#every day I come in to work and silently pray for certain students to be ill

[tehri]

Every now and then, I glance at the calendar and realise that it's only January and I've only had this job for 2 months, and then I need to take a few deep breaths and try to stop myself from entering a stress- and sleep deprivation-induced depression-spiral because it's only been 2 months and I have 4 months left

then I kind of want to cry because there are 4 months left

when they said this was a Very Difficult class, they were not fucking joking

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Writing is praying.

When people ask me why I write, I want to ask them back: why do you pray? Because, in truth, my writing is no different from their whispered hopes or silent meditations. They reach for faith, for understanding, for a voice to guide them, and so do I—but my prayers are poured out onto paper, shaped into sentences, and left hanging between the lines. Like prayer, creative writing requires a certain kind of solitude, a space where nothing interrupts the flow.

Writing is an act of deep reflection, communion with one's inner self, a search for something beyond oneself. Like prayer, writing involves vulnerability, humility, the pursuit of truth and the expression of intimate thoughts or desires. It's a meditative process where words become a bridge between the writer and something larger—whether that's a personal vision, a spiritual insight, or the world of others.

I remember once being tasked with writing a grant that had the potential to bring positive change to our school district—and maybe even education in general. It was no small responsibility, and I knew I needed a place to receive and send the words that would become that proposal. So I headed to a coffee shop downtown that I knew would be empty. I found a seat, pulled out a pen and yellow legal pad, and waited.

There was no rush, just the quiet expectancy that the words would come when they were ready. Time faded as I slipped into that meditative place where nothing existed except the writing. When I finally looked up from my work, the waitress, who had been watching me from across the room, came over. “I don’t know what you were doing, but whatever it was, you seemed kinda lit up, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.

In that moment, I realized how much writing is like prayer. It's a solitary conversation, often silent, where you listen more than speak, waiting for the right words to emerge. The words I captured that day, in that stillness, turned out to be life-changing. The grant I wrote was funded by the U.S. Department of Education for half a million dollars—no small figure back then. For the next fifteen years, I spent my time trying to realize the promises I had made on that yellow legal pad.

I didn’t save the world, but I made a difference in the lives of hundreds of students who have since gone on to make a difference in the lives of thousands. Writing, like prayer, has a ripple effect. It begins quietly, often unnoticed, but its impact grows in ways you can’t fully understand at the time. What starts in silence can transform the lives of others in ways you never imagined.

A goal is a prayer with a timeline. But the deadline in writing is more elusive. It’s not a date circled on the calendar—it’s the moment when I can no longer be in touch with whatever is delivering the message to me. That time is fleeting, and it will run out when it decides to run out. If I haven’t found the space, the time, and the prayerful mood, the message will never be written at all—it will simply fade into nothing but a missed deadline.

So, if writing is prayer, to whom am I praying? The answer explains the frequency of my writing. I’m writing to all those who have passed before me. Am I writing to Jesus? Yes, of course I am. His life and death provided me with the essential lessons of my childhood. His death is as real to me as the death of my parents, friends, and relatives who have passed along the way.

But it’s more than just that. When I write, I’m speaking to those whose voices still echo in my mind, even though they’ve gone on. Some of you more fulfilled readers might recognize a few of them—Red and Vin, Aunt Rose and Uncle Tommy, Wild Bill, Mr. Baseball, Dan, and Crown. Each time I put pen to paper, I’m reaching out to them, trying to connect through the only means I have left: words.

The list of people to whom I pray grows every day, as does the list of people for whom I pray. This includes anyone who is reading these words or has ever read any of the previous thousands of pages, because you were in my mental, spiritual crosshairs when the words came to me. If I prayed for you once, I pray for you constantly. Every reader becomes part of this ongoing conversation, this perpetual act of reaching out and hoping for connection. Writing, in this sense, is an endless prayer, a constant, evolving dialogue with both the past and the present.

Writing, then, is not just prayer—it’s a conversation with the past and a constant outreach to the present. It’s how I keep the dead alive in my life, how I continue learning from them, sharing my thoughts with them, and listening for their guidance. Their absence creates the space for my writing, and their presence fills the pages. This is why I write. This is why I pray.

The time is nearing to write about Amanda as the praying intensifies.

[groverapologist]

i only worked backstage but i can def give u some insight into that! our school plays were kinda a big deal, i worked on prop and makeup one year and was stage manager the year after. now the dressing rooms are gonna look very different for every school; mines turned the gym changing rooms into the makeup area. some of the actors did their own makeup; that was mostly people who 1. knew how to do the makeup 2. required very little changes that they could easily do 3. previously practiced doing the makeup and 4. were usually older students (my school had students from 6th to 12th grade, so we had a bigger cast than most lol).

i was the makeup manager. i was in charge of makeup designs and makeup application. again, our cast was pretty big, and everyone required makeup, so we had to be smart about it. for certain ensemble members, i had one makeup look that would be put onto every single one of them (they were meant to be cult-like, so it worked). for the other ensemble members who were meant to be more diverse and different and rebellious, i gave them an idea of what the looks should be like, then when our first practice came, i built on their ideas. i wasn't the only one doing this, we were maybe 4 people working on this. this is definitely going to differ based on cast size, how many makeup changes have to happen, how much time you have, etc. you also have to be creative in handling the makeup depending on these factors. a lot of factors come into play for show makeup.

we had walky talkies that we would use to announce when someone was needed between stage and backstage. the stage manager did most of that work, but the prop crew also had some.

for props, we had charts and photos for how the stage was meant to look like in every scene. we still memorised most of the scenes' important prop placements, which isn't hard when you spend multiple months working on one project, but considering some schools do spring, winter, and summer shows, i think it would be a bit harder for them to memorise, so charts and photos would be enough. we waited backstage and would change the scenes whenever the curtains closed and gave any smaller props to the actors when necessary.

i make both of these roles sound dramatic but they were actually so fun. most of the work came in training to get them done quickly, but once we were sure everything would be done on time, we kinda just... sped through it on the actual day? and we'd spend the rest of the time dancing and having fun backstage even though we had to be really quiet about it so as to not disrupt the actual show lol. silent dancing in the dark.

funny little story. we had a lot of vapers in our school show. they'd all keep their vapes with me when they went on stage. at one point i had six different vapes in my pocket which was insane 😭😭 i also try my best to be kind always, so i found that a lot of people would come to me when they were nervous and i was really grateful i could provide comfort. another funny story, our show was during ramadan, and my friend who was doing sounds and i are muslim. the show was maybe 15 minutes after prayer time, so we would stuff our faces with food, pray, then speed backstage.

for the second show, i was the stage manager, and i took a lot of director roles too and was basically given the role of "second in charge". there was the obvious job which was: i had to manage when people were on stage, surprise surprise! we used walky talkies again, but i was also often running around making sure everyone and everything were where they were supposed to be. had to work closely with the prop manager at a lot of points because... props are part of the stage? kinda necessary part of being a stage manager lol. there was less dancing for me that year because i had more responsibilities, but i was fine with that. i was again given "can you hold my vape" duties which was still very funny to me, but it expanded to phones, small items, lipstick, etc.

i spent a lot of time pre-show annotating the script to decide when every cast member should be in certain locations. we had the backstage area, the dressing rooms, the stage, and the room connected to the backstage area. again, the cast was big, and no matter how hard i tried, i would never have been able to get them to be completely silent which you have to be backstage, so i had to think about that well. i had two people helping me which i was sooo thankful for.

given i was "second in charge" and am generally approachable, i also had to deal with a lot of problems in the cast. if there was drama, or there were serious issues, i was often the one told about it. the biggest issue was when the director was making a cast decision that made a lot of people uncomfortable because the person cast was very rude and disrespectful. i had to manage that situation but could only do so much as second in charge. the director and i came to a compromise that made most people feel better. (ps. i hated the director. hated her guts soooo bad. hated her decision making so bad as well. hated how she always played favourites. ugh.)

the cast and crew are usually very close and friendly. i was friends with most of the main cast and most of the crew (not the director though. ugh). we hung out outside the show often. i will say the backstage crew tended to be less theatre kid-y, half of us were and half of us either just wanted the credit or were doing something they enjoyed for other reasons (someone who worked on tech ended up studying computer science, for example). at the end of the show we would have an afterparty where people would almost certainly get drunk, and we'd celebrate the weekend after (shows ran from friday to sunday, so we couldn't do much over the week lol). we'd go on karaoke and people would joke that the crew was meant to be the ones on stage, we had a picnic, we just had a lot of fun overall. i wasn't involved in any drama, but i know there was some both times (again, considering we had a whole classroom sized cast, i think that's kinda a given).

some certain things we did include:

not saying macbeth, obviously

mutually hating on the director (both cast and crew. some people liked her but the majority were three seconds away from clawing our eyes out cuz of her)

calming one another down when we were nervous (that included me being calmed down cuz i was on the verge as a stage manager 😭)

as someone said. no going behind the damn back curtains. i was the only one allowed to as stage manager and i had to be so fucking careful that i didn't do it except for once when i really needed to. there were lights and wires between the wall and the curtain and any movement would've been seen by the audience which is a no-no.

we had a common phrase which was "you know what the audience is meant to be seeing, they don't" which basically meant if you fuck up, the audience won't know: improvised and don't panic. the audience can't tell the difference between improvisation and script.

i had to deal with. a lot. of makeup smearing in between scenes and acts. sometimes had to redo the whole thing. hellish.

sometimes the cast would help the prop crew put everything in place when the curtains were closed and the cast were ready.

we had vocal and bodily warm ups, and the crew participated in them as well. wasn't necessary, but it was fun bonding.

we had a mic disparity so we very often had to give mics from one person to another. also hellish, would not recommend.

the prop people will be insanely specific about where things go. better to give them the prop and have them place it where they want than just put it where you think it should be backstage.

the crew loves messing around. we have a lot of gaps where we don't work. we will 100% take advantage of them and fuck around for a bit.

putting makeup on someone can feel. a bit romantic. not for the makeup ppl but. for the cast. i hated that people felt like that cuz. i was kinda just doing my job lol. had a cast member confess and another flirt and i didn't reciprocate either and it was hell!!!!!

theatre is known for having a lot of queer men, but it also has a lot of queer women and a lot of trans and nonbinary people. it's a very inclusive space (in small productions at least) which i personally loved sm as a queer woman myself

that's all i can rack my brain for rn, but i'm sure there's more. idm sharing whatever, so always feel free to hmu!!

PSPSPSPS!! Calling all theater kids!!! I wanna make Jason a theater kid but I was too busy being in marching band to join any school plays. I know plenty of Shakespeare, but only in a literary analysis way. Tell me ALL about your time in your school drama department

[goggles-mcgee]

Revolt Of The Akuma [Commission for @miner249er]

As the title says, this is a commission for @miner249er

Summary: There’s only so much a person can take and Marinette is almost certain she has reached that point. What with Lila and her seemingly never-ending lies, Adrien and his nonexistent spine, Chat and his stubbornness, Hawkmoth and his akumas, Paris and their expectations, it’s all too much. She’s going to snap sooner or later. At least she has Luka and Kagami on her side, right? Right?

[Contains: Class Salt, Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir Salt, Lila Rossi Salt, Angst, Misunderstandings, Slight Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng Salt, Slight Tikki Salt, Akumanette]

It was rare for her to be surrounded by quiet, even more so to need that blanket of security that quietness can give, and yet here she was. The pink of her room had never seemed more faded or dull even with the lights on. Realistically she knew it was not quiet, her home was never quiet, there was always the bustle of business from the bakery downstairs, the sound of traffic outside, usually the sound of music coming from her phone or computer, and as always the chatter from her Kwami. Though Tikki’s words at the moment sounded like they were being spoken from above water whereas Marinette was under said water, deep under. Her eyes glanced at the mess she had made around her, the pictures of past friends as she’s come to understand all too well these past couple of months, to the torn and destroyed gifts she had given them returned to her solely for the sake of making her heart wrench painfully beneath her skin, from there to the piles of used tissues thrown about during her silent cries, and finally to the thing that had hurt the most and had been sitting in her lap, limp, shredded, basically lifeless, her sketchbook. The sight caused Marinette’s heart to clench in pain once more and she could feel tears pool her eyes yet again, but she forced them to stay, she was tired of crying. 

Noise flooded back to her almost making her flinch. There was the soft ding of the bell from the bakery’s door downstairs signaling a customer’s arrival or departure, there were the car engines and the horns beeping, peoples soft voices floating in, and of course Tikki’s worried voice. Everything in her yearned for the quietness but she knew she had to deal with everything eventually and eventually meant now, so she didn’t worry her parents if they came to check on her at any point. If they even noticed her mood change from lunch, she thought bitterly and felt immediate guilt at the thought. 

“Marinette…”

“Tikki.”

“Were you listening to me?” Tikki asked, and even though she knew Tikki wasn’t saying it in an admonishing tone, the girl couldn’t help the tiny wince she gave in return as she finally stood up and picked up the tissue piles. Truthfully she hadn’t but she could guess what the kwami had been saying. It was the same thing every time something happened between her and her class. That, they would come around, they were just acting out of misplaced trust and love, they would realize their mistakes and come back to Marinette and everything would go back to normal, but she had to get a handle on her feelings in the meantime so she wouldn’t be akumatized. No that wasn’t right. So that Ladybug wouldn’t be akumatized, but how could she after the day she had?

Lila made good on her promise. Marinette didn’t have a friend left in her class, maybe not all of them thought her the awful bully that Lila painted her out to be, but they  didn’t stand up for her, they didn’t talk to her in or out of class, and they wouldn’t meet her eye when she desperately looked around for at least one supportive pair of eyes. It had never been this bad with Chloe. At least with Chloe she knew what she was getting into, she knew the brand of teasing and insults that Chloe Bourgeois used, and she knew that people were scared to stand up to her, but even then they would still flash each other a look of comfort, a look of strength. Those looks let all of them know they weren’t alone, that others saw them struggling, saw them hurting, and were offering comfort.  Things truly were simpler then. Lila was something more than Chloe, more than any other bully she had ever seen or encountered. She had a silver-tongue that just seemed to gain more power the more she used it. Her lies were outlandish at this point and yet, no one saw it, no one but Marinette and maybe others outside her class but she wasn’t. The awful truth of it all was that Marinette had no one.

Sure Adrien had said he would be there for her, but that had been the biggest lie Marinette had ever been told, even with Lila spouting nonsense like knowing Jagged Stone because she saved his ‘kitten.’ She was always prepared for Lila to lie, could count on it, and she had become accustomed to her friends falling for the lies, but she had thought she had at least one person by her side. That had quickly been disproven again and again, and it felt like parts of her heart chipped away every time it happened. Adrien, once considered the love of her life, did nothing to ease her aching heart. There were no comforting hugs or even a hand on her shoulder to let her know that she wasn’t alone in the class of sheep. There were no glances shared between the two to let her know that he was just as fed up with Lila’s lies as she. Most importantly, and the one that hurt the most, there were no texts or calls or even letters that offered her any amount of support. That’s not to say he never texted her, but when he did it was never about anything important, it was always mundane and dare she say superficial, and sometimes, sometimes he texted her about her situation but it was never anything helpful, if anything they made her feel worse. They were always about how she was “provoking” Lila and, “what happened to taking the high road Marinette?” At first they had made her cry, she wasn’t provoking Lila, Lila was provoking her, how had Adrien not seen that? Sadness grew into anger, blinding anger, anger that caused her to rip every poster down, change her computer background with such force she nearly broke the mouse, and gave away every planned gift for every occasion, and afterwards all she felt was numb. In the beginning the numbness scared her, but it grew on her like a second skin, it protected her sometimes so she welcomed it. 

“Marinette!” Again she was wrenched from her thoughts by the yell of her kwami’s voice. 

It took her a couple of seconds to focus, “Yes, Tikki?”

“I lost you again. Where were you?” Tikki asked softly as she flew closer to Marinette’s face. 

“Sorry. Nowhere,” Everywhere, ”just thinking.” An apology and a half answer, when was the last time she actually told someone how she was feeling without holding back? Too long, her mind supplied. 

“...About today?”

“In a way.”

“Oh Marinette, things will start to get better, don’t let today get to you.” Don’t let it get to Ladybug.

“I know Tikki.” Hollow words, but they were expected, she even threw in a small smile, it was the most she could manage. It was the response of habit she gave, even to her parents, though she had the feeling they wouldn’t notice even if she did show some of her real feelings, some of her hurt. They were just so busy with the bakery sometimes that Marinette couldn’t help but feel that their attention to her was more obligation than anything else, and wow, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of everything? They had even forgotten to ask how her day was today, and though she wasn’t going to tell them, it still would have brought her some comfort to know they cared or pretended to care. At this point she would take what she could get. Today had been another rough one, but it had started out like her new normal, she would go to school and be ignored by her classmates or get glares and sneers that she in turn would ignore. Then she would go to her locker and put the bare minimum of her belongings in, that she prayed would not be destroyed (“improved”) or stolen, she did her best to boobytrap anything of importance like she did her diary since having a lock on her locker was supposedly unheard of at this school. After that was class itself where she expected her seat to be sticky or wet with something but she took to bringing wet cloths and paper towels with her since this was so common. ‘Just harmless pranks.’ Mme Bustier claimed when she first went to talk with her about the behavior. Honestly she didn’t know what she had been expecting when she went to her teacher for help, but she was not going to make that useless of a mistake again. What followed though was weird, she still found rude little notes but none of her classmates went out of their way to glare at her, or make snide comments about her, she wasn’t even tripped if they walked too close to her. To some people it would mean a break, but it only put her more on edge, like something bigger was coming, because Lila was acting strange. 

She hadn’t spouted one lie about Marinette, she still lied, just nothing about Marinette, which was odd. Though Marinette pushed it from her mind in order to get some help from Mme Mendeleiev for her homework packet that was due tomorrow. Some problems were proving difficult and she knew the teacher was more than willing to help students out if they went to her, so that’s exactly what Marinette did for lunch time. She even brought a packed lunch so she could eat and work with the teacher so they had more time, it was actually rather nice. Mme Mendeleiev, though stern and strict, was a real teacher. She wanted her students to learn and Marinette yearned for that, she yearned to be one of her pupils. There was a part of her that thought that maybe the teacher wanted that as well. It was an impossible thought, she tried to transfer once, it hadn’t ended well for her. Lila spun it around when she had heard, claimed Marinette was doing it to abandon them and leave them without a class president. Oh how she spun her web of deceit and claimed Marinette was doing it for attention, to get back at the class for not believing her ‘lies.’ Of course the class and Mme Bustier believed her, because why wouldn’t they? Then Mme Bustier went behind her back and spoke to Principal Damocles and whatever they spoke about resulted in her staying in the class no matter what she tried or whatever papers she managed to get her parents to sign that would allow her a class transfer. She was stuck in the class. In her prison.

After lunch is when everything had blown up, and some twisted part of Marinette was thankful it happened sooner rather than later. Lila had made a show of holding something, some papers that looked destroyed, to her chest and “crying.” If you could call over the top whimpering crying. Marinette didn’t have to prepare herself since she had been prepared all day for something to happen when Lila and her herd of sheep came to her and yelled at her for ruining Lila’s homework and something about writing something on her locker too? She just didn’t care anymore, she still claimed her innocence and that there was no way she could have done it, but no one was listening and Adrien was just standing there frowning at her in disappointment and all she could think was, right back at you boy. Mme Bustier joined in and Marinette just stood there as the teacher of course fell for whatever scheme Lila cooked up and then held back a sigh when said teacher started to lecture her there in the hallway for everyone to see. Of course they had to make a spectacle of it, of course they did. Damocles decided to join in and Marinette thought it was for sure going to be another expulsion, some part of her hoped for it. She knew that was bad but she was just so freaking tired of dealing with it all, but to her surprise Mme Mendeleiev was her knight in shining lab coat so to say.

“Marinette didn’t do it. She was with me the entire lunch period so unless she managed to defy all laws of physics and was in two or three places at once I would say she’s being framed.” Mme Mendeleiev’s voice had commanded attention and even Lila couldn’t spin it around to keep Marinette in trouble. Even her classmates had stopped their incessant murmuring. 

“But Lila said she saw her running away from her locker!” Kim had yelled in return. It spoke of Mme Bustier’s character and control of her class that she hadn’t even attempted to reprimand Kim for raising his voice to another teacher. 

Marinette saw Mme Mendeleiev give Mme Bustier a look that had the younger teacher trying to reign in her rowdy class after they had all been yelling their own affirmations that yes, that was what Lila had said. “Then either Mlle Rossi needs to get her eyes checked or she saw someone else, or she’s lying.”

“Demeter! I’m sure Lila didn’t mean for this...little misunderstanding to happen. I'm sure she saw someone who looked like Marinette.” Mme Bustier had tried to reason. 

“If I’m not mistaken Caline, this is not the first time this has happened to Marinette. Her being accused of something in this school and getting punished unjustly with no proof. Forgive me, or not, but I’m not going to overlook this like you. Those are serious accusations to throw at someone. It would be wrong not to investigate. Right, Damocles?” No one spoke throughout Mme Medeleiev’s little speech but Marinette saw the glare Lila was giving the teacher and Marinette was tempted to tell Mendeleiev to just drop it.

“Er, yes, of course.” Principal Damocles had stuttered out. How he had managed to be a principal Marinette would never know. Once upon a time she had thought him an awkward but good guy all around, but that was not the case anymore.

“I suspect we call Mlle Rossi’s mother to speak about this. I’m sure she would love to know that her daughter is being...if not bullied then the start of being bullied. Then we will gather students who match Marinette’s description. It’s not much but it’s the best we got. I’ll go take pictures of the locker in question.”

“Oh-Oh we really don’t have to do that. I’m sure it really is all a misunderstanding! I wouldn’t want to bother my mother!” Lila had desperately claimed. 

“How is this a misunderstanding Mlle Rossi? Please explain. Because from where we teachers stand this is clearly bullying and we will not tolerate that at this school.” Mme Mendeleiev said with such authority, one would think she was the principal. 

Somehow, Marinette didn’t know how, but Lila had talked her way out of having to have her mother called to the school even though Mme Mendeleiev had strongly insisted to Principal Damocles that they call her and have a sit down with her over her daughter’s wellbeing and school life. Though she honestly shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing had been done. It was Damocles after all. Lila probably said it would be best not to disturb her very busy, very important, diplomat mother and Damocles with his nonexistent spine folded. Though with all the wrong type of attention the incident had brought for the lying vixen Marinette had a relatively “relaxed” rest of her day. No one outright apologized for just blaming her for destroying another person’s work and defacing public property with no proof but at least they didn’t glare at her or make snide remarks for the rest of the day. Adrien even managed not to give her one of his lectures at the end of the day which was a big welcome on Marinette’s end. She could only deal with him being on his high-horse and looking down on her for so long and more often than not she wouldn’t even argue back she would just end the conversation with,*“Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre.” 

The day had started to look up for her and she was going to strike the iron while it was hot so to say. Her steps felt lighter. It’s like Mme Mendeleiv’s belief in her gave her invincibility for the day and she found herself actually looking forward to seeing Luka and Kagami at the end of the school day since she would finally have something good to share rather than her usual bouquet of gloom. The sun seemed brighter when she remembered that fencing practice was cancelled that day due to M D’Argencourt having some appointment to go to and a substitute couldn’t be found so the fencing club students had the day off. Marinette had excitedly texted Kagami that they should meet up after school and hang out earlier than the trio had planned since the girl had more free time. Kagami had agreed but said she would meet Marinette at her house as she had some things to take care of there at the school that she wanted to finish up before they met up. Of course Marinette had agreed without question, Kagami liked things to be in order before she had her free time and Marinette understood that. Now, Marinette didn’t remember what she had forgotten, but she knew she had forgotten something in her locker and had rushed from her home to grab it, not wanting her luck to run out for the day. She didn’t know why but since she was back at the school she felt the need to go talk with Mme Medeleiev and thank her once more for what she had done that day for Marinette. Whether the teacher knew it or not, she had given Marinette some hope back.

So she was going to do just that when she had heard familiar voices. Luka and Kagami? Kagami she could understand but why had Luka been there? He was supposed to meet them at Marinette’s house so she was immensely confused to hear his soft voice echo the halls. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her then and she had followed its call. She had not expected to find the scene she had stumbled upon, and the way her heart lurched with such pain. You would think I’d be used to it by now. Her eyes watered as she watched Kagami and Luka, her closest and only friends sitting with Lila and looking at her with such concern and half hugging her to give her comfort. She couldn’t hear what was being said but she would wager it was about her, she saw the disapproving frowns both Luka and Kagami gave in response to whatever Lila had said and all Marinette could think was, I’ve lost them too. She took them from me too. Before she knew it she had ran back home, to her room and had, well, she wasn’t too sure to be completely honest. It all went by in a blur, but she did remember texting Kagami and Luka and saying she wasn’t feeling well and maybe they could hang out together tomorrow, despite knowing Luka would have band practice and Kagami would have fencing practice. Then threw her phone onto her chaise and looked at her pictures of her friends she still had on her walls, she thought of the gifts she had given and all she had felt was this white hot rage and sadness that consumed her. 

She heard, more than felt the ripping and smashing of the things that reminded her of a past she could never get back. Marinette was done listening to Tikki in that moment, and she was done believing she had anyone on her side like she thought she did. Kagami and Luka, they both held little pieces of what was left of her heart and she could feel those pieces breaking with every thing she destroyed. Now here she sat in the aftermath of her destruction and she didn’t even feel satisfied. A small part of her still felt hurt, she was sure she had to have made noise, quite a bit of it, and yet neither of her parents had checked on her. It was just another drop added to her already too-full cup. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like, Marinette.” Tikki chirped as she flew to Marinette’s sink and back with a wet cloth in her hand to help Marinette clean her face.

“What?”

“Luka and Kagami.” Tikki said their names so simply, “I’m sure it wasn’t what you’re thinking. You’ll see! We have to see them for patrol tonight. I’m sure you can ask them subtly about it as a concerned hero of Paris.”

The only concerned hero. Her mind bitterly spat out without warning. The thought almost made her wince in shock at the venom that came from it. Though she found herself not apologetic in the least, Chat had been proving himself to be unreliable. At first she had brushed off his behavior as his usual antics and she had been beating herself over the head about it everyday it seemed like. He became more aggressive in his flirting and really that’s what it was, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t some misguided persistence, it wasn’t just him being a “boy”, he became aggressive in his affection for her. He started asking her on more and more dates, bringing her more and more gifts and each time she rejected him, reminding him they had work to do, or she had plans, or that his timing was not the best, or of course that she had feelings for someone else, he started “punishing” her and Paris as a result. He would refuse to help, sometimes he wouldn’t show up to a battle at all, he would only call to ask her if she had come to her senses and realized she loved him and when she wouldn’t give him the answer he wanted he would hang up and the battle would be a lonely one. She had tried to get Master Fu to do something about it but he had brushed it off much like she had in the beginning. Seemed like he still had faith in the cat, Marinette wished she could say the same but it would be a lie, besides she had kind of announced she no longer trusted Chat to help her since she gave Luka and Kagami their individual Miraculous back but to permanently use to help her defend the city. So instead of Ladybug and Chat Noir defending Paris, it was Ladybug, Viperion and Ryuuko. 

“I think I want to go out a little early Tikki. Maybe the fresh air and time out will do me some good.” Marinette said with forced cheer as she stood and stretched her arms high above her head. 

“I think that’s a good idea Marinette!” Tikki chirped as she zipped through the air to hover at Marinette’s shoulder and she couldn’t help but chuckle. With a quick saying of the magic words and one transformation later, Marinette was out slinging from rooftop to rooftop. There was no destination in mind just yet, she just wanted to simply be for a while. Everything finally felt okay and she was ready to actually head to the top of the Eiffel Tower to wait for Luka and Kagami as their hero forms so they could start actual patrol when she heard their voices. It sounded like they were trying to keep quiet about something. She didn’t want to pry but it was late and if they were out this late as their civilian selves she had a duty to them to make sure they were okay. With a quick swing she was at the Château Edmond de Rothschild where the voices seemed to come from, it was supposed to be not accessible to the public, so why were they there? 

A quick peek was all it took to understand why and Marinette had to stop herself from making any noise, whether it be a sob or a scream or a gasp. She couldn’t risk it if what she was seeing was real, but there it was right in front of her. Luka and Kagami were sitting in their hero forms holding a charm of some kind between them and they both had the sickening violet glow of Hawkmoth around their eyes. They didn’t seem angry or sad, or even like they were being akumatized so she wasn’t really sure what was going on but she was going to put an end to it. Now.

“Yes Hawkmoth. Ladybug trusts us completely, we are doing our part.” Kagami said.

“But...Chat Noir has yet to show up. That has helped us get closer to Ladybug yes, but it means we don’t know where the Black Cat Miraculous is for you.” Luka had added on and it was another stab to Marinette’s heart. They, her most trusted allies, her friends, her maybe something more’s, were working with...oh god she was going to be sick. She had to get out of there. She didn’t know how long she had swung but at some point she hadn’t been thinking about where her yoyo should attach itself and she fell down into a garden. No, she couldn’t identify the garden because she couldn’t see past the tears. Marinette didn’t know how long she laid there crying but she quickly took off her earrings and just as soon as she did Tikki zipped out.

“Marinette…”

“You said things would get better Tikki. How? How is this supposed to get better? Luka and Kagami...they are...they’re working for HIM!” She screamed and she didn’t care who heard, she was tired of suffering in silence. 

“I’m sure it wasn't-”

“What? What, it looked like?....I’m done. I’m done sacrificing everything for this city. Sacrificing my feelings. I need to feel Tikki!” Without waiting for a response, Marinette threw the earrings and ran further into the park. She sobbed as loud and she had wanted to, needed to, and she couldn’t stop. She collapsed yet again, this time in a patch of butterfly bushes, though she hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t noticed, there was an akuma flying her way, but by the time she heard the tell-tale sign of the flap of its wings it was too late. The thing had already morphed with something on her person and all she could do was gasp.

______________________________________________________

Gabriel Agreste couldn’t help the tiny shout of joy he let out because finally, finally he had managed to snag his masterpiece. She had evaded him for so long, her will over her emotions had always seemed so iron strong but finally, Marinette Dupain Cheng was akumatized, and she was going to be the one to get him the Miraculi he craved. He could feel it. He turned to brag to his swarm of butterflies seeing how Nathalie wasn’t in the lair but when he did so he paused. All his butterflies were gone. Honestly he had to just stand and stare because where could they have gone? And why hadn’t he noticed or heard them leave? 

No matter. The important thing was that he had Marinette Dupain Cheng under his control and it was going to be glorious. She would make quite the spectacle for Ladybug and, well, the heroes and Chat Noir when she appeared tomorrow. Victory was close, he could practically taste it.

__________________________________________________________

Wang Fu had made many mistakes in his life and he regretted every single one, but this one, this one was causing him the most pain. Marinette, the girl he had chosen to be Paris’s pillar of hope, the girl he had seen as a granddaughter, the girl he had failed to protect when she needed him, was in danger. He had been sleeping when Tikki had come flying into his shop wailing about Marinette. At first he and Wayzz couldn’t understand her, when she managed to calm down some she gave him some of the most devastating news he had ever received. Marinette Dupain Cheng had given up the mantle of Ladybug and had been akumatized. He had been desperate to know why and know why Tikki looked so guilty because surely it could not be her fault. Then the kwami had spilled everything, she told of the situation at school, the situation with Chat Noir, with Adrien that he himself had thought was nothing more than him being a stubborn boy, and she had told him how even she believed her user was somehow something more than human and would be able to handle it all. She had been angry at Marinette for throwing her away but had realized that it wasn’t her fault and had tried to find the girl to talk to her but by the time she had found her...it had been too late. So here he sat after calling Chat Noir to his shop and hoping the young hero...no, the young boy, would show.

“Master Fu?” Adrien asked softly as he entered the shop, it was almost easy to believe that the young boy wasn’t wayward and that Fu hadn’t made yet another mistake.

“In here Adrien.”

“Uh, what’s the matter Master Fu? You never call me Adrien. You said this was about Ladybug. Did she...Did she say something to you?” Near the end it was easy to see now the hidden anger the boy held, why hadn’t he seen it?

“No. This is something...far worse I’m afraid. Ladybug has been…”

“Ladybug has been defeated.” Tikki finished for him. 

He watched as Adrien’s eyes widened and he gaped at Tikki, he looked as though he didn’t want to believe it. Fu wanted to yell at the boy. He had no right to stand there and act like he cared about Marinette. “That is not all. A young girl has been akumatized and I fear she may be the strongest akuma Hawkmoth has ever made.”

“What do you mean Ladybug has been defeated!? Defeated by who!?” 

“By the akuma,” Fu lied, though was it really a lie?

“What akuma?”

“Not what. Who. The akuma is Marinette Dupain Cheng and from what Tikki and Ladybug have told me...Hawkmoth has been wanting to akumatize her for a long time. Whatever sent her to his side...I’ve met the girl. She is a kind soul and to know that he has her under his control...Adrien. You have to stop her. After that...after that is when you and I will sit down and have another talk, but in the meantime find Mlle Dupain Cheng and help her.” Fu pleaded, and he couldn’t help the tear that escaped. 

The emotion seemed to hit Adrien, though it didn’t seem to be the only thing. “Marinette is the akuma? How?”

“I think you know the answer to that Agreste.” Tikki answered with a glare from where she was being held by Plagg who honestly looked like he wanted to scratch his owner's eyes out.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We don’t have time for this. Adrien, just please, go and find her. Help her.” Fu watched as Adrien had left, it was almost morning now and he had work to do as well. He had to retrieve the Snake and Dragon Miraculi before their current users handed them off to Hawkmoth, as he doubted they would help in the fight to save Marinette, and he didn’t trust them enough to let them try.

“We’ll get her back Tikki. We will.”

______________________________________________________________

Adrien was not having a good morning, he had spent the early hours of it searching for his friend and coming up empty, and the more he came out with nothing the easier it was to be frustrated. Though it seemed like frustration was something to be shared in the Agreste home since his father also seemed to be irritable that morning. More than that, he and Nathalie seemed off and they were the most put together people he knew. Them being off, threw him off, thankfully he was still at school on time, which is too say he wasn’t his usual early self, but he was there a couple minutes before the bell would ring which gave him a very small window of time to search for Marinette before class began. Though he’s not entirely sure she would even show up at school if she was an akuma but where else would she go? She had a problem with Lila and Lila was at school so the answer had to be there right? God he hoped so.

The bell was about to ring though so he ran back to class after searching the locker rooms and barely made it to his seat when the bell did ring. Marinette wasn’t there. But she was going to show up, he just knew it. She had to. Lila was the source of her anger probably, even if it was childish, she would come to settle the score and that’s when he would swoop in and save the day. Then maybe just maybe, Ladybug would finally see that they were meant to be and realize how amazing he was. The thought had made him smile, almost losing himself in the daydream, that is until he saw a familiar pair of pink pants enter the room. He was at immediate attention and was alert because Marinette...didn’t look like an akuma. She looked like normal herself, but she was an akuma right? So why didn’t she look like one?

“Marinette. Late again?” Mme Bustier asked even though it was obvious.

“I won’t be long Caline.” Marinette replied and her voice...it was just off. Yes it was Marinette but at the same time it wasn’t.

“Marinette! You will speak to me respectfully or I will have no choice but to-”

“To what? Tell me to be a better example? I’m tired Caline, I’m tired of being your doll that you dress up and play pretend with. I’m not a doll, and I’m not a teacher’s assistant, though it seems like that’s what you believe me to be seeing as you push me to do your job. Constantly, so don’t even try to deny it. It’s the teacher’s job to placate their students and make sure that their classroom environment is a healthy one. You allow bullies to reign free from punishment and in turn punish the victims. Do you ever get tired of being the indirect cause of akumas? Because really how many of your students have been akumatized and you have the gall to say you’re a great teacher, everyone’s favorite teacher no less.” Everyone in the room was dead silent. This wasn’t Marinette at all, but before anyone could say anything the akuma continued, though they didn’t know she was an akuma and Adrien so badly wanted to shout it out to warn everybody.

“Then there is all of you sheep. I had the absolute displeasure of once being your friend, but I realized you were never my friends to begin with. If you were you wouldn’t have believed lies over me.”

“Is this really what this is about Girl?” Alya shouted.

“Alya, it seems like you want me to start with you. You claim to be a journalist, a seeker of the truth, but that is the biggest lie you have ever sold yourself beside Ladybug’s best friend over there. You are a hypocrite. You say you are a defender against bullies and villains. Well you Alya Cesaire are one of the biggest bullies by association I know. You turned your back on me. On the truth. You refused to open your eyes and see what was truly there. You became a bully and enjoyed it. You took pleasure in everything you did to make me miserable alongside Lila. Well congratulations Rena Rouge you have been outfoxed and it isn’t because of some sapotis or illusions. I was wrong to ever trust you.”

Everyone watched as Alya grew pale and just sat there with her mouth agape. “Nino, Kim, Alix, Ivan. You became destroyers rather than the protectors of the weak you boasted about to make yourselves feel better. Well guess what Nino? There’s no shell to protect you from the truth! You are a bully, bigger than Chloe! Because instead of not doing anything like you had last time I was bullied for years on end, this time you partook in the “merriment.” Kim. How I ever trusted you with anything is beyond me. You know in China to call a child a monkey is a great compliment, to call you anything similar would be a great disrespect. How you held the title of the monkey king...I’ll never understand it. Alix, you always liked to believe you were as fast as a rabbit both in mind and body, well the rabbit is dead. Your time will never come again I’ll see to it. Your most prized possession, your watch, I helped you restore it after it had been broken and I even gave it back to you but that was a mistake on my part as you never deserved it in the first place. Ivan, who helped you during Stoneheart? Who? Oh that’s right it was me? I helped you see you weren’t that monster but I was wrong. I was very wrong.” The words were cruel and Adrien didn’t know where all this anger was coming from. Lila was the target right? Shouldn’t she only be going after her, not their friends? He had to sneak out and transform, he didn’t know where her item was but he would find it and put an end to all this unnecessary hurt.

“Oh Adrien, where do you think you’re going? You’re at the top of my list.”

“Your list?” He asked as though he hadn’t been caught trying to get out of his seat.

“Yes. The list of people who have wronged me. The list of people who have turned me into the current me. The list of people I hate. Sorry, but not sorry If you can’t handle hearing how imperfect you are but you will listen to what I have to say.”

Adrien didn’t understand why everyone gasped but he was hurt to hear that Marinette hated him. No it had to be the akuma’s influence, it just had to be. “I’m sorry you feel that way Marinette.”

Marinette walked up to him and took both his hands in hers, it would have been a sweet gesture if it weren’t for the added pressure. “Save it. I don’t want your superficial pity. You Adrien Agreste are the biggest liar I know next to Lila. You knew she was lying. You knew she was lying from the start seeing how Ladybug told you herself that Lila and her were not friends. Oh yeah I know about that, in the park, or how about when Lila was akumatized to be the Chameleon, which by the way Lila very unoriginal and I’m fairly certain you were akumatized on purpose but hey what proof do I have right? And she pretended to be you because she didn’t like what you had to say about her lying. Yet you still didn’t tell your so called friends about her, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself! I learned that the hard way. I believed you when you said we were in this together and that if we both knew then that was enough and that we should take the moral highroad. What a joke! I am truly disgusted with myself for ever thinking I was in love with you.”

What!?

_____________________________________________________________

Luka couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he and Kagami had rushed to Marinette’s class after they had each gotten a call from her mother asking if either one of them had seen Marinette. Apparently they went up to her room and realized she was missing but thought maybe she had told them she was spending the night at Alya’s and they maybe just hadn’t heard but when they had called her and texted her with no response they had gotten worried. More so when she hadn’t shown up that morning. Luka had immediately felt his heart drop. Marinette was, well, she was his melody and to think that something could have happened to her, it made him get on his bike and search as many places as he could think of. It seemed like Kagami had the same idea because he ran into her and her car before they decided it would be better to search together. He felt awful about her cancelling their plans yesterday but figured she just genuinely wasn’t feeling well. Luka was beating himself over the head because obviously that wasn’t the case. 

Maybe if him and Kagami hadn’t been so focused on helping get evidence that Lila was a liar and who Hawkmoth could be they wouldn’t be in this mess, but they had done all that for Marinette. They had seen what Lila had done to her and Kagami had been the one to say she didn’t trust Lila and proposed they help Marinette expose her for the lying weasel she was. Luka had been all for it, even if they had to pretend to be nice. When they found out that Lila actually didn’t like Ladybug well, that had been a shock but they had played into it. Both he and Kagami had acted like they too despised the superheroine and finally they saw Lila, the real Lila, or at least a small glimpse of her. She believed they really didn’t like Marinette and Ladybug, she believed they were her spies on Marinette, and then she admitted something that genuinely made Luka sick to his stomach.

Lila was working with Hawkmoth. And she wanted them to help them and join their “team.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was more evidence against Lila Ross and it was a way to help Ladybug who had seemed like she was being spread thin thanks to that no good Chat. So him and Kagami agreed to help. Then Ladybug asked them to be permanent heroes. They told Hawkmoth in order to gain trust from him and he had seemed pleased. Fake working with him was disgusting but him and Kagami felt like they were getting close to figuring out who he could be or what his ultimate goal was, but one thing was for certain and that was, for some odd unexplainable reason, Hawkmoth wanted to akumatize Marinette. He wanted Luka and Kagami to help, they had been hoping to unmask him before it came to that, but hearing Marinette now and seeing her...that was not Marinette. Hawkmoth succeeded somehow. Because that in there was an akuma and it was breaking Luka’s heart, more so when he realized it had way more information about people and the Miraculi than anyone would other than Ladybug herself. 

“Luka...that’s.” Kagami had never sounded so lost.

“I know. Marinette was, is, Ladybug.”

“What do we do?”

“We save her. And...and we tell her the truth.”

They were ready, they were opening their mouths to say their separate transformation phrases when a window in the classroom broke. They turned to look inside to see if it was Marinette running out and finally showing an akuma form, but all they saw was a green blur and Marinette leisurely following after the blur out of the school to the park outside. Of course they followed, but when they went to transform they both realized, their respective Miraculous was gone. What did they do now?

_____________________________________________________

Fu had done it. He had retrieved the Dragon and Snake Miraculous, with help from Tikki as she took them from their holders as he caused a distraction as Jade Turtle. It was never easy to hold his transformation but he had done it for the short while he had to. That was one, kind of two, problems out of the way, now all he had to do was wait for Adrien to save Marinette. “He will do it”

“He will, Master.” Tikki muttered from his shoulder as Wayzz nodded his agreement from Fu’s other shoulder.

“I doubt it.” Fu nearly fell with how he stumbled back at what had landed in front of him. It was Marinette but also not. He didn’t want to call her an akuma because even that felt like a wrong description. She felt like something else entirely, looked it too. She wore some armor like that of a knight over what appeared to be a black body suit, but one made of light. Her freckles seemed more like stars and if he looked closer each star was unique, and almost seemed to resemble every past akuma

“Marinette...what...what are you?”

“A protector, the Protector.” Marinette answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

______________________________________________

As soon as Marinette felt the akuma merge with her, because truly it felt like it merged with her and not an object, she felt so much. She could feel the butterfly feel her pain, her anger, could feel it soak up her negativity. She in turn could feel its pain and anger, its sadness too. Her heart filled with so much empathy. Then it was like the voice of the butterfly doubled, then tripled, then there were too many voices to be heard but Marinette understood. She felt their pain because it was the same as hers. All of them had been used, all of them together had put their trust in people they shouldn’t have. Though she had no way to see it, Marinette just knew she was covered in butterflies because she refused to call them akumas, they were victims just as she was, just as Paris was too, to Hawkmoth.

They told her they wouldn’t let him harm her. That they would protect her. That was the moment that Marinette felt that she and them were one and she vowed to protect them just as they vowed to protect her. She accepted them, she let them and her truly become one, because at that moment they were her only friends, her only family, and she was going to protect them from their abuser. They sung her praises, they gave her strength, they whispered a name and place. Their former owner. She listened and she heard and Marinette followed where they led. The closer they got to the Agreste Mansion, the louder the cries of Nooroo she could hear, could feel. She vowed she would protect him as well. He was her family, her friend too, just like the butterflies. A part of her felt like she should have been surprised that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth and that so, Nathaniel Sancoeur was most likely Mayura, but really she just felt anger. Gabriel and Nathalie were to face justice. Her justice.

They would pay for their crimes against Paris, and their abuse of the Miraculi, kwami, and butterflies. She was the Protector and nothing would stand in her way.

_________________________________________________

“I don’t wish to fight you, but I see you believe me to be an akuma. I’m not. I don’t expect you to believe me but it’s the truth. I am merely the Protector now. As a sign of good faith,” Marinette, or Protector held out a hand to Fu, one he was reluctant to reach out for. “Here.”

It seemed like she caught on to his hesitation because Marinette threw whatever had been in her hand to him. Tikki and Wayzz had quickly helped catch them and when he saw what Marinette had tossed him he felt faint. Whether it was from relief or fear he didn’t know. Marinette had given him the Peacock and Cat Miraculi. “And what of the Butterfly Miraculous?”

“I’m keeping it. You couldn't protect it, so I will in your place. Nooroo and I decided it is what is best.” At the mention of the kwami, said kwami fly out into the open to sit in Marinette’s open palm.

“Marinette I can’t let you do that.”

“We’re not asking permission.” Nooroo stated as he nuzzled Marinette’s thumb that was caressing his head. “Marinette and I have suffered at the hands of Paris long enough.”

“This was merely me wanting to say goodbye face to face. Don’t come looking for me Fu.” 

Fu could only watch at Marinette, Nooroo, and a swarm of white akumas jumped away from him and his kwami. He didn’t know what else he could do. He was too old to run after her, and he didn’t have anyone he could trust with a Miraculous with to send after her. So he just watched as Marinette continued to get smaller and smaller in his vision, until she was gone. Though she asked not to be looked for, he would do it, because Marinette deserved to be found and talked some sense into. When he found her, an apology didn’t feel good enough, but he would give her the biggest most heartfelt apology. She was a kind soul, and truly deserved none of this.

______________________________________________________

It was chaos. Tom and Sabine had closed the bakery but it was still filled with people, only it was Marinette’s class and Luka and Kagami. They didn’t dare call this class their daughter’s friends after they finally learned what had really been happening at the school. Luka and Kagami had told them everything and Sabine, Sabine sobbed and had called out for her baby girl till her voice was hoarse. What had they done to her baby girl? But they apologized to them, they said they were tricked. It felt more like they were trying to trick them, but nonetheless they needed help figuring out where Marinette could be and they were offering to help. Tom said it was out of guilt and had wanted to kick them out but Sabine convinced him it would be more manpower to help with the search. Truth was, they were just as guilty, they hadn’t realized something was wrong with their daughter until she was missing. 

Adrien had come in with his arm in a cast, when they asked what happened, the class claimed it was Marinette when she was an akuma. Adrien hadn’t denied it, in fact he looked angry, every time Marinette was mentioned he would frown, and Tom had been so so close to just tossing the boy out, but they heard the kids gossiping and saying that someone had broken into the Agreste Mansion and had beaten Gabriel and his assistant pretty badly. When asked about it Adrien would get really quiet but would confirm that his father and Nathalie were in the hospital due to injuries. He looked a mess.

Luka and Kagami though,...those two looked worse. They looked as though someone had ripped out their hearts. They were there physically, helping wherever they could and however they could, but one glance and you could tell they weren’t there in spirit. It was awful. Paris was celebrating the supposed defeat and disappearance of Hawkmoth and Mayura, but how could Tom and Sabine join in the merriment when they couldn’t share that joy with their pride and joy? The guilt of being so busy had never hit them so hard, but they vowed that once they found Marinette, they would do everything in their power to make it up to her.

____________________________________________________________

It was quiet, actually it was more like her ears were ringing so loud that it was impossible to hear anything. Her body collapsed from exhaustion, she couldn’t travel any further but she felt the distance. It felt safe. She felt safe and maybe that’s why her body just kind of shut itself down, maybe that’s why when the butterflies and Nooroo prodded at her mind if she was willing to give up the akuma and drop the transformation and which she did, that didn’t mean that Marinette wasn’t going to fight to stay conscious even if it was a losing battle. But she was so tired and she could feel Nooroo reassuring her that they were safe and that? That was enough for her. She quickly slipped into unconsciousness and for once didn’t fear the possibility of nightmares, because she knew when she woke up she wouldn’t be back in Paris anymore. Though with falling unconscious she did fail to introduce herself to those who found her, right away.

“I’m telling you guys I saw something wash up on the beach from my house!” A boy said as he and his friends made their way down the beach.

“Yeah? Last time you said that and dragged us here it was just a piece of driftwood.” Another boy piped in with a point of his finger.

“And you claimed it was a real mermaid this time.” His twin sister added.

“Guys be nice I’m sure it’s an actual real mermaid this time.” A girl laughed as she walked ahead to walk side by side with the first boy. 

“Actually there are many documents of mermaids you know.” The third boy of the group said matter-of-factly.

“Any of them driftwood mermaids?” the fourth boy of the group asked with a laugh.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. But I’m telling you I really saw...someone. Oh my gods.” The first boy had started before he actually did see the slumped form of Marinette just lying there. 

*Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre Translation: No one is as deaf as the one who does not want to listen.

[goldentournesol]

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go. 

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story. 

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot. 

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.” 

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly. 

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly. 

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze. 

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him. 

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship? 

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting. 

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation. 

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words. 

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch. 

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

[harrysweasleys]

know-it-all // g.w

summary: Could you please write a fluffy fic about George and a Ravenclaw reader arguing about an answer on an exam or an assignment. And in the end it turns out George was right. And I would love it if you could include the exchange, "Don't say it!" "I told you so." "I said don't say it."

warnings: mentions of food

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i am back with my twin fics! woah! it’s been a while, sorry about that. life has been wild and i didn’t have much motivation but here we go! i hope you all enjoy!! x

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform!]

For what felt like the billionth time of that afternoon, you dropped your head onto the table and let your forehead smack against the solid wooden surface. You could feel different sets of eyes peering in your direction from other tables in the library, all silently questioning what was wrong with you. 

The answer was simple: Potions.

Snape had set out a stupid assignment that, to be completely fair, was way out of your league. For every time you thought he was an awful professor, he sunk remarkably lower. 

The topic of said assignment was one that you guys hadn’t even covered yet, and given by Snape’s tone of voice when a student had brought that very point up in class, he really couldn’t care less. It didn’t help that you were already ridiculously occupied with other end-of-year assignments — you didn’t want to get stuck teaching yourself a whole new branch of potion-making as well. You were barely sleeping nights and only showed up to dinner every second day, the library study hours becoming your very best friend. 

It was just a lot. 

It also didn’t help that you could see the golden rays of the sunlight pouring in through the dusty library window, signalling that it was once again the end of the day, and tomorrow, bright and early, you’d be handing in the assignment that you were nearly certain you’d botched. 

Dinner was likely being prepared in the Great Hall right about now, the wonderful smell of roast potatoes and pumpkin juice running through your mind, but you honestly weren’t up to eating. You were feeling rather down in the dumps, forehead still pressed against the wooden table, and your mind reeling around the assignment.

“You look like you could use some assistance.”

You lifted your gaze, sure that there was now a bright red spot on your forehead, and glared over at George, who had just taken the seat across from you at the table. His grin was wide but his eyes were tired — you knew he was busy working on assignments of his own, as well his summer plans for opening the shop. Yet somehow he always found time to help you. 

He tilted his head to the side when you gave him an exhausted stare, blinking rapidly before you processed his question. 

“Do you remember doing this last year?” you asked, sliding over the assignment paper, giving a small cough to clear your dry throat. George, being in the year ahead of you, had quite the knack for Potions. He liked to say it was because it was just utterly fascinating and he was a purely, genuinely, naturally gifted student, but you knew he only did so well because he’s been brewing his own disastrous concoctions since he was a young boy. With practice comes skill, you always said. 

And you prayed to Merlin that said skill would come in handy right about now. 

His eyes scanned the paper and he gave a small shake of his head, “No, but I think you’ve got this wrong. You wrote Leech Juice here, but I’m pretty sure the answer is actually Acromantula Venom.”

You frowned, snatching the paper back from him — making him flinch and take a quick look at his fingers for any paper cuts — and stared down at your answer, “What? No. The obvious answer is Leech Juice. This was the only question I understood. I know the answer to this one, it’s the others that I can’t seem to figure out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “It’s Acromantula Venom, darling. That I know for sure.”

Though you were grateful for his presence and the fact that he was willing to help, you knew he was wrong about that one. Any first year could tell the answer was Leech Juice. But you didn’t feel like arguing with him any more than necessary with time running low, so you just gave your paper back and frowned.

“Can you help me with any of these? Professor Snape hasn’t said a single thing about any of these topics, and I’m sick of flipping through book after book, not even sure what I’m looking for,” you let out a sigh, “It feels like he’s purposefully setting us up for failure,” you muttered the last part under your breath, not wanting anyone other than George to hear your complaints.

His hand reached across the table and linked with yours, his soft fingers calming down the rapid, stressed-out beating of your heart, and gave you a small smile, “If he hasn’t taught you this, I’m sure that you’re not the only one having a hard time.”

You groaned, trying to pull your hand out of his, unfortunately failing as his grip was stronger than yours. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you said, voice low, “I don’t want to fail, even if everyone else does. That’ll always show up on my reports.”

He pursed his lips, giving you a small nod, “Alright, I get that. Why don’t you take a break? We’ll go eat, and then finish this up later, yeah? You can head over to the Common Room with me after dinner, I doubt anyone will say anything.”

A sigh left your lips as you began to place your parchment and books into a pile, George grabbing your ink bottle and quill — which had kindly left little indents in your hand due to aggressive use — and the two of you began to make your way to the Great Hall. 

After leaving the library, you could feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders. As if the tense study environment that you had felt stuck in had now been leeched away from you. As if you could now think clearly. You gave George a small smile, thankful that he arrived when he did. 

Merlin, why was sixth year so difficult? If it wasn’t for George’s calmness and sanity, you’d probably be a melted mess of failed papers and shining blue robes on the floor. 

As you made your way into the Hall, heading towards the Ravenclaw table, George pressed a kiss to your forehead and muttered, “Acromantula Venom,” against your skin, shooting you a wink before he made off to his own house table. 

You gave a small scowl, mouthing “Leech Juice” right back at him. 

— —

“Oh, well, now would you look at that,” George grinned, looking down at the assignment you were shoving in his face. A bright smile donned your lips as you flashed the score, a bright red E. 

Exceeds Expectations. 

It wasn’t the O — Outstanding — that you were hoping for, but Merlin, did the E feel good. That meant you had done better than Snape was expecting — and better than a majority of the class, by the looks of it. They had all walked out with solemn faces and shoved their papers in their bags as quickly as possible. Even the Slytherin girl who sat behind you, the one who always bragged about perfect grades and how much Snape favoured her, had left without saying a word. That fact alone really boosted your pride. 

“No thanks to your brilliant boyfriend,” George gave himself a pat on the back, giving you your now-crumpled paper. 

“Oh, sod off,” you gave him a nudge in the shoulder as you sat down on the couch next to him, the Gryffindor common room rather silent for this early in the evening. Despite being a Ravenclaw, passing students didn’t mind your presence in their house. After three years of dating George and always being in the space, they barely even noticed the blue of your tie amongst the red ones anymore. 

“Wait, what’s this?” George rapidly snatched the paper out of your hands — revenge for when you did it to him, most likely — and his eyes lingered on question number four, “Oh, well, would you look at that?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest in preparation for his comment, “Don’t say it.”

His grin was so wide, you swore his cheeks would split, “You got Leech Juice wrong! And right here, scribbled in Snape’s hardly-legible writing, what does that say? It looks like A-Acro-,” 

“Don’t,” you didn’t meet his eyes, a sour expression on your face as George rubbed it in. 

“I told you so,” he leaned forwards, pressing a light kiss against your temple, arm slinging around you to bring you against his body. His warmth radiated through his sweater and it wasn’t helping the pettiness you were feeling in your chest. 

“I said don’t say it,” you grumbled, snapping your head away from him and staring at the blank brick wall next to the fireplace. His laugh vibrated through your body, and it took everything in you not to turn around and laugh with him. 

He placed one of his hands under your chin and turned your gaze to meet his, “Come on, I’m only playing. I’m proud of you, and I knew you’d do well. You were worried for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing!” you flailed your arms, letting them fall on your lap, “He sprung this out of the blue. Of course I was worried.”

“And you did brilliantly,” he pressed another kiss to your temple, sparks fluttering across your skin as his loving touch, “You always do, my brilliant little witch.”

You cracked.

A small smile made its way onto your lips as you leaned into his touch, loving the feeling of being close to him. And it felt even sweeter knowing that you hadn’t failed — that this was a victory hug. 

“Love you,” he mumbled against your hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and pressing a kiss on each one. You leaned your head on his shoulder, bringing your lips to his neck to mumble the same words against his skin. 

A victory. 

taglist

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[scripturiends]

gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Read on ao3

Summary: It was the one time her hunch had been wrong.

In which Han Joonhwi is acting suspicious, and Kang Sol A intends to find out why.

Rating: T

Word count: 3,848

Notes: Title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘invisible string’: “Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs; were there clues I didn’t see?”

~

As promised, here is the Solhwi fic that I had hoped to be up before Episode 7 airs. I went straight to work after receiving positive feedback from an interest check post. As I mentioned there, the story isn’t necessarily dwelling on the current timeline, but is, for the most part, still canon-compliant. I totally made up all the legal jargon, so please bear with me. And, like the show, I decided to do ‘cutscenes’ instead of one unilinear fic.

I had a lot of fun with this little project for the past two days, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I’d also love to hear your thoughts, please do send me a message or feel free to comment, it would mean the absolute world to me. Thank you and let’s all look forward to Episodes 7 and 8 this week!

The fic is under the cut. As a sidenote, this fic is un-beta’ed. All mistakes are mine.

~

I.

Kang Sol A swears she only drifted off for a second.

She had been burning the midnight oil for the past few days, well into the weekend, so much that the tension was radiating into her atmosphere, so much that the heat was starting to get to her head. Her Civil Code paper may not write itself, but neither could she if it took every ounce of her energy just to even sit up. So she plopped down on her bed, head heavy on her pillow, still fighting the urge to doze off.

She blinked, slowly, and as her eyes fluttered at an alarming rate, they eventually closed — just for a moment, I’ll count to ten and then wake up again — and stilled.

Birds were chirping outside her window when her eyes shot open, and that’s how she knew she messed up big-time. She woke with a start, frantically shaking off the books and papers off her person and frisking for her phone, silently praying that she wasn’t too late for her meeting with her project partner Seo Jiho, who she knows absolutely despises latecomers.

Sol A felt something vibrate from behind her, and an incomprehensible sound escaped her lips as she checked her phone. There were mountains of notifications that prevented her from checking the current time: self-set alarms, e-mails from her professors, reminders about today’s meeting with Jiho, and missed calls from a certain Han Joonhwi.

Clearing all of them at once, she finally reads: 9:07 AM. She was supposed to meet Jiho at 9:15. Sol A breathes a sigh of relief, but her momentary celebration is cut short when her phone starts to ring.

Han Joonhwi was calling again.

She didn’t even get a chance to speak yet when the voice on the other end asked, “Breakfast?”

Sol A put him on speaker phone as she packed up her things. “Can’t,” she replied mindlessly. “I have to meet with Seo Jiho and I’m already late. Eat by yourself.”

A few seconds of silence went unnoticed as Kang Sol A zipped up her knapsack and wore it over her shoulder. She finally picked up her phone and switched back to the handset. “Don’t skip breakfast, you hear me?”

Still nothing. “Joonhwi-ah.”

“Walk fast,” was all he said. And then he hung up.

That caught Sol A off guard, but she heeded the advice anyway.

She made it to the study room at exactly 9:13, only stopping by the entrance to catch her breath and tie her hair back into a ponytail. It was silent, so she half-hoped that no one would be there, but half-expected nothing less from Jiho. So she walks in, footsteps heavy, only skidding to a halt when she sees Jiho staring someone down, someone whose back looked all-too-familiar.

“You like her, don’t you?” she overhears from Jiho. “Kang So-”

Jiho suddenly fell silent at the sight of Sol A, and the man opposite him suddenly turned his head towards her. She was right about who it was — it was none other than the person she spoke with on the phone just a few minutes ago.

If Joonhwi was surprised, he didn’t show it.

But Kang Sol A did. She blinked once, and with a hint of dubiousness, she asked, “Who likes who?”

The men shared a look, and she was met with silence again, which was beginning to irk her. But she bit her tongue, took a seat across Seo Jiho, and grinned cheekily at him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You aren’t...” Jiho replied, trailing off.

“I am by your standards. I know you,” she said matter-of-factly. “For Seo Jiho, ‘on time’ actually means ‘thirty minutes early’. Which means I’m late.”

Sighing wistfully, Sol A added, “I learned that the hard way.”

She locks eyes with Joonhwi momentarily, but he averts his gaze, expression unreadable. Sol A ignores this and tries her luck once more, eyes flitting from Jiho to Joonhwi and back. “Who were you guys talking about?”

This time, almost with no hesitation, Joonhwi finally spoke up. “No one,” he answered. “My roommate was just practicing his cross-examination skills on me.”

He stood up, giving Seo Jiho a final staredown. “They’re very poor at the moment. Help him out, will you?”

Then, without looking Kang Sol A in the eye, he gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and promptly left.

Sol A’s eyes followed Joonhwi’s back, and stayed there even after he left. His touch lingered on her shoulder like a ghost, but instead of comfort, all she felt was fear. Suspicion. Restlessness. That maybe he was hiding something, and whether it involved her or not, she was keen on finding out just exactly what it was.

II.

“I’m telling you, Yeseul-ah,” Sol A insists. “Something’s up with him.”

They link arms, walking past the school entrance and into the lobby. Jeon Yeseul turns to her, hair falling perfectly into place as she lets out an angelic laugh. God, Sol A thinks. Even her laugh is perfect. But past the admiration for her Aphrodite-like features, Sol A feels like she’s being mocked.

She pouts. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do!” Yeseul defends. “You think he likes Kang Sol B.”

Sol A slides her left hand off Yeseul’s arm and holds her friend’s right one lightly. “So why are you laughing at me, then?”

“Unnie.” Yeseul wraps an arm around Sol A’s shoulder. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Joonhwi-oppa likes you?”

Sol A almost choked on her spit. Of course she’s thought about it — after all, she’s a hundred percent certain that it was the name Kang Sol that slipped from Seo Jiho’s mouth a few days ago. But none of the evidence so far points to it being herself. And anyway, it’s not as if he’s shown any interest in Sol A as a woman. In fact, all he does is tease her. And she’s okay with that. And Sol B already likes Joonhwi. And they seem to be a far better fit than Sol A and Joonhwi. And it’s not like she harbors any romantic feelings for him, either.

She pushes the thought away before it could become bigger.

Sol A denies, deflects, and defends. “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?” her friend challenges.

“Why would he be avoiding me if that were true?” Sol A counters.

“People do that when they feel awkward around their crush,” Yeseul rebuts.

This is starting to feel like a game of chess rather than a conversation between best friends. “I think he’s just scared I’ll tell my roommate or something.” Before Yeseul could say anything else, by some stroke of luck, Sol A spots Joonhwi from her peripheral vision, walking past Lady Justice.

Yeseul smiles kindly at Sol A. She doesn’t doubt its genuineness, but she feels like it’s laced with mischief. “Should we test your theory, then?”

What does that mean?

“Joonhwi-oppa!” Yeseul shouts, waving at him from across the room.

She’s not going to ask him, is she?

Yeseul runs to Joonhwi, a light skip in her step. “I have something to ask you.”

Wait.

“Wait,” escaped from Sol A’s lips, barely a whisper before it started registering on her what Yeseul was about to do. And when it does, she finally sprints. “Jeon Yeseul, wait!”

“Oppa.” Yeseul bats her eyelashes at Joonhwi. Sol A was in tow behind her, feeling small but unsure why.

“Oh, Yeseul-ah,” Joonhwi greets. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend and classmate.

While it pained Sol A to just sit back and watch, knowing that Joonhwi had been purposefully avoiding her, she let the scene unfold, trusting that Yeseul knew what she was doing.

“You haven’t been going to the study group sessions lately,” Yeseul starts.

Sol A hoped it would get a rise out of him, seeing as he was the one who started the group to begin with, but was barely showing up these days. Instead, all he said was, “The pair project in Civil Code has been holding me up.”

Yeah, right, she thinks. A second-round judicial exam passer and a former police academy student having a hard time in Civil Code? Why do I find that hard to believe?

Sol A scoffs, and Yeseul pinches her side. “Sol-unnie and I are meeting the others for lunch. You should come join us.”

“Ah,” Joonhwi drawled out slowly, as if coming up with an excuse to say no. Sol A expects it to be his next move. “I wish I could, but-”

Knew it.

“Kang Sol B will be there,” Sol A blurts out, fully aware that it’s a total lie. Still, she had to try.

Something in Joonhwi’s mood changed, and his face hardened. Still not making eye contact with Sol A, he excuses himself from Yeseul. “I’ll take a rain check today, okay?”

And without another word, he left again, leaving Sol A with the same emptiness that she had felt in the study room the other day.

Yeseul finally turns to Sol A, crossing her arms. “You’re right. He’s being weird.”

III.

A few more days without Joonhwi’s company, and Sol A was starting to feel its ill effects on her. She hadn’t realized just how much she took him for granted until he was no longer around to challenge her ideas, to annoy her over the littlest of things, to calm her down when she’s freaking out, to be her drinking buddy, to be someone she could tell any and every stupid story to, with the utmost confidence that he’ll keep it to himself or that he wouldn’t belittle her for it.

They’d been through too much together now, and even their fateful first meeting all those years ago didn’t faze him from her. In fact, her little scheme, no matter how deceitful at the time, brought him closer not just to her, but to Byeol, her mom, and to an extent, even Dan.

So what changed? What on earth did Seo Jiho say to him, and what on earth did she walk into, that made him close himself off from her? Proximity may not breed familiarity, but right now she wishes nothing more than to be in his orbit again.

Arguably the worst consequence of the lack of Joonhwi in Sol A’s life right now is having no one to eat with.

During one of her all-nighters at the dorm, she found herself with an intense craving for some ramyeon. She removed her earphones, partly to pull herself back to reality, but mostly to ask her roommate to have a meal with her. As if Sol B would say yes, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m going downstairs for a bite. You wanna come?”

No response, as expected from Kang Sol B. Sol A inwardly rolled her eyes, spinning in her chair to tease her roommate, only to find the desk empty.

She scratched her head while walking, wondering where Sol B could be at this time of night. And without a heads up, too… She was getting worried.

But it seems like her concern was all for naught, because Sol B was right where Sol A was headed.

And she was there with Han Joonhwi.

She was laughing. It was the first time that she saw Sol B laugh, maybe ever, and to see that Joonhwi could be someone who could do that for her, made Sol A feel proud. Like knowing Han Joonhwi was a privilege, not only because of the way he could make people comfortable around him, but also because Sol A had once been on the receiving end of it herself.

She should be relieved. In fact, she should be happy. Because it means that her guess was right, which means she doesn’t have to keep digging anymore. She could just tell Joonhwi that his secret’s safe with her, and they could finally go back to the way they were before... Right?

And yet something about witnessing the pair interact as a mere bystander didn’t sit right with Sol A. There’s a pang in her chest that she can’t quite comprehend — maybe she just misses him, or maybe it’s something else completely. Because if Han Joonhwi has feelings for Kang Sol B, and they’re together right now, then that leaves only one explanation: he must be avoiding her, and for a completely different reason.

It was the first time her hunch had been wrong.

Needless to say, Sol A lost her appetite and trudged back upstairs lifelessly, a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in her stomach that she couldn’t quite place where it even came from.

IV.

Come Friday, Sol A was too exhausted to even think about Han Joonhwi. Between the endless deadlines and papers to write, her job in the copy room, and the Seo Byungju case, her energy had been too depleted and her social battery too worn out to even care that her relationships could be falling apart.

The only thing she has going for her now is the Legal Clinic, the one place where she could bury her nose deep in case digests and law readings and she would absolutely never get tired of it, because it’s the one place where she feels like she’s making a real difference, especially when people’s lives are at stake. It was the remaining part of her life where Sol A felt like she was in control, so these days, all her emotionally-charged passion was focused on this one thing.

But of course that had to fall apart too, when Professor Yang asked for her to stay after class.

He cut right to the chase. “I’ll be meeting with my defense lawyer today so I need you to consult with the client in my stead.”

Count on Yangcrates to always give Sol A a heart attack in under two seconds.

“M-me?” she stuttered.

The professor’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly, which Sol A took as a sign to backtrack and confidently proclaim that she’s up to the task. She knows there’s nothing Yang Jonghoon hates more than a quitter.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she accedes, with a little more verve.

He nods once in her direction. “And take Han Joonhwi with you,” he commanded.

She’s doomed. Not that she wasn’t doomed before, but now that Professor Yang had to drag her personal life into this, she was really in shambles.

Sol A clears her throat. “With all due respect, Sir,” she laughs nervously, “don’t you trust me?”

Professor Yang takes a moment to think about it. Sol A wonders if today’s the day she finally gets a definitive answer. But Yangcrates is as sly as ever. “This is your chance to get back at him for the Bad FaMa case. Make him your assistant this time.”

He walks away, leaving Sol A dumbfounded once again, but not before he adds, “Under my orders, of course.”

Sol A’s knees buckled at the thought. Normally, she would find this predicament to be absolutely funny, a chance to bicker with Joonhwi and learn something from him at the same time. But he’s angry at her, and she doesn’t even know why, and even merely approaching him has turned into a problem.

Everything in Sol A’s life right now is a problem. She wonders if it's getting Joonhwi back that would fix everything.

Upon leaving the classroom, she spots him getting a drink from the vending machine. She has to slap herself twice, just to mentally prepare herself, to muster up the courage to approach him again.

“Come on, Sol,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t hard.”

Shaking off the nerves, she takes a step forward, but in a momentary state of weakness, takes another step back. “So what if he’s mad? That’s his problem. I’ve never given him a reason to be angry. He should suck it up. Not me. Come on. Just do it.”

A step forward.

“Just do it.”

A step back.

“Goddamn it.”

One final step back to boost herself forward, and she’s running towards him, pretending to be as casual as possible. “Han Joonhwi!” she calls out to him.

His eyes widen at the sight of her, knowing he has nowhere to escape.

“Did you get my text? Professor Yang needs our help at the Legal Clinic.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

Joonhwi scratched the back of his head, and Sol A just knows it’s about to be another lame excuse. “I can’t. I’m meeting Sol B for our Civil Code term paper.”

He can’t even look at her, and Sol A wonders just how bad she had hurt Joonhwi for him to feel like this towards her. But that only lasted for a second, when she realized just exactly what he said. Then, her pity turned into irritation, as she accused, “Liar.”

Sol A crossed her arms, and glared at Joonhwi. “Did you forget that I’m her roommate? She went home today.”

V.

Sol A sat across Joonhwi inside the Legal Clinic, her eyes narrowed to slits. A profound silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by a sharp inhale from her.

“You like Kang Sol B, don’t you?”

The only response she got was Han Joonhwi’s signature smirk, playful and taunting, one that said, ‘You don’t know me, and you never will’.

She hated that.

She slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at him accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I would have kept your secret if you just asked. Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you think I’d tell her or something?”

The same smile painted on his face, Joonhwi exhaled defeatedly. “Kang Sol A, I thought I taught you to never make any claims with unfounded bases.”

An eyebrow perched up on Sol A’s end. “It’s not unfounded,” she argues.

“Where’s your evidence, then?” he dared her.

Sol A had been waiting for this. She listed everything he had ever done — or refused to do, which was spend time with her, speak to her, or even look at her, which was absolutely the bare minimum — since the incident with Seo Jiho up to this very moment.

He waves his hand dismissingly. “That’s all speculative.”

If his goal was to rile her up, then it’s definitely working. “Then what about what I heard Seo Jiho tell you that one time? And most importantly, you straight up lied to my face.”

“Circumstantial,” he quips. “That would never hold up in court, especially not when the only witness is yourself. How are you going to be both the defense lawyer and the sole witness?”

Han Joonhwi should be at the edge of the precipice here, and yet he has managed to flip the situation over and turn it into an interrogation for Kang Sol A.

Nothing can hide her frustration anymore. “I would never be the lawyer in my own case. Look, it’s still evidence. You asked, and I gave it. Seriously, Han Joonhwi, what’s with you?”

Instead of a direct answer, he points out, “You rely on your emotions too much.”

Almost immediately, she shoots back, “And you rely on the law too much. This isn’t a courtroom. This is a human conversation.”

He purses his lips, unable to say anything, and Kang Sol A continues. “You’re too stubborn.”

“And you’re too nosy.”

“You’ve benefited from it more than once.” Sol A’s patience is getting thinner by the second. “Can’t you just tell me what I did so that I can either apologize for it or call you out for being wrong?”

“You and Sol B are hardly friends. What reason would I have to be afraid?” Amusement gleamed in Joonhwi’s eyes; Sol A was astounded by how he could stay so nonchalant about this. “Think.”

She glared at him, but still ceded. Damn his tenacity. “Fine, I’ll play along.”

She rolled her eyes, and in a blasé manner, started to think out loud. “I overheard Jiho ask you if you liked Kang Sol, and then you started avoiding me. Yeseul asked you to join us for lunch, and when I said Sol B would be there, even though she really wasn’t, you declined. So I thought it was her that you liked. But it doesn’t make sense, because I saw you two hanging out at the cafeteria that one night-”

His arrogant expression changed to one of shock. “You did?”

“-and then you straight up lied to me about your plans. Unless you two are already dating-”

“We’re not,” he interrupts once more. Sol A eyes him with suspicion. “We’re not,” he repeats indignantly.

“-it could only mean that you do like Kang Sol…”

Joonhwi starts slowly nodding, face a little flushed, but somehow urging her on to continue.

“...just not B. You like-”

“Kang Sol A.” Professor Yang enters the room, calling out her name.

She’s sure her professor asked her to do something, but she was unmoved. At this point, she doesn’t think anything could pull her out of her reverie for the rest of the day.

A veil that covered her eyes was lifted, and she had never been so pitiful of the blindfold that Lady Justice wore. The scales Kang Sol A carried, as heavy as the burdens she was facing, balanced with Han Joonhwi holding them up with her. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand right at that moment, to feel the heaviness in its entirety, and thank him for staying anyway.

They don't talk for the rest of the day, but Kang Sol A is unbothered.

Her questioning attitude may have always gotten her in trouble in school, but this was the one time she was glad to be wrong.

Epilogue

Han Joonhwi fell asleep on his desk again.

He normally finishes up all his revisions early, but because of his agitation, the cold table seemed to be more inviting than the bed, where he simply ends up tossing and turning.

Despite the stiff neck it was bound to cause, he’s been doing it for days, only being woken up by his constant 8:30 alarms. This time, however, it was his gracious roommate Seo Jiho who finally interrupted him from his slumber.

Jiho slammed a sealed instant ramyeon pack on Joonhwi’s desk. He groggily looked up at his friend, whose hair was still disheveled, and asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s from Kang Sol A.” Before walking away, he deadpanned, “Do your own bidding next time. I’m not your messenger.”

Joonhwi took the cup ramyeon, spotting the bright yellow sticky note on it, not unlike the ones he’d put on Sol A’s notebook, or occasionally, her forehead. He smiled to himself as he read the message, walking out to heat up some water for breakfast, but not before carefully displaying the note on his bulletin board for the whole world to see.

Han Joonhwi,

For a second-round judicial exam passer, you can be so dense.

I like you back, you idiot.

Now stop sulking and have breakfast with me.

Idiot.

~

Send me your thoughts/fic requests here!

[silversatoru]

birthdays don’t have to suck

fushiguro megumi x f!reader (elli)

synopsis: you get really sick on your birthday, but megumi makes sure that you still have a good day :))

t/w: fluff, reader is sick, vomiting, medicine (tylenol lol), some details pertain specifically to elli

wc: 2.2k

a/n: a small birthday present for the love of my life @megumifushi who never sleeps enough and is always sick,, i love u and i hope ur days not too bad <3

you stared into your dimly lit laptop, red eyes squinting at the black text that sped across the screen as your fingers scrambled against the keys. you weren’t even sure that what you were writing was comprehensible at this point, but your essay that was due tomorrow morning wasn’t gonna write itself. at this point it just needed to get done, concerns of quality were thrown out the window hours ago.

aside from the burning and stinging in your eyes, your entire body ached, and you were ridden with chills and goosebumps. seemed like a fever was coming on, but you didn’t have the time or capacity to care about that right now. you’d pop a few tylenol and crawl into bed in a couple hours, and everything would be better tomorrow.

what time was it anyway? it couldn’t possibly be that late yet, right? 

you glanced to the corner of the screen, eyes falling on a bright 3:56am that made your heart sink and your eyes widen. you had a terrible habit of losing track of time and staying up into ungodly hours of the night — a habit that your wonderful boyfriend was trying so terribly hard to break. 

you glanced to your left and took in his sleeping form, his lips parted ever so slightly as he took small breaths of air. he’d be disappointed and upset with you if he knew how horrid your sleep schedule had been lately, and he’d probably blame your chills and headaches on your lack of sleep as well — which in all fairness was probably pretty accurate. 

“i’ll just finish this up real quick and then i promise i’ll sleep, ‘kay gumi?” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his soft, spiky hair. 

he was undisturbable, his mind off somewhere in a dreamland that was quite the distance from your small bedroom. and that was probably for the better, because him nagging at you to go to sleep would be too distracting for you to get your work done. 

your hands moved rapidly against the keyboard for about another hour, words spilling onto the screen until you finally hit the page requirement for your paper. it was probably terrible, most likely had a few words spelled wrong, and honestly you were pretty certain you’d repeated yourself several times, but fuck it — submit. you were typically an excellent student, so one bad paper wouldn’t kill you, and you were too tired and achy to care right now. 

you got up and placed your laptop onto your desk, plugging it in and letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips as you made your way back over to the bed. the soft blankets were therapeutically warm on your chilly skin as you crawled in against megumi’s back, effectively turning him into the little spoon and pressing your nose to the back of his neck. thankfully, sleep found you shortly after, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off into a much needed slumber. 

babe 

wake up 

babe

you woke up to small finger pokes to your cheek from megumi, his face laced with concern as your vision finally focused on his features. he bent over and pressed his lips to your forehead, pausing there for a fraction of a second and then standing back up. 

“i think you have a fever. i noticed when i woke up and you felt like a fucking space heater,” he frowned, confirming your initial suspicions from last night, “i’ll go get some medicine”.

you groggily nodded your head, shivers coursing through your body and dotting your extremities with goosebumps. your condition had definitely deteriorated overnight, your eyes stinging and a horrible nausea creeping up your throat. 

by the time he returned with the medicine you had yourself propped up against the pillows, thick blankets pulled up to your chin in an attempt to minimize the icy feeling in your body. he handed two small tylenol tablets to you with a disappointed look on his face — a look that said: i’m gonna kick your ass for not getting enough sleep again. 

“i’ll let everyone know you’re not feeling well enough to go out tonight,” he hummed as he handed you a glass of water, your brain filling with thick fog as you tried to decipher why he would need to let anyone know you were sick. 

the look of pure confusion signaled to him that you had no idea what he was talking about, megumi shaking his head before he spoke up again, “it’s your birthday, dumbass, we were supposed to get food and stuff with yuuji, inumaki, and nobara and maki”. 

birthday 

oh 

forgetting about that was another habit you continued to succumb to every year.

“mm, shit,” you sighed after drinking back the pills, “i forgot”. 

“figured you would,” megumi clicked his tongue, “but i didn’t, because i’m a good boyfriend. can you drag yourself out to the kitchen? you should eat”.

“don’t think so,” you mumbled, attempting to disappear back under the blankets before he could coerce you to follow him outside of the bedroom. 

but megumi is impossibly even more stubborn than you are, wrapping his arms under your body and lifting you to his chest, “guess i’ll just have to carry you then”. 

“fine,” you let out a long groan — was it a bit dramatic? maybe. but in your defense you felt like you’d been hit with a train.

he peppered your face with kisses as he carried you out of the bedroom, lovingly setting you down on one of the high bar stools around your kitchen table. he instructed you to stay in the chair, abruptly returning to the bedroom to bring out a couple blankets to wrap around your shoulders. you were grateful for the extra heat, you body still shaking and shivering as the medications worked to cure your fever. 

megumi was a man of few words, preferring to display his love for you through acts of service than grand confessions, and this was very eminent when he wordlessly grabbed a couple pots and began cooking for you. you let your face fall onto your arms, resting your chin as you watched him silently shuffle between the stove and the pantry. the silence was comfortable, and you weren't going to complain about watching your muscular boyfriend walk around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of loose, plaid pajama pants. 

a few minutes later he was placing a steaming bowl of soup and a couple slices of baked bread in front of you, a savory scent flooding your nostrils. 

“red lentil,” he spoke as he handed you a spoon, “it’s your favorite, so you better eat it”. 

“yes, sir,” you gave him a small smile, dipping the cool metal into the hot liquid and scooping a spoonful into your mouth. 

“all of it”

“yes, megumi, i will try”

to no surprise, the soup went down pretty fucking horribly, your head hanging low over the toilet while megumi held your hair out of the way. your throat was practically raw by the time you were done heaving and vomiting up the meal, your eyes brimming with hot tears. 

megumi tied your hair up in a neat bun so he could step away, filling up a glass with water and carefully helping you to take small sips and rinse out your mouth. he was tedious with the clean up, washing your face and helping you brush your teeth — ensuring that you felt the best you could given the situation. he then scooped you back into his arms, carrying you back to bed and profusely apologizing for making you eat the soup — but he was just trying to make you feel better, he really was doing his best.

you were ready to add today to your long list of terrible birthdays, chalking it up as another failed attempt, but megumi was not about to let that happen. he knew you had a rough history with birthdays, but now that he was here? you’d have a bad birthday over his dead body. 

he scoured the back of your fridge for ginger ale, gatorade, jello, and whatever else he could find to make you the perfect sick-person platter. and he made sure he was logged into every streaming service that the two of you collectively owned, preparing netflix, hulu, and crunchy roll so that he could easily access every single one of your favorite shows and movies. and so you spent the majority of your day tucked safely against megumi’s chest, forcing down small sips of ginger ale and watching an assortment of tv. 

your phone rang at some point — a facetime call from all of your friends who had gotten together so they could all wish you a collective happy birthday. megumi stuck a singular candle into a cup of blue-raspberry jello and ignited it with a small flame; and then they all sang the most terrible rendition of “happy birthday” that you’d ever heard, yuuji’s voice a little louder and little more out-of-tune than everyone else's.

you mustered enough energy to blow out the flame, everyone cheering while megumi shoveled a scoop of the blue jelly into your mouth. you swallowed it with a smile, praying it stayed down while everyone sent you off with an assortment of “feel better!”, “we love you!”, and “wish you were here!”

your night got pretty quiet after that, you and megumi climbing back under the covers to watch a few more episodes of your new favorite anime. it wasn’t until well into the night that he finally asked you if he could give you the presents he’d gotten for you. reluctantly, you said yes. you hated receiving gifts (it was just one of the many reasons you hated your birthday) but you knew that megumi wasn’t going to take no for answer. 

he was obviously nervous, palms sweaty as he handed you a couple neatly wrapped packages in plain, solid colored paper. they were very megumi, perfect folds with not a single crease, the paper simple yet elegant and adorned with a singular bow on top. 

you hesitantly peeled the paper off the smaller of the two, revealing a tiny box that contained a classic looking silver locket. you felt your heart pinch in your chest as you clicked the locket open and revealed two small pictures of each of the two of you. you weren’t particularly sentimental, but on top of your lack of sleep and not feeling very well, the simple gift caused few tears to well up in your eyes. but he was quick to wipe them away, insisting that you had to open the second gift first, and that birthdays weren’t meant for crying. 

you followed his instructions, ripping open the second package and revealing a larger box that contained a series of envelopes. each one was decorated with tiny doodles of you and megumi, his demon dogs, hearts, etc. they were sickeningly cute, and you immediately reached for the first one before megumi reached out and stopped you. 

“they’re not for now; they’re for when i’m gone, you know, on missions and stuff,” he could barely even maintain eye contact, his eyes dipping low as yours filled back up with tears. 

despite your lack of energy and the fever that was starting to return, you showered him in hugs and kisses after that, thanking him over and over for the most perfect gifts, and for making your day as wonderful as it could have been. 

all things aside, you were coming around to the idea that birthday’s don’t have to suck. 

bonus: the first letter: 

to y/n:

i know im not great at telling you what i have to say through words, actually, i’m kind of really bad at it. but i thought writing these might be a nice way to try and get better? i’m not sure. anyway, i guess i’ll start by saying that you mean a lot to me, and i probably miss you a lot right now (even though ill be too afraid to reach out and say it). not sure how long i’ll be gone for at the time but it’s probably a few days at least. gonna work hard so i can hurry back to see you. 

i hope you’re sleeping enough, but i know you’re not. you never do, especially when i’m not there to yell at you. i hope you’re eating enough too. but you’re probably also not doing that. you’re like taking care of a stubborn child, you know that? but this is supposed to be a love letter so i’ll try to refrain from scolding you too much. but do try to take care of yourself. ill see you soon. 

megumi

[cloud9in]

You’re the only one who’s writing poppy x mc fics sooo, i have a request “ bea is a bad girl (like in a gang) in high school and also went jail couple of times for getting in trouble in high school senior year poppy was new transfer student and after 2 months bea join back school and met poppy bea and they just click yk like a connection slowly they started dating and in school everyone was shocked to see bea in a relationship ( bad girl and new girl) poppy is always worried about bea and few days before graduation bea got hurt really bad and poppy gives bea 2 options that she has to choose between her or her this (gang).. bea didn’t say anything to her so poppy left, after 2/3 years they met in college bea was a different person but so does poppy they become enemies (no one knows why they hate each other) one day they were arguing and poppy shout at her and says why you're back and bea put her hand on her cheek and smile and say i am here to win you back because i love you 😬

Promises (Poppy x MC)

Part 1/?

Can i just say I'm absolutely invested in this plot? You've got me hooked on my own story, as hectic as my life is, this is enjoyable to write. I hope you like it as well @iamsimpforpoppy

Word count: 1.8k (i got carried away)

“You know what to do Jackson, same old shit.”

“Yeah but it feels like a movie every damn time”, Bea responds confidently as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She sports a black mask with a yellow bandana, a vivacious color worn by only the Southside Spades, a notorious street gang who were known for robbery, and occasional blood.

Bea found herself wrapped up in the world of gangs when she turned sixteen. But before that the brunette would assist in transporting goods, also known as hardcore drugs. There was plenty enough to go around so Bea could indulge in any she wanted. Drugs didn’t give her the high she craved though, instead it was the thrilling game of cat and mouse with the cops.

Every now and then she’d get thrown in the slammer overnight. But this particular evening earns her one year in the NY State Penitentiary. See, the cops never gathered significant evidence to build a case against her, even though she was well aware of Detective Steinhelm who had some sick obsession with her. Following her everywhere, until Bea confronted her directly after noticing the same black sedan parked a street down from her house.

But she played the game right, and nothing ever led back to her. Until now.

“Where’s the money Bradley? I feel like I’ve been kissing your ass all week, the boss needs it now.”

A skinny blonde boy who looks like he had better days grunts in annoyance, “You’ll get your money...I’m just a little short right now.”

“Time’s up Ken doll, you know Carter will have your head for this.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Maybe this can be between us…”, Bradley strides carefully towards the blonde, a disturbing grin on his face which screams junkie. “Back the hell up now.”

Bea pulled her knife out with ease and pointed it towards him. She didn’t plan on actually using it. Murder was way out her budget for a simple money pickup but she knew that it would scare the boy easily. Except he kicked the blade out of her hold which prompted it to screech across the concrete before coming to a stop. Before Bea could think her fists reacted as she intercepted a punch that aimed straight for her jaw. She twists Bradley’s arm and he falls on his knees in pain. With his back to her, she kicks him down until he’s flat on his stomach.

“What is it exactly that you plan on doing now Bradley?” The blonde boy struggles under Bea’s foot but manages to reach around and slash at her ankle with a surprise shiv. Bea yelps in pain before kicking his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid idiot. Had to make this harder than it should’ve been.”

Bea eventually finds the stash of money hidden under his mattress, an amateur hiding place at best. She congratulated herself for another job accomplished (kinda) and headed home. What the seventeen year old didn’t expect was the repulsive sound of a siren filling her ears as she stepped out onto her driveway. Her blood rushed to her head when she spotted Detective Steinhelm among the police officers surrounding her and retorts, “oh come on. I thought I told them about you harassing me. What do you want? Back here to strip search me again?”

The older woman only watches the blonde in eerie silence before smiling and gesturing to a police officer. “Beatriz Jackson you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law-”

“What the actual fuck!” Bea yanks her arms out of the officers reach which initiates a struggle for dominance. This was nothing new to her, but it still felt sickening. Like she was some pet.

“You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.” Detective Steinhelm finishes speaking and approaches the still scuffling blonde, “if you keep resisting I will tase you myself.”

Bea bites back the urge to headbutt the old hag right in her stupid face but she didn’t need any extra charges, for whatever the hell it was she was being charged for.

“Tell me why the fuck I am being arrested and I’ll calm down.”

That’s when Bea notices a familiar (bruised up) face from earlier. His smirk was enough to eat at her skin and she felt burning hot rage.

“Your blood was found at the scene of Mr. Denbroughs assault. You are being arrested in the case of second degree assault with intent to hurt someone with a deadly weapon.”

***

Bea only got one year in prison due to her kickass lawyer Ina Kingsley who played the minor card at every opportunity given. She also pointed out the fact that the knife wasn’t bloodstained, and Bradley never had any stab wounds so there is no proof the weapon was ever used against him. And it technically wasn’t. Good thing she didn’t bring a gun instead.

She did miss her 18th birthday though. And a few months of her senior year. But that’s what summer classes were for right?

All eyes were on the blonde when she returned, and whispers spread throughout the school about a certain new girl. Bea paid no mind to the fingers that pointed in her direction but the newcomer did manage to catch her attention, and pretty quick at that.

“Hey Jackson, how was solitary confinement?”

“I heard they make you use the bathroom right through the tiny food slot.”

Bea rolls her eyes and pelts a piece of not-so-fresh bread right at Ford’s head. The other people at the table join in on the laughter and Bea shakes her head and smiles, “it was Juvie you dumbass, and they made us sit in a circle together every Thursday like we were in an AA meeting.

“That’s jail for babies, goldilocks here wouldn’t last a minute in a real prison”, Carter joins them at the table with a cocky smirk, yet his eyes soften when landing on Bea. She shares a similar look with him knowing they’ll have a real conversation later. Because they definitely didn’t get to have that when Bea was getting dragged away to the police station in cuffs, and every event after that.

“It’s our girl’s first day out, we have to celebrate. And it’s not like she’s on probation...right Bea?”

“I do have a curfew, and I’m on juvenile probation so…when we partying?” The crew laughs as Bea shrugs. Her mother will deal with it. Zoey scoots in next to the blonde and wraps her arm around her shoulder in a side hug. “So glad to have you back Bea, and we are not risking you breaking parole so let’s just go to a sport’s bar tonight.”

Bea nods her head in agreement as the first warning bell goes off and everyone starts to clean up. Zoey taps on her arm and points towards one of the farther tables where a lone figure sits, wiping her hands with a napkin. All Bea saw were blonde tresses until she turned and they made brief eye contact.

“She’s the new girl, Poppy Min Sinclair. Rumor is she’s got a rich white daddy. You should totally invite her to the party.”

“And why would I do that?”

Zoey squints her eyes and leans in closer, her hands under chin in thought, “she seems like the broody type, you two would click.” She laughs at Bea’s comical expression but the blonde can’t bother to look in her direction, she’s way too wrapped up in what little the stranger a few tables away had to offer. She would sit on that thought, Bea was not one to shy away from anything.

***

The two became friends quicker than anyone could think.

One day after school, Poppy’s car wouldn’t start. It just didn’t comply. You would think she’d be poised and call her mechanic to come fix it, but instead the blonde slumped against the driver’s side window and let out a visibly frustrated, high-pitched yelp. Bea watched her pace around the car and even...kick?...the front bumper with her heels in efforts to wake it up.

“You know I may be wrong but I think that only makes it worse..” She approaches the helpless blonde with a small grin. Poppy’s persistence amazed her though, she’s never seen anyone determined to beat a car up. An expensive one at that.

“I hope you have some idea how to fix it, unless you’re here to waste my time and ask me on a date.”

Woah.

Okay that definitely threw Bea on a whim. She lets out a sharp laugh and bites her lips in amusement. She strolls towards the front of her car, holding Poppy’s gaze the whole way. She liked that the blonde didn’t avert her eyes. “And if I did? We couldn’t take your car of course, it’s obviously impaired.”

Poppy smiles and turns to look at Bea properly. She checks out every inch of her with no visible shame. An assessment so to say, and she likes what she sees.

“It’s your lucky day Poppy, I happen to know a thing or three about cars, and I desperately want to get this thing working so we can go on that date.” She winks playfully but god does she mean it. Bea silently prayed that the blonde wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but she knew she won when Poppy didn't protest, instead getting comfortable under some shade and holding her hand out, “the stage is all yours Jackson.”

***

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can’t jump over this obvious not-so-protected fence?”

“Judging by the sign right next to it that says...oh wow who would’ve thought, “DO NOT ENTER”, I don’t think so”, Poppy deadpans. It didn’t phase Bea of course because she was already halfway up the fence when the blonde turned away from the sign. The girl had a point to prove, maybe not a valid one, but still a point.

Poppy pinches her eyebrows in exasperation before looking back up to a nonchalant Bea swinging her legs from the top of the fence. She winks down at the blonde, “join me?”

Poppy didn’t expect to be climbing fences with a charismatic girl who had the same color hair as her when she moved schools, but she found herself embracing every moment of it. Although the trip up there was a struggle and some.

“I swear to god there’s a wire in my ass.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And we’re both going to end up in the hospital. Get. me. Down.”

Bea tries to hold in her laughter the whole way down but lets it loose when she sees Poppy still up there, partly hovering in the air. “Pops...I’ll catch you, don't worry. Climb down slowly.” She doesn’t. But Bea had her feet planted and ready because any moment with the sassy blonde was unpredictable.  And she loved it. Especially because she had Poppy engulfed in her arms and they were so close their noses touched.

Bea promised herself she’d kiss the girl next time.

***

“You’re...in a gang?”

Bea felt a clasp of cold air enter her lungs as she stared ahead. It wasn’t like she could hide it from Poppy. She has a reputation, and word has gotten around about the two getting close. This was just like that one time at the end of sophomore year where Bea met Kelly Hall, a beautiful girl with golden rimmed glasses. Unfortunately she only could imagine what could’ve been after whispers ended up right on the doorstep of Kelly’s parents, and she suddenly changed her number, and switched out of every class she had with Bea.

The blonde didn’t want to entertain the thought of Poppy doing the same, but this was a lifestyle she chose.

“I mean...how?”

Bea sighs and turns to look at her, “I fell into the wrong crowd. Or maybe it’s the right one because I never found a true home until I met them. They’re family, I wouldn’t expect you to get it though and I understand if you want to distance-”

“I of all people know what it’s like to not fit in Jackson. You’ve found people who make you feel safe. Maybe I don’t agree with the troubles that come with being in a gang but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy wraps her arms around Bea’s and lays her head on her shoulder, “I want to know that you won’t get yourself hurt but I know that’s nearly impossible.”

Bea exhales slowly, not knowing what to say. She knew that this would upset Poppy but her acceptance meant more. She didn’t know what this would mean for the two of them, if there was a “them”, but she felt more encouraged to share more of her other life with the blonde.

“Just promise me one thing Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

Poppy’s voice comes out softer than expected, and Bea ingests every emotion that comes with it, “Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to choose between me or the gang.”

Bea finds her hand in the space where their thighs touched and latches onto it like a lifebuoy,

“I promise.”

***

“I just remembered something Poppy.”

“What, that you have half a brain cell? I thought that was established Jackson.”

Bea launches a pillow that (purposely) misses Poppy’s head by an inch. If she actually hit her and frizzed up her locks then she’d never hear, or see..or walk again.

“I’m being serious. I just remembered this too, we never went on that car date we talked about.”

Poppy squints her eyes in confusion, but was fully aware of what Bea was referring to. “You mean the first time we met?”

The blonde smiles to herself as she replayed that day in her head over and over again. She couldn’t decide if Bea’s openly flirty behavior is what drew her in or if it was her ability to fix any of her possessions with ease. And for free.

Bea pulls Poppy up by her hands until her back is against the lockers. Another perfect opportunity for the blonde to make do of that promise she made to herself, but something told her to wait just a bit longer. “So what do you say? Poppy Min Sinclair, will you go on a date with me?”

Poppy rolls her eyes playfully, pulling Bea in closer by the collar of her letterman, “now who’s being dramatic?”

“I didn’t hear a no”

“I think you know what the answer is.”

That night Zoey helped Bea prep for her first date with the girl that she could say she was almost in love with. The taller girl brushed some dust off of Bea’s jacket and planted her hands on her shoulders, “remember Jackson, give her the ride of her life. And I mean that in every way possible.”

Thanks Zoe.

Bea watched Poppy drive up in front of her house and something inside her mind couldn’t deny the pang her heart let out when she saw Poppy smile the way she did.

Bea took control of the driving and told Poppy to recline her seat and enjoy the ride, with her seatbelt on of course. Safe sacrifices. They cruised through an empty highway blasting Poppy’s spotify playlist named “Rich Bitch Songs” because that was their ideal perfect date. It’s amazing that the two could even come to an agreement, but here we are.

She watched the beautiful blonde sing her lungs out and couldn’t help but mirror her joy, taking her hands off the steering wheel. The pump of adrenaline prompts a new excitement in the air and Poppy wraps Bea into a secure hug, her hair flying wildly with the wind. Bea slows the car down but the rapid beating of her heart made it seem they were going 100 miles per second.

“I feel so alive Jackson.”

Bea stared at the girl in the passenger seat with a look that could only be described as love.

“You make me feel alive.”

Poppy kept talking and Bea found a way to focus on both the road and the blonde next to her. Because when you truly enjoy something, you’ll find a way to keep experiencing it. And Bea enjoyed hearing Poppy’s voice, she loved everything about her.

“I feel like kissing you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“...Nothing. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

They kiss when Bea pulls over.  A hot feeling consumes them like fire when their tongues collide and Bea plants her hands around Poppy’s hips, pushing her back into her seat until she’s on top. The windows easily start to fog up in reaction to the heat, and not once did they take their hands off each other.

Promise 1/2 kept

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

End Note: This chapter was to build their relationship, more angst incoming. BIG THANKS to @somewillwin for letting me use Jackson <3333

Taglist: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog @a-ghost-girl

[sleepysnk]

welcome to team player! this is the prologue for my Eren fic! i hope you all enjoy. i worked really hard on this and i hope you all will tune in for this fic :).

Team Player: Prologue

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Eren being an ass

Word Count: 4.1k

Next Chapter | Masterlist

(Y/N) plopped down in a chair in her biology class. It was her first day of college, attending Trost University was one of her biggest accomplishments. She never thought she'd get accepted into such a big school, her parents were very proud of her. 

(Y/N) was a very smart student. In high school she managed to maintain a very high GPA, and a perfect report card. Her parents like to say the girl was a genius. Her passion to become a doctor motivated her to excel, causing her studies to be a number one priority. . 

Her eyes wandered up as she noticed other students arrive into the classroom. Many just sat down and put their heads down, or just went onto their phones. 

(Y/N) looked around the classroom at the Professor who was waiting for students to enter. 

The door opened and a brunette boy with short hair and green eyes, wearing the football jersey with the school’s logo, entered the classroom. He was with another guy who had lighter brown hair, he was a bit taller than the brunette, and his face was a bit long. The two seemed to be chatting with each other about something, as they were laughing as soon as they entered. 

The two boys sat down next to each other and kept talking. Realizing class hadn’t started, (Y/N) looked at her phone in boredom, the room still silent. 

"Good morning. I hope you all are having a great morning so far. I'd like to welcome you all to Biology, I hope we have a great semester together, my name is Professor Klein," he said and smiled at everyone. 

Many students stayed quiet and just stared at the Professor. The two boys in the class kept talking, which somewhat distracted (Y/N) from listening to the Professor. 

"May I ask for you both to be quiet? You're interrupting," Professor Klein said and crossed his arms at the two boys. 

The brunette looked over and nodded. "Sure.. my bad" he said and chuckled a bit. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, she always disliked kids like that. Constant interruption, acting like they owned the class, etc. It bothered her a lot. 

"I'm going to start off with introducing something I do every year. You all are going to be doing a project, I know it's just the beginning, but this project will show me what you know. I'm going to pair you with someone in the class, I'd rather have you all get to know each other, and this is a great opportunity for that," he explained, picking up a piece of paper. 

Many groans came from the students, even (Y/N) let out one. She always resented working with people she didn't know, she didn't know anyone in this class either, which made her situation more difficult. 

As the professor began to call names for the project, (Y/N) zoned out as she waited for her name, heart racing in anticipation, wondering who her partner would be. 

"(Y/N) (L/N) and Eren Jaeger, raise your hands please," Professor Klein said and looked up. 

(Y/N) raised her hand and looked over at the brunette boy who sat with his friend. The one who was distracting the whole class. Great, just what she needed. 

She noticed his friend snicker a bit when he saw her, she rolled her eyes and looked back up front listening to the other students whose names were being called. 

"That should be it… anyone who has any questions about the project should ask me. This won't be a grade, but you should do your best. I expect you all to work together, please work equally on this. Presentations will be on Thursday," Professor Klein explained and leaned against his desk. "You may now move and sit with your partners," he added. 

(Y/N) stood up and grabbed her bag. She secretly knew that he wasn't going to move, so she just did it herself. 

She noticed his friend left and left a spot for her to sit next to him. (Y/N) looked at Eren who was on his phone laughing about something. He looked over and noticed her standing there

"You're my partner huh?" he asked.

She sat down next to him. "Yeah.. I am," she replied and avoided his gaze. 

Eren placed his phone down on the table. "So what are we doing? I wasn't paying attention," he asked and looked at her. 

She sighed and looked towards him. "It's just a project on basic Biology. It's on the packet" she said and looked at the pieces of paper. 

He looked down at the paper and rolled his eyes. "Oh.. ew, so uh.. is this done on Google Slides or something?" he asked. 

(Y/N) looked over at him again. "Yeah it is… I'll make it and share it with you," she replied and grabbed her laptop in her bag. 

Eren looked over at Jean who was on the other side of the room talking with his partner. He laughed a bit trying to get his attention. She bit down on her tongue from saying something, annoyed by his childish behavior to grab Jean’s attention. 

"What's your email?" she asked and looked over at Eren. 

He looked back at her. "Oh.. uh, here let me put it in" he replied and grabbed her laptop. 

She sighed and watched as he typed his email into her computer. She noticed how he kept looking over at Jean across the room, she just wanted this class to be over already. 

"Here," Eren said and pushed her laptop back to her. 

(Y/N) shared the slides with Eren and sort of sat there, he wasn't even talking with her, or even making an effort to discuss the project. She knew this was going to be a problem, as much as she wanted to stay back and tell the Professor to switch her partner, she didn't want to come off as 'that' student. 

She looked over at Eren. "Can you give me your number? We should do this outside of class too," she asked and nodded. 

Eren chuckled a bit. "Oh, you want my number? Alright… here," he said and smirked as he motioned for her phone. 

She handed her phone to him and watched as he entered his number into her phone. Within seconds Eren handed it back to her with a cocky smirk on his face. 

"I don't give many girls my number, so consider yourself lucky," he said and shrugged. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and felt gross. Who would want to give a guy like that their number? She felt so grossed out by the situation. It made her cringe inside. 

"Where do you wanna meet up?" she asked. 

Eren looked on his phone. "Uh… I don't know. Your dorm or something? I have practice after classes, so we'll have to meet later," he replied. 

She nodded. "Okay.. just text me. I'll send you my dorm number," she said and looked at her laptop. 

He leaned back in his chair. "Alright, bet," he said and looked at Jean. 

"You're all dismissed! Have an amazing rest of your day," Professor Klein said and looked around at the students. 

(Y/N) put her stuff away and stood up. She watched Eren join with his friend, already out of the classroom. A wave of relief washed over her body when class ended, but she dreaded seeing him. She already disliked the brunette, and being his partner made things worse. 

-

Hours went by and (Y/N) was sitting on her bed in her dorm. She was expecting Eren to arrive soon, she silently prayed he didn't forget to meet with her. Considering how he didn't even pay attention to her, it could be a possibility. 

She sat on her laptop just staring at the project in front of her, Biology wasn't something she wanted to take since she already took it her freshman year of high school, but it was recommended. She wasn't sure why someone like Eren would be in a science class, he seemed more interested in sports rather than science crap. 

(Y/N) felt her phone vibrate, she grabbed her phone off the small table next to her bed. Her roommate was gone doing whatever, so she just kind of put her stuff there. She noticed the text from Eren. 

Eren: hey, uhhhh are we still linking? 

(Y/N): yeah? my dorm number is 403.

Eren: betttt, i'm omw rn. see u there ;)

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the message. She felt a bit of relief that he still remembered to show up, she just wasn't sure how this was going to go. She hadn't hung out with a guy by herself in awhile. 

A knock came from the other side of the door, she sat up and walked over, Eren stood behind the door with his backpack. He was visibly sweating, he just came from practice. 

"Hey," Eren said. 

(Y/N) gave a small smile. "Hey.. come in" she replied and moved so he could enter. 

He looked around her dorm and placed his bag down. "Nice dorm.." he said and walked around. 

She shut the door and went to her side of the room. "Thanks.. um, you can sit here," she said and moved her things off the table near her bed. 

Eren looked on his phone and grabbed his bag, he sat down at her table and looked at her as she leaned back against the wall. 

"So uh.. I was thinking we could do the project a certain way" he said and took out his laptop. 

(Y/N) nodded. He had ideas? "How? What do you wanna do?" she asked and furrowed her brows. 

He leaned back in the chair. "Uh.. just do bullet points, it's much easier. It gets the information out," he replied and looked at her. 

She was displeased by his suggestion. Bullet points seemed too half assed, and she would rather not make a fool of herself in front of the teacher. 

"I don't know if we should do that, but let's just start with research," she said and looked down at her laptop. 

Eren furrowed his brows and just went back on his phone. (Y/N) looked at the packet for what was required for the project, it wasn't too hard. They could probably get it done within a day or two. 

(Y/N) looked up to see Eren just staring at her. Awkwardness rushed through her as she caught his eyes. 

"You're really pretty you know? I never knew pretty girls took Biology," he said and winked at her. 

She rolled her eyes and just looked down at her laptop. "Can we move on? Did you get the project?" she asked. 

Eren leaned back. "Yeah I did… but we have two days to do it. Don't rush princess," he replied and chuckled a bit. 

(Y/N) cringed as she heard that nickname come from his mouth. "Please don't call me that," she said in a serious tone. 

Eren looked at her and looked on his laptop. "Jeez.. I was just messing with you. Anyway, which slides are mine?" he asked and scrolled through the slideshow. 

She looked at him. "The one's with your initials are yours," she replied and ran a hand through her (h/c) hair. 

He nodded. "Oh… okay, shit I'm fucking stupid," he said and started laughing. 

Within the next hour, barely any progress was made. Eren’s antics began to annoy the girl, whether it be him sitting on his phone or calling her nicknames that she hated. His laziness with not working on his slides, began to light an anger in her. 

"That's funny as hell.. did you see this?" Eren asked and showed her a random video she had no care to see. 

(Y/N) looked at him. "Are you gonna do any work? That's why you're here, I don't know why you're just sitting here on your phone doing nothing," she said and crossed her arms. 

He seemed a bit surprised at her words. "Yeah I'll do something.. just relax," he said and grabbed his laptop.

She rolled her eyes. "You said that an hour ago, you realize if you don't do shit you aren't gonna get credit? That's on you, not me" she said.

Eren furrowed his brows. "Are you on your period or something? All you're doing is complaining. It's just a damn project, it isn't even worth a grade either. Judging off your slides too you're adding way too much information, just do it this way and that's it," he said. 

She scoffed. "My period? You sound so stupid right now. I rather work hard on this project to not fuck up my first year, and I'm adding information so it doesn't look half-assed like your idea" she replied. 

He rolled his eyes. "My idea is half-assed? My idea was better than yours! You're making it all extra," he said and started to raise his voice a little. 

(Y/N) had enough and stood up. "Get the fuck out." she said and pointed at the door. 

Eren looked up at her. "What? No, you asked me to help with the project so I'm here doing it," he replied. 

"I said.. get. the. fuck. out." she said. "I'm not gonna ask again! Leave." she added and pointed at the door again. 

He slammed his laptop and grabbed it, shoving it into his bag. "Fine, bye then" he said and walked out giving her the middle finger. 

(Y/N) slammed the door to her dorm, and sat back down on her bed. She rubbed her temples in frustration at what just happened, he really was an asshole. She absolutely hated guys like Eren, they act all cool and better than everyone else, but they're really just idiots who are actually stupid. 

She lied down on her bed and shut her laptop, she was too frustrated to even look at it. She silently prayed that Eren would just do his part, and get it over with. 

-

The next day Eren was in a horrible mood. Everything that happened the night before left him mad at (Y/N). He even ranted to his roommate Armin about it, claiming she was being a total "bitch" for no reason. Of course, his roommate just sat there and listened. Secretly knowing that it was kind of his fault. 

Eren came into Biology the next morning and saw (Y/N) sitting in her seat. She was on her phone, not seeming to be paying attention to anything. 

Jean sat in their usual spot. "Hey! You finally made it" he said and looked at him. 

Eren placed his stuff down and sighed. "I'm fucking tired… I should have just skipped, but Armin makes so much damn noise" he replied and looked on his phone. 

Jean nodded and leaned back in his chair. "How did it go with your partner yesterday? She gave you some of that?" he asked and winked. 

Eren looked over and scoffed. "No.. she was a total bitch though. She got pissed at me for not working.. then she got all mad and told me to leave her dorm," he replied. 

Jean furrowed his brows and looked over at (Y/N), she was still on her phone. "Damn.. you know.. you should get back at her for that," he said and smirked. 

He seemed genuinely confused on what he meant. Eren was always in for messing with people, like the time during summer camp he stole the towels, and Reiner had to walk out butt-naked in the hallway. 

"How?" Eren asked intrigued by what Jean had to say. 

He chuckled. "Fuck up the project, embarrass the fuck out of her. She seems to be a really smart student, plus it wouldn't even fuck up your grade. Just do it, it would be so funny" Jean explained. 

Eren felt a devilish smirk grow onto his face. "Say less… don't say anything though. I'm gonna act like I'm doing shit, then change it later tonight," he said and laughed a bit. 

Jean laughed and tapped his arm. "I'll keep quiet," he said and looked towards the front as the Professor began to speak. 

"I hope you all had an amazing day yesterday. I know being in University is scary, but I believe you all will get comfortable soon. Your projects are due tomorrow, and presentations will begin tomorrow as well, make use of your time! I can't wait to see them, you may move with your partners," Professor Klein said and smiled. 

Jean stood up and winked at Eren as he went to sit with his own partner. His eyes wandered to (Y/N) who was still sitting in her spot. He figured she was still mad about yesterday, so he decided to just go sit next to her. 

He came in her spot and plopped his stuff on the ground. "Hey," he said and looked at her. 

(Y/N) didn't respond and just stared at her laptop, she was typing in the slideshow. "Hello?" Eren asked and snapped his fingers in her face.

She tapped her Airpod and removed it. "Huh? What do you want?" she asked and furrowed her brows. 

He sighed. "I'm here to work with you..? At least let me do my part, my bad about yesterday," he said and looked at her. 

(Y/N) shrugged and looked back at her laptop. "Just finish your part and get it over with… I just want this project to be done," she replied and put her Airpod back in. 

Eren looked at the slideshow and tried his best to make his work similar to (Y/N)'s, it would at least put her at ease. He'd wait until midnight to mess it up, he figured he'd put some kind of meme to play, and that would do it. 

The class time seemed to fly by and Professor Klein dismissed everyone for the day. 

"You actually did some good work today," (Y/N) said and looked at Eren as she packed up her things. 

He chuckled. "Thank you… you should have believed in me," he said and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "See you later" he added and exited the classroom. 

(Y/N) felt at ease knowing that the project was going smoothly, maybe something clicked in his brain. She walked out of the class not knowing what was about to go down tomorrow. 

-

Time seemed to fly by all day, Eren had just gotten back from practice all day. His muscles felt tired from the workouts and running he had to do, that's mainly why Eren was at Trost. 

As a wide receiver, he was offered a scholarship in his senior year of highschool. The coaches at his school believed that he was at a level of greatness, and was well liked by his teammates. As a great athlete, he was able to lead his team to playoff victories and a championship title. No one has their doubts, as his number one goal was to play at the professional level. 

"How was practice?" Armin asked as Eren entered the room almost sweaty. 

He sighed. "It was fine… our first game is in a few weeks and I'm excited." he replied and smiled a bit. 

The blonde nodded and looked down at his laptop. "Did things ever work out with that girl from yesterday?" he asked. 

Eren felt a smirk grow onto his face. "Yeah! Yeah it did… things are fine," he replied and laughed a bit. 

Armin shrugged and went back to his own work, not worrying about whatever Eren was going to do. 

Within a few hours, it was midnight. Armin was fast asleep in his own bed, while Eren was up looking at the project. (Y/N) was last active in it about 2 hours ago, so it was perfect timing for him to change things up his way. Eren cracked his knuckles and began working on everything, he changed the long paragraphs to shorter sentences and bullet points. Adding his own pictures and finally the video. 

It was a random meme video he found and pasted the link onto the document. He snickered and laughed as he saved it all, this was going to be quite the surprise for the class and (Y/N) tomorrow. 

-

Morning soon came upon both Eren and (Y/N). Eren dreaded getting out of bed, and so did (Y/N). 

She walked into the Biology classroom yawning, she noticed Eren was actually in class earlier than usual. He usually came in about one or two minutes before class started, she just shrugged it off and went to her spot. 

Eren noticed her enter and felt a smile come to his face thinking about what was about to go down. He planned to volunteer first, and that's when things would go down his way. 

Jean entered the class and came over next to Eren. "Yo," he said and shook up with him. 

Eren nodded. "What's up? Did you finish your project?" he asked. 

Jean leaned back in his chair. "Yup… she got it done. What about you? Did you actually fuck with it?" he asked and looked towards Eren. 

He chuckled. "You bet I did.. she has no idea either," he replied and looked at his phone. 

Jean raised his brows in surprise. "You actually fucking did? Holy shit… you're petty as fuck" he said with a laugh. 

"Yes dude I fucking did," Eren replied and laughed along with him. 

Professor Klein stood up and looked at the two. "Alright quiet down… I hope you all spent time working on your projects, now who would like to go first?" he asked and scanned the room. 

Eren's hand shot up. "Me and (Y/N) will go first" he said and smirked. 

(Y/N)'s head snapped to look back at him. "Uh… sure" she said and stood up. 

The two went to the front of the class while Professor Klein sat down in the back, he was shuffling papers. (Y/N) had her laptop and plugged it in to project the slideshow onto the screen. 

Eren was trying to hold in his laughter as Jean had his phone out recording. 

"Alright.. you both may begin" Professor Klein said and leaned back in his chair. 

(Y/N) clicked the next slide and confusion ran through her. Why was everything suddenly changed? Her sentences seemed shorter and less informational. 

She began speaking and stuttered a bit reading it all. She hadn't memorized any of this, and she didn't even remember putting any of this down. Maybe her computer messed up and didn't save everything right away? She wasn't sure. 

Eren read his slides and crossed his arms. Why were his slides different now too? 

(Y/N) could see Professor Klein in the back narrowing his eyes and writing down different things on the paper, she felt embarrassment rushing through her. 

"We have a video to include if that's fine" Eren said and looked in the back. 

Her brows furrowed. "A video? What? I never put a video in there," she said and tapped Eren's arm. 

"Yes you did… you asked me last night," Eren replied and clicked on the link. 

The video began playing and it showed a random meme playing, the audio blasted in the classroom. Jean bursted out laughing and covered his mouth, Eren started chuckling as (Y/N) stood there totally embarrassed and upset over everything. 

"Shut that off now!" Professor Klein yelled and stood up. 

(Y/N) slammed her laptop closed and stood there absolutely horrified with what just happened. 

"Mr.Jaeger and Ms.(L/N), I expected better from the both of you. This project isn't meant to be funny, or a joke. You both are receiving a zero for this assignment, you're both adults not children! That was absolutely inappropriate and unacceptable," he said and crossed his arms. 

Eren composed himself and looked at (Y/N) who wasn't laughing. She seemed genuinely pissed off. 

"That's funny to you?" she asked and looked up at him. "Fuck you Eren… you're a fucking piece of shit," she said and grabbed her laptop. 

"Sit down Eren," Professor Klein said in a serious tone. 

Immediately when she sat, she lowered her head, feeling the gazes of many students. Embarrassment rushed through her veins when deep down she knew it was Eren who messed with the project. 

She felt a piece of paper slam down onto her table. She looked up and saw the rubric circled with zero on it, she looked at Eren and Jean who were laughing. She put her head back down as her eyes brimmed with tears. 

(Y/N) absolutely hated Eren Jaeger from that day forward.

[anxiouslyfred]

Edited Lesson Plans

for @dukexietyweek‘s day 5 prompt ‘School’

Summary: The science experiments Remus includes in his lessons baffle most of the staff for how he’s able to get them past health and safety concerns. Virgil is just glad he hasn’t been questioned over stealing the plans to add precautions to them yet.

Warnings: elusions to chemical accidents, vauge mentions of bad lab safety, explosion mentions

/\/\/\

“Again? He's managed to get these major experiments in his work plan again?”

“Who the hell is he bribing to be allowed to do this stuff? Even I couldn't get a risk assessment thorough enough to do these things!”

“Remus has to be like dating the headmasters daughter. That's the only way Mr stick-up-his-arse Read would be letting him do these experiments. They're just too dangerous.”

“I think that's why Remus is doing them. Have you seen him mope when one is rejected?”

The talk in the staff room had once again returned to Mr Remus Cethalapod as the lessons plans and class schedules were shared among the teams, including the weeks where teachers should expect delays from students leaving specific classes. Virgil was sat working on fine tuning his own quietly, listening in, but never expected to join in with their talk.

That was the other certainty he knew the other teachers and faculty held, Remus would include science experiments no sane person would demonstrate to their teenage students, and Virgil would only speak up about issues with lesson plans if he saw classes overlapping with his that could be risky. The only exception to his demands to see the risk assessments were Remus's despite those classes following or precluding his own most often.

He smirked, making a few quick notes on a plan for the woodworking module. If the class picked up the skills in a different time period to expected a few classes might be moved around which would help with when Remus had chosen one of the few repeated experiments to be done.

“What is up, Bitches! Have I convinced any of you to give up repeating the same old plans and get something interesting in those classes?” Remus yelled, barging in to check the schedules for next semester.

“Why would we need to include something interesting when your lesson plans could well blow up the school?” Nate scoffed, shaking his head, and clearly unhappy that his classroom designation for the next semester was beside Remus's.

Virgil was tempted to speak up at that, defend his risk assessments except he wouldn't even acknowledge to Remus that he'd regularly steal the other teacher's lesson plans to make sure they're safe, or at a minimum have all possible and extremely necessary safety measures in place. He was certain that his input was known about though.

Remus just beamed at the veiled criticism. “My fairy health and safety agent says every class I do is safe as long as I follow the purple ink. Can you say the same?”

“You're creating fantasy creatures? You're meant to be a science teacher!” Nate's protesting was cut off as the first school bus arrived and everyone refocused back on this semester rather than the next.

/VR\

Teaching Engineering and Resistant materials had always been Virgil's main interest, and a lot of that relied on science not only to improve and progress but to remain safe for the people who practised it. Getting a few journals on Chemistry added to his reading list wasn't too difficult to do after Virgil first met Remus.

He'd loved the passion and energy when he'd heard Mr Cethalapod teaching during a free period in the first year they'd worked together at the school. Discovering that the class had been mixing dangerous chemicals without enough safety precautions however had him basically panicking for 20 minutes before he forced himself calm if only to focus on his next class and the teenagers about to be playing with fire as much as soldering some metal together could be called that.

After that day Virgil would steal Remus's lesson plans, originally just to satisfy himself that they wouldn't be putting students or teacher in danger, but all too soon he was adding sheets with safety instructions and getting risk assessments filled out. Enough of the things he did could cross over, although temperatures in chemistry got higher than they ever would in resistant materials and the chemical element rarely impacted engineering to the degree it would of course inspire a chemistry class.

Remus even seemed to accommodate his lesson plans getting stolen, once when they were first written, once soon before the start of each subject and finally the week before he'd teach the class. When Virgil had first realised that pattern had been deliberately made he tried to hide more, put the things back exactly as he'd found them, terrified there'd be some consequence for his interfering. Remus had after all once made a class where a parent had complained over his teaching style only read their books for a term, conducting the experiments he'd planned to show or have them do silently at the front of class, and another time brought in a mobile lab so he could walk his class around behind the PE class after the teachers were disparaging his class loudly at the end of the day.

Instead nothing had happened, except occasionally his additions would have more corrections added. Of course the corrections were usually only on the severity of the injuries that could occur if one of the safety risks wasn't followed, but it was an acceptance of his guidelines regardless. Even Virgil's students had mentioned feeling calmer and safer during experiments with Remus bringing new precautions in, all of which had been his own additions.

Honestly, being called a 'fairy health and safety agent' had Virgil snickering for the rest of his day. He had the powers of magic and way too much fear on his side and with it would save the school from dangerous experiments. That sounded like a lot more fun than screaming and lecturing the headmaster whenever one of the other teachers blatantly failed to follow even the basic health and safety precautions.

When Virgil gets the lesson plans at the end of that week a tiny part of him was tempted to put fairy wings on of something while taking them. He wouldn't do that for fear of having to explain why if another teacher spotted him, but it was a thought.

A thought that vanished along with everything else that night when in green highlighter, covering the last page of lesson plans Remus had scrawled

Dear H&S Fairy, I'll clap all the times I can to make sure you exist if only you come with me on a date next Friday. Love and other Goopy Stuffs, Remus xoxoxo

Please, Virgil could only pray, please say Remus actually had figured out he was the one doing these plans, because he wanted, but could not face turning up only to find out Remus thought it was some other teacher or administrator.

Before he could worry about that any further he scribbled a reply just underneath the note, signed with a doodle of a fairy.

/VR\

Now it wasn't that Remus had forgotten asking the Engineering teacher out on his lesson plans, or that he hadn't seen the response once they were returned to his desk. It's that he absolutely hated planning ahead any more than was necessary and his dreams were just of inspiration striking for the perfect date the minute they met up at his car.

Only as he was setting out the lesson and getting the students ready to carry it out did he finally think that someone so concerned with safety they'd steal his lesson plans might actually feel better if he had a plan in place. Remus couldn't exactly create a plan while teaching though, so it really would just be up to the evening and the thoughts it might bring to do.

He couldn't imagine a date being as full of risk as playing with low level acids though.

Virgil was already leant against Remus's car by the time he reached it and all Remus could do was beam. “I actually got it right! Damn, and Mr Read always says I can't figure out anything except explosions.”

“Glad to be who you wanted, should I even ask if you have a plan for tonight or just accept you're making this up as we go along?” Virgil snorted, pushing himself up as Remus rounded the car.

“I can at least guarantee lower chances of injury than I might find if you weren't with me.” Remus countered.

Perhaps they'd only really communicated via lesson plans and occasionally crossing paths around the school up until this point, but Remus couldn't wait to see where this first date might take them.

[bikerjongho]

stradivarius in flames | kim hongjoong

genre: supernatural, action

character: violin demon hunter!hongjoong

description: Hongjoong is a demon hunter that specifically fights and kills demons trapped inside violins, and now he’s tasked with destroying a multi-million dollar Stradivarius violin.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of a gun, fire, demons

author’s note: inspired by this post. and hold onto your horses @scriptura-delirus​ >:)

The train that was taking Hongjoong to the orchestra concert was late. And dressed to the nine's in a black suit, buzzed hair flat and elegant, and gun tucked neatly in his coat pocket, Hongjoong couldn't have been angrier. He had a violin to steal and burn.

Hongjoong was slated to have arrived at the concert venue an hour before the concert. Now, with twenty minutes past the beginning of the concert and still a few more miles to go due to an accident on the tracks, it was an understatement to say that he felt robbed by the train's service. Never in his life had he had a more important job to do.

Had this been a normal violin, had this been a normal demon, Hongjoong would have dropped the gig as he sat. But this was no ordinary violin, and this was no ordinary demon. A Stradivarius violin, one of only hundreds made and made by what connoisseurs say was the greatest violin maker of all time, Antonio Stradivari, was Hongjoong's target for this night. Worth millions, any violin made by Stradivari was heavily coveted and admired. Hongjoong had to make sure this one burned in flame.

And the demon that had implanted itself into this violin, while not much different than other demons that inhabited violins, was worrisome on its own purely by its ability to get its demon hands on a Stradivarius. He had a theory that demons favored violins because Satan's instrument was violin.

Hongjoong didn't know how these demons managed to inhabit violins and cause trouble. But the simple fact was that they did, and Hongjoong was there to stop them.

He had been in the business of banishing demons from violins for years. The actual banishment of the demon was easy enough - he just had to throw the violin into a fire. The hard part was actually obtaining the violin.

And sometimes, even that part was easy. Over his years at this job, Hongjoong found that demons preferred to inhabit smaller violins. Thus, he would appear at elementary schools to steal and destroy tiny and monstrous violins from orchestra rooms. Sometimes he stole violas. Less often he stole cellos and basses because they were too large and bulky for a demon to ever inhabit. Hongjoong was grateful for their preference, their liking to Satan. It would be nearly impossible to steal a bass at any time of the day or night.

But most of the time, stealing violins was a painful and difficult job. He no longer felt regret as he stole stringed instruments from homes, from venues, from schools, because of the damage the demon worried him more than a sad violinist ever could. Nonetheless, it was still painful to watch students sob over their stolen violin. Many times, he stole them at night when the demons were most active, silently breaking in and swiping the violin before anyone could notice. But all the same, he had his fair share of chases, fights, and prices placed on his head.

If demons were left in the violins, their energies and mischief would disrupt the living world. Hongjoong knew of people that had lost family members from these violin demons, which motivated him to keep burning violins on days he hated his job. And although he himself had never lost any family members from these demons, every day he walked on a tightrope, afraid he was one step away from slipping and losing someone he loved.

Hongjoong had his balance, at least for tonight. But as the train slowly moved closer to the Stradivarius, he couldn't ignore the knot that was forming in the center of his chest.

In the meantime, Hongjoong mapped out a plan in his brain for nabbing the violin. Even if it was a Stradivarius, it would have been infinitely easier to steal while it sat unused in its case before the performance. The fact that it was now being played and security guards made sure no one else could get into the theater to see the performance was yet another hurdle for Hongjoong to jump over. He silently cursed the accident that had prolonged his ride.

Alongside the security guards, the demons tended to act up the most when the violin was being played. What mischief it did exactly varied from demon to demon, but black mist and objects moving on their own accord were a staple of violin demons. Hongjoong tried not to think about how impossible this task would be, even if the violin wasn't a Stradivarius. Though, he did have a few tricks up his sleeve - it came with being rather practiced at magic and the police of all things supernatural.

Hongjoong had a few sets of magic marbles lined in his coat pockets. To the unobservant eye, they looked like regular marbles, but upon closer inspection they shimmered with magic. If Hongjoong threw one onto the floor, the magic inside it opened. Some created roaring flames, while some were able to transport him a couple hundred feet from where he stood. Others created smoke, and others slowed time. He didn't have any time ones, those were harder to come by, but the other three he had in full stock and was fairly certain he'd use them for this case.

Hongjoong mulled more in his seat about the marbles and his plan on getting the Stradivarius while the rest of the passengers on the train chatted merrily to each other, their thoughts free of demonic violins and magic marbles.

His thoughts were just pulling together into a ridiculous, yet perhaps doable plan, as the train slowed and stopped before honking its loud whistle as an arrival. Hongjoong stood up immediately and felt around for the concert ticket in his pocket. It was still there, and that was his way in. He hoped they'd let him into the performance even if he was late, but he was also capable of breaking glass and violating a few security rules. He hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

At last, Hongjoong was inside the concert venue, sweaty and tired after running continuously to reach it. He had considered using one of the magic balls to transport him to the venue faster while he lost his lungs running, but since the concert had started already, it didn't matter. He had already lost enough time.

His sweating and panting came in handy when he reached one of the workers that collected tickets. "I'm so sorry, my train was late," he gasped and handed over his ticket. "Pray that I can still watch the remainder of the concert?"

"It's no problem," said the worker, not unkindly, and led him to the entrance to the audience. Hongjoong adjusted the gun in his coat. He doubted he would need to use it, but he had it for protection. He was smirking, but gave a kind smile to the worker as she turned to let him into the auditorium.

As soon as he was let into the auditorium, he was hit with the repulsive and pungent scent of demon that he had grown so accustomed to. The black demon mist hung over the auditorium like a terrible omen. He was relieved to see that nothing else seemed disturbed, and no one else could smell hell itself or see the mist in the air. Everyone was too focused on the violinist that was playing her heart out on her awful violin.

Hongjoong had selected a seat directly above the violinist, just in case he had to watch the performance. The violinist's golden dress shimmered while she played, and to Hongjoong's horror, the demon was quite visible from the violin's f-holes. He had to get down to the stage immediately, even if it was going to cause a ruckus, even if it was going to scar everyone in the theater, even if the violinist was playing beautifully on a legendary violin.

One moment, he was sitting as a relaxed patron, watching the violinist perform. The next, he had swung himself over the safety railing and landed on the stage, smoke magic ball coming just before him and coating everything near with smoke and hiding Hongjoong.

"I'm sorry," Hongjoong whispered to the soloist underneath the screaming and gasps that had ensued from the crowd before kicking her feet out from under her and yanking the violin out of her hands. The bow clattered to the floor as the violinist screamed as she fell, but Hongjoong didn't need it.

And then he ran. He ran, carrying the violin that was worth more than his life and could pay off all of his debts tenfold. He ran off of the stage and into the backstage, where he quickly found an exit door after zooming by workers that were too startled to try and stop him. The screaming and thundering of multiple people close behind him made his heart jolt and his hands work faster. He thrusted open the door, and then the demon began hissing and screeching.

It would not stop hissing and growling, so Hongjoong held the violin close to his chest and pressed hard. He felt the wood crack and the bridge fall off, which quieted the demon. A shot rang out from behind him, making him run even faster into the night. He struggled in his pockets for the marble he needed, then threw it to the ground.

The transport marble - Hongjoong slipped away from the crowd of security guards without a trace, walking through the wavy air it created before it threw him a couple hundred feet forward. He could still hear and see the guards if he looked closely from where he had moved, but they'd never find him from here. Humans couldn't move that fast. And while Hongjoong was human, he had danced and gambled the line of supernatural for years. The screaming demon inside the Stradivarius he was holding was proof of that.

Even if Hongjoong was out of sight from the security officers, there was still a lot of running to be done. After all, the fire he was to create couldn't give away his location.

So Hongjoong ran. He ran through the forest, letting brambles and sticks scratch himself and the violin and his coat and his shoes and his pants while he ripped off the tuning pegs of the violin. Something about tearing apart the violin, breaking it and making it unplayable helped silence and weaken the demon. He pitched the pegs onto the ground as he ran and kept running, his legs burning like he had dropped a fire magic marble inside of them.

At last, Hongjoong couldn't hear the security guards anymore. He squeezed the violin against his body to crack it a bit more one last time to silence the demon's useless whining before pulling out a fire magic marble and throwing it onto the ground.

An inferno erupted from where the ball was, and Hongjoong was quick to toss the Stradivarius into the fire. Upon contact with it, the demon screamed turned to black steam steaming from the violin, and the violin's golden body turned black as the fire ate. The fire danced in Hongjoong's expressionless eyes as he watched the flames lick up the priceless wood and the demon that had tried to make a home in it. He had seen this exact scenario more times than he could count, but this one was different. The Stradivarius was an artifact, a treasure to the musical world, and he had destroyed it.

But the demon was a treasure from hell, sent to destroy and cause havoc on Earth. The orchestral snobs would simply have to get over their million dollar loss. As the flames licked up the last of the violin, Hongjoong gave a small smile. He was good at his job, he knew it, and the power that came with destroying demons was addicting. To know that he had the power of destroying otherworldly creatures in the blink of an eye made some deep and innate hunger blossom in the core of his stomach. The fire licked at the fiery strings in the flames and casted hellish figures on his skin. He savored this moment, for it would go away soon.

At the sudden noise of shouts, Hongjoong took one last look at the flames and took off, once again running but free from his task. It was evil, it felt evil, to ruin such a priceless artifact and to be a felon and menace, even if it was to destroy a demon.

But the feeling it gave Hongjoong ate at him like flames to kerosene. He'd never stop.

[gingermintpepper]

100 million years ago, I sent an ask to @nostalgicbookworm

requesting headcanons about a High School AU and after a ridiculous amount of time, I've finally gotten around to writing some stuff for it. It's Drolxinia centric, naturally.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"I like you."

Is what he said, the scarlet of his hair a curtain that blocked the sunset from Drole's relaxed eyes. His honey coloured eyes gleamed gold, cherubic face scrunched awkwardly as usually delicate lips frowned in earnest concentration. And, in the end, that was what tipped him over the edge. The earnesty.

Gloxinia was a creature of cold smiles and borderline cruel words, a perfect blend of wintry disposition and welcoming charisma. He was rarely straight forward, a faerie's trickster nature given human flesh and forced to abide by mortal man's nonsensical laws and Drole accepted this easily. For all his contradiction, Gloxinia was passionate and where it counted, more dependable than even the ever rising sun.

So when met with a pale face twisted in genuine effort; vulnerability and ill-fitting openness blatant in the trembling of tiny fingers which valiantly clung to the empty packet of sunflower seeds, Drole did what any surprised yet undeniably relaxed person would do.

Drole laughed.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

He knew he was wrong but Gloxinia was not an easy person to apologise to.

He made himself scarce almost immediately, jumping off the roof and sliding down the guttering to save face then presumably running all the way home. It all transpired so quickly that Drole barely understood what happened, nevermind formulating an adequate response quickly enough to de-escalate the situation. His friend was smart though, he'd chosen Friday afternoon to make his confession and each call Drole made to him that night went straight to voicemail.

It wasn't that Drole...didn't like him.

In fact, he's pretty certain that he's been in love with Gloxinia since they were in primary school and the spitfire had defended him from a group of bullies. The image of bright bright vermillion had been burned into his vision that day, the tiny child who looked so frail that the girls all whispered that he was a doll whenever he left class with his back arched and scowl fierce. He'd let out a battle cry unlike anything Drole had ever heard and leapt at the biggest bully to scratch and spit at him. Naturally, he'd been beaten as well (bare fists weren't exactly a match for chairs and sticks especially not when those fists were about as large as a first year's), but they'd ended up laughing about it in the nurse's office later.

They'd been inseparable since then, Gloxinia a whirlwind of red hair and sharp fists while Drole contentedly stood by his side. Two misfits facing the world. David and his Goliath. Drole could've died happy if things had stayed that way - he never was a being particularly fond of change. Even after they'd joined secondary school, Gloxinia had continued to be a bit of a terror in his own right, too charismatic for people to be rightfully frightened of him yet too unapproachable for him to actually make friends. Drole's appearance kept the faint of heart away but his quiet disposition meant that even the brave found him uninteresting company. Gloxinia was the only one who accepted him entirely. The only one who had never been disappointed with Drole's truths. He'd accepted that Drole wished to dance instead of fight or play sports, he'd accepted that Drole was happiest in the middle of the botanical gardens on a cloudless summer afternoon, that flowers and butterflies and other childish symbols brought him peace.

He was the only one who understood everything Drole stood for - had stood by his side resolutely through every battle and struggle and Drole had laughed at his confession.

He sighed. No matter how he thought about it, he was unequivocally in the wrong.

"You could always apologise, you know?"

An unimpressed violet eye glared past his veil of brunet locks. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten all about Diane's weekly check-in which, naturally, led to the girl squeezing her way through his perpetually open kitchen window when she found the front and back doors locked.

Drole wasn't... upset at her appearance. Diane was excellent company, one of the newer members of the school's dance team, trained in both ballet and contemporary. Her energy was infectious and she was surprisingly sharp when she wasn't pretending to be a pure maiden from one of her endless fairy tales. She'd taken one look at Drole's ragged countenance and had firmly planted herself on his couch, tea clasped in her dainty hands as she tapped the open cushion next to her in invitation.

Even though Drole hadn't any intention of divulging his troubles to another soul - he had gotten himself into this problem, he would see himself out - somehow, Diane had managed to pry almost everything out of him before he had drained even half of his warm milk.

"Gloxinia doesn't want to talk to me."

Diane hummed, her cup long drained of whatever spicy smelling drink she'd concocted in his kitchen. Her hands were busy twisting his too long hair into something presentable, part of her plan to cheer him up no doubt. "That's fair," she said eventually, voice light even as her thin eyebrows scrunched in concentration, "I wouldn't want to talk to the jerk who laughed at my confession either."

He stifled another sigh. "It was an accident-"

"Doesn't matter!"

His fingers dug into the textured cloth of his upholstered couch, anxiety returning to gnaw at his stomach lining. He'd spent all night replaying the moment in his head in-between calling and texting Gloxinia like some obsessive ex-partner. He felt plenty bad without Diane continuously reminding him that he'd messed up. "Must you continue to bring that up?"

Agile fingers stilled, the warmth of her hands almost uncomfortable against his ear. She grew quiet beside him and Drole cautioned a look in her direction, freezing as he noticed the rueful smile on her face. "Diane-?"

"Sorry," she said and her fingers suddenly double in pace as they make short work of the remnants of the plait she'd been braiding, "I don't mean to beat a dead horse or anything, it's just--I feel sorry for him." Her hands drop and she pulls them close to her chest, bowing her head in a melancholy turn of events, "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I confessed to the guy I liked and he laughed at me."

With a huff, Drole uncurled his hand from the back of the couch to pat Diane's head. It didn't take a genius to figure out where her mind was and Drole wasn't about to let her get lost in her insecurities, "Harlequin wouldn't."

The blush that spread across her face was immediate. Somehow, she grabbed a pillow and ineffectively smacked Drole's stomach with it, mood shifting drastically again, "Why would you bring King into this?! I-I'm just speaking hypothetically!"

He weathered the pillow assault with a placid expression, waiting for her to work her wayward emotions out so they could continue speaking like normal people. Eventually she calms, hugging the pillow to her chest and pouting at his relaxed nature, "Anyway, that's why you need to fix things."

Drole blinked.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "You have to give your juniors hope! Everyone at school already thinks you and Gloxinia are dating, y'know! If you let things break apart now then everyone's gonna take that as an omen."

Now that...was certainly news to him. He couldn't recall any particular instance where his peers gave the impression that they thought he was gay. Then again, given the wide berth most students gave him, Drole supposed he didn't talk to enough people for that to be a provable truth. As for Gloxinia, he'd been turning down over eager confessions from both boys and girls since form one. He'd actually managed to gain a bit of a reputation for being unattainable which--and Drole clearly remembers this particular lamentation--only proved to make him more desirable.

Drole thought it was fair though. To call Gloxinia beautiful was to understate his beauty. Everything about him from his royal attitude to the neatness of his appearance to the way his secret smiles would reveal the cutest dimples on his chin and cheeks - it was all a certain degree of perfect. Thinking about him made his chest heat up, made him ache to call him again. He wanted to run his fingers through Gloxinia's pretty hair again, wanted to laugh at his dark jokes and feel the wind on his skin as they sat for late evening picnics. He wanted Gloxinia's hands pressed against his neck as those smart fingers braided flowers into his thick hair. He just wanted Gloxinia.

"I just want to fix this," he mumbled.

Diane grew silent for a moment. Drole closed his eye, tried to lean his head against the backrest of the couch and let out a stiff exhale as his head connected with the hard wall instead.

"What about Gerheade?"

Drole frowned. Gloxinia's sister was not a force to be taken lightly. He'd tried calling her the minute he realised that Gloxinia wouldn't be picking up his calls but instead of being met with her usual sweet voice, chips of ice had whispered into his ear and had firmly warned him against trying to bother her brother again. He shook his head, not bothering to pull himself up from the wall, "She hates me now too."

Diane chuckled, "That's impossible! Gerheade's too sweet for something like that-"

He caught her eyes, voice chilled, "It's the truth."

She sighed, finally seeming to understand the depth of the hole Drole had inadvertently dug himself into, "How will you apologise then?"

A non-commital shrug met her question, listless eye stuck to the blue phone laying innocently on the coffee table. He'd bothered the both of them enough to last the weekend and he knew Gloxinia enough to understand that he'd never be able to meet him on his own turf. He'd hate to do it, but the only option left to him was to wait and pray that Gloxinia's temper would subside come next week. "We'll talk. Eventually." He furrowed his brows at how unbothered that made him sound, "Monday."

Diane frowned, "Do you think he'll be willing to talk with you by then? Gloxinia's pretty..."

Petty. Prone to holding grudges. Unreasonable.

"It'll work out."

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Twin Size Mattress

Summary: Sirius runs away after home troubles, a request for a Sirius x reader inspired by Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms. Very angsty, has a comfort ending.

Pairing: Sirius x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (H/C) - hair colour, (L/N) - last name

Word Count: 2380

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, depressive/ptsd symptoms, one gay slur.

They heard a soft knock at the door around 9pm that evening, the rain pouring outside. The thunder striking every other minute at this point. 

“I wonder who that is in this weather” James said, throwing himself up from the sofa and going to get the door. 

The other boy sitting across him set his book down and leaned forward to get a good look at the front door. The door opening to reveal a soaking wet Sirius, the rain hiding the tears streaming down his face. 

“Shit, Padfoot. Get in quickly” James said completely shocked, he ran upstairs to grab a towel and dry clothes. Sirius didn’t look (Y/N) in the eyes when he rushed to his side, only hiding his face and waiting for James to speed him to the bathroom. 

That was a week ago, the three boys were now waiting on the platform. The train pulled in as they waited for Remus and Peter. Sirius had refused to speak to anyone that week, only coming out of James’ room to eat and shower. 

(Y/N) only stared at him, the warm face he knew only a few months ago now cold and distant. The long hair that framed his face cut short. He had barely seen Sirius in this state in the 5 years they knew each other. James was the only person who knew what he went through, (Y/N) wished he trusted him as much as he trusted James. 

When the last two marauders joined they immediately knew the situation, the whole group now treating Sirius with the utmost care in the world. Soft smiles and hugs shared all round as they entered the train together. 

The train ride was mostly quiet, these were the few silent moments they shared in awkwardness. There was almost never a dull shared between them, the five always ready to drown their own traumas in many shots of fire whiskey or pulling pranks. 

“The train is going to stop soon, we better change” Sirius who finally broke the silence in the compartment pointing outside. Hogwarts was coming into view slowly, the tense group quickly changing as they went back into the silence. 

The day went as usual, the large hall filled with students as the new bunch of first years got sorted. The table of Gryffindors in shock as they watched the class clowns eat without much conversation or noise.

 They had never seen the marauders in such seemingly low spirits as they were all guided back to the common room. (Y/N) noticed that Sirius seemed a little happier to be back in his real home, becoming more chatty as they entered their dorm. 

“Weather’s cheering up” He said, as much as weather was a conversation they basically never had, the other four boys seemed happier to see Sirius’s silence was coming to a slow end. 

They all prepared to bed rather quickly, the group being a little drowsy from the long train and big meal. They had almost never had an unanimous bed time, someone was always awake doing something. Whether that was annoying one another or reading. 

“Goodnight, lads.” (Y/N) said, receiving a couple of groans and a few good nights in response. That’s when it started, no more than about an hour later there were four very confused and worried boys jolting awake as they heard Sirius crying and screaming in his sleep. 

James immediately jumped out his bed, going to his friend’s side. Gently stroking his head, trying to calm him down. 

“It’s okay, shh. Don’t worry, we’re all here” James said quietly, wrapping the discarded duvet back over Sirius. He seemed to calm down and stop thrashing about, the other three were a little bit in shock. Sirius had always suffered from nightmares, but they had never seen it this bad. 

With Sirius sleeping soundly again they went back to bed, but not even a few hours later Sirius was crying again, screaming and begging for someone to help him. To avoid no one getting sleep, each one of them took a turn to guide Sirius back to sleep. 

“It’s okay, Padfoot. I’m right here with you” (Y/N) cooed softly at his friend, running his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t wanna go back, I wanna be safe here” Sirius suddenly said like a scared child, (Y/N)’s stomach churned at the thought of what happened. 

“You’re safe” He hushed Sirius, he seemed to stop hyperventilating so (Y/N) got up to leave. Sirius had different plans in his sleepy mind grabbing his friend’s hands. 

“Please don’t go.” He said, his voice quivering with every word. (Y/N) looked at him as he held tightly onto his hands, looking scared to let go. 

“I’m right here” (Y/N) said, holding his breath as his heart stopped. Sirius pulled him closer, hugging his arm like it was the last piece of earth. 

(Y/N) gave in and moved onto his bed as Sirius held his waist tightly. (Y/N) just looked down at him, stroking his hair gently as he listened to Sirius fall back asleep. The warmth in the duvet and the calm boy next to him slowly put (Y/N) to sleep as well. The last thing he saw was the soft morning light across the horizon as he drifted off.

The next morning was quiet as the two boys woke up together, Sirius was looking a lot happier again. Sometimes cracking a few jokes here and there, even suggested a prank idea. A day back in his rightful home was bringing his confidence back, the rest of them followed suit. Feeling happy that their beloved friend was looking a little better. That was until potions. 

“Finally get rid of that mop, I see” A certain blonde asshole snickered behind them. Sirius sunk down in his seat slowly, trying to pretend he didn’t hear anything. He was usually packed full of comebacks and insults, but it hit too close. 

“Maybe finally you can be accepted into-“ Lucius started on his usual spiel, today however it pissed (Y/N) off a lot more than “usual”. He immediately swung around 180° to stare Malfoy right in the eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up, Lucius.” (Y/N) warned him, his voice was full of venom adding a glare that would’ve thrown daggers at the spoiled brat if it could. 

“And what are you going to do about it, mudblood?! I can’t help it if your little boyfriend looked like a fa-“ Lucius was cut off as his classmates gasped. Even his friends did, surprised that (Y/N) was capable of that. 

He had been cut off by an uppercut on the upside of his chin, a rather loud thump as he toppled backwards on his stool. 

“Serves you right.” (Y/N) mumbled under his breath as he moved back to his seat, huffing out in frustration as he put his hands gently on the desk. 

Of course he had gotten detention, but he didn’t regret it. Seeing Sirius, the funniest, bravest, most handsome boy he’s ever known be hurt by such an annoying prat really pissed him off. 

“You didn’t have to,'' Sirius said awkwardly as they left potions. He didn’t want (Y/N) going into detention for fighting his battles for him. 

“It’s alright, it’s boring stuff anyway. The bruise Malfoy is gonna have for the next week is more than worth it” He smiled softly at him as they all headed back to the common room. 

It had barely been 20 minutes before everyone at school heard that “Lucius was in a deadly battle in potions with (L/N) and almost lost an eye” as if he’d even had the chance to lose one. 

“Honestly that was amazing, wish I had the guts to punch that asshole in the face” James shrugged as they opened the porthole into the common room. (Y/N) quickly ran upstairs, shredding all his school supplies onto his bed and wishing the boys goodbye as he went to detention. 

“(L/N) you’re late” Professor Slughorn said looking at his watch as the (H/C) boy burst through the door in a sweat. 

“Sorry, Sir. The common room is a long walk from here” He huffed a little as he took off his robe, ready for whatever task was ahead. Slughorn nodded and looked around the classroom. 

“Not to worry, detention is simple today, just a spotless clean and you’re done” He said, looking at his watch again. Slughorn somewhat trusted the boy, as he was one of the top in his class. 

“Thanks, Professor. I’ll get right to it” (Y/N) nodded and went straight to work, trying his best to hurry. His professor bid a farewell as he left to get tea with some other teachers leaving (Y/N) to clean up. 

He walked diligently and fast as he scrubbed the floors, cauldrons and anything else that looked dirty. He worked top to bottom praying to Merlin he could finish before it got dark outside. 

He heard a small knock on the door as it opened, he immediately looked to see Remus standing there with a few books in hand and some notes. 

“Thought I’d make things a little more interesting for you, asked Slughorn if I could study here” He said, moving to one of the cleaned desks as he set up his study station. 

“Thanks, was getting a little too quiet in here” He said a little out of breath as he moved the clutter of bottles and jars that stood in the way of cleaning. It was nice to have the presence of someone else in the room with him, even if they just sat in silence. 

“You think Sirius is gonna be okay?” (Y/N) asked honestly, the subject leaving a small air of tension in the room, but someone had to ask.

“I don’t know.” He asked back honestly. (Y/N) suspected Remus hadn’t seen Sirius like this either.

The rest of the detention was spent quietly as before while the friends coexisted.

The group of lads sat together once again in the deafening silence of the common as other Gryfinndors made their way in and out for bed. With Remus and (Y/N) back inside again, they almost forgot how thick the air in the common room. 

Sirius looked as though he would crack his own neck, uncomfortably shifting in different positions not happy with a single one he chose. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” He quickly said, almost running out of through the porthole. The other boys were a little startled by the rush and looked at each other as to signal who would check on him. 

(Y/N) immediately got up and followed him outside, seeing him sitting crossed legged on the cold stone floor. He took a seat next to the tired boy who was struggling to light the cigarette in his fingers. 

“Here” (Y/N) said, taking the lighter from his hands, replacing it with a fresh one. 

“It’ll grow back.” He said suddenly, taking out a cigarette of his own. He reached to grab the lighter and to his shock Sirius flinched… hard. All he could think of was what happened during summer that cracked his friend. 

He sighs and looks over to him, being lit by the half moon in the sky. Sirius looked over to him for a second, thinking about how nice his friend looked in the moonlight. (Y/N) thought the same. He reaches a hand slowly to Sirius, resting it on his shoulder. Sirius stiffened up a bit, but relaxed after a few moments. Letting (Y/N) caught his thoughts for that time. 

“I don’t know if you trust me to know what’s happening, but… I don’t know what they did to you there. I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re here.” He looks a little embarrassed by his words, no one in the group really tried to deal with their emotions. Hiding it behind layers and layers of pranks and even saying that made (Y/N) cringe a little. 

He expected Sirius to laugh at him or maybe even push him off Gryffindor tower for being so serious, but Sirius just looked at him and broke down uncontrollably sobbing into his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” He sobbed as (Y/N) scooped him into his arms, softly rubbing his back. 

“Woah, Woah. Calm down. Breath. Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” (Y/N) said gently as Sirius abandoned his cigarette on the ground, clasping onto the boy in front of him as if he was the last thing keeping him tied to the Earth. 

They sat there together, hugging each other tightly as Sirius’s violent sobs became a shaky breath while he inhaled the scent of (Y/N). When he felt calm enough, he let go and sat with his hands in the other’s hands while their breathe became visible in the cold night air.

“Let’s get you back inside, come on” (Y/N) said, helping Sirius up with his hands. They left the darkness hand in hand into the common room once again.

“Hey-“ James said, but cut himself off as all the boys saw Sirius’s bloodshed puffy eyes and shaking frame. 

“Come on, Padfoot. To bed with you.” (Y/N) said softly, ignoring everyone as he led the now short haired boy into the dorm. 

He tucked Sirius into his bed and was about to leave when he felt his friend’s hand pull him back. 

“Will you sleep here again?” Sirius asked quietly, looking a little embarrassed. (Y/N) nodded and got under the covers, Sirius moving toward him and hugging his frame. 

For a while they just stayed like that in silence and awake just bathing in each other’s warmth and comfort. (Y/N) let out a yawn and stretched his arms over the boy who was cuddling him. 

“Sweet dreams, Padfoot.” He said while kissing the also very sleepy boy on the forehead receiving a soft kiss on his knuckles in return. 

Sirius drifted off to sleep feeling the warm embrace of his friend, having nice dreams of running far away together. Maybe to a small cottage Merlin knows where… 

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.6]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Chapter 06: From The Beyond

Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace.

[Mary B. Shelley, Frankenstein]

    Thinking back on it later, the events during Garland Moon were probably what set the hare running toward its demise. Not that any of you could have known that. Not the students who joyfully spend their days in cherished halls where daylight passes through coloured glass; not Byleth with her gift to correct past mistakes with a flick of her wrist and change the course of time; not you with your foresight to see what dangers await in the future and prepare a different path for those you care for to walk safely.

    Thinking back on it later, everything that followed surely ascribed to and served Fate, and not even Sylvain could charm her with his silver tongue and golden wit, for Fate’s lover is Time and she does not look kindly upon those who enslave him.

    Maybe that is why things turned out the way they did for Byleth and you.

    But that future is still far away and every single one of you still believes the goddess has Fate tightly leashed to her side, her benevolence endless and spreading to every corner in Fódlan.

    That is why you don’t think too much about it when one day, Seteth disturbs your seminar, a deep frown settled in his features as you explain how to turn an ambush to your advantage to the students.

    “Apologies for the disturbance, Herald. Lady Rhea asks to see Ashe.”

    The boy gives a pitiful squeal but is up on his feet nonetheless. “Me? Why?”

    “You will see. Please come.” Seteth holds the classroom’s door open.

    You nod, a little worried about the frightened glance Ashe sends your way like he hopes you can actually say no and decline Rhea’s command. An encouraging smile is everything you can give him on his way before the door shuts behind him. Its sound wakes everyone else from their slumber and it takes a few minutes to reclaim order and their attention. It certainly does help that the Blue Lion House isn’t as chaotic as a certain other, not to name any names.

    Said house proves again to be more difficult to teach. Or tame. You didn’t have the courage to ask why they thought it was a good idea to see whose shoe would leave the darkest stain on Claude’s bedroom’s ceiling. Even days after their mischief students kept talking about how they have never seen Seteth this furious.

    “Herald, please,” Hilda cries, tragically draped over the back of her chair, a maiden in bittersweet agony over her loss of free time. “It was all Claude’s fault.”

    “Liars never prosper,” Claude calls from the far back of the room. He’s hunched over his papers, working vigorously on Seteth’s punishment. He ordered them to write hundred times I shall not throw footwear against any ceiling in the monastery. They’ve been at it for about twenty minutes and Claude’s quill hasn’t stopped its furious scratching against parchment at all.

    “I won’t mess with Seteth,” you tell them and lean dangerously far back on your chair to place your feet on the teacher’s desk. “And you deserve it. Or do they not teach you proper manners in your noble homes?”

    “Well, it’s not like anyone taught us not to do it,” Hilda chirps. You throw a glare her way and she quickly dugs her head and continues writing. Quills scratch on paper for about seven seconds before Hilda stops again.

    “Herald,” she says. “What do you think about Lady Catherine’s Thunderbrand?”

    You look up from your book titled Noticeable War Generals. Smile gone from her face, Hilda looks up at you with sharp curiosity. It’s eerily silent now, and a quick glance towards Claude shows he is listening as well.

    Catherine’s Thunderbrand. Its sight is still burned into the back of your closed eyes: Golden ivory forged into a grotesque sword, a blood red Crest Stone in its middle that seemed to pulsate—as if it breathed. As if it was a living thing with a heart. You had simply stared at it in awe and thought What a mesmerising weapon.

    “It’s … fascinating,” you manage. “A Hero’s Relic. There are more than just Thunderbrand, right?”

    “Ten exist,” Claude calls from the back. “Bestowed by the goddess upon ten heroes, they are passed down to their descendants. House Riegan and House Goneril have one in their possession as well.”

    “Then why don’t you use it?” You certainly wouldn’t miss a chance to own and wield a mighty weapon like that.

    “Wield that?”Hilda shudders in disgust. “No thank you. It looks so weird, pulsating and moving like an insect.”

    “And we’re way too inexperienced to use it in a real battle.” Claude puts his quill between his nose and upper lip and tries to hold it there. “They’re locked away anyway and hidden from those who might misuse their power.”

    Claude has a point. Nonetheless, you’d gladly take a look at them. Maybe even hold one … Did the Herald own one as well? A special weapon only forged for the Herald. A slight shudder runs down your spine at the thought of using it in battle.

    Ten minutes later, Claude jumps to his feet. He hurries towards you, slams his parchments on the table and leaves just as fast. “Bye Herald!”

    “No way!” Hilda pales. “How is he so fast?”

    You wonder as well and take a look at his papers. Instead of writing what Seteth has told them, Claude simply left poor drawings of their crime and promised with one sentence he wouldn’t do it again.

    And we of House Riegan never break our promises, reads the last line.

    You groan. Now it’s your turn to think about a good explanation to Seteth’s questions why you haven’t paid more attention.

    Month three passed within the blink of an eye. Garland Moon brought the sweet smell of white roses to Garreg Mach, a tradition much anticipated by the students. Everywhere you went, garlands and gifts made of white roses were given to each other as a sign of friendship or budding love. Some found their way to your desk, though your admirers preferred to stay anonymous whereas Byleth was busy to stow them somewhere—not a day passed without her receiving something or a group of giggling students following her around.

    “I really don’t know what to do with all those flowers,” she told you one day during a tea session, a deep frown on her face. “They wilt. Then I throw them away. It’s a waste.”

    “Your students love it,” you replied but were glad not to be in her place.

    Another good deed Garland Moon brought with it is longer days and shorter nights. Students lounged outside in their summer uniforms after class, enjoying those last warm days before raining season arrived with fierce gusts and heavy pouring, forcing them back inside where they spent their free time inside the library or the dining hall, playing little games to kill time.

    For a change of pace, Byleth and Jeralt decided they’d hold a grilled fish dinner on every last day of each week and most of the invited either didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell them once every week was once every week too much.

    Everything happened too fast after that. Rhea informed the teacher’s faculty and her Knights of Lord Lonato Gaspard’s planned rebellion against the church. With that, the mystery of why Seteth had demanded to speak with Ashe was solved; it also explained why he spent so much time inside the chapel, praying and wondering himself about his adoptive father’s reasoning.

    “There is no question about it,” Rhea says in her cool, demanding voice once every teacher and Knight of Seiros gathered inside the War Room to discuss the matter. “We will send a troop to meet them halfway in Kingdom Territory. They will pay for mocking our goddess.”

    “Allow me to lead the Knights, Lady Rhea,” Catherine says. Even now, you can’t take your eyes off Thunderbrand strapped on her back. “I know Gaspard and what he’s capable of.”

    “We did not forget what you’ve done back when—” Seteth starts. Catherine silences him with one look, leaving no doubt she doesn’t wish to speak of it.

    “And that is exactly why I have to go.”

    Rhea nodded. “So be it. I know I leave this mission in your capable hands.”

    “But why is he leading this rebellion?” you wonder. “I thought the Kingdom is strongly devoted to Seiros’ teachings.”

    “Every flock has its black sheep,” Rhea says, sounding sad. “We will get our answers once we defeat and capture them.”

    “What about the surrounding villages and those who support Gaspard’s rebellion but don’t fight?” Byleth asked. Until now, you haven’t really thought of those not directly involved in it, but she does make a good point.

    Rhea squared her shoulders. “What about them?”

    “They’re not directly involved but might try to get in our way.” Byleth glanced at the strategic map laid out before her. There is a way through the forest for your units to approach Lonato’s stronghold. Surrounding villages are marked with a red pin. They surround the forest in a loose circle, making an intrusion possible, though sending Knights of Seiros out to watch them and stop them could be quite easy—

    “Everyone who supports this foolish rebellion should receive the rightful punishment,” Rhea says, her voice so cold it freezes your thoughts of how to make the villagers stay out of this. Your head snaps up as you stare at her. Byleth raises an eyebrow but remains silent just like everyone else. Something about that makes you shudder.

    “But they’re civilians, right? If we can avoid having them interfere—”

    “By joining Lonato Gaspard’s rebellion they pledge guilty to his cause.” Rhea looks up at you, scorn flashing briefly in her eyes. “I will not have them simply go if it opens the possibility for revenge one day.”

    If you squinted really hard, there was reason behind her words. Still, your stomach turned at the thought of endangering civilians even though it could be prevented. Without any protests, that was the plan for the operation.

    You sat this one out. There was much to prepare for the upcoming Rite of Rebirth, a ceremony when the Church of Seiros and its believers unite to pray for the return of the goddess. Even though you wouldn’t call yourself a believer—many find it strange that you remember the way of war but not the way of the Church as if you lived somewhere without Seiros’ teachings—your presence was of outmost importance as well. Though after you heard how the mission went, you really wished you had joined the Blue Lions fighting against Gaspard instead of sitting around and deciding which ceremonial robes fit better.

    Loud voices drift through the closed door of a classroom, voices you immediately recognise belonging to Dimitri and Byleth.

    “Are you insane?” You flinch back even though a heavy wooden door separates you from what is undoubtedly Dimitri’s wrath. “Those were civilians.”

    A reply is lost, too quiet for you to hear, but whatever Byleth said, it wasn’t the right thing. A second later, Dimitri storms through the doors. The distress in his features stops you from asking what is wrong, a flash of betrayal lurking in his eyes seals your mouth shut. You look after him until he disappears around the corner, only slowly turning towards Byleth. She is propping herself up on the table, learning on her strong arms and staring at the opposite wall, her mouth a grim line—solid rock that stands against the raging waves summoned by Dimitri, her grip on the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

    “Everything okay?” An unnecessary question answered by a simple shake of her head. You lean your hips against the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

    Byleth is silent. Only slowly, like a tight knot finally coming lose, the tension in her shoulders dissipates and she takes a long, deep breath.

    “Dimitri told me about their mission. How they dealt with Lord Lonato’s revolt.” She finally steps away from the table and kneads the muscles in her shoulders. You imagine they’re hard like a rock. “They faced simple peasants who defended their Lord. Peasants who didn’t even know how to wield a sword without cutting their own thumbs off.”

    “And Rhea made quite clear how to deal with them,” you finish, summoning unwanted imaginations about a gruesome butchery in your mind. Byleth nods.

    “Dimitri asked for my advice,” she continues, her gaze drifting towards the door as if said young man might return like a bad haunting if his name is simply muttered. “If there was anything they could have done different. I told him there wasn’t.” She tears her eyes away from the door and fixes them on you. “I told him that is the way of war.”

    She is right, a part of you insists. Such facts cannot be changed and claiming anything different is foolish, naive. Yet, something stirs, a tiny tiny voice, a feeling, that challenges that thought. A feeling you didn’t expect to be part of you.

    “I don’t know about the details,” you say, shuffling from left to right, “but maybe it was avoidable. Lord Lonato must have known how his subjects felt about it. He didn’t need to involve them.”

    “I think they joined on their own. The students gave them a chance to lay down their weapons.”

    “Still—”

    “Still they decided to follow their foolish Lord,” a voice from the door joins, cold and imperious, chilling you to the bone. Rhea enters the War Room, her expression void of any warmth or kindness. “There is no place for doubt. We must punish any sinner who may inflict harm upon believers, even if those sinners are civilians.”

    “And you think to have the students punish them is right?” Byleth asks, earning a sharp glare from Rhea. She quickly, but somewhat begrudgingly adds, “Your Grace.”

    “I have heard that some students struggled with completing the task,” Rhea acknowledges, doing her best to show how unaffected she is by Byleth’s criticism. “I pray they learnt a valuable lesson about the fate that awaits all who are foolish enough to point their blades towards the heavens.”

    An icy shudder crawls up your spine, cold fingers tighten around your throat to keep you silent—a leash forged of obedience and intimidation, the mistress standing before you. It would be wise to keep your mouth shut, not draw unnecessary attention; keep your head low and nothing can slice it from your shoulders. But the words, burning hot on your tongue, demand freedom.

    “Fearing the Church isn’t the same as respecting it.”

    Something sharp flashes in Rhea’s eyes. “If fear is the only way to control them, then so be it. They are traitors to the holy teachings.”

    “They are people. People with families.”

    “People who would be wise to remember it was the progenitor god who gave them these lands and their life,” Rhea answers, growing impatient. She notices something in the way you look at her, for she takes a moment to collect herself by taking a deep breath. “I do not enjoy seeing those who wronged our holy teachings punished, Herald,” she continues, now much calmer. “But punish them we must before they hurt those who are dear to us.” Upon her last words, her eyes dart to Byleth, looking at her with so much fondness and care, a sting of jealousy in your chest forces you to avert your gaze to the ground. It isn’t the first time you notice Rhea’s palpable interest in Byleth’s wellbeing though no answer comes to mind why it is like that. If Byleth noticed the same, she doesn’t show it.

    After that, the incident is quickly forgotten, making room for the new incident occupying everyone’s mind: an assassination plot on Rhea on the day of the Rite of Rebirth found in Lonato’s possession. You aren’t the only one wondering why he’d carry something like that around where it’s easy to find. Multiple theories go around, one more farfetched than the other. One particular makes sense, its source none other than sharp witted Claude who thinks this plot is a simple distraction for something much bigger.

    “If security is focused on the Rite of Rebirth inside the Goddess’ Tower, pretty much anyone can simply stroll around the monastery and do who knows what,” he told you on the day Byleth and her class set out to discover what important places might become a target. Garreg Mach hides many secrets and treasures. Some of them even you are not allowed to see like relics passed down from archbishop to archbishop, guarded by the elite of the Knights of Seiros, tall and bulky men and women with grim mouths and determined eyes rooting them in place day and night in front of locked doors only Rhea knows what they hide.

    With every passing day, tension hangs in the air like a thick blanket waiting to smother you all. But it isn’t simply the anticipation for whatever the Western Church has planned. It is also the holy ceremony of the Rite of Rebirth, one you’ve practised under the stern eyes of Seteth who doesn’t settle for anything less than perfect. Every word, every step is engraved in your mind.

    On the day of the Rite of Rebirth the sun relentlessly blazes down at the monastery. Your ceremonial robes are heavy and woven from thick jacquard fabric lined with fine golden patterns that depict the Herald’s Crest on the back. You’ve barely finished preparing everything inside the round chamber inside the Goddess’ Tower but perspiration glues your hair to your forehead.

    A whole feast is prepared; food offerings and gifts from the townsfolk and priests served on golden and silver plates on long tables covered with white table clothes. In the middle Seteth prepared a small platform for Rhea to stand and speak in honour of the goddess that she may return to Fódlan and show its people her infinite grace. In short, you’d do anything to join the students who are securing the locations lacking in defence right now instead of standing around and waving at pilgrims. The only joy lies in Flayn’s bright presence and her never ending optimism. She’s a sweet girl and has been looking forward to the ceremony since the beginning of Blue Sea Moon. Looking upon her, it is hard not to catch her excitement and joy when the ceremony finally begins.

    Because of certain circumstances you couldn’t quite follow, the holy relic used for the ceremony, the Chalice of Beginnings, has been missing for a long time. Because of that, a mock chalice was prepared by the cardinals, a handful of high authority men and women who make it no secret they can’t quite decide if they like or dislike you and your position.

    “You must excuse them,” one of the cardinals says after a group of them simply shook their heads at you happily scooping tons of food on a plate. His dark hair falls to his shoulders and unlike the other cardinals, his brown eyes are filled with kindness. “They simply think in old patterns and value their old traditions. You are quite young, Herald. They don’t know how to handle that.”

    “But you do?” you wonder and notice too late how unfriendly that sounds. But he simply laughs.

    “I do frequent with young folk, yes,” he says. “They are my flock and I will do anything to protect them.”

    “That again, Aelfric?” Catherine joins you and slaps his shoulder just when he was about to drink from his cup. You pretend the pastries on your plate are far more interesting than watching him choke on wine. “You’re way too good for them, you know?”

    “Who is ‘them?’” you ask but Catherine just sways her hand as if he wants to get rid of a nasty fly.

    “Unimportant. You did a good job carrying the chalice to the podium.”

    “I did almost trip over these.” You pluck at the heavy robes, already looking forward to getting out of them.

    Catherine laughs but it is short lived. Out of nowhere, a knight hurriedly approaches and leans over to her, muttering, “They are after the tomb of Saint Seiros.”

    Glass shatters as her grip tightens around the fragile stem but without so much as noticing it she storms towards Rhea, fury blazing in her eyes. Something happened. Something far more exciting than playing a believer in front of everyone, so you follow her to listen in more.

    “Those dastards from the Western Church infiltrated the Holy Mausoleum,” she says. Rhea pales. “I will take some knights and go there at once.”

    “Go and be swift, Catherine.” Rhea’s words are barely a puff of breath, those news shaking her but she remains stoic in front of everyone to prevent panic. Her voice drops dangerously low. “Punish those heathens.”

    Catherine’s head dips in a slight bow. “I will, Your Grace.”

    “I want to help too.”

    Both turn around at your voice. Catherine narrows her eyes to sharp slits, but it is Rhea who says, “No. I need you here for the ceremony, Herald.”

    “Please, let me,” you beg. Something inside you demands to follow, demands to see what is inside the Holy Mausoleum that causes so much bloodshed. “I can’t explain, but I need to be there.”

    Rhea presses her lips into a thin line. Before she reopens her mouth to decline your wish, you whirl around and leave the ceremony room, Catherine in hot pursuit. You manage halfway down the hallway before she reaches you and grabs your arm hard.

    “Even though you are the Herald, I won’t allow you to show this disrespect towards Her Grace,” she snarls. “If she tells you to stay, you listen.”

    “I don’t expect you to understand,” you say, trying to free your arm from her bone breaking grip. “But something calls me to this place and I need to follow it.”

    Catherine isn’t pleased but she knows better than do you any real harm. With a crude nod, she allows you to follow. Several knights wait for you and together you make your way through the warm evening air towards the Holy Mausoleum that lies behind the chapel.

    You enter right before chaos erupts. At the end of the hall, its ceiling so high up it’s barely visible in the dark, Byleth stands tall and rises a sword that flashes in a bright red light. A throb goes through your body and brings you to your knees. It feels like an arrow drove into your chest, the stinging pain unlike anything you’ve felt before—no, it’s a pain you haven’t felt since the Crest appeared on your eye for the first time. And then that thrumming energy within you exploded, a sharp crimson that drenched every corner of your right vision, rushing through your veins.

    “Kill them!” an enemy mage commands, fury fuelling him to a last desperate attack. With his remaining companions, they summon a giant fire spell you’ve only read about in books, a combination of spells into a group flame that covers a large area—the pre-stage to a much more fatal blaze that can scorch the land. Blaze or no, the effect watching the giant fire ball curling and sparking until it grows large enough to wipe out anything in its way is the same. Fear paralyses your body. Move, your mind screams, but you can’t. Your muscles have locked up; a high whine of terror fills your head and fizzes in your blood like poison, yet you do not understand where this fear of fire comes from.

    “Take cover!” Catherine roars but it is too late. The blast hits the ground right before you, dispersing your small group of reinforcements like wind scattering leaves in all directions. A loud crack beneath you makes your heart skip a beat, a rumble shakes the hall and before you can fully comprehend what is happening, the ground gives way.

    The last thing you hear is Byleth shouting, not Herald, but your name before you plunge into darkness.

    Wake up.

    You have to wake up.

    This darkness is terrifying, so utterly black and choking, curling around you like a tight fist. Like someone is holding you in their dirty, tainted clutches, smelling of death and horror. Wake up, you tell yourself, more urgent now, your mind struggling to escape from claws digging into your consciousness, their goal unknown but you don’t want to stay here to find out what they are after. What they want to take from you.

    Wake up, this time another voice, the voice, echoing like a sweet bell’s chime, the flicker of light in a darkness so black it hums. You have to wake up.

    Your eyes snap open, the sudden white ceiling hurting like a sudden flash of light. Once you’re used to the brightness, you realise this isn’t a room, this is … this is your consciousness—no walls, no windows. It’s just a space, and yet you can clearly determine borders. Somewhere is an exit you’re free to use, nothing holds you captive. It’s your safe place. Your haven. Which doesn’t explain how you’ve gotten here.

    All you know is it feels safe. It feels like a warm embrace, the feeling of hope, watching a budding flower embraced by soft, fragile hands—asteritrope, your mind provides out of nowhere, the flower always turning its head towards the Blue Star.

    It is like breaking a spell. First, everything is simply white, empty, a second later, you stand in a vast field of asteritropes, an ocean of purple, gently swaying flowers at your feet. Everything smells of sweet innocence, of honey dipped fingers and bittersweet regret. It is a familiar scent, one your body remembers and reacts to with a shudder so strong it rattles deep in your bones; a chill so cold it freezes you on the spot, the slightest movement threatening to shatter you entirely.

    What is this grief, this sadness? Is it your own or have you fallen into a sea of tears wept by someone else? Your chest is heavy with a burden, a pulling towards the unknown that is yet so familiar. It is homesickness towards a place you have never been but long to visit.

    The flowers shaped like little stars stretch beyond what you think are the edges of this place. If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up anytime soon, relishing in this peace and quiet.

    A peace and quiet that lasts only a moment until you notice it. Not it, him. In the middle of the field, a boy sits, bent over something that demands his complete attention. Dark curls fall against pale skin, his brows pulled tightly together as his fingers work something in his lap. He is wearing a simple white robe, though it is unlike any of the religious wear you've seen on the priests and nuns; it seem ... too old for that. Only after you approach, you see he is folding purple flowers and green steams into a crown.

    “Hello?” you say, only now entertaining the idea you might have died and this is the afterlife, the first point before returning to the goddess’ side. It is a strangely tranquil thought. “Can you hear me?”

    The boy’s head snaps up, his eyes wide as he momentarily forgets his work, and you take a step back, struck by how bright his steel grey eyes are. They roam over you, up and down, back up again, as he slowly raises to his feet.

    “You’re here,” he says, awestruck. “You’re finally here. It is so nice to meet you after all this time.”

    His voice is like a punch to your gut. You recognise it immediately, the voice who pulled you back from the darkness.

    “You—” Nothing makes sense. “Who are you? What are you?”

    “There is nothing to fear,” he says, offering you his hand. The tips of his fingers are purple from handling delicate petals. The crown lies at his bare feet, forgotten. He looks strangely vulnerable.

    You take another step back, worry a steady, hard pulse against your neck. The air catches in your lungs. You feel like the ground is opening beneath your feet. “Are you … the goddess? A god?”

    The boy blinks, then throws his head back and bursts out laughing, the sound like sweet bells chiming in the wind. “You people love to call everything you do not understand god.”

    “Then what are you?” It comes out as a breath, and for a brief second you think it’s fear that seizes your body, but no. You should be afraid and yet instead of frenzy panic there is a calm spreading inside you as if you belong here. You can’t say if it’s the boy’s presence or the familiar scent of wildflowers.

    The boy leans his head to the side, his smile as vibrant as early sunlight casting away leftover shadows from a dark night. “Hmmm … the End, perhaps? Or why not just … a friend?”

    “The end? My end?”

    “No, the end is never simply the end,” he says, shaking his head.

    “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

    “It may be a rebirth,” he continues. “Or the passing into a new era. Into a new dawn.”

    “A new dawn,” you mumble. The realisation makes your knees weak. “Don’t tell me—” You suck in a sharp breath, unable to belief where your thoughts are hurling towards in lightning speed. You kneel onto the soft flowerbed, careful not to crush any flowers. “Why are we here … do you know me by chance?”

    “I … cannot say for sure,” he starts slowly, uncertainty turning his features even younger. “I have been watching you since you awoke four moons ago. On that day, I as well awoke from a deep slumber. But I do not know why it is you that I am bound to.”

    “Bound to?” Your head spins. “What do you mean?”

    “You must have felt it by now, have you not? I am here because of this,” he says, and lifts his hand to point at your right eye. You flinch back as if he smacked you right across your face.

    “So you are him,” you whisper, a shudder ripping through your body. “You’re the first Herald. You are Seiros’ Champion.”

    The boy smiles.

[xjoonchildx]

danger | ksj x reader chapter one: good girl

summary: kim seokjin is a rich asshole. you are an ambitious attorney. smut ensues when he just won’t leave you alone.

pairing: seokjin/reader word count: 8.6K (Part 1 of 2)

rating: 18+

genre: smut | pwp | okay fine, porn with a thin plot | but it’s really thin

warnings:  hate sex, language, terrible ethical decisions, blatant misuse of office furniture

Chapter 01 | 02

**************************

Are you fucking kidding me? What am I to you? Am I easy to you? Are you playing with me? You are in danger now Why are you testing me? Why are you testing me? Don’t get me twisted

-- BTS, "Danger"

******************************

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You look up from your phone to the bartender who’s just walked up to you. He’s holding a bottle of champagne. 

“Yes?”

“The gentleman sitting just over there sent this for you.”

Your gaze follows the direction of his nod and immediately your blood warms to a boil.

The man who’s just finished wiping the floor with your ass in court has just sent you a bottle of champagne. Champagne is for celebrating, not for self-medicating after a brutal trial with a shitty outcome. But of course, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? 

You’d spotted the hint of a smile on Kim Seokjin’s lips in the quick moment you’d looked his way.  He was seated at a table -- surrounded by his adoring lackeys -- who were no doubt high-fiving themselves into a frenzy after this afternoon’s verdict. You’d been so busy drowning your sorrows in wine and furiously texting with Nari that you hadn’t even noticed his entire group’s arrival.

The absolute nerve of this man.

“I don’t want it,” you say. “Please send it back.”

The bartender looks flustered for a moment, glancing at Seokjin and then back to you.

“But Miss, this is a very expensive bottle of champagne,” he protests kindly.

“I know that,” you reply quickly, which is bullshit because you don’t know anything about champagne but you’ll be damned if you let this server or Kim Seokjin know that. 

“I still don’t want it.”

“Alright then, I’ll take it back,” he says nervously, clearing his throat. No doubt he’s not looking forward to telling the pompous prick you’ve turned away his selfless gift. “If you’re sure, that is.”

You make certain to give the bartender your warmest smile because you know he is looking. 

“Oh, I’m sure.”

************************************

Kim Seokjin has never had to think about concepts like student loans and overdue rent. He’s never had to lie awake at night praying for an opportunity to get ahead.

Status and success are his birthright.  

If you had to guess, you’d say those broad shoulders come from weekends spent lugging a bag of golf clubs across manicured greens. Those muscular legs are probably the result of hours of vigorous tennis at his family’s estate.  And the face? Word on the street is that his mother was a beauty queen which fits quite nicely into his rich boy trifecta.  

Truly, you can’t stand the sight of him.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, the worst thing about Kim Seokjin -- the thing that really sets your teeth on edge --  is that he’s a damned good attorney. 

Maybe daddy’s money got him into the best schools, but he clearly paid attention. So instead of spending his days playing polo or drinking manhattans or doing whatever it is obscenely rich people do all day, he spends his days in court litigating circles around some unfortunate opponent.

Just your luck that his last two opponents happen to be you. 

Kim Seokjin has single-handedly put an end to your personal hot streak. You should be celebrating a big win right now but instead you’ve run straight into a brick wall. 

A tall, broad, well-dressed brick wall.

***********************

“Do you think he’s gay?”

“What?”

“Kim Seokjin, dammit. Are you paying attention to me at all?”

You pull a face when Nari mentions he-who-should-not-be-named. 

“Gay? How the hell should I know?” you grumble, stabbing a fork full of salad with more force than is necessary. 

“I’m just saying. Everyone knows everything about everyone at the courthouse, right? But you never hear about Kim Seokjin hooking up with anyone. Anyone. And I mean, he’s -- you know, gorgeous.”

“I guess,” you say flatly. 

Nari tuts at your unenthusiastic response. Gossip is her specialty and you’re usually game to hear what she’s been able to dig up but just the mention of this man’s name is enough to put you in a mood.  

“Listen, I’d be salty too if I’d lost that case, but that doesn’t change the fact that the man is a four-alarm fire.”

“Two cases,” you correct. “And he’s two-alarm. At best.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Nari laughs.  “Anyway, I picked up something super slinky for Judge Park’s party tomorrow so by then I’ll know one way or another which way he’s batting.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Hope that works out for you. Either way, I really don’t want to talk about Kim Seokjin’s sex life.”

“Okay, fine,” she concedes.  “But what about his professional life? Cause word on the street is that his firm is probably going to make him a partner. Like very soon.”

You chew on that for a moment. 

He’ll probably be the youngest partner in his firm’s history or in any firm’s history, for that matter. It would be the only logical next step in the progression of this man’s obnoxiously charmed life. 

“Good for him,” you grind out, silently willing Nari to drop the subject of the infuriating man entirely. 

She smiles with satisfaction at having dropped a very juicy piece of information, but all you can do is frown into your salad.

****************************

You’ve been staring at this piece of art for a solid five minutes and at this point you are questioning Judge Park’s sanity. It’s objectively hideous. 

“So you do drink champagne.”

The fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end at the sound of the deep voice that comes from behind. You’ve just lifted a flute of the aforementioned drink to your lips when he sidles up to you. 

“When I’m in the mood,” you say tightly.

The low chuckle you get in response is very, very annoying. 

You catch a glance of Kim Seokjin out of the corner of your eye because you refuse to acknowledge him with your full attention. As expected, he looks perfectly groomed, impeccably dressed, and irritatingly confident.

“So this is...interesting,” Seokjin says, gesturing at the art piece. 

“Interesting,” you repeat. “Yes, well -- it’s definitely that.”

You know you’re sending him every signal that you’d rather be anywhere but here talking to him but he ignores the hostility pouring off of you in waves.

“I’ve been meaning to catch you,” he says, pausing to take a drink from an ornate highball glass. “I think it’s a shame we haven’t had the chance to speak one-on-one yet.”

Oh, please.

“Yes, what a shame,” you reply sweetly. “So glad you’re finally getting the opportunity to take your victory lap in person.”

“Ouch,” he laughs, tone light despite your obvious irritation. “I came in peace. I’ve had the pleasure of facing you in court but not the pleasure of a formal introduction. So I thought I’d make a point to get acquainted with the woman who’s had me up against the ropes in my last two cases.”

You lift an eyebrow at the thin compliment.  

“I have to say,” he smiles, “I’m impressed.”

A flare of indignation ignites inside you at his casual condescension. As if you give a single solitary shit what Kim Seokjin thinks of your litigation skills. 

“Well now that I know I have your stamp of approval,” you say, body rigid, “I can truly go on.”

You hear his faint huff of laughter as he takes another drink.  A few uncomfortable moments pass before he seems to accept your silence as a sign that this conversation is over.  

“Well it was nice to meet you anyway,” he says, and you hate that you can hear a smile in his voice. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

He leaves you fuming in front of that monstrosity on the wall.

************************

“He’s an asshole,” you say when Nari drops a to-go box at your desk.  “I mean, I always knew he would be, but now I know firsthand.  A self-important, super-inflated asshole.”

Nari laughs. “Kim Seokjin, huh? I saw you two talking at the party and wondered what that was all about.”

She drops into the chair on the other side of your desk with her own to-go box.

“For the record, I can’t get a read off of him. And believe me, I tried,” she sighs.  “So what did he say to you?”

“He was so damned patronizing. He told me I ‘had him up against the ropes’ in his last case,” you hiss. “That I’m talented.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Nari says, and you don’t miss her thick sarcasm. “Acknowledging your skill and whatnot. You’re right -- total jerk.”

You are immediately impatient with her lack of sympathy.

“You weren’t there, Nari.  He wasn’t passing along some heartfelt praise, he was saying ‘close but no cigar.’”

“He’s professionally competitive, girl.  A shark. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Manners, maybe?”

“Ugh, you’re such a baby,” she teases. “I think your sudden success has gone to your head. He’s not about to bend the knee just because you’ve got a great record.”

You narrow your eyes at her.  “No one’s asking him to bend the knee, Nari.”

She smiles.

“Okay, princess, I’m gonna let you believe that. But I will admit that you might be right about the goading thing,” she says. “Last night, Sang Yejun told me Seokjin took over that last case from a junior attorney. Stepped in and snatched it right up and no one thought it was even on his radar.”

Well that catches your attention. 

You’d wondered yourself why the great Kim Seokjin had stooped to take such a minor case. 

“See what I’m saying, Nari? It’s like he’s purposely trying to get under my skin.”

She snorts. 

“Girl you know I love you, but you really need to get a grip. Not everything is about you.”

*************************

Nari was dead wrong. Apparently everything is about you.

Three days after your cringeworthy exchange at Judge Park’s party, you have the displeasure of seeing Kim Seokjin again. This time, he walks right into one of your open hearings and helps himself to a seat.

Your entire body goes rigid when you spot him. He has nothing to do with this case, his firm isn’t involved in any way and yet here he is, taking time out of his precious day to sit in your hearing. You silently simmer over his unwelcome presence and the anxiety that comes with it.

Just what is he playing at?

Your second chair elbows you.

“You ready?” he asks and you nod.  

You take one last look at your notes and will yourself to focus.  The last thing you want to do is screw up this line of questioning and you certainly don’t want to screw it up in front of him.

*************************

You assume the coast is clear when court adjourns and everyone scatters. You look around for any sign of Seokjin while packing up your files and come up empty. You hate to acknowledge the tiny feeling of relief that blossoms inside at that observation.

That feeling of relief doesn’t last long. 

As soon as you round the corner into the hallway you spot him leaned up against the wall, scrolling through his phone as you walk past. You stride quickly, praying he won’t look up in time to see you but no such luck.

“Hey,” he calls after you.  You grit your teeth.  

There’s certainly no way to avoid speaking to him, not without causing a scene.  The hallway is packed with attorneys and paralegals from firms all over the city. You’d hate to give any of them the impression that this man has rattled you.

You stop and round on him.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Kim?”  

He smiles, refusing to be intimidated by your acid tone.

“I got a chance to sit in on your hearing,” he says, as though you didn’t already know that.  ”Not bad.”

You are in uncharted waters right now. If Kim Seokjin was just another asshole in a bar, you’d throw your drink in his face and leave him sputtering.  But he’s a respected colleague and you can’t make a scene -- not here. You’re still trying to figure out how to respond to that gem when he makes another observation. 

“You did miss an opportunity to pin your witness on that last question, though.”

You catch your jaw before it has a chance to drop.

“I thought you were going to go for the jugular for a minute there,” he says, lips pursing to suppress a smile. “But then you backed off.  It surprised me.”

He’s baiting you. And you know he’s baiting you. And you still can’t stop yourself from reacting.

“So are you billing me for these hours or do I get to enjoy all this unsolicited legal advice for free?”

“For you?” He shrugs casually. “Totally free.”

He slips his hands into his pockets and turns to walk away, but you are the one to stop him this time.

“Why?” you call after him.  

He turns back to face you. 

“Why do you care? Why are you here grading me like this is some kind of performance review?” you ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of your voice.

The slow smile that spreads across his face is downright smackable. 

“It’s my job to keep an eye on talent.  Even if the talent is overly confident, bad at taking direction, and just a little…” he stops for a moment to appreciate the look of absolute outrage on your face, “...bratty.”

“Bratty,” you repeat numbly. 

“Bratty,” he confirms. 

He shoots you a wide smile before sauntering away.

***************************

“He said you were…” Nari pauses for effect. “Bratty.”

“Yes.”

You wait through a full thirty seconds of Nari’s laughter before you interrupt.

“You --” you say, pointing an accusing finger at her, “are supposed to be my friend.”

“Oh, I am your friend, sweetheart,” she says, chuckling between words. “And as your friend I have to tell you that’s the most accurate take a man has had on you in a minute.”

You ball up a piece of paper on your desk and throw it at her.

“Seriously,” she says, breathless from laughter. “That is the funniest shit I’ve heard in a while.”

“Glad you think so,” you mutter.

Nari finally manages to collect herself after a moment.

“Okay, so Kim Seokjin thinks you’re bratty. And he’s definitely toying with you. And it’s working. So what are you gonna do about it?” she asks.

You say nothing for a moment. This is the internal debate you’ve been having since your embarrassing little encounter the other day.

“I’m gonna tell him to go fuck himself,” you say, finally.  “Whatever little game he’s playing — I’m done.”

Nari’s sly smile around a fork full of noodles indicates she can’t wait for the gossip that will no doubt come out of this showdown.

*******************************

You have to wait for the right opportunity to confront Kim Seokjin.

You’ve crossed paths with one another a few times in the courthouse in the past few days, but the last thing you want to do is have this conversation in front of the prying eyes and sharp ears that always mill about the halls.

So you stew in your anger and wait for the perfect moment to strike.

The moment comes when you spot a box of files in the lobby of your office, with a large note right on top.

ATTN: Kim Seokjin

Lee & Kang Law Firm

“What is this?” you ask the receptionist, pointing at the box.

“That’s a load of files that has to go over to Lee and Kang.  I’m having them delivered,” she replies.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say quickly.  You check your watch.  It’s end of business already, but you’re certain he’s still at his office.  He’s far too ambitious to be the type to pack it in early.

You pull out your phone and shoot a quick text to Nari. Her response is immediate.

you: going to give seokjin a piece of my mind tonight [ 5:49 PM ]

nari: i expect nothing less than a detailed play-by-play [ 5:50 PM ]

The receptionist quirks an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to get off your phone.

“You don’t want me to call for delivery, then?”

“No,” you smile. “I’ll be happy to hand-deliver them myself.”

She shrugs.  “Suit yourself.”

******************************

The offices of Lee and Kang are opulent. 

Marble and glass and shining fixtures all paid for by hours of top-dollar billing.  It’s one of the best firms in town and they clearly spared no expense in decorating the massive space.

When you walk through the heavy glass doors in the lobby there is no receptionist on duty. The main lights are down, leaving only accent lights and the glow coming from a few open offices. 

You spot one lone woman still working at her desk in the common area. 

“Kim Seokjin?” you ask, as you carry the box past her desk.

For a moment, it looks like she is going to ask you who you are -- because clearly you’re not a deliveryman -- but she sees the note taped to your box and points you in the right direction.

A corner office.  

Of course the pampered asshole would already have a corner office. 

You take a deep breath before knocking and immediately you hear Seokjin’s deep voice responding to invite you in.

The first thing that strikes you when you open his office door is that he does not seem surprised to see you. 

At all.

The man’s beautiful, infuriating face stays entirely neutral as he looks up from the papers on his desk. His total lack of a reaction is unnerving.

The second thing you spot are the massive windows. Seokjin certainly gets to enjoy the perks of his high-status, high-rise office because the backdrop to his workspace is stunning.  The sun has already set and the city is lit up behind him, a stark contrast to the night sky.

The last thing that you notice is that his office is a mess. You’d expect someone as anal-retentive as Kim Seokjin to be a neat freak, but there are boxes and papers all over the floors and even his pictures and degrees are leaning against the walls instead of hanging on them.

“Doing some redecorating?” you ask finally, when he does absolutely nothing to end the awkward silence.

“Something like that,” he answers smoothly.  

“We owe you these documents,” you say, motioning to the box.  You drop it unceremoniously on the floor in front of his desk.

He stares at it for a moment before finally deciding to speak.  

“You --” he starts, “ -- hand-delivered a box of documents to my office? Can your firm not afford couriers anymore? You guys going out of business?”

“That’s a lot of questions at once, Mr. Kim,” you fire back. “Have I walked into a deposition? Am I being videotaped?” 

“Would you like to be videotaped?” he counters evenly.

You search his face for any hint of humor -- any indication of teasing --  and come up empty. The look on his face suggests he’s just asked a serious question that deserves a serious answer.

Alarm bells begin to sound in your head.  

“You seem to be at a loss for words tonight,” he says, finally. “Which from what I gather is a bit unlike you.  So I’ll ask you again, what is a gifted attorney doing playing errand girl with a box of files?”

You stand silent, irritated at your sudden inability to string a simple sentence together.  Moments ago you’d walked in here ready for a confrontation, ready to read this man the riot act.  In a matter of seconds your momentum has died. You can almost feel the power shift in the air. 

“I -- “ you start and falter.  

Seokjin raises one perfect eyebrow.

“I am not bratty,” you say finally, lamely, and it’s laughable because it sounds exactly like something a brat would say.

“Not bratty,“ Seokjin repeats dryly. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Don’t do that,” you hiss. “That dismissive thing you’re doing right now.  I don’t know who you think you think you are, or who you think I am -- but you are all wrong about me.”

He stands up from behind his desk, long fingers moving to loosen the tie around his neck and somehow the simple act comes across as painfully intimate.  You very nearly look away.

“All wrong.”

“Yes,” you repeat firmly.

“Oh, I somehow doubt that,” he demurs, moving slowly around his desk to step closer.  Not once does he take his eyes off of you. 

A flutter of panic spreads across your chest.

“Just...leave me out of whatever game you are playing, Mr. Kim,” you say, the words spilling out in one nervous breath as you turn to make for the entrance of his office. You register the sound of his footsteps but don’t realize he’s made up the distance between you until it’s too late.  He reaches past you to push the door closed.

It slams shut with a heavy thud and for a second all you can do is stare at it.

Slowly you turn to face him.  

“What do you want from me?” you say after a moment, breathing a bit harder than you’d like. Your tongue slips out to wet your lips, a nervous gesture that his eyes follow with keen interest.

“You,” he begins slowly, “are in my office. You came to me.”

He’s crowding you with his body, guiding you both so incrementally you barely register movement until the door is nearly flush against your back. 

“So why don’t you tell me what you want?” 

You stare back at him dumbly.

What you want at this moment is to find the choice words that will take him down a peg. You’d love nothing more than to deliver some scathing, elegant takedown but you fail to find the words. You fail to find any words, in fact.

“You are obstinate,” he whispers, so dangerously close you can smell his aftershave. “Haughty. Smug.”

Your mouth falls open in silent protest.

“And clearly in need of a firm hand.”

Heat floods your cheeks. 

It’s embarrassing, being spoken to like this. It’s humiliating to have Kim Seokjin of all people dress you down in this way . But the most mortifying thing about this bizarre exchange is the way your body warms immediately, blood humming in response to his words. 

“Fuck you, Seokjin,” you whisper back, but the words come out thin and weak.

He leans forward, bracing his palms on either side of the door -- on either side of you, dipping his head low to bring his gaze level with yours. 

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to answer. 

“Ask me for it. Better yet --” he leans close to whisper in your ear, “Beg me for it.”

He hasn’t touched you but that doesn’t stop the pang of arousal set off by his words from hitting you like a slap. The sensation that starts at the apex of your thighs spreads into your legs and across your arms, into your fingers like a current. 

Seokjin continues speaking in that same even, unsettling tone.

“Go ahead.  I’ll wait.”

He is too close, too warm, too aggravating, too tempting.  You have to shut your eyes for a moment to block him out and give your brain a moment to catch up. No one has ever spoken to you this way, and this -- your body’s immediate, damning reaction to it -- is something new.  

Something scary.

You’re certain he can see it all over you, the beads of sweat at your temples, the high color in your cheeks. Nari was right — Seokjin is a shark — and he’s looking at you right now like he smells blood in the water. 

You stare back at him, conflicted and incensed and aroused beyond belief. 

“I’m leaving,” you say finally, voice brittle.

He gives you one long look before reaching behind you for the handle to the door.  He pulls it open and waits for you to walk through, but you just stand there for a moment, dazed.

“Get home safe,” he murmurs.

You nearly scream.  He’s maddening like this, in complete control while you feel ready to fall apart at the slightest provocation.  You look from him to the door and back to him.  

You know you have to make a decision. You can walk out that door on trembling legs with your entire body on fire or you can swallow your pride and submit to the most infuriating man you have ever met.  

He quirks that eyebrow again.

“Wait,” you say after a long, tense moment.

“For what?”

“Do it,” you whisper, barely meeting his gaze.

“Do what?”

You want to slap him for feigning ignorance but instead take a deep breath in and out before speaking again.

“Fuck me,” you say quietly into the narrow space between your bodies.

For the first time tonight you see a tell --  a tiny giveaway that Seokjin is as affected as you are by this charged encounter. The look of heat that flickers in his eyes is hypnotic. He shuts the door again and rubs his fingers across his lips before speaking.

“Fuck me, what?” 

You grit your teeth -- irritated with him, irritated with yourself for being in this position.  For not telling him off and leaving with your head held high. Your feet feel rooted to the floor.

“You are an asshole,” you whisper tersely.

“I am,” he admits in that infuriating placid tone.  “And I’m still waiting to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath, then swallow the taste of humiliation that makes your tongue feel heavy and thick.

“Fuck me, please.”

It’s damned near painful to choke out those words and the second they escape you expect him to gloat. You expect him to dangle your submission over your head, to weaponize it and use it against you.  What you do not expect is the eerie calm when he reaches behind you again to cut the lights to his office.  

His voice is low when he leans close to your ear.

“Good girl.”

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