#SHE SAID IT SHOULD BE ONE PAGE LONG IM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE AND I HAVE OVER A PAGE I STRAIGTH UP SKIPPED THE INTRODUCTION + SOME IMPORTANT

[jokerlennon]

did lolly adefope when she was on taskmaster reference keats' ode on a grecian urn when she said "friendship is truth truth is friendship" <- losing his marbles in the throes of literature assignment

[kurowrites]

"you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby" for wangxian :3

I doubt this was the thing you expected, but ... [smashes keyboard]

---

It had been a coincidence, really, nothing that he’d planned. He’d just been on his way out of the door to get his groceries done when he came across one of his neighbours in the entrance hall; the really handsome one with the cute little toddler that always smiled at him. The one where the mother of the child had probably left the picture, because he’d never actually seen her.

Quietly, he wondered what woman would leave a man that was so obviously caring well for his child, and a toddler so friendly and cute, but then, that was really none of his business.

In any case, when he ran into them in the entrance hall of the apartment building, the toddler was having a big temper tantrum (that was a first), and his father, despite his best efforts at calming the child, was completely unsuccessful in stopping the wailing. His usually neutral face was, for once, wrinkled in concern and apparent helplessness.

Wei Ying knew the feeling too well, from similar situations with his own family. Recently, it had been happening particularly often because of Jin Ling, his beloved nephew who had taken an unfortunate page from the book of his father and had started an early ‘nonono, I don’t want to’ phase.

So Wei Ying automatically did what he always did with Jin Ling: he made a stupid face at the toddler, and when the toddler looked at Wei Ying in momentary confusion, Wei Ying grabbed him, lifted him up, and wheeled him around. The kid let out a sound halfway between annoyance and enjoyment. Wei Ying took the chance he got, and folded over with the biggest grin on his face, tilting the child upside down with him. Then he flipped back up, and did it again. By the third time, the child was laughing.

“Again, again!”

Wei Ying did it again, and then tried to set the child down, but it was too late. Quick as anything, two hands grabbed him with surprising strength, and he now had a spider monkey on his hands. The child clung to him, eagerly asking for more parentally inadvisable acrobatics.

Wei Ying looked at the father apologetically, who had witnessed the whole event with the earlier frown still on his face, shrugging a little as he held the little monkey in his arms.

“Sorry for barging in like that,” he said. “It’s just something I picked up from handling my nephew. It works with him every time, so I started doing it automatically. You’re probably busy, I should let you go.”

He tried to hand the boy back to his father, but there was no budging. The child clung to him like a leech, whining at Wei Ying to play with him.

“I am sorry,” the father said, clearly unsure how to handle the situation and his uncooperating child. “He is usually not that difficult. Today is…”

He trailed off.

Wei Ying smiled encouragingly. “Hey, parenting is hard. Tell me, where were you going? I was planning to go to the supermarket near the park, and if you’re heading in the same direction, we can walk together until he’s calmed down a little.”

Wei Ying was almost sure there was something akin to relief in the father’s face.

“I was also heading out for groceries,” the father replied. “If it is not too much to ask…”

“Hey, no biggie,” Wei Ying smiled. “If you carry my groceries, all is well.”

He winked at the boy in his arms.

“Always get others to carry your things.”

“Gege is carrying ME!” the boy exclaimed excitedly, and Wei Ying laughed.

“I see, I see, you are a smart one!”

Wei Ying winked at the father, and after assuring him that he was perfectly fine carrying a toddler around, they walked to the grocery store together.

On the way, Wei Yin learned that the names of father and son were Lan Zhan and Lan Yuan, respectively. They hadn’t been living in the apartment building for very long (Wei Ying had suspected as much), and had recently relocated because Lan Zhan had changed jobs.

Wei Ying felt the urge to ask about the child’s mother, but managed to suppress his curiosity.

It was none of his business, he told himself sternly. He had no place nosing around in a stranger’s private affairs, even when the man in question was particularly handsome, and the toddler particularly cute.

---

Shopping turned out to be way more fun than it usually was. Lan Yuan was still stuck to Wei Ying, unwilling to give up the prime real estate in Wei Ying’s arms, so Wei Ying carried him through the supermarket like a little king, and together, they commanded Lan Zhan what he needed to buy.

Lan Zhan was a strict man that was extremely picky about the foods that he put onto the plate of his child, Wei Ying learned quickly. But he was also a father that very clearly loved by his son, and everything Lan Yuan said was considered seriously, even when it was eventually turned down. Wei Ying almost felt bad to ask Lan Zhan to help him with his groceries, since his eating habits were… nowhere near Lan Zhan’s, that was for sure.

Lan Zhan himself frowned a little when he saw all the stuff that Wei Ying was planning to buy, and though he was evidently trying to restrain himself from commenting, he eventually cracked.

“You do not cook for yourself?” he asked, as Wei Ying snatched another box of frozen food out of the freezer one-handed, balancing Lan Yuan on his hip.

“Not really,” Wei Ying replied lightly. “I’m a horrible cook. My sister banned me from her kitchen.”

“Fresh vegetables are important,” Lan Zhan said, clearly not approving of his dietary choices.

“I know! I have them when I visit my sister. She makes the best food.”

He smiled at Lan Yuan.

“Always eat your veggies, mister, if you want to grow as tall as your dad.”

“I’m gonna be taller!”

It was spoken with so much enthusiasm and conviction that Wei Ying had to laugh.

“You have a lot of work to do and many veggies to eat, then!”

“What about Gege?” Lan Yuan asked. “You also need to eat veggies and grow taller.”

“I’m not going to get any taller now, I’ve reached my maximum height already,” Wei Ying replied. “Not everyone gets to be as tall as your dad.”

That opened an entire new can of worms, because now Lan Yuan wanted to know why Wei Ying wasn’t as tall as his father, and why people were tall or small or fat or thin, and Wei Ying found himself inundated with questions he might have been able to answer more easily if he had been able to pull out his mobile phone and search for some scientifically accurate answers.

But Lan Yuan seemed to enjoy the explanations that Wei Ying could give, so honestly, all was well. He’d apparently completely forgotten the reason why he’d had a meltdown in the entrance hall of their apartment block, and seemed to enjoy being babied by someone other than his father, for once.

“A-Yuan is such a good child,” Wei Ying sighed as they left the supermarket (Lan Zhan carrying Wei Ying’s groceries as promised). “If I ever have children, I also want to have a child like A-Yuan.”

Lan Yuan hugged Wei Ying with a smile, and Wei Ying had to squish the little boy, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of intense affection. He was just too precious. Dammit, he didn’t even have a partner, he couldn’t go around getting baby fever.

“Wei Ying should adopt me!” Lan Yuan exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Like Baba!”

Now that was… Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan, confused about that little nugget of information.

Lan Zhan, not looking at him but at Lan Yuan, chastised his son gently.

“A-Yuan, you cannot simply ask unrelated people to adopt you. I am your cousin. We were family before I adopted you. The same cannot be asked for from unrelated people.”

It was a very rational explanation, Wei Ying thought. It also answered a few questions about the apparent non-existence of a mother. But it also seriously underestimated Wei Ying’s particular brand of free-spiritedness combined with a healthy dose of disregard for societal conventions, so Wei Ying lifted Lan Yuan higher and gave him a cheeky grin.

“For what it’s worth, A-Yuan,” he declared, “I would totally adopt you if given the chance. I don’t think your father would give you up for any price, but just know that I would.”

Lan Yuan gave him the biggest smile in reply, and Lan Zhan gave him the most severe frown he had ever seen in his life, but he didn’t care.

Lan Yuan was just too cute, and Wei Ying was entirely honest when he said that he would adopt a child like him in a heartbeat. Of course, a decision like that would be a big responsibility. Taking care of a life.  But he had never been the type to think about such things carefully before jumping right in. He had always wanted a family. And he had experience in handling kids. He could do it, he knew.

Maybe I should really start to consider having a child, he thought to himself, snuggling Lan Yuan a little tighter, resting their heads together, even without a partner in the picture. I have Dajie too, I can rise a child on my own.

(He did not notice Lan Zhan’s considering gaze.)

---

“Are you a homewrecker now?”

“Hello A-Cheng, it’s nice to hear from you, I’m doing very well, thank you,” Wei Ying sang into the receiver. “Why are you calling?”

“You were seen with a father and his child at the supermarket,” came Jiang Cheng’s angry voice from the other side of the connection. “Flirting inappropriately. Really, now? Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with a man that already has a toddler.”

“Ouch, A-Cheng, who do you think I am?” Wei Ying asked theatrically. (If he was honest, the sentiment hurt a little.) “He’s just a neighbour, I was helping out like good neighbours do. He is in fact not married and the child is adopted, so even if I was sleeping with him, which I’m not, there would be nothing inappropriate about it. Also, I have never slept with any man of my acquaintance and I’m not sure why this is coming up now.”

“So that means we don’t have to reserve a seat for him at the next family dinner?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Wha- what??”

“My sister was really excited at the thought of getting a nephew. I guess it was too much to ask. If you start fucking him, don’t tell me, but I need to know if I have to make more reservations than usual. That’s all. Bye.”

The next moment, Jiang Cheng had hung up, and Wei Ying stared at his phone beeping at him in disbelief.

What the hell?

How had Jiang Cheng even found out he had gone shopping with Lan Zhan and Lan Yuan?

Still shaken and repeating the entire conversation in his head, trying to make sense of it, he heard the doorbell ring. He threw his phone aside and scrambled to get to the door.

As soon as he opened the door, A-Yuan threw himself forward and latched onto Wei Ying’s leg tightly, grinning up at him.

“Gege! Play with me!” he shouted in lieu of a greeting.

Behind him stood Lan Zhan, all prim and proper, with his arms folded behind his back.

“He said he was missing you,” he said with an apologetic bow.

Slowly, Wei Ying bent down and lifted A-Yuan up to settle him on his hip. He stared at Lan Zhan, standing there and staring back, and thought about the strange phone call that he’d just had.

Of course he was happy that A-Yuan wanted to see him again. And of course he was happy that Lan Zhan had come to actively seek him out.

And of course he thought that–

Well.

Quietly, he wondered what it needed to make Lan Zhan accept an invitation for family dinner.

Well, maybe not a family dinner, first thing. Something a little more private was appropriate.

He gave A-Yuan a small kiss to the crown of his head, and saw Lan Zhan following the movement intently.

Hm, he thought giddily. Maybe not quite as much as I thought it might.

He smiled at Lan Zhan.

“Why don’t you come in? I doubt I’m getting this little one off of me very soon.”

[pocketramblr]

im going to be so fucking predictable right now but, for a prompt... how about some momnight

 I'm going to do my Very Best at this though I am very unpracticed with writing her so here we go!

---

"Alright, class. Today we're supposed to do a lesson that follows up on the interviews you did yesterday with Midnight and Mt. Lady. Which means I'm not teaching."

With that, Aizawa-sensei flopped to the ground. The thud was only slightly cushioned by the sleeping bag around him. A few students winced.

"Exactly!" Midnight said, shoving open the door. "This time, we'll be practicing a little more with cameras and a little less with talking."

Oh? The students all leaned in, curious and excited.

"We'll be practicing photo shoots! Come to studio 1-4, come on." She stepped to the side as the class got excited, and just waved Aoyama out the door when he jumped to go ask her a million questions, sparkling.

Toru was excited too, though she took more time to stand than the others. By the time she had, Yaomomo had already dragged the reluctant Jiro out of the room, and all that remained were Bakugo and Koda.

"Not going to be the last one there, I hope, Bakugo?" Midnight asked, tone of voice edging into a tease.

Bakugo grumbled about it being stupid, but he did hurry more out the door.

"And you, Koda? Nothing to be scared about, the camera doesn't bite." But their teachers sure might, if they dawdled- or interrupted anymore of Aizawa's extended naptime.

"Right!" Toru agreed, skipping to the back of the room to reach for the boy's arm. "Come on, it'll be a fun lesson! Better than a pop quiz, and maybe you'll even get to do a cute picture, like holding a bunny!"

Koda stared at her sleeve for a long moment, then finally nodded.

When they passed Midnight at the door, Toru looked up and realized the woman's smile had slipped a little; she looked thoughtful, brow furrowed behind her glasses.

The smile came back quickly though, as she tugged the door closed behind them and hurried them to the studio where the class was waiting for them.

Haya-senpai was also waiting for them, apparently. The cool girl stood in front of a group of third years by the side wall of the room, where several desks and mirrors and lights had been shoved in a row. The rest of the room was cleared out, backdrops and green screens angled around with a few stools and props.

"Alright, class 1a, before we get ready for your first shoot, there are some things to know." Midnight closed the door behind her. "You can take notes on your phone, if you want. There are several different kinds of photoshoots. What ones can you think of?"

"Ooh!" Mina waved her hand and was called on. "There's magazine photoshoots, and if you're lucky you'll be on the front page!"

"Certainly, magazine shoots. What else- Yaoyorozu?"

"Advertisements, with products?"

"Very good, you've done some of that already, haven't you? Alright, what other kinds?"

Toru waved her arm, humming so she'd be more noticed. Midnight crooked her finger at her. "Makeup? Well I guess that could be a product too, but there's also fashion shoots."

"Right on, Hagakure."

The class was quiet for a few moments, and Midnight nodded. "There's other kinds too- a headshot shoot, some hero agencies will require them for an application or their site. Portraits, lifestyle, sports, glamor, portfolio- the point is, there’s different types, and different points to each of them.”

Tsuyu raised a hand, and got a nod. “Midnight, all the different types, but don’t they boil down to either work use- like the headshots- or publicity for everything else?”

“That’s not a bad way of looking at it, Asui,” The teacher tapper her cheek as she paused, “But there’s more than that. You could also be doing it for benefit of others, either like a charity calendar photos, or perhaps even as a favor for a friend if one of them asks for a photo op.”

“And if,” Bakugo spoke up, apparently at the end of his patience for waiting for an explanation, “we don’t care about that crap? Publicity? If we haven’t got any friends who just want to take pictures of us?”

Midnight’s smile stretched, just a little, like a smirk. “Not a bad question. Anyone else think they have an answer?”

No one spoke, looking at each other, then Iida raised his hand.

“Midnight-sensei! Regardless of wanting to do publicity or charity or not, an agency may require to and all parts of a hero career should be done as exactly as one can, whether or not you want to-”

Midnight coughed. “Not bad, Iida, but not what I was thinking of. Bakugo, everyone, consider it like this. Once you become a hero- before that, even- you are going to have publicity. You are going to have paparazzi. Your photos are going to end up in ragmags no matter what you do.” She emphasized those words with a tap from her whip to her palm. “But, you can decide how you present yourself in other media. Sure, you can go way underground like Eraser. Or, you can take control of your representation. Choose your own photographers, magazines, products, vlogs, anything. That’s why you have to learn how to do these photoshoots and other media courses.” She clapped her hands, and the third years jumped. “So, we start with makeup.”

The older students waved some of her classmates forward, and Toru pushed Koda forward so he’d sit.

She found herself watching them get makeup put on, holding Iida’s glasses for him while Haya mused with his hair. Next to him, a senior was marking lines under Uraraka’s eyes to make the lashes pop.

“That looks really cute!”

“Thanks!”

“Do you mind me using a bit more foundation here?” Another senior said, poking at Midoriya. “It’s not quite even, but some of your freckles are showing through still.”

“Uhh,” Midori said, eloquently. 

The older student raised his eyebrow. 

“Um, actually, its,”

“It’s what, Midoriya?” Midnight asked, stepping from out of nowhere to peer over his shoulder at his mirror.

“It’s fine!” The makeup didn’t completely hide how red his face went.

Their teacher met his gaze in the reflection, clicking her tongue. “Come on, what did I say the point of the lesson was?”

“Um, control?” Midoriya asked, then went “Oh.”

Midnight smiled, straightening back up.

“I’d like my freckles to be- to not be covered up. Please.” Midoriya was still red, but the senior just shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll darken them with this then instead, so they actually show well under the lights and all that.”

He nodded, relaxing back in his seat, and Midnight squeezed his shoulder before moving on, nodding at Iida before looking at her.

“Hagakure, you haven’t gotten someone to start makeup yet?”

Toru shook her head- and shoulders. “No, Sensei. It’s not like I’ll show up on camera anyway, so.” She kept her voice cheerful, but her smile faltered halfway through.

It was fun to watch everyone else get dolled up and decorated... but would probably be fun if she could join them too.

Midnight stared at her, and she couldn’t read the expression before the teacher shook her head. “No, no. You’ll still have to participate and I have an idea!” She took Toru’s hand, then led her to the seat next to Uraraka.

Toru couldn’t keep the startled giggle from bubbling up as she sat.

“Midoriya,” Midnight said, riffling through the makeup on the desk, “You heard Hagakure. What do you think she could do in a photoshoot like this?”

“Hm.” Midoriya considered it, but when he answered he sounded much more confident than he had earlier. “Well, she’s invisible, but anything on her wouldn’t be. You could play with elements like dust or sparkles to suggest shape in an interesting way- oh, if you don’t mind being in your hero suit, that is.”

Midnight hummed an affirmation. “There’s a lot you and your team could do with that, and body paint is a fun medium to work with.” She paused, then leveled an eyeshadow brush at Toru like it was her whip. “Only when you’re eighteen, though. What do you think, Uraraka?”

“You could use your quirk, you know, to shine?” The brunette waved a hand. “Lighting up in different places to outline you, maybe, it’d look really cool if you had a space-y dress or something with it.”

“Oooh,” Toru had to admit that would be fun. It’d need a dark background and probably a camera without a flash or something, but it would be a picture of her, using her own quirk.

“Or like, even a space suit or something alien!”

“As long as I don’t upstage Mina!”

Midnight decided on something, then turned back with a nod, eyes sparkling. “Those are good ideas. Now, I’m going to try something with eyeshadow on you. Tell me when your eyes are closed.”

Toru closed her eyes as asked. “They are now, Midnight.”

If the point of this lesson was control, she wasn’t quite sure that this counted since she was just letting someone else do it, but Toru didn’t mind. She had a couple new ideas bouncing around for real photoshoots, in the future, and she really wanted to see what her teacher came up with.

She’d been right, this was fun.

It tickled a little, when Midnight traced eyeliner all on the sides of her face, but Toru managed to keep her face still enough. Then came brushes and colors she couldn’t see, shapes she could feel but not recognize.

Finally, the touches to her face stopped and she heard the brush clatter on the table.

“You can open your eyes now.” Midnight said, moving out of the way between the chair and the mirror. 

Toru gasped, then stood so she could lean closer to her reflection.

Her teacher had painted elaborate designs over both her eyes, branching out like butterfly wings. They shimmered with many neutral tones, light and brown and pink between the black lines. A few sparkles were touched heavier on the ends, and overall they looked beautiful.

“Oh! Guys, look!” Toru turned, and Uraraka gasped too, clapping.

“Those look so pretty!”

“Right? Thank you so much, Midnight-sensei!”

The hero laughed, waving a hand. “You’re very welcome. You’ll have to work with the photographer to decide how to model it on your own though. Speaking of...” She checked the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes left! Get to pictures then washing off.”

She walked off down the row again, checking on the other students, though not before she squeezed Toru’s shoulder for a second when she passed.

Toru was beaming as she asked for a senior with a camera to work with her, and she ended up with a picture of herself winking- one eye open to show the full butterfly, the other closed to show the colors swirled on the eyelid too. 

It looked pretty, and it looked fun. It felt like a perfect picture.

[whosaskingwrites]

Forever Is A Long Time (Akaashi x Reader)

A/N: I'm alive. And finally starting my soulmate one-shots. 😔 sorry if you've been waiting for these i wanted to get the angst ones done first. Also im almost at 100 followers which means ill be having a follower special soon! So be ready for that. Anyway have a good day!

Date: Tuesday, November 24th, 2020

Details: 6.3 pages 2,308 words

Theme: Red String- There is a red string tied around your ring finger that connects you to your soulmate. It becomes visible when you are close to each other. You can also tug on the string so your soulmate feels it. When far you only see it as a red ring around your finger.

Warnings: cursing. Barely implied sexual stuff its just one sentence and its nothing explicit.

Soulmate masterlist

For as long as I could remember I had a pale red ring around my finger. I never asked questions about it since I knew what it was. My soulmate was out there somewhere but I was never curious about them.

I would have been but my mom stressed to me that I needed to be successful. Not worrying about some silly soulmate so I did. Every thought about my soulmate was pushed to the back of my mind and I slowly forgot about them. My friend Hinata always tried to get me to find them but I denied.

I ended up becoming the manager for the MSBY Black Jackals. I considered it the perfect job I wasn't as successful as my mom wanted me to be but I was happy with what I was doing.

I was always busy so my soulmate had never crossed my mind. My days were spent corraling Bokuto and Hinata while keeping Atsumu away from Sakusa's stuff. The rest of the team members like Meian and Barnes didn't need watching but they also never helped me.

Today was no different of course. Well unless you counted the fact that it was the Black Jackals versus the Schweiden Adlers. Hinata was bouncing around in excitement and Bokuto wasn't much better. Currently I was helping Sakusa fix his knee pads deciding to let Hinata be excited this once.

"Y/N!" I jumped throwing a hand over my heart as I stood up. I looked at Bokuto who was staring at me eyes wide. "Don't do that Bo!" I yelled smacking him on the back of the head. "Owww sorry it's just your hand!" I looked down at my hand and looked back up raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked in confusion Bokuto sighed reaching forward and raising my other hand. There around my ring finger was a thin red string. "Y/n's soulmate is here!?" Hinata yelled rushing over to see the string. "Oh cool I guess," I took my hand from Bokuto's grasp bringing it back down with a shrug.

"You're not excited about it?" Atsumu asked "Not really? Mom raised me to not worry about my soulmate so," I trailed off before I felt a strong tug on my hand. Looking down I noticed Hinata pulling on the string before someone pulled back.

I smacked his hand as he went to tug it again "quit doing that," I said moving to pick up my clipboard. "But thats how you find them! The stronger the tug the closer they are!" He shouted while I shook my head. "Hinata I'm not worried about my soulmate. The game is in 10 minutes so let's get you guys to the court," I stated looking at them.

"I don't get it how the hell are you Omi and Samu not interested in your soulmates!" Atsumu shouted as we left the changing room. "I'm just not big on the soulmate thing," I said with another shrug "I don’t really care if I find them or not," Sakusa added on with his own shrug.

"You guys are so boring! Y/n you're the first outta of the five of us to be close to your soulmate and you don't wanna meet them!?" Bokuto shouted in exasperation. "I dont see what the big idea is. I'm not interested in meeting my soulmate right now. Now go warm-up," I gently pushed the boys towards the court while I went to the bench. 

I shook my head as Hinata mouthed "Find them," at me. I sighed as I watched them feeling a gentle tug against my finger my eyes drifted to the red string before I cautiously tugged back. It brought an odd sense of comfort to feel every tug on the thread and it almost seemed like a habit for them to nervously tug the string.

My eyes shifted back to the court as the game started. My hand made notes that occasionally got messed up when a tug shook my hand. I quietly hummed when I realized they were trying to find me.

Halfway through the game the tugs had become annoying. They started hindering my writing the closer they got and the boys had most definitely noticed my annoyed state. They had come over for water and towel during a short timeout while I was finishing a note for Bokuto when my hand was suddenly tugged sharply to the side scratching a mark across the sentence id just written.

"Son of a bitch!" I quietly cursed though it was loud enough that the four boys heard me. "You alright Y/n?" Atsumu asked and I glared at him. The boys froze at the icy gaze.

"No I'm not okay. Everytime I try writing these damn notes my soulmate tugs on the fucking string and ruins it. I'm fed up with it and quite frankly I really don't want to meet them at this point," I stated angrily. "Come on Y/n its just notes-" my glare shifted to Hinata as he spoke causing him to shiver.

"Just notes? It is my job to write notes. If the notes are unreadable I have failed at my job and you know what these notes are?" I held up my clip board before slamming it back down on the bench. "Unreadable!"   I yelled before taking a breath. "Now finish your game boys and if you lose. Ill kill you," I sent them a threatening smile before they ran off to the court in fear.

___________________________________________

"I just don't get it man! How is she not excited!" I paused as I entered the shop. Hearing Bokuto yell as soon as I walked in. "I mean I get it. If my soulmate kept me from making Onigiri correctly I'd be mad," Osamu supplied waving to me as I walked in.

"Whats going on?" I asked looking at the guys Kuroo rubbed his forehead while Bokuto looked at me. "Please don't get him started on his damn manager again," Kuroo mumbled while Bokuto spoke up. "Hey Akaashi what's your idea of a soulmate?" I blinked at the sudden question "Someone who will be with you forever I guess," I said after I thought about it. 

"Our manager doesn't care about meeting her soulmate!" Atsumu yelled out throwing his hands up while Kuroo groaned. I came over and sat down across from Bokuto. "You guys are making a huge deal out of it," Sakusa said rolling his eyes.

"Well she should care! I can't believe she went home instead of celebrating just to fix her notes," Hinata stated with a huff. "What happened?" I asked my eyes flickering to Osamu when he placed a tray of onigiri down in front of me.

"Y/n's soulmate was at today's game! They even kept tugging on the string but she said she didn't care!" I paused as I processed Bokuto's words. I had been at the game when my string appeared. I tugged on it whenever I got nervous during the game.

I had eventually followed it during break only to discover it led me to the doors on court and suddenly it all made sense. "Oh," I said when I realized. "What?" Hinata questioned and I shook my head. "Nothing just...my string also showed up during the game," I stated looking back at Hinata. "Oh," he said but then his face lit up "oh!" He stood up suddenly and Bokuto joined him.

"Oh my god! You think-?" Bokuto trailed off excitedly looking at me. "You guys saying he's her soulmate?" Atsumu also stood up in excitement. While Kuroo sent me a look that screamed 'What have you done?' "Guys there was a lot of people at the game," Osamu said rolling his eyes.

"Yeah doesn't mean Y/n is his soulmate," Sakusa also said with an agitated sigh. Bokuto snapped his head over to me with a wide excited smile. "Did you follow the string?" He asked bouncing in his spot. "A little bit during break yes," I said as I automatically started playing with my fingers.

"And?" Hinata drawled out leaning towards me. "...It lead me to the doors leading on court," there was a brief moment of silence before the three boys started screaming. "Someone get her over here right now!" Atsumu shouted while Hinata pulled out his phone.

It went dead silent as he called the boys seemed to freeze in place staring at the phone that was on speaker. "What the hell do you want?" All four boys flinched at the angry tone and Kuroo shivered at it. "We think we found him Y/n!" Hinata excitedly yelled.

"Found who?" She asked in confusion causing Atsumu to sigh in irritation. "Your soulmate Y/n!" He yelled in exasperation. "Fascinating. I don't care," She had responded back in annoyance. "Y/n come on! Just come to Onigiri Miya please!" Bokuto begged his eyes got big as he stared at the phone.

"No. And don't throw puppy eyes at the phone I know you're doing it," Bokuto sighed when it didn't work frowning as he tried to figure out what to do. "Please Y/n! Five minutes! I'll do anything you want!" Hinata joined in with a frown. 

"I already said no. Now leave me alone or I block you," She stated before hanging up the phone. The three boys turned their gazes to me after staring blankly at the phone. I looked back at them slowly "...what?" I asked nervously before Atsumu smirked at me. 'Oh boy' I thought worriedly.

___________________________________________

'How the hell did I get here?' I thought as I stood infront of an apartment door. I assumed it was Y/n's since Bokuto had shoved me here and rang the bell. I was still getting my bearings when the door swung open revealing a girl with h/c hair and shiny e/c eyes.

She was wearing a black jackals hoodie and a pair of leggings. I noticed the red string trailed from her hand to mine confirming she was my soulmate. "Can I help you?" She asked with a sigh.

Her voice snapped me out of my reprieve and I gave her a shaky smile. "Hi um I think your my soulmate?" What I said came off as more of a question as she blinked at me. "Who are you?" She didn't check the string before she asked. Establishing that she wasn't lying on the phone she really didn't care. "Im Akaashi Keiji," I said holding out my hand.

She hummed as she took it shaking my hand as her eyes finally traced the string. "So. You're Bokuto's elusive friend and the one who made me ruin my notes," I flinched as she let go of my hand immediately going to play with my fingers.

"Sorry about that. I tugged on it whenever the game made me nervous," she was watching my hands before she suddenly reached out and took one. I froze at the unexpected move as she held my hand. "Sorry you were distracting me. Continue?" She asked as she laced her fingers with mine.

"I..um," I had lost my train of thought looking at the pale pink flush that had appeared on her cheeks. "A-anyway why are you against soulmates?" She shook her head at my question. "Im not it's just...my mom raised me to put finding my soulmate on the backburner and focus on my career so I did,"

She continued after a brief pause "She focused on her soulmate and ended up working as a waitress as her career. She wanted me to be successful and that meant no room for a soulmate," She shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world to not care about a soulmate.

"So...Where does that leave me?" I questioned quietly while she hummed. "Depends...are you gonna ruin my notes again?" She asked with a small smile. I smiled back when I realized what she was implying. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the day," She laughed as I spoke her eyes drifted to the side sparkling in mischief as she spotted something.

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear "Seems the three musketeers stayed to keep watch," She mumbled tilting her head as she pulled back. I turned my head slightly seeing Bokuto, Atsumu, and Hinata hiding around the corner. They were excitedly holding on to eachother and I shook my head looking back at her.

"Unfortunately," I supplied while she giggled. "Im sure you already know but my name is L/n Y/n," She said and I nodded confirming I did already know. Her eyes still held mischief as she leaned forward again. "I think we should give them something to watch," she whispered lowly.

My face flushed at the implication of what she said. "Y/n-," She cut me off with a kiss. They were soft and fit against mine perfectly much like her hand did. My eyes slipped closed as I kissed her back. I vaguely heard the screaming of the three guys.

She slid something into my free hand before pulling away. She smirked at me letting go of my other hand "Have fun with that," she threw a vague hand gesture to the boys before going inside and closing the door.

Looking down at my hand she had left a small white business card in my hand. Her number was stretched across the front and I pocketed it before walking away. As I got closer to the three guys I was suddenly tugged backwards and fell.

I looked at my hand to the string following it to see Y/n holding the string with a smile on her face. She winked at me before disappearing while I quietly chuckled.

'This was gonna be an adventure'

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Prequel - Study Session Pt 2

“Nayeon-”

The girl delivers a firm slap to your cheek - not nearly enough to hurt, but certainly enough to sting, and more than enough to make sure she had your undivided attention.

“You can only talk when I let you, slave,” she declares, her tone all strength and seriousness. Gone is the innocent, adorable girl that you were studying with just a few minutes ago. She was all business now. Another girl had taken her place.

You want to retaliate somehow - she had never physically hit you before - but as always, you found yourself powerless to resist. How could you, when in a small, dark corner of your mind you knew you liked it?

“You’re going to be my little fucktoy,” Nayeon says, bringing a finger to her mouth and tapping her own lip with a slim finger as though considering what outfit she should wear, and not observing her helpless boyfriend that she had just tied up.

“I want to tie you up and fuck you.”

 The words came from Im Nayeon’s mouth with the tone of someone who was making an observation about some physics concept rather than a sexual act. You drop the pencil you were using to scribble notes with and look up at her to find an equally nonchalant look on her face as she idly flips the pages of her physics textbook as casually as she would a fashion magazine, having either been satisfied she had learned enough, or had given up on learning altogether - you weren’t sure which.

 She lets out a soft sigh, the same one she had when she was bored.

 “...what?” you ask, still taken aback by her statement and the casual nature by which she said it.

 “Are you done studying?” she asks.

 “I think I’m fucked for this econ midterm tomorrow, no matter how much cramming I get done.”

 “Good,” Nayeon says, before shutting her physics textbook and standing up. You are distracted for a moment by the tightness of the white tank top she is wearing beneath her blue track jacket, and she apparently notices the top-down scan you give her, because when she takes off her jacket she does so slowly, knowing you are watching every movement.

 She bends slightly to rummage through the backpack she has on the desk, giving you a more than generous look at the slight cleavage her pose produces. She wasn’t overly endowed, not as much as some of her friends, but she knew how to use what she had.

 Nayeon finally finds what she’s looking for, and she retrieves the object from her bag and walks around the desk until she is standing behind you.

 “What are you-”

 “Shut up,” she answers, her tone suddenly stern, suddenly demanding. A few seconds later she reaches around your chair to grasp both of your wrists, pulling them behind your chair. She crosses your wrists, and when you feel cotton being wrapped tightly around your wrists, you realize just what she is doing.

 Nayeon had a bit of an internal switch inside that pretty little head of hers; one second she was all innocent, full of cuteness, if a little ditzy - but when she flipped that switch she suddenly became an intensely sexual creature, every ounce of her small, tight little body almost immediately emanating lust.

 It caught you off guard most times - this afternoon’s little liaison in the university library was one of those times - but you always found yourself giving in quickly when she decided to impose herself on you. How could anyone resist for long, when she was so utterly sexy, so utterly irresistible when she wanted to be?

 “I’m in charge now,” Nayeon declares, as if she weren’t already, “and you don’t do anything until I let you or tell you to do so. I own you now.” She grasps the armrests of your swivelling desk chair and turns it around so you are facing her.

 “Nayeon-”

 The girl delivers a firm slap to your cheek - not nearly enough to hurt, but certainly enough to sting, and more than enough to make sure she had your undivided attention.

 “You can only talk when I let you, slave,” she declares, her tone all strength and seriousness. Gone is the innocent, adorable girl that you were studying with just a few minutes ago. She was all business now. Another girl had taken her place.

 You want to retaliate somehow - she had never physically hit you before - but as always, you found yourself powerless to resist. How could you, when in a small, dark corner of your mind you knew you liked it?

 “You’re going to be my little fucktoy,” Nayeon says, bringing a finger to her mouth and tapping her own lip with a slim finger as though considering what outfit she should wear, and not observing her helpless boyfriend that she had just tied up.

 Nayeon saunters behind you again, and you lament the fact that she has left your sight. You would’ve content to watch her slim, sexy little body all day, but when she lets her fingers graze your shoulder and the back of your neck, you let a small sound of need escape your lips.

 Nayeon notices the effect her touch has on you, and is quick to point it out.

 “Look at you,” she says, a slight tone of disapproval in her voice, “already getting all antsy over a little touch.”

 You want to respond, want to say something, but remember that you weren’t allowed to speak. Nayeon notices.

 “Good boy,” she says, “you’re learning.”

 She bends, bringing her mouth next to your left ear. Her hands drift down your chest, her palms flat against your body.

 “If you’re good, maybe this will end well for you.”

 You want to ask her what that means, ask her what she had planned. But you are helpless, powerless, just as you always were when she wanted you to be. She had a hold over you, had cast a spell on you and put you under her thrall. She was the best girlfriend you could have ever hoped for - caring, loving, funny and smart - but it was these moments that really drew you to her. There was something so hot about a girl that took control, a girl that bent you to her will and had the guts to enforce it.

 “What’s your favorite part of me, slave?”

 The question catches you a little off guard, and you scramble to find an answer. How could you pick just one part of her? Her long, slim legs, and the way they wrapped themselves around your hips when you were buried in her; her small, perfect breasts, and how warm and soft they were, the way they bounced up and down when she rode you; or her beautiful, cute face, her small, delicate features, adorable one moment and deviously sexy the next?

 “Your face, baby-”

 Nayeon slaps the side of your head.

 “That’s mistress to you, slave.”

 “Your face, mistress. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

 Even without seeing her, you know Nayeon has a smug smile on her face. She had more than a small vain streak - not enough that it was offputting, no - you always though it was kind of cute, how much she liked the way she looked. You knew from experience she had a weakness for flattery, and never tired of you telling her she was beautiful.

 “That’s a lame answer, slave. Give me another.” As she says the words she turns the chair again, spinning you around until you are facing her once more. She straddles you, and suddenly you find yourself unprepared for her sudden proximity, her small, tight body now in your lap.

 “What else do you like, slave? What part of my body do you want?”

 Nayeon brings her hands around your head, her forearms resting on your neck as she plays idly with the hair on the back of your neck. Her face is one of a woman that knows she has a man utterly wrapped around her finger. She knows you are powerless, a lump of clay in her hands, ready to be played with, toyed with.

 You tear your eyes away from her round, alluring eyes, her cute button nose and full red lips, down past her elegant neck, to the perfect, creamy skin of her chest. Nayeon, as always, notices your every move.

 “I see. You like my chest, slave?” she asks, pushing her chest out slightly as she brings her upper arms together, creating an even deeper amount of cleavage.

 “Yes, mistress. Your chest is perfect.”

 “I’m not sure how you can say that, considering they’re all covered up,” she says, and before you know it she reaching down and grasping the edge of her white tank top, pulling it up and over her head. Her dark hair falls down her neck and shoulders like a chocolate waterfall, but you barely notice as more of her perfect, creamy skin is revealed to your eyes. She is wearing a basic white bra beneath that perfectly cradles the soft mounds of her breasts, and you involuntarily feel your wrists squirm behind your back, cursing not for the first time your inability to touch the perfect woman in your lap.

 Nayeon has that smug smile on her face. She is enjoying every moment of this - watching you squirm, watching you rendered helpless.

 “Do you like what you see, slave?”

 “Yes, mistress. You’re perfect.”

 “Am I?”

 Nayeon reaches behind her and undoes her bra, grasping the flimsy undergarment as it leaves her body and letting it fall to the floor.

 “What about now?”

 You swallow deep, not realizing that your mouth had filled up with saliva in anticipation. Her breasts were amazing, small but well shaped, perfectly in scale with the rest of her tight, slim body. They had an alluring firm perkiness to them, and you knew from experience they felt and tasted amazing - her nipples are already erect, the buds stiff with pleasure and exposure. As much as she was teasing you, she was definitely also getting off on this whole thing.

 “You’re perfect, mistress.”

 Nayeon smiles, satisfied by your answer.

 “You can have a taste, slave. Maybe if you do well, I’ll reward you.”

 You dive forward, unable and unwilling to resist for even a moment longer. You start with her neck, happy to immerse yourself in the feel of her perfect skin on your lips and tongue as you plant soft kisses on her. Soon you move to involve your tongue, and then you are sucking on her warm neck.

 Nayeon lets a soft sigh escape her lips - the first outward sign of desire she lets out, until she realizes what she has done and cuts off her sigh halfway, remembering that she was supposed to be in control. A small grin appears on your lips as you continue your ministrations on her neck, slowly tracing downward, satisfied to watch as she pushes her chest up and outward, involuntarily encouraging you, wanting you to devour more of her.

 Soon you reach her breasts, those perfect, round mounds, and you find yourself unable to resist - a better man, one with more self control, might have teased her a little, kissed and nuzzled her flesh with soft kisses and licks - but you are not that man, and you capture her left nipple in your mouth, delighting in the taste of the hard nub in your mouth as you swirl your tongue around it.

 Nayeon gasps again, and this time she makes no effort to disguise the sound of pleasure escaping her lips as you press your face to her breast. She reaches up with both hands and grasps the back of your skull, pushing her chest forward even more, offering up more of her to you.

 You are sucking now, opening your mouth to capture the entirety of her nipple in your mouth and sucking, licking the hard nub, swirling your tongue around it. You give it one more lick before switching to her right breast, eager to give it the same attention. Soon it too is saliva coated, her pink nipple almost painfully hard with arousal as you suck, lick, and tease it.

 “Fuck,” Nayeon sighs, and you delight in the fact that her composure is slipping, just a little bit.

 She lifts your head from her chest, satisfied, at least for the moment.

 “That was good, slave. I suppose now it is time for your reward.”

 It went without saying that you were almost painfully hard now, what with your topless girlfriend in your lap, letting you suck on her chest. Nayeon scoots backward on your lap, allowing her room to reach down and work on your jeans - within moments your belt was undone, your zipper unzipped, and your shaft was wrapped with her slim, warm fingers. She jerks you up and down slowly, and now it is your turn to gasp involuntarily.

 “You’re rock hard already, slave. Did you like my breasts that much?”

 “Yes, mistress.”

 “Do you like this?” she asks, her warm palm continuing to jerk you, her wrist swirling slightly and sending shocks of pleasure coursing up and down your spine.

 “Yes, mistress.”

 “Do you want me to keep going?”

 “Yes, mistress. Keep going, please.”

 Nayeon delivers another smack to your cheek with her left palm. Your cheek was probably already pink by now, if it weren’t already.

 “You don’t get to tell me what to do, slave. I do what I want. And you’re not getting a handjob.”

 Without another word, Nayeon lets go of your shaft and scoots off your lap, dropping to her knees between your legs. She takes a moment to pull your jeans down further, and with some effort she divests you of your clothing entirely, leaving you naked from the waist down. Wasting no more time, she grasps your hard shaft with her right hand before lifting it slightly to allow her access to the base of your cock.

 With her round, innocent eyes locked on yours, she gives your shaft a long lick from base to tip.

 Then she takes your shaft in her mouth, and you gasp in pleasure as Nayeon begins to suck your dick.

 Nayeon’s mouth knew its way around your cock - your months together had bourne no shortage of blowjobs. She knew just what you liked, knew how to build up your pleasure when she wanted to prepare you for sex; and she knew how to make you cum in her mouth if that’s what she wanted.

 As she takes your rock hard cock in and out of her hot, wet, needy mouth, you swore that her goal today was to make you cum as fast as she possibly could. Her lips are wrapped tightly around your shaft, her tongue swirling random patterns around and under your cock. Her left hand is toying idly with your testicles as her right hand is pumping you up and down in time with her sucking, slurping mouth.

 Your head falls back, savoring every ounce of pleasure radiating from your crotch as the young woman between your legs worked to seemingly bring you to orgasm as fast as she possibly could.

 You force yourself to look down, although you are almost afraid to do so, knowing that the visual of her head bobbing up and down your shaft might be too much for you to handle. She must have known you were watching her, because she lets your shaft pop out of her mouth and locks eyes with you, letting you watch as opens her mouth and presses the head of your cock on her pink tongue, her right wrist still pumping it up and down.

 The sight of her, the sight of her open, welcoming mouth, the sight of your round cock head pressed against her wet, pink tongue, and the smug, lusty look on her face - those innocent, cute features now dripping with lust - it might have been too much to handle, had she continued for a few more seconds.

 But she doesn’t continue - she stops altogether.

 She rises from her knees, wiping away the stray saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand. She stands, topless, in front of you, your shaft, wet with her drool, standing erect between your spread legs, almost sad with neglect. Nayeon crosses one hand around her chest and rests her right elbow on it, tapping her lips once more with her right finger.

 “You don’t get to cum yet, slave. I choose when - or if - that happens.”

 “Please, mistre-”

 Nayeon slaps you once more - a little more firmer this time.

 “No. Slaves don’t get any say in when - or if - they cum. Only I get to decide that.”

 Nayeon turns around, and for a moment you are afraid that she is about to turn and leave you there, tied up to a chair, naked from the waist down. But she doesn’t step away - instead she looks over her shoulder at you, past a creamy, perfectly sculpted shoulder - and slowly begins to pull her blue sweatpants down.

 Her butt is round, soft, and cute - just like the rest of her. But even better than seeing her butt naked is the small glimpse of soft pink lips between her thighs - lips that are glistening slightly. When she bends to get the pants completely off her you get an even better look at her most intimate area - and she takes her damn time as she bends over, knowing your eyes were glued to her near-naked body, just as your mind was slaved to her will.

 When she is naked, she turns to you in all her sexy, beautiful glory, and you take a moment to drink her in. She is cute, petite, adorable - in the traditional sense of the word; her body is worthy of admiration. Her legs are long and slim, her stomach flat, her breasts humble yet intensely alluring and perfectly sculpted - but best of all was her face, cute and sexy all at the same time. She is not built like a model, or a dancer, or a swimmer - not curvy nor stick thin. She is almost like a fairy, or an elf, some fantastical, whimsical creature given human form with the wicked ability to bend the wills of men to her own.

 She takes small steps toward you, and there are no more words to be exchanged now - there was only pleasure, and the pursuit of it. It was all that mattered.

 Nayeon straddles you once more, her slim legs and warm thighs on either side of your own. You look up at her and realize the smug smile is gone, replaced with the lust-drunk features of a young woman in need - the need to be filled, to fuck and be fucked.

 She reaches between you, grasping your still-wet shaft, and ensuring it is in line with her heat, she presses herself down, taking you inside her.

 You’d had ridiculous amounts of sex with her over the past few months, but you never tired of that moment, that sudden rush of pleasure that came with entering her body for the first time. She was always so tight, always so hot and wet and so utterly fuckable that you always found yourself craving that moment, and you were never disappointed when it came.

 Nayeon felt the same, if the loud moan that escapes her mouth as you fill her is any indication. Her crotch hits yours as you are buried in her to the hilt, and she takes a moment to savor the feel of you fully embedded inside her; a moment you are thankful for, because if she began to ride you immediately you weren’t sure you could handle it.

 It might have been a minute, might have been an hour that she spent there with you buried to the hilt inside her, but eventually she begins to move up and down, taking you in and out of her body with small, then long, movements of her hips. She has forgotten, at least momentarily, of the entire mistress and slave act she had been putting on. Now there was only pleasure, only the pursuit of a plateau that you both wanted to attain and keep at bay, all at the same time.

 She bounces up and down on your cock, occasionally taking a moment to grind her hips against yours, relishing the feel of your hot wet flesh pressing against each other as her clit mashes up against the base of your shaft. You curse, not for the first time, that your hands are tied up behind you. You would’ve given the world to wrap them around her small torso, or grasp her ass, or squeeze her softly bouncing breasts.

 “Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” she gasps.

 “Fuck… yes,” you answer, unable to really come up with more words than the most basic.

 “Do you like… when I ride you… like this… uhh! Mmm… when I ride your cock, slave?”

 “Yes, mistress.”

 “Mmmm… you’re such a needy little… fucktoy… aren’t you? Always needing… my pussy... “ Nayeon gasps, the words coming more quickly and with more stress than before - the pleasure is building steadily in her small body, and from the increasing tightness of her pussy you knew she was nearing her first orgasm.

 “Yes, mistress… I love your body… and your tight little pussy… Mmmm..”

 “Ohh… ohh! Fuck! You’re so big inside me, slave… you feel so good. Do I feel good?

 “Yes, mistress! You’re so tight… so wet… so hot.”

 Your words seem to drive Nayeon over the edge, and she throws her head back as she cums, quickly becoming a hot, wet, quivering mess as she lets the pleasure overwhelm her. Nayeon stops her riding, switching once more to grinding herself against you. She captures your head in her hands and kisses you passionately as she releases a long moan into your mouth. Her body is still shaking, her hips still trembling as she lets the last small waves of pleasure crash into her.

 When she has finally recovered, she breaks the kiss and you look at each other - gone is the entire slave/mistress act - there is only emotion there, only affection, in her flushed face and her soft eyes.

 “I think you’ve done well enough, slave,” she says when she has gathered the strength to speak, “I suppose you deserve a reward.”

 Nayeon lifts herself up and off your shaft, and you watch with eager eyes as your shaft, soaked with her slick juices, slides out of her body. She steps behind you and quickly undoes the knots tying your wrists together, before walking back in front of you. She takes a moment to swipe away your long-forgotten economics textbook before hopping on the desk. She spreads her legs, resting one foot on the armrest of your chair. Her right hand drops to her crotch, and with her slim, long fingers she traces the outline of her completely drenched pussy.

 “Come fuck me.”

 There are no more arousing words in the English language, and even before you know it you are rising from the chair, taking only a moment to grasp your slick cock in your hand before lining it up with her wet, hot body and thrusting inside, filling Nayeon once more with your rock hard cock.

 You’d had enough of teasing, had enough of roleplay - you wanted to fuck now, wanted nothing more than to drive yourself in and out of Nayeon’s tight, wet pussy. Nothing else existed aside from the body of the young woman on the table in front of you, and the need to completely ravage her tight little pussy.

 The speed and ferocity of your thrusts take her by surprise, but she quickly adjusts to it, wrapping her legs around your hips and leaning back to watch as you took your pleasure from her body. She rocks back and forth on the table as it squeaks in unheard protest, her slim form being pounded relentlessly as you lose control, lose all desire to take things slow.

 There is a sudden anger in you, a sudden desire to put this girl in her place and make her yours, a sudden need to have some revenge on her for all the humiliation and teasing she had just subjected you to. You reach up and squeeze her bouncing left breast before reaching to the back of her neck, grasping a handful of her hair.

 “You like being fucked like this, don’t you, Nayeon?”

 Nayeon is initially surprised by your sudden forcefulness, but if her reaction is any indication, not only did she not have a problem with it - she got off on it.

 “Yes! I love it… I love when you use me… when you use my pussy and fuck me hard!”

 “You’re just… a dirty, needy little slut, aren’t you, Nayeon?”

 “Yes!” Nayeon answers, her face full of needy lust now, “I’m yours! I want to be treated like this… I want you to use me! I want you to fuck me like the little slut that I am!”

 “If you are a slut,” you begin as you give her a particularly hard thrust, “then you’re going to be fucked like one.”

 You quickly pull your shaft from her body before pulling her off the table, turning her around and pushing her, not too gently, on the back until she is bent over it. Her round, firm butt in the air, you quickly grasp your shaft and line it up with her pussy before sliding inside her once more with a firm, hard stroke.

 “Fuck!” Nayeon gasps, the new position meaning she was filled even deeper than she had been.

 You don’t give her any more time to adjust - soon you are pistoning in and out of her with the same speed as you were when you were fucking her face to face, watching as your absolutely drenched shaft spears in and out between her round butt cheeks, the mounds of flesh bouncing with each entry and exit. Her pussy is even tighter in this position, her hot walls wrapping even tighter around your shaft.

 You reach down and grasp her hips, driving her body back against your crotch even as you thrust forward, your bodies crashing against each other violently, the wet, hot slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing throughout the room.

 “Oh, fuck! Fuck me, baby! Fuck me… use me… make me your little fucktoy!”

 The sight of it - the sight of her small, tight little body bent over the table as she takes you, as you fuck and ravage and dominate her, it all becomes too much to handle. And that wasn’t even mentioning the feel of her tight, hot, wet pussy, so needy and eager to take you, so willing to be fucked and outright taken.

 “I’m gonna fucking cum, Nayeon.”

 “Do it… baby… cum wherever you want! My body is yours, baby! Cum on me, cum in me… wherever you want!

 “I only cum in good girls,” you manage to say, the dark words leaving your lips before you knew it, “sluts like you get cummed on.”

 You reach down just as you reach your peak, and your shaft just barely escapes Nayeon’s wet, slick pussy before you cum, sending hot, thick streams of semen flying onto her lower back and ass, painting her lower body with white. Nayeon lets a long, loud moan of pleasure escape her lips as she feels you cum on her, although there is a note of disappointment in it, as though she had wanted and needed you to cum inside her. You let your shaft, still erect and slick with your juices and hers, rest between her cum glazed ass cheeks as she heaves and breathes heavily, a wet, quivering mess beneath you.

 “I… I wanted your cum in me,” she manages to say.

 You smile devilishly. There was something satisfying about denying her what she wanted - especially after what she did to you. You bend over the table, resting your hands on it, letting your head rest behind her right ear.

 “If you want my cum in you, maybe you should be a good girl.”

 “I will… I will, master. I’ll do anything you want.”

 Your smile widens. The tables had turned.

 “Then I guess you can have a little bit.”

 You reach down, and grasp your still hard cock before thrusting it back into the wet mess of her pussy, delighting in the gasp of surprise that leaves Nayeon’s mouth as you fuck her with slow, smooth strokes, mixing your juices with hers one last time. With your right hand you reach down and squeeze her cum-covered right butt cheek, savoring the feel of her drenched pussy wrapped around your spent cock, as though trying to bring it back to full hardness.

 Your shaft is finally spent, and you let it slip out of her needy little pussy, enjoying the sight of her juices dripping of it and onto the floor. Exhausted now, you fall back into the chair. Nayeon hasn’t moved, still bent over the table, breathing heavily, still recovering. You didn’t mind the sight at all. She is a mess, all dishevelled and naked and spent, the hot white semen on her back and ass making her skin glisten.

 When she finally rises up off the desk, the cum on her back and ass drips down her body. You smile as you retrieve some tissues from your jeans on the floor and wipe the thick liquid from her back. When you are done, she joins you in the chair, sitting in your lap once more, although this time in a more innocent way, her legs crossed and off to the side as you wrap your arms around her. You kiss, but this time it is cute and innocent, more affectionate and less lusty.

 “...So, should we get some pizza?” you ask with a smile.

 “Yup. I guess I could use some food before our next study session.”

 “There’s gonna be more studying?”

 “Yup,” Nayeon answers as she rises off your lap, “I’ve had my fun. Now it’s your turn to have yours, master.”

 She gives your shoulder a sweet caress, letting her fingertips graze your ear as she walks past you and leaves the room, likely to go to the washroom to clean up. You gaze after her for awhile, happy to watch her naked body disappear into the hallway.

 Still smiling, you slide the chair back to the table and grab your phone to order some pizza.

[wreckofawriter]

Focus

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Warnings: Slight swearing, bullying

Word count: 4,728 (this is the longest one I've ever written)

Request: Hey do you think you could do a Draco imagine? I was thinking with a ravenclaw reader who’s actually shy and clumsy.

A/n: Sorry this came out later than I anticipated, its regents week for me and I was crushed by exams. I hope to have part one of my Draco series out over the weekend. Hope you guys like this ridiculously long one!

“Ms. y/l/n” You heard an all too familiar voice say.

“Yes Professor?” You asked turning around swiftly to face the raven haired teacher.

“What happened with your potion, it was a complete disaster?” The teacher asked.

You flushed, it was no secret you weren't exactly great at positions, you were too clumsy to measure anything out, you managed to cut your finger and you always messes up the order of ingredients.

“I'm so sorry professor i'm just not very good at positions. I have been studying I swear, it just..” Your voice trailed off. “I'm sorry professor.” You mumbled looking down.

“I want you prepared for the test next Wednesday, you should be able to manage that?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Of course professor.” You mumbled still quite flush from the whole conversation. You turned to leave walking back towards your common room. About thirty seconds later you saw the last person you wanted to. Mckenzie Clarkson. She was a fellow housemate who unfortunately was extremely popular, pretty, nimble footed and of course, smart. She was basically everything you weren't, in your mind.

“God your pathetic.” The brunett girl laughed, her stunning green eyes narrowing. “You have lost, what was it? 30 points for us today.” The girls behind her giggled whispering things to each other. “You shouldnt even be in Ravenclaw. Your far to stupid. You cant even get into the common room without help, you trip over your own feet and you are practically failing all your classes.” She smirked clearly feeling very good about herself, as you willed yourself not to cry. You hated crying, so you just glared up at her anger rushing through you like a wave, but you kept it down, what could you possibly say to her?

“Can you just let me go?” You asked voice weak.

“I don't know can we?” The hallway erupted in laughter.

“Just let me leave.” You said voice a bit stronger now as your anger grew.

“Fine.” She smirked as she moved out of the way. You quickly began to walk through the group of girls, the embarrassment was suffocating.

Just as you were about to break free of the group, a girl stuck he leg out sending you sprawling to the ground. Your hands, full of books that scattered as you attempted to get your arms in front of you, it was a failure and you landed on your elbow directly followed by you face. You groaned in pain as you felt blood begin to seep from your nose.

“Oops.” The girl giggled before they all turned to leave laughing and joking.

You lay there for a few seconds squeezing your eyes shut, begging the tears to retreat. You eventually pushed yourself up so you were sitting. You were surrounded by books and papers, you had blood rushing down your face dripping onto you shirt and you had had enough. You simply pulled yourself to the side of the hallway drawing your knees to you cest and began to cry. You knew this wouldn't stop. You were far too shy to say anything and even if you weren't the girls were right anyway. Why were you in Ravenclaw when it took you a good twenty minutes just to figure out the password to your own common room?

Just then your heard voices. You quickly moved grabbing your books and sprinting out of the hallway before anyone could see you. You sprinted the whole way back to the tower. You were greeted by the raven statue you had grown to hate. You groaned loudly.

The statue spoke, “How is it possible for you to stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?” it asked, making you groan again.

“Can you please just let me in, im covered in blood.” You grumbled knowing that it wouldn’t answer. You tried to think. How can I stand behind something that is behind me? You racked your brain for an awnser but it seemed impossible. You couldnt help it you began to cry again. Frustration, embarrassment and sadness filled you as tears streaked you cheek. Why were you put in Ravenclaw? What could that stupid, good for nothing, hat possibly seen in you that made him shout “Ravenclaw” like a farmer yelling for his next sheep to slaughter.

You then heard footsteps beside you. You turned to see Cho Chang. She was in the year above you and was everything a Ravenclaw should have been, pretty, athletic, and of course wicked smart. You wanted to hate her for being so perfect but you couldn't.

“Hey,” She said softly, “I heard what Mckenzie did. That's messed up.” She attempted to sooth you.

“It doesn't matter.” You attempted to smile but it was more of a tight lipped grimace.

“She’s wrong you know.” Cho smiled.

You gave a half hearted laugh, “What could possibly make me a Ravenclaw?”

“So much y/n,” she said, “You are crazy good at Wizards Chess for one.”

“That’s just a stupid game.” You grumbled.

“No, it takes strategy and I've never seen a single person beat you.” She pointed out.

You blushed not used to getting praised.

“Also i've seen your artwork, its beautiful, absolutely stunning.” She smiled making you blush more.

“Thanks.” you mumbled.

“Look don't let one girl get you down.” She advised before asking the statute for the riddle. It answered and she stood there thinking for a second.

    “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Your standing back to back.”

    The statue spun open as you hit your forehead onto you stack of books making you stumble, barley catching yourself before you fell. You cursed yourself before ascending the stairs to your room. You had had enough humiliation for today.

    Draco rolled his eyes as Zambini told another terrible joke beside him, “What do you call a red head with no brains?’

    “I don't know, you with red hair?” Draco mocked.

    “Close but no.” the other boy snickered, “A weasley!” He erupted into laughter as they rounded the corner, heading to the common room.

    As they continued talking Draco felt something thump against his foot. He looked down to see a leather bound book which he had kicked a few feet in front of him. The platinum blonde raised his eyebrows before bending down to pick it up.

    “What the..” Balises voice trailed off.

    Draco looked up to see a small puddle of blood at the end of the quoridor.

    “Some idiot probably got hurt in potions or something.” Draco scoffed, though he was a bit confused. They continued walking being careful to avoid the blood. Draco's mind was quickly brought back to the book and he opened it to see what it was. What he saw stunned him.

    They were sketches. Not crappy sketches that was done by some kid, but damn good sketches. Most of them looked like they were for herbology. There were various plants with notes about them scribbled in messy handwriting in the margins, but every few pages there was something different. On the fifth page there was a drawing of a creature he didn't recognize. It was a black horse-like creature with big leathery looking wings. He wondered what it was. They had now arrived at the common room and Draco went directly to a couch sitting down on the black leather, continuing through the book. On the eleventh page there was a drawing of a broom stick. It was read Nimbus 2000 at the handel. There were various other sketches of random objects littered throughout the pages of plants and each was extremely realistic. His thoughts were interrupted by Daphne and Pansy.

    “Did you draw those Malfoy?” Daphne asked plucking the book out of his hand ignoring his protests.

    “No, could I have it back?” He asked glaring at the girl.

    Before she could respond Perkison interrupted, “Who’s is it Dracy?”

    “Don't call me Dracy” the boy groweld, “and I haven't the slightest idea.”

    “Oh, how did you get it?” Daphne asked.

    “I just found it, now give it back.” He stood up snatching the book up before retreating upstairs.

    “Who pissed in his cheerios?” Pansy grumbled plopping onto the couch.

    The next day you had herbology first period, you quite liked herbology you were good at it too. You loved how you could just sketch after you finished the drawing of the plants and of course you love your grade in the class. It made you feel less like a loser. Just a little less. When you plopped yourself into a seat next to a Ravenclaw boy named Casey. He was always very nice and often complimented you drawings. You would be lying if you said you didn't like him a little.

    After sitting down and greeting the boy you opened your bag to look for your sketchbook. It was nowhere to be found. What the heck? You thought as you searched through your bag with no luck. Then it struck you. You must have left it in the dungous yesterday. You cursed yourself quietly.

    “You okay?” Casey asked beside you.

    “Yeah I just lost my book,” You smiled at him blushing a bit.

    “Oh. I could help you look for it later if you want.” He offered.

    “O-oh I wouldn't want to bother you.” you blushed

    “It's no bother, I swear i want to help.” He smiled flashing a pearly set of straight teeth.

    “Ok, s-sounds good.” You stammered, you felt your face grow impossibly warmer.

    The lesson continues and you talked occasionally to Casey, you did your sketch on a piece of lined paper, you would transfer them when you found your notebook. After Herbologioy you and Casey headed down to the dungeons to look for your book. You had never really hung out with him out of class and it was nice. You were fighting a blush the whole time, you weren’t really one who interacted with attractive boys out of class.

    Draco began to make his way down to potions, he was still working through the drawings, there were many creatures he had never heard of before. It was odd, how had he never seen so many of these before? He was halfway through the dungeons when he heard giggling. It wasn't Pansy’s shriek, it was a soft quiet sound that made him think of the patter of rain on dewy grass. He turned the corner to see two figures in blue robes. One was a tall boy with dirty blond hair and deep brown eyes. Next to him was a y/h girl with y/h/l y/h/c hair that shone in the candle light. Her eyes were a stunning y/e/c that shared a soft yet sharp gaze with the world. He was taken aback. How had he never seen this girl before? They both looked at Draco expecting him to speak but he didn't, he simply kept walking brushing past the two, tucking the leather bound book back into his robes.

    As he walked away, he heard the boy mutter something to the girl, causing her to gasp and laugh,

    “Casey!” she scolded him

    “Oh come on y/n that was funny.” He teased back and Draco almost gasped in surprise. That was y/n? y/n y/l/n? No way. You were in his potions class and you never even spoke up, you were constantly messing up positions too. How was that girl the same one whose name he had grown deaf to Snape yelling? I didn't seem possible.

“Shot, I have to get to positions.” you told Casey glancing at your watch. He said goodbye as you walked quickly to your worst class. You were actually unusually excited, Luna one of your best friends had offered to help you out because you had the class together and she was quite good at potions. You entered the classroom quickly and found Lun, sitting next to the girl. As you waited for class to start you chatted about the different potions and what might be on the test.

“Wait for the dragons egg you have to turn it to powder first right?” you asked to see your friends gaze elss where.

“Dracos staring at you.” She said simply as if she hadn't just said an impossible sentence.

“What?” you asked turning around to meet a pair of silver eyes already on you. They quickly dodged away making you blush tremendously. “I saw him in the hallway eairler, and Casey made a stupid joke about him, hes probally plotting my death.” You sighed reality crashing on to you.

    “I don't think so.” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone.

    “What else would he be doing?” You murmured returning to your notes.

    Before Luna could answer Snape entered the room and you snapped your eyes to the front of the class.

    “It has come to my attention that many of you are getting nothing done in this class.” He stated harshly. You cringed this was not going to end well. “And because of that fact I have made a new seating chart,” You groaned, just when you were getting excited about positions.

    “Listen for your name and your partner,” He continued. “Parkinson, Belby. Goldstein, Crabbe. Greengrass, Lovegood.” You glanced at your friend who was as usual, smiling. You are happy for her as well, there were much worse partners to be had. “Corner, Zambini. Boot, Blustrode. Y/l/n, Malfoy.” The rest of the names went out of the window when you heard your partner. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

    When Draco heard your name called, then quickly followed by his he felt like he was going to throw up. And it wasn't because he knew you were probably going to botch whatever potion they made, it was because he wasn't sure if he could focus around you. He blushed madly and tried to think about something else. It's just a pretty girl you bloody idiot. He scolded himself. You just met her today, he reminded himself Well just realized she existed today. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Snape's voice.

“If you don't like your partner, too bad. Move together please.” Draco glanced over at y/n who was already packing up, Zambini moved from his seat apologizing to Draco for his partner and moved toward the back where Micheal was seated.

    He then saw you make your way over to him your cheeks a bit red, the same way they were when you were talking to that Casey boy in the hallway. He grimaced, how was he jealous of someone he had never spoken a word to? He then decided he would ignore every good quality you had and focus on the bad ones. That way it would be easier to pretend to hate you right?

    The second you sat down his plan failed. You smelt like vanilla and roses. He wanted to lean closer to you and inhale your addicting scent forever, but instead he moved over or so he couldn't breathe in your intoxicating fumes.  

    “Hi, i’m y/n.” You said sweetly sticking your hand out.

    “I know who you are.” Draco responded ignoring your hand and continuing to stare at the board, slouching in his seat.

    “Oh ok.” You murmured. He saw a small frown take over your soft pink lips and he felt angry for being its cause.

    Snape explained that you were to make a Confusing Concoction potion and told you you had till the end of class. The potion wasn't too complicated. You thought you might be able to get through this one.

    “I'll get the water you can work on the feathers.” Draco drawled trying not to get to close to you as he stood. You pretend not to notice.

    “Ok.” you nodded. You grabbed the feathers and began to separate the barbs from them. Not but two feathers in you yelped with pain as a barb pierced your thumb. You yanked it out hissing in pain as you saw blood drips from the wound. Draco who was now back and heating the water grimaced at the sound of your pain but refused to show that he cared.

    He sighed loudly, “Look you go clean up and I will finish the feathers.”

    “Thank you.” you whimpered walking towards a sink face red as the blood dripping from your hand.

    Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding after you walked past. He then sat down and began to work on the feathers. His fingers moved easily to separate the barbs from the stalk and he couldn't help but wonder how you had possible stuck yourself with one so quickly. He then heard a thump and an apology and looked up to see you stumbling back to your seat face a brilliant red as Millicent and Boot glared after you. He snickered a bit turning back to the feathers.

    Once you had most of the ingredients in you had to wait for 30 minutes for it to boil so Draco sat down and pulled out the book of drawings he had found.

    He was flipping through the pages again when he heard a gasp beside him. He looked up eyebrows raised.

    “Where did you find that?” You asked pointing at the book.

    “In the hallway.” He smirked, “Why do you care anyway?”

    “Because it's mine.” You whispered causing his cheeks to flush.

    “This is yours?” He asked surprise sewn into his voice.

    “Yes.” you nodded, “I lost it when..” your voice trailed off face growing red, “after potions.” you finished voice quiet.

    “You sure this is yours?” It came out harsher than Draco had intended but what could he do about it now?

    “Yes.” you breathed out face growing warmer. “It does have drawings in it, doesn't it?”

    “Well yeah but they are like, really good.” Only after he said it did he realise how it sounded. He instantly was filled with guilt as your face flashed with sadness and anger.

    “Yeah, well, they’re mine.” You grumbled voice quiet.

    “Here.” He handed the book to you, your hands brushed before you snatched the book away and he felt like he was going to burst at the feeling of your skin against his.

    Just then the timer on your position went off and the two of you continued to work.

    That's how it went for two weeks. You and Draco would share very few words as you worked together. Your grade did improve, but you were still quite prone to accidents and Draco rolled his eyes everytime. You went from being sad he didn't like you to being mad. He was always so rude. He would avoid speaking to you, looking at you, hell he avoided you altogether, his seat was always poised at the other end of the desk as if you were some sort of plague. All of this made you angry and frustrated. What have you done to make you so repulsive? You knew you weren't the best at potions but you had only messes up three the whole time and you were improving. You had never been rude to the boy even once, how come he hated you so much?

    “I just don't get it.” You pouted turning to Casey who was walking you down to potions.

    “It's not your fault y/n, he's like that with everyone.” He explained, “He's just a dick, not much you can do about it.”

    “But maybe if I was better at potions the-” you were interrupted by Casey.

    “Y/n its not your fault, you are amazing and sweet and kind, it's just him okay? Don't let him make you doubt yourself.”

    You blushed furiously at his words, “Thanks Case.”

    “Plus if he's really pissing you off just blow a potion up in his face.” he jeered.

    You laughed loudly, “He'd probably kill me with his icy glare.” you teased.

    “He is always glaring at you.” Casey smiled.

    “Thanks for walking me.” You said.

    “Of course, i’ll see you around y/n.” He beamed.

    “See ya.” You said before entering the classroom. You were met with Draco's frozen glare.

    “Hello Malfoy.” You greeted.

    “Y/l/n” he responded his voice vacant of any emotion.

    You sat down and glanced at the board to see what position you were working on. You then looked at Draco who was already looking at you making you blush.

    “I'll get the water.” You said promptly before standing up and snatching a cauldron. Only when you did this you left foot got caught behind your right and you plummeted to the ground. You dropped the cauldron with a clang and you hit the ground. You instantly heard laughter erupted throughout the room and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You then heard a snicker and you didn't have to see his face to know it was Draco. You blinked furiously face a deep shade of crimson. You then pushed yourself off the ground, lifted the cauldron from a few feet away and turned to face the slytherin boy. Your shyness suddenly disappearing in your rage and embarrassment when you saw the everlasting smirk perched on his lips. You felt two tears cascade down your red cheeks as you thrust the cauldron into his hands.

“Screw you Malfoy.” your voice trembled through gritted teeth. You then quickly left the classroom, laughter disappearing behind you. You made it maybe two cordors from the classroom when you saw Mckenzie. You instantly turned to run but were cut off by a few other girls already behind you.

“God y/n, such a clutz.” She snickered. “I think you belong in a physical therapy building not a wizarding school.”

You only whimpered feeling helpless and small.

“Boo-hoo poor, poor, y/n all alone.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists.”You do realize that Casey only hangs out with you because of a dare right?”

Your eyes widened in confusion.

“I made a dare that he couldn't get you to go out with him in a month and here we are, only two weeks in and you are practically drooling over him.”

You felt a sob leave your mouth. You wanted to say it wasn’t true but you knew it was. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence he asked to help you find your book the exact day she said she struck the deal with him. You felt angry. Sad. But most of all embarassed. You were always so embarrassed. Why where you always so fucking embarassed?!

“Guess I'll have to go out with him now that I told you about the bet” She smirked picking at her long blue nails.

“Of course.” You muttered tears falling of your chin.

“What's that?” Mckenzie smirked.

“Of course he would want to go out with you.” You began to sob and you saw Mckenzie’s smirk widen and your anger out did you.

“Of course, some douchebag like him would want to date a slutty bitch like you.” Anger dripped like poison from your voice. All of the laughter around you stopped as you felt yourself smile. You looked up through your tears to see Mkenzies mouth wide open in shock, her eyes wide in her sockets.

Anger took over her features and she pulled her wand from her robes with a shriek. “Stupify!” she shouted and you were sent sprawling backward. Your head hit the stone wall and black dots danced in your vision. You groaned closing your eyes but they popped back open when you heard another voice.

“Back off!” it yelled anger knit into its frame. You turned to see Draco heading strait at the girls. He whipped his wand once and suddenly Meckenzi flew into the air. She then dangled there like an invisible rope was tied to her ankle.

She shrieked for the girls below her to help but they just turned and ran fearful of the boy heading toward them. After the other girls disappeared Draco flicked his wand again and Mckenzie fell to the ground and began to cry.

“Get out of here before I do more than hex you.” You heard him growl.

The girl instantly stood up sobbing as she stumbled away. Draco's eyes softened when they landed on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he rushed over to you.

“What do you care Malfoy?” you mumbled attempting to get up only to stumble over your own feet and plummet to the ground, well you would have hit the ground if it wasn't for a pair of strong arms wrapping around you. You looked up at the blonde, his grey eyes were set on your lips and felt your heartbeat speed up to extremely high. Draco's face was now quite red as he helped you back to your feet.

“Why do you hate me?” the question rose from your lips before you could stop it. You flushed immediately after it left your mouth. Draco looked taken aback by the question.

“I don't hate you.” he stated.

“Don't lie to me. You avoid looking at me, you don't speak to me, hell you sit as far away from me as possible.” You paused looking at the boy, “I just want to know why.”

He laughed he actually laughed. What could possibly be funny right now? Was this all another joke? Did he really find your misery that funny. You flushed madly turning to leave.

“No wait love, don't leave.” Draco begged his laughter stopping abruptly.

You felt heat rush to your face at the nickname and turned around looking at the ground. Your gaze was turned upward when you felt a finger slowly lift your face upward. You had never blushed so much in your entire life.

“I don't hate you y/n. I would never hate you.” He smiled, not his usual smirk but a genuine smile and it made you go weak at the knees. “I don't think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why do you act like you do?” you asked, “Why do you avoid me? Why do you never talk to me, never look at me?”

He sighed, “I avoid you because whenever I get near you, I smell you. And it drives me crazy.” His hand caressed your cheek bone and you were pretty sure you face was on fire. “Your scent is beyond intoxicating. When I talk to you I lose track of everything else and I can only hear your voice echoing in my head.” He whispered, his minty breath danced across your face making you shudder. “And when I look at you, it's like the world disappears and it's only you standing there. Everytime I look at you I have to battle myself not to lean in and taste your lips.”

You stared at him. You couldn't breath, your It had been replaced with butterflies that were now fluting inside you madly. You were pretty sure this is what death felt like. But then something clicked inside you and your realized this wasn't death it was love.

“When it comes to you, I can focus on nothing else.” Dracos lips were so close you could feel them brush yours and you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed his lips onto yours.

You had never felt anything like it before, his lips danced on yours with grace you couldn't even begin to fathom. You felt his tongue slid across your lips and your eyes widened in surprise. You then shut them again opening your mouth a slight bit. You ran your hand threw his hair as he explored your mouth with his tongue pushing you up against the wall softly. You didn't want to break the kiss but you felt your lungs burn begging for air and you drew away from him.

You were both panting when you pulled apart. Your face was a bright red, your lips swollen, and hair disheveled but to Draco, you had never looked more beautiful.

“Merlin,” he gasped out, “I'm never going to focus again when I know you kiss like that.”

You flashed a brilliant red and giggled, Draco then decided he couldn't stop himself anymore, he pressed his lips against yours once again.

[peakatseven]

MICHAAAA CONGRATULATIONS

🌕 broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

andddd

🎸 haunted

this bitch really came for me asking for a story AND a cover of such a hard song to sing. okay thanks i guess.

nah im just kidding babe i had so much fun writing this! i feel like it’s the first time in years that i’m posting proper fanfiction? kind of? idk i was trying to find another name for the mc but i kept picturing frat boy harry so here we go:

Concentration is impossible when the silence is loud and the work is important. The worst part is when one starts thinking about the need of being concentrated, rather than the actual work that needs to be done. As a university student, Harry was no different than most: his anxiety about school and his future co-existed with the emotional backlash of relationships and the need to "experience the best years of your life". There were few people with whom he wouldn't worry about meeting some kind of expectation. But she had been silent with him for the better part of a year. Images of Caro kept coming back to him, a trauma he couldn't let go off. Granted, it was the one painful brake up he'd experienced, one that was never truly over. Even now, uncountable names in between him and her, he still couldn't get her blue eyes off of his mind. The thought of her porcelain skin over his sun-kissed body came to him every single one of his one-night-stands. And at that moment, sitting on his desk, trying to get his homework done, the memory of her laughter drowned every sentence he tried to compose. He forced everything out with a loud grunt, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling on his hair. "The results show that 73.3% of patients responded positively to the treatment." He voiced out loud, trying to silence Caro's laughter in his mind. "No, that's bullshit." After a few moments staring at the cursor beeping at the end of his last sentence, he finally shut the laptop down. On an impulse, he unlocked his phone and opened a conversation from three days prior. He should've answered it when he got the text, but he wasn't in the mood at the time. "Hey, babe, wanna go for a beer rn?" He wasn't even done changing when the phone buzzed on the table. Two happy emojis popped up, and then a "Meet you there in 10". He kept the speed up as he rode off campus, through a park and then into the city. He was glad for the chill air against his face, numbing it to the point where it was the only thing he was able to think about. Finally some peace of mind. It wasn't dark yet when he got to the bar, but the sun had already set behind the buildings. There was one single tree, barely taller than him but strong enough to hold his bike. As he secured it, a red leaf fell to his knee. It was autumn when he got to kiss Caro for the first time, and it was also autumn when he kissed her last. "Nope. Something else, think of something else." he thought to himself. Incapable of coming up with anything, he brought out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Somewhere inside him, there was a bit of guilt about what he was trying to do. But it'd been so long since he started that it no longer bothered him. His new game was called Darren. The younger guy looked like a model, straight silver hair and pale skin that Harry couldn't wait to leave marks on. All he could think about when Darren was around was the things he wanted to do to him. It was purely sensual, and that was pretty clear from the start. Or at least that's what he told himself. That Darren was on the same page as him- no strings attached, just fun and games. But the way his phone had been buzzing ever since he got on the bike, there was clearly more interest from one side. But instead of doing the right thing, and not stringing him along, Harry was about to sleep with him again and leave with a lame excuse to not spend the night. And then it was back to emotionless texts, conversations on the verge of ghosting him just in case he'd be in the mood again. But it was okay, Darren was playing the same game. He had the same dynamic with a lot of people lately. None knew of each other. They didn't have to, and they didn't ask either. He was no monster, though. Harry would tell that to himself constantly. That because no one had explicitly asked for exclusivity, it was implied they weren't obliged to it. The only one who did, what was her name again? Odella... no, that's not right... Ornella, maybe? He laughed dryly at himself. He'd become one of those guys that didn't even remember the names of all of his

partners. But he was no dougebag, when Ornella asked to be exclusive, he straight up told her no and then never bothered her again. They weren't on the same page anymore, so no more games. He wondered if that would ever happen with Darren too. There was not much time to think about this, because he was soon greeting the guy with a half hug and a gentle kiss just beside his lips. "You smell nice." Darren said, hands in his pockets and scarf almost over his mouth. "You just like the smell of tabacco." Harry smirked and put the unfinished cigarette down. "Let's get in, you're freezing." The night went exactly how Harry planned it. All his jokes were welcomed by Darren, and he let the young boy win at pull- he was cute when he bragged about his skills. But the best feeling was whenever Harry would approach Darren. A stroke of the lower back, a smirk from the other side of the table, a kiss when no one was near... Darren accepted any and everything Harry was willing to give him. The power high that it gave him to have someone be so devoted to him was indescribable. But the night was fully set and he was growing impatient. "Let's get out of here." He whispered to Darren's ear right before his turn. Darren had already started pulling Harry's bike for him when the phone on his pocket buzzed again. Harry walked alongside his date, though his eyes were on his phone. He had a lost call that he hadn't noticed while inside. The number wasn't saved to his phone anymore, but he hadn't managed to erase it from his own memory yet. "Oh, shit." He whispered. "I... Sorry, man, I have to go. There's a- um, it's a family thing." Harry was on his bike before his date could answer. He didn't even look at Darren's eyes before leaving. There was a sting of guilt building up, and maybe he'd feel disgusted by himself if it wasn't for the sheer adrenaline running through his veins. Maybe the alcohol had a bit to do with it too. This had only happened a few times before, and the outcome was always the same. Still, Harry couldn't keep himself from falling to his knees when it came to her. As he rode his bike as fast as he could go, a cynical smile crept on his lips. How ironic. Darren was probably feeling the same way about Harry just a few hours prior. Whenever Caro was in town, she stayed at her best friend's apartment- all the way on the other side of the city. So it was past midnight already when he got to the building. There was a party on the roof, maybe they could sneak in for more drinks. She had some catching up to do, as Harry was already tipsy. Still, he didn't have to check the phone to know which floor to go to and which door to knock. Just like everything else about Caro, he had it indefinitely memorized. 409, the doorknocker was a silver seagull. A very heavy, silver seagull. At first, Harry didn't feel it when his finger got caught in between the door and the seagull, but by the third time he knocked, it started changing colour. "Hm." He said to himself as he examined the swollen-red finger. He put it in his mouth and kept on knocking to the beat of the music coming from above. Why did they have the music so loud? Harry could barely hear his own thoughts, so the neighbours had to be furious about this noise. Carolina was probably waiting for Harry, who was already late due to how far he was when she texted him. "Fuck!" He said, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He hadn't answered. Dumb ass. "im herre" He sent the text before reading the ones Caro had sent before. One was a laughing emoji and the other was a voice note. There were people laughing on the background, and someone turned the music down a bit for Caro to speak into her phone. "I'm so sorry, ignore that, it was a dare." She half said, half laughed. Harry didn't understand, so he played it again. Again. Again. And again one more time. Was she talking about the lost call? or was it about her being in town? Had he really fallen for such a stupid trap? Harry fell to the floor, phone glued to his ear as the voice note played over and over again. His chest was about to

explode, face red and throat dry. He knocked on the door again, now with his fist. The inevitable tear fell down his cheek, though it was impossible to know if it was sadness or anger that caused it. "Oh, god." Someone said behind him. But when he turned around, the stairs were empty and someone on hills was running up the stairs. He got up and ran after them, but he was too intoxicated to keep up. He fell halfway up the stairs, having to crawl for a few steps before getting up. On the rooftop, there were too many people in heels to know which one had seen him. "Great." He sight. Might as well look around. He walked around the place, inhaling the cold air of the night and trying to calm down, make sense of what had just happened. He was about to light up his last cigarette when someone took it from him. She had long purple nails and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She smirked as the cigarette reached her mouth. He lit it up for her. "I didn't think you'd actually come." She said. Her smirk turned into a sincere smile. "You told me to." "Yes, but I also said you should ignore that." "Well I didn't." He took the cigarette from her fingers and smoked himself before speaking again. "Should I go?" He wanted to seem as cool with the situation as she appeared to be, hide the fact that he had just been played like a puppet for a fucking drinking game dare. "What happened to you finger?" She shouted, stepping closer to him. "I- I don't remember." Harry lied. There was still a bit of dignity to be salvaged. And there it was, but this time it was real. Her laugh, once again, drowned every thought on his mind. There was no music and no people around them anymore, it was just him and her, together again, laughing in the middle of the night. "You know I meant to call you, right?" Caro said, a hand tenderly rubbing his arm. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew it too. "I'm sure you did." He said. "I did!" She pushed him a little, both cracking a knowing smile. "I promise I did, it's just that-" "Shut the fuck up." He felt more stable now that he'd taken some air and the alcohol effect had cooled down. "It's okay, Caro. Let's just have fun tonight and see what happens." "Sounds fun." She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, the kiss lingering just a second too long. He instinctively put a hand on her hip, but she walked away swiftly after the kiss. The pain on his chest came back, and the little composure he had gained crumbled. She wasn't coming back to him. This time it was definitive, and it had been for a while now. But the worst realization that came to him that night, was how much power she had over him. How much hope, urge, love, anger and pain she could cause in just a matter of hours. She had him at her mercy, like a puppet she could toy with however she wanted. They were both the same kind of wicked, using others for validation, feasting on their adoration. But as much pain as it caused him to know he was at the other end of his own game, it also sparked joy to know he could provide that for her.

[siren-queen-imagines]

Misunderstandings

This was requested by the lovely @fallinforhappiness​! I hope you enjoy! Considering I had already done similar prompts for Damien, I chose to do them with Shayne this time!

Prompts Used: 9.  “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”   15. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”

Masterlist

(gif by me)

=================================

Shayne watched you from across the room at the Smosh office, smiling to himself as you were laughing with Courtney. Your smile was so beautiful and so infectious to him. If only he could find it in him to actually tell you that.

Your friendship meant the world to him. Shayne realized that he had feelings for you about a couple months after you guys met. The more he got to know you, the more his feelings grew for you. He knew he needed to tell you how he felt soon because he just needed to know if you might feel the same way.

“Yo, Shayne.” Damien called to Shayne, breaking him from his daydream. “Jesus, I’ve been trying to get your attention for 20 minutes.” He exaggerated with a knowing smile.

“Sorry, I was trying to think of how to finish this.” Shayne motioned to the computer in front of him.

“Come on, man, we both know that’s a lie. You were watching Y/N.” Shayne looked over to you to see if you heard Damien. “Don’t worry, she didn’t hear me. When are you gonna tell her?”

Shayne sighed and scrolled through the script page open on his computer.

“I don’t know.”

“Look, as a fellow anxiety sufferer, I get it. It’s feels scary.”

“It’s different with Y/N, and I don’t know why. Normally I could find it in me to at least ask for a date but I just--”

“It’s normal to really like someone and fear rejection. It a basic human fear. But you know you’re gonna have to tell her if you want to see where things go. She won’t be single forever.”

“I know.”

Damien stood up, patting his friend on the shoulder before he left the office to get some coffee from the kitchen. 

“Hey Damien.” You greeted with a smile on your face as you went into the fridge.

“How’s it going?” Damien smiled back at you.

“Not too bad. I can’t complain. How are you?”

“Pretty good. Just trying to get that next sketch finished with Shayne.”

“Speaking of Shayne...is he okay? He’s just seemed a little spacey and frustrated earlier.”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine. He’s dealing with some stuff right now.”

Damien took a moment to really think if he should say what he wanted to say next. Maybe if he told you about Shayne you would take the pressure off his best friend and if you felt the same, you could ask Shayne out instead. Or he could make it look like this was all his doing because in reality, he was right now.

“So, hey, I was thinking about setting Shayne up with someone.” Damien continued casually, making his coffee the way he liked it. “Would you hate me for saying that I think you would be good for him?”

“Really?” You replied in surprise. “That’s big coming from his best friend.”

“Yeah, of course you. I think you would be good for him.”

“I don’t know...I don’t think he would see me as more than a friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Damien paused when he realized what he blurted out. Crap. He already kinda sorta spilled the beans. Well...that didn’t take long at all. Sorry Shayne...so so sorry.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Wait, wait...was that hope Damien heard in your voice? Oh god, please. Please let it be. Despite possibly blowing this for Shayne, he really did mean it when he said that he thought you would be good for him. He still ended up sighing because he felt bad that he let the secret halfway out of the box...and was about to let it all out.

“Okay, look…” Damien put his coffee down on the counter. “He’s probably gonna kill me but he loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Love? Wow, how long has he been holding out on you?

“He loves me?” 

Oh goddammit, Damien. Did you have to use the ‘L’ word? That’s it, no more coffee for him because apparently he didn’t start messing up until he drank any.

“How long has he had these feelings for me?” You asked.

Honestly, wow. You did not see that coming. You felt butterflies in your stomach and hope filled your heart. You had the biggest crush on Shayne and sometimes you swore it was obvious but maybe you hid it well enough to go undetected.

“Long enough.” Damien relented, deciding there was no point in hiding it. “I know he thought you were cute when you guys met but the longer you guys got to know each other…”

You nodded, understanding where he was going. You lightly smiled when you thought of the timeline because it matched up to yours.

“Can you let me talk to him? Like, don’t mention this conversation to him?” You smiled at Damien softly.

“Definitely.”

OH thank god. He didn’t mess this up. 

“Thank you, Damien. Seriously.”

=================================

You waited to talk to Shayne. You didn’t want it to be obvious you had talked to Damien about it so time was important. You didn’t want to unintentionally rat out Damien.

Currently, you and Shayne were the only ones at the office at the moment. Damien and Courtney were both filming and you two weren’t expected on set for at least another hour.

“No, I think we can add that here.” Shayne told you, pointing to the paragraph on the page and moving his finger up halfway.

“Yeah, the joke would land better there.” You agreed, cutting the paragraph and pasting it back.

You looked over to Shayne. Maybe now would be a good time to talk to him about what Damien told you last week. You both had managed to finish sooner than expected so you had some free time.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.” You added before looking back to the computer, hitting the save button.

“Sure, what’s up?” Shayne asked, curiosity in his tone.

“I, uh--” Oh no...the nerves were kicking in. Why? Damien said Shayne had feelings for you so what are you nervous? “This may sound like it’s coming out of left field but I like you, like, really like you.”

Shayne’s heart started beating what felt like a million miles a second...you...you had feelings for him too?

“And I feel like I needed to say something because I didn’t want to possibly regret not telling you.”

“Y/N…” Shayne started, his nerves getting the best of him. Wait, what the hell? You basically did the hard work but he still had a rough time with it? “I--I don’t feel the same way--” WAIT WHAT? SHAYNE WHAT WERE YOU DOING?”

You heart sank...was Damien wrong? I mean, why would he lie about something like this? Did even Damien misread things? You took a shaky breath in and nodded.

“It’s okay. I understand.” You began to grab your things...you just needed to get out of there.

“Y/N, wait…” Shayne tried to stop you.

“I’ll see you on set, yeah?” You smiled at him sadly.

“Y/N--”

You were already out the door before he could correct himself.

=================================

“Are you serious?” Damien asked Shayne.

“I don’t know what happened, I panicked and that’s what came out.” Shayne said.

“Oh Shayne--”

“I know, I know.”

“You need to make this right.”

“How? I don’t think she wants to talk to me right now. I just hurt her feelings.”

“You can fix it by straightening up the misunderstanding. You do it or I will.”

“Look, I’ll give it until tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t you wanna try now?”

“Because like I said. She wouldn’t want to talk to me right now. She needs some space.”

Damien shook his head and before he could just ignore what Shayne said, they were called to set...unfortunately there wasn’t a chance for them to talk after that.

=================================

Turns out you had a date the next night with a friend of Courtney’s and Shayne didn’t take to that very well. You decided to work from home that day so he couldn’t fix it or he can at least tell you why you couldn’t go out on that date.

Thing was, you decided not to go out on that date. You decided it would be best to stay home and sort out your feelings instead of acting on a bad impulse. It wouldn’t be fair to Courtney’s friend if you chose to go out with him because you were hurting after what happened with Shayne.

You were watching Schitt’s Creek on Netflix when your phone rang. You paused it and grabbed your phone seeing Shayne’s name on the Caller ID. Should you answer? Yeah. Of course. It could be important because normally he’d just text you.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Y/N…” Shayne voice sang on the other line, followed by a laugh. “Oh Y/N...yer so beauful.” He slurred.

“Are you drinking, Shayne?”

“No, no. I finished. Im callin cause Damimen--Damin--Damien? Yeah Damien said to. He hope you can give us a ride home.”

“Why can’t he?” 

“He doesn drink much...but he did wif me so he cant drive.”

“Where are you?”

=================================

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Damien said from the passenger’s seat. He wasn’t as drunk as Shayne but he had enough to keep him from driving.

“It’s okay, Damien. Better this than you guys driving home.” You replied with a small shrug. “So thanks for being responsible and not getting yourselves hurt or killed.”

“Y/N…” Shayne called from the back seat. “I messt up.”

“It’s fine, Shayne.” You couldn’t help but smile. Drunk Shayne was new to you and it was funny.

“Nooo...no s’not. I really like you.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”

Damien smiled in shock as he looked towards Shayne. Finally. Also, he managed to get that out with a slur. Impressive. He then looked over to you to your shocked face as well.

“Wh--why didn’t you just say that yesterday after I told you how I felt?” You asked as you turned to face him at the red light. 

“I panicked. I been waitin to hear that then I said what I said. M’sorry.”

These past 24 hours have been a rollercoaster on your emotions. But in a sense, it was worth it because Shayne fucking felt the same way. It was happening. You quickly wiped at the tears brimming your eyes as you turned to face the stop light, a small smile on your face. 

==================================

“Hey.” Shayne greeted you when you answered your front door, nervous smile on his face.

“Hey. Come in.” You said, moving aside so he could come in.

“Thanks for last night. I’m so sorry about you dealing with drunk me.”

“Drunk you was hilarious. But how are you feeling?”

“Well, I woke up feeling like I was hit by a bus but I’m slowly getting better.”

“Good.”

“So about last night. I meant what I said. And I’m sorry I made you believe that I didn’t like you back.”

“It’s okay. Really, Shayne. I got into my own head and didn’t let you finish.”

“It’s not your fault.” Shayne took a step closer to you and took your hands in his. “I’m just glad to know you feel the same way about me. With that being said, can I take you out tonight?”

“Of course you can.”

You couldn’t help but close the gap between the two of you and lean in. Shayne met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

[jungshookz]

ballet!jimin's harsh voice but gentle touch when he's telling u off for performing with an injury but bandaging u up and snapping at the others because his sTAR WAS HURT AND CRYING im sOFT

→ pairing: park jimin x reader 

→ genre: balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n au, fluff!!!! the fluffiest fluff!!! idk jimin just really cares about y/n okAY 

→ wordcount: 2.5k 

→ note: i keep starting off with baby drabbles and then the baby drabbles eventually turn into fAT drabbles so here u go.,., y/n is a big dum-dum for not telling jimin about her sprained ankle and he wants to kiss the bruise on her knee but that’s probably not a good idea

(gif isn’t mine!) (okay but this gif is literally so perfect for this au) 

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

long story short

you managed to sprain your ankle after trying to do a grand jeté and now you’re trying to pretend like your foot is completely fine

(a grand jeté is a move where ur supposed to spring from one foot and land on the other while keeping one leg forwArd of your body and the other leg stretched backwards while in the air) 

((u would not recommend doing it and u give it -2/10 gold stars))

it’s just that you have this innate, almost animalistic need to impress jimin and the other week you snuck a glance at the syllabus and you saw ‘grand jeté’ scribbled at the bottom of the page

and ya know what

you want to be one of the first people in the class to learn how to do it!! even though you’ve never attempted it before but 

now is a good time to start learning! 

you came in super early today to practice this stuPid move

it’s literally just a jump from point a to point b so you don’t understand why-

“shit!” you gasp when you feel a sharp pain shOOt up your foot the moment you land and you immediately crumple to the ground with a loud fLOP

O W

“oh my god, ow-” you hiss and rub at your sore ankle that’s beginning to turn red

you try flexing your foot and you let out a whimper when you feel another zap of pain

okay

you know what

it’s not a big deal

class starts in… ten minutes, so maybe you can hobble to the vending machine and use a can of soda as a makeshift ice pack

yes

also you should probably hide in the bathroom while icing your ankle because there’s no way in hell you’re going to let jimin see you like this

you’re already sure he hates you and you are not going to give him another reason to keep hating you

“that was quite a tumble, y/l/n. maybe if you kept your leg straighter, you wouldn’t have landed so harshly.” you immediately freeze upon hearing the voice of your sworn enemy

seulgi

you whip around to look over your shoulder “…seulgi! i… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“it’d be a shame if you hurt your foot… you won’t be able to participate in class… you won’t be able to show us your amazing dance moves…” seulgi sighs and drops her bag on the side

you narrow your eyes at her

something’s coming

“oh! and you won’t be able to suck up to mr. park like a little teacher’s pet.”

ah

there it is

you have literally never done anything to seulgi but she hates you because she fully believes that you’re jimin’s favourite student which yOU know is not true

it’s just because she wants to be jimin’s favourite student which is understandable but

you don’t get why she has to be so mean to you all the time

“says you.” you can’t help but roll your eyes after you turn back around to check on your foot

you give it another little flex and curse quietly

you definitely sprained it

you gooFball

you shouldn’t have attempted a grand jeté without jimin’s guidance!!!

“sorry, did you just say something?” 

“i said i’m fine, seulgi.” you force a smile onto your face “but thank you for your concern.” you push yourself up off the ground and biTe back a hiss of pain when you get back up onto your feet

okay okay oKAy

just smile through the pain

do noT give seulgi the pleasure of knowing that your foot is all kinds of fucked up right now

if you don’t think about your foot, you should be fine

you only have to get through an hour and a half of rigorous dancing and then you can hobble to the drug store and get yourself some ointment and a bandage and hopefully your foot will get better over the weekend

and with this distraction you officially have… one minute left til class starts

the rest of the girls have already filed into the room and everyone’s either stretching on the barre or putting their pointe shoes on

“alright, ladies!” you jump when jimin claps his hands together as he steps into the studio “put on your best performance smiles because i want to see everyone do a triple-turn pirouette since we spent all of last week working on them!”

“oh, jesus.” you mutter to yourself and you ignore the way seulgi crosses her arms and smirks at you

it’s not just one pirouette that you have to do

it’s a triple-turn pirouette

you have to spin around three damn times!!!!

your foot isn’t even going to let you spin onE time!!  

it can’t get any worse than this 

“we’re going to have everyone up here one by one so that i can clearly pick out whatever mistakes will be made.”

…okay, it turns out it actually can get worse than this 

everyone moves to gets in a line at the back of the room

“alright, so…” jimin pauses for a second and raises his brow when he notices you.,. hobble? to your spot

hm 

you turn around and stand in third position with your hands behind your back and clear your throat

“let’s get started! don’t let me down, please.”

“don’t let him down, y/l/n.” seulgi nudges your side with her elbow and you resist the urge to shoVe your elbow right into her face

“why don’t you focus less on me and more on the fact that you’re in fourth position instead of third?” you mutter and seulgi immediately looks down at her feet before shifting her feet

curse you and your attention to detail

“answer me this - how should one hold their arms during a pirouette?” jimin snaps and holds his clipboard against his chest before raising his brow at poor ailee

she looks like she’s about to start crying and honEstly you would probably start crying too

“um, you… they should be curved… and…”

“incorrect.” jimin blinks “i can’t tell if you’re kidding me or not. they should be straight out in front of your chest with your palms inward and your thumbs aligned. get out of my classroom and come back when you’re ready - next!”

ailee literally whimpers before ducking down and sprinting out of the classroom 

oh goD

you’ve never been kicked out of the classroom before and you sure as hell don’t want to start now

you swallow thickly when you take a peek at how many girls are left until it’s your turn

four more including seulgi

you’ve seen seulgi do a triple-turn pirouette before and even though she does it beautifully you still hAte her guts

you grimace when you move up the line but you let out a small breath

smile through the pain

your ankle feels like it’s on FIRE

“seulgi? you’re up.” jimin taps his pen against his clipboard before gesturing for her to come

seulgi doesn’t say a word as she steps over to the middle of the room

a bright smile adorns her face as she spins one, two, and three times

goddamnit

how are you supposed to go on after seulgi????

“good.” jimin nods in affirmation “back of the line so that you can show the class again after everyone’s done.”

“yes, mr. park.” seulgi smiles sweetly and bats her lashes at him before veering off to the back of the line

“good luck, y/n.” she doesn’t hesitate to flash a smug little smirk in your direction as she steps past you

“y/n, your turn.” jimin hums and you offer him a meek smile

okay

here we go

don’t think about your foot

just think about the triple turn

you clear your throat again as you get into position

the first step to the turn is a plié

you stand with your feet flat against the floor

you bend your knees outward and keep your legs straight

so far so good

you lift your back heel off the ground slightly to prepare to turn and press your lips together to hide a wince when you feel more pressure on your front (very VERY spRAined) foot

“make sure your weight is centred over the ball of your foot so as not to disrupt your alignment.” jimin reminds you gently and you nod

“yes, mr. park.” you let out a breath to prepare yourself for the oncoming onslaught of PAIN

you give yourself a mental countdown before lifting your back leg and initiating your turn

you lift your back leg up and place your foot above the knee of your straight leg with your toe pointed towards the ground and you turn once

oh gOD

you unintentionally let out a gasp after completing the first turn because jesus fuCK that hurts!

your sprained foot is literally carrying the weight of your entire body and you want to: dIE

okay, second turn, here we go!

you remember to keep your back straight and your arms in a circle in front of you as you turn

you also remind yourself to focus on spotting so that you won’t lose your balance

you keep your head straight and level as you turn the second time

don’t think about your foot don’t think about your foo-

j-jESUS chRIST have MERCY

you get halfway through the final turn before your foot gives in and you find yourself tumbling to the ground

your knee hits the ground with a loud smAck that seems to bounce off the walls of the room and you let out a groan of pain

well, this is great!

now you have a fucked up ankle anD a bruised and bLeeding knee!

“christ, y/n, are you okay??” your name slips out of jimin’s mouth as he drops to his knees and sets his clipboard down with a clatter

seulgi raises her hand high up into the air and clears her throat “mr. park, can i just say how truly admirable it is that y/n wanted to get up there and show you her triple- well, her double-pirouette even though she sprained her ankle at the beginning of class?”

jimin looks up at her and immediately knits his brows together 

“you knew a fellow classmate was injured and you didn’t inform me?” he practically growls at her and she shrinks back in fear

“i-“ seulgi pauses and her face flames up immediately “i-i mean, yes, but that’s only because i… i didn’t want…”

you literally aren’t even paying attention to the fact that seulgi is getting toasted and roasted by jimin because you are in sO much pain

you let out a sob and feel a hot tear roll down the side of your face as you lie on your back clutching your knee to your chest  

oh grEAT

and now you’re crying!!!

jimin looks down at you in alarm before glancing over at the other girls who look absolutely traumatised

“everyone out of the classroom! go and practice your turns in room b.”

so

you’re not particularly sure what’s going on right now

everyone left the room five minutes ago and jimin hasn’t said a word to you

you stopped crying as soon as everyone left upon realising that you are now alone with jimin

he doesn’t say anything as he pulls the first aid kit out to get the ointment and the bandages

he doesn’t say anything as he sits down across from you and pulls your foot up gently so it’s sitting on his lap

you’re sitting up while leaning back on your palms and you chew on your bottom lip nervously

he helps unravel the ribbon around your ankle before slipping your pointe shoe off and setting it aside

you feel like you should at least say somEthing

“mr. park? i’m sorry for not telling-“

“how could you be so irresponsible?” jimin interrupts you and glances up at you for a second before looking back down at your foot

you feel your cheeks heat up with shame

“i just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” you murmur and twiddle with the edge of your chiffon skirt

“i could never be disappointed in you.” jimin mutters in response as he carefully pins the bandage in place

he pauses for a second because he definitely wasn’t supposed to say that out loUd

“you have to let me know the next time you’re hurt, okay?” he sets your foot aside and scoots closer til he’s practically sitting with your legs on either side of him

and now your cheeks are heating up for a different reason

and then you realise he’s only done that because your knee is still bruised and bleeding

“yes, mr. park.” 

“how did you hurt yourself?” he rips open a little antiseptic pad package with his teeth and that..,,. shouldn’t be hot,.., but it was kinda hot.,,.

“i was… trying to do a grand jeté and i guess i landed weirdly on my ankle…” you breathe out 

your heart is beating a little harder now because jimin’s face is only a couple inches away from yours

he’s so pretty 

:-( 

“but i haven’t taught how to do a grand jeté yet?” jimin raises a brow as he wipes up the dried blood

you twitch at the slight sting of it

“i saw it on your clipboard and i wanted to teach myself how to do it to impress you.” you admit shamefully and divert your gaze immediately when you feel jimin freeze

“are you serious?”

“…ya”

jimin snorts 

gOD

you are so CUTE

his heart skip a beat at your confession

it’s so cute!!!! you did it to impress him!!!!!! him!!!! even though you obviously hurt yourself doing it but still!! you did it for hiM!!! 

a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he shakes his head 

“you really are something, you know that?” he laughs lightly as he smooths the bandaid over your cut

you can’t help but let out a little huff “…is that a good thing?”

jimin looks over at you and he just wants to kith the pout off your adorable faCE 

he resists the urge to lean down and press a kiss over your knee and instead gives it a little pat before reaching over a tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear 

“miss y/l/n - it’s a very good thing.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[enchanted-prose]

#14 She Holds the Key in Her Hand

my beta loved this chapter :,)

Word count: 5,218

Characters: Tobias, Imogen, Princess Amarinda, Mott, Renlyn (Original character), Feall (Original character), Jolly (Original character), Roden, Jaron

Notes: edited. im excited to see reactions.

Enjoy!

The atrium was large enough for a group of people, but small enough not to feel empty. Shelves lined the round walls, and the ceiling was made entirely out of glass. Plants, books, and small collected trinkets rested in odd places. Couches and padded chairs of all designs had been placed strategically around the massive fireplace. A massive rug kept the chairs a safe distance from the fire, which illuminated a series of paintings.

It was a treasure among the castle’s numerous libraries.

Renlyn had been responsible for most of the furnishings. She'd managed to turn a stern room into one of the most favorite places in the castle for Jaron’s inner circle.

"That's nice," Tobias said, gesturing to the book covers Amarinda, Imogen, and Renlyn were embroidering.

Imogen’s creampuff of a kitten opened a single green eye, stared at Tobias, and settled back against Imogen’s arm.

"Thank you, I suppose, but my embroidery has always been severely lacking," Amarinda teased, holding up her mediocre book cover. "I refuse to give up."

"I think you've improved," muttered Renlyn.

Amarinda feigned offense as everyone in the room began nodding.

Tobias kept his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the tower window. He kept hearing pieces of Amarinda’s conversation, but couldn’t contribute.

It was an unspoken pact that each time there was a regents’ meeting, Amarinda and Imogen would gather all information possible, and discuss it with each other while they tended to their needlework. Renlyn had been invited, but no husbands were allowed to participate.

Eventually, Tobias earned the right to be in the same room during a needlepoint session, and did his best not to encroach on the discussions.

"Very true, I still remember some of your earliest designs," Imogen yawned.

"Play fair, I was a child at one point."

"As were we all,” Imogen mused. “Except Renlyn, I suppose"

“I emerged from the womb fully grown, it’s true.”

Amarinda snorted, and pulled her needle free from its thread. She frowned. “I do wish I’d stop doing that.”

“Perhaps you should consider a longer tail?” Renlyn gestured to the long thread dangling from her own needle.

“Be careful with a longer tail, it sometimes causes the string to knot,” added Imogen.

Tobias, who didn’t know much about the art of embroidery, turned to one of the shelves. His practice fippler stared at him from its dusty pedestal.

Several weeks ago, Jolly had made his home in one of the many rooms in the castle, and offered to teach Tobias the fippler.

However, Tobias was a natural disaster when it came to certain instruments, and he made no point in practicing after Jolly left to perform for a Lord’s daughter’s wedding in the northwest corner of Carthya. The fippler knew Tobias’s sin.

He picked it up, and wriggled some of the pieces. Tobias blew a series of extremely off key notes through the mouthpiece. Imogen’s cat hissed and ran beneath her skirts.

The cringe he wore rivaled the crown of garbage that adorned some of the Vault entrances.

In practicing the fippler, Tobias failed to notice how close Amarinda, Renlyn, and Imogen had gotten. The veil and circlet Renlyn wore over her hair hid both Renlyn’s and Imogen’s faces. Amarinda drew her head back from the secret conversation, a smile on her face.

Don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop.

Ah! He could quietly play the fippler and look at all of the trinkets on the shelves. Many of them weren’t Carthyan, and even more of them had been made by Jaron, Imogen, and Fink.

The most beautiful image was a bird made from the outline of a hand, the thumb outline served as a head, and the other four outlined fingers served as colorful feathers. Jaron’s signature took up the entire bottom portion of the image.

Tobias flinched as a loud, pitchy squeal escaped from the fippler.

All members of the embroidery trio looked at him. His ears burned.

Jolly was going to kill him for abusing the instrument.

Unable to continue mistreating the fippler, for both his sanity, the women’s sanity, and the fippler’s sanity, Tobias set the instrument down on another shelf. He’d have to pick up practicing later.

Tobias took a step onto the rug and turned around himself. Shelves of books, bottled flowers, angry wooden knights Roden and Jaron used to throw at each other; the atrium was filled with hints of his friends.

Without the fippler, Tobias wasn’t distracted from Amarinda’s conversation.

He couldn’t stop himself from catching strings of phrases.

Certain words stuck out; words like “Blackberry Night”, and “Mandatory”.

Don’t intrude, Tobias, don’t intrude. They invited him to be in the same room because he didn’t feel the need to stick his nose into their business.

“- it wouldn’t be difficult,” Renlyn chuckled. “The decorations can be reused.”

Amarinda hummed, “But do they match our preferred color palette?”

“Do the colors even need to match the color palette?” Imogen asked.

Don’t intrude, don’t intrude.

Both Renlyn and Amarinda gasped, and then shushed each other.

All three of them were plotting. Tobias peered over his shoulder, only to make eye contact with Amarinda. He flung his gaze back to the window and prayed his flushed face would soon return to normal.

“Tobias?��� Amarinda wore a charming smile. “Do you want to join our circle?”

“I thought I’d never get an invit-! Yes, I would love to join your circle, I appreciate your offer,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

“I brought up Jaron’s stance on Blackberry Night,” Imogen explained. She and Renlyn inched away from Amarinda. “We decided we’ll take care of the party ourselves.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said as he sat down by Amarinda, grateful for the space Renlyn and Imogen had made for him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He recognized the proud look on Renlyn’s face. It was the look of a woman who knew how much power she had. The corner of her mouth turned up, the closest to a smile Tobias had ever seen from her. “Not exactly. I’ll be providing decorations for the castle. We’ve decided that we’ll require a series of colors for everyone to wear; the decision to host Blackberry Night has been a little short notice, and a lot of nobles wouldn’t be able to find something new to wear in time.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose I can help get the word out.”

Amarinda nodded, “I’ve agreed to help set up the decorations.”

“Our goal is to set up as much as we can before Jaron notices,” Imogen explained. “He puts a lot on his shoulders, and it’s only fair that we help him.”

“And I’m the one paying for Blackberry Night, not the crown, so our lovely king and queen don’t need to worry about the cost,” Renlyn sat a little straighter.

Sometimes Tobias forgot just how much wealth the Karises had. Renlyn didn’t enjoy discussing her assets outside of a business transaction.

“How long will it take you to get the decorations here?” Amarinda asked, setting her embroider on her lap.

Renlyn smirked, “Not very long at all, I have a residence not far from here, and I can always rent.”

Tobias tilted his head, “What exactly do you want to see done?”

“Trellises, blackberries hanging from the ceiling. I’d very much like Blackberry Night to look like a dream.”

“A dream? Amarinda is an expert when it comes to creating an atmosphere, you won’t be disappointed, Lady Ren.”

“Oh, I know, and if I am, I’ll redo everything by myself.”

She continued to explain that she wanted the magic of the party to stretch out as far as it could. Those who weren’t nobility would have their own rustic celebrations, and Renlyn wanted to be able to experience that same concept without having to take a tumble through leech filled mud. An army of farmers were awaiting her call to bring harvested berries and branches to the castle.

The entire castle was to be decorated, and it needed to be at least halfway done before Jaron returned from checking in on Feall.

Something was nagging at the back of Tobias’s mind.

Something important.

“Renlyn, how can you even afford this?” He asked, racking his brain for everything he knew about the Karises.

It wasn’t much.

She waved her hand, “I know how to make a profit.”

A profit. Tobias wrinkled his nose, there had to be more to it than that.

He wondered if the current unrest following the name Mireldis Thay had anything to do with Lady Renlyn Karise.

No amount of courage could motivate Tobias to blurt that out to the world.

“So it’s settled, we’re setting up as much as we can over the next two hours?” Imogen asked, a devilish glint sparkling in her tea-colored eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Renlyn winked. “Call in the page outside, I’ll send word to my staff. They’ll be excited to get involved.”

“I do have to recommend that we bring in fake pools. Queen Danika did that for her daughter’s birthday, and they were quite popular,” said Amarinda as she reached for Tobias’s hand.

“That-, that really would add a little extra something to Blackberry Night.”

Tobias grinned as he pictured Renlyn’s splendid plan for Blackberry Night. He’d always avoided participating in Blackberry Night while he was younger; many people used Blackberry Night to drink barrels and barrels of bees wine and lead wild hunts for fairies. It was a fool’s holiday, but a welcome one.

A tradition among young couples was to take a bouquet of flowers, wrap them together, and write a secret wish to tie to the wrapping. You’d take the bouquet and your secret wish with you to one of the many dances, find your partner, and hold onto the bouquet as you danced to light jigs and reels. The longer you held onto your bouquet, the more likely your wish would come true.

When the church bells rung at midnight, you and your partner would rush to the Roving River, and throw your bouquet into the water.

It was your choice whether or not you’d tell your wish to your partner.

Although in certain cases, certain wishes could be fulfilled during the remainder of Blackberry Night. Typically, these wishes led to rushed weddings and a series of babies born in the spring.

“Excited for Blackberry Night, love?” Amarinda asked, reaching over to brush her fingers over Tobias’s curls.

“We’ll see, I might have to tend to the drunken nobles who’ll try to punch their way through stained glass,” Tobias snickered. He looked back at Amarinda, studying her every feature. “Although. . . I do know of a few favors I can call in if needed.”

“I’d like that; I’d hate to be stuck with Roden as a dance partner again.”

“Why? Does he step on your toes?”

She laughed, “He’s a skilled dancer, surprisingly enough, but he’s not my husband.”

Tobias reached for Amarinda’s hand, and kissed her fingers, “I’ll pull strings, you’ll have a dance partner for Blackberry Night.”

“Then I’ll find a bouquet of flowers to throw.”

“Does that mean you’re writing the wish this year?”

“Absolutely,” Amarinda smiled. “And I won’t tell you what it is.”

“Are you sure?” Tobias stuck his bottom lip out as far as he could.

“You won’t get a single word out of me.”

The bounce of her red-brown curls captured all of Tobias’s attention as she threw back her head to laugh. Amarinda was a creature of grace and poise, and Tobias couldn’t stand the thought of his life without her.

Somebody was calling his name- probably Renlyn.

He didn’t care.

He could spend an eternity watching every flick of Amarinda’s hands.

The conversation continued without him.

“Right, as I was saying,” Renlyn wrinkled her nose. “My workers will be here within the hour. Amarinda, you’re welcome to include Tobias in decorating the main hall. Imogen, I take it you can handle the cooks?”

Imogen nodded, “They’ll be more than happy to spite Jaron in a way that won’t get them into serious trouble.”

“I suppose that’s good.”

“To clarify, we’ve decided on creams, pinks, and golds for the dress code?” Amarinda asked, excitement sparkling through her hands.

Tobias could sense the energy she carried.

He waited for Renlyn’s confirmation, and shared a smile with Amarinda. A ball was much needed at Drylliad. They’d be able to dance around the floor and forget the Faola, Mireldis Thay, and Oberson’s meddling hands for a few hours.

They’d be able to throw a bouquet and a secret wish into the Roving River and hope it comes true.

There were a handful of wishes always lingering in the back of Tobias’s mind, but he knew eventually their time would come.

It was a matter of being patient.

“Do you, ah,” Amarinda’s voice dropped. “Want to find a nice corner with me?”

“A nice corner? We’re in a nice- oh! That kind of corner!” Tobias chuckled, his ears burning as he realized what Amarinda was hinting at.

“I take that as a yes?”

“It better not be a corner where I can see you,” Renlyn gagged. “So childish.”

Renlyn’s obvious discomfort at the possibility of catching Tobias and Amarinda tenderly wrapped in an embrace drew a series of giggles from Imogen. She smiled, “It’s only childish if you get caught. I strictly remember seeing you with-“

“That’s not important!”

“Does Renlyn have a secret admirer?” Amarinda widened her eyes, plastering a mask of utter shock on her features.

“I most certainly do not! I have better things to do with my time!”

“Kissing is a good thing to do when you have the time,” Tobias teased. “Especially when you have the right partner, speaking of which. . .”

Renlyn jumped to her feet, “Don’t! No, no, no! I don’t want to see that!”

Tobias pressed a kiss to Amarinda’s nose, “See this?”

“No, I think she means this,” Amarinda explained, leaning in to kiss Tobias’s smile.

The cry of frustration Renlyn made only made Imogen laugh harder, which made Amarinda laugh, and then lead to Tobias’s burst of laughter too. Renlyn stood up, embroidery in hand, and bowed.

“I’ll be meeting with my staff, send a page if you have any questions,” she spat. “And if I find out the decorations aren’t taken care of because the two of you are off in a corner unable to keep your hands to yourselves, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Ren, we’re just teasing you,” Amarinda’s laughter was contagious, her smile lit up the room.

“Whatever, I’m trusting you to stick to your duties.”

“And I promise neither Tobias nor I will disappoint.”

“Is this the conclusion to Drylliad’s first party planning committee meeting?” Imogen asked, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Consider this meeting adjourned, we’ll return to further discuss our plans in a few hours’ time,” Renlyn bowed her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and left the atrium

“Party planning committee?” Tobias couldn’t contain his laughter.

Imogen shrugged, “We needed an official name, ‘Sisters of the Book Embroidery Circle and Tobias’ doesn’t really work.”

“Does this mean we’re going to go behind Jaron’s back when he says he’ll think about throwing parties?” Amarinda wrinkled her nose. “I’m in, especially if party funds come from our purses rather than Carthya’s.”

Amarinda was proving her promise to Renlyn only half an hour later; after she and Tobias had finished in their private corner of course.

Tobias had witnessed battle firsthand, he’d been subject to various types of terrors, and he’d seen many a grisly sight while working with the royal physician.

His precious wife had the strength of a military commander when it came to planning a party.

Her troops were the artisans and servants standing at her feet. Half of them held themselves like cornered mice, and the other half gawked at Amarinda. Her ability to capture any crowd’s attention was a talent not many people had.

“My lady, traditionally, Blackberry Night is much less detailed,” explained a larger gentleman.

Tobias wasn’t exactly sure what position the large gentleman held.

“No, no,” Amarinda shook her head. “I don’t think you understand, it’s vital that we stick to pinks, golds, and creams. This should be treated like a gala, not a barn dance.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to add, Amarinda was handling the situation on her own. He’d rather remain silent than hold her back.

So he watched his wife command her troops.

Amarinda motioned for several servants carrying baskets of brambles to stand before her. She instructed them to put the brambles around the base of every column in the great hall. With that taken care of, Amarinda began instructing the next group.

Watching her was fascinating. Tobias continued to stand behind her, watching as the great hall slowly began its transformation.

When he was younger, his grandmother brought him wondrous books of fairies and knights. Tobias could remember that one of the books was painted, and bore pictures of a magnificent fairy kingdom.

By the time Renlyn, Amarinda, and Imogen were done with the castle, Tobias was certain he’d see that fairy kingdom in person.

“Do you think Renlyn will take care of the lights? She didn’t give me specific instructions, and I’d hate to mess up her grand vision,” Amarinda said, reaching back for Tobias’s hand.

“I think it’s alright,” he shrugged. “She trusts you enough to do this.”

Was it wrong that Tobias was slightly shocked that Renlyn was even allowing Amarinda, Imogen, and himself to help with her plans?

He’d grown to be on better terms with her, but Tobias knew how important order was to Lady Renlyn Karise. Trusting others to maintain that order wasn’t always an easy choice.

Tobias would know. He’d rather do things on his own than trust the other physician’s apprentices to do the same task.

The front doors burst open, and a trio of men stumbled in.

Odd, Roden and his friends rarely slurred around drunk during the day. Was that Mott with them?

Tobias rolled his eyes, returning his attention to Amarinda and the task at hand. It wasn’t his responsibility to limp Roden and whoever else up to their rooms. They were grown men, and Tobias didn’t want to play nursemaid any longer.

“By the Saints-,” Amarinda gasped, shooing the servants away. “Tobias, Tobias! Look!”

“It’s only Roden, I think he managed to drag Mott to a tavern this time,” he waved his hand.

Amarinda’s voice went small, “That’s Jaron, Tobias, not Roden.”

It clicked into place, almost. The realization wasn’t quite there, similar to the way not every toy’s pieces fit together when assembled by a child.

Roden was shoving his way through the small crowd that had gathered around Mott, and was pushing them back as Harlowe ducked under Jaron’s arm. Feall had his arm wrapped around his torso, supported by Mott.

Vomit stained Jaron’s trousers.

His skin was paler than the freshly washed sheets out in the courtyard.

Tobias recognized the lines of pain on Jaron’s face. The creases in between his brows grew deeper as Jaron fought off tears. Jaron didn’t have any outer injuries.

This was much worse.

“Get him upstairs!” Tobias barked, his voice not his own. “Mott, tell me what happened, spare me no details.”

“Faola attack,” Mott grunted, and transferred half of Feall’s weight to Roden’s outstretched arms. “He was asking for Feall, Jaron attacked, the Faola got a kick at Jaron’s right leg and sent him straight down. Commander Regar managed to hold the Faola off long enough to escape, but Feall is sporting an-”

“Take care of the king!” Feall growled. “I was foolish to trust you Carthyans with this matter, and now Regar is dead!”

Roden was practically carrying Feall, “Did you see Regar fall?”

Mott shook his head, “Regar is in danger, Roden, I can handle carrying Feall up to the physician’s chambers, but you need to save Regar. Check by the Vaults, lower Drylliad.”

“Don’t let either of them die, Tobias,” Roden grunted. “I’ll be back.”

Faces of shock passed. Tobias ordered the physician’s apprentices out of the chamber, and instantly began shuffling through herbs and poultices. Imogen soon joined him, and began grinding various herbs into powder.

She was pouring the mixture down Jaron’s throat within seconds.

Tobias began patting down Jaron’s ankle, checking for broken bones. He couldn’t see any evidence of breakage, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any damage.

“Imogen?” Tobias asked, gesturing to Jaron’s thigh. “Any breaks?”

She shook her head, “None that I can feel. Hand me a knife, I can cut through the trouser leg.”

“You’re being awfully calm.”

“My anger is balancing my hysteria, Tobias. I promise you’ll see my temper very soon.”

Her threat carried too much weight.

Her tea-colored eyes so full of kindness turned to stone all too easily.

“Come- come here,” Jaron murmured, sweat trailing down his temples. “Imogen-.”

“Keep quiet, I promise I’ll listen,” Imogen swore, she quietly gestured to the shears on Tobias’s worktable.

Shears in hand, Tobias began cutting away Jaron’s trouser leg, tossing aside the vomit covered fabric each time he finished with it.

“I know- I know who- ah!”

“Sorry, found the bruise,” Tobias choked, gesturing to the foot sized shadow on Jaron’s thigh.

He’d never heard Imogen swear that profusely before.

“The Faola did this to you?” Imogen murmured, her hands balling into fists.

“I suppose he didn’t like my sense of-,” Jaron coughed. “My sense of humor. But that’s not what I need to-”

Tobias frowned at Jaron’s bruise, “He needs to stop talking.”

“I think I know who Mireldis Thay is!”

“Imogen, he’s getting delirious-”

“Let me speak To- ow!” Jaron flung his head back against his pillow. “Curse this-!”

Jaron’s forehead was slightly warmer than usual, but not dangerously hot. His ramblings cut through the chamber as Tobias left Imogen at Jaron’s bedside, and returned with a damp cloth for Jaron’s forehead.

He once again swore that he knew who Mireldis Thay was.

“Where’s Ren?” rasped Jaron.

“She’s busy,” Tobias said. “And you need to rest. Your leg is bruised, but not broken. You’re to lay low for the next few days.”

“There’s too much to do!”

“You’ll have to trust us to take care of it then. We’ll put on Blackberry Night in your absence.”

“Tobias!”

“Imogen’s in on it too!”

That earned him a pair of angry glares. Imogen frowned, and dabbed at Jaron’s forehead, “You need to lay back, Jaron. Can you do that for me?”

The fire in Jaron’s eyes was clouded with pain, even Tobias could see that. He grumbled a complaint, but finally settled back into the pillows.

Mott lingered in the back of the chamber, and gestured for Tobias.

Imogen had finally managed to capture Jaron’s attention. His gaze was glued to her face. Every so often, Imogen brushed a stray curl from his damp forehead.

They didn’t need Tobias’s company.

“Do you think Regar will be alright?” Tobias asked as he stood next to Mott. He pressed a hand over his heart, hoping the motion would force himself to calm down.

“Count to ten, time sped up for a moment,” Mott murmured. “Does it always feel that rushed when somebody comes needing medical attention?”

One, two, three. . .Tobias inhaled. Four, five, six. . . Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

The stakes were different in Jaron’s case because not only was he Tobias’s friend, he was also the king. Jaron’s survival was the highest priority.

Death was unpredictable, and Tobias only had his mind to combat it.

“Yes and no,” he shrugged. “Sometimes the patient is too far gone, and sometimes the rush of the moment slows to a still. I always carry extra concern for Jaron; you never know what kind of trouble he gets into.”

“Where is Feall?” Mott scratched the back of his bald head.

“Another chamber, we typically keep patients in separate spaces, keeps things clean and tidy.”

Tobias pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart had finally calmed.

A lone Faola had attacked four men, if Mott’s report was true. The Faola challenged not only Feall, but Mott, Regar, and the king of Carthya.

Two of those four were left wounded.

Roden would be returning soon with word about the third.

“Jaron’s claiming that he knows who Mireldis Thay is,” Tobias noted.

“Not quite sure how he figured that out, or where he got the time,” said Mott. He inhaled. “Is he going to be alright?”

If Tobias’s assumption was right, and the only damage Jaron sustained was that large bruise on his leg, everything would be fine.

But things rarely worked out in Tobias’s favor.

He rolled his shoulders forward ever so slightly, his mind winding through layers and layers of ignored findings. The Faola had attacked Feall so long ago, and Tobias had to stand in Roden’s way.

His kindness had brought harm to Jaron, his closest friend.

This was his fault.

“I can see your guilt, Tobias,” Mott muttered. He frowned, “This is out of your control.”

“But I was there, Mott, I was there during the first attack. I couldn’t let somebody die, and now Jaron’s tossing on a medical cot because of it!”

Tobias flinched at his own words.

He hadn’t meant to grow so frustrated.

Had they been wrong in pushing aside Mireldis Thay? Did she have more to do with the Faola? Was Feall right in fearing her every move?

Was Oberson’s irrational fear of Lady Thay really that irrational?

Imogen chuckled lightly, she was holding Jaron’s hand. His eyes had finally closed.

“There’s something I-,” Jaron paused to heave in a breath. “Tobias, you need to do something for me.”

“Promise me you’ll rest and I’ll consider it,” Tobias countered.

Jaron’s ghostly smile didn’t belong on his exhausted face. “I need you to ask questions for me.”

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

The great hall had changed in the few hours Tobias had tended to Jaron. Renlyn’s staff was all too talented at quietly setting up for a ball.

He doubted that this was the first time she’d set something up like this.

It was easy, slipping through the crowds of servants rushing to fulfill Renlyn’s requests. Tobias usually didn’t sneak. There wasn’t a reason to suspect him of everything.

But this time was different.

This time, he was sneaking around for Jaron. His instructions were clear.

Jaron insisted that a certain troubadour knew more than he let on. It was this realization that led to Jaron’s bruised leg, he was sure of it.

Jolly would be hiding at the Dragon’s Keep, singing bawdy songs and asking for garlins.

It was Tobias’s duty to get Jolly to share crucial information.

Tobias? A spy?

It was bad enough sneaking around trying to find murky answers, but it was worse knowing that Jaron expected a handful of murky answers.

The Dragon’s Keep was more crowded than usual. Tobias crossed his arms as he slipped in, dodging as many flying fists as he could.

The bright orange jerkin was the first thing he saw. Jolly was slumped in a corner booth, his lute at his side.

“Not who I was expecting, Lord Branch,” Jolly smirked. He gestured to the open seat across from him. “I’m only a little disappointed, but you’re welcome to take a seat.”

“Who were you hoping for?” Tobias muttered, sitting down across from Jolly. He shook his head when a barmaid offered to bring him a drink.

“A king, I suppose.”

“Jaron?”

“Be more creative.”

“Oberson?”

“Closer, but not quite.”

Games, games. Tobias pinched his nose, “Jaron was attacked today, he was trying to keep an eye out for Feall.”

“He’s meddling,” Jolly called over a barmaid, asking for another drink. “You caught me at a bad time, I’m frustrated and raging drunk.”

“Why?”

“Friends, I suppose. I love my friend with my whole heart, but she’s going down a path I will not follow.”

Ah ha! Jolly had left a door open for questions. Tobias leaned his elbows on the table, trying his best not to seem too eager. “What’s her name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, doctor boy?”

“I would, actually.”

“It’s not my story to tell, I’m sorry,” Jolly took his fresh tankard, and drained as much liquid as he could.

It wasn’t his story to tell. A friend was going down an unfollowable path. A lute was playing, and a man’s low voice rang through the hushing crowd. Jaron had hummed the song multiple times throughout the week.

Ingrithay.

Tobias smacked his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting vital history lessons with his wife late at night. Ingrid Thay. Ingri. Ingri Thay.

Ingrithay.

“Ingrithay is about the queen of Idunn Craich, isn’t it? Queen Ingrid Thay, wife of Graer Thay, stepmother to Mireldis Thay. You’ve been dropping clues.”

Jolly threw back his head and laughed, “I’ve been dropping clues!?! I’ve thrown them to you as best I can, but I will not tell the story. It is against what I do; if I can’t keep a secret, I can’t keep my head.”

“I’m a member of Queen Danika’s family, you can-”

“Through marriage, Lord Branch,” Jolly corrected.

“That still holds, you can tell me. You have nothing to fear. I know you know who Mireldis Thay is, and I want to help. Tell me who she is, and we can-”

“I love Mireldis Thay more than I fear any king or queen, my Lord. No bargaining in the world would change my stance.”

Tobias had never seen Jolly’s face so serious before, and frankly, it frightened him. There was no trace of a smile or a musical note.

Nothing but determination.

“Amarinda and I want to-,” Tobias began, but Jolly held up his hand.

“I’ll give you a single hint, but don’t betray my trust, Tobias. There is more to me than music and laughter.”

More than music and laughter.

He shuddered despite the warmth in the tavern.

Jolly drained the rest of his tankard, and slammed it down. He dragged his hand across his face, “Mireldis Thay has a bone to pick. I won’t help her, and I won’t stop her, but you can do what you can.”

“Tell me where she is, Jolly,” Tobias grunted. “She attacked the king, didn’t she?”

“To her, Jaron is a blocking piece. She’s still a princess, despite this all, and you know how royals get.”

A memory flashed across Tobias’s vision.

A glimpse of a smug, rare smirk.

His heart thudded in his ears, and he was certain he was correct.

But he needed Jolly to say it.

Tobias’s voice was small. Too small. “Mireldis Thay has been living under our noses the entire time, hasn’t she?”

All it took was the slightest nod of Jolly’s head. “You know her, and I know her. Mireldis has played this game with only one goal in mind, and soon she’ll have her winning move.”

A rare smirk, a flash of gold hair. Tobias pressed his fists to his eyes.

Mireldis Thay, a fugitive, was serving the queen of Carthya.

And Tobias had left her in the castle, close enough to the king to strike a killing blow.

He tried to ignore Jolly’s chilling laugh as he fled the tavern.

[macklives]

homestuck recap

i hated this so fucking much bc my 2 am bitch-ass didnt want to read a recap thats probably longer than any slowburn out there

anyways here it is

also, uhhH sorry im using this as a end of session discussion bc that shit gets explained in her as well. and im not writing up more recaps of a recap so this is where im done for the day. (by done for the day i mean last nights session, im still doing a liveblog soon. i just wrote this yesterday)

also that this is long

you dont have to read it, theres nothing of importance

ive been coping with humor to get me through it

neato.

have fun with what i suffered through:

why was “beta” the only thing unhighlighted?

like did i miss a page???

OH its the beta version of HS thats why

damn its like 5 pages and thats it

mmh

well youll all be happy to know im clicking every single one of these links again bc i like looking back like ahh i remember that. good times. also in case i forgot some shit existed.

do you think andrew had fun writing this? or was he like “fuck”

thats a lot of fucking package talk. good thing im not confused as of now and remember it pretty clearly. of else, this early on in the recap, id be screwed.

god remember when i did an analysis on each item and what it did

i feel as if i have the technology engrained inside my head right now

cruxite, alchemeter, all that jazz

flashbacks are starting up already

yeah, that was the good part in homestuck where i knew 100% that i probably would continue on this liveblog in its entirety, ngl

that one explosion scene. bc it kept me going.

OH W A IT SHIT

i just realized how the intermission spades probably fucking foreshadowed the whole jack revolts thing and gains the ring, which was also technically JOHNS fault considering he slashed up the doll in the first place

my god, i guess thats the only good aspect of the recap. looking back at things and realizing the missing pieces.

oh that makes sense for the whole “this prototyping had no effect on the enemies, since he was already in the medium” i didnt actually think about that

little did rose know where that would get her right now

oh yeah

there’s still the whole entire lab terminal thing and how mom basically knows the place exists. i guess we’re still venturing onto that and itll come up later when we find out how mom knows SO MUCH about the game.

still think shes some weird spy or secret agent

i kinda love her ngl

anyways, theres literally no reason for skaia to produce a cloning machine. so technically, they only sent the meteors in, right? so who put the cloning machine in if not mom?

oh yeah that impact was nerve wrecking asf

and still at this point in the comic i called dave fuckboy red

huh, how times change

i hated reading that whole paragraph ngl, the frustration just kicked me in the boobs again

yeah nobody else got tornadoes, huh?

OH that makes also much more sense

bc she did prototyped them before she entered the medium.

i gotcha

man one of my favorite edits i made, rose hitting that meteor with a bat

are you

telling me

the exiles structures they arrived on were in the form of the items the kids used to enter the medium?

THE EGG

THAT EXPLAINS “EGG”

of course it was 413 years ago. that was never explained. simply vague “many years in the future....” but i expected no less from this

man serenity is the most wholesome character in hs no doubt

damn thought andy here was really gonna spoil us jade’s planet

okay cool, im glad i now have the layout to the whole “their stations went to the coordinates of the home button” shindig

man i honestly dont know what else to say besides “yeah cool recap” when i already pretty much know what went down? ofc im looking into each link and shit and adding in things when i see fit, but otherwise its just me going “ah good times” yknow

the whole meteor thing kinda makes sense now?

we’re still missing a few pieces of info but we’re getting there, folks

oh yeah that reveal

god jade and dave have it in the shits for parents huh

bro isnt the best and jade has a fucking dog

who lowkey

is doing better than bro

who knew a fucking dog is a better guardian than bro lmfao

dreambot = terminator. im telling you.

sorry im still on that idea and it will never leave unless i have the actual proof in front of me that its not going to become a thing. meaning, ive finished hs and theres still no terminator dreambot or either andrew himself gives me a canon letter with “the robot is not arnold, mackenzie, pls just let it be”

why is the entire game session highlighted

i swear to god if this is like to a second recap or smth of the whole game session i may fucking CRY

okay thank god its just a design of the skaia layout

which is honestly cool

idk why its blurry tho but i can at least see the layout now. which is honestly how i pictured it anyways.

yeah, john did make a huge impact in his friends’ life and i find that so fucking touching

yep. got that. everything loops around. cool.

especially when the trolls come in. god we havent even gotten to that recap portion yet, we havent even gotten to the INTERMISSION

pls can this be the halfway point to the recap

AT LEAST

so they were exiled after the whole jack: ascend thing, right? considering theyre way in the future. man no fucking wonder.

speaking of jack

man that whole dad and jack interaction was gold, ngl

OH THAT EXPLAINS THE RING THEN

and wow, andrew’s really giving us the best female content huh. andrew is the true god of equality and diversity.

also hey, i didnt realize that wow. so PM tricked the queen in showing the parking ticket to be able to take the present from jack. she’s a smart cookie, that one..

she and PM basically snitched on jack and it was the best thing that has happened to me so far

oh yeah okay

but why did AR panic over bec? bc thats something we havent learned yet, right?

anyways

exile town, the only town which should exist. facts. i dont make the rules.

noice

i love PM being queen. like.. thats canon now. shes an actual queen.

yeah that was a fun game and the consorts were cute

fuck yeah the dick head

hate them even more now that i know john was killed because of them

anyways, i wonder what dick move dave’s denizen did? maybe thats why its filled with lava bc the denizen was like “fuck it. make the land red. kill them all”

UH WHAT

WHAT

OH MY GOD HOW DID I JUST FORGET NANNAS LETTER LIKE THAT LMFAO

THEIR TITLES WERE THERE THE WHOLE TIME!

so i still dont know what they mean but i can gather it has something to do with the game giving them abilities. considering dave is the “knight of time” and he can go back in time. whack.

which means john can either control someones breathing or simply wind. and rose is... like that one girl in the winx club who does the sun shit. bc whenever i think of light powers, i think of stella.

and jade is space. witch of space.

nice

i have no idea what that means ngl

okay finally

we’re at the trolls

maybe this recap will end soon

i remember when i thought they were internet bullies

yesss

someone asked if i basically knew the trolls were on a different veil than the kids, so not presently with them, and i know lol. i was making a joke before btw. jsyk. dont think im incompetent to forget these things when sometimes i choose to forget it so i can add in a joke

it be like that, i annoy many

then again, pls dont assume im trying to say im not incompetent bc im also a fucking dumbass and DO forget shit and i have no excuse

imagine being so bored on the meteor, your last resort is speaking to aliens

ngl me if i was ever trapped on a meteor and could potentially do that

nah ik its bc its their only hope at helping with their session or whatever tf CG said to john. but there was BOUND to be a conference meeting between them like “okay guys. humans. that needs to be sorted out” and you just hear CG screaming in the background

i cant wait to meet them honestly bc im growing on all 4 of the ones we’ve seen already. and on top of that, i know what they look like and i know theyre not THAT bad, just a little on the crayy zee side sometimes

but theyre trying

OH MY GOD

I GET IT

FUCK

DOES THAT MEAN THE INTERMISSION IS *APART* OF THE MAIN FUCKING STORY??

AND SPADES IS WV FOR THE TROLLS

GOD D A M N

wow

i didnt expect that. but maybe the signs were there and i was just willingly choosing to ignore it or smth bc “haha couldnt be, right”

flashbacks to how i thought the trolls were humans

anyways, i guess he got his revenge on the kids version of “snowman” ie the black queen. but really

he did not have to do that. he could have cut off the finger and fled. but he decided “nah, lets implode her” so the loml is dead and all i got was a catchy song

i knew they were different types of “bullies” but now i just have to replace bullies with uhh

trolling strategies

anyways, this is cute. i love how they’ve come to be friends through mutual frustration. good part in the comic.

i wonder why it explodes

more importantly

....

terminator time?

this was my favourite sequences of dialogues in the whole entirety of homestuck. that is to say the back and forth thing that the kids went through to become a sort of wingman for the other.

absolutely gold.

all except AT’s rap.

GC was the only smart one with the linear shit

anyways fuck he still has to kill the denizen now but apparently its hard to beat for a sleeping dick head so

that will be fun for the future

john will probably need to kill A LOT of imps to get there

yeah rose is a badass bc she slayed that thing with needles of all things

OH and the white queen was the cursive

damn did AR ever do the whole guide process to a kid yet? maybe he will with dave, idk

oHHH

i fucking SEE

thats why he said DNA

to use it and replace all the life forms in the ocean

fucking neat wow

man that sounded sarcastic but im genuinely impressed bc all i got was bullshit as i read jaspersprites log

so thats the secret. it was “meow” bc that somehow translates to the genetic code she needs then. and that code apparently took fucking years to write as well. sick. whack. oh man.

derse is very pretty, ngl

and wow shit

“dave had already been awake in his tower all along without realizing it” how tf does someone just

do that, awake in both places at once

i didnt even fucking realize that fact as i read that pesterlog wow

ah yes, around the time things got confusing

okay so the capsule makes sense bc at first i didnt know it was a fucking time capsule so i got confused as to how it just apparated the game lmfao

the more you know i guess *twinkle*

i find that a neat concept tho

like the whole whatever you prototype affects the imps and shit

yeah so that whole “he had no advice” basically impacted his future

no shit dave wanted to reset things bc he probably thought he caused some sort of bad butterfly effect and killed his best friend

fuck calsprite thats all im gonna say

i read that first sentence and i think i got an aneurysm

and then everything else just made me sad again

i mean good thing he fucking did amirite?

we got pain at first but now we got cool shit like idk

fucking DAVESPRITE

damn idk how that works

will rose have like two minds now? or will this be some steven universe fusion shit?

“and understood their meaning” course well i fucking didnt so could you pls elaborate, rose?

okay but then what the fuck did he use that was inside the fucking box

bc i thought he used his knife?

im only every going to refer him as that now, thank you andrew

alright okay..

god that was a lot

i dont know what will happen once i click on those links but i am going to see that for myself bc i refuse to add ANYTHING ELSE

[seraph-novak]

Are you taking prompts for Tyrus? If so, could you do one where TJ helps Cyrus to rehearse for a play? thanks, have a lovely day.

All feedback is very much appreciated, but comments and reblogs really make all the difference. Thank you!

Also available on AO3 ♥

~~~~~

Cyrus is quickly losing his patience. On the opposite end of the Kippens’ couch, Amber is grinning down at her phone, a strand of golden hair twisted around her finger as she giggles at something on the screen – no doubt another text from her ‘mystery’ admirer. Cyrus simply sits there and waits, passively fiddling with the corner of his script as he waits for his friend to snap out of her crush-induced daze.

Without thinking, he lets his eyes drift to the corner of the room, settling on the older boy sitting quietly in a well-worn chair, his nose buried in a book. His hair is a shade darker than Amber’s, but his eyes are the same sea-foam green, with a touch of grey softening the bright hue. He’s never really spoken to Amber’s brother before, apart from a few pleasantries exchanged in passing, but there’s something about TJ Kippen that has always intrigued him…

Just then, the other boy lifts his head, as if sensing Cyrus’ curious eyes. A blush warms Cyrus’ cheeks as he quickly returns his attention to the script in his hands, but not quick enough to miss the hint of a smirk playing on TJ’s lips.

“Are you almost done?” he asks Amber, his words sounding sharper than intended. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees TJ go back to reading his book, and his shoulders slump in relief. “Sorry, I just… I’ve only got a few more days to rehearse, remember? The nerves are starting to kick in.”

Amber glances up from her phone, a sliver of guilt fracturing her lovesick smile. “Sorry, Cy. Just gimme a sec.”

It takes closer to a minute than a second for Amber to finally put her phone down, but Cyrus lets it slide. At least he now has a distraction from the indecipherable looks TJ keeps sneaking him, scorching his skin and quickening his heartbeat. 

As they return to the play, Cyrus can’t ignore the longing glances Amber keeps flicking at her phone. With every new text, her concentration wanes even more, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she visibly fights the urge to throw the script across the room and pick up her phone instead. She’s practically vibrating with the effort to focus, her face pinching tighter and tighter as the incoming texts start to slow down.  

“Amber,” Cyrus says, nudging her leg with his foot. “It’s your line.”

She tears her eyes away from the phone, now blessedly silent, and shakes her head. “Sorry… Where are we?”

“Page 14. Line 38.”

“Oh, right.” She slides a finger down the script, her brow furrowed as she searches for the right line. A few seconds later, she clears her throat and falls back into character. “Thomas,” she says, her voice slightly higher than usual. “I thought you’d never –”

“Nope,” Cyrus cuts her off. “Wrong line.”

“Are you sure?”

Cyrus smooths his face and lifts an eyebrow, his breath catching on the edge of a sigh. “Unless we skipped ahead to the final scene without me realising, I’m pretty sure it’s the wrong line.”

Across the room, TJ snorts, an amused smile nicking the corner of his mouth as he meets Cyrus’ eyes. For a brief moment, something warm and sweet blossoms in his chest, but it’s quickly cooled by the sudden ringing of Amber’s phone. He shoots a glare at his friend, silently warning her not to pick it up, but it’s no use.

“I’m so sorry,” Amber says, shrugging helplessly. “It’s Andi. I have to answer!” Before Cyrus can protest, she throws her script at TJ and picks up her phone, already halfway up the stairs. “Run lines with Cyrus until I’m back, okay?”

TJ frowns. “But –”

“Thank you!”

A flirtatious giggle floats down the stairs in her wake, followed by the sound of her bedroom door closing. Once she’s gone, an awkward silence settles over the room. Cyrus looks over at TJ, his stomach churning as the older boy studies the script now lying in his lap, and forces a smile.

“You don’t really have to run lines with me,” he says, twisting his hands together. “I’ll just wait until she’s back.”

TJ scoffs. “That could be a while.”

“Yeah.” He huffs a laugh, then sighs. “Maybe I should just go…”

“I thought you said you only had a few days to rehearse?”

“I do,” Cyrus says, his heart skipping at the notion of TJ paying attention to what he was saying. “But I can do that by myself. Or I’ll ask my mom to help.” He winces, realising too late how lame that must sound. “Or one of my many friends.”

TJ chuckles, and the sound sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, soothing the aching burn of his cheeks.

“Let me help.”

“I… You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“But –”

“Scooch over,” TJ says, gently slapping Cyrus’ outstretched legs with his script as he sits down on the couch. When he’s comfortable, he licks his finger and flips through the pages. “Page 14, right?”

Cyrus swallows thickly. “Um… Yeah.”

“You’re Thomas?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I guess I’m… Alice?”

A nervous laugh bubbles in his chest. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t mind,” TJ insists.

“Are you sure?”

“100%.”

Cyrus hesitates, then breathes a sigh as he settles down and reopens his script. “Okay then… I’ll start from the top.” He coughs to clear his throat, flicking an anxious glance at TJ, and starts to read. “I think we need to talk, Alice.”

“About what?” TJ says, a feminine twinge to his voice.

Cyrus fights back a smile and keeps reading.

They run through the scene fluidly, only stopping to turn pages and share secret smiles over the tops of their scripts. As Thomas confesses his undying love for Alice, and the tone of the play takes a turn into sappy territory, Cyrus feels himself flushing darkly, his voice turning tight and raspy as the two characters begin tossing flirtatious comments at each other.

“Who wrote this play?” TJ asks on the cusp of a laugh, his own cheeks turning pink. “It’s very, uh…”

“Terrible?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it that bluntly, but yeah.”

Cyrus snorts. “A few of the girls in my group are Jane Austen wannabes.”

“Yikes.”

“Yep.” Cyrus scratches the back of his head, the smile slowly dying on his lips as he skims through the upcoming pages of groan-worthy dialogue. “We can stop if you want.”

TJ snaps his head up. “What? No! It’s just starting to get juicy.”

“I thought you said it was terrible?”

“It is, but…”

Across the room, the discarded book lying on the chair TJ was previously sitting in catches his eye, and a teasing grin spreads across his face. There’s a cheesy stock photo of two women in old-fashioned dresses strolling through a park on the cover, with tiny umbrellas held above their bonneted heads.

“Oh,” he says, folding his arms with a quirk of an eyebrow. “I see… You’re a Jane Austen wannabe, too.”

TJ blushes. “It’s my mom’s!”

“Sure.”

“Shut up…”

“Hey, I’m not judging!”

When TJ sees him smirking, he breaks into a smile of his own, playfully kicking Cyrus in the shin as readjusts himself on the couch. “Let’s get back to it.”

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“Ha-ha.”

Cyrus wipes the grin off his face, despite the butterflies still fluttering in his stomach, and tries to focus on the poorly-written script in his hands. They dive back into flirty banter – Austen style – all the while stealing glances at each other, their lips twitching with barely supressed laughter. It’s only when the scene shifts from light to serious that Cyrus feels his palms beginning to sweat.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight,” he says, his voice trembling. Even though the words aren’t directed at TJ, he can still hear his heart pounding against his ribcage as he risks a glance at the other boy, trying to gauge his reaction. “You look beautiful in all lights, of course, but this is different.”

TJ licks his lips. “Different how?”

“Your hair shines,” Cyrus says, his voice a whisper. “Your eyes twinkle like starlight. Your skin glows.” He lifts his head, eyes drifting to TJ’s face once again. His gaze is fixed resolutely on his script, but Cyrus can see the blush creeping up his neck, the ripple of his throat as he swallows, the slight furrow between his brows, the silent murmur of his lips as he follows Cyrus’ lines on the page… “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

TJ freezes, his mouth falling open, and Cyrus realises his mistake: that line isn’t in the script.

“I…” The words die in his throat. He gulps back his embarrassment and tries again, his face starting to burn. “I’m sorry, I just… I-I don’t know where that came from.”

“It’s okay –”

“I got a little carried away, you know?” Cyrus closes his script and gets to his feet, desperately searching for his bag beneath the coffee table. “I think I should go now. Thanks for helping me and everything… I really appreciate it.”

TJ reaches for his arm, but Cyrus shakes him off.

“I’m sorry for making things weird,” he says, tears of humiliation stinging the backs of his eyes. “I don’t know if Amber told you, but I’m gay. Not that you care.” He laughs, completely mortified. “Wow. I just came out to a guy I barely know. This is just getting better and better, isn’t it?”

When TJ reaches for him a second time, he doesn’t miss. His fingers are gentle, but his grip is firm, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Cyrus’ face as he slowly lowers him back onto the couch.

“Calm down,” he says, giving his arm a quick squeeze before letting go. A blinding smile breaks across his face when Cyrus finally meets his eyes. “If you think I’m mad at you for calling me gorgeous, then I must be worse at this than I thought.”

Cyrus frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been flirting with you for the past half an hour, you idiot.”

“What?”

“Okay… I guess I really am bad at this.”

Cyrus shakes his head, trying to steady his racing thoughts. “Are you saying you like me?”

“I have for a while,” TJ admits, shrugging bashfully. “I know we’ve never really talked, but… I’ve seen you around. And you hang out with my sister a lot.” He huffs, one side of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile. “Why do you think I always stay downstairs when you come over? I like being around you.”

“Oh,” Cyrus says, a touch breathless.   

The tension in TJ’s shoulders melts away as Cyrus returns a tentative smile of his own. For a moment, they just sit there, smiling shyly at each on the middle of the couch, their knees deliberately brushing against each other.

“So,” TJ says after a while, his fingers nervously drumming the cool leather between them. “I was thinking… Maybe we could –”

“I’m back!” Amber announces as she bounces down the stairs, her cheeks rosy from her conversation with Andi. When she notices TJ and Cyrus sitting so close, she stalls on the bottom step, her smile morphing into a scowl as she narrows her eyes.  “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” Cyrus squeaks, accidentally throwing his script in the air and hitting TJ on the head. He cringes, hiding his face in his hands, and splutters an apology. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, TJ! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

TJ rubs the back of his head and chuckles. “I think I’ll live.”

“Maybe you should go upstairs now,” Amber says, glaring pointedly at her brother. “We have work to do.”

“Right.” TJ rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, shoving his script into Amber’s hands. He picks up his cheesy Victorian novel and heads towards the stairs, only stopping to cast a gentle smile over his shoulder at Cyrus. “Good luck with the play,” he says, ignoring the daggers Amber is shooting at the side of his head. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Cyrus chews his lip and shrugs. “You could come, you know? The tickets are all sold out, but I could sneak you in.” He blushes, immediately doubting himself. “Only if you want to, of course. I mean, the script is pretty terrible, and I’m not exactly the greatest actor in the world, so you really don’t have to –”

“I’m there,” TJ cuts in with another smile, offering him a wink before turning around and disappearing up the stairs.

As soon as he’s gone, Amber throws herself onto the couch and punches Cyrus in the arm. “You’re not allowed to have a crush on my brother, okay? That goes against the rules of friendship!”

“You have way too many rules,” Cyrus says. “And, besides… You’ve been flirting with my best friend all afternoon, so I’d say we’re even.”

Amber opens her mouth to protest, then freezes, a groan escaping her lips. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Thank you.”

“But you do admit you have a crush on him?”

Cyrus glances at the staircase, the frantic beating of his heart still echoing in his ears as a nervous grin tugs at his lips. “Yeah… I think I do.”

The End.

~~~~~

You can find the rest of my Tyrus fics on Tumblr or AO3! Thanks for reading ♥

[tatarianasters]

Pink Carnations

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is not mine.

---

Summary: Memories of them are her treasure. Naminé's sketchbook is filled with silver hair and pink carnations. Whenever she sees him, her heart breaks just a little because he will never be him.

---

The room Naminé uses is far more colorful than what she was used to. Back in Castle Oblivion and her room in the mansion in Twilight Town, everything was a sickening white. She couldn't go somewhere without seeing the color. The room she now uses has baby pink walls and a black ceiling filled with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars (Kairi must have plastered them on there when she was a child) and the sheets on top of the single mattress is sunshine yellow. Her grip on her drawing pad tightens as she remembers the only reason she was able to experience this new life of freedom.

She opens the drawing pad, flips it to a certain page. There, drawn in her own hand, was a certain white-haired boy. Even in a drawing, his back was turned. Her vision blurs as her fingers run across the picture. What was the point of returning when the person she wants to see the most wasn't there to welcome her with open arms?

“Naminé?” Kairi's head peeked from the open door. Naminé snapped out of her reverie. Her “twin” gave her a small smile. “Just wondering how you're doing.”

Naminé gave her an identical smile, closing her drawing pad shut. “Im good.”

Her other stood straight, entering the room and looking around. “I hope you don't mind this room,” she starts. “Sora, Riku, and I used to play here a lot.”

That explains the stars, the blonde thought fondly. “I actually like it,” she informed her, craning her neck up to see them.

“Sora loved them,” Kairi informed her, a hint of melancholy permeating her voice. “He bought those stars for me as a birthday gift. I have more of them in my own room.”

She shook her head before returning her gaze on Naminé. “Riku and I were planning to grab some dinner. Wanna come along?”

Riku. She was afraid to see Riku. Thorns wormed their way around her heart and she clutched the drawing pad a little more tightly. She gives Kairi a soft smile.

“Dinner would be wonderful.”

---

Kairi and Riku led her to a restaurant in the main island, just near the school the three (two, now?) of them go to when they're not busy saving worlds.

The sun was halfway below the horizon and you can see the first stars twinkling. The lampposts are starting to come to life one by one and the breeze starts getting a little more chilly, tickling her skin and gently blowing her hair. Naminé walks a little behind Kairi and Riku, watching as the two of them talk. She wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. In fact, Naminé has no idea what they were talking about at all. She was more focused on the way Kairi smiles at him, and the way he looks at her with a silent promise. Her heart begins to clench once again. It could have been him and her.

“We're here!” Kairi announces.

Naminé studies the quaint building. It’s modest, not quite like the bistro at Twilight Town. The restaurant is decorated with a bunch of wooden tables symmetrically arranged throughout the whole place, with vases of pink flowers resting in the middle of each. Kairi chose a table right next to the window. A waiter hurries over to their table to give each of them a menu.

“What do you guys recommend?” Naminé asks, unable to choose from the many dishes. She heard Riku speak.

“We'll have three seafood paellas.”

The waiter nodded and jotted the order down. “And for drinks?”

Riku looked at the two girls for answers.

“I'll have a coke!” Kairi said. Not knowing what a coke is, Naminé decided to order the same thing. Riku placed their orders and the waiter left with a bow.

The two childhood friends fell into easy conversation. She waited for their food to come silently, watching the pink flowers sitting on their table. They're beautiful, she thinks. Her fingers itch to grab pencil and paper.

“Oh yeah Naminé,” Kairi suddenly called her name and she snapped to attention. Her other was looking at her with a smile. “Did I tell you that Riku's family owns the place?”

Naminé was surprised and whipped her head to look at him. Riku gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. She dropped her gaze. A sharp pang shot through her heart.

“Yeah, so don't worry about the bill.”

Naminé gave a little nod, turning her attention back to the flowers. Riku noticed her sudden change but decided not to pry. After all, she was probably thinking about him. Kairi doesn't seem to notice anything. Their food come shortly after and they all ate in silence, the only noises to be heard the clinking of utensils against china.

It wasn't long until they finish and Kairi left to use the restroom, leaving Riku and Naminé in uncomfortable silence. Her azure eyes scan the place again, noting white wallpapers and star-shaped lights, before landing back on the pink flowers on the table.

“They're called pink carnations,” Riku informs her, noticing her interest on the flowers. “My mom loves them. She said they mean undying love.”

“Undying love, huh?” Naminé smiled. “That sounds poetic.”

Riku nodded, letting out a low chuckle. “There's another meaning to it. ‘I miss you'.”

“I miss you…” Her gaze was blurred by tears she quickly wiped away, hoping Riku didn't notice. But he did. Nothing escapes Riku's eyes.

---

She's back in Castle Oblivion. Larxene and Axel were there. Vexen is too. She knows what's about to happen. She's powerless to stop it.

She sees him then. White hair. The dark bodysuit. He's oozing confidence, thinks he can defeat the Keyblade hero without any help. She chokes back a sob.

The dream fades.

And she wakes up.

Naminé took the drawing pad from the night stand and frantically flipped through a page. The picture looks exactly the same as him. Confident. Wearing that bodysuit. She hugs the picture close to her chest and cries.

“I miss you,”

---

Naminé is sitting on the sand, watching the others play, her drawing pad resting on her lap. The ocean breeze feels nice on her skin. Kairi and the other girl, Selphie, were on the islet, talking. Riku and the two boys were sparring. Riku was obviously just playing along. He's laughing, more carefree than what she's used to. She wonders how he can laugh like that when his best friend is nowhere to be found.

He must've felt her eyes on him because he suddenly turned in her direction and their eyes met for a fraction of a second before she breaks contact. Sand crunches under his feet and Naminé realizes that he's walking towards her. He sat down next to her wordlessly, resting his elbow on one bent knee, his other palm gently digging the sand. They watch Tidus and Wakka for a while.

“Are you sure you're not supposed to be there?” Naminé finally asks after a while. Beside her, Riku shook his head.

“I'm pretty sure they can train without me.”

“You weren't even training.”

Riku lets out a short chuckle before nodding his head. “You're right. I guess it's not just the same without Sora.” The barest hint of melancholy laced his voice. Naminé didn't know what to say.

“I miss Sora too you know,” Riku continues. “But I know that he wouldn't want any of us to mope around. He'd want us to continue living.”

Naminé looked down, feeling guilty. As much as she misses the spiky-haired teen, it wasn't him who haunts her memories. It wasn't him who she wanted to see the most. It was…

“I didn't want him to leave you know,” Riku started again, staring at the sea. His green eyes sparkled. Naminé's got a feeling he wasn't talking about Sora. “It was his choice, to go away.”

Naminé looked down at her drawing pad, her hands clenching into fists. “Who?” she asked in a soft whisper. Riku only gave her a smile before standing up.

“Wanna go see the pink carnations tomorrow?”

Naminé nodded.

---

She spent the entirety of the day with Riku inside their garden. He told her that his mother loves growing carnations because they remind her of his grandmother.

“My grandmother grew a lot of these when I was young,” he told her as they pass through rows of white and red carnations. “Sora and I would play here a lot and she would often scold us because Sora would accidentally knock over a pot.”

Naminé giggled. She could imagine a little Sora and a little Riku running through this garden. Maybe she's even seen a glimpse of this memory when she was shuffling through Sora's memories.

“We're here.”

The pink carnations were as lovely, or perhaps even lovelier, than she first saw them. She leans down to touch one of them gently. Riku watches her with a small smile.

“Do you want to draw them?”

Naminé turned her head to look at him. “May I?”

Riku nodded. “I don't see any harm in doing so.”

Naminé nodded, flashing him a big smile. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time she's smiled at him like that. Smiling like that, her resemblance to Kairi seems even more obvious. She should smile like that more often.

Naminé took her drawing pad and pencil out of the white sling bag Kairi lent her. Turning to a blank page, she let the graphite dance across paper, creating copies of live flowers in front of her. Riku watches the process silently. It's amazing how much drawing flowers can change Naminé’s mood. Maybe he should bring her here more often.

Once she was done, she took out a pink coloring pencil and began coloring the flowers she made on paper, bringing them to life. She showed her finished work to Riku.

“Ta dah!” She said proudly. It was the first time she's actually drawn anything outside of Sora’s (and his connections) memories, and she was quite happy with how it turned out. Riku gave her a big grin.

“That looks really good, Naminé.”

“Thanks, Riku!”

---

Naminé begins spending more and more time in Riku's family's garden. She finds that whenever she’s there, surrounded by pink carnations, she was able to be rid of her loneliness. The flowers provide her with silent company.

Riku usually accompanies her there. Most of the time he would just watch her in silence as she draws more carnations, slowly filling her drawing pad with them. Naminé was thankful for the silence. It was all she needed from him.

On the rare days Riku was unable to accompany her, it was his mother who provide her with company. Naminé has grown rather fond of the woman. She has hair the same color as Riku's with warm, dark eyes, and whenever they’re together, she would tell her all sorts of stories from Riku's childhood.

Kairi saw the change in Naminé. She was happier. She laughs more often. More importantly, she looks more comfortable around Riku now. At least, she doesn't look at him like he's died anymore. Kairi is happy for her other. She's finally breaking her shell, finally starting to move on.

---

She’s in Castle Oblivion again. This time she’s alone, in one of the castle's many hallways. She doesn't know what floor it is.

Is this a dream or is this a memory?

She decides to move forward, a hand clutching her chest. A bright light suddenly envelops the place, blinding her temporarily. She shields her eyes with an arm in a futile attempt to block the light.

It subsides after a while, and when she puts her hand down, she sees a silhouette. She knows this person. She calls out to him.

“You've forgotten about me,” he said in a scathing voice.

“No!” She cried out, taking a step forward. “I would never!”

“Liar!” He roared. She flinched. “You replaced me with him!”

Naminé shook her head, breaking into a run as she tried to reach him, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't reach him.

“Riku!”

She can see him shake his head. “You know I'm just a fake. A replica. That's why you replaced me with him. Because he's the real deal.”

“No! Riku, please!”

She ran faster, her arm stretching to reach out for him. A sudden flash of light. He disappears.

Naminé sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. She felt like she just ran for miles. Her tears roll down her cheeks and she hugged herself as sobs wracked her body, breaking her from the inside.

She knew that it was just a nightmare, but why does it hurt so much? Why does she feel like something inside her has broken?

---

Naminé hasn't come out of her room the whole day and Kairi was starting to seriously worry about her. No matter how hard she tried, the other girl won’t let her in. She chewed on her lip in worry. She doesn't want to resort using her Keyblade to respect her other's privacy but if she continues like that… A knock on the door shook her out of her reverie. She opened it to find one of her best friends.

“Hey Kairi,” he greeted. “Where's Naminé? I waited for her all day in the garden but she didn't come.”

“She wouldn't leave her room.”

Riku's brows furrowed. He stepped inside the house and made his way towards Naminé's room, patting Kairi on the shoulder as he passed her. He gave Naminé's door a gentle rap but nobody answered.

“Naminé?” he called out. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

No reply. Riku tried turning the knob. It was locked.

“Naminé, answer me.”

Still no replies. Riku tried pushing the door open.

“Naminé, if you don't reply, I'm going to open this door with my Keyblade.”

He heard the door unlock and he pushed it open, revealing Naminé with bloodshot eyes. His frown deepened. He stepped inside before she could close the door on him and looked around.

“What happened, Naminé?”

The blonde in question didn't reply. She sat down on her bed and grabbed her drawing pad, finishing her drawing. Riku's eyes gazed on the picture. It was him. No. Not him. It was him.

“He accused me of replacing him,” she suddenly said, and Riku's green eyes turn their gaze on the girl.

“When did he say that?”

“Last night.”

“Naminé, you were probably just having-”

“-a nightmare, I know.” Naminé finished for him. She dropped her pencil and looked at him. “But Riku, what if he's right? Maybe I really am replacing him. I don't want that Riku!” she wailed. “I don't want to replace him!”

Big, strong hands wrap around her small figure and she sobbed into his chest, dropping the drawing pad on the mattress. Riku remained silent, letting her sob into his shirt. It took her a while to calm down a little.

“He entrusted you to me, you know?” Riku started. “Though I have no idea if I'm doing a good job. Maybe he's watching us right now, shaking his head.” Naminé said nothing. He continued. “I told him to take the vessel back then but he was a bit stubborn. I wonder where he got that from.”

Naminé lets out a wet laugh at that statement and the corners of Riku's mouth tilted up in a small smile.

“He wanted you to have it. He still wants to protect you, up until the end.”

“That's just because of the fake memories I implanted on him,” Naminé mumbled against his shirt.

“The memories may be fake, but his feelings weren't. After all, if the feelings were fake then he wouldn't be the person you wanted to see the most, right?” He gave her head a small pat. “And nobody's ever going to replace him. Not even me. He's different the same way I am different. He will always have a special place in your heart.”

Naminé tilted her head up to look at him with a watery smile. “Riku, thank you.”

“No problem, Naminé.”

“I want to do something for him. Will you help me?”

He nodded.

---

Riku placed the seeds in her hand. His mother was very willing to help them and even gave them a pot. He watched as Naminé carefully placed the seeds inside the soil before sprinkling them with water.

“Do you think he'll like them?” Naminé asked.

“I think he will.”

She gave him a smile.

“I think so too.”

---

She's in Castle Oblivion, inside the room Marluxia and Larxene keep her in. Drawings were scattered all over the floor: of the Keyblade hero and his friends. Standing right in front of her, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, was him. A small smile played on his lips. She stood up and ran up to him and he took her in his embrace. A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“Did you really think I would be mad at you for replacing me with the real one?”

Naminé frowned. “You're just as real as him.”

“I know.”

They stayed in silence for a long while, enjoying each other's warmth. Finally, cups her face and tilts her head up to look at him.

“It's time for you to wake up soon.”

“But I don't want to. Please. Let me stay here for a little while longer.”

Riku Replica pressed a kiss on her forehead.

“It will be fine. Trust me. I may not be by your side but he… he will carry on my will. He will never leave you. I promise you.”

Naminé nodded.

“I trust you.”

Light is starting to surround them and Naminé knows that it's almost time to part.

“I love you,” she says just as the light begins to swallow them up.

She thinks she can see his smile as he replied.

“I love you too.”

---

The pink carnations grew beautifully under Naminé and Riku's care. She would often draw them together with a certain boy.

"Hello, Riku," she greets the plant. "How are you today? Riku and I helped out at the their family restaurant. Then we went to the island with the others. It was fun." She paused, giving the plant a fond smile.

"You're right, Riku. Everything's alright. Thank you."

[oswald-privileges]

Loudmouth

(I wrote some statement fic. It’s been a heck of a while since I wrote anything for fandom.)

Statement of Ulla Ness, regarding, um... a peculiar transformation. Original statement given March 14th, 1999. Audio recording by Christopher Peake, in an… unprofessional capacity. Statement begins.

I still don’t see why I had to come to you. I know you have an email address, so wouldn’t it have been easier to just scan the form and send it to me? Hell, I would have taken a physical copy sent to me in the post. It would have been slower, but it would have meant I could have stayed at home. But no. I asked, and you just gave me a lot of waffle about how you have ‘strict acquisition policies’, alongside directions that had been copied from google maps. Which I know, because I checked.

It’s not that I’m lazy, you understand, far from it. I used to have what I regarded as quite the active social life. But recently that’s become impossible for me to maintain, for a number of reasons. Which are also the reasons that I’ve come to talk to you.

I used to be quite a religious person. Still am, I suppose. I’m not entirely sure. I was a member of the congregation of Saint Mary’s, a small anglican church in a small, anglican village up in Lincolnshire. Not everybody there was particularly devout, but it wasn’t one of those places where it especially mattered. It was more about the sense of community we had. Catching up with each other after communion on Thursdays, singing in the choir, arranging cake sales or coffee mornings as fundraisers for whatever bit of the building had fallen off now. I’ve been attending since I was little, and more or less grew up with the congregation.

I miss it quite badly, if I’m being honest. I’ve always been the sort to need other people, but I didn’t realise quite how much losing them would affect me. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone and all that, I suppose.

It started with another fundraiser, a jumble sale this time. I had volunteered to help manage the event, so I was in charge of sorting through the items that people had brought in for us to sell. Like I said, not everyone there was strictly devout, and didn’t always take care with what they decided to donate. Some people seemed to use it as more of an excuse to toss legitimate junk in our direction and call it a good deed.

This was definitely the case with Mister Ashley. He attended purely because his mother was too old to walk by herself, and I rather think that she insisted that he stay with her throughout the service. It was definitely at her behest that he took part in any communal activities. She would always announce that he would be happy to run stalls or make tea or some other menial duty, while he sat by her side, stony-faced, and saying nothing at all.

The only time I remember him giving any sort of reaction was when when his mother announced that her Jamie would be happy to donate some of his shop’s excess stock for the jumble sale. I remember, he turned to her with the strangest look on his face. At the time, I thought it was one of badly suppressed outrage. I assumed that she had simply gone a bit too far in volunteering his services; Mister Ashley was a second hand book seller, and owned the Jabberwock Bookshop just off from Memorial Square. It can’t have been all that easy to turn a profit. Thinking back on it now, though, and I wonder if his expression was something sharper than just anger. If it could have been alarmed, almost panicked. But I believe that is likely be nothing more than hindsight colouring my memories. If he had had some way of knowing, had been frightened of something like that which came to pass, then… well. I cannot honestly say I ever truly liked James Ashley, but neither can I believe that he would be as cruel or as cowardly as to not have said or done anything.

As it was, he brought the books to the side room the next day, where I was going through the donations and sorting the sellable items from those things too broken, torn, stained, or just plain unusable. I had just set aside yet another jigsaw- this one with almost two thirds of the pieces obviously missing- when he knocked on the outer door. In spite of the heavy rain, he wasn’t wearing a coat, hat, or boots. He didn’t say a word to me when I opened it, just shouldered his way in, dropped a heavy cardboard box on the floor by the unsorted donations, and walked out again. He did this three more times, leaving the door swinging behind him, letting in strong gusts of wind and rain, and reinscribing a damp trail of rainwater on the carpeted floor. Then he was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Ashley had taken better care to protect the books from the rain than himself. The cardboard was soaked through, but the books inside had been wrapped in several layers of plastic sheeting. They were stacked upright, and had been fitted in without any attempt to force too many into a single space. They were all, without exception, worn, faded, and almost completely without interest. Paperback romances long since out of print, old text books, children’s encyclopedias. It was rather a relief, if I’m honest. I could just reach into the boxes, grab a book, give it a flick through, and place it on the “for sale” pile.

I was about halfway through the last box when my fingers brushed something that did not feel at all like paper. It was dense and yielding, and ever so slightly damp. I recoiled, shock and disgust crawling their prickling way up my arm. My fingers looked clean, but the ghost feeling of something sticky still clung to them.

My first thought that it was some nasty practical joke. That Ashley, stung by his mother’s willingness to give away his stock, had put something disgusting in there by way of relieving his feelings. But that would have been ridiculous- he was a grown man, for goodness sakes, not a slighted child. It was more likely that the plastic keeping the books wrapped up had slipped, and allowed the rain to seep in through the sides. That was the more likely explanation.

It seemed as though I was right when I looked into the box properly, and saw nothing there but more books. But when I reached in again, all I felt was rough, dry paper. Confused, I went through the contents more slowly, looking where I placed my hand and at the books I chose.

I didn’t feel it again until the fifth book I picked up, that same almost-damp feeling. It was broad and set in landscape, almost like a sketchbook. It was dense with pages all jammed together- dense and heavy. It flopped bonelessly in my hand, and I needed to support it from underneath before I could read the title.

Hymnal, it read. The gold letters gleamed wetly on the slick cover.

It appeared to be full of sheet music. No titles or lyrics, just scratched staves and notes that meandered up and down the lines as though drunk. The smell that rose from the pages as I turned them was odd and unpleasant. I wondered if the leather binding them hadn’t been properly cured. Those areas of page that weren’t covered in music were full of sketches, but so dense and overlapping that I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be. And, I realised with an unpleasant start, the cover beneath my hands was warm, as though I was touching a live thing.

Suddenly, I’d had enough. I was sitting here, working myself up over an old, graffitied book for no good reason. I shut the thing hurriedly, and it snapped closed with a heavy slithering of pages. I caught the soft part of my forefinger on one of them, and a tiny bead of scarlet began to well from the wound. The stinging was welcome- it gave me something to focus on, mundane annoyance drowning out the confusion that had been threatening to become fear.

I dropped the book onto the discard pile. I couldn’t sell something like that, that much was obvious. Then I picked it up again, and dashed through the rain to the rubbish bins outside. I tossed it in, and followed it up with as much of the discard pile as I could bag up in one go, burying the thing underneath threadbare scarves, broken plastic dolls, and half used art supplies.

I felt a little better when it was done, but not much. Whatever those hymns were praising, I don’t think it was Our Lord.

The cut on my finger didn’t heal like it should. It stopped bleeding without any trouble, but the edges became raised, reddened and sensitive to the touch. I dabbed at it with antiseptic and did my best to put it out of my mind. I succeeded at first. I had plenty to keep me busy, both at church and at my workplace, and for a day or two, I completely forgot about it.

At least until it opened up again.

I don’t remember what caused it, or if anything caused it at all. Just that I was reaching for something, and there was the feeling of… unpeeling, almost, the cold feeling of fresh air on wet skin. I checked to see if the cut was bleeding again.

Instead of a cut, I found myself looking at a tiny, fully formed mouth.

The raised, reddened edges I had thought were a sign of infection had become minute lips. They were slightly parted, and behind them I could see the tiniest slivers of white. And behind that, a dark space where something wet shifted.

I didn’t look at it for long. Already I was reaching for the first aid kit, hastily covering the cut- the mouth- with a plaster. I was already convincing myself that what I’d just seen was some kind of infection I was too squeamish to look at, and that since I couldn’t feel any pain, I should probably go to the doctors, in case it was nerve damage or something. The impression of having seen a mouth rather than a cut was an unpleasant trick my mind had played on me, and one I didn’t feel like closely examining. I told myself I had imagined it.

I hadn’t, though. I could taste the soft fabric patch on the plaster.

I really did mean to go to the doctors. Mouth or no mouth, whatever was happening to the cut on my finger worried me. I even got as far as making an appointment. But the next day I went into work, and there was an accident involving a slippery patch of floor and a very, very sharp knife that I was carrying at the time. I ended up with a nasty slice parallel with the underside of my ribcage.

This time, it was obvious how quickly it stopped bleeding, how it was practically dry before I even changed the gauze once. How the scabs began to flake before I even touched them, leaving nothing but those raised, reddening edges around the cut itself.

I didn’t go to that doctor’s appointment. I don’t think it would have helped me if I had.

It took longer for the second cut to open, but when it did, I could stand in front of the mirror to properly see the flat, white, human teeth, and the tongue that moved behind them.

It didn’t feel alien. That’s what surprised me most. I was scared, of course I was scared, I was growing new bits, opening up in places that I shouldn’t- but that was just it. It was my body doing this, not some… weird infection or surgery. Whatever was happening, it felt like an extension of myself.

I could move them, I found. Not as consciously as I could my original mouth, the one in its proper position on my face, but sort of like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep. It took concentration, like I was working through partial numbness. Like I needed to focus to wake them up.

I didn’t spend very long doing that, though. I would realise with a start that what I was doing wasn’t normal, it wasn’t sane. I would pull my shirt back down or re-plaster my finger with a feeling almost like shame. I wasn’t as scared as I should have been, and that in itself was somehow a lot more frightening.

I’m not clumsy. I can’t be, considering the sharp tools I have to handle at work. But I started to accumulate injuries. Innocuous things at first. Paper cuts from the prayer books during mass, scrapes from the edges of the metal benches at work. And then other things. Pushing down a door-handle would lay my palm open as though I’d been struck with a metal ruler. The pressure of my jacket across my shoulders would tear the skin. I woke in bed one morning to discover that the folded sheets around me had left cuts going from my hip to my collar bone.

Every single one of them bled, reddened, and opened.

The mouths started to become restless as their number grew. They tried to chew on the clothes I wore to cover them, and if I didn’t focus, they would let out soft, but audible moans or sighs. I tried to quiet them. I even tried feeding them, though I only did that once. It seemed to help, but the mangled sensation of swallowing with a throat that seemed to be lodged under my right kidney was so disorienting I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.

I hadn’t stopped going out altogether. I left the house less, certainly, but as uncertain and uncomfortable as my changing existence was, I didn’t want to give up the company of other people altogether. I get lonely easily.

So, one Friday, when when there was so little skin left under my clothes and gloves that no new mouths could easily form, I patched my face and neck with gauze, and went to take my place in the choir again.

Nobody really seemed to notice anything different about me. I had all the right stories lined up for when I was asked about what had happened to my face, but almost nobody did. A few condolences, a few jokes, and that was it. People apparently preferred to gossip about the death of Mrs Ashley, and how her James had stopped coming to church now, and how they had known his heart wasn’t in it all along.

It felt awful. There I was, standing in the middle of them, skin to skin almost, with the most fragile disguise imaginable hiding a secret that would ruin their perception of the world for good- and they were too wrapped up in their own smug assurance of their own piety to notice. I offered up a brief prayer for patience, but like all my prayers lately, I don’t think I was offering it to the God whose praises we’d all gathered to sing.

And when we raised our voices together for All Things Bright And Beautiful, and I opened my mouth to join in, and then opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again- I wasn’t singing praises to that God either.

I didn’t realise that the others had stopped at first. It wasn’t until I glanced to one side, and saw Julie Wright staring at me with her powerless mouth open and unmoving, that I realised I was singing in harmony with myself.

I broke off, suddenly embarrassed and frightened by the way that they were all looking at me. There was something like awe in their expressions, but there was something else there too. Something that shuddered and recoiled. I desperately tried to remember the words I’d been singing, if I had gotten them right. I had the horrible sense that I might have subverted something holy.

Adam Bromley was the one to break the silence.

“Well now. You never told us you were getting private training!”

And just like that, the spell was broken. The unexpressed disgust sank back beneath their faces, and the others took up the idea almost with relief. A beautiful voice, they told me, what trick did they teach me to make it resonate like that? I forced a smile and said something non-committal and when we took up the tune again, I was careful to sing only the words that were on the page in front of me.

My own relief was short-lived. When I got home, I found the skin I had left was being pulled apart by the restless movements of the mouths. Blood stained the underside of my shirt, and I couldn’t stop the moans and hissings any more than I could have controlled a spasm or a muscular tic.

I didn’t sleep that night, and called in sick to work the next day. I lay on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying very hard not to move.

It wasn’t any use. My skin had become so fragile that even getting up and walking to the kitchen caused it to split, the blood barely having time to dry before the wound began to twitch and whisper. All my fascination was gone now, as were all my attempts to ignore what was happening. All I did was lie on the bed, and let myself slowly drown in my own body. I lived like that for a week.

When next Friday evening came, my entire body burst into song.

I writhed and moaned and hummed without will, without choice, throwing out snatches of hymn before discarding them as not what I wanted, not right. And for the first time, the indistinct murmurs and whispers grew louder, began to form words. Prayers that had been chewed out of shape, pleas for more, more mouths, more brothers and sisters, to come out of hiding and join the great curdling of flesh.

This went on for the entire night.

That was when I decided that I needed to do something. I’d let… whatever this was go on for too long, long beyond the point of saving myself. But I wanted to tell someone first. So I dragged myself to my computer, and searched as best I could. It’s difficult to type with only a confusion of tongues.

And that’s where you came in. You aren’t special. You were just the closest place that didn’t either ignore my emails, or reply with not so gentle suggestions that I see a psychologist.

I don’t think I’ll be leaving my home again, once I get back. I doubt I’ll even bother uncovering, although there’s no-one there to see me. For all that I wanted to let someone know, I don’t want to be seen.

The cupboard below the stairs locks from the inside. I can push the key out from underneath the crack in the door.

Whatever is happening to me, I won’t allow it come to fruition.

Post-statement follow-up: There wasn’t anyone under the stairs when I went to check. The lock on cupboard door was broken, and so was the one on the back door. Either Ms Ness was, um… successful in her attempts to… halt her transformation, and a housebreaker with some seriously questionable motives took what was- what was left of her. Or she wasn’t. And her resolve either waned or the situation was, um. Taken out of her hands. Or. Whatever she had instead of hands.

I wasn’t… going to record this. It’s not my job, strictly speaking, but I was reading some of the old statements, and this one just… sort of caught my eye. And I’ve seen the Archivist and some of the others do recordings, and it just looked so… I wanted to try it out. I’ll be taking the tape with me, though. None of the others need to know about this.

[ayyponine]

anyway my dad has now also read the big pdf on abuse i sent him and i feel so valid??

im finally hearing both my parents say it’s outrageous my sister’s abuse went that far for so long without them seeing it and stepping in. i sort of started crying halfway through the conversation and said i still feel an enormous amount of guilt fr not being stronger in the past or the present (eg earlier this year, when ellen wanted to stay here over the summer –> my mom says she can’t stay at our house though for my sake and should see if she can stay at our dad’s or a friend’s place –> sister stays in mexico and is PISSED at mom fr choosing my side instead of hers –> refuses to speak to my mom for MONTHS meaning my mom cant talk to or even see her one grandchild on skype for months. all because i can’t get over the way she treated us and feel unable to let her back into the same house again). he said i really shouldnt, that he, my mom and especially my sister are to blame. fr yall dutch speaking ppl my mom said before that my sister altijd al heel egoïstisch geweest is, my dad today said shes meedoogenloos en rancuneus :)))) while ive been feeling weak and ashamed and guilty and disappointed w myself for years?? ive never felt this valid in my fucking life

did i mention hes going to mexico in october and he’s planning to give her a stern talking to :))) idk what to think abt it tho im like one half extremely anxious whatever he says will only make her angrier and feel more entitled to take it all out on me (i mean, the example above clearly shows that she thinks even now i am STILL a villain and everyone who’s even a bit considerate twrds me and what’s best fr my wellbeing deserves punishment). but im also one half 👀☕💁️👏👏 and finally feeling like

i mean i mentioned the thing abt her cutting contact w mom bc of choosing my side, plus i mentioned it’s hard fr me to be faced with her “happy new life w a guy and a kid in mexico live laugh love natural organic sunshine no stress xoxo :)” knowing it all started with mom and i being afraid to have her in the house (mom always getting just a bit anxious coming home frm work bc any day felt like it couldve been a day i unknowingly crossed a line to provoke another violent, possibly lethal outburst frm my sister) and agreeing to send her on a permaculture course across the atlantic to keep her happy and far away frm us, that she forced my mom to pay fr spontaneous spiritual trips she didnt have the dough for and my dad got angryyyy bc he didnt even know abt that shit :)) so it kinda feels like not only that ^ meme but also

just sort of spilling tea and sitting back as the shit she’s purposefully manipulatively done to me to wear me down finally boomerangs back to take its fucking toll on her. knowing she had it fucking coming while im finally starting to believe she has no business blaming me for her habitually shitty behaviour, that she needs to step the fuck up and take some of the fucking blame shes been deflecting because the shit SHES caused, her own words and actions, are bouncing back to bite her in the fucking ass.

one regret i do have is not adding photo proof of her being a dick even at a ridiculously young age bc at one point my dad was like “this has been going on for years, frm you were ten, eleven years old” so i wish i had preemptively added that shit as a title page image or smth. sort of like “hey anyway, check out this picture frm when she was seven and hating on her five yr old sister fr having a picture taken while it was HER first communion so i wasnt allowed to have anything :) remember we had to take it twice because she didnt want me to have anything so she stuck her hand out to ruin the shot :)) anyway”

another regret is not having found an even crazier picture. because i know theres a photo of me as a newborn being held by one of my family members while my sister just looks at me with an expression of clear and complete disgust. much like the pictures above we’ve always kind of laughed it off like “haha she really didn’t like her younger sibling taking the spotlight huh” and like it probably is just a kid being weird, we can’t say if even then, frm the start, she had decided just to fukn loathe me and it probably is just a weird and random but forgivable kid thing but damn if it isn’t poignant re: the slow build of dislike and bullying to me crashing bc of her complete hatred and long term abuse huh.

[angstalottle]

Shiro’s Army

Part 1:

Lance sat down in detention looking down at the empty piece of parchment and red quill that were out and waiting for him.

He didn’t question the lack of ink.

After all he had only gained this detention for confronting Professor Hagar about forcing Pidge to write lines using a blood quill.

It made his own blood boil at the thought of her suffering just because she talked about her missing brother and dad.

“What do you want me to write?” Lance asked refusing to show any weakness in front of someone that hurt one of his friends.

“I must straighten up.” Hagar chirped with a sickeningly fake sweetness to her tone. “As many times as it takes to get the message through.”

Lance managed to hide the flinch as he began to write. Biting the inside of his cheek against the pain on his hand.

By time he was halfway down the page he wanted to scream.

Once he turned over to continue on the other side Lance felt sick, his legs shaking despite only sitting there writing he was staring to feel drained.

Lance swallowed as he held his hand up, Hagar looked over her desk with a smug look on her face “had enough mr McClain?”

“N-no I just need more p-paper.” His voice shook but he felt a little pride at the shocked expression that crossed her face at seeing both sides of the paper filled with Lances bloody writing.

She quickly regained her composure pulling a large stack of parchment out of her desk and placed it down in front of him. “As long as it takes for the message to sink in.”

Lance swallowed as he took the first pristine piece off the top “well then professor take a seat because this is going to take a while.”

“We shall see.” Hagar sneered.

——————————

“Professor Hagar I have had several students come to my office about a missing Ravenclaw.” Professor Coran said as he poked his head round the door only the rush into the room horrified.

Hagar was reading a book at her desk while Lance sat at his own shaking.

His skin was a sickly grey colour with a small puddle of blood dripping down his fingers onto the floor.

“Lance!” Coran yelled as he rushed to the boy’s side right as he toppled off his chair.

Coran managed to catch him before his head made contact with the stone floor.

Lance was worryingly still in his arms, his breathing too shallow and skin too cold.

It wasn’t until Coran’s eyes drifted to the stacks of parchment covered in multiple columns of red writing.

Coran felt a rage he had never felt before and if his arms weren’t filled with his favourite student then he doubted he could restrain himself from using the killing curse.

“Coran I can explain.” Hagar said not sounding at all sorry or even concerned for the child that was left in her care.

“Save it, I’m taking Lance to the infirmary and then I’m taking these papers to the Quibbler!” Coran hissed standing up adjusting Lance in his arms so he could command the papers to follow with his wand.

He wore such a grime expression that not even Hagar felt like she could stop him.

—————————

“You fucking idiot!” Pidge stepped as she wrapped Lance up in a hug.

Lance had spent the last week laying asleep in the infirmary, he finally woke up that morning to Pidge and Hunk looking close to tears.

They explained to him what happened.

That despite nearly dying due to Hagars punishment she hadn’t lost her job only her blood quill.

“You shouldn’t of done it Lance... you should of just said you were sorry!” Pidge sobbed.

“I wasn’t though, she had to know that what she did to you was wrong.” Lance smiled patting her on the head.

“I got to admit it was proberly the most badass thing anyone’s ever done.” Hunk chuckled.

“Well someone has to do something, I’m not the best wizard hell im a muggle born that didn’t believe in magic until I got my letter, but I’m stubborn so who better to do it then me?” Lance shrugged.

“Your the best Wizard I know!” Hunk yelled as he joined the hug his bottom lip wobbling.

“Me to, McClain I was hoping I could talk you into joining Shiro’s army?” Keith didn’t sound like he was asking crossing his arms and leaning against the door way.