap in your cot, on top and facing a wall and he clicks his tongue and something moves behind you. Ghost steps out of the shadows, panting like a dog, and Soap is like "you don't mind if he joins do ya?"

Also calling him a good boy and patting his head 😌

I just think it would be hot and would explain some of the ways people write him as if he's an inhuman creature

sooooo on board with all of this!!!!

i try to be sneaky about it but i've described this man as a Cimmerian not just for the darkness aspect but the mythos too since it kinda fits him (and i love relating things that have no right to be related).

Ghost AU where he's some primordial being. a monster. a werewolf, perhaps. it has so much potential. i kept thinking about it, and this kinda got away from me. sorry!

When you join the 141, there is a heaviness in the atmosphere. A strange, stifling weight you can't make sense of. Tension. An unease. 

They tell you you're full of life when you walk in the room, smiling at them—but it sounds like a curse. They whisper it, as if they're afraid of speaking it aloud. Eyes filled with a gravity you can't begin to understand. 

You turn to leave, and they say stay away from him.

The him in this equation is made known when you set your eyes on the behemoth they call Ghost. 

When you cross his path, he stops completely. The world around you falls dead. Deafening silence. His eyes are a perfect polynya when he gazes at you. His head tips back, baleen lines stretching out. And then breathes in deep. Scenting the air.

His broad chest expands with it. A rumble sounds from low in his chest.

No man can be like this. 

(He was once a man, Soap muses. Maybe. Probably. Called him Simon. Simon Riley.

How can someone probably be a man?

His eyes are grave, shrouded in the mourning fog that sits low on the tombstones. You don't wanna know, bonnie.)

They tell you little about him, but you notice things. They keep their distance, and drop their chins when men go missing. No one looks. No one says a word. 

They're just—

Gone. Forgotten. 

Everything they once were is hidden away in a closet that can barely shut. 

Don't worry about it, hen. 

Just happens sometimes, mate. 

Don't go sticking your nose where it shouldn't be. 

You should listen. Heed their advice. 

But he's enthralling. A being made entirely of death. 

A strange feeling that settles low in your chest. There is a yearning inside of you that wants to know everything about this behemoth shrouded in tenebrose—a siren's call, beckoning you closer. It calls to you in the dead of night. spools over your thoughts until your head is full of him, him, him—

He's an enigma. A mystery. 

And then you see in battle. A shadow. A myth. No man can spill that much blood. 

Dread spools thick on your guts. A man like him should not exist in this moral realm. He does not belong. 

You turn to Soap—a man (human: flesh and bone, real)—but it does little to stem the fever inside.

He catches you when you sneak out of his room, smelling of alder and sex. 

He stares at you. Midnight hour, devils night—the warnings are tucked into the recesses of those unfathomable depths. Fear pools, knots inside of you.

"Have fun, pet?"

There is a chill in his voice, a growl deep in the pits of his being that resound through the corridor and make your bones shake. 

He stares at you—a greedy, covetous tinge in those Stygian depths. 

You're playing a dangerous game. Waving your breakable fingers in front of the maw of a starving beast. 

Stay away, Soap says. You really don't know what you're getting into, bonnie.

You smile. I know. I will. (Liar)

Something breaks. Curiosity. Obsession. Your neck prickles when he's close. You hear a rush of water when those black eyes pierce you; the call of a river thick with the stench of death. You think of the Styx when he turns to you. Hands shackled to your wrist; grip tight. no escape. terror blooms inside of you.

run run run run

"Watch your step, rookie."

Is that a warning in his voice? Why does it sound so—

Beguiling. Taunting. He gets under your skin. spellbinds you. You can't stop thinking about him.

You feel him in the shadows. Liquid black; death. Sometimes, you look at him, and you think you hear a hiss in the back of your head when your feet move, bringing you closer. An augury. a portant. 

Aeons ago, they warned naïve wanderers like you to be wary of the quietus in the fog.

—he leads you not into salvation—

You find him waiting for you, covered in blood and reeking of death. His head lifts. The Styx in his eyes. Damnation in the tilt of his head. He'll be your ruin. Your demise.

Your name falls from his lips.

(Too lost in the magnetism, that primal draw that brings you closer and closer, you miss the anathema that taints the word.)

His hand reaches out to you. Deadly, dangerous. Each breath he takes rumbles the ground around you. He smells of hellfire and rot. Sulphur. Ichor. It leaks into your lungs, your marrow. 

You're drenched in the ashes of Zaqqum.

A distant, almost atavistic warning rears in the back of your head tells you to run. But why? He's just a man. Just your Lieutenant.

Your fate is sealed the moment you place your fingers in the cup of his palm.

—but into perdition—

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I just randomly thought about modern au where the Sully family moves into a new house and Spider is a ghost there. Tuk sees him first and everyone thinks he is her imaginary friend and then the other kids see him too. :(

Okay but I fucking lOVE friendly haunting shit. It's literally my favorite thing. The Sully's move into a new house and all of a sudden, the dishes are put away during the night. Someone is putting Jake's slippers on the vent to warm them up for him in the morning. Neytiri's favorite mug for tea is always waiting for her, and Kiri's plants never need to be watered. Jake and the boys are fREAKED THE FUCK OUT, and Tuk is determined to figure out what's going on, but Kiri is entirely unbothered and Neytiri is very religious and believes in spirits and an afterlife. She just says a little spirit was forgotten here and needs a little TLC. Tuk isn't sure what TLC means exactly for a ghost, so she starts leaving out cookies and glasses of water like the ghost is a skittish animal. The ghost responds with flowers from the garden, and little pennies from deep in the couch cushions. They don't fully get into things until Tuk brings home the whiteboard she swiped from school they did math equations on. Then they start having full conversations, introducing themselves and playing tik tac toe. By the end of the day Jake and the other kids come back from school to find Neytiri and Tuk and a disembodied paint brush painting one wall in each room with chalk board paint so they can "talk to Spider even if the power goes out and he can't type on someone's phone." Jake takes a full hour before he's convinced that the typed messages being read aloud by Neytiri's phone weren't planted there by Lo'ak and Kiri as an elaborate prank.

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 4 - Stalking - Strike Back (TV)

cw - aftermath of torture, implied eye trauma

Will never thought he would have to defend attacks from his own team but the Project Tennebrae reveal tore everything apart. He runs. Before Donovan can do anything to stop him he runs. But his head hurts. He doesn't really know where he is. All he knows his he needs to run. AU where Jensen doesn't die but not everything ends up ok when Donovan's murder fails

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

Will stumbled, falling against the upcoming wall. The grit scraped at his palms as he frantically pushed off to get his feet underneath him.

The world spun around him and his footsteps pounded in his ears as they pounded the pavement. Will used the wall as a crutch, like someone lost in a maze, to get as far away from here as he could.

He had to get somewhere safe. There was nowhere safe. Everything was wrong. Everything was lies. Everything hurt. He couldn’t think through the pounding behind his eye. Gracie had been right. He should have stayed in hospital. He wasn’t fit to be in the field. He shouldn’t be in the field anyway. He was just the fucking computer guy.

Someone honked as Will dashed across the road. He just had to get as far away from here as possible. Then he could stop. Then he could rest. No, no he couldn’t because the team had to know. He had to tell the team they couldn’t trust Donovan.

Another wall. This time on his blind side sending Will sprawling on the floor. No, no. Adeena would be following him. He knew too much she had to be following him. He didn’t have time to stop. Will stumbled up to his feet but his head swum, spinning on his neck as he tried to work out which way was forwards. Hospital, yeah he should probably be in the hospital. But then people would ask questions. Questions that would lead back to Donovan and Section 20. No, no hospitals.

“Sir, sir are you ok?” a faceless voice matched with a distant hand on his arm. He was going to throw up. The pain was a phantom of that chisel pounding into his skull. Even his remaining eye couldn’t see anymore. Why was he running? Where was Gracie? Wyatt? Mac? Why was he in the field without his team? He shouldn’t be in the field anyway. He was just the fucking computer guy. Although he got in just as much trouble when he was in front of the computers.

And there it was. He remembered. He needed to run.

“Will, there you are.”

No. No No No.

“Thank you miss. I was so worried,” Adeena cooed, her cold harsh grip replacing the faceless woman’s soft one on his elbow.

“No, no,” the begging fell out of Will’s mouth desperately instead of rattling around his brain.

“So sorry. My brother here has a serious concussion and must have forgotten where he was. I need to get him back to the hospital,” Adeena’s words faded in and out between Will’s struggles. Nothing he could muster was enough.

“Oh don’t worry about it I was just concerned. He really should be in the hospital,” the woman’s voice became more distant. She was leaving. No, she wasn’t leaving, Will was leaving. Adeena was pulling him backwards.

Next moment they were moving. A car? Must be a car. “What am I going to do with you Will?” Adeena sighed.

“Help,” he managed to choked out, a sob coming with it as his muscles spasmed with the pain.

“Yes. Ok. Let’s get you some medical care. You shouldn’t be running around with an injury like that. Maybe I was too hasty in taking you out of the equation. For some reason the rest of our team are quite fond of you.”

Will knew he should be doing something. But neither eye would open. Neither arm would move. He needed to tell Gracie something. He needed to run. But maybe he could do that after.

[missadmyre]

Sorry for the slightly stupid question, but could you explain to me the concept of MoV in general terms (no art part, just text)? In order for me to have more specific questions, of course...

I see that this AU is significantly different from MIS, and I want to get rid of the feeling that I don't know/understand something when I see your work in the list of works for this tag. This feeling... confuses me.

If you have any deep psychoanalytic thoughts about MoV, feel free to share them. I love this <3

Oof, deep psychoanalytical thoughts huh...

I do have thoughts about how complicated both First and Chase's relationship would be, especially with their clashing ideals, just can't explain it with simple words.

Imma try to explain it though, but beware, it might cause more confusion since I'm not really a native English speaker.

By concept, you mean how MOV au works or started as a whole? Imma roll back to the start of this au and then we delve on what specific details this au has on both First and Chase (both the obvious ones and the ones I still haven't discussed about).

STARTING DETAILS (BACKSTORY) OF THIS AU - First and Chase first met during 1213, after First had trapped the Sorcerer.

- Chase purposefully planned this meeting for fact that he knew what First is capable of after getting the knews from one of his fallen warriors

- First is absolutely confused at the creepy guy that keeps disturbing him when doing work, he tries to shoo Chase off while Chase tried to offer mortal greed to him

- Chase then knew that normal methods of convincing wouldn't work so why not get the Ninja to join him through competitiveness, aka battles.

- which escalated to when Chase had messed with First's villagers, which pissed him off, causing a fight and a deal to not mess with the villagers but not including him.

- ofc, Chase would be intrigued since this is a guy that can go toe-to-toe with him, which is special bc Chase had lived for 200 years and had lots of experience yet somehow a mortal can equate him in a fight?

- as playful teasing and sparring with sexual tension began to earn meanings, they both started to be conscious about the feelings they harbored towards each other, they both find ways to justify that it is NOT what they think it is.

Now, here's the part where I just really don't know how to translate into text, so bare with me with my explanations.

- See, they both know they are in love with each other BUT they are afraid of changing themselves just to be able to love each other.

For First, he's afraid he has to change his morals, his beliefs, everything he stands for, just to believe in Chase, to think it's okay to love Chase for what he is, actually evil with no way of changing. It feels as though he is staining the family name, the Norisu Clan, as he has fallen in love with a man who is the polar opposite of what he stands for, he feels guilty about it.

For Chase, he's afraid because then he would have to change to be able to fit into First's ideals, to be good, just so the man couldn't leave him. He's scared of attachments because he doesn't know if he can let go of said attachment without it being seen as an obvious weakness, a vulnerability. He has been manipulated once when Roy Bean had offered him to drink the Lao Mang Lone soup because of his attachment to power.

Yes, power, even if lost, can be regained once more with time, but what about loved ones? Death and being forgotten is something Chase is afraid of imo, and those fears can and will happen on a mortal, so what happens when that comes to a certain mortal that he loved? The deep feeling of experiencing such loss is far more scary than any monster in the world.

When Chase and First had done the dragon bonding, that fear increased to a hundred, because there is no going back on this. So when First disappeared from the face of the earth, he was relieved, because yes, he can confirm that First is still alive, but now that his weakness cannot be found, he feels safely secured because no one can take advantage of him. Still doesn't stop him from almost tearing out mountains just to find his man.

Yeah, that's all I got, it's still incomplete as I don't know how to put it into text, but I'm sure I can, one way or another. I'm really sorry if this isn't enough info, I'll try to be more lore-heavy but I can't really blurt out info that I can't even explain in my own terms.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXXIX

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. On AO3 here.

If he’d done his calculations correctly (which, of course he had), the Traveler and the little Archon would return from Irminsul soon.  The only way to remove the Forbidden Knowledge from King Deshret all those millenia ago would be to also remove all records of the one Deshret shared it with.  

Omega and Irminsul were not so different; receptacles of memories, records of an event or person long forgotten by the rest of the world.

Without the Forbidden Knowledge throttling the tree, the nation would have a chance to heal.

Zandik could have done this, too, long ago, if his village and the Akademiya and the people of the desert listened.  

Omega knew how to navigate Irminsul as well as any of the other Segments that Prime sent in his place to explore the veins of the world and the deep Abyss below.  The corruption was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for (though granted, most did not).  Rejected knowledge and leyline energy had to go somewhere and it often ended up in the most bizarre locations.

Many speculated on what, precisely, the Forbidden Knowledge contained.  What a truth of the world that could never be properly understood meant for the world at large and its hub of collective memories.

The bottom of the Abyss was a place few made it back from.

Zandik had fallen willingly in an attempt to outrun the other children, stones in hand.  Omega could still recall the memory as if it were yesterday, as if it was his own.  And perhaps it was, to some degree.

Even Ararycan hadn’t been able to catch him in time.

That day in the forest hadn’t involved a girl from Fontaine at all.  Instead, Zandik had fallen through the cracks of the world, partly curious and partly tired of enduring the treatment for daring to question certain ideals.  His parents were outsiders in the village, after all; an Akademic who felt no prejudice towards the desert and a Skeptic who left the order had no place anywhere to begin with.  He was encouraged to be inquisitive, to ask, to seek.

But even they hadn’t understood their son when he returned from the Depths, days later.

It felt like years, centuries even, in the darkness of the world.

He came face to face with the true nature of Teyvat.

The seat of the Divine…empty…the island falling in continual disrepair…functioning on autopilot based on the most absurd sets of parameters.

What were Archons without their precious Heavenly Principles to oversee them?

And what were soulmates if there was no authority to dictate who was tied to who?

All of them had spent so long under the impression that a soulmate did not exist for Prime, for Zandik.  Perhaps from his time in the Abyss or perhaps because some were given worse fates so others could thrive.  It didn’t matter.  

It made sense that any soulmate would be Zandik’s and his alone, Omega thought.  Of course it made sense.

But he had suffered, all of them had suffered, just as much as their Prime segment had.

Was suffering not eternal?  Was the nature of the world and all of its conflict not the intended purpose for all living creatures?  Hope never came into the equation, a fleeting thing that had provided more pain than anything else, a promise of more snatched away before it could be properly embraced.

Until her.

He understood now.  How damaging his self-serving experiment had been, the ripple effects of his actions still catching up to her.  The constant pull of one soulmate to another, like the tide and the moon, would always come back to her and to Prime.  Omega wasn’t created to have the emotional capacity of a normal human (after all, by this time, Prime had grown more impartial to almost everything but results) but he comprehended that he had crossed boundaries that were not his to cross.

And yet, without this…without the dream network, without his interference, Prime would not have come to the conclusion that culminated in another moment Omega almost shattered.

In the briefest of moments, he recalled Prime’s memory, heart racing as lips brushed against one another’s, tentative in its experimentation but steady in the notion that the center, the focal point, would hold.  The others clamored in the network, rushes of jealousy and demand and yearning but Omega had almost instantly tamped them all down, silencing them.

They would never provide what she could, what she would give Zandik.  All of them were crutches as much as tools and they would eventually outlive their usefulness.  Self-hatred was powerful but it no longer had a place or purpose.

Prime had what he deserved and soon he would have more, once the Archon returned from her duty to her people with the Traveler in tow.  In fact, as he approached the Sanctuary and the hub of the Akasha, he heard voices, the sound of a shining star and a shuddering leaf.

If Omega could ever feel something close to joy, it would be this.

The Traveler was a variable he couldn’t afford to have run off a second time.  She enabled the Archon and while the little radish was no match for him; there was no need for the confrontation to turn into a bloodbath.  That sound wave he came across might do.  It was the only potentially useful thing the Sages had even put on paper and developed in this entire process.  Wouldn’t it be fun to know if it even worked on divine beings?

He entered the line of code into the Akasha and limited it to an immediate radius, only as small as the Sanctuary’s main room.  Not the best sample group but any larger and there would be too much attention.  He didn’t need that, not after the ridiculous stunt pulled by the Scribe, the General Mahamatra, and that dancer that the Sages used for the Samsara Cycle.  This was between him and the Archon.  The only other living creature that might have some use in this plan, if her interference was anything to go by.

“...Traveler?  Paimon?”

Omega watched as the Traveler from beyond the stars swayed on her feet, golden eyes glaring at him before her face grew slack.  Perfect.  One less headache.

He took his time crossing the distance in the vast green space, reveling in the expression on the tiny Archon’s face.  She must have been tired of him by now, between the cellist and the Traveler, let alone his attempts at playing god.  Good.  

“I’ve been waiting here far too long.  Now that I have the chance to be alone with you, I suppose all of the precious time I wasted has finally paid off.”

The sprout did a poor job of hiding her emotions.  As most children did.  Her arms askance, the Archon was prepared for a fight.  Not that she would win.

“What have you done to them?!” 

“Just a type of sound wave that can quickly put defenseless people into a dream.  As expected, it doesn’t have any effect on gods.  There was little of interest among the sages’ research.  I thought I’d take it for a spin.”

As he drew closer, he peered down at the sleeping Traveler.  Omega lifted his boot and nudged the Traveler with his toe.  She didn’t stir.  Not even a sound.  He smirked at the fury hiding behind childish eyes.  Just like he’d noticed in the dreamscapes, hiding in the darkest corners.  A low laugh escaped his lips.

“Don’t worry.  I know you would never forgive me if I actually killed them.  I’m here to negotiate with you.  Naturally, it would be in poor taste to do anything dangerous that could potentially damage our relationship.”

The Archon’s tense stance remained as she shook her head dismissively.  “Negotiate with me?  I heard you already left Sumeru, and in a good mood, too.  How exactly are you here when you should be on a ship to Snezhnaya?”

The Segment crossed his arms.  Of course, even the Dendro Archon wouldn’t understand.  Granted, that boat was now likely in ruins in the middle of the sea but the trick had been easy enough with Prime’s assistance.  A shame it meant a loss of human resources that could have been used elsewhere, but better that than lost dream solvent and leyline branches.

“I left Sumeru but I also stayed in Sumeru.  Even the God of Wisdom is restricted by mere cognition.  How…disappointing.”

Omega couldn’t stop the image in his head at the memory of that night.  A distant glance towards the lighthouse, two figures on the beach.  The disgusting tug in his chest that he might have irreparably damaged something.  He had robbed himself, robbed Zandik, but only now did he truly understand what he had stolen, tainted.  

He couldn’t have her.  None of them could, except for Zandik himself.

It was Omega’s responsibility as the last to ensure that at least their Prime segment got what he deserved.  What he needed.

None of them could carry such a burden, except for Omega.

Kusanali shifted her weight as she brought a hand to her chin.

“You misunderstand,” the Archon corrected.  “I simply didn’t have the full picture before.  Different physical versions of you exist, not just fragments of a subconscious, otherwise such a trick wouldn’t work.  She all but confirmed it herself when I asked for her perspective.  Your words are simply the nail in the coffin.”

Leave it to the musician to have disclosed details to an Archon.  And here he thought he might actually have a chance to shine of his own accord.  

Omega knew what the Archon would think of Zandik’s choice; an explanation would do little.  After all, Buer was the God of Wisdom and held the Dendro Gnosis; the element was, inherently, based on the concept of life.

He turned towards the core of the Akasha, thrumming with sigils as it processed information, the very heart of Sumeru.  The Segment crossed his arms over his chest.  Information was leverage with the God of Wisdom; it wouldn’t do for her to not have all of the facts.

“Even the same individual will have different cognitions at different ages.  Observation is the first step of any experiment, but observing the current world doesn’t satisfy me.  It lacks an important dimension – that of time.  The Segments are all different ages, independent individuals…that’s all there is to it.  That independence has a certain…difficulty when it comes to a fated bond.”

“I can imagine.”

He hated the look of understanding in her eyes.

Omega flexed his hand, willing away the tension that was already beginning to taint the rest of the network.  He could hear the chatter from Alpha, just young enough to have experienced the stonings of others; from Rho, impatient and always wanting to prove himself; and from Tau, who broke a hyoid bone in an attempt to stop a vicious wound and had yet to learn how to distance himself.  All of them vying for attention, to be heard, and still their whines fell on deaf minds.

Prime was surprisingly quiet.  Didn’t he hear them, how intrusive they were?

Shut up, all of you.  Your prattling has no place here, Omega thought.

A hush fell over the network but that silence seemed to have drawn Prime’s attention for a moment before he turned his mind away.  He controlled them in a way Omega never could.

“Such a method of prolonging one’s existence, of obtaining insular perspectives, is an insult to the concept of life.  Life inherently has many rules and restrictions.  They can’t be broken on a whim.  And soulmate bonds are unbreakable.  Even if you successfully diverted the connection, she would never be truly yours.”

Omega couldn’t suppress his amusement and let out a low laugh. As expected.  

That was precisely one of the reasons he was here.

“It is difficult for humans to make peace with themselves,” Omega said.  “Especially with oneself from a different period.”

The Archon put her tiny hands, now balled into fists, on her hips, displeased.

“Cognitive dissonance doesn’t explain why you waited until now to show up.  You could very well have stopped us and helped that ‘fake god’.”

He wasn’t Prime, he wanted to hiss.  Every good scholar knew that interference in an experiment would ruin the results and create a confirmation bias.  Results should only be left to the judgment of the version of himself confronted with that outcome.  

“I am first and foremost a scholar.  I seek knowledge in its purest form, that of observing outcomes.”

“As an individual, you have no sense of belonging, not even among your network,” the Archon crossed her arms and shook her head.  “Typical scholars know where to draw the line.”

“I have my own convictions.  They just don’t fit your standards.”

Hence the Tsaritsa’s blessing, not yours, Prime chimed in.  I never expected her to truly grasp those of her nation who pushed boundaries.  She and the Akademiya are not so different.

Two Gnoses will require two exchanges, Prime.  

I am aware.  They are yours to obtain, Omega.  Kusanali has been sheltered from the world for centuries; she is still naive to the true nature of the world, what we seek to accomplish.

“What exactly are you here to negotiate?” the Archon asked.  “I highly doubt a heretic such as yourself would come here seeking a god’s approval.”

Omega smirked, his jaw clenched.  “Lesser Lord Kusanli, you’re an intelligent archon.  I’m sure you understand that you have no way to use that Electro Gnosis.  The puppet could barely utilize it to its full potential.  And I’m sure you’re aware of the combat disparity between us.”

“Somehow, it’s starting to seem like you intend to take it by force,” the Archon shot back.

“Wholly inefficient and a waste of time and energy.  I only wish to show proper respect and dignity to the God of Wisdom.”

“Confident in your hypocrisy, Doctor; I would expect nothing less from one who blasphemes against the gods and yet seeks to exceed them.”

The Archon stepped back and turned away from him, summoning the Electro Gnosis.  She gazed at it, eyes narrowed.

“What if I were to try to destroy the Gnosis now, and awaken the heavenly principles?”

His composure fractured a hair as his mind entertained the vast possible outcomes of her question.  The network hummed with curiosity, an unsatiated need to know.  Even Prime, who had fallen into the background, was listening now.

That was part of the Tsaritsa’s plan and part of Zandik’s research.  But all of it was a hypothesis at this point.  Mere speculation.  To have an Archon, especially the God of Wisdom so in-tune with the world despite her seclusion, pose that possibility so openly…

Curse the ever-hungry curiosity that Zandik burdened all of them with, the one that gnawed at the connection.  He entertained the idea just long enough to see the full picture the Archon was painting.  Omega slowly approached the Archon and then moved past her, gaze falling on the sleeping Traveler.

This would have gone a little differently if the Archon hadn’t been empowered by such interference.

“A clever distraction.  You must have seen through me when I first captured your consciousness,” Omega gazed over his shoulder before he turned back to the small Archon.

“I saw through you long before that.  I just didn’t have all of the pieces until now.  What you are willing to do to one part to preserve the whole.”

A solemnity in her innocent expression tugged at a stray thought of a stolen moment in his mind, of Zandik, of the fated one.

“As the one who initiated this cascade of events, shouldn’t you pay the corresponding price?  Aren’t you ready to?”

The network buzzed; there was nothing but white noise and a vague sense of being watched.  Prime in particular seemed to have nothing better to focus on (which Omega knew was very much not the case, not with the designs that floated through the shared consciousness), a prickling sensation running through the connection.  The last thing he needed was interference.

“Price?  An interesting way to phrase it.  What price would you have me pay?”

“How about erasing all of your Segments?”

If she wanted to cripple him, that would certainly be the easiest method.  And it aligned perfectly with his own intentions.  At least this gave him an excuse to pave the way for Prime.

“What you request of me is like plucking out the eyes I have placed in the dimension of time.  Segments are extraordinarily difficult to make.  Rare resources, enormous amounts of time and effort.  A very suitable and wise decision.”

The chatter picked up again and Omega pulled his shoulders back, settled his hands behind him to keep from ripping off his faceplate.  Always the younger ones reacting so quickly, so violently.  Every time the network collapsed for a second, it was undoubtedly Rho; his instability and willingness to throw caution to the wind had proven useful against Ursa the Drake but otherwise, it was a burden Omega could not wait to be rid of.

Prime deserved more from himself.

What do you think you’re doing, Omega?  Prime demanded.

It was so subtle that the Segment almost missed it but the worry was there, just below the surface, pulsing in the currents of the connection.

Answer me.  What.  Are.  You.  Doing?

What is necessary.

Where are you?  How dare you throw away my work—

Omega cut the connection but not before he caught a sensation of the rising emotion from their Prime origin point.  Panic danced along Omega’s neurons, not his to process.  Good; at least one of them wasn’t entirely stone-cold just yet.  

He cast his gaze away from the far wall and back to the Archon.

“Among all the versions of me, this segment you see now is the most selfish.  If it weren’t me, your idea wouldn’t have worked.  What did you see when you were imprisoned?  When you visited her dreams?  You were observing me.  You must know I’ve long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments.” 

And how I know that she was never meant to be mine.  How I was meant to be alone.

“As you said, it’s difficult to make peace with yourself.  Being as smart as you are, have you managed to do that?”

It was a question for Prime, not for the Segment.  One that Omega could not, would not answer.  Instead, amidst the protests and the clutter, Omega found his mind filled with music.  The sensation of a hand in his on the beach, a desire to fix.  A strange and anchoring ache for steadfastness and dedication, embracing a future unknown.  A kiss so tender and fleeting it might as well have been flower petals on a wind current.

So much for selfishness.  If he couldn’t have that connection, then at least another fragment would.

Omega had made his choice long before he entered this room.

“I see.  If you think all those versions of me are worth a Gnosis, then we have a deal.”

The Archon turned to face him again, face pinched in thought, her tiny hand gripping the bracelet around her other wrist.  Perhaps she simply wasn’t expecting him to agree but surely she, too, now saw the long-term outcome?  Leave it to a god to ponder when the answer was so clear.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” she said softly.  “Is the relationship between all of the versions of you really that bad?” 

“I don't think there's any need to dwell on that.  It's only a matter of time until I find better, more insightful ‘perspectives.’  Perhaps it's best to say... you're just temporarily ahead.”

He could see the pieces fall into place at last, the Archon’s eyes growing just a little wider before she nodded once, resolute.

“How can I be certain you’ve completed your end of the bargain?  I can see your remaining honesty, but...”

Omega pressed a hand to his chest for emphasis.  “I’ll feel it.  Surely the Dendro Archon still has insight into one’s thoughts and dreams?”

The Archon closed her eyes and held out a hand.  The sensation was not unlike how Prime fished around in his own memories but without the disregard for 

“Go ahead, then.”

It hadn’t taken much.  The right code and only permissions this Segment had access to.  Anyone else would not have been able to keep the agreement.

The interface directory came to life almost instantly.  Failsafe Protocol Omega.  This process is irreversible.  Confirm if you wish to begin.

Always the double confirmation, as if starting up the process wasn’t enough.

…Initializing…

Final words overlapped in one last swell before the connections faded, like orchestra sections in the closing notes of a song.  

He re-opened the channel, the familiar sensation of being one in a room of many running through his circuits as he took center stage.  Prime’s panic hadn’t eased and Omega felt the metaphorical hand around his throat, the fingers fishing around for his wiring.

Omega, you wretch—

You better be worthy of this, Zandik.

Worthy of what?!  

Her.

The system’s interface kicked in again.  Segments Alpha through Upsilon have been terminated.  Databanks of previously deceased Segments have been deleted.  Ten minutes remain before this segmentation will be shut down.

Ten minutes was more than enough.

“Well, God of Wisdom?” Omega snapped.  “Satisfied?”

The look of approval shining in the Archon’s eyes sickened him.  He did not want this to be the last thing he ever saw.

A tiny hand held out the Gnosis.

“Take it.  I’ll be shutting down the Akasha to allow for the thirst for knowledge to flow freely again.  There will not be any further gaps for you to exploit.”

Omega plucked the chess piece from the Archon’s palm.  Despite his gloves, he felt the Electro energy, the faintest tingle against the protective material.  He had examined it thoroughly before placing it inside the Shouki no Kami.  So close to divinity, and yet…

Prime’s sentiments burned through the last remaining connection and Omega put them into words.

“It truly pains me that my academic achievements have never been appreciated in my homeland.  No matter, I have no interest in being rejected by this city  a third time.  But what of the Dendro Gnosis?”

The light of approval dimmed in the Archon’s eyes as she crossed her arms.

“Don’t be greedy, Harbinger of Snezhnaya.”

He scoffed and then shook his head.  A slap across the face would have hurt far less.

“No, this is a different transaction.  If you intend to turn off the Akasha anyway, what use do you have for the Gnosis of Sumeru?  Besides, isn’t the Archon’s duty to deliver what’s desired of the seeker?”

Kusanali would not easily part with her Gnosis, based on the firm set of her eyebrows and how she tensed, knuckles white, arms still crossed.  Understandable.  After all, she only just came into her power and her role for her people.  

How frustrating.  He didn’t have time for this.

Omega gestured with an open hand.  “Think of it this way…since you’re the God of Wisdom, why don’t I exchange knowledge with you?”

The Archon turned away, closing her eyes; anything to not look at him.

“People exchanging knowledge with the God of Wisdom is the stuff of legends, yet here you wish to exchange knowledge for the God of Wisdom's property…” the Archon cast her verdant eyes back towards Omega. “Arrogant as that is, my interest is piqued.”

“Then allow me to ask you…have you, in all your mighty access to knowledge, ever heard the rumor that ‘the skies of Teyvat are fake’?”

Wide eyes gazed at him, skeptical.  The Akademiya kept her sheltered, after all; she likely had not.

“That’s the secret hidden by Irminsul concerning the ‘truth’ of this world.”

“Your arrogance may know no bounds and convictions may mean nothing to you, but I’ll listen to what you have to say.  If I deem that knowledge worthy, the Gnosis is yours.”

Omega’s lips curled into a smile.  

Yes, he might just have enough time after all.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

You turned towards a large board in the workshop, several pieces of paper filled with writing, diagrams and sketches pressed to its surface.  The handwriting was cramped and letters flowed into one another so easily, as if the writer never lifted their instrument from the surface.  It reminded you of the letter that asked you to the Akademiya’s gardens, except for the sharp flicks where the pen point tore through a thin layer of paper fibers, leaving a rough mark and several ink drops.

Zandik’s mind moved so quickly, you easily imagined that in a fervor, he easily ruined pens and paper alike.  

You had done the same on more than one occasion.

Some of the ideas were simple enough to understand at a glance.  The diagrams helped.  Mentions of capsules, consolidating data, expediting a process that occurred organically over centuries.  Knowledge harvesting of a collective and then feeding that into a figure intended to become a god.

Delicately, you lifted a page when you caught your name scribbled in a corner.

“How did he do it?” you asked, your question echoing in the large, almost vacant space.

“Who?”

“Omega.  My memories.”

You heard Zandik shift a piece of paper and then the short clatter of a fountain pen meeting the desk.  Over your shoulder, you caught him rising from his chair before he tapped his fingers against the surface once, twice, his gaze elsewhere.  The set of his shoulders seemed wrong to you, almost defensive.

The air between you had shifted ever since the kiss.  If you thought about it too hard, you could still feel the featherlight brush of his lips, how warm and solid he felt despite the layers of his coat. He never cared much for limitations, in the wake world or elsewhere but the kiss was short, fleeting, hinting at more beneath the gentle touch.  He held himself back, although you weren’t sure for whose sake.  

Ever since then, he seemed slightly more at ease when you were alone.  Comfortable, at least in part with your company.

Which made his posture all the more strange.

When he didn’t respond further, you asked, “Zandik?”

He blinked, red eyes shifting away from the place they were boring a hole into the wall behind you.  It took him a second to catch up and you wondered what possibly could have been on his mind to have him so unfocused all of a sudden.  

“I thought I explained it thoroughly before,” he said, rounding the worktable and making his way over to you.

“You said it was like grafting a tree branch onto another.  I understand the idea well enough.  But how did he do that with something so intangible, like memories?”

When Zandik neared, you pointed to the sheet of paper and traced your fingers over the specific areas of the diagram as you spoke.

“For example, how was he even capable of breaking off my memories themselves, segmenting them into the exact pieces?  When I replay them in my mind, it’s like a cutout of one inside the other.  They fit but my mind…seems to understand that there’s something uncanny about such moments.”

Zandik examined the paper you pointed to, head tilted slightly as his eyes roamed the page.  He didn’t speak, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth, a gloved hand tracing a few words before he mumbled to himself.  He seemed unfocused again.  His workload was heavy, that much you knew, but surely not to the point where his thoughts were so unorganized.  

You caught the way his jaw tensed, how his mouth twisted into something close to a grimace, his finger still poised over the same spot.  His breathing was uneven, shallow, until he flattened his palm against the board and tore down a swath of notes.  Zandik’s shoulders rose and fell, heavy but predictable, the expression on his face unreadable except for eyes, distant, unseeing, unfathomably sad.

Was that how he looked when he realized what had happened, when you weren’t showing up in the dreams?  

He blinked once, twice, before he settled his gaze on you again, as if he had seen a ghost.

“Zandik?” you whispered, raising a hand to brush your fingers against his cheek.

His cheek was warm beneath your touch and the moment only lasted long enough for him to press his lips against the inside of your wrist.

“That useless waste of dream solvent…” he whispered into your skin.

Words were on the tip of your tongue but even they, too, failed.

His composure was threadbare but still intact, only just, and he pulled away, fingers grazing your arm as though he hadn’t quite wanted to let go.   He swept his mask off of his desk, sliding it on as he went, his pace murderous.

The means meant little to you but you knew from personal experience of only one individual capable of eliciting that kind of reaction from anyone.

And as you followed Zandik down the corridor, doing your best to keep in time with his stride, you couldn’t help but notice the earring: eerily dull and lackluster, as if drained of its very essence.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Ah, there they were.

Omega limped, his joints popping as he fought against the protocol’s parameters.  The countdown hadn’t finished yet.  But the mechanical parts were already failing in his attempts to draw out every last bit of energy he could.  

Noor 'eini?  Where are you, I have wonderful news!

Two Gnoses.

He could feel their power in his palm the way one felt heat from a stove, radiating in waves.  It wouldn’t do him any good, not now, but at least he got what he came for.  

Zandik reached him first, hand outstretched for the faceplate.  Omega brushed past him, pushing his origin point aside with an arm.

Forgive me.  The circumstances were not ideal and I did what I thought was best.

The segment continued towards her. She looked so different in the waking world, didn’t she?  Full of life, potential, promise.  

I fear we may not have the time for the full tale.

She was just a shell of herself when she was with him.  Manufactured.  Imperfect.

Here, she was nothing short of—

Omega’s leg buckled and the appendage failed him, the weakened joint taking the brunt of his weight as he stepped forward, stumbling slightly.  

In another life, I would think we were soulmates.

He reached for her hand and pressed the Gnoses into her palm before wrapping her fingers around them.  His hand hovered over her closed fist for a moment, as if expecting her to drop them, before his shoulder socket lost its power and his arm fell to his side, useless.

His ocular lenses sputtered before they, too, no longer processed images.   Her face swam in his mind anyway, not his to see, never his to keep.  

Look at me, noor‘eini.

[embroideredequations]

"We can't just sit and stare at our wounds forever..."

Marya Week Day 1: Post-war

[galexystern]

butterfly wings

chapter three; fall 1984

pairing; steve harrington/eddie munson/reader aka steddie/reader, steve/reader, eddie/reader

rating; T

warnings; fluff, angst, au - canon divergence, fucked up the timeline a bit, smoking weed, shotgunning smoke

word count; 3.8k

desc; eddie gives you a nice surprise, steve gets to know you better, and all three of you share some smoke.

read on ao3 / series masterlist

Winter comes and goes. In fact, the whole rest of the school year comes and goes in a flash. The summer comes in hot and heavy, and you suffer in the sweltering bookstore. You swear that you'll get another job next summer if they don't add air conditioning. You beach it up with Nina and Mark. You and your friends take a road trip into Illinois and hit Chicago hard. You attend the annual Taste of Chicago and explore the State of Illinois Center. You even manage to find a gay bar—Jesse goes wild under your and Hailey's supervision and Vickie's awkward flirting somehow nags her a girl's number. She gets embarrassed every time any of you bring it up, but you can each tell she's proud too.

Junior year sneaks up on you and hits you like a freight train. It doesn't even slow down, just pushes you into the deep end as soon as it starts. You try out for the fall play and drag Jesse into auditioning too. Surprise—he loves it (he's an English nerd like you, so you knew he would). The difficulty dial turns up on all your classes except math, which has never been your strong suit. While you're stuck a year behind everyone else, you're pleasantly surprised to find Eddie in your class.

"Well hello there, stranger," he says as you take the desk next to his.

"Hi!" You exclaim, happy to have a friend in the class.

Eddie laughs at your enthusiasm. "That's the most excitement I've seen for a math class in a long time."

"Oh, yeah," you say sarcastically. "I'm all about math. I dream of it at night."

"And here I am, a fool for dreaming about you instead." He winks and you blush madly. You set up your notebook and pencil perfectly, just for something to do instead. You hear Eddie chuckle and then there's a loud handclap from Mrs. Dolip, making everyone jump.

"If she's gonna do that every day, I'm gonna have a heart attack," Eddie whispers to you under his breath.

"Don't worry," you whisper back, "I know CPR."

You can feel his eyes on you and you know you're still blushing, but you also smirk, all the while watching your teacher write the first lesson on the board.

A week later, while Mrs. Dolip is blabbing on about equations, Eddie speaks out of the side of his mouth. "Have you thought about my Hellfire offer at all?"

You wince and shake your head minutely.

"Okay, angel. No sweat." Your breath hitches at the pet name. "Just keep it in the back of your mind for me." You nod and he lounges back in his desk.

Another week later, Eddie stops paying attention to the worksheet you two are supposed to be finishing and props his head on his hand. "You know, D&D is a lot more fun than this."

You give him a look. "Anything would be more fun than this." The page is full of fractions that keep drifting away from your eyes.

"Fair," he muses, "but D&D would be as fun as doing the school plays. I know you enjoy those."

"I do, but there are things I enjoy more, you know."

"Like what?"

"Reading. Fleetwood Mac. Cats. Taking a walk by the Seine."

"Paris, huh?" You nod. "But what about an alternate world where magic exists and fairies are spiteful and dragons terrorize villages and wizards command the elements?"

"Sounds a little dark for my tastes."

"You're the one who said Fleetwood Mac." He gives a cheeky smile. You roll your eyes and get back to work.

A month after that, just when you've forgotten about D&D, Eddie says after class one day, "You could be a princess, you know. Or a bard. Or a really good thief who always takes what they need but must leave something they want."

"What?"

He shrugs. "It's a curse. Balance is necessary."

You put your pile of books on your desk and turn to him. "Eddie, what are you doing?"

"A great question, milady." He beams. "I'm courting you."

"You're what?" You feel like you're choking on the words.

"To be my apprentice," he clarifies. "My successor."

"Oh." There's a faint sense of disappointment. "Well—"

"Before you say anything, just gimme some more time. I've got some tricks up my sleeve." He winks but there's a pleading in his voice. "Gimme a chance."

You study him, fingers adorned with silver rings constantly fidgeting at his sides, hair wavy and out of control, the same faded leather jacket he always wears shining in the florescent lights.

You sigh. "Okay."

He brightens considerably. "Really?"

"Yeah. Court me or whatever."

"That I can do, angel!" With that, he sprints out the door. You follow at a leisurely pace, not really sure what you're getting yourself into.

;

The next Steve-and-Nancy drama comes around, except this time, you're somehow in the middle of it. It was a crazy sequence of events that led up to it. It started at home.

"I'm going to the store. Do you need anything?" Nina had called from the foyer while putting on her shoes.

"Um," you'd uselessly shouted back while thinking. "We need Pop-Tarts and lemonade. Maybe also some Arnold Palmer's? And tampons please!"

"Check, check, and check," and then she was out the door.

About twenty minutes later, you heard a honk from outside—your sister's way of telling you she's back and to come help with the groceries. You slipped on some boots and grabbed the first heavy jacket you felt in your closet, since a chill had set in recently. You walked out the door, down the stairs, and to the car. Nina had the trunk open and you pulled out one of the bags. You started walking back to the building, not paying enough attention evidently, because you ran into someone halfway through the parking lot.

As if in slow motion, the bag broke open and things went flying. Nothing broke but it was almost worse what actually happened: a box hit the ground with abnormal force and sprang open, propelling tampons into the air. You looked at the person you bumped into through the spray and were mortified to find Steve Harrington staring back at you with a smirk.

Worse still, when the tampons had fallen back to the ground and rolled around on the pavement, Steve reached out and pinched the jacket you were wearing. "I wonder where I've seen this before," he teased.

You looked down and sure enough, you were wearing Steve's letterman jacket.

You just froze, staring at nothing with wide eyes, sure that this whole situation could not get worse. And yet, it did.

"Steve!" Nina said happily, joining the two of you. "Where have you been?"

"Hi, Nina. Just around. At school, practice," he answered cordially, still looking at you with mirth in his eyes.

"We've missed you. You have to come for dinner. What are you doing tonight?"

"Absolutely nothing," and you could hear the cheekiness oozing from the words. "I'd be honored to join."

"Great!" With that, she just walked away and disappeared into the building.

"Oh my god," you breathed, and Steve finally burst into laughter. "Oh my god," you repeated, moaning this time.

"Your face! It was priceless!" There were tears in his eyes. "That was the best thing I've seen in a long time."

That piqued your interest, but it could be examined later. You had to survive this mortification. "I'm so sorry," you said, "I'm so sorry!" You dropped the broken bag, scattering more items, as you rushed to pull off his jacket. "I forgot!"

Steve's hands darted out and stopped yours from moving. You looked up at him. He was smiling. "There's nothing to apologize for, beautiful. You don't have to take it off now. It's cold out here." He dragged it back over your shoulders and you had to hold in a shiver. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I made you strip out here."

Your eyes widened and he laughed again. In an effort to draw attention elsewhere, you dropped to the ground and started collecting the tampons and other stuff. Steve joined you. You tried to use the bag but it was useless. Without any other option, you took the tampons and shoved them in the pockets of the jacket, making him laugh again, louder this time. You laughed too, seeing the ridiculousness in it all. All you and Steve could do was laugh for a minute, just crouching in the middle of the parking lot.

As the giggles faded and breathing evened, you started picking up the other things. "Here," Steve said, and held out his shirt, making a kind of basket. You giggled again as you piled items into the makeshift pouch, until everything was off the ground. You two stood and both supported the weight of his shirt.

"I never imagined I would kind of understand what it's like to be pregnant," Steve joked, and it took a lot of effort not to become completely useless due to laughter.

You both got inside and helped put away the groceries. You were thankful Nina had already started cooking and didn't seem to notice how you'd carried the items inside. As soon as everything was away, Nina was directing you and Steve to help prepare and dinner got underway.

A few hours later, after you'd finished eating and cleaning up the table, you and Steve escaped to your room. "Here," you said sheepishly, handing him his letterman jacket. He took it with a grin and laid it on the back of your desk chair. You sat on your bed while he examined your room.

He looked at your collection of manatees. "Each one is from a new city we've moved to," you explained.

"There's so many." Steve sounded both awed and a little sad.

"Yeah, we've been a lot of places."

"Why?"

"Nina and I are army brats. Dad was moved from base to base a lot. It was cool to see the world, but making friends was always hard." You breathed deep. "They died a couple years ago. Car crash. Can you believe it? Dad was in the fucking military and a random accident is what officially takes them away?"

"I'm sorry." His voice was gentle and soft and kind.

You forced your voice to stop wobbling. "Anyway, Nina got custody. We've moved a couple times so she could find a good enough job to take care of us both. But her job at the hospital here is really nice. She likes it a lot. And it feels pretty stable."

"Where's the one for here?"

"We haven't been able to find one yet. We do have to get it local and for some reason, Hawkins just doesn't sell manatee merchandise." Steve looked back at you and matched your grin.

"What's your favorite one?"

You stood and moved to join him. You picked out a small, delicate manatee. "This one's from Hawaii. We weren't there for very long, but we found this at a tiny shop in Maui. Hand-carved and hand-painted."

"It's beautiful." But Steve was still staring at you.

"Thanks," you whispered, face heating. Realizing your position, you cleared your throat and stepped away. "So, um, how's Nancy?"

It was like being doused in cold water. Steve's expression hardened, though he carefully returned the manatee to its rightful place before stalking away. "It's fine."

"Sounds like it." You said it simply, but it broke through. Steve sighed and perched on the end of your bed. You sat next to him. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I don't even really know what's wrong," he started, sounding confused and lonely. "This past year was great. I thought we were past all the stuff from last year. But...it feels different. Feels like something's off."

"Have you asked her about it?" He shook his head. "Might be a good place to start. Communication is key."

His lip quirked up. "Maybe." There was silence for a few minutes. You were just about to touch his hand when he sprang up from the bed. "So what are you doing for Halloween?"

Shocked by the sudden topic change, you stammered, "Um, something with my friends? Like...horror movie night? Maybe?"

Steve nodded seriously. "Are you dressing up?"

"I'm not sure. I have an idea but there's not really anywhere to wear it."

He lit up. "Come to the party! Tina's party! Nancy and I will be there. And you can bring your friends."

"Are you sure?" Your brow furrowed.

"Totally! It'll be fun. Here," he grabbed a pen and scribbled something onto a piece of paper on your desk, "that's her address. Easy to get to from here!"

"Um...okay—"

"Great!" He beamed. "Well, I gotta go! Those essays won't write themselves!" With that, he awkwardly dashed from the room, grabbing his jacket in the process.

"Bye, I guess," you said to the empty room, completely bewildered.

;

And that's how you're here, at Tina's Halloween party.

"Are you sure we're invited?" Vickie asks nervously.

"Duh!" Jesse replies, already dancing to the beat, "Steve invited us personally."

You shrug, feeling a little helpless. "He did."

"So let's have some fun!" Hailey yells. She grabs Jesse's hand and they plunge into the crowd, immediately heading for the dance floor. You look at Vickie, who looks right back at you.

"Drinks?" You offer.

"Drinks." She confirms.

So you two also head into the fray, in the opposite direction, eventually finding a communal punch bowl that must have six different kinds of alcohol in it for how pungent it smells. You and Vickie ladle some into cups and try it.

"That's nasty," Vickie coughs. You agree. You both keep drinking.

"Hey, you made it!" You hear Steve before he appears, dressed like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. He stops short when he sees you fully. "Whoa."

You look down self-consciously. "Does it look okay?"

"You look sick!" He exclaims. "Not sick like ill, but like super cool. Carrie is such a good choice. Who did the blood?"

"Jesse, Hailey, and I took turns," Vickie answers, and Steve grins.

"Looks awesome!"

"Thanks, Steve." You try not to blush. "Hi, Nancy," you add when you see the girl appear next to him.

She smiles—well, more like grimaces—in greeting before taking a cup and dipping it right into the punch bowl. You and Vickie exchange a side glance, but Steve just follows her lead. "Let's dance," she shouts to him. He gives her a thumbs-up and waves at you and Vickie before disappearing into the crowd.

"Something's not right there," Vickie says to you. You already knew that, but you didn't want to see it right in front of you either.

"I'm gonna get some air," you tell her. She nods and you weave through the people, finally finding the doors leading to the deck and backyard. When they slide open, the cool air is a relief on your hot skin, and you breathe deep in relief.

"Didn't expect to see you here, princess."

You jump at the voice and turn to see Eddie leaning against the side of the deck, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. "Jesus Christ," you choke out.

"I gotta stop scaring you, angel, or I'm gonna have to give you CPR. And I'm not certified." You half-smile, heart still racing. Seeming to sense that, Eddie motions to you. "Come sit down. Get your breath back."

You do as he recommends and sit in the chair next to him. Good thing it's metal, otherwise the fake blood you're wearing would soak in.

"You look great, by the way," Eddie appraises. "Superb fake blood placement. Very authentic."

You smile in thanks, still calming down. "What're you doing here?" You ask when you feel you can.

He holds up a metal lunchbox. "You don't know I'm the local dealer?"

You shake your head. It's news to you, but not altogether surprising. You tell him as much.

He chuckles. "I'm guessing you're not out here to buy?"

"No. Just to get some fresh air."

"Well, shit." He starts to wave away the smoke from his almost-spent joint. "Sorry, princess."

You wave a hand. "It's fine. Actually..." Eddie raises an eyebrow in interest. "I'd be down. To partake. If I can."

"Course you can," he says with a wicked grin. He pulls a fresh joint from behind his ear. "And for you, pretty lady, it's on the house." You go to grab it, but he brings it out of reach again. "But only if we can share."

You nod eagerly and Eddie claps his hands together. "Excellent." He drags a chair over and sits next to you. He hands you the joint and you put it between your lips. Expecting for him to hand you the lighter, you're startled when he leans forward instead, flicking on the flame and lighting it for you. As you inhale, the burning embers set his face aglow a little. He's very pretty.

You finally exhale, releasing the smoke into the air. "Well done, angel," he says, impressed. You shrug nonchalantly as he takes his drag. When he exhales, he creates little rings out of the smoke.

"Whoa! Can you teach me to do that?" You ask excitedly.

He laughs. "Of course."

A little while later, first joint gone and second started, you're just about getting the hang of smoke rings when the door slams open. You and Eddie both turn your heads quickly to see Steve in the doorway, breathing heavily.

"Steve?" You say hesitantly. He looks at you. He has devastation written all over his face. "What's wrong?"

"Can I get a hit?" He asks, ignoring your question.

Eddie hands the joint over without argument, clearly seeing what you're seeing. Steve takes a long drag before exhaling loudly, relaxing as he does. He collapses in the chair near you and Eddie.

"It's over."

"What's over?" You ask.

"Me and Nancy."

Eddie sucks in through his teeth. "That sucks, man."

"Steve, I'm so sorry."

"She called me 'bullshit'," he spits out. "Called our whole relationship 'bullshit'." His tone turns sad. "Said she doesn't love me anymore."

You feel terrible for him. "Steve, you're not bullshit."

"Apparently I am." He inhales from the joint again.

You pluck the joint away, take a quick drag, and hand it to Eddie. Placing a hand on Steve's, you order gently, "Steve, look at me." He swings his head to you sadly, eyes heavy. "You are not bullshit." He scoffs but you interrupt. "Steve." He shuts his mouth. "You are not. bullshit."

Steve gazes at you, then directs his attention to Eddie. "She's right, man," Eddie confirms. Steve looks back at you. You give him a small smile, which he eventually returns.

Temporarily resolved, you turn to Eddie and motion for the joint. You suck in greedily, inhaling quickly. You hold it in for a few seconds, and then release it—finally making a correct smoke ring.

"You did it!" Eddie yells.

"I did it!" You echo.

"Great job, beautiful," Steve commends, and you smile angelically at both of them. You give Steve the joint, who takes a drag and hands it to Eddie. "You guys ever shotgunned?" He asks once he's exhaled.

"Obviously," Eddie answers with contempt, but you're confused. "Like a beer?"

"No, smoke," Steve clarifies. You shake your head.

"You don't know how to shotgun, princess? Well, we gotta remedy that," Eddie continues.

Steve explains. "It's when you blow the smoke into another person's mouth."

You're having trouble trying to picture it, and Eddie senses it. "Here, Harrington and I will demonstrate." It feels like a challenge.

One that Steve is up for. "Let's do it, Munson."

They both stand and step in close to each other. They're about the same height—Steve's just the tiniest bit taller—but their mouths are pretty level. Eddie takes a drag, lets it sit, and then lines up his lips with Steve. He exhales the smoke directly into Steve's mouth, who inhales it deeply. They're centimeters from kissing. It makes you squirm a little.

"Nicely done, Harrington," Eddie says, impressed.

Steve does a little bow, making Eddie laugh unexpectedly. You try to hide a smile. Then they both look at you.

"Your turn, beautiful," Steve says.

"Okay." Your voice is a little small.

"You wanna do it?" Steve asks Eddie, but he shakes his head. "All yours, dude."

Steve sits back down and scoots closer to you. He looks deep into your eyes. "Okay, come close." You do so and your body heats up in the proximity. "I'm gonna do it. You just hold those pretty lips open, okay?" You nod, trembling a little. Steve takes a drag, holds it, and then leans in even closer. You can practically feel his mouth on yours. You're almost unprepared for the smoke as it comes billowing towards you, but you inhale as you're supposed to. Steve stays close for a few seconds, the eye contact too intense to break, until you accidentally puff out the smoke into his face. He leans back and coughs. 

"Sorry!" You exclaim.

"It's alright," Steve answers with a smile. "No harm done."

"You wanna try, angel?" You turn to Eddie and nod. Steve hands you the joint as Eddie comes close this time. You inhale, letting the smoke roll around in your mouth, and then lean in and blow it into Eddie's waiting lips. He inhales it greedily and there feels like electricity between you as he doesn't break his gaze. You can't seem to close your mouth. The moment only ends when Eddie turns his head up and releases the smoke into the night sky.

He looks back down at you. "Good girl," he murmurs, and you feel like you could die.

You collapse backwards, exhausted from the tension.

"How was that?" Steve asks.

"Great," you answer dreamily, and he smiles.

"We're honored we could pop your cherry, princess," Eddie adds cheekily.

You shiver—and then keep shivering.

"Oh, beautiful, you're cold," Steve points out. You don't feel cold; you actually feel hot, from being so close to both of them, and seeing them so close to each other. But there are goosebumps on your skin and you can feel your teeth start to chatter. "Let's get you inside."

All three of you stand and move towards the door. Eddie opens it and lets you and Steve step inside before following and shutting it behind him. You already feel better.

Vickie comes rushing up to you. "We gotta go. It's almost my curfew." She takes your hand and pulls.

You turn back to catch glimpses of those beautiful boys. "Thank you!" You call out, hoping they hear you.

chapter four

[ahmedmootaz]

Since you respond here quicker than ao3 and had to look up what was my question, why won't X give himself a new name post-tMFoA? I can get the explanation with Hope. (And had X had been named Hope in au, I really would’ve think Angela would scoff at the reminder from Hope the person, with the seed of light being grown by blood and suffering)

But this is actually me segue on what will X and Angela would name BH? Would it be the same as Ayin, since one is a clone and the other is his creation? (Weirdass family tree there) or one or both of them have better naming sense than him?

What about Carmen anyways, how's her naming skill? And why not throw The Distortion, I guess. Because who names them, the distorted themselves? TD? the patron librarian (and lcb sinners)?

I was mostly thinking X and Angela adopting BH post-AiP (but an au of X being part of Library founding would be neat in a different ask) but wasn’t sure how far BH is cause Angela in her bad end has ridiculously long hair, versus LoR's short hair. Cause X's fate is nebulous if he wants to live long, or died from the battle or from clone degradation.

So potentially we could have Angela adopting BH with fond memories of X, X lived long enough to love and care for BH but still cut short anyways, or none of those two and I'll finally get X/Angela slowburn.

Dear astrocouriers,

Good questions all around! And quite the complex and interesting ones too, although I hope you'll forgive me for not replying too quickly, even though it was quicker than the time it would've taken on AO3, ahah.

Essentially, my personal reasoning for why X wouldn't change his name is that whatever he would choose wouldn't be him anymore. Being "Hope" or "Ayin 2" or any other name simply wouldn't have had the relevancy to him that X does; simply changing his name would be too easy after everything he went through, in a way. There would be no struggle in just deciding to be "Hope" from now on, but it simply isn't who he was. He was never the hope that the Corporation's denizens needed, and he wouldn't stand up to Ayin's legacy and power, he was simply an unknown factor in an otherwise perfectly planned equation. An 'X' factor, if you will.

Hence, X's name to him signifies that battle that he had to endure. It signifies that he was simply a variable that had no real purpose beyond his assigned role, a failed clone with little abilities compared to his original version and with a far meeker attitude, unimportant enough to the grand scheme of everything and everyone that he wasn't even given a proper name.

But more than just that, it especially signifies that he survived. In spite of all of these hurdles, in spite of being a faceless, nameless clone with a singular task and no grand purpose after it, in spite of being intended to simply die after his purpose was complete, he not only lived, but he carved himself into a person. The name X, then, is a proof that he survived everything that was thrown at him and gave a meaning to a nameless, faceless clone, just as Ayin gave meaning to the hollow word that 'promise' is in the City when he promised Carmen and went through the unimaginable for her.

As a last note, I think X wouldn't like discarding his name because, despite all of the negative memories associated with it, it's the name he came to recognise for himself as well. For all of the pain it holds, it holds a lot of happiness and relief as well, a constant reminder that regardless of how bleak it is, he can make it out again, just as he made it in the Corporation after countless (mostly forgotten) restarts to the Script.

As for your second question, hmmm...I think Angela would have great difficulty finding names, and honestly, so would X, seeing how both of them are either close to Ayin's method of thinking in X's case and straight-up Ayin's daughter in Angela's case, which means both of their creative skills are likely a...dud, to say the least. Still, I reckon that eventually they can settle on something that they'd find from their books, such as Aqua because X is a sentimental fool and the name reminds him of Angela's hair (plus the name is semi-neutral so whether or not the BH is a boy or a girl it'd work). But yeah, if the other Librarians were around, they'd likely be the ones to find a suitable name while Angela and X argue together about how weird/not weird their relationship/family tree is.

As for Carmen, considering she's the exact opposite of Ayin, I'd say her naming skills are vastly superior, and that she/The Distortion is likely the one that picks Distortion names, seeing how most Distortions aren't exactly conscious enough to pick their own names. If we go by the theory that Abnormality names were also spawned from Carmen's subconscious/Bucket, then she seems to have quite the palette of names to choose from, definitely something she'd be sad she couldn't transfer to her daughter, hehe.

If I recall correctly, Angela's bad ending occurs some thirteen years after Roland's defeat, so in such a scenario, I think X would definitely choose Angela repairing his wounds and degradation so he could not only live with her, but with the BH. I think X isn't averse to living a long life, actually, but I also think he would wish to die at some point. He's evaded Death long enough now, and even if he decides to grow old with Angela by his side, he has to pay his due one day, and he'd like to come to terms with it on his own instead of being forcefully evicted out of his mortal coil.

In other words, yes, I think that if Angela and X adopt the BH, you'll finally get your Angela/X slowburn, kehehe.

Once again, thank you for the insightful and fun ask, astrocourier! I hope to see you again soon! Be well, stay safe, and see ya'!

[sunnylolli]

Genuine question I’m really curious about,

Your family AU, where would Jett (Australia) and Kaelin (New Zealand) fall into? Would they be a new set of siblings for Francis and Arthur as Alfred and Matthew enter adulthood or???

I'm going to be so honest, and I'm so sorry, but Jett, Kaelin and then the micronation of Sweden that I've completely forgotten the name of - I haven't thought any of them into the equation, because that's just too much character-planning for a little feel-good au for me 🥹

[ice-connoisseur]

but there are much worse games to play

I’ve just re-read the Hunger Games for the first time in maybe fifteen years, and (mainly thanks to whoever has been reblogging Haymitch-and-Peeta gifs recently.  Was it @nire-the-mithridatist?  I feel like it was @nire-the-mithridatist) and maaan had I forgotten how heavy it gets.  I think in my head I’d equated it with Twilight and boy oh boy do I owe Suzanne Collins some apologies. 

Apparently my way of processing this was to spend the afternoon writing the first 1.2k of a GoT AU, because my default for writing anything these days appears to be a GoT AU, but anyway.  Not sure if there’ll be any more of this but I wanted to record the un-beta’d, unedited stream of thought that exists so far. 

Brienne Tarth wins the 59th Hunger Games and no one can work out what in hell to do with her afterwards.  Watching the confused consternation of the gamemakers is the most fun Jaime’s had in years.  He assumes they’ll never hear from her again; a tragic accident, perhaps, or maybe she’ll be one of the lucky ones, allowed to retreat to a quiet life of solitude and deep psychological trauma.  She’d certainly made no effort to hide her distain and derision for King’s Landing and everything it stood for, but she was ugly and awkward and a truly terrible public speaker; little risk, even uncontained.  She has no obvious pressure points, her only family an elderly father so plagued by ill-health that his imminent death is too much of an inevitability to ever be a threat, but it’s not really a surprise when no one seems to think it worth the admittedly considerable effort that would be required to kill her.

Jaime meets her just once, on the last night of her Victory Tour, the Red Keep lit up for the Victor’s Ball; she looks more uncomfortable and unsure in the middle of Kings Landing than she did at any point throughout the two and a half weeks she spent in the arena, and when they’re introduced she blushes an impressive shade of red and can’t lift her eyes higher than Jaime’s shoulder.  Jaime laughs; he can’t help it, it’s just so ridiculous, that this creature should be this year’s glorious victor.  It shows the Games for the farce that they are and there is nothing Jaime loves more.  She somehow flushes even more at his laugh but it does at last make her lift her eyes properly to stare at him directly.  They’re bluer than the seas around Casterly Rock, and filled with contempt.  

Neither of them speak and then Renly Baratheon is there, shouldering in to claim her for a dance because the idiot will do anything to draw attention, and Jaime assumes that’s it.  Sure enough she’s packed off back to Tarth the next morning, and Jaime doesn’t really think of her again until a year later when the lunatic actually comes back.  

Most of the mentors are based in the capital, tied there through threat or lack of options or, in a few, select, cases, actual desire to be there.  The ones who manage to leave intact are never stupid enough to risk returning.  Except Brienne Tarth does.  She doesn’t need to, the Stormlands aren’t frequent victors but they’ve had enough over the years to have a small pool of mentors to call upon, but she’s there. Every year for fourteen years, looming behind whatever pair of unfortunates have been picked out this time, and she’s terrible at it, she must be, she’s got no charisma, no charm, no guile. Whatever schmoozing needs doing, to gather the Stormlands tributes their favours and sponsorships, falls solely on Davos Seaworthy’s shoulders.  By the time the tributes are in the arena she has nothing to offer them, and it takes Jaime a few years to realise that by then she’s already given them everything she can.

In fourteen years the Stormlands only has one victor; in more than one year neither tribute lives past the initial bloodbath.  And yet Tarth stays in the Mentor’s viewing room, day in day out, from the first morning to whenever the final victor is plucked from the field.  Jaime’s not always there, he has his own tributes to watch out for, palms to grease and sponsors to sweettalk, but after the first couple of years he stops being surprised by her presence, whenever he returns.  She’s never friendly, sometimes she’s downright hostile, but she’s somehow easier company than the rest of the mentors, and it makes the whole thing one tiny iota more bearable, watching whatever atrocities are unfolding on screen with her arm pressed warm against his.  He has no idea what she does or where she goes for the rest of the time, but for two, three weeks a year she becomes the best friend he has.  

Her only victor is a scrawny 15-year-old who wins more by default than any significant skill on his part, when the main pack are taken out simultaneously by an earthquake and the remainder mostly pick each other off until there’s just Podrick Payne and Mandon Moore, a hulking brute from the Vale, left.  Jaime has to watch the replay four times before he fully understood what had happened; Moore’s mace, crashing into the ground where Pod had lay moment’s earlier, the sword the smaller boy had pulled from Moore’s own scabbard and plunged up through his ribs.  Jaime’s watched Brienne Tarth through eleven games by this point, not including her own, has watched her watch twenty-one of the children she’s escorted to King’s Landing fall in the arena in twenty-one different, equally horrible ways.  The moment the twenty-second grips on to the ladder up to the hovercraft is the only time he ever sees her cry.  

Three years later, Robb Stark and Talisa Maegyr are reaped for the North.  There’s murmurings, of course, but it’s not the first time a prominent family has contributed to the Games, and Jaime is rolled out once more as living proof of just how true that is.  It won’t be an accident, of course, Robb’s inclusion the year after his father’s fall from grace, but no one, not even Brienne Tarth, is stupid enough to say so out loud.  It’s a typical Tywin Lannister move, masterful and pointed and shrouded in plausible deniability, and it backfires magnificently.  

Jaime doesn’t buy the love story the two teenagers weave, not for one second, but he can’t deny they do a very good job of selling the lie.  King’s Landing is entranced; Tywin is furious.  When Robb Stark reaches into his belt and pulls out the little handful of berries Jaime can practically hear the vein’s popping in his father’s forehead from a whole building away.  It’s a tactical masterstroke.  And all across country, from Kings Landing to the Wall, people are suddenly sitting up and paying attention.  And, quietly, carefully, asking questions.

Their death, in a train crash during their victory tour, is not a surprise.   But, Jaime can’t help but think, alone in his room that night, it might have been the biggest mistake Tywin Lannister has ever made.  Alive they were young and beautiful and charismatic, sympathetic and obvious targets for any malcontents to rally to.  Dead they are martyrs, transcending mortality to a higher, untouchable plane.  It’s not open rebellion, not yet, but it’s there, simmering, months of discontent and unrest that occasionally spills over in brief, barely supressed bursts of violence. Jaime spends months travelling from region to region, subduing disquiet and parroting patriotic garbage.  

He's in the Riverlands when the Quarter Quell is announced.

On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of King’s Landing, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.  Where there is no living victor the tribute will instead be reaped from their siblings, or, failing that, their descendants.  

The next time he sees Brienne in person she’s four chariots behind him, absurdly tall next to Pod’s stocky frame. Her face is set, expressionless, but when her eyes meet his they are burning with fury.