#maybe she needs to study harder on her poisons class

[jullsisfangirling]

Oh, no! Someone poisoned Celaena

Again

[chaos-burst]

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

*

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.  

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

*

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.  

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

*

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

*

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

*

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

*

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

*

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this...  how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

[axwalker]

CREEP: I’m a creep

HIGH SCHOOL AU 

Pairing: Drake Walker and Lexie O’Brien -- Book TRR 

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone

I was listening to my iPod on my way home from work yesterday & Radiohead's Creep came on. One of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are great for an angsty Drake fic. It reminds me of him. Could you please write an angsty fic inspired by the song? I love how you write angst!!

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

This is part one of two. 

I hope you enjoy it @nestledonthaveone 💕

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC --just for this fic. I’m still picturing Michiel and Valerie when they’ll be older though. 

A/N3: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt #105   It's definitely ... interesting.”

Thank you ladies! 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse. Eventually some lemons.  ALL MY FICS ARE 18+ 

Tags in the comments. 

LEXIE 

I’ve always loved sunsets. The entire sky is painted orange and pink, streaking with white light and many other colors; I can’t take my eyes away from it. Sunsets remind us that no matter what is happening in our lives, the sun will be out again tomorrow. It’s raw, beautiful, and comforts me—the thought of the sun watching over me. I sit on my porch, my knees against my chest. I’m wearing a white tank top and jean shorts to fight the intense heat that invades Cordonia in early September.  I fix my eyes on the sky, wishing a miracle. Something that takes me away from my father and his new wife. Away from the pain of losing mom.

“What are you doing?” The voice is so resonant, deep, and rasping. Slowly, I sit up and look around, pushing my long, brown hair out of my eyes. I raise my head, and I see him. Drake Walker. 

 My breath catches, and I cross my arms over my breasts, knowing the thin material of my shirt isn’t keeping me remotely modest. What is he doing here? At this time, no less. I go to school with Drake. We’re both sophomores at Valtoria High School. He’s six foot two, with strong shoulders, and has a knowledge of life in his eyes that boys our age simply don’t possess. We have five classes together, and he sits through them like a statue, his chocolate eyes unreadable. Tall, dark, and angry. Handsome in a hard way that makes the other girls nervous when he walks down the hallways. Not me, though. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stared at him from behind my locker door, breath trapped in my lungs, wondering what he’s thinking of behind his brooding eyes. 

“I asked, what are you doing? This isn’t a safe place to be alone at night. You should get inside.” 

“Inside is no safer.” Why would I say that? My first time talking with this boy, and I tell him my deepest secret? His eyes narrow at me.“I mean, there’s not a lot of crime in this part of Portavira.” That loosens the tension in his broad shoulders. “I’m looking at the sunset. I love it. It’s so beautiful and wild.” I bit my bottom lip noticing his eyes dip to catch the action. 

“It’s definitely ... interesting,” he says, noncommittally. “There are things I like more.” 

“Like what?” I ask. 

He shrugs but looks back down at me, wrestling with something. He lifts a hand, brushing the very tip of his fingers down my cheekbone. “You,” he rasps.

Drake’s deep brown eyes look at me with something I’m only on the cusp of understanding. Is it…lust? His fingers move down my jaw, traveling slowly over the hollow of my throat to tease one of my tank top’s straps. “I like you. I can’t seem to stop…wanting. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, O’Brien. You don’t know that?” My knees start to tremble. I’ve always wondered how we end up in the same classes every single semester. He’s arranged for it to happen? He…likes me? That much? Say something, dork. Don’t act like it’s not mutual. 

 As if I haven’t lain my bed after school, when no one is at home and touched myself while thinking of Drake Walker. I must be doing a terrible job of keeping that secret to myself because Drake’s breath begins to grow shallow. “O’Brien.” He drops his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumb rubbing the soft skin of my neck. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I can’t talk, so I shake my head. 

“Please,” he groans. “Let me.” 

My head is spinning. “Let you what?” 

“Kiss you. Finally.” His hands move to cradle my head, making me feel delicate, like something special. His minty breath is close to my ear, setting off an ache low in my belly. “I need to kiss you, O’Brien. I need it.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my lips in the most torturous, exquisite way. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when he puts his soft lips on mine for the first time. My first kiss is an amazing one. He bends his head, and his mouth finds mine with soft pressure. I thought he would be rough or impatient may be clumsy, but I didn’t expect the gentle way his lips caress mine. The way he coaxes my own lips apart before I’m even aware of it. My knees buckle, but he holds me firmly against him. He kisses me as if this wasn’t our first time but our last. It’s the most erotic moment of my life, but all too son Drake leaves my lips. I only feel urgency. Want so deep that it burns inside of me.  It has existed between us all along, hasn’t it? Not one-sided. A yearning pull between two people, orbiting each other in the earthly, incongruous setting of school. 

Drake opens his mouth to say something, but my name is shouted in the distance. From inside the house. With glittering eyes, Drake drops his hands to his side, though it obviously pains him to do so. He gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. One second later, the back door of my house opens, revealing my father, his imposing frame backlit by the interior. 

“Alexis!” I start to tremble; I try to speak, but I can’t. ““What are you doing out here this late?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double-take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Drake’s mouth. 

“Handyman?” 

“Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Drake’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Liam called you by the way.” Drake can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Empty. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. I’m rich, and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is deepening by the second. 

“Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Drake, his tone hard. “Alexis has to study. She is going places.”

 I down my gaze to the ground, humiliation burning up my throat. My father is an expert at belittling people, and he’s just done it to Drake. I want to say something to make it better, to defend Drake, but I know I’ll only be making it worse. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to offer Drake an apology. At school. I’ll talk to him then. 

“Yes, sir,” Drake responds stiffly, turning on his boots and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Drake glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better than to let anyone see the pain. My father has never been physically abusive, but his temper is getting worse. He hated mom and he’s taking it out on me. As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Drake’s boots walk back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Drake leaves, and that’s when I face the consequences. My father knocks on my door. When I open it, the look on his eyes let me know it’s going to be worse than usual. 

“If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I’ll kick you out of this house.” His face is contorted with rage. “Then, I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?” 

“No,” I whisper. 

“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt. The only boy you’re allow to date is Liam Rys. No one else.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.” And I pay a good deal of it that night when dad slaps me for the first time. The next day at school, I don’t look at Drake in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting at the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruise on my cheek. On my body and my heart. I could never have predicted he would hate me for it.

 Drake

 Two years later 

I walk past O’Brien in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. Shame, frustration, and resentment have been like a poison inside me, rotting my bones every second of the last two years, ever since that night in her garden when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman. Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me. Good enough to date a rich quarterback like Rys but definitely not a low life like me. Rich, stuck-up brat. What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me with those lips. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I’ve never done with anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and hating her guts for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her spotless sneakers. Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. By tormenting her. That’s the only term for it. I torture her, and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. My jaw is close to shattering as I watch O’Brien calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a masochist because I still trick the school into having the same five classes every year. My aunt Leona works in the front office, and she feels bad for me because of my dad dying and my mom abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me O’Brien’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine. Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in it, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of Rys kneeling to speak with O’Brien where she sits at her desk—cajoling a smile out of her. She refused to date him two years ago, but fucking Liam didn’t get the memo. No one has as much money as his father in this town. If  Rys is asking her out again, she’d probably say yes. If I let it get that far, which I won’t. I never do. She’s mine. Only mine. 

[sevlgi]

aphrodisiac

requested: no

group: twice 

pairing: mina x fem!reader

genre: fluff, extremely mild and short angst

contents: witch!mina, love potions, college!au

warnings: none

synopsis: You’re broke and desperate, so you don’t think twice before taking a love potion that’ll make you fall in love with a mysteriously perfect girl. But maybe you should. 

a/n: hehe i like the idea of this!! i’m just not sure how well i executed it 🤔 happy valentines day, my loves ❤

word count: 6.0k

While everyone knew that working the 9-12 weekday shift at the campus bookstore was the worst job you could possibly get, you didn’t feel quite as exhilarated to have been laid off as you should have.

As the one who had suffered at the hand of old Mrs. Lee for almost the entire duration of your time on campus, you knew the torture better than most. So it was an understatement to say that you were exhilarated to be free of ironing book pages out and restocking the shelves at Mrs. Lee’s whims, that you were practically beaming when you got the email.

But on the other hand, it wasn’t like you had much money to spare, or like you had the ability to find another job in the crowded university. When you felt your wallet in your back pocket, completely empty save for a couple crinkled receipts, the grin faded from your face; after all, it would be even harder to survive without the aid of your measly salary.

So as you pinched together a couple quarters to buy yourself a consolatory iced chocolate, you found that being let go from the shittiest job in the world didn’t feel as triumphant as you had expected. Not when you were, once again, scouring the papers stabled to the lightposts around the campus for anything that offered a quick paycheck.

Well, almost anything.

“I will not.”

“Why?” Lisa was close to whining, though the pout that she directed fully at you did her no favors. “You said you needed to get paid.”

You sighed, “I said i needed to get paid, not launched in the air like a damn cannonball.”

Lisa scowled and tapped her fingers on her face, her hands still cupping her chin as she attempted to convince you. “Come on, the dance team’s willing to pay. It costs less to pay you than to get a dummy, so--”

“That’s not helping to convince me,” you warned. As desperate as you were, and as much as you liked Lisa and her fellow dancers, you definitely didn’t trust them not to launch you in the air and break your neck. “Are you sure that you don’t know about any other job offers? Anything that won’t murder me?”

She considered it, chewing on her bottom lip. You could feel other students eyeing where you sat, one of the only seats in the incredibly tiny boba shop, but you refused to budge until Lisa gave you an answer. “Oh! There is one I can think of, actually. You know the bio lab?”

“Yeah.” You watched her suspiciously, arms crossed. “I’ve been there a couple times. Why?”

“Well, it isn’t a normal bio lab,” Lisa mumbled, leaning in as if what she was about to tell you was the greatest secret in the world. “A lot of them are witches, you know.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t believe in witches, or the supernatural-- both had been proven to be true eons ago, and almost half of the students attending your university weren’t completely human. But you were still a little skeptical that the pretty and equally brilliant girls who ran the campus’s bio lab were... “Witches? Are you sure?”

“Why would I be lying?” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m friends with a couple of them, and I know that they’re doing an... experiment of sorts, and they need--”

“Lab rats,” you finished for the dancer. In all rationality, being a lab rat for a couple of young witches with access to a high-tech lab was probably worse than getting launched up in the air by a dance team, but when Lisa slid a flyer over and your eyes widened at the offered money, you instantly stood. “Take me.”

Lisa pouted but stood anyway, taking the flyer back to squint at the tiny scribbled building number. “I can’t believe you trust Mina more than you trust me.”

“Mina? Is that the name of the ‘witch’ I’m selling myself to?” you asked, slightly sarcastic but also slightly curious. At the dancer’s nod, you exhaled lightly and shoved your seat in just to watch the next people scramble for it, and hummed on your way out, “Then let’s meet this Mina.”

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that your entire school was close to dilapidated, but something about the bio lab was almost creepy as you approached it. Lisa had long since set off for the dance room (something about Seulgi breaking Ten’s ankle, she claimed), so you hesitated in front of the cloudy glass door alone. But the thought of the $600 dollars scrawled onto the flyer scrunched in your fist prompted you to push the doors open and step into the lab.

There was already a decent amount of people buzzing around inside; you recognized quite a few of them and nearly laughed at the amount of students willing to possibly be poisoned. But you took the nearest empty seat as someone appeared at the front of the room.

“Wow, this is a great turnout.”

The crowd chuckled lightly, and your eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of the girl standing at the front with papers in her hands. Honestly, she was the kind of girl that you imagined people wrote love songs about-- absolutely perfect without having to really do anything, elegant and soft in a way that still stood out. She smiled slightly and waved, eyes darting around the room. “Hi. I’m Mina, I’m part of the coven that sent out the flyers.”

You joined in the chorus of greetings, but your eyes stayed fixed on Mina at the front of the room. You could see several other girls lurking around in the shadows, probably the other members, though they kept beckoning Mina to speak on her own. “Um, I’ll just... explain the project to you,” she chuckled nervously, darting over to the computer.

Once a slide was displayed on the wall, she rushed back to the front and explained, “Being a potions-focused coven and also biology majors, we wanted to conduct an experiment. A love potion, or an aphrodisiac in scientific terms.”

Murmurs arose around you, and even your eyebrows scrunched together; as far as you knew, aphrodisiacs weren’t real, and if they were, they were probably illegal. In response, Mina raised her hands and her voice slightly to call out, “Hey, hey. It’s an experiment. We were originally planning to accept all of you, but... I think it’ll be hard to conduct an experiment with 50 people, so please fill out the form we pass out.”

And like that, Mina joined the rest of her friends in passing out the clipboards. You didn’t watch them, only scanned the lab for any signs that you were about to die, so when you were tapped on the shoulder, you almost fell off your stool. It was Mina herself, a slight pink tinting her pale skin as she held out one of the forms to you. “Uh. Thanks.” You accepted it with a bow of your head, staring down at the paper. It looked legitimate, with areas for your age, your height--

“What’s your name?”

In your haste to read over the paper, you hadn’t noticed that Mina hadn’t left. When you looked back up, you could feel heat burning at the tops of your ears, and you answered, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N, though you’ll read it on my application.”

“Oh. Of course. Thanks for coming, Y/N,” Mina mumbled, bowing before moving on to someone else. You noted that she didn’t ask for the name of anyone else, but you passed it off and turned back to the form. Since when did becoming a coven’s lab rat require your blood type, anyway?

After nearly a week, you had almost given up on being accepted into the experiment. But just 5 days after turning your form in, you got the text.

Unknown number [4:57]  Is this Y/N Y/L/N? My name is Mina, we met at the bio lab last week. I’m texting to tell you that you got accepted into the program; we’re meeting at the lab again at 9:00 tonight to discuss the experiment further.

You [5:00]   yeah, it’s me. i’ll be there.

It wasn’t like what you wore to the meeting mattered; all you were doing was being briefed on exactly what was about to happen to you. But all through your classes of the day, through your futile studying, you couldn’t keep your mind off the experiment that you had somehow been accepted into, and whether it was a good idea to go at all.

Suffice to say, you went.

“Y/N?” the girl at the entrance of the lab asked. You recognized her from the week before-- dark hair, bunny-toothed smile. “You are Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled. “We’re just taking roll, making sure everyone’s here. Take a seat inside, if you will.”

You obliged, nodding awkwardly before brushing past her. To your relief, the lab was nowhere as packed as it had been the week before, 7 people including yourself seated on the stools as the girls fiddled with test tubes in the back. One pair of eyes in particular lingered on you, before Mina was pulled back to talk, but your cheeks warmed nonetheless.

“Okay, everyone!” someone else announced, clapping her hands together. “My name’s Jihyo, I’m the head of the coven. This is Nayeon” -- the bunny-toothed girl from earlier waved-- “and Mina. We’ll be explaining the experiment to you today.”

She pulled the projector down and Nayeon stepped up, flashing a grin at all of you. “Basically, we made an aphrodisiac. And to test it, we’ll have all of you do the exact same things with the exact same person-- Mina.”

Mina stepped forward this time, and you couldn’t help smiling at the shy smile that tugged at her lips. “To keep conditions equal, you’ll all be going on the exact same 2 dates with me,” she explained. “I’ll take notes on how you act around me, and we’ll test how you feel about me at the very end. Any questions?”

The room was basically silent and honestly, you couldn’t see a downside to it either. Take a potion once and go on dates with a pretty girl, then get observed like a hamster on its wheel so you could get paid? A million times better than your old job. “Great,” Jihyo nodded. “Then, we’ll get started. If Y/N could be the first one? You’ll just go into a room with Mina to get interviewed and take your first dose.”

“Don’t die,” someone called out as you passed, and you flashed a glare despite not knowing who it was. Nayeon giggled as she opened the door for you and closed it behind you, leaving you in what you assumed to be a supply closet. Romantic.

“Hi,” Mina greeted softly, already seated across the table. “I’ll just ask you a series of questions, if that’s okay.”

“Go for it.”

“Rate how attracted you are to me on a scale from 1 to 10.”

Your jaw dropped immediately; for the first question, it was awfully invasive, especially when Mina voiced it with such a straight face. But you straightened your spine and answered stiffly, “9.” 

It should’ve been 10, but you weren’t trying to look like a literal creep; Mina only hummed and marked a circle on her form, moving on to ask, “Are you considering dating anyone else at the moment?”

“No.”

And in that manner, the questions passed decently quickly, with Mina asking them as flatly as possible and you answering them with the exact same tone. As soon as she set the clipboard aside, though, she returned to her original sweet state. “I’ll just have you swallow this now, if that’s okay.”

The test tube was cold to the touch when you uncapped it, and the liquid inside was suspiciously clear. But you barely gave it a passing glance before downing it like a shot, asking with narrowed eyes, “Is it supposed to taste like nothing?”

“Well, we figured that not everyone would like to taste tequila once a week with none of the good effects,” Mina chuckled and placed the empty test tube in its place.

“How fast will I see results?” you questioned as you stood. “Like, am I gonna wake up in a cold sweat tonight because I can’t handle how much I suddenly love you?”

The girl shook her head, though it was a bit hesitant. “I don’t believe so. It should only become more prominent once you see me more often. Which reminds me, I’ll text you about our first date as soon as I can. Thank you for participating, Y/N.”

You snatched your jacket up and stumbled your way out of the room as quickly as you could, hoping no one was looking as you closed the door behind you with a quivering pulse.

Despite the witch’s words, you were sure that the potion was already taking effect. Why else would your heart start to throb terribly as you looked at her smile? 

mina [8:16]  Hello Y/N! I was wondering if you had class today?

Mouth full of cheap cup ramen noodles, you stared at your phone screen. If Mina was asking you about your schedule, she had to have something planned (for the experiment, of course. You weren’t delusional). And you weren’t sure if you were mentally ready to see her shy smile again.

But when the thought of the $600 dollar check popped into your head, you reached for your phone and started to type again. 

You [8:19]  hey, mina. i don’t have class, actually, is this something about the experiment?

mina [8:20]  Yes! If possible, please meet me at the front of the school, we’ll be visiting the food trucks at the beach. I’ll pay!

Your stomach growled at the thought of the renowned food trucks at the beach by your university, and you typed out a hasty agreement before stuffing your phone into your bag and setting off for your apartment. There was no way you were enjoying such an opportunity for good food (and perfect company) in a slightly ramen-stained hoodie.

Thankfully, Mina didn’t seem to mind you being late when you approached her. “Hi, Y/N,” she smiled and hitched her bag higher up her shoulder. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Hi,” you breathed. Well, at least you tried to-- you could barely remember how to function when faced with Mina in a slightly cropped red top, her hair tied up in a little ponytail. But you followed her down the street well enough, towards where you vaguely remembered a fleet of various food trucks to be. “So, have you already conducted this part of the experiment with everyone else?”

Mina shook her head and answered, “No, you’re the first. You took the dose first, so you’ll be a bit like the guinea pig within guinea pigs.”

You snickered at that, nearly tripping over one of the raised cracks in the ground. Sure, the way down the hill to the beach wasn’t the safest one ever, but at least it was convenient for conducting test dates. “The lab rat. You know, this doesn’t seem remotely like a scientific experiment.”

“What do you mean?” the other girl asked, eyes on yours.

Coughing, you looked away from her gaze, though you could feel her still staring at the back of your head. “I mean... it’s not exactly normal for 7 people to drink a potion that tastes like nothing, then go on dates with a pretty girl and treat that as testing.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“That’s what you got from my whole spiel?” you sighed in disbelief, turning to look at Mina. She laughed, gums showing slightly and her eyes twinkling, and you were forced to turn to the front yet again. “Whatever. Which trucks are we raiding first?”

And as it turned out, Mina was... generous. You were tempted to ask how she was going to keep herself from going broke if she bought that much food for everyone, but watching her bring yet another load of snacks over to where you sat on the wall, you weren’t sure if she cared too much. “Hey. Are you gonna pay for every date?”

“Hm?” She looked up from her Americano and considered the question. “Well, yes? I mean, we planned for the second date next week to be the fair, and I wouldn’t want any college student to have to pay for those overpriced tickets.”

“Aren’t you a college student?”

Mina hummed lightly and dug into her ice cream, sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. “Well, my parents are... well off? I’d like to put it that way, at least. And I think that when I can, I’ll use that to make others happy. Or to further our coven’s experiments.”

“Rich family,” you observed. “Cool.” To be honest, you didn’t really care about how much money anyone’s family made, but it was nice to have all that food paid for. After all, the sheer amount of things Mina bought could’ve covered several months worth of the finest ramen that the restaurants around campus could’ve offered. “Then why’d you end up going to college here with us normal people?”

She raised an eyebrow jokingly and gathered her knees to her chest. “Am I not a normal person anymore?” When you opened your mouth, slightly sheepishly, she giggled and waved a hand, answering, “I ended up choosing this college because my best friends came here. We’re all Japanese, and Sana wanted to come to Korea, so Momo and I just came along for the ride.”

“Ah.” You turned to watch the sky, the sun melting golden into the surface of the waves just a couple dozen feet away. You understood why it was called golden hour as you watched bright yellow rays flicker in Mina’s eyes and glow in her hair, and you had to resist the urge to pull out a camera and capture the feeling of a first date, as much of an experiment as it was. “Makes sense. Then-- how’d you find your coven? I don’t remember a Momo or a Sana.”

“Our coven is a bit... unconventional,” Mina nodded. “It’s just me, Nayeon, and Jihyo. You know that most covens form as children, and they train together, but we only met in college. See, none of us had our own coven, so it was natural that we came together. Momo and Sana aren’t witches, or we should’ve been together.”

You nodded in silence, prompting her to go on. And she did, a soft smile pressing her lips against her teeth as she thought about the girls eh seemed to consider her friends, or her family. “And, well, none of the three of us have had great luck finding someone to love. Or, to love us,” Mina added as an afterthought. “A love potion was just the first thing we fixated on.”

“Finding someone to love you?” you repeated, hand pressed up against your cheek. “I don’t mean that I don’t believe you, but it’s kind of hard to imagine that it’s difficult to find someone to love you. You’re pretty great, Mina.”

She laughed, “I’m glad you think so. But there’s a reason why we chose me as the one to test the potion with.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Mina looked you right in the eyes, a kind of softness swirling in the brown of her own eyes, and responded equally quietly, “We chose me because we thought I was the hardest to fall in love with.”

“Bullshit,” you responded instantly, heat rising to your ears immediately after. But thankfully, the Japanese girl only looked endeared, and you continued, “I mean, I don’t know if this is just the potion talking, but you’re awesome. I... I think I’d like you even if I wasn’t part of this damn experiment.”

She blushed, the hue of her cheeks matching the pink clouds in the sky. “Well, I think you’re exaggerating on that. But it’s not them, I just volunteered myself. I think people just misunderstand me, you know? It’s hard to find the right person for you when you don’t let people see you. And-- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. On a first date, too.”

“Hey.” When she looked away from you, you reached over to squeeze her hand. Mina didn’t look back up to you, but you knew she was listening from the way she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. And I can’t say I know you yet, but I can say I wouldn’t mind knowing you. I’d like it, even.”

Mina laughed, barely loud enough for you to hear, and squeezed your hand. “Thank you, Y/N. I think we should finish our food before it gets cold.”

“Oh, yeah.” You let go to reach for one of the many desserts displayed in front of you, barely fazed by the topic change. “Wouldn’t want your parents’ money to go to waste.”

“Please let that go,” she whined.

“Not a chance,” you winked in response, laughing at her pout. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Lili, I think I’m done for.”

“Like, literally?” Lisa asked mindlessly, receiving a light hit on the head in response. “Ow, what was that for?”

You whined, “This isn’t funny. I can feel myself falling, and there’s no cushion underneath me for me to fall onto.”

The dancer rolled her eyes and reached for her milk tea. “Okay, Miss Overdramatic. You know falling doesn’t work like that, no one’s kicking you off a cliff. Especially not Myoui Mina.”

“I’m not being kicked off, I’m sliding.” You made the motions with your hand, a despondent expression on your face as you scowled, “I’m slipping through a puddle of aphrodisiac, that’s what, and Mina poured it at my feet.”

“Okay, enough with the metaphors, I’m not an English major,” Lisa sighed. She tossed a chip at your face, as if being smeared with salt and oil would wake you up from your Mina-induced trance. “You’ve gone on one date with her and spoken to her approximately twice, I think you aren’t falling just yet.”

“Did you forget the part where I’m drugged to fall in love with her?” you deadpanned.

Lisa paused at that. “Okay, I did forget that. Then what? There’s an explanation as to why you’re feeling this way, and there’s a way to get rid of it. Once you get your paycheck, you just stay away from Mina, should be easy enough, since you never met her before this. And you wait for the potion to wear off.”

“Does it wear off?” you groaned into your hands.

“Did you never ask?” Lisa asked in disbelief. “Wow, Y/N, ever heard of fine print?”

You smacked her with your rolled-up notes yet again. “Shut up. But I have a date with her tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do. I’m feeling like this because of the potion, sure, but I’m still feeling like this! And Mina has 6 other people vying for her now, all under the same effect as me. And it feels... bad.”

“Eloquent,” your friend sighed. “Then I have the perfect solution for you. Don’t go on the second date.”

“I need the money,” you shook your head. “Gimme another one.”

Lisa considered it, sucked on her straw as she did, until she shook her head. “I got nothing. All I can tell you is to enjoy it while it lasts, then just... wait. And if it doesn’t wear off, Jisoo unnie’s studying law.”

As horrible as her suggestions were, you could admit that you felt the slightest bit more assured. In the worst case scenario, you could sue Mina for winning your heart, and in the best, the somehow blissful stabs at your heart would be alleviated soon enough. 

As it turned out, you got a chauffer to the fair. Not an actual one, of course-- it was just Jeongyeon, introduced as one of Mina’s friends who could actually drive. 

You really weren’t intending to talk to her at first. She was quiet, too, didn’t even turn on the radio once she started driving, but when something that Mina said crossed your mind, you had to speak up. “Hey, Jeongyeon. Can I ask you something? About Mina?”

“Shoot,” she answered simply, keeping her eyes on the road. 

“Do you think Mina’s hard to fall in love with?”

Jeongyeon glanced at you at that, her expression slightly quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“She said something yesterday,” you explained. “Mina said that they chose her for the experiment because they thought she was the hardest to fell in love with. She said-- something about being misunderstood?”

The older girl nodded in understanding at that and blew her hair out of her face. After a short pause, she sighed, “I think that’s more of what she thinks than the rest of us. Mina... she thinks she’s unapproachable, you know. She doesn’t open up easily, so I’m surprised she told you that at all. But... she’s been hurt several times, and a lot of people think she’s mean or something similarly stupid just because she’s quiet. That’s all.”

“Oh.” You wet your lips and looked forward to the road, where you could see the fair’s Ferris Wheel already in the distance. “I see.”

And that was that. The two of you fell back into silence, and as comfortable as it was, it only gave you more time to think about what you wanted to say.

Maybe you could see why they would choose the girl who thought of herself as unapproachable and quiet to be the test, but they also didn’t seem to think about the obvious warm color to Mina that she presented. She was quiet, sure, but she was sweet, kind... there was plenty to fall in love with, and even if there wasn’t magic coursing through your system, you thought that you could’ve fallen in love with her anyway.

After bidding goodbye to Jeongyeon at the entrance, you found Mina waiting for you by the fair entrance. “Y/N!” she called out, though her voice still wasn’t loud. You could’ve spotted her anywhere anyway, and made your way over. “You’re a bit early.”

“You were earlier,” you smiled. “So. Are we ready to go in?”

“Absolutely.” Mina linked her arm in yours slightly hesitantly and surprised the both of you, but you took it in stride and swung your arm slightly to bring a smile to her face. ���I’ll get our tickets, you get in line.”

“I can pay for myself,” you protested, but she waved you off. “...Okay then.”

The fair was loud, a bit too loud to hear Mina’s voice if she talked normally, so you found yourself leaning in every time she spoke. You really didn’t mind it either, feeling her words tickle your ears-- maybe it was closer than you should’ve been comfortable with, but there was a certain adrenaline pumping in your blood that you weren’t really used to. So you continued on, fed cotton candy to her despite her blush, shared a soda, won a teddy bear for her. Nothing that should’ve made your heart beat as fast as it did.

Nonetheless, time ticked by all too quickly, whirling past in a gust of quiet laughter and honestly terrible jokes. The sun set yet again, the streaks of pink and purple across powder blue oddly similar to the first date you had gone on. Mina checked her watch and frowned, “I think we only have time for one more ride before Jeongyeon comes to pick us up. What do you think?”

You barely had to ponder it before you pointed at the tall, neon-lit Ferris wheel with a smile. “Classic date ride, of course.”

“Classic,” Mina laughed in agreement. She let you tug her towards it and stood in line with you with no complaint, digging a selfie stick out from her bag. “Should we take some pictures up there? It’d be a waste of a beautiful view if we don’t.”

You shrugged, “Of course. Might as well have some pictures to remember our last date by, right?”

Mina looked caught between saying something and staying silent, but she settled with a quiet, “Sure” before starting to set her phone up. Your hand in the crook of her elbow, you tugged her forward when it was necessary, keeping your eyes away from her red-tinted lips as much as you could.

Soon enough, wind was blowing your hair off your face and the cart of the ride was creaking slightly under your weight as someone started the wheel. “Whoa,” Mina laughed breathlessly and peered over the edge. “It’s really high up.”

“And we’re only starting,” you agreed, tugging her back by the wrist. “Don’t fall over, I don’t want to get off this ride with a murder charge on my hands.”

“Hm.” Mina reached over to set the selfie stick on the seat opposite the one the two of you shared, shoving you to get you to match her smile. “Come on, 1, 2, 3.”

With every click of her phone camera, you felt yourself coming closer to her, until you could feel the rise and fall of her chest beside you. You were almost at the top of the ride in barely a couple minutes, the soft sunlight almost blinding you. As you waited for the next camera click, you felt Mina’s hand creep up your arm, up, up, until her slightly cold fingers rested on your neck. 

And then she tilted your head, fit her nose right next to yours like it belonged there, and slotted your lips together. You couldn’t think, much less fight whatever force pushed you up against her. You kissed back as best as you could with your senses battling within you, until you realized that the camera shutter had gone off at least ten times.

Mina couldn’t meet your eyes when you did pull back, and she reached over to fiddle with the camera. “Was that a part of the experiment too?” you questioned, your voice raspy.

“Maybe,” she answered, and your heart sank. But she looked up with a smile, her eyes just as confused as you felt. “And maybe not.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said dumbly, then reached over for her hand. There was nothing left to say, anyway, nothing that the slight swell to your lips didn’t already say for you, nothing that wasn’t conveyed when you leaned over to kiss her again.

The idea of allowing a love potion to work its wonders on you was like allowing yourself to be tossed into a trap. But instead of a cold, rough, and terrible trap that you would actively try to escape, you found the trap to be warm, cozy, a place that you wanted to stay-- and a place you knew that you would eventually be ejected from by force.

Once you were in the trap, though, there was no way you could pull yourself back out, especially when you didn’t really want to escape at all. You stayed up for all the nights leading up to the last time you would talk with the bio lab, just thinking about what you would do if everything that had passed by in the last couple weeks was just a figment of an aphrodisiac-induced haze. After all that time, you still didn’t quite know.

But Mina texted you often enough to pull you from that stupor. Thankfully, it wasn’t like one of those stories or dramas, where the main leads somehow fought after their first kiss-- maybe that would’ve been easier than being pulled in deeper. Instead, the two of you talked every day, even if it was only for a little while, and Mina was only worsening whatever situation you couldn’t seem to get out of.

And eventually, the day came where you’d be paid, a day that you had been looking forward to, until you began to dread it.

“Well, doesn’t someone look like a newlywed,” Nayeon greeted at the entrance with a smile, though she didn’t seem to be mocking you. “Come on in, Y/N, we’ll get you started right away.”

The closet was the exact same as it had been the first time that you stepped inside for the interview, but Mina’s smile was much more warm. “Hi, Y/N. How’re you feeling?”

“Good. Fine.” You cleared your throat and attempted to peer at her clipboard. “Questions for me?”

“Yes,” Mina nodded, flipping the pages over. “Are you ready to get started, then? On a scale from one to ten, how attracted are you to me?”

“Ten,” you answered without hesitation this time, and your smile only grew when Mina flushed.

“Okay. Are you considering dating anyone other than me right now?”

“No.” You shook your head, but gulped slightly and leaned back when Mina leaned forward to observe you.

“What about me?”

You paused, blinked, though Mina didn’t seem like she was going to move until you answered, “Yes. I would date you, absolutely.”

She flicked through the pages listlessly before setting them aside and turning back to you. Somehow, Mina looked like she was about to drop a bomb on you, her lips quivering as she calculated the right words. “I... Y/N, I have to tell you something. About the experiment.”

“I’m not going to die, am I?”

Your shitty attempt at humor did manage to prompt a smile from Mina, but she remained serious. “Not that. But- do you understand control groups? In experiments?”

“Um. I think so?” you answered, racking your brain for whatever limited knowledge of science remained with you. “It’s the normal group, right? The one that isn’t experimented on.”

“Yes, just about,” Mina nodded. She reached for your hands and clasped them within hers, eyes pleading for you to understand something that you hadn’t heard yet. “Y/N, you were the control. I... we had to make sure that it was the potion working, and not me, and you- we used you for that. You were never given any potion.”

“I...” you stammered out. Every instinct in you was screaming out to pull away from Mina’s grasp, to question every aspect of your existence that had led up to you being tricked into loving her. Somehow, everything being real only made it feel more fake, even though you now knew that what you had felt was completely you. “I don’t understand.”

Mina said softly, “You fell in love with me, or at least liked me, on your own. You didn’t work as a control group because the same thing happened to you as it did to the others, even though you never took the aphrodisiac.”

“So,” you faltered, “all seven of us fell for you. I’m just the sucker who’s in it for real, huh?”

“I was willing to sacrifice my own feelings for the experiment,” Mina clarified, shaking her head. “I knew I would fall for one of you, but I didn’t think that you, as the control, would be the one who I fell for. And who fell for me.”

Silence fell over the two of you, though you remained there, hands clasped together and eyes meeting with a clarity that speech could never capture. But you tried anyway. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” Mina questioned.

You smiled weakly as a response, “Yeah. Um... how about we go on another date to talk? After you finish interrogating everyone else?”

Mina let go of your hands and let you stand up, but you could feel her smiling at your back as you closed the closet door behind you. Like a repetition of when you thought that you’d be induced into loving her, your heart beat in your throat as you leaned against the wood. 

But when you knew it was real, when you knew that it wasn’t magic seizing you by the hand and pulling you into the unknown, you smiled. Because it felt... right.

[mommymooze]

Angelic Vision

Claude x Reader

Angelic Vision

“You look like an angel. Have you come to take me to heaven?“ Claude lies on the ground, the back of his hand across his brow.

“No, but when I pull that arrow out of you it’s going to hurt like hell.” You say as you put your knee on his chest and with both hands pull the arrow back out of Claude’s shoulder.

“Yeeowch!” Claude hollers.

You then pour healing magic into his shoulder, feeling the muscles weaving themselves back together. You stand up reaching out your hand for his other hand to help Claude up from the ground.

“Go easy on it. If you reinjure it, go find Marianne because I’m not going to fix it again.” You tell him before running off to the next injured party.

Hilda walks up to stand by the House Leader of the Golden Deer. “Why do the super smart ones always have to be so pissy?”

“Beats me, if they would loosen up or relax a little, they would have a lot more fun.” Claude shrugs.

Mail is delivered and there is a shipment of three boxes for you. Pretty darn heavy boxes. You carry them one at a time from the front gate to your room. Unlocking and opening your door you suddenly find you are not alone. Claude gives a look of shock at the number of books in your room. One entire wall is nothing but books.

“You do know they have a library here.” Claude quips

“It is useless for my research.” You grumble. “The books are old and out of date. They also do not have any ancient texts that may have useful yet forgotten applications.”

Claude is looking at the subjects and titles. “Hey mind if I borrow a few?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ll think about it. “

You’ve been hanging out with Linhardt a lot lately. He’s supposed to be helping with a project you’re working on.

“When I saw them in the library, they were getting pretty cozy.” Hilda snarkily jests.

Claude decides there is a book that he must have right now from the library. He walks in to see you back to back with a very unconscious Linhardt. You’re trying to support him with your back so he doesn’t fall over completely while you are still reading your book. You look trapped?

“Having fun?” Claude grins.

“Yeah. When Lin’s on empty he just crashes. Since Caspar isn’t here, well, I don’t want him to fall and get hurt. I can’t move him.” You groan

Claude helps you get the sleeping cleric to a couch to catch his z’s.

“Thanks. Squishy magic users don’t quite have the strength for these things.”

“I’d be happy to help you out with anything.” Claude smiles. “Call me and I’ll be there!”

You spend the afternoon gathering plants and mushrooms in the nearby woods for your studies. You’ve been working on creating antitoxins and other cures for poisons. You have several bags tied to your waist with different plants in them. Just as you’re about to reach for a particularly ugly and poisonous mushroom you hear a voice calling out your name.

“Hey! Those are really poisonous. You better watch out!”

“Oh Claude, of course I know they are poisonous. How am I supposed to make a potion to neutralize them if I don’t collect them?” You roll your eyes at him.

“Since when have you been interested in poisons?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Since Leonie took that poison arrow last battle. We didn’t have anything to counteract it and she had to suffer for over a week until the poison made it through her system.”

“You’re right. He muses. “Maybe we can work together on them sometime?”

An envelope is sealed and addressed to you. It’s the regular update from your father. Sitting down in the dining hall you groan miserably as you read.

Hilda has to know what is troubling you. “Family feud?”

“Just kill me now.” You whine.

She pats you on the shoulder. “Can’t be that bad, can it?”

“My father. I love him dearly but he meddles so much. He agreed that I could come here to further my learning. But…” You hesitate.

She looks at you, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“He told me I have to find myself a husband, preferably a noble while here. I am extremely busy with class work, spell practice, spell development, antidote, and concoction creation. I hardly have time to sleep. Oh, and don’t forget Byleth’s special projects. The guys want someone fun and outgoing like you. You’re cute and entertaining and I’m a dowdy old bookworm.”

“Awww. I am pretty awesome, that’s true.” Hilda grins. “You just need a fake boyfriend while your father is here. I bet I can find someone to help you.”

“Not Sylvain. I will kill myself.” You frown.

“I gotcha fam. Give me the deets and I will set you up.”

“Thanks Hils I owe ya.” You curtsey to her.

“Sky watch for the next month to start, hmmmm…” She ponders.

Later that evening Hilda corners Claude. “One big fat amazing opportunity has just dropped into your lap, loverboy. You better not mess this up!”

“Do tell…” Claude winks.

Tomorrow is the day your father is to arrive. You find Hilda to see if she has anything set for you. Hilda says she’s got everything under control. You’re shaking in your boots, the only thing going through your mind is that your father is going to drag you out of here kicking and screaming because you don’t have a boyfriend.

The day arrives. Standing next to the gatekeeper you watch as the carriage rolls closer and closer to the front gate. Suddenly an arm slides around your back and a familiar voice speaks, “Shouldn’t we go down and greet your father, my deer?” You look up into the sparkling emerald green eyes of Claude. Blushing terribly, you can only nod as you walk down the steps to greet your father.

Your father rushes to you with both arms open to give you a hug and spin you half way around in a circle. “My baby. It’s been so long. In these few short months I daresay you’ve grown in to a fine woman. So beautiful.” Your fathers’ cheeks are rosy and eyes are filled with love for his only daughter. “And who is this young man?” He curiously asks.

“My apologies, father.” You are gasping for breath. “This is Claude von Riegan.

Grandson to-”

Your father finishes your statement. “The Duke of the Leister Alliance!”

“And her beau.” Claude announces proudly, first bowing to your father then taking your hand and intertwines your fingers before placing a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. Your face flushes redder than a summer tomato.

Claude continues to hold your hand as he escorts the both of you to your room. The future Duke and your father are already excitedly discussing Leister business, trade and the safety of trade routes.

“I will leave you to your visit. I’ll be back in time to take you both for a grand lunch in town just across the way.” Claude smiles as he bows to your father and kisses your hand again before he leaves, his cape swishing as he turns.

You open your door to find a small table with a pitcher of ice cold water and lemons as well as two glasses and a small stack of cakes. A beautiful bouquet of daisies and roses accompanies them. Two comfortable and decorative chairs are alongside of the table. You swear you recall those chairs were in Seteth’s office not too long ago.

“Please take a seat, father.” You pour him some of the deliciously refreshing chilled water. “Tell me about your trip.” Trying to keep him focused on what has been going on at home. Every time he tries to ask about your relationship with Claude, you ask about your brothers or your aunt, anything to steer the conversation away from you. An opportune knock on the door disrupts your fathers latest attempt to discuss your relationship with the grandson of Duke Riegan.

“My apologies, we do have a reservation for lunch in town.” Claude bows deeply to the both of you. As you leave your room, Claude swiftly takes your hand. You smile nervously at him. This man is a master of deception.

Claude manages the conversation with entertaining stories of Byleth and the Golden Deer. He makes certain to include some accounts of your healing accomplishments, swearing that none of the deer would be here without your amazing abilities. You spend the entire time blushing or begging Claude to stop praising you, but he keeps going, his smile wider and wider.

At the restaurant, the waitress brings you to the table and Claude attends your chair for you. The waitress comments that it is always lovely to see you two lovebirds in here again. Does Claude have the entire town in on this? Geeez. Claude orders lunch for the both of you, as if he has done this a hundred times.

Lunch is anxious yet enjoyable. You are on the edge of your seat at all times. Claude explains how you met through the Golden Deer. You’re both supportive and loyal to the class. You found common interests in seeking cures for poisons and are very supportive of each other in battle, that you fell for his charm and good looks and that he is incredibly impressed by your intelligence and knowledge. Nothing he says is a lie, except that you two aren’t really together.

The waitress asks about dessert. Your father declines, Claude tells her the usual and your eyes get big. He squeezes your hand that he has clasped in his on the table and gives you a wink.

A small cake with two forks is placed between you. Claude quickly takes a fork and holds a piece of cake in front of your lips. You glance at him and your father. Feeding you? That’s pretty intimate. Claude smiles wider as you open slowly while he feeds you a bit of cake. You look into his eyes and tell him it is wonderful.

He cuts off another bit and takes a bite. “Delicious.” Is that an indirect kiss?

Your father is grinning at you as the cake is finished. You slightly roll your eyes with embarrassment and that fact that you can’t believe Claude is doing this.

The men argue a minute over who will pay the tab, Claude graciously thanking your father for a delightful lunch as your father foots the bill. Your father commenting that this has been the best and most entertaining lunch he has had in a long time makes you blush harder.

The conversation is quieter as everyone his happily full walking back to the monastery. Claude happily swings your hands back and forth together as you walk. Your father asks what things you will be doing soon. Claude advises they have a mission at the end of the month, and also the two of you have a date this Saturday just before sunset.

As you head back to the grounds, your father’s carriage is ready to go. Saying your goodbyes, your father gives you a long hug and whispers “Don’t let this one go, he’s a great catch.” He steps back and gives you one long admiring look.

He shakes Claude’s hand warmly, asking him to watch out for his baby girl.

“I’ll do everything in my power to protect her, sir. You can count on that.” Claude gives him one of his classic winks.

Standing at the gate, holding hands, you both wave as your father’s carriage rolls out of sight.

Claude holds his hands out to you, “A kiss for your boyfriend?” he says as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You laugh as you lightly slap his shoulder.

“I cannot believe you pulled this off! I thought for sure I’d be riding back with him, but you actually had him eating out of your hand!”. You laugh as you walk away. “Maybe you should see about getting into acting or the opera. I don’t think Dorothea could have pulled off a performance like that.”

You get back to your room and thankfully Seteth’s chairs are missing. The pitcher of water is still there and the flowers. You didn’t notice before, but there was a card with them.

Every day is heaven with you, my angel ~Claude.

P.S. You keep the date on Saturday at sunset.

[telli1206]

The Heart Will Follow (Chapter 2)

Jay’s never had a crush...until he met Carlos. And now he can’t stay away.

Carlos doesn’t know what to make of Jay’s presence, yet. But what should he do, exactly, about a boy that’s both cute AND terrifying?

A collection of Jaylos isle meetings, inspired by this beautiful headcanon I came across randomly that I can’t get out of my head. And thank you to @hersilentlanguage for motivating me to post this!

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: It Was Only Me And You

Evie tilts her head slowly, trying ever so gingerly to cast a subtle glance over her shoulder. Once she catches a flash of dark eyes, she whips back around. She tries to keep her actions as casual and composed as possible, but Carlos quirks a brow when he notices her mouth tipped open in surprise.

“He’s looking over here again. He’s-yeah, Jay’s definitely staring at you.”

Carlos sighs deeply and scrunches his eyes closed, letting his body slink back lax in his chair.

“Really? W-why do you think he keeps, doing that?”

Evie chews on her lip for a moment, examining Carlos carefully as his eyes flutter open to meet hers.

“Who knows.” She waves off the topic, leaning forward to help Carlos tackle the massive pile of books on his desk. “But there’s no point in worrying about it right now, is there? We have to get you home so you can catch up on these assignments.”

Carlos blinks, staring at her with a surprised look. He starts to turn, as if debating a look behind him, to see what Evie saw, but instead shifts back quickly and straightens up in his seat.

“O-ok. I guess. There is a lot here for me to do.”

He grabs his bag, smiling gratefully as Evie starts to stack his books so he can easily slide them in.

“Thanks, Evie.”

Evie feels a warmth bloom in her chest, and she has to fight down the happy curl that’s making its way across her lips. She only officially met her new friend a couple of hours ago, and already she feels giddy with excitement to have found a fellow kind soul on this dump of an island. She only wishes that she had a chance to meet him sooner. The fact that Carlos was hidden this whole time in the mansion just across the way from her seems like a travesty - a friendship that she’s really needed, and been deprived of.

Her resistance to smiling ebbs away the more she watches Carlos. He’s stopping every time he picks up a book to let his fingers trace across the letters on the cover, brown eyes alight with wonder, before carefully tucking his new treasure safely into his bag. It’s definitely slowing down their exit from class, but Evie can’t help but marvel at how excited Carlos is for school. It’s adorable. 

And she finally has someone she can ask to study that won’t look at her like a complete freak for actually wanting to do her school work.

Evie’s knocked out of her thoughts by a loud snort from behind, obnoxious enough to startle her and make Carlos flinch. Her eyes narrow at Mal, who flashes her a steely glare while dragging Jay along past her and Carlos. 

Jay’s constant presence makes Evie uneasy. Even as Mal pulls him by forcefully, he’s still staring at Carlos. And now he’s close...too close for her comfort. She tenses when she sees the thief leaning in even closer to her friend, only relaxing when Mal firmly yanks him away, earning space between Jay and Carlos. 

Evie comes around the desk to stand by Carlos, making a fuss under the guise of helping him more, but secretly hoping for protection for him that can come with her proximity. Carlos smiles gratefully at her, happy for her help, but also glaringly oblivous to the fact that he’s still in the sights of his dark-haired classmate.

“Come on, Carlos, we should head home. By the way, can I tell you how excited I am to have someone to walk home with? Especially since it’s you.”

Carlos ducks his head, hiding a shy smile as he slings his hefty backpack over his shoulder. Two books are still in his hand, and he ignores Evie’s comment (other than the light flush dusting his cheeks, which Evie still notices) in favor of chattering excitedly about his first Poisons and Potions class tomorrow.

His animated talk is the perfect distraction, allowing Evie to guide them quickly away from prying eyes. She hooks a hand under Carlos’ elbow the second she sees Mal and Jay lingering against the lockers. She isn’t sure why they’re still hanging around nearby, but she’s not about to stay and find out.

“-so I know we probably can’t bring materials home, but do you think the teacher might make an exception if I offered to clean up the room for them or something? Because there’s an acid that’s good for cleaning concrete that I could really use. Mother would love-”

Evie’s half listening to Carlos, nodding and humming accordingly so he continues while she’s keeping a watchful eye. She fixes as heated a glare as she can muster when she catches Jay’s eye, feeling mildly satisfied when his eyes widen slightly in surprise.

She lets her glare shift then to Mal, hoping for a smiliar reaction, but is less than surprised when instead the girl’s face scrunches in anger, and a mocking tongue pokes from between her pinkish lips. 

For a second Evie thinks how much fun it would be to just bite at that offensive pink tongue, and to bruise those small, pouty lips with pressure from her own. Mal would be shocked, no doubt, and the painful groans would be music to her ears...

Wait...painfulshrieks. Why is she thinking about Mal’s groans?

Evie shakes her head dismissively, returning her focus to Carlos and his chemistry babbling. She’s having trouble holding onto his elbow as his gestures become more wild and exagerrated. His nose is scrunched and his cheeks are flushed and red from barely taking a breath between sentences. It makes his freckles stand out so much more against the brightening skin. 

He’s so cute, Evie thinks, stealing peeks at him as they walk. With beautiful brown eyes and lips like his, she has no doubt her friend will have at least a few of the kids at Dragon Hall crushing. Hard.

Her thoughts suddenly shift to Jay, and the looks he was giving Carlos. His stares. The creepy closeness. And her breath hitches in her throat.

Maybe she’ll have more to worry about with Jay than she originally thought.

———

“Evie? I appreciate you walking with me, but isn’t your home...right there?”

Carlos points back to the dusty sidewalk Evie had just hurried past. It’s dirty and quiet and isolated like it’s barely even looked at, let alone used. And yet, there’s still a light disturbance in the softly settled dirt that bares an eerie resemblance to Evie’s high-heeled shoes.

Yes, Carlos surmises. Those are definitely her heel prints and that’s most definitely her turn off to get home.

But her fingers are fidgeting and her gaze is scattered. She’s quietly shaking her head No but refusing to look at him at the same time.

“Evie? Is...is something, wrong?”

She finally looks up at him, her bottom lip pulled tight between her teeth. Carlos catches a look of concern before Evie relaxes and flashes a toothy grin. It seems...forced? But Carlos decides not to question it.

“Of course not, Carlos! I’m fine,” she chirps, still smiling at him. “I just want to make sure you make it home ok.”

She covers Carlos’ hand with her own and smiles warmly, and Carlos is practically beaming from the attention. 

He was overjoyed when his mother finally agreed to let him attend school. But he had never imagined that going to Dragon Hall would benefit him even more than just advancing his education. 

But now, he has his first...friend. And it’s already better than he could have hoped for.

“Evie, how do you think I made it home before today?” he teases with a little smirk. “I’ll be ok, I swear. Besides, if your mom’s anything like mine, she’s going to be royally pissed if you’re late. Am I right?”

Evie sighs, casting a troubled glance towards her castle, and Carlos knows his assumption was spot-on. Not that he’s surprised, really. He would have been more shocked to find out Evie had kind, loving parents than the latter.

But to Carlos, that only begs the question why Evie would want to go against her best interest to stay with him.

“Get going,” he urges again, pointing towards her castle. “I want to walk to school with you in the morning, so don’t go getting yourself in trouble, ok? I’m not about to lose a fr- uh, person, I just found over something so trivial.”

Evie cracks a smile, clearly not missing Carlos’ almost slip-up. Evil, hopefully he didn’t already ruin things by flat-out announcing his desperation by using a word only saved for the weakest of islers.

“Ok, I guess you’re right,” Evie chirps, and Carlos breathes a sigh of relief at the smile still bright on her face. “You’ll be careful though, right? Just...watch your back.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Of course. But...what do you think’s going to happen, Evie? I’m like, 50 feet from my front door.”

Evie bites her lip again, letting her eyes scan behind them, over alleyways and their quiet, abandoned path. She pauses for a moment to narrow her gaze on one darkened corner, and Carlos can feel his heart thudding harder in his chest as he examines her movements. But she finally eases her stance and turns back to face him.

“It’s...nothing. Really. It’s just - anything can happen, right? I worry about everything,” she dismisses with a chuckle. “I’ll..um...I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Do you, want to meet here? At 7? And...walk to school, together?”

Carlos immediately brightens at the idea, Evie matching his wide smile with her own. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Evie presses her smile down, offering a short wave before turning to follow the path towards her castle. Carlos watches for a moment, instinctively checking to make sure she’s safe before heading his own way. But he can’t help noticing her eyes continually darting back to that corner, as if waiting for something...or someone to emerge from the darkness.

Carlos tries to shake off his nerves as he watches Evie’s figure disappear around the mildly crumbling brick of her castle. After a final pause to listen for any sounds of distress, he takes a deep breath and starts the rest of his trek to Hell Hall alone.

At least, he thinks he’s alone.

And the muted silence deludes him into believing that that’s the case...for a while, at least. It’s not until he’s just about to ascend the steps to his front door that a distinct crunch of dry leaves behind him leaves him frozen in his tracks.

“Heh. Shit.”

Carlos spins on his heel, and comes face to face with...Jay? 

“Um..what’s up, short stuff?”

Carlos huffs at his words, his fists clenched as he tries his best to stare down one of the most intimidating boys at his new school. There’s no way he’s about to show fear when Jay’s right in front of his own home.

Wait, why is he at his home?

“W-what do you want?” Carlos presses, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “I-I know my house looks...big, but I don’t have-”

“Is the bitch home?”

Jay takes a slow step forward, and Carlos swallows. He’s barely a foot away now, and it feels so close. He can almost smell the sweat beading on Jay’s brow. He keeps his eyes trained down, with a blurring focus just below Jay’s chin, so as not to concentrate on the smirk he knows he’s giving him right now.

“Y-yeah. And she’ll probably beat my ass, a-and yours too, if I don’t get inside right away. I-I need to make...h-her dinner.”

Shit. That sounded so weak. Carlos dares a peek at Jay’s face, and it surprised to see the smile wiped away, and Jay chewing on his lip. He looks almost...worried.

And he surprises Carlos further by taking a generous step back, his arms raised in surrender.

“Well, wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Jay teases, and Carlos curls a sneer at his mocking tone. “Now, now, calm it down freckles. I’m not gonna get you in trouble, ok?”

Jay drops his hands into his pockets, hunching over to rock on his heels some.

“Doubt those eyes of yours would be so pretty with nasty purple bruises around ‘em. Until next time, then?”

Jay pulls out a hand to issue an awkward salute, quirking a smile as Carlos tilts his head, eyes narrowed and confused.

“Bye bye, Carlos De Vil.”

Jay turns and shuffles slowly down the path, kicking at random pieces of dirt and rocks on the way. He keeps his head down, refusing to look up or even cast a single glance behind him.

But Carlos stands unmoving, still staring at the weird thief with long, dark hair that’s tangling in the dry heat. He’s trying to make sense of what just happened, but all logic that could explain what just happened is lost on him. 

Did Jay just say his eyes were pretty?

[nyctophilin]

Maybe I Like You

@nerdyweaselpeanutperson​⤀ Hey there, hope you’re doing well~ Can I please request something smutty with seungmin? Maybe friends to lovers! and thigh riding pretty please 💫

Description⤀ Seungmin cared deeply for his friend this is why he never liked any of her boyfriends. The most recent one bothered him the most. However, maybe he wasn’t that bad.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing⤀ Seungmin x fem!Reader

Word count⤀ 3.8k

Genre⤀ College!AU, Friends to lovers, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings⤀ dom!seungmin, thigh ridding, marking, excessive use of the word "jackass", bad grammar/spelling(maybe)

Pearl Note⤀ This took so long to write. It took me like a week or so. Also, I don't know why it got so long. I hope you like it. Please don't refrain from telling me what you think or if you have any constructive criticism. Requests are also open, just saying.

      "You know, sometimes I worry about you. What is such a handsome and intelligent young man doing without a girlfriend?" She joked causing the man to roll his eyes. 

      Y/N and Seungmin were currently in the library of the campus trying to study for their organic chemistry class. Seungmin was trying to study, Y/N tried to study got bored midway and now was tormenting the poor boy who was just trying to pass.

      "If you tell me what such a beautiful and smart young lady is doing with a jackass like him I'll give an answer to your question." Seungmin didn't move his eye from the book he was reading. Y/N frowned and crossed her arms.

      "He is nice! Just because he gave you a dirty look doesn't mean he's a jackass. And it's not like you are the most agreeable person there is." Seungmin looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that! I'll never forget how you told that girl that her cooking is worse than eating shit."

      "She gave me food poisoning! And it didn't even taste good!" Seungmin raised his voice and got some dirty looks from the other students that didn't have a Y\N to bother them while studying. He knew that he should have been nicer to that girl but at least she wasn't bringing her horrible cookies to college anymore.

      "You never like the guys I date and you always call them jackasses. Once I called my ex jackass because of you. He never let it go after!" Seungmin smirked at that. Her ex was indeed a jackass. 

      It wasn't that he didn't like them. Some of the guys she dated were nice, the problem was that she dated them. He didn't know what to call his feelings for her. Love, like, just a simple crush. He knew however that if he wants to keep their friendship then he has to keep quiet about his feelings. At least when she is in a relationship but she never seems to be out of one. Every time she was going through a break up he will give her time to get over it and right before he could make a move she will present her new boyfriend to him.

      "I never like them because you always break up with them in like 3 months or so. There's no point in getting attached. It will only hurt me!" He said the last sentence in an exaggerated tone clutching his chest. 

      Y/N smacked his arm lightly while chucking and decided to go back to studying after. Seungmin was grateful for that since he really needed to study but also he didn't know how much more talking about her with other men he could have endured.

      Seungmin rolled his eyes at the sound of the other man's voice, an action that seemed to turn into a habit lately. He turned on his heels and smiled falsely at Y/N's boyfriend. What was his name? He couldn't be bothered to remember it. The thin guy was approaching him and he thought that if he were to fight him, he would surely win and maybe that jackass would stop bothering Y/N. Why was he trying to talk to Seungmin anyway?

      "Man, I was looking for you all over campus! Where've you been?" The man asked and put his hand around Seungmin's neck.

      He tried suppressing a grimace before deciding to answer his question. "I was in Biology class with Y/N and you know it. You saw me entering the classroom." Was he really as stupid as Seungmin liked to make him in front of her?

      "I know but I thought maybe you went outside to play some soccer after class. Oh, I forgot, you are a nerd!" The dude let out a disgusting laugh and punched Seungmin in the chest making the air leave his guts for a split second. Ah, here it was, the jackass was finally out!

      "Listen, I'm busy so if you have nothing important to tell me I'd like to respectfully ask you to fuck off so I can move on with my life!" Seungmin was already sick of this dude. How could Y/N spend several hours a day with him and not go insane he'll never understand. 

      The dude removed his hand from around Seungmin's neck and stopped in his track. He cleared his throat and lightly scratched the back of his head, his bony arm even more prominent.

      "Man, I have to ask you something important." Seungmin nodded his head a bit irritated. "Me and Y/N have been together for three weeks already and we haven't done it once man! I don't know what to do anymore!"

      Seungmin had a grossed out face for a few moments before raising an eyebrow. "And you are telling me this because? Do you expect me to go to her and tell her to do it with you or something?"

      "No man! I'm not an idiot!" Seungmin held back a sarcastic remark. "I want you to tell me how to get her, man! You know, tell me what turns her on and stuff like that!"

      Seungmin rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to know that?" The dude started laughing but stopped soon when he saw that the pink-haired man was not laughing.

      "Don't tell me that you've been friends for so long but never done it!"

      "You are right, we've been friends! I don't know how you and your friends interact and frankly, I don't care. She probably doesn't want to do it because she knows how small your dick is!" Seungmin was utterly disgusted by the conversation he just had.

      Not only was he a jackass for telling him something so personal about his relationship with Y/N but he also was stupid enough to believe that if he had any tips he would share it. Why would he tell anybody how to make her feel good, how to make her squirm under them, how to push her buttons so much and hard that she'll beg for you to have mercy on her and give her any kind of relieve. 

      Fuck, he needed to stop before it would be too hard for him to concentrate on his classes. Without saying anything else he turned around and continued on his way towards the chemistry lab.

      It has been two weeks since Seungmin had that talk with that jackass and he tried avoiding Y/N all this time in hope that he'll see less of that dude. The two of them still hang out together, had their normal study sessions, had lunch together when their schedules allowed them and texted every day but he would start responding harder when she would bring that dude up or would refuse to walk with them to classes or cafes his reasoning being that he wanted to give them privacy. He had to admit that he felt bad for ignoring her because of that dude but he really couldn't stand him.

      Today, however, he and she were supposed to have a movie night. Seungmin wanted to refuse when he first heard her proposal but after she suggested they do it at his apartment he accepted it. There's no way in hell that jackass would come to his apartment. He also missed her. He never realized just how much time they spend together until he started avoiding her.

      Everything was set for their little gathering. The only thing that was missing was Y/N but there still were 15 more minutes until she was supposed to arrive. Seungmin went into the tiny kitchen to take the popcorn from the microwave and put it in bowls. When he returned into what was supposed to be both his living room and bedroom he heard the bell ring. He placed the bowls on a small table close to his bed and went to open the door.

      When he saw her he felt the air leaving his lungs. She was always pretty but she was unusually breathtaking that day. He invited her in and they exchanged small talk before deciding on a movie. She seemed weird. Did she catch on the fact that he tried ignoring her? She seemed just fine the day before at lunch. When he made a comment about the movie and she hummed in approval instead of whining about him ruining the atmosphere he knew something was up.

      He analyzed her for a bit before finally deciding to ask her if everything was fine. "Are you ok? You seem so out of it tonight."

      She sighed before mumbling a short "I'm fine!" and continuing to watch the movie. Seungmin threw her a dirty look before snatching the remote from her side and turning the TV off. "Hey, I was watching that!" Y/N exclaimed stretching her arm for the remote.

      "And I'll let you continue if you tell me what happened. You are weirder than usual." Seungmin extended his arm in the air making sure she can't reach it.

      "I told you I'm fine!" She raised her voice still trying to reach the remote.

      "And I don't believe you!" Seungmin also raised his voice.

      "What do you want me to tell you? You want me to tell you that I and that jackass broke up? That you were right about him? That I'm incapable of having a long term relationship?" Y/N screamed in his face, immediately after getting up and going into the kitchen. Seungmin paused for a second before going after her.

      "He broke up with you? Why? This is why are you mad?" He bombarded her with questions and she wanted to curse him for having such a small apartment. He wasn't trapping her against the counter per se since there were a good one meter and a half between them but his kitchen was so small that he was blocking the only exit. She shouldn't have gone there. She gulped before answering him.

      "He didn't break up with me, I did!"

      Seungmin gave her a questioning look. "Then why are you mad about it?" His voice was softer than before.

      "I'm not mad about it!"

      "Then why are you mad?"

      "I don't know why I'm mad!" She screamed again and tried storming past him but he caught both her hands and stopped her. 

      Before she could try to escape from him he hugged her tightly rubbing her back soothingly. Y/N sat like that for a while taking in his smell before realizing what she was doing and pushing him away and going into his bedroom. She sat on the bed and turned the TV back on continuing to watch the movie.

      Seungmin sat down next to her cautiously and sighed loudly. "When did you break up? Was it today?" He asked her being curious about their sudden breakup. They didn't seem to have any problems when he last saw them together.

      "No, it's been two days." Seungmin looked at her in shook. Two days and she told him nothing about it. Why would she do something like that?

      "Why didn't you tell me?" She decided to ignore his question mostly because she herself was confused as to why she didn't tell him. "Come on Y/N! I'm your best friend! Would you really keep something so important from me for no reason?"

      "Oh well, I was gonna make a new boyfriend and break up with him in two months anyway so there was no point in burdening you with my problems. It's not like you care anyway!" She was shocked with herself unaware of where did that come from.

      "What?" Confusion was visible in both Seungmin's face and voice.

      "You always say how my relationships last only around three months. This was just another one of my many breakups. I'll get another relationship in a week, you don't have to worry about me!" She avoided his eyes even after she finished speaking.

      "Seriously? You know I never mean that in a bad way. You just have the awesome luck to find jackasses that break up with you the moment the relationship turns the slightest serious. This time, however, you broke up with him. You are never the one to break up. Why did you break up?" He was furious but at the same time, his voice had a glimpse of concern in it. 

      He really was confused as to why she chose to end it with that jackass. Not that he was mad, this was arguably one of the best news he received in the past year. Y/N was visibly biting the inside of her cheek contemplating whether she should tell him the real reason she broke up with him or not. After sighing loudly she turned her head to look him in the eyes.

      "Because of you." She finally let out the thoughts she tried to deny for the past two days.

      "Because of me?" If Seungmin wasn't confused enough before, he was now. Was this some kind of joke she tried to play on him? Why on hell would she break up with her boyfriend because of him? As if she could read his mind she started talking.

      "It started around two weeks ago. He suddenly asked me if the two of us really haven't been in any sort of relationship besides friendship. When I answered yes he said that it must have been hard to be always together and never fuck which I found weird coming from my boyfriend. Then every time he'll ask to do it and I'll refuse he'll bring you up again saying that if he was you maybe I wouldn't say no. Then you started avoiding us which I didn't found weird since you had a lot of assignments lately but he started saying things like you doing it to avoid seeing me with him or going to jerk off thinking of me."

      She breathed finally trying to collect her thoughts so she could continue. "Suddenly our relationship was revolving around you. If I did things I did them because of you and if I didn't it was also because of you. What kind of boyfriend does this to their girlfriend? It felt like he was indirectly accusing me of cheating." Her voice was fading slowly turning into a whisper. "And all that talking about you made me over analyze some of our past interactions, made me think of you in less than appropriate instances, made me..."

      She couldn't finish her sentence because Seungmin leaned in and kissed her stopping her from continuing. His lips were soft and tender and the kiss wasn't rushed. He was cupping her face with one hand and with the other he was holding her waist one of his fingers rubbing circles into it. It took her a second to kiss him back but when she did it was like everything around them stopped for a few seconds. When they broke the kiss she felt empty without his lips on her's.

      "Y/N, I.." Seungmin was cut short by Y/N that grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and smashed their lips together. 

      This time the kiss was more rushed, all the pent up frustration from staying apart for so long finally releasing. She licked his bottom lip asking for entrance which he gladly allowed not wanting to be apart for even a second. Both his hands were now resting on her waist touching her gently compared to the way his mouth was devouring her's. Soon his mouth left her's and went down to lay kisses from her jaw down to her neck.

      He tugged on her waist making her straddle his hips and immediately pressed her to his body. He continued his attacks on her neck occasionally sucking on it leaving red marks that were to become marks later. When he bit on one particular spot she let out a breathy moan and tangled her fingers in his hair for support. She tugged on his hair and brought their lips back together in a kiss that wasn't rushed but it was passionate.

      Without realizing, Seungmin forced her hips down on his thighs, her sensitive core rubbing on his rough jeans making her whimper. He smirked in the kiss and raised an eyebrow, tho Y/N couldn't see that. Seungmin broke the kiss and Y/N moaned in protest.

      "Aren't you quite needy?" He teased moving a piece of hair out of her face. "Jackass told me you wouldn't wanna do it and I just assumed it wasn't your favourite activity. I guess I was wrong?" He moved her hips again making her bite back a moan.

      "Seungminie!" Her voice sounded like a plead. What was she asking for? She wasn't sure herself. All she knew was that her best friend and she were oblivious to their feelings for too long and she didn't wanna wait any other second.

      "Hmm?" Seungmin hummed looking at her through hooded eyes. "Do you need anything?" He was just as impatient as her, maybe even more but seeing her like that made him want to tease her. So what if he waits a little bit more? If he gets to see her like that it's worth it.

      She let out an embarrassed sound at his words. She wasn't in the mood to play games but she knew Seungmin. She swallowed her pride and watched him in the eyes before talking. "Seungmin please touch me!"

      The man smirked at her words. "Gladly." Y/N went in for a kiss only to be pushed away by him. She watched his confusion visible in her eyes. "First take your clothes off. I wanna see how pretty you are!" Y/N blushed at his indirect compliment before getting up from his lap.

      Seungmin leaned slightly back, his eyes following her every move. Trying to ignore his gaze she took off her sweater and let it fall to the floor. The black bra she was wearing was hugging her breasts just the right way and Seungmin couldn't help licking his lips. She took her shorts off next being left in her underwear that didn't match. She regrets not wearing something sexier but at the same time, she never thought that her best friend and she would end up in this situation. If she hated it, Seungmin surely didn't. He thought it was cute and sexy enough for something as impromptu as that.

      He made a gesture with his hand for her to come closer. When she did he put his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her exposed ribs. He let his tongue draw figures on her skin while his fingers hooked the side of her panties and pulled them down her legs.

      "Look how cute you are." Seungmin moved one of his hands from her hips in between her legs rubbing her with his palm. Y/N shivered and put her hands on his shoulders. "Come sit on my thigh." His tone was soft but demanding at the same time making her obey his words immediately. After she made herself comfortable on his thigh he put his hands on her waist and leaned in to kiss her.

      His hands travelled up her back and once they reached her shoulder blades he moved them in front of her gently cupping her breasts. She let out a moan into the kiss and started slowly rubbing herself on his clothed thigh. Seungmin smirked into the kiss at her action, his hands pushing her bra down to expose her full breasts. His mouth left her in favour of her breasts and he started kissing the space between them, purposefully avoiding any sensitive areas.

      His teasing was making her wetter by the seconds but she kept a steady pace of her hips. Without any warning Seungmin's mouth wrapped around one of Y/N's nipples and he let his tongue circle it making her shiver. Her hands went into his hair and she started moving faster on his thigh. Seungmin put one of his arms on the small of her back pushing her stomach forward. The new position had her clit directly rub into his thigh, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

      "What was that? Does my baby enjoy riding my thigh that much?" Immediately after speaking, he bit the bundle of nerves harder than he intended. The stimulation combined with the pet name had her ridding him faster chasing for her release. Seungmin sensed the change of pace and grabbed her hips abruptly moving them agonizingly slow.

      "No, don't!" She whined trying in vain to move her hips faster.

      "Why? You don't need to hurry. Or are you perhaps desperate to cum?" Seungmin started moving her faster while sucking marks on her neck. Y/N nodded frantically feeling a knot building in her stomach. "If you don't speak I have no way of knowing what you want." He continued his attacks on her neck occasionally tracing the distance between two marks with his tongue.

      "Yes, Seungmin! I'm desperate to cum. Please let me cum!" Seungmin let go of her hips and instead cupped her breasts in his hands fondling them.

      "Whenever you are ready, baby." Y/N threw her head back and started moving her hips frantically, chasing her high. Seungmin continued to suck on her neck and play with her chest stimulating her further. She could feel her release approaching with each passing second.

      She finally came when Seungmin flexed his thigh, drenching his pants in her juices. She fell forward, breath hitched, body shaking from the intense orgasm she just had. Seungmin helped her ride her high by rubbing circled into the small of her back and whispering praises into her ear.

      When Y/N opened her eyes she observed the TV presenting the credits of the movie she was previously watching with Seungmin. She was now wearing a hoodie, most probably Seungmin's and an arm was snaked around her waist. She turned around slowly and she was met with a smiling Seungmin looking right back at her.

      "Are you awake?" He moved a few hair strands away from her before resting his hand on her arm.

      "Mhmm." She hummed softly enjoying the intimacy of the moment. "What happened?"

      "You feel asleep. Did I really made you feel that good?" He teased inching his face closer to her's.

      She smiled and threw an arm over his waist snuggling more into him. "Who would have guessed that our Seungminie was such a dominant one. Do you have any more surprises?"

      It was his turn to blush now. He hid his head in the crotch of her neck and squeezed her body harder. "Let's go on a date!" He whispered almost inaudible and if it wasn't for his head to be right next to her ear maybe she shouldn't have caught that.

      "I'd love to!"

[inquartata30]

Give us some fluff, goddamn your soul!

Fluff it is!

Fluff, Part 2

Then Aella asked, “How many of me long do you think the model is?”

Thaia, sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor, didn’t look up from piecing two gyroscope curves together. “I dunno.”

“Can I measure?”

“Yeah, just use your arms since your arm span is roughly the same as your height.”

“Okay.”

Ten seconds later, Aella said, “Daddy?”

“Yeah?” The fucking gyroscope was harder to align than Thaia had assumed and, just like on actual relays, it had to be perfect or it would fall apart. Or fall apart and then blow up. This model had real eezo in it, so blowing up wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I think I need help.”

There was enough of a thread of worry in her kid’s voice that Thaia looked up.

Aella had one arm extended along the relay’s long lower barrel and the other arm extended toward the circle end. Said arms were also so close to the relay that there was a possibility they’d touched the still-drying adhesive.

“Is your arm part of the model now?” Thaia kept the please say no to herself.

Aella lightly pulled her arm away from the model. Well, tried. It didn’t move much before she grimaced. “Maybe.”

Fuck.

Thaia studied her daughter, entire left arm stuck to the relay’s lower fork and part of her right affixed to the circle, and then attempted to calculate exactly how much skin was attached to the model. Then it occurred to her that, while the dissolver was safe for use on skin, the amount of dissolver required to detach Aella from the model might be dangerous.

Fuck.

“Hold on, I have to message your mum about the adhesive remover.” Thaia held in a sigh and activated her omni, hoping Lexi wouldn’t believe she needed to come home, but knowing Lexi would probably insist on it within ten seconds of starting their conversation. At least it would only be the tail-end of a class she’d have to bail on. Still, Thaia felt bad whenever Lexi left for reasons that included her and Aella when said reasons could’ve been avoided. Then again, it was hard to predict your kid getting whole limbs stuck to models.

“But you know how to use it,” said Aella, puzzled right before turning accusatory. “You had to use it on your finger last month when we built the turian fighter.”

Thaia looked at her through the holodisplay. “One, it wasn’t my fault that Eirian bumped the table and I caught the nose cone. Two, this is about you being stuck, not me. Three, even if it was about me, I’ve never had to unstick an entire limb from a model before.”

Aella’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Goddess, she didn’t have to look that fucking surprised. “I know, I’m shocked, too. Now hang on, I need to message her.”

Ha, she’d told her to hang on.

> Babe, is there an amount of skin-safe adhesive remover that can be dangerous?

Lexi answered within five fucking seconds. Five. Might’ve been a new record.

> Please tell me no one’s ingested any.

> No accidental poisonings. I meant when using it properly, but the skin area is more than usual.

> How much more?

> A whole arm and maybe a third of an arm. Kid-sized arms, though. Not adult arms.

> I’m coming home.

There it was.

> It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure the remover won’t be absorbed by her skin and make her hallucinate or something.

> It’s not a hallucinogen and you need to wait until I get home to separate her from—what is she stuck to?

> Part of a mass relay.

> You brought home a piece of a mass relay?

Goddess, she’d brought home part of a prototype one fucking time and they still hadn’t let that go. 

> No, the prototype materials are at the lab. This is a model.

> I need to see a picture to I know the scope of what I’m dealing with. And if I’ll need anything I don’t have in my medkit there.

> Give me a minute.

Thaia held up the omni. “Smile for your mum!”

Aella full-on grinned. “Make sure to tell her I’m fine! This would be fun if I could move more.”

“If you could move more, you wouldn’t be stuck and we wouldn’t be messaging your mum.” Thaia sent the holo to Lexi. 

> See, she’s fine.

> How big is this model?

> About two Aellas long. She was trying to measure it, coincidentally.

> I’m on my way. Don’t try before I get there. Give me fifteen minutes.

> We really are fine.

> Fifteen minutes.

Whenever Lexi repeated how long it would be before she got home, that meant she was already on her way and there wasn’t a point to arguing anymore.

> Love you too, babe.

Thaia looked up at Aella. “So, we’ve got fifteen minutes. Want to keep building? You’ll mostly be holding things until you can use your arms again. Oh, maybe we’ll keep you like this. You’d make a good coatrack.”

“No!”

“A sign outside the roller coaster in that theme park on the Citadel saying ‘you must be this tall to ride the attraction.’ Your arm’s just the right height for it.”

“No!”

“I guess you’re stuck being part of a mass relay model until your mum gets home. Any longer and I might have to move you to the lab.” 

“Daddy!”

She sounded so fucking offended that Thaia gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m kidding.”

She smiled back, offense gone. “Okay.”

Well, if she’d gone back to normal that fast, then she hadn’t been offended in the first place, and so Thaia would keep going. “I mean, I can’t get into the lab right now anyway.”

“Daddy!” Her little laugh at the end undermined her outrage, though.

Thaia surveyed the parts arrayed on the living room floor. “Fine, you read the directions and tell me what piece is next.”

[seimeinotaka]

A beautiful gift for a beautiful flower: the Legendary Sword (Vil X MC fic)

It is still the 9th, so I’m still on time to upload a fic to celebrate Vil’s birthday. I wanted to give something he would love, so here it is, given and made with him and Ann in mind. Maybe one day I’ll upload Ann giving him also his so-wanted list hehe. But for now, I hope this will do!

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

-

This is a story from a young prince who lived in a faraway land.

~ ° ~

Vil had just returned from his afternoon walk as he crossed the now empty lounge, devoid of any of the birthday tables and balloons for his own celebration, as expected for it was the day after. Well, it was empty except for the lone presence of Ramshackle dorm’s prefect, Ann Hawthorne, and Vil’s almost professional headache.

“Vil-senpai, here!” the young girl said as she handed Vil a thick-looking envelope, with a purple ribbon on top.

The unexpected gift made him raise an eyebrow. “Potato, my birthday was yesterday and you were here, with your usual birthday interviews for the School’s News Section. You even took a picture of me. Did you somehow not know it was my birthday yesterday and made a last-minute gift to excuse yourself?”

Ann rolled her eyes and made a mocking grin. “Haha, how funny, there is no way in hell I can make this in one night. I had actually brought it with me, but well, I wanted you to read it, and I didn’t want to take up your time at your birthday party. I mean, you didn’t read Rook-senpai’s poems either, so it was fair that I handed you this now.”

Vague curiosity in his eyes, because he wasn’t really interested, just a little, Vil opened the envelope and took out a large stack of papers bound together with a purple thread. The words “Legendary Sword” could be read on the first page, and with a quick glance, Vil realized it was a script with some pictures in between.

~ ° ~ 

Long ago in the hidden remains of the Araceae Kingdom lived a beautiful young man, with brilliant cold amethyst eyes and delicate flawless skin. His hair was silky golden and he blinded everyone with his appearance. Every day, he devoted himself to his studies, from arts to economics, languages and science. In the afternoon he would train his body, fencing, wrestling, running, horse riding. He worked harder than anyone, never complaining, as he pushed himself day after day.

However, he was feared and scorned, for he was the scion of the wretched Zantedeschia household, Schwartz Zantedeschia. His family had ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, and had seized control of every other kingdom under the sun.

Shedding blood, many fought the Zantedeschia until one day a brave hero, wielding a mythical sword, was able to dethrone the cursed family and their household vanished from history. The hero, coming from the Leiron family, the rulers of the Lilium Kingdom that everyone had dismissed as negligible, was of pure heart and as the chosen hero, he was able to vanquish the evil.

However, the Zantedeschia weren’t completely destroyed and each heir was carefully trained in hopes of achieving their dream.

Before Schwartz, no one had been as successful nor had anyone worked as hard, and he was the only one to cast off from the shadows to fulfill his mission, leaving his homeland in shambles behind him.

To regain their former glory, and extract revenge, that was the reason for his journey.

~ ° ~ 

“A villain protagonist, really? This is your gift to me?” Vil took his eyes off the script for a moment to give Ann a dismissive and insulted glare.

Unamused, the girl rolled her eyes as she pushed the script closer to his face. “Keep reading, Vil-senpai.”

Vil kept his penetrating and heavy stare on her, though the young girl didn’t even flinch, probably used to his flair for the dramatic. However, the actor kept on reading.

~ ° ~ 

To fulfill his quest for revenge, he would need to seize the mythical sword Durendal, which had been the fall of his family. The next chosen holder would be Weiss Leiron, the heir of the Lilium Kingdom, adored by everyone for his purity. As soon as he turned of age, he would become the legitimate owner of Durendal.

Prince Schwartz had known of Weiss, meeting him long ago when he hid his identity to get to know the faces of his enemies. Even now, he was painfully aware, Weiss was beloved by every creature in the land, his affable nature charming everyone in spite of his failings. During that time, Schwartz came to learn that his own nature scared others, finding himself pushed away even if his true name hadn’t been revealed. His beauty alienated everyone he had met and his stoic personality was found distrustful by many, no matter what he did or said.

Thus for years, he couldn’t help but to grow deep resentment in his heart, jealousy taking root like a bloody, poisonous flower. So for Schwartz, this quest meant also his own reassurance of his worth to the world that had shunned him.

~ ° ~

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” Vil squinted as he kept on re-reading the last line, his frown growing deeper and deeper with every word.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying this?” Ann replied with a not so concealed smarmy smile.

“Your suspicious gaze makes me wonder if you are secretly a sadist. You’re not even trying to flatter me in the slightest, and of all people, you had to put him as the hero again. Really, you have a morbid sense of humor.”

“Who says Neige is the hero?”

“I am obviously Schwartz, as the narration clearly describes me. That would mean Neige can only be Weiss. Stop playing around, you aren’t fooling me.” Vil let out a long sigh. “At this rate, I’m going to have you list 200 beautiful things about me instead.”

“Please finish reading the thing, Vil-senpai? Do you judge books on the first page?”

Vil sighed again, gently shaking his head as his eyes went back to the papers in his hands.

~ ° ~ 

To aid him on his quest, Prince Schwartz had been sent with two trusted knights serving the Zantedeschia, the bow master Vert and the young knight Violett. Vert was a self-proclaimed defender of beauty and followed Schwartz wherever he would go. Violett had a tense relationship with Schwartz, feeling constricted by Schwartz’s rules and strictness, and with a promise of freedom after this journey. Whatever their goals were, they would protect him with their lives, as his travel would grow more dangerous the further he went. Prince Weiss had seven renowned knights and no matter Prince Schwartz’s prowess in combat and magic, it would be safer for him to be accompanied. The Araceae Kingdom was also on the northern end of the continent, hidden behind a harsh tundra and treacherous mountains, and Schwartz’s safety was to be prioritized.

As the prince and his knights traveled south, to reach the center of the continent where Durendal was enshrined, they met a group of four travelers in peril, surrounded by foul beasts. Even if it was dangerous, as it could blow his cover, Schwartz and his knights went to their rescue. In gratitude, the brawler Azure, the thief Vermillion, the young lost researcher Ai and her magical talking cat Hai joined Schwartz on his travels south.

~ ° ~

“Why do I get vague videogame allusions from this?” Vil arched an eyebrow at the recent development.

“Well,” Ann replied with a shrug. “They are classes you find in RPGs. It would make sense for Schwartz to gather several comrades that can cover any weakness he might have.”

“Then? What is your class, Ann?” Vil turned to the girl, a mocking smirk dawning on his beautiful face. “I don’t think you’d be able to be a Healer here.”

Ann pursed her lips before reluctantly answering, “I am the very important NPC tagging along. You all can fight to protect me.”

“Fufufu, bold of Ai to wander alone with her talking cat who can barely manage a spell. I wonder if they will be of help.” With a dark chuckle, Vil resumed reading.

~ ° ~ 

Vermillion and Azure hailed from the Rosaceae Kingdom, a land not far away from Lilium and the shrine for Durendal. Originally a couple of bandits, they had initially attempted to trick Ai and her cat, lost travelers who had just survived a shipwreck and were looking for a way back to their homeland, the Asteraceae Empire on the other side of the world. However, after being saved by the same girl they wanted to rob, they decided to reform and help them reach a port. Being told of their quest to reach Lilium, the group tagged along unaware of Schwartz’s true intentions. They all believed he was a young man kidnapped and sent to Araceae who was trying to go back to his own land, Vermillion and Hai hoping they could snag a reward for their efforts.

To reach Lilium and the shrine, the group would need to cross a perilous desert, where the rays of the sun would be so merciless that the unprepared would easily die. Unaccustomed to such warm weather, Schwartz and Violett struggled with the inclemency of the climate, growing weaker with every step. However, Schwartz was not willing to abandon his mission, even at his own health’s peril, and he continued his trip until he grew gravely ill.

~ ° ~

“You’re not writing this right now, but one could think you were expecting me to question your abilities and you kindly decided to get some petty revenge on Schwartz,” Vil said flatly, as his eyes dangerously narrowed, throwing daggers at Ann.

“Excuse me, I would be incapable of doing that, Vil-senpai.”

“Have you forgotten the time your hand slipped and your fist casually connected with Rook’s jaw? Or the time you-”

“That was a legit reason to punch him, okay?” Ann pouted as she folded her arms in front of her. “And we don’t need to talk about other things, go on and keep reading.”

~ ° ~ 

Taking a detour, the group reached the land of Oleaceae in hopes of finding a doctor to treat Schwartz and Violett. In their search, they found a pair of young men running away from a large group of pursuers. Ill and weakened, Schwartz still led the party to defend and protect the men in need of help, learning that the people running away, a dancer by the name of Asfar and his servant Burtiqali had been wrongly accused of murdering Asfar’s father. Even if Asfar had chosen to distance himself from his father’s business, one of the largest spice traders in Oleaceae and the land, he was the heir to the family and people within the clan wanted to get rid of the father and son to claim the business for themselves.

After a narrow escape from Oleaceae, the group learned that Burtiqali was a proficient chemist, and he provided relief to Schwartz and Violett, in gratitude for helping them escape. With no place to go, Asfar and Burtiqali decided to travel with Schwartz, hoping to find a way to clear Asfar’s name if they reached Lilium and found the hero Weiss.

Meanwhile in the Lilium Kingdom, word of Schwartz’s quest reached the ears of Weiss.

“Someone sullied is not fit to be a hero, only those pure can be one. Envy, jealousy, those emotions are unbecoming. A hero is a beacon of hope, a model to follow, a paragon of virtue. Someone who is envious of the natural course of things is not fit to be a hero.”

Those were the words of the beloved hero, the next in line to inherit Durendal. He looked at the eyes of his loyal knights, seven brave men who would follow Weiss wherever he went, taking his word almost as if it came from the heavens. Anyone wishing to follow the right path would look closely at the Prince of Lilium, with his bright and kind features and no darkness in his eyes. For his sake, they would even shut their hearts, to do what was right.

If Schwartz was willing to attack the hero, they would prevent him from even touching a single strand of the hero’s hair. A villain must never win, and good will always defeat, vanquish evil. In these times of crisis, with the kingdom’s growing unrest year after year caused by the Zantedeschia, the populace was suffering. Inequality, famine, disease, they had been slowly creeping in Lilium, and Schwartz’s arrival would be the key to opening the forbidden box.

Thus, they needed to bring swift judgement to the villain trying to usurp power once more.

~ ° ~ 

“A paragon of virtue, the meaning of a hero,” Vil uttered those words, almost wounded.

“In my world, the origin of the word ‘Hero’ was one meaning Defender.”

“It’s the same as this world. Color me surprised, though, I wouldn’t put you as a reader.”

“How rude, senpai, even after all this time you still think the worst of me.” Ann pretended to sigh dramatically, though Vil just rolled his eyes. “You probably think I spend my time thinking of how to annoy you and picking my nose.”

He let out a chuckle, his now trademark sardonic smile aimed at her. “Given how much you neglect your appearance, would you blame me for believing it?”

~ ° ~ 

As they traveled, the burden of his secret mission weighed heavily on Schwartz’s shoulders, as he found himself growing attached to his companions. Keeping an aloof distance and not hiding his critical tongue and stoic and strict nature, he had assumed they would be simply people he would be using to achieve his goals. Schwartz had always been alone and feared by everyone, so he hadn’t expected anything else. The kind interaction of these people made him at times believe they could be friends, something he had once thought impossible.

After all, no one knew better than him that he was sullied with jealousy and anger, stains perhaps too deep in his soul to be the hero recognized by Durendal. After all, the legendary sword would only choose someone who was a hero and the more Schwartz looked at himself in the mirror, the further he traveled in his journey, the more he believed himself to be the villain, just as his ancestors before him.

~ ° ~ 

This time, Vil had no snappy retort or effusive reaction. Instead, he solemnly stared at the words in front of him, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He wouldn’t admit aloud that Schwartz’s feelings were hitting too close to home, the traces of his Overblot still lingering in his thoughts. His own failings caused his heart to be tainted with ink and even to his day, he struggled with his wish to be cast once as a hero, to prove he wasn’t the villain everyone appointed and believed he was.

His eyes briefly met Ann’s, before he diverted his gaze. He recalled the times she had called him several things, such as kind, that he, to this day, did not believe he was, and he wondered if there were some of those feelings portrayed in the script in his hands.

She didn’t say anything, as she quietly looked at him with a warm soft smile, in hopes that he kept on reading to find the answer he was suddenly seeking for.

~ ° ~

Just as the travelers arrived at the shrine where Durendal rested, Schwartz came to face his sworn enemy, Prince Weiss, the paragon of goodness and the hero of the land. He almost laughed maniacally, as the seven holy knights came to protect him. It would truly be a fight of good and evil, and for once he decided to unveil his ugly mask to the oblivious people who wrongly decided to accompany him.

~ ° ~ 

“Did you honestly write ‘Fighting scene goes here’?” Vil arched an eyebrow, with a dismissive and almost stunned glare at Ann, who simply blinked in return.

“Do I look like I know how those kind of fighting scenes normally go in a script?”

“Shouldn’t you know it? You ARE writing this after all.”

“You can make it up as you want.” Ann waved her hand nonchalantly, and Vil let out a groan. The nerve of the girl to leave out the most important part of the scene, and he thought of thousand ways to express his utter shock and frustration. Ann huffed. “If you really want it, you can pretend I wrote you kick Neige in the balls…Ah, but be careful with your heels, you might break his baby-making machine and that might give you trouble.”

“Baby. Making. Machine.”

“His dick, senpai. You break his dick.”

Vil’s blank expression was on her for a couple of seconds, before his line of sight was interrupted by her gently shoving the script toward his face.

~ ° ~ 

The knights defeated and Weiss wounded, Schwartz would lift his sword, deep in anger to decapitate his nemesis, at the protest of his friends. The anger of knowing that his family had been shunned for years for crimes they never committed, Schwartz finding himself damned for the only reason of being born under the Zantedeschia name fueled his fatal blow. As the sword fell like a guillotine, an arrow threw it away from its trajectory, his friends deciding to oppose him in a battle they knew they might lose. But they would face him because they knew what kind of person Schwartz truly was, cold and aloof, but secretly caring, and they didn’t want him to commit a heinous crime.

Somehow, his words reached Schwartz, horrified at the monster he had become. Falling on his knees, he threw away his magic tome and his sword, realizing he was no hero, he was the villain awaiting his execution. He would no longer be capable of wielding Durendal, no, the idea of wielding it was ridiculous from the very beginning. And to wound him further, his close knight Vert had picked up the Legendary Sword, handing it to a wounded Weiss, as he protected him from any harm on their escape.

“I was hoping you would recognize your own worth without needing external validation. You do not need Durendal. The wielder of Durendal is the one who shines like the sun, the most beautiful at heart. One day, you will surely be recognized, farewell, Schwartz, but my heart truly lies with Weiss, who is unclouded by sin and is as radiant as any star.”

Vert’s betrayal caused everyone to fall back, taking everyone by surprise. While Asfar, Burtiqali and Ai had caught grasp of Schwartz’s true intentions, they never realized Vert had sent a warning to Lilium. Tending their wounds, Schwartz finally explained the truth he had concealed.

Long ago, as a great war emerged, the Zantedeschia were one of many houses caught in the strife. Fighting to protect their territory and lending a hand to nearby lands, they grew in power, and lords of other lands deemed them too dangerous. While they hadn’t invaded other kingdoms, they were plagued by fear, and decided to vanquish them before they could do anything. And thus, they imparted their judgement and executed most of the royal family except for one who managed to escape, keeping the bloodline alive and hiding at the ends of the world.

They gave the honor to a random lowborn house, the Lilium, as they would make the better heroes for a loving fairytale. A chivalrous story of the good and weak defeating the evil and strong. Pinning all of their internal problems on the Zantedeschia, they decided it was for the best to brand them as the evil of the world, and thus it would be allowed to destroy them. Because Durendal happened to choose the prince of Lilium, they could embellish their tale which was no more than political machinations to benefit just a small few, while giving crumbs of justice to the unknowing folk.

And thus, with the passage of time, the world would know of the story of the evil Zantedeschia and the good Lilium and it became the truth for everyone. Except for the surviving bloodline of the Zantedeschia who relayed their truth to their successors, hoping that one day, they would finally be acquitted of something they never committed. And if Durendal chose any of them, then it would finally be proof that they weren’t the evil they were always thought to be.

“Did you want to wield Durendal for yourself or for your bloodline and your people?” Ai had posed this question to Schwartz, who had tried everything and had failed.

“For them, but also for myself, though it no longer matters. Someone like me isn’t meant to be a hero. Which Legendary Sword would choose a murderer driven by jealousy? Which kind of people would follow a hero tainted by anger, envy, and resentment? Weiss is as radiant as the sun, I am the cold moon doomed to die at every dawn.”

“I don’t believe you are the villain you have convinced yourself to be, nor is that one born a hero. If you still wish to try, there is still time for you to see if Durendal has rejected you.”

“Even if it doesn’t choose me, I want my clan’s name to be cleared for sins pinned on us.”

Because of Schwartz coming to Lilium, the official ceremony for Weiss to become the next wielder was rushed and would be before he was of age. It was also to quell people’s anger, as their issues in their land had become unbearable to wear and a hero would bring peace to the people, as Weiss truly believed with all of his heart. To bring light to cast away the shadows, he would take his place as the hero.

Apologizing for what he had done, Schwartz asked his friends if they would accompany in a final quest. If he were to be fought and executed, so be it, and if he was never to become Durendal’s wielder, so be it, but at least, he would want to denounce the infamy his family had been accused of. He would accept his death if it at least meant the truth was finally known, and with it the Zantedeschia would be no more. He was surprised when everyone decided to go on with the journey, everyone knowing what kind of man he was, and wishing to support him one last time.  Thus, Schwartz and his friends traveled to Lilium to set right what was wrong.

“I am Prince Schwartz Zantedeschia from the Araceae Kingdom and I have come to reclaim the innocence of my people, unjustly accused in the past of crimes they did not commit. If I have to fight the hero chosen by Durendal, so be it! But on this day, the truth shall be known!”

“I will not let you, Prince Schwartz,” Prince Weiss proclaimed. “The Zantedeschia have become the evil of this land, and will be purged once more. You even wanted to steal this holy blade, someone like you is unfit to be Durendal’s wielder.”

Prince Weiss fought Prince Schwartz, not letting him say anything else. And deeply wounded after so many battles, Prince Schwartz fell on his knee, the sign of his loss and imminent execution. With a heavy movement, Prince Weiss swung Durendal, only to find that it wouldn’t even touch one strand of Schwartz’s hair, falling to the ground and staying there unmoving no matter how hard Weiss tried to lift it.

For Durendal would never harm the wielder it had chosen.

Surprising everyone, Schwartz included, he found himself picking up the sword, glowing as beautifully as the sun, a sign it had picked his newfound hero. However, before anyone could rejoice, the flames of revolution stormed into place, as Schwartz and his friends had to flee Lilium.

~ ° ~ 

“And that’s when the first movie ends,” Ann chirped happily as Vil closed the script having finished reading it, “setting up the second one where Weiss goes batshit evil because he wasn’t the chosen hero as his land falls into shambles because of a revolution unfolding because the government was trash. Schwartz and his friends had to flee and embark on a journey to unfold a thousand year conspiracy and reveal the people behind the scenes of every tragedy. Burtiqali might or might not have to face the fact he kinda murdered Asfar’s dad and tried to set Asfar up but it blew up on him. Ai and Hai try to go back home, Violet has to reevaluate his relationship with Schwartz, tension between Vert and Scwhartz for the treason he committed, and Azure and Vermillion try to redeem themselves from their petty felonies while working as comic relief.”

Vil blinked for a moment before bursting out laughing for a couple of minutes. “A sequel, really? You even thought that far?”

“There are too many developments to fit in one movie. This isn’t a cash-grab sequel, it’s because the plot is too heavy to work in only one.”

“Pffft!” Vil couldn’t even stop himself from making that grin, between condescending and touched. “I didn’t know you had quite the imagination, I know you make a comic and you made your friends cry with it, but I didn’t expect a conspiracy for Legendary Sword. You truly never watched any of the films, the sword’s name is Excalibur by the way.”

“I knew the name, but Durendal fits better, duh. The meaning of Durendal’s name has been debated actually, but a common point is how it resists and endures. It was a sturdy sword, so of course it would endure, that is why it had to be the Legendary sword here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your obtuse logic, Ann.”

“If you’ve read as much as you claim to have, you will concede that former heroes weren’t good-natured people. It was a term given to those humans who defied all odds to achieve something impossible. In fact, many of them were terrible people struggling with vices. It was with time, especially modern times, that the word hero morphed into what we see, the pure-hearted paragon of goodness.”

“I almost poisoned Neige. How many heroes kill their rival in a fit of jealousy?”

“I like reading, and I realized the most valuable heroes weren’t the ones who never did wrong, but the ones who faced their own weaknesses and demons, and at their lowest, they could go on. You aren’t born a hero, you become one. Durendal chose Schwartz because he was willing to live on with his resentment and envy and help others. Durendal recognized Schwartz’s struggles and the time and effort he had spent all his life, trying to live up to his own morals. He saved people he encountered because it was the right thing to do, even if it was at odds with his goals. Would you call a villain someone who helps others out of the wishes of their heart?”

Vil opened his mouth to refute everything she had said, but Ann lifted a hand, a sign she wasn’t even done.

“You didn’t harm Neige in the end, and you overblotted because you regretted what you were going to do. You had a moment of weakness because you bottled it all in and because you are human. But your weakness doesn’t define your worth, it’s how you deal with your failures and faults what does. I told you, didn’t I? You are a hero, Vil. And I thought of making a story for the hero you deserved to represent.”

“…You depicted what happened during the VDC. That is no original story,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t mocking her. In fact, he was saying it to try to confront his own mixed feelings, at how she had turned his own struggles in a story of him being the hero. To be seen at his worst, yet being given this…

“It stops being based on that at the end, and there’s still the sequel, don’t forget. I haven’t finished it, but it can be a future birthday gift, right? I am a no-name person, but I’m giving it to you so you can give it to a director or a producer or a big shot and tell him ‘Hey, I got this great idea for a movie’. Obviously, you are Schwartz, the description was there so no one would get funny ideas of casting Neige.”

“You have no idea how these things work. No one will take me seriously if I hand them this.”

“Then arrange for someone to hand it to them then, duh.”

Vil chuckled. “Of course, I might follow your whims, if you behave well. Though I can’t say I hated this gift, you’d better improve your written action scenes next time.” There was no way he was giving this to Adella.

With a bright smile, not knowing that her gift would never reach the light of any studio, Ann excused herself, not before waving at him as she disappeared from the corridor. Vil himself reached his own room, carefully closed the door and threw himself on his bed. The script was carefully held between his arms, as he sighed.

“What a naïve girl, no one would make this film,” he said to no one, disappointed.

Vil knew how the industry worked. Such a story as the one depicted in this tale deviated too much from the norm to become a mainstream film and the budget needed was too large for an independent studio. Thus, only Vil would know of this story, the story of Schwartz Zantedeschia.

Even so, he held the script tightly against his heart, as he closed his eyelids to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

-

This has a lot of Author’s notes to make things more understandable.

Every character’s name is, as you might have guessed, based on a particular color. The color designation was depending on the origin of the fairy tale. Schwartz (Vil), Weiss (Neige) and Violett (Epel) got the German names for the colors black, white and violet, respectively. Vert (Rook) is the only exception, his name coming from French for green, this is to highlight that in the end he is a traitor of sorts to Schwartz.

Azure (Deuce) and Vermillion (Ace)’s original story hails from England, so they got variants of blue and red. Aladdin was written by a Syrian author, so Asfur (Kalim) and Burtiqali (Jamil) are the Arabic words for yellow and orange. I don’t know Arabic, so I am not sure if that’s the proper way you’d spell those words in the English alphabet, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know. Finally, while Ann comes originally from England, her character Ai and Hai (Grim) are in a way from Japan, so they are the Japanese words for indigo and gray.

Every character’s last name comes from a particular flower. Schwartz’s comes from Zantedeschia, or the calla lily. The calla lily can be found in a purple color so deep it might even look black. In spite of its name, it is not a true lily, hence it comes from the Zantedeschia genus and from the Araceae family. In the language of flowers, it represents beauty (hence ‘calla’, beautiful in Greek), purity, holiness, faithfulness, rebirth and resurrection. Funny though, the flower IS poisonous because of course Vil gets a poisonous flower.  :^)

Meanwhile, Weiss’s Leiron is the Greek word people believe referred to the white Madonna lily, and his Kingdom’s name is Lilium, the Genus for the lily flowers. Lilies have different meanings, depending on the color. White ones represent virginity, purity and modesty, while yellow ones represent falsehood and gaiety and orange means hatred. It is used in funerals in the west and are actually poisonous as well.

The other kingdoms come from the family of the Roses (Heartslabyul people), Chrysanthemums (Ann and Grim), and Jasmine (Kalim and Jamil). Because the author of the story of Aladdin is from Syria, I picked the national flower from that country.

Also, it’s ok Vil, you can make it an anime, or you can blackmail Crowley for $$$ and make it your club’s pet project :^)  Ehehehe

It was longer than expected, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[rairaidango]

SEEDS THAT GROW - madasaku, tobisaku, ita(ma)saku, sasusaku

CHAPTER 1 - GOOD THINGS

First chapter of the AU I have in my head. I’m just testing the waters because I’m not sure about continuing this because it’d be pr long? Like long, and maybe slow burn? It’d be a studentxteacher AU bc i’m a sucker for those. Hurt/comfort, but has depressing themes. Angsty? Dont know if its worth writing bc I’m not a writer at all i’m not good at it but I’m giving it a shot !!

TW: Depressing themes, mentions of anxiety, doing drugs and alcohol

It was loud in the house, but at least it was a familiar kind of loud that she could appreciate. People were laughing and yelling and it wasn’t ideal for Sakura, but she was excited to be going out partying. It was rare for her to feel excited about most things but clubbing on freshers week was definitely an opportunity she wanted to take advantage of; she just wanted so badly to have fun again. 

“Sakura! I have more vodka, pass me your cup! I know you’re aiming to get wasted tonight babe!” Ino dragged Sakura to her side of the kitchen counter.

“Honestly, not complaining! I NEED to get drunk, lets go!!” Sakura hollered as Ino poured her a large amount of vodka and mixed it with not enough lemonade. Ino may be an experienced clubber, but she never mixed her drinks right and that’s how Ino always ended up puking by the end of the night.

Not that Ino ever really regretted it though, she lived on the edge. 

More, I want to drink more. Note, get some soju next time to get fucked fast. 4 badly mixed drinks in, she knew she was tipsy and her giggling wasn’t starting to make sense. She was relatively lightweight, but that just meant it was easier for her to get to everyone’s levels. All the girls were laughing, even Hinata was starting to get loud over the music. Sakura was getting more excited by the minute and her smiles were getting wider by the second. This is going to be a fun night. 

“Shall we leave now? If we leave now I think we’ll get in by decent time where we won’t be too late or early.” Tenten spoke loudly over the music. “Plussss I think all of us are on a good level of drunk to dance it out tonight!”

“Oh shit I’ll call an uber now-”

“Wait!! Do it in 5 minutes Temari! I got a present for y’all before our first sem of second year starts..” Ino smiled wickedly. The girls looked at her brows furrowed, unsure of what Ino was leading on to. “Oh come on!! You know! I got some from Shika and for a discount!” Sakura’s eyes widened, she knew exactly what Ino was on about.

“Woah, already? Honestly I forgot we had even tried that in first year!” Sakura smiled as her face fell into her hands, she was even more excited now. “I’ll have just a little okay, because I’m honestly...really tipsy..” Ino grabbed Sakura’s hands and placed the budding joint between her delicate numb fingers. 

“I’ll have me some of that please and thank you! I can’t believe Shikamaru gave it to you for a cheap price! Bitch you’ve been banging him haven’t you?!” Tenten roared across the counter in their kitchen. Wicked was the face Ino plastered on but she simply answered with a zip of her lips. 

“Call the uber!”

It was going to be a night to remember.

--

Lights flashed and Stormzy’s Vossi Bop boomed loudly throughout the club, causing a large roar of students jumping and yelling. Drinks were flying everywhere and the floor was sticky with alcohol, but the girls wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

“Oh my god. Ino! Shikamaru is there looking over at you!” Sakura whispered loudly to the blonde’s ears. Ino’s face, already red from alcohol, turned even redder at the mention of the boy’s name. “Go oveerrr come on I know how much you love making out-”

“Shut up forehead!” Ino shouted. She was dancing in the circle of their group squashed by the many other students all jumping and dancing over the loud R&B music. “Okay I’m gonna go over, will you be okay?”

“Of course! I’m not drunk!”

“Yes you are!” Ino laughed. “Finish that drink of yours! That’s like what you’re seventh?” Ino yelled to Sakura’s ear.

“Sakura’s on a mission tonight!” Temari yelled from the centre of their circle and jumped to the music.

Sakura nodded her head grinning as she downed the glass sloppily with the alcohol spilling from her mouth. Sakura was feeling good. Her body was feeling alive with the music, she was having fun, she was with people she loved and trusted, and she couldn’t feel anything but the music on her skin and alcohol on her lips. 

“I’ll be fine!” Sakura reassured her with slurring words, with Hinata and Tenten pulling Sakura closer into their group. Ino nodded and winked at the girls, leaving their tight circle and squeezing her way towards Shikamaru. Sakura wondered how fun it must feel to be chased and wanted the way Ino was. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss the feeling of hands over her waist and the broad shoulders of-

No. Nope. Remember that’s a baaaad trigger and we aren’t going there! 

“Girls shall we get more drinks? Temari’s only tipsy!” Tenten shouted. 

“More drinks!?” Hinata squealed, barely able to hide her own drunken state. 

“Me and Temari will get some, you guys can choose if you want to! But I don’t think Sakura should have anymore.” Tenten laughed looking at Sakura’s slanted smile and red face. 

At the bar it was less crowded, but not by much. The girls had to hold hands and squeeze through people otherwise they’d lose each other in the sea of alcoholic students. Sakura was holding on to Hinata for dear life, pushing people away as she tried to get to the bar. She was just almost there with the girls, until suddenly she was seeing the floor and a pair of strong arms caught her.

“Shit, are you alright?” a soothing voice woke Sakura from her heavy eyes. 

She blinked slightly trying to make the image of the man in front of her, but she couldn’t recognise him. Her vision was so misconstrued and she could barely make out where in the club she was. “Hey, hey, don’t worry, just get up slowly.” the voice told her.

Who...what...who is this? Where’s Tenten? Hinata? Her thoughts ran as she stood up and was pushed into the man in front of her. Ugh...Sakura, remember this, you fell..and..soothing voice. Tall man. Is that black hair?? There’s a certain shine to it... She squinted her eyes trying to focus on the man as her vision kept swaying. Her head was pounding and the club was changing, moving, morphing... but the man was steady in front of her, his eyes looking right at her amongst the chaos of the club. It’s so dark…

She moved closer to him to smell the alcohol on his mouth. Her mouth curved into a small slight smile as she giggled in front of him, not sure of what she was doing. 

“Yeah i’m fine, but...so are you.” she giggled over the music, her voice getting higher by the end of her sentences. She couldn’t really see anything and she could barely hear her own thoughts over the loud blasting music but she could feel his hands on her back. It was innocent, but she liked the warm feeling. The touch, the feel, the electricity.

Maybe it was because she was drunk, but she snaked her arms onto his shoulders and drew her face closer. She wanted to feel more. In the club everything was blurry, she could feel him, and his hands snaked a little lower to her waist. 

“I like..the way you look.” She slurred, her face inches away from his. She could barely even see his face in the dark, but handsome was all she could think of. She saw a smile, or maybe it was a smirk, hell she didn’t know. 

“You’re very drunk.” 

“I know.” He laughed.

“Where are your friends?”

“The bar...”

“Okay, let’s get you back safe to them-” He stopped as her lips crashed onto his. Her body was pressed against his and she could hear him grunting. He didn’t push her away, but she could feel he was hesitant. 

That was, until he hugged her tight and let her tongue slip in. He tasted sweet, but poisonous. She could taste the alcohol in his mouth mixed with a sweetness that tasted foreign. Her hands slid behind his neck and into his hair as he pushed his mouth against hers even harder. It felt so good, and there was a rush of adrenaline rising in Sakura’s body on top of every other intoxication that was swirling inside her. 

Sakura remember this, remember this...you made out with this tall man, he smells like…citrus?

She tightened her hold on his hair, desperate to fall in this delightful, hazy and hot moment. She almost forgot what a hot makeout session with someone felt and tasted like; oh how she fucking missed this.

He pulled back with heavy breaths; his eyes and large hands were still on her, and she felt so at large in this fuzzy busy place swamped with other drunks. She was catching her breath as well whilst trying to get a hold of her vision. She looked down and noticed just how close they really were, and how much bigger than her he really was. 

He chuckled, a small goofy grin on his face. 

He was really cute. 

“Sakura! There you are- HEY GET OFF HER!” Sakura whipped her head in a daze to the familiar voice.

“Temari?” The said girl yanked the pink haired student away from the arms of the man. Sakura fell back into Temari’s hold giggling cheekily, glancing at the other girls.

“Sakura are you okay? Sorry I let go, you just fell and then I couldn't find you because of all the people!” Hinata cried out.

“Did the man hurt you?” Tenten asked.

“Nope!” Sakura chuckled. She was clearly drunk, and if her literally hanging onto Temari’s shoulders wasn’t enough indication of her alcoholic state, her red blushed face definitely said ‘drunk’.

“Sorry to trouble you, hope she’s fine.” He turned to the drunk girl he had the pleasure of making out with. “Happy I caught you.” He grinned, and slipped past the dancing crowd.

All she remembered was seeing a glimmer of red before her vision had darkened and faded to black.

--

“Alright, so make sure to study this chapter for next week’s class. And a reminder, all of you should have started your assignment this week even though we’re only two weeks in. I expect good work.” 

Sakura typed out the notes on the projection. This was her last class of the day, and thank god it was because she was exhausted. Second year had started more like a rollercoaster than first year had; she was ready to get into her books and assignments but this was another level of crazy. It sucked to be frank. She was excited to get back to studying and really wanted to do well, she had the motivation to excel like how she would normally be able to. However, she hasn’t been able to locate that person. She wasn’t failing, but she wasn’t working at her usual efficient standards and this was not a Sakura that she wanted to be. 

But it’s the Sakura she has been for over a year now. 

“Haruno Sakura?” a deep voice called. She looked up from her bag and saw her professor. 

“Yes sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir, just Madara is fine. No need for that, you're in second year.” He said calmly with a slight smile. Sakura nodded and smiled embarrassingly. “About the introductory session you volunteered to help with, are you still doing that?”

Ah fuck. Sakura totally forgot about that. She had signed up to help volunteer with the session for people aspiring to do medicine in University of Konoha. 

“Yes sir- uh Madara.” The name felt weird in her mouth. 

“Okay, good. There’s a meeting later today at 5pm, you should have gotten an email about it?”

“I must have missed it, sorry. It’s been really hectic but I’ll definitely be there.”

“I understand, it’s very different from the first year experience isn’t it?” he chuckled, arms crossed.

“It really is, but I’ll be fine. And I’ll be there today at 5pm.” she repeated, not so much to reassure Madara but more to remind herself. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Keep up the work.” He waved off as he walked away. Sakura let out a breath she was holding. She didn’t know Madara very well but had occasionally passed by him in first year. He was a very tall man with a brooding face, but he wasn’t very scary in all honesty. He was actually quite friendly for the serious face he had.

It was just Sakura who was anxious speaking to people.

You’d think at 21, in her second year of university, having done 3 months of an internship with the well known Konoha Hospital shadowing the famous Tsunade, that she would be confident enough to talk to her professor. Even her coursemates. Or really, anyone. That guy who works for the sim card company. The cafeteria people. Honestly, this was a problem for her. She was always so anxious when there was a conversation she hadn’t planned on having; but it wasn’t always like this. At least she doesn’t sound anxious, she could fake the confidence.

She was out of the medical building and on her way to the cafe street where she would meet Ino. She needed to just talk. 

Kokoro Kafe was their meeting spot. She entered the softly illuminated cafe. Smiling to herself, she remembered why this was their meeting spot. It was adorned with gold lined lights hanging from variable lengths, pink and grey walls with pink LED lights; all of it was so very pretty. The serving counter and cashier were situated in the centre of the large cafe, like an island amongst the sea of pink and yellow lights. It had such an urban but almost angelic atmosphere to it, making it very welcoming for the many students and teachers of UoK. 

“Forehead!” a blonde with a high ponytail that could only be Ino, stood up waving. Sakura smiled, jogging to the back of the cafe. “I ordered you your fave, mint chocolate chip ice cream and sprinkles on top. I also got a large hot coco to share because you look like you need it!” Ino exclaimed, pushing the hot coco with frothy whip cream towards Sakura.

“It’s honestly just been such a long day. I had Kakashi from 9 to 12 and then Madara from 12.30 to 3.30? I’m just exhausted. I barely slept last night because I was trying to get through my damn assignment. Honestly I don’t know how you girls are not as stressed out as me..” The pink haired girl let out an exasperated sigh sipping the hot coco.

“I saw your lights on last night, at like...5am? Are you overworking already? Babe I’m really worried about you. You were alright before uni started.”

“I guess yeah I was...I don’t really know Ino it’s just...I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Have you talked to your therapist yet?” worried features dawned on Ino’s face.

Their usual chatter bounced off each other and was filled with gossip and laughter. But silence ensued between the two friends. 

“I haven’t…”

“When was the last time?”

“I...a while ago. I just, I don’t know if I trust her anymore she’s not very helpful. She validates my feelings but I don’t feel like she’s really wanting to help me figure it out.”

Ino looked at her best friend. Ino’s grown up with Sakura ever since they were little, and she’s seen how bad things can get for her best friend. She’s seen Sakura go through some really hard times, and she knows Sakura had found therapy really tough.

“I don’t want to push you Sakura…just let me know when you’re comfortable, if you’ve started to talk to a new therapist or…” Sakura knew what was coming, closed her eyes, and sucked in a breath. “The student welfare office is actually really good.”

Sakura opened her eyes and looked down at the hot coco. “I know...I’ve been wanting to contact them for a while now…”

“I’ll come with you. And the other girls would love to come and support you as well, you know we got your back babe.” Ino’s hands touched Sakura’s on the table, reassuring her. “We just want the best for you.”

Hearing such supportive words was not uncommon, but it didn’t feel normal for Sakura. It was hard to accept the support, the love and belief that Sakura could get better. Her jaw was tight and there was a very uncomfortable feeling sitting in her stomach.

They just want the best for you...you know they do. They’ve always been there for you and...they won’t leave. Come on Sakura you know they won’t. Sakura looked at the girl in front of her. They...want the best for me. And believing that is okay...because..I deserve support.

“I’ll email student welfare...tonight?” Sakura said, each word coming out slowly as she was unsure of this promise. Her breath was stuck in her throat, like she was being choked as she continued to ponder on the thought of her friends supporting her. She knew this was a trauma response. 

“And we’ll be there. Or just me if you want okay?” Ino smiled with concerned eyes. “You deserve support, and you deserve good things.”

A tear ran down Sakura’s cheek. 

She deserved good things.

“Ah, speaking of good things, your ice cream!” 

--

Shit it’s almost 5pm! 

Sakura jogged her way to the student union past the small garden of flowers on campus. 

Student Union, alright. And 10 minutes to spare!

Small hands pushed the door open to reveal at least 20 other students all chit chatting and lounging in chairs. It was still bright outside, but the union was buzzing like it was 3pm in the afternoon. Sakura looked around, hoping to spot someone she’d recognise.

Are all of these volunteers from my year? I don’t even recognise any of these faces. she huffed as she found an empty seat by the edge of a table that seemed unoccupied. Okay Sakura breathe, nothing to be afraid of. Just talk, be happy, it’s fine, you won’t even see these people again after this week.

“Oh hey, sorry but are these seats taken?” a honeyed voice parroted. 

“Ah, no not at all!” Sakura nervously smiled and gestured for the boy and his friends to sit. The boy smiled. He had odd hair, as in, it looked mismatched. brown hair and white highlights? And Sakura thought her pink hair stood out. 

“I’m Itama by the way. And this is Shisui and Itachi.” Sakura blinked at them. She knew those names.

“Oh! You’re Sasuke’s brother aren’t you?” Sakura said, a bit loudly and excitedly. “I’m Sa-” she stopped herself. “I’m a friend of Sasuke’s.” 

Itachi, the tallest one amongst the three and definitely the oldest looking, smiled in amusement.

“OH what! You know Sasuke?” The Itama boy chirped. 

“I think I have seen you around before..” Itachi thought. “No, I’ve definitely seen you around.” his words weren’t hostile, but Itachi was definitely trying to piece it together in his head.

“Are you on the medical degree?” the one with curly hair, Shisui she noted, asked. 

“Yeah, I’m a second year.” She found it quite easy to continue this conversation, though unexpected. It wasn’t making her as anxious as she usually would feel in these scenarios. She’s also quite good at hiding though. 

“Ah, Madara is our uncle, he asked us to help out with this whole schbang of a taster session.” Shisui rolled his eyes. “But Itama-”

“I’m in my third year doing medicine. Nice to meet you, I definitely recognise you with the pink hair in the medicine building.” Itama mused, ignoring Shisui’s pointed look. Itachi just chuckled. 

“Nice to meet you guys. I won't lie, I was a little nervous sitting all alone.” she sighed.

“Awh, well I promise Itachi, Itama and I aren’t nasty-”

“I think I might even recognise you from a night out?”

Sakura choked. 

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 6 OF 22

Take hands. There is no love now. But there are hands.

- Laura Riding Jackson, "Take Hands".

--

When she first started hanging out with Theo and Arthur, Theo had left with her one piece of advice—one very, very important piece of advice: “If you’ll only ever listen to one thing I say, let it be this one: do not owe Arthur a favor, ever.”

Of course, in the usual Theo fashion, he did not give her any sort of context about it, no explanation as to how he had come to that very grave conclusion. Except that he knew he was right. And she was going to ask, but after hearing Arthur’s triumphant laughter at having overheard that—well, maybe the mystery was a little more than worth it.

And just like that, she had tucked that advice off at the back of her mind.

So now, she’s in the bookshop again, 2:00 pm on a Sunday, holding Arthur by the hand asking him a favor.

“Please, please, please, pretty please Arthur?” she begs, shaking his hand side to side as she goes. It is the midterm season now, and leaving your fellow students on their own isn’t really a thing in this university. Where possible, everyone is gathering to have group studies and teaching sessions. She figures Arthur could afford her one. Or seven. “You’ve taken his class, haven’t you? The infamous worst professor of the College of Arts.”

Of course, Arthur has. If he’s going to kind-of-not-really minor in Literature, the way he’ll do it is the way he loves the best: the hardest, most challenging way. Of course, that means he got the toughest classes out of the way first.

“Hardly the worst, love,” he says, with a mock-flip of non-existent long hair. “I’d say that fancy fake British accent woman teaching poetry is much worse than that bloke, but that could only be because I couldn’t stand what she was doing to the syllables.”

“Yeah, sure but—that’s not the point,” she says. “Look, I need a recommendation letter from this grumpy, wrinkled banana of a professor, and I’m not getting it unless I pass his exam. But you know how his exams are, he teaches you the English alphabet and then quizzes you in Spanish kind of exams, I just need to prepare properly and—well,” Dazai’s face flashes before her eyes, “you’re the most reliable one I could ask for? Please?”

Arthur lets out a small overdramatic sigh that’s really entirely theatrics. She knows better. “Here’s to me rescuing your sorry little ass, little miss. I’ll help you, but I have two conditions.”

“Yay!” she claps her hands excitedly and grins. “Yes, any! Give me!”

“First, you’ll owe me one favor.”

“Yes, sure, got you,” she nods.

(From the counter, she hears Theo murmur: “You have made the worst mistake of your entire life,” but she ignores it.)

“And—you’ll bring my old chap Theo.”

“What?”

She and Theo both look up at the same time.

And answer at the same time.

“What?” “Wait, wait, why is he coming?”

Arthur laughs. “Are you both so against it?”

“No, I’m just—curious?” she hesitates. “Does he even want to go?”

Theo and Arthur take a moment to glare at each other, which at this point you already know is the equivalent of them doing a high five or a handshake—it’s pretty much harmless.

Arthur’s flat smile turns into a big grin. He sing-songs: “Theo~”

“I can’t owe you a favor for asking you to shut up,” Theo says.

But Arthur is brimming with confidence when he says, “Well, no, it was a favor to me, so you’ll need to respect it.”

And Theo knows that resisting Arthur just spells trouble, so he settles for glaring  even sharper, larger daggers into Arthur’s face, but does not argue: “Klootzak.”

And the Brit grins. “That’s why you shouldn’t try and owe me anything, old chap.”

She blinks and wonders what is going on.

--

Of course, work in the bookshop doesn’t end, and there are more and more customers looking for supplementary readings (or even distractions) so Theo and Arthur only get to join her after the shop closes at 5:00 pm. She’s announced that she’ll be studying every day at the Little Owl, the café Vincent works in, and Arthur had gleefully agreed to follow instead of having her move places. Besides, Arthur insists he cannot work without the taste of the coffee the cute barista (“not Vincent,” Arthur promises Theo) makes for him. Theo sighs, longing for the quiet and Arthur-lessness of the College of Business’ library, but decides to follow through with his promise.

Theo was alone at the bookshop today—Monday, Arthur’s day off—and so only follows suit to her and Arthur at the café once his shift ends. Vincent’s shift at the café ends an hour earlier than Theo’s at the bookstore, so the two brothers just miss narrowly miss each other. Which is a good thing, because even if Vincent already knows, he would be a little bit horrified if Vincent saw him headed to the two rascals already there. Is this who his brother thinks he hangs out with? No, Vincent, they are the exception, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to argue with his brother during work.

“Why hello there, dear slave of capitalism,” Arthur greets happily. He’s wearing the glasses he wears when “he’s taking the world seriously,” the one Theo asked him to wear more often, for god’s sake.

Theo shakes his head. “We are slaves to the same bookshop, Arthur.”

“A really good bookshop!” she pipes up, looking up from her little studying set-up just as she finishes writing something down. In front of her, she has an old book borrowed from the library laid out on a book stand, a standing pencil case with all sorts of markers and pens, a notebook, and a little notepad to scribble on. Then, she points at Arthur with her pen. “I know you said don’t owe Arthur favors, but this doesn’t seem to be that bad an idea.”

“It will eventually be,” he says nonchalantly. “Well, don’t let me interrupt in your studying?”

“He’s actually done tutoring me for today,” she says, “so we can actually study on our own now.”

“But together,” Arthur insists. “That was my condition. Also, are you not forgetting something, little bird?”

Theo blinks. She pauses and then gasps. “Oh right! Right!”

She pulls out a lunchbox.

This isn’t entirely surprising on its own, because the two of them had decided to work for a good amount of time, and it might be cheaper to bring your own food than buy over and over again at the counter, even if it’s just a cookie or two. It’s midterms season so the café allows outside food, if for the sanity of its usual customers.

Except.

“I brought these for you, Theo.”

For Theo? But it’s nearly dinnertime, and he won’t be here for long…

Theo cautiously takes the lunchbox but doesn’t open it.

“This isn’t poisoned, is it?” he asks—jokingly.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Oh, if I wanted to off you, Theo, there are better ways. Open it up, won’t you?”

And Theo does; pops open the little container to peer at what’s inside, and—

The lunchbox has pancakes inside.

Not full-sized pancakes, but small ones the size of poached eggs, fluffy and golden. Theo flushes.

“A little angel told me you liked them,” she says, grinning at his expression.

Theo realizes how transparent he has been about it and glares at Arthur in response. Arthur looks as remorseless as ever to his misery, but—does not claim the act with a smirk or a holler.

But the surprise isn’t over yet, because then she takes out of her bag the smallest commercially-available bottle of his favorite brand of syrup, giving it to Theo. And with a smirk in her voice, she says, “Can’t have pancakes without this, no?”

Theo’s ears are aflame , a deep red. Of course his own brother would betray him. Always looking out for him in the best of ways and then betraying him in the most expected of ones.

Theo takes the pancakes with a gruff Thank you that seems to be enough for her, and then the three of them return to their studying. Not that he does it entirely well that day, because has trouble focusing on his studies at all thinking of how delicious the pancakes she’s brought him actually are.

--

They study together the rest of the week.

It rains on Tuesday, and the café is more crowded than usual. For the first of three hours they spend there, it is only her and Theo, heads turned low into their thick books. Arthur arrives late because he said he had to take a detour for a “sweet skirt” from the medical department. Theo asks if it’s one of his professors he’s trying to talk into giving him a passing grade for his piss-poor efforts. Arthur does not deny. They pick up dinner at a local convenience store before heading their separate ways home on their respective bikes.

It is still raining on the evening of Wednesday, and Arthur and Theo have to run (without umbrellas, because—well, because they’re idiots) the distance from the bookshop to the café where she is waiting, jumping in between eaves and doing their best not to end up too drenched. Not that it works out that well, because she still looks at them pitifully before ordering the both of them coffee for their little misery. They dry off pretty well though, but they don’t get to stay too long because she insists they go home and actually dry off properly before they get sick.

Arthur finally takes their little study session a little seriously for himself on Thursday. Their usual spot—her favorite spot, mind you—is occupied when they arrive, so they’re camped out at a long table, she and Arthur sitting side by side and Theo across the both of them. Theo’s brought bound books for the past few days, but today he has sheaves of papers (readings, perhaps) and a leather-bound notebook (“That’s when you know he’s down for srs bsns,” Arthur says, and she asks how the hell he was able to say it like it was type-speak in real life). Arthur’s no different, with his thoroughly annotated medical anatomy books sitting in front of him, glasses on his nose.

But Theo… Theo is so distracting.

When they decide to study separately—that is, when Arthur isn’t clarifying a particularly complicated concept or Theo isn’t helping her out by quizzing her—the three of them work side by side in comfortable silence, all working with an earpiece or two on to at least dull the sound of the rest of the café working in their own little worlds. So this isn’t exactly odd; they’ve been doing this since Monday, after all, and if she were to be honest, she’d enjoy it if they did this a little more often in the future, if possible.

So then why… is she so distracted?

Why does she keep looking up from the poem she’s turning upside down with annotations and notes and markings to see if she can sneak a discreet glance at Theo, his eyes trained on the things he is studying? Why does she keep looking hoping she can stare at least a few more seconds at the unusual side of him, none of the crease marks on his forehead when he’s being rude or sarcastic, just concentration, deep blue eyes not straying from the pages through the rim of his glasses. And oh—Theo with glasses is such a sight! She’s not interested in him in that way—no—but by god, does he look different with glasses. Maybe she’s just gotten so used to Arthur with glasses that it doesn’t strike much in her, but Theo—

“Stop staring at me,” Theo huffs, looking up at her and meeting her gaze. His bangs are pulled to the side where he’d brushed them off, the back end of his hair standing a little cutely upwards because he was fiddling with the nape of his neck earlier with his pen, and—well.

It’s hard to not be blown away when he looks like that.

“Oh shit, sorry,” she says, snapping out of it with a shake of her head. Getting caught is such a rookie mistake! “I was zoning out.”

Arthur chuckles next to her. She and Theo pretend not to have heard him.

On Friday, she and Arthur decide to go have a little quizzing session to prepare her for the oral part of her exams. (“Hehe, oral.” “Shut the fuck up won’t you, Arthur?”) They get Theo to work with them as the scorekeeper. She gets a good percentage of the questions right (80%) but she still does not feel confident enough about it. She turns back to work on her laptop with Theo sipping coffee by her side as Arthur leaves to go on a dinner date with said sweet skirt from Monday. Theo repeats the joke, and this time Arthur says, “And what if it is?” They do not know if he is joking, at this point.

When their usual time to go has struck, Theo closes the book in front of him and stretches a little, bending his neck side to side. She turns to him and frowns.

“Look, I know I asked you yesterday we could do the book club today but… can we just skip it to next week instead? I’m really fried after today.”

“That’s fine,” he says, but then pauses. “You work too hard. I didn’t really expect to do it today.” He sips from his already-cold mug of coffee.

“Hey, I actually wanted to do it, alright? I just—I’m writing a short paper on 19th century literature right now” she answers. “For my portfolio. I’m submitting it as an extra right after the exam, and I want it done so I can focus on studying for the exam afterward.”

So that’s why she’s been typing away on her laptop with not much pause after Arthur left. “Portfolio?” he narrows his eyes. “Applying for something?”

“Yeah, the OSR’s scholarship.”

“The international one.”

“Yeah, that one,” she confirms. “I’ve been waiting for a bit for them to reveal the requirements and… I don’t know, it feels like it gets longer and more strict every year. I’m trying to up my chances by having a strong portfolio.”

“I see.” Theo pauses, takes in the disappointment still apparent on her face, and sighs. “Look, if you still want to do the book club—we can do it while we walk home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he nods. “So if you’re tired, then pack up and let’s go. Schiet op.”

“Geez, just give me a sec!”

--

By the time she and Theo make their way out of the café, the sun is long out of the sky, the street lit in a beautiful shade of warm yellow from the streetlamps. The both of them live roughly in the same area of town—at the southeast residential side, but pretty close to the center, where the café is—but their houses are still around 20 minutes apart by foot. There is, however, the main boulevard that connects their ways home up until a certain point, so they decide to make the most of it by walking the 30 minutes up to that fork in the road even if she did technically have her bike with her.

“Okay, so, book talk, huh?” she says, digging into her bag to find the Kerouac he’d lent her. His copy of On the Road had weathered down rather beautifully over the years; the paper a shade of yellow just right for the eyes, no mottling of the pages, and despite the red matter cover being dog-eared and slightly faded, it’s the kind that’s endearing—the kind a book gets after being held well while being read, and then being kept away so lovingly. With the book in her hands now, she looks near hesitant to even part with the book at all. “Kerouac… was one hell of a read.”

He takes the book she hands back and thumbs it carefully. “What do you think about it?”

“I actually don’t know where to begin,” she says, staring off at the road beyond them. “The contrast of them going to these vast empty places to fill something deep in them...” She sighs, a happy sigh coming out of her. By this point, Theo already knows the kind of face she makes when she’s remembering the hours she spent reading the book—the expression she has right now betrayed that.  “And then they were always—well, as with the title I guess—I felt like they were always on the road, even if not literally, then within them?”

Theo nods. “Always going somewhere unknown.”

“Yeah, for sure. It’s not like they were not established right, just that… there were so many possibilities you know? They were talking about crossing America and going from here to there and they seemed to… change with every landscape they went in. And it was exactly all those possibilities that were so fun. You definitely hit that request of mine, because I’m 100% sure all that going away made me want to go away again.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s kinda sad though, that things won’t be as mysterious as back then.” She waves her hand. “What with social media and all.”

“The insight that comes with travel is different now that the world is more connected to one another.”

“And the connection is so accessible!” she notes “Like, one of us can go away but it’s not the end of the world? We can still talk if we wanted to, there are so many ways to do it. And that’s great, but now… now when you go away it doesn’t feel as spiritual an experience? I mean, you can easily Google what a place looks like and…”

Theo turns to her after she abruptly stops. “And what?”

A beat. Two. She hasn’t stopped walking, with her eyes facing in front of her, but her eyebrows are narrowed like she’s carefully choosing how to put what she’s thinking into words. Theo patiently waits throughout the full minute it takes her to speak. “…Do you ever feel like you’re only a visitor in a certain place? Or maybe even anywhere. Like you’re only meant to be there for a few days, a month, maybe a year, but—never in the long term, never for the rest of your life.”

That… isn’t what he was expecting.

But then again, he doesn’t really know what to expect with her around, at this point.

Things are always more than with her.

For a moment, Theo ponders. Sure, he’s had instances feeling uncomfortable in the places he’s in, or maybe acknowledging that there are better places to be—such as when he left their hometown to go here, to follow his brother—but he hasn’t really thought about the rest of it. He’s always imagined the tides would just bring him to places, and he wouldn’t have to work hard to be brought elsewhere; to just let himself be washed ashore to new islands.

“I’m not sure,” he answers, thumbing the side of On the Road once more. He wonders what it was like during Kerouac’s generation—dreaming of a spiritual journey, going out there and exploring the unknown, how so much was left to be learned. How will his generation be remembered? What difference will they make, will they go down in history?

She nods simply. “It’s okay, I’m just the kind of person who likes to think about all this. Sal’s changing views on Dean was… I don’t know how to put it, it’s just like being in a different place, having a different experience with people changes the way you see about them, even if that place is… geographically, and not like a situation. Does that make sense?”

“You have to admit, most of the book doesn’t make sense,” Theo notes.

“…I did hear Kerouac wrote a good portion of it pretty high.”

“Maybe it’ll make sense when you read it high, too.”

They grin at each other, and Theo turns to get the Neruda book out from his bag.

“I’m so close to memorizing the content of this book, with how many times I read it,” he admits, passing the volume over to her. They touch fingers for only the briefest of moments. “Neruda has an interesting way with words.”

She nods. “I still feel bad that I don’t get to read him in his original Spanish because I feel like that makes a difference. The translations are still pretty good though. Any poem you liked particularly?”

“Maybe I Remember You as You Were.”

“Oooh, that’s very romantic,” she says, flipping right to the page he was talking about. “Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.”

“Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul,” he continues. “The passion in some of his love poems get overwhelming sometimes. I remember You is just the right touch of romance and longing I like in a Neruda.”

“Hmm?” She turns to him curiously. “Mayhaps you’ve already been a Neruda fan from the start?”

“I’ve read him in the past, yes.”

That’s not that surprising, really, considering how much of a household name Pablo Neruda is to literary enthusiasts at this point. One of the more “modern” classics of poetry, arguably. She’s not satisfied with his answer, of course. “Which, pray tell, is your favorite?”

It takes him a moment, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. After a beat, he answers, “Don’t Go Far Off.”

“And you say you’re not a romantic,” she says while shaking her head.

“I am not a romantic.”

“Theo, I know the poem by heart. You can’t tell me that shit isn’t romantic.”

Every minute he spends with her, the more drops of confusion fall onto his mind about himself. And not the bad kind; simply, why is it that she can see him so differently compared to others? What is it about her that she catches what sneaks past others?

He wouldn’t call the poem romantic, but maybe if she says it…

No. Instead, he looks at her. Challenges her. “Prove it.”

“Okay, you start.”

He takes a deep breath before beginning. “Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because—”

“Because—I don’t know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you.” She doesn’t miss a beat when she answers.

He continues. “As in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

The way she traces the sounds of the syllables so delicately, like it would shatter if she wasn’t careful with their sound, isn’t missed by him. Does she read all poetry, all literature with this much adoration? “Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together.”

At this point, Theo is already nodding, very much impressed. “The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift—"

(And together, they say) “Into me, choking my lost heart.”

The two of them look at each other quietly, the poem’s imagery settling in the spaces between them.

In a way that makes them feel content.

He continues. “Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.”

“Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest.”

“Because in that moment you'll have gone so far.”

“I'll wander mazily,” she breathes, “over all the earth, asking—”

Theo sighs. “Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”

With that, the two of them relish in the silence at the end of the poem, letting it all dissolve into the air like the puffs of smoke from their breath.

“Nice of you to know that start to finish,” Theo says, by way of compliment.

She makes a little mock-bow with her skirt. “Thank you. I also really like that poem as well, actually.”

For some minutes, the two of them share a companionable silence, the moon shining over them, casting a silver glow. It is only when the itch to ask the question becomes too much that Theo finally opens his mouth.

“Why are you so fixated on going away?” he asks.

She stares at him. “What?”

“You’re always talking about the out there and the going away. And now you’re planning to leave for a scholarship—when you get in,” he says. “Have a boner for it?”

She makes a face. “No, what the hell,” she says. “Is it so bad to want a little adventure when you live in such a small town like this?”

“Not really,” he hums. “You strike me as the kind of person who disappears from everyone because you’re chasing something far off into the unknown,” he says.

She opens her mouth, about to say something, before she takes a deep breath to hold it back in. Theo feels like he’s overstepped a boundary he shouldn’t have. But instead of talking back at him or refuting, she says, “That would be a great story for a small Literature major like me, huh?”

It’s a non-answer.

The one Theo knows means there’s a more complex answer—that she’s not just ready to tell him yet.

It’s alright.

He can wait.

A few more minutes pass, this time in comfortable silence. Theo considers small talk, about the bookstore, or Vincent and Arthur, but she looks so deep in thought he decides not too. Sooner than he would have liked, they reach the fork in the road. He stops and turns to her fully.

“Books?”

She blinks as if torn away from a daydream. “Oh right, books. Nearly forgot.”

The two of them pull out the books to exchange from their respective bags; she catches the title The Night Circus in the one he hands her, another dog-eared, well-loved, black book; and she also catches the twitch of his eyebrow in interest when she hands him Atwood’s Dearly.

They keep their books away and fall back into their usual quiet.

“You sure I don’t need to walk you home?”

“It’s a well-lit road. I’ll be fine,” she insists. “I can bike from here to there, it’ll take me three minutes tops.”

He nods, the smallest of smiles on his face. “I’ll see you around, then. I hope you enjoy the book."

--

This isn’t the first time Theo has lent her a book. And this isn’t the last time Theo will lend her a book, either—if there’s anything about their kind-of friendship she knows for sure, it’s that he’ll need to try harder to get rid of her if he doesn’t like the company.

But somehow, the arrival of the new book in her small, rented dorm room leaves her unbalanced. She knows she has better things to do like her essay for the portfolio and studying for the exam—80% correct for the oral test is pretty good, but not good enough—but she lets the book taunt her anyway.

It is Saturday now, and she places it on her desk with the cover facing up, black and red and white with an intricate illustration of figures. Is it because of the conversation they had last night? It wasn’t odd for their little book discussions to wander into personal territory, because it is true that the way we read books is very much influenced by the things we have experienced in real life, but that one�� that felt different. Somehow, it’s as if the both of them had opened up a pandora’s box of—well, something, and all of that is nestled in between the pages of the lent book.

It wasn’t like her wanting to go away was a secret in any way, shape, or form. Friendship with Theo or not, she was meant to leave this place. Or at least, that what she likes to believe. She’s pretty sure she’s mentioned even in the past that this town is too small for her; too little; there is a wider world out there to discover. And it wasn’t like Theo being some sort of hidden romantic was a surprise either—she’s known from the moment he didn’t stop asking her for poetry books. Nothing new was really uncovered last night, but then…

Why can’t she seem to let it go?

Her eyes rest back to the book on her desk. She said she wouldn’t read it until after the oral exam on Tuesday at the very least, but—she has peered into it the night before as she was going to bed, and yet once more this morning.

She’s not sure what it is about yet, but it seems that he’s lent her some sort of fantasy-romance, because she had asked for a book with a magic system in it. (Thinking about the wonders of magic is a great stress-reliever in the midst of exams.) She had expected Theo to be a good level of well-read because he worked at the Hoard—but somehow, he was always blowing away her expectations. Theo is always saying about how weird she is for pursuing him, but isn’t he the weirder one? At least she shows no pretense of being any sort of normal. He does his best to look put together.

Did that big looming man look like the kind of person who would read a novel title The Night Circus?

Not really, not to her. But it’s because he is that kind of person that keeps her so hooked, so interesting. She doesn’t quite know what has happened yet, but—whatever it was that unlocked between the both of them last night, it can’t be that bad. So by 3:00pm, when she said she would be running through drills for her exam, she closes her laptop shut, makes herself some tea, and curls up into her armchair to read.

--

Just because they get along with each other doesn’t mean they agree with everything.

For example, she’s explained that she’s the kind of person who marathon-reads whatever she can get her hands on, if she finds it interesting enough. It’s not that she doesn’t have patience for reading; she does, and she thoroughly enjoys being lost in a good book. It’s just that she can’t do what the others do when they like a book—read it leisurely, enjoy it from page to page, taste every word like it’s sweet. She’s more of the kind who sits down at eight in the morning with a interesting book and being unable to stand until it’s done in the afternoon. There is no waiting in her vocabulary, only the going.

Oppositely, Theo likes to take his time with his books, the same way one would do a walk. Take the scenic route; enjoy the scenery, take in all the details with your sense. To Theo, reading a book is going into it, getting lost in between the world that is hiding in its pages, and there is no need to rush that. The book is not going anywhere, and he can always open it up and return to where he’d stopped. Theo rarely reads books in one go unless he’s in a rush to do it, like say in a required reading for a class.

So when he sends her a message on Sunday, saying,

[ 9:44 | Theo ] Good book choice this week. Had fun with it

less than 48 hours from the moment she had given him the book…

She yells.

Really loudly. Her next door neighbor pounds on the wall between them, and she shouts out a “sorry!” as she begins typing on her phone.

[ 9:43 ] You finished it already?

[ 9:44 | Theo ] Is that so surprising?

[ 9:44 ] 😊 You don’t understand how happy I am rn

[ 9:45 | Theo ] It’s just a book, relax.

[ 9:45 ] Yea sure but don’t you read slowly on purpose? Kinda thrilled you liked it enough to polish it in one go.

She pauses, hand hovering over her phone, before she writes out another message.

[ 9:46 ] Thanks for telling me. This has def made my day.

And it takes a minute for him to reply, but then he returns:

[ 9:47 | Theo ] Isn’t this what friends do?

Well, let’s say that something in her belly does a flip, and—

It makes her feel weightless.

[momostodoroki]

the better half of me (pt. 3)

hey so i finished this soulmate au (though i guess it’s not so much abt the soulmates as it is about the tdmm)! i’ll be posting the final chapter tomorrow!

ao3

-

 This is, without a doubt, Momo's worst week ever at Yuuei.

 Forget her first year's final exam, or the time Bakugou-san got kidnapped. Forget that one time Mineta conned her into wearing a cheerleading uniform. This week has been worse.

 "Kyouka-san, what am I going to do?" she moans, hugging her favorite pillow as she lies in her bed. In the cramped space between Momo's desk and bed, Kyouka tunes her favorite guitar, giving her best friend a fondly exasperated look. They're supposed to be studying physics for Kyouka's supposed benefit, but they're both done with their homework and it really was just an excuse to get out of Momo's library date ("It's not a date, Kyouka-san!”) with Todoroki.

 "Yaomomo, it's okay. Just      tell     him." She says for maybe the hundredth time. Momo knows she's right, but she also knows that Todoroki has, at best, complicated feelings towards soulmates. She hates the idea of potentially losing his friendship.

 "But Kyouka-san, Todoroki-san's friendship is very important to me, I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. And, well…" she pauses, looking away dejectedly. "You know how he feels about soulmates. " she finishes in a whisper.

 Giving up on her guitar, Kyouka groans.

 "So Todoroki doesn't like soulmates, big deal." She tells Momo. Her best friend's eyes are ablaze with an emotion Momo doesn't quite get. "He still gets one, and it's not fair to you to deprive yourself of a resolution just to accommodate him, Yaomomo. The stars around his eye are just as much yours as they are his." She finishes, sighing deeply. Suddenly, Momo gets it.

 "Kyouka-san… did you, by chance, already find your soulmate?" she asks from behind her pillow, hoping it will muffle her excitement. Kyouka looks away, cheeks tinting slightly pink. "Oh my god! Who? Is it from our class?"

 Instead of an answer, her best friend gives her one of those looks that tell her she's been spending too much time with Ashido-san. Cheeks pinking, she slides back a few inches into her bed.

 "Well, yeah -but don't tell Ashido!" she chides, looking at Momo menacingly for a moment. Then, her gaze mellows into something softer. "I didn't get the whole soulmate deal either, at first. But honestly Yaomomo, Todoroki would be an idiot to reject you, soulmates or not. And you know what? He doesn't strike me as an idiot."

 Momo gives her a tiny, hopeful smile. One of the things she likes best about Kyouka is her frankness, and how unwilling she is to sugarcoat things. So when she says there is hope for her and Todoroki yet, Momo believes in her.

 "Thank you, Kyouka-san." She says.

 "Don't mention it." she replies, lightly. And then, menacingly: "Seriously, don't. Now listen to this song I learned the other day and tell me if we could get the rest of the band to play it…"

-

 Yaoyorozu is avoiding him.

 It's hard to prove, because she keeps herself quite busy even when she's not avoiding him -but the sudden constant absence from the Heights Alliance common area, the dashing out the door as soon as the class is finished, the myriad of excuses to get out of all their studying and training together, all since the shape-shifting villain incident… She      has    to be avoiding him.

 Shouto has tried to seek her out to try and talk things out, but whenever he knocks on her door, she's conveniently out, or busy with one of the girls, or running an errand for Aizawa-sensei. He's running out of ideas to get her to talk to him, and not knowing the reasons behind her sudden change in behavior might just drive him insane. Even when they do spend time together, there's always someone else where there used to be just the two of them, almost as if they were acting as a buffer. The quiet, companionable afternoons now turned into spaces for Jirou to compare homework answers or Asui to try and convince them to call her "Tsuyu".

 In the week since, Shouto has discovered just how much time he really spent with Yaoyorozu. He always knew he spent considerably more time alone with her than with any other of his friends -except perhaps Midoriya-, but he still thought that amount of time wasn't that long. It certainly didn't feel so when he spent it with her. Now, as she excuses herself to help Jirou with physics for the umpteenth time, Shouto finds that one hour can stretch on quite a lot more than sixty minutes. It's an odd feeling in his chest, and one he fails to identify until his weekly visit to his mom arrives and he realizes the pang in his chest isn’t      that     different from the one he’s been feeling since he realized Yaoyorozu was avoiding him: he      misses    her.

 He doesn’t quite know what to do with that information. He holds his classmates in high esteem, and he doesn’t doubt he will come to miss them when their time at Yuuei is done -but to feel this way for someone he still technically sees every day, it makes him feel… discombobulated.

 “Midoriya, do you ever find yourself missing people you see quite often?” he asks on the eight day of Yaoyorozu’s semi-absence. From across the library table, his green-haired friend throws him an odd look. Shouto knows that Midoriya noticed Yaoyorozu’s change too, and he supposes his friend must be wondering how he feels. If he’s honest, he almost talked himself out of asking him -but he isn’t any closer to figuring out why the vice-president’s cold shoulder hurts so much on his own, and Midoriya is known for being great with feelings but bad with decisions.

 “Is this about Yaoyorozu?” he asks. Shouto looks pointedly at the book he’s been taking notes from, at the one sentence he’s read a dozen times in the past ten minutes but still can’t figure out what it means. “Okay. Yes. I see my mom often, but I still miss-” Shouto throws him a deadpan look. “-okay, that’s not what you mean. Well… there is someone…” he trails off, gaze wandering to some point beyond Shouto’s head. Curious, he follows it, but he finds no sign of Uraraka. The only familiar person in the vicinity is Bakugou on the second floor, furiously taking notes with… a pink pencil? “Nevermind.” Midoriya says.

 Internally, Shouto sighs. This is a problem he’ll have to sort out himself.

-

     You know, he deserves a chance to decide too    .

 Kyouka’s words before leaving her bedroom that day haunt her. There’s no denying the truth in them -but much in the style of Momo’s first year’s final exam, her self-doubt cripples her. She wants, more than anything, to tell Todoroki-san about their matching soulmarks. She’s allowed herself to dream late at night about him being happy as her soulmate, seeing her as someone he can rely on and be open with. But she’s also aware that Todoroki is far from the romantic soul that her fantasies dream him to be. There is a part of her, in the deepest of her heart, that is utterly convinced (and terrified) that saying the truth is going to irreparably tear their friendship apart -much more than it already is. So she keeps quiet.

 Even Kyouka’s heartfelt assurances don’t keep her from obsessing over the what-ifs. She spends most of the week in a daze, and on the second friday since discovering her soulmate, Momo’s distractions finally catch up to her.

 Class 1A is having a natural disaster rescue simulation in Ground Omega when it happens. She’s been paired up with Iida and Sero, as well as Asui in scouting and first-response medical care. Not far from her team’s area, Todoroki and his team (Uraraka, Tokoyami and Koda) have set up a transport line for getting injured civilians to a refugee camp.

 Momo chances a look their way in spite of herself, and with a rapidly-beating heart she finds Todoroki looking straight at her. There’s barely any hint of an expression on his face other than cool determination, but hundreds of hours spent discussing books and tea and so many other things have given her the uncanny ability to read his eyes just as well as any book. And if she can trust herself (which, admittedly, is getting harder by the second), she thinks Todoroki’s blue-and-grey eyes are full of sadness.

 She didn’t do that, did she?

 Her mind sort of splits in two, as though her quirk had produced a second one. Part of her is focused on producing more medical supplies for the civilians that Asui keeps bringing in from the river, while the rest of her is stuck on coming clean to Todoroki about their soulmarks. She's so concentrated on not messing either train of thought up (as she both needs to make sure the medicines she makes are perfectly balanced lest she poisons someone and make a decision, because this choice will not get any easier), that she fails to notice the tremor in the earth under her feet, mistaking it for her own trembling hands. Seconds later, a ten-foot tall wave rises from the river.

 It hits before Momo can react, pushing her back towards Ground Omega’s woods. As the water carries her, something in her clicks, and she concentrates as hard as she can on making a lifeboat. She feels the fabric in the back of her costume stretching, then rupture. Not a millisecond later, the lifeboat springs out from her back. Momo allows herself one moment of self-satisfaction before clinging to the lifeboat’s side, about to climb on.

 But before she can pull herself up, there’s a sharp pain at the back of her neck, and everything goes dark.

-

 Shouto has to admit, as far as natural disaster drills go, this is a pretty hardcore one.

 Even for Yuuei, the height and intensity of the second tsunami-like wave is overkill, so Shouto deduces whoever’s behind it must have forgotten the civilians were actually paid actors who could sue for damages. Either way, he and his team scramble to take control of the situation, and they do it successfully -for the most part.

 Not too far from them, he catches sight of Asui and Sero helping civilians out of the water, with Iida sprinting back and forth carrying people so fast he barely touches the water -like some sort of twisted, steam-punk Jesus. Shouto vaguely wonders if his engine can take the water damage. Yaoyorozu would probably know the answer to that, but they’re not any better than the previous week.

 Shouto looks around in spite of himself for her, and finds her some yards away, letting the wave take her as her brows scrunch the way they do when she’s deep in concentration. A lifeboat springs up from behind her, and she holds onto it -but the woods are gaining on her fast.

 Signaling Tokoyami, Shouto takes off in her aid, freezing the water to slide his way to her. Given the state of their friendship, Shouto doesn’t know that Yaoyorozu would appreciate his help at all -but he could not live with himself if something happened to her and he just let it. He’s almost by her side when she’s hit in the head by a broken tree branch -and then she goes under.

 He distantly hears Uraraka screaming Yaoyorozu’s name, but it all fades as he throws himself into the water. It’s dark and muddy under the surface, but Yaoyorozu’s hero costume shines bright red even under the murky water. She sinks almost as rapidly as he swims to her, but he manages to catch her by the waist and propel himself upwards with his ice. He emerges, gasping for air, with Yaoyorozu unconscious in his arms.

 Shouto gives himself a second to push the hair back gently from her face, then brings her to the cliff where Aizawa-sensei and All Might scramble to make sure everyone is accounted for. Midoriya and Jirou are there to greet him, and he hands her over with a trembling in his hands that he didn’t even know he had.

 “She was under for about a minute.” he tells them, voice cracking in spite of himself. Midoriya rushes to take her off his arms as Jirou assures him she will be just fine. Shouto refuses to believe the opposite, so he just nods and hands her over to be taken to Recovery Girl. He’s about to go back into the chaos of things to clear his head when something catches his eye.

 He looks at Yaoyorozu’s body, hanging limp in Midoriya’s arms. Her costume’s back is torn -and there, on the small of her back is the answer to all of his questions: a perfect circle of stars. His perfect circle of stars.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

libera nos a malo chapter 6: si, un mostro son

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 6/20

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

<< chapter five+

chapter seven+ >>

During the first Potions lesson of the New Year, Cassie called in a favor. She hated to do this, preferring to hoard them like a miser hoards gold; but she knew that a favor never spent was almost as useless as one you’d never had in the first place. And she hadn’t wasted all of third year trailing Draco Malfoy in order to give Pansy Parkinson a detailed account of the boy’s habits and routines for nothing.

She arrived early for class to claim her prize as Draco’s bench partner for the rest of term. As a peace offering (for she doubted he would be pleased with the new arrangement), she gathered the supplies listed on the board for the day’s lesson, setting up both of their work spaces with quick efficiency and shaking hands. She’d not forgotten the feel of Fenrir Greyback’s teeth on her neck, and when Pansy flounced into the room and gave her a haughty glare before slinking to the back to partner with Tracey Davis, Cassie had to restrain herself from laughing out loud. She would never be afraid of the likes of Pansy Parkinson again.

Draco barely looked at her when he arrived, and she knew from the house elf chatter that he’d been up most of the night again. Class began as usual with Professor Slughorn asking a simple question and Hermione Granger regurgitating the text book. Apparently this was what the professor considered sufficient instruction, and he set them loose to create a credible antidote for the mystery poison assigned to them. When she and Draco each had their poison simmering in their cauldrons, she quietly drew a piece of parchment from her textbook and slid it across the worktable to her partner.

He glanced at it and stuffed it into his pocket. “Your uncle?” he asked indifferently.

“Yes. It’s the first step to restarting the magic. If it’s not too much trouble, please take notes on what happens when you follow those directions. Then I can send them to Uncle, and he’ll be able to advise you on what to do next,” she replied, her head bent over her work.

“This is going to take too long.”

“I’m sorry. We’re doing the best we can. If you like, I could come with you and take the notes myself. It might make the whole operation go a little faster.”

“No. I don’t need anymore of your help.”

“Something wrong, Draco?” asked Professor Slughorn from where he lazed at the front of the room, his feet propped up on a velvet poof.

“No, sir,” Draco quickly replied. “We were just discussing the next step.”

Professor Snape would not have allowed this to pass unexamined, but Professor Slughorn was thankfully both more benevolent and less energetic than their Head of House.

“Very good, carry on,” he said, and returned to his reading.

The antidote preparation soon demanded their complete attention, and it wasn’t until Cassie was painstakingly extracting the essence from a year-old cat’s gallbladder that they had time to speak again.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she said. “I’m doing my best.”

He curled his lip unpleasantly at her, but she had the distinct feeling that if she prodded his angry mask ever so slightly, it would crumble into despair.

“Yeah, well, you’d better try harder,” he hissed back.

She swallowed hard and turned her focus to the extraction; trying not to think about Greyback’s teeth.

*****

On Thursday evening, Finn and Miranda were lingering over bowls of jambalaya and glasses of iced coffee in the MACUSA cafeteria while they waited for Finn’s portkey home. The Marx Brothers were the evening’s wall entertainment, and Miranda gave Harpo and Chico half her attention while a sweet sort of melancholy tickled her heart. She rarely spent time in self-reflection, but the looming end of this visit with her favorite living brother was tempting her to the vice.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said, hoping to disarm some of the emotion by speaking it aloud.

“Course you are,” he replied, a flattering mix of disappointment and affection on his face. “It ain’t the same at home without you, no matter how many times you go off. But if you’re really aimin’ to set up a homestead here, maybe now’s the time to start easin’ everybody into the idea.”

Leave it to Finn to thrust her right back into the middle of her confusion. “I’m not going to stay here forever.”

“You sure about that? I mean, we’ll give you shit about it, but if it’s what you want we’d all back your decision.”

She dragged her spoon through the dregs of her bowl, avoiding his shrewd eyes. “It’s not what I want. I mean, I’m planning to stay for awhile longer. The money’s good over here, and much as I hate all Healers, I want to keep working with Healer A’isha at least until I’m back to normal.”

He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. “And then there’s always Severus Snape.”

“I’m not staying because of him.” God, she didn’t want to talk about this now.

“Miranda Jane Rose, you lie to whoever you want, exceptin’ yourself and me.”

“I’m not lying to you!”

“Then what the actual fuck is going on with the two of you?”

“You wait until now to ask me that? You’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

“Exactly. There’s no time for you to beat around the bush. Now talk.”

“Ass. It’d serve you right if I just left you here without saying anything.”

“Probably.” He pulled out a pair of cigarettes and flipped one to her. “But you ain’t gonna.”

She gave a sigh of resignation and snapped her fingers to light the cigarettes. “The truth is, I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. I thought it was just going to be a casual thing—just blowing off steam. It was that way for a long time. And then it wasn’t.”

“Do you love him?”

There was no way on God’s green earth that she was going to admit to that out loud. “I’d be an idiot if I did. He’s in the middle of a giant shit show over here, and he’s tied up in enough emotional knots to make Alexander scream.”

“Seems to me you know a thing or two about shit shows and fucked up emotions. Does he love you?”

“You are like a dog after a bone, Finn.”

He had the audacity to wink at her. “Yep.”

She never could lie to Finn. “He’s never said so, but I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. I’m not stupid. The way he looked after me when I got hurt in Romania—I know he wouldn’t have done all that if he didn’t care. And I know it hurt him when I moved out of his rooms and back to my cabin. But I couldn’t stay there with him and let it all choke me.”

“You do what you gotta do; but if he’s in that deep and you don’t feel the same way, it seems only sportin’ to let him go.”

“I know.”

“But?”

She puffed out a few rings of smoke and sent them dancing in and out of each other beneath the bright cafeteria lights. “But I don’t want to.”

“Interestin’. It ain’t your style to play with hearts like that.”

“I don’t need you to point that out to me. I know it’s a shit thing to do.”

“I ain’t here to judge you. Just watch your back. Even a lowly No-Maj like me can tell shit is hot over here, and I don’t wanna be goin’ to your funeral. I’ve had enough of buryin’ siblings to last me a lifetime.”

“Don’t I know it?”

They snuffed out their cigarettes and tossed them into their empty bowls. The interrogation had lasted long enough that they had to rush through the Hall of Virtues to make it to the Transportation Hub on time. Finn queued up at the back of the portkey line, and set down his rucksack to give his sister a fierce hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the smell of home, and her throat was so tight it hurt to breathe. When he let go of her at last, his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“See ya ‘round, Sis,” he said. “If you need anything, you call me. I’ll be here in two shakes.”

“I will,” she replied. “And same goes for you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, threw his rucksack over his shoulder, and stepped up on wide platform. The ruby slipper appeared on the marble pedestal before him, and he threw her one final grin over his shoulder before reaching out to touch the portkey.

Then he spun away, back to Kansas and home.

*****

Half an hour later Miranda was hurtling into classroom 1B, ten minutes late for her first Animagus lesson. She skidded to a halt and fought the urge to wince at the way her boots echoed through the cavernous room. The door slammed ominously shut behind her, and Minerva McGonagall did not deign to look up from the podium where she sat marking scrolls and looking severely disappointed. Miranda’s face turned red as she slunk penitentially to a desk near the back of the room, and she was surprised to see Remus Lupin, dressed in tattered trousers and an overlarge flannel shirt, already sitting in the back corner. He gave her a sympathetic look when their eyes met, but she had the distinct feeling that he was studying her every move, withholding judgement until she either won her place as his working partner—or lost it completely.

“How good of you to join us, Miss Rose,” Minerva said, still busily marking. “I take it you had trouble getting through security?”

Miranda already liked Hagrid too much to throw him under the Knight Bus. “No, Ma’am. My brother was heading back home tonight, and I didn’t figure in enough time to get from the Embassy to here. Sorry for the inconvenience, it won’t happen again.”

Minerva let this answer hang in the air and Miranda slid into a desk a few rows in front of Remus, suddenly feeling eleven years old again.

“See that it doesn’t,” Minerva said crisply.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Minerva finished marking the scroll while Miranda fell victim to the sort of restlessness that only descended on her in the classroom. Through monumental effort, she managed to restrain this feeling to the tapping of one toe inside her boot, but she knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she felt like screaming. At last the steely professor rolled up the scroll, laid down her quill, and gave her student a look that showed how very unimpressed she was with the American witch thus far.

“May I safely assume that you have read Perdix’s Animagi Liberatus?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And do you have any initial questions on the material?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Then please stand up and cast a Patronus.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The chair squeaked horribly as she got up, and her boots sounded thunderous as she took her place in the middle of the empty aisle. She wet her lips and did her best to banish all these little humiliations with the thought of spring and perfect baseball games. “Expecto Patronum!”

The bobcat burst immediately out of her wand, displaying a confidence she didn’t quite feel. It eyed the inhabitants of the room curiously, slinking around Miranda’s ankles before prowling across the room to Remus.

“Funny, I thought you were a dog person,” he observed, returning the Patronus’s stare with an amused one of his own.

“I am. God has a sense of humor,” Miranda quipped.

“Please keep the commentary to a minimum,” Minerva ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Remus and Miranda chorused.

“Thank you. Now, I want you to take a moment to study your Patronus as minutely as you can,” Minerva said.

Miranda squatted down to do as she was bid, narrowing her eyes as she marked each stripe and curve of her silvery bobcat. The Patronus ignored her, still staring at Remus, until it gave a hiss of displeasure and darted up one of the bookcases to perch imperiously on the top.

“Are you ready?” Minerva asked when the Patronus was settled.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Miranda had never made an emptier boast.

“To remind you, the incantation is Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” Minerva said.

“Decline puer,” Miranda muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Minerva clearly didn’t believe her, but she let it pass. “Picture your Patronus as you speak the words, and don’t fight whatever happens afterwards.”

“Okay, here goes.” Miranda took a deep breath and let her mind go mildly unfocused. “Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”

As soon as the final syllable left Miranda’s lips, her skin started to itch everywhere. Her reptilian brain started to panic as coarse, striped fur sprouted all over her limbs and her spine stretched and snapped like a rubber band. She closed her eyes against the pain as her right hand shriveled into a mangled caricature of a cat’s paw. Gradually the pain and the pitiful pseudo-transformation stopped. Remus’s eyes were glinting with humor when she opened hers again, although he had the decency not to laugh at her attempt.

“Not bad for a first try,” Minerva allowed.

“Surely we don’t need an audience for this,” Miranda said in a voice that was now colored by a throaty purr. “We must be wasting Mr Lupin’s time.”

“Not at all,” Remus replied. “The more time I spend with you, the less likely I’ll be to attack you when the wolf takes over. The Wolfsbane Potion isn’t always enough on its own.”

“I see.”

“Please shift back to your human form and then we’ll try again,” Minerva ordered brusquely.

“God, this is going to be worse than Apparition,” Miranda muttered. “Amato Hominis.”

Remus’s eyes were still on her, and she did her best not to flinch at the discomfort of shifting back.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Rose,” Minerva said.

Miranda had a sinking feeling that Minerva McGonagall was going to turn out to be an even sterner taskmaster than Severus Snape.

*****

By the end of the lesson, Miranda ached from head to toe and wanted nothing more than to crawl down to Severus’s rooms and beg for a massage. Remus, unfortunately, stuck to her like a bad penny, and she had to make a show of “going home” for his sake.

“Care to join me for a drink at the Hog’s Head?” he asked as they went out into the frozen night.

She didn’t, but something in his tone told her this question was another test. “Sure. We should probably get to know one another if we’re going to be working together.”

“I agree.”

Hagrid and Fang met them at the gate, and they paused long enough for Miranda to scratch the mastiff behind his floppy ears. Once they were clear of the school’s wards, Remus held out his hand to her. His skin was rough and calloused, and soon she felt the unpleasant pull behind her navel as he side-alonged her to the edge of the Hogsmeade High Street. The Inn was quiet when they arrived, dingy and smelling of old ale. A dour man with bright eyes and a long hoary beard manned the bar, and he grunted to them by way of greeting.

“I’d take a pint when you get a minute, Aberforth,” Remus said as they went by. “What would you like, Miss Rose?”

“Rye if you’ve got it, Firewhiskey if you don’t,” she replied.

Aberforth muttered something derisive and shuffled away to gather their drinks while Remus led her to a table in the furthest recesses of the bar. Without asking, he took the chair with its back to the wall, putting her in the uncomfortable position of relying on his eyes for protection. They stared at each other, each taking the measure of the other, until Aberforth arrived with a chipped bowl of greasy popcorn, a pint of cloudy ale, and a glass of flaming liquor.

“To new beginnings,” Remus said, raising his glass.

“New beginnings.” Miranda clinked her glass to his and drank without breaking eye contact.

“So tell me,” he asked as he picked at the popcorn. “How did you wind up working for Albus Dumbledore?”

After the excellent dinner at the Embassy, Miranda had no stomach for bar food. “By way of Lucius Malfoy.”

“Really?” His curiosity was obviously piqued.

“Ironic, don’t you think? He hired me to hunt down Sirius Black, and Albus hired me to pretend to hunt down Sirius Black to keep Malfoy busy. Then just to make things more entertaining, Albus sent me to Romania to help Charlie Weasley with a project. Now that’s over, and here I am with you.”

“I see. Albus does like to get his money’s worth out of people.” The bitter edge to this observation did not go unnoticed.

“Do I remember correctly that you and Mr Black were friends?”

“You do.” If possible Remus’s already woeful countenance became even more melancholy. “We were mates from our school days.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I never got to meet him, but I think I would have liked him, if I’d gotten the chance.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked dubiously.

Something about his gaze made her vaguely uncomfortable—as though he could see through her in a way most people couldn’t.

“I spent a fair amount of time interviewing people who knew him while I was on the case. I got the impression that he was a passionate man, fiercely loyal to his friends, brave to the point of recklessness, and possessed of a wicked sense of humor. Sounds to me like the sort of fellow I’d love to have known.”

Remus took a long drink and then stared into the depths of his pint. When he finally looked back up at her, she knew he was setting her yet another test.

“Tell me Miss Rose, is Severus Snape one of those many people you interviewed about Sirius?”

Through long practice she managed not to visibly react to Severus’s name being spoken, but her toe inside her boot started tapping again.

“No,” she replied. “I never met Professor Snape before that Order meeting when I met you.”

Remus gave her a cold, wolfish smile, that did not suit his features in the least. “This is a terrible start. I’m going to ask Albus to reassign you.”

Her heart started to pound uncomfortably, but her voice was even and curious. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

“We’ve barely met and you’re already lying to me. Doesn’t bode well for future work together.”

“What are you talking about?”

He leaned across the table and dropped his voice to a low growl. “Miss Rose, I don’t believe for an instant that you met Severus for the first time at that meeting. His smell was all over you, even after he left. What did you do, spend all day in bed with him?”

It was a stupid mistake—forgetting that some loup garous had a preternatural sense of smell even in human form—and she blushed for shame of having been caught making it. She covered her embarrassment by finishing her whiskey, then returned his gaze boldly.

“And if I did?” she challenged.

Remus snorted. “I don’t care who you sleep with. But if we’re going to work together the way Albus expects us to, we can’t lie to each other. With what we’re going to be walking into, we have to trust each other completely. Unfortunately, there’s no time to build that trust.” He slugged down the rest of his pint and stood up from the table. “I’m sorry to waste your time, but it’s better for you to be off this assignment anyway. Safer, you understand. It was good to meet you.”

“Mr Lupin, wait,” she said, taking the risk of laying a hand on his wrist before he walked away completely. He glared down at the trespass, and she strongly suspected he was fighting the urge to snarl at her. “Please, just sit down, have another drink, and let’s talk about this.”

She held his gaze fearlessly, surprised he didn’t shake her hand off. After a moment he signaled to Aberforth, and resumed his seat at the table. She waited until the barkeep had set them up with another round and a fresh bowl of popcorn, furiously working out what exactly she was going to say. In the end she fell back on her usual tactic; improvisation.

“Listen, I’m going to lay it all out for you, and then you can decide what you want to do,” she began, ignoring his scoff. “I met Severus the summer before last while I was hunting a vampire. We’ve been on and off since then; mostly on. I know about both of his…bosses. Albus knows about me, but the other one doesn’t, and we’re trying to keep it that way for everyone’s safety. I think you can imagine what the Dark Lord would do if he got wind of the fact that his minion is fucking a No-Maj born like me.”

“I didn’t know you were Muggle-born.”

She bristled. “Does that matter to you?”

“No, not at all.” Remus’s suspicious expression became very thoughtful. “I think I’m just surprised that it doesn’t matter to Severus.”

“I haven’t grilled him on it,” she shrugged.

“Maybe you should.”

This was not a conversation she wanted to pursue. “I don’t remember asking you for relationship advice.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” His lips turned up in a humorless smile. “You’re wise to keep things quiet. Does anyone else in the Order know about you?”

“Arthur and Molly Weasley. But as far as I know they’ve kept mum, so I hope you won’t go clucking with them about it.”

“I won’t. What do you see in him?”

That was more than enough. “I don’t see the need to justify my love life to you, Mr Lupin. Or maybe you’d like me to start asking you questions about Auror Tonks.”

“No, I’d rather you didn’t,” he said coldly.

It seemed to her that they’d scuffled enough for one evening. “Maybe we should go back to safer topics,” she suggested as a peace offering. “Like loup garous or blood politics.”

He studied her for a long time, and then his face relaxed into a real smile. “Yes, let’s. Tell me more about the werewolves in America.”

*****

As the clock ticked perilously close to midnight, Severus sat in his armchair, reading Oscar Wilde and doing his best not to be annoyed with Miranda’s tardiness. He’d long since accepted her chronic lateness, and he knew she’d had a hefty list of commitments ahead of their engagement. Still, it was his birthday and it would be nice to see her at some point before the ninth of January turned into the tenth.

At five minutes to the new day, the door to his sitting room creaked open and he put aside his novel, greeting her tired smile with what he hoped was a reserved, but pleasant expression of his own. She hung her bag on a hook by the door that he’d installed for the purpose and stretched like a languid cat. He admired her form, unreasonably pleased that she was finally here.

“I’m glad that’s all over,” she said.

“Did your first Animagus lesson go so poorly?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Professor McGonagall said I did well, but my joints all say differently. She’s as hard a teacher as you are.”

“Harder, I think.”

She came to him and slipped onto his lap. His arms went around her waist, and as she laid her head on his shoulder he felt unnervingly content.

“Then Remus Lupin decided to give me the third degree. That’s what took me so long. He wanted to cut me out of the whole mission,” she explained.

Merlin, he didn’t want to think about the details of this pernicious mission. “Perhaps you should have let him.”

“I know you don’t like that I’m assigned to it, but it’s part of my job. And anyway, I talked him into keeping me.”

“I’m not surprised. You can be quite…persuasive when you care to be.”

She gave him an impish smile. “Speaking of persuasive, what would it take to convince you to give me a massage? I had no idea that Animagus training was going to make my body feel like a pretzel.”

“I give you a massage?” he teased. “I was under the impression that it was my birthday.”

“And so it is. I’ll give you your presents first if that’s what it takes.”

He kissed her temple and shook his head. “No. You’ve coerced me. To the bedroom with you.”

“I knew there was a reason I spent time with you.”

She stripped down to her knickers on the way to the bedroom. He hung his frock coat in the armoire, and rolled up his sleeves as she picked over his store of healing balms for a satisfactory concoction; more comfortable in her own skin than anyone he’d ever met. She tossed him her selection and stretched out on the bed with a happy sigh, and as he knelt over her his heart ached with an emotion it was ill-equipped to process. He buried this hurt with the feel of her flesh under his fingers, and the sound of her appreciative moans as he kneaded her pains away.

“Mmm…” she hummed. “You do love me.”

Her shoulders tensed instantly under his frozen hands, and he inwardly cursed her impulsive tongue for uttering such nonsensical truth.

“I mean metaphorically speaking,” she added quickly.

“Of course,” he replied, his hands mechanically returning to their work. “You’ve quite an inflated sense of your own importance, haven’t you?”

“That’s me,” she said, her voice nowhere near as relaxed as it had been moments before. “My head’s so big it’s in danger of floating away.”

For a brief moment he had the insane urge to confess the sin she’d lightheartedly accused him of; morbidly curious to witness the destruction it would likely cause. As she settled back into limpid tranquility under his touch, he frantically searched his mind for some other topic of conversation to distract him from wantonly lighting the inferno that would no doubt spell the end of their association.

“I…had thought we might attend the opera on Saturday,” he said. It was a mostly idle promise—he hadn’t even spoken to Charity to arrange the purchase of tickets—but he hoped mentioning it would both please Miranda and close the door on the previous topic.

“Oh, Severus, I’m so sorry, but I can’t,” she replied.

His temper was rubbed raw from the last ten minutes, and her contrition was salt in the wound.

“May I ask why?” he asked in an subtly acrid tone.

“I’m actually already going to the opera on Saturday.”

“I see. With whom?”

“Dante Sanguini. He set it up weeks ago. Didn’t I tell you about it earlier?”

“Not that I recall. I don’t suppose it matters to you if I mind that you are cavorting with a vampire.”

“My time is my time, and I’ll spend it with whomever I like.”

“Need I remind you that you have yet to regain your full strength either magically or physically?”

“No. I’m very aware of my limits.”

He seethed silently as his fingers worked on her muscles. How dare she be so reckless with her person and then claim he had no right to be concerned?

“Severus,” she said after a few moments of deadly silence had ticked by, “you’re hurting me.”

“My apologies,” he muttered, lightening his touch.

“Just stop. That’s enough anyway.” She extricated herself from her position beneath him and rolled up to sit against the headboard, her knees tucked to her chest as she studied him with new eyes. “I don’t need you telling me what to do. Do I complain when you go off to have tea with the Dark Lord?”

“That is different,” he growled.

“It’s not.”

He felt his face turn to stone and he got up off the bed, crossing his arms over his chest like a shield charm.

“I do not ever needlessly put myself in harm’s way. You make a sport of it,” he accused.

“Well why do you at all? Put yourself in harm’s way I mean. You’re not a hero, so why do you do it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You hate teaching—and I’m not all that convinced you like Albus Dumbledore. You’re not a coward, but I don’t think you’re the sort of man to be swayed by “The Cause.” So why are you doing all this?”

“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you and your dalliance with a creature that can snap your neck and drink your blood before you could raise a finger to stop him.”

She swung off the bed to face him, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing. “You sound jealous.”

“I do not.”

“First Lupin and now Sanguini?”

“That is the most ridiculous accusation…”

The rest of his defense dwindled into hiss of pain as the mark on his arm flared to life, twisting with an ugly black fire. His suddenly numb fingers fumbled to roll down the sleeves and fasten the buttons as he watched the anger on Miranda’s face give way first to fear, and then to acceptance. She opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it, and went out into the sitting room to collect his cloak for him. It took an age for him to don his frock coat and retrieve his mask from the armoire as he fought to bring his roiling emotions under some semblance of control.

His feet were like lead as he dragged himself to the door, and Miranda’s brave smile did little to cheer him. When he had his cloak in place, she impulsively threw her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. He groaned pitifully as he pulled her against him; their embrace a fury of tongues and teeth as fierce as their argument had been.

“I can be here when you get back,” she said in a husky voice when they parted. “Or I can go if you think you’d rather be alone.”

“No. I want you to stay,” he replied, his own voice raw from choking back all the things he dared not say.

“Then I will.”

He traced a finger over her cheek and accepted the kiss that she pressed to his hand—a kiss that troubled him to the core of his battered heart. The mark on his arm continued to throb painfully as he paced outside the wards, breathing in the bitter night air and waiting for his mind to reach a place of indifference that Occlumency required. It seemed to him that the longer this misadventure continued, the more difficult coming to that place became. His life had never been under his own dominion; but now it often felt to him that Lily, the Dark Lord, Albus, and Miranda were horses intent on drawing and quartering him alive.

*****

The plush delights of the private box on the Grand Tier of the Royal Opera House, and the glorious music of Rigoletto did not quite assuage all of Miranda’s guilt that her companion for the evening was a sentimental vampire rather than a dour potions master. She was mildly annoyed at her conscience for smiting her and sullying what ought to have been an evening for decadence, and she was indulging in far more of Dante’s excellent cabernet in an effort to compensate. As the lights went up for the beginning of the interval, she knew she was well on the way to a headache in the morning, but she stubbornly stuck to her self-destructive course. Severus had no right to boss her around, and she was going to prove it by means of what was likely to be a wicked hangover.

“Tell me more about Giuseppe,” she said. There was nothing like hearing Verdi with a man who’d known him.

“There are those who would call him cold, but I liked him very well,” Dante replied. “Although he was at times a difficult partner at the card table. When the music would invade his brain, he would set everything aside until he’d jotted it down. I was there the night he sketched out that magnificent quartet.”

“That must have been thrilling.”

“It was. It’s a shame he would not let me bring him over.”

“Did you try?”

“Of course! A genius like that, to molder in a tomb. It’s a crime.”

He offered her a refill from the bottle of cabernet, which she accepted (although she probably shouldn’t have). His own glass he topped off with his preferred blend of merlot and type AB positive.

“What did he say when you offered?” she asked, enjoying the buzz from the wine and the music.

“He said that only a fool wished to live forever in a body of dust and grime.”

His smile was sharp on his pale lips, and whether he was mocking the dead composer or himself, she wasn’t sure.

“I’ve never thought you were a fool, Dante.”

“I thank you for the compliment, and I hope that you will not behave so stupidly when I come for you.”

She shivered. “I didn’t know you were planning to.”

“I was. As long as you do not manage to destroy yourself so extensively that my kiss would be useless.”

She was flattered and horrified in almost equal measure. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. But I want you to know that I’ll probably give you the same answer that Giuseppe did.”

“How disappointing. Why would you do such a thing?”

“I have my reasons.” She swirled the crimson liquid in her goblet, and the movement (or perhaps the conversation) made her head swim. “Do you mind if we change the subject? I hate talking about death at the opera.”

“And I adore it. But you are my guest, and I will indulge you. Tell me about your current projects. Hunting any other cousins of mine?”

“No, not lately. I’ve moved on to werewolves and Death Eaters.”

He raised his mocking eyebrows at her. “I never thought you one to play the hero.”

“I’m not, it’s all about the money.”

“I’ve always appreciated that ruthless streak in you.” He took her hand in his, laughing as the chill of his touch raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Do watch that charming backside of yours.”

“I will. But if you happen across any information that would help me watch it better, I hope you’ll share it.”

“And what will you pay me in? Smiles?”

“If you’ll take them, they’re yours.”

He brought her hand up and rested her palm against his cheek, sighing melodramatically.

“There is nothing quite like a warm hand when you are dead.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Is there something you’re getting at, or is all this a tease?”

He leaned down until his icy breath brushed her ear. “I have it on the best authority that a certain dark wizard is building an army of inferi.”

The chill that went through her had nothing to do with Dante’s breath. “How uninspired. Didn’t he do that last time?”

“His creativity is indeed lacking these days, but this new army will put the last one to shame.”

“Have you seen it?”

“I have.”

“Where is it?”

“It is moved by now.”

“By which you mean you aren’t going to tell me.”

“Topolina, I have told you enough already.”

He dipped his head and ran the edge of a sharp canine over the sensitive skin of her earlobe, and she put a finger on his cheek in warning.

“Thanks Dante, I do appreciate it. But I’m not going to fuck you tonight, even if you do cast a tutela charm to keep yourself from killing me.”

“Tease,” he grumbled. “Why not?”

“I’m just not interested.”

His dark gaze was as penetrating as Remus Lupin’s—and she was just about sick of being studied like a side of beef.

“You have a lover,” he accused. “That accounts for the extra perfume. You didn’t want me to know. Why not? Are you ashamed of him?”

“No. I just didn’t want to talk about him.” God she was sick of everyone being in her business. It was almost enough to take up the mantle of celibacy for the rest of her live-long days.

Dante, bless him, seemed to catch on to her exasperation. “Then I shan’t ask you anymore about him.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. Really.” The lights began to dim around them, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Dante, if I find myself needing a hand in the near future, will you help me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

He gave her a devilish smile. “Will you? Aren’t you afraid of what I might ask in return?”

She wasn’t fooled. “No. You’re a gentleman.”

“You wound me! But I could deny you nothing. Ask, and I will be there.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Shh,” he grumbled as the curtain rose. “The opera!”

*****

Notes: The chapter title (yes, i am a monster) is a quote from Verdi’s opera Rigoletto. In the opera, the Duke sings this line in jest—but he pretty much is a monster.

The incantation to become an Animagus is taken from Pottermore. The textbook, the incantation to turn back (and the attending Latin mistakes) are mine. The process by which one becomes an Animagus is also from my imagination.

libera nos a malo masterpost+

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[carewyncromwell]

[Later that day, Carewyn met up with Charlie in the library, prepared to study for Transfiguration and History of Magic. The first had always been Carewyn’s most difficult class, while the second had always been Charlie’s, so they’d decided it would be good to help each other through those two subjects.

When Carewyn arrived, however, Charlie looked upon her with concern etched into his face.]

[Carewyn's eyebrows knit together. So he’d heard about that already...]

“...Technically Beatrice discovered him. She asked Snape to show me what had happened.”

[She took note of the other people in the library, who seemed to have been sneaking glances at her and Charlie.]

“...Does everybody know?”

Charlie: “(somberly) It’s all the school can talk about. The prevailing theory is that it’s another curse.”

[He kept an eye on his friend’s expression. Carewyn could sense that he was worried about her reaction.

She glanced away restlessly.]

“That’s what Snape believes too...meaning that the student will only be saved when the curse on the last Vault is broken.”

[Her eyes narrowed upon the edge of the bookcase a foot away.]

“... He said that the Aurors would be notified when I spoke to him, so I daresay they know by now. All we can hope for now is that they’re more efficient in breaking that curse than I was in breaking the other ones.”

[This sentiment felt like poison coming out of her mouth, as Carewyn truthfully had no intention of just sitting back and trusting others to handle things -- particularly when Mad-Eye Moody had flat-out told her he needed her to continue dealing with the Vaults while he pursued R -- but...]

Charlie knows me. He knows that it’d be frustrating for me, not to be able to help. I can’t let him dwell too long on why I’m not helping. And, well...it’s not completely untrue. How much faster could the Aurors or the teachers have saved Beatrice, if they’d been half as focused as I was...?

[Carewyn’s backhanded critique of herself made Charlie’s expression morph into something much harder, more reproachful.]

Charlie: “Oi!”

[He came forward and grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders.]

Charlie: “None of that. I will hear none of that, you hear? You put all of yourself and then some into breaking those curses and saving your brother -- it’d be hard for anyone to do what you did. Hell, you dueled against a bloody Hungarian Horntail -- and won! The Aurors and Cursebreakers at the Ministry would be lucky to have you on their side.”

[Carewyn was startled by Charlie’s conviction. The fierceness in his brown eyes flickered slightly, revealing something a bit more vulnerable as he released her shoulers.]

Charlie: “...Carey...I admit, I was a little upset when you told us you didn’t want to go after the Vaults anymore. It just felt like...well, you’d lost faith in yourself, a bit. Like you’d lost some of your fire.”

[The words crystallized over Carewyn’s heart like ice.]

“Charlie...”

[The second youngest Weasley pushed on despite her interjection, a bit more gently.]

Charlie: “But after what we went through...I can’t blame you. Returning to normal, after Rakepick betrayed us and left us for dead in that Vault, it’s...hard. I thought going back to school and seeing you all again would help, but...well, I couldn’t expect you to carry on like nothing’s changed. It was stupid of me to think you would -- selfish of me...”

[Carewyn’s eyebrows came together tightly over her eyes as she grabbed tight hold of one of Charlie’s shoulders in return.]

“Don’t say that. You are the furthest thing from selfish, Charlie. And you’re not stupid either. It’s not wrong to want things to be better than they are.”

Anyone would wish everything could go back to the way it was -- when things were simpler...

[Charlie gave Carewyn a slight, sad smile, but he seemed comforted all the same. He took hold of Carewyn’s opposite shoulder and squeezed it, so that the two were sharing an abridged sort of hug.]

Charlie: “...Guess we really are two of a kind, aren’t we?”

[Carewyn’s eyes softened as she gave Charlie a brave smile.]

“Cromwell-Weasley twins?”

[Charlie’s face broke out into a fuller white smile and he gave a low chuckle.]

Charlie: “Cromwell-Weasley twins. (thoughtfully) We might want to find a snappier way to say that, though. ‘Charlie and Carey?’ ‘Red and Green?’ ‘Twins from Another Mother?’”

[Carewyn laughed.]

“We’ll work on it.”

Percy: “I should hope you’re working on a lot more than just nicknames.”

[Charlie’s younger brother, Percy, had arrived, his arms crossed over his chest.]

Charlie: “Percy? I didn’t know you followed me.”

Percy: “I did -- to make sure you’re not shirking your studies like you did your responsibilities all summer. Honestly, it’s bad enough I have to babysit the twins now that they’ve started at Hogwarts -- I didn’t think I’d also have to tell my Prefect older brother to keep his mind on school. What would Bill say if he knew?”

Charlie: “(lowly) He’d sympathize with what I’m going through.”

Percy: “Bill was betrayed by Rakepick too: that hasn’t stopped him from fulfilling his duties at Gringotts. You should follow his example -- ”

[Sensing the tension between Charlie and Percy, Carewyn decided to step in.]

“How is Bill liking Gringotts? I got a letter from his new address, so I know he’s left the Burrow, but he didn’t go into much detail.”

[That was a bold-faced lie: she and Bill had exchanged several long letters that summer. It had been one of the few comforts Carewyn had, in the face of Jacob’s renewed absence. But she knew talking about Bill and Gringotts would be a good way to divert focus off of Charlie.]

Percy: “Quite well -- Bill can’t go into a lot of detail about his assignments, given that Gringotts requires a certain level of confidentiality, but his superiors have been impressed by his work ethic.”

“As they should. Bill’s always been a hard worker.”

[She turned to Charlie.]

“That reminds me -- Charlie, could you grab a few books from the section for History of Magic over there, for our study session? I reckon some stuff on Wendelin the Weird and the witch burnings’ll be good..”

[She’d been speaking quickly, clearly wanting to subtly brush Percy off by making it look like they were getting busy. Charlie, picking up on Carewyn’s intent, shot her a smile over his shoulder as he swept over to the bookshelves.]

Charlie: “Sure.”

[Carewyn herself picked out some Transfiguration books off the shelf, as well as a book titled An Examination of Historic Prophecies. She could still feel Percy’s critical eye on her as she set her pile of textbooks down on one of the tables.]

Percy: “(his arms still crossed) Studying Divination?”

[Carewyn realized too late that the Divination book had ended up on the top of her stack.]

“Oh! (dismissively) No, actually -- Trelawney gave a weird prophecy in class, so I just thought I’d read up on it a bit -- “

[Carewyn cursed her luck. She hadn’t wanted Charlie to hear that.]

“Yeah -- it was really awkward, actually. She just sort of stopped in front of me and started babbling to no one about murky water and ‘endings’ and other nonsense. Then she sort of looked at me and said the vision was gone and wouldn’t explain.”

[Despite Carewyn’s best efforts, Charlie looked concerned. To her surprise, however, Percy also seemed interested.]

Percy: “What did Professor Trelawney say, exactly?”

[Carewyn blinked at Percy. The third-year Weasley boy’s ears turned pink.]

Percy: “I read a few books on Divination over the summer -- I think it’s a very engaging subject!”

[Although she felt some faint misgivings about Charlie being able to hear all this, Carewyn decided it couldn’t hurt to hear what Percy thought.]

I’ll just have to play it off, like I don’t care.

“...Let’s see, ah...she said she saw ‘murky water’ in my future -- though we were reading tea leaves, so Tonks suggested she might’ve meant the tea. Then she said...‘changes swirling around you’...‘endings, final endings’...‘prices to pay’...‘the ultimate price.’“

[Charlie looked very disturbed.]

Charlie: “That does sound ominous...but Trelawney’s prophecies are supposed to be notoriously incorrect, aren’t they? Do you reckon this one’s real?”

[Carewyn scoffed.]

“No. But I am curious why she would make up those things at all -- I thought maybe reading up on prophecies could give me a hint.”

[Percy brought a hand up to his chin thoughtfully.]

Percy: “Perhaps...but everything I’ve read about prophecies suggests there are usually more details than this. So much of what you heard could be interpreted in multiple ways.”

[Carewyn nodded. She had thought so as well.]

“Maybe Madame Pince would have some suggestions of books that could help?”

George: “I wouldn’t go near her right now if I were you.”

Fred: “She’s in a right foul mood.”

[Carewyn turned. Two identical-looking ginger-haired first years wearing Gryffindor tie had come up to join them.]

Fred: “(innocently) Nothing! Just thought we’d introduce ourselves to the school librarian is all -- ”

George: “(sniggering) “ -- by helping her ‘reorganize’ a few Library shelves.”

[Charlie rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. Carewyn raised her eyebrows.]

“Ah, the infamous Weasley twins. Fred and George, right? We met briefly over Christmas break once a while back, but you were both sick in bed.”

Fred: “Ugh -- bloody awful headache, that was. My head felt like it was full of pea soup for a week.”

George: “Mine felt more like beef stew. (sighs) Anyway -- love to stay and chat, but I have detention.”

Percy: “(appalled) The year’s barely started, and you’re already in detention!?”

[The twins ignored him.]

Fred: “Sorry, George -- I’ll take the blame next time, promise.”

Percy: “ ‘Next time?!’”

George: “(laughing) I’ll hold you to that, Fred!”

[With that, George headed out of the Library.]

“It’s too bad George had to leave so soon. It was nice to finally meet you -- formally, of course.”

Charlie: “Fred!”

Fred: “(laughing) Kidding! Though Bill and Charlie have both said you’ve got good pipes. And of course I’ve heard all about your adventures with the Cursed Vaults -- though I was mostly interested in hearing about all the tricks you’ve pulled around school!”

[Carewyn’s lips curled up in a smirk.]

Percy: “(snorts) That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well...just remember, Fred, I’m a Prefect, same as your brother. I don’t mind trouble as long as no one gets hurt -- but it’s harder for me to overlook things if they happen right under my nose.”

[Fred raised his eyebrows daringly.]

Fred: “So you’re fine with us causing trouble as long as we don’t get caught?”

[Carewyn crossed her arms, but her smirk didn’t shift.]

“Sure...but that includes not getting caught by me. And I’m not easy to fool.”

Fred: “(laughs) Challenge accepted!”

[Percy looked scandalized.]

Percy: “Carewyn! Prefects are supposed to protect the rules, not encourage -- “

Charlie: “(laughs) Calm down, Percy -- Carey takes the rules seriously. She doesn’t even let Tulip and Tonks get off scot-free, if their pranks hurt anybody.”

[Still looking miffed, Percy decided there was no point in arguing and so forcefully changed the subject.]

Percy: “Ahem -- I’m glad you’ve met...but now Charlie, Fred, and I need to study.”

[Fred scowled.]

Fred: “Yes, Mum.”

[Percy ignored him, turning back to Carewyn.]

Percy: “I know you don’t hold stock in what Professor Trelawney said to you, Carewyn, but I’d say you should be careful, all the same. I don’t think you’re going to find much meaning from it, though.”

[Percy shooed Fred off to the other end of the library, leaving Charlie and Carewyn alone at their table. Charlie and Carewyn spent the next hour studying Transfiguration and History of Magic, the book Carewyn had pulled out on Divination left forgotten on the side.

Carewyn thought Percy might be right. A book might not have any answers -- but perhaps a centaur might...]

((OOC: ^.^ I do love my Weasley boys very much, yes, I do. Even you, Percy, you right stick-in-the-mud. Also, the “singing” comment by Fred really did make me laugh so hard, given that Carewyn totally does sing when she thinks she’s alone! And also when music is playing, or she’s in her Animagus form, or when she wants to cheer someone up, or...yeah, she just likes to sing, period. XD

Next up -- checking in with Torvus!))

[our-heroes-rise]

Hi there!!! First time requesting... I'll use this chance to request a Midoriya x reader story where reader is small breasted, tall, thin, shy at the beginning, cheerful when they're comfortable, nerd, gamer, wears glasses, brunette and olive skinned. I'll leave the plot on your capable hands, I just want a happy ending, please!!! Izuku and reader ending up together!!! Thank you so much!!!

i think i had a bit too much fun writing this, haha. i deeply apologize for the ridiculously long wait though, hun, and i hope you enjoy what i’ve written for you. i rewrote this three times then finally got something i was happy with on the third try. think i’ll try to incorporate the “realistic” messages more often, they’re sure fun to make. anyway, hope you like it!

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Your fingers thrummed anxiously against the hardwood table as you stared blankly at the textbook before you, not at all taking in the very much helpful information it provided for figuring out the problem you had been stuck on for the past ten minutes. It wasn’t entirely your fault that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus though.

Ten minutes. They were all ten minutes late.

It wasn’t normal for all of them to be late. Momo was always on time -- always early, in fact. She never allowed herself to be less than five minutes early. Which was why you were extremely surprised when you entered the small coffee shop to find your friend’s usual table vacant of the beautiful high black ponytail.

There were no new messages in the group chat, you had already checked about a million times since you had arrived.

Nothing to let you know that anyone would be running late, or had canceled plans. It was so unlike Momo -- so unlike everyone, honestly. And it made you nervous.

Had something happened to them? Did a message not get through to you or something? What if they had all said that they couldn’t make it and he showed up expecting everyone to be here but all he found was you sitting at a table by yourself? Oh God, that would make it look like you lied to him. Would he be mad and want to leave? Why would he want to stay? He had probably only said he would come because he didn’t want you to feel bad if he rejected your offer.

That didn’t make sense anyway, he was in the group chat so even if you didn’t get the message that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Why would he even bother coming then?

Dear Lord, you wished your brain would shut up.

Two years. Two whole stupid years you have had a crush on him and never once had you tried to “shoot your shot”, as Mina would put it. You would face a hundred villains and All Might himself before you decided to muster up the courage to shoot your dumb friggin shot and face the possible embarrassment of rejection. It had taken you months to actually stand there like a big girl and have a decent conversation with him without stumbling over your words and averting your eyes away from him every two seconds. Then even longer to just ask him to hang out with you.

But not alone. God, no, not alone. You had to have other people there or else it would be too intimate, at least with other people you could have other things to distract yourself with if things got awkward. Keeping up a conversation with people you liked or weren’t extremely familiar with wasn’t exactly your forte. Your brain always seemed to draw a blank, which made normal human interaction a pain.

If you got stuck alone here with him you weren’t sure that you could forgive your friends for ditching, unless something really serious had happened. Geez, how would you even focus on your work? The study session hadn’t entirely been a ploy made up by your friends and yourself just to get to spend time with your crush. You had actually planned to study for the upcoming math test. You weren’t exactly terrible at math. Usually, you didn’t have much of a problem with it, but this unit had been utter hell, to put it bluntly. If someone is trying to become a hero, why do they need to know how to calculate the length and space between a curve on a graph? Really, what was the point?

A shrill ping echoed through your headphones, interrupting your blaring music and causing you to flinch slightly out of your thoughts.

Your eyes narrowed as they trailed further and further down the paragraph, suspicion settling into the pit of your stomach. All three of your most family-oriented friends forgot they had previous arrangements with their families? Doubtful. Mina getting food poisoning sounded about right, she sat with Sero and Kaminari during lunch sometimes, who are always daring her to eat disgusting food combinations. Jirou offering to help take care of said sick Mina? Absolutely not. Jirou can not stand to be around sick people, it grosses her out. She would rather spend ten minutes flirting with Bakugou than smell another person’s food-poison vomit.

If they had wanted to lie they should have tried a little harder to make it believable.

You weren’t going to call them out on it, though. Not once the realization dawned on you that your friends had, in undeniable fact now, left you all alone with your crush. And on purpose.

Why do they hate me?!

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, at a loss for what to say, until you saw his message slide through the chat.

Your heart lurched into your throat at his question. Now was your chance to ditch, to reschedule the plans for another time, and you were already typing up your excuse when another message pinged through your headphones.

This was completely unfair. They had all promised to be here with you and now they were all dropping out on you at the last second like they had planned this all along. Which, honestly, is probably what they had done.

You let out a heavy sigh, slumping further down into your seat, textbook and notes completely forgotten.

Truly, you knew your friends meant well in all of this, you just wished they had chosen a better way to go about it.

But, there really isn’t a better way, is there?

You certainly weren’t going to make the first move and Midoriya probably wasn’t either - if he even liked you that way. Despite the great amount of confidence he had gained over the past few years, mostly regarding his fighting style and the way he spoke to Bakugou, he could still be easily flustered, even if it wasn’t as common as before. So, no, you supposed there definitely wasn’t a better way your friends could have pulled this off.

Another heavily anxious sigh pushed past your lips as you fixed your slouching posture and reopened the group chat.

You let your fingers loom over the keyboard, once again, seriously contemplating your original idea to take a raincheck. Midoriya wouldn’t be upset with you, he would be completely understanding, especially if your excuse was good enough. Period cramps were a thing, ya know? Sometimes they caught you off guard and maybe you just didn’t -

Oh, for Christ’s sake, screw it.

That wasn’t too bad.

No, it was perfectly fine and he would be here in a few minutes.

He would be here in a few minutes.

Oh, for the love of All Might, he would be here, with you, alone, in a few God forsakenly short minutes and you had not a clue in the whole stupid world how this was going to go. You were panicking, a sort of pathetic amount, if you were going to be honest with yourself.

This was just Midoriya.

Midoriya, the cute nerdy kid who was the absolute sweetest person you had ever met in your entire life. The I Can And Absolutely Will Give My Life To Protect Everyone I Know And Love, Midoriya. The Midoriya who could shatter ten brick walls with less than a fifth of his power and still have enough to fend off three hundred more waiting villains.

Midoriya, the kindest, most gentle, and fiery soul you had ever known. The soul you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall in love with these past few years.

Love.

That was a strong word, but something about it felt right when you applied it to your feelings for the gentle green-haired boy, which was a little terrifying, considering that most of his perspective of you was largely unknown. It was probably just your overly hormonal teenage brain trying to convince you that this emotion could only be found in the green eyes of the one and only class nerd. That didn’t matter anymore though. You knew you had already let yourself fall too far from the cliff edge to have any hope of saving yourself now.

Screw it, you repeated to yourself, tossing your phone back onto the table to resume staring blankly at your textbook, your brows only slightly more furrowed than before.

You had already started digging this grave two years ago, fully aware of the consequences, might as well finish it up and lay in it, nothing worse could come of it. Except, maybe, being buried alive and suffocating under the weight of your own regret.

It’ll be fine. It’s just Izuku. My friend. My friend... that I’ve had a crush on for -

It was a long - but still too short - couple of minutes.

Midoriya arrived at the cafe ten minutes later looking surprisingly out of breath. The freckled bridge of his nose and cheeks were a bright rosy red, bitten from the crisp winter evening air. He slumped into the chair across from you, flashing you the brightest smile you had ever seen while he set his bag down beside him.

“Sorry, I’m late,” He said, voice garbled through the noise of your headphones, which you immediately yanked out. “I was talking to Kirishima and completely lost track of time. I’m glad you waited for me though.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay,” you stammered, doing your best to return his smile just as confidently, though you were sure anyone could see how terribly flustered you already were. “I really hadn’t been waiting that long, I’m just happy you were able to come.” His breathing still sounded slightly labored as he pulled out his notebook and Algebra textbook, your brow quirked up in curiosity. “Izuku, did you run all the way here or something?”

A flush that you know has nothing to do with with the cold flares up his entire face to the tips of his ears, and his green eyes flicker sheepishly towards yours. “Uhm - Well, yeah, I felt bad for keeping you waiting for so long. Don’t worry, it was just a couple of blocks, I’m okay.” A small breathless laugh bubbled past his lips, “I’m thankful for Aizawa’s endurance training though.”

“Yeah,” you laughed with him, too aware of the heat you felt crawling up your neck. He had actually ran all the way from the dorms to the coffee shop just for you, because he felt guilty for keeping you waiting, even if it had only been a couple of minutes.

It was silly for you to dwell on such a thing, honestly. Midoriya really was just that type of person, it wouldn’t be considered a big deal to anyone else, but to you it meant the world. And you couldn’t do anything to tame the butterflies in your stomach when you pictured him, face scrunched with slight panic and focus as he rushed through the evening crowds all the way here, just to get to you quicker.

“I know it’s a bit late and all,” Midoriya mumbled, bringing you back into reality with a small jolt that, thankfully, went completely unnoticed by him as he still had his face in his bag. “But did you want anything from the cafe? I brought some money with me.”

“No, I’m okay, thank you though.” You were wide awake right now, caffeine wouldn’t do anything but make your nerves worse.

A small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth once he came back up from his bag, beaten up All Might wallet in hand. It was a challenge not to crack a smile in its direction. “You sure? I really don’t mind getting you something. I feel like I should pay you back for waiting for me.”

You rolled your eyes picking up a playful smile so he knew you weren’t actually irritated with him. “I told you, it’s fine, Izuku. You didn’t keep me waiting long, I promise.” You waved a hand in the direction of the cafe bar, “If you want to get something, go ahead, I don’t mind waiting a few more minutes.”

Midoriya paused for a moment, casting his gaze off to the side for a second before he shook his head. Seemingly having made a decision he tucked his wallet back into his backpack and gave you a warm grin. “I’m fine, I was really just asking for you, but I’m glad you’re not upset. You’re really too sweet, Y/n. Anyway, was there anything you wanted to go over first? Ochaco said you were struggling with-”

But your mind had started buzzing the second his compliment had reached your ears. A part of your brain was screaming at yourself to get a grip and the other part of you just really, really wanted to hear him say it again with that same heart-melting smile of his.

“Yeah,” you said absently, unaware as to what you were actually agreeing to. You knew the smile you were giving him must have made you look like a lovesick puppy ready to barf rainbows, yet you didn’t have enough properly operating brain cells to make you care. “We can start with that first.”

“Okay, that’s great! I have some notes you can look over if you want, or I can explain it if you’d like. I was also having trouble with this, but Iida was able to explain it to me in a way that actually makes sense, so I can try to explain it the same way. Is that alright?”

It took all of your focus to make yourself look down at the notebook he was holding out for you and actually process the words written on the paper. Then another few seconds for you to realize that you had no clue what in the hell the notes were talking about. Yeah, you definitely couldn’t zone out anymore or else you would be utterly screwed by the time the test came around.

“Uh, explain it, please?” you mumbled, casting a quick shy glance in his direction. “If you don’t mind.”

He chuckled and the sound made the heat in your cheeks grow a little hotter. “Not at all. So, the way Tenya explained it was like this...”

It was quite a feat to keep your brain focused on the task at hand rather than on the way Midoriya’s hand would brush against yours every once in a while when he was showing you how to solve a problem. Or the way his nose crinkled when he thought something you did was funny, but clearly didn’t want to laugh at for your sake. Or the way he had asked if he could sit next to you instead of across from you because it would be a lot easier for him to show you what he was doing. And the way his warm shoulder - covered in a large grey hoodie that had no right looking that good on him - pressed gently into yours.

It had been a difficult battle, but you had won. By the end of the night, you were caught up on everything you hadn’t understood in Algebra a couple hours prior. Midoriya grinned proudly down at your practice problems, unable to find a single mistake this time.

“You’re a really quick learner, Y/n,” he laughed, tilting his head to look back at you, his green eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you needed my help in the first place?”

You flushed, letting out a small giggle. “Oh, definitely,” you responded softly from behind the hand you had brought up to cover your mouth. “I didn’t know what the heck I was doing until you got here. It all just looked like a bunch of-”

“You shouldn’t hide your smile like that. It’s too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“H-Huh?” Oh, your face was totally on fire now.

Had you heard him correctly?

“I-I mean - U-Uhm - I’m really sorry!” Midoriya stammered, his hands immediately flying up into the air as if he didn’t know where to put them anymore as he quickly shuffled away from you on the booth. “That was really weird of me to say, sorry. I just - well, uhm - just -” he moved his text book over towards him and stared intensely at it, obviously intent on not making anymore eye contact with you.

Which was the absolute last thing you wanted right now, but you were still trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened. That wasn’t the usual Midoriya compliment. He didn’t tell all of his friends how beautiful he thought there smiles were. It didn’t even seem like he had meant to say it in the first place, he was so flustered now.

“Was there - uhm - anything else you wanted to go over? I’m pretty much caught up on everything, so it’s - it’s whatever you want to do.”

Well, that definitely caught your attention. “You’re caught up on everything?” You asked slowly, brain still buffering severely. Midoriya nodded, green curls bouncing with the jerky movement. He didn’t look at you though. “Izuku, did you rush all the way out here just to help me?”

Again, not a thing Midoriya wouldn’t naturally do on his own, but the way he was reacting was a clear sign that this wasn’t just because of that fantastically kind heart of his. Warm hope, that you didn’t have the willpower to crush, bloomed large and all consuming within your chest.

He nodded once again, but this time you caught the apprehensive glance he shot at you from the corner of his eye. “Y-Yeah.” You noticed how prominent his freckles looked against the firey color of his cheeks, and it made your heart flutter. Midoriya let out a heavy sigh before finally looking back towards you, textbook forgotten. “Ochaco said it was a good idea for us to hang out together because - well - I - she knows that I - that I’ve liked you for a while.” The last part was barely loud enough for you to hear over the night time rush of the cafe, but your ears had most definitely not failed you that time.

“M-Me?”

Yes, you idiot! Who else would he be talking about?

Ochaco had known about it. Your best friend had known about it and hadn’t told you? Had let you keep your feelings for him buried deep within your heart for all of that time.

You couldn’t blame her, no matter how terribly you wanted to. You knew Ochaco did it with the best intentions. Ochaco wasn’t one to go around spilling everyone’s secrets. She had probably kept hope that Midoriya - or maybe you, even though the chances of that were slim to none - would finally admit to one another. That made this grand scheme of hers her way of telling you and Midoriya that even she had gotten tired of waiting for you two.

“Yeah, I told her this was a bad idea and that you probably didn’t feel the same way, but she insisted,” he added quickly, hands gone back to moving around the air awkwardly. “I’m really sorry that I’ve made this really weird now, I - I can leave if you want.”

Without thinking - just as you had been through out the course of this entire conversation - your hand shot out to wrap around one of his to keep him in place, even though he had made no indication of getting up.

“No!” You winced at your sudden volume, face burning again. “No, you can stay. Trust me, you haven’t made it weird, I’m just - uhh - trying to, I guess, process everything. Give me a second, please?”

Midoriya looked visibly stunned, but nodded his quick jerky nod nonetheless, bouncing his green curls again. Your brain ran through everything he had just said over and over until you were absolutely positive you hadn’t imagined any of it. Until you were absolutely positive that the boy you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall for had just admitted having feelings for you. It wasn’t a trick of your mind from lack of sleep or too many hours of work, Midoriya had really just said all of that. That he thought your smile was too beautiful to hide, that he had ran all this way not because he needed to study but because he wanted to make sure you didn’t need his help, that he liked you. But not just liked you, he had liked you for a while.

A while. How long was that?

Probably not as long as you, but the answer didn’t matter. You were sure that he could have told you it was for the past couple of hours and you would still be just as happy.

A gentle squeeze around your hand from calloused fingers pulled you back to Earth, and you looked down to find that his hand - only slightly bigger than yours - was still wrapped up tightly in your own as if you were too scared to let go of him, scared he would disappear like the remnants of a dream.

“A-are you sure I didn’t make it weird?”

You laughed breathlessly, a bright grin lighting up your face as you lifted your eyes to meet his. His shoulders had relaxed a tiny bit, but his emerald eyes were still swimming with anxiety, even when you shook your head no.

“I’m - I’m sure, Izuku. I promise you didn’t make it weird.” You glanced down to pull his hand into your lap as you shifted in your seat to face him properly. Truthfully, you should have let go of his hand a while ago, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it yet. At least, he didn’t seem to mind. “I just - I dunno - I guess, I thought I would never be able to hear you say those words and I’m still having a hard time believing that you’ve even said them-”

“I said them!” He jumped in, the anxiety replaced by overwhelming joy. “That was all real, trust me, my heart is still pounding from the anxiety.” He let out a shaky laugh to which you joined him in. “I wasn’t at all sure how tonight was going to go. All Ochaco had told me was that I should trust her and that everything would be fine and, honestly, I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. But then when I got here and I saw you I knew there was no way I could keep this from you anymore. I had planned to tell you on the way home, except, well, I guess spending all of this time alone with you was enough to push me over the edge.”

You grinned and softly breathed, “I’m glad.”

——

There hadn’t been many people left out on the streets, this part of town never really got busy after dark because there were no bars or clubs. Only small shops and businesses that closed no later than ten lined this city block and every city block within a five mile radius of U.A. The frosty night air nawed at the warmth from your cheeks, washing them with a deep shade of scarlet. You curled into the warmth of your thick wooly sweater, thankful that you had thought to put it back on before leaving the cafe.

One of your hands took refuge in your cozy double sleeve so that it was no more than a nub of thick cloth, while the other, wound frigid fingers through the tender warmth his hand provided. A small, content smile adorned your face as you walked closely together, shoulders brushing with each step, to conserve the heat between you two.

Midoriya was beaming. He hadn’t stopped since he had left the cafe with his hand in yours, heart singing in delight at the sensation of your fingers slotted perfectly through his, like the missing pieces of a puzzle. His joy and excitement was so clearly bubbling past the brim of his self-control, you were sure that if he could smile any brighter that he would, just to show how proud he was to be holding your hand.

Neither of you said anything on your walk back to the dorms. You didn’t have to and neither did he, even if his posture said that he could barely contain himself. Midoriya could speak if he wanted, knew that without a shadow of a doubt, but he chose not to. He chose to walk with you, hand intertwined with yours, on a blissfully quiet trip back to the dorms, basking in your presence. Just as you did so happily with him.

Minutes pass much too quickly though, and it seems like you’re upon the entrance steps of the dorms only seconds later. He pauses and you stop with him, turning to face him, eager for the buildings heat, but more eager to understand the hesitation that flickers in his gaze. Another moment of silence passed before he turned to you, freckled cheeks flushed a bright red that once more has to do with far more than just the cold.

You wait patiently, eyes soft and mouth still pulled into a gentle smile that wordlessly urges him to speak his mind. He takes you in for one last moment, his beaming grin grown slightly muted as he searches for the confidence he needs, which he quickly finds resting in your own gaze.

“I - uhm - I just wanted to thank you,” he started quietly, “for making tonight so amazing. I really can’t tell you how happy it made me.”

Oh, you were going to swoon, truly.

This boy...

After all that he had done for you tonight, he still wanted to thank you. To thank you. When all you had done was show up and bottle up your feelings for the past two years. You didn’t deserve him and you weren’t sure if the universe had already realized its mistake, but there was no way in hell you were going to give him back now.

“Izuku,” you sighed, your smile lifting fondly at the edges, “I should be the one thanking you here. You went through all of this trouble today just to help me out and if it weren’t for you I would still be sitting there with that stupid text book and my harbored feelings not knowing what the heck I was supposed to do. So, thank you for all that you did for me tonight and making it one I will forever remember.”

His mouth fell open in a look of awe and soft adoration, then within one swift step forward, he swooped down and gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was short and sweet, a fleeting brush of his lips, but it was enough to warm your entire body in a flood of overwhelming heat.

Midoriya pulled away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, likely matching your own, and gaze slightly chagrined. “S-Sorry, I should have asked.”

You beamed, shaking your head vigorously as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your forehead to rest against his, “Stop apologizing for silly things and kiss me again.”

“S-Sor - I mean - wait, really?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the genuine surprise in his eyes, it was adorable. “Yes, Izuku, yes, kiss me again.”

And so he did. With a grin that reflected your own, he pressed his lips against yours once more, this time more firmly than the first, and brought his hands to your hips to pull you closer.

The night wasn’t so cold anymore. He warmed your heart, your chest, your body, your soul. Everything you could ever ask for, he was a brilliant pillar of light that radiated comforting heat and he was all yours. Your own personal ray of sunshine that you would hold on to for as long as you could.

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✨ written 10/9/19 ✨

[ostcntatious]

          ––– ‘ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖘 , 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 ’

𝖙𝖜: 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙 , 𝖆𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖍𝖔𝖑 , 𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓���� 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉

         𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 .  the  memories  of  this  day  are  the  first  ones  she'll  remember  ,  years  later  .  the  song  family  has  been  cordially  invited  to  an  elegant  lunch  to  welcome  them  into  japanese  high  society  ,  and  ophelia's  been  forced  into  a  dress  she  doesn't  like  ,  black  hair  pinned  back  and  curled  ,  with  golden  clips  pulling  it  back  from  soft  ,  rounded  features  .  she  doesn't  understand  any  of  this  yet  ––  the  act  her  family  puts  on  ,  the  one  she  must  continue  even  though  she'll  never  be  praised  for  her  compliance  .  still  a  child  ,  a  maid  whose  name  ophelia  never  made  an  effort  to  learn  smiles  at  the  girl  ,  tells  her  she  looks  lovely  as  a  gentle  hand  wipes  away  the  stray  tears  from  the  tantrum  she's  still  recovering  from  .  i  want  my  mother  to  dress  me  ,  she'd  cried  at  the  top  of  her  lungs  ,  tiny  hands  throwing  clothes  onto  the  floor  and  shoes  at  the  walls  because  maybe  scandal  would  force  her  mother  to  check  on  her  ––  your  mother  isn't  home  ,  she  was  told  .  she's  gone  out  with  your  brother  .  they  didn't  ask  her  to  come  with  them  ,  and  her  father  is  locked  inside  his  office  ,  working  as  always  .  it's  only  her  and  a  stranger  with  angelic  patience  ,  who  tidied  up  her  mess  and  spoke  gentle  ,  hushed  words  at  the  child  she  was  tasked  to  look  after  until  she  settled  down  in  her  own  childish  version  of  resignation  .  father  wasn't  coming  .  neither  was  mother  ,  least  of  all  brother  .  five  years  old  ,  and  ophelia  begins  to  learn  what  it  feels  like  to  be  forgotten  .

        𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 .  switzerland  is  home  ,  and  as  she  steps  into  the  mansion  that  the  song  family  has  gracefully  settled  into  ,  employees  rush  past  her  to  get  her  bags  from  the  car  .  welcome  home  ,  miss  song  . outside  ,  the  clouds  are  painted  hues  of  orange  as  the  calm  atmosphere  of  sunday  afternoon  drags  on  ,  only  interrupted  by  the  chatter  of  pedestrian  or  the  occasional  honk  of  a  car  .  it's  mundane  ,  and  by  now  ,  ophelia  has  learned  to  look  down  on  all  things  ordinary  .  she  surrounds  herself  by  people  with  golden  surnames  ,  because  she  knows  her  father  will  frown  whenever  her  polite  demeanor  is  extended  to  someone  unworthy  of  it  .  he  won't  scold  her  ––  he  cares  too  little  ,  doesn't  spend  enough  time  around  his  daughter  to  fully  understand  the  child  or  her  habits  .  but  he’ll  frown  .  he’ll  have  another  reason  to  disapprove  of  her  .  black  hair  tumbles  free  from  the  ponytail  that  had  previously  pulled  it  away  from  her  face  ,  falls  onto  her  shoulders  as  a  hand  combs  through  the  strands  .  the  words  thank  you  die  on  ophelia's  tongue  as  a  maid  informs  her  that  her  favorite  tea  has  been  brought  into  her  room  ––  father  never  says  thank  you  when  someone  pours  him  coffee  .  instead  ,  she  nods  at  the  maid  ––  and  gives  her  a  small  ,  private  smile  .  twelve  years  old  ,  and  ophelia  hopes  that  if  her  father  doesn't  love  her  for  herself  ,  maybe  she  can  mold  herself  after  him  in  hopes  that  his  own  vanity  will  make  him  regard  her  as  highly  as  he  does  with  her  brother  .

        𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 .  the  smell  of  chemicals  cuts  through  the  room  as  a  hairdresser  runs  a  brush  through  silky  strands  of  hair  ,  and  ophelia  sits  in  a  way  that  has  become  natural  to  her  .  the  picture  of  poise  .  back  straight  ,  hands  folded  on  her  lap  ––  right  over  left  ,  gold  ring  gleams  in  the  light  .  the  same  one  her  father  wears  .  the  same  one  all  the  songs  wear  ,  as  a  visible  symbol  of  their  status  .  they  don't  bleed  red  like  the  rest  of  the  world  ,  nor  do  they  bleed  blue  .  the  songs  bleed  ichor  .  they  are  gods  above  mortals  ,  every  smile  sharp  as  their  frigid  features  ––  they’re  made  of  marble  ,  and  like  statues  ,  they  are  as  beautiful  as  they  are  cold  .  a  mother  who  has  turned  a  blind  eye  to  a  little  girl  who  refuses  to  accept  the  destiny  she  once  gracefully  received  ,  wearing  inferiority  proudly  .  mother  calls  it  tradition  ,  daughter  calls  it  a  curse  .  father  called  her  rebellious  when  ophelia  insisted  she  was  meant  for  greatness  .  she'd  stormed  into  her  father's  study  after  returning  from  an  awards  ceremony  ,  slammed  a  glittering  trophy  onto  his  desk  .  '  i  was  the  best  in  class  again  ,  father  ,  i  did  so  much  better  than  tybalt  ,  '  she'd  cried  out  ––  she  had  risked  everything  for  this  ,  planting  drugs  on  someone  else  to  secure  her  position  .  for  what  ?  he  didn’t  even  care  ,  his  dismissive  hand  and  underhanded  compliments  infuriating  .  too  many  years  of  this  .  ophelia  had  been  driven  to  a  point  of  no  return  .  i  am  more  than  capable  ,  she'd  said  .  you  are  theatrical  and  insubordinate  ,  came  the  reply  .  i  have  never  failed  ,  ophelia  had  insisted  ,  openly  crying  in  front  of  a  father  that  only  stood  up  from  his  chair  to  shout  at  her  in  his  native  language  .  her  refusal  to  accept  her  position  was  the  biggest  failure  of  them  all  .  sixteen  years  old  ,  and  the  day  after  moving  into  an  apartment  in  portland  all  by  herself  ,  her  hair  has  gone  from  song  black  to  ophelia  blonde  .  sixteen  years  old  ,  and  she's  chosen  excellence  over  a  hope  of  ever  being  loved  by  a  family  that  bid  her  a  stoic  goodbye  as  she  packed  up  her  belongings  and  moved  into  the  luxury  apartment  her  parents  reluctantly  paid  for  ––  her  last  name  is  still  song  ,  after  all  .  sixteen  years  old  ,  and  she's  accepted  that  the  world  wants  her  to  be  her  own  person  ––  though  ,  as  a  hairdresser  hands  her  a  mirror  and  leaves  ,  switching  her  parents'  expectations  for  her  own  feels  the  same  as  being  alone  .  sixteen  years  old  ,  and  ophelia  has  stopped  holding  onto  hopes  and  daydreams  of  an  accepting  family  .

        𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃  .  she’s  happy  .  the  realization  comes  when  a  boy  holds  her  close  and  the  two  of  them  sing  along  to  a  band  she  never  thought  she’d  like  ––  ophelia  has  always  been  a  fan  of  classical  music  ,  even  when  others  call  her  pretentious  and  she  fires  back  with  refined  .  and  yet  ,  fleetwood  mac  has  made  its  way  into  her  spotify  playlist  ,  her  boyfriend  laughing  whenever  she  messes  up  the  words  ,  her  threatening  to  poison  his  coffee  if  he  laughs  at  her  again .  she  spent  the  night  with  him  ,  and  although  ophelia  had  claimed  she’d  make  breakfast  ,  it  turned  out  that  her  version  of  cooking  was  uber  eats  ––  but  she  insisted  that  her  coffee  was  great  ,  and  of  course  he’d  said  it  was  the  best  drink  he’d  ever  had  .  twenty  years  old  ,  and  a  gentle  hand  brushes  blonde  hair  away  ––  tangled  ,  but  neither  of  them  care  ––  to  kiss  her  .  twenty  years  old  ,  and  when  he  says  he  loves  her  ,  ophelia  panics  because  it’s  too  soon  and  she  didn’t  see  it  coming  –– she  kisses  him  again  instead  of  saying  anything  ,  her  initial  panic  slowly  subsiding  every  time   he  repeats  the  words  over  the  months  they’re  together  ––  twenty  years  old  ,  and  she’s  tempted  to  believe  him  .  

        𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 .  it's  been  hours  ,  and  ophelia  still  can't  decide  if  the  bed  sheets  tucked  tightly  around  her  frame  feel  like  comfort  or  prison  .  the  tears  flow  freely  ,  her  phone's  battery  died  long  ago  ,  and  she's  made  no  move  to  get  out  of  bed  since  the  last  time  she  pried  the  sheets  away  to  go  to  the  bathroom  ,  eat  something  and  down  a  glass  of  water  in  hopes  that  it  would  heal  her  headache  ––  partly  from  her  hangover  ,  partly  from  the  dehydration  that  comes  as  the  inevitable  consequence  of  crying  harder  than  she  has  in  years  .  grabbing  a  bottle  of  wine  when  the  water  didn't  make  her  feel  better  ––  numb  is  better  than  sad  ,  anything  is  better  than  sad  ,  she  doesn't  know  how  to  be  sad  .  and  yet  there  was  no  confusion  when  a  pillow  pressed  against  her  face  did  nothing  to  stop  the  emotions  pouring  out  of  her  ––  this  is  sadness  ,  ophelia  had  realized  .  this  is  weakness  .  it  is  unfamiliar  ,  it  is  confusing  ,  and  she  needs  it  to  stop  because  it  is  all  -  consuming  and  ophelia  doesn't  know  how  she  could  ever  feel  better  when  the  loneliness  is  followed  by  insecurity  ,  followed  by  the  pain  of  feeling  like  she  is  nothing  .  twenty  -  one  years  old  ,  and  the  memory  of  her  lashing  out  at  neels  makes  her  finally  take  the  nickname  satan  as  the  insult  it  was  always  meant  to  be  rather  than  what  her  warped  mind  turned  into  praise  .  it is  always  better  to  be  feared  than  loved  ,  father  always  said  ––  for  a  tyrant  like  him  ,  the  advice  came  easily  .  it  was  so  easy  to  welcome  fear  as  power  when  people  like  him  had  no  idea  what  love  felt  like  .  she'd  wanted  to  be  him  ,  first  so  he  would  love  her  ,  then  so  the  rest  of  the  world  would  think  of  her  as  powerful  and  unreachable  ,  too  .  it  felt  so  much  like  success  .  it's  left  her  wrapped  in  bedsheets  ,  a  bottle  of  wine  next  to  crumpled  up  tissues  on  her  nightstand  ,  and  so  much  hurt  coursing  through  her  that  ophelia  understands  why  someone  would  choose  substances  over  her  with  no  need  to  be  questioned  .  what  an  obvious  ,  easy  choice  ––  why  would  he  have  chosen  her  ,  or  even  the  memory  of  her  ?  a  broken  girl  ,  making  empty  promises  .  too  hurt  to  feel  anything  properly  without  her  own  pent  up  anger  turning  it  poisonous  ,  tinting  everything  with  the  darkness  what  seeps  out  of  her  so  easily  ––  she's  settled  into  her  role  as  villain  so  well  ,  it's  no  longer  an  act  .  it  never  has  been  ––  she  never  got  the  chance  to  be  anything  but  the  enemy  .  too  proud  to  want  to  fix  herself  ,  too  caught  up  in  the  thrill  of  power  to  think  there  is  anything  that  has  to  be  fixed  at  all  .  or  aching  too  badly  to  think  that  she's  still  worth  trying  to  fix  ––  she's  no  goddess  ,  she's  a  demon  .  maybe  meant  to  be  alone  ,  to  drown  in  her  loneliness  as  repentance  for  all  the  sins  she's  committed  with  a  wicked  smile  on  painted  lips  .  as  she  rises  from  her  bed  ,  bare  feet  lead  her  into  the  bathroom  where  she  stares  at  her  reflection  ––  she  can't  even  recognize  herself  like  this  .  twenty  -  one  years  old  ,  and  ophelia  has  just  realized  that  she's  broken  .  twenty  -  one  years  old  ,  and  ophelia  fucking  song  is  weak  .  no  one  can  see  her  like  this  ,  is  her  first  impulse  as  she  drags  herself  into  the  shower  .  no  one  can  know  ––  it  would  ruin  her  ,  people  seeing  her  as  human  rather  than  the  divine  entity  she  masquerades  as  .  twenty  -  one  years  old  ,  and  she's  still  the  same  girl  who  looks  out  for  herself  (  and  herself  only  )  because  she's  convinced  that  no  one  else  will  .