#how she never heard of me when I was one of the top art students in that school is beyond me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months ago

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bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs [cause i want these men in every universe]

01. i serve! (my ex's head on a platter) ft. roronoa zoro!

brought to you by my current hyperfixation with challengers and zendaya. set-up: you've worked your ass off; early mornings, late nights, diets, workouts, everything. only to still to fall in the shadow of the current badminton world champion and your ex: roronoa zoro. bitter, agitated and absolutely exhausted, you had decided to never see him or even think of him again. but when an email from his coach dracule mihawk finds you, proposing you and zoro team up for the upcoming mixed doubles champion's cup, can you refuse? here's part 02 cw: smut, angst and dumb shenanigans! warnings: dumb people even dumber plot by me <3 zoro is a pain in the ass. nsfw includes: oral (f!receiving), penetration, doin' the do raw, more angst and more shenanigans. did i mention zoro is a pain? yeah that. mdni, shoo now. wc: 9.4k [IM SORRY I PUT TOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT] m.list

13th of june, 10:02 a.m

"i didn't think you would come."

"me neither."

you felt dracule mihawk's gaze study you as if you were an opponent on the court, eyeing every little movement from the involuntary twitch of your fingers to the shallow breaths you heaved out. an unease crept against your throat and made a residence in there as you stood at the entrance to the kuraigana mansion, waiting for the retired world champion to say anything.

by anything, you didn't exactly expect pleasantries.

"how have you been?" mihawk's face eased, a shallow smile carving itself against his usual vampire-ish appearance.

"just fine." you replied back coolly, "and you, sir?"

"ah, you know, the usual. tournaments, training zoro." his words stilled at the mention of his moss-haired son-turned-student and he eyed you motionless face.

if mihawk wanted you to give away anything about how you felt about zoro, he was setting himself up for failure. although the mere mention of the man's name made your skin crawl and fill you with bugs, you simply smiled, "i heard he won the last men's singles in france, congratulations."

"the praise is reserved for the player, not me." mihawk stepped aside, slowly beckoning you in, "well, come on in, then."

you stepped after him into the castle-like mansion. kuraigana residence. the interiors were classic black and white with random, almost-haphazard pops of pink and purple sprinkled in, probably perona's influence on her otherwise classy father's tastes.

"looking for someone?" the man enquired, not turning around to look at you as he guided you through the main entrance.

"no." you replied quickly before putting on a faux smile, "just admiring the interiors. you have a wonderful home, sir."

"thank you. credit goes to that enigmatic child of mine, perona." the man replied modestly, now taking you through the main living room. the room was huge. littered with two black couches, a large flatscreen, coffee-table, a table tennis table that didn't match the aesthetic whatsoever, with art plastered on each otherwise barren, white wall.

"are you home alone?" mindlessly, you looked around again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain dreadful man.

"zoro is out with a couple of friends—"

"—i meant perona."

"well," mihawk sighed, now leading you into the gigantic kitchen, "you know her. she hates to stay home for more than two days. she's in milan right now, working with a label." he pointed to the seat near the marble kitchen island, "have you been in touch with perona?"

"no," you admitted casually as you sat atop one of the many seats, as he stood opposite to you on the other side of he island, "i mean, we follow each other on instagram, that's about it. we were never really close."

"i see." mihawk grabbed two wine-glasses, perching them on the table before pulling out a unopened wine bottle from the top cupboard, "wine?"

"i'm off alcohol for the season." you answered politely, and left out the fact that it was ten in the morning.

the man hummed a faint yes before pouring himself a glass full of familiar, maroon-hued liquid. he sipped in a drink, eyeing yourself before keeping the glass back on the marble, "well that's enough chit-chat, let's cut to the chase."

you perked up, elbows propped on the island as he continued, "i presume you got my mail."

"of course."

"then you know that i want you and zoro to team up for the upcoming doubles championship."

"i do." your fingers clasped together, chin resting atop them. you took a steadying breath, "and my answer is no."

mihawk crocked up an eyebrow as you continued, "it was always gonna be a no, sir. you are- were like a father to me, and that's the only reason i dignified your request with an actual visit. it does not change the fact that i will not team up with roronoa zoro."

"calling him by his legal name?" mihawk mused, "i thought he was 'zo to you. he only let you call him that, anyways."

that was in the past, though, wasn't it? years before he was number one in the men's category and you were at two in the women's category. years before he started pretending as if he had never known you. years before you showed up at his house only to turn down the offer to play alongside him.

"we are nothing more than strangers, i'm afraid."

the man hummed as he gulped down the rest of his drink alongside your words. as he poured himself another glass, he continued, "i have to be honest. my request is a bit more selfish than what i'm letting on."

he paused as you straightened up, "i'm retiring from the position of his coach after the doubles champions' tournament." you stared at the older man as he continued, "this is his last tournament with me as his coach."

"does zo- roronoa know?"

"not yet. he needs to focus on the game." mihawk shrugged, tipping his glass towards you, "and you and him both know i am at the age where i should move away to italy and open my own wine cellar, rather than running around on the court."

a laugh escaped you at the absurdity of mihawk's request, "what are you suggesting, sir? roronoa doesn't need me to win, he is capable enough to with with anybody."

he's the bloody number one, isn't he?

"you won the champions cup last year with that kid law, did you not? i would rather take the chances with you than somebody else."

you stilled, thinking of a flattering response before spewing out, "i only won because roronoa did not play last year, sir. the competition was slim, and me and law made a good team."

mihawk set his glass down, "don't try to sell yourself short. you are not inferior to zoro, we both know that."

maybe. but you would not team up with that bastard. not ever.

you dragged your seat backwards, standing up, "i am afraid it is still a no, sir. and if you do not want me as an opponent, i would happily withdraw from this year's tournament." you bowed, "thank you for having me over."

mihawk called out your name as you turned your back on him, "i would never beg, you know that. but zoro needs you to win." you looked over your shoulder at the older man, "and i need him to win this time, no matter what. do it for this old man, for old time's sake."

for old time's sake, is it?

you looked away from the man, letting his words turn sour against your skin. a sigh escaped you, "fine. we can discuss the details through my manager. but—" you turned around, casting a sharp glance at the coach, "—i am doing this only for your sake, mihawk. nothing more, nothing less."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

16th of june, 7:52 a.m.

three days later, you were clad in your practice set, and the duffel bag with your equipment felt heavier than usual in your right hand as you run the doorbell to the kuraigana residence.

the winds were unkind, the clouds were greying and ashy, a clear reflection of your spirit as a certain moss-head opened the door. your gaze tangled against his, and for a second you felt as if somebody punched you in the gut and left you paralysed, and a seventeen year old with a broken heart again.

he was so much prettier than he seemed on camera. tousled moss hair, a scar on his eye from when you were kids and a crooked smile that he gave the cameras when he won. fucking bastard. you couldn't wait to break a badminton racket on his stupid head. put him in a fucking coma.

so what if you both didn't win? you would kill him. yes, that will satiate your hunger. prison be damned.

a wayward shock running down your spine as you moved past him and inside the mansion. wordless.

"wh-what are you doing here?" his throat seemed to have gone dry as he hurriedly walked after you, carefully avoiding saying your name lest you were a demon he could summon.

"what?" you asked as you made your way to the living room, never once turning around lest you see his face and start punching him, "what do you mean why am i here? don't you know?"

"no?" irritation snipped at the raw edges of his words, "why are you here?"

your eyes widened in part amusement, part astonishment. is he dumb? is he actually clueless? that's roronoa zoro for you, i suppose.

"she's your partner." mihawk replied coolly from where he sat on the sofa, "for the mixed doubles campion's cup."

"HER?!" his voice cracked, eyes widening as he peered down at his own father, "DAD?!"

the annoyance in his voice set you aflame and you stared down at mihawk aswell, "you didn't tell him, sir?"

"well, i did." mihawk answered nonchalantly, sipping down wine slowly, "didn't i tell you, zoro? that your partner would be coming today to practice?"

"you didn't tell me it was her." he grumbled, and your blood pressure rose as you stared down mihawk, "sir, i would not team up with such a fucking idiot."

"zoro, do not behave like a hooligan—"

zoro whipped his neck to look at you, his jaw locked and eyes narrowed, "who are you calling a fucking idiot?"

you craned your neck to stare him down in return, "you."

zoro stepped forward towards his father and pointed accusatorily towards you, his earrings chiming ever-so-softly, "i am not teaming up with her."

"me neither." you grumbled, stepping forward to match his stance, "i take back what i said, i cannot partner up with him! he's insufferable."

but mihawk stared down the both of you and for a moment, you both were two sixteen year olds who just got caught making out in his room instead of adults in your twenties about to go for a international champion's cup.

"are you both gonna behave as adults or do i need to give you a stern lecture?" mihawk asked coolly.

"'m sorry, dad." zoro mumbled and you joined him as you both stared down at the floor, "i'm sorry too, sir."

the coach stood up, "apologize to each other. now."

zoro gave you a side-eye, "sorry."

"hm. sorry."

"much better. no animosity should linger between partners." mihawk put down the glass, "onto practicing we go, now. zoro lead her to the indoor court, i would be there soon."

indoor court? what the fuck.

zoro refused to dignify you with anything as you both walked through a maze of hallways that finally opened into a proper, full-sized indoor court.

"shit." you mumbled as you took in the open roof of the court. the grey overhead clouds casted a gloomy look on the court. zoro grumbled something under his breath before switching on a button which closed the metallic roof with a soft creak.

what the fuck.

well, soon enough, you realized two very important things: first, this mansion was insane. and second, roronoa zoro was number one for a reason.

you were heaving, chest rising and falling so rapidly that it felt as if your lungs and heart would burst inwards and paint you red. your calf muscles pulsed mercilessly as sweat dripped down your eyebrow and onto the flat plane of your cheeks. blinded by exhaustion, you tried to match the movements of the man opposite to you.

he was tired but he was graceful.

roronoa zoro was heaving, sweat trailing down his hair and neck and disappearing down his black shirt. but his gaze was focused, his steps ever-so-calculated as he ran from one end of the court to the other, and as he shot down the shuttle, the muscles in his bicep rippled and came alive with a strange delight.

"zoro, don't run so much. you have nothing to prove, you look like an idiot and you would exhaust yourself." mihawk noted, his voice booming between the sounds of the air being sliced by your shots and the soft sounds of pants and groans.

mihawk called out your name next, "do not restrain your arms. think of the racket as an extension of yourself, and allow your hands to move freely. hit harder. taking it easy gets us nowhere."

"i am trying." you grit through your teeth, trying to expend force as you hit back the shuttle with all your might.

zoro moved backwards, his arms being pulled back before he hit the shuttle back to your left. you attempted to run, to catch the shuttle before it fell to the court, but your right calf cramped up and your feet wobbled as you lost your footing and fell down.

"that's enough." mihawk concluded, "this is enough practice for today."

you allowed yourself to lay down on the court, holding your pulsating calf to your chest and panting through your mouth as the oxygen slowly flooded your muscles and eased your body up.

"are you okay?" mihawk asked you as he stood above you, peering you down with his hawk-like eyes. you nodded yes with a red face and tembling lips, assuring him you were fine.

as you stared up at the ceiling, you heard zoro pick up his duffel and walk out of the court without even as much of a "good game" or a "are you okay?" and it was crystal clear how far ahead roronoa zoro was, because you were on the ground trying to catch your breath while he was whistling and walking back to his room without as much of a water break.

fuck. lot of work to be done before you could kill that asshole.

"perhaps, you should stay here." mihawk suggested as you finally pulled yourself up and he offered you a bottle of water.

you spluttered on the liquid and some of it dribbled down your lips uncharacteristically, "wh-hat? here?"

"you would have to come in every morning," he answered back, "there is no point in travelling everyday now, is there? we have many spare bedrooms."

"i-" you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, looking up at the coach with furrowed brows, "i don't know, sir."

"we have spare rooms in the west wing, and zoro's room is in the east wing." mihawk crossed his arm, "the rest is your decision, of course."

you sighed, "is it really my decision?"

"no. a room has been set for your already." mihawk shrugged, "i thought you would agree for this old man's sake."

"jesus fucking christ, you're good at emotional blackmailing."

8:31 p.m.

"i don't understand why she's here." zoro grumbled as he munched on his dinner.

"because it is pointless for her to come and go every day," mihawk dabbed his lips with a white cloth, "and do not talk when you're eating."

"so i need to see her face everyday?"

"can you stop talking about me as if i'm not here?" you glared at man sitting opposite to you, "i don't want to see you face everyday either."

zoro smiled so politely that it made you want to rip his hair out of his scalp with a kitchen knife. prison be fucking damned.

"then, leave."

"i swear on any god—"

"—what? what do you swear? if you're asking favours from god, maybe ask for getting better at badminton." the man scoffed, thoroughly happy with his own little jab.

"mihawk," you glared daggers at zoro, "if i kill roronoa, would you turn me in to the police?"

"of course he will." zoro squinted.

you squinted back at the athelete, "no, he can just adopt me and forget about you instead. he likes me better, anyways."

"oh, does he?" zoro quipped up rhetorically and mihawk shrugged, dabbing his lips before admitting a casual "she is quite lovely."

"dad!—"

a cashmere grin, eyes never leaving the athlete. "thank you, sir."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

3rd of august, 11:07 a.m.

the next few weeks were a strange repetition, days filled only with three characteristic things: first, you woke up at five in the morning, practiced with a very-angry zoro (because god knows how much he resents those five am alarms) till you were about to pass out. second, ate food that their divinely gifted chef made. and third, bickered with zoro like a child.

"who the fuck puts a table-tennis table in the living room? money clearly cannot buy some sense of design." you glared at him as he glared right back at you. mihawk was out, the house was eerily quiet and you two had just finished up with the first practice session of the day, the adrenaline still pumping high through your mortal bodies.

"how do you know i put it in here?"

"'cause perona actually understands decor? you are the directionless idiot."

"okay. not that i have to explain to you but— first of all, it's practical for when my friends come over." he paused, thinking, "oh, do you know what friends are? they are people that voluntarily hang out with you and like—"

"oh, so funny." you mockingly laughed before crossing your arms in front of your chest. the sportsman momentarily stared down at your chest. jesus christ. he was reeled back into reality, quickly looking away and pretending to hit a mosquito. there are no mosquitoes here. a blushed crept up his face, to the tips of his ears, "yeah, i know. i'm funny."

"doesn't excuse your poor fucking decor skills."

"well, for starters, i can do what i want because it's my house—"

"—your dad's."

"and you are living in my house."

"because your dad asked me to because he likes me better."

"i-" his jaw was clenched shut as he stepped forward. his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath ragged as his gaze slowly cascaded down to your lips. his breath staggered helplessly, eyes quickly darting upwards to stare you in the eyes, "why don't you go and practice? get on my fucking level instead of bitching and moaning about meaningless shit?"

ah, you had almost forgotten how quickly his saccharine words turned sour. you had almost forgotten how well-versed roronoa zoro was in destruction, whether at the court or with your heart.

a certain ache built up in your chest as you pushed him back, and for a moment you both were sixteen, having your first fight all over again. except he was taller now, his eyes hardened and his tongue sharp enough to cut through you instead of kissing you sweetly and making amends.

your lips trembled, glaring up at him as you stepped closer to the man you had once been disillusioned enough to believe you knew, "fuck you, roronoa."

"roronoa? we're being formal now?" he stared down at you, eyes boring down in yours as he held himself off with barely tangible threads of sanity. his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again, "didn't realize that's what you called me."

"i call you nothing, let me make that clear. we are not friends nor acquaintances, strangers is all."

well, strangers don't know how it feels to kiss someone in a poorly-lit room and taste of reckless first-times and childhood innocence, they do not know of each other's long-forgotten dreams, and they certainly don't look at each other as if the only thing holding them back was their own wounded prides.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his bicep as your quick steps led you away from him and into the room you had temporarily come to call home.

fuck roronoa zoro.

11:02 p.m.

you refused to go out of your room for lunch, or for dinner for that matter.

had you been a greater woman, perhaps you would have walked out, kept that conversation behind you for the next two and a half weeks, and simply focus on winning. had you been a lesser woman, perhaps you would have locked your door and cried into your sheets about anything and everything roronoa zoro.

but you did neither.

you sat on your bed and stared down the spotless ceilings, trying to come up with ideas to kill that man without ever getting caught. well no, prison be damned. orange wasn't such an awful colour anyways. if trump could make it work, so could you.

your phone buzzed, and the low rumbling pulling you out of the symphony of wicked thoughts that begged you to either go kill zoro or kiss him so hard that he forgets he belongs to this mortal plane — both ideas that would ultimately land you playing a gamble with death. you picked up the device only to come face-to-face with an email from your manager asking for updates.

to: [email protected]: [email protected] do you want me to kill him? for legal reasons, this is a joke. update me on how things go. don't lose your radiance over that moss-head.

"fuck," your voice was soft as your feet hit the carpeted floors, eyes locked at the time. 11:02.

although your pride held up to the resolve to starve yourself of any human contact, your stomach sadly didn't wish to comply. an embarrassing rumble made you well-aware of your hunger and you decided with a defeated sigh to go down and beg the chef for whatever he could make you at this time of the night.

you walked to the door, opening it slowly as you came face to face with—

"you?" your pupils were blown wide open, taking in a the image of a guilty-looking zoro halfway-crouched at your door, "you."

your palm found purchase against your hips, face in an easy scowl, "what the fuck do you want, now?"

"nothing?" he argued back haughtily, pulling himself to his feet hastily, "i- i was going to the bathroom."

"on the opposite wing of the mansion?" your eyes drifted down to his hands where he held a white plastic bag, "with a whole grocery bag in your hand?"

"yes?" he clutched the bag tighter, "and it's none of your business."

you gave him a look he was well-versed in. a look that practically begged him to drop this act of nonchalance and come clean. a look roronoa zoro crumbled under.

the sportsman shifted on his feet, his eyes drifting downwards to your feet as he slowly held out the bag towards you. when he spoke, his voice was matter-of-factly, "you didn't eat today."

"huh?—" you clutched the plastic in your palms, peering down to look at two packets of familiar cup noodles, a six pack of beer and a toblerone thrown in for good measure. you looked up at the man as a strange feeling made home in your veins. warmth?

you stared at the packaging, dumbfounded, "cup noodles?"

"i- i don't know if you still like these ones." he admitted softly, gaze still avoiding yours, "but i heard you said you liked these in... in one of those interviews in the last women's singles, uh the one in tokyo—"

"you watched my match?"

his fingers twitched, "no. whatever, if you don't like it, i can just take it away—"

"—how did you think i did?"

the tokyo finals were against the number one in the female category: boa hancock. beauty, grace, talent: everything good and holy found a home in her, it seemed. because at the end of the match, she defeated you with a neck-to-neck match. your 20 points to rival her 22 points. her number one title to rival your number two.

roronoa zoro finally met your eyes, a proud wayward glint in his eyes that gnawed at your insides, and a simple "you did good."

"i lost."

"doesn't refute the fact that you did good."

"if i had done good, i would have won."

"don't talk bullshit." he crossed his arms, eyebrow arched and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. the muscle bulged under his navy blue shirt, earrings glittering cautiously in the dim light as his words cut through your flimsy counterattacks, "you did well, so, take the compliment. it's not about winning, it's about getting better. you did way better than last year's sweden semi-finals."

"you saw sweden too?" you asked softly, the disbelief in your voice evident in your face, tainting your pretty features a murky shade of confused.

but zoro refused to answer what was obvious, instead rambling on about the actual game, "your shots have gotten a lot more crisper since sweden. your breath control has gotten better, and your wrist work too. not to mention that—"

"—roronoa." you halted him, "what if you lose this tournament 'cause of me?"

"we're playing as a team. if we win, we both win. if we lose, we both lose." he didn't bother comforting you. just laid the truth bare in front of you, "simple as that."

"would you... hate me? if we lost, i mean?"

his face shifted, something inkling to the ghost of a smile on his lips, "how could i ever hate you?"

what the fuck.

your gaze betrayed you as it found a home against his lips. you mind begged for answers. why did he know all that, how did he know all that, why did he fucking care? and most importantly why were you not listening to his helpful advice, instead admiring his pretty eyes and the scar that ran across them.

zoro stopped himself, features going still as he propped himself back and stood up straight. he cleared his throat and hid his features under an usual cloak of nonchalance. the sportsman nodded to the plastic bag, "just eat, and sleep soon. we need to be up early. don't think dad's gonna let us off the hook cause we were fighting in the middle of the night."

you stared at him, a furious blush building up in your cheeks, "right, thanks." you looked down at the contents again, "but you brought me two packs and six beers?"

"and a toblerone." scrambling to find an excuse, the mosshead tripped over his own words, "i– well, i mean you must be hungry. are you not? of course, you are, right? if you don't want it, you don't have to eat it."

"no, it's just— uh, do you wanna come in?" you paused, "i... don't think I can finish six beers alone."

he stood before you dumbstruck. 5'10 of muscle and flesh and skin, standing before you with a flabbergasted look in his eyes. as if he didn't want that with every inch of his body and soul. but he was a man of great restraint, so, he shook his head, "thanks, but uh— we both need to be up early tomorrow."

your throat went dry, your words as it barely audible, "of course, see you."

"hm, yeah. g'night." he grew awkward, thumbing his earring just to have something to do, "i just didn't want you to get the wrong idea— like you know, we shouldn't fight among ourselves—"

"—no animosity between partners, as mihawk says?"

"something like that, yeah." he sighed, and you found yourself being kicked in the face by whatever self-esteem you had left. of course, he was just making amends. your wretched heart and it's stupid daydreams be damned. "okay then, i'm sorry for the morning. and uh, 'night."

"'night." he turned, ready to leave and his name left your lips before you could register what was happening, "zoro—?"

he turned around immediately, an apprehensive plea in his eyes, "yeah?"

"i—" you fished for the chocolate and held it in your hands, "you can have this, i don't really like it."

he took the bar, ideally turning it in his palm, "i thought you liked these?"

"used to. five years ago. i'm not seventeen anymore." you pressed your lips into a thin line, "people change."

"uh, yeah, i guess they do." a pause, "or maybe they... don't?"

that was the last (luke)warm conversation you had with roronoa zoro. days passed you by as did a rigorous, drilling schedule. wake up, practice, practice, practice, sleep. but hey! two and a half weeks of this and you would walk home with another champion's cup to your name, so, how bad can it possibly be?

that moss-for-brains asshole was a problem for two and a half week later you. yes. indeed. indeed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

21st of august, 9:51 a.m.

you let out a shuddering breath, adrenaline pumping through your veins and hands gripping the handle tighter. you took a step backward, positioning yourself as zoro stood to your right, ready to serve the shot.

the sound of his racket slicing the air rang through the court as the shuttle made it's way over the net and onto your opponent's side. the woman in front of you lunged forward, shooting the shuttle back towards you.

mixed doubles champion's cup. barcelona, spain. finals. you and roronoa zoro vs. ino takuma and nobara kugisaki. your 19 points vs. their 17 points in the third round. just two more and you'd win the cup.

your arm pulled backwards, right foot behind your left, head tipped back as you smashed the shuttle back into their side towards where ino stood, ready. the shuttle whirled past his racket by a hairsbreadth and fell down on the court.

"20 love." the umpire announced pointing to you and zoro, and then to the rival team, "17 love."

just one more.

"fuck yeah." zoro gave you a feral smile. his hair was drenched, sweat slowly dripping off of his jawline. he moved forward, a new shuttle in his palm and he got ready to serve again, the jersey with roronoa on it crinkled and sticking to his back. he looked over his shoulder, giving you a nod, "ready?"

"fuckin' hope so." you huffed out, nodding slowly and backing to take your position.

the shuttle left your side of the court, tearing through air and onto their side. the air was tense, the audience growing impatient as both the teams lunged to their left and right to land definitive shots. ino takuma took a step back, jumping upwards as he delivered a smash that whirled past your cheekbone and landed on the court, "fuck."

"18 love." the umpire declared, "and 20 love."

just one more.

you walked over to zoro, and he wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand. his face was angled downwards, words right against the shell of your ear, "'s fine, we're leading. we're winning."

just one more.

the next few minutes were a battle on the court. flicks of wrist, sweat trailing down your back, the feel of feet shuffling on court as you and zoro worked in sync. his shots to your steps and your shots to his, as the team opposite to you kept up their assault.

your feet moved to their own accord, skidding forward before you jumped upwards. your racket made contact with the shuttle and you smacked it down with every bit of force you had. your breath was caught in your throat, heart beating loudly, blood rushing past your eardrums as you saw kugisaki fumble and drop the shuttle.

just one more.

a roar went through the audience, mihawk yelling out in an uncharacteristic manner, and you found yourself sinking to your knees. the court felt cold and sturdy against your knees, relief washed over your shuddering form and wayward tears pooled at the edge of your eyes. your gaze lifted up, and within the blindness from the overhead lighting, you found zoro giving you the smallest of nods with a reckless smile plastered to his lips.

and then roronoa zoro proceeded to ignore you for the rest of the evening. the problem for two and a half week later you was here. fuck.

12:44 p.m.

you glanced at the man next to you through your eyelashes. how he looked annoyed and shook his head, how those cursed earrings chimed as he answered a question that the press asked, how he ignored you for the nth hour of the night.

the fucker didn't even thank you or appreciate you to your face the entire day. what a bitch.

"is it true, then?" the reporter's bangs moved enthusiastically, "are the rumors of you dating true? everyone seems to notice that the air seems charged between the two of you."

"of course not," zoro leaned into the mic, his eyes boring holes into that reporter before he chased it away with a polite smile, "those are just rumors. we're just partners." he looked at you once, twice, "right?"

"yeah." you answered, monotone. "just rumors. having him in the same team was taxing enough for me, mentally. i cannot imagine him as a boyfriend."

the reporter grinned, as if having found something worth exaggerating, "so, was having him as a partner hard? would you say law was much better?" as the mention of the brunette, you noticed zoro pick up one of the water-bottles in front of him and attempt to crush it. the reporter paused, "and you, roronoa? was it hard for you too?"

"well, we've had our differences." he crossed his arms, letting go of the poor, unassuming bottle. was he hoping his biceps would distract the crowd of rightfully-thirsty ladies? slut.

"but the most important part of any doubles game is team-work." he continued, without even giving you half a glance, "and without her, i would have failed to win. that much is for sure."

"isn't that sweet?" the woman cooed.

isn't that sweet? no. no it is not.

"so would you partner up with each-other? are we gonna see more of this dynamic duo?"

"ah," zoro looked at you, at a loss of words. you leaned into the mic, plastering on a smile, "we'd see where fate leads us."

12:03 a.m.

fate led you here.

you stared at your phone as another headline caught your eye: turns out badminton is more than a clash of rackets, it's a clash of hearts! find our the story of roronoa zoro and his partn—

the only clashing will be of a plate against that bastard's head.

you scrolled further, just to run into another headline: roronoa zoro admits feelings in press conference after the match. click to—

your fingers hovered over the link, almost opening the headline just to confirm if they saw the same press conference as you. cause there were no feelings anywhere there. right? right.

then another: love island? no! it's the champion's cup! catch the story of team-mates turned lovers—

"—what bullshit." you huffed, scrutinizing the photo under the headline that depicted you looking at zoro as he answered some question with the caption "lovesick gaze."

you threw your phone to the side and it bounced twice before falling fce-down. a pathetic groan left your lips as you dragged your palm over your face.

you should be celebrating, getting drunk somewhere maybe? or you should be sleeping, feeling satisfied after the big win. instead, you were rotting in your bed, staring at the ceilings wondering what was the easiest way to ensure you never saw your ex again. this was a one time affair, after all. all because mihawk asked you—

knock knock knock.

your feet hit the wooden floors, absentmindedly walking to the door. did you order room service? maybe they wanted to give you a cake to celebrate you? or—

"—r-roronoa?" your words died in your throat as you stared down the man in front of you. he was dressed in a casual navy t-shirt and black sweats. his hair was wet, strands sticking to his forehead, and he held a bored look on his face. "do you want something?"

"can i come in?"

he looked tipsy.

"ye- no? no." you paused, a tsunami of emotions building within you. you were supposed to get away from him! "i need to sleep. it's late."

"this won't take long." his brows furrowed, eyes softened, "i promise."

you hesitantly stepped to the side, allowing for your former partner to step in. a sigh fell past your lips as you closed the door and locked it shut.

"what is it?" you asked, and your breath hitched as zoro stepped closer. his arm on either side of you as he peered down at you as if he would devour you whole. "w-what? roronoa."

"did you hear what they're publishing 'bout us?" his words felt like thunder against your soft skin.

"no," your face grew hot with the impossible possibility that somehow he knew what you were browsing minutes before he came. you blinked up at him. careful. "what are they saying?"

he scoffed, and stepped back, "that we're lovers. it's stupid."

you looked down at the wooden floors, goosebumps erupting across your body at the fleeting contact, "it's just gossip, it'll die down. don't worry."

"i guess." he sighed, running a hand across his face. he didn't meet your gaze, muttering a cowardly "i am gonna go, then."

"what?" you looked up at him, the fiery feeling in your body turning to soot and ash, "that is all?"

"yeah?"

"you don't wanna say anything else?" you found yourself walking forward, and he stepped back to maintain the distance. a glare crossed your pretty face, "this is it?"

"did i do something?" zoro looked from your eyes to your lips to your unrelenting steps towards him, "hey, woman?"

"hey, woman?" your brows furrowed, exasperated words tumbling past you and clashing against his stone-cold exteriors, "fucking hey, roronoa? hey! how are you!— are you fucking for real?"

you stopped a mere inches away from him, index finger jabbed against his solar plexus. you looked up at him, eyes filled to the brim with mirth as you found his, "y-you didn't even fucking thank me! or say congrats— or any fucking thing."

"i didn't?" he tried to ask but the dam of your emotions was open, the ugly and grotesque that were buried within your mortal body for five years toppling over each other till they turned even more vile, "shut up."

"after all you've done and said five years prior, i thought you would have the fucking decency to end it on a good note this time around." you scoffed, eyes boring into his, "i was fucking wrong. you can never change. you'd always be roronoa zoro, the star player. and i'd be the fool that waited on you."

your name made past his lips, eyes closing as he tried to fend himself off.

"—oh now you're using my name? after two fucking months?" the laugh that you choked out was barely a laugh. you jabbed the finger deeper against his muscled body with every stressed syllable, "you left. you fucking left me. just. like. that."

"let me explain. we were seventeen—"

"—shut up. i wake up one morning, and you're gone. you fucking left town and the next i see of you, you're on the national news winning bronze in olympics." a humorless laugh, "and all that after you said you loved me."

"i still do."

"fuck you, roronoa."

"that's not what you call me." he breathed out slowly, fingers finding purchase against your wrist and bringing your hand upwards to press a chaste kiss, "that's not my name."

"fuck you, zoro." you spat out, and your fingers pulled his face downwards and towards you. you halted, your lips a hairsbreadth away from his, and he decided to close the distance by crashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

his hands skimmed over every inch of your body, never staying one place for too long — from the back of your neck to your hips — as he drunk down any unruly noises. your fingers dug deeper against his cheeks, pulling him into your impossibly closer.

"i hate you." you whispered through the fury of kisses, as the man dragged himself downwards and placing kisses across your neck. his teeth sunk against your pulse and you whimpered as he soothed the spot with another messy kiss, "i know."

all teeth and spit and broken resolves as you pushed him backwards till he fell atop your bed.

"i hate you." your body felt like lead, as if each action was one step forward to your untimely demise.

"i know." he propped himself up, face titling upwards as you sinfully teased him. your face so close to his, so pretty as you just barely kissed him, but never getting too close lest you lose control and allow your wicked fantasies to run amok.

"don't tease." he grinned — the savage kind — as a hand came up to pull your face downwards. his fingers were firm against the hollow of your cheeks and the kiss, bruising. as if he wanted to do enough damage to make up for the past five years.

"we sh- we shouldn't." you whined into the kiss as his fingers danced under your tshirt, teasing the skin with brief contact before swiping a leisurely thumb across your perky nipples. he pulled back, face flushed as his deft fingers pulled the hem of your tshirt upwards, "don't lie. you want this."

"don't get cocky." you glared daggers at him but complied nonetheless. your fingers softly over his as he dragged your oversized tshirt upwards. his breath hitched, eyes locked on how your skin erupted into goosebumps and perked up. he leaned forward, soft lips around your hardened nipple and he hummed at the contact, "'m not gettin' cocky."

you keened into his touches, fingers pulling his still damp hair, which only prompted him to suck harder, and then chased it with a soft kiss. but you grew impatient, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, "off."

"yes ma'am."

your fingers grabbed ahold of his jaw, tipping it backwards as you took him in. the damp hair stuck to his nape, gaze half-lidded and lips parted as he looked up at you. your gaze hardened, words caught in the thick air between you two, "this means nothing."

zoro took his shirt off, his hands pulling your warm ones to his torso. he nodded slowly, uttering false promises between open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, "nothing at all."

"i- i mean it," you whispered, your fingers tracing up and down the rigid plane of muscles and skin. your chest pressed against his as his hands snaked around your waist, "i know, baby." hot kisses smothered against your skin, "i know."

and world's number one had you pinned under him. hovering over you, the damp strands hanging loosely to frame his face. your face burned up as he traced the tip of his index finger across your face, then slowly dragged across your skin from your chest to your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts.

your hips bucked up as he thumbed the skin above the said waistband, "z-zoro."

"what do you want? tell me." his warm, calloused palms massaged your inner thighs, spreading them open to put up a show for himself. he swiped your clothed core, "wet already?"

"fuck off." a smug grin crept across his lips, head dipping down to press kisses to your exposed skin as his fingers dragged down the waistband and took off those layers off of you. he stared up, hands growing rougher, impatient, "tell me, what do you want?"

you squirmed as he continued pressing kisses, carefully avoiding your needy core. "i-" you clenched your eyes shut, embarrassment sewing itself against your skin. you mumbled, "don't make me say it."

"i need to hear ya." he licked a languid stripe, collecting the honeyed slick on the tip of your tongue. maybe he had less resolve than he had assumed, because at once he found himself licking fat strips up and down, catching your trembling bud between his lips and sucking. you tasted of divinity and sin all wrapped in one woman and he found himself at your altar, nothing more than a helpless man.

and just like that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"fuck." he hummed against you, lapping at you like a man starved. his eyes stayed train on you, gaze fixated as he watched you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your back. you were so pretty. it made him ache from within, something primal that made him dive into your divine cunt nose-deep and rut against the mattress like a man who knew no patience.

when roronoa zoro pulled back, you saw a man devoid of any and all trace of rationality. he was a demon ready to devour you whole. or die trying.

he held himself back, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs and hips lest he couldn't control himself. out of breath, out of mind, "tell me."

"wan' you." you mumbled, shying away from him. squirming, trying to pull away from his iron-grip on your thighs, trying, "need you t-to fuck me."

"louder." he met your eyes in a challenge, and you rivaled his stare, "fuck me."

the kiss he lay atop your hip bone was impossibly soft, his voice even more soft, "on it."

he licked quick stripes, drinking you down like you were some forbidden nectar. words barely audible as he put two fingers in your mouth. a moment later, his fingers were drilling into you. experienced hands thrusting up into you, hitting that one gummy spot over and over and over and over—

"z— ohmygod ohmygod oh—" you tried to catch your breath, tried to make sense of the situation but the mosshead caught your pulsating clit against his lips, humming and ramming into you like a mad man. watching you as you fell apart on his tongue and fingers.

twitching, bucking up, trying to run away from him as his fingers fucked you senseless. trying to run away from him?

he pulled you towards himself, putting his weight on top of your hips. you cannot run away. "don't run, don't run. not when i just got you."

"z-zoro— stop, stop it." you cried into the air, head lolling backwards as he continued his assault on your poor pussy.

"what?" he asked, gaze predatory as he continued pumping in and out of you, "see how she's gripping me? she wants me 'sbad." he thrust up harder, fingers playing against that one spot, and your body tried to turn left, to run away. but he wouldn't let you. he pulled his fingers back, just to fuck into you harder, "see. wants me so, so bad."

zoro pressed a hungry kiss to your clit, "am i taking good care of her?"

and all you could do was grip the sheets and withstand the pleasure as another tsunami built in your lower stomach. his thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing the little nub, "answer me."

and the pressure built and built within you. tugging on your insides harshly, as he toyed with you and your aching pussy. and then it all came crashing down. spotless white washed over your eyes, head lolling back, fingers gripping the sheets so hard and a silent scream caught in your throat.

when he pulled back, his jaw was drenched, hair damp and eyes maddened. through his tunnel-vision, he found you spent on the bed. eyes clenched shut blissfully, hair tangled 'neath you, and reddened lips.

when you had the courage to open your eyes and look up at him. fuck. how dare you do that to a man? your eyes were watery, lips trembling as you told him "i can't." and roronoa zoro decided it was as good time as any to fuck you to the point of breaking.

and now he had your legs pushed to your ears, the mushroom tip dragging itself against your walls. a groan past his lips as he hooked his arm under one leg, fucking into you with all the patience in the world. so slow, so patient, so fucking agitating.

your nails dug crescent moons into his biceps, huffing out a, "f-faster, c'mon."

"hm?" his eyebrows bunched, face falling into almost a pout, "faster? think you can handle it?"

"shu-shut up ngh—" a gasp came alive as he thrust into you faster, before slowing down his pace and toying with you again. a delirious grin came to his lips as you whined out, "ugh zoro."

"just remember," he pulled it out till his tip barely kissed your entrance, and rammed it back in, "you asked for this."

and now you were pushing the same nails in his biceps, gasping as he fucked into you with abandon. he pressed kisses to your thighs, to your knees, to any part of you that was accessible to him. hot breath fanning over your skin as his dick pumped in and out of you.

"'fuck, 'zo—" he hissed like it hurt, thrusting harder at the nickname. his pace was bruising, intentions to destroy you, "say that again."

"wh-what?" you played dumb.

strong hands came up to manhandle you to sit you atop him. searing hands on your hips as he moved you up and down his cock. a stutter made past your lips as you fell forward at the sudden change in position. hands bracing themselves against the hard muscle, you bit down on your lips, eyes rolling back, "i— fuck f-fuck, zo."

balls slapping against your ass, the sound of skin on skin deafening enough between his groans and your gasps. his grip on your unforgiving as you he helped you downwards each time to meet his erratic thrusts.

heaving, sweat trailing down his bow, your nails digging into his chest as you hugged him so sinfully tight. what were you doing to this poor man and his sanity? spasming, clenching around him, unforgiving, as he rammed upwards into you.

"i-i'm gon' cum—"

"yeah?" he breathed out, eager fingers coming to tease your puffy clit. sporadic swipes of his thumb against the aching nub, raising himself up to slowly bite down on the column of your throat, "cum f'me."

"ohmygod ohmygod zo—" head thrown back, you choked back sobs of his name as the white-hot pleasure built in your stomach and released all over his abs and chest, "fu-fuck ngh sh-shit, zoro!"

you, covered in your own essence, head thrown back, hair sticking to your chest and back, face flushed, eyes clenched shut. you.

zoro turned you around, your helpless moans trapped against the pillow as his heel dug into the dirtied mattress, and he drilled his cock into you harder and harder and harder. no rhythm, no reason as he chased his own high within you.

your overstimulated cunt spasmed around him, hugging his curved dick like you were milking him for all he was worth. fuck. fuck. fuck.

"ah— fuck." he groaned in the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick a languid stripe at the base of your ear as you felt his hips stutter, emptying within you.

his sweaty body stilled above yours, pressing you down into the sticky mattress. a moment later, he heaved out a content sigh and pulled it out. hitched breaths, a new wave of need building within him as he stared at the milky white gushing out of your pretty cunt.

mindlessly, his fingers pushed back the creamy white back into your poor, trembling hole. he swiped at your clit one last time, and you jolted under his torturous touches. a whine into the pillow, hips bucking away from him. you warned him, "zo."

"hah, sorry." he grinned, amused at your compliant state, before collapsing next to you.

you raised your flushed face, dazed eyes finding his pretty face next to you. he looked so pretty, it hurt. his flushed face illuminated by the soft lighting from the bedside lamps, the earrings glinting as they chimed softly against his skin, the soft smile that tugged at his lips.

this was roronoa zoro, the star player.

his fingers slowly came up to your face, pushing the damp hair strands backwards. the same fingers then traced over your nose, and your bottom lips.

and there was you, the fool that always stayed.

"zo... zoro." you pulled away from his skimming touches, "you— uh, what's the time?"

you looked away from him to pick up your phone: 2:11 a.m.

"it's late." shutting the phone, you didn't turn to look at him. what if he called out your name, looked at you, persuaded you? softly, you whispered into the heady air, "you should go back to your room. it's late, and i wanna sleep."

"wh- what are you doin'?" his hands ran over your arms, desperate touches bringing you back flush against his naked chest.

"zoro." you turned to look at him, eyes barely able to hold his steady gaze, "i-" you sucked in a breath, eyes tracing downwards to stare down his tan chest, "this meant nothing, you know that."

a scoff, "are—" the expression died, eyes widening, "should i actually leave?"

you nodded before pulling back from him, "go."

"please, just listen to me—" he sat up, shoulders squaring up as if he was ready to put up a combat for that explanation. his fingers years to touch yours, "i can explain."

you pulled your hand back, holding them against your chest. your resolved hardened. this was roronoa zoro, the star player. and this was you, and you were on your goddamn level now. no longer the fool that stuck around.

"go back to your room, rorona."

"r-roronoa? it's 'zo, for you." he begged, shifting to turn fully towards, "listen to me just once."

you shook your head, "no explanation will be good enough—"

"—i couldn't say goodbye to you. or i would have never felt like leaving that town." he pleaded, hands coming up to cradle your cheek, "and that town was a dead-end for my career. i had to leave—"

"then, leave right now as well. you're good at that shit, anyways."

"please—"

"leave."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

22nd of august, 12:03 p.m.

when you saw roronoa zoro at the checkout counter, you pretended he didn't exist. he was dead. to you, anyways.

the mosshead didn't bother making conversation, too busy comprehending the reality where you didn't even bother looking at him twice. not even as you clutched the LV in your hands tighter, and walked out through the glass doors and out where your driver waited for you.

the chants of your name stopped you dead in your tracks as a swarm of reporters stood to your left, being held off by the hotel security. the swarm of cameras, notepads and haunting questions being pushed back by men in black, pristine suits.

"is it true?!" a shrill, familiar voice caught your attention. you dragged your shades upwards, giving the reporter from yesterday a compliant smile, "is what true?"

"that you and roronoa zoro are together?!"

your eyebrow twitched, and you dragged the sunglasses downwards. the world was tinted a dark brown, and you put on another polite smile. that bastard be damned. "n—"

"yeah." the jock called out, a self-satisfying smile on his face as he stood behind you. his arm came to wrap around you, flesh against flesh feeling familiar as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, "got a problem with that?"

you whipped to look at the man that had come to become the bane of your existence and the object of your desires. but before you knew what was happening, you were being ushered by his 5'10 self into the car backseat. when you came back to reality, the car was already was on the highway and zoro was looking out the window as if he didn't just do that.

"what the fuck?!" your voice was shrill, "what the fuck, roronoa? what did you just do?!"

"it's good for publicity." he replied, solemnly. "my manager told me to do that."

"which deranged bastard is your manager?" you fisted your hand, the leather handle of the purse almost disintegrating under the intensity. glaring at him with murderous intent, you choked out a, "tell me now and i'll get sanji to murder him."

"her." zoro corrected, "name's nami. she's the best in the game."

"you're dead, roronoa."

"ah, no i'm not." he grinned, a mad man. "cheer up, babe. we have appearances to keep up."

what the fuck.

a/n: hello. uh, i have nothing to say except i just really wanted to write this 🤡. not proofread cause its uhm 10k words. nobody's gonna read this shit anyways, i think. if you've read this whole, THANK YOU!!! MWUAH MWUAH MAY BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW BE COLD AND YOU GET TO EAT SOMETHING GOOD <3 part two? yes, i wanna. roronoa zoro being a menace is my favourite gender. [psss, if you've sent in requests, girlie IM TRYING IM SORRY. may lord give me strength, and i may give you some fics!] tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock because ur the only one with enough strength to read this. thankyou so much for putting up with my bs <3 m.list

#one piece #the op aus series <3 #opla #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader smut #zoro #zoro opla #op zoro #op

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shewrites444 · 2 years ago

Text

secrets [xavier thorpe x reader smut]

written by me & me only!!! enjoy ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

word count - 2.4k

[summary: the reader and xavier have been hooking up since the semester started, but when he suddenly goes ghost after awhile, the reader learns that his feelings for her venture far more than what lies on the surface.]

[warnings: rough sex, car sex, choking, spitting, daddy kink, dirty talk, dominant male]

xavier thorpe wasn't the most sought out guy at nevermore, surprisingly, but when his ex girlfriend, bianca, sent me a text that read, i'm going to tell everyone your secret, i quickly realized that he may be more well-known than what i thought. the fact they dated last year slipped my mind, but i was also a transfer student, so its not like i knew every piece of drama this school had.

we had been hooking up since the beginning of this semester, originally starting as just a one time thing after the rave'n that eventually lead into basically anytime we saw each other. i never found myself in the time or place for a relationship, and he said he felt the same way, so having sex really meant nothing other than a good time. sure, we'd hang out after, maybe go paint in his art studio or go to his dorm, but it really wasn't that big of a deal.

except for tonight.

xavier was being really weird and had been for about the past week, barely answering my texts and when he did, it was just one or two word answers. i was genuinely concerned about him, and that maybe that text from bianca was something he knew about, so he possibly wanted to keep his distance from me. either way, i would prefer him to just tell me to my face that this was over with, so despite how nervous i was, i planned on sneaking out to his art studio tonight because if he wasn't at his dorm, that's where he'd be.

glancing at my phone, i watched as the clock finally hit midnight and i got out of bed, grabbing my black sweatshirt and slipping it on over my top. i walked quietly out of my dorm and down the stairs, opening one of the windows and made my way to his studio through the foggy and damp forest.

glancing through the windows, i noticed all the lights were out, but i opened the doors anyway, shutting them slowly behind me and turning on the light. most of his paintings were visions he had through his dreams, so pretty creepy stuff, but nothing i couldn't handle. i looked around, accidently tripping on a long sheet covering a relatively large canvas. it dropped to the floor and i quickly leaned down to pick it up if he for some reason were to come inside.

looking up, i saw a painting that was definitely not a vision. my eyes widened and my cheeks reddened as i scanned the drying canvas up and down to see a rather explicit drawing of no one other than myself. it was genuinely indescribable to say the least, but also incredible artwork at the same time. before i could even process it, i heard the door open and i gasped, turning to see a very embarrassed xavier.

he walked over rather quickly and grabbed the sheet from me, hanging it back over the painting and grabbed my hand, clearly frustrated.

"what the hell, [y/n]! you were never supposed to see that, like, ever.. why are you in here? a text would have been nice, you know.."

"i-i just wanted to talk to you, i don't know!" i stammer, looking down at the floor and avoiding eye contact as much as i could. "not like you would have answered my text anyway." i mutter and i cross my arms, shaking my head in confusion. "i'm not judging you, but like.. why would you draw that if you don't even want me in your life anymore? you've like full-blown ghosted me this entire week. did i do something?"

xavier ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and sighing heavily. "no, [y/n], you did nothing wrong, you never have.."

i raise my brow and glance up to him and his flushed expression, "then why are you acting like this? did someone find out what was going on between us?"

"i know about what bianca said, [y/n], but she isn't going to hurt either of us. she just wants to start drama." xavier explained, scratching the back of his head as he built up the courage to say what he was trying to say. "it's just too complicated to explain, i don't want to talk about it."

i frown in frustration and turn the other way, walking out of the art shed when xavier frantically follows behind me as i walk through the sprinkling rain and towards nevermore. there was no sense in standing around if the conversation, and our friendship, was not going to go anywhere. the entire situation would hurt less if i just went to my dorm and to sleep.

"woah, what are you doing? you're really just going to leave, and walk all the way back in the rain?" xavier shouts, walking behind me with a fast pace to keep up as i trudge through the muddy woods.

i nod, pulling my hood over my head. "yep! since you can't even give me any explanation, i don't want to waste my time."

i feel xavier grab the top of my arm and drag me a few feet down to a parked car, which was his, and open the back door, pushing me in and shutting it behind me. i sit there with widened eyes, watching him get in next to me and shut the door behind him. my brow raises and i lean against the door, one hand resting on it to open it, unless he finally told me what was going on.

"fine, [y/n]. if you want the truth, it's that i like you, and that is going to ruin everything going on between us. i've liked you for awhile now, and yeah, i push it to the back of my head the best i can when i'm with you, but the more i'm with you, the worse this all gets."

i take my hand away from the door and sympathetically look up to a vulnerable xavier, reaching over to take his hand and hold it gently. "you know you could have just told me instead of ignore me over text, and in class. this kind of thing happens all the time in a friends with benefits kind of situation. we work it out together, and you can't expect me to express my own feelings about it when you don't even ask me."

xavier pulls away from my hand and rubs his forehead with both hands, looking down in frustration with himself and the situation. "but you don't understand. yeah, i wanted to tell you this earlier, but it's all so confusing, and frankly, kind of dark.. i have a lot of romantic feelings for you, but the more i like you, the more i want to do things to you.. like.. things that are way more intense than what we do now.."

i grin, tucking my hair behind my ears and leaning closer, our faces inches apart, the heat between our breaths grazing against each other's lips. "tell me what you want to do to me."

he bites his bottom lip, shaking his head with a smirk and looking down. "i think i'd rather just do it to you, then tell you. but you need to tell me how you feel first. about everything. i want you to be sure."

"i like you too." i admit, smiling softly to him. "so fuck me, or whatever this fantasy of yours entails, and we can go from there."

he reaches over to cup my cheeks, slamming his soft lips against mine as we begin to kiss, my hands venturing down to his waist as i slide his sweatpants down, grazing against his hardening dick that strained in his underwear, then making the fabric the next thing i took off. i took his dick in one hand and began to jerk him off, earning a few months from his lips as we continued to make out. i feel xavier push his weight on me, making me sink into the seat below me as he breaks our kiss and motions his body to where my hand slides off him.

xavier grabs my sweatshirt and pulls it off, along with my top, pulling my bra down to attach his lips to one of my nipples, using one hand to hold my own, as the other reaches down to my own pants, sliding them down with my help as i wiggle out of them. i feel him slide my panties to the side as well, pumping one finger inside of me.

i moan, moving one hand to hold the back of his head, grabbing his hair and sliding my fingers through it. i close my eyes and spread my legs to allow him in further as he slides another finger in.

he pulls himself away from my nipple and looks up to me to peck my lips. "you like that, baby? do you want me to fuck you yet?"

"y-yes.." i nod, looking up to meet his eyes in the darkened light as he pulls his fingers out of me and sits up, taking his top off. i lean down to pull my underwear off before he stops me, taking my hand and pushing it back to my side. he moves himself to grab me by the hips, helping me sit up and turn me to face the center console of his car, leaning my body down and positioning himself behind me. i feel him press his dick against my folds, slowly sliding the tip in before starting a rhythm.

he leans down to kiss my cheek, licking the side before nibbling on my ear and motioning one hand to wrap around the back of my neck. his fingers grip my skin as his roughness begins to build up, his other hand now placed on my clit as he begins to rub in a circular motion, earning a heavy gasp on my end while he stimulates me.

"you feel so good, [y/n]... you gonna come for me, hm?" xavier asked softly as i nod. he then moves his hand from my throat to my ass, slapping it harshly as i yip in surprise. "you don't cum until i say so, or this is going to go on for way longer than what you can handle."

i giggle, turning my head to glance to him. "you're funny. you know i like a fuckton of stimulation."

xavier clicked his tongue at my remark, grabbing me by the waist and pulling my body towards him as he sits on the seat, slamming me down on him and i gasp, shock sending through my body as he length pushes itself into me. he continues to rub my clit, and wraps one arm around my waist, holding my tightly.

"go on and bounce on daddy's dick, if you wanna say shit like that." he scoffs, holding me tightly as i begin to ride him, my feet planted against the seat while i take each and every inch of him. i feel him grunt with every thrust, our moans mixing together as we pleasure each other.

"i didn't know you were so dominant, xav..." i mutter, both my hands on his knees as i move. "it's really hot, to be honest.."

xavier grinned, grabbing my hair with his hand after moving it off my waist. "oh really? if you think so, then why don't you let me take it a step further."

"whatever you want, daddy."

and with my permission, he helped to turn my around to face him, leaning me down on the seat once again, locking our lips as he repositions himself inside me. he begins to thrust again, this time a bit softer than what he was doing before. i feel him take my hands and hold them both above my head. he looks down to me and smirks, tilting his head.

"open your mouth."

i do so almost instantly and feel his spit hit the back of my throat and i swallow, our eyes locked through each and every stroke, and breath we take. he bites his top lip, picking up his pace to the point my head hits the car door a bit, but i barely even notice from the amount of stimulation coming from his thrusts. i close my eyes and hang my mouth open, moans filling the silence other than the slaps between our skin.

he moves his free hand to hold my throat once again, but from the front of my neck. just when i thought he couldn't go any harder, xavier lets go of my wrists and moves his hand to cover my mouth as he slams himself into my walls, making me yelp underneath his palm.

my entire body was shaking from the shock it was receiving from such immense pleasure, and pain. i move my arms to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer down to me as he continuously thrusts completely in and out of me, his balls slapping against my sweating skin, which was quickly filled with my own cum, dripping against his dick and balls while he continued.

just as xavier grew close, he pulled out of me, adjusting his body to line his dick up with my mouth and shoves it down my throat, gasping as i take him immediately, despite how caught off guard i was. he groaned, looking down as he fucked my face, both of his hands sliding down to hold my cheeks.

"this is so hot, fuck, [y/n].." he moans, looking down to me. "i've never wanted anyone more in my life than you. you're so hot.. you take my dick so good, baby..."

i shove my head up after his words, his dick balls deep down my throat as he gasps, cumming immediately upon my actions. he pulls out after a few seconds and sits back on the seat, leaning his body to the side.

i sit up, wiping my mouth with a red-stained face as i scoot towards him. i pick his lips, leaning down to rest my head on his shoulder. i feel his arm wrap around me and his free hand take my own, playing with my fingers while he catches his breath, and i do the same.

"i hope i didn't hurt you."

"maybe a little, but i liked it." i admit, laughing at my confession before glancing back up to him. "i didn't know your feelings for me went so deep as to fucking me to the point i can feel like, every nerve in my body."

xavier blushed, shrugging lightly and kissing me once again. "guess there is more to me than what you know."

"so no more secrets?" i grin, intertwining our fingers. "promise me you'll be honest about your feelings from now on, sexual or not."

"promise." xavier nodded, hugging me with his arm that was around me. "no more secrets."

#xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe #wednesday #netflix wednesday #wednesday series #smut #x yn #x reader

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dira333 · 10 months ago

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Glass Heart, take flight - Asahi x Reader

A/N: Soulmate AU, requested for the Follower Celebration, tagging @screamin-abt-haikyuu because DUH!

You’ve got a Glass Heart tattooed just below your left ear.

It’s small enough to hide behind your hair or a pair of earrings if you want to.

You don’t know when you’ve got it. It’s what happens to people who are too young when they meet their soulmate. You're pretty sure you know who it was though, not that it helps.

Gravel flies everywhere as you fall off the swing. You’d meant to fly as high as you dared, when someone grabbed chains from behind, bringing you to an abrupt stop. You fall face first, tears spilling over your bruised cheeks way before you can start wailing.

“Are you okay?” Someone asks, picking you up with ease. For a moment, you think it’s someone’s parent, but when long fingers carefully grab your chin and turn your face around to inspect the damage, you see it’s a boy, maybe a few years older than you, lanky and long-haired.

His touch is soft and tickles, surprising you enough to stop crying.

“Who are you?” You ask.

Your words break whatever spell there had been. He jumps back, blushing.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He moves back, step after step after step. You try to grab him, what for, you don’t know yet. But you miss, nothing but air between your outstretched hands.

“I’ll go grab your Mum,” he insists, jogging away.

“What school are you going to next year?” Miri asks over Lunch.

Your fingertips find the little heart beneath your ear that appeared last night.

“Sekodai,” you tell her as confidently as you’ll ever be.

“Ah.” She nods. “They’ve got a great Volleyball Club, or so I’ve heard.”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “But I’m more into art.” And cute guys. But you don’t say that out loud.

“Hi. I’m from Class 1.5. Could I draw you? It’s for the Art Club.”

You watch as he blushes, the redness reaching even the tops of his ears.

“I…” He stammers helplessly.

“Dang, Asahi!” One of his classmates whistles lowly. “You’ve got game!”

“I…” His voice’s barely a voice anymore. It sounds more like a kettle whistling. Well, at least you know his name now. He cut his hair shorter and it’s wavy, framing his face in a way that makes you want to drag your hands through it. Or paint it, whatever he’ll allow.

“Please?” You ask. “It won’t take long. It’s just a sketch.”

“F-Fine…” He’s still red-faced when he arrives for the session, relaxes only slightly when he realizes that he’s not the only one.

Most students have asked their classmates to sit for their panting. He’s not the only third-year, but the teacher eyes him curiously.

“Do you need something?” She asks. “We normally don’t have high schoolers visiting.”

“I-I… I’m a student here.” Asahi stutters helplessly. “Third year.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “How old are you then?”

“He looks older than he is.” You interrupt, reaching forward to take his hand, to pull him away from the discussion he’s clearly dreading.

Asahi pulls his hand away like you’re a snake, ready to bite.

It hurts more than you let on.

He barely speaks as he sits for his portrait. Today’s lesson is meant to be in black and white and while you’re glad he agreed to sit for you, you hate the fact that all his blushing is lost to you. You can do nothing more but hope the image will burn itself into your brain, for that you’ll never go without it.

When you’re done and you turn the canvas for him to see, he stills.

A multitude of emotions flickers over his face, each too fast for you to catch before he bows so low you fear for his spine.

“Thank you for considering me.” He presses through his teeth and darts from the room and you pretend you don’t notice that he takes a few extra steps to avoid the risk of touching you.

The sound of a whistle cuts through your heart.

Below you, Karasuno loses, Dateko wins.

Asahi’s grown taller in the two years you haven’t seen him. His hair has grown out too.

But there’s added weight on his shoulders, you can tell by the way he walks.

Your fingertips reach for the Glass Heart below your ear. You wonder how it’s holding up now.

“Are you sure you wanna go to this school?” Miri asks next to you. “I mean, you don’t have to come to Aoba Johsei with me, we’ve been friends for long enough, but you got a ride to Shiratorizawa.”

“No, I want this one,” you say, your voice firm.

Miri sighs. “Well, at least the Art Club there isn’t bad.”

Barely one week into the school year you get the chance to deliver some papers to the Third Year Classes.

Well, the task had been meant for the “strong boys” in your Class, but you’re too stubborn to take the hint.

Now you’re sweating under the weight of too many folders to count and your hair is sticking to your face in a way you hope is looking cutely disheveled instead of ready-to-murder-you.

“Ah, thank you. That looks pretty heavy, didn’t Takeda-Sensei send someone with you?” The teacher asks. You ignore her words and let your eyes run through the Classroom. There, a little bit further back, sits Asahi.

When your eyes meet his there’s instant recognition. You’d be proud about it, proud that he remembers you even two years later if he didn’t turn away right after. Your heart plummets all the way to your feet, but you need to keep up the facade as well as the weight of folders in your arms.

“Azumane,” his teacher orders. “You’re tall and strong. Help this student out, will you?”

He blushes furiously, but he gets up nonetheless and walks out stiffly.

You pull your sweater over your hands, one by one, so that he won’t have to fear touching you before you offer the folders for him to take.

“I…” He starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

It happens. There are Soulmates who don’t fall in love.

You never thought you’d be one of them.

If only you’d have been born without a stubborn head as well.

It would make everyone’s lives easier.

“Can I walk you home?” You ask, stepping out of the little shed that holds the bicycles.

Asahi flinches away like you’re the one towering over other people.

“What? How? I..” He stammers.

You shrug and pull the straps of your backpack a little tighter to hide your shaking hands.

“Can I?” You ask again.

He stares, wordlessly.

“You don’t have to agree, I can just follow you home on my own, two steps behind you so you don’t see me sneaking.”

That brings something like a smile to his face but he turns away to hide it the moment it flickers over his lips.

But he starts walking and you rush to catch up to him, taking two steps everytime he takes one.

“You know,” you say, a little breathlessly when you need to tackle an incline, “As much as Hinata’s going on my nerves, I think he’s good for the team.”

Asahi stops again. “You know Hinata?”

“Uh, yeah. Everyone knows Hinata. Also, I’m a First Year.”

“Right.”

He walks two steps before stopping again.

“You know about the team?”

“Yeah?” You huff, trying to hide the fact that you’re already out of breath. “The only reason I’m not a manager is because I’m way better at art than I ever was at managing.”

“Why don’t you play?”

You point at yourself, still unable to take a proper breath after less than five minutes of jogging next to him. He doesn’t seem to understand.

“I’ve got the Athletic Genes of a Muffin,” you translate when you can breathe a little better. On the other side of the hill, the sun sets the sky on fire. “But I think it’s all the same. It doesn’t matter if you paint or play Volleyball, really. Humans have no wings, so they search for other ways to fly.”

When you look back at him, there’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It makes you nervous and you swallow thickly, try to regain the composure you’ve had before.

“Do you… do you believe in Soulmates?” You ask, your mind running on empty.

“Sure.” His voice sounds weirdly detached. His face is tinted golden from the sunset.

“Is this why you don’t want to be touched?” It’s a guess, really. He could still be a germaphobe. But he flinches like you’ve caught him.

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“It’s a great burden,” he admits, quietly, staring at the sun. “What if they touch you and then you’ve got a mark but they don’t like you like that? You’d always be tied to them, whether they wanted that or not. I’d rather not put that on anyone.”

“It’s a bit late for that.” The words slip out your mouth too fast for you to catch them. You’d wanted to say something else, to put it differently. But he understands nonetheless, his head snapping over.

You pull your hair back to reveal the Glass Heart below your ear.

Whatever you thought would happen, doesn’t.

Asahi takes a step back instead of forward. You can see the doubt cloud his mind.

“Please.” You step forward, lunge for his arm like you’ve done all those years before on the playground.

This time, your hand closes around his wrist. It tickles.

But Asahi is taller, stronger, faster than you. When the turns to run, you’ve got no chance to follow.

The boy is about as tall as Hinata, dark hair with one bleached strand that makes it look like he’s being hit by lightning.

You remember hearing Yamaguchi talk about him, but his name is lost on you.

“Can I help you?” You ask rather rudely. You haven’t slept well ever since that evening. It’s been a week and it’s starting to catch up to you.

You wonder if you’ve left a mark on Asahi. Maybe you’d read it all wrong. Maybe you’d run after the wrong guy all these years.

“Are you in the Art Club?” He asks.

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re really pretty.”

“Thanks?”

He grins, gives you a thumbs up and leaves. Whatever that was, you don’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

It takes two more times of him showing up until you learn his name.

Nishinoya-senpai is weirdly adamant about getting to know you. He’s also hilariously bad at it, spending most of his time telling you about how great he did at training today, how he almost couldn’t save a ball Asahi had spiked, or how their manager is the prettiest being in the whole wide world.

“Why are you here?” You ask when he catches you after school. You’re in the middle of washing your brushes and you’d like it very much if your heart just gave in. But it has been two weeks and you still cannot stop thinking about Asahi. Even though you haven’t seen him since that evening. Has he stopped going to school?

“I’m a friend of Asahi.” He tells you.

“Aha.”

“He talks about you a lot.”

“Sure he does.” The sarcasm in your voice would be enough for two more people.

“No, really, he does. I think you’re Soulmates. But you know, we didn’t win against Dateko last year and… well, I think he needs to prove to himself that he’s worthy- Are you okay?”

You can taste the salt of your own tears. You nod, hoping he will leave you alone. He doesn’t.

“What does it matter?” You ask. Not necessarily Nishinoya, but if he’s not willing to leave you alone, he’s going to have to deal with it. “What does it matter if he wins or loses? Isn’t he worthy no matter what?” You try to dry your nose on your sleeve but the tears just won’t stop.

There’s a more pressing question to it all, a question you hadn’t dared voice before but it won’t leave your mind so why not give it the room it craves?

“Am I even worthy?”

When your tears finally dry, Nishinoya is gone.

Well, you’ve always known that not all boys are created equal. Some just cannot deal with tears.

“Can I walk you home?” Asahi asks, stepping out of the little shed that holds the bicycles.

You flinch. You thought you’d be the last one to leave.

“You don’t have to agree,” he stutters. “I-I can just follow you home on my own, t-two steps behind you…”

“Why?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from crying.

“Nishinoya told me… About what you said.”

“So?”

Asahi stretches out his arm. His shirt is pulled back.

On his wrist is something you haven’t seen before. Two black wings spread out on either side, like a bird taking flight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” he tells you. “If you want, you can take my hand.”

You move to grab it, half expecting him to pull away again. But his hand is warm, big enough to swallow yours and he squeezes back even as he blushes furiously.

“What about Dateko?” You ask, not willing to let go. “What about being worthy?”

“I tend to get lost in my own head,” he confesses. “I doubt that will ever change. But, I- I want you to know that I never doubted that you were worthy. I knew ever since we met for the first time, well, I hoped, but I… I didn’t want to-”

“Put a burden on me, I know.” You nod and squeeze his hand at the same time. “You’re going to have to get used to it, you know? I’ve got pretty strong shoulders.”

You can’t see the sunset from where you’re standing. But the way Asahi smiles makes you think you don’t need to anyway. He’ll always be golden anyway.

“Careful, door opening.” Asahi announces, one arm on your back as he guides you into the coffee shop.

Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, but you trust your fiancé that he will keep you safe on your early morning hunt for breakfast.

He orders for the two of you, squinting down over your shoulder every once in a while to check in on your live feed.

Your newest art project hasn’t been online for long and the comments are flowing in almost too fast for you to read.

It’s only when Asahi awkwardly clears his throat behind you that you look up. You spot it right away.

“Excuse me?”

The Barista looks up right away, flinching slightly when she locks eyes with you.

“He asked for oat milk. That’s soy.”

“Sorry, I mixed that up.”

“No worries, just making sure.” You smile as Asahi deflates behind you, leaning all his weight onto your shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your ear. “I wouldn’t have been able to say anything.”

“I know.” Your right hand finds his, squeezes tight. “That’s why we’ve got each other.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Asahi x Reader #Asahi Azumane #Asahi Fluff #Asahi Azumane Fluff #Haikyuu x Reader #Haikyuu Fluff

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patchato · 1 month ago

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PAIRING:

Bully Victim!Sunoo x Student President!Reader

SUMMARY: Sunoo experiencing kindness in the form of their Student Body President.

FLUFF. FLUFF EVERYWHERE.

There's this guy that's always been the target of the jocks. His name is Kim Sunoo. Bullies are weird, they hate the guy just because he looks feminine. Personally, (Y/N) like how he looks. Sunoo looks clean, neat and just looks like a responsible person.

After school, she stumbled upon a wet and cold Sunoo. Looks like the jocks were at it again. With a heaby sigh, (Y/N) took out a towel she had for P.E. She kneeled in front of Sunoo and drapped the towel over his shivering body. "Hey, let's get you warm." She says, smiling.

It took him a while to accept my advances but when he finally took my hand, I smiled. I pulled him up and led him to the tall benches. And since he's quite tall, I just stayed standing while drying his hair. "Are you hurt?" I asked, worry evident in my voice.

Sunoo chuckled as he shook his head, "I'm okay, Y/N. I've been through worse. You don't have to worry about me." He said, blushing as she dried his hair. His heart fluttered at her touch.

"You know my name?" I raised an eyebrow. Do we have classes together? "Yeah, you're in Mr. Hee's english class too." He answers timidly. Bingo, we do have classes together. "They're just jealous you know." I say, patting his face dry.

Sunoo's cheeks flushed a deep red as he felt your fingers patting his face dry. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and soft. "Jealous? Of what?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't help but stare at your face, taking in every detail.

"Maybe because they're aware that you're pretty." That's one thing. And now that I'm looking at him up close. Wow, they were not kidding. He really is beautiful. He has a face that I only see in TV. "They're probably scared you'll take all the girls away." I joked. I saw his lips curl into a small smile but he didn't say anything.

Sunoo's heart pounded in his chest as he heard your words. He couldn't believe that you, of all people, found him pretty. He bit his lower lip to hide his grin, looking down shyly. "I-I wouldn't do that..." He stammered, his voice quiet.

I chuckled, I don't understand how people can just bully this guy. I mean look at him, he's not hurting anyone. "Well, you might as well." I joked some more. I heard him release a little laugh. His nose bridge was high and his lips are pink. He looks like an art someone made.

Sunoo's laughter was soft and gentle, a rare sound from him. He looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. As he gazed at your face, he noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, and the way your nose scrunched up slightly.

Sunoo's body was now warm, and his heart was also warm. He's never felt someone's kindness like this. No one has ever gone their way out for him. Let alone someone who was his sunbae. He's noticed her before, but he never approached (Y/N). She was popular in their university and the students loved her.

Sunoo felt a pang of nervousness as he realized he was staring at you, his sunbae. He quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing red. He fiddled with his hands, feeling awkward and out of place. He wondered if you would think less of him for being so shy and clumsy.

"There, you're all dry from the top." I smiled at my work. Poor dongsaeng. "Now, go to the restroom and get rid of those pants." I scoffed pulling out my extra pants. Good thing they were stretchable. I'm sure it'll fit him. "Here, use this for now." I handed him the pants, he took it but just stood there. "Something wrong?" I asked, is he still cold?

Sunoo hesitantly took the pants from you, his eyes wide with surprise. He couldn't believe that you were giving him your clothes to wear. He looked down at his soaked pants, then back up at you, before nodding silently and taking the offered clothes. "I-I'll...return it..."

(Y/N) smiled at his thanks. But there was one problems, he also doesn't have spare underwear of course. Who carries underwear with them? Sunoo didn't know what to do so he just stood there, panicking. "What's wrong?" She asks him. Can he tell her? Otherwise he'll walk around with wet underwear. "I-I, my underwear." He whispers. He wanted to die in a whole. Why did he just tell his sunbae that.

Sunoo's face turned an even deeper shade of red as he heard himself say those words out loud. He wanted to disappear right then and there. How could he have been so stupid as to say that? He couldn't look at you anymore, his eyes fixed on the floor as he squirmed uncomfortably.

(Y/N) giggled at his shyness. He's a cute little man, she'll give him that. "I figured. Come with me." She took his hand in hers once more and led him to the nearest convenience store. It's so convenient they just sell spare underwear. Sunoo can't believe his sunbae is buying his underwear for him. He felt like a kid. But a happy kid.

Sunoo hesitantly followed you into the convenience store, his hand still entwined with yours. He couldn't believe that you were actually buying him underwear. He felt a warmth spread through his body at the realization that you were taking care of him like this.

"Here you go." She handed him the thing he needs and even a few more stuff like food. "Thank you, sunbae." He smiles once more at her. This time, he looked directly at her while saying his thanks. "Call me noona instead." She says chuckling. "O-Okay." He answers. "Now, give me your phone." He hesitantly gave her his phone. When she gave it back, her name was now in his contacts. He wanted to squeal, but he can't.

Sunoo clutched his new underwear and the snacks tightly to his chest as he watched you input your name and number into his phone. He couldn't believe that you wanted him to call you noona, and that you were giving him your contact information. It felt like a dream come true.

"Call me when you need me okay?" I say smiling, i bid him goodbye as I went to my next class. 5th period went by fast and it was already lunch. "Hey, (Y/N)!" Someone shouts. It was Yeji, a friend of mine. "Wanna go to the cafe?" She asks, I denied the invitation saying I'll go next time. I usually go off campus with my friends, but today I think I'll eat in the cafeteria.

Sunoo sat alone in the cafeteria, slowly eating his lunch. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. He pulled out his phone and looked at your contact, his heart fluttering. He wanted to call you, but he was too shy.

Suddenly, someone bumped him from behind harshly. The chocolate milk he was holding on one hand spilled on the pants (Y/N) lent him. He stared in horror as he stood up to try and wipe it off. Before he can even get more napkins, someone pulled him by the collar making him stumble. "Look here guys, this faggot looks like he pissed himself." The guy laughs. It was the usual group of people that messed with him but he didn't care about that at the moment. The pants his noona lent him just got dirty!

"P-Please..." He tried pulling away but the guy's hold was too tight. He wanted to cry but he held it in. He doesn't want those people to see him cry, especially when his noona's pants are at stake. "Oh, he begs." They laughed.

"Drop him." A familiar voice chimes in. Sunoo was too busy staring the his pants to even notice. "And what are you-", the guy that held his collar let go all of a sudden when he turned around. "Sunoo." The voice calls, it was (Y/N). His eye quickly shoot up, he was near in tears now because of the humiliation. People were whispering and staring. Plus, the last money he had to buy food just got wasted. "Oh, student pres." The guy mumbles, nervously. "All of you, I'll see you in the council room." (Y/N) says before letting them go.

Sunoo quickly ran over to you, his eyes red and puffy from holding back tears. He didn't care who saw him crying now. He just wanted to hide and forget this ever happened. He tugged on your sleeve, looking up at you with pleading eyes. "Noona..."

Oh my goodness. Always getting bullied when he's alone. In fact, I've never really seen him with anyone else. I am so gonna lecture those guys to death. "Let's go." I say, tugging at his hand. I lead him to the storage room behind the cafeteria, where fortunately a bathroom was located. No one ever really comes at the back so it was the perfect spot to calm Sunoo down.

Sunoo followed you numbly, his mind still preoccupied with the humiliation he had just experienced. As soon as you shut the door behind you, he broke down, burying his face in your chest and sobbing uncontrollably. He clung to you for dear life, his body shaking with emotion.

I sighed and patted his back and head, hugging him back. He reminded me of this dying dog when I was a kid. It was during a heavy storm when our family car passed a buzzing market. There was this skinny dog lying down near the canal, it was heaving with it's tongue out. It was soaked by the rain but no one came to help it. If no one helps Sunoo, he might actually end up like that.

Sunoo sniffled and hugged you tighter, his tears soaking into your shirt. He felt safe and protected in your arms, like nothing could ever hurt him as long as he was with you. After a few moments, he looked up at you with red, puffy eyes. "Noona..."

"Yes, yes. I'm here." I cooed, his hug became tighter and we stayed like that for a few minutes. He was no longer sobbing but his little hiccups showed that he was still emotional. "I'm sorry n-noona." He mumbles, starting to get into an apology frenzy. This made me confused, why's he apologizing? "What do you mean?" I asked, "I ruined your pants..." He mumbles again looking down. He's right, it is ruined. But it's not his fault. "Don't worry about that now." I sighed, shaking my head. "Are you okay?" I asked again, carressing his now pink cheeks. Probably from crying.

Sunoo nodded slowly, still sniffling a little. He felt a bit better now that he was with you, but he was still ashamed of making a mess on your pants. "Y-Yes, noona..." He whispered, hiding his face against your chest again.

Oh my, look at this. He looks like a little puppy. Cuddling up to me and shit. Why'd he have to be so cute? I cleared my throat and lifted his head up, "I'll take you home." He nodded and once again, buried his face into my neck. Who knew he can be so clingy. I let him cling to me in that storage romm just to let him rest more. When the last bell rang, I guided him to my car.

Sunoo let you lead him to the car, his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried in your side. He felt content, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt everything that he's been craving for a long time. He felt like you were his family.

"Alright. I'm gonna need you to stay here, okay?" I said, I still need to go back to the council room to talk to thise hooligans. "W-Where are you going?" He asked, panicking. How cute. "It's alright, I'm just gonna go to the council room." I answered, patting his head to calm him down. "I'll be back." With that, I left my car keys with Sunoo and made my way up to the council room.

Sunoo watched you walk away, his eyes filled with worry. He hated being alone, and right now, all he wanted was to stay by your side. He fidgeted with the car keys, his mind racing with thoughts.

The guys that were bullying Sunoo was alreay in the council room, surrounded by the council peace maker and my assistant. "Alright, let's get this over with." I sighed, sitting down my chair. We talked to them about their actions and the consequences. They began sweating with the things they heard. The guy that held Sunoo's collar, whom we now know as Jung Simon. An architect student, began to complain.

"But, he's just a freshman! And he's so weak! It's fun to mess with him!" He whined, trying to justify his actions. I smell a spoiled child about to get pummeled. The other two nodded in agreement, smirking at each other. "You can't blame us for wanting to have some fun."

I smirked, "Well, Mr. Jung. I don't know if you get the memo." I stared down at him from my desk. "The previous council of this school may have been shit." I chuckled, because it was. Bullying was so common the percentage of suicides became higher. "But I'M the council president now." I stood up and walked towards the three, staring straight into their eyes. "Bullying will not be tolerated. Your actions will be filed and you'll have no future. Nil."

Jung Simon gulped, his smirk fading away as he met your intense gaze. The other two straightened up, looking nervous. "W-What do you mean, no future?" He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "We're just playing around!"

I chuckled, sitting down the desk in front of them. "You three just don't get it, do you?" I checked my phone for any messages from Sunoo, this is taking longer than I thought. How annoying. "Once I hear you three fucking around again. I will have you kicked out." The council assistant and peace maker took notes of the threes information. The three were dismissed. "You're stricter than usual." My assistant, Chan, chuckles. "I hate people like him, you know that." I sigh, he nodded with a stupid grin on his face.

Chan scoffed, "Yeah, yeah. You're like a momma bear protecting her little cubs." He joked, poking fun at your protective nature. "Speaking of little cubs, how's Sunoo doing?" He asked, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "He's fine." I answered, he's better I guess.

Crap, I made Sunoo wait too long. "He's shaken up, but he's okay." I answer. "You like him?" Jungkook, our council peace maker teases. "Shut up." I groaned and they laughed. Us three have been friends since we were in diapers so were very close. "Go, we'll lock up." Chan says, trying to push me out the room. "Yeah, wouldn't want your pretty boy to wait." Jungkook winks, I slapped his head with the papers and left. It's now 5:12 PM, I just hope he's okay alone in the car for an hour and a half. I opened up the car door to the drivers seat to spot Sunoo sleeping soundly.

Sunoo had wrapped himself in a blanket, his head resting against the window. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. His hair fell slightly over his eyes, casting a soft shadow on his face. The blanket bunched up around his waist, revealing his bare legs.

I hopped to the driver seat slowly, making sure I don't wake him up. I stared at him a little, his skin looked so soft and supple. His eyelahses were long, like a woman's. Who knew a man can look so pretty. Maybe I stared to long cause he started to move around. I shifted from my seat, Sunoo sat up and noticed I was back. "Noona." He smiles, yawing a little. I had to make a little inner note not to stare to long or I'll get caught.

Sunoo blinked his eyes open, his gaze meeting yours. "You're back," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "I'm so sorry, I fell asleep," he apologized, his face flushing slightly. "It's alright," you assured him, starting the car.

"Let's go home." I said. Good thing my brother sometimes leaves his clothes in my car. I let Sunoo borrow one of his pants. I'll just buy him a new one. "Did you sleep well?" I asked, making sure to drive carefully.

Sunoo nodded, still looking a bit drowsy. "Yeah, thanks to you," he smiled weakly, pulling the borrowed pants up his legs. "I appreciate it." He settled back into his seat, his eyes drifting shut again. "Noona, can I ask you something?"

It was a bit traffic when we hit the intersection and it was around 5:45 PM now. Good thing I live alone. I planned on driving Sunoo back first, he lived near the lake that was surrounded by the busy markets. "Sure you can." I answered smiling.

Sunoo opened his eyes again, looking at you with a curious expression. "Why do you care so much about me?" he asked, his voice small and vulnerable. "I mean, you're the council president and I'm just a student..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

It sounds to me that he hasn't really experienced things like this before. Someone standing up for him, pulling him out of bad situations. "Well, why not?" I answered. There wasn't really much of an explanation as to why I'm acting this way to him. I'm always right behind my hoobaes.

Sunoo's expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Yeah, why not." He echoed, chuckling softly. He looked out the window, watching the passing cityscape. "Can I ask you another question?" He grinned mischievously.

He sure is talkative when we're alone, I kind of like it. He can ask me anythig, anythime. "Fire away." I chuckled.

Sunoo hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he blurted out, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. Forget I asked."

I chuckled once again. Stopping at a red light. There were fewer cars on the street now as we neared his home. It's kind of sad now that I think about it. "No, I don't have one." I laughed a little, gripping the steering wheel. "Why do you ask?" It was my turn now to ask him. A little grin layed on my lips as I asked, looking at him.

Sunoo bit his lower lip, avoiding your gaze. "Just curious," he mumbled, playing with the hem of his shirt. "I mean, you're so pretty and kind, I thought you'd have at least five boyfriends." He rambled, his ears turning red.

I chocked a laugh, five boyfriends? That's adorable. "Five boyfriends huh?" I chuckle, he laughed as well. He sure likes to joke, surprisingly. Even after what happened today, getting soaked in milk and water. Having to change two times, he still has the spirit to jokes around. "You're adorable." I say, chuckling. His laughter died down, "Y-You think I'm adorable?" He asks in a mumble.

Sunoo's eyes widened at your words, a deep blush spreading across his face. "I-I'm not adorable," he stammered, looking flustered. "You're just saying that." He turned to look out the window, hiding his reddened cheeks.

I chuckled, because he really is adorable. Didn't even know men can be this type of cute. I mean, the girls that I know act cute. But the kind of cute Sunoo is, it's just different. "Well, I hate to end this conversation my passenger princess." I say, pulling up to the house he pointed at, "But we're here." I stopped the car.

Sunoo's head snapped back to look at you, his eyes wide with surprise. "P-princess?" he sputtered, his blush deepening. He fumbled with his seatbelt, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to unclip it. "I'm not a princess,"

I pouted, "Aw, you don't want to be my passenger princess?" His cheeks turned pink, he began to fumble with his fingers. I noticed he does that when he's nervous. "I'm joking Sun-ah." I giggled, giving him a little nickname. "I'll call you Sunsun from now on." I joked.

"Sunsun?!" he squeaked, his eyes wide. His blush deepened, turning his face a shade of red he didn't even know existed. "Please don't." He whined, unclicking his seatbelt with a final tug.

I laughed as he struggled with the seatbelt, specifically at how his white skin gets painted with red. "Why? Sunsun sounds pretty, like you." I smile

Sunoo groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Noona, please," he whined, his voice muffled. He peeked at you through his fingers, his eyes pleading. "It's embarrassing." He mumbled, slowly getting out of the car.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." I laughed, he got out of the car. "I'll see you tomorrow." I smiled at him. "Okay. I'll return the clothes tomorrow too." He smiled back, what a pretty smile. "See you, Sunsun." I jokingly winked at him.

Sunoo's face turned an even deeper shade of red as he heard the nickname one last time. He nodded, closing the car door behind him before rushing into his house. As he sat on the couch, he couldn't help but smile to himself, the nickname 'Sunsun' echoing in his mind.

For the first time it forever, he's looking forward to tomorrow.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

This Kim Sunoo is now available at Chai.

Just look up Kim Sunoo (Bully Victim) by sugarcoffee.

Who else is obsessed with Kim Sunoo?

I know it's not just me!

What do you think of this one? Send me dm! I accept requests 🩷

#kim sunoo #x reader #enhypen #enha #enha x reader #kim sunoo x reader #enhypen sunoo #sunoo x reader #bully victim sunoo #chai sunoo

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rippleclan · 16 days ago

Text

RippleClan: Moon 74

Rattlepelt starts weaving lavender through her fox pelt to mark her changed self since her possession. Splashtuft cuts his leg on ocean debris and develops a scar.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt now has a sprig of lavender by her ear. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: LAVENDER, - CONDITION: BITE WOUND. Splashtuft now has a small scar on his left hind leg.]

(Rattlepelt: 57, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Splashtuft: 22, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

(Moon 74, Part 2)

Estherfern’s kits become apprentices.

[Image ID: Estherfern’s five kits now have apprentice sprites. Under Thunderpaw, it says LEVEL UP! THUNDERKIT → THUNDERPAW, BULLYING → ADVENTUROUS. Under Boughpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BOUGHKIT → BOUGHPAW, QUIET → RIGHTEOUS. Under Brightpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BRIGHTKIT → BRIGHTPAW, SKY → LONESOME, + PERMANENT CONDITION: SOCIAL ANXIETY. Under Foampaw, it says LEVEL UP! FOAMKIT → FOAMPAW, UNRULY → TROUBLESOME. Under Wolverinepaw, it says LEVEL UP! WOLVERINEKIT → WOLVERINEPAW, SKITTISH → COMPASSIONATE.]

---

“Let me be the first to say that you five have a hard apprenticeship ahead of you,” Downstar declared over the camp as Estherfern sat behind her kits. All five sat as groomed as Estherfern could get them, trying to remember their mother’s lessons on decorum. Brightkit shook harder than anyone else, ears threatening to tilt down. Wolverinekit and Foamkit’s tails poked at the other, unable to keep their excitement hidden. Thunderkit sat just a bit closer to the Shiprock while Boughkit remained the only one still and politely attentive, as Estherfern taught her to be. The rest of RippleClan listened with similar captured attention to their leader.

“On top of some of the personal struggles you face,” Downstar continued, “I’m afraid you won’t have the same freedoms most of your Clanmates had at your age. We can’t risk you being caught unawares by the spirit that claimed our beloved deputy.” Estherfern would make sure of that. She had already performed a ritual over the apprentice’s den with Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw, guarding the incoming apprentices from harm.

“Despite that,” Downstar said, “RippleClan will ensure you are ready for the challenges ahead. The five of you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. Thunderkit, from this day forward until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Thunderpaw. You have expressed interest in the path of a caretaker, and I have chosen Drumtooth as your mentor.” The newly named Thunderpaw jumped up, scanning the crowd behind her mother for her new mentor. Drumtooth slipped around Estherfern and the other kits. Thunderpaw was almost Drumtooth’s size, making it easy for her to touch his nose. Her whole pelt shivered with excitement.

“In order to give you the best pawhold on your future,” Downstar added as Drumtooth and Thunderpaw returned their gaze to her, “Troutpool and Paleseed have arranged for you to receive some lessons in Clan-sign from Mummichogleap, a deaf warrior of SlugClan. I’ve already informed Drumtooth of this arrangement and with his help, you shall become an excellent caretaker.”

“I’ll try, Downstar,” Drumtooth promised with a deep nod.

“Me too,” Thunderpaw chirped.

Clan-sign? Estherfern had never heard of any lesson plans. She was Thunderpaw’s mother, why hadn’t she been informed? She found Troutpool to the side of the crowd, seated with Tallowpaw and Slushpaw. Troutpool’s focus was on Thunderpaw as she and Drumtooth moved aside for the next kit of the litter to earn their name. Why would Troutpool agree to these lessons? How much time would this Clan-sign take away from Thunderpaw’s important lessons? Why did she have to learn such a trick when she should use that time to hone her survival skills? If they had to talk to someone outside the Clan for these lessons, obviously no one in RippleClan knew Clan-sign. What would be the point of learning something no one else understood?

Estherfern got so caught up in herself, she nearly missed when Boughkit stepped forward and Downstar delivered her new name.

“From this moment on,” Downstar declared, “until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Boughpaw. You have chosen a historian’s path, and I have chosen Oilstripe as your mentor.”

“You did?” Oilstripe muttered so quietly Estherfern barely heard her. She crept out of the crowd, focus shifting between Boughpaw and Downstar.

“Weedfoot taught you well, Oilstripe,” Downstar sighed with a slow nod. “I want you to continue following in her pawsteps by training a new apprentice.” Oilstripe held her breath at the mention of the former deputy. She sighed, bowing softly with a quiet purr. She softly touched noses with Boughpaw and escorted her to the side.

“Brightkit,” Downstar called. Brightkit didn’t move at first, eyes locked on Downstar, paws stuck in the sand. Foamkit head-butted him from behind, making him skitter forward. He fought to his paws, staring up in awe at his leader. “From this day forward until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Brightpaw. In order to craft you into the best warrior you can be, Trumpetspore shall be your mentor. Her wisdom and skill shall guide you down the path you’re destined to follow.” Estherfern hid her disappointment when Trumpetspore came up. The black molly was too awkward for Estherfern’s tastes. Brightpaw needed a mentor with strength and confidence to supply him with what he lacked. Estherfern bit her tongue as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw touched noses.

“Foamkit,” Downstar said, but the ticked molly was up and ready before her name was even called. “From this moment on, until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Foampaw. You have decided to be a caretaker like your sister, so I have chosen Mosspounce as your mentor. Don’t get into too much trouble, now.” A chuckle rose through the Clan as Mosspounce bounded to his new apprentice. The pair smacked into one another’s faces in their eagerness to touch noses. Now if only Foampaw was a warrior and Brightpaw was a caretaker. Their mentors would have been good influences then.

“Now Wolverinekit,” Downstar sighed, focusing on the youngest and fluffiest of the litter. “You have yet to tell me what path your paws wish to follow. As such, I will place you as a warrior apprentice, and you may change this path if you feel called to do so at any time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Downstar,” Wolverinekit said. Estherfern tensed. Why was her confident, curious daughter unsure what to train as? It was her vision, Estherfern was sure of it. She felt insecure in her skills, she had to. How could she not? There had to be a way to cure her vision, no matter what anyone else said. Estherfern would find that cure.

“Then from this moment on, until you receive your warrior name,” Downstar declared, “you shall be known as Wolverinepaw. Leathermask shall be your mentor.” The Clan began to cheer before Leathermask even got close to Wolverinepaw.

“Thunderpaw! Boughpaw! Brightpaw! Foampaw! Wolverinepaw!” What a long chant! It seemed undignified for a priestess to raise her voice like everyone else. Still, her children deserved the honor. Estherfern yowled along with her Clanmates as her five kits beamed in the praise.

“Can we all train together?” Thunderpaw asked, gently pawing Drumtooth’s shoulder. “Can we go see Battle Beach?” Wolverinepaw and Foampaw’s eyes glinted at the idea.

“Maybe we should get you all settled in the apprentice’s den first,” Oilstripe suggested. “It’s almost sunhigh. We might as well make sure you all have a place to sleep, considering how little room there is in there.”

“I’m making my nest next to Vervainpaw!” Foampaw yowled. She charged across camp, ignoring Estherfern entirely.

“I already said I’m sleeping next to her!” Wolverinepaw huffed, running after her sister. The other cats trailed after the excited mollies, accepting the congratulations of their Clanmates as they passed. However, only four apprentices headed for the apprentice’s den. Brightpaw whispered something in Trumpetspore’s ear. Trumpetspore listened intently and nodded. Brightpaw scurried off toward the warrior’s den. Now what was so important that Brightpaw would run away as soon as his ceremony was over?

Estherfern trailed through the dissipating crowds after her only son. Brightpaw paused at the edge of the den, looking in and out. Estherfern paused outside the artisan’s supply den, pretending to nibble an itch on her paw. Spikecrash padded to the warrior’s den with a big yawn. From the corner of her eye, Estherfern saw Brightpaw paw at Spikecrash before she could enter. She turned her ear to the conversation.

“That was horrible,” Brightpaw gulped. “I thought you said the ceremony wouldn’t be bad!”

“It wasn’t, I promise,” Spikecrash insisted, tail to Brightpaw’s shoulder. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“My heart makes me more scared than I need to be around others,” Brightpaw muttered, head sinking, “but I need to trust my heart too, don’t I?”

“Social anxiety can be a deceitful disorder of the mind, Brightpaw,” Spikecrash said. “When it comes to these moments, your heart wants to run away, but just remember, you don’t have to. Whatever you may think, it’s not what everyone else thinks. Try to remember that the next time you have to talk to a lot of cats.”

Social anxiety? Now what was that? Estherfern had never heard of a disorder of the mind before. She knew mediators dealt with those sorts of issues, but she had dismissed them as simple emotional problems. Was Brightpaw sick? How long had he been talking to Spikecrash? Why had he not told Estherfern what was wrong? Another kit of hers, sick, set apart from the Clan, placed at disadvantage…

Estherfern would not stand for this.

(Downstar: 133, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Estherfern: 108, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Brightpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 6, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Foampaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, always wandering)

(Thunderpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, adventurous, moss-ball hunter)

(Boughpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)

(Drumtooth: 22, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Oilstripe: 78, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Trumpetspore: 35, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Mosspounce: 35, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Leathermask: 22, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Spikecrash: 49, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

Stormkit is worried about Lightningkit, who whimpers in her sleep.

[Image ID: Stormkit approaches Lightningkit, asking "Lightningkit?"]

---

The nursery was so different from the one Stormkit saw in her earliest memories. That nursery had been so packed with kits and queens, there was barely any room to move come nightfall! But now, with Estherfern’s litter in the now stuffed apprentice’s den, only two nests remained. Stormkit was getting too big to sleep with her father and littermates in the same nest, but she stayed close to the warmth of Waspdawn’s chest regardless, at peace with the weight of his chin on her back.

She wasn’t sure what woke her up at first. Her droopy eyes took a while to adjust to the dark and empty den. Sandkit and Yellowkit were thrown on top of each other, lost in their dreams. Waspdawn breathed slowly, his escaping breath tickling Stormkit’s fur. Their nest was a dark golden blur in the deep shadow. Puddlewhisper slept in the back of the den with Lightningkit and Cobaltkit. She, her siblings, and James took turns sleeping with Lightningkit and Cobaltkit in the nursery ever since Weedfoot left camp and returned as still and limp as Littlekit had once been. Whatever woke Stormkit, the noise came from the back of the den.

Stormkit pulled herself out from under Waspdawn’s chin. His head plunked into the nest. Stormkit froze, waiting for Waspdawn to wake up, but he remained asleep, breath now fiddling with the loose moss at the nest’s edge. Stormkit crawled out of the nest and peered deeper into the nursery. A tiny whimper caught her ear.

“Lightningkit?” Stormkit whispered. Deep blue eyes burst to life at Puddlewhisper’s side. Really, did neither adult hear her denmate’s cries?

“Huh?” Lightningkit gulped with a crack in her voice. “Stormkit?”

“Were you crying?” Stormkit asked. She snuck closer to the long-furred kit. Cobaltkit and Puddlewhisper were still deeply asleep, but Lightningkit, tucked by Puddlewhisper’s leg, blinked sleep from her eyes.

“Was I?” Lightningkit mumbled. “Sorry.” She rubbed her face in her nest.

“Are you alright?” Stormkit asked. She sat at the edge of the nest, studying her kin’s dark face.

“Maybe,” Lightningkit said. “I… think I was dreaming about my mom.” Her voice quivered and her whiskers shivered. “I thought Puddlewhisper was her for a moment. I really wish she was here.” Stormkit licked Lightningkit’s shoulder. She gently nuzzled the red molly.

“I wish I could bring her back for you,” Stormkit mumbled.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Lightningkit gulped, no longer able to keep her sorrow from her words. She pressed into Stormkit with another whimper.

“Puddlewhisper and my dad won’t be too mad if we walk around camp,” Stormkit suggested, pulling her face out of the mess of Lightningkit’s long fur. “Let’s walk around.” She gently nipped Lightningkit’s paw, pulling her out of the nest. Lightningkit swallowed hard. She crawled away from Cobaltkit and Puddlewhisper. Stormkit leaned against Lightningkit, nudging her onwards. The two crept out of the dark nursery and into the camp clearing, dimly lit by a small fire.

It wouldn’t fill the nursery again, or the gaps in either molly’s lives, but it would help a bit. It was the best two kits could do for one another.

(Stormkit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, loves to eat)

(Waspdawn: 40, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Lightningkit: 4, female, kit, self-conscious, always wandering)

Anchovypaw gets lost on patrol.

[Image ID: Anchovypaw is lost.]

---

Anchovypaw was not lost. He just wasn’t sure which part of the forest he was in. When you’re focused on the hunt, the trees all start to look the same! It wasn’t Anchovypaw’s fault. He was trying to feed his Clan! Still, the smell of autumn consumed his path from Halibutdusk and the rest of the hunting patrol. All he could smell were sharp orange leaves and the two dead mice in his jaws.

Anchovypaw set the mice at his paws and called, “Halibutdusk? Splashtuft? Billowpaw?” All he received in return was a flutter of leaves dancing overhead. One landed on top of his head. He chuckled and batted the leaf off. Alright then! If he couldn’t call out to his patrol, he would just go home. The camp was by the ocean; if Anchovypaw kept walking east, he would eventually hit the beach and would find his way back to camp in no time at all. Besides, being alone meant…

Anchovypaw pounced on a fat oak leaf. The crunch sent glee pounding through his pelt. He purred and wiggled his flank, no longer caring about the proper hunter’s crouch. He pounced on a pile of leaves blown into the crook of a thick trunk. He purred harder with each crack and crinkle. He rolled in the leaves, closing his eyes and enjoying the dappled light creating strange shadows on his eyelids.

Anchovypaw rested his head on the leaves and stared out at the mix of green, orange, and red that was the forest of RippleClan. Autumn was by far the best season to wash over the territories. Maybe he could convince Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw to sneak out and jump in the leaves. Except… no. It wasn’t safe to be out alone. No one else had been able to see the ichor covering Downstar as Rapidleaf carried her into camp, mixing with her blood. Not everyone understood what it meant for such danger to stain the walls of camp. Too many remembered the Shardling’s wild yellow eyes tearing into the nursery.

Anchovypaw hurried to his feet, the leaves scattering around him. Halibutdusk was likely getting nervous. No matter how much Anchovypaw wanted to enjoy the beautiful, cool day, he had to get home, for everyone’s sake. Yet as he reached for his mice, something black caught his eye. It had been hidden underneath the leaves at first, but now it absorbed the dappled light in the shape of a blurred paw print. The paw print was made of ichor.

Anchovypaw cleared away the leaves. He slapped and smacked them to the side, using his tail to clear as many as he could. He found three more ichor-stained paw prints under the leaves. They pointed toward the unseen ocean, but were thicker going the other way. The first paw print Anchovypaw found was the farthest along the stranger’s path, with only the slightest stain of ichor telling Anchovypaw what had happened. There was no way to know just where they were going, if they were heading for camp or somewhere else… but Anchovypaw could figure out where the paw prints came from. He had to. For his friends. For his siblings. For Robinkit and his mother.

Picking his mice back up, Anchovypaw traced the paw prints through the leaves and litter. He slowly followed the trail backwards, brushing aside leaves as he went. The trail looped around pines and firs, as though enjoying a humble stroll. But nothing that left paw prints like these could be considered humble.

The ichor pooled at the edge of a dark den dug under the weak roots of a thin tree. Anchovypaw took a deep breath, but could not smell anyone inside the den. All he smelled were herbs. Creeping around the thick paw prints, Anchovypaw peered inside the den.

A mushroom circle filled the interior of the den. Anchovypaw might have thought it natural at first glance, but each mushroom had been plucked, dried, and carefully placed within the den. A strange green poultice filled the holes in between the mushrooms. Anchovypaw couldn’t tell what herbs were used, but it reminded him of chats with Weevilpaw in the medicine den. The black ichor dripped out of the heart of the circle and into the dip near the den’s entrance. Someone made this strange circle, but who? Whoever left the ichor behind, Anchovypaw was the only one who could get rid of it. He would show the clerics, Weevilpaw, and Wolfpaw the den, but first, he had to handle the threat. This time, he’d be the one to defeat it. It was his gift to bring the things to life. It was his responsibility.

Anchovypaw set his mice aside and peered at the puddle of ichor. He could already taste it. It hadn’t been too long since the Shardling stampeded through the nursery, but in that moment, Anchovypaw felt both five moons and five hundred moons old, the tragedy both a day and a thousand days in the past. Anchovypaw dipped his muzzle into the ichor pool and grabbed hold.

The ichor pulled from the pool like flesh ripped from prey. This time around, Anchovypaw could keep his feet firmly planted as the supernatural goop dragged itself out of the circle, collecting in Anchovypaw’s jaws. He braced himself as the Dark Forest energy manifested in his grasp. It was the size of an apprentice, only slightly smaller than himself. But the size didn’t matter. Anchovypaw would deal with it.

As the manifestation opened its red eyes, forming feline ears and a sharp, swishing tail, Anchovypaw threw it to the grass. The beast was only prey to him; dangerous prey that had to be snuffed out like a dying fire. Anchovypaw dug his teeth into the spirit’s throat. It screeched and gurgled like bubbling mud. Anchovypaw stood on its flank and pushed down, biting harder and harder. The creature clawed at Anchovypaw’s pelt, taking out chunks of brown and white fur. Anchovypaw dug his claws in in return. The ichor pooled between his pads.

Anchovypaw didn’t let go until the creature dissolved into nothing but dripping goop, leaking like salt water from the apprentice’s bared jaws. All that remained was a small pile of ichor, sloshing like wet clay. Anchovypaw sat beside it, panting and gagging on the taste. StarClan, he hated that part. Whatever energy remained over the strange den, it was gone.

But how did it get there in the first place?

(Anchovypaw: 9, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

Estherfern senses a presence on patrol.

[Image ID: Estherfern sees the ghost of Harvest. Under Estherfern, it says + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: BEWARE (PROPHECY).]

---

Estherfern rarely got moments alone when she lived with the cat-minded human. That den had been so packed and chaotic, she considered anything that didn’t hurt to be a blessing. But when she did get time to herself, when she could quiet her mind, the realms of the spiritual opened to her. That’s what made her so good at connecting with the afterlife of the Clans, how she won the admiration of the other clerics despite her disdain for medicine, how she found security. She was good at it.

So why were her prayers unanswered now?

“This should fix it,” Estherfern grumbled as she rubbed the earthy poultice in the gaps of the mushroom circle. The poultice had dried up the last time Estherfern visited her private den; that was likely why she was met with silence on her last visit. Either that, or her offering had been unsuited for her guest. A little trial and error was to be expected; there was only so much she could ask Terracottafoot about these summoning rituals without raising the odd cleric’s suspicion. The rest of it was pieced together from Troutpool and Honeybuzz’s lessons on channeling StarClan spirits (a ritual Estherfern hoped to see in practice sooner rather than later).

Estherfern rubbed the last of the fresh poultice into the dirt and licked her paw clean. She stepped out of the den and grabbed her new offering; a tuft of Lightningkit’s fur, plucked from her nest while the kit played with her sister. Sure, Estherfern’s earlier attempts had been partial successes, but she had yet to have a full conversation. She had only managed to recreate a pool of that strange ichor that peeled off Rattlepelt’s skin moons ago, but that splashed and rolled deep into the forest before she could do anymore. Perhaps Estherfern shouldn’t have focused on stories of a long-dead cleric, but heeded one of Oilstripe’s stories; a tale of a father who would do anything for his kits. Perhaps this approach, with this offering and Estherfern’s earnesty, would prove successful.

“I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern said as she placed the offering inside the circle, “banished from StarClan for his disastrous pursuit of his offspring’s legacy. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.” Estherfern sat at the edge of the circle and closed her eyes. The summer sun beat onto her spiky pelt and lulled her mind. She kept her ears pricked, waiting for the sound of bubbling mud.

“Estherfern!” The brown cleric jumped, her head smacking into the ceiling of her makeshift den. She turned, slightly dazed. The sun crowned a brown and white figure outside the den. Glowing white eyes glared through Estherfern. Starlight sparkled and shifted across the figure’s pelt. Estherfern had not known her for long, but she couldn’t forget Harvest and the fury which she fought for her kits. A fury that was now turned to Estherfern.

“Beware, Estherfern!” Harvest yowled. Unfelt wind buffeted her pelt. Estherfern’s spine curled. “The spread of spores produces nothing but decay! They grow not in light, but darkness! A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot!”

And with that, she disappeared. The wind stirred Estherfern’s heart in the dead queen’s absence.

(Estherfern: 108, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Harvest: 58, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

29 notes · View notes

clubdionysus · 7 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #25] January

warnings: we get jaykay in his student era!!! poor baby is STRESSED!! very wholesome!! b makes him pasta, very lovely <33 until very suddenly it's not!! fingering, mentions of the erotic accordion, lots of teasing. a personal fave!!

wc: 12.5k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

It's a pleasant surprise to see Kim Taehyung with his clothes on.

His cheeks are still a little warm when he strolls into the art cafe, well aware that it was his other cheeks you'd been confronted with when you'd seen him last.

Hands in pockets, he plays it off. Is cool and casual, in that suave way artists so often are.

"If you're looking for Danbi, we only live together. Don't work together. Think you'll find her at Memorial Park with half a dozen dogs, maybe" you tease.

He rolls his eyes, and continues forward to the main desk. When he reaches it, he leans an elbow down and looks quite at home. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and cream button-up, he's a business-casual Capricorn's wet dream. It's entirely understandable why Danbi couldn't resist. You're surprised it's taken her this long, if anything.

"If it was Danbi I was after, it'd be Danbi I was with," he assures you, smile ever-present. He's charming; not like a sleazebag, but like a Disney prince. Always says the right thing. "And anyways, I know she's there. Just been there, myself."

You smile, pleased for your best friend.

It makes sense. She's been with him every night since New Year's. Your apartment has actually been a little lonely.

A week on since you were greeted with his bare arse, you're curious as to why Taehyung would be gracing you with his presence. It wouldn't be entirely out of character, but you are also aware that the last time he was here, it was to pitch his art show.

You remind him of this - not that he needs it, as he passes a business card over to you, embossed with a since hangul syllable: 류.

"Ryu?" You ask. "As in the gallery?"

He nods. "Ryu Gallery."

It's mid-size, a little out of town, but well-respected. Was one of the many galleries that simply didn't get back to Tae - but you have an acquaintance who works there. A friend of Seokjin's, actually. Involved in the finance side of the company. Had invited him along because you figured that there was no harm in asking. Didn't really expect him to show up.

Pulling his phone from his front pocket, Taehyung says nothing as he loads up his call history. At the top, there's a red number - one missed call - and a small play button next to what you assume is a voicemail. He presses down on it, and lets it play out.

"Hello, this is Park Shinwon from Ryu Gallery. I was passed your information by one of our colleagues, and was wondering if you had availability for a call regarding your work? We have an opening at the end of the month and are looking for a local artist to fill the space. If you think this could be a good fit for you, please call me back at the earlie-"

Taehyung cuts the voicemail short. You've heard all the important stuff.

There's a smile on your face; one that brewed gently as the memo played out. He'd done it. The write-ups and reviews had been fantastic, and Namjoon had helped get Taehyung a decent spot in the arts & culture section of the local paper, but this is the first solid indication that the show had been prosperous.

"Holy shit," you beam, clapping your hands together in tiny little pats of joy.

"Right?!" He beams right back. Phone locked and back in his pocket, Taehyung's never looked prouder of himself. You don't know him like you know Jimin or Jeongguk, but you know him well enough to understand how huge this is for him. "I can't even begin to thank yo-"

"No!" You laugh, reaching across the counter to squeeze his arm. "Don't you dare. It was your hard work, Tae. You did this! Congratulations!"

A little bashful in the way he looks down, it's clear that he's not used to such high praise. It's something he'll have to get used to, you think. This is just the start for him. He's destined for greats, you're sure of it - but then again, you have unwavering faith in everyone you care about. You'll manifest for them; will their dreams into reality. You're not sure if it works, but it's nice to think it does.

"Did you call back? What did you say?" You enthuse, before a couple comes to the counter with their finished artwork. Gritting your teeth, you cast Taehyung an apologetic smile. "Ah, just give me a moment."

He nods, and tells you to carry on. He knows he's interrupted you at work and feels bad for it. He could have just waited until he came around that evening (Danbi had already asked if he would), but was too nervous about the call.

When you return from packing up the canvases and ringing through the bill, he admits to it.

"Haven't actually called them yet," he grits his teeth together, eyes apologetic. "Didn't know what to say. It's kinda why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"You can say no," he prefaces, "but like... I don't know the first fucking thing about the suit side of the art world. Don't know how to negotiate, don't even know if that is something I need to be doing. I'm a fish out of water. and you're the only person I know - and trust - who seems to have any clue what they're doing."

It's really sweet that he thinks you have any idea at all. You just wing it a solid seventy percent of the time. You have connections, and you have a functioning brain. That's about it.

Still, you'll let him think that you have your wits about you.

"So..." you encourage, trying to coax a proper question out of him. You know what he's asking, but really think that all of Jeongguk's ragtag bunch of friends could do with learning how to ask for what they want. Maybe not Yoongi. He seems to have shit figured out.

"So..." Taehyung imitates, a friendly grin on his face. He's pretty. Really isn't hard to see why Danbi likes him. She's always gone for the artsy types. Likes to be a muse. "I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? Sort of like an agent, but not quite, 'cause I'm poor as fuck and definitely can't afford it."

"Agents work on commission," you tell him. "Or at least some of them do, so it doesn't matter that you're poor now."

"Well, I might never be rich," he warns you.

Taehyung believes in his work. Loves his work. Is yet to have success that reflects this. Other people don't seem to feel as strongly about it, which leaves him with lingering doubt as to whether or not he actually has something , or if it's all a bit of a vanity project. He hopes it's not. Knows that Rome wasn't built in a day, mind you.

It takes dedication. A hard grind. He's got grit and determination, but the doors he's knocked at have been double-bolted. Thinks that maybe you could give him a key.

"I doubt that very much," you say regarding his doubts.

Of all the work showcased at the last show, it was his pieces that people kept coming back to. His pieces tagged in the art cafe's Instagram by customers. His pieces that sold; that got people interested. You had even had a girl in the cafe on a date a few weeks ago, who painted a replica of one of Tae's prints, which had been hanging on the wall beside her.

He's got talent.

But he knows that's not enough.

"Still, I didn't even realise agents were paid that way. I've no idea what on earth I'm doing, Disco Ball. Not really."

You take a moment to consider the proposition, but you aren't sure why. It's a no-brainer. Of course you'll help him out. You've contacts, thanks to your job, and acquaintances with money to spend thanks to Seokjin. You'll be an invaluable resource for him - and he'd much rather have a friend leading him through this unchartered territory than someone who only cares about numbers and finances.

"I'll make you a deal," you offer. "I'll help you, free of charge, but on one condition."

"Go on..."

You beam; smile so sweet that Taehyung knows your compromise is probably unconventional.

"I get a Kim Taehyung original."

"It won't be worth anything," he laughs. "It's a rotten deal."

"Not yet, maybe, but it will be," you tell him.

Much like Jeongguk's dreams, you believe in Taehyung's, too. Have no doubt he will achieve success. He's a Capricorn. Is just what they do.

"Alright," he agrees. Holds out his hand for you to shake. "I'll give you a free commission. You can redeem it at any time. Anything, any size, doesn't matter. It's yours."

He makes a mental note to revise this deal as you shake his hand. Doesn't think it's entirely fair on you. Thinks that he's benefitting far more from this than you will - but good, original artworks within your budget are hard to come by. You know your future self will thank you for this.

You tell Taehyung to arrange a meeting with the consultant at Ryu Gallery.

"I'll go with you as a representative; will ask the right questions, stuff like that. The key here is to not sell yourself short or undervalue your work. If you sell a million-dollar piece for a hundred bucks, it'll set a precedent. People will take advantage. It'll be detrimental."

He nods, eager to learn. Willing to listen. Wants to succeed, and will do all he can to make sure it happens.

Departing only after you force him to call Ryu Gallery back and set a date in the calendar for next week, Taehyung is beyond appreciative. Both Danbi and Jeongguk had told him to reach out to you again, but he'd felt a little guilty, almost as if he was taking advantage of how charitable you are.

You don't really see it that way. Figure that if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same for you.

"Oh, just quickly!" Taehyung pipes up just as he reaches the door of the cafe. "The piece up in Jeongguk's living room - the black and gold one." Your face heats up. "Who's the artist?"

"Not sure," you shrug with an inconspicuous purse of your lips. "Why?"

"Jeongguk just said he got it from here," Taehyung explains, your cheeks only getting rosier and rosier. "I really like it so just wondered if it was part of a bigger collection."

"I can check," you say, knowing that there is absolutely no way you're ever gonna produce another one of those. Now that Tae's asking questions about it, you know Jeongguk needs to squirrel it away. The last thing you want is the truth coming out.

"Amazing," he beams.

You smile right back, but let it fade into a groan as he heads down the stairs, the realisation that he's seen the imprint of your tits leaving you mortified.

It's only fair though, you suppose. You have seen his arse, after all. Maybe you are more well acquainted than you realise.

The lives that you and Jeongguk had lived separately for many moons have somehow converged, meeting a diving point of intervention; as if you were meant to live your lives exactly as you have, just for moments like these.

This is only amplified when you arrive at Jeongguk's place after your shift finishes.

On New Year's day, after the creation of his sticky note shrine, origami birds watching proudly, you'd reached an agreement with Jeongguk: each and every one of the sticky notes have to be done by the end of the year.

"What about the birds?" Jeongguk had asked, not wanting to sacrifice them.

You both know the birds hold far more weight. The sticky notes are fun; a chance to experiment freely with somebody who is on the same page as you. The birds are all about preparing yourself to turn the page, so you can meet someone willing to start a new book with you.

Curled up in his bed, while Jeongguk had been sitting on his bedroom floor putting together a display box for a new 'sculpture' (because he refuses, still, to let you call them action figures) that he'd been gifted for Christmas, you had contemplated his question.

"The birds fall naturally," you'd hummed. "They drop when the universe needs them to. The sticky notes are deliberate. We're making the active choice to do them."

Cross-legged, Jeongguk reached over to get a small screwdriver from his bedside table. Your gaze had been up on the birds, but drifted down to him.

"So we'll make the active choice to do the sticky notes, and then just do the birds when they fall?" Jeongguk had clarified, not looking at you as he threaded a small screw into its hole.

"Yeah," you'd smiled. "Like, I come round once a week, and we get a sticky note done. Something like that."

Looking up at you now, Jeongguk had tilted his head in contemplation, pursing his lips before finally nodding. "Shall we say Sundays?"

With a slight sense of trepidation, but the awareness of this being good for you both, you had nodded. "Sundays. Trial it for the month of January. See how it goes."

And so now you're at Jeongguk's place for the first time since New Year's with a clear agenda - and yet all you really want to do is hang out with him. Innocently. Platonically.

"Oh thank God," Jimin breathes out with an overdramatic sigh of relief when he opens the door for you. Shoes on, jacket slung over his shoulders, he's been waiting on your arrival. "Jeongguk- '' he calls back into the darkness. None of the living area lamps are on, the city lights illuminating their apartment instead. "The babysitter is here! I'll be gone till morning. Don't be any trouble."

You roll your eyes, flicking his arm as you step past him into the apartment.

He's heading out for a family event down in Busan. Jeongguk had been intending on going to the city with him, but simply has too much school work to do.

Finals are coming up. He's stressed to the absolute high heavens.

"I will warn you," Jimin says quietly while you take off your shoes. "He's in a foul mood. Has been for, like, three days now. Think it's his time of the month."

"Still baffles me how you're able to pull," you mutter, knowing that any explanations on the intricacies of the menstrual cycle would be wasted on him - only for Jimin to remind you that he pulled you . "Was a moment of weakness," you assure him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say DB," he grins. "Look after him alright? Make sure he eats his veggies and brushes his teeth before bed."

Jimin departs faster than the winter wind that's howling against their windows. You don't even have a chance to question why he's treating Jeongguk like such a child - but as you walk into his bedroom, you sort of see why.

His bed's unmade, and he hasn't showered since, like, Thursday, maybe. Papers are scattered all over his desk, and there's a collection of takeout boxes by his door. The birds that were on his desk are now perched up on the shelf, laying in the middle of his chessboard. Beside them, a pot of your misplaced glitter sparkles in the dim light.

Quite unlike himself, Jeongguk's jaw looks sharper but his cheeks are bloated. You can tell he hasn't been eating nor drinking enough. Has a can of Monster on his desk, but you both know it's not enough to sustain him.

He really does look like a university student now, more than he ever has done before. Glasses on, hair tied in a tiny bun by the nape of his neck, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip, the stress is evident in his sloped posture.

"Don't look at the mess," he mumbles, embarrassed that you have to see his room in this state, but also too preoccupied to really care.

You meander to his bed and sit down, one leg crossed beneath the other. Smile. "Too late."

"Sorry," he offers, but you shake your head - not that he's looking at you.

"S'fine," you hum. "If tonight is bad for you, we can always resched-"

"No," he says rather sharply, finally turning to look at you. His eyes are all wide and wanting, hating the idea of you leaving so soon, but they're also tired . He needs rest. "No, sorry." He puts down his pen, and turns in his chair a little. "I'm probably gonna be shitty company, but I'd like you to stay."

And so you nod. Of course you'll stay.

"Your hair looks sweet like this," you muse a little mindlessly as you come to stand by him, letting your index finger twirl in the curl that sticks out from the small bun.

His hair is always silky smooth, and you're envious of how well-nourished it is. A little curly, he definitely visits the salon every once in a while. You find it all very endearing, imagining him with a little salon cape around his shoulders, protectors over his ears, curlers in his hair.

"Needs a wash," he simply states, not wanting to dwell on the compliment that makes his tummy feel all funny. He's not really used to such delicate compliments.

Jiyeong would always comment on his physical strength, manliness, shit like that. Hardly surprising, given that she works at the gym. It's not just her though - Hayun's favourite part of him was always his upper arms.

He's no idea what you like about him. What attracts you to him - 'cause as much as you both like to pretend you're a bit repulsed by one another, there's obviously gotta be some sort of mutual attraction. The sex is too good.

Unless, he considers, it's all just chemical. Hormonal shit he doesn't understand, but knows plays an important role in chemistry. Maybe you aren't physically attracted to him at all.

"Wish my hair looked that good when it needs a wash," you sigh.

"I've never seen it look bad," he says, not thinking much of it.

"Well, I'd hope not," you smile. "I do know how to shower."

"I've got some things just to finish up - shit ," he curses as he realises just how much of a mess his room is. "I'm sorry. Been at work today, haven't you? Can grab a shower if you like, or something while I do this."

'This' is test revision. Coursework never really stresses him out, even if he does leave it until the last minute. He has more control over the variables. Exams make him nervous, and if there's one feeling Jeongguk hates, it's nervousness. Figures if he studies and studies and studies, then he'll feel prepared, and the nerves will ease. It never works. Only ever makes it worse.

"You sure?" you ask, though if you're being honest, a shower right now would be ideal. You got paint all over you at work, and while most of it washed off in the sink, you still feel a little less than fresh. "Or is this some backhanded way of telling me my hair looks shit?"

"Oh, 100%. You look awful. But also, yes. I'm sure," he smiles, soft eyes patient as he tries to push the pressure of his studies to the back of his mind. He hasn't seen you all week. Has missed you. Is glad you're here. Kinda hates that he's telling you to leave him, already, even if it's only for twenty minutes or so.

"Gonna join?" You ask, not really thinking much of it. Just a habit, now.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Will get one later."

There are two distinct halves to Jeongguk's fear of rejection. The obvious, most notable half is the part of him that hates the feeling of being rejected, which prevents him from asking for what he wants.

Far less discussed is the part of him that feels like he always has to say yes, because he doesn't ever want to make other people feel bad.

Just like he never fears rejection from you, he doesn't fear your reaction to his rejection, either. There's a stable foundation to your friendship. It's good for him.

So used to transactional relationships with the girls he's slept with - on their part, not his - he doesn't really realise that this - what you two have - is normal. It's how it should be.

And so when you smile, and say 'okay', Jeongguk almost expects you to start fighting with him.

It's been a few days since he spoke with Jiyeong ( where it was firmly established that she ended it with him, and that he was the problem, not her) but lingering patterns of behaviour still plague his mind. Feelings of failure still reside in the part of his brain that deals with desire.

You believe him when he says he won't join. Don't try and tempt. Tonight isn't about that - though you do glance over to the myriad of sticky notes on his bedroom wall before you grab his towel. Pay no notice to the fact there's a new one. Just as fluffy - exactly the same, you think - it's still wrapped in a sleek bow with the tag on it.

Maybe he's gotten annoyed with how often you use it. Maybe you're just such a permanent fixture that two seems like a good idea. You don't ask about it.

Instead, you also grab one of his shirts - the one with his hand prints on it. Paint markers have been taken to the shirts since, now outlining where his bones would be. The skeleton hands make you laugh - but they also get you thinking about that shower with him.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you leave Jeongguk to get on with his studies.

As you start the shower up and relieve your hair from the claw clip it's up in, you aren't too concerned with him joining. You genuinely do want to shower. Leave the door open just in case, but don't wait for him like you did the last time you were in the same position.

It turns out showers are far quicker when you're solo. You leave it without the feel of his hands on your body, but the scent of his strawberry shower gel still stains your skin. Feels like you're perpetually covered in him, in a roundabout way.

Scrunching your hair with his towel as you head back into his room, your clothes are still in a pile on his bathroom floor. You're just in the shirt now, bra foregone, underwear on to maintain some kind of decency.

You don't really greet him, instead heading to the window to take in the view. You're always envious of the skyline. It makes you consider moving closer to the inner city - but you're quite comfortable in your low-rise with Danbi. Plus, you can always just come and hang out here if you find yourself missing it.

Jeongguk says nothing as he comes to stand in behind you; personal space void of any meaning between the pair of you. Chin resting on your head, he drapes his arms over your shoulders.

You whisper a small greeting, and he whispers one back, but neither of you make conversation. Instead, you just watch the traffic roll on by.

His eyes are down by the traffic lights, watching as a small crowd forms, a red light preventing them from crossing even though the road is clear. Yours are a little higher up, on the motel that is hidden between two skyscrapers. The curtains are mostly all drawn; save for one, where a couple stands in a position hauntingly similar to yours and Jeongguk's. They're smiling. Joking about something. Enjoying one another company - until the person standing in Jeongguk's position draws the curtain shut to keep the world at bay.

Maybe they're friends, too, you hypothesize - but friends don't book in love motels together, and if they do? Well, they certainly don't look like that together.

It's not like it's a new concept to you. You understand the conventions of couples; just think that maybe the line between romantic and platonic is far finer than you previously believed. Reckon that you and Jeongguk have a clear sense of it.

Turning in your spot, you wanna get a read on his face; see if you can gauge what he's thinking, what he's feeling. He doesn't move back as you turn. Stays in position. Doesn't mind the closeness.

Just an inch or so away from you, the proximity forces you to tilt your chin upwards in order to catch his gaze. His own chin is tipped to his chest, looking down at you in the gentlest of ways.

Storm clouds of mascara rest faintly beneath your lash line, and the occasional rivulet of water trails from your hair and down your skin like spring rain. Your typically tempestuous attitude is nowhere to be seen; docile in the calm of Jeongguk's mellow summer air.

Silent as the pads of his fingers stroke down the side of your neck, you're well aware of the fact you're not really breathing. Are too consumed by trepidation. Fearful and yet hopeful of what's to come. His firmly pouted lips part slowly - but he doesn't lean down.

Instead, his fingertips hook beneath the chain around your neck, and slowly begin to twist it back into position. The clasp had fallen to the front, excess chain tangling around the charm.

Jeongguk holds the dainty silver bird where it should be, between your collarbones, his touch feathery as he preens you.

Cautious and yet entirely confident, he doesn't mean to steal your breath - but it's only fair. You took his first.

His lip purse. Fold in on themselves. Lip ring does the thing. Adam's apple bobs as he swallows back a feeling he doesn't quite know what to make of.

And then he simply nods. Steps a little further back. Smiles. "There. Much better."

A discreet smile ghosts your lips as he turns away from you to get back to his work. Revision always gets him in this weird of constant contempt; stressed at the world around him even when he needn't be. Gets him antsy. Agitated.

His stress manifests in hunched shoulders and restless legs which jitter beneath his desk.

He tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his chest as you leave the room without a word. Knows that he must be terrible company. Wonders why he can't just express himself normally.

Contrarily, you worry that Jeongguk just wants to be alone, and that your presence is overbearing. He could have cancelled plans if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded. Sure, you've missed hanging out with him, but it's not the end of the world. Is probably good to have a little bit of a breather from one another every now and again.

Fixated on the fact you feel like a bother, you set about making yourself useful. He looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in a good while, and the boys keep their fridge remarkably well-stocked for a couple of bachelors with a penchant for nightlife.

Jeongguk listens out for you, still doing his work. Can hear you rummaging about in the fridge, and wonders what on earth you could be doing. Figured that the pair of you would just order in, or something like that.

Truthfully, you'd thought the same - but they've got a stockpile of tomatoes, and chicken that needs using. Without Danbi at home much this week, you've overindulged in take-out and snack foods a few too many times. You need a good meal just as much as he does.

Glancing over to the hob, you check the pasta in the glass jar next to Jeongguk's chopping board. They're out of spaghetti, save for maybe ten strands, but thankfully have a full jar of rigatoni.

You know you can thank Jimin for the decanted pasta. The more you learn about him, the more you understand why his bedroom is so bare despite his job. He calls it 'intuitive interior design' - making life easy for himself through deliberate choices. It's why his bedroom is so streamlined. Less clutter means he can reset his brain more easily.

The living space is where the colour of the apartment is - Tae's paintings, photobooth strips, feather boas stolen from Dionysus - but the kitchen is laid out in a way that makes things easy for both of the boys.

You set about getting the things you might need, not really caring to ask Jeongguk's permission. Whatever you use, you'll happily buy again in the morning, but also highly doubt he'll ask you to. At least this way, he won't have to waste perfectly good ingredients on account of them rotting away in the bottom of the fridge.

You're chopping the tomatoes by the time Jeongguk comes to stand in his doorway.

Leaning against the frame, a hand in his pocket, a soft smile on his lips, he's a little confused. Just watches as domestication becomes you; stars forming on your cheeks when the low glare of the overhead lights hits you just right. Hair still a little damp, it's up with a claw clip, small strands framing your face. You've the speaker on quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Some song he doesn't know by an artist he doesn't recognise plays. All he knows is that he likes it. Likes how comfortable this feels.

Jeongguk has missed you. Has been working to the point of exhaustion, but unable to sleep whenever he goes to bed. Looking at you now, he tries to stifle a yawn. Is glad you haven't noticed his presence, 'cause he knows the face he just pulled wasn't pretty.

But he thinks you are.

The fact he feels like he could sleep now? A curse, he decides. Doesn't wanna sleep. Wants to spend all evening catching up with you.

You're using the side of the knife to gather the chopped tomatoes together, and scooping them into a bowl, when you finally notice him.

"Hey," you say, a smile present as always. Such a simple word, but such a comforting one, too.

"Hey," he smiles back. "Watcha doin', B?"

"Baking a cake," you joke as you begin to peel some garlic from a bulb.

"Mhmm? Tomato cake," he says, pushing off the doorframe with his shoulder and making his way to the kitchen island. He stands opposite you, resting his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands. "My favourite."

The way your eyes sparkle under the warm lights that hang down from the ceiling has Jeongguk thinking of the stars again. His are all starry too, but you think that's just normal for him.

"Good," you say. "I'm making you your very own tomato cake. You have to eat it all ."

"I will."

"You better."

"Every last crumb," he nods - and even though tomato cake sounds absolutely repulsive to him, his stomach rumbles. Makes you laugh.

"When did you last eat?" you ask as you turn to the hob to fetch some spices off the rack.

Jeongguk mumbles. Says he doesn't really remember. Your eyes are sympathetic, frown present when you face him again.

"Gotta look after yourself," you tell him.

"I know. I will. I am - it's just, this exam, Byeol... I'm bricking it."

You had figured as much, but it's nice to have him confirm it instead of letting your assumptions take the lead.

"S'why I chose a coursework exclusive degree," you tease, trying to lighten his mood. "Was heaven."

"I'm so glad we didn't know each other back then," he laughs. "Would have resented you so badly."

You grimace, and give him a look he doesn't understand.

"You're BEM boy," you explain, shortening his Business and Events Management course name to the acronym that it's more commonly known by on campus. And then you shudder. "We wouldn't have been friends."

"Oh, bullshit," he protests. He knows boys on the full-time BEM course have a reputation amongst the alumni. Fuckboys . He's part-time, though. Doesn't run with those crowds. Is a good few years older than most of them, now.

"Nope," you argue back, still pottering about the kitchen, adding more ingredients to the saucepan. "If you'd have been in uni at the same time as me, I'd have avoided you like the plague."

"Would have been your loss."

Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet, but knows that he looked damn good at 21. Considers it his peak. Forgets 23, and the amount of girls falling at his feet (was too busy at the time, face down by Hayun's feet instead). Simply doesn't realise how good he looks now, at 25.

Maybe 18-year-old Jeongguk was a little awkward, granted, but everyone is at that age. Whenever he used to visit his friends on campus for nights out, the girls they knew would always want to go out with them.

It's actually how he met Hayun. Was 19, and Taehyung had just done a project with her and Nabi for some extra credit. She came on a night out, and he got so nervous around her that he decided to black out just so he didn't have to feel the nerves. He'd woken up the next morning face down in a kebab box on the floor of Nabi and Hayun's dorm.

He resigned himself to the friend zone, and for a while, it had worked. For years, in fact. Convinced himself that they really were just friends. Best friends. Had offered to shag her after she'd spent a solid twenty minutes complaining about the fact she hadn't had sex for long she may as well have been a born-again virgin. Was just joking - but when she called his bluff, Jeongguk folded.

Maybe it wouldn't have been your loss at all.

Maybe you'd have never become friends, like you are now.

Maybe you both had to live through your traumas to be able to find one another.

You just scoff, unaware of memory lane taking Jeongguk down an unfavourable path. " Sure . My first uni hook-up was with a guy doing BEM. Trust me. I would have avoided you."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. "Do I know him?"

Shaking your head, you turn to place the pan on the stovetop, and let it heat up. "Doubt it. Was a final year when I was a fresher, so would have been gone way before you started."

Jeongguk's brows furrow, now. "When you were a fresher? A final year?"

Humming confirmation, you carry on with your cooking.

"He was supervising the fresher's bar crawl," you explain. Can't even remember his name, now. Can barely remember anything about that night. "Was leading my team. I lost against him in a drinking game. Really couldn't handle my drink back then. Anyways, I ended up in some off-campus house with the most vom-inducing hickies known to man."

"So you were drunk?"

It sounds a little accusatory. He doesn't mean to. It's just that he deals with creeps taking advantage of drunk girls all the time. Hates it. Hates thinking it happened to you.

"Yeah?"

"And he wasn't?"

"He was less so. Was still drinking, but yeah, it wasn't my best decision."

The way you shrug it off frustrates Jeongguk. His lips purse a little, and the dimples reserved for moments of contemplation deepen in his cheeks.

"You know what it's like when you're eighteen," you continue, facing away from him, unaware of his obvious contempt. "First taste of freedom and all that. Think you're invincible. And like, I made worse choices that year," you add, as if that's supposed to soften the blow of what you've just told him.

His tummy feels all twisted; as if his body is trying to manifest the concept of time travel just so he can go back and apply for university when everyone else did. Wants to have been your friend right from the start. Wants to erase the reality of creeps taking advantage of you.

"Still a kid at eighteen," he says. Strange, how he doesn't afford his past self the same kindness. "It's so young."

You shrug, turning back around to retrieve the extra vegetables for the sauce. "Easy to think that, looking back. Thought I had the world figured out, at the time. The older I get the more naive I realise I was."

Funny, how years and years later, you feel more clueless than you ever did back then. Relationships were black and white; you either loved someone, or you didn't.

Now, the concept of love you once knew isn't one that you're entirely sure you believe in. Not in the same way you did.

"Anyways, you should shower," you say, moving the conversation along. No point dwelling on pasts that make no difference, now. "You look like shit."

He reaches over to one of the spare tomatoes and throws it in your direction. Smiles when you try to swat it away, only for it to hit your neck regardless.

"Charming as always, Byeol," he says a little dryly, but with his smile still wide.

"Well, you do," you assure him, face straight, eyes earnest.

"Show up at my place, use my hot water, start rummaging around in my fridge-" he says with a tsk .

" You invited me," you scoff right back. " Told me to shower, and I'm cooking for you . Christ alive. You really are unbearable today."

The grin on Jeongguk's face is so pretty, eyes so sparkly, that you think you want to kiss him again. Silly little thought in your silly little head. Silly, and improper, and dangerous. Disastrous, in fact.

"And," you add on, because you know you need this conversation to end. "You stink. So go and get a shower, you horrible boy."

Feeling somewhat challenged, Jeongguk lifts his arm above his head and nestles his nose right into his pit. Inhales, as if he's smelling freshly baked pie. Smiles. "Ahhhh. Delicious."

You gag.

"You wanna smell?" he offers, leaning a little further on the counter, face sweet as he encourages you. The look of repulsion on your face is exactly what he was after. "Yeah?"

"Keep that pit away from me," you warn, holding up the knife you had used to chop the tomatoes.

Despite the threat, Jeongguk edges around the kitchen island. "Yeah? Wanna smell?"

"Stay the fuck away!"

"Wait, I didn't hear you. You said come closer?"

"Gguk!"

For all your protests, the knife is back down on the counter. You tossed it down so you could run from him, but you're not really trying all that hard.

You'll pretend like you are. Wriggle from his grip when he catches you. Try and hide your laugh as he tries to quite literally smother you. Will pinch his nipple through his shirt as a form of defence. Will gag, and whine, and pretend like this is the worst experience of your life.

But in the comedown of Jeongguk's chase, you both giggling, caught in an embrace that is far too close, sauce simmering away without a care, you'll notice the stars in his eyes again. Count the constellations. Forget how to breathe, as if you really are in space without any oxygen.

"You smell like a sweaty ballsack," you tell him with absolute certainty.

Yet your grip on his shirt doesn't ease.

"You look like a sweaty ballsack," he counters. Swallows.

Neither of you pull away. Apparently, you're both partial to a sweaty ballsack. Who'd have thought?

On a fundamental, human level, you're aware that Jeongguk doesn't smell great. He is sweaty and definitely has worn that shirt for like, three days in a row, but... you like it. Oh it's disgusting . Really fucking horrid. Rancid, even.

"Shower," he just says, softly, as if he's reminding himself of what he needs to do.

You nod. "Shower."

But your hands are still holding the sides of his shirt, and his eyes can't seem to focus on yours because they keep dropping to your lips, and then his breathing is all over the place and so is yours and - fuck .

Loosening your grip, you pat the front of his chest. He doesn't move. Just closes his eyes. Nods.

"I need to check the sauce," you whisper. "Go. Shower."

And so he does as he's told. You keep yourself busy tinkering about until you hear the shower start up - at which point, you rest your palms on the counter and let your head hang between your shoulders. Sigh deeper than Marianas Trench. Shake your head. "Stupid."

You're unaware, but he's doing the exact same thing by the bathroom sink.

It had been fine. It had been fun. Why did I have to linger like that? Why did I have to make things weird? Why am I always making things so awkward?

He tosses his clothes down on the pile by the door, his on top of yours, and instantly feels a little bit better when the water hits his skin. Tries not to dwell on it, 'cause if he pretends moments like those don't happen, he won't have to deal with them. Will gaslight himself into thinking it never happened.

You're on the couch by the time he's done with his shower, legs curled up, pasta cooked and waiting in a covered saucepan for him.

"Not eating?" he asks as he notices there's no evidence of you having pasta on the coffee table.

Glancing over to him, you're reminded of post-shower Jeongguk and why the concept of it is so dangerous for you. Towel wrapped around his waist, water trailing down his abs... Yeah. You lose your mind a little. Think that any sane human would also lose theirs.

"I, uh-" you pause. Swallow. "Um. Sorry. Eat?"

"Yeah," he smirks, a little bemused. Figures you were lost in the show you're watching. Still in his shirt, your hair is pretty much dry, now, slight waves framing your face while the rest of it is still pinned back in a claw clip. You really do need to decide what you're doing with the colour. The bleach is growing out far faster than you thought it would, but you can't commit yourself to getting rid of it. Jeongguk likes the slightly messy nature of it all. Thinks it suits you. "No pasta?"

"Oh," you enthuse when you realise what he was asking. "Was just waiting for you."

He apologises. Says you should have started without him. Says he wouldn't have minded it, and thanks you again for cooking. "Smells amazing."

Quick to throw on some clean clothes, Jeongguk shoos you out of the way when he gets back to the kitchen and finds you about to plate up. Insists he does it. You've done all the hard work. He's happy to wash up, but he wants to at least contribute now.

Jeongguk takes a single bite of the pasta before he stands up, retrieves the saucepan and a heat mat, then sets it down on the coffee table.

"You okay there?" you laugh, a little puzzled by him.

When he turns to look at you, as if you've betrayed him. "You never told me you could cook, B."

He had been expecting a regular, run-of-the-mill tomato pasta - nothing wrong with that, he would have enjoyed it - but this? Oh, this is as close to heaven as humans get through food. It's rich and spicy, but also a little sweet and tangy when it needs to be. The rigatoni is cooked just right. Just how he likes it.

"You can't?" You laugh, digging into your own bowl. Admittedly, it is banging. Your favourite comfort recipe, you're quietly overjoyed that he likes it.

He shakes his head to say no. Has always enjoyed cooking. Knows he'll have to make you his signature pork belly one day. If you end up staying tonight (which he's hoping you will, even if he is awful company at the moment), he'll cook breakfast.

"I can - I just... fuck me, Byeol," he almost moans. "This shit is good."

Jeongguk's always had a good stroke game, but when it comes to stroking your ego? Yeah, he ain't bad at that, either.

He also isn't bad at turning himself into a literal human hoover. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, or get heartburn. He's already nearly polished off the leftovers from the pan before you've even made it halfway through your bowl (of which he had filled to the brim, because portion control with a body like his doesn't apparently matter).

Pasta eaten - or in Jeongguk's case, absolutely demolished - he allows himself the luxury of switching off for the first time all week. Other than a quick gym session here and there, or coffee with Hayun towards the start of the week, he hasn't taken a moment to relax at all.

You're rabbiting on about something inconsequential, just letting him exist. You know it's been a hard week. The television plays in the background, big light turned off, your feet in his lap. He stokes a little mindlessly over your ankle, self-soothing for him and just as comforting for you. He's meant to be listening, but zoned a little while ago.

Initially, he was thinking about the weird moment between you both in the kitchen earlier, but tried to get it out of his head.

Ends up thinking about the BEM twat you mentioned earlier, instead. Thinks you've got horrible taste in men - or at least, in hookups. He knows both he and Jimin could be classified in that category, but he disregards that. Or at least, he disregards himself .

At least he makes you orgasm. If he asks, will probably be horrified by the amount of times you've gone without one during intercourse. It's not always, but often. Never with him though, which is nice.

Scares you a little bit. The idea of the best sex of your life being with someone who isn't romantically involved with you just doesn't sit right. What if you fall in love and Jeongguk is still the best you've ever had? Will you be comparing? It's a variable you're yet to test out. One that worries you.

But all Jeongguk can think about is the fact that you're his friend. And he cares about you. And he thinks you deserve to feel good. And knows he can do that. And that he wants to do that. And so, quite suddenly, Jeongguk interrupts you.

"Can I get you off?"

You almost choke on your own spit. Had been explaining a new discovery of ancient mammals using tools for hunting and cooking. Not the most enticing topic of conversation, to say the least.

"Sorry?" You laugh, taken aback by the sudden request.

He looks away. Looks at his hands. Looks back at you. Wishes he wouldn't let the impulsive thoughts win, sometimes.

But then, because apparently he's a fucking idiot with no self-control, he asks again. "Can I get you off?"

The answer is always, unabashedly, yes . You've been caught off guard though. Panic. Ask, "Why?"

He shrugs. Looks at his hands again, eyes wide, brows furrowed. Wants to pour boiling water in his ear to melt his brain. Would probably work better if it was mush, he thinks. A reply to your question sits on the tip of your tongue, but there are too many variations for him to choose from - Because you deserve it. Because I'm horny. Because I want to. - so he just says: "fun."

And, like, he's not wrong. It is fun. You just thought it would be the last thing on his mind, given how stressed and sleepy he's been.

"I mean, do you want to?" you laugh, a little hot beneath the shirts of his that you're wearing by the mere suggestion of it.

He shrugs. Thinks it's a stupid question. Nods. "Get your minge out."

The horror plastered all over your face wouldn't be out of place in a Hitchcock film.

"Get my minge out?!" You hiss, your repulsion only second to shock.

"Yeah," he smirks. Is deliberately being vulgar because it's funny, and he needs this to be anything but romantic. Will lose his fucking head if he starts thinking about stars and constellations and shit like that again - but fuck . Even after a shower, you're covered in glitter! He can never fuckin' win. Is in a constant state of war with his own head. How can he ever expect to win against the milky way in human form? You'll eclipse him one day, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

"It's almost like you don't want me to get wet," you tell him, as if you didn't feel a slight twinge in your stomach when he smirked. Wasn't your fault. His lip ring did the thing. You're only human. Was bound to happen.

"I think you're already wet," he says all rather plainly.

"That's beyond the point."

It's a satisfying answer. One that makes him feel all smug. Gets his cock a little twitchy.

"Look, I'm stressed, B," he admits. "There's so much going on in my head that I can't think straight. Getting you off is, like, a stress reliever."

You furrow your brows. "Surely getting yourself off is a stress reliever?"

"I can do that at the same time, if you want?" He says, cheeky in the way he raises his eyebrows and toys with his lip ring.

"You are such a boy."

"So is that a no?"

That's the thing about you and Jeongguk; you'll never reject him.

In fact, it's probably quite futile for his whole fear of rejection thing. That'll be a thought to battle with later, though.

"It's an 'ask nicely' ."

Jeongguk gently squeezes your ankle, before getting to his feet and piling the pasta bowls into a neat stack. "Let me just wash up, alright?"

You watch him as he walks away not even waiting for a response. He does it often; wants your approval of things he's already determined to do. It's sweet, in a way. Could be frustrating, given the right circumstances, but it hasn't been so far. You just kinda keep your gaze on him, confused at how a man so reserved and cautious in one moment can be so reckless and charming in the next.

"Byeol?" He hums, flicking on the tap and reaching for the dish soap.

"Hmm?" You hum right back.

"Go wait in my room."

It takes you a second or so to follow his commands. Earns a minuscule plea from him. "Please, B."

You can't refuse him. Not really. Never have been able to.

His room is still a mess. Glitter-tarnished pillows clue you into the fact that he hasn't washed his sheets since new years - but then you remember the fact he definitely changed the bottom sheet. Colour floods to your cheeks, memories of that night crashing to the forefront of your mind.

You try to forget about it. Forget the kisses. Forget the way it sounds when Jeongguk calls you ' baby '.

This? Now? Nothing more than a stress reliever. ' Fun '.

You neaten up his bed, and tuck the takeout boxes out of sight. Turn on his cosmic mood lamp, but leave the curtains open. You preen yourself in his mirror. Realise there's something missing, so retrieve the little pot of glitter from his shelf.

The remains of the day's glitter are all over your skin, but the shower had cleansed your eyes of it. Makes you feel naked. You hate it - so quickly stipple a little in your inner corners and beneath your lash line.

It's funny. When you take off the shirt of his that you're wearing, and toss it over the back of his chair a moment later, you don't feel naked. Feel perfectly yourself. A glitter girlie through and through.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks as soon as he reaches his door frame. You're standing on the other side of his bed, a coy smile on your lips

"Fuck."

His eyes are all over you, tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth press down on it. Something about your body really gets him. It's likely the memories - knowing how your skin tastes, how soft your tits are and how hard your nipples can get, the pressure of your lips on his neck - that gets him even stiffer in his sweats.

He really underestimated the consequences of telling you to get your minge out. Should have thought about that.

"You're gonna kill me one day," he mutters as you get onto the bed with almost feline elegance. He walks a little closer. Meets you by the corner of his mattress. Doesn't object as you palm him through his sweats. Sighs into your touch. "God."

Perfectly poised to suck his dick, you both know that you could. He wants it. Wants it so badly he can't even begin to articulate a request.

But it's not about him. Not even when your lips press pretty kisses against the outline of his cock.

He's making you cum. He has to. Will die if he doesn't.

"On your back," he husks. "Spread your legs for me."

There's a pout on your lips, but you do as he says. When your back hits his sheets, your tits pillow on your chest, perfectly round and desperately in need of his lips around your nipples. Legs open for him, one of your hands dips to your pussy while the other cups one of your boobs. Middle and forefinger spreading your wet lips for him, you feign a little innocence.

"This what you want?"

All he can do is nod, eyes transfixed on just how good you look. Wetness seeps from you, covering you in the most glorious sheen. You're always so wet for him. So ready. So willing.

You massage yourself a little for him. Toy with your clit. Whine probably more than you really need to.

Standing at the end of his bed, cock furiously hard in the strained material of his sweats, Jeongguk wraps his hands around your ankles. Yanks you further down his bed. Gets you all giggly.

He doesn't loosen his grip straight away. Instead, he lifts your legs. Rests your heels on his shoulders. Reaches down to squeeze your boobs. Grunts. "Fuckin' tits, man."

You're grinning, still. "What of them?"

He shakes his head. Grins, too. "Fuckin' corrupted me."

"You want them in your mouth again, don't you?" You tease - but are quickly put back in your place when Jeongguk sinks a finger into your hot cunt. "Fuck."

"Keep playing with yourself," he says, before getting all shy. He's about to admit how much he likes your tits. Again . As if you don't already know. Cringes. Tilts his head to the side, nose nestling against your foot. Smiles. Looks back at you with shame and sin all over his starry features. Sinks a second finger into you. "Yeah, I wanna suck them. So fuckin' bad."

His fingers are slow as they work their way into you. In. Out. Push. Pull. It's heaven. Slow. Deep. Just like Jeongguk's eyes and the way they study the pleasure on your face. He's taking his time.

You draw dainty little circles on your clit, not wanting to take the focus away from the feeling of his fingers. The combination is lethal; the furrowing of Jeongguk's brows a trigger that could set you off at any given moment.

Something about his work ethic really gets you. He puts his all into the things he does. Wants to be the best. Endeavours to always get top marks. The way he's cramming for his exam? Yeah. It's hot. His determination? His drive? So incredibly sexy. It comes as no surprise that he's got similar prowess for making you come undone. He reads your body. Understands that the tight closing of your eyes is pleasure, not pain. Knows that the flexing of your calves against his chest, the pointing of your toes by his ears, means he's stroking at the right spot; curling his fingers just right.

His spare hand strokes up your leg. Grips your ankle, his thumb lacing itself beneath your anklet. Your head pushes back into his sheets, spine arching for him.

"Yeah?" he encourages as he continues stroking up against your front wall. "Does it feel good?"

Eyes still closed, you nod. Whimper.

A little more pressure on your clit would make you come. You aren't doing it 'cause you want this feeling to last, but you're already so close. He knows exactly how to get you on edge. Finds your weak points and exploits them for his own pleasure; the satisfaction of giving you an orgasm.

"Good," he husks, pressing his lips against the side of your foot, just cause he needs to do something with them. Fucks his fingers into a little deeper. Slower. Is dulcet as he says, "wanna fuck you so bad."

"Do it," you whine. "Fuck me. Please."

You can hear the tiny little nose breath he does as a soft smirk graces his lips. Can feel them against your foot as he shakes his head and whispers, "no."

You whine. Pout. "Gguk-"

But then he builds speed. Is so fast you can barely breathe let alone speak. Makes your entire body shake.

"That's it," he keens. "Keep rubbing your clit. You're gonna cum for me."

"Gguk."

"You're gonna cum."

Thing is, it's not a command. It's an observation. He can feel you getting tighter; feel the familiar clamp of your hot muscles against his long fingers. Knows that this is what precedes heaven on earth.

All you can do is nod. "Gonna cum."

Your hips roll up into his touch, desperate to be as full of him as you can be. As you press down on your clit, the way Jeongguk shallows his finger to directly hit your g-spot has you mewling. His fingers are fast as he repeatedly motions them upwards, the knot in your stomach growing tight and tighter and tighter - until, gradually, eventually, but all very suddenly, the rope snaps entirely.

Your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, throbbing walls tightening around Jeongguk's fingers, your spare hand grabbing at his wrist to both stop him and keep him in place. It's too much and not enough all at the same time. You continue applying pressure to your clit as writhe in his sheets.

Jeongguk watches on, jaw slack, eyes hungry. He could watch this all day; how the creases between your brows don't ease, not even when your lips curl into a smile. How your chest heaves, and your legs jolt. God. He wishes you were a part of his exam. He'd pass with flying colours.

"You good?" He asks a little too fondly, smiling down at you.

Laughing to yourself a little, you cover your eyes with your forearm. Nod. "Good."

But you're also not done.

There's a plethora of sticky notes on his wall, and you're pretty sure Jeongguk hasn't had a release in a fair few days. He needs this more than you.

And so when you tell him to pick a sticky note, he doesn't waste time. Goes for one at waist level - figures you probably put it up, not him.

Turning back to face you, the sticky note affixed to his index finger as he reads it, his brows furrow. Face contorts. Head tilts to the side.

"What the fuck is an erotic accordion?"

—

"I don't ever wanna see you in that position again," Jeongguk shudders, decidedly not finding anything erotic about being positioned like a fucking accordion.

The mechanics of it all just do not do it for him. It's not even so much the awkwardness of you, but himself. Didn't like seeing himself in that position. Has never been so aware of his own legs during a shag. Weirded him out.

You snort. "Please - I think it was the least sexually attracted to you I've ever been."

Jeongguk toys with his lip ring, tattooed arm folded across his chest, sheets pooling just beneath his belly button. Back against his headrest, all of his pillows are on the floor. They'd just gotten in the way earlier.

You're on your back, legs up against his headrest, both mirroring and subverting his position. On top of the sheets, you're wearing one of his shirts to cover your modesty.

"So you admit it," he teases with a raise of his eyebrows as you look over towards him. Wish there were still pillows on his bed so you could hit him with one. "You do think I'm hot."

"Not when you're positioned like that," you tease right back.

It's all in good humour. Neither of you are taking any offence. The whole point of these sticky notes is to find out what you do and don't like - the erotic accordion? Yeah. You'll file that one under 'not again'.

Although the more Jeongguk thinks about it, the more open he is to it.

"Felt pretty good, though."

The position, which had been one of your sticky notes, involved him laying on his back with his knees to his chest. The thought of it now makes you giggle. He looked quite cute, all things considered. Submissive. Shy.

He's got that pensive face of his on, looking straight ahead at his desk. There's an assignment open on his dual screens, and he does need to get back to it soon, but he's making the most of a short break with you.

His lips ring does the thing as he nibbles down on his bottom lip.

You move your leg a little to tap his head with your foot, getting his attention.

"Mhm?" he hums, eyes still unfocused.

"Did it really feel good?"

He nods. Looks at you now. Smirks, but tries to hide it. Shrugs his broad shoulders, collar bones catching on the light of his monitors. Dark outside, they're the only thing lighting up the room now that his lamp is turned off.

"Can't get that deep," he simply states. "There's, like, a lot going on around the tip. It's the most sensitive part, isn't it? So yeah."

You've always been a deep penetration girlie, but even you have to admit the shallowness of his cock pushing into only just your entrance before pulling out again felt really nice. Completely different to what you're used to - especially from him.

Glancing down his chest to where his hand rests over his crotch, you assess the situation. The sheets cover him, but you know he's a little hard beneath them.

You adjust slightly. Press your thighs together, heels against his wall.

With a hearty sign, you feign a little boredom. "Fine. I'll fuck you again."

"Sorry?" He almost giggles. Teeth on show, nose a little scrunched, he doesn't understand you, sometimes. Enjoys it, though. Likes how you aren't taking the sticky notes seriously.

It alleviates him of the pressure that would come with doing these things with anyone else, he thinks.

He knows that's the whole point of them - try these things with you, so that he doesn't have to fear rejection of asking for them with anyone else - but he's surprised at how well it seems to work.

Then again, he's not yet put any of them into practice.

Unaware of his complex thoughts, yours are far more simple: you're still horny.

The accordion really isn't all that erotic. You didn't finish. Didn't care for reciprocation, 'cause Jeongguk's got a wall full of sticky notes, and it's only just gone midnight. You know you'll be coming undone at least once more tonight - if Jeongguk's track record is anything to go by, it'll be plenty more.

Tapping his head with your foot again, you smile as his hand wraps around your ankle.

"Stop," he mumbles, nose resting on the top of your foot, lips pressing against the side of it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, a little flustered from heavenly his chocolatey eyes appear. He keeps his grip on your ankle and pulls it over his lap, encouraging your body to twist. Dragging you to straddle him, reverse cowgirl style, Jeongguk isn't shy about the fact he's hard again.

"You're so easy," you simper, slinking down like a cat, back a little arched, arms straight out ahead of you. His hands push his shirt up, and grips the soft flesh of your hips, pulling you a little further up his lap. You automatically find yourself grinding a little against him. Force of habit.

"Me?" He murmurs, gripping your ass now. He's a little rough with it. Fingers strong. You half think he's gonna spank you - but then he sinks his middle finger straight into your cunt. Still wet and wanting after the sex, Jeongguk enjoys teasing you. Likes keeping you keen. It's fun. He pulls the entire length of his finger out from you. Licks it clean. Keeps his hushed groan quiet. Fingers you again. Pulls out, again. The sound of him intruding and leaving is so satisfying. He does it again. Again, again. You're a little whimpery. "I'm the easy one?"

"Mhmm," you whine as he pushes into you again, still a single, long finger. He holds it there this time. "So easy."

The way you're positioned right now has him wanting to act on his ass-guy impulses. You kind of knew it would. He got you into this position far too easily for it not to have been something he's perfected over the years.

"Can I?" He husks, not wanting to ask the full question, hoping you'll understand.

You do. You know exactly what he wants. Wanna give him the green light without hesitation - but you're supposed to be helping one another.

"Ask properly," you say, voice contorted with the anticipation of pleasure. "Ask for what you want, Jeongguk."

"Mhh," he groans. The hand that isn't currently occupied with your pussy squeezes the soft mound of your ass. "I hate it when you make me do this."

It's almost like he's forgotten how often he makes you directly ask for things.

Your hips roll for him, Jeongguk's fingers still inside. Can't help but moan. "Gotta do it, Gguk. Gotta open yourself up for rejection."

He knows you won't say no. Knows rejection isn't on the table here, and yet he sort of worries about it, still. This is something he wants. Something he's expressed desire in; exclusively his.

Jeongguk lowers his head. Presses a kiss to where his hand was once squeezing your ass. Rests his forehead there. Groans.

"You know I want it," you husk, encouraging him. "All you gotta do is ask. Use your big boy words."

He just whines again. Is deliberately dramatic when he says, "Don't say shit like that, Byeol. I'll cum in my pants."

With a soft laugh, you turn back to look at him. Your faces are both partially obscured by the positioning of your body, but your eyes are able to meet. He's pouting. Eyes wide. Looks as if he's telling gospel truths.

"You're not gonna cum in your pants," you tell him, knowing he's a big fat liar. He's probably not even ready to go again, yet.

"No," he admits. "But I might die.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you regain your former position. "So you want your dying words to be that of a coward, huh?"

He sighs. Knows you're right. Fucks his finger into you even deeper, stroking at your walls. Gets you a little whiney .

"Wanna eat your ass, " he gruffs, spreading your cheeks a little with his spare hand. You're on display for him, the tight muscle he's dying to get his tongue on just waiting there patiently; pristine. "Let me. Please ."

And then, quite unexpectedly, you free yourself from his grip. Pull away.

Turn to face him, and smile with a grin Jeongguk knows is trouble.

"No."

Lips hanging ajar, Jeongguk looks like he's just been hit in the chest with a paintball gun. He almost wants to question it - No? What do you mean no? - but he knows exactly what no means. Respects it. And yet he feels a little cheated.

"B..." is all he says, because, like, what the fuck? You'd practically been edging him. Forced him to ask .

"Gguk..." you tease back, obviously finding this far more amusing than he is.

His face is a picture, confusion contorting his features, silence speaking for him. It's the reaction you expected, but it makes you feel a lot more guilty than you had anticipated. It's not that you're trying to be a dick. You really did want him to do it.

But Jeongguk is also yet to face any form of rejection. The girls he's spoken to have been interested in him. Not once has he faced any sizable consequence to his questions or actions, and even though you know that asking to eat your ass isn't exactly the top of his issues, you have to reject him. Have to get him used to the feeling. Have to let him get comfortable with it.

He doesn't really know what to do. Purses his lips. Nods. Is obviously disappointed, but trying his best not to let it show.

You feel guilty. Come a little closer. Straddle his lap again, and guide his chin so that his gaze is directly on yours.

He resists at first. Is embarrassed. Feels all horrible inside. It's even worse that his cock is still hard. The entire thing is a bit mortifying. Doesn't wanna look at you, 'cause he feels stupid. Must have misread the situation. Idiot.

But he hadn't misread it all.

You hadn't planned on doing that. Just kind of had an impulsive thought - what if I do reject him? - and let it win.

"That was mean," he whispers so quietly that you almost don't hear it.

You nod, noses nudging against his. "It was."

"Say sorry," he pouts.

When you smile, a small giggle is held back. "I'm sorry. Should I kiss you?" you offer. He pulls you a little further up his lap. Makes you think a kiss is coming. "To say sorry?"

Closer, closer, closer. His nose nudges up against yours. He pauses. "No."

It's direct. To the point. Gets you in your chest a little. Rejection . Funny little thing.

"I wasn't trying to be a dick. There is a sticky note with it on, Koo," you begin to explain. Jeongguk hates how loopy that name makes his tummy feel. "It's gonna happen. I want it to happen."

Yet you didn't let it. He doesn't get it. Doesn't understand. It's a rare instance of your communication going awry.

"You made me ask," he mumbles, pouting. "And then you..."

You stay silent. Wait for him to figure it out. It takes only a second or so. You know he's cracked it when his thumbs begin to stroke against your skin like it normally does.

"And then I rejected you," you nod. Feel incredibly guilty about it now.

Living through rejection in times of vulnerability is important for him. He needs to process that it's okay; that rejection isn't automatic doom and gloom. That he can put himself out and not fear rejection - not because it will never happen, but because he can recognise that life goes on after it.

And it does. For now, though, he's still a little embarrassed.

"I hate that you did that," he says candidly, voice quiet, nose nestled against yours. Wants to stay close. Wants the comfort that comes with it. Eyes shut, his confidence feels shot to shit.

On a normal day, he'd probably not be so concerned about it all - however his emotions are running high. It's just the stress, but it's impacting all of his interactions.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I know," he whispers right back. He genuinely does believe you are - but also believes you shouldn't have to apologise for saying no. "It's okay. 'No' is okay. You can say sorry for being a meanie, but that's all. Can't say sorry for saying 'no' , okay?"

Oh, you've never wanted to kiss him more. Give him the biggest, sweetest smooch for just being so inexorably endearing.

But you just nod. He'd said 'no' to kisses earlier.

Life goes on. Jeongguk knows this. Repeats it like an oath.

Life goes on. Life goes on. Life goes on.

"Two choices," he says. Pulls away a little. Wants to look in your starry eyes, and forget what just happened. "Choice one - we call it a night and get some sleep."

"Or?" you encourage, still feeling a little awful about the whole rejection thing.

"Or, choice two - you go and pick a sticky note, this time. We do whatever it says."

If there's one thing for certain, it's that you love a good redemption arc. Think this is a no-brainer. You hop off his lap without a second thought and pluck one off the wall at random.

Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip as he watches you. His head is all over the place, but he knows one definite truth: you make things feel okay .

Embarrassment? It's null and void, with you. Sure, he feels it in the moment, but it always just simmers away. Disappears.

"So?" he asks, as you scan over the words of the note.

It's Jeongguk's handwriting. Is deserved, you think.

You turn it around for him to read, getting back into position on his lap. He welcomes you back, Holds your waist as you intrude on his personal space more - but is it really intruding if he's opening the door for you? Welcoming you in?

"Ah," he grins a little awkwardly. " That ."

" That ," you echo with a small giggle.

"You wanna do it?" he asks, a little cautiously this time.

You're so proud.

He opened himself for rejection again . He can do it.

With a nod, and every muscle in your body willing your lips not to kiss him, you say, "yeah. I do."

Jeongguk grins even brighter, now. Has stars in his smile. Thoughts of twenty minutes prior don't bother him anymore.

"Alright," he sighs a little, as if he isn't secretly really keen for what's yet to come. "Let's get it."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bad decisions #jungkook smut

59 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 10 months ago

Text

Lavender Girl

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A field trip [4.7k]

Warnings: financial stress, school fight, June once again introduces an ex, having a muse is creepy and weird, flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, June putting her art history knowledge to work

Most days, you're a good teacher. A teacher that students want to eat lunch with or inadvertently include in their silly TikToks. Most days, you're patient and kind and only have to raise your voice a handful of times, if only to be heard over the blanket volume level of teenage conversation. Today is not one of those days. "Guys!" You yell, pausing the music on your computer and turning to look at your class, obviously annoyed. "We're supposed to be talking about Picasso. I don't know why I'm hearing so much conversation about lunch." It's a lie. There was a fight between two students at lunch. It'd also been the topic of conversation in the teacher's lounge, but still.

"Miss, we already talked about Picasso!" One of your kids bemoans, and you raise your eyebrows at them.

"So, if I asked you right now, you could tell me what historical event his painting Guernica is supposed to depict?" You ask. The entire class goes silent as you wait for a response that never comes, and you sigh. "Please, do your work."

The day started with getting yet another email from another gallery, this time from down south, telling you they loved your work but not enough to showcase or buy it. Then, a text from your manager letting you know that paychecks will be late because of technical issues with the system, even though you're already beyond broke. Then, a sad text from Andie about how she's feeling homesick and misses you and wishes you could get on a plane to come see her. Then, to top it all off, an email from your ex, Henry, popped up the second you pulled into the school.

Hey, long time, no talk! I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out and let you know I've got an exhibition going up later next week and wanted to invite you to the opening. It's about-

You didn't read any further, anger and a wave of past emotions drowning you before you could. You and Henry were together all throughout college. You met during a freshman art class and were inseparable after that. He was tall, sensitive, and had a penchant for listening to country music when he worked, leading to many delirious nights spent crooning to Emmy-Lou Harris together. He surprised you with new paint and spontaneous trips to scenic parts of Texas to fuel your inspiration. You were happy for a long time. You even thought you'd marry him at one point. He wanted to be the next young, groundbreaking artist, making you his muse, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were also an artist. Your work would go up in galleries and exhibitions, and everyone in your small program would gossip about the two of you. "He's so talented. It's insane," you heard one of your classmates say once. "And she's so beautiful."

The compliment dug under your skin and stayed there as your relationship failed. You didn't want to be a muse anymore. You stopped letting him paint you in various states of undress and started asking for more alone time to work on your own stuff. You went from being the perfect, polished doll he could position however he wanted and started living in your paint-stained jeans and old, ratty shirt. You started arguing more and more, first about little things like why he left his paint water cups everywhere, and then about big things like your decision to pursue teaching and the "inspiration" he found in an impressionable freshman. He suddenly moved out after graduation without a word, leaving you to nurse your wounds in a half-empty apartment for the rest of your lease, and you hadn't heard from him until this morning.

There's something more than the sting of hearing from him all these years later that bothers you. You're a high school art teacher struggling to make ends meet, and he's doing exactly what he set out to do. He's getting his work in front of his eyes and receiving praise for it. "Why do you wanna be a teacher when you can just be an artist?" He asked you one morning as you studied for your certification exams. "Or, at least, an artist's wife."

"And what if I'm not good at that?" You asked. "Then what? I'm just supposed to be your muse for the rest of my life? Have kids to fuel someone else's inspiration and have no time for my own work? Wither away while you go on to make art and give talks and become a cynic? Fuck that."

You stand by what you said, even all these years later, but there is an irony in that, even as a teacher, you don't have time to do your own work. Still, fuck that. The bell rings and signals the end of another class, and you quickly stand as students start packing up their stuff. "Okay, guys. Remember, your art history essay is due in two weeks! I'm excited to read all about everything you've learned since we started this unit. I love you, and please make good choices." You announce, hoping that at least some of them are listening to you, as they spill out of the classroom and the next students stream in. Ellie's sweet face is a welcome reprieve when she walks in.

"Hey Bellie! How's your day going, kiddo?" You ask, and she smiles. You'll swear up and down all day that you don't have favorite students, but if you did, Ellie would be one of them.

"Good. I have my signed permission slip for the art club field trip." She says. After your experience with Joel outside the bar, you couldn't sleep and knocked out all the field trip paperwork before falling asleep on your couch. But you weren't safe from his lips and broad shoulders, even in your subconscious.

"Oh, my hero! I've been meaning to remind everyone about those. Thanks for getting that in so quickly." You say as she hands the paper to you, Joel's scribbly signature at the bottom. Somehow, you're not surprised that the box indicating he wants to be a chaperone is ticked. "Perfect. Your dad knows when the field trip is?"

"Yeah. He wrote it down on his calendar and everything." She says, rolling her eyes fondly, and you laugh.

"Well, good, because I'm gonna need all the help I can get when I'm dealing with you guys."

"Hey!" She feigns offense as the bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and the last of your students comes running in. Ellie takes her seat near the front, and you grab your silly, colorful pointer to talk about Guernica, which is still proudly displayed on the board. After a quick art history lesson, you release them to work on the projects they've been working on for a week now. They still have a few more days before it's due, so more than half of them are slacking off quietly, which you're fine with. As long as you get a finished assignment at the end, they can do whatever they want.

You play quiet music as they work to help them focus and answer some emails. One email that catches your attention is from the parent of one of your students, Dalton, who's an amazing football player but is less than passionate about art, to say the least. You emailed his dad to let him know he was missing some assignments and could still turn them in late for only a slight penalty, but if he turns in nothing at all, you'll have no choice but to fail him. You also CC'd the football coach so he'd know the academic standing of one of his star players. Needless to say, you've been subject to a few not-so-nice emails from all parties involved.

Once you're done firing off another round of emails, you decide to step away from your computer so you don't have to see the next reply until absolutely necessary. Walking around the room to answer questions, give opinions, or just hear what's happening in students' lives always makes you feel better. In one period, you helped a handful of students put the finishing touches on their projects, heard the latest gossip, and talked one of your girls out of sending a nasty text to the boy who just broke her heart. And they say teachers aren't important.

The second you get a little bit of peace during your planning period, your phone buzzes with a notification. Given all the notifications and messages you've received today, you're hesitant to even pull it out of your pocket. But curiosity wins, and you open your phone to find a text from an unsaved number.

Is there anything I should bring to the field trip? Snacks, gum, alcohol?

You laugh to yourself and start typing a message back.

Alcohol won't be necessary, but it might be good to bring some lunch and a few snacks. I think we're gonna try to have a picnic or something at the museum.

Yes, ma'am.

You still feeling up to chaperone? Teenagers are no joke.

Do I need to remind you that I've raised two? I think I can handle a few more.

Oh, I can't wait to see this.

It can't be that hard, right?

On the day of the field trip, it turns out to be that hard. The only adults accompanying twenty teenagers to the museum are you and Joel. They're excited to be out of school and doing something new, but you can feel your migraine starting before you even get on the bus. Thankfully, the ride to the museum (and the traffic) calms them down, and they're more manageable by the time you arrive. A curator meets you outside the front doors and begins by walking your group through the outdoor sculptures, giving a little bit of history of the museum and the pieces themselves. The kids ask insightful questions and take turns snapping photos or even sketching a rough outline of the piece before moving on to the next. You stay at the front of the group while Joel manages the middle and back, silencing kids with a stern look. You fight a smile when you catch him and Ellie lingering at a sculpture, whispering to each other before he urges her forward and takes a sweet picture of her smiling in front of it.

After the initial walk of the grounds, you stop to have lunch in a sunny garden and listen to the kids gush about their favorite part so far and what paintings they're most excited to see inside.

"Miss, what's your favorite thing here?" Kayla asks.

"I like Dream Village by Chagall. If you find it before me, you'll have to let me know." You say. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Not yet. Maybe I'll find it today." Kayla says.

"I like that attitude!"

"Kissass." Jacob coughs, and you both give him a look. You can feel Joel's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you stare at Jacob.

"What's my policy?"

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep." You say, and he sighs.

"You can be anything you want to be, but you're not allowed to be a dick." He mumbles.

"Exactly. So, please, be nice," you say as you fish around in your lunch box for something. "Here, have a cookie. It might help make you feel a little better." He mutters a little thanks and unwraps it, already in a better mood after one bite, and you smile.

"You just carry around cookies, waiting for a kid to be in a bad mood?" Joel asks, and you turn to look at him. He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head, but you think it might be your favorite thing he's worn in your presence. You like it when he wears color.

"It was my cookie, but he needs it more than I do," you shrug. "Besides, things like that are a great morale booster. It's hard to be grumpy when you've got something sweet."

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He quips a little too smoothly, his eyes flicking across your face and down to your lips, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, all the kids have returned to their own conversations and couldn't care less about what the Adults are talking about.

"You're relentless." You whisper.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers back, and you sigh. If you were a stronger or better person, you might be able to think fast enough to come up with a response, but you're not. So, you just look at him and rack your brain for something to say but come up empty. "That's what I thought." He smiles and offers you his sweating Dr. Pepper can as a peace offering. You roll your eyes at his smug look but take a sip anyway.

Once everyone is done eating, you all stand and make your way into the museum lobby, the kids already chattering about what they want to see.

"Okay, you guys are free to roam but please, please, please remember that you're representing not only the school but also me. Be respectful and kind, and please don't act like you've never been in public before, okay? Go, be free." You say before the kids split off into their little groups with their obligatory activity in hand. Ellie stays near Joel, only a little shy, until Kayla turns around suddenly and waves her on.

"Ellie, c'mon!" She says. Ellie takes a few steps in her direction before turning to look back at Joel.

"Go. I'll be okay." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go. Have fun." She doesn't need any more encouragement after that and skitters off with the rest of the kids, leaving you and Joel alone in the atrium.

"She's doing really well." You tell him even though he can clearly see for himself.

"Thanks to you."

"All I did was give her a push."

"Take the credit. You deserve it." He says, his lips pulling into that award-winning smile.

You fall into silence as you walk through the different galleries, Joel never too far behind you. Sometimes, he'll start at the opposite end of the room and work his way down until you meet in the middle, making a deliberate effort to bump your shoulder or hand as he passes. Other times, he'll stay right next to you, and, for some reason, it doesn't bother you. You like being so close to him and feeling his eyes work over the piece like it's a puzzle he doesn't quite know how to work. When he can't stand the quiet anymore, he'll whisper a question to you about the artist or the history, his breathing fanning out across your neck and making the hair there stand on end.

After moving through a big part of the museum together, you and Joel end up at the same painting as the dull hum of voices fills the space between you. You smile to yourself, practically hearing him trying to find something to say as he stands there and observes how the lines of bright colors follow each other. Some are stark and almost resemble lightning in how they move around the canvas, but others are muted, blended together with careful precision and patience. It's hard to imagine what West Texas could've been like in 1953, but this makes it a little easier.

"What's this one supposed to mean?" Joel mumbles, leaning ever so conspicuously into you.

"I can't tell you." You mumble back, and he finally turns to look at you head-on. You meet his eyes with an amused smile, and he shakes his head at you.

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"I can't tell you what art is supposed to mean to you. I can't tell anyone that."

"But, you're a teacher."

"If you're asking me for an art history lesson, I'd be happy to help, but that's about all I can do for you."

"'S cruel and unusual punishment."

"If art and culture are cruel and unusual punishment, why'd you sign up to chaperone?"

"Maybe I wanted to see my friend," he says, bumping you with his shoulder, and you laugh a little too hard. "What? We can't be friends? Is there a school policy against that, too?"

"Nope, no school policy. I just," You pause and revel in how enraptured he looks at every movement, pause, and breath you take. "I already have friends, so..."

"Oh, and you're 'fraid of bein' too popular?"

"Famously." You say, and he chuckles next to you. You go back to staring at the painting quietly with him so close you can feel his body heat. You're the one to break this time, knocking him with your shoulder to get his attention again. You didn't need to. When you glance at him, you see his focus is on you, not the painting. "It's Texas. Canyon, to be more precise. Up by Amarillo where there's nothing but cattle and desert. O'Keeffe taught out there for a few years and wanted to paint something that showed how big the West is. It's supposed to make you feel like you're two feet tall and seeing the sky for the first time. For her, it might've been the first time in a long time she'd gotten to see a sunset that big. So, she painted it so other people could enjoy sunsets like that. It's like a love letter."

"How d'you do that?" He asks once you're finished explaining, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Do what?"

"Make little things seem so beautiful." He answers easily, like you asked him what color the sky is. You don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"'S just what art does." You shrug and break away from his gaze to look at the painting, if only to not feel him staring into your soul.

"No, it's what you do to it. 'S why those kids love you so damn much. You make everythin' feel like a masterpiece, even the little things." He's not flirting. He's not trying to persuade you to do one thing over another. He's genuine and heartfelt. You swear you would start crying if you had a little less sleep. You take a deep breath and lean into him for half a second, just enough to feel his body against yours, before standing upright again.

"Thank you."

"It's what friends are for," he says, leaning into you in return. "I should make sure they haven't seized the museum or anythin'."

"Oh, I can do it. You're a guest."

"And you work too hard," he stops you. "Take a break and enjoy what you love. The world won't end if you take some time for yourself." If ever there were awards to be given out for sweet talking, you think Joel Miller would win all of them.

"Okay," you say, and he walks behind you to move on to the next section. "You really wanna be my friend?" You ask before he can fully pass behind you, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles devastatingly, light sparkling in his eyes, and nods.

"I really wanna be your friend." He says softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He lingers for a second or two before finally making his way to the group of students, leaving you to scrutinize the painting you've been staring at for God knows how long.

The day crawls to an uneventful close, with you forcing all the students to take a picture in front of the museum for the yearbook. Joel takes your phone out of your hand and all but pushes you in the photo, and your students lovingly welcome you into their little group. In exchange, you grab Joel's phone and take cute pictures of him and Ellie for their own memories. They smile almost identically, and Ellie makes a fake annoyed face when Joel kisses her temple. Your fingers brush against each other when you hand it back, and for a second, you can feel the callouses from his job. It feels like unlocking a new piece of him or a new quirk.

Too bad this isn't a date. Too bad nothing can ever come of this. Too bad you had to meet this way. Too bad. Too bad.

The ride home is quiet and full of the clinking of backpacks and new souvenirs. When you get to the school, parents are waiting in the parking lot with fast food dinners and excited ears to hear all about their days. Almost everyone immediately slinks home, tired and happy, before you can even get close to the school doors. Almost everyone. Joel and Ellie help you carry your backpack and some things you bought for teaching purposes at the museum into your classroom. The school is virtually deserted, and you return to your room to find all the lamps flipped off and mostly positive notes from the sub.

"Dad, what are we gonna do for dinner?" Ellie groans as you sit in your chair and open your email quickly before you can pack up the rest of your stuff. Their dinner debate becomes background noise as you find your inbox full of annoyed messages from Dalton's parents, coaches, and even Principal Martinez regarding his grades. Under all that vitriol sits Henry's half-read message about his gallery opening, and you feel the perfect bubble of your day burst around you. Joel and Ellie seem to realize it because they're both quiet when you tune back into their conversation, and you turn in your chair to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, and you snap out of it, putting on your best teacher everything-is-fine face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just some emails. It's not important." You wave her off, but Joel isn't so easily convinced. He thinks for a second before pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Ellie.

"Go get some practice driving." He says, jerking his head toward the door, and Ellie's eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Just bring the car to the front, and don't hit anything!" He says, but she's already taken off with the keys and her stuff in an excited whirlwind. You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Joel leans against one of the desks near you, crossing his arms in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Your whole face fell when you opened that computer."

"It's nothing."

"If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to tell me if somethin's wrong otherwise I can't help you." He says, and you fight a smile.

"I don't know how you're gonna help me with this one." You say. He bumps your foot with his and gives you a pleading look. Big brown eyes on men like him should be illegal, you think.

"Talk to me." He begs quietly, and you take a deep breath.

"When I was in college, I dated this guy. He was an artist, too, and we were like the little power couple of our program. Things ended kinda badly and abruptly, and I hadn't heard from him since graduation until last week when he invited me to his gallery opening. I really don't want to go alone because, honestly, I haven't been able to get anything showcased in years, and I'm embarrassed. Plus, he broke my heart and made me feel like shit for a few years." You can't stop the words from falling from you once the dam is broken, but Joel doesn't flinch.

"Well, you've got friends to go with, right?"

"I do," you say. "But I want to invite you."

"Oh." He says, seemingly unintentionally.

"Oh." You repeat. "You can say no. I just thought... since we're friends and all now."

"I just... I don't..." he struggles before finally giving in to what he wants to say, what you think he's wanted to say all day. "I don't think I'm smart enough to go to somethin' like that. I don't know anythin' about art. I don't even know how to dress for those kinda things."

"Nobody knows anything about art. Not really, at least. Especially not Henry."

"You do."

"Then I'll stick with you all night and feed you lines about composition or some shit," you say. "And you just wear a nice shirt and some slacks. Maybe a suit jacket if you're feeling snazzy. It's really not as big a deal as people make it seem. We'll go, drink wine, say something about the colors, play nice, and then we'll leave. I'll have you home by 9:30. Earlier if you really hate it that much." He rolls his neck like he's rattling something around in his head or thinking about your offer, and all you can do is watch him and the way his Adam's apple pressing against the delicate skin of his throat. You're convinced he's gonna say no.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He finally asks, and you laugh.

"Not a date."

"Sounds like a date. You even promised to have me home to my girl at a reasonable time."

"Fine, it's a friend date."

"A friend date?" He raises his eyebrows at you, and you nod.

"It's perfectly normal to go on friend dates, Miller. You're just behind on the times."

"Seems like I am. Maybe you can bring me up to speed during the gallery opening?" He says, and your shoulders drop in relief. "I'll pick you up if you agree to help me not look like an idiot."

"You won't look like an idiot."

"Not with you there, I won't." He says, and you want to laugh, but you also want to tear up a little at his kindness. It's been a long week.

"Thank you, Joel. Really. I owe you." You say, and he nods.

"'S my pleasure," he says. For a minute, you two just stare at each other in your empty classroom like teenagers with an obvious crush. You think that's what you feel like. You think that's all you'll ever be able to feel for him. "I should go. I've got an impatient teenager waitin' for me."

"Yeah. Go get her some dinner, and I'll text you the details." You say as you stand to walk him out. He stands to his full height, opens his arms, and approaches you. You didn't think you were hugging territory, but as his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but hug him back.

"Goodnight." He says into your hair, lingering for another moment before disappearing as fast as he appeared.

"Goodnight," you say. With that, he starts walking to the open door with a smile stuck to his face. "Hey, Joel," you call before he can step over the threshold, and he turns around to look at you. "Art is for everyone, and even if it wasn't, you're more than smart enough to enjoy it."

"Yes, ma'am." He says with a half-salute and a wink before stepping out of your classroom. You let yourself rest against your desk and take a deep breath. Finally, you let yourself pull out your phone and read the rest of Henry's email detailing the time and place of the gallery.

I hope you can come. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you and even though things ended the way they did, I still love you.

See you soon,

Henry Hall

"Fuck that."

TAGLISR: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

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spadesolace · 1 year ago

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drag me down: little things

synopsis: since when did hanni and yn notice each other’s habits through the little things they do? from their sudden change in mood to yn slowly opening up, hanni is left questioning everything.

warning/s: mentions of abandonment, insecurities

words: 3k

previous | next

The news of the top two students being paired together had reached almost every student as soon as Ms. Im dismissed the class. YN isn’t one to be gossiped about, most students talk about Hanni and her possible relationships but no one knew YN’s life outside of school. Only a handful of people did and it was her friends.

“Well, well, well, look who got paired with Ms. Top student.” Yunjin loved to tease YN about Hanni, she theorized that they secretly love each other but won’t admit it because their pride is higher than Mt. Everest.

“The look of despair was so evident, I almost felt bad.” Chaewon was the first people YN met as the girl had been part of the student council during their second year. From there, either YN or her were the victims of the group's bullying.

“Are you going to work on it right away?” There’s always a mediator in the group and when it's at school, that would be Kazuha. She’s considered as the quiet yet scary friend but everyone loves her, especially when YN has a soft spot for her.

“Sakura-unnie is asking if you’ll be there tomorrow.” Eunchae, the youngest and most devious child, when there is chaos, the possibility of her starting it isn’t that low. Lastly, the other mother of the group who works part-time at one of the Park’s cafes was Sakura, whom YN met on her first day trying to learn latte art.

“I’ll take my leave tomorrow, so I’ll be there today.” When YN meant only a handful of people know about her life, she literally meant only 6 people. The Parks are very private, only a limited knowledge of their lives outside of business, her parents made sure that their children’s safety and privacy was their number one priority. So secretive that the public only knew that they have two children, neither gender being specified.

YN never trusted people that easily but she was clearly playful, independent, and responsible. A lot of people trusted her, similarly even Hanni took notice of it, how in her first year in a new environment and somehow a lot of people let their walls down. She wonders how when she never heard anything about YN’s personal life, as if it were non-existent. Hanni was left in the dark as she watched her rival walk home with her group, a smile on YN’s face as Yunjin teases Chaewon and Kazuha trying to stop them.

“Stop staring, she might melt.” Minji followed Hanni’s line of sight, it was going to be a topic later in their group.

“Have you wondered what YN is like outside of school?” It threw Minji off, Hanni, THE PHAM HANNI, asking about Park YN? There was only limited information about the girl, there were rumours going around that YN came from a wealthy family, a daughter of a mafia boss, a bunch of misinformation. Although there was one thing that people have concluded was that YN really came from a rich family, a confirmation was given by Ms. Park Jihyo, the prefect of discipline conversing with YN. The sole reason why YN transferred was due to being under the supervision of her cousin who recommended it to her aunt and uncle, no one knew they were related and both of them agreed to keep it that way.

“You seriously need to talk to her about that. No one aside from her group knows anything about her life.” Haerin surprised the pair as Danielle and Hyein joined them in front of the campus gate. What was there in her rival’s life that makes her keep everything in secret.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The following day, Hanni was much more observant of YN. She’s aware of YN smelling like coffee beans and a hint of vanilla, but she never noticed what she drinks when she arrives at class. The ice cold cup of americano and a paper bag with some sort of pastry but it was flat, most likely a cookie. Blueming Cafe? From what I know that’s under Park Food Corporations.

“You’ll have heart problems by the time you’re 30.” She wasn’t even sure why she said that, it wasn’t like she cared. All she did was cause the other issues with their bantering.

“Acting like you care, classic.” There was a difference in YN’s tone, or maybe Hanni is overanalyzing everything there is towards her rival.

YN took notice of Hanni’s sudden shift, like she was hyper aware of her surroundings. Setting her stuff down along with her snack and coffee to get her through the day, she got a whiff of Hanni’s perfume. A hint of lavender, a bit of praline, and musk… it wasn’t that bad, she liked it. Perfectly describes if Hanni was a perfume, aside from that Hanni was also wearing her hair up, a bit dishevelled being held by a clamp and a tired smile on her face. When did she start using a clamp?

“Wearing perfume, are you trying to seduce me, Pham?” Hanni rolled her eyes, taking back how the girl next to her smells nicely and comforting.

“That’s such a weird assumption, Park. Not in a thousand years will I try to persuade you.” A straight shot through the heart, despite YN teasingly flirting with Hanni all these years, she felt a slight pang in her chest. There is a certain feeling that YN cannot describe with Hanni, not wanting to explore it any further. Only a few months till graduation, I can endure it.

First half of the day, there wasn’t much of a problem between the pair. Both keeping to themselves but Hanni took notice how YN would spin her pen whenever she’s not taking notes. How slim her fingers are and the amount of rings she has, perfectly accenting her cool tone paired with silver minimalist rings. Slowly, she noticed how her uniform may look neat but clearly her tie was always loose, the top of her blouse unbuttoned, and a hoodie on top of it all or the fact she never wears skirts, like the school gave her a free pass to wear pants. Hanni didn’t realize how long she’s been staring, somehow everything about YN’s style fits perfectly.

“Pham… stop staring and listen.” YN had slowly pushed Hanni’s face back to the board where their teacher had their back facing the class. From that simple action, she felt her face heat up, palms a bit sweating, and her heartbeat racing. She was saved from a close scolding by their Math teacher, maybe that’s the cause of the adrenaline and not from the embarrassment of being caught.

It wasn’t like YN wasn’t observing Hanni at all, she was just much more subtle about it. A piece of scratch paper was on the side of her notebook, keeping track of what she’s taken notice of. Hanni rarely wears accessories, but she does have various ways of styling her hair. Small braids on both sides, a messy bun, or like right now, it's kept up because of a clamp. There’s a key feature in almost all of her items, a fascination for butterflies, because who would keep an entire pack of butterfly clips along with an extra butterfly clamp in their locker? Lastly, her uniform, it's perfectly neat, like it was ironed a million times before she could wear it and not a single crease can be seen. Along with the fascination of observing her seatmate, she despises how Hanni would smack her when she’s laughing. YN never complained when Hanni does it, despite the pain and coming home to see it still a bit red.

By lunch, it was no surprise that the pair would go their separate ways but to see that YN standing in front of Hanni holding her packed lunch while she finishes cleaning her table. Either one would wait for the other to leave or maybe YN was no longer being subtle about it that Chaewon would always tease her. Still, it meant that Hanni wasn’t the last one to leave the room, both making sure that the aircons are off and the doors are closed.

“You have the spare key?” Being class president meant that YN always had the spare key at hand, if not Hanni could just go to the stuco office and get it there. Hanni has the privilege as the student council president, but YN wouldn’t admit it if she needs help from her, similarly to Hanni thanking her for waiting.

“Yeah.” YN patted her pocket but she heard nothing, no clinking of metals. She patted all of her pockets and checked her packed lunch if by chance she placed it there. Looking at the window of the classroom, she left it at their table. “Shit.”

“Ugh, seriously? This is the first time you’ve forgotten the keys.” Hanni kept note of those who borrowed the spare keys in the stuco office, and YN has not once borrowed it.

“Keeping track now, Pham? Are you gonna write on your project how I managed to forget the keys once?” Hanni rolled her eyes as the pair walked towards the stuco office, it was better to get the keys right away rather than when the bell rang. YN only followed, a bit pissed at Hanni’s comment, it was her fault she misplaced it but similar to her mistake for due from a spelling error, it only happens once.

“No, that would be too shallow, even for me. I’d write how stupid you look like you’re Kevin from Home Alone, realizing you’ve forgotten it.” YN stopped in her tracks, a bit taken aback by the comment. It wasn’t the comment on how stupid she looked but the fact that Home Alone was mentioned. How would she tell Hanni that it was a sensitive topic to discuss that movie because she related so much to it. Being left alone during the holidays in a mansion only being accompanied by the maids and butlers that her parents assumed would take care of her.

YN kept quiet the entire time they were together, from opening the room to get the keys, giving Hanni the one that stuco has, and leaving the girl to eat lunch. Hanni took notice of her rival’s silence. Did I hit a nerve?

When Hanni finally reached her lunch table with her friends, greeting them as she sat down and ate her lunch. Looking around, she noticed YN wasn’t with her friends. No, I shouldn’t care about her, she’s my academic rival.

Danielle being the sweetheart she is, checked up on Hanni. It wasn’t rare she was late but she’s quiet which is more concerning, as if there was a ticking bomb in her mind waiting to explode at any moment.

The last time the stuco president was this quiet was when YN lashed out at her, along the lines of her being accused of cheating which was then proven wrong by the prefect of discipline. That time, everything was a mess, Hanni profusely apologized to YN even with the amount of evidence that the girl didn’t cheat in the finals. It was the first time that Hanni was guilty for accusing the girl, but she still saw YN as a threat to her potential title of valedictorian. People making comments on how jealousy made Hanni finally break, badmouthing her and some were planning on bullying the girl. That was until YN finally spoke to her after weeks of apologizing. To say the least, it was a traumatic event for both Pham and Park.

“Hanni, are you ok?” She looked up and nodded, it wasn’t like YN would admit to her hitting a nerve. It terrified her when YN was quiet, bringing back memories from their first year together. Maybe I did hit a nerve?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Once classes were over, YN had managed to write a few things about Hanni, some are good but she lashed out during lunch but shortly after disregarding it as the girl didn’t know anything about her life. All she could do is keep the ones she’s written and gather more info when she arrives at Hanni’s place.

Hanni was finishing with stuco duties, short meetings and planning for future events, the grad ball was a bit close and they needed a sponsor. No one was willing to ask or have any ideas who to ask, they were staring right at a wall, just nothing. YN was given permission to stay inside the room but she must not mention to anyone about the events being planned. They shouldn’t worry about her when Chaewon is the one that spills everything in the groupchat.

“Pst. YN, you know anyone that could sponsor the grad ball?” She does, she always does, her own parents could. She had already asked them, but it was Chaewon that asked her, not Hanni. If only Hanni wasn’t ignoring her, she would have told her right there and then that she does know someone.

“No, sorry.” A chorus of groans and someone smacking their head on the table can be heard. They were back to square one which made Hanni decide to end the meeting earlier than usual, at least to get them in the right headspace to continue the conversation tomorrow. Chaewon said goodbye to YN and Hanni, which was a weird sight to see, the rivals walking home together?

The walk to Hanni’s place was awkward, both were giving each other their distance but at the same time they didn’t. It was so awkward that Hanni wanted to scream while YN wanted to run away. Both wanted to be left alone but they needed to work on their project, they needed information about each other, what made YN so quiet and what made Hanni so terrified of the girl?

“So..” “Uhm…”

“Sorry, you first.” YN cleared her throat to signal Hanni it was fine for her to speak up, whatever she has to say can wait.

“Uh, about earlier at lunch…” YN hummed, quickly glancing at her. It made Hanni stop for a second, what happened to the cold exterior from earlier? Like it melted right away when they’re alone. Has YN been like this before?

“You were suddenly quiet… if I hit a nerve from my comment, I’m sorry.” Nothing surprised YN more than Hanni apologizing, sure, the home alone comment did hit a nerve but the fact that she noticed the subtle change. Has she been observing me?

“It did, but then again, you shouldn’t apologize. You didn’t know.” Hanni was about to say something else, until YN spoke up again, shocking the girl.

“Without saying much, it’s not insecurities from my looks. I have quite a high self-confidence to not worry about that aspect. On the other hand, I do apologize for lying earlier during your stuco meeting… I do know someone that could sponsor the grad ball.” That was the longest thing that YN has mentioned to anyone about herself, aside from her own group knowing her life and visiting her at home. She wasn’t giving much away, she had the self-confidence that Hanni already knew of. When it came to her connections, that was where Hanni is left in the dark, what is there to her life that she won’t share.

“Why’d you lie then?”

“I wanted you to ask me.” Turning the corner, Hanni stayed in her spot a bit. What does YN mean that she wanted me to ask her?

When the pair had arrived at the Pham household, which was empty as her parents hadn’t arrived home just yet. Hanni felt embarrassed, she swore she wouldn’t bring YN here under any circumstances but here she was, showing her around, going to her room and bringing out baby pictures. It didn’t feel as if they hated each other, no. There was a sudden feeling of comfort. She had managed to tell her about where she grew up, why she moved to Korea, what her parents’ jobs were, her favorite insect (a butterfly, YN knew that already), and how much she loves music. YN didn’t tease her much, aside from the insect and a few things about how adorable Hanni looked as a child, but somehow Hanni felt that YN slowly brought her walls down as she listened to her rant.

“And now, you know the basics. What more do you want to know?”

“The future, where do you see yourself in 10 years, Pham.”

Where did she see herself in 10 years? Well, first, she probably went back to Australia to pursue her college degree there or probably in Korea University to take Law or Psychology. Does she see YN in her future? Somehow, yes. Park YN is the driving force for her to be better, do better, and just become the better version of herself everyday. Weird. Hanni sees it happening, in college or in the workforce, YN would be there.

“Probably I’d be a lawyer, living on my own and helping people.”

“I assume I’m no longer in that part of your life.”

Hanni notices the little things, YN fidgeting with her rings, looking around, avoiding her gaze, and sitting up straight. Her body, it shows different emotions, she can’t pinpoint what it is. Maybe its the way that YN would look at her and have a short moment of eye contact that would make her breath hitch. The way YN would act upon without being asked to let Hanni wear her jacket. YN somehow without talking much let’s her body say it all. She may spit venom at Hanni, but the way she acts as if she secretly cares and thinks about her. When... when did she take notice of all the little things that YN does and why does it have to be now.

“Probably.” Uncertainty, a chance, a probability, that was what YN was hoping for. Somewhere in Pham Hanni’s life after their encounter in high school does she hope for a chance to be a part of her future. Whatever that may be. “Oh… I guess we’ll never know.” Pham Hanni was uncertain if what she feels is hatred or something blossoming.

#newjeans #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans hanni #hanni x reader #pham hanni #hanni #new jeans hanni #hanni pham #nwjns #nwjns hanni #kpop x reader #reader insert #drag me down #dmd!yn

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everythingharrypotterblog · 1 year ago

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charmed [14]: 'the little moments' (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: GUYSS i feel like it's been FOREVER. thank you so much for your recommendations, i slipped quite a few into this part ;) i'm starting on the next part as soon as this one goes up. welcome, or welcome back to charmed<3 i never want this story to end but i see it coming.... for now, let us enjoy this newest chapter. as always im waiting for ur feedback x

series summary: set in the prisoner of azkaban, including its major plot points. remus and y/n get hired by dumbledore last minute to teach at hogwarts, defense against the dark arts and charms respectively. not wanting the students to know they are married, they navigate the challenging year through hidden glances, hand holds underneath the table and loving moments in their offices. even with all their efforts to conceal their relationship, their chemistry does not go unnoticed by the student population of hogwarts, who grow fond of the pair as they offer them some of the best classes they’ve had in a while. their relationship as newlyweds is strengthened as teaching the next generation of wizards unlocks a sea of memories of their love story. for the second time in his life, remus holds hogwarts responsible for some of his happiest memories. he’s given the chance to create them with the love of his life, y/n, who has taught and continues to teach him that every part of him is lovable, remaining forever under her charm.

series masterlist here

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14.

Knock, knock, knock.

“C’min!” Hagrid’s gruff voice boomed from inside his hut. Y/N opened the door, and stepped inside.

“Hey,” Y/N said, taking her gloves off. “Oh, hi Hermione!”

Hermione was sat beside Hagrid, the two looking over books that were sprawled across his table, with two mugs of tea squished in between them.

“Hi, Professor Y/L/N!” Hermione smiled politely.

“Hermione’s just here helping me with Beaky’s case, found me all these dates and all in these books.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful.” Y/N beamed. “How are you guys doing?”

Hagrid let out a sigh, shrugging. Hermione did the same.

Y/N pursed her lip. “Tough time right now, I get it. Well, I don’t wanna disturb you, Hagrid, you have anything I can help you with today?”

Y/N was somewhat of an animal lover. Or, creature lover, to put it in correct terms. Ever since the winter, she’d go down to Hagrid’s once a week and ask him if she could help out with any creature tending he had to do. It cheered her up.

“Matter o’ fact, I do!” Hagrid sat up, turning around and going to get something from his fridge. “It’s time for the Hippogriffs to eat,” he said, dumping heaps of raw meat into a bucket.

“Wonderful.” Y/N said, walking over to Hermione to read over her shoulder. She placed her hand on her shoulder, “wanna come with?”

“Oh, no thanks Professor. Maybe I’ll join you after when I’m done showing Hagrid all this.”

“Sure.” Y/N smiled. “Ah,” she looked up once she heard the clunk of Hagrid’s bucket.

“Here, take Fang out with you. He’s driving us nuts.” Hagrid added, throwing in Fang’s treat bag in the bucket.

Y/N laughed. “Alright then, I’ll see you soon. Fang! Come on!”

She pulled her gloves back on and grabbed the bucket, holding the door open for Fang to run out beside her. They walked to the Hippogriff enclosure, occasionally pausing so that Fang can go to the bathroom.

“Hi guys,” Y/N called out as she neared the Hippogriff herd. They turned to her.

She bowed down to them one by one, waiting for their look of “ok” before handing them their food. Last, was Buckbeak.

She sat on a rock, watching them tear apart and munch on the pieces of meat with their impressive beaks.

“Oh, yes you get one too, I know you’re jealous that they get to eat,” Y/N said to Fang, who was whining and drooling next to her. She threw him a treat.

Buckbeak finished his meal, and slowly made his way to Y/N.

“Hi, buddy.” Y/N smiled. She watched him lie down next to her and stretch his long neck outward. He nudged the top of his head against her thigh. “You’re cuddly today.” She graciously lent her hand out and ran her fingers through his feathers.

She sat there for a moment, petting Buckbeak and keeping an eye on Fang who was running around the enclosure. Birds chirped and it was music to her ears. Winters were always so hard for her, and with April looming closer, she began to feel relief.

“Might have a baby soon, you know.” She said to Buckbeak, smiling cheekily. Buckbeak made a sound and beckoned her to keep petting him. “That’s all. Nothing else has changed. I heard you’re going to London soon. I hope it’ll be a nice trip..”

Eventually, she got up, bid the Hippogriffs goodbye, and made her way back to Hagrid’s with Fang.

“Hagrid,” she knocked, entering. “Here ya go.” She handed him the empty bucket, as well as Fang’s treats.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?”

“Everybody’s super, happy and fed.”

“Thanks a lot, eh Y/N. Hermione’s about to go too, yeh mind walking her up to the Castle?”

“Course not.” Y/N said, patting him on the arm. “You need me to hold something, Hermione?”

“No, thank you Professor, I’m leaving most of the books here.”

The two walked in silence up the hill that separated the Castle and the grounds.

Y/N glanced at Hermione. “You doing alright, Hermione?”

She nodded automatically, refusing to meet her professor’s eyes.

“I guess I’m a bit tired.” She said, finally.

Y/N nodded reassuringly. “You’re doing a lot.”

“I just…” Hermione started. “There’s so much I want to do. You know? I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like I can do so much.”

Y/N nodded once again. “You have the best kind of drive a young person can have, Hermione.”

They walked a little more.

“It’s my favourite part, working with people your age. A lot of you feel compelled to do something big, to save a lot of people. It’s really good, it’s a good thing. A necessary thing for the world to advance too.”

Y/N paused before continuing.

“But in the end, it’s okay if you only save one person. And it’s even more okay if that one person just turns out to be you.”

Y/N let Hermione think as they climbed up the few stairs to the castle entrance. To her surprise, Hermione wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Y/N rubbed her arm encouragingly before they broke apart.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Y/N watched her set off for the Gryffindor common room. Maybe what she said didn’t even register with Hermione. Or maybe it did. Maybe it just did.

Remus was in his office, dozing off slightly when his fireplace lit up and a familiar snarling voice called out: “Lupin! I want a word!”

He recognized it to be Snape’s. Thinking it was just something about the Polyjuice Potion, he absent-mindedly clambered into the ashes. Spinning out of his office and into a new location, he was taken aback by Harry Potter standing beside Snape, face adorned with a look of pure terror it seemed.

"You called, Severus?" said Lupin mildly.

"I certainly did," said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.”

Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining.

Upon glancing at it, Remus felt his throat close up. He cleared it, attempting to play it off casually while he felt his entire chest seize up. It can’t be…

"Well?" said Snape.

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.

"Well?" said Snape again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry's direction, warned him not to interrupt.

He racked his brains for a thing to say. Something plausible. How was he even going to get a single sentence out when about a million thoughts and emotions were rushing past his mind?

"Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —"

"Indeed?" said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?”

Manufacturers? Remus fought to keep a straight face.

"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" he said. "Harry, do you know any of these men?”

"No," said Harry quickly.

"You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko product to me —"

Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch

in his chest and trying to speak.

"I -- gave -- Harry -- that -- stuff," he choked. "Bought -- it... in Zonko's... ages -- ago…"

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back,

shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay -- excuse us, Severus —"

Harry didn't dare look at Snape as they left his office. He. Ron, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin.

"Professor, I —“

"I don't want to hear explanations," said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it' s a map," he said as Harry and Ron looked amazed. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a

student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let

you have it back, Harry.”

Harry had expected that, and was too keen for explanations to protest.

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"

"Because...," Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining.”

"Do you know them?" said Harry, impressed.

"We've met," he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you

take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor

way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic

tricks."

Mind racing, he rushed back into his office, leaving Harry and Ron in the hallway, the map in between his quivering hands.

He fell into the nearest chair he could find once back in his quarters and tapped the map, muttering an all too familiar phrase.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

Remus traced the ink that appeared with a finger, then opened it and watched as every detail of the Hogwarts Castle and grounds appeared on the pages. He found the small dot in his office labeled ‘Remus Lupin’.

He burst into tears.

SMACK!

“Hermione!”

Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul -- you evil —"

"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung

it back.

"Get off, Ron!”

Malfoy grunted to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three rushed into the castle, the former clutching the side of his face that Hermione had just smacked.

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione said shrilly. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!”

"We're due in Charms," said Ron, still goggling at Hermione. "We'd better go.”

They hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Y/L/N’s classroom.

Y/N glanced over at them as they opened the classroom door, and gave them a quick nod before continuing her lesson.

“Cheering Charms today, pair up!”

Harry and Ron hurried to a desk at the back and opened their bags. Ron looked behind him.

"Where's Hermione gone?”

Harry looked around too. Hermione hadn't entered the classroom, yet Harry knew she had been right next to him when he had opened the door.

"That's weird.”

The lesson ended, and the students filed out of class all grinning ear to ear, the Charms had yet to wear off.

“Is Hermione okay?” Y/N asked Harry and Ron on their way out.

They shrugged, telling her they didn’t know where she went and then thanked her and bid her good day.

Y/N was magically wiping the chalkboards clean when she heard two pairs of loud, heavy footsteps running down the hall and into the classroom.

“I could hear you coming from a mile away, guys.” Y/N chuckled at Fred and George Weasley.

“Good afternoon, Professor Y/L/N!”

“Finished your class, Professor Y/L/N?”

They said in unison.

“Yes, come on in. What can I do for you two today?” Y/N said as she took a seat behind her desk.

The twins shared a look with each other.

“What….—” Y/N said suspiciously.

The twins broke out into identical grins.

“— did you guys do…”

“Nothing! We were just wondering—“ Fred said.

“if you—“ George continued.

“our favourite teacher, by the way—“ Fred intercepted.

Y/N rolled her eyes, urging them to continue.

“would take a look at something we’re working on?”

Y/N looked at them. “I’m guessing this thing you’re working on is not the latest essay I assigned eh?”

The twins chuckled. “Oh, that’s already finished!”

“Way ahead of you!”

“Will be on your desk before tomorrow’s class!”

Y/N smiled. They amused her so.

“Alright, what is it that you want to show me?”

“Okay. It’s a very early prototype.” Fred said, clapping his hands together. “George, the honours?”

“Very well, Fred.” George pulled out a small candy from his pocket. He took his time to unwrap it dramatically, then slowly put it in his mouth. And chewed.

Y/N looked at him quizzically before yelling out as soon as George seemingly gagged something up. The ‘something’ revealed itself to be his own tongue, which was swelling and coming out of his mouth doubling in size.

“FRED? What is this?!” Y/N gasped, jumping up to George’s side.

“No worries, Professor, this is what’s supposed to happen!” Fred cried out, pulling out his wand and muttering the counter-spell.

George’s tongue went back to normal. “Tada,” he said, taking a bow.

Y/N sat back down, looking flabbergasted, then burst out laughing. The twins beamed.

“You guys made that candy yourself?”

The twins nodded.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “How long did it take you to figure out how to trap the spell inside the piece of toffee?”

“Since you first taught it to us in December, Professor.”

“Hmm.” Y/N was visibly impressed. “So I teach you guys the Growth Charm, and you guys decide to put it in a candy to make people’s tongue grow thrice its size… This is high-level charmwork, gentlemen. And very creative.”

The twins beamed. “We want to make a business out of it, Professor.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“We’ve got a bunch of other ideas too, like a Skiving Snackboxes line- candy that makes you sick so you can get out of class!”

Y/N nodded.

“You think it’s a bad idea, Professor?” George asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Hold onto the idea. I think you guys have got some real talent.”

The twins whooped and high-fived each other. “We’re set for life, Freddie!”

“Hey, hey, hey— that doesn’t mean you don’t need to put in the work, eh! All brilliant entrepreneurs still need a basic education as a foundation.”

The twins nodded.

“I don’t want you guys to be distracted and flunk your O.W.L.’s this year.” Y/N said. “ESPECIALLY your Charms one.” She winked and the twins nodded, chuckling.

“Yes, Professor.”

Another pair of loud, running footsteps echoed through the hallway and this time, in burst Hermione.

“Hermione!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Professor Y/L/N, I’m so sorry, I missed class, I—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, come, sit down. Breathe.”

Hermione sat down and relaxed. Y/N reassured her that it was okay, that she wasn’t upset and that she’d catch up on Cheering Charms the next time.

“No need to freak out, I mean, look at how many times these two have skipped my class.” Y/N said, jerking her head to Fred and George.

“Professor!” The twins retaliated, turning red like their hair. “We have been ill…”

“Hmm hmm, sure.” Y/N chuckled.

Just then, Remus passed by her classroom, poking his head in.

“Remus!” Y/N called out happily, beckoning him to join.

“Hello Professor Y/L/N, hello.” He smiled at her, then to Hermione and the twins.

“We were just eating some candy.” Y/N said lightly. “Care for a toffee?” She said, eyeing the twins.

Fred and George’s eyes grew round as they understood what she meant.

“Um, here you go Professor.” Fred said, handing Remus a candy.

He put it in his mouth, then became aware that he was being stared at.

“Wha-?” He croaked before choking, his tongue starting to swell.

Y/N burst out laughing, running out of her chair to come to his aid. “I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry—“ she gasped, pulling her wand out and quickly reversing it.

The three students concealed their laughter as they did not know if they should be allowed to laugh at the fact that they pranked a teacher.

Remus coughed and choked as his tongue went back to normal, Y/N still laughing and clutching onto his chest.

“What was that?” Remus gasped.

“I’m so sorry, it’s this prank thing the twins came up with.” Y/N said, still doubled over in laughter, clutching onto the lapel of his robes.

“Oh my god,” Remus chuckled, closing his eyes. “I should’ve known not to trust you.”

The two laughed, clutching at each other’s arms and hands. Hermione, Fred and George stood there, side-eyeing each other as they watched their two Professors struggle to get it together and keep their hands off each other.

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession -- no!

Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field -- THAT WAS DELIBERATE!”

It was the Quidditch Cup Final, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the tension and adrenaline spread across the pitch was enough to send everyone flying.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebold And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle -- Flint alongside her -- poke him

in the eye, Angelina! -- it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke -- oh no -- Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save —!"

“Oh God, I can’t fucking watch this-“ Y/N screamed, clutching onto Remus’ arm.

The students standing across the teacher’s box were following the players but some did a double take as their eyes glossed over Remus and Y/N.

“Look— look, look at fucking Professor Y/L/N and Lupin—“ a student nudged her friend.

Her friend took her eyes off the game and giggled. “Do those Weasley twins still have that bet going on cause I’m definitely gonna put some money in now.”

“— AND POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR WINS! GRYFFINDOR HAS WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The stadium burst into a thundering cheer as waves of crimson-clad students jumped up and down, shaking the seats and ground under them.

The teachers were equally going crazy, McGonagall’s bun had even undone itself from the amount of shaking her arms were doing. Y/N and Remus were yelling into each other’s faces, jumping up and down hugging each other.

A group of students that were jumping up and down, flailing their arms, pointed at Y/N and Remus, and began screaming and jumping even harder.

“Okay…! Okay Minerva, I see you today!” Y/N exclaimed as she walked in the teacher’s lounge one afternoon, carrying a mug of tea and wrapped in a blanket scarf.

“Thank you, thank you.” McGonagall smiled shyly, showing off her newly done nails to Professor Sprout who was sitting across the room.

Pomona hummed in appreciation. “Cold, Y/N?”

“Freezing. The Castle’s always freezing.”

“You’d think Dumbledore can up the fires a few degrees.” Pomona shook her head.

“You know women’s body temperatures are naturally lower than men’s?” Minerva huffed.

The two other women hummed in surprise.

“So, did you do these yourself?” Y/N gestured to Minerva’s nails as she took a seat.

“No, there’s a new salon in Hogsmeade village. She is quite good.”

“Oh! Did you get her card?”

“I believe so!” She bent down to rummage through her neatly organized bag. “Pomona?” She said, as she offered both of them one.

“Oh no, unfortunately I can never have my nails done! The only downside to Herbology I suppose.”

“Right… what if you wore gloves?” Y/N said.

Pomona shook her head. “It would still chip away, by rubbing against the fabric.”

“Right, right.”

“Guess what I overheard today in my 7th-years—“ Y/N said, bringing her mug of tea to her lips.

“Oh heavens, not some more relationship drama I suppose?” McGonagall said, sifting through the pack of essays she had been working on.

Y/N raised her eyebrows in response, taking another gulp of tea. “Oh yeah. Simon and Ashley.”

“Ravenclaw and Gryffindor?” Pomona asked.

“Yup.” Y/N nodded. “They were arguing in the middle of my class about skirts. He was saying how he didn’t want her to be wearing her skirt outside class time.”

“Oh my God.” Pomona rolled her eyes.

“Something about how he doesn’t like that she’ll be seen in it by the other boys.”

Minerva tutted, shaking her head ‘no’.

“And get this— he was arguing how it’s a “BOUNDARY’ for him.”

“Oh no!” Pomona exclaimed.

“It’s not a boundary if it’s just a stupid — pardon me — rule that he’s imposing on her—“

“That’s what I thought!”

“I know it’s wrong to say this about our students, but I sure hope they break up…”

Everyone chuckled.

Y/N checked her watch, standing up and chugging the remainder of her tea. “I gotta go.”

“Have a great lesson, my dear.” Pomona said.

“I hate men like that.” McGonagall said. “Controlling, with such a fragile ego and masculinity!”

“I know.” Pomona agreed.

“It’s like— where do they get this from?” Y/N said, picking up her books. “Are they learning this type of stuff from their friends? Their fathers?”

The two other women shrugged. “Poor girl who has to suffer the consequences.”

“She’s so young too.” Y/N said, leaning on the back of Pomona’s chair.

She was about to linger a bit longer to chat more with her colleagues when the door swung open and Remus walked in.

“Hey!” Y/N smiled.

“Hey.” He gently replied back.

“You leaving?” Y/N asked as she held all her books, heading towards the door.

“No, but I’ll walk you.” Remus said.

He put his things down and walked out of the lounge behind her, accompanying her to her classroom.

Summer was definitely in the air. The days were warmer, the sun was out longer, and all anybody wanted to do was kick back by the lake with a jug of pumpkin juice and watch the Giant Squid float by.

Unfortunately, that was not the reality for students and teachers alike. It was finals season.

Thursday morning, was the 3rd-year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new boggart.

"Excellent, Harry," Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. "Full marks.” Looking up, he saw Y/N and smiled, waving.

Y/N came walking down, waving to the other students. “I’m just on a walk, soaking up the sun. Don’t let me interrupt you!”

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch Ron and Hermione. Ron did very well until he reached the hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.

"Hermione!" said Lupin, startled. "What's the matter?”

"P -- P -- Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk.

"Sh -- she said I'd failed everything!”

It took a little while to calm Hermione down. By the time she had, Y/N had come back from her walk and decided to take a seat on the grass and watch the rest of the students pass.

It was Lavender Brown’s turn when she chose the wrong spell and chaos broke out among the Red Caps. They jumped out of their potholes, running in all directions.

“Lavender!” Remus called, dropping his clipboard and pulling his wand out.

Y/N jumped up from her spot on the grass, whipping her wand out as well.

The two professors muttered incantations, trying to immobilize the Red Caps as Lavender had frozen in her spot.

“Don’t worry Lavender, come, back up—“ Y/N ran towards her, grabbing her arm when a Red Cap suddenly jumped on her. She turned around quickly, wrestling with it for a second before Remus blasted it off from her. “Little shit,” she swore, squeezing her wrist after seeing that its long nails had left a cut.

“Y/N!” Remus gasped, running over to them. “Lavender, are you okay?” He glanced quickly at his student.

“Yes, I’m okay but Professor Y/L/N—“

“Where are you hurt—“

Remus looked Y/N up and down frantically, clutching her wrist.

“I’m fine Rem, just a scratch.”

“Lemme see..” He said, gently unwrapping her fingers from her wrist and holding it in his own palms.

It was a scratch and it was barely bleeding.

“We need to see Madam Pomfrey, it might be infected, then we need to—“

“Rem. Rem, hey. I’m fine.” Y/N said, locking eyes with him. “It barely went through my skin, look.”

Remus looked down, brushing his thumb gently over the scratch.

“You sure?” He whispered, looking back up at her.

“Yeah.” Y/N smiled.

Remus muttered a Bandaging Charm and wrapped it delicately around her wrist.

Lavender stood there, watching the pair, a huge grin on her face— as if she wasn’t just almost attacked by half a dozen Red Caps, as if she wasn’t in the middle of a literal final exam.

#charmed #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #professor lupin #prisoner of azkaban #professor lupin x reader

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momolady · 8 months ago

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War on the Mists :Author April #2

(This was another novel I was working on. The characters are ones I have used before and would love to use again. Heloise is one of my favorite OC I've ever created, and she's stayed with me forever. I was also super-duper into Revolutionary Girl Utena at the time. Anyways, this was my take on the Arthurian legends. There is a lot more to this if you all want to see the rest.)

Chapter One:

Just beyond the gates of Cleatom Academy is a wide polished stone with a slit in it’s center. It sits in the center of a wide, shallow pond. Water pours continuously from the slit, filling the pond and creating a simplistic work of art for all those you come to the school to see. The students referred to it as Stone Lake.

I had seen Stone Lake first through a brochure that I had come across when I had finally convinced my father to take me off home schooling. It took some hard work and heavy screaming to convince him to let me attend Cleatom. But I already knew all about Cleatom Academy. It is an academy was for the children of powerful people, people like my father. It was a place to turn the children of said people into equally powerful people, the kind of person I was afraid of becoming. Despite my dislike of the place and it’s populace I am looking forward to the transfer. There was a reason I had been needling my father for years about Cleatom. Not only is it a boarding school, which meant I would be able to breathe, I’d be out from my father’s oppressive, suffocating house. But there was something much more. Something I had been fighting for since I was a child. I would be able to see my brother Ty. The most beloved person in my life and someone who has been kept too far out of reach from me for too long.

The moment I was dropped off at Cleatom, I couldn’t help but smile as my father’s limousine pulled away from the boarding house. I laughed out loud even as I stood in the center of my room. I wasn’t even mad when they told me I’d have a roommate within a few days. Please, I begged the air, let it be someone normal! I didn’t have much time to celebrate though, as I wanted to get some sleep for school. But when my mind keep whirring and clicking, thinking about Ty and how I’d get to see him everyday. I just couldn’t turn off completely. I got up extremely early the next morning, the light outside gray and fog as far as the eye could see. I got into my school uniform, a white blouse with a form fitting black vest over the top of it and then a gray plaid skirt. There was also a silvery gray tie and the school’s emblem emblazoned as a pin at my throat. I got to wear whatever shoes and accessories I wanted the head master had explained to me like it mattered. For me, clothes were just the armor I put on for my father and the people he surrounds himself with. Since that was no longer necessary for my defense, I had my attendant back home help me order a pair of high top sneakers in my favorite color, red. I also bought for myself an assortment of odd and colorful knee socks. I was only ever allowed to wear tights or hose before.

Then put on my sneakers for the first time. I never knew comfort like this. I then slipped on the beaded bracelet Angie, my attendant, made for me and went out the door.

The hall was quiet and I heard no activity from the other rooms. But as I began descending the stairs I came across several girls who I assumed to be the attendants of the girls in the dorm. They seemed surprised to see me on the stairs, or just even there. I now wish I had allowed Angie to come with me, but I’m glad she’s getting some respite. Maybe I’ll call her here next semester.

I walk outside, shrouded in mist and cool damp air. I walk through the garden that surrounds the girl dormitories. They have all sorts of plants growing, its very beautiful in the light. Several classes have the students raise and cultivate their own plants. I made sure to sign up for one. I stop just before the gate leading out of the dormitory village and walk off towards the herb patch. The ground is freshly upturned and sprouts are peeking out all over. I think of the little clay pot that sat on my balcony. Angie and I began it when I was twelve. I’m sure she took it home with her to take care of it. At least I hope she did.

I look up, fairly sure I sensed a presence around me. I saw the swaying of the willow trees branches, but nothing else. I stood, looking forward, knowing I could feel eyes on me from somewhere in the mists. I take a cold breath. My lungs freezing as I turn and unlock the gate into the cobble stone path leading to the school.

Stone Lake was much smaller than I pictured. Then again, compared to the castle the school had been built into, everything looked smaller. The stone rested slightly above me. And the small shallow pond wasn’t even deep enough to hold fish. By the time I had come to the pond and sat for a moment students were arriving, not just from the dormitory village but in limos and cars coming through the front gates like I had yesterday. I watched as these cars pulled up at the doors, letting out their pristine cargo. I watched my new classmates. I watched for Ty.

I then heard laughing from around the other side of the stone and when I leaned out slightly I saw a group of girls walking away. All laughing and tossing their hair. It was a victory lap for them. I walked around to see what was so funny and saw a girl sitting in the water, her head down low.

I went towards the girl, standing up on the rocks to get level with her. “Are you alright?” I held my hand out towards her.

The girl looked up, her berry red hair plastered to her face. Her eyes were wide and gold, peering out frightened behind strands of shining hair. I tilted myself down towards her.

“Did they push you in here?” I held my hand out to the girl again.

The girl opened her mouth then closed it, lowering her head and began shuffling her hands through the water. I stepped up onto the platform and kneeled down beside the girl. “Did you loose something?”

“My glasses,” the girl murmured.

I began looking around too. “What do they look like?” I was feeling about the water beside her.

“Silver, with pearl accents.” The girl said.

I looked down to her left and saw the glasses hanging on a shrub. I picked them up and cleaned them with my sleeve. Smiling, I extended them to her. “Here.”

The girl quickly took then and placed them on her face. She looked up at me and nodded, pressing her lips firmly together. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I replied. “Are you ok? Do you need me to help take you back to the dormitories?”

The girl stood up and smoothed her hand down utterly soaked skirt.

“You must be freezing.” I moved to remove my coat and the girl began stepping out of the water, moving quickly away from me.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She picked up her bag from the ground. “You’re an Emerald, you shouldn’t have to.”

I touched the jeweled bauble on my throat, attached to the top of the school uniform tie. It was the school emblem, but encrusted with emeralds. “What do you mean?” I followed after her.

The girl lifted her chin, touching her tie pin. Instead of emerald, her pin was pearl. I arched my brow at this, thinking that all the pins would be the same. “I’m a Pearl,” the girl continued. “And you are an Emerald.”

“I’m sorry,” I was shaking my head. “But I’m new here. I’m not sure what you mean.”

The girl pulled her wet hair and placed it in a heavy bundle on her shoulder. “I am beneath you.” She said simply and walked away. I wanted to follow after her but I had a feeling she‘d be even more humiliated if I did. I decided instead it would be best to find Ty.

Cleatom Academy had been built into and expanded from a castle made of white stone. I’m sure all the students felt even more superior because of this. True royalty! I walked up the ramp into the doors and into the commons area. It was like the food court in a mall. There was a coffee bar, a cupcake place, many tables and chairs as well as several large overly stuffed sofas and recliners. It certainly didn’t look like an antiquated castle.

“Good morning Cleatom!” A voice sang from the speaker system. “It’s another lovely day and I have just a few announcements before we all go to home room. We have three new students joining us today. Gregory W. Mansfield, Diamond. Heloise E. Boniface, Emerald. And Samantha B.D. Lewis, Ruby. Let’s be sure to greet them warmly!” I did not like the sound of my voice being introduced. “Students with birthdays today make sure to make your way to Sweetie Belle Cupcakes today for your complementary birthday cupcake. Today’s special is a chocolate, strawberry glace cupcake with an extra large chocolate covered strawberry on top. Yum!” I also didn’t like how scripted the yum bit sounded.

I walked around a gaggle of girls heading for the cupcake shop then and began zigzagging my way through the tables and chairs. “Also, would Heloise Boniface report to the sound booth.” The over head voice said.

I froze, what did they want with me?

“You can find your way there by heading to the glass elevator and pressing the button labeled SB3.” The voice continued with it’s wide awake voice. “You are in for a surprise.”

As I made my way to the elevator I knew I was the topic of the hour. Most heads turned and looked my way. Girls bent to whisper into ears, their eyes trailing me. Luckily the elevator was unoccupied when I entered. I pressed the button, a shiny chrome one with the letters and numerals illuminated behind it. Once the button was pressed the lettering flashed bright green. I was jostled for a moment as the elevator sprang to life, pulling me up above the crowd and through the levels of the castle until I reached the third floor.

The elevator opened up into a dimly lit room full of dark furniture. Beyond this I saw a huge white room behind glass brightly lit and glowing compared to the room before it. There someone inside talking into an old fashioned microphone and working a control panel of buttons. He removed the headphones he was wearing and pressed a button. Behind me, I could hear music playing in the elevator.

The man inside came out of the white room, running his fingers through his brick red hair. “It’s been a while.” The voice from the announcements said.

I furrowed my brow at him. “Excuse me?”

He turned on a light, illuminating the dark room. “Surely, you remember me a little.”

I stared, recognizing the freckled face, the deep brown eyes. Mainly the toothy smile. “Ty!” I flung my bag aside and ran into his open arms. I noticed that Ty’s pin was ruby.

“I’ve been waiting on you forever.” Ty said, stroking my hair. He stepped back, bracing his hands on my shoulders. “You haven’t grown an inch!”

I scowled at him. My height had always been an issue with my father and a joke with some of the staff. “Some heart warming greeting.” I brushed his hand away and began pacing the room slowly. “What is this?”

“The sound booth where I make all the announcements.” Ty said, following behind me. Mimicking my posture and how I held my hands behind my back. “Normally I have groupies, but I chased them off so I could have you by myself.”

“How kind.” Rolling my eyes, I smile. “Why do they let you make the announcements?”

“I’m the House Speaker,” Ty replied. “I’m an elected official.” He mocked snapping suspenders.

I turned towards him, raising my eyebrows. “Elected?”

“Student government,” Ty said, putting his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “I’m a pretty powerful person around here.”

“I bet Mrs. Jerrick is so proud.” I sniffed.

Ty laughed. “Of course not. Not when my sister is the VP!”

I looked back at him. He was talking about his half sister Cordelia Jerrick. Poor Ty was born between worlds. The bastard love child of my father and Mrs. Jerrick a world renowned business woman of the cosmetics industry. “So, are you meeting me illegally then?” I looked back towards the elevator doors then, just expecting Cordelia Jerrick to burst forth with soldiers, ordering I be tar and feathered.

“I made the announcement over the intercom, she would have been here by now if that was the case.” Ty replied, a smile in his voice. “She knows she has no control over me here.” He then reached out, taking my pin gently between his fingers. “Lucky you. You’re an Emerald.”

“I don’t get that.” I tap the expensive bauble on my throat. “What do these pins mean?” I had thought my father had simply chosen the Emerald because it was the most expensive.

Ty sighed, leaning back against the wall. “This school has a sort of…caste system.” My eyes widened at this. “It goes all the way from the working class students who serve the higher students, up to the most elite.”

He explained it all to me starting with amber, said working class. Most Amber students are actually the staff of the higher up students. That explained the maids I saw this morning.

He went on to the Pearls, which are students who are children of teachers or have scholarships. The girl this morning was a Pearl. This probably also explains why she was the victim of those girls. She was beneath them, like she said.

Then there are the Diamonds, students who are at the top of their classes or students who have celebrity. He explained that even Pearl students who have worked their way up can become Diamonds.

Rubies, like Ty, are next and they are the children of people who have donated a large amount of money. “Bought students, we’re called.” Ty smirked, somewhat proudly.

Then there was my group the Emeralds. A good combination of Diamond and Ruby. Students whose parents have donated large sums of money. These students could have been Rubies at one point, but moved up the rank because of celebrity status, grades, and etc.

“Then there are the Sapphires, like Cordelia.” Ty hesitated for a moment, gauging my somewhat disturbed expression to it all. “Sapphires are the elites, those who have all of the above and then some.”

I cleared my throat after a moment of it sinking in. “How is she a sapphire when you’re just a ruby?”

Ty laughed “You forget, I’m a bastard.” He put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me out the door. “I had to be bought.” As we approached the elevator it dinged and the door swished open, revealing the young man inside.

“Just in time,” Ty looked at the young man. “Heloise, this is John Whitney,” I saw that the boy’s pin was diamond. “He is going to be your guide.”

“Oh?” I looked from Ty then at John. “That isn’t necessary.”

“I think you’ll find it will be,” John said, a gentle chuckle to his voice. “This place isn’t easy to navigate for a first timer. It’s code that the Student Government assign a guide to each new student for as long as they need them.”

I nodded. “Well then, if it’s mandatory…” I looked John over. He looked like he was a football player from his build. His purposefully tousled dark blonde hair, hiding a scar on his forehead just so. His eyes were the a sort of hazel and gold color. His teeth bleached white. But there was a crookedness to his tie I liked, showed he wasn’t perfect.

“I was chosen because all our classes match up.” John replied, extending his arm and allowing me to stand in the elevator. “The Student Government normally tries to match up girls with girls and such, but I was the only one who matched.”

“It’s quite alright.” I waved to Ty as the doors shut. “I get along better with boys anyways.”

“So,” John said, pushing a button for the fifth floor, “what school did you go to before Cleatom?”

“I was home schooled actually. Well,” I set my bag at my feet. “My father hired tutors.”

John bobbed his head politely. “So what made him send you here?” He looked me over then, knowing Ty couldn’t see his eyes wander. “Excuse me if I’m being a pest.” His eyes immediately snap to my eyes.

I smiled, still looking forward. “No, you’re fine. But, I asked to come here. I’ve been fighting my dad about for a long time.”

John furrowed his brow. “What made him change his mind?”

“My dad is a gambler,” I looked over at John and his raised eyebrows, “so I made him a bet.”

John looked surprised. “What kind of bet.”

I put my finger to my lips as the elevator doors whooshed open into a crowded hallway. I gently dipped to grab my bag and slung it back over my shoulder. John walked a good few paces behind me, like one of my father’s bodyguards.

Turning and looking at him I snapped, “what? Student Government doesn’t allow you to walk beside me?”

“Well,” John blushed. “You are an Emerald, Ms. Boniface.” I arched my brows high at the fact he had referred to me in such a way. “It is not normally-”

I took a step back, aligning myself with him. “It’s not a rule is it?”

“No,” John swallowed, looking around. “Just…tradition.”

I then snapped my fingers, surprising him again. “Oh, do you know a lot of the students here?”

John nodded, swallowing. I was making him nervous. “It’s part of my role in the Student Government.”

I slide my bag down into the crook of my elbow. “Do you know a girl with really, really bright red hair? Almost like a lip-gloss color?” I motioned with her hands the style of the girl’s hair. “Also, wears glasses,” I mimed glasses.

John smirked at my monkeying and thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s Den Anais.” He said. “Why do you ask? You know her?”

I shook my head, looking towards the floor. “No, I just saw some girls push her into the fountain out front this morning. I tried to help her but she brushed me off.”

He nodded, sighing somewhat sadly. “Then that must be Den.”

I must of looked disgusted because his eyes took on an apologetic look. “Does that happen to her a lot?”

John shrugged, opening a door for me. “Sometimes. But I don’t work in her department of the Student Government.”

I balked. “She’s in the Student Government?”

“Hand picked by Head Master Emrys. She’s the Advisor.” John shrugged. “She’s sort of like…a personal consultant. She plans all the school events and dances and the like.”

“You think with a role like that people would like her.” I mumbled as we walked into the classroom. History was my first class, a class the dean of admissions said I would enjoy.

“Oh welcome, you must be Heloise.” I looked up sideways as a man in a dark green suit approached. “I’m Professor Lourdes.” He held out a thin pale hand to me.

“Uhm, yes.” I took his hand, it was warm and smooth. “Thank you for letting me in. I had been told you were full up.”

Professor Lourdes smiled, removing his thin wire glasses. He was an exceptionally striking man, young and beautiful for a teacher. “History is a much more popular a field than I anticipated.”

Something about his smile though told me he knew it was because of his looks. “But I was more than happy to make a spot.” He waved his hand out. “Please, take a seat anywhere. I’m not picky.” He left, walking up to the white board and his desk.

John leaned to whisper to her. “His class is so popular because-”

“Because he’s so good looking?” I finished for him. “Easy to see now why history would be packed.”

We took our seats at a two chair table in the back. The seats were overstuffed rolling chairs. I had one just like it at home. Father had got it for me when I began complaining about my back during lessons.

“Ari is a good teacher though. He’s also the one who over sees the Student Government.” John explained quickly. “He gives a lot of extra credit and he takes us out on a lot of field trips. They’re mainly trips to museums mind you, but he makes the experience interesting.”

I found I couldn’t take my eyes off Professor Ari Lourdes. He was a lithe mover, and his handwriting was impeccable. “Put a long wig on him and he’d pass for a girl, he’s that pretty.”

John snorted. “I’ve actually heard several girls trying to convince him to do such a thing for the costume balls.”

We both exchanged smiles and then began taking out our text books and such.

My attention turned to Cordelia as she walked through the door at that moment. John continued talking, but I didn’t hear him.

Cordelia was tall and blonde, the kind of girl my father wishes I was. And she sauntered right over to Professor Ari’s desk and sat on its corner like she owned the place. She tousled her hair and laughed, slightly turning to see who was watching her, because she knew everyone was. That’s when her gray eyes fell on me. Her expression becoming instantly blank. Her eyes almost bleeding disgust.

John tugged on my sleeve. “Heloise?”

I didn’t move. “Yes?”

“Are you familiar with the Jerrick family?”

Cordelia was turning and whispering to Professor Ari. I looked at John then.

“I’m only close to Ty.”

John gave me a wary smile. “Cordelia certainly doesn’t seem happy to see you.”

I laughed. “That’s putting it gently.” I cupped my hand under my chin and looked at Professor Ari, trying his best to act genteel with Cordelia.

“She’s the vice president of the Student Government.” John whispered.

I scoffed, rapping my fingers against my jaw. “Now that, I did know.” I smiled back at John. He raised his brow. “She’s part of that bet I mentioned earlier.”

John raised his brows. “Oh?”

I laughed. “Oh, indeed!” I leaned closer to John. “I bet if I acted like I was flirting with you, Cordelia would swoop in and steal you away from me.”

John smiled somewhat deviously, his eyes glancing over to Cordelia and then back to me. “You’re that confidant in her evil, are you?”

I nodded. “If there is one thing I know about Cordelia Jerrick, it’s that she absolutely hates me.” I then reach out, adjusted John’s crooked tie, my fingers lingering ever so.

“Sorry about this.” I snicker.

“Oh please!” John laughs. “I don’t mind at all.”

I then reach up, playing with John’s bangs. “What’s she doing?”

John glances aside for me then looks back at me as I drop my hand. “You should be dead.”

We both burst out laughing, and in that moment Cordelia is standing beside me.

John blanches some, but I look up at her like it is the most casual thin in the world. I am more than prepared to deal with Cordelia Jerrick, in fact, its what I’ve been planning on.

“Why,” Cordelia gasps prettily but it sounds more like a war cry. “Heloise Boniface! What a splendid surprise.” She says splendid like it’s painful, like she’d rather wretch bile.

I nod softly. “Hello, Cordelia.”

Cordelia’s eyes flicker over to John then back to me. “I had no idea you’d be attending Cleatom.” She seems to be running out of nice things to say. “Is Whitney here your escort?”

I look over at John and smile charmingly, he blushes some. “Why yes! He’s a lovely boy, isn’t he?” I reach out, putting my hand over his. “I’m thinking about asking Daddy to hire him as my valet for the summer.”

Cordelia’s tongue to captured between her cinched teeth as she smiles. “Oh? Well how wonderful for you, Whitney.” She then squints her eyes at me in an attempt to smile, but it comes out all wrong. “I will have to talk to you later, Heloise.” She turns on her heel just as the bell rings.

“I feel sick.” John whispers to me.

I look at him apologetically. “I am so sorry.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that!” John chuckles, relieved. “I knew she could be something of a bitch, but I had no idea it was anything like that.”

“If she gives you any trouble, just let me know. I can handle her.” I quickly tack on, “Ty too.”

He nods at me. “You’re the bravest woman in the world.”

A smile perks up at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just one blonde girl.”

We both look up in attention as Professor Lourdes begins speaking. He’s writing on the board in his lovely script and we all follow his instruction. My eyes glance over at Cordelia who is also stealing look at me. She turns away, and whispers to the girl beside her.

John elbows me. “And thus one becomes two.”

We both snicker.

“Quite in the back!” Professor Lourdes chuckles authoritatively.

John and I cover our mouths, trying to surprise our huge grins.

I look to John and nod. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

I shrug. “Just for being on my side I suppose.”

Chapter Two:

I didn’t go with John to the cafeteria at lunch. Instead I walked back out to the front gate and sat by Stone Lake. I pulled an apple from my bag and took tiny bites out of it. I was neither hungry nor interested in mingling with my fellow students. At least not yet. Considering the only ones I’d want to sit with would be Ty or John, are a Ruby and Diamond respectively. They are both technically beneath me. I doubt I’d be allowed by this ridiculous Caste system to even sit by them.

“It’s you again.” I turned to look up above me at the stone. Standing there was the girl from this morning. I stood, standing back up on the platform and waving to her. She smiled back, nodding gently.

“You seem attracted to this place.”

“It’s peaceful.” I put my hands against my hips. “And I love being around water.”

Den stepped down from the stone and into the water of the fountain, pulling her long skirt up as she did so. “Thank you for the help this morning.”

I bobbed my head slightly. I was unsure of what to make of her newfound friendliness. “Of course. Umm-”

“Sorry if I was a bit rude.” Den waded through the water until she stood before me. “I was scared, so I wasn’t much of a people person.”

“No, of course.” I was shaking my head. “I’m Heloise.”

Den beamed. “Heloise Boniface, yes! You’re new today.” Den stepped out of the water and onto the cobblestone surrounding it. “Ty has been anxious.”

John had mentioned she was on the Student Government. It had actually never occurred to me that she and Ty might know one another, talk to each other as friends. My surprised expression has Den explaining.

“Ty and I talk a lot during meetings.” Den twirls slightly. “He says you came here against your father’s wishes.”

I fold my arms behind my back. This is a gesture I take from my father. A gesture that Angie says makes me look like an old man. “That’s right.”

“But you are meant to be here.”

“Excuse me?”

Den stepped off the fountain and into her shoes just below. “Oh nothing.” She giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Are you busy at the moment?”

I shake my head. “No. Why?”

“C’mon, just follow me.” Den waved her hand to follow and began walking back towards the school. I sling my bag back over my shoulder and walk off after Den.

“We have a special gallery here at the school.” Den explained as we walk, bypassing the glass elevator and going behind it to a small service type elevator. Den pulled open the little iron gate and allowed me to step in first. She closed the gate behind her and locked it.

“Professor Lourdes helped piece it together, but not a lot of students know about it. It’s mainly a sanctuary for the Student Government.”

I tilt my head to my shoulder “Then why tell me?”

Den just smiled, pulling hard on the lever that began dropping the us down and down. “This place has a basement?” I ask, amazed.

“This old place has a lot of hidden places inside.” Den replied, looking up at the darkening ceiling.

I could feel the air dampen and chill around me. I wrapped my arms around me, wondering just how far down Den was going to take me. I pictured a cave below the school, massive caverns and alters like the Phantom had under the PAris Opera house.

The lift came to a jolting stop and Den unlocked the little gate and opened it wide, stepping out before me this time. I looked around, it was a massive round room. The walls decorated with tapestries and elegant paintings. Between these hangings were suits of armor, and in the center of it a wide, round table.

“Wow,” I murmured as I looked around, setting my bag on the table. I walk around the table, my fingertips gliding along the smooth, gilded edges.

“The student government meets here most of the time.” Den said, walking around the table, aiming herself at the suit of armor at the very back of the room. It was different from the rest, for one, it was on a raised pedestal and it was more golden. Also, although it’s hands were posed in such a way, it was not holding a sword.

“This one is my favorite.” She said, dusting at the helmet with her hand.

“What is all this stuff?” I asked, approaching a suit of armor that had long green feathers coming down from the top of the helmet.

“It’s a story,” Den said, folding her hands behind her back and turning towards me. “A history really.”

I had the long green feather between my thumb and forefinger. “Of what?” I gently rub the feather, a feeling of nostalgia washes over me and I feel warm and proud inside. The feeling disappears as I release the feather.

“Something that is thought to be make believe these days.” Den sighed, still dusting at the suit of armor. She places her hands over the gold golves, like she reassuring an old friend. “But, it is all tribute to a great king.” She smiles sadly.

I shrug, sitting on the edge of the table and pulling my apple back out from my pocket. “Like King Arthur or something?” I bite into the apple.

“The very same.” Den exclaimed. “Do you like Arthurian legend, Ms. Boniface?”

I grimaced at her formality. “Heloise, please.” Den looked surprised. “And yeah, I’ve heard a bed time story or two about King Arthur.”

Den seemed disappointed. “Only bedtime stories?” A hand slips away from the armor as she turns to face me.

I slide back off the table and walk towards her. “They were the only ones my dad would actually read to me.” I touched the shining helmet of the suit of armor before me. It had a blue, tartan sash going across its chest. “I always wanted Excalibur.”

Den smiled brightly at this. “Oh?”

“Dad said I couldn’t have it though, because Dagonet threw it into the lake.” I looked back at Den. “Is this whole school based on those stories? Castle and all?”

Den shrugged. “Perhaps.” She then sighed and looked down at her watch which had begun beeping. “Excuse me for a moment.” She turned off the alarm then disappeared down a hallway next to the lift.

I walked around the table, looking at each suit of armor and the paintings between them. Knights brandishing their swords, bowing before a king, being awestruck by ethereal women. I then stood before the gold armor, missing it’s weapon. Its mate. I reached up, cupping the helmet in my hand. It felt warm to the touch.

I was so captivated by the armor I didn’t hear the elevator churning behind me. I only noticed it when the creaky gate opened and shut with a tight clang. Turning I found Professor Ari Lourdes standing behind me, a book in one hand a sack lunch in the other.

He saw me. Even though he was some ways away, and his glasses covering them, I could see his green eyes widen.

“Ms. Boniface,” he took a tentative step forward as my hand slipped from the armor and turned from it, and folded my arms behind my back.

Ari removed his glasses. “What are you doing down here?”

I dipped my head to the side. “Den was giving me a tour.”

“Den?” Ari pocketed his glasses. “That’s odd, she’s normally so…shy.” His breath seemed to falter, seeing me posed before the golden armor.

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “What happened to it?”

“Pardon?”

I turned back towards the suit of armor. “This suit is missing it’s mate.” I say, laying my hands over those of the armor. “Den said you helped piece together this exhibit.”

“Ah yes, well, that is said to be a replica of King Arthur’s armor.” Ari replied as he walked around the table towards them.

I cup my hands around the gold gloves, thinking that they seemed small. My hands could fit inside them perfectly. “Then where is Excalibur?”

“At the bottom of a lake.” I looked up, Ari standing a few inches behind me. He smiled, “or so legend has it.”

I smiled back. “I believe that is the main theory, yes.”

“The head master of the school has always been fascinated with the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. His whole family in fact, dating back to the founding of this school.” Ari said, taking a seat at the table. “They wanted to be able to teach children to be chivalrous and brave like Arthur and his knights.”

My smile turns smug for a moment as the idea dawns on me. “So then, the Student Government is very much an attempt to copy the Round Table?”

Ari laughs looking at the table. “You’ve caught on to that, have you?”

My hand glides across the back of Ari‘s chair as I walk by. “A round table surrounded by suits of armor.” I want to tousle his hair but I draw my hand away. “It isn’t hard to catch the drift.”

“I read your records your tutors provided,” Ari said, watching me as I stopped two chairs away. “You’re…you’re actually quite brilliant, Ms. Boniface. You’re father is breeding you to be a great leader.”

“A leader of companies.” I spat hatefully.

Ari looked taken aback by this. “Do you not want to inherit your father’s dynasty?”

I whirl around in a viciously cyclone. “I want my own dynasty!” My hand slams down on the table.

My wild hair flying about my head, falling on my shoulders. Catching myself in his eyes I straighten my back, regaining myself. “I want to build something…with my own…two hands.”

“You could do it.”

I glance quickly at him and then away again. I felt near tears. “He, my father, would never allow it.”

I comb my fingers through my hair then tossed it back over my shoulders. Now that I didn’t have stylists to fashion my hair sleek straight or into to corkscrew curls it was beginning to return to it’s natural wild lion’s mane.

“He didn’t even want me to come here. Afraid I’ll learn to fight him.”

Ari chuckled. “Looks like you already know how to do that.”

Aside from his beauty, it was easy to see why his classes were always filled up. He could see me. Behind all my armor and father’s make-up he could see me. He knew how to reach people by that, too.

I laugh. Covering my hand with my mouth. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“I was surprised when I first saw you,” Ari said, opening his sack lunch. “You and Ty look an awful lot alike.” He pulled out an apple. “The only thing he shares with Cordelia is a name.” He said Cordelia’s name with an acidic bite.

I smile. Not just because he said Ty and I look like siblings but because he could also see through Cordelia. “That’s probably why Cordelia hates us.”

Ari laughed. A knowing glint glowing in his eyes. He looked up though as Den came back into the room.

“I’m done now.” Rather than seem surprised by Professor Lourdes, she smiles knowingly and quite brightly. “Oh, Professor Lourdes, how are you?”

He nods towards her. “I’m fine Den. Glad to see you befriending Ms. Boniface.”

“Heloise.” I corrected him.

Den smiled, not answering him. She turned to me and waved her hand to the elevator. “Ready to go? Classes will restart soon.”

I go back and pick up my bag. “Thanks for the chat, Professor Lourdes.”

He smiles. “Ari.” He corrects. I turn but he touches my elbow. “If you need help catching up to the rest of the students, my door is always open. I’ll help you in any subject you need. Heloise.”

“That’s very nice of you.” I feel my cheeks warm at his touch. “Might take you up on it.” I nod then head back to Den who is smiling at Ari. She follows me into the elevator and shuts it tight.

As the lift clatters back to the student commons, John is waiting for me. He is leaning against the wall reading a book. He stands in attention like a soldier as Den and I step out.

Den tilts her head at me. “Did you enjoy the gallery?”

“Very much.” I nod. “Thank you, Den.”

Den nods then flits off without a word. I stare after her, confused.

“She’s an odd one.” John says. He begins to say something else when the music for the student announcements comes on. “Oh bother.” John huffs. We stand in the middle of the commons.

“Hello Cleatom Academy!” Ty’s voice echoes. “Afternoon classes have been canceled for today.” A low roar comes from the commons as students cheer for their good fortune. “I know? Isn’t that just the bee knees?” I smile picturing Ty in his box. “But feel free to use the rooms for study. Also, it’s happy hour at The Creamery Coffee Shop. All drinks half off!”

Another low roar.

“Want some coffee?” John asks.

I shake my head. “Uhm, no thank you. I think I’ll just go back to my room for now.” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

John nods as we begin to separate. “I’ll meet you in Professor Lourdes classroom.” He waves and vanishes into the growing crowd aiming for the coffee shop.

I turn on my heel and head back towards the lift. I go to wrench it open when I realize it is gone. I hear it below, churning and working it’s way up. I step aside and watch is rise. I see inside a couple inside. I recognize the sleek golden hair as Cordelia and I step further into the shadows. I see the man she’s with, tall and slender with dark hair. My jaw drops as he walks out, pulling Cordelia with his lips. They separate briefly before she has him locked again.

“I really must go.” Ari is breathless.

“Oh fine.” Cordelia pouts girlishly. She stays in the elevator. “I’ll see you later then, darling?”

Darling?

Ari smiled. “Of course.” He waves her off as she turns the elevator back on.

Disappearing below again. I look at Ari and watch him adjust his tie and collar. He wipes at his mouth and smoothes out his hair. He produces the apple he had been eating when I left him and takes a bite. He then walks away and into the glass elevator.

I’m not sure what to feel. Shock definitely. Betrayal? But why? I don’t even know Professor Lourdes. I only had a brief chat with him a moment ago. But he was nice to me. He listened to me. I thought he saw me. I thought he saw Cordelia.

Why Cordelia?

I slide to the floor. Bewilderment sweeping over my brain. I think about Ari’s apple and decide to throw mine away. It’s probably brown by now. I go to reach for it and notice a little red book in my bag. I take it out. It was the book Ari had been carrying when he first came into the room. How did it get in my bag?

The cover it soft cloth. Once it had been deep red but it was faded now, but the gold emblem emblazoned on the front was just as dazzling as it must have been when it was first published. The gold lion on the front matched the one on the school pins. I opened it up and a pressed flower fell out into my lap. Picking it up I realize it’s a lilac. I read the title page.

Merlin’s Arthur

I flip through the pages and something else slips from the pages. It’s heavy and cold. When I hold it in my palm I see it’s a key, a lion head serving as the top. It’s mouth gaped open, the key serving as its tongue. And engraved on it’s tongue was my name.

Chapter Three:

The academy has long since emptied out and I sit alone at Stone Lake. I thumb the key in my hand, wondering what it means. Did Professor Lourdes give this to me? I hold it against my chest, looking up at the dim windows of the academy. I wonder if he is still in his room? Was he expecting me to take him up on that study session?

“I can see you out there.”

I let out a yelp as a voice booms out over the empty campus. I huff, flustered. Realizing Ty has seen me some how.

“I’ll meet you in the commons.” Ty says and then the intercom goes quite.

I stand. Placing the key in the pocket of my vest before I walk back to the academy. I go in and wait before the glass elevator for Ty. I keep finding myself glancing at the little iron elevator behind. Why do I care what Professor Lourdes does? I convince myself its because it was Cordelia. Nothing more.

The glass elevator swings open and Ty comes out. He’s out of his school uniform, weAring only a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt. “Wanna have some fun?”

I shrug. “Depends.”

Ty loops his arm around my neck and leads me away. We walk for a long time in silence. It’s hard to think we’ve been separated from one another for ten years now.

“I have a wonderful evening planned,” he tells be just before we reach the dorms.

I look up at him, his arm serving as my scarf. “Oh really?”

He smiles impishly. “You are a very lucky lady. Many women fight for the hand of Ty Jerrick, but only you can have it.”

I scoff at him, knowing him all too well.

He squeezes his arm tighter. “Go up and get changed, quick.” He commands me, pushing me to the front door of my dormitory.

I look back at him before I walk inside, slightly afraid when I come back out he’ll of disappeared into the golden autumn air. It’s where he belongs anyways, my flitting leaf.

He shoos me and I smile at him. “Ok, ok, just a second.” I call to him and rush inside and up to my room. I hurry myself into a t-shirt dress and grab my jacket. I don’t want to miss a moment with him.

We then walk to the school garage. A lot of the students who stay in the dorms have cars they use to go into town. We get into Ty’s car, a 1969 olive-green Mustang, and drive off.

He has the last picture taken of us together taped to the rearview mirror. I’m six, he’s seven. We’re hugging in front of the old cinema.

“I thought I’d take you to the docks.” Ty puts on a pair of sunglasses. “I know how you like the water. Plus, there is something I want to show you.”

“Sounds fun.” I lean back in the leather seat. “Why were afternoon classes canceled?”

He shrugs. “Silly reasons. Works in our favor though.” He says with a grin. It’s the kind of grin that makes me think he had something to do with it. But I know that’s just Ty. Everything he says sounds mischievous. He used to get in so much trouble back when he lived with father and me. I think that was one of the reasons Mrs. Jerrick and my father decided he’d be best with her.

Ty parked his car on the street and we got out to walk. He put his arm around my shoulders again. He probably thought I was cold in the wind.

We stopped at a sweet shop and got hot coco. I got marshmallows and cinnamon. Ty got whip cream and sprinkles, and another with marshmallows and caramel.

I crook my brow at him. “Why’d you get two?”

He mimics my eyebrow, then flips it to the other brow and back. “Too keep me sweet.”

I couldn’t wait to get to the dock. I loved the smell of the wind off the ocean. Even now I dream of the summer house in France, an old chateau overlooking the ocean. I’d fall asleep in the box window, just watching the sunset melt into the waves.

The dock is made of old but hard and sturdy wood. I love it instantly. The sun reflects in glittering cascades off the water. As I race Ty towards the end of the dock a small girl comes into view. The sun glows off her golden hair like she has a halo. I think of the extra coco Ty bought, marshmallows and caramel. I feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner. She turns, her pale face flushed from the breeze. I raise my hands to my face and race to her.

“Nissa!” I cry as I scoop her up in my arms. “How on earth?”

She clings to me, gripping on as tight as she can. “Heloise,” she whimpers into my chest.

I cupped her face in my hands, beaming into those blue-gray eyes. “I thought you were in America!”

She was almost crying. Then again she always had tears in her eyes when she was happy. “Grandmother convinced Mama to send me back here.”

I pinched her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her lip. “Grandmother doesn’t like you.”

I laugh and pull her into another tight hug, cupping the back of her head. “I’m so happy to see you. I don’t care what that old bird thinks.”

Behind us, Ty laughs. “I told you you’d like the docks.”

“Are you attending Cleatom then?” I ask, reluctantly pulling back.

She nods. “Yes.” She pulls out her Diamond pin. “Isn’t it pretty?”

I feel upset she is only a Diamond. Her miserly old grandmother is a modern day Ebenezer Scrooge. Plus you add in both her mother’s celebrity and her own, she should be an Emerald. I cup Nissa’s hands in mine, ignoring it.

“I saw your last movie. You were so wonderful.”

Nissa beamed and asked about our father. I told her he was the same as always. I obligatory asked about her mother. Nissa answers that she’s been so busy, with movies, TV, and even a book in the works. I have no idea what that woman would write about but I nod and smile. I’m just happy to have Nissa back in my arms again.

“How long have you been in Cleatom?” I asked.

“A year,” Nissa admits guiltily, biting her bottom lip. “But I’m moving into the dorms soon. Grandmother’s health is failing and she said it would be best for me to stay away from it.” Poor sweet, darling, Nissa. She’s covering for the world’s oldest hypochondriac. I bet the bat sent Nissa away, complaining that she was the cause of her warts or something idiotic like that.

“I have us reservations set up.” Ty says, tapping the face of his watch. “I figured we Boniface children should have our long, over-do family dinner.”

Nissa squeezed onto my hand as we walked, she caught Ty’s and we walked in a row down the street. One thing I am grateful to my father about is this, my siblings.

Once we sit down at the restaurant Nissa and I begin peppering each other with questions. She asks me about home. Ty asks her about what celebrities she’s met. I ask her about her travels.

“Oh!” Nissa suddenly exclaims. “I haven’t told you the best thing!” She giggles excitedly. “I’m Ty’s assistant!” She says, touching his hand. “I’m part of the Student Government.”

“Really?” I gasp.

She nods. “Yes! I never thought Ty would hire me.” She blushes some. “I thought for sure he’d pick some pretty girl.”

Ty scoffs. “I did pick a pretty girl.”

Nissa rolls her eyes, same as me. “You know what I mean, Ty.” She looks at me and we both crack up.

“I see what you think of me.” He scoffs, slapping his palm against his chest and turning his head over-dramatically away. “I am saving myself for marriage.”

Nissa and I laugh harder. I’m squeezing Nissa’s hand, not realizing how hard, but she offers no complaint because she squeezes right back.

We leave just as the restaurant closes. Ty drives us back dropping me off at my dormitory. I kiss Nissa goodbye, almost wanting to cry as I watch them drive off.

I suddenly feel exhausted as I get to my room. I strip as I walk to the bathroom where I shower. As I dry my hair with a towel I pick up my dirty laundry and toss it in the allotted bin. One of the staff would collect it in the morning. I picked up my uniform and the key fell out of the pocket.

I had almost completely forgotten about it. I roll it through my hands then set it in my bedside table. I get into my sleep shirt then return to the key. I look up at it as I lay on my bed. I drift off to sleep soon with the key clutched in my hand.

I’m standing on a boat, my body badly injured and bleeding. I’m screaming. Fighting against arms holding me back. I know I have won against these arms many times in the past, but my body is so badly beaten they are winning.

I’m screaming someone’s name. Someone I don’t want to leave. Someone I love.

I finally collapse to the floor of the boat, sobbing their name over and over. I’ll never see them again will I? I look up at the one who was holding me back and he shakes his head sadly. He gently wipes away my tears and leads me into the boat. He sets me down gently on a comfortable chair and he extends my legs, removing the heavy metal boots from my feet.

I’m still whispering the name, over and over.

Two soft hands gently cress my cheeks and pull back my hair, tying it up and away from my face like I like. I look up into her warm, familiar eyes. She is crying too and I am comforted there. I lean my head into her arm as she removed the metal gauntlets from my arms. She’s singing a song to me.

I look down at the man tending to the wound in my belly and I ask him something. He looks at me and answers, “Your loved ones cannot follow you here, my lord.”

I’m baffled.

He doesn’t allow me to argue. I whisper the name again and he shakes his head.

The woman pulls a locket out from around my neck and opens it before me. I preciously cradle it in my hands. Inside is a lock of raven black hair. It sends me into shuddering tears.

I awake from the dream, still whispering the name, still crying. I sit upright and rub hard at my eyes. The name has already been forgotten, but the heart break I felt in longing for it still haunts me.

I realize I’m still holding the key. In the darkness I think for a moment it is glowing, but I decide it is merely the full moon reflecting off it. It is half past midnight and despite that I decide I must act crazy and go for a walk. Anything to subside the pain of my heart breaking.

I put on some jeans and a plain shirt. I stuff the key in my pocket and walk out of the dorm. I walk up the cobblestones of the dorm village. I walk past the boy’s junior dorm. The female senior dorm, and I walk further. I walk past the student garage and into the forest.

I think, perhaps if I keep walking I’ll reach the cliffs over looking the ocean. Instead, I come across a massive cast wrought iron gate. It looked like a palace itself with all the intricate works and towers to it. In the very center, where the gates open up, was a lion’s head. It’s mouth gaping open and it’s tongue serving as the latches.

I touch the key in my pocket. It is iron too. I take it out and compare the lions’ heads. They look like they match but in the moonlight it is so hard to tell. I stand closer to the gate, looking for the keyhole. I suddenly have an idea and hold the key in my hand and insert my hand into the large lion’s mouth. Sure enough, the key slides right in and I turn to unlock it.

The gate creaks open by itself, first slow then it suddenly blows open, sending me back a few paces in fright. I hold my arms before me as I am greeted by a cold burst of air, strong enough to almost knock me over, but I manage to hold my ground.

As I peel my arms away I see a thick, heavy mist pouring out from the open gate. I hold my breath and look all around me. I decide maybe I should head back. Then I think that the key had my name on it, perhaps Professor Lourdes meant to tell me about it and forgot. Perhaps, since I was Emerald, I had special privileges to certain areas on the campus. The campus was massive enough to allow such a thing. So I stride into the mist. I hear the gates close behind me and I am suddenly tight inside with dread.

I take a few steps, barely able to see anything around except for the cold, white mist. My toe hits something and I fall. Breaking through the mist I fall and hit on a set of stairs.

Stairs?

The mist is so thick around me I can barely make them out, rising through and going up in a gentle slope. So I begin climbing the stairs, I remember there being mist in my dream, it completely engulfed the boat I was on. Who else was there with me? A man and a woman of unearthly beauty. It is so funny how you can forget a dream so powerful so fast.

Above me I see the beginnings of a building rising above the trees, but the deep fog is swallowing me up.

Am I in another plain of existence?

At the top of the stairs I see not a building but a huge marble platform surrounded by tall statues of women bearing shells and children, massive lions with their mouths wide open, men wielding swords or embracing a woman. All of them an Atlas, holding up the a massive dome covered in tiny fragments of glass that glittered and glowed in the moon’s radiance.

“Oh wow…” I whispered. I am aware my toes are freezing, and the cold begins climbing its way up my body. Tiny frozen fingers ripping through my clothes and sending my skin into gooseflesh. I shuddered and hold my arms across me.

“Are you cold?” I look up in response to the voice. Before me, coming down from a platform at the far end is a man. “I see you didn’t need my help finding this place.”

I’m confused. The cold seems to be stabbing at my brain now. “John?”

I then see two more appear behind him, a tall figure that remains in the shadows and the second comes out farther than John. She smiles shyly at me.

“Den…” I shake my head. “What is this?” I ask, taking a step forward.

John raises his hand out of the fog and I was stunned to see him holding a sword.

“John!” I exclaim, jumping back.

My back hits a wall, cold as ice. I whip around, there were stairs here just a moment ago. Instead there is this cold wall. A wall of solid ice. My breath comes out in thick white puffs now, fast little ghosts leaving me. A warm hand touches my shoulder and I spin around to face Den.

“Hold still.” Den commands and I stand rigid, her hands touch my chest and I fell a small weight against the collar of my shirt. It is an Emerald pin. Den then puts her cheek to mine.

“Never let go of your key.” She whispers into my ear and then she steps behind me, her warm hand lingering on mine.

I look back up at John, squeezing the key tighter in my hand. “John, what’s going on?” I try to stay calm, but my voice is noticeably shaky.

“What is going on is a rite of passage.” The man behind John responds. His voice is deep and I don’t recognize it.

“For what?” I snap.

“If you have a name on the key.” The voice tells me. “John,” he says in a commanding voice.

John was suddenly charging at me. I hold up my arms, bracing myself. He knocks me upside my head with the blunt end of his sword, and I fall, hitting the frozen ground.

“Get up!” John yells.

My head in throbbing and words and pictures are mixed up in my head. My vision is whirling and spinning.

“Get up!” John barks again. Using his foot he flips me over onto my back. He then takes his sword and touches the tip to my pin. “I’ll break it if you don’t get up.”

“Heloise!” Den whispers demandingly.

I whimper a loud, choking sob. “For the love of God! What?”

John circles me, the tip of his sword pointed at me. “Draw your weapon.”

I swallow and roll to my side, wobbly standing to my feet. I still have my key clutched in my hand. “Tell me what’s happening.” My speech is slow.

John holds his sword up. “Draw your weapon.”

I grip onto the side of my head. “Weapon?”

John sneers. “Draw it, now!”

Confused, hurt, and angry I scream out. “I don’t have a weapon!”

I raise my hand, attempting to throw that damn key and then the sound of steel hitting steel resonates like a gunshot, and a bright flash of light that blinds me.

The mist clears. The light dims. Looking up I see a sword in my hand where the key was.

In my stupor John easily forces my sword down and he raises his against me again, bringing it down towards my neck. I swing upwards, hitting John’s wrist, ripping away at his starched sleeve. He jumps back and I run away, a stupid move because his sword is slicing by my leg, cutting into my thigh. I cry out and fall to my knees.

Den cries out. “Get up!”

I shakily move to stand and I hear John charging towards me. The fog is closing in, engulfing me, swallowing me whole.

I drop back to my knees and suddenly I am gone.

John’s sword hit’s the floor before me and I jump away, still low and in the fog. If I remain hidden in the fog, I think, perhaps I can regain my footing, regain some of the sense John knocked out of me. My ears are ringing, blood rushing to them and to the throbbing lump near the back of my left ear where John had hit me.

What was happening to me?

What the hell was wrong with the people at this school?

I then hear a scream. It’s Den. I jump out of the fog instantly, seeing John approaching Den with his sword ready.

Without a second thought I lunging through the fog and the air. I am flying. I am swinging my sword. As I swing at John, for the briefest flash, I see someone else. I see a man with long golden curls, and a strong yet angelic face. He is wearing shimmering armor almost pearl in color.

I strike him.

John’s arm is braced against mine, his hand pressing hard against my shoulder. I’m staring at him, wide eyed and frightened. I hadn’t been in control of myself.

Someone else had.

“Heloise-” Den gasps.

I hear the slight tink of something hitting the marble, echoed by tiny droplet-like sounds raining on the floor. Looking down I see I only have the key in my hand, the sword has gone away in John’s hand as well. He pulls away from me and the mist begins to recede. Looking down I see John’s diamond pin on the marble, all the individual tiny diamonds scattered like so many drops of rain.

John is looking at me, hard and long. I look back at him, confused and afraid. Was he going to hit me now?

John lifts his head, looking away from me and towards the back. “You were right.” John says to the man at the back.

“I don’t…” I murmur, slowly shaking my throbbing and confused head. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you to come back.” The man in the back replies.

John is then bowing before me. “The one true king.”

I’m confused beyond reasoning. I clutch my head in my hand. “John stop. What are you doing?”

“Look at your key.” Den is behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my waist. “You’ll see your true name written upon it now.”

I lay the heavy key flat in my palm. Engraved where my name used to be read the name: Arthur.

#creative writing #old writing #fantasy writing #fantasy writer #story writing #arthurian legend retelling #fairy tale #momo monsters #my writing

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animatorweirdo · 9 months ago

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When the dragons fly(book 2)

Beneath the autumn leaves, you decide to have a friendly sparring session with Maedhros. But when Helena came to share some exciting news, she had unwittingly sparked a flame of change in your elven friend's heart, leading you to suspect his real identity.

Chapter 12

Warnings: some sparring, teasing, possible flirting? mentions of Morgoth and lost hands, some soft moments between you and Mae, yelling at brothers, and mentions of a possible coming war.

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

The wind blew through the red and yellow leaves of the trees. Squirrels raced around the trunks, and the birds flitted among the branches, singing their last tunes before migrating south. The signs of the coming winter were evident in the nature around you but it did not discourage you from outdoor activities, such as brewing jam for the next stock and watching Maedhros train Aelon and Eweniel, who had decided to join in for the fun.

“One, two, three, good!” Maedhros said as Aelon and Eweniel were blocking and striking an even pace.

You smiled while mixing the jam with sugar.

“Focus Aelon!” Maedhros said, but then his training sword slipped toward Aelon, hitting the little boy in the hand. Aelon yelled, dropping his stick to the ground and clutching his hand, seemingly in pain.

“Sorry!” Maedhros’s face fell with concern as he tried to take a look at the little boy’s hand. Aelon suddenly kicked him in the knee, eliciting a groan of surprise from Maedhros.

“Get him!” Eweniel yelled as the two then tackled Maedhros to the ground and began wrestling with the elf.

The children laughed and Maedhros gently tried to defend himself, releasing small laughs and giggles.

You smiled at the sight and couldn't help but feel captivated by the sound of Maedhros’s laugh. Though you had heard him hum and chuckle in amusement before, this was perhaps the first time you had heard him truly laugh, and it filled you with a sense of joy and warmth.

“We have beaten you! Will you surrender or be destroyed?” Eweniel grinned as the two lay on top of him. Aelon giggled.

“Hmm… let me think,” Maedhros had a sneaky look on his face as he lay against the ground, pondering. "How about... neither!" With a swift motion, he scooped the children into his arms as he stood up.

The children shrieked in laughter as Maedhros hoisted Eweniel onto his shoulder and tucked Aelon under his arm.

"Hey! Not fair!" Aelon protested, laughing as he dangled upside down.

You couldn't help but release a few giggles yourself at the sight.

"Alright, it's time to calm down now!" you called out, and Maedhros gently set the two children back on their feet.

“Sorry! Did I hurt you when I kicked you?” Aelon asked apothetically.

“Not at all. It was an excellent surprise,” Maedhros chuckled, ruffling his hair. He then walked up to you as Aelon and Eweniel ran up to your porch to grab the snacks you had left there waiting for them.

“They like you,” you said as you glanced at the two. “And Aelon has gotten better each day. He might even be ready to train with a sword soon,”

“I agree, and if you allow it. I could commission someone to design a sword suited for Aelon,” Maedhros stated, making you stare at him with surprise. “That… would be quite generous of you,” you replied.

“Well, I noticed that your village doesn’t seem to have a forge,” Maedhros said.

“No. We order our weapons and most of the necessary equipment from the town. We don’t have anyone experienced in the art of forging, so there was never a point in building a forge,” you explained.

“I would be fine with you commissioning a sword for Aelon, but I’m afraid we don’t currently have the money for a privately designed weapon,” you said.

“There’s no need for that. Consider it a gift from me. Aelon has been an excellent student,” Maedhros shook his head with a smile.

“Well… if that’s the case, then thank you, Nelyo. That is very kind of you,” you smiled, and he nodded.

You then set the ladle on the table and started stretching your arm, which was now uncovered from the bandages, revealing red scars from the warg’s fangs scattered across your skin. Your arm was still in rough shape, but the pain was long gone.

“And talking about swords and training. It’s been a while since I’ve done any combat exercising,” you said while flexing your fingers. “My arm has healed well since the last month,” you then looked at Maedhros.

“So, will you be willing to have a little duel with me?” you asked.

“Are you certain? I think you should not exert yourself too much,” Maedhros asked with concern laced in his voice. You only chuckled.

“I will be fine. We humans might be different from you elves, but we’re not that fragile,” you said. “So… do you want to duel? Or has wrestling with the children left you too scared to face someone of your own size?” you challenged with a playful tone.

Maedhros looked at you before cracking a smile. “Fine then, if you insist,” he said as you two grabbed the training swords. Aelon and Eweniel watched with intrigue as you two faced each other.

“Fair warning, my fighting style can differ quite a lot from yours,” you said then swiftly attacked, making Maedhros stand back and block your attacks. He was startled but quickly composed himself.

You continued exchanging blows until you surged forward, swiftly pressing the side of your training sword against his neck. He countered by using his right arm to push you back while maneuvering his training sword behind your nape. In response, you seized his wrist with your other hand and pushed him back.

The two of you reached a stalemate, pushing each other’s weapons away while simultaneously attempting to press your weapons against each other.

“You certainly know how to strike quickly, my lady,” Maedhros said as you kept pushing each other away.

“Well, sometimes ending the fight quickly is the best option. And you know the saying, the bigger the enemy, the quicker you should be,” you replied as you two then pulled away, stepping back for another round.

You walked around each other till Maedhros decided to strike first.

He continued trying to hit you while you blocked, finding a joyful challenge in it as Maedhros was using his left hand to wield the training sword. You do not think you have ever faced someone who wielded the weapon on their left hand.

You felt a pleasant rush through your veins. Maedhros was an excellent swordsman. You could only imagine what he could do in an actual fight.

You struck his wooden stick away, pushing the point of your training sword toward his throat, but he was quick to do the same.

You two came to another stalemate with your arms leaning against each other and the points of your training swords at your necks.

“I must say, you fight well with your left hand,” you said.

“When I lost my right one. I trained hard to ensure I can still with my left one,” Maedhros explained. “And you fight well too. Not many can get this close to me as you,” he added as you freed each other again.

“I can definitely get closer,” you said, then rushed toward him. You jumped on top of him, making him fall backward from your weight.

As you both fell, you instinctively placed your hand behind his head to prevent it from hitting the ground. Once on the ground, you crouched on top of him, holding your training sword toward his neck.

You looked into his eyes as they stared back into yours.

“My father ensured to train me hard enough that I could take on even the most formidable opponents. And if this was a real fight, you would be already closer to death,” you explained, and he only smiled back. “And so would you,” Maedhros said as he held the tip of his weapon against your side, which he could plunge instantly into your rib, killing you with him.

You smiled as it became another stalemate.

You then stood up, helping the elf off the ground.

“Cool…” Aelon said with wonder as he watched the duel with candy inside his mouth.

“You think they flirting?” Eweniel grinned.

After ending the duel, you and Maedhros returned the training swords to their places. You then returned to your place behind the pot, stirring the boiling jam. Your ears then heard the clinking of glass jars, and you saw Helena approaching you with an excited smile.

“(Name)! (Name)! I got some exciting news from the outside world!” Helena said as she set the box of empty jars beside your workplace.

“Well, what has happened?” you asked.

“Someone stole a silmaril from Morgoth!” Helena revealed.

Maedhros’s ears perked at the mention of the silmaril. He glanced toward you and your friend, quietly listening while your friend explained the news.

“You know the silmarils? Apparently, they’re valuable jewels from Morgoth’s crown?” Helena questioned. “Yes. I’ve heard of them,” you answered as Helena continued.

“So… apparently, some elven princess and her mortal lover had marched into the dark lord’s fortress. The princess enchanted the whole court to fall asleep, and her lover then carved one of the silmarils out of the dark lord’s crown with a knife,” Helena explained.

“And then they just walked out of there with the jewel in hand,” she added with a grin.

“I don’t know if that was done with a purpose or out of foolishness, but if they succeeded in leaving Angband alive— I praise their courage,” you stated.

“Well… I heard that the two lost the jewel momentarily to a wolf, who ate it along with the man’s hand. But then they got it back, slayed the wolf, and got happily married after giving the silmaril to the princess’s father, who had demanded it as the bride price,” Helena added and then took a deep breath. “I need to hear more details to know the whole story,” she sighed.

“Well, that is indeed one wild story,” you remarked while continuing to stir the jam.

Maedhros was silently thinking to himself, progressing what he had just learned.

“Nelyo. Are you okay? You look startled?” Eweniel asked as both of the children looked at him. Aelon’s mouth stuffed with food.

“I’m fine, little ones. I was just thinking about something,” Maedhros smiled, and the two nodded, continuing to eat their snacks. His mind returned to the news he had heard. Despite the possibility of it being just a rumor, he could not help but feel bothered by it.

After taking a break, Maedhros continued training and having fun with the children. You finished making the jam and then started filling the glass jars with Helena, filling each jar with different flavored jam, and then sealing them to make them ready to be sold.

Maedhros helped you clean up your workplace after it started getting late and it was time for him to return home.

“Thank you for helping me clean up. You know what, take this,” you grabbed one of the jams and handed it to the elf. “Oh, I couldn't possibly accept this,” Maedhros shook his hand. “Nonsense. Consider it a gift from me. For— gracing us with your visits and making our lives more lively,” you smiled. “And besides, freshly made jam on bread is quite delicious,” you added.

Maedhros smiled, taking the jar from your hand while uttering a silent ‘thank you,’

“I’ve also been meaning to ask. Is everything alright? You have been quiet since Helena shared the news about the silmarils and all?” you questioned.

“Oh! So you…” Maedhros uttered, looking away shamefully. “Helena spoke loudly enough for all of us to hear. I don’t think you were eavesdropping,” you stated.

“Ah! Then, it’s nothing to worry about. I can assure you,” Maedhros fixed himself. “Well, you looked kinda startled, so I was just worried,” you said.

“I apologize. The last thing I want to do is make you worried,” Maedhros said with an apologetic tone. “But unfortunately, I must get going. There is… something I need to deal with at home,” he explained.

"Thank you for the gift again," he said, holding the jar. "Till next time we see," he said then left to retrieve his horse from the side of your house.

"Take care!" you called out as he left the village.

"Is he leaving already?" Aelon asked. "Well, it's getting late. How about you get ready? We need to take a quick hike to the mountains," you said. "Okay..." Aelon walked inside to get ready.

You looked back toward the forest, where your tall elf friend disappeared, and began to wonder. In truth, you didn’t know much about Nelyo. You knew he was a busy elf, had brothers, had exceptional sword art skills, and lost a hand in an incident, but he started acting differently when a Silmaril was mentioned.

You then remembered how he seemed hesitant to share his name upon your second meeting and began wondering if Nelyo was even his real name.

Nelyo? Who are you really?

At the hills of Himring, inside his study. Maedhros was working on plans after confirming the news that Morgoth had truly lost one of the silmarils to the elven princess and her mortal lover. He had also yelled at two of his brothers after hearing what they had done against the said princess.

The jar of jam you had gifted him stood open on his desk alongside a piece of bread. They were indeed delicious, just as you had promised, and even helped alleviate the anger he felt toward his brothers. Their actions had caused the loss of two potential allies and tarnished their reputation even further.

"You have been working hard since you came back?" Maglor stated as he walked into the room.

"Luthien managed to steal from Morgoth and walk out alive. If she can do that, then maybe Morgoth is not as invincible as we thought. There is a chance we could reach him and claim back what is ours," Maedhros explained, scribbling on the paper.

"Possibly, but how?" Maglor asked.

"That's what I'm working on. Maybe if we get all of the people of Beleriand to join together and attack him for a singular cause, then we can possibly overpower him," Maedhros said, continuing to work on his plan--- the plan to form a union and assault Angband.

"Does that mean you're going to go out less? I see you brought something back from that special place of yours," Maglor motioned at the open jam jar on the desk.

"It was a gift. Hands off," Maedhros stated.

"A gift from a special someone?" Maglor teased.

"Maglor..." Maedhros warned.

"Alright. I leave you to your thoughts. I do hope you do not stop going out to that place. I like how you return in a good mood," Maglor said and then left the room.

Maedhros stopped to think for a moment. You were a little escape from everyday troubles, and he enjoyed your company, but even you would find out the truth about him soon enough, and it would be over. He sighed, continuing his work. He will keep his promise till Aelon has learned everything he needs. He does need time to perfect his plan and create the union to put those plans into motion.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #when the dragons fly #hotd x reader #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #various x reader #targaryen reader #silmarillion x targaryen reader #maedhros x reader

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 5 months ago

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s2 episode 23 thoughts

i am: confused. about everything i just watched. and i can’t tell if the problem is me missing something blatantly obvious, the episode being strange on purpose because it’s building up to something, or it just being an overall peculiar plotline. but i will attempt to elaborate on this later. for now, as always, we start at the top.

the first thing i wrote down was that i was so excited to watch tn’s ep!! i missed the last few days because i was busy and i was really hoping tonight would NOT involve any sort of disease which proved to be the case

“i want these nerds to deal with an art heist someday” <- this i wrote while the opening scene began in some random hotel… like yeah yeah yeah ghosts aliens etc. solve the gardner heist. well maybe if they had been at the scene it never would have happened.

in this hotel, we see a guy who looks scared knocking on the door looking for “Morris” and he says someone is dead!! guy next door is listening (and yeah, so fair, it sounded juicy as hell) but when the poor hotel neighbor stands up to listen he gets… sucked into ectoplasm?? he is no longer there. also, lights are flickering.

agents in the elevator, arriving to the scene. mulder looked really comfortable in there lmaooo that was a very funny visual.

they got information from this case from scully's "contact", and the contact is one of her students!!!!!! ahhh!! she looks so proud. this is funny because she was at the academy for like 3 months lmao but clearly she made a good impression in that brief amount of time!

“heard a lot about you” detective kelly says when scully introduces mulder and HAHAAAA he turns to scully and says “we’ll talk later”. about what. do share.

(very funny that somehow he came up "a lot" in the 3-ish months she was teaching people how to do autopsies. like girl how did you manage to bring him up consistently whilst opening cadavers. that is talent)

investigation time! (mulder sniffs a drink in the missing guy’s room) "mmm, scotch" he mumbles <- LMAOOOOO THIS MAN IS WEIRD AS HELL

they notice a big splotch burned into the ground, and as they are investigating the burn marks, scully says it “could be the residue of burnt human flesh” and yes!!!!! I love when she says weird and unsettling things!!!!

mulder seems enthused about this case and also that there is a young detective…… give them an intern i need to see what happens. that man seems to have an instinctive need to Mentor.

detective kelly asks him what he thinks happened. the answer? “spontaneous human combustion” yes ofc!!

SCULLY IS SO SWEET AWWW “you’re doing just fine :)” she is not going to let her student doubt herself!

scully kinda sounds like she thinks mulder is teasing the detective with such an outlandish claim but i think he’s just being himself honestly

re:human combustion “let’s just forget for the moment that there’s no scientific theory to support it” “okay :)” <- yeah i had to pause and laugh. so what!

WHAT is he doing when they get in the elevator... he is making such a strange face. does anyone have this. it was so funny. he was at once locked in and a million miles away.

okay. so this wasn't the first victim. now they are arriving at the place of an earlier victim. which is a house with all the lights off. peculiar.

“hey scully, can you spare a prophylactic?” (now yes i did have to google this word's definition!) here is my live reaction:

"like a glove? because google is also saying that this can also mean condom. okay she pulls out a glove from her pocket. okay that’s the good ending i think"

makes sense for the doctor to have lots of gloves in the pocket of her jacket. more sense than the other alternative. i was really confused for a few seconds but in the end we got there.

he uses the glove to switch the light bulb on and she says “darkness covers a multitude of sins” which is EXACTLY what i'm here for!!! please keep saying creepy stuff queen <3

enter the home... another splotch from the other victim!! who also worked in tobacco, like the hotel man!!! but he says half of richmond works in tobacco, and the first victim was a scientist, so maybe not…? but regardless this realization made me think of that post that is like “people smoke less and now we don’t get spontaneous human combustion” which is soooo funny to me. if i ever find that post again i Will reblog it. it is true, spontaneous human combustion is a lost art.

mulder is very excited to dig through the trash, which is very raccoon-coded. he finds a ticket to a train station, and suggests that perhaps someone based out of the train station is hunting people.

cut to our deeply scared looking man from earlier who seems to be able to vaporize people. WAIT... earlier it was his shadow that vaporized the other guy. and he’s hiding from light... things are adding up. no light equals no shadow equals no vaporization. sort of adding up, at least. because still, how does a shadow vaporize you?

now he was getting held at gunpoint by cops, both of whom stepped into his shadow and get zapped into splotches. this is a distressing situation, but also a silly one.

new mulder theory: if we have 3 victims, and they were all near the train station, we could cross reference the security camera footage from those 3 days and see if we can find the guy they've looking for. “that’s assuming that we’re looking for a guy”, says scully, which made me laugh because i had seen that blooper clip and giggled profusely

mystery man is spotted on the camera and jacket identified as working at the magnet place… same as the very first victim!

off to the magnet laboratory to get the scoop on this dr. banton fellow. we get a backstory reveal: he was involved in a terrible accident! he was investigating dark matter. oh man, you can’t be fucking with such things.

the scientist guy is babbling about particles and dark matter. and while i am trying to keep up, there are bigger thoughts taking up space in my mind. namely: scully you are soooooo pretty idgaf about the particle accelerator <3

we see the scene of the accident, where dr. banton's shadow was burned into the wall……. the energy slid through his body?? girl idk. his coworker said it was almost like he wanted it to happen. maybe you get so involved in dark matter theories that you just want to taste it for yourself. anyway, the shadow left by the zapping looks like the other splotches…..

train station time. going with the agents to the train station. boy i wish all of the US was supported by a rail system.

he points out that dr. banton was staring at the ground for a loooong time and he's trying to figure out why.

“nonsensical repetitive behavior is a common trait of mental illness” “you trying to tell me something?” YESSSS! i have seen this gif many times and now i understand its context.

(also yes mulder has got Something going on. he has been diagnosed in my headcanon with ocd... i am sure there has been plenty of discourse as to if that is the "correct" label for what is going on in his mind but it's my interpretation and i make the rules <3)

he's taking in the whole environment of the train station, and notices that the light is soft… diffused… no shadows… maybe dr.banton is looking for such an environment... BAM he rounds the corner!

aaaand he’s running but you cannot forget that mulder is a track star! you cannot outrun him! and sure enough, they got him. mulder picks up on what's going down and shoots the lights out so there are no shadows while they talk

now banton is in a facility with soft light smoking a cigarette. very 2013 aesthetic.

he's trying to explain his affliction: “my shadow isn’t mine… it’s like a black hole”

first thought: okay??? um. how and why. second thought: can we harness this for superhero purposes? fight crime by banishing the bad guys to the Void. that's an x-men adjacent power.

dr. banton says the government is after him and they are going to "suck his brain". he begs mulder to free him before this can occur, as if that is a normal predicament to try and escape from and as if mulder has any control over this situation.

the detective’s boss is pissed the FBI is there... like girl calm down does anyone really care? all this nonsense about jurisdiction and people getting frustrated when departments cross. man, if i was in a situation like this, i would be harnessing the power of teamwork, but they never seem to do that. the agents are dismissed, but mulder tells detective kelly that dr. banton needs to be in soft light.

okay, so despite my interjection of "girl who cares", clearly they care. and i'd like to wonder aloud about this exchange:

“I hope you know what you’re doing Scully, putting Detective Ryan’s ambition ahead of all good sense in this case”

“Ambition? She’s a woman trying to survive the boy’s club, Mulder. Believe me, I know how she feels”

because he’s like “we just handed over the a bomb to the Boy Scouts”

and he thinks this new detective is gonna get evaporated but also again they have no jurisdiction so like?? i wrote that i was lost and then i rewatched the scene and was still lost. he seems to be questioning scully's judgement on letting the detective take this case, which she was not in charge of assigning the detective to, and that they only agreed to help out on. so they help and then there is nothing more that can be done because it is Not Their Case. but it also seems to be less about the fact that he is concerned with the detective getting evaporated and more into fending off the alleged brain suckers.

i didn't really get it but i wrote "the girls are fightingggggg"

X AT THE STATION???

ohhhh mulder wants info, but X can’t help him because he exposed his identity to skinner and scully last time!!! “and you can trust them as you trust me”, says mulder, trying to get X to believe in the goodness of humanity

X brushes mulder off and says “promise you won’t contact me again unless absolutely necessary” <- damn power imbalance going crazy

then we se X at the psychiatric facility???? breaking dr. banton out??? is he gonna be part of the brain sucking squad? he's got 2 guys helping him out, but they step in the room and the men grabbing him got zapped out of existence. X lets dr. banton run and looks very confused about the zapping of his colleagues.

HUH? so is X doing this because he is trying to help mulder or is he really part of the government who wants to experiment on banton? by the end of the episode, it looks like he is, in fact, allied with the brain suckers... but to what extent?

OH! dr. banton got back to his old workplace and his friend the fellow magnet scientist. but the detective catches him there. and she forces him to step against the wall and his shadow gets on her and she. uh. falls screaming into a black hole? and then leaves a burn mark like all of the other cases? man what is going on.

so banton is going back into the chamber where he was previously zapped to try and unzap himself. but he gets in the chamber and his “friend” reveals he’s working for the government that wants to catch him!!!!

BUT SOMEONE SHOOTS THE DUDE WHO HAD LOCKED HIM IN THE ROOM. It was X?! WHAT is the motive here!!!

okay, agents on the scene. accelerator is up and getting ready to zap. ZAP! another shadow shows up. so unzap the zapped equals no more banton? girl where did he go.

mulder is MAD and he is at the place X met him last time. confrontation time! mulder is pissed X used him to get to banton and again X is once again flaunting the power imbalance between them. and because X tricked him, banton is dead and so is the detective!!! boy, that has got to be bad news for mulder who blames himself for everything

he says to X: “promise me this will be our last meeting. we’re finished” and why do I feel that this is a bad idea!!!

X says he didn’t kill banton, and walks away. and also that this is a dangerous time to go at it alone. WHAT DO YOU MEAN! first skinner's cryptic messages about the darkness that is coming, and now X?

NOOOO Scully at her student the detective's funeral... this is soooo evil.

mulder is there but he’s late. he’s in sunglasses and they’re funny. she says this feels wrong and it shouldn’t have happened, a student came to her for help and she gave it and now the student is dead. oh scully pls do not blame yourself. it feels like they were led on this track on purpose.

mulder was late because he was tied up with a missing person’s case; the other guy from the magnet lab went missing that same morning. so maybe it was other guy in the room that had been zapped and not banton?

X AT THE SCENE OF THE MAGNET LAB. watching the other guy run tests on banton??? a tear drops down his face. X is complicit in unethical human experimentation...

so, i’m confused on many levels. it seems like someone got the detective involved because she knew she would go to scully for help and get them roped into this case. but if that WAS what happened, you know that you buy one get one free with these 2, so why would you want to get scully involved if that meant mulder would also get involved, and mulder being the closest (arguably) to X would expose X’s involvement and whatever ulterior motive he is playing to? hasn’t scully suffered enough without being forced to wonder if her helping someone started a domino effect that resulted in death? and all of this is over a guy who zapped himself with black matter and his shadow burns people up. huh?

and how deep is X in with the government doing the evil stuff? is he just distracting mulder with various side quests to keep him from discovering the nefarious deeds they are up to? does X know cigarette guy?

i don’t like when they fight. i actually LOVE when they fight over things that make sense. but i was confused over the fight they had in this episode because he was mad that she was letting the detective… do her job? and he didn’t seem to think she could handle a guy that vaporizes people with his shadow, which i mean, fair enough, tough case for a newbie, but blaming that on scully really pissed me off because?? it’s not her fault??? they also were only involved unofficially so did he think somehow they were supposed to swoop in and rescue the dude to prevent all this from happening? and how do you even rescue a guy whose shadow vaporizes people?

either this makes no sense, i’m wildly misunderstanding something, or a plot is afoot. or all three really. pls feel free to enlighten me with what you thought on this episode and let me know if there is something i am interpreting entirely incorrectly. or not! it could be fun to try and put the pieces together myself. regardless, i am pleased we were reunited

#we did get some good banter this episode so that was good #normally i would add more in the notes but i'm very tired for some reason so i leave you with this!#pls enjoy #juni's x files liveblog #2x23 #the x files #txf

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