#to be fair I can actually still recall in quite a lot of detail exactly the arguments I wanted to make that those annotations linked to

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Flicked back through my a-level copy of Frankenstein recently - shoutout to 16 year old me for the only annotations in the entire section where Victor made the Creature being ‘plosives’ ‘imago dei’ and ‘ironic, he’s sexist’. I stand by all of those statements.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Hey 👋

I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤

Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.

Or

Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.

Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣

Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕

Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.

trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking

You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.

You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.

You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.

You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.

With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."

"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."

"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."

Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.

You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.

"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"

"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.

You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.

Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."

The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"

You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."

"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"

Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.

"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.

You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."

You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"

"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"

Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.

Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."

"Will, I-" you protested.

"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."

You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.

Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.

He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.

"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."

"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.

"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.

Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."

"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.

You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.

"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"

"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.

"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"

"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.

You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."

"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.

"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.

"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."

"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.

You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.

"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."

Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.

"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"

"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.

"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"

"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.

You nodded. "Naturally."

Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."

"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."

Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."

You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[litsetaure]

I need to talk about this scene. Initially, I thought that Gellert just slipped up and blew his cover; he got caught up in what was happening that he forgot himself. You can almost sense it; the Aurors are thinking ‘wait, what?’ Mind you, if this is the point where the MACUSA (and, for that matter, Newt) realised that something was not right, I have some serious questions about what exactly actual Percival Graves was like! It really does say a lot about Graves that the first time they realized that Graves probably wasn't Graves until that speech that basically overturns what they thought he believed on the Statute of Secrecy. Not to mention that sentencing Newt and Tina to that creepy as fuck death penalty didn’t raise any alarms at all!

But then, I thought about the context. If I recall rightly, this scene is directly after Credence has apparently been killed. Obviously, come the second film, we know that’s not true, but as yet, no one else does. And I started to wonder - did Gellert actually slip up? Or did he intend to reveal himself? Had he just had enough and decided to tell ‘his’ colleagues the truth?

I mean, if you listen to him speaking - initially, he doesn’t really sound just angry. Maybe a little bit, but to me, he sounds more sad and frustrated. Especially at the start with the line ‘Madam President…I ask all of you. Who does this law protect?’ It might be his accent, but to me, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. His cause is something very important to him and he just witnessed what he thought was a murder of a boy who had a condition that was in no way his own fault. And that would strike a chord within him. Because he’s seen it before with Ariana Dumbledore. A young person suffering from a condition that was in no way her fault, but which kept her trapped and hidden away because of a law that would see her taken and locked away by a draconian Ministry, under the guise of keeping the wizarding community safe and secret.

And it frustrates and hurts Gellert. He doesn’t blow his cover here because he got sloppy. He effectively revealed himself, because he’s had enough of hiding. He wants these people to understand what’s at stake. To see that the law they value so much is only hurting them and others like them. And why is it their obligation to hide? They’re not shameful. They’ve done nothing wrong. Are they really to be condemned to live in secret and fear because of something they can’t control and to protect people who lash out at what they don’t understand?

Yeah. He’s not really angry, or not just angry. He’s just done. Done with all of this bullshit. He knows the damage the statute can do. It denied Percival Dumbledore the right to tell his side of the story (out of fear for his daughter) and ripped him away from the family who needed him. It destroyed Albus’ chance for a future. It also ultimately cost Kendra and Ariana their lives.

And even if he hasn’t initially given away enough to tell everyone who he is, he’s told enough to make it clear which side he’s on. He’s not stupid. He had to know that some people there may have suspected who he was, or at the very least a follower of Gellert’s, and he just turns his back on them after that speech that basically confirms which side of this conflict he's on, if nothing else. And he just turns his back and walks away (in disgust), like it's no big thing. Like there aren't AT LEAST 30 Aurors and President Picquery at his back, and also Newt Scamander and his trunk full of creatures (and Dumbledore's man). That is one hell of a bold power move. He’s saying ‘I know what I’m revealing to you here and I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m done hiding away. I’m not going to tolerate this law that condemns and harms us. I’m going to fight it with everything I have. If you want to attack me and fight me, that’s fine. I’m up for it. I’m not giving up. Do your worst.’

Also, if you watch the fight, it’s pretty typical of what we know of Gellert in a fight. He’s got virtually the entire MACUSA ready to take him down (and he also does not look remotely worried by this, rather he’s thinking ‘okay, fair enough. Do your worst’) but, when they’re firing at him, it looks as though he never casts a single attacking spell. He only appears to be using shielding charms. Damn powerful ones, yes, but shield charms nonetheless. And that’s very similar to what we see and hear of how he fights. He never attacks first. The threeway duel? Aberforth drew his wand first. The fight at the rally? The Auror attacked first, killing the red-haired witch. And here - he knows the Aurors intend to take him down. In such a situation, you have the right to protect yourself - which he does, with the shield charm. But, again, he doesn’t appear to attack them.

And yet, with only shielding charms, he more than holds his own until Newt sends out the bird. That is INCREDIBLY impressive in and of itself. But it’s even more impressive because of one small detail.

The wand he’s using is not the Elder Wand. It’s (I assume) Percival Graves’ wand. Which means Gellert is doing all this badassery with a wand that is not actually his own, either simply because it didn’t choose him in the first place (which it obviously didn’t), or because, not only did it not choose him, but he also didn’t win it/become that wand’s Master. We don’t know what happened between him and Graves (though I’ve seen somewhere that JKR has confirmed Graves is still alive…can’t for the life of me remember where though!), but damn…that’s really impressive.

(Side note, but it’s really interesting to note that, if Gellert did leave Graves alive, it’s not the first time he’s left someone alive when someone else might have killed them. He did the same with Gregorovitch when he stole the Elder Wand. He got the wand, but left Gregorovitch alive. I’ve wondered about that before, since surely the last thing he should do is leave any sort of trail, especially when looking for a powerful artefact like the Elder Wand. And leaving Gregorovitch alive does, ultimately, come back to bite him in the arse when Voldy comes calling. It’s possible that he simply does not take pleasure in killing, and really only does it in self-defence, which says quite a bit about him, in all honesty…)

But this final point about the wand(s) leads to another issue. If Gellert is master of the elder wand and does all that impressive shit with Graves’ wand that isn’t his…how does he lose to Albus?? He’s shaping up to be immensely powerful, intelligent and magically gifted (and also, in terms of his ideas and motives, ABSOLUTELY RIGHT) and yet…Albus beats him? I’m not saying Albus isn’t powerful as fuck and a damn good duellist (he certainly is), but I feel like Gellert is more than a match for him - and they both know it. And yet…Albus wins the duel, and the Elder Wand. It seems suspicious to me. As though…actually, yes. I’m going to say it. I’m now 1000% convinced that Gellert might not have outright surrendered, but he was absolutely holding back against Albus and, in the end, for reasons currently unknown, he threw the duel.

[notnctu]

sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton 

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness. 

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct​​ (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am 

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

[s4ijoh]

the theory of love. matsukawa issei

MATSUKAWA ISSEI X GN! READER

GENRE: soulmate au; (implicit) college au; fluff; crack-ish?

WORD COUNT: 2.2k+

WARNINGS: (minor mention of) nudity

in which you have a beauty mark in each eyelid…

what an odd place to kiss someone for the first time.

you wonder. all different types of sweet yet awkward scenarios on how this meeting with your soulmate would play out begin to surface — more precisely, on how this first kiss with them would play out. out of all places...

why would they kiss your eyelids?

these are certainly not the answers you should be looking to answer during class, you reckon, yet, betrayed by your own inner voice who, against your own will decides to take the reins of your mind, you find yourself drifting away from reality and diving deep into your own head, swimming in thoughts of soulbound lovers and silly first kisses.

a giggle threatens to slip past your lips yet it dies in your throat before it has the chance to escape. it is hard to know when to stop the train of thought before it derails and, as always, the same old question comes back to haunt you.

what is taking them so long?

the question could be worse, you reckon, much worse. when you were just a child, barely old enough to understand the theory regarding love and soulmates, you remember hearing these frightening stories about people who were deemed loveless. they were bound to spend their entire lifetime wandering the face of earth in an infinite yet fruitless quest to find their other half. how cruel, you mused, for the universe to deprive someone of love.

you also recall, at the age of twelve, now old enough to decipher those were not just some bedtime tales, feeling terrified upon the realization that you could be one of the so called loveless ones. were you? although it’s not exactly one of your most treasured memories, it is still fairly vivid in the back of your head — your eyes urgently roaming every inch of skin on your body in a desperate attempt to dismiss that possibility, only for the answer to be mockingly hidden out of your sight.

for the longest time, your pitiful self dwelled on the reality that you weren’t worthy of love only for your faith to be restored when recently, whilst doing your make up, you found the two tiniest, barely perceptible dots laying on each of your eyelids, the symbol of hope itself adorning your skin — the evidence that you were not alone in this world and that some deity from above had blessed you with someone to share your love with.

although in retrospect, the scenario turned out to be a lot more optimistic than what you had first expected and for that you should be thrilled, with each passing day, the hollow in your chest grows darker as you have spent the last six years yearning for the day you’ll cross paths with your soulmate.

your heart longs for its missing piece and unfortunately there is no map to lead you to it.

what if you only meet them by the time you’re too old, too tired to have any love left to give?

it certainly gets lonely when you’re left dealing with the hole on your heart meanwhile everyone around you seems to have found their other half by now. just today, yet another girl in your friend group found her perfect match — or so she thinks, its easy to mistake some random boy for your soulmate when your beauty mark is located on your cheek.

at least you can rely on the fact that the placement of your beauty marks doesn’t leave much room for mistake, thats a given. maybe you weren’t that unfortunate, after all.

“movie night at my place tonight?” you tilt your head up to be met with issei’s figure towering over you. as you slowly bounce back to reality, you shift your eyes to the clock ticking on the wall. you figure you were too lost in thought to hear the lecturer call it a wrap.

“makki’s out of town so you can crash in his bed”

you met issei and takahiro at the beginning of this semester and it turned out that there was more to the two quiet laid back dudes who always sat in the back of the class than what first meets the eye. the chronic bored expressions they wear on their faces at all times are quite deceptive for they are anything but tedious and just happen to be quite easygoing and match your level of sarcasm. the three of you clicked almost instantly. movie nights on friday were a regular but a sleepover? now, that's a first.

(mainly because, besides the two beds on their shared room who were almost a size too small to fit their gigantic limbs, the next best surface on their apartment to sleep on would be the floor itself.)

“just admit that you’re afraid to sleep alone in your room, issei” you begin to gather your things but not without taking a peek at him through the corner of your eye to check the look of amusement growing on his face.

issei keeps his collected demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance while smiling down at you in a relaxed manner “if you start snoring the same way you always do halfway into a movie, it might actually be scarier to sleep in the same room with you”

you scoff at his merciless comeback although unamused. you knew better than to expect him to give in to your teasing remarks without a fight

“it’s always the guys who can’t even afford a couch who think they’re funny, huh?”

to be fair, you were aware they had just moved in together at the beginning of this semester and the house decor was still a work in progress.

he lets out a lighthearted laugh at your comeback, accepting his defeat and you follow suit, smiling brightly and softening your features “you’re lucky we don’t have one or else you’d be sleeping there tonight”

issei pats your head softly before he adjusts the strap of the backpack hanging off his shoulder and begins to walk away, turning on his heel when he is a few steps away from you, remembering he has to let you know the details for tonight.

when he turns his back on you and disappears into the distance a smile creeps its way into your lips almost instinctively. (what a lost cause. look at you so oblivious to how your heartbeat seems to echo a little louder inside your ribcage or how your heart rate seems to increase it’s tempo whenever you are around issei. you're not a naive little child anymore; you should’ve understood the theory of how love works by now.)

some days on campus are busier than others and you have learned it's easier to daydream your way through boring lectures and classes for time seems to go by faster yet there is no better way to unwind than to spend a friday night on the comfort of issei’s and makki’s tiny cozy apartment watching lame cartoon movies in the tiny screen of a computer. it’s part of your routine now and you find it's also easier to go through an intense week of work when you have these weekly movie sessions with them (him) to look forward to.

issei walks through the door and into the room, grabbing a blanket out of makki’s bed before taking a seat next to you on his bed so you can share the bowl of sweet and salty popcorn he just popped in the microwave. you notice his feet peeking from under the blanket at the end of the bed whereas he's busy searching for a movie to watch on the computer that’s sitting on his lap — you make a mental note to gift him a bigger blanket on christmas since it is just around the corner.

you manage to convince issei to watch the grinch “to get into the christmas spirit” however, as soon as he presses play, your thoughts start drifting away. it has recently come to your knowledge that issei, just like you, still hasn’t found his soulmate — although he seems to be handling the situation a lot more smoothly than you. ever since the day you became aware of it, there’s this question that has been persistently lingering in the back of your head yet you have been hesitating to ask. you are unsure whether it is too early in your friendship to put your nose into more intimate affairs but then you remember it’s just issei, the worst he could do would be to mock you for your nosiness.

“issei,” he hums in acknowledgment while munching on the small pile of popcorn on the palm of his hand with his eyes still glued to the screen. “where is your beauty mark?”

the inquisitive look on your face morphs into one of confusion when he takes a glance at you with mischief gleaming in his eyes. why is he smirking? he pauses the movie, tilting his head back to shove the handful of popcorn into his mouth and placing the computer on the mattress before he stands up, your frown only intensifying upon the sight of him undoing his belt.

“issei!” you exclaim through a fit of laughter at the realization that he just pulled his pants down to reveal his bare ass to your once expectant eyes, your expression contorting to one of terror as you screw your eyes wide shut at his inadequate (yet all too familiar) antics. and here you stood thinking you had predicted what the worst case scenario could possibly be.

the wicked chuckle that erupts from his chest echoes through the dark room and you can hear him fastening his belt back on signaling it is safe for you to stop hiding behind your hands (not before you sneak a peek through your fingers though, just to make sure.)

“my soulmate will have to kiss my ass so I know they’re the real deal” the bed dips as he slumps, in a slouchy manner, on the mattress next to you, taking a glance to notice your eyes widening when he hears the gasp of disbelief that escapes your lips following his words.

“its a joke. you would’ve known that if you had looked” he chuckles still talking in that nonchalant tone of his whilst putting the movie back on.

“yeah. i figured, asshole.” you try to play it cool, brushing off the sound of your heart palpitating furiously against your chest.

half way into the movie and a bowl of sweet and salty popcorn later, your head starts to feel heavy on issei’s shoulder. he glances down at you only for his suspicions to be proven right — you have fallen asleep; just like he knew you would. he takes notice of the way you scrunch up your face, wrinkles starting to form in the corner of your eyes as you force them shut. the brightness of the screen is probably bothering you.

whilst issei wouldn’t trade his sweet bed for the world, given your tired state (and clearly out of courtesy), he can’t find it in him to disturb you so he decides to let you crash in his bed, he will take makki’s for the night.

“‘m going to turn this off” he closes the computer shut while whispering the words in a weary voice as drowsiness has creeped it’s way into his system as well.

“mhm, night” you yawn weakly while lifting your head from his shoulder with your eyes still closed as you manage to give him a clumsy goodnight kiss that lands on his ear before you move to a lying position and pull the blankets over your body, falling into a quiet slumber almost instantly.

his eyes widen in surprise.

did you just kiss him?

during the span of your friendship, neither of you have been the affectionate type sticking to a few sporadic hugs, which were rare nonetheless, yet he is not opposed to this new display of affection. he figures you must get clingier when you’re tired and it might have slipped out of impulse. now that he notices, this is the first time he remembers you kissing him and there is this foreign feeling flaring in the pit of his stomach at the possibility you might kiss him again. he lifts his weight out of bed and suddenly he’s paralized staring at the empty wall ahead of him. wait...

did you just kiss him… on his ear?

the world stops. his feet, although hesitant, are moving on their own as he feels a sudden magnetic pull to you and finds himself gravitating towards your sleeping figure lying on his bed. he crouches down next to you, silently admiring your features with mellow eyes and although his heart is a bit unsteady in his chest, he is overtaken with an inexplicable sense of tranquility. his heart can rest now, you finally found him.

that night you could’ve sworn you felt his lips lingering on your eyelids.

[a/n]: ayooo, just to let you all know that i finally made a google docs where you can sign up for my general taglist (even tho i post like once every two months but its wtvrrrrr, its wtvrr)

the amount of times i started writing this fic and deleted everything just to start all over again because i hated every single word of it… I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING NICE FOR MATTSUN !!1!!!😡 but ngl it was kinda worth the time because im sorta proud of it!

this is the v v v first time im writing for him, hopefully the characterization isnt off… n hopefully you enjoy!!!! ;)))

[seaweedbrain404]

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

[plus-size-reader]

Dream Come True

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1638 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Spencer gets advice from the ladies at the BAU when he starts seeing someone new, but it doesn’t work because she is unlike anyone else. She’s quirky and strange, but Spencer wouldn’t have her any other way. 

——————————————————————————————————

Spencer had very little experience with the ladies, as a general rule. 

He had always had much more important things to worry about from a very young age than girls or dating. After all, with an I.Q like his, social cues like that were difficult. 

...But that all seemed to change with you. 

He met you at the library of all places, reading about cold cases involving serial killers. It was a strange hobby for a civilian but Spencer thought better than to point that out, considering what he did for a career. 

If nothing else, your interest in something so polarizing for most only increased Spencer’s draw to you. He found it so incredible that you would even think about something like that.

Though, that wasn’t the only thing about you that Spencer found immediately interesting. You had to be the most compelling human being he’d ever seen and he worked with Garcia every day. 

Every single thing about you was perfectly unique, like you’d given each tiny detail of your appearance it’s own thought. 

For someone like Spencer, it was absolutely wonderful to see someone as obviously invested in the minute details of who they were as a person. Up until now, he had always thought he was the only one.

Everything seemed to be absolutely perfect, like the stars had aligned when you two met and it was all meant to be. However, it wasn’t that easy. Even if you and Spencer were obviously feeling the same way, that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t even speak to you. 

He didn’t know anything about women and he certainly didn’t know anything about how to effectively court a woman like you. Clearly, you were way out of his league. 

So, Spencer did the one thing he knew to do and gathered the help of every single lady he knew in hopes that it would help him understand you better. 

“Hey guys, can I ask you something?” he started, putting himself in the center of the girls, who were all talking about the girls night they were planning for this coming Saturday. 

They had been casually in discussion but as soon as the younger man entered the picture, all their attention pointed to you. “Sure Spence, what’s up?” JJ asked, the first to speak of any of the women. 

Whatever this was, they wouldn’t hesitate to help him. The problem was that Spencer wasn’t even sure if their advice would work on you. Even with the very little experience he did have with women, he knew that you were unlike anyone else on the planet. 

For all he knew, this wouldn’t benefit him at all but he had to try. 

“I met a girl” 

It was just a simple sentence, but to every one of his friends, hearing those words was like a declaration. Spencer had never really shown too much of an interest in the opposite sex while working at the BAU, aside from a few comments here and there. 

The news of a new love interest in his life was quite an exciting one, for Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia alike. They could hardly believe it but still, Spencer was met with squeals of excitement all the same. 

“Tell us about her. What is she like? Is she pretty? I bet she’s pretty” Penelope gushed, already dreaming up what a wedding would be like, and how stunning you must have been. 

Every potential detail about you swarmed around her head as she thought about what it would be like when she did finally get to meet you. She had only been dreaming about this forever. 

This was a dream come true for her. 

“I find her to be very aesthetically pleasing, yes. Her name is Y/N and I met her at a bookstore and then we got coffee at a cafe down the street” he informed, knowing what followup questions she would have before she could even ask them. 

It was perfect.

Of all the places where Spencer could have met his soulmate, a library was absolutely incredible, at least as far as Penelope was concerned. She couldn't have thought up a better place in the confines of her mind. 

“Sounds great. So what do you need help with?” Emily spoke now, recalling the start of this conversation above all else. She was just as ecstatic for Reid as the others but she wanted to help him too. 

That seemed to get him back on track. 

“Right. I have no idea what to do to show her how much I care for her? I enjoy her company but every time I approach the idea of telling her that, I can’t find the words” he explained, wishing desperately for a change to that.

He wanted to understand you, he wanted to be able to show you just what a change you’d made in him but he couldn’t. Communication had always been a problem for him, but the feelings he had for you made it that much more difficult.

“Dr.Spencer Reid, speechless? I can’t believe it” Emily grinned, proud of herself for her little joke. Though, Spencer was so wrapped up in his search for the answer that he paid it no mind.

He was desperate to understand, for your benefit and his own. 

“I’m being serious guys, what do I do? Is there anything you guys would like that I can do for her?” he tried, romance seemed very simple in readings and poetry but it was much more complicated in real life. 

Life wasn’t as simple as Romeo and Juliet had made it out to be. 

“Take her to a nice dinner, that’s what Will always does for me” JJ suggested, thinking that would be as good of an option as anything else. If nothing more, it was a good place to start. 

...And that was exactly what Spencer was going to do. 

Spencer called you almost immediately after getting together with the girls and set up a dinner date for the restaurant Will always took JJ for special occasions. He had never been there himself but it had to be nice. 

He just hoped that you would like it.

~

“This is really fancy Spencer. I don’t think I’m dressed for something like this” you commented almost immediately, looking around you at all the upper class people, enjoying their Friday night dinner. 

They were all dressed to the nines and made you look like a fool by comparison. Currently, you were wearing jeans, a doctor Who t shirt, and mismatched sneakers, one blue and one green. 

All things considered, you looked crazy. 

Even so, Spencer thought that you looked beautiful. You always looked beautiful, and it didn’t matter if you were here or somewhere else, that was always going to remain the constant. 

It was obvious to Spencer immediately that you were uncomfortable here, but perhaps it was just because you hadn’t been brought here before. After all, your dates were usually much more casual. 

It wasn’t until that discomfort persisted that Spencer actually started to get worried. You were exhibiting clear signs of upset, fidgeting with your menu and glancing around the room every few minutes. 

“Are you okay?” he wondered, watching the tenseness in your shoulders when you glanced up at him, only relaxing once you met his eyes. Even as uncomfortable as you were, you found comfort in Spencer. 

You couldn’t help it. 

“There’s just a lot of people here, that’s all” you assured, doing your best to focus on having a nice time with him, even though all you could really think about was all the other patrons and the things they must have been thinking about you.

You were used to being an outcast, and having people comment on how strange you were but that was why you avoided places like this. With you and Spencer here together, you could only imagine what they were thinking. 

It was driving you insane having to think about it. 

You wanted so desperately to just have a nice evening but it was too loud in here and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the other people having dinner. It wasn’t fair to Spencer.

You owed it to him to have a good time but you just couldn’t focus. 

“Oh, um I understand that. Would you like to go somewhere else? Somewhere quieter?” he offered, he should have known better than to do this but he just wanted it to be nice. 

He wanted to show you that he was capable of giving you a nice dinner just like everyone else, but it never occurred to him that you wouldn’t want that. If only he’d actually thought about you while making these plans. 

It made all the sense in the world that you would struggle in this setting. You had always been anxious in public with too many people. For you, this was much closer to torture than relaxation. 

“I don’t want to ruin your nice evening though Spence, you put so much thought into this” you sighed, you could just suck it up, for his sake if nothing else. 

...But Spencer knew better than to allow that to further any discomfort you may have been experiencing.

“Come on, we can go back to my place and watch a movie or something. I don’t mind” he assured, throwing down cash on the table and escorting you out of the restaurant before anything else could trigger your anxiety. 

Nothing was worth that, and besides, no one said that you two had to follow anyone else’s blueprint to prove how much you cared about each other. You could do this your own way, just like you did in your personal life. 

In any case, Penelope was right...you were a dream come true.

[gallavictorious]

Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

[kisskissbanggang]

Hello Stranger

[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers. 

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with. 

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now. 

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated. 

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office. 

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. 

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk. 

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression. 

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since. 

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting. 

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of. 

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation. 

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school? 

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students. 

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them. 

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites. 

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked. 

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous. 

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters. 

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them. 

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office. 

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed. 

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head. 

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised. 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely. 

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off. 

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest. 

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down. 

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office. 

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation. 

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris. 

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly. 

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue. 

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief. 

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake. 

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled. 

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket. 

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning. 

“John called from his cell.” 

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school. 

God dammit. 

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit. 

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall. 

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment. 

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away. 

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip. 

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you. 

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. 

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?” 

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time. 

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast. 

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him. 

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?” 

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head. 

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away. 

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was. 

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway. 

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably. 

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined. 

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently. 

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him. 

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms. 

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait. 

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed. 

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst. 

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted. 

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment. 

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh. 

Hello, stranger. 

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder. 

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch. 

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated. 

“What do we do now?” 

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter. 

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly. 

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split. 

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you. 

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands. 

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously. 

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive. 

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him. 

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle. 

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning. 

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall. 

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws. 

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday. 

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open. 

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong. 

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you. 

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?” 

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that. 

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you. 

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday. 

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already. 

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway. 

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in. 

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk. 

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up. 

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny. 

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back. 

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward. 

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked. 

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?” 

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door. 

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up. 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom. 

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door. 

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled. 

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you. 

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong. 

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds. 

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.” 

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out. 

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk. 

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused. 

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question. 

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation. 

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless. 

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice. 

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm. 

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap. 

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow. 

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“ 

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied. 

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand. 

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten? 

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression.  “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.” 

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?” 

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

Day of the Dead

Xavier x Fem Reader

Halloween had always been Xavier’s favorite holiday, and it’s not the same without him this year. After a child in a cemetery shares some words of wisdom with you, you decide to pay your final respects at Camp Redwood.

Warnings: Angst, Grief/Mourning a Loved One, Fluff, Smut, Soft!Ghost Xavier (Let me know if you’d like me to add anything!)

Word Count: 3344

Here is the Xavier “Halloween” Oneshot! I thought it would be good to at least mention the other holiday celebrated this weekend, and who better to do that with than our favorite pastel-wearing ghost! The incorporation of the Day of the Dead into this story is meant with respect and acknowledgement to those who celebrate. ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos!

--------

It had been hard to believe, even with all of the news coverage and the funeral. It was all the people of LA could talk about all summer long. The beach waves hardly drowned out the murmurs of sunbathers and surfers recalling the latest articles or how they’re pretty sure they’d had an aerobics class with Montana Duke as one point. It made you sick. A man was in a coma. One of your acquaintances was in prison. People had died--your friends...your loved one. 

You still couldn’t accept that Xavier was gone. When he had told you he was going to Camp Redwood to work as a counselor with his friends, you had kissed him goodbye and told him to have fun. If you had known that the only time you would see him again would be in his casket, you would have said more. You would have told him that he was the only one you wanted to spend your days and nights with. You would have told him that you loved him. 

Los Angeles was a place that offered so many possibilities and so many options. The both of you had agreed to keep your options open, even as you found yourselves falling back into one another when things didn’t quite work out with said options. This summer trip with his friends would be a good chance for him to unwind and take a break from the city and maybe meet someone new. He’d invited you, of course, but he knew as well as you did that the summer job wouldn’t cover your rent, and you had a decent job in the city. Again, maybe if you had known how much you would miss seeing those frosted tips walking through your door or the sassy sway of his hips when he came to wrap his arms around you in the kitchen, you would have gone. Maybe you could have saved him if you had been there. Maybe he could have lived instead of you.

Xavier was always stronger than you. He had a smile that could light up the room and make those around him beam in return. Everyone wanted to be him or be with him. He had a confidence and charisma in the way he carried himself and treated those around him that you couldn’t help but admire. Even if his beautiful steel eyes found their way to others, they always managed to come back to you. To be fair, your own eyes often appreciated others, as did your hands and lips. Subconsciously, you always found yourself comparing the taste of another’s kiss or the feeling of their lips on yours to the pillowy soft caresses or passionate captive embraces of Xavier’s.

Halloween made it even harder. Xav had always, always loved Halloween. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the ability to find a costume and dress up and take on a character for a night. As an aspiring actor, it was good practice and something he was passionate about. It hurt you deeply to know that he could no longer take part in the things he loved the most. Without him, these things were just painful reminders of how empty your life felt now. 

You didn’t bother dressing up this year. Some of the day you simply spent by his grave, placing tiny pumpkins as decorations or telling him your happiest memories from years prior.

“Do you remember a couple years ago, Xav? When we tried to carve pumpkins and forgot to get those special little serrated knives to make it easier? You tried to use a butter knife, because you were afraid you’d cut yourself with anything else. The knife was so dull it hardly cut through the damn thing and ended up pushing it off the table.” You laughed softly at the memory even as tears trickled down your cheeks. “It exploded all over the floor and we were finding seeds under things in the kitchen for weeks.”

Many Mexican families had come to the LA area in hopes of better prospects, and you watched as many of them trickled into the cemetery throughout the day with arms full of flowers and food and photographs of loved ones in celebration of Día de los Muertos. You watched, enraptured, as a family situated themselves a couple graves over from you and began decorating the tombstone in candles and flowers. Their child caught you staring and smiled. Their tiny hands placed a large loaf of bread in the center of the altar they had created before they joined you.

“You look sad.” You couldn’t help but smile softly at the child’s innocent observation.

“Yes. I miss someone very much. He meant a lot to me.” Your hand reached out to graze the top of Xavier’s tombstone. He’d had no family, or at least no family that you knew of, and his other friends had shared his fate. The child smiled at you brightly and that confused you. They seemed to notice your confusion and they tilted their head.

“You don’t need to be sad. As long as you remember them, their spirit will live on and be happy in the afterlife,” they explained. Large tears brimmed in your eyes and a tightness took hold of your throat. “If we don’t forget our loved ones, they can always come back to us.” You blinked up at them, surprised at the way their words comforted you as you sat in the damp cemetery grass. They darted back over to their family for a moment, and then returned to you with something in their hands. It was a small sugar skull. You placed it carefully at the center of Xavier’s gravemarker and admired the bright blue details of the eyes and yellow swirls around the crown of the skull. Xav would have appreciated the resemblance.

The next day, you decided to visit Camp Redwood and say your final goodbyes. Maybe it would help you get some closure or feel momentarily closer to Xavier if you saw the last place he had been alive. Seeing the wooden sign gave you goosebumps, and you stopped your car before crossing beneath it. Were you ready for this? You swallowed thickly and eased down the gas pedal to drive towards the camp. 

Everything looked...so normal. It looked exactly like you would expect a summer camp to look during the fall. There were leaves and needles everywhere, and the smell of damp earth and trees filled the air. A morbid part of you was expecting something awful, something that gave away the terrible events that happened here. You got out of the car once you reached the main area of the campgrounds where you could see the cabins. It was getting hard to breathe.

Several minutes passed before you mustered up the courage to actually open the door and get out. There was a strange silence in the air that even the birds didn’t want to break. It was still and peaceful, and it made the hair at the base of your neck stand up. Upon reaching one of the picnic tables, you pulled a small framed photo of Xavier from your purse. You propped it up and smiled softly at the goofy grin on his face. He’d gone for headshots not long before his trip to the camp, and you remembered him telling you how hard it was for him not to smile. The photographer had liked the picture so much that they had printed it anyway. You loved the look of excitement on his handsomely sculpted face. There was a small tea candle in your purse that you placed with the picture and watched the flame dance on the glass of the frame.

“I’m so sorry, Xavier. I miss you so much.” You crossed your arms on the top of the picnic table and rested your head on them as you wept. “I should have been here with you. Or at least told you what you meant to me.” You sniffled and choked a quiet sob. You’d never said the words out loud, and they lodged painfully in your throat when you tried to express them to the empty air. “I love you, Xavier.” But it was too little too late.

“You...love me?’ a voice asked quietly behind you. Your head instantly shot up from your arms. You were hearing things. Slowly, you turned around, and your mouth dropped open at the man standing there. You were on your feet instantly, nearly tripping over the bench of the table to do so, and you took a step towards him.

“Xavier? But you...you died. I was at your funeral… How..?” The shock had your heart hammering in your chest, and you found it hard to catch your breath. A sad smile crossed the plump lips that you had missed so much, and he shrugged as if what he said was the most casual thing in the world.

“Yeah. I’m dead, babe. I know.” Slow steps brought him to you as if he were approaching an injured animal preparing to bolt into the wilderness. “But did you mean what you said? That you love me?” Your mouth opened and closed without knowing exactly how to respond. What was happening?! His hand came up to stroke your cheek, and a shuddering breath pulled from your lungs at the familiar warmth. It felt so real. You instantly covered his hand with your own as more tears streaked your cheeks. “Please. Say it again.”

“I love you, Xavier.” In that moment, you didn’t care how it had happened or what was happening. This was your Xavier and you had a second chance. You were not going to let it slip away. “I love you so much.” Both of your hands reached up and cupped his face, your thumbs stroking his high cheekbones, and he did the same to you. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears at your words, and his body tensed like a spring prepared to snap.

“I love you, too.” Xavier leaned in and captured your lips desperately in his. You didn’t want to breathe for fear of having to break the kiss. You were afraid that if you opened your eyes there would be only air in front of you again. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Xavier was there, perfect tears trailing straight down his cheeks. Your thumb brushed them away as you stared at him in both joy and disbelief. Of course you wanted to ask how it was possible, but questions could come later.

Xavier grabbed your hand and led you quickly to one of the cabins that still contained fully dressed beds. In a few short moments, they were the only things dressed in the room. Xavier pulled your shirt off with frantic movements as if he was afraid you would disappear. Once your skin was exposed, however, he immediately slowed. He dropped feathery kisses over your chest and stomach, paying careful attention to your bare breasts before journeying downward. You clutched at his shirt and tugged it over his head so your hands could trace the smooth planes of his muscled back and upper shoulders. Your head tipped back as he ran his tongue from your navel to the waistband of your pants. 

“Please, Xav,” you moaned, one hand sliding into his perfectly sculpted hair. His wide, baby blue eyes gazed up at you with pupils blown wide by desire. You knew your eyes must have looked the same. Your breath hitched when he slowly rolled down the tops of your pants, taking your panties with them, and he placed sweet kisses down the entire length of your leg. Occasionally, he flicked his tongue across the skin before moving further down. He removed your shoes and socks so he could follow with the rest of your clothes, repeating the trail with his lips as he had on the precious leg. “Xavier…”

“I know, baby. Don’t worry--I’m going to take care of you.” Xavier stood up again to press another kiss to your lips. You followed when he attempted to pull back, not entirely ready for it to end. He chuckled against your lips and teased his tongue along your cupid’s bow. You were all too happy to allow him entry, and you groaned when you could finally taste him on your tongue again. He walked you back to one of the beds until you were forced to sit on the end. He kissed his way back up from your ankles to your lips, and you quivered beneath him.

Xavier was already throbbing in his shorts, and he tipped his head back with a groan when you began to palm him. His breath ghosted over your cheek as he looked down at you, seeming to take in every feature of your face.

“You are so beautiful, and I am such a fucking idiot for not making you mine every single day.” He dove in for another kiss that drew a whimper from your throat.

“I’ve always been yours. Always have and always will.” The tender exchange left you both eager to prove yourself to the other, and your fingers hooked into his shorts to help shuck them off. The tip of his cock immediately pressed to your entrance, but Xavier held back to make sure you were ready. A few lazy rolls of his hips coated his length in your wetness and assured him that you needed no further preparation. Neither of you would last long at this rate.

The unified groan reached every corner of the cabin as Xavier sank into you, his head dropping to your chest. You stroked his hair, one hand tracing shapes over his back, and whispered loving words while he panted against your skin. If only you could have stayed like this forever. This was how it was meant to be. He began moving with languid thrusts, savoring the feel of your tight heat clenching around him with each re-entry. Xavier curved his body over your own to seek as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. 

“I’ve missed you so much. You feel so fucking good,” he panted and steadily began to increase his pace. Your legs dangled over his hips, and you ran your feet lovingly along his calves while sucking his earlobe between your teeth. He cried out softly, thrusting sharply into you in surprise, and you reciprocated his pleasured shout. The old wooden bed creaked beneath you with each thrust Xavier made deeper into you. The gentle touches of his hands along your sides and the worshipping kisses he left on the arms around his neck made you quiver around him. You were so close. The pace increased when you voiced your impending climax to your lover. His forehead was slick with sweat, and you could tell he was holding back.

“I’m so close, Xav. Come with me, please,” you begged, arching your back off the bed to feel his cock push farther into your warmth. He moaned loudly through his teeth, twitching inside of you from the words you spoke and the physical signs of you clenching around him sporadically. You moaned his name over and over, kissing the sensitive spot on his neck just below the cross earring he always wore. His hips rocked into yours and you angled your hips to meet his thrusts each time. A few more well-timed thrusts into your g-spot had you careening over the edge of a blissful orgasm. The clutching of your core around him as Xavier chased his own end left him shouting out his pleasure in the form of your name, and his warm seed quickly filled you.

“I love you…”

“I love you, too.”

The two of you remained that way for several minutes, too sated to want to move or lose the contact with each other. Eventually, you ended up laying on your sides to face each other. Your fingers danced along his toned arms, and he drew shapes and patterns over your hip as he held you close. Xavier explained everything to you, or as much as he could at least. You still didn’t quite understand it. All you knew was that you had been able to see the man you loved one more time and be in his arms.

“You’ll have to go soon,” he sighed. You frowned and cupped his cheek.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“We aren’t the only ones here--Me, Montana, and the guys. There are others, and I can’t let them hurt you.” 

“I don’t care, Xavier. I want to be with you.” He quickly shook his head and held your wrist to remove your hand from his cheek. You could see the pain on his beautiful face in the way he squeezed his eyes shut.

“No. No, I won’t let you die. Not here, and not because of me.” 

It seemed that time was passing all quickly, the sun beginning to set through the tall redwoods the camp was named for. Xavier hadn’t stopped touching you the entire time, with one exception, and you were grateful for it. The only time his hands weren’t on you was when he jogged over to the table to grab his picture and handed it back for you “to remember him by”. You stopped beside your car and he cupped your face in his large hands. 

“Promise me you won’t come back here.” The whisper made you shiver. You searched his eyes and tried to fight the burning in your sinuses. This truly was your final goodbye. His throat bobbed as he swallowed down his own emotions. You nodded reluctantly, and the relief from Xavier is palpable. His hold on you loosened slightly until he brought you in for one more kiss. It lasted longer than the others, your hands slipping into his hair and his thumbs removing the tears from your cheeks once more, and you take in everything he is in that moment. The warmth of his hands on you, around you, the pressure and gentle massaging motions of his lips on yours, the scent of his cologne and hair gel. Everything you would never have again and never be able to forget.

You were driving down the road before you knew it, and you stopped just outside Camp Redwood grounds. Xavier was standing just inside the sign when you leaned out the window to look back. It took everything you had to simply blow him a kiss and continue down the road towards the highway. Your only consolation was that the last words the two of you spoke to each other were the three words you had always wished you could say. 

Static came over the radio between one of the valleys, and you slammed your palm against the piece of junk. Between the mix of untuned stations and noise, you barely made out a few words:

“A child born of human and spirit will usher in the end of times.”

You groaned at the usual AM station interference and decided to turn it off until you got closer to the city. There was no room in your mind for music right now anyway. All thoughts were of Xavier and hours you had spent together. Had what the children in the cemetery said been true? Was it your remembrance of Xavier part of the reason he remained here? He seemed trapped, and that was not what you wanted, but you knew you would never be able to forget him.

At the end of July 1985, you gave birth to a beautiful blond child. He has his father’s gemstone eyes that sparkled with wonder and mischief. The angelic curls atop his head were what you knew Xavier’s looked like when eased up on the blow-dryer and products. Now there would always be a part of your lost love with you. You named the child Michael, and you loved him more than life itself.

You could not have been happier. The Day of the Dead had left you with a new reason for living.

[aroacekazi]

Hello, this isn't on your list of theories, but I'm curious to see if you have a theory on this: what do you think Aaravos' relationship to humanity is? And do you think its tied to what happened 300 years ago? And do you think he was ever "good" at any point in his past? Though, I'm sure it's more complicated than the simplicity of of the black and white thinking of good and evil. I'm curious about your thoughts.

This is actually something we know a fair bit about when it comes to Aaravos. And it’s quite a unique relationship, especially seeing as he is said to be the ONLY Startouch Elf any human has ever seen.

Where our information starts is long into the past, back in the era of the First Elves. We don’t know much about this, other than that it was ~5000 years ago, and the First Elves were Startouch Elves, and humans were around in this time, struggling to survive. As a First Elf Aaravos was likely also around in this time.

Secondly is still a long time ago in the timeline, but closer to current events than it is to the era of the First Elves (it seems possibly ~2000 years ago). Aaravos came to the aid of the people of the human city called “Elarion”, we know this from a poem that was in Arabic briefly shown in the show, there were also some other interesting similar literary bits and pieces about Aaravos we know about. Elarion was in Xadia, it’s the same place we see the first Dark Mage defending from Sol Regem in the S3E1 intro. We can see its ruins on the map. This is quite significant as it is implied this may have been one of, if not the only, major human settlement prior to the discovery of dark magic, and Aaravos may have had a major role in establishing it as such.

We believe the next major interaction between Aaravos and the humans comes around the time of Ziard (the first dark mage). Aaravos is said to have given a gift to humanity, and even has the title “Giver of Gifts”, this could be referring to dark magic (though I doubt it would be so simple), but something that is pretty cerrtain would be Ziard’s staff, which is later owned by Viren. Why? Because Ziard says the staff is a gift, and when Sol Regem asks who from, Ziard states “one of the Great Ones”. What do we know about the Great Ones? Well not much, but most significant is that Aaravos is the last of them. Given his title of “Giver of Gifts” as well, it’s pretty safe to assume Aaravos is the source of the staff, particularly since its focus seems to be dark magic and Aaravos is likely the only elf to have ever touched dark magic.

Shortly (relatively speaking) after this Xadia was divided, at which Aaravos was present, if he were involved, the elves likely did not know that Aaravos had a hand in this.

Now we get to the point at which we’re a little more uncertain, so I’m going to describe a few more things we know about Aaravos around this time and in the years following. At some point in this time Aaravos befriended a human, who gave him an apple which he liked the taste of. Additionally, again referring back to the map of Xadia, there is a “name of someone close to Aaravos on this map”, possible options (though we don’t know of all these individuals) could be: Tenebris, Skall, Kalik, and “the Castout”. Tenebris would be the name of Luna Tenebris, so we can ignore that for the purposes of this discussion, leaving the other three. Skall comes from the location “Skall’s Hook” in Northern Duren, we do not know anything about this location, or even that it’s definitely named after somebody, other than that it’s in icy tundra. Kalik comes from Mt. Kalik, you may recall this is the highest point in Katolis and the mountain climbed by Claudia and Soren in S1, as well as the place where a mage captured the storm to make the sky primal stone that was owned by Viren / Claudia / Callum, this option has potential as the mountain may be named after that mage, and it sounds feasible as an individual’s name, but it’s not guaranteed. The final option is “The Castout” from the name of the sea in Xadia “The Sea of The Castout”, notably Elarion lies on the coast of this sea.

I want to take a moment to talk about the apple, as there’s an interesting theory around it and a small detail in the first episode of S1. The theory posits that Aaravos was close to the Orphan Queen, who is thought to have lived ~300 years ago, and she gave Aaravos the apple. What is significant about this is that in that episode there’s a small mention about a tree that Claudia almost walks into being 300 years old, and that it is an apple tree that originated when the Orphan Queen & Aaravos met.

From here onwards speculating with as few details as we have becomes pretty meaningless I feel. But it’s evident Aaravos was manipulating Viren in S2 & S3 only to achieve his own goals of conquering Xadia.

As for what I think on Aaravos’ specific relationship to humanity and how it may have changed...? Well, chronologically, I certainly think back in the era of Elarion Aaravos may have actually felt sympathetic to humanity, certainly unicorns (the only other major star primal connected creature we know of) did, and I would think it would be really interesting if the main reason Elarion was the only major human settlement in that time was BECAUSE of Aaravos’ assistance at the time. But things have definitely changed since then, with Aaravos being willing to delve into dark magic, and becoming manipulative only to achieve his own goals. I have to wonder if the human he became close to that gave him the apple was hurt and killed as a consequence of the actions of Xadia and Aaravos has harboured resentment towards them ever since.

I know this post wasn’t exactly what you were looking for, but I hope laying out the lore in this way has helped let you in on some key pieces of information we have about Aaravos, as, as I stated at the beginning of this post, we know a surprising amount of the history here and I think there are probably a lot of takes that could be taken from this. So maybe you’ll have your own unique ideas now.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 9: The Arrival

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere​, @cess02​, @hellyeah90sbaby​, @tayab12​, @saratustra4​, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists​, @thepotatobleh​,

*join the Tag List here!

⥼ Summary ⥽

It's the night of Vlad's masquerade ball, the most prestigious social event a vampire can attend. An entire ballroom full of faces and names every vampire in Europe knows... and apparently Nadya is going to upstage them all.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

A pretty big chunk of their plan relies on the staff of the Tepes Estate being just as snobbish and uppity as the man they serve.

So thankfully at least something is both easily predictable and surprisingly convenient.

Staff all around, and none of them pay the pair of them much mind. Beyond the fact that they get told by more than one footman that “guests really shouldn’t be back in the staff corridors” and receive multiple warnings about how “the Count has ensured all guests for the evening, (said while looking down the biggest snooty nose in all of Prague no less) no matter their prestige, will receive adequate time to sup on the serving staff,” and that they “really shouldn’t be allowing an undisclosed human on the premises but will look the other way this time,” Nadya and Cadence are pretty much left to their own devices.

Which means scurrying out of sight before any lone particularly loyal member of the Tepes household decides to go narc and everything ends up exploding in their faces anyway.

Because there’s no way on earth these full-face masques of theirs are providing any damage cover should their plans go KABOOM!

Nadya casts another look up at Cadence as they come across their umpteenth fork in the road. Watching him decide between right or left is starting to feel as nerve-wracking as actually choosing which direction they ought to go.

“You’re sure you know where we are?” You’re sure you know we’re going the right way?

“I’m starting to feel like you have less than zero faith in me, Nadya.” He probably thinks the glance down her way is a reassuring one. But the masque over his face is almost too neutral. It’s just a mask but it feels like it’s trying too hard, you know?

“That’s not it at all. This place is just…” A lot.

He barely remembers to reach back and take her by the hand before he chooses left in a hurry. Who knows how much time they’ve wasted just trying to find their way through this seemingly endless castle.

“It takes me a moment to recall the map Serafine showed me before we left, but I’m… ninety percent sure I know exactly where we are.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“Is trying to keep an ear out for party noises. So if you’ll zip it, thank you.”

Admittedly Nadya would have a lot more faith in this plan if it wasn’t just the pair of them, proven stumbling disasters that they are, relying on the apparently flawless memory of a man who literally introduces himself as ‘the one with amnesia.’ She understands the rationale behind it, just as she understands the rationale behind everybody else going through the front door like an entourage of normal party-goers. They have three prestigious faces and what Jax and Lily lack in clout they make up for in being practically invisible as nobodies to this upper echelon of attendees.

But shoving the two bigwigs of their gang — well, the most recognizable face in any room of vampires and the obviously human girl losing her freakin’ mind amid a cluster of the heartbeat-less undead — through the staff entrance with nothing more than simple masks to disguise them and trusting them not to mess up finding their way among the rest in time for some famed big reveal they still don’t know the full-on details of…?

Well if they live through this long enough to chronicle this part of their journey, nobody is ever allowed to even so much as imply via metaphor that Nadya never trusted her friends wholly and completely.

Actually if they’re talking about chronicling stuff, better they leave these more vague and improvised parts of their master quest to the footnotes. That way they can pretend they knew what they were doing the whole time.

For example Nadya isn’t gonna let anyone write down that she got so wrapped up in her thoughts about what may or may not get written down that she walked face-first into a brick wall.

OW.

Not a brick wall, actually.

Cadence turns around and catches Nadya’s mask just before it falls and shatters on the ground. Thank you vampire super-speed.

“Are you okay?” He asks, wide-eyed and worried, hesitant to give her back her disguise to take stock of how she really looks.

That’s such a loaded question though, so Nadya ignores it and rubs the redness on her forehead instead.

“Why’d you stop?”

The vampire takes a moment to look up and down either end of the corridor and even around the next corner. When he’s satisfied they’re alone he pries his own mask off with a groan; practically peeling his flattened hair from where its been stuck to his forehead the moment he put the darn thing on.

“Because,” with pursed lips he blows his fringe out of his eyes, “I’ve been talking this entire time… and even when I ramble you usually have some two cents or other to pitch in.”

That’s fair. Nadya takes back her mask with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“That much is obvious. Care to share?”

“Not really. Care to keep going?” Not like they’re exactly full of free time, here.

He sweeps his arm in an after you motion, but keeps pace with Nadya’s shorter stride. “I can hear the string quartet by now. We’re close, but they haven’t begun the announcements Serafine told me to wait for.” So maybe they have a bit of free time. Got it.

Only now she can’t stop thinking about what will be on the other side of the big grand ballroom doors.

And Nadya without her set of note cards to at least help her through her dumb speech all because her dumb dress has no dumb pockets.

“You know I still don’t get why they wouldn’t budge about you not being discovered.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Cadence says with a shrug; and actually now that he points it out…

“No, I don’t.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know exactly why she says it that way, either. It’s not the first time they’ve had this talk. Probably won’t be the last either.

His sigh sags from his shoulders to his fingertips. “‘Surprise warmonger back from the dead’ might accidentally eclipse ‘reincarnation of the vampire Goddess.’ Can’t have that, now can we.”

“Cadence.”

“Nadya.”

They turn another corner in complete silence. Nadya’s ears strain to hear this quartet of his but nope, not close enough for her poor human ears quite yet.

Finally Cadence seems to decide on something. Gathering himself up all the way to his full height while fiddling with the porcelain in his grasp. “Actually… Serafine and Kamilah gave me the option. When they talked about prestige all this week it was largely assuming I might be able to pretend just enough to add to their collective fame. But they gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to try.”

“And you said no.”

“Of course I said no. I don’t envy you, Nadya. You have to do this regardless of whether or not you want to. But for the first time it feels like I’m not in that position, and I want to take full advantage of it.”

His face falls, voice going somber. “Surely you can see why.”

She can. She did, in the flesh, and while he’d been useful at the time she can still close her eyes and remember how easily Cynbel had threatened Jax, hurt Adrian and Serafine; how callous he’d been with her life even though she’d agreed with him at the time… Not to mention all the implied things that come with Serafine, always calm and cool and collected, losing her freakin’ marbles every time he ended up a part of the conversation.

He continues. “I don’t think I could have pretended to be him if my life depended on it. And if you think about it, your life does depend on it in a way. I couldn’t risk you like that. Not after how kind you’ve been to me.”

Her fingers brush over his arm. Cadence either takes it the wrong way or chooses to give a purpose to something so small; he bends his elbow and lets her arm slide into his like a proper escort to a proper ball.

“A lot of people’s lives depend on me pretending to…” Nadya can’t quite say it though, so she swallows it down. “I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do when we get there.”

“Understandably.”

“Seriously,” offering him a wry and dry smile, “that’s all the advice you’ve got?”

He mulls it over for a good and proper think. The effort is more than appreciated even if it doesn’t actually yield results. At least this way she gets to vent it out before messing up royally when the time comes.

Cadence stops first — their linked arms jerk her back and to turn and face him. “I wouldn’t call it advice, per se,” gee—great, “but maybe we both suck at pretending because we ought to be accepting, instead. Accepting who we… were. Possibly, in your case. That way we still have the chance to move on.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but Nadya can’t help the way her nose scrunches up slightly.

“I don’t think that applies to this case, Cade.”

“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.” And that makes the pair of them laugh, no matter how weakly. Something neither of them knew they needed, nor how badly they needed it.

It doesn’t last long… but it doesn’t need to.

“You’ll figure it out when the time comes Nadya. You usually do.”

Usually.

In wordless agreement she and Cadence don their pretend masques with mutual reluctance. At least he doesn’t have to breathe in his. But it’s easier this time to see what his face really says beneath that neutral doll-like expression.

She smiles at him in return. Like many things these days they can’t quite see it, but the feeling is there.

When they get close enough that Nadya’s ears no longer strain to catch the occasional tittering laughter or melodramatic voice, Cadence diverts them yet again. This time for a staircase he just so happens to catch sight of out of the corner of his eye.

He keeps her close; closer than before. Practically hovering over her like a shadow less than a step behind her the whole way up. She pauses when he pauses, she waits when he waits, and trusts him enough to know her faith isn’t misplaced but some explanation would be swell any time he’s feeling his usual chatty self.

Crouched close to the ground (which is a feat for him, for her not so much) Cadence crooks a finger at Nadya to join him in inching steps along the carpet towards the railing overlooking the main foyer below.

Nadya is, understandably, hesitant. “What if someone sees us?” What if someone smells me, hears me, all-of-the-aboves me?

“Same principle as before.”

“Keep close and your blood will cover me up?”

He nods. Not like she really has any other choice. Well, that and the more snatches of conversation she plucks from thin air the more curious she is.

And when has her curiosity ever not won out?

Cadence’s cloak comes heavy around her other shoulder and all but smothers her. She grabs the edge and pulls it tight while making sure not to jostle it from his shoulders. For some reason she can’t shake the feeling like she’s hiding behind a curtain with her feet sticking out underneath.

But they’re here, so they might as well take advantage of it. So Nadya joins him in peering through the stone balusters to the hustle and bustle happening below.

The foyer had been beautiful already during her visit with Serafine and Jax the other night — Nadya would even go so far as to assume it was nearly completed. That assumption would have been vastly incorrect.

It’s not her contacts; she’s not seeing double. Every bauble and ribbon and glittering glassy gem brought along the entire family. There’s practically no surface without something shiny added in some form or another, and in many cases that shiny thing has a shiny thing has a shiny thing of its own on top.

On their own the decorations probably look gaudy and too-much. But when you fill the room with graceful vampires all dolled up in unique fashions and splendors everything else is lost in the background. Tasteful would probably have ended up the equivalent of a fifty-buck Party Town Supply budget. So at least the Count knows his audience.

She should be looking for their friends… and she is. But Nadya tells herself it’s being a good and thorough secret agent to observe all the other guests along the way. Two birds and all that. But it’s not easy to just sweep her eyes over the assembled masses in search of a few key faces. Not when each masque is a face all its own.

You’d think there are only so many combinations of colors, designs, and styles to make before they start getting repetitive. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. She gets it now, seeing everything and everyone from way up high and afar like this. The importance of not just the masque itself, but having the right kind of masque above everything else.

Masquerade balls are about hiding and blending in; being just another face in the crowd.

Les Visages de la Gloire is the exact opposite. And even that feels like the most watered-down way to put it she can think of.

A gentle weight falls on Nadya’s back and she shudders a gasp. When had she stopped breathing? Not for fear of being caught, but at the beauty of it all that could only be described as—literally—breathtaking.

Faceless in their full face-coverings and headdresses each more ostentatious than the last; not important enough to show who they are but still in competition with each other — still with deeds to announce and reputations to uphold. Half-masks covering the left side, the right side, the top of one and the bottom of another and all of them made uniquely for a single soul and nobody else.

Some vampires have masques that match their costumes. Others clash in a way that can’t be anything other than on purpose. Even from a distance Nadya can see the difference between carefully crafted metalwork and porcelain painted with glossy lacquer; can compare wood carvings with rich varnish and contrast that with the vast rainbow of matte colors on terracotta. Most are adorned with embellishments and jewels heavy enough to make her neck hurt just by looking at them.

Nearly all take full advantage of the fact their wearers won’t end up suffocating on the other side.

And I’m supposed to show them all up without so much as a sheer ribbon over my eyes? Yeah, Nadya’s confidence takes a knife to the gut just thinking about it.

“Over there.”

Not like Cadence’s finger isn’t pointing down to a massive crowd or anything, but that’s exactly the point — forgive the pun.

Though they can’t quite see double doors leading inside the castle from the exterior from their hiding spot, the sudden hush that falls over the idle crowd offers up an equally dramatic entrance.

It’s the kind of arrival that would be filmed in slow-motion. The kind that pans up from the purposeful echo of each expensive step; dragging over the exquisite details of their costumes in one long smooth glide all the way to the big reveal. And what a reveal it is.

Kamilah’s spindly masque may be made of steel but it curls over her sharp features with all the grace of a silken thread. It’s a face covering by only the thinnest margin of definition, with too many gaps in the framework to even pretend to conceal her identity. But after taking in the rest of the crowd… it’s obvious she’s the kind of face — the kind of presence — that simply can’t go unrecognized.

Everything about Kamilah, from her posture to her raised chin to her not-at-all-faked aura of superiority, demands recognition.

On the surface she’s the woman that Nadya knows; that she trusts and cares about so so much. But look beneath, something all too easy to do — like sweeping aside a mist, it’s impossible to miss how she’s so much more.

The Bloodqueen has arrived. And the entire foyer is speechless before her.

Without even moving a muscle the closest groups stagger back several more steps. Dozens of them nearly tripping over themselves and each other in their haste.

It’s no surprise that the space is quickly taken up by the two figures flanking Kamilah’s sides.

Serafine’s masque isn’t so much a mask as it is a scrap of lace just wide enough to earn the collective approval. As if anyone here doesn’t already know who she is regardless. But that’s how she can pull the look off if Nadya is remembering her explanation right.

No one would dare partake in Les Visages without knowing—without introduction—the woman who started it all.

Some final vestiges of their psychic connection tugs Nadya towards her; not physically so much as emotionally. Even without seeing Serafine’s features up close there’s a bittersweet ache in her chest that’s definitely not Nadya’s own.

The vampiress can offer up all the scarlet-lipped smiles she wishes. They are all hollow and fake. The simple act of being here causes Serafine nothing but distress.

And then there was Adrian.

Who, in comparison to Kamilah and Serafine, makes the women nearest him seem positively giddy and gleeful to be here tonight.

He wears his tailored costume perfectly; that wasn’t in doubt. It’s the masque that leaves him stony-faced. Gold rich and dark that catches every little flame on the chandelier over his head that covers his eyes but can’t hide the tension wracking his jaw.

He and Kamilah both wear near-identical rich crimson garnets inlaid just beneath their masque’s right eye. Shared stones for a shared Maker. But along his edges are thin metal spires, short but wicked sharp, that vary from the same gold, to steel, to a coppery hue.

A second glance confirms Nadya’s suspicions; Adrian isn’t the only one with those kinds of embellishments along the edges of their masques. Scouring a few of them from the crowd, the way they carry themselves and mirror Adrian’s ramrod-straight posture answers a question she didn’t know she needed to ask.

If the garnet labels him and Kamilah both as Turned by Gaius, then the spikes are the mark of the soldier. Any soldier; but one worth recognition for their service.

Which is everything Adrian doesn’t want. Everything he had worried over, and was working now towards overcoming in the wake of his past.

Nadya ducks her head hastily to catch her tear before it falls. Thankfully she’s quick enough. If only she could wipe away the reason for it just as easily.

Pull yourself together, girl, she scolds, and it’s just enough to do the trick and pull Nadya’s focus back to everything around them. All the stillness and nothingness and the way a room full of the undead hold their collective unnecessary breath waiting for what will happen next.

Which is exactly the kind of attention-grabbing showstopper the three of them are supposed to be. All eyes turned on the prestigious trio they are together, and away from Nadya and Cadence one floor above.

All focus on who they are, why they’ve come, what they will do; and away from the practically invisible dynamic duo that slips through the crowd towards the closed ballroom doors.

Behind her, Cadence lets out an impressed little “hah” when he finally manages to pick Lily and Jax out of the crowd. “I completely missed them. Did you see them sneak in?”

“No,” answers Nadya, but that’s actually a good thing. That was the whole point.

Without a word Kamilah takes one step forward. Her aura of command acts like an invisible shield that parts the rest; holding them at a respectable distance.

But the sudden shifting of the mass of faces and their masques gets dangerous when it turns right in their direction. If even one wandering eye looks up, they’re done for!

Without a word the vampire pulls Nadya backwards, letting the force of his bulk pull them out of eyesight in the nick of time. That was a little close, huh.

Nadya doesn’t get the chance to thank him though.

The moment she opens her mouth a loud echoing clang rings out below them, followed by the distinct shuffle of something heavy being dragged achingly close to the foyer’s marble floors.

Neither of them needs to risk sneaking a look.

Right on time. The ballroom doors have finally opened, allowing the first wave of prestige to spill forth out to the grand dance floor.

And though the shuffling of boots and sharp tapping of heels fills the vacuum of stunned silence as the attendees start to move, it’s not nearly enough noise to drown out the sudden and familiar exuberant laughter of delight that echoes across every polished surface below. The kind of laughter designed to be projected across adoring crowds; and carefully rehearsed to always seem full of intriguing promise.

What Nadya wouldn’t give to borrow a little of Vlad Tepes’ seemingly endless confidence for her own performance… looming ever-closer and starting to pick up real steam.

“Remember my lovelies! Faceless and no-names, see yourselves inside. New blood and the lucky virginal attendees right beside them!”

Her full-body shiver of discomfort is more than warranted. But Nadya only wishes she could be surprised at his… unsettling word choice.

“I’m suddenly very glad to be up here.”

She snorts at the wide-eyed stare looking out from Cadence’s mask. “You and me both.”

“Yes yes darling, oh you look a treat. And you there — you must tell me the story behind that engraving later, you simply must.” It’s really to their luck and benefit that the Count likes hearing himself talk so much. They can stay far away from the railing and still keep tabs on what gauge of prestige is next to be welcomed into the bal masqué proper.

They just have to wait until everyone—Vlad included—is inside. Everyone but the most prestigious of the lot of them. And when all eyes are (once again) on the Bloodqueen herself… they’ll have no choice but to witness Nadya’s arrival.

Having Kamilah by her side might just give her the kick in the metaphorical pants to do this thing. Not the literal though. There’s no way this practically bleach-white linen getup will survive a boot print, and especially not to the rear end.

Down below there’s a momentary lull; all but shattered by Vlad’s returning laughter now pitched higher than before.

“Why there you are, Serafine! Here I worried I had somehow lost track of your arrival in the excitement.”

His words are followed by two unmistakably wet noises; which Nadya prays are just over-dramatic kisses to her cheeks.

“Surely you jest,” she teases good-naturedly; said with all the humor of someone whose smile can’t possibly reach her eyes, “I see before me you follow the old traditions quite well. Showing the prestigious their due, their arrival witnessed by all who look to them in admiration.”

“Well of course! It makes for the grandest of entrances.”

“Ah, yes,” the elder vampiress croons, “and as the illustrious host yours would be the last, non?”

“Don’t worry darling — I would never claim credit for your centuries of contribution to our dwindling community.”

“Meaning?”

Somehow Nadya just knows Vlad throws his hair back unnecessarily as he laughs again.

“You can enter just before me, of course.”

“Then when, may I ask, might you suggest my blood-kin Adrian and I make our entrance known, old friend?”

Unlike Serafine, who at least pretends to smile while enduring the torture of his conversation, Kamilah’s question is cold and clipped. It rings with all the disinterest of the Kamilah that Nadya had met so long ago — and she’d place good money on the single raised eyebrow hiked high enough to be seen over her masque, too.

But if anyone could render Vlad speechless…

Nadya struggles to hear something, anything, until she catches the faint rustle of stiff and expensive fabric moving with haste. Vlad’s gesture of greeting, no doubt.

Just like she has no doubt that Kamilah and Adrian don’t humor him as long as Serafine has. It certainly explains the flustered, hasty way his next words tumble from his tongue with practically no filter.

“All the best surprises are the ones that sweep one off his feet. My humble gathering of our kind—nay, our family—from the nearest branch to the farthest root is made absolutely resplendent by the honor of your presence!

“Your Majesty, mon cherie —” —a beat, his attention likely shifting to Adrian— “— and Sergeant Adrian Raines, just when I had resigned myself to an evening of only the old and antiquated in renown. Here you stand before me, as handsome as the day we first met.”

Nadya quickly schools her bewildered expression — too long and it might get stuck that way. But that is flirtation if she’s ever heard it. Not good flirtation, but nevertheless.

“Vlad, as… lively… as ever.” Adrian just barely recovers, but now she’s dying to know what he had almost said instead. “Hard to believe it’s been nearly seventy-five years since last we met. Time… flies so quickly.”

“Oh pish posh,” replies the Count, “you wouldn’t know it but for the calendars. My memory of those chiseled features of yours obviously needed a refresh.”

He’s barely finished speaking when he gasps, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Speaking of memory! You’ll have to forgive my fright. As you all know surely, my recollection skills are of world-renown. Yet the sight of you all almost thrust me spiraling into self-doubt.

“And not without good reason! As I could have sworn you — the both of you, that is to say — had… cast aside your former titles.”

It’s just like before. Everything that pops into his head said without a filter all the way up until what he’s saying isn’t as vapid as it was at the start.

It must be so easy to write Vlad Tepes off at first glance. Just look at the public opinion of the guy. Nadya had, she’s humble enough to admit it. But the hard truth is that he is Vlad Tepes; he is Count Dracula.

But whether he’s all the things the myths and legends claim or not it can’t go ignored that he knows what he’s doing (even if it doesn’t seem like it). He knows how to play a crowd, how to stroke an ego. He’s a master of misdirection.

Has nobody pitched a Vegas residency to this guy yet? Seriously?

But if he thinks he’s going to out-wit someone like Kamilah he must have those leather pants on just a little too tight.

She doesn’t address his comment. Brushing it aside proves a much more important point.

“Shall Adrian and I wait patiently here while you and Serafine follow through, then?”

Vlad must be used to playing the ‘host with the most’ card, because he hesitates. But Kamilah wasn’t asking — she was just being polite.

“Yes,” he finally agrees, though surprisingly less strained than Nadya would have expected. “I would not dare nor dream of presuming your prestige. Nor would I separate the grand entrance of the progeny of our King.

“The three of you will have a most celebratory announcement, I give you my word.”

Did she hear that right?

Serafine offers a gentle tittering laugh. “I see no reason why you and I should not enter together, ma puce.”

“We shall.”

Vlad’s words die to the sound of heavy heels across the foyer floor. Too many steps to be one of her friends; but certainly more than enough for them to bring a person across the length of the room to where they are gathered.

Of course something is going wrong. They should have anticipated something going wrong. They had, her brain reminds her, and probably thinks its being helpful by doing so.

She dares to inch just close enough to catch a glimpse down below and spoiler alert — it isn’t helpful at all.

With his head held high, Marc Antony makes a bold statement in taking Kamilah’s hand without it being offered. Then he goes a step further with a half-bow and a kiss pressed to the back — or the ghost of one. He barely manages it before she yanks it from his grasp — in surprise, in anger, that’s not the part that matters.

With everyone fixated on the two oldest vampires in the room, Adrian dares to steal a glance of warning up to the railing. Wide-eyed and with pursed lips, the message when he gives the tiniest shake of his head is clear.

Nadya retreats, practically crab-walking backwards.

Cadence tries to help her sudden shaking panic with an arm over her shoulders. It’s the thought that counts.

“What,” he asks worriedly, “who is it?”

“Antony,” Nadya exhales, and the man goes rigid beside her. “It’s Marc Antony.”

[2manyfandoms2count]

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Is this plot I see appearing this week? 👀 There’s a hint of a plan, at least... And the return of “Marichat”

Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

---

Chapter 3

There’s a definite pause after her question, during which Adrien leans in, as if he expects her to elaborate. His expression is indecipherable, although it seems like there’s something akin to glee in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien, I really would love to share this information with you.” She bites her lower lip and clutches the skirt of her dress. “But… you’re already doing so much for me, I don’t want to put you in any more danger than you might already be in, now that you’re married to me. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Her words seem to jolt him. His hand flies to hers and stops it from wrinkling her dress.

“Oh. Right, of course. It’s okay, I understand.” He smiles gently and gets up, brushing invisible dust from his trousers. “I’ll find him, don’t worry.”

He holds out a hand and Marinette looks at it in confusion.

“I’d feel better if you waited for him inside, with people around. I’ll tell Chat Noir to knock on the window.”

“You’re right, that would make more sense.” She appreciates the fact that he’s so level-headed. He would be, not having been hit with what she knows. It’s good, she supposes. It compensates for her own muddled mind.

Adrien helps her up, and together they head back inside.

He insists on getting her a drink (apple juice - he says it would keep her hydrated, and provide some well-needed sugar, had she even eaten anything since breakfast?) before heading off, and Marinette is grateful she has something in her hands as she wraps her head around the new information.

Firstly, Gabriel Agreste had been carrying a butterfly envelope in his pocket. Which means that he is very probably involved in the letters she has been receiving.

Secondly, Nathalie was all too quick to dispose of it when it fell out. Meaning that she must have known what it contains, too. Which means they must both be behind the letters.

What have I married into? Marinette thinks, swirling her drink absentmindedly. Did we really send me straight into the lion’s den?  

She’s about to wonder whether Adrien knows about it all when there’s a knock on the window behind her. She unties the heavy curtains from their decorative knobs to allow them to fall in front of the panes and conceal the balcony. The press is here, she wouldn’t want to spring a scandal on Adrien by having herself seen with another man barely an hour after the ceremony.

“You know, Bug, this is technically the second balcony meeting we’ve had today, and despite the whole staged aspect of this wedding, I’d think that would be a little much if we were in a play.” Her partner smirks as she closes the window behind her.

“Good thing we’re not, then.” Her reply comes out a little more bitter than she’d anticipated.

Chat Noir tilts his head inquisitively at her tone, but doesn’t comment on it. “I have to say, I didn’t think you’d need my assistance so soon. Is there trouble in Paradise, already?”

“Apparently the mystery butterfly letter person is here today.” She cuts to the chase as she starts pacing. “And I think they’re actually two people.”

Chat Noir tenses. “Why didn’t you tell Adrien? He wouldn’t have left you all alone while he came to get me.”

“First of all, I wasn’t ‘all alone’,” she air-quotes, “I was inside. Second of all, you know very well I can’t tell him exactly what’s going on.” She sighs. “Especially not now, when I suspect the people who are after me are his father and Nathalie.”

“What?” Chat Noir’s legs buckle under him and he props down on the bannister, all colour draining from his face.

So it really is bad luck to see your bride before the wedding, he thinks bitterly as he tries to steady his breathing.

“Chaton, are you alright?” Marinette rushes to his side and takes his hands in hers.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” He smiles up at her weakly. “I haven’t had much to eat, and, well… That’s quite the suspicion.”

“I know.” Much to his disappointment, she lets go of his hands to hide her face in hers. “Which is why I really can’t tell Adrien about it until I’ve gotten more information. It would crush him.”

“That’s very considerate of you.” There’s a certain dryness in his voice, which Marinette interprets as judgement for not sharing what she knows with her new husband.

In fact, Chat Noir is thinking that he actually wouldn’t be that surprised if his father was involved in something fishy; he’s miffed that it targeted Ladybug, but it did enable him to marry her in the end, so… Oh father, why must you always make things so complicated?

“We can’t just go dumping stuff like that on him! Hey, remember how I married you for security? Well turns out the threat was your dad and his assistant all along!” Marinette interrupts his thoughts, gesturing sarcastically.

“Yes, I see how that would be problematic.” He replies calmly. His mind races as he tries to grasp at any retrospective sign of his father’s activities, but it keeps drawing blanks. “Are you absolutely sure of what you’re claiming? Not that I don’t trust you or your instincts, just, you know…” He adds quickly when he sees her slightly offended frown.

“Well, he had the exact same envelope as the ones I’ve been receiving in his coat pocket.” She starts counting on her fingers.

“A white one?” Chat Noir probes, frowning as he recalls the envelope his father had given Marinette earlier. That can’t be it, he thinks, they’re too common. And why would he give the envelope directly to his target? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of blackmail?

“No, the purple butterflies one.” Marinette ploughs on, oblivious to Chat Noir’s apparent excellent knowledge of the scene that had unfolded earlier. She’d kept him in the dark when it came to the details of her correspondence, thinking they would be able to look at it later, but the plan, and then the wedding preparations, had taken over all of their time. “It could be a coincidence, but, really, he and Nathalie seemed quite spooked that I’d seen it.”

“Yeah, that was a little suspicious.” Chat Noir strokes his chin pensively. “So, we think my fa- I mean, my fur-iend!” he catches himself before he can say too much, and Marinette rolls her eyes at the pun, “Gabriel Agreste is the one behind the letters. What do we do next?”

“Investigate?” Marinette suggests after a slight pause, that has them both looking at the ground as they think. “I have the Miraculous box with me, we could get Max to open a portal to the Agreste Mansion for us and...”

“Today?” Chat interrupts her.

“I mean… The sooner we take care of it, the sooner I’ll be able to tell Adrien about it, and the better I’ll sleep.” She gets up and leans against the bannister, arms crossed over her chest.

“That makes sense.” Chat says, mirroring her. He would have preferred his wedding day to go differently, but he supposes there is something quite exciting about making progress on the blackmail case with a wedding going on in the background. “I can go and get the box for you. Is it still in your sewing box?” He whispers, taking out his baton and getting ready to vault up to Marinette’s temporary room.

Marinette grabs him by the tail to hold him back.

“What about Adrien, though?”

“What about him?” He is confused. Why would she mention him now?

“Well, wouldn’t we need him to give us directions at the Mansion? To make our search more efficient?”

Shoot, he thinks. She would have a point, if he and Adrien were two different people. “Er…” He trails off, trying to find a good excuse as to why Adrien should definitely not come with them to the Mansion. That would unnecessarily overcomplicate the situation. “Well, it’s best if he doesn’t know about the specifics of where we’re going. Unless you want to tell him all about your suspicions?” He raises his eyebrows.

“You’re right, I’d rather not.” Marinette ponders. “He can’t stay here all alone though. People would probably talk about my absence.”

“Which is where Rena Rouge can step in?” Chat Noir ventures. “She can set up an illusion of you.” And me, by the same occasion - I'll just need to get to her before you can, he adds silently.

“Oh yes, of course! You genius.” She stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. He blushes in response. “Okay, what it doesn’t solve, though, is us not having directions in the Mansion.”

“Relax, Bugaboo.” She shoots him a stern look. “Hey, I agreed my Lady wasn’t appropriate anymore, but you never said anything about Bugaboo." He raises his hands defensively. "Anyway, fear not, I’m Adrien’s friend in real life, remember? I’ve actually spent quite a bit of time at his place, we snuck around a lot as kids.”

Marinette looks at him a little weirdly. Of all the years she’s known Adrien, he has never mentioned a childhood friend, apart from Chloé.

“Really?”

“Yep.” He says, popping the p sound.

She pouts as she thinks. “So Adrien stays here with Alya, and you play tour guide.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” She nods, but she continues before Chat can think the plan will be straightforward. “I’d still like to talk to Adrien and explain that we need to go somewhere, though. And I’d like for you to be there, too. We owe that to him, at least.”

Well, this is becoming tricky. Guess I’ll need Rena sooner than anticipated. “Fair enough. Let me go and get the Miraculous box first, and I’ll grab him on my way back. Meet you back here after the toasts?”

“Oh. The toasts.” Marinette facepalms. Just when things were becoming interesting, the wedding just had to get in the way. There was still a bit of time before the toasts, but clearly not enough to put the whole plan into motion. “Sounds good. See you in a bit, then.”

Chat Noir salutes her and jumps off the balcony. A thought crosses her mind as she watches him vault away and she opens the door to get back to the reception area. Maybe Chat Noir is Félix. He is here today, after all, and was involved in quite a lot of shenanigans with Adrien as children. She supposes he might bear some kind of resemblance to Chat Noir, if you squint. And if you remember that someone can be very different in public and in private. She almost gags at the thought, though, before remembering that she can’t judge the person behind the mask. She loves him no matter who he is.

Please don’t be Félix, though, she prays as she comes back inside the room.

[fishylife]

Street Dance of China, Season 4, Episode 7

- The figures make a return!!! I love them, they are so cute.

- Anyway, it’s cute that each of the teams have kind of a common room to chill. Helps with the team atmosphere, I think.

- Yixing playing the flute/pipe that has a gourd at the top. I recall seeing a video where he’s played it before, so the production crew probably got it so that he could show off a bit.

- The fact that Han Geng’s having a cooking class is just reaffirming my beliefs that Han Geng would be the best captain to have if I was a contestant. They have the most fun.

- Yibo is so super serious though. While the other teams are chilling, he’s already thinking of his redemption plan. I’ll be honest, it feels....a little too tense. As a captain, I think he needs to take time for his team to relax and regroup.

- My boy Yixing recruited my boy MT-Pop T_T He gave him the Baymax to accompany when he’s feeling lonely because apparently MT-Pop said that he missed home often T_T Also Yixing was watching for MT-Pop’s expression except he was emotionless and Poppin’C was like no, don’t worry, he’s always like this XD I thought that Baymax suited MT-Pop too because he likes monsters so I think it’s not a reach to guess that he likes superheroes and comics and cool characters. Also, like Baymax, MT-Pop is also friend-shaped. Anyway, I wonder if he was feeling emotional here because he missed home ;_;

- Yixing gave Momo the CUTEST cat lamp T_T

- In the captain interview, Momo asked Yixing if his stomach was alright. I saw in some behind-the-scenes photos that Yixing had a bad stomach that day, so I guess that was why he was so disappointed with his performance. I’d initially thought it was his back problems (because he was shown getting some back massages/chiropractic stuff done to his waist in other behind-the-scenes footage), but I think the back/waist stuff is something that’s been going on for a longer time.

- Lmao Nelson being like “I know girls, they love that cute stuff” XD And he noted how Momo seemed more comfortable with Yixing. To be fair, he’s onto something, I am girl and I love cute stuff and dudes that make me smile. (Though in the end, Momo chose Yibo)

- I thought it was cute that Momo was talking through the wall to MT-Pop, asking if he’d already chosen his team. I love the friendships between the dancer contestants v.v

- Yixing gave copies of his Lit physical album to the Gogo Brothers...all of the fans who couldn’t get their hands on a copy are gonna be mad haha.

- Yixing’s team tried to surprise Gogo Brothers when they joined their team ^^;;

- This is as wild as Yixing is going to go lol. He was waving the scarves being all “WOOHOO!!”

- Yixing and Han Geng’s teams shouting for Bozi across however many rooms made me laugh XD Especially because Bozi is such a stoic dude.

- Yixing’s relief at having recruited Bozi. As we know, he doesn’t have much confidence in recruiting dancers.

- When Bunta and Henry had their interview they were being all “HEYYY MY GUY!!!!” Very buddy-buddy. And then Henry to his team was like “I’ve never talked to Bunta.” The art of faking it gets you far.

- For the contestants who get to choose between two or more captains, they get an extra blind box with a little doll in it. I wonder what that is. It’s so cute, I want one v.v (I love dolls)

- The rejection on Han Geng’s face XD Is this the first time he’s been outplayed?

- In addition to getting everyone on his team to sign the card, Yixing also asked Rei from Gogo Brothers to come with him to recruit Bunta, and it worked in the end.

- Yixing turning the party into a concert being like “MAKE SOME NOISE!!!”

- Not gonna lie, the performances aren’t the best, probably because they’re just for funsies anyway. It doesn’t bother me that much though, at least they look like they’re having fun. As a wise man once said, fun must be always.

- OMG YES YIXING. He went full memery on this XD

- There’s so much going on here. The song they danced to was a famous song by Xiaohudui (a Taiwanese boyband). When questioned about their choice of music, Yixing was like “yeah, we’re an international boyband!” We know Yixing is super serious so the fact that they did this cheesy stuff is supremely surprising but also SUPER AWESOME. The other captains were like “you were too serious!” but the reason why this worked was because they were serious tbh. As Psy once said, dress classy, dance cheesy. Anyway, I’m a fan. Look at how fabulous they are.

- Yibo’s team danced to the Huluwa song. Look at Liangliang’s hair lol.

- You can’t see this very well but Bouboo carried Yibo away in a fireman’s hold.

- So this is how Han Geng’s gonna play it, huh

- There’s just A LOT going on here

- Henry getting lessons from Xiaoji on how to have swag (ft. Xiao Jie as the teaching assistant).

- Yixing kept being like “ge, watch the expression!!”

- You can tell who did and didn’t get their hair done just by looking at who is wearing the headphones properly. Also, I used to be super whatever about cat ear headphones, but now I am so down for them. I want a pair of cat ear headphones even though I never use headphones (prefer earphones).

- Ok this is cute. Xiao Jie is trying to explain the passage to Bouboo in English, but Xiao Jie’s English is a bit limited. At this part he was trying to explain a watermelon to Bouboo and was like “it’s an apple but it’s bigger and it’s green.” Han Geng and Yibo are just having a ball. Look at how big Yibo is laughing? Boy never laughs like that.

- Somehow Bouboo understood Xiao Jie’s English, and then Bouboo was like “your English is very Chinese” which prompted another round of laughs. He would know, he’s probably been around a lot of Chinese people trying to speak English to him.

- Yo, Rochka’s Mandarin pronunciation is REALLY good. He’s really good at replicating the tones.

- Henry, San’er, and Rochka turned their final answer into a song XD

- Yixing tried to game the system lol. Instead of reciting the whole passage, he picked the easiest words. It wasn’t totally perfect, but his method allowed the players to focus on key words instead of memorizing the small details and preposition words. Smartest catboi (y)

- We already knew Henry was good at piano (I know he has at least RCM Level 10, probably has his ARCT too), but he’s also appropriately showy about it.

- OMG ROCHKA SINGING 月亮代表我的心 (ft. Henry harmonizing)

- Now Boris!

- Of course this mf had to whip out the violin.

- Okay so I kept seeing that clip of Yixing dancing to the sexy dance with Ibuki and Qiao Zhi and I had no idea what it was from. NOW I KNOW.

- Henry is SO MEAN he keeps bullying C-Lil and telling him that if he doesn’t do well he has to go home. STOP BULLYING HIM!!!

- The captains keep roping in team members to do the dances with them haha.

- Waiwai was saying how she’s never seen Bozi and Qiao Zhi smile while breaking and yet they look like they’re having a ball learning the sexy dance.

- Yibo did some magic tricks. Something I’ve noticed is that Yibo is actually quite good at public speaking. He makes very few mistakes, barely uses any filler words. Anyway, his first magic trick didn’t quite work, but the rest of them did (y) 

- Han Geng performed a dance that he said he learned when he was very young. I remember when he was still doing stuff regularly with Super Junior, people would ask him to show off the ethnic dances that he’d studied. This performance was exactly that, plus some added shenaniganery at the end.

- I really liked Ma Xiaolong and Rochka’s performances. Ma Xiaolong is such a good singer? Like it’s not just the skill, but he has creativity when he sings. As for Rochka, his performance was just so much fun. He was a good singer too but he also brings such charisma.

- Really sorry to hear about Zyko’s sister :( I can’t be mad, he needs to go home. He looked so down too when he was calling Han Geng. All the best to his family :(  I did really love Zyko on the show. He was so open minded and so easygoing. All the best v.v

- I’m glad that the other contestants got to see him off (AC, Ibuki, Rochka, Ma Xiaolong). Rochka looked so sad. He strikes me as a sympathetic guy, so I don’t doubt that he was troubled by the news too.

- Not gonna lie, the news about Zyko kind of brought my mood down. It’s not that the show is “ruined,” it’s just the idea of his sister being so seriously hurt that’s hard swallow for me. I can’t believe how Zyko must be feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to watch the rest of the show, I guess the news was just a stark reminder that we live in the real world. 

[merakiui]

Hi again Meraki ^^ can I request first date hcs with Jamie, Theo, Kati, and Nine? :3

(Hi there! Please forgive me. orz The wait time shouldn’t have been this long. But I hope you’ll enjoy these hcs nonetheless! ^^ They were a lot of fun to write!)

First Date HCs (Jamie, Theo, Kati, and Nine)

🐴 Jamie 🐴

He’s unfamiliar with the concept of first dates. Having grown up on a farm, there weren’t many romantic areas nearby—unless you count the chicken coop as a wild ride. (Which it technically is. It’s extremely messy, but Jamie knows how to get the job done.) Still, a date isn’t something he encounters on a daily basis.

Adjusting to the ways of the city folk have definitely been a challenge for him. Milk that’s not taken straight from the udder of a cow or eggs that aren’t freshly plucked from the nest of a hen. It’s so foreign to him.

On the farm, he knew where everything was. His sense of direction was impeccable. But now, faced with bustling streets filled with busy people, Jamie feels lost.

That’s why he thinks horse riding is a perfect candidate for a first date. It’s better than cleaning a coop with your partner, that’s for sure, and it ensures enough privacy for both him and you to chat about whatever you’d like.

He doesn’t have any need to feel nervous or flustered because he’s ridden horses plenty of times.

Jamie takes you to an area where horse riding is allowed, paying whatever fee may be necessary for an allotted time. It’s exciting, and he can’t wait to relive more of his hobby with the person he’s interested in.

He’ll help you get on your horse if you need it. If not, he’s pleased to watch as you climb on yourself, sitting on the saddle with both legs on either side.

Jamie explains everything you need to know about controlling the horse’s pace, not leaving a single detail out. He even demonstrates on his own horse, allowing you to see how skilled he is.

But Jamie’s intent isn’t to brag. It’s to ensure your safety and enjoyment. After all, he doesn’t want to risk messing up an already perfect day.

If you’re uncertain or worried, Jamie will console you, offering to have you sit behind him on his horse while he takes you through the open pastures.

Once everything’s settled and you’re confident, the two of you will ride your horses side by side, savoring the moment and each other’s company.

You’ll talk about all sorts of things as the horses gallop steadily along the grassy ground.

Jamie finds himself falling more in love with you as he listens to you recalling silly stories about yourself.

Everything goes exceptionally well, with Jamie even asking if you’d want to visit the farm someday.

You’re so enthusiastic about getting to know more about his life and hobbies, so you agree, and Jamie smiles. He’s equal parts elated and relieved. He’s heard enough stories about how first dates can end in disaster.

Thankfully, this isn’t the case.

He’ll definitely invite you to horse ride with him in the future, and you might end up growing used to the wind rushing through your clothes and hair as you and him ride your horses farther into the distance.

“Guess we’ll be sowin’ our own wild oats from now on.”

Jamie hopes the relationship will be long-lasting and fruitful, as he can’t imagine a life without you.

🎹 Theo 🎹

Theo doesn’t have an exact preference when it comes to dates. He’s happy as long as he gets to spend time with the one he loves most.

But if it were up to him to choose where you’ll have your first date, he’d like to spend the day with you at a library. Just something casual while he gets to know you better.

A library, in his opinion, is the best way to converse with your partner. In doing so, you’ll learn what genres they’re interested in and which authors are their favorite. It’s also fun to witness your lover light up when they explain their literary interests.

Theo also enjoys the calming atmosphere of a library, where the two of you can sit together and whisper about character arcs and subplots.

He’ll definitely take you to a café afterwards, allowing you to get any pastry and drink of your choosing. In such a setting, it’s easy to make conversation about food and hobbies. He even tells you about his passion for baking.

Theo will spend the entire day with you. Maybe he’ll take you for a walk in the park after your café excursion so that the two of you can continue your idle chatter. He just wants the moment to last forever as everything you say makes him like you even more.

He might not do anything too fancy for your first date, which is why he prefers to remain local. After all, he doesn’t want to go overboard and drive you away.

But once the relationship develops, he’ll definitely take you wherever you want.

Before your first date, Theo actually had so many plans in his head and on paper. He made a list of possible places, constantly crossing them out because he was certain you wouldn’t like them.

During your walk in the park, the two of you stumble upon someone who was playing the piano.

The both of you are drawn to it instantly, listening to the way the pianist elegantly plays a sensual tune.

When you bring up how good they sound, Theo feels inclined to mention that he’d like to play for you one day.

Why wait for that day to come when he can just do that now? You manage to convince the pianist to let Theo have a go at the keys, who is surprisingly more than happy to oblige.

Theo tries to get out of it at first, a tad shy to play for you so suddenly. A million thoughts race through his mind. What if they don’t like it? What if I make a mistake? It has to be absolutely perfect. What if—

Your smiling expression eases his worries. It’s such an encouraging sight, and it convinces Theo to do his best.

So he plays a random tune, not exactly sure how it should sound because you’re watching. Should it be slow and romantic? Fast and upbeat? He just plays from the heart.

He’s so focused on pleasing you that he doesn’t seem to hear how melodious it sounds. His playing manages to surprise the pianist, and it even draws in a few passersby.

By the time he’s done, you’re clapping and exclaiming so much praise that his cheeks flush.

Theo feels a hundred times lighter, and your compliments make him realize that you’re such a sweet person. As the saying goes, it’s a match made in heaven.

🍎 Kati 🍎

Kati checks his daily horoscope for nearly everything. He needs answers to some of his burning questions! Will a Taurus such as himself get along with Noah, a Gemini, or will it be another turbulent day?

He wonders whether or not your star sign is compatible with his. It must be if you’re allowing him to choose the location of your first date.

Now Kati knows a first date can either make or break a relationship before it even blossoms, so he wants to make sure his partner will have as much fun as possible. For someone as energetic as himself, the amusement park is definitely the best place for a first date.

It may be cliché, but Kati would rather do something fun and exciting. First dates can’t be boring, and he doesn’t want to mess up his chances.

So the amusement park it is!

To be fair, any place that offers endless hours of joy without seeming mundane is a good first date option. Kati can imagine many places: the arcade, a water park, and even a circus performance!

When the two of you get to the amusement park, Kati’s like an awestruck child, racing from here to there in search of cotton candy and which ride to go on first.

If you’re nervous about rollercoasters, he’s prone to whining in hopes that he’ll be able to drag you on the ride. But he’ll understand if you seem truly terrified. In that case, it’s off to stock up on sweets and to win prizes from the games.

You might have to hold him back from biting anyone when he doesn’t win, though...

If you don’t mind the dizzying speeds and the stomach-churning drops of most coasters, then be prepared to go on as many as possible. Kati will quite literally pull you in the direction of the scariest ride he sees, which only get more intense with each one you conquer.

You’ll have to take a break at some point, to which Kati fusses over how boring that is. Once you’re finished with your coveted ten minutes of rest, it’s off to the next huge ride.

He can’t stand waiting in those lines, so it’s best to get the passes that let you cut others in line. As the two of you advance past exhausted, sweaty strangers, Kati’s grinning and teasing them about how he’s going to be the first one on the ride.

A day with Kati, especially one spent as a first date, is an entire rollercoaster in itself. You’ll be so tired by the time the moon’s in the sky, and Kati will still have boundless energy.

He’s relieved at how smooth the date is going. If he checked his horoscope before, which he definitely did, he’ll chalk the luck up to his great fortune. If it were unlucky, that would be another story...

But everything’s great so there’s nothing to worry about!

At the end of the date, Kati’s hoping you’ll want to spend more time with him. After such a great day, who wouldn’t want to stick around?

He’s so happy that you’re such a compatible match. Star signs or not, it must be a stroke of fate!

Your next dates are going to be filled with so much chaotic fun, so get ready for a tiring, yet incredibly exciting relationship.

Kati’s definitely considering competitive tag as a date option and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

🎼 Nine 🎼

Nine would rather not experience any sort of date at all, which is why he’s incredibly hesitant to even consider going through with this.

But he doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to ruin the relationship he’s already built up with you. Besides, dates are ways for couples to become closer, right? If anything, it’ll help him get to know you better, and it’s a perfect way for him to work on his one-on-one skills.

Nine doesn’t want to do anything too extravagant. He’d prefer something modest and tranquil, where it’s just you and him.

So he suggests something gentle like stargazing. Looking up at the stars is good for inspiration, and it might even help him clear his head. On top of that, he can come up with new ideas for his compositions!

For Nine, stargazing is also nice because it’s isolated and calm, which is wonderful for someone who spends most of his time alone.

The two of you check the forecasts religiously, awaiting the day when the weatherman explains that the night will be clear and starry.

When that night comes, you and Nine drive out to the nearest open area. Whether it’s the sandy shore of a beach or an endless grassy field, you make sure everything’s perfect for your first date.

Nine sets up the telescope with ease, and you have an astronomy guidebook in your hands, which has been flipped open to the table of contents so that you can locate a certain constellation.

Blankets have been laid out for comfort and warmth, and snacks have been packed in case you get peckish.

For a first date, it’s awfully quiet, which isn’t exactly a bad thing. Nine only talks when he feels it’s necessary, or when he’s directly addressed, so as long as you can put up with the silence it’ll be a lovely night.

If you’re getting tired, Nine might just allow you to lean against him. It’s a pleasant evening, and you deserve maximum comfort. Besides, he’s in a good mood and you’re his partner, so he doesn’t mind.

He won’t say it outright, but Nine secretly enjoys spending his time with you. You’re just so refreshing to be around, and you understand him. You’re very special to Nine, who gives you many privileges when it comes to stuff he normally doesn’t let others say or do.

Nine’s actually glad he agreed to this first date. Despite his initial hesitation, he’s having a grand time searching for stars and constellations against the inky backdrop of outer space.

If you’re into conspiracy theories, you could have a light debate over the existence of aliens. Though Nine doesn’t contribute much. He’ll just smile as you enthusiastically point up at the sky, telling him that somewhere in the distant blackness of space there exists a civilization of aliens.

Under the moonlight, Nine looks ethereal. How can one man be so elegant and perfect? Maybe he’s one of the aliens from Mars... (Spoiler, he’s not.)

Because Nine sees you as more than a friend, you’re allowed to call him pretty. As long as your praise isn’t overdone.

Yet despite the peace, there’s a lingering emotion in Nine’s deep blue eyes. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it’s definitely something akin to melancholy.

You let your voice go anyways, not having considered why Nine suddenly seems to be brooding. “You’re not alone, you know. I’ll always be here for you, as your friend and as your partner. You can count on it.”

Nine, who is so accustomed to crushing loneliness and is against forming any type of bond with those around him, is pleasantly surprised. In moments such as this one, you really do shine brighter than the twinkling constellations in the sky. It might be sentimental, but you’re his favorite star.