#life path number predictions

[agrotech123]

The numerology predictions on your personality may help you to have better planning.

Now get your Numerology Predictions Children and Family, Past Life, Karmas, Vastu Dosha. Just enter your Name and Birth Date below and read your predictions.

[astroera987]

The Mysteries Of Numerology: A Comprehensive Guide

Numerology, the age-old practice that deciphers the hidden meanings and significance of numbers, is far more than a simple curiosity. It's a fascinating journey into the world of numbers and their influence on our lives. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the depths of numerology, uncovering its core principles and how it can offer profound insights into who we are and where our paths may lead.

[astrocafecoffee]

Destiny Matrix

(predicting some events of your life and characteristics of your fs)

• For entertainment purposes only, enjoy •

•☞ Masterlist

Guys, destiny matrix chart is So gorgeous 😭 , I fell in love. I am new to this, but it's so fascinating, so I am sharing with you guys. Obviously I learnt a lot from ann_matrix_destiny insta page. I explained some of her work here, rest is mine.

✨What is Destiny matrix chart?

-A spiritual and metaphysical chart that reveals a person's life path, soul purpose, and potential.

✨How is it calculated?

-Based on a person's birth date, using a complex system of numerology and astrological correspondences.

💫 How to see some important events of your life?

see this area(perimeter line)of your chart , this will explain many important events of your life.

💚Age of getting married/ meeting with your significant other/ spouse:

- look at your age in your chart, if you see 3,5,6,19,20 at the top of your age then at that age you will get married/ meet your significant other/ start a family. Like in this chart I have shown above '5' is top of the age of 23.5- 24, so this individual will meet their spouse at that age/ get married.

• Going through Transformation in your life :

- if you see 13 or 16 at the top of your age , then at that age your life will drastically change/ you will go through a huge transformation of your life. You will change your location/ your career/ will shift to another country or city.

⚡Moving abroad/ travelling:

If you see 7,10,21,22 above your age then this is the best age for travelling or going abroad.

if you find 21 in your love line(circled part)then most probably you will marry a foreigner.

And if you find 7, 10 , 21 or 22 in this positions then most probably you will go abroad/ find your partner there .

Now , the future spouse part : -

💖 Hints about your future partner :

Look at the number below the heart symbol to know about your future partner. In this chart it's 21.

So, let's explain each numbers -

•Number 1: The magician

- creative and innovative

- skilled and talented

- confident and charismatic

- however they may also struggled with over - confidence and arrogance.

- gemini / Virgo zodiac sign placements

- profession : musicians, writer, public speaker, coaches and mentors , scientist, entrepreneur, marketing and advertising professionals.

- meeting: conference or seminar, art galleries, meuseum, workshop or studio, networking events or industry conference, class or training session.

• Number 2 : High Priestess

- intuitive and wise

- mysterious and enigmatic

- maybe quiet and reserved.

- soft spoken and considerate.

- cancer zodiac sign placements.

- profession: councillors, therapists, psychologist, Nurse or healthcare professionals, social workers, spiritual leaders, energy workers.

- meeting: secret or private settings, libraries, coaching, weddings , meeting in the context of any spiritual retreats.

• Number 3 : Empress

- Full of life , energy and vitality.

- encouraging others to grow and flourish.

- committed, dedicated and faithful.

- Taurus and Libra zodiac sign placements.

- profession: fashion designer , sculptors, teachers and educators,event planer, environmentalists, musicians, healthcare.

- meeting through : parties, gatherings, festival, fair, creative workshops, artistic projects ,meuseum, concerts.

• Number 4 : Emperor

- Natural born leader, authoritative, commanding.

- makes tough decisions with clarity and conviction.

- commited to family and responsibilities.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession: executive, CEO, leader or manager, military officer, architect, Engineer, government officials, buisness owner.

- meeting : buisness meeting, job interviews, formal events , official ceremonies.

• Number 5 : Hierophant

- values established customs, rituals, and institutions.

- upholds ethical standards and moral principles.

- prioritise stability and security over change and uncertainty.

- Taurus zodiac sign placements

- profession: spiritual leaders and mentors, councellor , advisor or consultants, traditional healers or healthcare professionals.

- meeting: spiritual or religious gatherings, traditional ceremonies or rituals, educational and training sessions , counciling or therapy sessions, church,temples , mosques.

• Number 6 : The lovers

- collaborative, work well others.

- empathetic and aware of others feelings.

- true to themselves and their values.

- zodiac sign: Gemini placements.

- profession: counselors, coaches , writer , journalist, artist, musicians, public speaker, philosophers , scientist, researchers.

- meeting : social getherings or parties , creative or artistic collaboration, Beauty or fashion events , community or networking meeting.

• Number 7 : The chariot

- Determined, self disciplined.

- ability to overcome any obstacles and setbacks

- has clear direction

- zodiac : cancer placements

- profession: nurses , social worker, military, architect, psychologist, chefs , nutritionist, hospitality professionals.

- Meeting: family gatherings, home or domestic settings, caregiving or helping professions.

• Number 8 : strength

- courageous, brave , have inner strength.

- has capacity to forgive and let go.

- has self discipline and self control.

- zodiac sign: leo placements

- profession: artist , designer, performers , public speaker, motivator, executives, philanthropist, teacher, councellor, athletes, trainers.

- meeting: park or garden, fitness or wellness center, creative studio or art space, festivals, social gatherings.

• Number 9 : Hermit

- quiet, reflective, and introspective often preferring to spend time alone

- serves as guide or mentor

- discerning and concious about every step they take.

- zodiac sign: Virgo placements.

- profession: therapist, counselors,teachers , coaches , writers, editors, healthcare industry, social worker.

- meeting: therapists or counselor office, library , spiritual or religious sanctuary, coffee shop , book store.

• Number 10 : wheel of fortune

- flexible, able to adjust to changing circumstances.

- believes in destiny

- have philosophical outlook on life.

- zodiac sign: Taurus, leo, scorpio, Aquarius placements.

- profession: life coach, astrologer, environmentalists, entrepreneur, investors, historians.

- meeting: a farm , airport, bus station, temple, monastery, party,park , near mountain or river.

• Number 11 : Justice

- impartial and balanced

- they make descision based on reason and logics.

- have strong sense of morality and ethics.

- zodiac sign: Libra placements

- profession: lawyer, judge, counselors, social worker, activists, advocate, journalist, analyst , or spiritual leader.

- meeting: courthouse, law office, government building, council chamber, community centre, places of worship, philosophical organization.

• Number 12 : Hanged Man

- they are reflective , look inward for answers.

- they are open to new settings.

- courageous, deep understanding of themselves.

- zodiac sign: Pisces placements

- profession : spiritual leaders, therapist, counselor , artist, writer, healthcare industry, motivator, life coach.

- meeting : temples , church , meditation room , yoga class , hospital, library, therapy office,art studio, gym.

• Number 13 : Death

- they are like phoenix from the ashes.

- they can navigate difficult situations and come out stronger.

- constantly growing and evolving.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession: therapist, estate lawyers, spiritual leaders, scientist, healthcare professionals.

- meeting: counselling centre, place of worship, innovation hub or entrepreneurship centres, hospital, wellness center.

• Number 14 : Temperance

- they strive for equilibrium in all aspects of life .

- they prioritise physical, mental and emotional well-being.

- have creative sides.

- zodiac sign: Sagittarius placements .

- profession: doctor or nurse , therapist or counselor, artist or musicians, spiritual leader, international relation specialist , life coach , designer .

- meeting : art galleries or museums, embassies or international conference centres , community centres, clubs , parks , garden , spiritual center , yoga class.

• Number 15 : The devil

- they thinks outside the box and brings fresh ideas .

- magnetic personality, can attract others.

- unconventional, transformative.

- zodiac sign: Capricorn placements.

- profession: politician, CEO, artist, law enforcement, military, detective , investigators, activists, occultist.

- meeting: historic mansion or estate, a secret rooftop, art galleries, studio , book store, library , cafe.

• Number 16 : Tower

- they seek honesty and transparency even if it's uncomfortable.

- rebellious, resilient, revolutionary.

- they are open to new ideas.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession : scientist, inventor, engineer, architect, military officer, crisis manager, technologist.

- meeting: transformation hub, a unique event space or art studio, bookstore, library, co-working space.

• Number 17 : Star

- they have a optimistic outlook of life and believe in a bright future.

- inspiring, peaceful, compassionate.

- creative and imaginative mind.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: creative expression, artist , industry related to healing and wellness, science and technology, humanitarian work, counselors.

- meeting: yoga studio or wellness center, botanical garden or peaceful outdoor setting, co-working space, concerts? , innovation hub.

• Number 18 : The Moon

- they trust their instincts and have a strong connection to their subconscious mind.

- deeply in touch with their emotions.

- unpredictable, may surprise other with their actions.

- zodiac sign : Pisces placements.

- profession : psychic or medium, artist or writer, musician, poet , spiritual teacher, healer, counselors.

- meeting: mystical or esoteric shop, secluded beach, art studio, a spiritual or metaphysical bookstore, coffee shop.

• Number 19 : Sun

- they exude self assurance and positivity.

- optimistic, enthusiastic, charismatic.

- warm hearted , willing to share blessings with others.

- zodiac sign: leo placements.

- profession: actor or performer, artist, CEO , teacher or mentor, event planner, musicians, life coach, designer.

- meeting: cafe / restaurant/ hotel , studio , gathering hall, auditorium, music festival.

• Number 20: Judgement

- they are introspective and willing to confront their past and inner self.

- self aware, have deep understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.

- awakened, courageous, honest.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession : spiritual teacher or guide , therapist or counselor, life coach, researcher, artist or creative expression.

- meeting: spiritual center or temple, yoga class, a writer's workshop, park , garden , therapy or councilling office.

• Number 21: The world

- they have achieved their goals and fullfill their potential.

- compassions, wise, confident

- adventurous and global minded.( Most likely a foreigner)

- zodiac sign: Taurus, Capricorn, leo , placements.

- profession : global diplomat, artist ( global or universal theme) , cultural ambassador, world traveler, humanitarian work.

- meeting: while traveling, international conference centres , airport, spiritual retreat, international art or music venues.

• Number 22 : The fool

- they are willing to take risks and embark on new journeys.

- spontaneous, carefree , open minded.

- have faith in themselves and universe.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: entrepreneur or startup founder, activist, humanitarian work,coach or consultants, designer, scientist,teacher, journalist.

- meeting: spontaneous meet-up or pop up events, inspirational seminars, creative workshops,cafe or coffee shop, outdoor adventure location.

----------------✨✨----------------

END .....( I am tired af 😭)

☞ Healing through marriage

Thanks for reading 💓

-Piko ✨

[roanofarcc]

GETTING EVEN

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader

summary. after tyler owens saved your ass, you return the favor. (part 2 to this fic) 

warnings. descriptions of injuries and tornados. reader is the daughter of jo & bill harding (from the og movie!). hurt/comfort (tending to each other wounds? hot). tyler’s the number one loverboy and I stand by that.

a/n. fun fact, my sister's mother-in-law also survived a tornado by hugging a light pole!

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

You stabbed a piece of pancake on your plate, determined to ignore your mom as she spoke from the stove. “Would it be the worst thing in the world?” 

“Yes,” you and your dad answered at the same time, meeting each other's eyes with a small smile. 

Your mom, Jo, sighed deeply and spun around to face the two of you, one hand on her hip. “He’s nice! He’s handsome and-” 

You groaned, feeling a teenager again, mortified that your parents are bringing up any aspect of your love life. Ever since Tyler Owens had helped you to the hospital after a tornado took you and your friend by surprise during a chase, your mom wouldn’t let you go five minutes without bringing him up. 

You were back in town, staying at their farm as another slew of storms were forecast for the surrounding area. Your team was due in later that night, all crashing with your parents, which was their idea. They wouldn’t admit it outright, but that was one thing they missed the most about their storm-chasing days, the friendships formed within their team. Your mom brought out her aunt’s recipes and cooked a big dinner, and your dad was harassed into telling stories of their storm-chasing adventures- which he secretly loved. 

Since the storms were predicted to be pretty wicked, you knew Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers would be around. And while you would rather die than tell your mom, you were excited to see him again. The competition between the two of you for an arbitrary ‘best storm chaser’ title was left behind after you woke up in the hospital to see him still there with you. Instead, your relationship inched more toward friends; though, your mom seemed convinced it was something more. 

“Look, if our daughter isn’t interested in running away with some tornado-wrangling cowboy, I don’t think we should encourage her to,” your dad, Bill, said. 

“I don’t have time for a relationship, anyway,” you added. You were too engrossed in your research to think about a relationship, serious or not. You were content with your team. And your mom’s little fantasy would require Tyler to be interested in you, which you found unlikely.

Yet, your mom persisted. “We did it,” she said, pointing between herself and Bill. “We balanced both work and a relationship. It’s not impossible.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, and you two almost got divorced.” 

Your dad laughed into his coffee mug, hiding it as your mom huffed. 

The thrill of storm chasing, running down backroads as a twister roared beautifully across the ground, wasn’t the only reason you did it. That was only one part of the job. Then there was the research. But the hardest part was trying to help people. Tornados were wondrous but dangerous. They ruined lives, tearing through towns. And while warning systems and radars had advanced significantly since your parents' days, nothing was perfect. That’s why you were the first people to rush into a crowded town directly in the path of a storm and do what you could to ensure people’s safety. 

When a member of your team noticed one of the storm cells you were watching was heading towards a little downtown area not too far from your parents’ farm, you all decided that was where you needed to be, instead of chasing after the storm further west. 

You were close, beating the storm to town, and when you arrived you realized the Wranglers had the same idea. The second you stepped out of your truck, the harsh winds knocked into you. The sirens just started, warning the people of the quickly approaching storm. People were running down the sidewalks, hurrying into buildings to shelter. 

You jumped into action, hurrying some slightly dazed people to safety, along with your team. The storm inched closer, and you knew you only had a few more moments before you needed to take cover yourself to ensure you didn’t get whisked away. You’d lived through enough tornados to know what to do with little fear, but ever since your close call with your team member Frankie, earning you a couple stitches on the back of your head and a newfound appreciation for Tyler, your nerves were a little heighten; you become a little more cautious. 

You turned on your heel to hurry towards one of the buildings, but you caught sight of the tornado wrangler on the other side of a parking lot, searching for something. 

Pressing your lips in a hard line, ignoring the drum inside your chest that started to beat a little faster with the closeness of the storm, you took off after him. 

“Tyler!” you yelled above the howling wind that threatened to knock you off your feet. Rain beat down against your skin, soaking you to the bone. You called his name once more as you neared, finally earning his attention. 

“Harding? What the hell are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Taking a mid-day stroll?” 

He shook his head, forced his wet hair out of his eyes. “Some kid’s dog got spooked, ran this way, but I can’t find her.” 

You glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds giving the allusion of nighttime. There was a little tremble in your hand, but you steeled your nerves. “Dogs are smart. She’ll find her way, but we’re goners if we don’t get a move on.” He frowned, clearly torn between helping a lost dog and saving himself. “My team and I will help you look after; I promise.” 

With a sigh lost to the wind, he nodded and pointed toward the building others had filed into. “There’s a basement in the library.” 

Together, you two took off in the direction of the library, but the storm rolled in much quicker than you anticipated. It came in with a vengeance, peeling objects off the ground, big and small, with ease and tossing them all around. You ducked, nearly missing a chair that once belonged to one of the downtown restaurants' patios. Your heart started to race uncomfortably, inching toward fearfully. 

Tyler grasped your hand, tugging you to the side as more debris whizzed past you. The rain made your grasp slippery, but you squeezed his hand tightly. There was too much distance to cover, and the tornado was determined to put every possible obstacle in your path. 

It became harder to run but you felt so sure you and Tyler would make it; that was, until the tornado came around the block, tearing into a building and sending the debris in your direction. You didn’t even know what hit you until you felt Tyler’s hand slip from yours and your chin collided with the pavement. A cry of pain fell from your lips, but you rolled over quickly, in search of Tyler. He wasn’t far, just out of arms reach, on the ground. 

You half crawled over to him, tugging on his shoulder until you noticed the look of pain twisted on his face. Your gaze trailed down to his leg and found his foot stuck under a heavy beam plucked from the building the tornado tore through. 

“Shit,” you whispered, grasping the beam with your slippery hands and desperately trying to lift it off. It wouldn’t budge, crushing Tyler’s ankle. 

“You gotta go!” he yelled, trying to wave you off with his hand frantically. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and the rain clouded your vision. There wasn’t a chance you were going to leave him. Your chest felt impossibly tight, pulling more and more with an indescribable fear you’d never experienced before. Using some kind of strength you didn’t know you had until that moment, you managed to lift the beam just enough for Tyler to pull his bloodied ankle out from under it. 

“Come on,” you cried, trying to help him to his feet. He grunted in pain, pale and breath labored. 

“We’re not gonna make it,” he wheezed out, talking about the library the tornado was already upon. You made a sharp turn, bee-lining toward the building you landed directly in front of. 

There wasn’t even time to get inside. Instead, you half helped half dragged Tyler to where there was a large light post cemented to the ground. It wasn’t much, but there were no other options. Tyler sat on the ground, pulling you down quickly beside him before he wrapped his arms around the pole. You hooked one arm too but kept your other pressed against Tyler’s head. You could take another hit, but you weren’t sure he could. 

You closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer that everyone would be okay. The storm roared, stinging your ears and tugging on you harshly. But, somehow, the both of you remained hugging the light post until the tornado dissipated after an excruciating amount of time. That was the thing about tornados, when you were chasing them, they never seemed to last long enough, but when you were in them, they never seemed to end. 

Shaking from a mix of adrenaline, fear, and cold you unwound your arm from the pole before you brushed your hands along Tyler’s shoulders, drawing his attention, and making sure he was still there. 

You two sat nearly nose to nose, droplets of rain decorating his face, falling his lashes as he tried to blink them away. “Are you okay?” you muttered, voice shaky. 

He let out a breath and tried to shift in his position, but his face twisted up in pain once more before he cursed under his breath. You glanced at his ankle, his jeans were stained with a smear of crimson, but the rest was hidden under the fabric. 

“I think it’s just a sprain,” he said, trying to shrug it off but you saw through him. You struggled to your feet and moved to help him, but he tried to stand on own. He leaned heavily on the light pole, trying to hide a wince. 

You heard his and your name being called in the distance. You hooked an arm around his torso, gazing at him for a moment. “Come on,” you said, gently guiding him back towards the road. As soon as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you spotted your team and a couple members of Tylers. 

“Holy shit!” Frankie gasped, running towards you. “What happened to you two? We thought you were right behind us?” 

Tyler tried not to lean on you, but you felt his grip tighten on your shoulders with each step. “I think we need to take him to the hospital,” you said, worry seeping into your voice. 

Kate and Javi snapped their gaze at Tyler, who shook his head. “No, really, I’m fine. I think it’s just a little sprain,” he repeated. 

Kate looked at you, half ignoring Tyler. “What happened?” 

“His ankle was crushed under some debris.” 

“I’m right here,” Tyler said. “And I said I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. But we’ve gotta find that dog-” 

“You mean this lil’ guy?” Boone asked. He and Lily stood with who you assumed was the kid who lost the dog, but who was now cuddling it in his arms with a wide smile on his lips despite the destruction all around them. “He came runnin’ out just a minute ago. Smart dog.” 

You smiled softly, looking at Tyler who sighed in relief. “I told you.” 

“I think the nearest hospital is…” Javi trailed off, looking at his phone with furrowed brows. “Twenty minutes south, just off the interstate.” 

“I’m not goin’ to a hospital. I’m telling you guys, I’m fine-” 

You huffed loudly. “Are you always this stubborn?” 

At the same time, Kate, Javi, Boone, and Lily all replied, “Yes.” 

You realized you probably weren’t going to convince Tyler to get his ankle checked out at the hospital. “Fine,” you sighed. “But you’re not gonna patch yourself up in some grimy motel, got it? My parents don’t live too far from here. You all can crash there.” 

“Are you sure?” Kate asked. 

“Positive. My parents were thrilled to have my team staying. They won’t mind a couple more people.” 

“Wait,” Javi said. “Your parents. Like, your parents as in Jo and Bill Harding?” 

You chuckled. “Yes.” 

He and Kate exchanged a look that bordered on giddy. 

Tyler shifted at your side, pulling out his truck keys and you thought he was out of his mind if he thought he was going to try to drive with his clearly busted ankle. You reached over and snatched the keys quickly. “You’re riding with me, cowboy,” you said before tossing the keys at Kate. She caught with between her two hands, eyes slightly wide before a smile broke out across her lips. 

“I’m driving!” Kate said before she quickly turned on her heel before anyone could protest, Javi following close behind her. 

“You be careful with my truck Sapulpa!” Tyler shouted. 

You all arrived at your parents' place and helped a limping Tyler out of your truck. He tried once more to hide just how much pain he was in, but it didn’t work. As you walked up the driveway, he smirked, a little lopsidedly. “Already taking me home to meet the parents, huh?” You wanted to smack him but decided his sprained ankle was enough punishment already. 

Instead, you rolled your eyes. “Don’t you be talking like that in front of my mom. She’ll start planning the wedding.” You were only half joking. You knew the second she opened the front door and saw you standing side by side with Tyler’s arm slung around you, even though it was strictly to keep himself upright and pressure off his ankle, her imagination would run wild. 

He was quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat and said, “At least let me buy you dinner first.” 

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the front door was swung open and out stepped your mom. Her eyes flickered between the two storm-chasing teams all trailing behind you before they landed on you and Tyler. You saw the little twinkle in her eye, but it vanished when she noticed the state everyone was in, soaked clothes, a little in pain, and in a slight daze. 

She hurried down the step, grasping your face and gazing at the nasty cut on your chin from where you collided with the road. “Everyone okay?” she asked, eyes drifting over to Tyler. 

“Not exactly,” you replied. “Tyler’s got a busted ankle. I think everyone else is pretty okay. But cold and hungry.” 

Your mom clapped her hands together. “Well then, let’s get you all fed and cleaned up then. Come on,” she said, ushering everyone inside and exchanging greetings. 

You helped Tyler into the bathroom before you dug around for the first aid kit underneath the sink. 

“You know-” Tyler started but you glared at him. 

“If you tell me you’re fine one more time Owens…” He held up his hands in defense, pressing his lips together. Once you found the kit, you sat on the floor and carefully rolled up the leg of his jeans. Whatever damage his ankle took was hidden under his boot. “This is probably gonna hurt,” you said. 

You tried to be as careful as you could, tugging off his boot, and he tried to act like it didn’t hurt like a bitch, but the way his eyes screwed shut and hands clenched into fists in his lap told you otherwise. As soon as it was off, he let out a shaky breath and you assessed the damage. His ankle was swollen, bloodied, and overall in pretty bad shape but considering he could put a little bit of pressure on it told you it wasn’t broken. He was right about the sprain, but it was a fairly bad one. 

Working quickly but carefully, you cleaned up the dirt and blood before wrapping his ankle. “Feel any better?” you asked. He nodded as you stood to your feet. “Good. Are you hungry? I’m sure my mom’s made enough food to feed an army-” 

“Wait,” he said, grasping your hand, turning you back around to face him before you could reach the door. “You fixed me up, now it’s your turn.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What?” His eyes dropped down to your chin, where you’d smacked it against the road when you fell. “Oh. No, it’s just a little scratch-” he cut you off. 

“Are you always this stubborn?” he teased, using your own words against you. With a sigh, you slumped your shoulders in defeat. 

“All right, but at least sit down. Your ankle’s not gonna heal otherwise.” He listened, retaking his place on the toilet lid as you sat on the edge of the tub right beside it. He grabbed an alcohol swap from the kit and grasped your face with one hand. His fingers were cold from the rain but gentle as they tilted your head upwards just slightly so he could clean the cut on your chin. 

You couldn’t help but study him. The brightness of his eyes and how they narrowed when he concentrated, and how he pulled his bottom lip just barely between his teeth. Something twisted in your stomach, and you were suddenly very aware of just how close he was. You had been nearly nose to nose with him earlier, in the aftermath of the storm, but the calmness of your current setting made the closeness feel different. The way his hand softly held onto your face made your breath hitch, and it was impossible for him not to notice. His eyes flickered up from your chin, awkwardly covered with a band aid, and met yours. 

“Thanks for saving my ass out there,” he said, voice just above a whisper, like he too didn’t want to break the calmness that was steady in the room. 

You tried to ignore the patter of your heart that quickened as with his little smile. “I owed you for saving mine.” 

“Guess we’re even know, huh?” 

You nodded, words lost on your tongue. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but you dropped your gaze onto his lips for just a moment before you met his eyes, searching for something. But your wishful thinking died with a startling knock on the door that caused you both to flinch back and away from each other. 

“Everything all right in there?” your dad’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

You cleared your throat, quickly standing to your feet. “Y-Yeah. We’ll be out in a second!” A shaky laugh left your lips as your turned to Tyler, who stared back at you with cheeks slightly pink. “We should…” 

“Yeah, y-yeah.” 

After everyone showered and cleaned themselves up, your mom and dad handed out plates and everyone dug in. With full stomachs and dry clothes, the collection of storm chasers all crashed around the house. You lay in your childhood bed, squished alongside Frankie while two other members of your team were asleep on an air mattress on the floor. You tried to sleep, but all you could think about was Tyler, who was just downstairs in the living room. The rest of the evening consisted of you two tip toeing around each other, bordering on avoiding each other in the company of everyone else. 

With a quiet groan, you slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen, careful to be quiet. Your mom’s words followed you, gushing about Tyler. Would it be the worst thing in the world? You had said yes, but you didn’t really mean it, how could you? This was Tyler. Sure, he was a little reckless and you’d seen him get a little rowdy at a country bar, but he was also the kind of person that looked for lost dogs in the middle of a tornado and who stayed by your bedside at the hospital until you woke up. He was obnoxiously great. You didn’t know how to deal with it. 

In the bathroom, just hours ago, you wanted to kiss him. And a part of you thought he wanted to kiss you too, but the moment was broken too fast for you to know for certain. 

You poured yourself a glass of water before leaning against the counter, eyes focused out the window at the sliver of moon that poked out from behind the clouds. Somewhere behind you, the floorboards creaked, causing you to spin around with a start. 

Tyler paused, wincing at the noise he made before he whispered, “Sorry.” 

You didn’t do it on purpose, but it was like at the sight of him your lips automatically tugged upwards in a smile. You felt a little ridiculous about it but tried to play it off by clearing your throat. 

“I told you that couch was uncomfortable,” you said, voice low to not wake the snoring Wranglers in the next room. 

“It’s not,” he replied. 

“You should be elevating your ankle.” 

“I know, I know. Doctor’s orders, right?” He smiled too. “I was just grabbing some water.” 

You said nothing as you reached back into the cabinet and pulled out another glass before filling it at the sink. You handed it to him, your fingers brushing for just a second before he took the glass with a quiet ‘thanks’ and you pulled away. 

“I should…” You pointed behind you, ready to retreat back to your bedroom and let your Tyler-occupied mind slip away. But he caught your elbow and set down his glass of water. He didn’t say anything as his hand slid up your arm to your shoulder, then to your cheek in a similar way he held you earlier. You were back to being nearly nose-to-nose for the third time that day. Only this time, it was Tyler whose gaze flickered to your lips before he closed the short distance. 

Softly and quietly, you pressed your lips against his, pressing your hands against his chest. His hands were warm on the sides of your face as his lips moved against yours. You parted after a moment, breathing a little heavier, and your chest beat with something new. 

You leaned in once more, kissing him a little harder but pulling back quicker. “Good night, Tyler,” you breathed out. 

He beamed, cheeks rosy. “Good night, Harding.”

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Why Did You Reincarnate as a Woman?

For this Pick-A-Pile, I am going to continue with my Women’s History Month series, where I uplift, inspire and/or relate to women on this platform. This reading is a bit of a life path reading and a past life reading but it’s more general. So take whatever resonates and leave what doesn’t. Without further ado, please pick a pile!

Left-to-Right (1-3):

Pile 1: If you chose this pile, this is definitely for my girls who like to move around. I think that you’re someone who was meant to be rich, you definitely have expensive taste. In a past life, I think that you were into the esoteric world and into the arts. You dibbled and dabbled in a little bit of this and that. But I don’t think that you were able to find stability in your past life. But you had a clear vision for yourself. So this time, you’ve reincarnated as a woman to gain financial stability and independence from the debts of your past life. In past lives, you could have been non-committal or always wanting to rush into things. And as a result, you reincarnated without ever having a satisfied spirit. As women, we are expected to be the nurturers and sidekicks to men. But you, Pile One, are definitely the main character. You’re a free spirit and a force to be reckoned with. You follow the beat of your own drum. But remember that the goal is to feel happy with where you already are. Your spirit has a lot of fire but don’t burn it out trying to be everywhere all at once. You were born to be the non-comformist and that’s okay.

Signs: Gemini, Taurus, Leo, Sagittarius.

Cards Used: 7 of Cups, 5 of Wands, Queen of Discs, 9 of Discs, 2 of Discs, Ace of Discs, The High Priestess, The Hierophant, 3 of Swords, The Star, 4 of Discs, The World, 8 of Wands and Justice.

extras: beyhive. saweetie. white nails. green eyes. born with heart issues. short-term career path. life path number five. pirates. bohemian style. theatre kid. paint. big city girl.

Pile Two: If you chose this pile, you’re definitely someone who is described as a pure spirit. What’s funny is I channeled those Snapped interviews of people saying their friend was “the light in a dark room”. You have the tendency to make friends easily. You’re very introverted. That’s how it’s supposed to be. In a past life, you could have suffered from depression; perhaps you were in a mental hospital. You were burdened with a reputation that wasn’t true to your character. You were an outcast. Maybe you could predict death & people despised you for it. I think you felt unloved and misunderstood. This life is supposed to be a clean slate for you, Pile Two. I think that there was a lot of gossip about you. But this time, you carried over the scars from being a target of gossip. Maybe you feel like you don’t really have any friends. Maybe you have a weird relationship with trust & you end up trusting the wrong people/none at all. Maybe you keep people at an arms length but you’re still a friend to all. I think that you reincarnated as a woman to reclaim your power and the right to be here on this Earth. You make the world go round, Pile Two. Don’t forget that. Never feel guilty for having fun.

Cards Used: Justice, The Chariot, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups, 3 of Cups, 3 of Discs, King of Wands, 10 of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Magician, Ace of Swords, 9 of Cups, Ace of Cups (RX), Ten of Swords, The High Priestess, 7 of Cups, Queen of Cups and The World (RX).

Signs: Sagittarius, Scorpio, Aquarius, Libra.

extras: nurse. break my soul. ellie goulding. codependency. microsoft. computer geek. smiley emoji. venusian. dmv. pills. fasting. making friends with outcasts. working with autistic children/elderly people.

Pile Three: If you chose this pile, you’re probably a person who struggles with their faith. This doesn’t come from nowhere & it’s not new to you. It’s in fact true to you. Today, you’re described as someone who is rebellious or maybe even lazy, but somehow you never complain about your circumstances. You’re like Trish De La Rosa. You keep a job! But in a past life, you were like a moody teenager. You never really saw the good in things. You were very negative. You held grudges and shunned people if they pissed you off. You could have been a gang member or you were an advocate for civil rights. Either way, your mindset was very black-and-white, no in between. As a result, I feel like you can struggle with following the rules today. I also feel like you have the tendency to be anti-religion/anti-Christianity, which is the basis as to why you struggle with your faith. Someone could have told you that you had “loose” ways as a child and this lit a fire under your ass. Misogyny in the church, but also in general is a reason why you have this fighter spirit. You have a fighter spirit, Pile Three. You’re here as a woman to take back what’s yours. You’re here to help other women realize their worth, reclaim their sexuality and transmute their pain into something beautiful, Pile Three and you will do it successfully.

Cards Used: Nine of Swords, The Star, The Emperor, Ace of Wands (RX), Ten of Swords (RX), Two of Discs, Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun (RX), 4 of Discs, The World, 4 of Cups, Justice (RX), 8 of Swords, The Lovers (RX), The Hierophant, Princess of Swords.

Signs: Scorpio, Aries, Capricorn, Pisces.

extras: detention. good luck charlie. rapper. obsessed with cats. megan thee stallion. enough (2002). independent women. scarlet red. queer rights activist.

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Everything I know about Flash and the FlashFam (& Flash enemies) comes from fandom and theflashmuseum on tiktok so fair warning on that lol

Sorry if Barry is out of character or things don't line up with canon. Canon is a stranger I think I passed in a crowded room once, I did not ask for its number lol

Anyway, time to touch a bit more on that whole Ancient of the Speedforce Elle thing yeah? Here be a sprinkle more of that and I promise there's more to come haha

Gonna start posting this on Ao3 soon, probably Monday or Tuesday, so heads up I may stop adding these parts here on tumblr once I do

---

It lived beneath his skin.

For a long time Barry had never believed in magic. His world was grounded, scientific, made of predictable rules and laws. Tools that could be used to explain everything strange or supernatural away as just another odd twist of the massive universe they all belonged to.

It took perhaps a little longer than it should have to admit that magic was as real as thermodynamics and gravity and atoms. That the world was a great deal stranger than even science - for all its own wildness at times - could account for. There were things that went bump in the night. Hells below and heavens above and things that crawled and clawed their way out from the places in between.

It was almost a little embarrassing how long it had taken him to admit to such things, when considering his relationship with the Speedforce.

A force of the universe. Like gravity or time, pushing and pulling everything along. Something that could be explained with all the familiar scientific concepts that had buoyed him along in life for so long.

Except.

Except.

Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful but felt. Making his hair stand on end, his fingers tingle and numb. Sliding against his veins, bouncing between scar tissue and freckles. Pressing out from the confines of his sternum, rattling against his rib cage as it shifted and moved. Twining around each and every vertebrae. Coiling over and under itself within his skull, darting along the paths of his neurons and nerves. It hummed in every cell in his body. Darted and danced in the space between the atoms that made up his very existence.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

Lived.

Not existed. Not contained. Lived.

He couched it in terms of science, but science - despite his long time refusal to acknowledge it - wasn’t really able to explain the full scope of what he could feel. Not just the power of the Speedforce, but the…the identity of it. The living part that made it’s home in his body, existing in a way that was separate from him. Distant and indistinct most of the time, but…sentient.

He could feel it. Warm and excitable, delighting every time he tapped into it. Pushing him from behind urging him on and on, tugging him forward from ahead beckoning to go, faster, faster. Joyful in his victories, despairing in his loses.

It lived beneath his skin.

Until it didn’t.

He followed its joyful calls, pushed beyond what he should, what he knew was safe. Chasing that welcoming chant of faster, faster until he was there. In the Speedforce. More even, was the Speedforce.

He was everywhere. Beyond everywhere. In every possible everywhere it was possible to be. Every world, every universe, every multiverse.

To enter the Speedforce, to merge with it, was to become part of existence itself.

He couldn’t remember everything about it once he came back. He got flashes, sometimes, quick moments in dreams of places, of moments. What stuck with him most had been the feeling of it all. That had been the hardest part of returning. The sense of terrible loss, of having been surrounded by such a giddy, delighted, devoted love only to be pulled back from the heart of it. Returned to how he had been before, drifting at the edge of it all, it had been painful, agonizing even.

He…adapted, eventually. The sense of it all was still there, just distant. Something he’d come to feel he’d see again, someday.

It had been different, recently.

His powers were the same, he just as fast as ever, but…there was something…off. Changed. A sense that while his speed remained, the Speedforce had become, for lack of a better word, quiet. Distant.

He’d been having dreams, since it started. Not the quick glimpses of his time where he’d merged with the Speedforce. No, instead they were more nightmarish. Not nightmares exactly, though he felt like they should be with what they contained, but something else. Something that felt unnervingly real, left him confused and reeling when he woke with the certainty that when he opened his eyes he’d see the same as what his dreams held.

In the dream, he was in a room.

Cement and metal, hostile and brutalistic in design. He was bound in place, standing upright with feet and hands spread wide and locked in place within strange devices. Gleaming chrome and brilliant green, a painful thrum of energy surging through his body - not the Speedforce, something else, deeply unpleasant pulsing through every cell of his being and freezing him in place more firmly then the restraints did. Projectors hung from the ceiling, displaying images of landscapes, changing every ten second or so.

The sight of them made him nauseous, body shivering and spasming with the burning, agonizing need to go, but at the same time there was something distantly soothed by them too. Like a gnawing hunger abated with water and crumbs. The need for food not gone but the pangs diminished by the false feeling of being full.

In the dream he felt like he was dying.

In the dream he was afraid that maybe he couldn’t.

That he’d be trapped alive in that state forever, watching places he’d never see in person again as he was trapped in one place. His mind spiraling his Core splintering under the weight of it all, scared so scared. He wanted his brother, wanted to see the cement walls explode into dust and debris and see him there, ready to save the day like he had so many times before.

He just had to wait. His brother was looking for him, would have everyone in the Realms looking for him. He just had to hold on.

Barry didn’t have a brother. He only remembered when he woke, heart hammering in his chest fast even by his own standards, mouth tasting of bile and body aching with the need to go.

He hadn’t been sleeping much these days, even before the King of the Dead declared war.

It was having its effects, as sleep deprivation always did. His mind drifting, catching again and again on the dream, attention far away from the world around him. How many times had he been startled by someone calling his name, touching his arm? How many times had they given him a pinched, worried look that told him they’d been trying to reach him for longer than they should have before he noticed.

He was aware, distantly, of the glowering, stern faces around him. The flinty looks of his friends’ and partners’ eyes as they stared at the image of Waller’s scowling mug.

She’d declined an in-person meeting, hunkering down in some bunker somewhere trying to avoid the consequences of her latest atrocities. Or maybe just trying to avoid the very real possibility that one of the members of JL Dark might try to kill her for what she’s caused.

Or JL light, for that matter.

Bruce and Clark had their rules that they lived by, but Diana certainly wouldn’t hesitate to splatter Waller’s brains across the nearest available wall. In reviewing footage of one of the last battles - she’d been at the other one at the time, trying to contend with a ghost in the shape of an ethereal dragon - she’d recognized the spectral figures of Amazons long dead, fierce even in death as they fought with a warrior’s pride along side the rest of Phantom’s armies. They followed a figure that towered even above the Amazons, four arms and gleaming armor and a name that Barry associated with ruin and forgotten hope but who was so much more to Diana. Heroes long departed to the fields of Elysium, stepping out of their well earned rest to fight once more.

A few hadn’t survived the weapons the GIW shot them with. Barry didn’t know what that meant, for a ghost to die. If they simply returned to their afterlife or -

He tried not to think about the or.

They’d been going back and forth for awhile now. Voices faraway, muffled. The world felt as if it was underwater, blurred and cold. Clark had gotten to his feet at some point, Waller’s grip on a pen so tight on the screen he expected to see if burst at any moment. It was an important meeting, an important discussion. One he needed to be apart of, aware of, but it all escaped him. Sand held too tightly, slipping through his fingers. On the screen, Waller hit a button on the computer beside her and the image changed.

The world burned back to life in sharp relief.

The dream.

The room.

Cold cement. Projections of unreachable places on the walls. Chrome and green machinery in a configuration meant to contain.

It looked larger on the screen.

Maybe it was how small the figure held prisoner inside it was.

She was young. A child, no older than Superboy Jr. or Robin. She looked like Phantom - her father - but there were differences. Her hair was white, but it didn’t look like the spun starlight of her father’s. Instead it burned, the bright hot crackling of the plasma of a lighting bolt striking. Skin the blur of shapes caught just at the corner of the eye as you ran past, Eyes -

Looking at him.

The image had come up, a live feed - he knew it was live, knew he was looking at her where she was at that exact moment - and she’d been as he was every time he tried to sleep. Trembling and shuttering, eyes squinting against the pain, trying to stay open so as not to miss a single moment of the flat images imposed on blank cement walls. Desperate to fill the fathomless hunger burning deep down in the Core of her.

But then a shuttering breath and her eyes - the burning green of an afterimage - snapped up to the camera. Snapped up to look at him, recognition in her young face. And despite never having seen this girl before, he recognized her too.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

She lived beneath his skin.

He could feel her there. Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful, but felt.

Not as felt as she used to be.

The image snapped back to Waller’s face, smug and self-satisfied. Talking - lying - about the how the girl was there, what the GIW’s intentions for her were. Barry was on his feet, but so was everyone else. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, could only hear static, the rush of wind, the crack of the lightning bolt. A call for help.

It was then that the alarms began to blare. On the screen someone rushed in to whisper into Waller’s ear. Bruce was running out of the room towards the Zeta tubes and Barry was right there with him and there was so much chaos around them, men in white and Gothamites and Ghosts banding together to rain terror down upon them and something massive and horrible and living towering above it all and Barry let go of that last bits of logic and thought.

Instinct, older than he was. The echo of a voice that had called him for years now, carrying him along, biding him forward:

Run.

Someone might have shouted after him as he left Gotham behind. He didn’t know.

All he knew was the pounding of his feet upon the ground, the wind in his face, the Speedforce lashing and frantic and hopeful burning and sizzling beneath his skin. Calling him further and further away until he stood in a vast, empty field staring at a single, rusted shack near ready to collapse before him.

He wasn’t alone.

Wally. Bart. Max. More still. Not just his family and friends. Eobard. Hunter. Thaddeus. Everyone touched by the Speedforce.

They didn’t speak. Bodies humming and thrumming, crackling with energy and intent.

Minds as one, they focused on the shed, the hidden hatch inside, the base hidden deep below.

The Speedforce lived beneath their skin, and no one was going to steal it away from them.

[bellestarot]

Pick a pile

July 2024 Predictions

♡ Take your time to choose.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile I

What do I need to know about the month of July?

Pile number 1, The month of July will be a time when you will be very focused on your work or a project you started and will finish during this month. You will learn more about working in a group and will also be making new friends.

You will be tested in dealing with your emotions and ambitions, as not everything you want will come when you desire. So, you will learn to wait and not make hasty decisions about various situations that may be related to work or personal life, but it will be a test of your patience.

How will my love life be this month?

"Dancing Queen" by ABBA started playing in my head when I asked about your love life in July. You might be going through a rejection or a relationship that didn't work out. Or you may still be hurt by what happened in the past after a breakup.

But I have good news: when you manage to move on and understand that you have many opportunities and possibilities to find love again, your life will work out. I see you happy, I see this song playing in the places you go. Pain and loneliness may be part of the process, but they cannot last too long. So, you will get through this and will be able to move on because I see that there are people and stories to be written about love in your life again.

What is the best path to financial success this month?

The best path to financial success is to have patience. I see that this pile is for people who sometimes don't handle frustration very well, and this could be a test so that better things can come and things can get right in your life.

Maybe you have gone through a difficult situation financially or in your career, something that hurt you, but the cards here ask that you do not lose hope, do not lose your dreams and ambitions—they are still there.

Perhaps you have lost people you were working with for a long time, and they are now distant or have been laid off. But I want you to understand that things will improve. I see that it is an acceptable pain, but you have to let go for new things to come, new opportunities are on the way.

What health precautions should I take this month?

You need to exercise more and take care of your entire body. You should go for walks, runs, and also drink more water. Eat healthy foods such as fruits like melon and banana. Improve your diet to enhance your health.

What spiritual or practical advice can I follow to grow during this period?

What I see here spiritually is that you should leave where you are and explore the world, getting to know new places and learn every day to balance your emotions and your logic without letting one outweigh the other.

⊲ Ⅱ ⊳

Pile II

What do I need to know about the month of July?

In pile number 2, July will be about this: You'll be speaking more, I mean saying exactly what you want to say. You'll work a lot on your throat chakra, and you'll manage to express what bothers you, what you want to change, and your feelings about a certain situation. So, the situation will be resolved.

Right now it might seem pending in your head, but it will be resolved, and you'll see that the effort you're putting into any situation will be very worthwhile, you'll mature and learn a lot during this month of July.

What will my love life be like this month?

Maybe some people won't identify with the romantic situation in pile 2 during July. But I see something ending here, I see ego clashes, I see narcissism being exposed, and I see that neither side is winning this battle; both are losing, and these two people will go their separate ways.

Perhaps this applies to a relationship that is already heading towards wear and tear or not. But I see that other people are also involved in this relationship's turbulence. I'm not sure of their exact role, maybe friends or relatives, but I think these people are there, and I see that with a broken heart for some reason that I can't identify, you'll prefer to be alone.

You'll want solitude, you won't want to seek out someone at this moment; it's not your focus, it's not what you want.

What is the best path to financial success this month?

I see that you have a very relevant position in your job. I see that during July, you'll be able to work well, balancing your tasks and projects; you'll be able to profit a lot from it. Maybe you have your own investment, so I see that you'll be working with other people, and you'll be able to achieve your goals. It might take a while in terms of waiting for results, but I see these results coming, and you and the people you trust in your work environment will achieve something very positive. I see celebration, I see you reclaiming your power.

What health precautions should I take this month?

I get a message to take care of your back. Maybe you have scoliosis or need more comfortable and adaptable beds for your back situation, so I see that you need to pay more attention to this area of your body.

What spiritual or practical advice can I follow to grow during this period?

Continue to empower yourself, be the woman you want to be and that you inspire. Be open to new relationships; there are people genuinely interested in you. Be open to meetings and going out with new people.

And it's okay to rest from time to time.

⊲ Ⅱ ⊳

Pile III

What do I need to know about the month of July?

During the month of July, it will be emphasized that you need to have fun and be yourself 100%. This will manifest in various ways in your life.

How will my love life be this month?

In July, you will be increasingly open to meeting new people. I see many romantic interests and relationships you might have with some people. You will be stepping out of your comfort zone and available to meet different people. One could be someone your age or younger, and another could be someone more responsible, with serious intentions of having a serious relationship with you.

What is the best path to financial success this month?

Pile 3 If you are looking for a job, I have to inform you that this opportunity will arrive during the month of July. I see you getting this job quite quickly, on a day you least expect it, and you will be very happy with this opportunity.

If you are already employed, I have to inform you that both your career and your finances will bring positive news. You will stand out more at work. You will get more attention for your projects, and I see many of the things you are planning being realized.

What precautions should I take with my health this month?

Maybe you have many insecurities regarding your appearance, or perhaps you have many fast thoughts and need to seek therapeutic help from a psychologist to work on this. I see that you might type a lot, maybe work with typing, and have many tasks to do. The tarot is asking you to pay attention to these areas, both mental and some physical, related to your daily life.

What spiritual or practical advice can I follow to grow during this period?

You should have fun. Pay attention to your emotions and mental health. If you feel it is affecting you, seek help to better work through some memories from the past.

⊲ Ⅱ ⊳

Pile IV

What do I need to know about the month of July?

The month of July will reveal much about your relationships, whether romantic, friendships, or professional connections, and how you handle them with strength.

How will my love life be this month?

If you intend to have a serious relationship with someone, it is likely to happen. I see that you think seriously about dating someone before deciding on a date, especially if the person is younger or appears very mature. Moving forward in this manner might lead you to someone quite different. This person could be your ideal partner, and it seems like you both will be completely in love. I see this as a lasting and happy relationship where this person will help you grow and mature together.

What is the best path to financial success this month?

In July, you will be surrounded by others in your career or while managing your finances. You have a sweet and emotional disposition, which can be positive for your career, but sometimes you need to be firm and speak more sternly to be heard. Your efforts will be rewarded in the end, although you might be distancing yourself from a colleague due to something they said that hurt you. However, this won't be a major issue in your career this month.

What health precautions should I take this month?

If you exercise and take care of your health, this will bring positive results in July. Continuing with your health routines will significantly improve your well-being. Overall, the advice is more about maintaining your current practices rather than making major changes, except perhaps moderating your alcohol intake. The outlook is generally positive.

What spiritual or practical advice should I follow to grow during this period?

You should assert yourself more. You may take a trip soon, and you will eventually have the family you dream of with your loved one. However, be cautious of people around you, especially at work, who may have bad intentions. They might withhold important information or propose partnerships that could result in financial losses. Pay attention to a male figure around you.

⋯

We made it to the end! Thanks for joining in on this tarot reading for July. Here's hoping it's all good vibes and we tackle any hurdles stress-free.😆☺️😘

[aesethewitch]

When Witching Goes Wrong: Basics

Not all spells that go wrong are “backfires.” A backfire occurs when a spell’s result is antithetical to the result you wanted to cause — it causes a negative outcome, often coming back onto you as the caster, but sometimes creating the opposite effect as was desired on the target. For example, casting a money attraction spell and losing a wallet full of cash as a result would be considered a backfire. A spell that fizzles, does nothing, or produces an unexpected (but not negative) side-effect wouldn’t be a backfire (in my opinion, that is).

Most spells that go wrong aren’t backfires. In general, you’re likelier to have a spell that acts unexpectedly or that simply fizzles than one that blows up in your face somehow. You shouldn’t be anxious about a backfire. But, as someone with lots of experience in the realm of worrying about worst-case scenarios, I understand the impulse.

The solution is to understand what can go wrong, how to prevent it, and what to do in the event of an actual worst-case scenario. My goal with this post (and with this WWGW series) is to help you feel less anxious about spells going wrong and more prepared to deal with whatever comes your way.

So, let’s start from the beginning.

Outcome Projection

Risk assessment, mitigation, and management. Fellow corporate drones (former or current) will know exactly what I’m talking about here. The idea is to predict possible ways that things can go wrong and either prevent them entirely or put strategies in place to deal with them ahead of time. It’s damage control before the damage occurs.

Now, the key here is to not go overboard. Fellow chronic worriers will know the horrible allure of going down every possible path of anxiety, only to find ourselves paralyzed entirely by the fear that something will go wrong. Remember that most spells do not backfire. In most cases, the worst thing (and most common negative outcome, in my experience) that can happen is that nothing happens. The next most common is unexpected side effects, but those are usually easily dealt with.

The goal is to ensure the success of the spell. For example, when you’re looking for a new place to live, you don’t want to just look for the number of bedrooms and the finishes in the kitchen. You want to account for the appliances, the heating/cooling systems, the quality of the flooring, signs of water damage, signs of mold… all sorts of things.

A similar concept applies to accounting for backfires/failures in spellwork. You want to close loopholes and think about the outcomes you specifically don’t want — and then incorporate ways to prevent those things from happening.

The Ways Spells Can Go Wrong

The spell fully backfires. By “fully backfires,” I mean that it completely fails and creates the exact opposite outcome to what you were going for. Using a love spell as an example, this could include the target leaving your life, forming negative opinions of you, or becomes interested in someone else (particularly if you were trying to pull attention from that someone else onto yourself).

The spell is bounced back to you. This is more unusual than you think! I often see the warning about spells being redirected back at the caster in arguments against hexing and cursing others. I’ve had exactly one spell reversed back at me, and it was because the target was 1. A witch, and 2. Expecting it.

The spell’s primary result is unexpected. Not necessarily bad, just not what you meant to do. For example, casting a spell to get a promotion at work and discovering that your close friend is getting a promotion instead.

The spell has unexpected side effects. Like casting a spell for good luck on yourself and having everyone around you experience good luck, too. Or casting a spell that successfully improves your workplace’s vibe, only to find out that the mean coworker nobody likes finally got fired, and that’s why everyone is more relaxed and cheerful. Or, more negatively, you do get that promotion you cast for, but now you’re saddled with more work than you can handle, because your bosses think you’re highly capable of it all!

The spell does absolutely nothing. Perhaps one of the more common ways a spell can go wrong, this is exactly what it says on the tin. You put the energy in, you did all the steps, but the spell just… doesn’t go anywhere. In other words, it fizzles and simply doesn’t work at all.

As with most topics in witchcraft, there’s an infinite amount of nuance to apply here. There are more ways spells can go wrong, and not all of these things would necessarily be considered “going wrong.”

It may be worth deducing why the spell went wrong. Was it the materials? The petition or incantation? A lack of energy, or maybe an overabundance? Spirit influence? Protections surrounding the target? Knowing what exactly went wrong can help you prevent the same issues in the future, but it can also help you to better fix the spell in the moment.

Preventatives

The particulars are going to depend heavily on your personal practice, the type of spell you’re doing, and how detailed you want to get. These suggestions are based on things I personally take into account when I’m trying to close loopholes and prevent unwanted outcomes.

Be specific in your wording. Especially if your spell has any kind of spoken or written component, be as specific as you can. “Draw money to me” is a general sentiment that could absolutely work, but what money is it bringing in? A bonus at work? A dollar on the street? A gift from grandma? Inheritance? It could be anything at that point. “Draw good, repeat customers to my small business to help me reach my profit goal of $10,000 before the end of the year” is specific, focused, and measurable. There isn’t much room for surprise side effects.

Choose ingredients carefully. Work with ingredients whose purposes you know. In my spell recipes, I list every ingredient’s correspondence, because in my practice, those things matter. Ensure that the “active ingredients” in your spell align with your goal properly. Rogue elements create rogue effects!

Include failsafe measures. As in, create ways you can cancel the spell at any point. This can have the side effect of making your spells easier to undo, particularly if your target is also a witch who understands how you construct your spells. If doing this, it’s best to create a method that is obscured and unique to you.

Add ingredients or instructions specifically to avoid particular side effects or outcomes. Find a component or two that can protect your working from unwanted effects, backfires, and interference. Include instructions for the spell for things it shouldn’t do. For example, trying to create issues for one particular person at work shouldn’t harm their innocent teammates.

Undo It

The first step to consider is undoing the spell. Not all paradigms allow for this, so it may not be possible for you. For me, it depends on the particular spell and how much change it’s created. The bigger the impact, the less likely a simple undo will work.

Still, it’s worth a try. Undoing a spell might take a few forms, depending on how you originally cast it:

Take the spell apart. Disassemble the spell into its components and cleanse them of the spell’s energy.

Destroy the vessel and components. Burning, tearing, burying, flushing, throwing away, and so forth. Be careful to not bury things that could harm the earth, animals, or people — including glass, salt, and plastics. Compost and recycle when you can.

Dismiss spirits working within the spell. End the contract around the spell’s working and request that the spirits stop powering it. You could also request their assistance in undoing the spell. You may have to make offerings either way, depending on the terms of your agreement.

Perform the spell in reverse. This includes speaking incantations backwards, performing all actions backwards, taking components apart, re-cleansing, and putting things away where you originally got them from.

Draw the spell’s energy/effects out of the target’s body and/or the affected area. Using energy work, absorb the spell’s energy into a vessel. Capture it and either allow it to dissipate or bottle it up to keep it in check. I don’t recommend absorbing the energy into yourself, as that may draw the spell’s unwanted effects to you (or make them worse).

I typically employ a combination of strategies to undo a spell, if it’s possible in the first place. If it’s a simple spell, performing it in reverse is the easiest method. I’ll then cleanse, destroy, and dispose of the materials.

But when it isn’t possible to simply undo the spell…

Cast Another Spell

…The answer might be to cast another one. In my mind, there are several ways to do this.

The first is to cast a spell to negate the original’s effects completely. I would approach this method the same way as any other spell. Focus on the effects you’re looking to negate, and cast accordingly. A banishing spell would work well for this to shoo away the spell’s energy, but a cleansing spell to clear the target would also work. Or, you can get more specific. For example, if a spell has generated a string of unlucky events, you could cast a spell for good luck in order to nullify the bad luck of the first spell. The goal would be to cancel out the original spell’s effects in some way.

The second way is to cast a spell to adjust the original’s outcome. There are a lot of ways to do this. You could directly modify the original spell by adding or removing ingredients that might’ve caused the negative outcome, redo written or spoken incantations/petitions, or cast a “companion spell” to redirect the original’s energy to a more favorable end. For example, in a money spell that’s giving everyone else good fortune, you could place a magnet with your personal information on it atop the spell vessel to draw money to you rather than the people around you. The idea here is not to end the original spell, but to realign it to your particular needs.

Another way is to cast a spell specifically to control side effects. Sometimes, a spell can’t be undone, and you can’t easily modify the main outcomes (particularly true if the negative events caused by the spell happen quickly or outside your control). Or maybe the bulk of the spell worked properly, but there’s one or two minor negative side effects you don’t want to continue. The method for this would be similar to adjusting the original spell’s outcome, but on a smaller scale and in a less direct fashion. For example, your job spell got you that promotion, hooray! But now you’re stressed out by training someone to take your place, and you’re learning your new position. You can cast a spell to reduce stress or prevent people from piling additional work on you while you adjust, controlling the side effects of the promotion.

A way I use for high-stakes spells is to cast wards or other protections before casting the main spell to prevent backfire or unwanted effects ahead of time. I often do this for spells surrounding situations that are delicate or that need extra care. In my case, it’s a general, long-term ward against bad luck on a wider scale, and it catches negative spell side effects as part of its job. You can set up temporary wards if you prefer, or make them for very specific purposes. Whatever works for you.

Cast the same spell again. This isn’t my usual go-to, unless I’m trying a new spell method or ingredient I’m unfamiliar with. I’ll usually recommend trying the same spell again when the first casting does absolutely nothing, since multiple castings can make a spell stronger and more effective. However, if a spell backfires or otherwise causes undesirable effects, I wouldn’t really recommend it, as the negative effects can compound, too, if it misfires again.

Ask for Help

If the problems caused by your spell are too big for you to handle on your own, it’s okay to reach out for help! Whether you’re looking for suggestions and advice or hands-on assistance, knowing when and how to ask for help is a critical skill.

Ask the witchcraft community (or your witchy friends) questions. Join a Discord, forum, Tumblr community, or other witchy space. Make a post to explain your situation and request suggestions, advice, and ideas to deal with the situation at large. Not all suggestions will be entirely helpful, but you’ll at least get some new perspectives to shed light on your situation. If people you know directly (in real life or online) practice witchcraft, see what they think.

Chat with spirits. Especially if you already work with spirits or if spirits helped you to cast/power the original spell, this can be a solid way to come up with a solution that will work. Use your preferred method of communication to discuss the situation. If possible, see if they’ll help you either undo or mitigate the spell’s unwanted results.

Ask non-witchy friends for advice. Their advice will probably be mundane, but sometimes, those are the best solutions. Outside perspectives are useful to recontextualize problems and come up with solutions you wouldn’t have otherwise considered.

Find books, videos, tutorials, blog posts, and other resources on the subject. When all else fails, or when you’re a little shy about asking for help directly, there are still resources out there to help you solve your dilemmas. Just remember to vet your sources before naively following instructions given to you.

Deal with Consequences Mundanely

Sometimes, there’s just nothing for it. Whether you don’t have time and energy or you’ve already tried more magic and had it fail, there are times when you have to turn to the mundane. Depending on the severity of the situation you’re in, solutions will vary in their successfulness. And honestly, that’s just how it is sometimes. Sometimes, things don’t wrap up nicely and easily and neatly.

With that said, here are a handful of mundane responses and solutions I’ve turned to after spells went wrong (and couldn’t be otherwise fixed):

Come clean and apologize. Particularly applicable when you’re doing a spell on or for another person, sometimes, there’s just nothing else to do but admit you fucked up. If the person impacted by the spell’s effects, directly or indirectly, isn’t a magical practitioner themselves, you could simply apologize for meddling in the situation. On the other hand, if you’ve harmed or offended a spirit with your spellwork, you might make an offering to apologize for the trouble you’ve caused.

Come up with mundane strategies for damage control. Depending on how severe the spell’s negative effects are, the level of effort for this is going to obviously vary. It could be anything from redoing your household budget to breaking out the toolbox for repairs to building an actual fence to making dinner. Your solution is going to depend on your problem. Think strategically.

Seek out new, improved coping mechanisms. Whether you’re looking to resolve feelings that are caused by the spell’s backfire or ones that made you cast in the first place, sometimes, a bit of self-care is the best solution. Consider why you cast the spell in the first place — lack of control, poor self-worth, low confidence? Or was it just because you felt it could help you with a little boost to the work you were already doing? It’s worth thinking about. What mundane safety nets do you have in place?

Let it go. Perhaps the most difficult option: Just letting the bad result be. Moving on from it. Taking the lumps and the lesson, and walking away. Giving up is a skill. It’s not a moral failing to let things go. If fighting will only make things worse, or if you’re tired of trying to fix it, it’s okay to just… let it be a failure.

Conclusions

Again, this is far from comprehensive. The suggestions here are basic ideas to help inspire you to form your own opinions and solutions. It’s smart to consider these things in advance! As my mother always says, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

I have plans to expand the idea of “When Witching Goes Wrong” into a wider series of posts, each focusing on a very specific problem, spell type, or solution (like a post just about ways to undo a spell, for example). Those are likely to include true stories about things I’ve personally fucked up… which are always the best witchy stories, in my opinion. Lol.

If you're interested in more WWGW entries, check out the masterpost.

Anyhow! If you got something out of this post or my other work, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar. Support goes toward bills and keeping our household fed and healthy, so it’s very much appreciated. Supporters got to see this post a full week early!

If there’s a particular subject you want to see covered, feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment on this post (or any of the posts in the series!). As long as it’s something I actually have experience with, I’m happy to cover just about anything.

[sorceresssundries]

A Scandal In Sorcery

Chapter 1

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: A Regency era/Baldur’s Gate crossover. Set in an Alternate Universe, containing familiar faces and key events in new light.

It is, predominantly, a love-story which will contain explicit content as the slow-burning bond between Gale and Tav deepens.

(This is also published on AO3)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This story is set in an Alternate Universe. Though there may be echoes of sound and flickers of light from a well-loved place, please bear in mind this is a new path in a familiar forest.  Take comfort in the familiarity and care into the unknown.  Some things are destined to come together in every universe, just as others are doomed to fall apart.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single suitor in possession of high standing and good fortune, must be in want of marriage.

It was the peak of summer, and Tav found herself yet again stifled by the dull formalities and repetitive dances of a ball in the Upper City. How she hated being dragged along to these pointless parades, where she always ended up feeling more like a peacock than a wizard. She had been corseted and primped to within an inch of her life; all to be displayed at an event which to her was a total circus. She longed to escape to the sanctuary of her study, where parchment and quill awaited, and where her fingers could be adorned not with jewels, but with the comforting stains of ink.

By the number of couplings announced in the weeks following these illustrious events, one could argue that the whole affair was more of an auction than a party. Despite the early hour, the incessant chatter was already filled with discussions of betrothals and alliances. Frantic parents and guardians would inevitably spend their entire time flitting from suitor to suitor, engaging in pointless small talk in an attempt to veil their matrimonial intentions—although most of the time, their efforts were in vain. Her father, unfortunately, was one of those frantic parents. She could see him now, talking to one of the many Lord and Ladies. No, not talking, conspiring . She understood his frustration, since her mother’s passing their place amongst the elite had been teetering on a cliff edge - and one delicate misstep could send them spiralling downwards and lost to the pull of untiring and pitiless tides. It was exhausting.

Tav’s mother, Estrea Olyn, had been a wonder of a woman. A gifted sorcerer, Slayer of Bhaalspawn, and hero of the gate. She had risked the shunning of the society she occupied when she eventually settled and married a humble merchant. Luckily, her charm, beauty, and famous heroics meant she was destined to be the pearl in the oyster of every social event the Upper-City could shuck. But the privileges welcome to Estrea did not pass over to her grieving family in the wake of her death.

So here Tav was, years later, at another ball, in another set of restrictive robes, being paraded around another room full of suitors in an attempt to reclaim some of the prominence which had been stripped from her family. It was pointless, really. She had made it perfectly clear to her father she had no intention of marrying. She was set on furthering her studies at The Blackstaff Academy and reigniting their good name by becoming a wizard of unparalleled renown. She knew she had it in her, she just needed the chance to prove herself. But, until her position there was accepted, and her future secured - she was destined to go along with the charade. It kept her poor father’s mind occupied and saved him from being swallowed up by the grief which chewed at him from morning to each sleepless, heart-wrecked evening. It had been many years since the death of her mother, yet grief’s grip suffocated just as relentlessly as the day she had left him. 

The magnificent room was scattered with groups of people arranged in predictable constellations. And she, as always, was a lone star. She sighed and adjusted the dark tendrils of hair which kept slipping from the crown of curls fixed atop her head, and settled into the dimmed corner she had found to mentally prepare for more inane chatter from disinterested suitors.

Relief eventually found her in the form of Wyll Ravenguard. Her friend and fellow auction item who had been catalogued and tagged alongside her for the season, although she was well aware the value attributed to him was far higher than her own. He was devilishly handsome, perfectly mannered and most importantly, the son of the Grand Duke. There wasn’t a man or woman in the Upper-City who wasn’t completely enraptured in his presence. 

“You know, no-one will ever ask you to dance if you skulk away in dark corners.” He said as he approached her hideaway. He looked beautiful as ever, in robes of emerald which complimented the richness of his dark skin. His hair was freshly braided, and he smelled comfortingly of cedar and cinnamon. As always, his eyes sparkled when he spoke. 

“What?!” She replied clutching at her necklace “I thought I was presenting myself as the enigmatic and elusive damsel in desperate need of a marriage proposal? I must try harder, Saer, but I am eternally grateful for your ongoing education.” She bowed low, and he gestured to her secretly in a most ungentlemanlike way.

“You are a nightmare in a too-tight corset” His voice was a low chuckle.

“And you are a delight who will never see it undone.” She teased.

Wyll had been her friend since childhood. He had been kind to her when others had not, a generous skill he had only refined as they grew older. Despite their closeness, and many a rumour, Tav and Wyll had never entertained the notion of matrimony. Her father's clumsy attempts to suggest them as a suitable match to Wyll's father were met with resolute indifference from Ulder Ravenguard. His aspirations for his son transcended that of a marriage to the wild, ostracised girl of a lowly merchant. This came as a grateful relief to both Tav and Wyll. 

There had been confusing, romantic feelings at one time - but only during the blur of adolescence, where love could spark, flourish, and burn out within the space of a few heady weeks. Some people would call it a crush, but to Tav her feelings for Wyll had been the first bud of spring; hesitant, and ultimately too immature to flourish into a full-summer bloom. 

Still, inevitably, there had been awkward, hormone-driven exploration between the two of them. The unavoidable result of two teenagers spending too much time together, sunbathing half-naked on secret rooftops and stealing away dusty bottles of Arabellan Dry to be passed between wine-stained lips in intimate hideaways. He had been her first kiss. Her first fumble. The first person she had dared open that little, forbidden box of sexual discovery to, and he had always treasured it fiercely. He was her friend, and she loved him dearly.

“I’ve heard Jacques Huntington is itching for a dance with the young Lord Ravenguard.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and nodded her head towards a tall, thin, blonde gentleman who kept throwing nervous looks in their direction.

“How have you heard that? You’ve barely spoken to anyone.” Wyll scoffs. 

She shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s easy to eavesdrop on conversation when people pay no attention to you. I may as well be sipping on a potion of invisibility, it is a most enviable position to be in. I highly recommend it”

“Well, I'm not dancing with him again after last time. His breath was foul. I’ve had to bat away a house-call from him three times already this season.” 

Tav’s eyes scanned the room once more, and settled on a young woman whose empire-waisted dress could barely contain her breasts. “Marianna, then. I swear she must bathe for hours in that fragrance she wears, the scent of her could rouse a bugbear from its slumber. You would have no fear of smelling her breath over it.” 

“Absolutely not. She presses herself far too close, I feel as though she’s trying to mount me each time we dance.” Tav laughed loudly, earning herself a glare from a group of grim-faced guests not too far away. Gods, everyone was so stiff. 

“Well, your pickiness will have to end eventually. The two of us are becoming the withered grapes on an otherwise flourishing vine. Soon no-one will want a taste.” She was secretly glad of this bleak reminder her father would often throw at her, maybe soon she would be left alone entirely. 

It was then that the entire ballroom seemed to switch from incessant chattering to a soft hum. For a brief second, Tav thought someone must have cast ‘Silence’ over a large part of the congregation, before her eyes caught up with the focus of their attention. 

Two men had just entered the room. One was probably the palest man she had ever seen. Undeniably a high-elf, with perfectly coiffed and curled white hair. He moved with such delicate grace that it would have been no surprise to learn he was spun from silk itself. His clothing was the most eminent of everyone there, deep red with gold threading so intricate he practically shimmered as he moved through the crowd of people. His mouth was carved into an unwavering smile, which alone would be pleasant, but combined with the glint in his piercing blue eyes, gave him an unsettling, roguish quality which set Tav’s hairs on end. 

The man who followed behind him was an entirely different story. Clad in robes of silver and amethyst purple, he exuded the quiet confidence of someone settled in their own skin. He was that infuriating, effortless kind of beautiful that made heads turn and hearts flutter with no struggle at all. Where the pale elf looked as though he had spent hours preening himself in front of a mirror, this man looked as though he had thrown his hair into a half-bun, placed upon himself the first set of robes he could find, and still turned up looking tempting as sin itself. His skin was bronzed, eyes dark, hair dappled brown and silver, and the expression on his face said he wanted to be here almost as little as she did. He was a bright tonic amongst the evening’s bitter artifice.

“A handsome couple” Her eyes followed them as they made their introductions. Well, as the pale elf made their introductions. The man in purple seemed to hang back during each interaction, letting his companion do the talking - and the flirting - by the way he would sway as he spoke, leaning towards each target in an overfamiliar fashion. 

Wyll snorted at her observation. “They are no couple, dear Tav.” He took a sip of his wine as he appraised them himself. “You’ve heard of one of them, surely?” Her eyes flicked between the two men, trying to discern if she recognised them from one of the many, many books cluttering her study. “That, my magical friend, is the illustrious Gale of Waterdeep. The Chosen of Mystra herself.” 

Of course. As he said it, the twinkle of the silver eight-pointed star earring nestled in the darker man’s hair caught her eye. Mystra’s symbol. She had heard of him. He was a  Waterdhavian child prodigy, and stories of his prowess had featured occasionally in her studies. 

Tav herself was no stranger to the whispers of prodigy. From a tender age, she had possessed the rare gift of being able to channel the Weave at her whim. As a child, the fabric of magic had been her playground, her evenings spent in solitary exploration as she wove illusions and breathed enchantments into the toys that nestled under her bed. Magic fizzled in her blood. She was born with the same sorcerous gift as her mother, and she had buried herself in painstaking study to ensure its total understanding and control. She would be its master, and would not die to it the same way her mother had.

Tav had no love for Mystra. The death of her mother had led to the shunning of the Goddess completely. She placed blame upon the Mother of Magic for not protecting Estrea from her own divine gift. It had seemed desperately unfair, cruel, and most of all confusing. The combination of Tav’s anger and studious intent had left her ostracised by most of her peers, and so she had spent her time alone with her spellbooks in the lonely shadow of her dead, heroic mother. Still, Tav refused to be defined by the whims of fate. Magic would be her legacy, earned through sweat and toil rather than inherited by birthright alone. She would carve her name into the annals of history, and she would do it without the pomp and privilege of being some arrogant, naive chosen. She may have the spirit of a sorcerer, but she was determined to be the greatest wizard of the age.

She regarded Gale of Waterdeep intensely, and for a split second he straightened as though a cold wind had slipped across his skin. He turned, and held her heated gaze across the room. His eyes were a soft, comforting brown, but they were not enough to melt her from the icy pillar she had become. He was Mystra’s mouthpiece, and she would not hear any of him. 

She snapped her eyes away from him and turned back to Wyll, who was appraising her with soft amusement. 

“Now, now. As much as a fight would liven the party up a bit. Let’s keep your magic  contained, shall we?” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze and felt her skin jolt as her power tried to escape. With practiced focus, she contained herself. A burst of emotional magic, although entertaining, would probably cause her poor father a heart-attack.

“What is Mysta’s chosen doing among this tedium?” She enquired of Wyll, whom she knew was always privy to the best gossip the city had to offer. One of the benefits of being likeable, she supposed. 

“Apparently she has granted him temporary leave to return to the material plane.” Tav rolled her eyes. It sounded as though he was some pet she had released into the garden to relieve itself. Wyll leaned in a little closer  “I hear, he is also her lover.”

This was not a total surprise to Tav, it seemed to be a habit of Mystra’s. And, she thought to herself and she risked another glance at the handsome Wizard, she supposed the Goddess had good taste. 

The music in the room suddenly lulled into silence. “Oh, here we go. Time for the speech from our illustrious and enigmatic host himself.” Wyll’s tone was laced with disdain. As much as he flourished at these parties, it was no secret that he held no respect for the man who tended to host the majority of them. 

Enver Gortash ascended the grand staircase and settled himself at the balcony overlooking the festivities below. His gaze swept over the assembled crowd, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he prepared to address them.

Standing just behind him was his ever-present bodyguard, a flame-red Tiefling woman whose imposing stature and muscular frame were poorly hidden behind her tailored suit. Her golden eyes were sharp and watchful. She was his sentinel, and Tav noticed Wyll couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. 

Lord Gortash was a figure of both respect and trepidation, his influence extending far beyond the confines of his sprawling estate in the Upper-City. His reputation preceded him, a shadowy figure who was powerful and mysterious in equal measure. He was respected by many, and unnerved by most. No one who received an invitation to one of his glittering events ever dared to turn it down. 

“Welcome! Dear friends, noble patriots of Baldur’s Gate.” His voice was low and almost hypnotic. “What a delight it is for you to once again grace the home of a humble, and grateful, servant of this city.” Tav noted how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am entranced by your company as always, and I am looking forward to spending this evening… In fruitful conversation.” At this, he flashed his eyes directly at Tav and her whole world stopped. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and she wasn’t sure why but her blood suddenly turned icy. It only lasted one, practically imperceptible moment and then he dragged his gaze away from her to continue his speech on the importance of camaraderie and the ongoing development of their great city. 

He finished to a round of applause, and Tav had decided she had had enough of all of them. She wanted to go home. 

“I’m going to find my father, Wyll.” She looked round the room to see which unlucky person her father had trapped in conversation now, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Wyll remained silent next to her.

“Wyll?” 

“Hmm?” His focus returned, and Tav had a fair idea of where it had floated off to.

“I’m going to retire for the evening” She gave his hand another squeeze “I apologise deeply for leaving you alone, but perhaps there is other company you could find sanctuary in?” Her eyes flashed with mischief. “I hear Lord Gortash’s bodyguard is quite entertaining.” 

Before he could retort, she turned and left, her eyes once again frantically searching for her father. This led her to bump directly into Gale of Waterdeep, who had been attempting to gravitate towards her for quite some time.

“Ah, my apologies my lady.” He bowed his head as he took a step back from her. “I’m usually better at this.” 

“At displaying manners?” She remarked. 

“At introductions.” He tried not to smirk to himself at her annoyance. The potent aura of weave he had sensed around her from all the way over the room, seemed to intensify at her irritation. Fascinating, he thought. “I am Gale of Waterdeep… and you are Ostavia Olyn.” He said with infuriating confidence. 

She did not fall for the flattery of him obviously having asked about her. “Usually one is granted the privilege of being able to offer their own introduction” She said. “Has your time away from mortal company caused you to abandon all decorum?” He did not answer her question as he sensed, quite correctly, that she was not done.

“I’ve never met a Chosen before. Should I refer to you as Saer?” Her tone was now slightly mocking. He was enjoying her immensely. “What title would Mystra prefer?” 

 “Mr.Dekarios will do just fine.” He took in the flame of her eyes, and the dark hair which had started to spiral loose down her neck, and suddenly he found the evening much more enjoyable. “Please would you do me the honour of partnering me for a dance?”. He offered an elegant hand to her. 

And for some reason she couldn’t quite understand, she took it. 

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, mentions of sex, hospital scare, ghosting, rumors as a plot device, what may be considered as bullying, mc refuses to monologue about her feelings, the works. WORD COUNT. preview: 1.2k words | full fic: est. 30k.

RELEASE DATE. end of may or within the month of june. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. this is a sequel to 모기 / MOGI. remember when i said i wasn’t planning on writing a part two to this? haha, remember? well, this might be my best work yet gosh darn, life works in mysterious ways! i poured my entire fucking soul into this! 

something i’d like to mention is that i’ve already planned out this entire sequel before beomgyu’s sukidakara cover came out, before i revisited his other two covers. the timing was crazy because there’s three major arcs to this fic— and somehow, all three songs fit the themes. really really well i started crying at some point HAHAHAHAHHA. there’s so much i want to say about this story, but i’ll bite my tongue until its release. enjoy!

preview under the cut.

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom for the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. Beomgyu turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here,, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air. You’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still, it’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer..

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[heartbreakgrill]

Black Paint; Vessel (Sleep Token)

a/n: i am so fucking proud of this and i hope you absolutely love it. pls don't anyone tell brittany or else i'll fucking kms. thx.

description: brittany broski and friends go see sleep token. the group's energy catches the attention of the band.

warnings: alcohol, smut, cringe wattpad y/n moment.

“Hey, guys, welcome back to the Broski report. I’m your host, Brittany Broski.”

She rambled the words out breathlessly, smile void on her face. I stifled a laugh from the seat beside her, especially as I knew the camera frame would then focus on me. 

She slammed her palms down onto the table, peering over at me with a blank expression, “Bitch.”

“I know,” I shrugged. My lips were pursed together, shoulders shaking as small giggles forced their way out of my nose. 

“Bitch!” She tilted her head from the microphone so as not to disturb the sound mix. 

I pressed a hand to my lips, dying of laughter now. “I know!” 

“Listen,” she pointed at the screen behind us, “there is no fucking time for introductions because this bitch…just ruined my life by introducing me to yet another GROUP masked men I will not and can not have!” 

“I know,” I nodded solemnly, still giggling. “I’m so sorry for what I have done to you.”

“Sleep Token,” Brittany yelled. I flinched from the volume, eliciting a soft, “Oh!”

“Sleep Token, guys,” she repeated. “Listen…before we even begin, we have a disclaimer for you horny sluts.”

I licked my lip as I silenced my laughter, looking seriously to the camera. “We do not condone the search for the identity of this band. Let them exist peacefully. If you know who they are, and you comment it on either of our platforms, anywhere, you will be blocked. Be respectful, shut the fuck up, and keep the mystery alive, kay?”

“Kay. Moving on! Sleep Token!”

It was my first time being on Brittany’s podcast. I was honored to have been asked, considering she didn’t often have anyone join her. But, considering I’d introduced her to the band I was currently hyper-fixating on, she needed me to provide my personal testimony. We spent most of the video appreciating their music, pointing out our favorite drum parts, lyrics, and Vessel vocals. Of course, we thirsted over the band, too. Why wouldn’t we have? They were hot as fuck and we were just girls. 

And, of course, the video blew up. Her podcast segments normally did, but this one reached new numbers even she could not have predicted. At one point, trending on TikTok was a video of me saying, “I would literally let this man do dirty, nasty, terrible things to me that my mom would disown me for. Things only bitches did in that fucking town of Sodom and Gamora. God would literally come down and rain hellfire over my apartment after I got done with that man.”

I wasn’t necessarily embarrassed by the videos that came out after my clip went viral, but it was a little silly. I just hoped the band didn’t have secret accounts that they stalked fans on. I would never want to know that- but Ijust hoped and prayed it wasn’t sure. 

Soon after we posted the video, the band announced a new leg of a North American tour. 

And, of course, we spent a shit load of money to get tickets. 

The months drug on before it was finally time for the concert. 

“Shot?”

Brittany held out the glass vial towards me, a knowing smile- brows raised, round eyes suggestive- egging me on. Not that I needed it- tonight was the perfect night to get trashed. Of course, with Brittany, that was most night’s. When we had filmed for the podcast? Oh, we were smashed. 

“Duh, bitch.”

I took it from her hold, wrapped my forearm around hers, and shared a low cheer before taking the shot. Our other friend Sarah Baska, was ordering herself something at the bar. Meanwhile, the liquid burned the back of my throat, sliding down my chest in it’s fiery path. A natural lightweight, I felt warm immediately. It was also just really hot in here. 

I then ordered some mixed drink. Sarah got more, harder liquor, as per usual. And, Brittany did another handful of shots for the road. After, we headed for the stairs, giggly and anticipatory. We spent extra money on a private box, both to shake our asses in a spacious area, and to be able to enjoy the concert without being bothered by fans the entire time. It was nice getting photos with them and meeting people who looked up to all of us. But, tonight, it would be nice to just exist as normal people at a normal concert. Besides, we were all here for Sleep Token. I wanted them to get all the worship that they deserved. 

Not that this was a normal concert. This was, in any devoted fan’s words, a night of worship to the god of Sleep. This was a ritual. Tonight, I would be shaking my ass extra hard for the little dancing vessel’s on that stage who were so fucking attractive, I could drool. 

We found our seats quickly. I was grateful for the space away from the thick, sweaty crowds- it was hot in here, even though I was wearing next to nothing. I really didn’t want my makeup- done heavier than normal thanks to Britt- to run. I did, however, hope that Vessel’s paint would smear a little extra from this heat. That was hot. 

We sat down in our seats for a few minutes, gushing about finally being at this ritual. I sipped at my drink, finishing it faster than I thought possible. I tended to drink heavier when my pulse rate was this high. My chest was really warm now, and I enjoyed it. It loosened me up quite a bit. I wasn’t really introverted, but I had anxiety when it came to these situations. Liquid courage was always nice to have. 

I shed my jacket on the back of my chair, exposing my midriff and bare arms. It cooled me down a bit. Brittany was rambling on about Vessel and some video she’d saw on TikTok the night before. I went to reply to her, to ask to see the video, when a staff member interrupted us, “Excuse me, ladies-”

We looked up him expectantly. His voice was quiet against the loud chatter of the crowd and the pre-show playlist thumping through the speakers. I leaned in close to him and strained to hear his next words. 

“These seats have food and drink service. Would you like anything?” He graciously held out a menu.

We nodded enthusiastically and ordered another round of shots and cocktails. Just as he returned with the tray of drinks, after we occupied ourselves by watching a handful of videos on Brittany’s phone, the lights dimmed for the opener. I tipped the server as I joined the crowd, on my feet, hooting and hollering. We quickly down our shots. 

The opener was pretty good. Brittany, Sarah, and I danced along to the songs, clapped when gestured to, and took a few embarrassing pictures for us to regret in the morning. I liked to spin in circles as I danced, rotating my hips to the beat. I made a stank face while doing so, drink raised to the sky like an offering. Brittany and Sarah would hype me up, pretending to swipe stacks of cash over me like rain, leaning into my momentum with hollers. The more I moved, the more the alcohol took over. I was completely lost in the music. 

When the opener took a bow, Brittany, Sarah, and I screamed, loudly. Loud enough that the opener noticed us. They waved up to our seats. I jumped up and down, splashing my drink over the railing, on the floor below. I waved wildly. The opener then blew a kiss and I nearly melted. I felt like a little girl at a One Direction concert. It was awesome. 

As the crew began tearing down the openers set, and putting together Sleep Token’s, more music streamed through the speakers. The server scurried off to get us more drinks. 

Because the opener had noticed us- twice- a few people in the crowd turned to look up at our seats. Now that the overhead lights were back on in the venue, a bunch of fans started calling out our names, waving excitedly. As they did, I Wanna Dance With Somebody started playing and the energy in the venue lifted completely. 

I set my drink down in my cup holder, needing both hands to go absolutely feral over the song choice. As the first verse began, I grabbed Brittany’s fingers in my clutch, serenading her through viscous screams. I swayed from foot to foot, hitting each beat with my hips. As Miss Houston sang, “My lonely heart calls…” I grabbed the railing from behind me, leaned myself over it, back arched and head upside down, towards the crowd. Everyone freaked out at the stupid move I did. I was sure to see clips of it in the morning. 

Then, the chorus started, and we jumped around like raging lunatics. We clapped our way through the song, entertaining the crowd like we were the real show. Eventually, the crew seemed to be finishing up their work onstage. The music started to fade, the lights dimmed, and the stage lit up with bright blue. I picked my drink back up, screeching my head off as the music started.

I swear to god that the band could hear us screaming from our side of the venue, jumping around like children, holding onto each other like we just might fall over. We were louder than, probably, the rest of the crowd. They started with Chokehold, which made me nearly lose my sanity. Vessel strutted out onto the stage like a literal god, rings shining in the light, blackened skin already slick with sweat. I bounced up and down to every beat, waving my hands with the crowd, spinning in circles, downing my drink like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t focus too much on how good he looked, caught up in the music. But, god, did I know he looked insane. 

At one point, Brittany and Sarah turned their phone flash on. They switched between that and taking videos on their phones, giving me all the spotlight. They made it like I was the fucking main character of the concert. And, I loved every second of it. 

At one point, the bassist noticed our flashing lights and mini dance circle. He pointed up at us, nodding his head in appreciation. I screamed my head off in response, gripping the railing and whipping my hair. He raised his hands like he had to defend himself from my energy and slunk off to the other side of the stage. Brittany pointed the camera in my face, “How do you feel?!”

“I’m shitting my pants right now!”

The concert went by quickly, too quickly. IV interacted with us a bunch, too, especially after he’d scream his lyrics and we’d go wild. Vessel, unfortunately, avoided our side of the stage. He was so lost in the music which was, honestly, amazing to witness. His silly dances combined with his insane vocals made for a great show. 

By the time The Offering started up, Brittany, Sarah, and I were absolutely trashed. I wasn’t too far gone because I was started to sweat out what was in my system. Yet, I was nowhere near sober. Anyways, maybe it was because we were being obnoxious and loud due to our drunken states- Vessel finally noticed us. It was at the beginning of the song, when he sang, “Take a bite…’ It came out like an animalistic growl, chilling the audience. 

He pointed his hands towards our balcony, though I’d like to think he was really just pointing at me, and whispered the sultry lyric. I melted to the ground, head thrown back as I yelled. Brittany grabbed my bicep to ensure I wouldn’t fall any further. She and Sarah hoisted me back up. We cackled into each other’s shoulders annoyingly. Then, as the drums picked up, we began moving with the rhythm again. 

Before we knew it, the concert was over. Vessel raised his hands in a bow. Then, he looked around the crowd, found our seats again, and shot us a small smile. I took the opportunity to blow him a kiss, enthusiastically throwing it through the air towards him. He grinned in response, looking to his feet as he shook his head, before slinking backstage. 

I plopped back down into my seat, already cracking open a water bottle. My chest heaved for air. I didn’t even know how to process anything that had happened. All I knew was, “I need to eat so many fries right now,” I breathed out, sweat slicking my skin. I sipped the water slowly. I could feel myself sobering up more and more. I was a little more conscious, but so damn hungry.

Sarah was talking to some people next to us who she knew. Brittany sat beside me. “Vessel literally wants you,” she said, nonchalantly, like she had read it in that morning’s paper. “Like…holy fuck.”

I cracked a smile and wiped a bead of sweat off of my brow. I checked my reflection in my phone. Luckily, my makeup had stayed intact. I replied with a silly tone, “Don’t even get me excited like that. It’s rude.”

“No, cause, he kept looking up here after The Offering,” Brittany said in a matter of fact manner, again. 

“Really?” I sat up in my seat, “No way! I must have been dancing too hard to notice.”

“Oh, you were shaking your ass,” she snickered with a grin.

“Ugh, he’s fucking sexy,” I continued on. We stared at the stage for a moment in one of those silences where neither drunk girl could really formulate any relevant response. Then, I kind of tossed my weary arms around, “Well, doesn’t matter. I bet he, like, doesn’t even date.”

“No, but he def fucks,” Brittany emphasized. We leaned into each other, laughing loudly. 

Sarah turned to us at the sound. She plopped down beside me and went to add to our conversation, but the familiar staff member who’d been supplying our drinks was interrupting again. Though, this time, he didn’t have a tray of alcohol. 

“Excuse me, ladies,” his favorite phrase. We all looked up at him, curious. He didn’t have to speak so loud, considering the venue was clearing out, so it was easier to hear. Whitney Houston was playing again. 

“The band is wondering if you’d like to come backstage for some refreshments?” He asked so casually that it took my brain a moment to process the information. 

I managed to play it really cool, but internally, I was basically shitting my pants. Brittany, however, gaped at the worker. She slowly turned her head towards Sarah and I with a wild look in her eyes, seeming like she might scream at any given moment.

Sarah snorted, “What fucking fanfiction did we just get thrown into?!”

“I don’t know, but I fucking love it,” I gushed back, staring at the worker. “What the fuck.” He shrugged back at me. 

Sarah shook her head with an amused grin, waving off the worker, “Listen, yall go, have fun. My friends offered to let us go out with them, so I’m gonna split off. I don’t think I could mentally handle meeting them right now. I think I’d, like, puke all over them.”

“But, then you could say that you’ve puked on Sleep Token!” Brittany smacked Sarah’s shoulder, reaching across my body. 

“Go!” Sarah shoved back, squishing me further between the two of them. “Go, so you can say that you puked on Sleep Token.”

“Yeah, I fucking will,” I pushed up out of my seat, an eager energy in my bones. 

Brittany and I followed the worker down the stairs, clutching each other’s arms. He ushered us through the remaining crowd gently, though we had to stop to take numerous photos- and make the occasional TikTok- with fans. They gushed about our dance moves, our podcast episode. It made everything feel even giddier. We eventually made it up to the stage, where we were guided behind these large black curtains disguising the dimly lit area of the sides. 

The crew worked hard on getting everything packed up, put away. We skirted between all of them, trying not to get in the way of it all. I kept checking my reflection in my phone’s front camera to ensure I looked okay. Most of the sweat had soaked itself up and my perfume was long lasting. Hopefully that was enough to rizz up Vessel. Not that I was counting on that. It would be awesome, but I was actually excited to have a conversation with all of them. I would soon learn that was not what he wanted from me tonight. 

We went down another set of stairs and stopped before a closed door. Behind it, we could hear music playing over a speaker, a few sets of voices cheering and chattering. The worker knocked, kindly, and the voices cut themselves off. 

“Come in!” A thick British accent called out.

I took a deep, drunken breath as the worker turned the door knob. And, my stomach dropped when he pulled open the door.

Sleep Token sat, lounged out across their dressing room, on various couches. They wore those familiar masks, their stage costumes- save for a few layers- and clutched some drinks in their blackened hands. My eyes found Vessel last, who was leaning against the counter of the vanity, a drink sat beside his left hand. He had shed his cloak, so visible to us was his paint-smeared chest and back. I tried not to let my eyes wander too much- but they did. 

III stood from the couch, excitedly dancing his way over to the door where we stood. The worker abandoned us. “‘Ello, darlings!” III called out. 

He hugged Brittany first, bent down because of his insane height. As he did, I couldn’t rip my eyes from the slits of Vessel’s mask. I somehow knew that he was staring at me- probably because his distant gaze burned my skin. Then, III was pulling me into his chest, “It’s so lovely to meet you…”

“Brittany,” she gestured to herself, then to me, “Y/n. Dude, thanks so fucking much for having us! We had an absolute blast. Your performance is just- wow!”

IV and II approached us next, as III pulled us a bit further into the room. III busied himself with pouring us each a drink as we introduced ourselves to IV and II. 

“We’re so glad you had a good time worshiping,” IV cracked, hugging Brittany, “makes it all the more worth it.”

I grinned at his words as he embraced me, too, still occasionally glancing at Vessel. II added on, “Sure you’re exhausted from all that dancing. Have a seat.”

III wrapped an arm around Brittany’s shoulder, passing a drink to her hand, as he brought her onto the couch beside him. IV and II moved to stt back where they had been, probably assuming I was following. I clutched nervously to the drink III had given me. I may be drunk, but not drunk enough to not act stupid in front of men I wanted to fuck. The nerves were crashing down me instead, making me stoic, overthinking my own breathin. 

I looked back at Vessel, again, who had been quiet thus far. He held out a hand, an offer for me to come sit beside him. I hesitated, for just a moment, before taking it. His fingers were warm, even his rings, and I noticed that black paint smudged itself across my skin as I took my hand from his. I leaned up against the counter beside him as I admired the paint. 

III, IV, and II struck up a lively conversation with Brittany, full of teases and easy topics. I watched until I felt that burning stare on the side of my face again. I looked up at Vessel, a small smile forming across my lips. He returned the expression. 

“Lovely to meet you, Y/n,” his voice was just as deep as his singing tone. It sent a shiver down my spine. 

I shifted on my feet, glanced around, before returning his gaze again. “You, too, Vessel,” I took a sip of the drink in my hand. 

He chuckled down at me. My knees rocked. “So…you like Whitney Houston, yeah?.”

My face turned beat red at the realization that he had seen a lot more than I hoped. I pressed a hand over my face, groaning, “Oh, god. You saw that?”

Vessel brushed his shoulder against mine. More paint took it’s place there in my skin. “I saw everything.”

I crinkled my nose, “Ugh, that was just…I don’t claim to be a good dancer, just so you know.”

Vessel shrugged, “I beg to differ.”

Shaking my head at his words, I waved him off, “Don’t even…I just, like, throw myself around like a fucking rag doll.”

“No,” he drug out the word, deep voice reverberating in my chest, “no, you have some rhythm in those hips.” His head tilted down as he eyed my body. 

There was a beat of silence that passed between us. I examined his mask. I think I knew then that I wouldn’t be leaving until this man fucked me senseless, but my foggy, drunken brain thought still that maybe I was just being delusional. 

It wasn’t until he opened his mouth, again, that I was certain. He drug his tongue over his bottom lip, as though he was searching for the right words to say. My eyes followed the wet, pink organ with a blank stare. 

Vessel thought for another moment before leaning his mouth down towards my ear. He pressed his hand against my hip, fingers curling around my bare skin exposed there. His breath was hot against the side of my neck, though I shivered again. “I want to see how those hips would move on me.”

I flushed, bright red again, the alcohol making the heat on my blotchy skin worse. Vessel pulled away, a smirk ever-present on those pink lips, black staining the outer edges. It took all of my self control not to lick it clean, right then and there. I wanted him- needed him. And, he knew it. 

Vessel searched my eyes with that curl in his lips. I was unable to come up with a proper response. But, I think he found what he was looking for in my dilated pupils and rising chest. “Be a good girl for me? Yeah?”

Vessel offered up his hand again. I entwined my fingers in his, my own smile finally finding its place on my mouth. Vessel took my cup and chugged it, tossed it into the trash, and led us from the room. 

I followed like a puppy-dog, hot on his heels. He guided me so carefully, looking back occasionally to ensure I was okay. Then, he threw open a door at the end of the hallway we traveled down. It was dark in the room, with only a small lamp in the corner to illuminate our hushed desperations. Vessel locked the door behind us after he ushered me inside. He spun me around and forced himself against my chest, pressing my back against the door. It knocked the wind right out of me. My chest rose and fell as I took rapid, deep breaths. Vessel held me by my hip, again, thumb brushing against my bare skin gently. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered as he brought a hand to my face, cupping my cheek. 

I barely nodded, entranced by the stare coming from behind his mask. I had enough focus to touch my hands to his chest, though, running my fingers up and down his toned stomach. The paint smeared beneath my knuckles, revealing more of his pale skin. I watched it mix with our sweat with hopeless admiration in my gaze. 

Vessel looked down at my hands, too, a smirk still present on his face. But, then he forced my chin up, so my eyes were on his mask, and said, “Use your words, darling.”

“Y-yes,” I shuddered, voice breathless. 

Vessel pressed me harder against the door as our lips met, tongues clashing against teeth, hungrily. We moved together so easily, entranced by the other’s taste. I gripped at his sides, pulling me into him, arching my back to press my chest against his. Vessel’s hold tightened, too, and he ground my hips against his. 

I felt him get hard, quickly, the loose material of his pants allowing his erection to fully grind against my thigh. He was whiney, all gasping breaths, low moans, as I drug my fingers down his chest, dipped them through his waistband. I nearly got to feel him, but Vessel grabbed my hand harshly in his, slamming it up against the door, above my head. My eyes shot back open in surprise. I don’t remember closing them.

“S’all about you right now, darling,” he demanded, words against my lips. 

Vessel shoved his head into the crevice of my neck, nipping and tonguing at my flesh. My eyes dropped shut again, head hitting the door in a way that would probably hurt tomorrow. I had a feeling all of me would hurt tomorrow. But, I didn’t care. 

Vessel drug his fingers up my arms, leaving goosebumps in his path, trails of black paint like a roadmap amongst my freckles. He slid the straps of my dress down past my shoulders. Then, he kissed his way down to the arch of my breasts. He rolled the material between his teeth and sunk to the floor as he drugged it down my body. Vessel was on his knees below me. 

Vessel looped an arm around either of my thighs, nearly pulling my entire weight onto his shoulders. I clutched onto the top of his head, feeling some of his hair slip out from the cap he wore beneath his mask. It was soft, though just a bit sweaty. He glanced up at my bare breasts, smirking devilishly now

He admired my face as he said, “I watched you worship me all night. It’s my turn to pray at your altar.” STOPPED HERE. 

My head hit the door again as Vessel sunk his tongue into me. He had managed to tear my underwear down with his teeth and they were now laying across the room. I ground my hips into his face, back arching each time his nose would then rub against my sweet spot. I tried to be quiet at first, though small gasps and moans slipped from my bitten lips. 

But, then, Vessel stopped, eliciting a whine from me. He chuckled, lips slick from me. He darted his tongue out, smirking as he cleaned his mouth. He tilted his head in disappointment, “You were so loud for me earlier, darling. What happened to that good girl? I want to hear how good I am making you feel.”

I nodded, dazed, brows furrowed, fingers digging at his hair. The cap had fallen off his head at this point, but the mask managed to stay on. I was grateful it did. The mystery alive energized both of our primal desires.. 

Vessel watched my face as he pressed his tongue back up into me, running the tip of it down my entire core. I moaned, loudly, back arched into the cold air, nipples hard from the temperature and arousal. 

He chuckled into me, making my thighs shake around his head. Vessel pried me back open with his fingers bruising my skin. He continued on until I was close. I vocalized my point of no return, and he hurriedly spoke, “Don’t. Be a good girl and wait. For me, okay?”

I nodded wildly, clenching my stomach to deny myself of the orgasm. Vessel gently set my feet back on the ground. He guided me by the hips towards a counter. Easily, he picked me up and set me on it. It was freezing cold against my bare skin, but his warm hands, tongue, were on me soon enough. I took the opportunity to unlatch his belt, fingers moving hurriedly. Vessel moved to help me, tugging the pants down his thighs. 

Vessel then pushed me back from him, taking control again. He pushed my legs open further with his bare knee. Then, he grabbed me by the hips and tugged me down till my back was flat against the counter. His hand splayed across my thigh as he pushed himself inside of me. 

He was sloppy, quick in desperation as he fucked me. But, every thrust he pushed into me was strong, deep. Vessel wrapped my legs around his waist, securing me by the hip. His other hand drug itself up my chest until his fingers were wrapped around my throat. Black paint smeared most of my skin. There was even a ring around his mouth where the paint had transferred from his skin to my own. I don’t know how we would manage to keep this rendezvous a secret from everyone else with the state we were both in. But, right now, I couldn’t care.

Vessel leaned himself overtop of me, his forehead against my chest. Though, he was dominating me, he was so caught up in the pleasure that he was starting to quickly come undone. I touched his back, nails digging into his skin. He tossed his head back at the sensation, neck exposed to me. I eyed the veins protruding from his skin. 

He smirked at me when he noticed I was staring at his neck. He growled, “Take a bite.”

I held one hand, tightly, to his shoulder, keeping him steady as he fucked me. But, I gripped the back of his head with the other. I was slow at first, nipping at his neck gently. Vessel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy with each bite I took. I was close, too. So, I opened my jaw further, taking a pinch of his skin between my upper and lower canines. I bit down, hard. 

“Fuck!”

He quickly pulled out and came on my stomach. As he did, I felt myself come undone. Vessel pressed his forehead against mine as we rode out our high. We came down from the top and he gave me a sloppy kiss. 

There was a bitter cold left on my skin as he stepped back. I hugged myself, finally taking in the black paint covering my skin. “Oh, god,” I laughed. 

Vessel pulled his pants up. He looked at my body, grinning, “Fuck. That’s so hot. Darling, if we had more time…”

“I know,” I smiled up at him. 

“Here, there’s a bathroom over here,” Vessel spoke as he finished buckling his belt. He offered me his hand. 

I followed him into the side room. He found a washcloth on the side of the sink, clean and unused, and wet it with warm water. Vessel gently pried my hands from covering my body and busied himself with wiping down my skin. He focused on what would be visible: My arms, neck, hands, face. I watched him while he worked. It was fucking hot when he was dominating, disgustingly dirty. But, this, this caring demeanor? I’d fuck him again in a heartbeat. 

When he was finished, he rounded up my dress, shoes, and underwear. He turned away, without a question, while I dressed. I was no longer nervous, so I wouldn’t have minded if he watched. But, he was respectful. 

“Okay,” I breathed out, pulling my final dress strap back up and over my shoulder. 

Vessel faced me. I was finally able to take in his face and had to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. He frowned, slightly, confused by my laughter. “What? What is it?”

I touched his shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror. His head pulled back in shock at his appearance. 

I kept laughing and Vessel peered down at me with a tilted head. “Keep laughing, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” I shrugged, “it’s fo fucking funny.”

“What’s funny?” 

I yelped, trying to duck out of the way as he jolted towards me. He caught me by the waist, rattling me around in his hold. I giggled, loudly against his chest, trying to twist out of his hold. His mouth was near my ear as he teased me, “Not so funny now, huh?”

I rested my forehead to his shoulder in my fit of laughter. Vessel calmed his movements, just holding me against him now. “It just goes to show the mess you make out of me,” he murmured against my ear, lips pressed to the shell. 

I looked up at him and pointed a warning finger, “Don’t do that.”

“I know,” he huffed as he tossed his head back in frustration. “We should be getting back.”

“Sadly,” I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

He admired my face for a few moments, silent, until he smiled softly, “Can I get your number?”

“Maybe,” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, I kind of like to just fuck and dump, ya know?”

“I won’t let you do that, darling,” his voice dropped low again. 

“Okay, you’ve gotta stop doing that or I’m never going home.”

Vessel cupped my cheek in his hand, nearly void of paint, “I’d be okay with that.”

“I’m gonna walk away now.”

Vessel didn’t let go, however, as I made a move to step towards the bathroom door. In fact, he held me tighter. He pressed another kiss to my lips. “Can’t go anywhere looking that, darling,” he twisted me around to face the mirror, long arms cradling my waist. 

I reached for the washcloth and wiped off my face. I faced him again and cleaned up his mouth, just enough so that it wasn’t completely obvious he’d eaten me out. We spent another moment teasing each other, eliciting more giggles from my throat. But, we figured we should get back. 

So, he took my hand again and led us back down the hallway. I flushed red as soon as the door was pulled open, considering the entire band and Brittany snapped their heads towards us. 

“Way to leave your sister!” Brittany exclaimed, holding up a cup of what could only be whiskey. “Dude, you’re missing out on some insane stories right now. Come, sit.” She patted the couch next to her. 

I glanced up at Vessel as I took my hand from his. II, IV, and III greeted me with kind eyes and small greetings. “Hey, sorry,” I said as I plopped onto the couch. “He was just showing me the, uh…”

We hadn’t come up with an excuse. So, my words fell off my tongue with no resolution. Vessel shoved his hands in his pockets, quickly stuttering out, “Backstage. Just the backstage area. She wanted to see how everything works.”

Brittany nodded, oblivious to the elephant in the room. “Dope. You’ll have to show me next.”

“We can do a group tour,” IV offered. 

Everyone agreed, enthusiastically, and we all stood to pile out the door. III and I were the last ones seated. I met his dark eyes, smiling kindly at him. His gaze dropped to my thighs, brows raising beneath his mask suggestively. 

I followed his eyes down. Where my dress had ridden up my thighs was a long line of smeared paint, not to mention reddened hickies that were starting to sprout up. I pressed my lips together and quickly tugged the material down over my legs. 

III patted my knee as he stood, “You were the one going crazy during The Offering, love.”

I gaped after him as his words lingered in the air before me. Vessel stood just beside the door, awaiting my presence. As III passed by him, he took Vessel by the chin and tilted his head. 

He tsked at the bruising bite mark on Vessel’s neck. I shoved my face into my hands, face beyond burned.

III whispered, “Take a bite.” 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Brittany and I were hanging out, looking through concert videos with nostalgia, that she found out. I was nervous to tell her. Besides, Vessel and I were starting to see each other, so I didn’t want to expose his private life too much. I trusted her, but I just overthought it all. Apparently, though, I hadn’t enough overthinking.

I had just made a post on Instagram, making the photo we took with the band the cover photo for a dump. It blew up immediately. Brittany and I were reading comments as they came in, dying of laughter at some of the shit people were saying. 

“No, hand placement is so real!” Brittany exclaimed. She shoved her phone in my face, showing me the zoom-in of Vessel’s hand on my hip. I blushed and shoved it away. She kept scrolling. 

“Wait,” her voice trailed off. 

I glanced at her and watched as her brows furrowed. She tapped around, zoomed in a bunch, scrolled through comments. I looked back to my phone just as a new comment began blowing up with responses and likes. 

User- so is no one gonna talk about vessel’s paint on y/n’s thigh and her very obvious sex hair?

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

[anniebeemine]

Syllabus Day- s.r. x fem!reader

I watched this TikTok and lost my mind over it. I knew a guy like this and he was both the most annoying and most amusing person I have ever met. also happy first day of graduate school for me (and for anyone else out there <3)!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling college campus. Students bustled around, some heading to their next class, others lounging on the grass with textbooks or chatting with friends. It was a peaceful scene, one that almost made you forget the grim nature of the case you were working on. As you and Spencer walked side by side, the sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone path filled the silence between you.

"I kind of miss this," you admitted, glancing around at the students. "The routine, the simplicity of it all. Life was a lot less complicated back then."

Spencer smiled, his eyes flicking from one student to another. "I can understand that. School always had a certain predictability to it. The schedules, the classes, the certainty of what was expected of you."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of nostalgia. "Yeah, exactly. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that. It was easier in a lot of ways."

Spencer chuckled softly. "You’d blend in perfectly here. You still have that student aura about you."

You playfully elbowed him in the side. "Oh, please. I’m way too old to pass for a college student."

Before Spencer could respond, a young man came stumbling up to you, his backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder and his hair sticking up as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had a frantic look in his eyes, the kind of look that screamed “I’m running late” or “I just failed a test.”

"Hey, hey!" he called out, breathless as he caught up to you. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—are you in Professor Langdon’s Marketing 102 class? I could’ve sworn I saw you in there! You’re the hottie who sat with the Phi Beta girls. Hottest house on campus, for real.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the student barreled on, not giving you a chance to speak.

"I knew it! I’m such a mess, seriously. I already failed the syllabus quiz. But there were all these trick questions, like what font size to use in our reports, and I just completely blanked. Total disaster."

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking at you with a desperate expression. "I really need a study partner. Someone who’s got it all together, you know? And you look like you’ve got it together. Can I get your number? We could meet up, go over notes, maybe figure out this whole marketing thing before I fail out of college?"

Spencer was biting his lip, clearly trying to suppress a grin. You, on the other hand, were struggling to get a word in edgewise as the student continued to ramble on, his words tumbling over each other in a rush.

"I mean, it’s only the first week, right? But I can already tell this class is gonna be brutal. I could really use someone like you in my corner. So, uh, what do you say? Can I get your number? You’re like totally smoking. I’m not like other guys who would use you, hook up and then pretend not to know you at all party they invited you to.. Which I can totally get you into, I'm just not sure about this guy. He'll probably have to wait outside with the others.”

You finally managed to catch a breath and held up your hands to stop him. "Whoa, whoa—hang on a second."

The student blinked, as if surprised that you were actually going to respond. He stepped back a bit, finally giving you space to speak.

"I’m not actually in your class," you said gently. "I’m, uh, just visiting the campus for… work."

The student’s face fell, his hope deflating like a popped balloon. "Oh. Oh, man, I’m so sorry. You just—you look so much like someone in my class, I totally thought… well, would it be cool if I still got your number?”

You furrowed your brows. “No.”

Spencer, who had been silently amused by the whole interaction, finally spoke up. "Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us."

The student gave a sheepish smile, his face flushing red with embarrassment. "Yeah, thanks. Sorry again. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it then."

As the student shuffled away, you turned to Spencer, who was now openly laughing.

"Oh, don’t you start," you said, giving him a mock glare.

"You have to admit," Spencer said, still chuckling, "it was kind of hilarious. You’re a certified hottie.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just find this professor before any more students mistake me for their study buddy."

He tugged at your jacket. “Will you be my study buddy?” He teased. “They say you’re pretty good at chemistry.”

You decide to play along. “I don’t know. Anatomy’s been kicking my ass,” you said, smiling goofily at him. “Maybe you could show me a thing or two.”

Spencer grinned, nodding as you both continued down the path. Despite the interruption, you couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter. The case might be serious, but moments like these reminded you that even in the midst of all the chaos, there were still things to laugh about.

You and Spencer finally reached the office of Professor Langdon, tucked away in one of the older buildings on campus. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the professor inside, hunched over a stack of papers with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. His office was cluttered, books stacked haphazardly on every available surface, and the walls were lined with posters from various academic conferences. He looked up as you knocked gently on the doorframe.

"Professor Langdon?" you asked, stepping inside.

The professor looked up, adjusting his glasses as he focused on you. "Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?"

You introduced yourselves, flashing your badges as Spencer handed him a copy of the profile you’d been working on. "We’re with the FBI," Spencer began. "We’re investigating a case in the area, and we believe the unsub may have some connection to the university. Specifically, they might be familiar with faculty routines or even have posed as a student in the past."

Professor Langdon took the profile, his brow furrowing as he skimmed the details. "This is… concerning, to say the least. Do you think they might be targeting someone here?"

"It’s a possibility," you said. "We don’t have any specific targets yet, but we’re covering all bases. We wanted to ask if you could keep an eye out for any unusual behavior, especially from students or anyone who might seem out of place in your classes."

Langdon nodded, his expression serious. "Of course. I’ll keep a close watch. If I notice anything suspicious, I’ll contact you immediately."

"Thank you," Spencer said, genuinely appreciative. "We’ll be in touch if we need anything else."

As you turned to leave, something crossed your mind, and you paused. "Actually, Professor, before we go… Could I take a look at your syllabus for Marketing 102? We had a… interesting encounter with one of your students earlier, and now I’m curious."

The professor raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the request but not questioning it. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a single sheet of paper, handing it to you.

You took the syllabus and glanced over it, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you noticed the details. In bold letters, right at the top, was the instruction: All assignments must be submitted in 12-point Times New Roman font.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you handed the paper to Spencer, who glanced at it and immediately caught on. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Well," Spencer said, still smiling, "at least he failed the quiz for an understandable reason."

Professor Langdon looked between the two of you, clearly still confused. "Am I missing something here?"

"Oh, nothing too important," you said, still amused. "Just that one of your students seems to have had a bit of a tough time with the syllabus quiz."

Langdon sighed, nodding. “Chad.” He handed you a paper with his quiz results.

You glanced down at the paper, quickly scanning it. Somehow, Chad had managed to miss every single question. The basics, like the name of the class, the professor’s name, the required font, and even the time the class meets, were all answered incorrectly.

Spencer leaned in to look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow as he took in the absurdity. "He didn’t even get the class time right?"

Langdon shook his head, clearly both baffled and resigned. "It’s impressive, in a way. You’d think by sheer luck he’d have gotten at least one thing correct."

You tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "I guess that explains why he was so desperate for study partners."

Langdon sighed again, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I’ve been doing this for a long time, and every once in a while, you get a Chad. You try your best to guide them, but…" He trailed off, shrugging. "There’s only so much you can do."

"Maybe he just needs a bit more structure," Spencer suggested, though you could tell he was also holding back a smile.

Langdon chuckled softly, taking the quiz back from you. "Or maybe he needs a miracle."

You exchanged amused looks with Spencer before thanking Langdon once more for his time. As you walked out of the office and back onto the bustling campus, you couldn’t resist one last comment.

"Maybe Chad should try a different major," you said, grinning.

Spencer laughed, nodding. "Or at least invest in a good alarm clock and a syllabus cheat sheet."

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley twins x reader]

Part 3

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1- set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

With a loud clack you were gone and appeared only moments later in a small, deserted park, surrounded by metal railings and vacant benches, knowing you had to be safe and not go straight to your destination. You set off on your little walk and in no time at all you were facing Grimmauld Place. With a flourish of you wand and a wordless charm, the building began to rumble and pull back, sliding out between the next door residences that were totally black in the dead of night until number 12 was clearly visible.

"Homenum revelio," you cast as you walked through the door, looking down at the slightly illuminated hallway, the dark walls and grotesquely gothic architecture making you feel a little more than uneasy but you couldn't allow yourself to be frightened now. Nothing happened from your spell and you realised you were entirely alone in the property, an sigh of relief falling from your lips at the revelation.

"Lumos," you said quietly as you walked deeper into the safe house, illuminated wand guiding your way, walking directly up the creaking staircase towards the third room on the right, the bedroom you'd been sharing with Fred and George only a year ago. You prayed it was still here.

You didn't divert from your path and immediately crouched down towards the small round rug in the centre of the room as you entered your old bedroom and peeled back the rug to check the floorboards beneath it. Knocking three times, then two, and saying a muffled 'revelio', you watched as the floorboard popped up out of its socket just as it had been enchanted to do. You pulled the floorboard away and smirked to yourself as you saw the very thing you'd hidden all that time ago, still in perfect condition. The marauders map.

During your last year at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an agonising amount of time following Draco on the map, so much so that it was becoming detrimental to his school work, his sleep and his life. You and Hermione had both decided to remove the map from his possession, knowing the risks that the map held if it were to get into the wrong hands and so you'd each vowed to hide the map with only the pair of you knowing it's hiding place.

Pulling the map from its confines, you uttered the words you'd heard Fred and George say so many times before and right in front of your eyes the words appeared, brown ink bleeding onto the page.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

It took mere seconds for you to locate exactly what you were looking for, spotting the singular name on the map exactly where you'd predicted it to be. The climax of your plan could now take place.

You realised that this whole step of the plan could have been avoided but you wanted to make sure that the figure you followed on the map was exactly where you'd planned them to be, no doubt slipping into your determination.

"Mischief managed," you uttered, tapping it once with your wand and the writing began to fade away, leaving the parchment bare once again. You quickly stuffed it into the hole and replaced the floorboard, uttering the enchantment you'd placed upon it and exited the house completely. As you left, the creaking of the metal and rumble of the bricks faded into the background as the house fought to conceal itself once again.

You walked quickly back to the park and with a quick glance around to determine no one was around, you disapparated straight to your next destination.

Hogsmeade was notoriously cold early in the morning, in fact you'd called it the coldest place in the U.K. numerous times over the years and as your feet landed on the dewy ground, you had to hold back a shiver. Your stomach lurched as you landed, the multiple apparitions and disapparitions taking their toll on your body but you pressed on, wanting to get this over with.

You'd apparated just outside the border of the anti-disapparation jinx that was placed upon Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds, knowing the range of the jinx from a side along apparition you'd undertaken with Snape two years ago to collect ingredients for his personal store.

You trudged around a deserted Hogsmeade in the darkness using only your memory to guide you and appeared around the back of the only illuminated shop in the entire village; Honeydukes.

They were notorious for baking their homemade treats overnight, prepared fresh for the morning trade the next day. Fred had told you a while back that all their deliveries were made in the early morning as to have everything on hand for the busy morning rush; something he'd seen firsthand when him and George had been to visit a vacant unit in Hogsmeade after store close back when they considered expanding before putting that plan on hold. All it would take was a carefully timed entry through the small cellar door and you'd be on your way to your last destination. As you crouched in the darkness, concealed by the shadows of the nearby shops, you mentally wished that you'd managed to acquire Harry's invisibility cloak for your mission but there was no going back now.

As one worker excited the back door, leaving it swung right open, you ran in and rounded the corner, running straight down the back stairs that lead to the cellar, a route you'd taken many times with your boyfriends in your school years. With a quick look around, you lifted the slab and slipped into the passageway, carefully replacing the stone slab behind you. You breathed out a large breath and cast a light spell so that you could see, quickly making your way through the hidden passage that led to Hogwarts.

It was freezing and damp in the passageway and you briefly pined for the company of your boyfriends as you walked the long distance towards the castle. You took the time to consider how you were going to do this but quickly put it out of your mind, realising that your anger was your greatest weapon in this instance.

You finally appeared at the alcove behind the one eyed witch statue and expertly made your way around it like you had many times before, finding yourself in the deserted great staircase. Only once you'd breached the castle did the overwhelming sense of danger register with you. If Snape had turned in his allegiance, you could be in serious danger, coming face to face with a death eater, the same one that you knew had cursed your boyfriend so severely. The very thought of George lay there covered in his own blood and looking so gravely ill made the adrenaline inside you surge and suddenly you didn't feel fear anymore.

You marched directly over to the headmaster's tower, reaching the concealed gargoyle staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, or rather Snape's office now.

"Sherbet lemon," you said, expecting the staircase to appear but the Gargoyle you had seemed to disrupt from slumber suddenly cursed you out for getting it wrong. You hadn't considered that Snape would change the password, though of course it made sense.

"But, Dumbledore," you began to argue until falling silent only a moment later as the staircase opened up and slowly unfurled, making you momentarily frown in confusion.

Taking a deep breath, you ascended the moving stone staircase until you were met with the closed door to the office. You considered knocking, but thought better of it and burst through the doors, directly facing the man who had betrayed your trust.

He was sat at his desk, eyes wide open as he looks upon the indignant intrusion, first with a glare of complete outrage before it transformed into confusion and from what you could see, guilt, as he realised it was you that had stormed into his office.

It was the first time you'd seen him since the news that he had killed Dumbledore that night on the astronomy tower had spread around members of the order, though it was not known to the general public. Years of bonding and working closely together, of building something that could be described as friendship now felt fragmented and broken as you stepped into the office, your anger consuming you at his attack on George.

"Y/n," he says, rising from his seat, casting aside the book he'd been reading on the desk without thought.

"Save it," you spat out, your fury building within you as you slammed the door behind you closed with a resounding bang. You looked at him in pure disgust, with such hatred in your eyes that you could almost see his shoulders sagging under the force of your gaze. Clearly he had not expected you, nor had he expected to be on the receiving end of your fury.

"How could you?" You said, already raising your voice as the emotion overwhelms you, the memories from the formative years of you working hard under his initial harsh scrutiny, the slightly odd but important bond you'd formed, your important role working as his assistant and the time you'd shared together. "I trusted you!"

"Then you are a fool," he says quickly with a cold, dismissive tone, averting his gaze from you.

"Don't play that with me, you should know it doesn't work headmaster," you retort warningly, the last word dripping from your mouth with loaded sarcastic aggression.

You'd been used to his cold and harsh exterior, had seen it weaponised and utilised for his benefit many times before but you knew the real Snape, the intelligent and warm man underneath.

He turns and casts a few spells with a flourish of his wand that leads you to believe they are strong silencing charms as a translucent barrier forms around the room, as if keeping your conversation isolated.

"I had to watch the man I love be carried in, completely limp and haemorrhaging blood knowing there it was you that cursed him. He could have died Severus!"

"You have no proof it was me-" he begins to say, still keeping his hardened resolve, deflecting your accusations but it only infuriates you more, tears beginning to well in your eyes as the emotions overcome you completely as you interrupt his pathetic denial.

"No? I was there that night with you and Draco, remember?" You say hatefully, "I saw how that curse slashed Draco apart, the very same curse Harry found in your own copy of advanced potion making,

Sectumsempra."

For the first time since entering his office, Snape turned to look at you in shock, realising now that you knew all along. "You really believe the person that has worked with you closely and tirelessly over the years would fail to recognise your handwriting?"

He falls silent as he takes in your words, which prompts you to continue your verbal assassination.

"I saw the very same slash marks on George's head, I knew that curse could only have come from you. Funny how you knew exactly what incantation to use to heal the marks when it was an entirely unheard of curse! Do I mean that little to you that you'd go so far as to curse the ear off the man I love?! I thought we were... friends." A singular tear fell from your eye as the anguish inside you disappeared, leaving only sadness and betrayal.

He remains silent for a moment and you prepare yourself to walk out, realising this was a pointless and fruitless endeavour. Just as you turn to walk away, his quiet voice cuts through the silent, tension filled room, pausing your movement. It appears that your words and willingness to leave had broken his resolve, the truth finally coming out.

"It was never meant for George," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. "There's so much of this you do not and cannot know but you must understand it was never my intention to hurt him, it was a miscalculation in logistics. I saw a masked one aim at Lupin and Weasley and I retaliated in kind, but it all moved so fast, the curse bounded towards him and I was powerless to stop it."

He turns to you then, looking directly into your eyes with a sadness that seemed to reach his soul.

"And to answer your question, your friendship means everything to me, you mean very much to me."

"Severus," you breath out, listening to his explanation and finding yourself believing him, though you tried to resist.

"You've always overlooked my predisposition for life's negativity, shown me kindness that no one else has in a very long time, like a beacon of goodness in what seems a lifetime of darkness and solitude. I value our friendship a great deal."

He looks up at you once again, focusing his complete attention on you.

"I'm sorry that George was hurt, it was very much never my intention. How is he?"

"Alive," you say, feeling suddenly exhausted by the journey and your emotions as you perch yourself on the edge of the chair. He nods solemnly just once, eyes lingering over you as an awkward silence falls between you both. There's so much that isn't said between you, of friendship and war and questions of loyalty, but all of those go unsaid.

"You're no longer on our side are you?" You said quietly after a moment, slowly looking up into his emotion filled eyes as you keep your tone neutral and unaccusing. You'd surmised as much, though you were loathe to actually believe it even after the events of the previous day which you assumed could only have been down to him. He had leaked the information to Voldemort, you were now sure if it. Mundungus might have had questionable morals but he wasn't brave enough to supply the death eaters with information, he'd have been too cowardly, which only left the one order member that wasn't present or assisting with the removal of Harry.

He blinks slowly and you can almost physically see him deflate as he looks into your eyes with a piercing intensity, not wanting to answer your question.

"I should go," you say, looking at the patterns in the stone floor. You don't hear a reply but you can envision him nodding in reply and so you move to stand, straightening out your jacket.

"Use the floo, Hogsmeade is no longer safe if not accompanied," he says, gesturing vaguely towards the fireplace in the corner. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace immediately ignites into green tinted flames, ready for your exit.

"Y/n," Severus says, stepping closer to you with uncharacteristic hesitation before you can step into the fire. He looks plagued, like he wants to say so much but can't for whatever reason.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, I hope one day you will understand and find it in yourself to forgive me."

You're briefly taken aback by his words, finally realising that from this point onwards you would no longer have the relationship you had always had, you'd be natural enemies on either side of a budding war. His words felt like a final goodbye and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent tears from forming in your eyes once again.

"I hope you can forgive yourself, and I don't just mean for George. I hope one day you realise that you're a good man and finally see yourself the same way I have always seen you. Goodbye Severus."

Your eyes remain locked on each other for a few moments, sad eyes meeting as you part ways, both physically and emotionally. You take a handful of floo powder and with one last look at your now ex-friend, you speak loudly and clearly into the fire, 'Diagonal Alley' before the fire consumed you and you're transported to the Leaky Cauldron, just as you had envisioned in your mind, knowing their fireplace would be one of the few open for all use even at this time of night, or rather early morning. You exit the deserted Inn and exited onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, walking absently until you were directly outside your boyfriends' shop.

You wheezed and caught your breath as you stood looking up at the shop, guilt niggling at you as you thought of how you couldn't go straight to the Burrow, sensing that it would give Snape the advantage of knowledge that you could no longer entrust him with, if he hadn't known already.

You walked to the door of the shop and cast the charm to unlock the door, the specific spell that Fred had created that was specific to this lock and acted as an anti-unlocking charm that couldn't be penetrated by alohamora or even the more creative unlocking spells. Once inside, you pointed your wand at the lock and cast the charm to lock the door before closing your eyes and with tired determination, you climbed the stairs until you reached the flat you lived in upstairs with Fred and George.

Fred had cast a anti-apparition jinx in the shop and the surrounding areas that they owned as a precaution and right at this moment you were mentally cursing his efforts, feeling exhausted, though apparating your current state would be incredibly dangerous anyway, the tiredness in your body and mind would most likely have gotten you splinched.

You entered your flat and immediately grabbed a glass of water, taking a seat at the kitchen table, feeling suddenly very alone without the usual company of one or both of your loves, the flat seeming empty and without life. You needed to get back before sunrise and you maybe only had an hour before the sun would begin to peak over the lowest points on the horizon so you quickly went into the bathroom to relieve yourself and wash your face, changing your clothes on the way back through.

In your note to the twins, you'd lied and stated that you needed something from home and would be nipping back to get it so you moved a couple of things around on the coffee table and kitchen, as if you'd been searching for something before walking to the bedroom you all shared and pulled out your jewellery box, reaching for the locket they had bought you on your 17th birthday. Inside was a picture of each of them, Fred on the left and George on the right you'd taken at the Yule ball all those years ago.

You'd realised during the wait for the order to return that you'd forgotten to pack it and you knew the twins wouldn't question you going back for it, knowing how sentimental you were about this particular piece, making it the perfect rouse.

Stepping towards the fire, you yawned and cast one last spell to connect the floo, seeing green flames once again rising. You thought about Severus and felt a pang of sadness hit you but you carried on regardless, feeling more than ready to crawl into bed with your boyfriends again.

Hagrid, still sleeping soundly on the floor, no doubt knocked out by his firewhiskey intake, didn't even flinch as the flames surged in the fireplace as you returned to the Burrow, feeling exhausted. Your confrontation with Snape had been tiresome but cathartic and though there was so much that went unsaid, you were pleased overall with how things had gone. You were exhausted in both body and mind but somehow you didn't feel tired, at least not tired enough to sleep. You considered making a cup of tea but with another look at a snoring Hagrid, you decided it was best not to.

You trudged up the staircase, mindfully stepping in a perfected sequence that avoided all the creaking steps and noisy floorboards until you reached the door to your boyfriends' room. You gently twisted the door handle and crept inside the mostly dark room, the essence of first light creeping in over the hills.

Immediately, you felt yourself engulfed into a large figure and had to hold back a scream at the sudden movement, realising only when the voice whisper yelled at you that it was Fred.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He asks in a harsh whisper and you freeze, realising with one single glance at his face that you'd never seen him look so worried before.

"Had to get my necklace," you said, your gut dropping as you lied to the man you loved, feeling more than uneasy about it. To solidify your lie, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your locket to show him. He visibly took a deep breath and pulled you deep into his chest.

"Next time let me go with you, I was so worried," he says, holding you tightly in his arms. You simply nodded and allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. "He woke up, asked for you."

Suddenly your guilt felt immeasurable, not being here for your other love. "Said you'd nipped to help mum, didn't want him worrying too."

"I'm sorry Freddie," you said with full honesty, feeling ashamed.

"You're back now," he says, stroking your back, keeping you pressed into him. "You must be tired."

"Not really," you admitted. Exhausted and weary yes but you could sleep if you were paid to.

"Want to go to our spot? He'll be knocked out for a few hours now, mum topped him up with some sleeping potion," he says, gesturing towards George who is evidentially deep asleep, mouth hanging wide open and breathing deeply and steadily from what you can see over Fred's wide shoulders.

"Lead the way Weasley," you say with a smile and he steps out of the room towards the top of the staircase and with two perfectly synchronised cracks, you apparate to the spot in the forest behind the burrow you'd claimed as your own years ago.

He took your hand as soon as you'd landed and lead you further into the clearing, stopping only briefly to help you over the little wooden stump and logs that created a barrier around your spot. You each sit around the fire that Fred starts with a flourish of his wand, sitting on the larger logs around it.

"I want to feel normal again," he says quietly a little later on as you sit in silence, Fred's wand enchanting some of flames to idly play with them as you watched the sun very slowly begin to creep higher in the sky, though it was hidden by the vast number of trees around you, keeping you mostly in the dark. You turn to him with concern, seeing his eyes blankly staring at the fire, his face expressionless.

"Seeing George like that, then waking up without you there, I've never felt so lost in my life," he says.

"Freddie," you begin to apologise, feeling overwhelmed by guilt again until he shakes his head.

"I'm just so used to always having one of you there, if not both. It's never been just me, always been 'the twins' or Gred and Forge and then you came along and we became a three. For the first time tonight I had a glimpse of being alone, completely alone without you both and it was unbearable."

"You're not alone, me and George will always be there," you say, shuffling closer to him to take his hand.

"We don't know what will happen, if something happens in the war and I lose you both," he begins to say.

"Then we'll still always be with you," you say firmly, squeezing his hand to force him to look up at you which he does.

He gazes at you for what seems like forever, as if he's searching your face for something before he leans in and kisses you with surprising intensity. You kiss him back just as feverishly, your body igniting under his touch as his hand creeps up into your hair to hold you to him. His tongue licks into your mouth and massages your own tongue as his other hand begin to wander.

"I need to feel you," he says breathlessly and desperately against your lips, never quite pulling away from you, "please sweetheart, let me feel you here with me."

"Freddie, yes," you say in reply, just as breathless as he. You sense a primal need in his desperate plea and can't deny him, nor did you want to. Much to how open you had both been during your shower earlier, you couldn't help but feel the pure connection between the two of you, the desperate need for comfort in the way only you could provide.

He blindly reached for his wand, still fixed to your lips and cast a spell against your lips that made a large blanket appear, a spell you recognised him creating a few years back when you'd pulled him right here to this spot for some alone time.

The past 24 hours had been a whirlwind of emotion, loss and pain. When George had been cursed, he became your primary focus and after he was healed, you'd been hell bent on getting answers if not revenge from your ex-friend and mentor, overlooking Fred and the torment you'd endured having to wait for his return, knowing he was in danger too.

You wrapped yourself around eachother, a tangle of passionate, sloppy kisses and wandering hands as you desperately clawed at each others clothes, needing to feel each other's warm skin and beating heart against your own.

Fred ripped off your shirt and wasted no time in lifting your bra up above your breasts so that he could bend down and suck on them, both of you finding comfort in the sensation of his lips sucking at your nipples as he briefly fiddled with the clasp before throwing the garment to one side, never once pausing his assault of your sensitive nipples. You had already tore away his sleep shirt and then pulled at his pyjama bottoms to feel him naked beside you. Your jeans were shimmied off somewhere along the way and your panties were physically ripped from your body at the waistband and thrown into the distance, leaving the both of you completely bare.

"Freddie, need you, don't make me wait," you said breathlessly, pulling away from his ravishing lips, feeling them connect to your neck almost as soon as you'd began talking.

"But," he begins to protest, his hand creeping down between your thighs to test how ready you were for him, not wanting to hurt you.

"I'm ready, fuck please I need you," you begged, opening your legs further as if to beckon him to you. You heard him groan as your words, capturing your nipple between his lips once more as he shifts to move between your legs, his muscular arms bulging either side of your head as he shifts into position, needing to see your face. He kisses you again and you feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into the crease of your groin before he pulls back to adjust himself and take hold of his cock with one hand and slides into you slowly and carefully. You both erupt in moans as you feel him sink into you, not stopping until you were taking nearly every inch of his thickness.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, slowly pulling out of you before crashing his hips back into yours, making you throw your head back in pure pleasure, feeling his cock stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. His eyes are clenched tightly shut as his mouth opens on its own accord as he begins to rock back and forth into you, building up to a slow but forceful rhythm.

Your legs wrap around his hips as your hand begin to grab at his wide shoulders, pulling him further into you as he reaches down to kiss you passionately once again. His hips speed up and he finally gives you what you want, both of you moaning once again at the change of angle, feeling him hit the deepest parts of you which makes you gasp and moan out his name.

It's primal and desperate as your bodies meld together, never really pulling apart even as his hips rock in and out of you with pure need. Neither of you can hold back your cries of pleasure, moaning each other's name and verbal curses echoing through the woods as he pounds into you. Suddenly needing something new, you place your hands on his chest and as he pauses his rhythm, you force him into his back and begin to ride him with all the strength you have left over. His big hands immediately lock onto your hips, guiding you and helping with your movements as he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes and mouth agape. His eyes are fixed onto your bouncing breasts and you make no move to conceal yourself as you bounce on his cock, hips bucking wildly and your hair falling over your shoulders. You steady yourself on his thighs as you lean back, giving him the perfect view of your bodies meeting and his cock disappearing in and out of you and he roars with arousal at the sight, hips thrusting upwards to fuck up into you as you both near your end.

Suddenly, his right hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck and he forcefully pulls you down onto him to kiss you again, sloppy kisses and teasing tongues as you lay chest to chest, his hips pounding into now. His other hand grins your hip and he lets out a loud groan against your lips as you feel him cumming. You're powerless to move as he holds you in place, fucking up into you with abandon and the sensation of him overpowering you hurtles you towards your own finish, your walls squeezing his twitching cock as you cum together, feeling his warm seed flood you from the inside.

As your orgasm ebbs away, the tingling sensation fading slowly, the world around you seemed to fade back into your conscious again. You looked down at Fred and saw him lay with his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face with just the hint of a smirk tugging at the left side of his lips as his hands caressed your skin where he'd been holding you. His eyes slowly fluttered open a moment later and he looked up at you with love in his eyes, a look that you were certain was mirrored in your own.

You lifted your hips gently and his softening cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning in sensitivity at the sensation as you felt some of his load slipping out of you with the movement.

"I needed that," you half chuckled as you bent down and rested your head on his shoulder, legs extending either side of him so that you were essentially lay on top of him, which he was only happy to accommodate.

"Me too princess," he smirks, running his hand over your naked back. "We should get dressed, don't want you getting cold."

You dressed quickly with whatever clothes had survived your mass, frantic scrummage earlier. Fred ended up having to give you his sleep shirt as he'd literally ripped your T-shirt apart and your jeans chafed your bum uncomfortably as your panties were also beyond repair, leaving you without.

The sun had risen almost completely now, noticing as soon as you walked out of the tree line and you had no doubt that Molly would be up soon, delegating chores to every unsuspecting resident and guest. You wanted to be back with George, hopefully before he woke and so you both walked back and crept into the house, walking tiredly towards the twins bedroom where George was still sound asleep.

You took a moment to look at him, smiling and grimacing briefly as you saw the little puddle of drool that had formed on his pillow and the little snores he was omitting.

"I'll tell mum you've been brewing some healing potion all night," Fred says as you slip off your jeans, leaving you in just Freddie's T-shirt as you both slip into the small bed beside George's as Fred tucks the duvet around you both and pulls you into him so that you can cuddle into his chest. "At least you'll get some more sleep."

"Thank you Freddie, love you," you say sleepily, true tiredness hitting you immediately as you snuggled down into the soft covers.

"I love you too princess, so much," he says with a kiss to your head before your eyes close and you cuddle down into him, feeling sleep already taking over you.

Next

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Two

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, alienation, and exhaustion

— WORDCOUNT: 3.7k

— A/N: Apology to any Italian readers, Tom gets rather grumpy with how cheerful everyone else is around him 😂 Also, we finally meet our reader in this chapter! 💚

I

It was just as Tom predicted. As soon as Clement saw the state of his hotel, he wouldn't stay there for another minute. He tried to persuade Tom to come with him to some fancier place he had in mind, assuring him he'd pay for all expenses, but Tom wouldn't hear it. He'd spent enough time with people like him to know that nothing came for free.

In the end, Clement took the taxi onward to the Plaza Grand Hotel, but not before writing down Tom’s hotel and room number on the edge of a crumpled napkin.

“I will call you later, yes? Just in case you change your mind,” he winked.

The rest of his day was spent in a blissful void, interrupted by the occasional pang of hunger — which he quieted with water and crackers, before falling asleep again. He was woken in the evening by cheerful shouting from outside, distant music, and peels of laughter down the hallway. The sounds reverberated up the faded frescoes and chipped columns of the building, but he had to remind himself that he was among muggles now — no hexes. At least his pillow was soft... He buried his head beneath it and hoped to suffocate before morning.

When he woke up properly, feeling squeezed and still exhausted, the sun hadn’t yet risen. The streets were quiet save for the hooting of owls resting in the trees and little insects on their flowers. Little lights from faraway buildings lit up the horizon.

Tom had slept nude, too lazy to change into something after taking his clothes off. As soon as he sat up, he felt all weak and dizzy, hair ruffled sticking to his face, body cut through with creases from the sheets and muggy with his sweat. Worst of all, his blood had all seemed to pool into his legs. Standing up like a newborn fawn, he walked over to the windows, opened them wide, and breathed in the cold night air. It made his body shiver. It felt pleasant. It felt a little bit like home.

The early hours passed slowly. He managed to wash himself in the little closet of a bathroom, brushed his hair, and even put a few of his old things in order. After eating a ham sandwich he'd bought from the train's food car and brewing a cup of tea with magic, he felt like a new man. He sat by the window in a loose bathrobe and watched the rising sun, and as his strength returned to him he began mentally revising the events of his journey.

“To think I'll have to go through all of that again on my way back,” Tom groaned. “And I thought the Hogwarts Express was a bore…”

Travelling abroad had been on his agenda for quite a while, once he found all the artefacts he needed through Borgin and Burkes, but he hadn't quite anticipated how physically exhausting it would be to sit in a muggle contraption for hours on end. If he wanted to explore the world in search of rare magical items, he would have to devise a more suitable method. Perhaps Thestrals…

His thoughts turned to Clement again. His wide grin, his bright blue eyes, his utter carelessness of composure... What an annoying fellow. Well, if the need arose to make another Horcrux, at least he'd know where to look.

II

The afternoon found him roaming the streets of the city. He spent a little while acquainting himself with the landmarks closest to the hotel just enough to find his way if lost, but he'd also collected from the concierge a list of local rare book shops and antiquaries to start his investigation. It was with nothing more than this that Tom stepped onto the cobbled streets of Rome and started walking.

The hotel Burke had set him up in, the Gallienus, was among the cheapest. It was nestled in one of the poorer parts of town, where the roads were narrow and beggars slept on the stairs of buildings boarded up. There was at least one pile of dry and darkened animal droppings on every street corner. Trash overflowed from forgotten dumpsters, buzzing vibrantly in the sun.

It took him quite a while to find the first bookstore, and longer still to find a good one. Most of them sold less prestigious stuff than what they advertised. The muggles were cheerful and friendly, if false, and a few tried to barter with him all the way to the door. A couple with fancy window dressing had only the veneer of the authentic, selling new volumes beaten up or rebound with cardboard covers.

Still, he made a few acquaintances, if not outright friends, among the shopkeepers, and his list of options grew larger as he heard from them of more interesting stores, but by evening he had nothing to show for all his exploration.

Moreover, he was thoroughly lost. The cafes frothed with little umbrellas in the streets, the fountains billowed in the air and danced, and all of it started to look the same to him. The fancy suits of people coming back from work and their black voluptuous hairstyles all blended with each other. He'd ambled his way from the Via Domenichino to the Colosseum, then to the chip-toothed ruins of the Roman Forum, higher to the Pantheon, then down, down toward the Tiber.

The air was alight with ages past and everything was moving. The shadows of aged stone, touched by dereliction and decay and the stray shellings of the war that ended just seven years ago, danced at the corners of his eyes together with the throngs of white-dressed women and the scooters zipping by. And at any moment it felt as if some ancient in a toga would walk out from between those columns and shake a bony finger at the careless youth, lamenting, and asking just to die again.

Tom stopped somewhere along the Tiber and gazed out across its murky serpentine flow. If he squinted, he could just about see the Vatican. A flock of nuns passed him by, flowing in quiet black and white against a blue and just as quiet sky. The air was warm, but chilling. He was surrounded on every side by broad buildings in smooth geometric shapes, and yet he’d never felt quite so exposed before.

Now that he had a moment to stop and ponder the experience, he realised that being in Rome felt like being in the world and yet above it, as if the whole city was floating in the sky. A dish on a high pedestal, yawning to the heavens.

“Maddening,” he whispered to himself. “Imagine living here forever…”

Under the shadow of a sycamore, he leaned over the stone walls that enclosed the river. It was a long way down… Its waters seemed about as dark as Thames, but smoother. He wondered, without really caring, whether there were any corpses buried there, some skeletons stuck in the mud, forgotten and unwanted. The chime of churchbells reached him, cutting through the buzzing of the cars.

What would he do tomorrow? Much the same thing as today, he reasoned… Only he’d have far further to go to reach these newer places he just learned about. He reached into his pocket for a little map he’d folded up, and tried to smooth it out over the stone.

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he mumbled to himself as he planned his pathway back to the hotel. “Even London isn’t this bad, right?” He’d forgotten that it was.

Turning, he looked once more at all the young people that now lined the street. For some reason, all of them were smiling, happy. A couple was shamelessly kissing as they hid behind a tree. When they started sliding down its trunk, tight in each other’s arms, Tom rolled his eyes and started walking back the way he’d come.

III

Sweat had dampened his shirt collar and went down the centre of his chest, but somehow it bothered him less than he expected it would. It was quite a different experience from the Knockturn Alley cellar where he worked, or that pittance of a room he rented above an apothecary shop.

Here all was warm stone, and coffee, and cats that slithered around the corners. Here he was nobody. Not Mr. Riddle, not Lord Voldemort, the terror and equal envy of his schoolmates, not Tom the orphan, Tom the gifted student, Tom the Head Boy. He wasn't even a half-blood or a wizard. Muggles had no idea about such things. Here he was nobody — except maybe ‘bel ragazzo’ when he passed by a hot-blooded madam sipping her red wine. To shed his myriad identities felt light and clean, like an old coat sliding off his shoulders.

So, what was he beneath all that?

Today, he was just a wanderer taking in the sights. Tomorrow, maybe something else.

The paved Roman street branched like a vein of undulating black blood into narrower and ever-winding paths, some leading back to the piazza, others through old buildings nestled so close together they blotted out the sun. He took one such path. It was cooler here than in the open, almost bearable, even with the piling trash and stench of cat piss everywhere.

Tom had never shied away from squalor. If anything, the old stones and the dampness and the hint of sewage reminded him a bit of his old Hogwarts dorm. He smiled at the memory as he walked back the way he came, a hand in his trouser pocket and his mind far away, at how impressive and select and magical — in the most pure, extraordinary way, a way those raised with magic would never understand — it seemed to him when he first arrived at Hogwarts. How plain and pure his happiness had been to be away from wicked muggles, to learn that he was special and that greatness, surely, called to him…

The narrow alleyway he slid through opened into the wide and brilliant Piazza di Trevi. The fountain cast its net of water flowing down like gossamer. Tom stopped to thread his fingertips through its shivering pool and sprinkled a little bit of water over the hot crown of his head before walking on.

He had a vague idea of where he was, and what street he should turn on to return to his hotel before sunset.

His steps stopped almost on their own when his eyes fell on his reflection in the darkened glass of a store window — body tall and lean, chest blushing red, hair falling in his eyes with sweat. Beyond it, a flock of books on stout old wooden shelves. How interesting… Tom shifted his jacket from his elbow to his shoulder as he leaned forward to read. They were quite old volumes, judging by the typefaces and the engravings on display, and some he recognised as classic esoterica.

He looked at the sign above the door: Casa Ur. A reference to ancient Sumer? He looked past the glass more carefully, his every instinct pulling him toward this strange collection. If he was right, and they were real, then they were very old indeed. What carelessness, to keep them in such a place, hot and humid and likely infested by an entomologist’s dream collection of mites and moths and other pests.

Then he looked past his own reflection, past all the books, and there, in the middle of it all like a pale shadow between the shelves, he saw a woman. She was braced against a wooden desk, standing as he often did at Burkes when he was tired. She wore some sort of lady’s suit he couldn’t quite make out, and a string of silver shone dully at her neck like a wet trail of kisses. Her fingers were poised atop the pages of a ledger.

She was staring at him.

Tom let his gaze glide off her figure and back toward the books, keeping his cold and haughty look a moment longer before stepping away again.

How interesting… Why had none of the other shopkeepers mentioned it before? This was perhaps the first store he gave any serious consideration, and to think he’d found it all by accident…

The place had promise, but the building was far too large and far too old for rent there to be cheap — which meant the books were bound to be expensive. If they weren’t facsimiles or forgeries, then they deserved their price, but places like that also tended to be quite selective of their clientele, and Tom knew nobody in Rome who’d vouch for him. And as for his fake muggle money, that would only go so far…

What was worse, he had no way of reaching back to Borgin and Burkes. Knowing no other wizards in Rome, he had nobody to borrow an owl from, if that was even what they used in these climes, and the closest wizarding community he knew was down in Sicily. Muggle modes of communication wouldn’t reach Knownturn Alley, and international phone calls were awfully expensive. Tom was on his own.

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a Puffskein,” he said to himself.

Before he turned the corner, he looked up at the wall and took note of the street he was just on: Via dell'Umiltà.

IV

She started closing up the shop earlier than usual that day. Maybe it was because they’d only had two customers. Maybe because it was inordinately hot… Or maybe because of that handsome stranger who gazed through her window two hours before.

She felt unprofessional for staring, for letting her eyes wander down his fit frame tall and slender like a serpent… With his crisp white shirt liberally peeled back at the neck, his dark curls falling into his eyes, jacket casually hanging from his elbow and a silver ring around his finger, those charcoal trousers sitting so tightly on his slender hips and —

That was as far as she could see before he walked away.

She gathered her things slowly, waiting for evening to come and the streets to cool a little. She locked everything up and called downstairs to announce that she was leaving.

Stepping forth from that dark hole of history and out into the world again, she was greeted by a Rome painted in royal red. The sun was setting. As she walked by the Trevi fountain she could feel the steam that rose from the sprinkling on the stones playing around her ankles. The pigeons flew up with a fright, rustling through the air. People gathered in the square and cast around her a sea of murmurs in Italian and other foreign tongues. It was all foreign to her, of course, or rather she was foreign to it.

She could never quite fit in with the locals, however comfortable she felt there. Her accent always gave her away, and whatever the Italian “look” was, she didn’t have it — or perhaps strangers stared at her for other reasons, glances lingering behind so heavy she could feel them every time she did her shopping in her little neighbourhood, or went to lunch with her librarian and antiquary friends around the area. No matter what she did, what she wore, or how she did her hair, she remained a ‘straniera’. But that was alright. She didn’t mind being a little strange.

The pretty and ancient parts of Rome disintegrated, façades falling apart, pediments crumbling, cobblestones popping out of the eternal roads. The streets looked very different a few tram hops later as she made her way toward her rented flat. People looked the same though. The young ones were in the street, the women laboured around the house, the nonnas at the market, and the men all off at work.

But no matter the day, whenever she left for the bookshop or returned from it, the cafés were always full. People gazed out from beneath their striped little umbrellas, drinking from a thick white cup of coffee or sipping on a glass of wine, reading the news, petting their dogs, chatting with each other… It made her feel like life was passing by.

Then again, she had no mood for going out for coffee, not when she came home with her feet aching and her back sore. Even though all she had to do that day was sort out the books and fill the ledgers and occasionally deal with clients, the workday left her feeling battered. Besides, she had no one to go out with anyway…

Her work was solitary, and the friends she’d made were few — fellow book dealers and curators, all of whom were as busy as she was. And whenever they did meet during the occasional break, the only thing they talked about was work. There was no room left in anybody’s life for something different.

The cellar bar across the street from where she lived was already rumbling with a hint of lonely jazz, and the solid voice of men. The sound echoed past the old restaurant and bookshop near it that had been closed for years, and the rows of cheap apartments filled with working families. Out from underneath a shrub, a cat cut through her path. She stopped and almost called to it, but it ran through a hole in the wall of the neighbouring building. Getting out of the heat, perhaps.

Her building was cool on the inside for the instant it took to climb the two sets of stairs to her door, but then she stepped into her flat and it was like walking into an oven. Sunlight streamed through her windows all day, and no amount of curtains stopped the heat that built up there.

She peeled her clothes off her body before she even reached the bedroom, limping slightly all the way from the pain at her Achilles heel, and fell upon her bed face first. The shower could wait. Oh, what she would give for a massage… She rubbed her feet together as they hung over the side, and smiled at the fantasy of a pair of cold hands rubbing down her back.

She wondered what that handsome stranger was doing now…

Was he Italian? Unlikely given his pallor, although he had the same dark hair and eyes as all the locals did, and none of the whimsical, lost look of tourists. And he was alone.

His gaze, as much as she could make of it, had been scathing and critical, and he hadn’t even said a word. She turned around on the bed, eyes still closed, as she imagined him there. She saw all manner of people in her work, and although most of them were old, there were a few still young, still handsome… Mostly students at the local universities. But nobody, nobody she’d met so far, had been quite as striking as that stranger.

Was it pointless to hope that he would come again?

It was easier to put herself together after resting for a while. Living alone provided her with no greater luxury than this: there was never any need to rush. Dinner consisted of a cup of tea and biscuits, which was more than what she usually had, paired with a few page flips from a novel she was reading that she could hardly pay attention to. But every paragraph and sentence, any image conjured up by fiction, was haunted by the contours of that young man’s face.

V

Her sleep that night was deep and intoxicating, like a faint, her body giving her up to vague nightmares she would not remember. But she had a fresh enthusiasm when she woke up the next day. She brewed a little coffee with a smile and let it cool while she took a shower, and even the rumbling of the pipes couldn’t scare her mood away.

It was a feeling that entered her like an old tenant returned to a forgotten home. She used to feel alive in a very similar way in the early days of her employment at Casa Ur, when she thought she was so lucky to be chosen to run it for Baron Agarda. And she was lucky, she knew that, but she no longer felt it. The only thing she felt these days was weary.

So why was she smiling today?

As she rode the tram, wind tousling her hair and chilling the heat off of her neck, and walked back to the shop to the happy murmurs of tourists and the flutter of pigeons, she found her thoughts returning to the same idea — would he come today too? She smiled like a besotted schoolgirl all the way to work.

That good mood mellowed as the day went on, and she fell back into the dour ritual of tending to the shop. The same books awaited her as yesterday, the same letters to prospective buyers, invitations, packages, deliveries… Only the visit of Sister Silvia could cheer her up, and they shared a cup of coffee over yesterday’s Corriere della Sera.

By lunchtime, she’d forgotten all about him. As if to distract her further, Federico called to invite her to their usual spot by the fountain for a lunch break, and there he talked about the delicious anxiety he had from his own work. He was nice, she could not deny him that, and harmless, so it was no great effort on her part to listen. She indulged him, grateful not to have to respond at all, and afterwards, Fred walked her back to work with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

Work filled her days. The sort of work that never ends, that you never see the back of. Questions and ingratitude, files and lists and mess that builds up as soon as you misplace the smallest item. There was no hope, there was no end in sight, and she was so deep in these waters that there was no point in looking forward to anything at all.

So she was all the more surprised when three o’clock rolled around and there he was, walking through her door.

[vasito-de-leche]

Hello!😄, I admire the way you write ✍️The way u never mischaracterized characters and the way you write them accurately is fascinating to read for ,and how you also took focus on small details about the character heck im starting to believe you work on the game R1999, if may I ask if you could write about Six from R1999 with a timid S/O or about a self-aware au of Six ? It had been my obsession of him after he came out and with his story making it more fascinating and made me attract towards him more

;R1999 6 - Self-Aware AU

Headcanons about how 6 would act upon becoming self-aware. Related to this Self-Aware AU post.

tysm for the kind words! I rlly like overthinking and overanalyzing stuff <3

I'll do the self-aware AU for this post to match the other one posted recently about 37, but feel free to send another ask if you'd still like 6 with a timid S/O!

There is a lot to be discussed about 6 and how all four characters of the 1.4 update contrast and complement each other so wonderfully, but I have a lot of trouble narrowing down what exactly I want to talk about here and what I should save for a proper analysis of the characters and the way I interpret them. So as usual, I ask that you guys bear with me with these trains of thoughts!

For starters, in my opinion, 6 is a very good narrative foil to 37.

Both focus on alienation and isolation from their respective communities, both are characters that struggle with the concept of fate, and both were born knowing their numbers--the key difference is the way each tackles this piece of information.

As discussed before in her own post, 37 does not question the reason why she's 37: like 210 says, "she stumbled upon fate at birth," and did not go through the same process of having to figure out one's number like the rest do. When it comes to 6, it's slightly different but the fundamentals are the same: he knows the number he will be assigned, and yet this revelation is not part of a natural process, it's something that us forced upon him and his family.

What I'm trying to say is that 37 and 6 weren't given the choice of discovering their soul numbers, and thus lack the most important part: the understanding of their own lives and selves. Compare this to 210, who became "too predictable" upon finding out his own soul number, or Sophia, who has clearly developed a very complex relationship with her own friends because of the inferiority and feelings of inadequacy she feels not knowing her own number.

And this is when the contrast between the two become clear: 37 is partially isolated from her community because she doesn't understand fate, nor the importance of one's journey, she doesn't respect the discovery of one's number. 6 is partially isolated from his community because no one else but him is able to see the concept of fate--or the Revelation--as a negative thing. His entire life, his entire bloodline is defined by fate and the Revelation, but only he understands the burden and the pain such knowledge entails.

Because only he has seen the way this Revelation takes over his loved ones, until they become strangers, mere vessels for infinite knowledge and bound to their role as perfect, eternal leaders. His character event shows the radical change in his aunt once she receives the Revelation and 6's fears of his entire self being rewritten once he receives it as well.

It's important to note that the moment Atticus becomes a proper 6 and receives the revelation happens on the very same day that everyone on the boat becomes a victim of the "Storm." Sophia's father and 37's mother were on that boat--but so was Alma, the current 6 at the time and Atticus' aunt. This event is crucial for all characters, as it cements their chosen paths: it's the study of the Emanation for 37, to continue her mother's research.

It's the day 6 will receive the Revelation and see if his efforts to prepare for it will amount to something.

And yet we know that 6 was able to withstand this Revelation without his entire self being washed away by the infinite amount of knowledge. We know this because we see him retain his hermit-like behaviour in the main story, avoiding people and preferring peace and quiet. We know this because, at the very end of this event, he says that the revelation is "just as simple as it is."

37 does not understand fate, but she doesn't fight it either because studying it won't change the fact that her soul number is 37. 6 understands and once feared fate, and he fought to resist it because his entire life, his memories, his personality and essence were at risk. I also really love that small detail about how 1.4 focuses on Plato's allegory of the cave, with 37 and 6 being put on this pedestal as those who witnessed the truth and came back to save the others--and yet, these two characters needed people OUTSIDE of the island to help them with their respective journeys (37 with Vertin, and 6 with Sophia). It just clicks so right to me!

In the context of a Self-Aware AU, I like to think that the self-awareness is something that comes with the Revelation. That every 6 before Atticus himself realized the truth of their world, similar to how 37 sees this self-awareness as yet another eternal truth. And because the number 6 is meant to represent harmony and perfection, they understand more than anyone that to ensure the peace in Apeiron, they cannot allow others to know the truth. Think of it as the whole deal with Pythagoras and irrational numbers--the discovery of irrational numbers ruined the whole system.

I think that a much younger 6 would've been distraught at this information, to know that Alma was the only person who was "real" and that he began to drift away from her because he couldn't recognize her anymore. But now, after receiving his Revelation and becoming the new leader, he might be more focused on appreciating life as it is. Why would he be bothered by knowing everything so far has been a script? He's already been haunted by fate his whole life, this is, in the end, the same thing. Of course, 6 is a philosopher in his own right, despite knowing pretty much everything there is to know, I think he would like to ponder about the more existential issues and topics that come with self-awareness.

I also like to think that his self-awareness and the Revelation come with knowing how the story will develop, at least in relation to Apeiron. He knows of Vertin's arrival, he knows of Arcana's schemes, he knows that by the end, Apeiron will be revealed to the human world. 6 believes it's impossible to change the course this game and its story, and the best thing he can do is help everyone prepare for it--I like to think that's why he specifically sent 37 to greet Vertin and the rest!

When it comes to finding out about the Player, I already said in 37's post that it would be very nice if she could see the player, but not hear them. And to contrast that, I wanted 6 to hear the player, but not see them.

The Player's existence is the one thing that 6 cannot pinpoint nor rationalize. He listens so very attentively when you speak, and he quickly realizes that you are not part of this infinite stream of knowledge from his ancestors, you're ... Just a person. What are you trying to teach him, if that is even your goal?

At first, I can see him struggle with this strange presence interrupting his very much needed alone time, choosing to remain silent until you go away, but he would grow to find it comforting, similar to his friendship with Sophia when they were children. You are an outsider, you're not part of this little world he lives in--you can offer a refreshing and different perspective. Once he's used to this new change, perhaps he will speak again, either to ponder out loud about your existence or monologue about whatever might be occupying his mind. Unlike 37, he wouldn't tell a single soul of your existence, largely because he believes it's something unique to him, entirely unaware that there's someone out there behind the screen rooting for him.