#they're the only reason that makes me sometimes miss my school days

[sajra-savera]

And suddenly the words, 'I haven't seen my school friends in months' came out of my mouth. But that was really weird because weren't we supposed to go to university together before buying a house next to each other and spending the rest of our lives laughing at our silly inside jokes?

[outofconcheol]

The Sun Also Rises (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: dancer!Minho x ballerina!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, strangers to lovers, travel au, 18+

summary: sometimes, one night is all it takes to change everything. and that's where Minho meets you.

warnings: pov switches, feelings of burnout and poor mental health discussed, alcohol, swearing, alcohol, kind of a language barrier (Minho can understand but is bad at speaking English), lots of tension, they're literally idiots I can't, Hyunjin being the voice of reason, Kento Yamazaki also makes a cameo (twinnn where have you been)

word count: 8k

a/n: consider this my early bday gift to me (and Minho), since both of our bdays are coming up in October. this is based on the film Before Sunrise. I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, it feels very me, so i hope you enjoy! thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for the lovely banner!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension abound, lots of kissing (too much for two people who just met), grinding, beach sex (be cautious when attempting irl), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), pull-out method (again be cautious and wrap it before you tap it), cumshot

The night breeze rustles through the trees, and even though it's late, the city teems with life. Whispers can be heard around every corner, the clinking of wine glasses muddled with the sound of laughter. Minho’s stomach rumbles, the warm, spicy scent of paella wafting from somewhere nearby, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since this morning.

For a brief moment, he misses the food back in Korea – the deep, earthy flavour of a steaming pot of doenjang jjigae from his eomma’s kitchen. He should really call his parents – they’d probably want to know how their son ended up lost and halfway across the world, stumbling through Gracìa on an empty stomach. 

To be fair, Minho didn’t even know himself. If he was Hyunjin, he could have said that he was attracted to the abstract, flowing architecture of Gaudì, and he wanted to study it. Maybe if he was Jeongin, he’d point to the numerous shops and boutiques that lined the streets of Barcelona, a fashion lover’s paradise. 

But he was Lee Minho –  a failed dance school drop-out, kicked out of his own crew because one day, the music had just stopped. And so did he, frozen in the middle of the routine, before he made a break for it and ran. The weak link in the chain. A note slightly out of tune. 

The discordance of it all didn’t escape him – being here in such an enchanting city, when inside it felt like he’d stumbled and stumbled until he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be able to dance again. 

And he only had himself to blame.

The streets continue to wind, Minho’s sluggish feet under their spell, going wherever they lead. He remains a prisoner to his thoughts, the sights melding into a blur around him, until suddenly, he hears it. Around the corner.

Music.

And not just any kind – real music. The jovial sound of a live band, so different from the synthetic beats he was used to when it came to choreographing. His feet have a mind of their own, entranced and leading him straight to the source of the sound.

The scene he stumbles into is beyond what he could have imagined for this time of night – under a canopy of twinkling lights, were dancers. Dancers everywhere, twirling and prancing like they were out of a storybook, perfectly in tune with the music. 

Minho ducks behind a tree, his foot tapping in sync to the beat, and watches them dance, their toes skipping from right to left as they move back in forth in a circle. It’s beyond captivating, and he longs to join them. 

He wonders if they recognize him as one of them, or if he seems like just another plain tourist, happily enjoying the feeling of getting lost in a foreign city. 

The circle stalls, the music changing into a slower, more enthralling lilt, to signal the entry of someone new. Minho’s eyebrow quirks when the sea of people parts, the moon’s spotlight now on a solitary figure. 

His breath catches in his throat as he spots you – nimble movements a stark contrast to the rustic giddiness of the common crowd. He knows you must be classically trained – movements precise and ethereal, your meticulous form a stark contrast to the fluidity that surrounds you. He’s spellbound with the way you move – a vision of grace, so different from the swift, powerful movements he was used to executing, watching how the music takes hold of you, like you’re a marionette on strings, letting it lead you wherever you need to go.

Time ceases to exist the longer he watches, taken with the elegant lines of your body, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t notice when the music stops, until he feels the rustle of a figure next to him.

Minho turns in surprise, and tumbles backwards into the tree.

It’s you. The dancer.

Your doe eyes look up at him in concern, and it’s only then that Minho feels the sharp twang of pain from colliding with the sturdy trunk, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder.

“Are you always this clumsy?” Your lips curve in a lovely grin, and Minho feels his ears grow hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t…” he manages to choke out, too drawn in by the way your eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief.

“Sooo, should I call you New Here, or…” you trail off, and Minho pauses, a few silent breaths passing between you before he finally gets it. His name. You were asking for his name.

“Minho.”

“Ah. Minho. I’m ____.”

“You dance well,” Minho manages to blurt out. 

The words felt heavy on his tongue, like it’d been ages since he’d talked to someone unfamiliar, too caught up in his comfortable ways. His schedule had been simple. Eat, sleep, dance, repeat. And of course go home to feed the cats. But being here felt like challenging everything he’d known.

“You noticed?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Minho can tell that you’re wondering whether he’s being genuine or saying it just to say it. You were probably used to it – fleeting tourists who flirted for a brief moment before disappearing into the night, too captivated by your beauty to act reasonably.

Maybe he was a fool then too.

“I dance as well. Not here though. Back home. It’s different,” he steps closer, heart warming when you don’t back away, honoured that he’s won your trust. Dance was a language he could always speak, no matter where he was in the world.

“Different isn’t always bad,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What do you dance?”

“Hip-hop,” he rambles, feeling his shyness dissipate when you tune in to the conversation. “It’s not like you, I mean you were–, wow, but I like to tell stories. When I dance.”

He feels himself grow warm at his stilted words, silently cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Chan up on those English lessons when he’d met up with him for coffee last time. But he never imagined he’d be here.

Your smile only grows as you nod your head along with his words, understanding exactly what he meant.

“So, Minho, what brings you here? To Barcelona.”

Minho bristles, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many reasons, and you were a complete stranger. Did he dare reveal the truth?

“Here, I can be lost, I think,” Minho whispers, hoping you’ll know he means in more than ways than one. “Seoul is different. I think too much. The noise hurts.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I moved here six years ago, and sometimes it feels like I’m living inside a painting. It’s both magical and lonely sometimes.”

A flicker of relief washes over him. You understood him. Minho had been searching for so long for someone who understood – his friends could comfort him, but they didn’t really get it. The paralysis he felt. 

“You’re kind. Kind and good at dancing,” he grins shyly, bunny teeth poking through his lips.

“You’re good with words,” you tease back. “You should have been a writer instead.”

“Too late for that now,” Minho sighs, his entire figure slumping, and he watches you freeze. He wants to tell you it’s not your fault he feels this way, that you didn’t do anything, but the words remain clogged in his throat.

“Well it’s barely 10pm. I wouldn’t say it’s that late,” you say, voice filled with warmth, and Minho slowly comes back to himself, giving you a chuckle.

“Can I, you, we, go somewhere? Together?”

Minho watches you pause for a moment, scared that what he’d offered caused you to hesitate. But something about you made him want to keep talking to you, even if it was only for tonight.

“Sure, I’d love to.” He watches your eyes scrunch in enthusiasm. “I can show you some of my favourite places around the city.”

You beckon to him with a hand, gesturing to the shadowy streets. Minho gulped – this was the biggest risk he’d taken since being here, almost a risk as big as leaving Korea. But with the way you’d captured him from the very first moment he’d seen you tonight, he wondered if it might just be one that paid off.

The night air hums with a new kind of energy as Minho follows you through the streets – whereas before, it all seemed a blur, now the city had truly come alive in his eyes. He peered through the windows of every building you passed, watching happy patrons laugh with each other, the heady buzz of alcohol in their veins.

Minho’s stomach only grumbles louder at the thought of booze, a pang of hunger hitting him. Embarrassed, he braces a hand around his stomach, hoping you haven’t caught on —

But you’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for, already turning around to face him.

“Okay, I definitely know where we need to go first,” you flick his arm, and Minho yelps at the surprising amount of force in the tiny jab. “You can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Minho wants to tell you that he’d never planned on dancing at all, wasn’t even sure if he could anymore, but you’re forging ahead, on a mission.

A couple of blocks later, and Minho is hit with a tantalizing array of scents – the zing of freshly ground spices, the florality of fresh fruits, and the richness of cooked meats.

“Welcome to one of my favourite places in Barcelona,” you grin, gesturing to the wide variety of stalls laid out in front of you both. “Please take your pick.”

Minho knows exactly what he wants, heading straight for a stall serving paella. He’d passed too many damn places with the stuff already, he wasn’t going to miss out on it this time.

You following along, practically skipping with him, eyes alight with excitement.

Minho falters when the kind old gentleman running the stall greets him with an ¡hola!.

“I, uh, uno, por favor,” he stutters, ears burning with embarrassment. 

You step in, gracefully saving Minho from his shame, quickly tittering off a huge order to the stall owner, and Minho feels himself relax.

“He said it’ll take a little bit for the food,” you tell him. “Do you want to explore for a bit?”

Bobbing his head yes, Minho wishes he could so badly take your hand as you weave through the market. But he wasn’t sure if you’d find that overstepping. Whatever he felt, all he knew was that the night seemed endless in the best way, full of possibilities.

The loud voices of the vendors and the clanging of different pots meld together like s symphony in his head, and Minho feels his cold limbs fill up with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come out of this trip being able to dance again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees something that makes him stop in his tracks. He taps you on the shoulder, and your face falls with concern, but when you turn to see what he’s pointing at, your eyes light up again.

“Hola,” Minho approaches the flower stall more confidently this time. The fresh scent of many different blooms makes him think of his mother’s garden in Korea, full of mugunghwas. He sees the brilliant hue of a bouquet of red carnations, and silently puts up a finger, his eyes darting to you.

The lady running the stall understands him immediately, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She grabs one from the bunch, taking special care to trim the stem. Minho rummages around in his pocket for some spare change, handing the lady more than she probably charged him for, but his heart thuds as he turns around, holding the flower out.

“For you,” he says shyly. “You’re a good guide.”

He watches your lips part in a surprised oh!, and your entire face changes colour when he holds out the flower, suddenly becoming just as shy.

“Oh Minho, you shouldn’t have… thank you.”

You take the flower from him, thumbing at the soft petals and inhaling the sweet scent. You’d received hundreds of flowers in your lifetime, huge bouquets filled with every single kind you could think of, but somehow Minho’s humble gift of a single stem makes you feel the most special. Like he actually sees you.

The two of you remain there for a few moments, unable to follow the exchange with words, until you catch the lady from the stall eyeing you both curiously.

“I think… I think maybe we should go eat,” you finally manage to breathe out, breaking the haze of the exchange. You weren’t sure why it had been so charged, a still moment amidst the hectic market, but it felt like something you’d want to hold on to.

"___?” Minho looks at you, his voice soft. “I’m glad I came here. With you.”

You met his gaze, heart beating just a little faster. 

"Me too."

Belly full, Minho follows you again through the city. Anyone looking at the two of you would think he was a little lost cat, following you around. But really, it was the opposite. Something about him made you want to stay with him. In your six years in the city, you hadn’t made very many friends. You chalked it up the the demanding nature of your job, saying you were always tired after dance practice and your feet were sore from wearing pointe shoes 85% of the time.

But you knew that was mostly an excuse. Right here, right now, it felt nice being with someone. Sharing things with someone. It only made you think of what would happen when the night would end, and Minho would leave, your loneliness welcoming you into the abyss once more.

Turning the corner, you spot it. The cozy bar was tucked away on a quiet street, its silence punctuated by the soft clinking of glasses.

Pushing the wooden door ajar, you lead Minho into the small, quaint space, filled with flickering candles and the scent of citrus and spices. The bartender sees you come in, waving a hand in greeting, and his grin only widens more when he sees Minho trail in behind you.

“Hello Kento,” you wave back, and Minho pauses again, studying the man across the bar.

“おはようございます (ohayu gozaimasu),” Minho’s low voice rumbles among the quiet din of the bar, and your jaw drops open in surprise. Minho does nothing but wink, moving to a quiet corner to pull out a chair for you.

Kento comes by to take your order, tempting you both with some of the fine-label vermouth he keeps under the bar, and you watch Minho quietly converse with him for a few moments, exchanging hushed words in Japanese.

His voice is pretty, you think. In another life maybe he could have been a singer.

“You’re full of surprises,” you tease him, watching him fidget with his napkin. 

“Tokyo is close by to Seoul,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “And I like to watch animes.”

“Where did you come from Minho? Why haven’t we met before?” You give him a wide grin.

Minho becomes quiet, his handsome face marred by what seems to be a dark cloud.

“Leaving Korea was not my plan,” he manages to grunt. “I have things there. My cats. An apartment. Dancing.”

“So what made you do it?” The words slip out, and instantly you regret them, watching pain twinge on his face. You’d hit an unexpected nerve.

“I’m looking for something,” he admits. “I don’t know what it is. My friend Hyunjin told me about Barcelona.”

“Well I think we were always meant to meet then. Hyunjin sent you to me so I can help you,” you reach over, grabbing his hand within yours. Under the dim light you study it – muscled and with prominent veins. He had a dancer’s body for certain. “Us lonely dancers only have each other to rely on huh?”

“Dancing made me happy. I, uh, what’s the word, like clothes, they–” he stumbles through his thoughts, but you don’t need him to voice them.

“Fit. It makes you feel like you belong.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you blurt out, instantly regretting it when he recoils. “I’m sorry Minho, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Kento swings by then, with two glasses of vermouth, rich, and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Watching Minho knock back the alcohol, you see his body loosen up, instantly feeling the tension from the previous conversation melt away.

“Have you ever had a bad dance?” Minho asks, brown eyes glimmering with interest.

“Oh, many times,” you respond with a light laugh. “One time, when I just moved here, I slipped during a performance of Swan Lake in front of a huge crowd. I locked myself in my apartment for a week.”

Minho chuckles, but then leans in, like he’s genuinely concerned. “How did you recover?”

You know he’s probably talking about the smarting ankle you must have had, but you think he means more.

“I walked in the next week and continued dancing like nothing happened, But it took time to get over. The pressure to be perfect can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Minho nodded, understanding the weight of expectations when it came to doing what you both loved. 

“I want to let go,” he says, gaze softening. “But it’s hard.”

“I believe in you, Minho. You’ll find the music again.”

“For you, I’ll try,” he teases softly, but you can hear the hint of determination in his voice.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled. You realize this entire time, you hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand. And he hadn’t made you either. Pulling him up with you, Minho yelps in surprise, barely having a second to wave goodbye to Kento before you’re dragging him through the door, back out into the cold night.

“I think I know something that may help.”

Buzzing from the alcohol, you drag Minho deeper into the neighbourhood, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm golden hue over the cobblestones. 

Heat radiates from where his palm meets yours, a soft breeze helping to calm the racing of your heart. Eventually, you hear it – the echo of a faint tune reverberating from the nearby buildings, and you know you’re almost there. A group of street musicians come into view, their lively jig fading away to a slower, more sensual melody.

“You’ve been talking this entire time about being bad at dancing, but I haven’t seen you actually do it,” You giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief. You take a few steps towards the middle of the square, beckoning Minho with a playful grin. “Come on.”

You watch Minho stall, and your heart races, thinking maybe you messed up. Maybe it was too soon for him, maybe he was scared and didn’t want to try again.

“Here? In front of everyone?” he replied, chewing nervously at his lip. 

“Why not?” you challenge. “Forget everyone else. It’s just you and me. Two people who love to dance.” 

You squeeze Minho’s hand in yours, squealing in shock when he pulls you close to him, arm wrapping around your waist. Leaning into his chest, you inhale his warm, woody scent, feeling yourself shiver.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But don’t think badly of me.”

“I could never,” you whisper into his neck.

Minho chuckles at that, stepping back to dramatically bow, before sweeping you into his arms once more. You move into the open space of the plaza, surrendering to the rhythm as the notes of the music envelope you both. Pressing lightly into Minho, your hand comes to rest in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me more about you,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to know.”

“My cats, they’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they live with me in my apartment,” he smiles, pride taking over his expression when he thinks of them. “You?”

You twirl free from him, dress flaring for a moment,, then spin back, hand finding his once more.

“My mother was a ballet dancer. She hurt herself when I was young and could never dance again. It’s why I chose to follow her,” you admit, finally letting yourself break free from the walls you’d built.

You let your arms float gracefully above your head, marveling at the way you and Minho moved together. His movements  were fluid and free, a sharp contrast to your precision, bodies weaving together like the finest tapestry. The air between you crackled, the pull between you like two halves of a magnet.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, his gaze intense as it meets your eyes, then travels, to your lips, down your neck, even further. You feel a throb between your legs, sparks erupting across your skin everywhere he touched. 

The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to pulse with every beat of the music. The world no longer felt as big or scary anymore, narrowed down to the two of you, everything else fading into the background. 

Suddenly, the scene around you spins, and you’re looking up at the stars, Minho’s face hovering above yours. You lean in, lips ghost against his jaw.

“Am I distracting you, Minho?” His breath caught at your query, and he sighs, drinking in the subtle scent of your skin.

You gasp when he spins you around, back meeting his front. Shivers run up your spine when he leans in, chuckling in your ear.

“Yes, but I like it,” he groans, low voice ringing in your ears, and everything around you fades as you begin to move together. Hips swaying side to side, Minho’s palms settle below your waist, so close to where you need him, and you whine softly. Even though you’re turned away, you can feel his smirk in your ear, and it all feels like it’s too much. Yet you don’t want it to stop.

The haze lifts with one particular thrust of his hips into you. A small moan leaves your mouth, and everything clears, and your heart begins to race. Shakily, your eyes meet Minho’s, surprised to find them blown out in deep pools of lust.

Minho’s shaking fingers cup the line of your jaw, his lips pressing against yours. You comd your fingers through his hair, sighing against him, finally giving in. He kisses you first with the utmost gentleness, pulling back to search your eyes for anything wrong.

Despite the chill in the night air, you’ve never felt warmer.

When you nod no, Minho leans in again, his previous gentleness giving way to hunger, the tip of his tongue gliding past your lower lip, sighing at your taste. You feel like you’ll keel over if he’s not holding you, all the blood in your body rushing away from your head.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and wide-eyed, you feel your words clogged in the back of your throat.

“I-,” you struggle, seeking brief respite from the emotions coursing through you, but not wanting the moment to end.

“I didn’t expect this night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

“I’m glad it did,” Minho replied. 

Looking around, you realize the music had long stopped, the band dispersing, no sign that they were even there to witness you and Minho’s dance.

“Do you have to go?” Minho asks, and his voice sounds impossibly small, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You pause. So much waited for you ahead – performances, errands, the struggles of daily life in a foreign city. But you decided that right now, you had more than enough time to leave that behind. 

Shaking your head, you nod no, air swirling with the thrill of the unexpected. And you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Minho feels the breeze ruffle his hair, and lets his eyes close, shoulders sighing in relief. The lapping of the waves against the shore becomes even louder, the sound of traffic and other people fading away. The sand squishes in between his toes, and he lies back on his jacket, looking straight up at the stars.  For the first time since he’d left Seoul, Minho felt completely at peace. Whereas uncertainty scared him before, now he completely welcomed the unknown. After all, it was what had lead him to you.

Minho feels his body heat when he thinks of you two dancing in the square, your face looking up at his, the feeling of your soft lips. It’d been so long since he was last with someone – dance always took over his life, leaving little time for love. But he thinks that maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you lying right next to him on top of your coat. He can feel the warmth radiating from you, your hair tousled by the sea breeze and flying in the wind.

He really wants to kiss you again.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, letting the rhythmic crash of waves fill in for the unspoken words in between you.

“Hey,” you interrupt the quiet with a whisper, like you’re afraid to shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Hey,” Minho says back, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger a little too long on your cheekbone before he drops it.

You stare at him, swirling patterns in the sand between you.

“I get it, you know. How you feel. I feel it every day when I dance. Ballet is beautiful, but it’s also... constricting,” you sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be free – free to dance, to live, to love.”

Minho nods, feeling a lump in his throat. 

“I also want that. But I’m scared. What if I’m free and I’m still not happy?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness in his voice. 

“I think happiness finds you when you least expect it,” you say gently, your voice like a gentle pat on the back.

Minho had never expected you at all. But he was glad you were here anyway.

“Can I kiss you?” He manages to choke out, heart racing as he takes in the way the moonlight casts shadows against the curve of your jaw and the softness of your lips. The urge to touch you again felt almost unbearable.

The space between you vanishes, and Minho sees you smile, leaning in closer, and his heart thuds in his chest. He reaches out again, pulling you towards him.

Your lips meet softly, shy and tentative compared to the way he kissed you in the square. It’s as gentle as the lulling of the waves, and Minho feels the world fade away, only able to register the cold sand underneath him, and you. 

As you broke apart, breathless, Minho sees you search his face. 

“What’s on your mind, Minho?”

Minho knows he’s always been pretty poor with words. Chan was the lyrical one in the friend group. Where Minho thrived, and always had, was action. So he decides to show you.

. . . 

Minho leans in again, capturing your lips with a fierce urgency, releasing a euphoric sigh into your mouth. Not wanting to push more than you’re comfortable, he wants for you to respond, fingers carding into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in his chest.

You wonders if he knows you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand. 

“I want you,” Minho finally manages to say. The words are strained, like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” your own voice cracks.” I thought you were just being nice.” 

Because the truth was, you’d wanted him the very first moment you saw him. He may have thought little of himself, but he was a vision in your eyes. A masterpiece to be admired, a person to be cherished.

Minho pulls you into him, body meshing with yours, until you can no longer tell where he ends and you begin. You gasp when you feel his hardness underneath his jeans.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles against your lips. His hands cradle your face, before reaching his arms behind you, fingers ghosting down the the curve of your spine. 

Kicking your shoes off, you feel his fingers run up and under your skirt, skimming against your bare legs and he your breath hitch, chest rising and falling in the pale light of the moon. 

Lips falling to your neck, he inhales your sweet jasmine scent, teeth grazing lightly against the soft skin. You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He slides over you, using one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to slide your your dress down to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

The clink of his belt rings in your ears as both your clothes finally finish falling away, and desire pools between your legs. Sliding up against your warm coat, you spread your legs for him, a low hum escaping his parted lips at your messy arousal gleaming on your thighs in the low light. Trailing his eyes back up to your lips, he inches towards you, his breath tickling your bare skin as he leaves kisses on your jaw, your collarbone, in between your breasts. The veins in his arms bulge as his hands come up to cup both your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his fingers until they stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

The teasing doesn’t stop, his lips enclosing over the hardened buds, messily sucking on them. While it felt amazing, you knew the sun would rise soon, and the time you had with each other was limited. You trap his hand in yours, guiding it to your throbbing clit. He nudges your legs, coaxing you to spread them further, before plunging a finger inside your wet heat, sliding it in and out. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, your pleas for more being answered swiftly as he slides a second one in, laying his head on your stomach as more and more of your arousal coats his fingers. You mewl, unable to contain your volume as you swallow them deeper, loving the rough drag against your slick walls. His thumb grazes your clit, rubbing it in slow, delicate circles before speeding up, rubbing faster, and his grunts of determination are what push you over the edge as you come.

Breath leaving you in heavy pants, your lips find his desperately, and he teases you with his tongue, his hard cock rubbing up against your wet entrance. You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pushing his cock in deeper, bucking his hips against yours as your nails dig into his back. “You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Minho, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the burning in between your thighs..

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, pulling out and jerking himself off, white ropes of cum splashing against his toned stomach and onto your  stomach before slumping against you.

You can feel his his chest heave with the weight of his breaths, your sticky bodies curled around each other. You begin to shiver from the breeze, and Minho cradles your sticky body in his arms, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo)” he whispers against your cheek. You don’t know what the words mean, but you hold them close anyway.

When the first light of dawn washes over the beach, orange and pink and purple poking out from between the clouds, you both know it’s time. It’s hushed – an eerie silence falling in between you and Minho as you scramble to throw your layers back on, the sticky feeling between your thighs a reminder that it hadn’t all just been a dream. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho hum absentmindedly to himself, running his fingers through his hair to tame the messy strands, and your heart lurches. 

The silence remains as you bid the sea farewell, the familiar streets of the city you called home greeting you once more. Only this time, you felt like a stranger, unsure of where your relationship stood. You supposed the same could be said for the man next to you.

It takes a few short moments before you’re seated at a café, stirring your coffee pensively. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the salt from the sea that sticks to your clothes, and you feel nauseous. Across from you, Minho was gazing out at the horizon, his expression pensive.

You knew it was only supposed to be temporary. One of those single brief moments where two strangers met each other, eventually passing like ships in the night, both of them holding onto the memory forever. So why did it hurt so much?

“Are you ready to go back to work?” Minho asked, his voice warm and gentle, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’ve been rehearsing for weeks. But…” 

You hesitate, heart feeling heavy.

“I know,” Minho finishes your thought. “It feels different this time.”

“I love ballet, I really do,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “But dancing isn’t my whole life. I think I’m just like you Minho. I’ve been searching for something real, something that goes beyond the stage.”

You watch Minho’s face twist, like he wants to say something, and you already know he would have asked you if you’d found it. Because he’d been searching for the same thing. It felt so cruel to have it ripped from your grasp the moment the sun began to rise.

You shared a moment of silence, the weight of everything hanging between you. You took a sip of your coffee, but instead of calming you, the warm liquid only makes your heart race.

“What are you going to do?” You asked Minho, watching his face jump to meet your gaze. “After tonight?”

“Go back to Seoul,” Minho struggles to keep his voice steady. “Maybe take a break from dance, to try something new.”

“Do it,” you encouraged, voice wobbling. “You owe it to yourself to explore what brings you joy. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

The café soon begins to fill with the clink of dishes, the laughter of patrons, the aroma of freshly baked pastries. It felt surreal, almost like a scene from a movie.

Minho reached across the table, his hand covering yours. “Thank you ___. For everything. I wish I knew how to say more.”

You squeezed his hand gently, eyes glistening. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise you won’t forget this.”

You won’t forget me.

While you and Minho labour through finishing your breakfast, the clock behind you continues ticking, each passing second a reminder that time was running out.

By the time you leave, the sun has fully risen, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Walking side by side, you travel deeper into the city, the streets blurring into each other until you come upon a familiar one. The one that leads to your apartment. It was over. 

“What did it mean?” you ask him, voice tinged with sadness. “What you said on the beach?”

Minho’s smooth voice had lingered in the back of your mind all morning, and you wished you knew Korean, that you could say something back to him. Like he’d tried for you.

Minho looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes were clouded with emotion.

“I can’t tell.”

Both of you knew it was because it might change everything.

You falter, wondering if you should say something, make a promise to keep in touch, to meet again. But it seems so useless, knowing Minho would probably never come back, and you’d never scrap together the time or money to fly to his side of the world.

You settle for throwing your arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. You bury your head into his neck, committing his familiar scent to memory, wishing it could last forever.

When you pull away, you’re already backing down the street, Minho’s somber expression looking after you.

“I guess this is it,” you said, voice trembling slightly.

Minho nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips. 

“Take care of yourself, ___.”

The knot in your stomach only grows tighter when you see him step away, tears pricking your eyes. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, the sunlight catching in his hair.

As he turned the corner, you whispered a silent wish to the rising sun, that no matter what happened, that Minho would be happy. And that if he was, maybe you could be too.

Adjusting your pointe shoes, the soft strains of music fill the air. You stand on your tip toes, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. What looks back at you looks the same as it always has – perfect form, straight posture, the picture of elegance. But only you know there’s something different now, a wild longing in your heart.

It had been months since that one night with Minho, but he’d never left your mind. Somehow, even though he was oceans away, his ghost trailed after you everywhere you went. When you spun, you could almost feel his hands around your waist, guiding you in a duet. When you came home to your apartment, you wished he was there, the two of you laughing over a cup of coffee. Every time you smelled the ocean breeze, you remembered his lips meeting yours, bodies tangled together in the sand.

He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.

When practice ends, you chat with your fellow dancers, wishing them a swift goodbye before running out the door.

When the longing built to its worst, you always knew where to go, the warmth of Kento’s bar waiting for you at the end of another rough day. Before, he would tease you, asking where your “special friend who spoke good Japanese” was, but now he only slides a matcha in your direction, his eyes sad while he chuckles about how you needed to cut back on the vermouth.

In a daze, you scroll through your phone, heart dropping when you realized there were no photos of Minho in your phone. The date remained a figment of your memory, like he’d never existed at all. And you had nothing to look back on.

Tears prick your eyes when you realize how stupid you’d been. So caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even thought of asking for his number, or any contact information. There were a million people named  “Minho” from Seoul to wade through every time you opened social media to check.

You wondered if Minho thought of you as often as you thought of him. What was he doing now? Was he happy?

Sighing heavily, you decide you’ll probably never know the answer.

Until your phone buzzes.

. . .

Minho sighs deeply, his muscles aching from another grueling day in the studio. He feels Soonie brush against his feet, his oldest friend curling up into a ball at his feet, and he reaches down to scratch between his ears. Looking out over the balcony, the twinkling city lights of Seoul gleam back at him, but his thoughts are full of another place. And another person. 

No matter how much he immersed himself in his routine—classes, rehearsals, and performances—something felt off. His friends would joke about his trip, saying he’d come back a changed man, like a monk who’d found enlightenment, but his serious expression always shut them down. 

He hears footsteps on the balcony behind him, and Hyunjin comes to sit next to him, holding out a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat hyung,” he scolds Minho. “You have to be exhausted from practice today.”

Minho accepts the cup, picking up a few with his chopsticks, but decides he can’t stomach them, staring absently at the cup.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to pry, but,” Hyunjin sounds unsure, like he’s poking a sleeping dragon. “What happened in Barcelona?”

Minho shoots up at Hyunjin’s perceptive question, knowing his pabo face was terrible at hiding things. Especially from his best friend. 

Whereas Minho struggled to find the words with you, they all came flooding out in front of Hyunjin, recalling everything from the moment he saw you to how you continued to linger in his mind even now. How he couldn’t shake you no matter how hard he tried.

Hyunjin listens along, nodding his head in understanding, and finally leans back, brushing a hand over Soonie’s fur.

“Hyung, I know you’re stupid, but like, have you ever thought about just reaching out? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand, it’s–”

“Complicated? What is so complicated about it? You like her. It sounds like she likes you. Why waste time on the what-ifs?”

Hyunjin pats him on the back, saying that if the weekend rolls around and Minho doesn’t have an update for him, he’ll threaten to air-fry him.

Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, thumb hovering over your username. He’d found you right after he’d left of course, easily putting your name and Barcelona together. But he’d never been able to take the final leap to reach out, to build on whatever had started that night.

But now, he decides he’s done wasting time.

When Minho steps off the plane, the air in Barcelona is thick with the smell of orange blossoms and the distant strumming of Spanish guitar. It had only taken a few messages back and forth for you two to fall into the same easy rhythm. Hyunjin teased him for constantly checking his phone for notifications from you, but deep down, he knew that his friends wanted him to chase whatever made him happy.

It hadn’t taken much longer for him to decide to decide to book a flight, seeing an ad for the ballet troupe’s latest performance on your Instagram story. Now, as he watches the streets pass by in the cab, he feels like he might be nauseous, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

But then he thinks back to how one night hand changed everything, and decides that you’re a chance worth taking. 

When he arrives at the performance hall, Minho ducks by the crowd, slipping into the plush velvet seat. Around him, the audience buzzes with excitement, but Minho pays them no mind, his eyes trained on the stage, dark for now.

When the lights go down and the curtains draw back, Minho has to hold in his breath. It was exactly like the first time.

You, in your silver and white costume, gliding across the stage like a wisp of smoke, letting the music lead you wherever you needed to go. Your performance cries with unspoken passion and longing and Minho wonders if all this time, you’ve felt the same way, unable to let him go like he had with you.

Minho doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before the music finally stops, but he pushes his way through the audience, moving against the crowd to find the backstage exit. To find you.

. . .

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come back here, this is only for performers…” 

The security guard’s voice booms at the door to the dressing room, and Sakura, your fellow dancer, nudges you, rolling her eyes. A laugh bubbles in your throat, wondering what crazy person had made their way backstage, but then you hear it.

A voice that stops you in your tracks. One you thought you’d never hear again.

“Please, I just need to –, please,” it begs, and you’re up out of your chair before you can even stop yourself.

Pushing past the guard, your eyes widen in disbelief when you see Minho outside. He looks different now, hair longer, and maybe the colour had changed, but the real difference is in his eyes. No longer empty, they light up when they see you.

“Minho?” You whisper, unable to believe that it’s actually real. That he’s actually here.

“Surprise,” he grins, taking a step towards you.

The security guard eyes you both suspiciously, Minho in his long trench and crisp pressed slacks, and you in your sweats, the remnants of your shimmery makeup still lingering on your face, before he slips away.

“What are you doing here?”

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo). It means that I want you to stay together with me,” he admitted, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you both. 

Tears of happiness shimmered in your eyes as you moved closer, closing the distance between you two. 

“I thought you were just being nice,” you joke, but it comes out a sob.

Minho took your hands in his, and you feel the warmth radiate from his skin. 

“I am not just nice,” he smiles, reaching over to thumb away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His lips fill the spot where the tear had once been.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your temple. “I have to show you something.”

. . .

Hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of Barcelona greet you both once more, only this time, everything had changed.

Minho comes to a pause right then, feeling the weight that he’d been shouldering for months finally lift from his shoulder now that he had you in his arms again.

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

You looked around, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “This is where we danced that night.”

“Will you dance with me again?,” he poses, his chest  filled with fear and trepidation, but also hope.

You take a step back, sinking into a deep bow in front of him. Minho grins, catchind your hand to spin you back towards him. The world around you faded as you began to move together, time stopping for the both of you.

As he slowed, breathless and beaming, he feels you burrow into the crook of his neck., whispering against his skin.

“Am I distracting you Minho?”

Minho tilts his chin up to meet your gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, but I like it,” he breathes, closing the gap to crash his lips against yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

The sun would rise again tomorrow. But this time, you’d be by his side.

a/n pt. 2: this reminds me of Collision!Minho a bit, they're like two sides of the same coin haha. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[meltinghun]

Complicated ; Jean-Pierre Magnan.

summary; since the start of the school year, Jean-Pierre and reader have competed with each other for the first place on everything, that is until reader starts to neglect herself.

warnings: fem!reader, ANGST!!!, fluff, swearing, academic enemies-to-lovers, feelings of failure, reader has a shitty family AND doesn't take care of her health (dead dove do not eat? idk?), canon typical misogyny, they're so mean but they like each other (i promise!!).

w/c: 2.8k

author note: i want to thank everyone who encouraged me to keep writting, your comments made me blush and giggle so hard, omg!!!! <3

I got stuck in this o.s for more than a month because I really liked the idea but I wasn't convinced on how it was turning out, but anyways, I had to upload something after being inactive for so long lmao.

The latin teacher handed each student their graded exams, occasionally throwing back handed comments when he saw necessary, visibly enjoying the defeated faces of the students that didn't receive a satisfactory grade.

With an audible sigh, he extended the paper towards Y/N, shaking his head to emphatise his dissaprovement.

"You were the only reason as to why I was starting to believe that it was a good idea to integrate girls to the school." He raised his eyebrows. "But I'm starting to regret it."

The loud comment reverberated on the walls and hurt her ears, making her shrink in her seat with embarrassment when the big red 7/20 was placed in front of her. When the professor continued walking around, she heard a subtle chuckle coming from the left, turning her head in that direction. Founding a pair of big green eyes already staring at her in amusement.

"And I'm starting to believe that, after all, you are not a threat at all." A small smirk painted his face before continuing. "Maybe you fooled all of us into believing that you were actually smart, but I guess you aren't at all."

Her throat closed at the same time that she felt the need to throw up, she didn't knew what was wrong with her, she stayed up late studying for the tests, wrote her own resumes and even recited them out loud to try and memorize it, but no matter what she tried, the formulas didn't seem to stick to her brain, the numbers and symbols seemed like the exact same thing and confused them with each other and even the words of her history homework seemed to be written on a foreign language. She felt like a failure ever since her parents started to demand even better grades than she already had, spending her days and nights studying and having little to almost no sleep at all, investing all her time into trying to regain her star student position.

She was exhausted, sometimes even getting to the point of hallucinating things from the lack of rest, but convincing herself that she didn't deserve it until her parents were more than proud of her. And that seemed so far away.

Blinking away the tears, she tried to keep up with her facade, "Maybe you should start to mind your own business, Magnan." She managed to spat through gritted teeth.

"And that's where you're wrong, again." She groaned in annoyance. "See, when something makes you feel miserable, it is completly of my business because it makes me feel amazing."

She took a sharp inhale, and before she could say something, the sound of the bell indicating the start of reccess pierced the air. Rapidly, she gathered her belongings and almost sprinted out of the classroom, earning a severe reprimend from the teacher that she didn't care enough to hear.

"Miss L/N!" He made an offended sound. "Women, they are so sensitive... That's why they don't belong here."

She made a straight path towards the teachers restrooms, and only after locking the door did she allowed herself to let out a choked sob. The tears falling down and making a mess everywere, a hand coming up her face to try to muffle her desperate cries.

She really didn't know what was wrong with her.

Maybe she was the problem.

Everything came down like a ton of bricks falling on her, from the pressure of trying to be a role model for her family, to the hurtful words of Jean-Pierre that striked a nerve. Usually it wouldn't bother her that much and instead she would have a comeback ready to throw at him, but lately that wasn't the case, the highlights of her day used to be the moments were they started bickering at each other, sharing defying looks and victorius smirks in the way. She awaited those moments so eagerly.

But now she was lacking the strength to think on a smart jab to get right back at him, and even when she did manage to come up with something, it didn't bring her any satisfaction at all like it used to. Instead, she just felt drained.

Once again, the bell rang indicating to everyone that the classes resumed once again, but rather of getting out of her little hiding spot, she just stayed there, not feeling ready to face yet another deception.

Nor face again those mesmerizing green eyes.

A sharp headache made her wince slighty, she's been having them since a few days ago, sometimes were more powerful than others and today it seemed like one of the days were she felt like digging out her brain out of her head. She splashed some water on her face and looked at the mirror, looking away almost immediately when she took note of how sick she looked.

Opening the door, she carefully made her way to the infirmary, thinking to herself that some minutes with the school's nurse could excuse her absence in the class. A sudden feeling of dizziness caused by the sudden movement almost made her trip over, but before it happened, a strong hand took hold of her arm, keeping her from falling.

"What is wrong with you? Where the hell were you?" Jean-Pierre gave her a severe look that harbored his concern.

"I already told you to mind your own business." With all the strength she could muster, she pushed herself free out of his hold, the anger bubbling on her veins. "I don't owe you nothing, so get out of my sight and leave me the fuck alone. You would do me a great fucking favor."

Her harsh words left him completly dumbfounded, never before had she talked to him like that, even on the days when he annoyed her out of her mind. He saw how she moved towards the stairs, holding tightly onto the rails; moving closer to her hunched form, he felt the sudden and desperate need to ask her what was the problem, if he could help her in any way.

"I'm here against my will, Miss Couret sent me to look out for you." Was the only thing that came out of his mouth. "She was worried because she didn't saw you at recess, even more when you weren't at the classroom."

The lie slipped off naturally from him. Miss Couret didn't sent him to look out for her, he scaped class by coming up with some excuse about needing to ask something important about his latin competence, the truth was that he was the one who worried about her absence. But she didn't need to know that tiny detail.

Jean-Pierre would never admit it out loud, but he saw the drastic change on his rival's attitude, and it got him concerned. He would secretly listen to conversations of her friends that involved Y/N herself as a main topic, that's how he got to know how strict her parents were with her and it made his stomach churn with worry.

The weird thing was, he really didn't know why he cared so much, neither why he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was the first thing on his mind when he waked up, thinking about new ways to annoy her and have her total attention on him, he thought about her on the afternoon while doing homework, wondering if she managed to do the excersices better that him, and she was also his last thought before dozing up to sleep, anxiously waiting for the morning to come to do that rutine all over again.

He really didn't knew why.

A grip on his sleeve made him stop on his tracks and turn his torso towards her, his free hand instinctively coming up to rest it on her forearm.

"I think I will pass up." She mumbled with a lost look on her eyes. "If you let me fall, I will kill you, Magnan."

And not even a second later, everything turned black to her.

- - - - - - - - - -

The fist thing she noticed was the slight smell of pine blending up with the strong one coming out of the medicines, a small sigh leaving her lips before opening her eyes, stumbling almost immediately with the image of Jean-Pierre sitting beside the bed she was lying, and from what she could see, he was engrossed with a latin book.

Her heart raced and a hundred thoughts per second invaded her head. He could've left her with the nurse to come back to class, why was her still there? Was he waiting for her to wake up? But also, what if he was only there to be the first one to laugh at her? The questions overwhelmed her inmensely, so she decided to ask first the important ones.

"How long have I've been unconsious?" The sudden sound of her voice making him shot his head up, she could swore he almost looked relieved.

"I, uhm... Here, I bet you are thirsty." He cleared his voice before handing her a cup of water. "It wasn't for that long, just a couple hours. The school's over in less than forty minutes, so we can go home anytime."

She emitted a groan. "No wonder why I feel like I slept for years, I missed the whole day!" Leaving the cup on the bedside table, she glanced quickly around the nursery. "Where's Mrs. Bellanger?"

"Some kid was playing too hard and broke his arm in the process, she told me to keep an eye on you while she took him to the hospital." He paused, momentarily doubting if he should keep going. "She also told me that you passed out due to a huge lack of sleep and a possible unbalanced diet. Tell me, did you thought that it was smart? To harm yourself in order to have the acceptance of some idiots who can't see your real value? It's not worth it if you end up like this."

As if it were an habit, her eyes got teary, losing the count on how many times she cried on the day. It bothered her so much, even more that it was happening in his presence. For a moment, he almost sounded so consternated... But either way, she wouldn't tolerate being scolded like a kid.

"Excuse you?" She exclaimed, an evident frown on her face.

"Don't try to play dumb. You know what I mean."

"Oh, so you want to know why? I'm the first granddaughter, the first niece, the first child, the older sister... It's obvious that I have to make some sacrifices, even if it's at my own expense. After all, everyone expects so much more from me." The words came out slower than before and full of venom. "Yes, it may not be really healthy, but I push myself because it's the only way to make them proud of me, and it's something that I believed you would understand, Magnan."

"And you are not wrong, I do understand you." He took a few seconds before saying his next words. "That's why I don't want you to pressure yourself to be someone that you aren't, I know what it's like to be pressured by your parents -..."

"No, you don't. You don't know how my parents are!" She interrupted him. "You don't know how it is to be belittled when you don't achieve something worthy of their interest, you don't know how its like to feel proud of yourself because you thought that you finally did something right just to find out that you failed again, or to spend every second of the day studying, priving yourself of having a social life just to feel miserable at the end of the day. And you definitely don't know how it's like to live your whole life without knowing if your family even likes you."

She didn't know when she started to cry, much less in what moment Jean-Pierre got close enough to wrap her in a tight embrace. But suddenly, she felt like the constant emptiness in her chest was being filled with something much greater than a temporary stability brought by false acceptance, it was an unknown warm and fuzzy feeling that made her anguish vanish away. It felt like that was all she needed throughout her life.

They pulled apart slowly, his hands immediately went to her face to wipe away any traces left of tears on her cheeks, and they stood there, looking at each others eyes, feeling as if they were frozen in time. 

"I may not understand entirely, but I can learn how to." He murmured. "I really want to understand you."

"But why would you bother?" She asked, confused and desperate to know. "Since the moment we met, the only thing we do is argue, we hate each other!... I tried to hurt you so many times and you have done the same to me, so please, make me understand, why would you want to help me? Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you, deeply." The words came out breathless, his eyes trying to desperately find her gaze. "I really don't know how to describe what I feel, but I do know that every time I see you, my heart goes crazy, and sometimes I wonder if it will come the day where it's going to jump out of my chest to go chasing after you. I know that every time you laugh with another person, I wish with all my soul to, someday, be worthy enough to be the cause of your smile. But I do know that if I hated you, really did, I would be happy for your downfall, but I'm not, because I can't force me to act as if I don't care about you, not anymore."

Jean-Pierre wasn't a man or words. All his life he struggled to express his feelings, but this time, it was different.

"One of the things I admire you for is the way that you don't never give up, it doesn't matter how many times I get a slighty better mark, you study harder until beating me up the next time we have an exam. You are resilient, and so damn smart that it makes me feel jealous sometimes, because I wish I could have a little bit of the determination that you possess, and I can't comprehend why you focus on your non existing flaws and ignore all your strenghts."

"I never thought..." She began with a whisper, attempting to make a joke in order to not break down completely. "I never thought that someone could ever think that highly of me, not even you."

"How could I not? You are the most incredible person I ever met, Y/N."

A violent sob reverberated on the nursery walls, and before she could even feel shame for shattering that easily due to the sweetest words she ever heard, she found herself on Jean-Pierre's hold once again.

It felt like they spend a lifetime in that embrace, hearing nothing more than the rapid beats of their hearts and sharing everything they didn't had the courage to say out loud, not yet. Squeezing the hug one last time before breaking away, she dried her face with the sleeves of her blouse, his adoring eyes never leaving her.

"Now, what? What's next from this point?" Fearfully, she asked.

"Now... I will walk you home." Seeing her confused frown, he added rapidly. "If you want to be the number one, you have to be better than me, and the first step to achieve that is to sleep well and eat some real food. You have to take care of yourself, then we will work on the rest."

"We? You will help me beating you up?"

"I want to help you to become a better version of yourself. If that costs me becoming the second of the class, then so be it."

He extended his arm in her direction, encouraging her to hold it. Slowly, she got up from the bed and hooked their arms together.

"I must admit that my home is far away and I came walking today, so you can still back down if you want."  

"Only a fool could reject such offering."

She exhaled a shaky breath, never expecting that answer. As they made their way towards the door, a sudden question hitted her.

"How did you know about my problem with my family?"

"I accidentally overheard a conversation, I didn't realise it was about you until they named you." An overwhelming warmth creeping up his face.

"Of course, 'accidentally'."

"Shut up." His reddening cheeks and the obvious attempt of a lie didn't went unnoticed, earning a light giggle from the girl.

That fluttery sensation came back to her. She never thought that it would be possible to feel this smitten over someone, even if she still struggled to admit it. While the boy couldn't stop thinking of how fortunate he felt in those moments, with the person he couldn't stop dreaming about holding onto him and walking her home for the first time, and hopefully not last. The warm breeze of the spring surrounding them as they made their way out of the school between laughs and jokes, secretly wishing to have more moments like this one in the future.

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

Can u maybe do like a Damian wayne x reader where they're friends and all but sometimes they (reader) tends to zone out a lot and think abt a lot of deep ish things that cause her to make weird faces without even realizing? Like she's much more quieter than usual and when he turns to look at her, he sees that she's visibly very upset but for seemingly no reason.

Oh, and if u want angst, maybe the specific thing she's thinking abt has something to do with him so she's really annoyed and snappy when he asks her what's wrong? Like she's be thinking abt how rude guys in their school are and then it kinda reminds her of Damian. Idk🙈🙉

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

am i good at angst? no… will i try? absolutely.

NOT YOUR FAULT.

pairings — damian wayne - al ghul x reader (platonic)

warnings — i tried to write angst but gave up, that’s all (and the ending sucks that’s not my fault (it is))

summary — pretty much what the request is gangsters

notes — i don’t know how to write angst 😞

━━━━━━━ YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN THE SIGNS before it was too late. you were sleeping more, food was suddenly too plain, you were easy to irritate, and you felt like you couldn’t do anything.

but, of course, you hadn’t understood when they began, you just blamed it on stress, since you had tons of tests coming up that you were relentlessly studying.

at some point, your grades had started slipping, and your teachers didn’t miss that. you were forgetting to turn in assignments, and whenever you suddenly couldn’t sleep the night before, you started falling asleep in class.

multiple teachers had brought it up after class with you, and you were able to come up with excuse after excuse.

eventually, Damian noticed. Damian, one of the only kids who didn’t ignore you this year, your first year of high school. but, obviously, that wasn’t always the case. Damian had originally been mean, tormenting you alongside all his other friends.

Damian only noticed because of your lack of emotions throughout the time you’d spend with him. on top of that, said time was clearly dwindling.

“hey, hey.” Damian called after you, catching up soon after and walking with you outside, far enough away from other kids so that the two of you could talk without anyone being nosy.

“what’s going on? you’ve been acting weird the past few days.” Damian’s face was clearly concerned, which irritated you further.

sure, you’d been quieter recently, and you almost always had a sour look on your face, but why would he bring it up?

“nothing, im fine.” you defensively crossed your arms over your chest — also doing so for a little bit of extra comfort as Damian seemed to be interrogating you.

“bullshit. talk to me, i’m your friend.” Damian stared at you, face full of worry.

“nothing.” you reiterated, “i said i’m fine, Damian. i’m fine.” you put emphasis on your words.

“you’re not a good liar.” he stated.

“like you even care.” you scoffed, turning on your heel and walking away. you found semblance in the school library, in the back of the room where you doubted anyone would go looking for you in.

with the silence of the room suddenly hitting you, your guard was up and your eyes were relentlessly looking around.

you probably looked angry. if anyone were to look at you, they’d probably think you were pissed off. were you? yeah, probably. why were you mad? you had no clue.

inhaling carefully, you felt your body begin to unwind, your heart rate slowly slowed.

guilt and regret flooded your system. you could then remember the way you’d treated Damian.

he was truthfully your only friend, he hadn’t deserved that.

i’m sorry, you sent the message. i didn’t mean to be so rude, you sent afterwards. he read the messages almost instantly.

it’s fine, not ur fault, he sent back.

sleepover at mine? you asked him, gathering yourself again before making your way to your next class. he agreed, and the day went on swimmingly.

the sleepover was practically the same, nothing bad happened, and it was easier to talk about it with him.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[esmerulia-chantelle]

Anemone - "I don't want to lose you."

— Azul Ashengrotto x GN!Reader.

Notes: Established relationship. Reader is not Yuu. Yuu is a separate character from you.

Part of my Autumnal Flower Shower series. Check out my blog for more! ^^

Azul was walking around the campus with a confident stride. A Housewarden. An entrepreneur. An honor student. There was no reason for him to not walk with pride along the corridors of the school.

If only it weren't for the rumors.

"Dude. I think they're breaking up with him."

"Yeah. I noticed they haven't been with the Housewarden as usual. There's definitely something."

"You think this is my chance to swoop in and get them?"

"Ha! As if."

Hushed voices kept whispering about a certain topic. About Azul and his romantic relationship with you, which was on the verge of ending according to word of mouth.

Azul keeps his face calm and composed but on the inside he was distraught.

He supposes that you have been kind of avoiding him. You didn't spend much time together unlike usual and you seem to be hiding things from. Sometimes, he would notice you doing something and when he would ask, you would politely brush it off saying, "Oh, it's nothing! Just a project!"

A project he knows nothing about.

Still, Azul loves you. He trusts you. That's why he thinks that whatever it is you are doing, you will tell him eventually.

But it's been days now. Almost a week, and it was making Azul worried and afraid.

You weren't acting like normal. Did he do something wrong? Has he not been a proper boyfriend to you? Did you find someone new? Were you... Leaving him?

These thoughts have been plaguing his mind for days and Azul couldn't take it anymore. He needed to talk to you.

The closer Azul got to Ramshackle, the heavier his feet became.

What if... What if you truly wanted to break up with him? What if the rumors were true?

It hurt Azul to think that.

But what if he was just overthinking things? After all, you said love him, right? But—

There were so many things going on in his head and the only way to settle it is by talking to you directly.

He finally arrives at your doorsteps and knocks firmly on the wooden door. He hears the sound of footsteps, the opening of the door, and then he sees you.

"You guys are- Ah!! Azul!!" You exclaim in surprise. "W-what are you doing here?"

Were you expecting someone?

"You haven't visited in a while. You said you were busy with something here in your dorm so I thought I would come by and spend time with you here instead!"

He puts on his charming smile while handing you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"For you, my love."

Azul doesn't miss the sparkle in your eyes when you see the flowers and how your lips curve into a lovely smile.

"Zul, these are lovely! Thank you~" You say as you graciously accept it.

"I also brought some of your favorite snacks. We can eat together when you take your break from your task."

"Wow! Hehe~ I feel my tummy growling just from thinking about it."

"I can also help you with what you're doing. I believe you can finish faster with my help."

At those words, he notices the change in your demeanor. From happy to nervous.

"Ahhh... About that... It's okay, Zul! Don't worry about it. It's almost finished anyways. You know what.. maybe we should go to your dorm!"

That was... Odd. Why?

"Is there something wrong? I don't mind spending time here in Ramshackle with you."

"It's just-"

Why were you making an excuse again?

"Are you breaking up with me...?" Azul mumbles.

"What?"

"Did.. Did I do something wrong? I feel like you've been avoiding me and you've been so secretive lately. We don't talk like usual and you always make excuses."

Azul drops the bag he was holding and grips both of your arms, making you drop the bouquet to the side.

"If I did something wrong, just tell me. I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything for you, Y/N! Please! Just... Don't leave me. I don't want to lose you."

His voice sounded so somber and his eyes conveyed the feeling of hurt and pain in his chest.

"Y/N. I love you... You're everything to me. I need you." Azul pulled you into a tight hug with tears threatening to fall down his face. "I don't want to let you go."

His outburst surprised you and you sudden felt guilty from what you've been doing.

"Oh, Azul... It's not like that. I'm sorry, love," you say gently before kissing his cheek and hugging him back. "I'm not breaking up with you. I don't know where you got the idea but I am sorry for making you feel that way. I'm sorry I haven't been spending much time with you like usual. I was just..."

"Just what?" He asks as he pulls back a bit to look at you.

"...I wanted to make a surprise for you," you say shyly while blushing a bit.

"For me?"

"Yes! You've just been working so hard lately and I know you've been feeling some stress too and I just.. wanted to do something special for you. I'm sorry I'm taking a long time with it though..."

So all this this time, the reason you were so secretive was because-

"You wanted to surprise me? To do something special? For me?" He asks in disbelief.

"Hehe. Yes~ For you. Because you're special to me. And I love you."

Azul now feels silly for ever doubting your feelings for him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"For thinking all those things. Those rumors kept saying you were going to break up with me and-"

"Wait. What rumors? How come I didn't know about that?!" You sigh. "Well, regardless.. don't apologize, Zul. You did nothing wrong. I should be the one saying sorry. If I acted like usual, I'm sure the rumors wouldn't have floated around."

"It's alright. As long as it's not true... Right?"

"It's not." You cup both of his cheeks in your hands. "I will never break up with you and I will always choose you as my partner. There's no one I would rather be with than you."

You lean up and forward to press a chaste kiss on his lips. "I love you, Zul~ Please don't be upset anymore. I'll make it up to you. Lots!"

Azul feels the weight lifted of his shoulders after knowing that you're not actually leaving him and that you were even doing something for him. Him.

How fortunate he is to have you.

"Oh really? I'll make this into a verbal contract then," he says as he kisses you.

"A contract? Hehe~ Okay then. Shall I start paying now?"

"There's an interest, by the way."

You giggle at his response and give him another kiss. "So how much do I owe you, again?"

"I think.. a lifetime of kisses will suffice."

"Hehe~ I'll pay you that and much more. I love you, Zul."

"I love you more."

You let out a lighthearted laugh before the two of you resumed kissing each other.

Azul feels his heart soar as he touches your lips with his. Each kiss growing more passionate by the second as he pulls you even closer to his chest and holding you tightly in his arms. One hand on the back of your head. The other around your waist.

It felt so right to have you like this and how badly he wants to—

"Can you guys do that later?" Someone spoke.

You and Azul immediately pull apart from each other and look at the source of the voice. There standing a few feet from the two of you was Grim and Yuu.

"I know you two are all lovey-dovey with each other but can you do it somewhere else? Maybe later?" Grim huffs.

"Grim! Yuu! I didn't notice you were back," you say with a bright blush on your face.

"Of course you wouldn't. You're too busy with your liplock with Azul. But you know.. this is a good thing as well. Since Azul is here, I say we start eating those fried chicken wings you made!"

"Grim! You weren't supposed to say anything!!" Scolds Yuu.

"Well he's here now. It doesn't matter! I'm sure Y/N wants to give him some of the delicious food, right? Nyahaha~ We're back with the soft drinks too. Come, henchhuman. Let's go eat!!"

Grim dashes inside the dorm while Yuu slowly trails behind.

"Sorry for interrupting your moment. I'll just go place this inside and you guys... Talk!!"

Yuu follows after Grim to the kitchen and leaves you alone with a flustered Azul.

".....fried chicken?" Azul asks curiously while the blush remains on his face.

"I remember you said it was your favorite food and I wanted to try cooking the different flavours I remember from back home. Maybe you'll like it?" You say feeling shy. "I'm not good with cooking though and I had to do it several times just trying to get it right and-"

"I'll eat it."

"W-what?"

"I'll eat it. I suppose it would be alright to.. indulge myself. Just a little."

Azul was conscious of his diet but discovering that you were trying to cook him his favorite dish.. how could he not try it?

He takes your hand and pulls you inside the building.

"I want a piece of my darling's cooking."

He beams at you with a genuine smile that makes your heart flutter. He sees you smile back at him and as the two of you walk inside, Azul squeezes your hand as if to say, "I will always love you and I will never let you go."

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with this one... But I'm posting it anyways~ And I almost forgot about this too! It was just in my drafts 😱

[profound-imagination]

Before You Go - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: I’m so freaking proud of this fic I hope you love it! Also I’ve tried my hand at a lil smut so please feel free to give constructive criticism!

T/W: Maeve, Smut, Vision of Maeve & Fenrys, Angst, Death - I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!

W/C: 5K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

100 Years Ago:

“You did what?!” You seethed at the White Wolf who was looking anywhere but at you. “I swore a blood oath…to Maeve.” The words hit you like a physical blow and tears lined your eyes. “Why…why would you do that?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. He looked at you then, his face shuttering as he took in your unshed tears. “For Connall, the things she makes him do, Y/N, I can’t, I can’t allow it.” You sighed, heart breaking as you looked at the Male in front of you, your mate. Not that he knew, if he did he hadn’t told you, just like how you hadn’t told him. “He’ll resent you for taking his place, Fen, he came to visit, while you were gone with your elite force, he seemed happy.”

You’d grown up with the twins, your parents serving under theirs but there was always something about Fenrys, something that pulled you in. They were five years older than you and you’d put it down to a school girl crush. Connall hated it. He didn’t speak to you for 2 years after he confessed his feelings for you on your 18th birthday. You had just looked helplessly at his twin and he had known then, had understood there was something unspoken between you and his brother. It infuriated him. Connall had always felt lesser than his twin, who was favoured by their father and now by you, it seemed. “I can’t let her have him like that, Connall deserves a true and pure love, not this.” You scoffed, “What, so it’s better for you to be her whore instead?” You spat, his eyes hardening at your words, “Tell me, will you be allowed to leave her chambers? To be the warrior you always wanted to be or will you be leashed to her bed like the dog that you are?”

Anger rolled off of him in waves as he took a step back from you, “That’s enough.” He said quietly but you were so past trying to understand his reasoning. “Maybe he loves her, Fen? Did you think of that?” He scoffed this time, “Even if he does, she doesn’t and won’t ever love him back, she’s incapable of it.” You put your hands on your hips, “So what now? You’ve come to say goodbye? Tell me I’ll never see you again?” His face softened as your voice cracked. “You’ll see me again, but yes, I came to say goodbye.” Anger was still coursing through your veins as you said, “You better go then, your shackles on her bed are waiting. Goodbye, Fenrys.” You turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.

85 Years Ago:

The first ten years without the twins, without Fenrys, had been hard. You’d lost your parents to one of Maeve’s many wars, the twins' parents only just making it back themselves. They had taken you in, despite the fact you were an adult and your own parents had left you more than enough. It was like their mother knew this would be the final blow for you and she refused to let you fall into your despair. She’d moved you into Fenrys’ room, “So you’re here when he comes back,” she had said, “A mate's presence heals most things, even if they're not physically here.” You didn’t know how she knew nor did you ask at the time as you crawled into his bed and slept for days.

Fenrys sent everything he was feeling down the mating bond unknowingly. You could stop him from feeling your feelings which you’d been actively doing since it snapped for you but you couldn’t block his. The hatred, the anger, the sadness, the submission, the pleasure. It made you physically sick. Sometimes, when his emotions were particularly high, you saw it all as well, through his eyes. You’d never forget that first time.

Maeve on top of him, her naked form grinding in his lap. “What’s the matter little pup?” She taunted from above him, “Performance nerves?” He was panicking, you could feel the panic coursing through him, the dread that if he didn’t perform she’d bring Connall in here instead. She scraped her nails down his chest, “You really are pretty for a dog, Fenrys.” She crooned, rolling her hips again, “I can help you enjoy it and perhaps eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it on your own.” She leant forward and kissed up his neck, her canines scraping as she went, disgust shot through him as one hand wrapped around his throat and the other slid towards his cock. “Enjoy it.” She whispered seductively in his ear, “You want me, Fenrys, you want this.” She sucked on his earlobe and the disgust started to dissipate, replaced by lust. “You want to fuck me, to satisfy me.” She continued as his cock stiffened in her hand. She dragged herself up his body, until she had a leg on either side of his head. “Go ahead pup,” she crooned, “eat.”

You witnessed the whole thing. She had ridden him until she was satisfied and when he was spent she sent him away like he was nothing. The last thing you saw when Fenrys opened her chamber door was Connall on the other side, betrayal like nothing you’d ever seen written across his face. You’d thrown up until your body had given out and you moved out of his room and his parents house the next day.

This went on for ten years until you’d had enough, you couldn’t take it anymore, feeling what he was feeling, witnessing it. You had amassed the funds your parents had left you and ventured to Doranelle, for an audience with the Queen. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress as you waited to be called into her throne room. Fenrys was here and nearby, you could feel the bond coming to life and singing that its counterpart was close. A guard approached and nodded for you to follow him, so you took a deep breath and did just that. It’s for the twins, you told yourself over and over again as you rounded the corner and took in Maeve sitting upon her stone throne, two wolves sat either side, one white, one black, both of their ears shot up and their eyes widened as they took you in. A white tailed hawk sat above her right shoulder, a massive Osprey sat above her left. In one of the alcoves close to the throne stood the biggest male you had ever seen and another male with golden hair and tattoos.

“You asked for an audience?” Maeve asked, her voice sounded bored and uninterested. You bowed as low as you could before speaking, “Yes your majesty, thank you for granting my wish.” You said, your voice sounding stronger than you felt, she waved a hand for you to continue. “I have come to ask if you will allow me to buy the wolves out of their servitude? They are needed at home but of course majesty I understand they are of great importance to you so I offer all that I have, including myself, in their stead.” Maeve tilted her head in consideration. Connall was staring at his queen, but Fenrys, Fenrys was staring at you, a sadness in his eyes, a desperation telling you to take back your offer and run.

Maeve tipped her head back and laughed, she laughed like you had told the best joke she had ever heard and as quickly as she laughed, it ended. The Fae Queen leveled you with a look, “No.” You stepped forward, Connall bared his teeth and let out a warning growl that shocked you to your very core. “But, I-“ the Queen cut you off, “I said no, like you pointed out, girl, they are of great importance to me and this one,” she said, placing a hand on Fenrys’ head, “He pleases me ever so well, so no, girl, I’ll keep them both, leave.” Your mouth dropped open and Maeve sighed, “Lorcan, see our guest out.” The giant of a male stepped towards you and Fenrys whined his protest, “Hush, pup, get upstairs.” Maeve commanded and you were escorted out with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’d made everything worse for him.

A knock woke you from a fitful sleep. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, you had passed out drunk on the sofa and you winced as the wine bottle rolled off of you and smashed on the floor. You’d deal with that in the morning you decided as you stumbled to the door and flung it open. A fae male with long silver hair and face tattoos stood on the other side, along with the golden haired male from earlier. “So she’s sent you to kill me then?” You asked as you turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open for them to follow. “Drink?” You asked, pouring yourself a whisky and sliding the bottle and two glasses over to the other side of the table where they now stood. “I won’t fight you for my life,” you told them, “There’s nothing left of it anyway.” You said gesturing around the house.

The silver haired one snorted as he took in your home, “Wow, you really aren’t doing well without him are you?” The golden haired one hissed as he elbowed his friend, “Rowan!” He scolded. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m Gavriel and this is Rowan, we aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to help, sort of.” You raised an eyebrow, “Help? With what?” You questioned, “You feel him don’t you?” Rowan asked, “We can teach you to block him out, so you don’t feel him if you’re too much of a coward to tell him he’s your mate.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re an asshole.” You told Rowan, Gavriel nodded his agreement, “An asshole I might be, but I’m trying to help you, do you know what she would’ve done if she realised what you were to him, to both of them?” You shrugged, “It isn’t fair that they are chained to her like that, it’s not fair to any of you, loyalty should be earned, not taken.” Gavriel sighed, “Let us help you.”

So you learned from them, well, from Rowan mostly, over an exhausting couple of days. Gavriel kept himself busy fixing whatever needed fixing in the house and tidying up so you had somewhere presentable to live. “Oh and one more thing,” Rowan said as they turned to leave that evening. He turned, producing a letter out of his satchel and you instantly recognised the scrawl on the envelope. “Keep those shields up, Y/N.” He said before walking out the door. Gavriel smiled kindly at you, “For what it’s worth, I think he regrets it, leaving you, everyday.” You sighed, “I was so mean the last time I spoke to him, I was angry and I didn’t mean any of it.” You said quietly, “I think he knows that too,” Gavriel said, “but I’ll make sure to tell him.”

You smiled at him softly, “Why did you both come to help me?” You questioned, Gavriel glanced outside and then back to you, “Rowan’s pregnant mate was murdered & I walked away from my mate and child because of the fear of Maeve, we don’t want the same for Fenrys, we’re quite keen on the pups and somethings Y/N, somethings are worth fighting for.” With that, he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and left.

You slid down the front door, pulled your knees to your chest and ripped open the letter Rowan had given you. There was such anger in Connall’s words, at you, at his brother. But there was also sorrow and a plea for you to never step foot in Doranelle again.

You spent the following weeks wondering if you’d be betrayed, but no one ever came for you.

50 Years Ago:

Gasping quietly you dropped the dishes you were washing in the sink with a splash, the bubbles splattering up your apron. You threw open the door to Rowan and the tall male you hadn’t met yet. “What happened?!” You snapped as you took in Fenrys hanging between them. “Move!” The tall male hissed as they shoved past you, “Clear the table!” Rowan commanded, panic seized you as you swept the table with your arm. “What happened?!” You snapped again and Fenrys groaned as they placed him more gently than you’d expected on the table. “He’s been testing the leash, stupid boy.” Your eyes snapped to the tall male, “Sorry, who the hell are you?” He didn’t even look at you as he grunted, “Lorcan.” You looked back down at Fenrys, “She did this to him?” Rowan looked at Lorcan who shook his head but Rowan answered you anyway, “Connall did.” Anger flooded through you, “Connall?!” Fenrys let out a wet, labored cough, “No,” he croaked. “She commanded it,” Lorcan drawled, “But he didn’t seem to hesitate or fight it.”

You watched quietly as the two warriors worked on Fenrys. Your entire body was tense. Fenrys had passed out 30 minutes ago, a blessing you supposed, that he couldn’t feel what they were doing as they were putting him back together. A shadow outside the window caught your eye and you stalked out the door. “You’ve got some nerve.” You spat at the Black Wolf who was sitting at the tree line of your property. “How dare you turn up here?!” With a flash the Black Wolf was a Male prowling towards you. “He’s my brother, I need to know if he’s okay.” You scoffed, “You did this to him!” You exclaimed, stepping up to him. “I didn’t have a choice!” You rolled your eyes, “They said you didn’t even hesitate or try to fight the order!” You watched Connall’s eyes shoot over your shoulder and then back to you. You felt Rowan at your back. “Are you here for you or for her?” He asked, his voice tight. “For him.” Connall snapped. Rowan nodded and beckoned him to follow. You huffed and followed the two males into your home, the tang of blood in the air.

They’d moved him to your bed when they’d patched him up. You had sat next to the bed, back rigid. Your eyes watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Around 3am his eyes cracked open, finding you instantly in the darkness, “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He rasped. You rolled your eyes, “No, you aren’t dead, they brought you here.” He nodded weakly. “Where are they?” He croaked, you handed him a glass of water, “Lorcan and Connall went back, Rowan’s flapping about outside.” You told him and he huffed a laugh then winced. “Stop it.” You scolded him.

You’d brought him some food and stuck your head out the door to let Rowan know he was awake before returning to Fenrys. “How are you feeling?” You asked, “Why are you doing this? Helping?” He asked at the same time. “Because it’s you and I’m an idiot.” You muttered quietly. “It was stupid of you to come to Doranelle.” He said, “I’m not sorry.” You snapped. “Your brother nearly killed you today, he didn’t think twice about it, he just obeyed.” Your voice cracked and tears welled up in your eyes. Fenrys sighed, “It’s the blood oath, he didn’t have a choice.” You gave him a scathing look, “Get some rest.” You said, voice sharp and you turned to leave. “Hey?” You turned to face him, he held his hand out towards you, “Come here?” He asked, patting the space next to him. The bond was screaming at you to do so, to join him, to not leave him injured and alone in your room so you caved and crawled in next to him. “You know I love you right?” He asked into the darkness of the room. “Yeah, I know.” You answer, heart cracking because you knew he didn’t mean it how your entire soul craved him to mean it.

Now:

“What are you doing here?!” You span at the sound of his voice. “Fighting? We got the call.” You gestured at the battlefield that surrounded you. “You can’t be here!” He snarled, “Well I am! You snarled back. “Pup! We’ve got to go, you can fight with your girlfriend later!” Rowan shouted as he landed next to you, “Hi, Y/N.” You smiled at him, “Aedion is injured, get up to the battlements and see where you can help.” Rowan told you, you nodded at him and took off, Fenrys shouting after you.

You clung onto Aedion, tears in your eyes as Gavriel stepped through the gate. You’d grown to love Gavriel, he’d visited you every time he traveled past your home over the years, always stopping in for a cup of tea, you had your suspicions that he was reporting back to Fenrys but he’d become your friend either way. “Let him go, Aedion.” He fought against you, “He’s doing this for you, the only thing he feels he can do for you.” So the two of you watched as the Lion of Doranelle stood his ground as the gate shut him out.

It was over. It was won. You’d watched from the battlements as Fenrys delivered the killing blow to the tyrant Queen. Had watched them morn Gavriel from the outside while you quietly mourned the Wolf that was no longer with you. Aelin had approached you in the garden one evening, as you sat amongst the flowers, watching the sun disappear, talking to Connall as if he could hear you. “You’re staying.” A fact, a demand from your Queen, not a question. You looked up at her and she smiled, “Rowan’s not so good with the secrets.” You laughed as he huffed behind his wife. “He’ll need you.” You gave her a kind smile, “I doubt that, but if it’s what you wish for, your majesty, I will stay.” She gave you a look that said she knew she was right and turned to leave, “Actually, with your permission, there’s something I’d like to do.” Tears welled in Aelin’s eyes as you told her what you wanted, Rowan approached and smiled and put a hand on your shoulder, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He said, Aelin nodded her agreement.

Fenrys found you a week later. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, approaching you in the Royal Graveyard of Terrasen. You were knelt in the dirt, hands covered in it. Flowers surround you, Zinnias for remembrance and goodness, Yellow Carnations for friendship and gratitude, Violets for faithfulness and devotion, Anemones for protection and sacrifice and Daffodils for rebirth and hope. “He mentioned you had become friends over the years…” he trailed off, realising that it wasn’t Gavriel’s grave you were kneeling in front of. You looked at him over your shoulder, and then moved aside to reveal a gravestone, that simply read:

Connall Moonbeam

Brother

Friend

Beloved

Black Wolf of Doranelle

A raw, broken sound left Fenrys as he crashed to his knees at the sight of his brother's grave and you were there, next to him, holding him. “I thought it would be nice if we had somewhere we could talk to him.” You told him quietly as he sobbed into his hands. “He visits me in my dreams, the first time was the night he died. He came to me and told me what had happened. That you needed me. I set off the next day to find Aelin, to help however I could.” Fenrys fell into you, sobbing into your neck. “He kept me safe, when I slept rough, he’d tell me to wake up, to move.” You kept talking as Fenrys calmed slowly, “He had things left to say to me, we both cried as he told me he’d loved me once but he knew, had always known I’d belonged to his brother, that I had to find you, that you’d need me, that after everything, he’d get me to you safely, the last thing he could do for you.” You ran a calming hand down his back, “He had a message for you, he said he loves you, more than anything, he forgives you for everything and he’s sorry for his part, he said that it was meant for you, the dagger, but it was too far and he couldn’t allow it.” Tears were running down your face by the time you finished speaking. “If I could change it, if I could take his place so he could be here with you, I would, in a heartbeat, Fen.”

Fenrys remained quiet for a long time after you had told him everything. He clutched your hand like it was his tether to the earth. Finally he looked up at you, his onyx eyes meeting yours and you saw the exact moment he felt it too, the bond. You watched it wash over him, watched him figure out what it was he was feeling. “You…you’re…” you nodded at him, “Yes, I am.” He blinked, “How long have you known?” He croaked and you let out a humorless laugh, “A long time, Fen.” “How long?” He repeated, “Since before you swore the blood oath.” You admitted, “You’ve known for over 100 years that we’re mates and you never said anything?!” You opened your mouth to reply just as Rowan and Aelin approached, “We’ve all known Boyo, it was fairly obvious.” Aelin elbowed her husband. “You’ve done a wonderful job on Connall’s grave, Y/N.” She said, “I’m sorry I never got to know him.” She said to Fenrys, wrapping him in her arms. “He’d have loved you.” Fenrys mumbled and you and Rowan laughed your agreement.

Over the following weeks Fenrys started coming around more and more. Getting to know you again he’d said. You’d cried as Aedion swore his oath, took his birthright and Fenrys had laughed at you, wiped your tears and held your hand for the rest of the ceremony. “Dance with me?” He asked as the Coronation Ball went on and on. You smiled up at him and took his had, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor and into the first dance. Your body fit against his in the best of ways and from what you felt, he knew it too. It was on your third dance that he seemed to throw caution to the wind and his hand left your waist to cup your face as he brought his lips down to yours. It was like the world had gone silent. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as his kisses descended down your neck. “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke against your neck, “Please?” You begged him. He smirked at you as he pulled you towards the doors.

The two of you only made it a few corridors at a time before you were swept up in kisses and touches again. By the time you were halfway to his room, you realised, he was carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress up around your hips, his hands on your ass, groaning at the feel of it, of the feel of your teeth against his neck. “Fuck it.” He growled three corridors away from his room as he pinned you against the wall with his hips and pulling the top of your dress down. He groaned as he took in the sight before him and ground his hips into yours causing you to moan. He lowered his head, kisses starting at your neck, trailing down to your chest where he worshiped each breast and nipple, the sensations causing you to writhe against him.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pulling away from your chest. You nodded eagerly as he sank to his knees, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his head disappearing under the skirts of your dress. Kisses began traveling up your legs, “No underwear?” He mumbled more to himself than to you as his mouth neared to where you wanted it the most. His tongue licked a broad stripe and you jerked at the sensation, letting out a loud moan. “What did I say about being quiet?” He teased as he head appeared from under your skirts before going right back to where it was before. Your fingers scrambled for something to grab onto and settled for the of your dress that was covering his head as he sucked on your clit, waves of pleasure zinging up and down your spine.

“Please, please, please” you were begging as that familiar coil started to tighten in your stomach. “Please what?” He asked against your clit, the words vibrating beautifully. “Tell me what you want love?” He asked, nipping at your thigh. “Make me cum, Fen, please I’m so close.” You whimpered as he started his minstrations again. Two calloused fingers pushed into you and you threw your head back into the wall, his lips still sucking at you. “Plea-“ your begging was cut off as his fingers curled and hit that perfect spot and the coil in your stomach snapped and you and the world fell apart as your orgasam ripped through you. He kept going, drawing it out as long as he could.

His smirk was feline when he emerged from your dress and set your shaking legs back on the ground. You threw yourself at him so hard he stumbled back into the opposite wall as he caught you. You began attacking his neck with kisses, teeth scraping along his throat as you pulled his shirt out of his trousers and tried to undo the buttons. “Take me to bed. Now.” You breathed against his ear and he froze. Completely froze. His arms dropped away from you and his whole body was ridgid. You pulled away from him, realising quickly what had happened and your heart threatened to disintegrate at that haunted look in his eyes.

“Fenrys?” It was like he couldn’t hear you. Whatever memory of Maeve he was reliving had trapped him and you weren’t sure how to get to him. You had just began to panic when Chaol and Yerene walked down the hallway, “Get Aelin, now!” You snapped at Chaol as Yerene stepped towards him. “Don’t!” She stopped dead and looked at you. “I don’t know what he’s reliving and how he’ll be when he comes out of it, you’re with child.” You said more gently and she nodded in understanding, “Go with Chaol, bring Rowan too!” She nodded as she ran to catch up with her husband. “Fen, please, come back to me.”

Footsteps rushed down the hallway and then Aelin was there, Rowan next to her. Lorcan behind him. Chaol and Yerene behind him. You knew you didn’t fit this picture, this group. So you watched, back against the wall Fenrys had just had you against as the Queen of Terrasen pulled your mate back after you had failed to do so. His eyes cleared and darted around the hallway, he smiled down at Aelin and Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. Lorcan, Chaol and Yerene departed back to the ball as the Queen and King spoke with their Emissary, their friend & you turned and fled. You had done that to him, you were no better than Maeve.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You sobbed, “I don’t know how to be what he needs.” The gravestone didn’t answer. “I wish you were here, Con.” You told him, “It’s not right without you and I keep messing everything up.” You let out some more sobs as Fenrys’ haunted face flashed through your memories again. Twigs breaking behind Connall’s grave had your head shooting up & there he was, your White Wolf. “I’m sorry, Fen, so unbelievably sorry.” You told him as he prowled over to you.

He approached, studying you and your tears, then licked a great stripe right up the side of your face, which caused you to snort in disgust and then laugh. Fenrys huffed out a sound that you assumed was as close to a laugh as he could do as a wolf and then he curled himself around your back, and a contented rumble left his chest as you leant back on him. “I’m sorry I put you back there, I’ll be more careful with my words next time.” You said quietly. He huffed again, nuzzling his face into your side, a feeling of warmth, thanks and understanding filled your chest and you knew it was him. “Can we stay out here with Connall tonight?” You asked, he nodded and put his head down on a massive paw, leaving the other for you as you curled up into his fur. “I love you, Fen.” You mumbled sleepily, “I have for most of my life.” You felt the moment he shifted, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, “I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

Connall Moonbeam smiled down at the sight of his twin brother and his best friend, curled up together by a grave that he was not in. It didn’t matter, they had honored him with it anyway. They continued to honor and remember him for the rest of their lives, especially on the day their son was born and they gave him the name Connall Gavriel Moonbeam. Gavriel clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away from him, into the arms of the mate he’d been missing for so long. Connall smiled down at his brother and his family one last time and followed Gavriel and his mate into the light, there would be no more dream visits, he had nothing more to offer his friend, besides, he’d see them both again some day.

[lucysgraybird]

modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 2 here, part 3 here

notes: this is not set in panem -- if you're looking for a vibe, think harvard/uchicago/any of the old-guard, upper echelon US universities. i have another part in the works that i'll post tomorrow or thursday. also i promise that they both have some crazy in them . It will appear in later parts

“Please remember that I cannot accept late work for this essay,” your professor says as everyone packs up. “The deadline is the deadline for work for the semester, so everything has to be submitted by then. This includes any outstanding work you might have.”

She shoots a look at a boy in the front row when she says that, and he bows his head.

“Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you all Monday.”

You shove your laptop in your bag, sling it across your body, and make a beeline for the exit. This is your last class of the day and you have no intention of spending any more time in a lecture hall than you have to. Just as you're about to leave the building, someone catches you by the shoulder and pulls you back.

“Excuse you,” you mutter, turning to see who would do something so…well, to put it diplomatically, bold.

There stands a boy with a shock of hair so blonde it's nearly white and eyes so blue they're nearly translucent. It would be eerie if he didn't wear it well: angular and bright, it's like he's been carved from the purest block of ice. His pale features are offset by the rich ruby of his sweater. He looks royal, though you'd think a prince wouldn't go around grabbing girls by their arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks, but you always fly out of the building and I didn't want to miss you this time.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

God willing, not about some group project that had slipped your mind. You're so careful about organization, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Who are you?”

His eyebrows (the only dark thing on his face) twitch, and you wonder if he's so arrogant as to assume you'd know who he is. He doesn't say anything, though, just extending a hand to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Pleasure.”

You shake his hand, finding the official-ness of it a little odd. When you open your mouth to introduce yourself, he stops you.

“I realize this is going to sound…odd, but I do know who you are. You're the only person I listen to in that insipid class.”

“Oh.”

Because honestly, what are you supposed to say to that?

“Let me take you to dinner, please,” Coriolanus says. “At least for the conversation.”

Your pause must spur him on, because he continues, “And you're gorgeous. Honestly, you caught my eye before you even started speaking, and then…well.”

He's very forward, but it doesn't come off as desperate. He carries himself with such a confident air that if he hadn't tried to be suave, it would've been more awkward.

You allow yourself to be flattered, offering him a soft laugh. His poise must be a front, at least a little, and you can put up a façade too.

“Why, thank you, Coriolanus. I'd love to go out with you, but I'm so busy with finals coming up…”

This is partly true – you're taking the maximum number of credits your advisor would let you, which is over the credit load the school has set, so you have a good deal of work to do. However, you're not above playing a little hard-to-get, especially if you are interested in the person. Half the fun of a hunt is the chase.

“All the more reason to go out. I know a spot if you're free tonight – one more bit of fun before hitting the books?”

“What kind of fun, Mr. Snow?”

“Well, we'll see where the night takes us, if that's a yes.”

It can't hurt, right?

“It's a yes. I'll text you my address?” You extend your phone to him, a delicate smile gracing your lips.

“Perfect,” he says, putting in his number. “I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something nice.”

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise, but it's very classy. You'll love it.”

You can't wait to look this guy up when you get home. “I'm looking forward to it. See you tonight."

“See you tonight.”

—

“Classy” is an unhelpful dress code, you're discovering. It refers to such a range of places, so you're left to take a guess and hope you don't make some sort of grave faux pas. You're limited in being overdressed as a university student, so you select the nicest thing you brought from home. It's a wine-coloured dress that skims just the middle of your calves, with a cowl at the neck and a sweeping back that shows a tasteful (yet tempting, you hope) amount of skin. With a thin necklace and some earrings, you could fit in at most “nice” restaurants that would be appropriate for a first date with a nigh-stranger.

At 7:25, you slip on your coat and heels and head down to the lobby of your apartment building. Something tells you that Coriolanus has a tendency towards extreme punctuality, so you'd rather not keep him waiting a moment.

Just as you suspected, at 7:30 exactly the silhouette of a tall man appears at your door and your phone buzzes with a text.

Coriolanus Snow: I'm here.

When you open the door, he is, indeed, there, holding a bouquet of white roses and wearing a red vest and slacks with a white dress shirt. He is nothing if not coordinated, you suppose.

“Ah,” he says. “Hello. These are for you.”

It is a lovely gesture, and it garners a genuine blush from you while you accept the bouquet. “Thank you. They're gorgeous. I didn't even know they made white roses.”

He offers his elbow to you, which you accept. Though it's odd, there's something sweet about his anachronistic nature. You, like any college girl, have had many a bad first date, and it's pleasant to have one with a man who is, at the least, polite.

“My grandmother grows them. I dropped by and picked these up on my way here. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear because I don't know where we're going, so I'm glad I chose well.” You glance over at his outfit. “We match, sort of.”

“So we do.”

He smiles in a way that's almost indescribable – it's not quite aloof, though it has some of the same calculation behind it. It actually feels incredibly personal, and sets your heart racing. Why this boy gets under your skin the way he does – the way no one has before – is something you have yet to discover.

Your walk with him ends at a black car, for which he opens the back door and allows you to climb in before following you. A scan of social media earlier had turned up tragically few results, and every single thing Coriolanus does makes you more curious about him. He settles next to you.

“So are you a polisci major, or are you just taking the one class?” You ask, unwilling to let silence be for more than a moment.

“Polisci and philosophy,” he replies. “My goal is law school directly after college, and then politics.”

“I should've guessed,” you say.

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…you're very smooth. Well-spoken, attractive, all of that. You'd do well in politics.”

The corners of his lips turn in a slight smile. “You think I'm attractive?”

You laugh. “I certainly do, Coriolanus. I do have standards, you know.”

“Then I'm very glad I'm meeting them. Are you looking to do politics too, then, or…?”

“Honestly, not right now. I think I might stick to academia for a while. I don't have the stomach for pandering that you have to have for politics.”

“It's my least favourite part, honestly. I did some work for a senator last summer and the endless word-parsing drove me insane. No one ever says what they mean.”

“Right. The image of it all is fun, though. Like playing a character. But you don't have to do politics to do that.”

Coriolanus nudges his knee against yours. “Are you putting on an image for me right now?”

“A lady never tells. Are you putting on one for me?”

When you turn, he's a lot closer than you expected. You can see the spires in his irises, like cracked moonstones, and can smell his cologne: whiskey and spice and something woody, clean.

“You'll just have to find out,” he says, his voice low in his chest. It's said as a secret – there's no one else in the car, but it's as though if he says it too loud the leather of the seats might remember. These words were for your ears only, the rumble meant to coast across just your skin, and you shudder.

[recreationalfanfics]

Twisted Night At The Museum HCs/Thoughts/Concepts:

These are brain farts but ya'll are making me feel like I have the biggest brain so-

- If the Daley! Reader had a Unique Magic it'd be: "Alive for the Night" where basically any statues on display and stuff can come to life. Including the ones of the Great Seven but they can only do it at night. (Idk if you guys want them to have it or not, ya'll can fight about it in the notes)

- The Daley! Reader was also adopted by Larry after Nicky moved out and became a DJ, Larry is still a super protective father whose very anxious and is looking through various museum archives to figure out if something can be done about his child whose stuck in Twisted Wonderland. He requires you to check the mirror and talk to him at least 4 times a day to know you're alright and if you miss a time, YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE-

- No but parent teacher conferences and you have to hold the mirror so that your teachers can talk to Larry through it.

Larry Daley + His Relationship with the Staff:

- Crowley: No, he's been in this game long enough to know that Crowley isn't trustworthy and while you KNOW he isn't trust worthy, he is the reason that Larry wants you to check in 4 times a day. Crowley tries to paint it like everything is fine and Larry pretends to believe him. Crowley is just a bit off put by Larry because you're already such an odd and resourceful individual, that he can't imagine what your father (the man who raised you) must be like and while he laughs whenever Larry promises to bring you home, Crowley slowly starts to believe him. Like, bro, he deals with a magic tablet and brought a family of old Egyptian pharaohs together, Larry Daley is getting his child back.

- Crewel is the only man in this school that Larry trusts, along with Trein, but Larry does notice that Crewel seems a lot more concerned with your safety and has a soft spot for you. Crewel will also give Larry due respect and while he's not sure about his bland outfit choices, he's very much aware that your father loves and is worried for you and so, Crewel will make sure you are well behaved and taken care off until you're able to reunite. It's bittersweet for him because he does grow to get attatched to you but soon realizes that he's never gonna be your father back home. (SPLIT CUSTODY IS ALL I'M GONNA SAY).

- Vargas: Larry hates him so much. Like in the movies, he's always snarky and closed off from people he dislikes so their conversations are always so passive aggressive. Like, Vargas is all: "Ha, no wonder you look so wimpy! Look at your dad!" and Larry is all: "First of all, they're adopted (but still my kid) so neither of us can really say anything but second of all, I went face to face with a triceratops, so, yeah. Not sure if they have those in your world, but thats pretty impressive." and Vargas just brushes him off and he HATES IT.

- Next is Trein, who is like a strict grandpa to you and one of the other teachers who get along with Larry. As a father himself, he admires Larry trying to protect you as best as he can while he's in a different world, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like if his own children where stranded in a place he couldn't protect them in. So yeah, while your dad is awkward, Trein tries to help him out and ease both his and your anxieties. I also can totally see Dexter the Cappuchin Monkey and Lucius fighting across the mirror.

- Sam is one that Larry doesn't see to often aside from Larry trying to find old spells in old archives that require magical ingredients that he doesn't know about so he'll ask Sam about them or see if he can find any suitable substitutes and Sam will do it of course, for a fee. He really admires your dad's dedication but he also admires the relationship and bond you two have. Yeah, you might come into his shop to rant about how protective he is and some other flaws but you love him dearly. Sometimes he'll throw in a few freebies because at the end of the day, you two just want to be with each other again.

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT SOME STUDENTS AND HOW I FEEL LIKE INTERACTIONS WITH THEM WOULD GO.

Now back to some general headcanons:

- Okay so have you guys seen the Stuart Little movies? Where he has a bunch of ladders and stuff around the room because he's small and can't get to places faster, thats kinda what you have to do for Jedediah and Octavius. They sleep on your nightstand after Deuce and Jack either made tiny beds for them or you made them in a wood work class or something.

- I can also totally see that after the first winter break, your first year friends bring back some old childhood toys that maybe Jedediah and Octavius can use to help or to help them travel faster around the campus.

- Deuce brought back an old remote controlled Magic Wheel (the motorcycle thing he likes) and gave it to them so not only can they ride around in style but they also have a tendency to drive recklessly and trip over poor unsuspecting students who are just trying to walk to their class. They'll do it especially if they mess with you.

- Ace brings them back like, tiny weapons from his old toy soldiers and stuff and while they might not do much, he just thinks its so funny how serious Octavius is when he's all: "Thank you, Child of Trappola, for I now have an arsenal to defend Fort Ramshackle!" and Jedediah rolling his eyes.

- You try to keep them on higher ground, especially due to the rats but I love the idea that when you're away on classes and you trust them not to do anything stupid, they're riding around on Grim and throwing toy spears at any rats running around and defending their home. Like to them, it's an intense battle where they could possibly die but to the ghosts, it looks like they're just annoying the rats that they eventually just give up and leave because they're so annoying and rambunctious.

- Out of all of your friends, they like to use Jack as a mode of transportation. After all, he's HUGE and when they sit on his shoulders, they're absolutely amazed by how much they can see. Jack tries his best to remember they're on his shoulders but if a class is really boring and he forgets, he'll lean on one shoulder which causes them to lose balance and almost fall but hed got quick reflexes and apologizes to them.

- THE WAY EPEL AND THEM WOULD GET ALONG. Like, Epel will walk in all roughed up because he got into a fight and walk past you to rant to Jedediah and Octavius and talk about how some kids were picking on him for being cute and little and Jed and Oct are all: "YA BETTER HAVE SHOWN 'EM THAT WHAT FOR!" and Epel is all: "COURSE I DID!" and you just sigh because you know that Vil is gonna ask to keep Epel away from your "little raggedy friends".

- BELIEVE IT OR NOT, SEBEK ACTUALLY RESPECTS YOUR LITTLE CREW. Especially after he finds out you want to be a Night Gaurd and mistakes your words and believes that you come from a family of noble gaurdians who keep the ancient relics of your world safe (which is kinda true but its not that dramatic) and when he sees you defend yourself with a mere flashlight, you become his idol.

- IN NIGHT OF THE MUSEUM TWO, THERE'S THIS SCENE THAT FITS PERFECTLY WITH YOU AND SEBEK FIRST MEETING, HERE'S THE LINK BUT GO TO 1:57 BUT THAT'S HOW I IMAGINE YOUR FIRST MEETING WITH SEBEK GOES.

You, whispering as your faces are squished together: "Listen, fae boy, you do not know who you're dealing with. I've seen things in my world, stuff you can't even imagine."

Sebek, whispering back: "Like what kind of stuff?"

You: "I'm not gonna tell you, but you're gonna drop your sword-"

Sebek: "The way you said it just made it sound like you were gonna say something really cool-"

You: "Yeah, you don't get to hear it, drop the sword-"

- OKAY BUT YOU BEING DEEMED THE NIGHT GAURD OF NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE. Like idk, maybe you don't need as much sleep as everyone or during weekends, you just hibernate and then survive on naps and energy drinks throughout the week (it's such an unhealthy habit, all of the Dorm Leaders are concerned and Vil might trick you into drinking a sleeping potion if your eyebags get too prominent) but I love the idea that the bullying rates go down. Hell, even the Savanahclaw dorm kids don't try to start with as many fights with you around because they know you'll finish them with your flashlight. Like they're all cornering you and you blind one of them temporarily before you do some cool fighting moves. Your quick wit and training as a night gaurd is the only thing you've got to give you an edge in this world and by God are you gonna use it.

-And even if that fails you, you've got friends who've got your back. Like you get cornered by some bullies and then they feel something stab their feet and Jed and Octavius are bravely stabbing their shoes and the students are hopping around in pain.

- But yeah, the Night Gaurd in you just makes you walks around Night Raven College and look at all the various statues and history and you read and do your research on Twisted Wonderland.

- Like in the first movie, the thing Larry did after his first wild night at the museum was do research and by God, do you dedicate yourself to doing research on Twisted Wonderland and the study of magic.

- ALSO MALLEUS JOINING YOU DURING YOUR LATE NIGHT PATROLS OF YOUR SCHOOL GROUNDS and telling you everything there is to know about the magic here. You know how Ahkmenrah calls Larry "Gaurdian of Brooklyn"? I feel like instead of Child of Man, Malleus would call you "Gaurdian of the Night" because you tell him that's your dad's job and you want to fill in his shoes.

- MALLEUS AND SEBEK TRYING TO GET YOU TO JOIN HIS GAURDS BUT YOUR DUTY IS TO EVERYONE BUT HE'S ALL: "You know, just in case you might have to stay for longer, there will always be a spot in my court for you. As either my gaurd or my spouse-"

- "What was that last part?"

- "What?"

Feel Free to Send in any Thoughts/Asks/or Questions about this AU!

[trippinsorrows]

I know Roman will be strict with boys but what would make me cackle is if Lina or Leya got a boyfriend that’s just as big and as bad as him 😂😂😂 like imagine them going to prom and Roman has to look up to him/ or be at eye level because of his height and he’d get a pang in his chest because him and the guy have the same/similar muscle mass. Baby he’d be too stunned and jealous to speak 😂😭

wait, cause i'm screaming at this!!! 😂😂😂😂

but also, i'm wondering why the hell these boys so damn big in high school?!?! like, roman is a big ass man. emphasis on man. but, let both their dates be the same height as him, you're right, he would be fussing away to solana.

"what the fuck are they feeding these kids? they look fucking 25."

solana rolls her eyes, continuing to massage her husband's scalp as he lays in her lap, vehemently venting about his introduction to the girls dates.

their boyfriends, technically. but, she and the girls haven't quite worked out a way to break that news to her husband without his blood pressure shooting through the roof.

or the boys going missing.

"i developed early, too, roman. it happens." it happened to both their girls too, but she refuses to bring up those days. roman's overprotectiveness was times ten when the twins hit puberty. "and they're very nice."

"i don't give a fuck if they're nice or not. they're not good enough for my girls."

"roman, no one is good enough for them, leave it to you." solana leans over and kisses his forehead, advising, "they really like them, baby. please try to be nice."

"yeah, i'll be nice alright," he grumbles. solana rolls her eyes. he's about as mature as their younger kids sometimes. "i want to see their birth certificates." his eyes suddenly alight with an idea she knows she's not going to like. "i should go over there."

solana's eyes widen ever so slightly. yup. definitely not an idea she likes. "roman, you are not going to go over there."

"why not?" he sits up, looking at her like he doesn't know why that would such a bad idea. "anything can happen."

"because you remember the last time you showed up to their dance to check on them? you broke that poor boy's jaw!"

roman shrugs, indifferent. "he was too weak for my leya anyway."

solana sighs, heavily. she'd almost rather be entertaining their other four kids all at the same time than try to reason with her stubborn ass husband. "they'll be fine, roman. they have their security, and don't act like i don't know you don't have jimmy and jey sitting in the parking lot as backup."

roman looks away, neither confirming nor denying.

"and--"

the sound of something breaking pulls them from the conversation at hand followed by hushed, nervous, rushed conversation.

"what did you do?!"

"it wasn't me! it was kai!"

"no, it wasn't! it was koa!"

"no way!"

"i'm telling daddy!"

"snitch!"

"mommy! daddy!" aroha's soft voice is upped several octaves as she calls for her parents. "the twins are being mean to me!"

"nu uh!"

"uh huh!"

roman sighs. heavily. solana only smiles, seeing the frustration already growing. "i think we have more important things to worry about tonight than our teenagers."

roman scoffs, standing up and reaching his hand out to pull solana up from the sofa. "i wish you would even think to tell me you want another baby." she giggles, holding onto his arm as they head off to do damage control. "all these damn kids."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not watching my sick goddaughter and then not wanting to watch her sick brother

*fake names used obviously

Two days ago I got a message from my goddaughter's mom, Nancy, saying that my goddaughter, Natasha, had thrown up at school. The reason Nancy let me know was because her husband would be picking up Natasha's little brother, Dennis, who I watch from 7:30 AM to 3:30 PM most days.

Anyway, I have an extreme, irrational fear of throwing up. So after Nancy let me know Natasha was sick, I was afraid Nancy would then ask if Natasha could come over to my house the next day along with Dennis. Nancy works the night shift so she sleeps during the day and her husband works from 8 AM to 4 PM. I've watched both kids since they were infants. I love them as if they were my own, but when they're sick with a stomach bug, or just throwing up for whatever reason, I would prefer they stayed home away from me so that I can avoid getting what they have lol.

I've always felt bad about this, because they're little and I feel like at my grown age I should be okay with being around them if they've thrown up. Yet, I find myself internally freaking out about getting sick AND I get so paranoid I swear I make myself sick sometimes. Nancy knows this about me.

Sure enough, Nancy calls me and nonchalantly asks if Natasha can come over the next day with Dennis because the school told her Natasha couldn't return for 24 hours. Usually I would give in and say yes because I feel bad saying no, but recently my brother's have reminded me that Nancy only pays me 200 dollars every two weeks to watch Dennis four days a week, eight hours a day. Nancy has acknowledged that she'd have to pay way more at a daycare, so she appreciates what I, and my family do for them.

I love the kids, I really do, but despite having known their parents for so long it feels as though Nancy and her husband only really see me and my family as the help and almost expect us to always be available. Or maybe I'm just projecting my insecurities onto them about not feeling appreciated enough? Which I know is bad, but it's instances like this that have bothered me in the past. You wouldn't take the children to a daycare if they've thrown up right? Or if they're sick with something like covid (which they gave us like two years ago), or if they have a fever, but they've brought them over anyway. It feels mean, you know? Like I love the kids, but I don't want to get sick. Maybe I'm just a horrible, paranoid, awful person and I do think that sometimes. Ha ha, is this an instance in which it would be ok to set a boundary🤔😭

On top of that, I don't charge Nancy extra (nor does she offer to pay) when she asks me to watch the kids on the weekends for a few hours or when she's got time off of work and wants to bring them over. I know this is my fault, because I do not charge her, but again I feel bad asking for more money. My biggest fear for a long time was that she would stop bringing the kids over if I did ask for a little raise or asked her not to bring them over if they were sick, but was always reminded by my brothers that Nancy didn't want to pay for daycare. Still I felt too ashamed to ask for more babysitting money or for Nancy or her husband to keep the kids home sick, and again I feared she would find someone else to watch the children.

Anyway, I told Nancy no. I was very apologetic and reminded her that I get really paranoid when someone is sick throwing up. I told her I just didn't want to get sick because then I'd be out for one to two days. Which would mean I wouldn't be able to watch Dennis and she or her husband would have to miss out on a day of work. Nancy sounded let down, maybe annoyed? I'm not sure, I can't remember. I am kind of spiraling about it  as I'm typing this out now. I feel really bad that I said no, especially because Nancy called me from her car so Natasha heard me say no. Luckily, Natasha was happy that she would get to go spend time with her mom at work. Nancy works in an office as the manager of a warehouse, so it's not like Natasha had to wait in some break room or alone somewhere.

Then tonight I get a message from Nancy saying Dennis threw up, and the panic set in all over again. I feel bad telling her to keep him, even though she eventually offered to keep him home after my many questions: what time did it happen; did he only puke once; does he have a fever; how is he feeling now? I'm sure she's annoyed that I might say "Yes, please keep him." Because that would mean she would either have to stay awake with him and not sleep before work tomorrow night, or that her husband would have to stay home. I think I'm going to tell her to keep him. I feel bad, but I guess not bad enough, huh? I'm trying to justify it to myself, I know, but that's why I'm here. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[elysiaheaven]

𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴..?-𝟮𝟭-(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:2676

The conversation continued, a lively argument broke out between Yanqing and Yunli.

"First, you didn't kick my butt!" Yanqing declared, his voice filled with youthful defiance. "Second, you'll never kick my butt! Third, how about we settle this right now and see who kicks whose butt?"

Yunli grinned, accepting the challenge with gusto. "Yeah, I'm up for that! And if I kick your butt, you'll drop out of the Wardance. Deal?"

March 7th, looking puzzled, interjected, "Why are you two arguing again? I thought things had been improving between you lately..."

Jiaoqiu, observing the commotion with mild interest, explained, "There was talk that the leading disciples of the Luofu and Zhuming generals were supposed to face off in the Wardance, but for some reason, they suddenly teamed up to train an apprentice of their own. Turns out the rumors are true."

"Tomorrow is the big day of the Wardance," Jiaoqiu continued, his tone taking on a slightly more serious edge. "Shouldn't you two be focusing on honing your skills instead of teaching swordplay here?"

Yunli looked at Jiaoqiu, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Ah, you're... um, you're... That's right! You're the pink-haired fox from the Yaoqing!"

March 7th chuckled, adding, "This is Mr. Jiaoqiu."

"Pink-haired fox..." Jiaoqiu mused, a faint smile playing on his lips. "What are you laughing at? You've got pink hair, too!"

"Well, this is Mr. Jiaoqiu, the healer working for the General of the Xianzhou Yaoqing," March 7th clarified.

Yunli, catching on, asked, "So, you're the participant attending the Wardance on behalf of the Yaoqing, and you were trying to sneak a peek at our training?"

Jiaoqiu shook his head with a light-hearted chuckle. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I don't know anything about martial arts. I'm just here on the general's orders to take care of some official business. I didn't mean to interrupt your training. I'll be on my way."

Yunli raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "If you know nothing about martial arts, why were you smirking earlier?"

Jiaoqiu shrugged, his smile widening. "Well, my curiosity got the better of me, I suppose. When I heard Miss March's pondering about what to learn, I couldn't help but wander over."

From behind you, you offered a soft, almost ethereal laugh. "It's true, isn't it? Sometimes even the sweetest of us can get caught up in the chaos. But don't worry, you two are doing great."

Jiaoqiu, now focused on the conversation, continued, "From my professional experience, cleavers, slicers, chopping knives, and carving knives are all just tools, kind of like frying, sautéing, boiling, and deep-frying in cooking. They're just ways for people to show off their skills. How you use them really depends on the ingredients you're working with."

Yunli's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Are you saying our swordplay is like cooking?"

Jiaoqiu nodded, his tone more animated. "Exactly! It's like your sword teaching methods. If you align your 'ingredient' — in other words, your apprentice's natural tendencies — with the right 'cooking method' — that is, the teaching method that best suits her — she'll make double the progress in half the time!"

You took the opportunity to interject with a kind smile. "Just remember, it's not just about technique. It's about how you nurture and support each other."

Jiaoqiu added, "For example, Golden Eggplant tastes best when fried, Cloud Peppers when stir-fried, and Yellow Boulder Beef when simmered. It's all about discovering the nature of the ingredients... uh, I mean, apprentice."

March 7th, already feeling a pang of hunger, laughed. "All this talk about food is making me hungry."

Yunli, confused, asked, "Aren't you a healer? Why are you talking about food?"

Jiaoqiu shrugged. "Well, it's just a metaphor. The medicinal school I follow on the Xianzhou Yaoqing is called the Ranzhi School, which specializes in food therapy, so it's only natural that I know a thing or two about cooking."

Yunli raised an eyebrow. "So... you're the general's cook?"

Jiaoqiu chuckled. "I'm a healer! But anyway, a cook who isn't interested in health doesn't make for a good advisor. Fine, call me a cook if you want."

The conversation shifted, you approached Yunli and Yanqing with a warm, genuine smile. "I hope you both find your way and enjoy the Wardance. Remember, it's not just about the fight, but about the camaraderie and the connections you make along the way."

Jiaoqiu, however, seemed to get more serious. "Picture this: Two individuals, the one standing is full of malice, the other lying down is honorable and righteous. How can the one who's lying down label the one standing as 'sinister?' In the throes of combat, where life and death hinge on a singular moment, every idea fades into nothingness. The only thing that matters is 'staying alive.' Surviving the battlefield reshapes all notions of worth. Be it integrity or treachery, in my eyes, their significance is negligible."

Yanqing, feeling the weight of Jiaoqiu's words, responded, "Perhaps you've underestimated Yunli and me, Mr. Jiaoqiu. We may be young, but we've seen our fair share of war."

Jiaoqiu acknowledged their point with a nod. "Well, well, then you should know that the Wardance is nothing more than a contest. So, why are you so focused on it?"

Yanqing explained, "When I was appointed as the ringmaster for the Wardance, I asked the general: 'We Cloud Knights are supposed to charge into the fray and slay enemies. Why do we have to swing swords in a ring just to please an audience?' And this is how the general replied: 'To unsheathe your sword in a ring is no different than on the battlefield, as your sword reveals the might of all Cloud Knights.'"

Yanqing's voice held a note of pride. "The Wardance is the perfect chance to showcase martial virtue and forge alliances from all over the cosmos. When we unsheathe the sword without drawing blood, we not only display our might but also the martial virtue of the Cloud Knights."

Jiaoqiu, now intrigued, said, "That's quite an insightful statement, Yanqing. Well, my apologies for being so short-sighted. I've been on the Luofu for quite some time, but I haven't had the chance to see the ceremony venue for myself yet. Hearing you speak so highly of it has piqued my curiosity. Would you mind showing me around?"

Yanqing's eyes lit up. "You want to see the Skysplitter ship where the Wardance will be held? Let's go! I bet Yunli and Miss March haven't seen it either, right? Well then, I'll give you all a tour."

Jiaoqiu: "Surviving the battlefield reshapes all notions of worth. Be it integrity or treachery, in my eyes, their significance is negligible."

Yunli, curious, looked at Jiaoqiu with a hint of concern but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. She turned to you, her cat-like form now back to its original state after a brief transformation, and asked, "Can you believe it? March 7th has actually become a pretty decent swordmaster in such a short time. Now I understand why grandpa always had a grin on his face while training me."

You responded with a soft chuckle, "It's amazing what a bit of dedication and the right guidance can achieve. March 7th certainly has talent, and it seems like her training has paid off."

Yanqing, eager to move on, looked at the group and said, "Let's go. I'll give you a tour of the Skysplitter."

With a quick teleport, the group arrived at Stargazer Navalia.

Jiaoqiu, taking in the surroundings, remarked, "Looks like a lot of other visitors have also come to catch a glimpse of the Skysplitter."

Yanqing noticed Jiaoqiu's contemplative expression and asked, "What's up, Mr. Jiaoqiu?"

Jiaoqiu hesitated before replying, "No... it's nothing."

Yanqing pointed towards the airship in the distance. "Do you see that airship? That's the Skysplitter, the venue for the Wardance ceremony."

You glanced at the airship with a thoughtful expression and added, "It doesn't look all that impressive from this distance, but I'm sure it's something special up close."

Jiaoqiu's eyes followed the direction Yanqing pointed, and he nodded slightly. "Indeed. It may not seem like much now, but appearances can be deceiving."

Yanqing smiled, ready to lead the way. "Come on, let's get closer and see what all the fuss is about. You'll get a better view soon enough."

Jiaoqiu observed Yanqing with a thoughtful expression and remarked, "Oh, Yanqing, so young, yet so grown-up... By the way, how old are you exactly?"

Yanqing, not missing a beat, replied, "Age doesn't really matter. All swordmasters will understand how I feel."

Jiaoqiu nodded, taking in Yanqing's response. "Hmm... I get it. Looks like all the kids on the Luofu live tough lives. So, how about you, Miss Yunli?"

Yunli, slightly taken aback, responded with a touch of humor, "It's not polite to ask a girl her age, no matter which Xianzhou ship you're on."

You, who had been quietly observing the conversation, interjected softly, "Sometimes the journey is more important than the number of years, wouldn't you agree?"

Jiaoqiu, slightly amused, said, "I'm not asking your age! I'm asking if you have a dream like Yanqing has?"

Yunli, with a hint of playfulness, retorted, "You don't talk like a cook; you sound more like a TV host or something."

Jiaoqiu, slightly exasperated, clarified, "...Need I repeat myself again? I'm a healer."

Yunli sighed and shared her thoughts. "Well, I... I don't have a dream like Yanqing does. The only reason I'm participating in the Ringmaster's Challenge is because I made a promise to my grandfather that I'd win the precious sword he's contributed to the Wardance."

Yanqing smirked, "Sounds like that mind of yours is just filled with swords."

Yunli, with a serious tone, continued, "My... father... was a craftsman on the Xianzhou Zhuming. Because of his foolishness, many innocent people fell victim to the cursed swords he forged."

You, sensing Yunli's pain, reached out with a comforting presence. "It sounds like you've been through a lot, Yunli. Your resolve to protect others from harm is admirable."

Yunli looked at you with a soft smile. "Thank you. Since I was a kid, it's been clear to me that not everyone deserves to have a weapon in their hands. Giving them a sword is no different than being cruel to the innocent."

Jiaoqiu nodded thoughtfully. "So, whenever I come across someone unworthy of a sword, I can't help but want to take it away from them. Given that Yanqing is the Wardance ringmaster, I'm stepping up to challenge him, to ensure the precious sword doesn't fall into the hands of an unworthy master."

Yanqing, a bit defensive, asked, "Hey! What do you mean by 'an unworthy master'?"

Jiaoqiu glanced at you and then back at Yanqing. "I see. It's not easy for kids on the Zhuming either. Well, it's better to have a reason for wielding a sword than to be lost and confused. I've saved countless Cloud Knights in my life, and there are plenty of exceptional warriors just like the two... of you..."

Yanqing noticed Jiaoqiu's sudden shift in demeanor and asked, "What happened, Mr. Jiaoqiu?"

Jiaoqiu shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "...Oh, nothing. I was just reminded of some old friends and old tales."

Turning his attention back to Yanqing and Yunli, Jiaoqiu continued, "Judging from my professional perspective as a healer, both of you possess remarkable vitality; your energies flow like raging fires and mighty gales. The upcoming fight... will definitely be impressive."

You smiled gently, adding, "I'm sure both of you will give an incredible performance. I look forward to seeing it."

Jiaoqiu glanced around at the Skysplitter and Stargazer Navalia. "Well, we've seen the Skysplitter and toured the Stargazer Navalia. I guess it's time to say goodbye for now."

March 7th, joining the conversation, said with a touch of disappointment, "What, you're leaving already? But you haven't asked me about my dreams! I've been working hard too, you know!"

Jiaoqiu, with a chuckle, replied, "It's getting late, Miss March. Unlike you lot, I'm a grown-up bound by responsibilities and duties. The tasks entrusted to me by the general won't complete themselves."

Jiaoqiu turned to Yanqing with a curious look. "By the way, Yanqing, is it normal to have so many people wandering around in an automated area like the Stargazer Navalia?"

Yanqing, with a knowing smile, answered, "...Actually, this is a restricted area, but since you're all guests, I made an exception so you could take a look around."

Jiaoqiu nodded, understanding. "I see. Well, I'll take my leave. I wish you both the best of luck in the ring tomorrow."

Jiaoqiu prepared to leave, you stood there, bowing with a quiet grace, your eyes betraying an emptiness that seemed to stretch endlessly. Each step you took felt heavier, like the weight of countless regrets was pulling you further into the abyss of despair. The world around you seemed to blur, the bustling Skysplitter and Stargazer Navalia fading into a distant haze.

You found yourself questioning, once again, why you should even continue. The internal struggle was consuming, gnawing at the edges of your sanity with every unanswered query. You walked alongside Jiaoqiu, your movements slow and deliberate, but the darkness within was encroaching, turning each step into a battle against overwhelming sorrow.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle touch on your arm. Startled, you looked up to see Jiaoqiu's hand resting there. His eyes, usually so calculating and reserved, were now filled with a deep, unexpected concern. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you met his gaze, the anguish and helplessness reflected in your own.

In that brief silence, the walls you had so carefully constructed around your heart began to crumble. You felt a wave of vulnerability crashing over you. It was as if Jiaoqiu's touch had opened a floodgate of emotions that you had kept tightly controlled. Without thinking, you found yourself speaking, your voice trembling with the weight of your sorrow.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry for everything... for ruining your life. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused."

The scene shifts to Jing Yuan in his private quarters, the flickering light of the lantern casting shadows on the walls. He sits at his desk, staring at a letter that has just been delivered. His usually composed demeanor is shattered as he reads, his hands trembling slightly. The contents of the letter unravel the painful truth he had been missing, connecting the dots between recent events and the anguish you have endured.

A single tear escapes his eye as he clenches his jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotion. The realization hits him hard—he now understands the gravity of what you've been through and the mistakes that led to it. His heart aches with regret as he realizes how much he has misjudged the situation. Without uttering a word, he rises from his chair, determination and sorrow etched across his face. He knows he must see you again to offer his heartfelt apology.

Cut to the ancient seaside shore, where Feixiao stands with an air of quiet anticipation. Her eyes are sharp, but there's a subtle softness in her gaze as she awaits her guests. The scene shifts as Jing Yuan approaches, looking troubled but resolute.

Feixiao "I am glad to finally meet you in person. Guests from the Luofu, I presume?"

Jing Yuan"You're here about the Ambrosial Arbor's resurrection, no?"

Feixiao "Straight to the point. I like it."

Jing Yuan, barely able to mask his distress, takes a deep breath and asks: "One of the messengers... was his name Jiaoqiu? Did he marry the woman named Y/n? No need to worry, I know of her past. and why he might have married her.."

Feixiao's eyes widen with realization. She nods solemnly, understanding now that the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. Her expression hardens slightly as she contemplates the gravity of the situation.

Feixiao "Yes, Jiaoqiu. He... accidentally married her to save Moze from dying."

Jing Yuan's face reflects a profound sadness as he absorbs this new information. He pulls out a letter from his coat and hands it to Feixiao. It's a letter that provides a detailed account of what ahppened

Jing Yuan: "We understood the history of her past wrong...then, She had every right to be rude towards me."

Feixiao looks down at the letter..

What!? Is Jiaoqiu planning ?!

Is that why..you acted so....mean..? To....Make feel a little better to kill you..?

Your soul has the power to heal...... 

He must have known about it...You also seemed to be aware...

yet

What is.....? Why are you so..? Kind...?

[how-very-salty]

masterpost of my jdonica fic <3

royally fucked up

J.D. gets another chance. It's Sherwood in September, and Veronica is smiling at him again. This time, he'll do anything not to fuck it up.

status: completed / translated: in progress

!!!new the forest (warnings!!! tags are reeeally spoilers, but the fic includes disturbing content)

Veronica ran down the stairs, hurried to the school bus - and suddenly woke up on the road in a completely silent forest. There doesn't seem to be a soul around... but someone's predatory gaze is fixed on her back. (references to The path)

status: in progress / translated: in progress

let's have some fun

Three years ago, J.D. went back to hell, but he comes back for the same reason: to make Veronica say his name three times. But something's changed.

status: in progress / translated: in progress

stay at the very edge and way he prays

Before she says no, Veronica sees Bud humiliate J.D. And it makes her change her mind and try one more time to change something for him. And that leads to a promise that will be broken.

(tw: bdsm)

status: completed / translated: completed

Veronica Sawyer decides to die

The bomb exploded. They both survived, but at a high price… Time has passed, and Veronica Sawyer finds comfort in imagining that she is gone. Her peace of mind is shattered by the doorbell.

status: completed / translated: completed

St. Calvin told me not to worry about you

They're broken up, but still need each other. She has the keys to his apartment, he wants her back. And there are rules between them that neither of them has ever learned to follow. (there is a new male character, but honestly, he's just one of the plot obstacles in this story).

status: in progress / translated: in progress

!!!new lavender

Just a scene from married life and problems that they have to deal with through conversation ( long-married JD and Ronnie)

SHORT STORIES (complited)

dearly beloved

jdonica one shots (If you want, you can give me prompts. i sometimes write them long, but i try to write all of them. except with agnst sometimes i skip them)

other way

Veronica Sawyer hurts herself to deal with her emotions, and a new guy notices. She's scared, but he just wants to talk to her ...and maybe help.

syndrome - the story of cotard syndrome

who is she - he meets her on a crowded subway and misses her… and meets her again

first of thousands - their paths cross because of a car accident

insomnia - he just can't sleep (partially refers to St. Calvin's au)

best gift ever - happy married life

we're locked in, right? - fate brings them together in a locked elevator

trace of a touch - J.D. is long gone from her life, but his every touch keeps to burn on her skin. No one else can, until one day…

let's get out of here - a wedding story in which J.D. steals a bride from his own wedding

turn on the radio and the braided bracelet - au!childhood friends, where J.D. is hopelessly in love with Veronica. or not so hopeless?

about a girl - Nick has been in love with Veronica since they were kids. but it seems he should have confessed earlier, because the new kid is about to steal her away from him

peek-a-boo - very hot zombie-boy and a pretty smart Ronnie? who just can't resist his charm (pure au with a twist)

white oleander - au!hanahaki where Ronnie has to choose between Chandler and J.D.

pick me up - a wasted Ronnie needs to be picked up from the bar, and even though they broke up, J.D. is the only one who can do it.

happy anniversary - nobody has visited J.D.'s grave for five years

what a night - J.D. climbed into her window that night, before the bombs and the petition.

a few more minutes and there is no cure - the bomb didn't explode, and it seems that J.D. completely failed // he returns to Veronica's life years later

an act of mercy - J.D. was dead in the explosion, but that night a familiar voice is heard on Veronica's phone

like burnt brownies and play with loaded dice - the story of Nick Sawyer and Jesse Dean

[whataboutsimple]

So you once said you prefer Gabriel being Jesse's father figure and Ivor as Petra's.

But I don't think I've ever seen Ivor and Petra with this relationship before

So I was wondering if you have any headcanons or concepts about it?

Oh god it took me a while to get to this. Too long even.

Anyway, yep! I actually have some, because c'mon. It's not me, if I don't have hcs for some strange thing only I could've think of.

First things first lemme tell you, why exactly I see them having a father-daugther relationship!

Of course I've seen lots of concepts about Jesse being Ivor's child, even in those AU with New Order as kids, but I never really understood why? Like father, like son, isn't it? Jesse is nothing like Ivor and Ivor is nothing like Jesse, so it's very hard for me to get the reasoning behind that.

Sure I'm not rooting for the concept of kids being an exact copy of their parents, but there should be at least some similarities, right?

Let's take apart characters of Gabriel, Jesse, Ivor and Petra to understand things a bit better.

Gabriel is the "dad" friend of Original Order Of The Stone, he's kind, patient, peacemaker and mostly important: connects all members of the group. I've already talked about it in my small study of his character, but if we look closely, he's the only member who no one has personal beef with, well, expect for Ivor, and even he behaves differently to Gabriel, than to other his friends.

Now Jesse, who are they? It really depends on which options the player chooses, but usually they're kind and sympathetic, also a peacemaker and the one who holds their friends together. Jesse had a better relationship with Petra in S1Ep1-4 than Axel or Olivia, they also kept Lukas around. He, just like Gabriel, keeps the group together.

Now Petra. Clearly and outsider, not used to work on team, hotheaded, sometimes arrogant. Doesn't she reminds you of Ivor? She's also fangirling over Jack just like Ivor was fangirling over Old Builders, and both of them were denying it. They also both can't express their feelings the right way.

So what I'm talking about is the fact, that Gabriel and Jesse, as well as Ivor and Petra, have some similarities over which they can bond. Ivor would be more of a chaotic good dad, meanwhile Gabriel is pure good.

Just see an example of Gabriel's and Jesse's interactions:

Gabriel, making dinner: So early from school?

Jesse, throwing their back pack on the chair: Miss Applegate got sick, they let us go earlier.

Gabriel: Poor woman, hope she's going to be okay. How's the day?

Jesse: Actually it's fine! I've got three A's and one B.

Gabriel: That's great, keep it up! How about your friends?

Jesse: Oh, me and Olivia got paries up for science project and Axel was whining all day about how he got paired up with Aiden. They gonna destroy each other!

Gabriel, laughing: Sure they are. Go to your room and change, I've baked apple pie today. Don't forget to take Reuben from backyard!

And now let's see the same situations, but with Ivor and Petra:

Ivor, cleaning the dishes: Ahh, it's early. You run away from school or what?

Petra: Yeah, dream old man. They let us go earlier cause teach got sick.

Ivor: Sssure, whatever. Lemme guess: you got all F's?

Petra slamming her backpack in the table: Dreeeeam! Two B's, ha!

Ivor: Oh wow, surprised you know at least something.

Petra: Yeah, thanks god I got my brains from mom. Otherwise I would have none from you.

Ivor, rolling his eyes: Get lost. The chicken will be ready in twenty minutes.

Petra: Ah, also, I got paired up for science project with Maya, so she'll come over today! Axel is paired up with Aiden.. I bet 20$ they're going to kill each other till tomorrow.

Ivor: Tomorrow? Pfff, wait for the news till the dinner!

See the difference? Both families are happy, but one is calm and the other is chaotic.

Also there is no way I won't remind you, that both Ivor and Petra loves to call things different names.. Petra with her "Miss Butter" and Ivor with his whole collection of different armour, where each has a name.

Like father like daughter.

Let me speak another detail! Since Ivor got visibly better at expressing his feelings in S2, I bet you he also helped Petra to get through her "I don't want to loose my friends but I want freedom" stage. He too was friendless at some point, so he knows how it feels like no one else does. The feeling of betrayal and discomfort.

Yeah, that's pretty much it. Not hcs or concepts, but at least I got my thoughts out.

[lythea-creation]

Caught on Camera - Shams x fem reader (Chapter 1)

summary: In a world full of wannabe influencers, (f/n) prefers to be a private person. But as Shams doesn't seem to care much about ones privacy, the two of them have quite a lot to discuss.

warnings: same theme as the series

word count: 975

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

requested? Yes

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

In a time where social media were basically ruling the world, people thought of me as weird for avoiding them most of the time. It was not like I was completely against them. I just did not feel the need to post my life. Actually I thought that people who were posting their life were not content enough with it to just enjoy it. Instead they had to waste it on making everyone believe they were being as perfect as possible.

Nevertheless I came along with my classmates, even the most popular ones like Tasneem and Hiba. I was simply a private person. Therefore I was alone a lot of the time as well, sometimes hanging out with Nadeen.

I liked her attitude, standing up for herself and others, staying true to herself.

Although that was also what got me caught up in this mess of sitting outside in the burning sun to make a stand. The irony of it all was that Nadeen, Shams and I were the only ones outside at the end, though we did not care that much about our phones.

To be honest I did not really know what to think about Shams. On the one hand she seemed to be nice, offering us food and talking to us, and I was curious because I barely knew anything about her. On the other hand I did not like the fact that she was carrying around a camera all the time. It kinda made me feel watched. Like I had to be on guard to make sure she was not filming me.

“What are you up to today? Wanna hang out?”, Nadeen asked me when the school bell rang for the last time.

“Sure”, I agreed. “But please no more horror movies.”

“Why not? Your reactions are too good to miss out on”, she proclaimed with a chuckle.

“It's not my fault that I take movies too seriously. Of course the scary ones freak me out”, I justified myself.

“Though they're not even scary”, Nadeen shot back.

“How about you tell my dreams exactly that?”, I suggested, now laughing myself.

In the end she persuaded me to watch another one. I just could not say no to her when she offered to let me sleep over because that was always my condition for watching horror movies with her. It was hard to fall asleep if I was alone afterwards.

“What are you watching?”, I wondered when Nadeen was laughing about something on her phone.

“It's one of Sarah's videos. But this one is actually funny”, she enlightened me and rewound it to let me see the beginning as well.

It was about different types of girls at our school. She depicted me as the artsy fangirl which I could not deny. After all I was always scribbling away at some quick sketches or short stories about my favorite book and movie characters.

But when the video showed The Critic, which was obviously supposed to be Nadeen. Honestly I could not understand how Sarah could post something like that about Nadeen, considering they were friends.

The hurt was written all over Nadeen's face before she quickly hid it behind a nonchalant mask.

“It's blowing up”, I noticed.

Her views, likes and comments were basically exploding the more time passed. It was insane.

And on the next day Sarah moved on from invisible to absolute spotlight.

I tried to stay close to Nadeen as Sarah did not seem to take any interest in talking to her friend, now that she had other options. That was one of many reasons to hate social media. But never mind.

My eyes moved away from Sarah as I observed my environment. It was nothing unusual for me to do. From time to time it could be useful. That way I could stay out of the trouble and drama.

But this time I did not like what I saw.

Quickly I made my way over to Shams. “Were you just filming us?”, I accused her.

The others were too busy crowding Sarah to notice our discussion.

“Why does it matter?”, Shams remarked.

“I didn't allow you to film me”, I pointed out.

“So what? Everybody is running around filming nowadays. Why is it different when I do it with a real camera instead of a phone?”, she considered.

“I don't care about the kind of camera. Just delete it”, I requested.

“I'll cut you out of it if you stop bugging me. And don't chat it around. People behave differently when they're aware of being filmed.”

“Why should I do that? I don't owe you anything”, I declared.

“Look. Maybe you don't like what I'm doing, but I'm just expressing myself through art like you do”, she claimed.

“What are you talking about?”, I inquired.

“Your sketches and stories. I haven't read any of them, but it's obvious that you're passionate about them. So you should be able to see my point”, she resonated.

“You truly are a stalker”, I noted, taking a step closer to her.

Somehow this discussion had quickly become heated and despite my anger I had to admit that I was feeling a pull toward her.

“I'm a film maker. That's the point. By the way, you're the only one that cares. Everybody else is way too busy with their petty online lives and little drama. So can you just let it go? I promise to cut you out. It's for the sake of art”, she stated.

For a moment we were staring each other down, contemplating what to do next. And for some reason it became harder and harder to stay close. So I gave in.

“Fine”, I grumbled and stormed off.

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

Next Chapter

i decided to make this one a fanfiction with rather short chapters, so you guys won't have to wait as long to read another one as I don't know how much time I'll have to write. Thanks to sunwoniie for requesting. I hope you all like the first chapter. Feel free to make suggestions about the next chapters. Maybe I'll integrate some aspects you want.

Tag List: @sunwoniie

[orange-foxes]

Long Distance

🔶 High or Low Tide by Stjosten (5k)

Andrew is off at college and Neil is back in Columbia finishing his senior year of high school. It’s fine. Nothing bad is going to happen in the short time apart. Neil is an idiot but he has survived alone for a long time before he met Andrew. It is going to be fine. Atleast, that’s what he keeps telling himself and for some reason it feels like lying.

🔶 You go your way, I'll go your way too by emmerrr (20k)

Neil tries to leave it as long as possible to make his first phone-call to Andrew. He figures the longer he can go without hearing Andrew’s voice, the easier it will be in the long run. He doesn’t quite make it forty-eight hours. (Five times Neil calls Andrew after Andrew has graduated, plus one time Andrew calls Neil)

🔶 holding out for what you want by PoolToast22 (7k)

Or, the one where it's Neil's fifth year alone and he doesn't know how to handle it.

🔶 Touch me, love me, leave me by BakaDoll (43k)

No one ever told Neil there was a second Minyard who was a soldier for the U.S. Army, and suddenly he was stuck with him in his dorm during Thanksgiving holidays. But sometimes first expressions can be wrong, and what Neil expected to be the worst week of his year might turn out completely different than anticipated.

🔶 Home for Christmas by abraxos_is_toothless (3k)

Long Distance Relationships are hard, but they made it work. Until it wasn’t working and then the holidays came around.

🔶 A Thousand Miles Seems Pretty Far by gluupor (3k)

Long distance relationships are hard. Or, everybody sucks at communication sometimes.

🔶 Five Hours Away by mostly_maudlin (series)

Andrew's in Nashville. Neil's in Palmetto. They're both well-practiced in surviving alone. 

🔶 Where's My Love (just come home) by kanekicure (8k)

Neil hasn't been in the same room as Andrew for almost two months and he feels like he has a gaping wound on his side in his absence. Then, to make matters worse, Andrew stops responding to his calls and Neil is starting to feel like he's going slightly crazy.

🔶 people problems by loveroulettes (22k)

When Neil meets the perfect guy Andrew realizes that six and a half years later, he still doesn’t know how to ask the important questions.

🔶 Think With Your Head by HalfpintPeach (10k)

Andrew wakes up from a wet dream missing Neil. That's it, that's the fic.

🔶 Stay With Me by Lostintheuniverseslies (97k)

Neil had let Andrew say goodbye to every important person left in Palmetto while he stood on the sidelines and cheered Andrew on. There was only one goodbye left and it would be the most painful one. It seemed as though it was finally hitting Neil too. They only had twenty-seven days together and then Neil would return to Palmetto alone for the first time since Millport. They spent the first year after everything healing. Now they have to learn how to navigate being away from each other while Andrew is off playing in the pros and Neil is still at Palmetto finishing his fifth year. Things aren't easy. They never seem to be for them but they're fighters. And they always come out on top.

🔶 Coping on Unemployment by a_million_stars (7k)

"And it's hard to give yourself over to something/Give yourself over" A character study of postgrad Andrew Minyard, his relationship to Neil Josten, and saying I love you. Very soft and a little sad.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Hello hello again!!!! :3

I loveloveLOVE your Lucius/Viktor post!! Once again, you brighten my noggin w your thoughts (:

Umumumummmmmmmm so is there anyone else you want an excuse to yap about LOL Idkidk I just want to hear your thoughts about everyone and everything!!

Idk if you have any/many thoughts about them, but maybe we could hear about the Averys and Sinistras? Especially Edmund's unnamed fiancée !!!!

Ahhhhhh your brain is just so !!!! /Pos

- 🍃

Ahhhh I'm so glad you liked it,, it fully helped fuel my Xenophilius post!!

I think I might take this time to talk about some good old Pebill!! I saw this one tiktok a few days ago and I've been so obsessed since. Welcome to Pebill City, population ME!!!!

I am,, far too fond of giving ships fun little names so I bestow upon thee,,, ratseer lol

I specifically love these two in a band au. I'm gonna write one eventually and I'm gonna make them so happy and sappy and cute and just like the tiktok says they'll have a daughter called Rosemary. I'm just so in love with them. Peter who plays the second guitar in the band and like the occasional trumpet and sometimes he thinks it's kinda silly that he's in the band but also he's just so happy to be there. He saved all his money from his part time job to buy the most run-down Volkswagen T1 when the band started getting big enough to have to travel around for stuff and he shows up like "TADA!" all proud of himself cause he solved their problem. He meets Sybill at one of these travel gigs. They're playing at a wedding and maybe she's like the bride's sister or just a bridesmaid or something and she's wearing a really flowy dress and she's spinning around right in front of him having the time of her life and her thick curls are bouncing and you can just see Peter melt while he's on stage playing cause he misses a cord or something. And the guys notice and they insist that the has to talk to her and he's all nervous and shit but then Sybill comes to talk to him because she thinks he's really cute and they hit it off. They call at each stop they have and a few months in they go pick her up before moving onto a bigger gig and she just stays with them.

He wants to settle down at some point when Sybill ends up pregnant and he almost leaves the band but Sybill insists that she's fine travelling around with them because that's the life she loves and she wants their daughter to be born a free soul and she sees in her cards that she's supposed to be born a certain place and Peter is just like [scout's salute] "yes ma'am" and I just think they're so stinking cute vjnfgjbngjbngj

I need to figure out this band au at some point cause it's been rotting my brain lately, I just have so many long fics I wanna write I don't feel like I can start a new one now even if I want to vjfnbjgnbj

I have,,, far too many thoughts on both the Averys, the Sinistras but especially Edmund's fiancee!!!! I've been waiting for a chance to talk about her honestly,,,

Let's start with the Averys,,,,

Edmund Avery Senior, the only child of Herschel Avery and Miriam Avery, is Edmund's father, in case that wasn't clear from the name. Edmund Senior works as an archivist for the Ministry of Magic and he's got a spot in the Wizengamot along with his father Herschel. The two are not close and if you didn't know you wouldn't think they were father and son. During most of Edmund's Senior's childhood his mother was heavily sedated and he was more or less raised by the family house elf, Dotty (usually called Dot and Dorothy in muggle aus). Dot is also the house elf who helped raise Edmund Junior. Edmund Senior attended school with Tom Riddle and was sorted into Slytherin and was one of Tom's dorm mates. They were also just close friends (as close friends as Tom could have). Edmund Senior was part of the reason Tom managed to open the Chamber of Secrets as he showed him a book featuring hints of the Chambers being real. To sum Edmund Senior up he's an incredibly nerdy insecure man. He loves history and in a muggle au he collects model aeroplanes. He's got a good handful of childhood trauma, a difficult relationship with his family and most of his peers and the only thing he's really got going for him is that he's an incredibly devoted husband who's down bad for his wife. She's luckily incredibly wooed by what I can only describe as his autism rizz lmao (I hate that so much ew actually)

Edmund's mother and Edmund Senior's wife is Esther, a very attractive recovered alcoholic. Rumours fly around frequently about her being unfaithful to her husband though she could never dream of it. Most of what is known about her is fabricated, which is entirely intentional as she's hiding things about herself such as her country of birth. Esther lost her family during the Holocaust. She met Edmund while they were both in their mid-twenties and they got married a while later and eventually had their only son Edmund Avery Junior. Their son has inherited his father's looks save for his mother's hair colour and many beauty spots as well as her eating disorder.

Due to Esther's alcoholism and a slight strain on their relationship over the years due to Edmund Senior favouring his work too much, Edmund Junior had much more to do with Dot, their house elf, than what would be considered normal as she would have to step in where Esther sometimes lacked. Despite this Edmund was an incredible mummy's boy and still is, something Esther cherished immensely as she loved being both a mother and wife. He would cling to her at any given time, he'd rather have tea with her than play with other children, he'd come running to her crying at the smallest inconvenience, he was so proud of wearing fancy clothes like his father and getting a spray of his mother's perfume.

The Avery family is resembled by Barn Owls similar to how the Malfoys are represented by (albino?) peacocks. Edmund Senior gifted Esther a taxidermied rat when they first started dating, similar to how Barn Owls gift their mates prey and while others find it incredibly weird they now have a shared love for taxidermied animals and he will gift her more on their anniversaries/on Valentine's Days/etc. Edmund Senior and Esther seem like an incredibly unlikely pair to everyone else but Esther fell for him in part because he was one of the only men who could see her for her mind and her heart rather than just her looks (even if he's down bad for those too lol)

Idk where else to mention this but they're both pureblood wizards,,,

They're probably my favourite of the parents,,, which is why they're the only knights of walpurgis era characters that have their own pinterest collection for pictures,,,, I would have shared it but,,, I have used all my pictures up for one post T-T

Onto the Sinistras I have considerably less but I can fill you in a bit,,,

Aurora is the only daughter of Altair Aseel Sinistra and Nazareth Sinistra née Lubilanji. Nazareth is Sierra Leonean albeit has lived in England for her entire life. She's also a half-blood. She's one of seven siblings and when she attended Hogwarts she was sorted into Gryffindor. She is incredibly fond of cats and puzzles. During her time at Hogwarts, she was part of the Slug Club. Altair is a pureblood wizard and the second son of Aseel Najm Sinistra and Sidra Ahyam Sinistra and the younger brother of Tariq Aseel Sinistra. His family is Egyptian but they've lived in England for the past two or so generations I'm thinking?? Like his daughter, he was a Ravenclaw when he attended school and he became Prefect during his fifth year.

Taking a bit of a side step here since this ask was after all about all the Sinistras,,, Tariq marries Salma Al-Mashriq, a pureblood Hufflepuff and together they have three children; Rashid, Hisham and Samara who are all younger than Aurora (Rashid (Slytherin) and Hisham (Ravenclaw) are third and second years when Aurora is in her seventh year and Samara is not yet attending school). Salma was part of a handful of extracurricular activities such as being a School Paper Writer, a member of the Gobstones Club and the Orchestra. Tariq similarly had a lot of extracurricular activities as well. He was a Slug Club Member, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and Chaser and School Paper Manager.

I'm still playing around with this idea so it's going to get more polished at some point but I think Altair and Salma had a thing going on at some point but something happened,, Salma married Tariq and Altair who'd been friendly with Nazareth and already was fond of her for other reasons ended up marrying her. He was able to mostly push his feelings aside after Aurora was born. He would have loved at least one more child for him to dote on and focus on, but Aurora was not an easy child and while it not being the same obviously, they got have a cat, Moonbow, that both Altair and Nazareth love like she's their second child.

Now onto Priya,,, my beloved < 3

Edmund's fiancee is Lakshmipriya Mohanraj also known as Priya. She was born October 13, 1960, and she's the only daughter of Siddarth Mohanraj and Rajeshwariammal Mohanraj. She's got two brothers, Raja and Dhananjay, though both have sadly passed, one of them in a motorcycle accident they were both in and the other took his life about a month later.

She is a mean lesbian who doesn't quite know she's a lesbian yet. She's tired of Edmund's shit and having to deal with him and it's her mood like,, 85% of the time. Her family are all loyal Death Eaters which is part of the reason why they got engaged in the first place. The Mohanraj family was also just a nice connection and if there's one thing Edmund Senior values it's connections.

She ends up marrying Endmund Junior and after A LOT of trial and error, they have a son, Siddharth Avery and later a daughter, Esther Avery (Junior technically I suppose,, since she's named after Edmund's mother). It's very clear that Priya favours her son while Edmund somewhat hesitantly ends up favouring their daughter.

Little Siddharth thinks his dad is super cool and he thinks his dad's friend (Severus) is even cooler which Priya always finds incredibly annoying cause she cannot STAND Severus,,, like at all

Priya and Edmund have some moments of bonding together but for the most part, the two cannot stand each other. They come together to judge other people and oh boy do they do it well. They're big on their children having nice manners and not being a bother to others.

I am actually in love with Priya,, she serves so much cunt and still, she's stuck with her loser husband. She probably hoped he would get caught for being a Death Eater and get sent to Azkaban and she was so annoyed when he successfully convinced people he was under the Imperius curse,,,

This became,,, soooo long which is just becoming the norm at this point honestly lmao but I hope you enjoyed all of this!!! I'll definitely come back and talk more about both the Averys and the Sinistras cause I've got other asks about them vjfnbjgnb (at least the Sinistras I think,,, I can't remember if the Averys are in there ooop)