#universal amphitheatre

[smeagles]

KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas, Universal Amphitheatre, Los Angeles, CA 12.12.2004 ✧ lessthan__three

[greendayauthority]

KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas | Gibson Amphitheatre | Universal City, CA | 12 December 2004

[finding-w0nd3rland]

Picture of a Knight and the Dormouse from Tuacahn Amphitheatre's 2022 production

[hyunbelievable]

Painted in Sin

Part Two.

Summary: a heated one night stand in your new city leads to a world of hurt.

This is PART TWO of an ongoing series! The series as a whole is NSFW, though some chapters may not have explicit content. MDNI. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked.

Genre: College AU, Non-Idol AU.

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, mentions of student/teacher affair, swearing, student/teacher relationship (college level 18+), angst.

WC: 2.8k

Note: Honestly, this chapter went a whole different way than originally planned. There are no sexually explicit scenes in this chapter (but don’t fret — I’m cooking chapter three and it’ll be good hehe).

Chapter Two

—

Having drunk yourself into a stupor after classes let out the day before, you barely hear the rhythmic chiming of your alarm urging you awake. With a long-suffering groan, you lift your head from the pillow, pry your heavy eyes open, and fumble for your phone to silence the offending noise.

A notification on the screen catches your attention. An email notice from the Dean of the college. Your stomach churns violently as you swipe the screen and skim the contents.

‘Newly Enrolled Students and Transfer Students,

Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to our illustrious school. The faculty, staff, and administration are all pleased to receive the newest members of our talented university.

Due to the recent influx of new students, there will be a New Student Orientation tonight at 7:00pm. Attendance is mandatory. The event will be held in the Main Hall’s Amphitheatre.

During Orientation, we aim to ensure all students are properly acclimated to their new environment. We will discuss the campus layout, review our policies and rules, introduce campus resources, and more.

New student IDs and school photos will be taken at Orientation, so we urge you to come prepared.

Regards,

Dean of Students’

Great.

What better way to meet the Dean than hungover and carrying the memory of having been involved with a professor?

Sighing deeply, you go through the motions of getting ready. The moment you step outside, only one thought dominates your mind. Caffeine.

Despite your inebriated state the night before, you’d managed to wake up early enough to drive to the cute little cafe you’d spotted while moving into your new apartment. It’s tucked between a secondhand bookstore and a small restaurant, its exterior painted a rich, fern-green. A mustard-yellow door stands in stark contrast, surrounded by artfully hung flowers that spill out over the veranda.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of roasting coffee and freshly baked bread. The exposed brick walls are covered with paintings in mismatched frames, each piece created by local artists. Your gaze lingers on one in particular — chaotic strokes of muted blue-grey swirling together, interlocking and merging at the top of the canvas. It’s different from the others. Mesmerizing.

A voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Next in line!”

You turn to the barista and offer a polite smile, ordering the drink with the highest caffeine content and adding an extra shot of espresso for good measure. As you reach for your wallet, a man’s arm stretches past you, a few folded bills held between two fingers as he passes them to the barista.

A familiar chill skitters down your spine.

You look up into a pair of dark eyes.

His other hand grazes across your lower back as he leans in, and you instinctively step away, out of his near-embrace. The barista, fully aware of the awkward exchange, hands you your coffee with amusement shining in her eyes. Irritation mingles with your shock.

A familiar laugh brushes against your ear.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Your professor’s gaze flicks down to your drink before settling just under your eyes, where the evidence of your late night is surely on display.

You don’t dignify the comment with a response. Instead, you drop some cash into the tip jar and turn to leave, face burning.

Footsteps follow you.

A firm but careful grip closes around your upper arm, halting you mid-step. Inhaling deeply, you turn to face him.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy running off on me,” he says, that damnable spark of amusement lighting his eyes.

You gesture vaguely toward the cafe. “What was that?”

His brows furrow. “What was what?”

And there it is. The cocky tilt of his lips. The knowing glint in his gaze.

You exhale sharply. “I’m late,”

This time, when you step around him, he lets you go. But you can feel it. His eyes lingering on you, tracking your movements all the way to your car.

You slide behind the wheel, sinking back against the seat.

Doesn’t he care that he could lose his job over this?

Doesn’t he care that you could lose the scholarship you’d worked so hard to achieve?

It was just a one-time thing.

So why does it feel like it’s only the beginning?

—

The rest of the day passes quicker than expected, but dread blooms in your stomach as your final class looms closer.

And after that, the student orientation tonight…

You take your usual seat beside the girl with the pixie cut, offering her a small smile. She returns it before glancing around the room, and, noticing that Professor Hwang has yet to arrive, leans in.

“I’m Olivia, but you can call me Liv.”

You introduce yourself, and the two of you talk for a few minutes. She’s friendly, and very talented. That much becomes clear when she shows you her “introductory project.” Your breath catches at the beautiful brush strokes adorning her canvas. She’s chosen bold colors that should clash, but made them blend well as if she’d bent the very paint to her will.

“It’s still a work in progress, but I’m happy with it so far.” Her gaze slides pointedly to the still-blank canvas on your desk. “How’s yours coming?”

You glance at your untouched canvas and smirk. “I call it ‘I have no personality and my head is a mess. Nice to meet you.’”

“Catchy.” She laughs, her head tipping back. She quickly schools her features as the door opens. Professor Hwang strides in, hands tucked casually into his pockets as he rounds his desk and sits.

A moment later, Liv slides a folded piece of paper across your worktop. You unfold it to find a phone number. When your eyes meet hers, she flashes a friendly smile before returning her gaze to the front as the professor begins speaking.

He talks animatedly about upcoming topics, his passion for art evident in every word. It’s infectious. As he paces before his desk, his gaze lands on each student, holding their attention with ease.

The class passes without incident, surprisingly. No lingering glances. No secretive smiles.

Disappointment swirls in your stomach, but you shove the feeling away.

Why would he single you out? You’d made yourself clear this morning at the coffee shop. It’s best to pretend that night never happened.

By the end of the lesson, your mind buzzes with ideas. Your long lost creativity seems to have bloomed anew. As much as you loathe to admit it, Professor Hwang’s passion has ignited something within you. You’re eager to get home and bleed these pent-up emotions onto your canvas.

You stand as the professor dismisses the class, walking alongside Liv to the exit. Before you can leave, he calls out to you. You hesitate, then gesture for Liv to go ahead, turning back toward his desk. Your fingers fidget with the strap of your bag.

“I noticed your canvas is still blank,” his tone is professional, almost bored as he relaxes in his seat, eyes locked on yours.

You don’t let your gaze waver. “I’ve been a bit…distracted.”

“I see.” He stands, resting his hands on the desk as he leans slightly toward you. “Care to elaborate?”

A dry laugh escapes you. “You know damn well why,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. “Had I known—”

He cuts you off.

“Had you known,” he cocks his head, “that I was your professor, you wouldn’t have gone home with me that night?” A slow smile spreads across his lips. “In case you haven’t realized, I didn’t know either.”

His expression is unreadable, but something flickers in his eyes, too brief to decipher.

He continues before you can speak. “I might have told you what I do for a living if you hadn’t run out like my apartment was on fire.”

There it is again, the flash of something in his eyes. A pang of guilt twists in your stomach, but you brush past it.

“And now, I have that orientation with the Dean tonight.” You pause, exhaling sharply. “I could lose everything for what we did.”

He pushes off his desk, rounding it and coming to a stop before you. His gaze darts to the cracked classroom door before returning to yours.

“So could I.”

You nod. “Then we agree. We pretend it never happened. For both our sakes.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his eyes roam over your face, lingering on your mouth before meeting your gaze again. Slowly, he leans in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. His fingers skim over the foundation-covered bruise he’d left on your neck.

“You covered it up,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your pulse quickens at his proximity, at the light touch of his fingers.

You swallow hard, stepping back. The second his skin is no longer touching yours, you take a deep breath. “Yes, I covered it up.”

He doesn’t let the distance deter him. He steps forward, and instinctively, you retreat — until the backs of your thighs press against his desk. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in. His nose brushes the side of your neck, and your hands flatten against his chest.

You should push him away. You go to do just that, but your traitorous fingers curl into the material of his shirt instead.

“If you can’t find your inspiration,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to the empty canvas tucked into your bag, “you know where I live. You can use my body as your canvas and your lips as the medium.”

Your breath catches. Heat curls low in your stomach.

Then your phone chimes, and reality creeps back in.

You push against his chest, stepping out from his embrace. Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, your heart hammering against your ribs.

As the evening wears on, his words plague your mind. It’s as if he’d painted the image of those words directly on your mind. An almost uncomfortable thrum settles between your thighs at the thought of giving in. Of throwing caution to the wind, damning the consequences, and engaging in an affair with your professor.

By the time you arrive at orientation, you’ve cooled down. Somewhat.

You spot Liv waiting outside the amphitheater and rush toward her.

“Hey! I waited for you.” she says, linking her arm through yours as the crowd begins to shuffle inside.

A man in his late forties ushers students in. He’s balding, his stomach straining against the confines of his suit. Beady eyes scan the crowd as he produces a tissue to dab the sweat from his forehead.

The sight of him douses the fire in your stomach, more efficiently than if a bucket of ice were dumped over your head.

Once everyone is seated, the man makes his way to the stage. He comes to a stop behind the podium, fiddling with the neck of his shirt before adjusting his tie. He introduces himself as Dean Bouchier.

Over the next two hours, he drones on about campus resources, student clubs and activities, and the impressively long list of rules each student must abide by.

Then, his tone shifts.

Dean Bouchier clears his throat, and an almost ominous silence settles over the restless students.

“Now, we come to the most important topic of our meeting.” His voice is severe, gaze sweeping the room.

You sit up a little straighter.

“As you all know, creating art, performing a scene, and learning a new dance routine can be very emotional. It’s normal for you to lean on your instructors, and we encourage professional relationships with them.”

He pauses, hand straying to adjust his tie for what seems like the thousandth time.

“We are committed to fostering a creative, inspiring, and professional learning environment where all students can thrive. As I mentioned, collaboration between students and professors is essential to your growth, but it is equally important to be mindful of ethical boundaries. To protect the integrity of our community, we have a strict zero-tolerance policy prohibiting romantic or sexual relationships between students and faculty.”

A chill runs down your spine.

“Such relationships can create power imbalances that can compromise artistic freedom, academic fairness, and individual development. Any violation of this policy will result in serious consequences, including faculty termination or student expulsion.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles at the crowd. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

After a few closing remarks he dismisses the students to line up for their ID photos.

Liv leans in. “They emphasize that last bit more now. My sister went here a few years ago. Apparently, there was a huge scandal involving a relationship between a student and a professor. The student was expelled, but my sister said the professor still works here.” She shakes her head. “So unfair. But… I do wonder which professor it was.”

She pauses, eyes suddenly sparking in amusement.

“I bet it was Professor Hot as Fuck Hwang. Who wouldn’t take a chance at that?”

She giggles as the two of you approach the photographer. You force a laugh, but your mind is spinning.

Your body moves on autopilot as you sit for your ID photo and make your way to the parking lot. Liv walks beside you, filling the silence with happy chatter.

When you reach your car, she grabs your arm.

“There’s a frat party next week. Apparently, it’s a big thing every year. Want to go with me?”

Her eyes shine with excitement. You hesitate, then nod.

Maybe you’ll find someone to rid your mind of Professor Hwang.

If only it were that simple.

—

TAGS: @jeonginsleftcheek @iknow-uknow-leeknow @laylasbunbunny @scarlet789 @stayjinnie @alix-nai @chartrucewhore @skzaddictsincedebut @xcmvc @hoeracha @potentialgay @thedelulugirlie @ipistachio

(For some reason I couldn’t tag everyone — some of you didn’t come up when I tried 🥲🥲)

To be added or removed from taglist, please comment or DM me! 💓💓

[world-of-celebs]

Avril Lavigne poses at the 2011 Teen Choice Awards at Gibson Amphitheatre on August 7, 2011 in Universal City, California.

[queer-little-demigod]

you’re so very special - clarisse la rue

summary she realises the mistake she made, but have you already slipped through her fingers?

fic type angst/fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader

word count 1k

warnings grovelling clarisse, angst, fluff

masterlist i wish i were special (pt.1)

For the next few weeks, she noticed you. You stood out in every crowd, even in your Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, even in the same clothes you wore every day, you stood out like a splash of red on a white canvas.

Gods, it killed her inside.

She replayed it in her head–the way your eyes had emptied of all emotion. Those eyes which were the darkest brown, devoid of colour yet so vivid with feeling, had simply become flat. She thought of how your face fell when she told you that glory mattered more than you did. How could she ever say that? How did it even cross her mind?

How could she give in to the heartlessness of her godly parent so easily?

Glory was transient. It was finite, it wasn't permanent. It was the way youth vanishes from one's body, the way buildings crumble with time, and the way swords dull with use.

You were intransient, a constant, infinite. You were the intransience of the sea, the permanence of the sun rising in the east, the infinite expanse of the universe. You weren't glory, you were love, you were kindness, you were everything.

When did that change?

She sat in the amphitheatre, talking to her friends. Their chatter faded to the background, everything vanished for her as her eyes landed on you–sitting alone with your eyes trained on nothing in particular. She felt her annoyance increase as she saw a group of people right beside you, forming such a close knit that they physically barred you from inclusion.

Why did you slip from her priority?

She wanted to stand and march over to you, throw an arm over your shoulder and talk to you the whole night. She wanted to hold your hand and listen to your eager voice as you explained something new to her. She wanted you.

Your shoulders were slumped–were they always like that? You didn't move, you simply observed–was that normal for you? She hated herself for not knowing. She hated that she had neglected you for so long, so blinded by her thirst for glory, that she never saw how truly lonely you were.

To be lonely is to be in a crowded room with no one to talk to, but to be alone is to not be in a crowded room at all.

She was about to move to sit beside you, warring against her internal conflict between two choices–leave you be because of shame, or leave you be because she couldn't move with the dept of her regret. She had only just turned around to stand when another girl sat beside you.

She told you that glory mattered more, why did it hurt when she saw she wasn't the one beside you?

Her heart ached–no, it burned when she saw your eyes light up. She used to make you look like that. You only used to look at her that way–as if she was the moon and you were an astronomer, ever in love with her.

Jealousy. An ugly emotion which didn't want to be felt, but demanded to be.

The girl said something, you laughed. Your eyes scrunched up, you clutched your stomach, entire body alive with mirth. How could you express so easily? How could you express with your whole body?

Why did she call you names? You deserved better. Gods, you deserved the world. You deserved to be looked at like you were a masterpiece, and the artist was marvelling at their work.

She hated it. She hated how her guilt, regret, and pain clawed at her from inside. She hated how she knew that no amount of screaming could ease this feeling. She hated how it was constant. A constant which reminded her of her blunder.

She turned away, unable to bear the sight of you talking animatedly to that girl. You always used your hands to speak, you spoke with your whole body, your eyes conveyed every emotion so clearly that you were an open book.

An open book that few tried to read. An open book that kept being shut and put in the corner of the bookshelf–forgotten.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into a month. That girl, who Clarisse found out was a child of Hecate by the name Zara, had gotten far closer to you than Clarisse would've liked.

Where she once had your time in the training grounds, Zara was there–showing you how to use her bow and arrow. Where once you both sat at the bonfire with your head on Clarisse's shoulder, Zara was there, resting her head atop yours as you talked.

Where Clarisse once loved you, Zara seemed to do it better.

All this pain, all this hurt, all this ugly, horrid jealousy, because she simply couldn't get out of the haze of glory she was in.

'You said I was special,' your words rang in her ears as she stabbed the dummy again and again.

You were so very special. You were the one thing that kept her from becoming the rage-filled monster that everyone thought she was. You were the calm that helped her crazy, the water that put out the fire of constant anger within her.

You were special.

Nobody had held her the way you did, nobody spoke to her the way you did. Nobody even so much as looked at her the way you did–with pure love and adoration.

Glory, glory, glory-- A persistent chant in her mind that she had used to try and quell her thoughts about you. A mantra that she repeated to try and get you out of her head.

She found herself approaching you one evening, as Zara had left you be to turn in for bed.

"Y/n–" She began, but the words caught in her throat.

Your eyes did it again. They lit up for a fraction of a second, but immediately dulled at the sight of her.

She was the reason why that happened. Her cutting words and insults and thirst for glory had consumed whatever little happiness she used to offer you.

"What do you want, Clarisse?" You asked, annoyed. You didn't want to see her, you hated how she made you feel now.

Or did you?

"Please, let me--"

"No, I won't!"

She recoiled. She deserved that.

"I just want a moment of your time, please, Y/n," she pleaded.

"Fine," you conceded. "I'm giving you a minute."

She breathed deeply, and exhaled to prepare herself.

War begging for death's forgiveness. An ever-present trope.

"I have been...thinking for the last few weeks," she said. "I--I realise how shitty I was to you, when you were nothing but patient, kind, and loving. You stayed when I didn't, you waited even though I didn't give you the time of day, and I am so sorry because I didn't realise how much it meant to me, your time that is, when I didn't have it.

"You are an amazing person, Y/n. And gods, you're so very special to me," she said, holding back tears.

"Didn't seem like it when you called me clingy and attention-seeking," you deadpanned. Part of you wanted to forgive her there, but the sensible side told you to wait till she completed.

"I know," she said, fisting her hands in her hair. "I know I haven’t been doing the things I committed to you, but I know now that glory isn’t everything. It’s taken me time to realise it, and in that time I lost you.

“You don’t have to forgive me, Y/n, but—but I swear on the river Styx that I will never, ever make you not feel special. Because gods, Y/n, you’re so so special to me, you’re everything, and I only—I only realised it when I became nothing to you,”

You contemplated. You thought. Clarisse’s heart fell—it felt like rejection.

But oh how her heart soared when you wrapped your arms around her neck to bring her into a loving hug.

“You never were nothing to me,” you whispered, pulling back to wipe away her tears which she never realised were falling steadily from her eyes.

How had she fumbled this? How had she prioritised a flag on a stick over those beautiful brown eyes of yours? Over you?

She smiled, her heart fluttering and racing so much that she feared she may drop dead of a heart attack.

“Let’s start over, hm?” You asked, smiling.

There it was. The smile. The smile that made the corners of your eyes crinkle and made your dark irises sparkle even in the darkness of the evening.

The smile she knew was reserved for her.

“Let’s start over,”

She vowed never to make you not feel special again.

Because you were oh so special to her.

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

[skyfallscotland]

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

"Remi for once can you please—" "Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Hello! After what we shall henceforth refer to as the Onyx Storm Incident, I did not know if I would ever write for this fandom again (yes, that was three days ago, I know, shut up).

Anyway, I figured I should try and push through my reservations early instead of letting my disappointment linger, so I set out to write a little palette cleanser. As usual I tried to write smut and ended up with four thousand words of feelings first 🤦🏼‍♀️

This is set in some sort of alternate (completely unbelievable) universe where Xaden never gave in to Remi's flirting when she was a first-year at Basgiath (oh and he's not a venin) everything else is irrelevant, just go with it.

It's also basically straight up erotica, so explicit content! Not for minors! Minors DNI or whatever the fuck they say over here (I really should be posting all these on AO3, but that's for another day).

Finally, I'm sorry to all the teachers out there, I hate this kink too but it's minimally emphasised (they're still them) and it was what my girl Remi deserved—why should Violet get Professor Riorson and not her, the Queen of Tyrrendor, the Angel of Death? So here we are.

PS. Justice for chairs! Hopefully you can all visualise what's going on here 😂🪑

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

Fraternisation between cadets and those serving in higher chains of command, including the aggregate leadership cadré at Basgiath War College, is strictly forbidden. —Article Eight, Section One, The Dragon Rider’s Codex

I tap my foot against the floor, levitating my pen above my hand almost subconsciously as Professor Devera informs the rest of the cadets just how fucked we actually are. "Welcome to the new face of battle, where we are not only outnumbered in the sky but now equally matched on the field in terms of the skill of our opponents."

Equally matched? We're not equally matched, we're absolutely fucked. It's hard to find the energy to care anymore, knowing what awaits us. Maybe if I had a signet like Violet's, I would be in with half a chance at survival, but mending? Yeah. I'm screwed.

Heads drop in the rows ahead of us, like everyone else is reaching the same conclusion.

"With that in mind, the nature of challenges will change under the supervision of Professor Emetterio to include wielding in order to better prepare you for actual combat. Death is no longer an acceptable outcome when you face your classmates. The days of settling your scores on the mat are over. We need each and every one of you to survive to graduation.”

I scoff aloud, drawing more than one person's attention. Death should never have been acceptable. The military, the system gains nothing from it, it's just a senseless waste of life.

“Easy to say when you’re not facing Sorrengail,” Caroline Ashton calls out.

My lips tilt up. I hope she ends up facing my sister.

“We aren’t going to throw you to the wolves,” Devera tells her. “The third class you’ll be adding will be a hands-on approach to prepare you for signet-against-signet combat. You’ll have a rotating roster of professors to benefit from all signet types, and the Eastern Wing has temporarily loaned us their most powerful rider to start your instruction.”

Violet stiffens beside me and I frown, glancing over at her. The Eastern Wing…wouldn't that mean…

“And on that note.” Devera gestures to the door at the back of the room, and slowly, I turn. “Look who just arrived—everyone, welcome our newest member of your leadership team. Professor Riorson.”

My heart skips a beat and my lips begin to curve into the most self-satisfied smirk I've worn in a while. This is going to be fun.

Friday comes far too slowly for my liking, but finally it's our turn to head out to the Infantry Quadrant's outdoor amphitheatre. There's a skip in my step as we descend the stairs and Violet groans, eyeing me with disapproval.

"Remi for once can you please—"

"Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Ridoc snorts, bumping me with his hip as he passes.

I glance up from my feet, taking in the man standing dead centre in the base of the amphitheatre, his impatience clear. His arms are crossed over his chest and his usual dark stare is ever-present as he watches us, waiting.

"This is incredible." Sloane is saying ahead of us, commenting on the weather and the temperature inside the amphitheatre's wards. It is warm in here and as Professor Riorson's eyes dart up to lock with mine, I shrug my arms out of my flight jacket. My pulse jumps at his continued attention and slowly I shake the snow from my braid.

"You're right, Sloane." I smile, running my hand over my hair. "It's so warm in here." I reach for the bottom of my shirt and draw that up too, pulling it over my head to leave me in just my leather pants and armoured corset.

"Remi!" Violet hisses and I smile innocently.

"What?" I lift a brow. "You don't want me to pass out, do you Vi?" She grumbles something about knocking me out, which I promptly ignore, dropping my things in the first row of stone seats beside our classmates.

If there's one thing my sister has always hated, it's my infatuation with Xaden Riorson. I suppose that's fair, given she shares a mind with him at times, but it does nothing to discourage me. If I see something I want, I go after it and I've wanted Xaden Riorson ever since I first laid eyes on him all those years ago at parapet.

Too bad he doesn't want me just as badly.

“Welcome to your first session of Signet Sparring, in what I like to call the pit.” He announces as we reach the base of the steps.

"Ominous." I mutter.

“Those who can wield, keep your feet on the rock but—and I cannot stress this enough—off the mat. Those who cannot, take a seat in the first row.” He gestures to the terraced stone behind us.

I assume it has something to do with the warding, so when Aaric and Lynx move to take a seat in the rows behind, I stand to follow.

"Remi Sorrengail!" Riorson calls. "I know you can wield."

I pause, turning slightly to arch a brow. "My signet is neither offensive nor defensive, sir." The slightest, most minuscule twitch jolts his shoulders at the word and I show him my teeth. "You wouldn't want me to get hurt, would you?"

An ember of desire flickers to life in my gut and I bite my lip, letting my eyes drag over him slowly from head to toe. The tight-fitting sparring gear is reminiscent of what he always wore in the quadrant when he was our wingleader, but the swords strapped across his back…they really add to it. It's doing something for me. A lot for me.

"I'll make sure you don't get hurt, Cadet Sorrengail." He reassures. "Take a seat. Now."

I hold his gaze for a moment, wishing he could read my mind and understand exactly what that tone is doing for me. For a second his eyes flare and then it's gone; his stony, unaffected mask falling back into place as he gestures to the first row where my sister waits.

"Whatever you say, sir." I simper, flopping down onto the stone.

"Sickening." Imogen mutters, rolling her eyes from my other side, and I grin. She's never liked my obsession with him either.

First wing begin to filter in, taking their places on the adjacent seating and Riorson's eyes dart left, then right. “Let’s go. It shouldn’t be this hard to sort yourselves out."

"You can sort me out—" All the breath rushes out of me in a wheeze as Imogen's elbow plants itself in my gut. "Ok." I cough, "understood." Violet stifles a laugh.

“You done gossiping among yourselves?” Riorson eyes First Wing with what I'd classify as menace.

“We were just saying that we’re not sure someone who graduated less than a year ago makes the best teacher.” Loran Yashil folds his arms.

I laugh aloud, drawing the attention of everyone in the amphitheatre. "Because you've been doing so well with Carr." I comment. "How many dark wielders do you think he's fought? Hiding back here behind the wards like a coward?"

"Remi!" Violet groans, though the chastisement holds no sting—I know she agrees with me.

What follows is perhaps the hottest display of power and dominance I've seen in a long while. He barely lifts a finger taking the third-year down and then proceeds to do it all over again…and again, and again until there's no one left but my sister and I.

"Sorrengail, you're up!"

Violet and I glance at each other and she lifts a brow. I wiggle mine in return. Quickly, we both leap to our feet and stride onto the mat.

"I meant—"

"You should have specified then." I cut him off, drawing my daggers from my corset.

"I didn't speak in plural." He all but rolls his eyes.

"Well that's just cheating, you can't both—"

I throw my blade to the side, never once breaking eye contact with Riorson. "Shut up, Caroline!" I call. Who asked her anyway?

Drawing another dagger to replace the one I'd thrown, I let my hips sway as I stride down the centre of the mat, coming to a stop directly in front of him. "If you're too afraid to fight us both, just say Professor." I taunt. "I don't mind if you want to have our session one on one."

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly. "You're infuriating." He murmurs.

"I think you like it." I whisper, tongue darting out to wet my lips, and the ground rumbles. Lightning strikes overhead and he drags his eyes up from my lips, locking gazes with me as shadows rush out, blacking out the area entirely.

"Fuck." I mutter, taking a step back, entirely blind. I take another and another until I run clear into a hard chest and an arm brackets my middle from behind.

"What was the point of this, Sorrengail?" He asks. "If I were venin, you'd be dead right now."

"You're not venin." I counter breathlessly. "If you were, the distraction wouldn't have worked."

"The—"

Boom.

Lightning strikes mere centimetres to his left, shaking the ground, lighting up the arena. I tear myself free from his hold, ignoring the shadows that chase me, caressing my hair, my cheek—and grin slyly. "We win." I smirk as sunlight filters back through. "You'd be dead if she wanted you dead."

He frowns, like the idea of it is ludicrous. "You'd be dead. You would have died before me."

I shrug my shoulders. "And she'd be alive." I tilt my head. "Like I said. We win."

With that I turn and walk away.

"You really need to give it a rest." Violet sighs as she slings her pack over her shoulders, prepared to head down to Chantara with the others. "Remi, I'm…worried about you."

I huff, folding my arms over my chest. "Worried?"

"Worried." She confirms. "It's not healthy to go chasing after someone like this. He's not capable of loving you. There are plenty of people who—"

"Who said anything about love?" I interrupt. "I never said I wanted him to love me."

Violet looks at the ceiling like she's praying to Amari for patience. "You're you." She finally says softly, reaching out to take my hand. "I know you. You want love—and I know him—he's not capable of it."

I know she doesn't mean it critically, she's been orbiting him for quite some time now, her dragon being mated to his and all. So she knows him, better than I probably ever will as a result and she's probably right, but…

"Sometimes he looks at me and I think, just for a second…" I swallow hard.

Violet's expression softens. "I know, I see it too."

My face crumples. "Then why—"

"Because it doesn't mean he can, Rem." She squeezes my hand. "You've been chasing after him since the day you met and him liking you, doesn't mean he'll risk his heart and that's what he'd have to do—we're at war." My sister frowns. "It's all or nothing."

All or nothing.

"Fine." My voice cracks as I speak. "Fine. I get it."

My twin chews on her lip. "So you'll come to Chantara?" She whispers softly.

"No." I shake my head. "I'm going to see him, one last time." Violet's face falls. "I can do all or nothing," I whisper quietly, "but I need a chance to convince him it should be all."

"You've had—"

"No." I shake my head, my heart clenching in my chest. "I've joked and flirted and watched him spend hours of his time dragging you around, but I never made it clear…"

My sister breathes in deep, her shoulders rising like she's steadying herself. "He knows." She whispers, the words leaving her in a rush. "He knows, Remi."

I sit with that for a moment and then slowly, I nod. "Ok." I accept, my throat tightening.

"Ok?"

"Sure." I turn around, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "I think I'll stay here anyway." I try and force a smile, but I'm sure it comes out as more of a grimace. "You go, Vi. Have fun with the others."

Her eyes are worried, but a lifetime of arguments and tears has told her when to push and when to leave well enough alone, so she leaves well enough alone. It takes a moment to collect myself, to pick the pieces of my heart up off the ground and place them back where they're meant to be, but when that's done and I've managed to still the shaking of my hands, I stand from the bed and head for the door.

If he doesn't want me that's fine, but he can tell me himself, one final time.

All or nothing.

I throw on my jacket and make my way down the hall, heading toward the school's academic wing. Pretty much everyone is either training or enjoying some recreational time, so I don't pass many people on the way there and when I raise my hand to knock, the hall is empty.

The door swings open with the help of lesser magic and I slip inside, not bothering to announce myself—the presence of a shadow curling up around my ankle tells me he knew exactly who was at his door before he ever opened it.

"Professor Riorson." I lift my eyes to his and attempt to shore up my resolve.

"Cadet Sorrengail." He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "To what do I owe this visit?"

My heart pounds against my rib cage and my pulse flutters like a caged bird. There's a desk between us and metres of clean air, but it may as well be nothing. The atmosphere in the room is charged and I absently wonder if Vi warned him I might be coming.

"I…"

He waits, lifting a brow. "Yes?"

"I'm failing!" I blurt, suddenly losing my nerve. "I'm going to fail your class and I don't know how to…" His eyes hold mine, gold-flecked onyx practically smouldering.

"Try again." He instructs, lowering his hands to the armrests on his chair. He splays his knees casually, leaning back while his eyes seem to stare right through me.

"I'm sorry?"

His lips tilt up, just slightly. "That's not what you came here for." He shakes his head. "Try again and don't lie this time."

My mouth runs dry. Suddenly every conviction I had, every ounce of bravado flees my body and I want to be anywhere but here because I know…this is about to hurt. Having your heart ripped out always does.

"I…came to ask for an extra credit assignment?" I try again, clinging to the minuscule hope he might believe me. It's nothing Vi hasn't done before. Well, before Basgiath, but still.

Riorson smirks. "And your suggestion?"

I frown.

"You're the professor. Don't you decide…?"

The hair on my neck stands on end and I shiver as something brushes the end of my braid. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He murmurs and my eyes blow wide.

"Uh…" His lips tilt.

"Not that it matters, you're lying again."

My mouth falls open. "Ok, you can't possibly know that!" I hiss. "You're not an inntinnsic, you have no idea what I'm thinking!"

"I know you." He counters. "You expect me to believe you, Remi Sorrengail, came here for an extra credit assignment?" He shakes his head.

"You don't know me!" I frown. "I've barely even seen you since you graduated." And not for lack of trying. I've personally been deployed up and down the Eastern Wing, but every time we've been at the same outpost he's miraculously busy. Violet however, sees him all the time. A fact I've always hated.

"Why are you here, Remi?" He tries again, looking more amused by the second and I can just tell—he knows. It shouldn't be a surprise to me. I've never made my interest a secret, I'm not ashamed of it, but that doesn't lessen the disappointment that even after all this time he'll refuse to give me the time of day when I know he's attracted to me too.

I lock my jaw and scowl. "Is there an answer you'll believe?" I finally utter, shame and frustration colouring my cheeks.

"Not extra credit."

I guess the all or nothing is going to be nothing then. How disappointing. I turn on my heel, refusing to waste a second more of my time on someone who clearly doesn't appreciate me.

"Remi." He calls sternly, his shadows tugging on my braid, and when the door won't open I resist the urge to stomp my foot like a sullen teenager—I want out.

My throat tightens. "Yes, sir?" I grit my teeth, glancing over my shoulder and his expression shifts like he's only now recognising the finality in the air. No more flirting, no more games, no more anything.

He closes his eyes and I recognise the minute twitches of his brow—he's talking to his dragon. I yank on the doorknob again but it refuses to turn, keeping me trapped in a mess of my own making.

When he stands from his chair and rounds the desk, my heart begins to flutter with panic.

"Sit down." He orders and I blink.

"No."

I'd have said it anyway, just to be contrary, but this time I mean it. I don't want to be here anymore.

"Sit. Down." His voice lowers, taking on a frustrated, threatening tone and my lip peels back from my teeth.

"No."

Before I can reach for a blade to defend myself with, his arms are around my waist and he's lifting me into the air, carting me back toward the desk like a sack of grain. He kicks the chair before it out of the way with his foot and deposits me on the desk's surface, sending papers scattering.

When I lash out with my foot, aiming to kick him somewhere painful, he catches my ankle between thick, powerful thighs. "Stop." He warns, his tone glacial. "Look at me."

Fuck you. I think, and when I glance up there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Sor—Remi." He corrects, leaning in. He plants large, calloused hands on my knees, keeping my thighs apart as he steps between them, ensuring I can no longer lash out at him with my boot. As his fingers curl around my knees, he leans in close enough for our jaws to brush, and I suck in a sharp breath.

"Sir?" My voice shakes and he all but groans.

He lifts a hand, tracing over my cheekbone with his thumb and my heart races. Each brush of his fingers, the feel of his stubble against my jaw, all of it—it sets my soul alight.

"Everything about this is inadvisable." He whispers, his voice gruff. "You are inadvisable."

I swallow hard. "So you've said." Never going to happen, he'd told me more than once while studying here.

"And yet…"

My muscles bunch, shoulders tensing. "…and yet?" I challenge, finally finding my voice.

He takes one breath and then another, and forces me to mourn the loss of his warmth as he steps away. "Article eight, section one—"

"You are not quoting the Codex at me!" I spit, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare as he takes another step. "You? Seriously?" Fury engulfs me, anger burning my chest with tendrils of white-hot rage. "You're a gods damned separatist, even now, Duke Riorson," I sneer, "and you're wedging the Codex between us?"

Of all things, of every excuse—

"You could be—"

"I'm exempt!" I throw my hands up, lashing out with my foot once more and growling with frustration as he halts it with his shadows. "Article eight, section one of the Dragon Rider's Codex states that calling cadets into active service in times of war may only be authorised by—"

"The Commanding General of Basgiath. I'm aware." He glares.

"So I'm no longer a cadet and I haven't been since July when they sent me to the front to mend." I point out.

"That's a technicality—"

"Oh so you're allowed to call technicalities and I'm not? Got it." I roll my eyes. "Just admit you don't want to fuck me professor and let's move on."

"In-ad-visable!" He yells, a deadly glare on his face and I jolt, rearing back a little. "If you were anyone else I'd have—" He seals his lips together and spins, facing the wall as he jerks a hand through his hair, gripping the dark strands roughly. I watch wide-eyed as his shoulders rise and fall, like he's short of breath.

"You'd what?" I whisper.

I don't dare move, frozen in place on the desk as I watch him, waiting with bated breath to see if he'll finally, finally tell me why. Why he refuses to see me as anything but Lilith Sorrengail's daughter, Brennan's little sister, Violet's twin. See ME, I want to scream at him. I deserve that.

When he turns, his eyes are dark and incensed. "If you were anyone else, I'd have bent you over that desk already and taught you a lesson."

My heart flies into my throat. "What?" It's barely more than a whisper leaving my lips.

He stalks back across the room, clearing the few feet he'd put between us, and slides his hand beneath my chin, long fingers curling around the back of my jaw to pull me in, tilting my face up to meet his. "You heard me."

Heat flushes my cheeks. "Wh…why not me?" I ask and embarrassingly enough, my voice breaks. "Why anyone but me? I'm—"

"Soft." His thumb drifts, brushing gently over my lips as he cups my jaw. "You have a soft heart, Remi Sorrengail, and I'm not the kind of man who can care for it."

I scoff, baring my teeth at him. "I'm a rider, same as you." I glare. "They don't call me the Angel of Death because I'm soft."

His hand slips, running back over my hair and down my loose braid. "Well they got the first part right." He murmurs, closing his eyes. I watch, taut as a bowstring as he takes one breath, then another. "Fuck." He mutters, face twisting up like he's in physical pain.

"Xaden?" I whisper, voice shaking.

"You have terrible timing." His hand tightens on my braid and then he's pulling, tugging me forward as he grasps my chin and seals his mouth over mine. My heart leaps into my throat and my chest tightens as he devours me, the hand on my hair sliding down to rest between my shoulder blades. His fingers splay as he pulls me in, holding me close.

His teeth nip at my lower lip and I gasp, tilting my head in submission as he slips his tongue into my mouth. Oh gods. I whimper, pressing myself further into his grasp as he kisses me thoroughly. A small sound of pleasure escapes my throat and he diverts his attention, nipping gently at my jawline.

His mouth moves right to the sensitive spot behind my ear, like he knows exactly where to nip, where to suck, where to pleasure to have me liquefy. His lips are warm against the shell of my ear as he whispers, "you choose now to take no for an answer?"

He worries the skin beneath it with his teeth and I moan, arching into him. "Y-ou didn't want me." I pant. "You've never—you—"

"I always want you." He growls. "You've been taunting me for years, angel." I gasp at the endearment, tilting my head to give him more access as he works his way down the column of my throat. "It's not a matter of want."

My fingers tighten on the timber of the desk behind me and I suddenly realise I no longer have to refrain from touching. Immediately I reach for him, slipping my hands beneath the leather of his flight jacket, running them up his sides to hold him to me.

"Then what?" I whisper, lifting a hand to rake through his hair, scratching my fingernails against his scalp as he sucks a mark into my throat. I want to touch him everywhere. "Xaden, please." I whimper, bringing my legs up to try and drag him closer. I need to wrap my thighs around him.

He groans, panting into my neck. "We should not be doing this." But he doesn't stop.

I gasp, arching upward so my chest brushes his as his fingers skate beneath the line of my corset. "You've yet to give me a good reason." I say, desire coiling low in my abdomen.

"I'm your teacher." He breathes, pulse skipping as I lock my ankles behind his lower back.

"And I'll be such a good girl for you."

Just like that, his control snaps. "Fuck, Remi." He pulls me forward forcefully, dipping his head to claim my lips once more. The kiss is deep and desperate, and I moan loudly into his mouth.

"So. Fucking. Tempting." His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly on the silver-tipped strands and I moan again, heart pounding as my skin gets hotter and hotter.

He kisses like a man possessed, holding me to him like he can't get enough and when we finally part for air again, it's all I can do to keep from begging. I grasp his hand, dragging it from where it rests on the side of my neck, down over my chest, past my stomach and to the button on my leathers.

He barely hesitates, slipping his hand beneath my waistband. I toss my head back, a small gasp leaving my lips as he slides his fingers over my clit and and back up again. "Gods," I whimper, "please."

"Please, what?" He whispers, slowly drawing his fingers through my arousal.

"Please, sir?" I gasp, leaning back to meet gold-flecked onyx. He chuckles.

"I meant what do you expect me to do with you, angel?" His thumb slowly circles my clit in soft, barely-there movements, "but the respect is a nice touch."

I swallow hard, a red flush spreading down my neck, but I have him right in front of me and I refuse to falter now. "Please make me come." I whisper and he groans, hips rocking forward reflexively. "I'll be good for you, I promise."

His eyes are so dark they're almost entirely black despite the light in his office, and he pushes my legs from his hips, spreading my knees further apart as he pulls me to the edge of the desk.

"These need to come off. Now." His hands are already moving, undoing the buttons and sliding my pants down over my hips, taking my underwear with them. I lever myself up on my hands as he drags them down and drops to his knees before me, fingers working on the laces of my boots.

He pulls them off one by one and dumps them on the floor, and when my pants are finally off and I'm half-naked on his desk, he tips his head back and stares. I flush deeper as he remains kneeling on the floor, slipping his hands up to cup my knees.

He rests his head on the inside of my thigh for a moment, his hair brushing my skin, and parts my legs further. Anxiety flares and I glance up at the door uncertainly, suddenly realising where we are.

"Is that door locked?" My heart skips a beat.

"Does it make you wet?" He murmurs, "the idea of being caught?"

I swallow hard. "No."

My heart flutters against my rib cage and his eyes soften, lips pressing gently to my skin. "It's locked, angel. No one's getting in." He places another careful kiss on my inner thigh. "No one can hear us. It's just you and me."

Something inside me settles and I relax enough to reach out, threading my fingers through his hair. "Ok." I murmur, admiring the silky strands as he moves closer, drawing in a sharp breath as he wraps strong arms around my legs and pulls.

"Xa-Xaden." I whimper as he lowers his mouth to my heat, parting his lips.

"What happened to sir?" He lifts a brow, glancing up at me, and my stomach swoops.

"Sir," I whisper, my voice shaking.

I watch as his mouth curves up in a smirk. "Better." He agrees, and lowers it to my clit.

"Oh, gods." I moan aloud as he seals his lips around it, wasting no time with foreplay. He flattens his tongue and I can't help but rock my hips, both my hands flying into his hair.

My back arches as he scrapes his teeth over me and I quickly slam one hand down behind me to keep from losing my balance, sending pens scattering everywhere.

"Look at you, making a mess." He murmurs between languid strokes of his tongue.

My chest heaves and I grip his hair tighter, trying to still the movement of my hips. "I'll make—a mess—of you." I pant, the last word pitched higher as he closes his mouth around me and sucks.

"Promises, promises." He murmurs as he drags his fingers along my inner thigh teasingly. "Are you going to come on my face, angel?" He asks, barely looking up as he slips a finger inside me.

I moan, arching as my heart pounds, desire coiling low and tight in my gut as I clench around his finger. "I—" I can't get a word out, entirely breathless as he sits back on his heels and waits, lips shining with the evidence of my arousal.

"Look at you." He whispers, lifting his thumb to swirl it around my clit. "So wet for me already."

"Yes," I breathe, curling my fingers tighter in his hair. "Always for you."

He drags his finger out and presses it back in again, eyes never leaving his hand. I squirm in place, wanting—needing—more. He thumbs at my clit almost playfully, finally looking up to watch my reaction and I whimper, screwing my own eyes shut.

"Can you take another for me?" He asks, moving his finger teasingly.

"I can take all of you." I whine, twisting with impatience. "I want your cock, please Xaden?" He lifts a brow and I already know exactly what he's going to say.

"Ask me nicely."

There it is. I swallow hard. "Please, sir?" I soften my voice, ignoring the embarrassment that flares in my chest. I'll beg if it gets me there. "I want to come on your cock."

"You will." He responds, stroking my inner wall with his finger. "Just not yet. Be a good girl and let me have my fun."

I manage to refrain from more than a single disgruntled whimper as he ignores my plea, starting circles with his thumb again. When he slides a second finger home beside the first and curls them up, I cry out, tugging on his hair to bring him close.

"Please, your mouth."

He flattens his tongue obediently and I gasp and whimper as he begins moving it over my clit in time with his fingers. He laps at me as he slides them in and out, curling them up to press against a spot that almost sends me over the edge.

"There! There, please!"

I decide I hate the desk. It's hard and uncomfortable, and it provides poor leverage, keeping me from rolling my hips or fucking myself against his face.

He swirls his tongue and presses his fingers up simultaneously, and the action takes me entirely by surprise, tossing me unceremoniously over the edge. "Xaden!" I cry out, jerking against him as I shatter, coming apart on his tongue.

His head is squeezed tightly between my thighs as I shudder, hips jerking, and he moans against me, sending my heart rate soaring as the vibration of it rumbles through my clit. I gasp, clenching my cunt down around his fingers.

I don't know where to look, what to hold onto as my pleasure rolls over me in waves. Sweat slicks my skin and when he finally pulls away, licking his lips in self-satisfaction, his eyes gleam. "I can't wait to get my cock in you."

I moan, tightening around the fingers still inside me. "You could have already been in me." I pant, whimpering as he finally rises to his feet, showing no signs of the difficulty I know I'd be experiencing if I were on my knees that long.

He slips his fingers free and brings them to his lips, holding my gaze as he licks them clean. My stomach swoops like I've done an aerial dive and my lips part, surprise and arousal no doubt written all over my face. Gods.

"Patience, cadet." He lectures, grasping my chin roughly. "You've been so good," he croons, leaning in to kiss me. "You don't want to ruin that now, do you?" When he slips his tongue past my lips, I can taste myself on him and I moan into his mouth, skin heating beyond comprehension. It feels like when I wield—all my power building up inside me, only now it's pleasure; building and building again until I'm ready to explode.

"We're going back to that?" I pant as we part. "You don't like your name on my lips?"

"I like you obedient." He fires back, his hand gripping the back of my neck. "You've spent years taunting me, having your fun at my expense. I think I'm owed some recompense."

I almost roll my eyes. Almost.

"You could have had me at any time." I whisper. "If you waited, that's on you." I tilt my head up, closing the gap between us myself for the first time as I kiss him sweetly. "Your room, mine, the sparring mats…" I murmur. "I've thought about us everywhere."

"And this…?" He asks, eyes heated. "What were you picturing when you came down here, all innocent, asking about extra credit?" His hands move to his own leathers and my heart skips a beat as he begins undoing buckles, removing his weaponry with quick, efficient movements.

"What were you picturing when you walked in here, Remi, and saw me sitting behind my desk?" He moves onto the button at his waistband, popping it open. I watch, breath hitching as he frees his cock, pushing his pants down slightly as he begins to stroke. "Was this what you had in mind?"

A small sound escapes me, more of a squeak than anything else, and I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. He's…sizeable. He grasps the front of my corset, dragging me up off the desk, levering me to my feet. I tilt my head back to look at him, but our eyes only meet for a second before he's pushing, turning me around and down.

I catch myself on my hands, palms flat on the desk, fingers splayed wide and gasp as he presses himself in behind me, a hand grasping my braid. He leans down, mouth warm against my ear and says, "be a good girl and spread your legs."

I obey on reflex, but I'm certain my skin is so red it looks like I've reached burnout. "Xa-Xaden…" My fingers tighten on the dark timber and I gasp as he presses down on my spine, forcing my back to bow, lifting my ass against him.

"You look so pretty like this." He murmurs in my ear and I jolt as he drags a finger up through my folds, adding a second to gently hold me open. I can feel his fingers on my skin, hear the stroke of his hand on his cock as he prepares himself, but all I can see is papers and tomes.

I gasp as the head of his cock presses against my entrance, heart fluttering wildly, and as he starts to slowly push inside, I panic. "Wait!" I call, reaching behind my back, searching for his hand. "Wait, wait, wait." I pant, anxiety thrashing in my chest as he freezes, holding completely still.

His hand closes over mine, fingers threading between my own and I squeeze tightly, trembling in place. "Not like this." I swallow hard, shaking my head. "Not—" Before I can finish speaking he has me on my feet, spun around and held against him, his cock pressing against my stomach as he spears his hand into my hair, guiding my eyes to his.

"Remi?" He asks seriously.

My lip shakes and a small, mortified sound escapes my throat. "I want to see you." I whisper. "The first time…I want to see you." I want to look into his eyes. I want to see the way his brows knit, the way his lips part in pleasure as he drives into me. I want him to see me and know it's me and no one else. I want all of him.

His gaze softens and he dips his head, kissing me softly, his movements slow and languid. It eases the pressure in my chest, the small part of me that thought speaking up might be a deal breaker, and when we part he reaches down and lifts me off my feet, carrying me in quick strides to the chair behind his desk.

"Tell me if you want to stop." He murmurs, pressing his lips to my cheek, my jaw, my throat.

My knees settle on either side of him and I hover in place for a moment, waiting for his eyes to return to mine once more. "I don't want to stop."

Slowly, I sink down on his cock, holding his gaze as I take inch after inch of him until I finally have to close my eyes, tipping my head back in rapture. "Gods, Xaden."

He exhales slowly and his voice is strained when he speaks again. "So tight, Remi." He murmurs, lips brushing my cheek. "So wet for me."

I moan, tipping my head into his neck as he jerks his hips up, pressing against all the right places. The stretch is just this side of too much and it's exquisite and entirely worth the wait. I reach around him, gripping the back of his chair as I lever myself up and drop back down again, squeezing my walls tight around his cock.

"Good girl," he praises, sliding his hands up my spine as he encourages me to move.

I blink my eyes open, kissing my way up his jaw, sucking a mark of ownership into his neck. I want everyone to know exactly what he's been up to in here—I want them to know he's taken. I lean back until I can see him properly—see every minuscule expression as I gyrate on his cock. "I've wanted this for so long." I gasp. "Wanted you."

He lifts a hand, brushing my hair from my eyes and the other palms my hip, encouraging me to move. "I know." He murmurs, shadows slipping free from his control. "I know everything, Remi. All your wants, your needs, everything." Wisps of black curl up around me, brushing my skin, disappearing beneath my clothes. "I'm just as fucking obsessed with you as you are with me." My stomach swoops.

"Are you—" I gasp, arching my spine as something cold brushes lightly against my clit. "Is—is that?" I can't even get the words out I'm so short of breath.

"Me." He whispers, thrusting harder. "All of me, all over you."

I groan, tipping my face back into his neck as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. I could interpret that very differently. "Do you want it harder, angel?" He murmurs, teeth nipping at my earlobe.

I nod furiously, panting as he snaps his hips up, pulling me down at the same time. "Please, Xade."

He sets a quick, unrelenting pace, slamming home inside me with the same desperation I feel, like he needs it—like he's a man starved. "You're so perfect, Rem." He praises, breath rattling out of him as his shadows circle my clit. They endless and determined just like him, slipping low beneath the neckline of my corset as he drives his cock into me over and over again.

"Are you going to come again for me?" He pants against my ear as I tighten around him. "Let me come inside you? Fill you up?"

"Yes, yes, yes—" The coil of pleasure building in my abdomen bursts and I cry out, holding on tight as fire floods my veins, nerve endings lighting up like a shooting star. "Xaden! Xaden—" I gasp and shudder, curling into him as he continues thrusting, chasing his own peak.

I'm so over-sensitised I can't help but whimper against his throat, my fingers tightening on his arms with every stroke. His thrusts grow less and less controlled as he hurtles toward the same cliff I'd just toppled over, and I clench down tight around him, sucking another mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck!" He curses, teeth lodging in my dragonscale armour as his hips give one final jerk and he spills inside me with a groan. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my cheek and I smile softly to myself, keeping my eyes down. "Gods." He rests his head on my shoulder, arms curling around me to hold me close, and I do the same to him, my heart swelling in my chest.

I lie my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he presses a kiss to the back of my neck. His breathing begins to even out, pulse slowing but I hold onto him just as tightly still, keeping him close.

My knees are beginning to ache and the width of his hips isn't exactly comfortable for mine, but I don't dare move, knowing the second I do this will be over and I'll have to face reality again—awkward, uncertain reality.

I'm just as obsessed with you as you are with me, he'd said—but is he really? That seems unlikely.

"Remi." He murmurs, his arms falling from my sides, and I bite down hard on the inside of my lip, throat tightening. "Angel, we can't stay like this." He chuckles.

"Yes we can." I murmur petulantly into his neck, not loosening my grip an inch.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes." He replies, hand firm in the centre of my spine, "and while I'm happy to work with my cock inside you, I don't share."

A barely audible sound of surprise lodges in my throat. "Share?" I ask quietly, a tendril of hope curling in my chest.

He tugs gently on my braid, encouraging me to lean back so our eyes can meet. "You're mine, Remi, and I don't share my things with anyone." He says sternly.

That kind of possessive alpha bullshit should not fly with me. If it were anyone else, I'd probably punch them square in the nose for their insolence and tell them I'm not an object, but he's not anyone else and for him…

"Yes, sir." I whisper, cheeks flushing, and he groans, hips stuttering below me as his body makes a valiant attempt at an encore.

"Remi!" He chides and my lips curl up in a smirk, emboldened.

"Was that enough for extra credit, Professor Riorson? Am I passing your class?"

"Fuck." He mutters, mostly to himself. "If anyone finds out—"

"I'm happy to warm your cock while you work," I murmur, "if you still think I need extra instruction."

"Remi!" He groans, lifting me off him completely. "You're going to be the death of me." I guess he wasn't kidding about having a meeting to go to.

He sets me on my feet and I stare up at him innocently, chewing on my lower lip. "I feel so empty without you inside—"

"For fuck's sake!" He curses, sending a shadow to curl around my mouth. I go to speak further, to taunt him again, and find the dark mass blocks all sound—I can't so much as whisper in his direction for as long as he can wield. I pout, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes.

"How important is this meeting?" I sign, hands moving rapidly in the air. "I'll be lonely without your—" Shadows zip forward, swirling around my wrists to lock them tight together, binding my hands.

He finishes buttoning his pants and folds his arms over his chest, staring at my half-naked form in the middle of his office, completely unimpressed. "I suppose insecure Remi is gone then?" He asks, striding forward to cup my jaw with his hand.

That scores a direct hit and I guess he somehow knows it, because his fingers gentle as they tip my chin up. "Torment me in public and you won't like the punishment."

I'm absolutely certain I will.

Almost as if he hears my thoughts, his eyes narrow and he scowls. "I promise you won't, angel. I'll bring you to the edge over and over again and leave you there, bound and desperate while I get myself off—every day until you've learned your lesson."

I swallow hard.

"Thought so." He hums. "But if you're good, I'll help you come—on my face, on my hand, on my cock…over and over and over again." Onyx eyes glitter. "It's your choice, baby."

Baby. The word hits me like a punch in the gut and my chest tightens. "I can be good." I blurt the second his shadows disappear. "I promise."

"Good girl." The hand around my jaw curls up and he drags me in, dipping his head to place a soft, reverent kiss on my lips. "Go clean up and I'll see you tonight, Cadet Sorrengail."

I breathe in deep, a small smile touching my lips as I reach for my pants, hands shaking with relief. "Ok." His hand skates over my back as I finish dressing and he guides me toward the door to his office.

"And Rem?" He calls, halting me when my hand is on the doorknob. "That technicality is bullshit—it's not flying with anyone in leadership and you know it, so for fuck's sake keep this to yourself until this posting is over."

I bare my teeth in a grin, a joyful laugh bubbling past my lips. "Whatever you say, sir."

Who knew academia could be this satisfying?

[gotta-winwin]

(🍓) 218 | vernon x reader x seokmin

cw/tw: angst, based on the song the waiting room by phoebe bridgers wc: 1.5k | genre: angst, fluff

a/n: another angsty birthday celebration...don't come for me <33

tysm to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta reading <33

There was something irrevocably beautiful about the way Vernon and Seokmin stared at you. Your classmates would often call it the effect of the sun: the two boys were just planets, worshiping the ground you walked on, happy to orbit the sun. 

When people called them ‘down bad’ and ‘simps,’ Seokmin would smile and take the title with pride, while Vernon quietly shook his head in the background, embarrassed but with no evidence to refute the name.

They were down bad and simps for you— even the most blind could tell, yet you seemed completely unaware of it all. 

“Let’s just give up,.” Vernon mumbled, after the hundredth attempt of getting your attention. “She’s never going to like the both of us anyways.”

Seokmin was less easily dissuaded. “So, you’re just going to give up?”

“We tried your method all throughout high school.” Vernon recalled their elaborate plan, a plan that eighth grade Seokmin had deemed ‘fool proof’ and ‘ingenious.’ 

Seokmin and Vernon’s plan to get the girl: 

Step 1: Sign up for theatre and band. (why? Because she’s in both clubs, duh.)

Step 2: Casually mention the fact that we watched Hamilton 5 times together (it’s her favourite musical)

Step 3: Offer to help her rehearse for her lines (and if we get a part together that’s even better)

Step 4: Ask her to hang out after clubs (and pray she says yes)

Step 5: Tell her you really, really like her. 

“And it didn’t work, it only got us into the friend zone.” 

Seokmin sighed because Vernon was right. “We can’t just give up, though.”

“We’re graduating university in two months, Seok.” Vernon spoke out the truth they had both been sitting on, too afraid to speak it into existence. They both knew they didn’t have enough luck to keep you here with them after graduation. 

“She wants to see the world.” Vernon continued. “She wants to visit Paris and Greece, and to sing in the Amphitheatre, write stories from all four corners of the world. She isn’t going to stay.” 

Seokmin hated it when Vernon was right. “Shut up.” He mumbled, finally setting down the bouquet of lilies he had been holding onto. 

“Hey.” Vernon picked a single lily and held it up to the light. “It’s not like I want to be right, you know. I love her too.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

Seokmin knew Vernon would eventually move on. His planet would enter some other orbit and start spinning happily for another sun. But Seokmin just wasn’t like that. When he loved, he loved with every piece of him: the past, the present, the future. 

You would be both their first loves, but you’d be Seokmin’s last. 

“I love you.” The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could even register them. 

“Vernon,” is all you said back. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know. I know.” Vernon knew the idea of the two of you was impossible, but he couldn’t help but be selfish. “But what if—”

You cut him off with a tiny shake of your head, pieces of your hair falling from where you’d clipped it. “The what-ifs will kill you, Nonnie.” 

Vernon knew that too. “I hate it when you’re right.” He mumbles, gently removing the clip from your hair and watching as you shake it out. 

“Me too.” Your lips pursed and Vernon fights the urge to kiss them. “But we can’t hurt Seok.” 

Vernon wanted to scream, cry, and throw something. “We can’t hurt Seok.” He agreed, bitterness hidden deep beneath his tight smile. 

“I love you too.” You said, squeezing his hand. “But—”

His chest clenched. “Yeah. I know.”

Sometimes, Vernon wished he had gotten to you first. 

Seokmin knew it was for the better, as he watched you walk across the stage at graduation. You held your head up high as you accepted your diploma, a bright smile across your face. He knew you were already thinking about your flight tomorrow, a plane that would take you out of the town you hated so much. 

He knew it was for the better, but it stung either way. 

“I can’t believe our schooling is just over.” You yell into his ear, trying to be heard above all the loud cheers and conversations after the ceremony. 

He shoots you a grin. “No more school sounds perfect to me.” 

You laugh, and the bitter sting shoots further, deeper. 

“I love you.” 

“What?” You yell it over the deafening cries of celebrating students. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He yells back, throwing an arm around your shoulder, ignoring how the words had sounded so perfect being said towards you. Ignoring how a part of him had expected you to reply. I love you too. 

He knew it was for the better. Your heart was set on brand new adventures that would leave him in the dust. Your dreams were too big, too grand for him—Seokmin had always known that. After all, goddesses were for admiring and not marriage. 

He knew it was for the better. 

“Don’t leave.” 

Vernon’s eyes beg at yours as he clutches onto your hand, feet away from the airport doors. “I love you.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know that.” 

Vernon fucking hated it when you were right. The both of you could love each other a hundred times over and still not have it work out. 

“I can’t stay.” You tell him, and a sense of deja vu washes over him. “And—”

“Seokmin.” He finishes your sentence. 

“Yeah.” 

“What if I said I didn’t care?” The words were brash and unthoughtful but he said them anyway.

You could always see through him like panes of glass. “You do care. He’s your best friend.” 

“But I love you. I’ll be the best you’ve ever had if you’d just let me.” 

He holds his breath when you pause at his words. Please. 

“I want to leave, Vernon.” The blunt words crash heavily against his heart. “You want to stay, and I want to leave.” 

“But you love me.” 

“I—” You shoot him a look he cannot decipher and you begin to walk away. “I’ll text you when I land.” 

But Vernon’s phone stays silent. 

Four years pass until the next time you see Vernon and Seokmin. They look older now, more put together and confident in their own skin. Seokmin shoots you his signature smile and Vernon nods in your direction. 

“Happy birthday.” You clink your glass gently against Vernon’s, ignoring how his eyes roamed across your face and your dress. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“Of course.” He opens his mouth to say more but Seokmin slides up from behind him. 

“Y/N!” His eyes danced with mirth and the wobble in his step betrayed how tipsy he was. “You’re here!”

“Happy birthday, Minnie.” 

Vernon watches as Seokmin loops his arm into yours, dragging you onto the dance floor and into the crowd. He leans against the side of the bar, swirling his drink and watching as it spirals in his cup. 

He swears he’s doing his best, trying to think about you in a casual, friendship-like way, but Vernon can’t help but see you and immediately think about everything you could’ve had together. His mind spelt out I love you without any hesitation and it took everything in him to swallow the words back down. 

Seokmin had once told him that he would get over her faster than he could. “You’ll find someone else,” Seokmin had said. “You’ll fall in love many times over but she’ll always be the only one for me.” 

Vernon had believed him then, but he knew Seokmin was wrong now. 

After all, he could wish all that he wanted and it wouldn’t bring you any closer to him. 

So Vernon would invite you to all his birthday parties, if only as an excuse to keep you within arms reach. 

Seokmin still remembers the day he first laid eyes on you. He could recall it like that one recurring dream. 

“I’m Y/N.” You had yelled at him, over the loud speakers of the karaoke booth at him and Vernon’s 12th birthday party.

He had glanced down at your painted nails when the two of you shook hands, liking how the maroon red complimented your skin. 

“I’m Seokmin. It’s nice to meet you.” He yelled back, laughing when Vernon’s voice cracked while singing in the background. “You should come sing with us!” 

You glowed under the disco lights as he pulled you up on stage, handing you the second microphone and bumping up against Vernon. 

The two of them watched you belt out a messy rendition of Lady Gaga’s Poker Face and Seokmin knew he was in love. 

“I should go.” You peel yourself out of Seokmin’s arms on the sweaty dance floor. “Happy birthday. Tell Vernon I’m sorry I have to leave.” 

Seokmin nods. He’s used to it by now. Sometimes he thinks he sees more of your back, walking away from him than he sees your face. 

Seokmin watches you walk away, all the while repeating to himself that it’s all for the better. 

Vernon watches Seokmin watch you walk away, a bitter storm raging in the pits of his stomach, yet he pushes it down in the name of ‘it’s all for the better.’ 

And you walk away, slowly, your steps deliberate, pretending like you don’t feel their eyes watching you leave. You know it’s for the better.

After all, who are you to wish for more?

[mcpheever]

Katharine McPhee arrived at the 2008 MTV Movie Awards at the Gibson Amphitheatre on June 1, 2008 in Universal City, California. 

[90sd0ll]

Duff McKagan and then partner, Mandy Brixx at the 1989 MTV Video Music Awards, held at the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, California on September 6th, 1989 - 💋

📷; credit to Vinnie Zuffante/Getty Images !

[greeneyed-thestral]

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

tags: angst, fluff in ending, dancer Hyunjin, non-idol!au, college au, swearing

summary: Being in the coveted dance team of the university was no small feat. After being in the team for a whole year, you find yourself about to participate in a prestigious inter-college competition for Duet performance with none other than the college IT boy and dance team captain- Hyunjin. You'd spent one year suppressing your big fat crush on the charming boy, but now that you find yourself dancing in his arms, he just might paint you golden.

wordcount: 6.4k

Note: This can be read as a one-shot but I was kind of expanding on the universe from the Lee Know oneshot Mr Gorgeous.

masterlist

Let me know your thoughts and feedback.

It was a nice Sunday morning and like every college student, all you wanted to do was sleep in. But unlike every student, you’re part of the university dance team. From the outside looking in, it was the most glamorous group to be a part of. Being a part of the team inherently gave you the highest social status on campus. You got special exemptions from certain tests and even privileges for missing mandatory events.

Little did they know that all the shine comes with a mountain of hard work. Getting into the dance team itself was a major task lasting 5 entire rounds of selections in multiple genres, solo and group showcase. And once you make it, there is no room for complacency. The team did at least three performances a month- in-house and external. So the only constant in your lives was practice sessions, assignments and sleepless nights.

For being the most desired group on campus, the dance team never got the time to do any of the popular kid things, apart from the validation itself. Except for the dance team co-captain, of course. Hwang Hyunjin will not let busy schedules and tiring practices stop him from being the campus IT boy. Nobody, literally nobody, is privy to his charms.

Including you.

Despite a lifetime of training in dance, the primary reason you tried out for the dance team was Hyunjin. You still remember the goosebumps on your skin and the way your jaw was on the floor the entire time he was on stage. On the day of your freshman orientation a year ago, you had joined hundreds gathered in the amphitheatre to see the dance team perform. The then sophomore, Hyunjin along with his friend Lino (Lee Minho), had been the stars of the show. The entire team, including the charming ex-captain- Chris, were immaculate. The performance was so power-packed mixed with equal parts grace and emotions. While the boys had done a hip-hop rendition, the girls had taken a contemporary approach. The two eventually collided to meet in the modern-pop genre for the finale. You decided then to join the dance team, so you did a few months later.

Although you should’ve decided against harbouring a huge crush on said It-boy. In the first two shows after making the team, you were nothing but a blubbering mess. It took all of your conscious energy to not stammer every time he so much as looked at you. Ultimately, you mellowed down, or maybe the reality of seeing Hyunjin woo more than half the campus with his charms and leave a trail of broken hearts got to you.

You still respected him as a dancer, it’s hard not to when he oozes power, grace and sometimes the literal demon while dancing. His on-stage persona was almost entirely different from the idiot who runs around pissing off his Co-captain Minho, or constantly trying to borderline harass the newest and youngest addition to the team- Jeongin.

Your phone alarm starts ringing bringing you back to reality- Sunday morning rehearsal. You silence it before it disturbs your roommates’ precious sleep. Trying your best to tiptoe your way around the dorm room, getting ready and after grabbing a granola bar from your desk, you make your way to the practice room.

On the way you meet your favourite person on the team- Felix (truth be told he’s everyone’s favourite).

“Hii Y/n.” He waves furiously giggling as he walks up to you.

“Hi Felix” you giggle back, simply because it’s impossible not to get affected by his infectious joy.

“How are you so cheerful at 6:30 AM?” You ask as he gives you a side hug. He just shrugs and skips alongside you to the practice room. You let out a little laugh at the little ball of sunshine that is Felix as he starts animatedly telling you random stories.

The practice room is in shambles. You and Felix exchange a flabbergasted look at each other and look around the room again. Everyone is crowded in the centre and talking over one another.

“Y/N! Come here. Fast.” You hear your Sumi, your teammate, call from somewhere amidst the chaos. When the team starts noticing you enter the room, they fall silent. They move back from crowding in the centre and you realise all eyes are switching between you and Sumi who is holding a paper in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

Sumi gulps and hands over the paper to you.

Inter-College Dance Competition Category: Duet Participants: Hyunjin and Y/N

Shit. Holy shit.

“Morning guys.”

The voice startled you. You whip your head to see Hyunjin enter the room, his duffel bag on his shoulder, clothes crumpled, and hair in a messy bun. Yet he looked ethereal.

He looks at you and smiles. “Oh Y/n, you’ve heard the news. Good, we can get down to the details then.”

Details? What details? Oh, right dance.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” You finally manage with a nod.

“Alright guys let's start, we’ll do a couple run-throughs till noon, take a break and convene here at 4:30pm to get ready for the show. Finally, we go up there and rock the crowd. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone cheers and you nod, still processing the fact that you had been chosen to dance a duet with Hyunjin. Not just any performance but the biggest inter-college competition in the state. With Hyunjin. A duet. You. And Hyunjin. Good god it’s going to be a ride.

The team goes into a practised routine of rehearsals, chaos, more rehearsals and even more chaos.

At 1 PM you’re glad you can finally rest for a few hours before the performance. The evening rolls in, and you head to the green room. One by one, the girls start getting ready and the green room is already chaotic but becomes a full-blown circus once the boys crowd in.

From your place, you watch as Hyunjin hugs Jeongin so tight that the poor junior looks like he could die. Lino is sitting in his favourite corner (he has one everywhere he goes), cuddled up with his girlfriend- man has been the biggest simp since they got together a month ago. Felix is going around giving everyone motivation and cheering them up- typical Felix. He hugs you so tight and warm, you can feel the nerves physically leave you. Then there’s Yeji and Lia, discussing choreo parts with Sumi and others. The air in here is infectious, everyone is equal parts excited and nervous.

The performance goes by in a whizz, the adrenaline rushing through your entire body as you stand on stage witnessing your friends, classmates, seniors and juniors in the crowds enjoying the performance.

You feel alive.

Afterwards, you change out of the costume into your sweats and meet all your classmates who had come backstage to support you. The gratitude that fills your chest leaves you emotional.

You give Jeongin a tight hug, congratulating him on his official performance as part of the team. Even if he hates the hug, he gracefully accepts it and smiles wide. You were very entirely endeared by his cuteness- everyone was. Specifically his super fan Hyunjin.

Think of the devil and watch as he walks to where you and Jeongin are. Even though you squished down your tiny crush, you've always felt nervous around him- simply because he is Hwang Hyunjin. Now the impending performance and the sheer idea of having to spend weeks practising with Hyunjin- one on one, is doing no help to your nerves.

"Jeonginahhhhh," he squeals and you step back as he hugs the younger member. Jeongin tries his best to smile and endure it but fails, making you crack up.

"Hi Y/N," Hyunjin says, finally letting the younger one go free finally and turning to you.

"Hey, Hyunjin. Amazing performance." You manage to say, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

"Thanks. You did well too." He flashes his smile, his fringe falling to his face and his eye twinkling as his cheeks light up.

There goes any attempt of calming your nerves.

Hyunjin continues to shower Jeongin with compliments, rightfully so, and you watch how he looks carefree and young as the latter is glowing in pride and embarrassment.

Right as you turn to take your leave, Hyujin calls your name.

"Yeah?"

"We need to discuss the performance, when can we meet about that?"

The frown on your face turns up before you realise it and he laughs.

"I get it. I need a break too. Maybe we can meet on Friday evening?"

"Yeah, sure. That works for me."

"It's a date."

A what?

But before you can mull over what he meant, your friends drag you out of the green room to celebrate. You were glad for the welcome distraction. Especially watching Seungmin and Yumi constantly fight over everything as you and Jisung sit there laughing at their antics.

----------

"Y/n, You can do this! It is just dancing. You've been doing this your whole life. Well, not dancing with Hyunjin, but the semantics don't matter. You can still do this. It is just called a duet, maybe the two of you will not even be on stage at the same time. Hyunjin is a busy guy, he might just ask you to do your own choreo for your part. Y/n, I know you're gonna sla-"

"Y/n, I will MURDER you if you don't get out of the bathroom right fucking now."

Yumi's voice breaks you out of the pep-talk you were giving yourself in the bathroom mirror. You give yourself one final thumbs up and head out to see a fuming Yumi standing on the other side.

She grunts like a wounded dog and you giggle as you hug her in apology.

"Sorry. Anyways, I'm heading out now. Haffun." You pick up your bags and start walking toward the dorm room door.

"I will. All the best for your meeting. And Y/n?" You hum looking at her.

"It'll be alright, don't stress out too much." You nod appreciatively and wave as you head out.

The whole way to the practice room, you keep repeating the pep-talk to yourself. You've spent a good amount of time in the last four days telling yourself that the date comment is just a habit for the pro-charmer Hyunjin and it means nothing. You might've also spent a good few hours warning yourself not to develop any embarrassing feelings for him.

When you enter the practice room, you see Hyunjin, Yeji and Minho sitting in a corner discussing something. As the only seniors in the group, they make all the logistical and creative decisions for the team. Minho spots you first, smiling politely and Yeji follows suit. Hyunjin nods in your direction as the three of them start to pack up.

Yeji and Minho make small talk with you before leaving and you're left alone with Hyunjin. He sits down in the centre of the room, in front of the full-length mirror, and ties his shoes as you walk toward him. He's in his usual sweats and hair tied in a half-up bun.

"Hi." You mutter as you sit down next to him.

"Hello. Had a nice break?" He smiles and you nod.

"Yeah, slept like a pig. What about you?"

"Meh, I mean I got a break from the dancing but still... senior year you know. I'm just perpetually tired." He does look tired and you nod sympathetically.

"Well, I'm sure you'll fare better than me as a senior next year." He says with a smile, sounding sincere and it takes everything in you not to blush.

So much for no embarrassing feelings.

"Oh, sure. Don't downplay your achievements. No one could lead this team the way you do." You were speaking the facts but seeing him smile wide and bright made your stomach flip.

"Aye you don't need to butter me up anymore, you got the part in the biggest competition now."

"Hey, I wasn't trying to butter you up." You feign mock offence.

"Okay, I believe you. Anyway, let's start with the concept."

Please say anything except sexy or love.

"So the concept is love- more like finding your way back to love. So I thought we would do something where estranged exes find their way back to each other kind of."

Big time fuck.

You nod and smile as you process his words and what this might mean for said embarrassing feelings (which you will not harbour). You decide to be a professional and only focus on dancing.

"Yeah, that sounds cool. Do you have any choreo already planned?"

"Yeah." He pulls up his laptop from his bag and shows a video. Hyunjin and Yeji are dancing in the video, the dance is… touchy to say the least. You refuse to acknowledge the churning in your stomach as you see the two of them dance closely.

The dance is split into three parts- starting with solos expressing the regret and anger that both parties have, proceeding to a mirroring sequence where their anguish aligns and finally, the slow dance symbolising the happy ending.

Once the dance ends you stare at the blank screen for a minute before turning to see that Hyunjin is expectantly staring at you.

“So?” He asks with raised eyebrows and a small smile playing on his lips.

“Umm it’s amazing. As usual.” He smiles and waves away the compliment.

“I have one doubt though, why didn’t Yeji and you perform this?” Your voice comes out low and quiet. A part of you hopes your question doesn't make him rethink and choose Yeji instead- for dance, of course.

He shakes his head sidewise, a shy smile on his face. "It didn't feel right."

"Oh."

"Alright, so I can start teaching you the common parts and we can modify according to our needs as we go. I'll leave the solo to you. Okay?"

"Yeah cool."

Lord knows how this is going to end.

----------

"Hyunjin, let's do this once more and then we'll move on to the next part." You reprimand a whining Hyunjin, lying face-first on the practice room floor. It's the fourth day of practice sessions and both of you are running out of fuel quickly.

"Y/n, you're doing good. Let's just take a break and start with the slow dance part." He whines turning to face you with a pout.

You want to give in to his antics but you hold your stand. Partly because it is a mirroring dance and you desperately want to be completely in sync with Hyunjin (the man dances like he is the god of dance). Another part because you wanted to delay the thought of starting the next section of the performance because the thought of being close to Hyunjin and doing the slow-contemporary dance section made your legs turn to slime.

"No. I just want to perfect this. Just onceeee. Then we can take a break, and start the- the other part." You flash him your best puppy-dog face and he sighs as he gets up from the floor.

"Alright let's do this but I don't know what you are worrying about, you're perfect already."

Cue embarrassing butterflies and feelings you definitely do not feel.

And like clockwork, the two of you start moving according to the beat. You had watched Hyunjin's every minuscule movement and so had he. Now you are in so much sync that the perfectionist in both of you is almost entirely satiated.

"Okay... that was brilliant Y/n. Please let's take a break and start learning the next part." He says taking deep breaths and chugging water. You can barely nod as you catch your breath.

The next hour is spent eating the dinner you ordered a while back, reviewing the latest run and the choreography video.

"What are you thinking for the solo part?" He asks between bites and you have to admit he looks cute with his cheeks filled as he chews and frowns as he enjoys the food.

"I'm thinking of sticking to my roots- just contemporary."

"Oh that's good. You're good at contemporary."

"I- Thanks." He smiles.

"You should do something similar to your audition performance."

You nod involuntarily and then his words sink in. "You remember that?"

"Yeah, I do. It was an amazing performance Y/N. I'm sure everyone remembers it." You scoff and he raises an eyebrow.

"Minho asked me if I am new, last month."

He laughs. "No no, that's just his messed up humour sense. But anyways, I speak for myself when I say it's hard to forget such a good performance. And you."

You end up swallowing a big bite of your burger and start to choke as he just smiles and hands you the water bottle. Before you can say anything, he is up for the next part.

It starts fine, the two of you slowly moving toward each other with each step- from mirroring each other to reaching out. Then comes the trickier part. It starts with your hands brushing, the two of you circling around the other, looking into each other. Obviously, you look anywhere but his face. Because staring into those eyes will not do anything good for you. He doesn't say anything if he notices the little flinches or lack of eye contact.

The two of you keep practising the moves over and over until both of you are satisfied with the flow. Now it is becoming increasingly hard for you to focus on these details. Especially considering how your heart is beating in your ears with every step the two of you take.

He needs to hold your hand and move it in a curve while his other hand is on your hip. And it gets worse, as the following step requires you to turn and face him, your hands on his neck, his on your hips as you bend away and come back to his embrace. He suggests going over each movement slowly and it worsens your plight. You hear his voice from a distance as you do your best not to stare at his lips that are inches away. You can see that he is saying something and you find yourself nodding along. You do the step according to his counts and return to his embrace.

This is when you do the mistake of looking up at his face, he is staring down at you too. You see the black fringes that have escaped the bun, sticking to the corners of his face. His forehead is lined with beads of sweat, thin darkened eyes, and plump lips slightly apart. The clock ticks somewhere but neither of you seems to realise, until eventually, you snap back into sense- the inherent panic of feelings stirring in your stomach.

You step back and look at your feet, he stays still and starts fidgeting with his hands.

"I- Um... It's almost 10. I- I should head back." You stammer, slowly looking at him. He looks at you for a second and nods. You nod and start collecting your things.

"Do you want me to walk you back?" And thud goes your water bottle, slipping from your hands- entirely due to your clumsiness and nothing to do with butterflies, of course.

"Uh no not necessary. It's just a 5 min walk." You hope he looks disappointed but hope is a dangerous game for a fool trying to live in denial.

"Ok. Bye." He turns to his bag before you can say your bye and that's that.

------

"Two days. That's all we have for the performance! And this is when Hyunjin decides he can just go galivanting about and not show up to practice." You groan to yourself, standing in front of the full-length mirror in the practice room.

The last two weeks of practice have been a lot less eventful compared to the first. After the first day of doing the slow dance, things shifted between Hyunjin and you. Both of you became more distant and closer, at the same time. Some days you bickered like childhood besties, and on others, both of you walked around each other on eggshells. He often showed up to morning practice with crumpled clothes and messed up hair and your heart would drop to your stomach realising he must've spent the night with someone else. You would immediately reprimand yourself for making assumptions just to get your feelings in check.

And yet here you were, mind running in a million different directions as you figure he could be with anybody right now, while you sit in the musty old practice room at 7pm on a Saturday evening. These thoughts never helped, so you resort to your comfort zone- dancing.

And for the third time that evening, you go over your solo part and the rest of the dance. You are tired of dancing the same things so you start freestyling to your favourite tracks. Dancing always made you feel good, especially when you poured all your emotions out through your body. You lost yourself to the song, letting the beat and your body carry you away.

That's how you fail to notice Hyunjin's arrival until you get startled by the loud claps coming from the door. You whip your head around to see him standing with his go-to sweatshirt, duffel bag and hair in a bun. He is smiling wide, the kind that made his eyes small and cheeks full.

"Y/N, that was sooo goood. I've never seen you move like that till now. That was amazing, really!"

This boy made it so hard to live in denial with his charm, kind words and that smile. And that's why you can do nothing but smile and giggle like a little girl as you mutter a small thanks.

"Sorry, I got caught up in work. Have you been waiting long?" You watch as he puts his bag down and starts stretching and you see that his sweatshirt is inside out, and his hair is messier than you've ever seen. Here's the thing about this boy- he goes around breaking hearts without intending to. And here's the thing about unrequited crushes- you become somewhat of an Agatha Christie, just connecting all the randomest dots just to make up reasons to let your heart down again, it's almost a masochistic need. Logically, you knew better than to assume messy clothes meant anything of significance. But as a woman on a mission to prevent herself from falling deeper, you would grip onto anything that provides an anchor for your heart- even if it means you end up breaking your heart anyway.

And which is why you blurt out, "Why do you care if I wait... I'm sure you have better people to attend to anyway."

The piercing tone of your voice makes Hyunjin stop in his tracks and look at you through the mirror. The room is dead silent as you pick apart the skin in your cuticles in an attempt to keep the tears from falling and your heart from breaking further. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the all too familiar feeling of heartache that comes with unrequited love, but the shell you had so carefully maintained had come crashing down.

"Wha- What are you saying?" His voice comes soft and nervous. You do the mistake of looking up, through the mirror. You scoff and swallow the tears back, "No, nothing. I just- forget it. Let's practice."

"Are you sure? You just said something abou-"

"Can we just practice once and get over with this. I'm exhausted." You snap.

He just nods and proceeds to start the music. You don't look at him, not even during the mirroring sequence, he huffs a little too loudly at that. The run-through itself goes smoothly, until the last sequence. It's hard to do a romantic slow dance when you refuse to meet his eyes and keep flinching every time he touches you. Still, both of you push through. You get out of his clutches the second the song ends and start to pack your things.

"Y/N, why are you already packing?"

This boy makes it very hard not to get unreasonably angry at him because he doesn't let you hate him.

"It's almost 9 pm Hyunijn. I have been here since 6, I'm tired." He just nods and stays silent. You gather your things, throw your bag on your shoulder and leave. If he realises that this is the first time in two weeks you didn't wave or say bye enthusiastically like you usually do, he doesn't show it. If he realises that this is the first time in two weeks that he hasn't asked to walk you back to your dorm and you refused the offer like you usually do, he doesn't show it. The walk back to the dorm feels a lot heavier for the first time.

The next day is nothing short of a struggle, your eyes burning due to the incessant crying from the previous night, mind spinning everywhere and body weak. You were ashamed to have let your feelings mess you up so bad. Usually, you'd be extra careful to eat more and rest well during practice and performance times. This is probably the first time that you show up to the dress rehearsal with big bags beneath your eyes and feeling like a mess. It's not your first unrequited heartbreak, just the first time it feels this heavy and lonely.

The rehearsal is sullen- neither you nor Hyunjin makes any effort to talk. The tension in the air gets to the audiences for the day- Minho, Felix and Yeji. They exchange looks and try their best to engage both of you in some kind of conversation- it doesn't work. You put on the outfit and it makes you look decent despite your haggard state. The salt in the wound is how gorgeous Hyunjin looks in his outfit- not surprising, but still annoying considering he walked in looking downright homeless and sleep-deprived. The outfit doesn't hide the state of his face, yet he looks gorgeous. A week earlier both of you had been so excited to see the outfits, you even had hopes of Hyunjin finally seeing what is in front of his eyes. Yeah, stupid embarrassing feelings.

There are two full run-throughs, and the emotions until the last part is so enthralling to the audience. The three watching can see the tension flash as the two of you do your best to avoid each other's eyes and finish the dance. They don't press much, you're thankful for that. Getting out of the outfit, ready to head back to the dorm, you step out of the door only to find Hyunjin standing there- back in his oversized sweatshirt, messy hair and sullen expression. He always looked a lot younger and innocent when he wasn't performing, and you liked that about him- until now.

"Y/N, can I walk you to your dorm?" His voice quivers and he looks like an actual wounded puppy.

"Not needed." You avoid his gaze to evade giving in and walk away before he can retaliate. You always refused his offer knowing it was just another steep step right into disaster- as if the one already caused wasn't enough. You've also seen him pull the same gentlemanly moves with girls and boys across the campus and watch the poor suckers fall for him only to get burnt. Even after trying your best, you got burnt, you didn't need more reason.

------

"Y/N, can we just talk once before going on stage please," Hyunjin begs from the driver's seat. He is driving the two of you to the competition and the minute you sit down he says this.

"Let's just go. I have a headache." It wasn't a lie, but it felt bad rejecting him that way. The rest of the drive is silent, save for the faint music coming from the radio- which was annoyingly filled with love songs. After an hour's drive, you both arrive at the location. the entire place is filled with students from multiple universities across the state, all excited and dressed up, except for the two of you. You hate yourself for making this hard for both of you, especially when he did nothing actually wrong.

Stupid feelings.

"Stop fidgeting with your nails." Hyunjin snaps at you. He is sitting next to you in the green room- looking ethereal with makeup and costume on.

"I'm trying." You grunt back. There are ten minutes left for the performance and both of you are getting increasingly agitated.

"I'll help," is all he says before taking your hand in his and caging it there as looks toward the side of the stage. You try to protest but he clutches your hand pretty firmly.

"I won't burn you, stop squirming." His words effectively shut you up. You try to numb the feelings arising from his touch. You almost manage to do it until you realise he is rubbing circles around your palm. You're simultaneously calming down and getting more worked up. But he does manage to distract you till it's go-time. He gives you a small genuine smile and you nod, almost letting the tears fall. His face deflates but he immediately collects himself and goes into performance mode.

The music begins, you look out into the crowd, the nerves turn to excitement, and you feel alive. Hyunjin's solo leaves the crowd in awe. The audience goes wild during the mirroring sequence. But all the sound starts draining out as you move closer to him. You look at him, he looks at you, and your hands intertwine. The both of you move according to the beat- the only thing that exists right now is the music, Hyunjin and you. For the next minute he's yours and you're his. No one needs to know, the world could divide you later but for now, this was your sacred oasis.

A tear rolls down your cheek, and he reaches to brush it off in sync with the beat. His eyes sparkle, and there are a million emotions behind them. You want to hold on, you want to dance with him as long as you can. Both of you are in the tightest embrace you've ever been in, with shallow breaths, wet eyes and a big lump in your throat. The applause makes you break and look at the audience.

Neither of you speaks as you wait backstage for the last performance. You look everywhere but at him, trying to be as discreet as possible while rubbing the tears off your face. Eventually, all contestants are called up on stage. Hyunjin and you stand shoulder to shoulder, his palm brushing against yours but never reaching to hold on. The third and second places have been announced, the room is pulsing with tension and yet all you can think about is the man on your right.

You faintly hear your name, along with Hyunjin's, and it takes two seconds to realize that you've won the competition. What should've been the highest of highs of your life feels anti-climatic. You look up at him, both of you are smiling wide with teary eyes. You bear tears of fear and heartache, while he is probably teary-eyed on achieving this prestigious prize. The two of you collect the prize, congratulate fellow participants, and socialise with the other people there with practised smiles.

After an exhausting hour, the two of you are back in Hyunjin's car, still in outfits and makeup. He drives silently and you close your eyes fearing the tears will fall down otherwise. The car halts a while later as you've reached the campus. Both of you collect your things, take the cup and medal you won to the practice room and change out of the costumes.

Just as you turn to leave the room and head back to the dorms, he stops you with a hand on his wrist. You turn to question him but he doesn't look at you. He's locking the door with one hand as he holds on to you with the other. You roll your eyes.

"Hyunjin let me go."

He turns, now done with the lock, and starts walking forward as he drags you with him.

"Let me go, Hyunjin. I'm serious." He keeps walking, and you follow, until you've reached a room that looks like a storage room. He stops in front of the door and still doesn't let go of your hand. You're too confused to say anything although your head is buzzing with a million questions.

"When someone asks to walk you back, you should let them."

"Huh?" He turns to look at you, eyes dark and serious. He hasn't taken his makeup yet and he looks positively dangerous if not enthralling.

"I said, stop refusing when I ask to walk you back." His words are sharp and his voice is low.

"Why? What does that change?" The sting in your eye returns, you can't bare to look at him so you turn away.

But he holds your chin in his palm, the one that isn't holding your hand, and turns you to face him. "Y/N, I don't understand what I did wrong. Just please tell me, I'll do anything to make you happy."

"Why? Why do you want to make me happy? So that you can break my heart like you break everyone else's?" He looks shocked and the tears are now flowing desperately from your eyes.

"What are you even saying?"

"Hyunjin stop pretending... everyone knows that you just charm people and sleep around. Actually, it's not even your fault. I'm the idiot who knew all this and still let myself fall for you." You can feel your heart disintegrate and sincerely wish he'd let you go so that you can go hide in the comfort of your bed.

"What the fuck Y/N? Just 'cuz people say something doesn't make it true. I don't just go around flirting and sleeping with people." He's angry and you can hear it. You know he has the right to be but can't help your emotions. He is still holding your hand despite his anger, you note.

"Then where do you disappear off to every night? And why do you always show up in dishevelled clothes and messed up hair?" You sound stupid, now that the words are out of your mouth, but then no fool in love ever remains sane.

He sighs and throws his head back in frustration.

"You idiot. That- that's not because I'm fucking someone every night. It's- I go to.."

"To what Hyunjin?" Your patience is running low and he looks nervous.

He sighs. Letting your hand go, he opens the door to the storage room and turns the light on. It is an art studio, filled with paintings upon paintings. You turn to Hyunjin, more confused than before.

"This is my makeshift studio. A gallery owner has signed me on as the artist for their upcoming exhibition. I'm trying to get stuff done for that. It's next week. That's why I am always late to practice and why I look 'dishevelled'." He says quietly, with air quotes and a desperate tone in his voice.

"What?" To say you're surprised would be an understatement. You know he is an art major and that he paints, but all of this is new information. You look around the room once more, there are various kinds of paintings- places, flowers and even people.

"Yeah. I've been trying to show you my work for weeks now, that's why I keep asking to walk you back. I have always wanted to show you my work but didn't get the courage to talk to you personally till the practice." He looks nervous and his mouth forms into a pout. You just let out a laugh as more tears roll down your cheeks at the relief. "Why are you still crying?" He asks slowly as he wipes the tears away and you just laugh.

"So... you're not with someone else?"

He smiles now and shakes his head. "But I want to be..." Your eyes widen and the lump in your throat that was finally starting to dissolve comes back in full force. Seeing your face he starts to laugh.

He faces you, letting go of your hand to hold your face in both of his hands and leaning toward you. Your heart is beating in your chest.

"Dummy, it is you I like. Don't know how or when, but yeah..."

It appears that the act of having someone reciprocate our feelings can be perceived as rather endearing rather than embarrassing.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks slowly, his voice dangerously low.

"How are you so sure I like you back?"

He smirks at you and rolls his tongue in his inner cheek.

"Hmm... let's see how. You just acted like a crazy idiot for a week and told me it is because you thought I was fucking other people." Your face burns up in embarrassment as his smirk turns into a full smile. "Also, you get so extremely flustered every time I come close to you and your face is all red and cute, just like right now."

You close your eyes shut tight at his words, ready to combust.

"I didn't do a good job keeping my crush in control at all huh." You manage to say, slowly opening your eyes to see him smiling brightly.

"Absolutely not." The both of you laugh, he pulls your face closer and you hold onto his waist for balance. The lump of anxiety in your throat has turned into a plethora of butterflies.

"So can I kiss you or do you just want to keep staring at my lips like you do every time we dance."

"Oh shut up, Hyunjin."

He laughs and leans in but pulls back at the last minute. You let out a whine in protest.

"I- I just wanted to confirm, I like you and want to date you. Only you. Is that clear?" You just nod, breaking into a smile so big your jaw hurts.

"Also you might be the muse of my paintings."

"What? How many?"

He looks shy. "One?" You raise your eyebrows. "Okay, five."

"Hyunjin wha-"

You never get to finish the sentence as he takes your mouth in his and you've never loved rude interruptions before. Seems like wouldn't mind anything as long as you get to hold and be held by Hyunjin and dance with him through a thousand storms.

[lostinhistory]

Heritage News of the Week

Discoveries!

Archaeologists in Egypt have discovered the 3,200-year-old tomb of a possible military commander who may have served during the reign of Ramesses III. Inside the man's tomb, archaeologists found a gold ring containing the name of Ramesses III, along with bronze arrowheads.

2,200-year-old shackles discovered at ancient Egyptian gold mine

Two sets of iron ankle shackles found at an archaeological site in Egypt are revealing the "significant human cost" of gold mining undertaken to fund Ptolemy I's military campaigns, according to new research.

Rare Viking-era bracelet uncovered on Öland

The bracelet is extremely well-preserved due to the oxygen-poor environment of the wetland which helped prevent corrosion. Both ends of the bracelet depict animal heads and the length is decorated with intricate rows of dots.

Ancient sculptures didn’t just look good—they also smelled heavenly, study finds

New research suggests statues were scented with perfumes, oils, and flower arrangements.

Roman water conduit exposed beneath Slovak castle

Archaeologists from Trnava University were baffled by a discovery they made while working at Rusovce Manor House outside of Bratislava.

Archaeologists unearth burials from the Schmalkaldic War

Archaeologists from the Bavarian State Office for Monument Preservation have unearthed burials from the Schmalkaldic War that correspond to details in a 1551 historical painting.

Archaeologists make several major discoveries in ancient Liternum

Recent excavations under the Superintendency for the Metropolitan Area of Naples have been focusing a study on the city’s necropolis, located a short distance from the Forum and Amphitheatre.

Ancient well dating back to 7th century AD discovered on Failaka Island

An ancient well, dating back to the pre-Islamic and early Islamic periods, has been discovered on Failaka Island, providing valuable insights into the region’s past.

Smallest human relative ever found may have been devoured by a leopard 2 million years ago

The left hip and leg bones from a young female Paranthropus robustus discovered in South Africa show she was extremely short — and ended up as a leopard's lunch.

Large mammoth bone discovery in Lower Austria

Archaeologists from the Austrian Academy of Sciences (ÖAW) have uncovered the remains of at least five mammoths during excavations in Langmannersdorf an der Perschling, located in the Austrian state of Lower Austria.

Researchers define the borders of El Argar, the first state-society in the Iberian Peninsula

Recent research conducted by scholars from the Autonomous University of Barcelona and the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology has identified the economic and political boundaries that delineated El Argar, the first state structure in the Iberian Peninsula, approximately 4,000 years ago.

Bulgar-Golden Horde period complex discovered in Alekseevsky

Excavations in preparation for the construction of a highway project has revealed two burial grounds and a settlement dating from the 10th–14th centuries AD.

European hunter-gatherers boated to North Africa during Stone Age, ancient DNA suggests

DNA recovered from archaeological remains of ancient humans who lived in what is now Tunisia and northeastern Algeria reveals that European hunter-gatherers may have visited North Africa by boat around 8,500 years ago.

Rare Roman-era columbariums discovered in Şanlıurfa

Rare Roman-era columbariums were discovered in Senem Caves in the Haliliye district and in the garden of a citizen in Bozova.

“Structurally sound” historic vessels discovered beneath fishpond

Preliminary studies indicate that both vessels remain structurally sound. However, archaeologists are still analysing the construction materials to determine the age and type of wood used.

5,000-year-old fortress discovered in Romania using LiDAR technology

The fortress, obscured by centuries of dense vegetation, was mapped with precision using drones equipped with LiDAR, which emits laser pulses to create high-resolution terrain models.

“Pompeian Gray” discovered in Pompeii excavations: a unique color in the Roman world

A recent study published in the Journal of Archaeological Science has revealed the discovery of a new color in the chromatic repertoire of the Roman world: Pompeian Gray.

Museums

The gift from Bloomberg Philanthropies is the largest private donation and largest archive of archaeological material given to the museum to date. The artefacts were discovered during construction of Bloomberg's European headquarters in the City of London between 2012 and 2014.

Anti-plague amulets and IOUs: the excavation that brings Roman London thundering back to life

With sandals that look fresher than last year’s Birkenstocks, gossipy messages recovered from writing tablets and 73,000 shards of pottery, London Museum’s new collection is like falling head-first into the first century

Victorian museum opens 'calm space' for visitors

The Sunflower Room at Blists Hill Victorian Town in Telford has been created for people with special educational needs and disabilities, health conditions, and parents who need to breastfeed or bottle-feed children in a quiet place.

National Trust freezes recruitment after £10m jump in costs

The National Trust has frozen all but essential recruitment and is pausing some projects as it faces a £10m jump in labour costs this year as a result of higher employment costs stemming from last autumn’s budget.

The secret life of LA’s small museums

With a fair dose of whimsy, Also on View draws attention to museums off the beaten track, centering the region’s rich diasporic fabric and cultural niches.

British Museum tops UK attractions list, but the effects of the pandemic still linger on

Official figures have revealed that the British Museum was – for the second year in a row – the UK’s most-visited attraction in 2024. While visitor numbers for cultural attractions are rising, however, the sector remains fragile.

In the Trump era, the UK sector’s commitments to equity and inclusion risk being quietly eroded

Museums must not allow the wider political context to undo progress, say Suzanne MacLeod and Richard Sandell

Which of your possessions belongs in a trans museum?

It’s time for major museums to stand up for trans and queer people in the public and among their employees — instead the National Gallery of Art and Smithsonian have shuttered their diversity offices. That’s why community members are shifting focus back to small grassroots LGBTQ+ museums, archives, and galleries that have done this historical labor for their communities for decades.

Repatriation

The 350-year-old artifact is one of seven objects returned to the Ysleta Del Sur Pueblo Native American tribe

Antiquities looted by notorious smuggling ring returned to Nepal

Works linked to the disgraced art dealer Subhash Kapoor are among the 20 objects seized by the Manhattan District Attorney’s Antiquities Trafficking Unit.

University scholar solves portrait theft mystery

An Exeter University art historian has solved the 70-year mystery over the theft of an original oil sketch, by Flemish painter Anthony van Dyck, from a stately home in Northamptonshire.

Heritage at risk

Palestinian experts and British archaeologists say more than two-thirds of heritage, cultural and archaeological sites in Gaza have been damaged

Trump administration seeks to starve libraries and museums of funding by shuttering this little-known agency

On March 14, 2025, the Trump administration issued an executive order that called for the dismantling of seven federal agencies “to the maximum extent consistent with applicable law.” They ranged from the United States Agency for Global Media, which oversees Voice of America, to the Minority Business Development Agency. The Institute of Museum and Library Services was also on the list.

Act Now to Save IMLS

Trump names new director of museum agency he moved to dismantle

Last Friday, President Donald Trump signed an executive order calling for the dismantling of seven federal agencies. Chief among them was the Institute of Museum and Library Services, which provides critical funding to museums, libraries, and archives. Now, less than a week later, Trump appointed a new head of the agency, Keith E. Sonderling. “It is an honor to be appointed by President Trump to lead this important organization in its mission to advance, support and empower America’s museums and libraries, which stand as cornerstones of learning and culture in our society,” Sonderling said in a statement. “I am committed to steering this organization in lockstep with this administration to enhance efficiency and foster innovation. We will revitalize IMLS and restore focus on patriotism, ensuring we preserve our country’s core values, promote American exceptionalism and cultivate love of country in future generations.”

😬😬😬

Pentagon restores histories of Navajo Code Talkers, other Native veterans after public outcry

The Pentagon restored some webpages highlighting the crucial wartime contributions of Navajo Code Talkers and other Native American veterans on Wednesday, days after tribes condemned the action.

In Winnipeg, land defenders fight to save a sacred forest

The Lemay Forest — housing unmarked graves, protected birds and old trees. Now, it’s being threatened by a housing development

Alien fever dreams fuel Peruvian grave robbings

Leandro Rivera says he chanced upon the cave in Peru's remote Nazca region that contained hundreds of pre-Hispanic artifacts – including human bodies with elongated heads and what appeared to be only three fingers on each hand. The plateau is famous for the Nazca lines, incisions on the desert floor forming birds and other animals visible from the air. The ancient geoglyphs have long intrigued anthropologists and exert a powerful fascination over some believers in extraterrestrials. Nazca is also known for salt flats that dehydrate and preserve human and animal remains, making it the site of important archeological finds that have deepened modern understanding of ancient cultures – and attracted grave robbers.

Odds and ends

Kathryn Yusoff sparked a culture war with her latest book, suggesting slavery and white supremacy informed the work of geology’s founding fathers. Here, she and other experts suggest that attitudes have changed little since

A scholar and a hater: new podcast focuses on historical figures that suck

When the historian Claire Aubin gets together with her colleagues for drinks after a conference or academic meetup, the conversation always ends up one way. “We’re all sitting around a table, talking about our most hated historical figure,” she said. For Aubin, it’s Henry Ford, an ardent antisemite whom Hitler called “an inspiration”. She believes being a hater can aid in scholarship: “Disliking someone or having a problem with their historical legacy is worth talking about, and brings more people into learning about history.” That’s why Aubin, who spent last year lecturing in the history department at UC Davis and San Francisco State University and is about to begin a full-time postdoctoral fellowship at Yale, started This Guy Sucked, a history podcast about terrible men. In each episode, Aubin speaks to a historian about their biggest villain, from Ford and Voltaire to Plato and Jerry Lee Lewis.

More medieval texts were scribed by women than previously believed

A new study “provides statistical support for the often-overlooked contributions of female scribes over time,” said researcher Åslaug Ommundsen.

Did Michelangelo pull off art history’s greatest hoax With ‘Laocoön’?

The monumental sculpture stands as an exemplar of Hellenistic artistry—but not to everyone.

These are delightful

The 30,000 year old vulture that reveals a completely new type of fossilisation

A surprising discovery in the feathers of a fossil vulture from central Italy has revealed that volcanic deposits can preserve delicate tissue structures in unprecedented detail, offering new insights into the fossilisation process.

American History Lessons Edited to Comply with Anti-DEI Standards (McSweeney's)

Jackie Robinson Overcomes [NO SPECIFIC OBSTACLE IN PARTICULAR] in Professional Baseball Baseball hall of famer Jackie Robinson is best known for [NOTHING IN PARTICULAR, OTHER THAN BEING A GREAT BASEBALL PLAYER]. Though most major league baseball teams at the time refused to sign Robinson because [THEY JUST DIDN’T LIKE THE CUT OF HIS JIB], Robinson finally became the first [PERSON NAMED JACKIE ROBINSON] to play Major League Baseball in 1947. Jackie Robinson paved the way for [OTHER PEOPLE WHO WERE DISLIKED FOR NO REASON] to play professional sports.

McSweeney's hitting a bit to close to home

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KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas | Universal Amphitheatre | Universal City, CA | 6 December 1997

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David Bowie, Universal Amphitheatre, LA, 1974 © Neil Zlozower.

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Emma Watson arrives at the 2011 MTV Movie Awards at Universal Studios' Gibson Amphitheatre on June 5, 2011 in Universal City, California.