#bonus points if you recognize the professors name

[royalmilkteehee]

Not my usual “art”, but this is page one of my D&D Wizard, Barbiel’s, old Academy notebook pages that she still keeps in her spellbook (1 of 3)

[kumememe]

if you still got a Felix thirst how about a classic enemy to lovers fic! Like maybe they are rivals they turn everything into a competition, everyone already thinks they are dating but it isn’t until some one tells Felix about it he sees it. Bonus points if the reader is bragging about his win and Felix just kisses him

class fight (felix catton x m!reader [req])

note: this is so cute! though i wish i could have more of the other characters too. still, i am on my felix catton diet so i'll just pour out all my knowledge on this. warnings: not proofread, grammar is ICKY, just pure fluff.

let'sa go!

______________________________________________________________

once upon a monday afternoon, in bustling webbe college, were two ambitious souls that clashed against each other in the most unexpected way. who are these two? well, they were felix catton and y/n l/n, of course. the two were opposites of one another, striking a stark contrast; felix catton being the popular and affluent student, his brilliance shining effortlessly through the college campus, while y/n l/n was the quiet and kind one, exuding a demeanor that resonated deep within people like him. if felix was inside the busy clubs, bustling with loud music while he drank and danced the night away, picking and choosing people he wanted to chat up, y/n would be in his dorm room, pulling one all-nighter after another, drinking coffee until his heart pumped at a million beats per second.

their first encounter was rather pleasant, with felix, being the social butterfly he is, approaching y/n with interest as they were both new in oxford. y/n was civil and would talk to felix regarding school, greeting him and generally having pleasant chats with the aloof male. however, something changed one day when the professor set up a challenge. the challenge was for whoever finished their project first by the end of the week would get an incentive in their final grade average. with the two being competitive, they managed to finish and pass it at the same time. with a small fight between the two, the professor bargained and gave the points to felix, which infuriated y/n. ever since then, the two have been competitive with each other.

some days, it was all about playful banter, but other times, things got real. the serious moments often revolved around their studies and projects, igniting tension in the room. the palpable strain between them during classwork could be sliced with a butter knife, yet they couldn't resist clashing nonetheless.

even amidst their clashes, felix couldn't shake the feeling of missing the rivalry with y/n whenever they were apart. it seemed absurd, yet deep down, he understood that his life lacked a certain thrill without them. the banter, the tension—it was all a part of what made his days feel alive. it was strange, indeed, but at some point, he was starting to enjoy their competitiveness. their so-called "fights" were so amusing to him to the point where he couldn't help but smile when remembering the ridiculousness of each one: one where they clashed about whose writing is better, another where they argued about who scored higher in the major exams, and more. it was addicting.

felix stood in the halls of webbe college, talking to his posse as he recognized a familiar patch of hair walking by. he smirked, ready to tease his so-called rival named y/n. "hey, l/n. ready to score lower than me again?" he teased, smiling slightly as he saw y/n roll his eyes at felix, scoffing as he muttered, "you wish, catton." he stuck his tongue out playfully, walking past felix as he let his gaze linger for a bit. felix shook his head as he yelled out, "careful, you might trip on the next interim!" y/n turned back and showed him the middle finger, which made felix feign offense. y/n grinned as he walked away. felix watched him get smaller and smaller as he got further away, amused as he felt his heart beating faster.

felix's friend, noticing his lingering gaze, nudged him with a playful smirk. "hey, you seem awfully fixated on y/n. got a crush on him or something?" they teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively. felix scoffed, shaking his head vehemently. "as if! he's just my annoying competition," he retorted defensively, though his cheeks betrayed a slight flush. his friend chuckled knowingly but didn't press further, instead opting to change the subject. but as felix watched y/n disappear down the hallway, he couldn't deny the flutter in his chest, wondering if maybe there's more to their rivalry than meets the eye. it was just a mere question, but why did it make his heart stop, his stomach churn, and his cheeks flush with redness? he knew the answer but refused to let it out. instead, he swallowed it up inside and acted as if he wasn't aware.

at a quiet saturday afternoon, felix smokes a cigarette by his dorm room window as he rants about some interaction he had with y/n a few days ago. on the other side of the room was his half-cousin farleigh, who was typing away on his laptop as he listened lazily in half-interest. "- and he was so smug about it. it was so annoying, farleigh. seriously, if you saw y/n's face when he showed off his perfect marks, you probably would have been angry as well," felix said as he takes a puff of his cigarette.

farleigh rolls his eyes at his cousin, smirking as he continued his work. "god, the way you say it makes it sound like you're obsessed with him."

felix raises a brow at farleigh, turning his gaze onto the brown-skinned boy. "excuse me? obsessed is a stretch, isn't it?"

farleigh shakes his head, "i wouldn't say stretch, honestly. it's just a fact." he says bluntly, before chuckling. "i mean, you guys basically look like you're a couple."

felix stops in his tracks, feeling his cheeks heat up as he clears his throat, acting as if that doesn't hit a nerve in him. "pfft, as if." he said defensively, studying farleigh's slightly surprised expression at his words.

"…what?" felix mutters.

"wait… you aren't dating each other?" farleigh asks quietly.

"yeah- no, we aren't."

. . .

"…why? do you think me and y/n are dating?" felix answers quickly, a little too quickly which makes farleigh skeptical. however, the latter doesn't question it as he hums.

"you want me to be honest?" farleigh asks, to which felix gives him the silent approval with his eyes. "almost everyone i know thinks you two are dating. probably because of the way you look at each other." farleigh finishes, as he continued on with his work, leaving felix to think for himself as he looked outside the window.

realization hits felix at farleigh's honesty. it dawns on him like a sudden burst of light in the darkness of his mind. the countless banters, the heated debates, the shared glances filled with unspoken challenges—all of it flashes before him like scenes from a movie. in the midst of their competitive spirit, amidst the back-and-forth of their verbal fights, felix realizes that there's something more beneath the surface. it's not just about proving who's better anymore; it's about the exhilarating rush he feels whenever he's around y/n. the way his heart quickens at the mere thought of their next encounter, the warmth that spreads through him when they share a rare moment of camaraderie amidst their rivalry—it all points to something deeper, something he's been trying to deny but can no longer ignore. felix realizes, with a mix of astonishment and acceptance, that his feelings for y/n have evolved far beyond mere competition. they've transformed into something undeniable, something that he can no longer deny—a love that has grown from the seeds of rivalry.

he doesn't know what to do with this information, and just stares into the blue patches of sky.

______________________________________________________________

the next few weeks go by with felix's feelings only being further solidified at each interaction he had with y/n, in class, by the halls, by the field—his feelings intensified for the (skkin color) male. he found himself noticing every detail about y/n: the way his hair fell in messy waves, the sparkle in his eyes when he was passionate about something, the curve of his smile that could brighten even the gloomiest of days. every moment spent in y/n's presence seemed to deepen felix's affection, weaving its way into the fabric of his being until it became an inseparable part of him. despite his attempts to rationalize and suppress his emotions, felix couldn't deny the undeniable pull he felt towards y/n, a pull that grew stronger with each passing day. it was as if y/n had become the focal point of his universe, and no matter how hard he tried, felix couldn't escape the gravitational force of his love.

as the lecture ends, felix and y/n were called by the professor to congratulate them on how well they have been doing in class. the two would thank the professor gratefully, before y/n asks something. "so… may i ask who did the best for the last interim?" he said in an anticipating voice, and his professor pauses as he packs up his stuff.

once he packed up his laptop in his bag, " you really want to know?" he asks the two, in which they both nod. the professor sighed as he smiled at felix, then turning to y/n. "you did the best, you scored a point higher." he said as he swiftly makes an exit, yelling out a 'good job' as he did so.

y/n grins wide as he turns to felix, immediately begins teasing him. "ah! i win." he said in triumph, playfully sticking his tongue out as he celebrated. felix smiles fondly at the cute celebration, crossing his arms as he watches the latter brag about his exam. y/n notices how felix did not roll his eyes at him or become hasty to rebutt him, and slowly stops his mini celebratory dance. y/n smiles lightly, "why are you smiling? where's the snark?" y/n said as he lets out a light laugh, confused.

felix shrugs, walking towards y/n quietly with small grin. "well, you beat me fair and square." he said nonchalantly, "i'm impressed."

y/n licks his dry lips at the compliment, looking away as he lets out an awkard laugh. "oh stop, you're being weird." he says, "what have you done to the real felix catton?" he jokes.

however, felix doesn't laugh as he reaches over with his hand to cup y/n's face gently. y/n's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy. a million thoughts race through his mind, but in that moment, none of them seem to matter as he leans ever so slightly into felix's touch, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. there's a fleeting moment of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the air, but as their eyes meet, all doubts seem to melt away. without a word, without a second thought, y/n leans in, meeting felix halfway in a tender, electrifying kiss that sends sparks flying between them. time seems to stand still as they lose themselves in each other, the world fading away until there's nothing but the warmth of their embrace and the sweetness of their connection. in that moment, everything feels right, as if they were always meant to find each other amidst the chaos of their rivalry, their differences melting away to reveal the undeniable truth of their love.

as the two pull away, y/n's mind whirls with a mixture of shock and realization. his lips tingle from the touch of felix's, and his heart races in his chest as he tries to process what just happened. he looks up at felix, his cheeks flushed with a deepening shade of red, his eyes wide with a newfound awareness. in that moment, it's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing the depth of his feelings for felix that he had been oblivious to before. the realization hits him like a wave, crashing over him with an intensity he can't ignore. he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, his mind too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts. meanwhile, felix watches y/n's reaction with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, his own heart pounding in his chest as he waits for y/n's response, or at least, a coherent one.

y/n stutters, "i…i- what-" he tries to form coherent words, but nothing seems to pan out. felix chuckles at the latter's cuteness. "i've never seen you this flustered before, l/n." he teases.

"shut up!" y/n hisses as he tries to combat his flared up cheeks, "i just… i didn't-"

"mhm, yet you didn't back away." felix points out.

"i…" y/n trails off, looking at the ground before he takes a deep breath.

he decides that instead of talking anymore, y/n quickly pulls felix back in for another kiss, solidifying the feelings that both of them had formed. felix's heart skips a beat as their lips meet once again, this time with a newfound sense of certainty and warmth. it's a kiss filled with promise, a silent vow to explore the depths of their connection and embrace whatever the future holds for them. as they finally break apart, their smiles speak volumes, radiating with the sheer joy of newfound love and the excitement of what lies ahead.

. . .

"one more." y/n said.

felix chuckles, "no need to tell me twice."

______________________________________________________________

hope this wasn't as bad as the others :P, send in some requests for farleigh and oliver! oliver seems lonely :<<

[002yb]

Hi its me again im so sorry but i was listening to a song and it made me think of literature university teacher Jason and Dick who ended up in his class bc he needed the credits and he cant be crushing harder on the hot professor who wears cardigans and tight rolled up long sleve shirts that show his arms but he also saw him with a motorbyke and a leather jacket and !!!!!! He cant decide if he wants to fail this class so he can see Jason in tutorys or do so good Jason knows his name, either way he wants jason so bad and it shows. He also flirts with him with lines from the books in class and maiden heart Jay is on his knees but hes gotta be professional.

Hes actually doing good bc even if he wants Jason attention bc he is hot, he is really a good teacher and makes it so easy to understand and follow through and his voice is nice and soothing and Dick loves this class and they have long debates after class about their constrasted perspectives and they might be falling in love oh no.

Also Dick is a menace and he is always down to fluster Jason

Dick: if i suck you off can i pass?

Jason: you got a ten????

Dick: can i still suck you?

(Bonus points if Dick didnt actually want this class but the others were full and nos he cant stop talking about it with everyone he knows, his family is tired his friends are amused)

This idea is so sweet!! Ahhhhhh, I love anything with Dick being down bad for Jason and showering Jason with all the flirty attention and adoration. Add maiden!Jason to it and like, hello. //u///

But let's consider the above with a vigilante!Dick and law professor!Jason, for reasons.

Dick considering dropping out of college up until he happens across professor Todd - a law professor

Who is very passionate and adamant and vocal about his views on Gotham's failure of a judicial system

Dick isn't actually in Jason's class, but Dick overhears a lecture once as he passes by one of the lecture halls and it gets his attention because like - Jason isn't wrong. He speaks up in a way that no one else does and Dick is enthralled by that.

Hell, it even makes him think of his own feelings towards the law, challenging certain insights he'd never really questioned before, but maybe should have

Which he likes. Jason piques his interest, so like a freak Dick inserts himself into all aspects of Jason's life because Dick might be a little in love insatiable about this man's mind

OH. Dick not even knowing what this professor looks like for a while. Because at least at the start, Dick contents himself to sitting just outside the lecture, chilling on the floor and listening in with his head tilted towards the cracked door

But more and more he wants to talk things through and debate and challenge Jason's own views the same way Jason unknowingly has challenged him

So Dick stages a meet-cute chance encounter

Or rather, he was working on fabricating one, but then they actually do have a meet cute chance encounter. Where in true cliche romantic trope fashion, they bump into one another in the halls and all of Jason's papers get dropped and they both rush to pick everything up.

And it's when Jason apologizes that Dick recognizes him because he listens to that voice so much. A quick glance at the course papers confirms it, too so Dick capitalizes so fast

Just pulling out all the charm so that he can start a conversation with this guy

Dick commenting like, 'You're a law professor?'

And Jason immediately jumping on that because, 'are you interested in law?'

Just Jason being really encouraging to get more young people interested in law and being the public defenders their community needs

Dick literally not getting a word in as Jason all but solicits him into the law department before Jason curbs the conversation by telling Dick to sign up for his class next semester. There's a waitlist, but good luck.

And Dick is swept up in the storm because oh, yeah. He needs in on this class. Immediately. That passion? Dick is a goner.

So of course Dick hacks his way into the university's systems to force his way into this class because ain't no way he's waiting around literal months to talk with this man again

It was Dick's plan to stalk Jason and pick him up while Jason was out and about running errands, outside of a scholastic setting

Or by encroaching on some office hours if it came down to it

He's genuinely not interested in higher education, but hell. Hours long lectures multiple days a week with this beautiful mind? Cool.

Anyway, so Dick weasels his way into this law class. Scholastic fraud because he's got a profound curiosity about some local uni professor? Dick is a vigilante; he's done worse. Technically. Legally.

But it's fine. Dick plans to drop out after the course, anyway.

The surprise on Jason's face when he catches Dick sitting towards the front of the class at the start of the following semester. And Dick being so endeared to the way Jason hides a small, hopeful smile. Because Jason thinks he's gotten through to a student ;U;

But yeah, the class being either flummoxed or bored out of their minds because the whole hours long lectures are just two people talking/debating

Which evolves into more talking over office hours - not even necessarily over course work and rather law, their judicial system, crime in Gotham, etc.

Which again evolves into Dick bringing Jason coffee but then becomes them going out for coffee together until their meetings become an expected and anticipated thing //u///

And their talks are generally casual, but it also develops into something personal if only because their stance on certain laws/crimes/punishments speaks a lot about them.

What's more? Personal information comes out organically throughout the course of their conversations

Which is why Jason is hopeful Dick will go into law. Because he comes to understand that Dick is good. Firm, but fair and with nerves of steel. He isn't someone that will be corrupted like so many others. Gotham needs more people like that looking out for it.

Basically Jason already has a letter of recommendation written, meanwhile Dick is in a predicament because he might've fallen in love with his professor between challenged worldviews and bouts of banter?

At which point, of course Dick's vigilante life needs to come into play. Because that's an ongoing thing. Oh, an ongoing thing that has been impacted in various ways by Jason's perspective on matters. ;U; Perspectives that Dick challenges Bruce with, too. And that shuts Bruce up on many wonderful occasions because even if they don't agree, Jason isn't necessarily wrong.

But I digress, Nightwing exists. While Jason and Dick have spoken of vigilantism at a high level, it's not something they've gotten into. Dick makes sure to steer clear of Batman/Robin/Nightwing talk no matter how intrinsically they're tied to Gotham and crime.

Anyway. Nightwing saving Jason in some way one night. And Jason falls in love instantly. Meanwhile Dick is peeved because what? Really? Do their intellectual conversations mean nothing??

Jason is attracted to doers so seeing Nightwing doing something about the crime despite it being technically illegal is like, hot damn

At which point, Dick becomes a lawyer. Just kidding, but the thought probably crosses his mind just because wtf, Jason. Dick being jealous of himself is so funny.

I've strayed so far from the original ask, oh my.

Truth be told, Dick could just...not approach Jason as Nightwing, but it's an opportunity to spend time with Jason so of course Dick seeks him out. Just hanging on the roof of Jason's apartment together. First under the guise of making sure Jason was okay/safe/etc, then to listen to Jason in a different way - somehow more raw while airing his grievances about Gotham and its failings to so many hurting people

Just more vulnerable conversations in the dark of night, y'know?

And more sweet reactions (smiles and flusters and ornery playfulness and--). And god, when Nightwing flirts and Jason blushes -- Dick needs to see it all the time.

But then it's class time and Dick is jealous of himself because he wants the same reactions. So Dick pulls out all the stops and what happens in your ask happens, lol. With Dick flirting using lines in a textbook or the letter of the law.

That he's successful in the matter is something no one understands. Even other students blush some, enthralled by a handsomely charismatic guy with questionable puns and a quick wit and biting humor.

And Jason is just up in front of the class gaping because omg that was so clever but also SOS his heart shouldn't be racing like this?

Hmm. Something something with Jason being smitten over Nightwing to Dick, but confessing to a developing problem with his student to Nightwing. At which point Dick realizes that he's in his own situation because the longer things drag out, the more it feels like he's playing with Jason's feelings and ahhhhhhh!!

Extras, because this ask is ridiculously long and scattered. Kudos to anyone who gets this far??

Jason noticing bruises from Dick's vigilante endeavors, but of course Jason doesn't know the background for it. Just that they're there often and sometimes really bad. So Jason worries about Dick's home life, or his life with a partner.

And Dick uses it as an opportunity to flirt/drop hints about being single as can be, only to get all soft when he realizes Jason is honest to god so worried for him. ;U;

The last lines of dialogue you wrote are so funny. Just Dick stopping at nothing to fuck his teacher. Sexual favors for extra credit? Oh, perfect score? How about a reward then? ;) Ahhhahaha Jason would be flabbergasted. Just //A///

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through BONUS: Marvel Team-Up 3 (#80-129)

MASTERPOST

Continuing the same concept as the first post, that is, a quick catch-up to not miss anything regarding Peter's social life.

In #80, Peter has a date with Cissy, they get attacked by a werewolf, then Peter gets a tarot reading and says Dr Strange "looks fine" by daylight, further cementing his bisexuality, and then after shenanigans, Satana, the devil's daughter arrives at Strange's house.

Folks, this on the level of "Dispayre", hahaha.

In #81, Strange is saved. Yes, he was in danger. No, I can't explain.

In #82, Spidey finds a possibly amnesiac Black Window and without warning...

I love checking out these comics and just see stuff like that. Yeah. Sure. Alright hahahahhahahahaha

Anyway, Nick Fury shoots at her and Peter.

In #83, Peter is absolutely gorgeous.

In #84, things are wild. In #85, Black Window finally gets her memory back and while her amnesiac self had feelings for Peter, this one doesn't.

#86 has the Guardians of the Galaxy. #87 whumps slightly Peter and makes him fight Black Panther and we see Gamelin and Walter, who become relevant a bit later I think. (I remember Walter because he's gorgeous. I'm not even sure I recognize the right character but whatever. I remember the name Gamelin though, but I'm not sure what his point is.)

In #88, Peter takes pictures of Sue Storm and takes the train. In #90, Spidey and Nightcrawler team up against a fake Spider-Man. In #91, Peter's still dating Cissy, "a science major" (wow, such development), but she prefers Beast (very understandable), who Peter gets jealous about (confirming once more his bisexuality), and a guy has a sick suit.

I need the same one.

In Annual 3, Peter's with Glory at an amusement park in Connecticut, which made me Google where it was. Also, Ghost Rider is there.

#92 doesn't matter. In #93, someone slays.

Peter is also very cute.

In #94, Peter has a nice outfit.

In #95, Spidey fights Mockingbird. In #96, Howard the Duck has a really bad time on Earth. #97 doesn't matter. In #98, Spidey and Black Widow team up again. In #99, Peter's still gorgeous.

Actually...

Who is this artist who draws suits so well?

Alright, alright.

In #100, there's a lot of action. In Annual 4, arms.

#101 is uninteresting.

#102 is already more involving, see below.

He also discovers that food at expensive restaurants is expensive. Yes, even the coke.

In #103, there's a teddy bear!

That is not an appropriate outfit in front of your daughter, sir.

homosexuality.

#104 and 105 don't feature Peter. In #106, Peter meets Steve Rogers!

I talked about #107 in another post, it has She-Hulk. In #108 and #109, Spidey fights Paladin, who has very flamboyant hair. In #110, Spidey teams up with Iron Man. In the next issues, we see Dazzler, the Lightmaster...

In #115, Peter roleplays Grey's Anatomy when a hideous creatures arrives.

Peter also has a crisis of faith. It happens.

In #118, Professor X most likely knows Spidey's secret identity.

In #120, May forces Peter to sing in front of a dozen of old people so they can make fun of him. In #121, we have...

homosexuality.

And a dapper man.

In #124, Peter keeps getting bullied by geriatrics.

This is adorable.

Annual 6 gives very important lore.

In #126, Peter and Bruce Banner are besties.

homosexuality.

In #127, I love seeing Peter getting bullied by seniors.

Oh, I can guard Peter's rear...

This is actually a really nice tale. The Watcher wants to bring a granddaughter back to her grandfather, and enlists Peter's help.

"Finis" is even worse, but go off I guess!

In #128, Peter apparently has new friends, Roger Hochberg and Mia Carrera, who're maybe dating, it's not too clear. He also sees Steve Rogers again.

Girl what the heck.

Black Cat's in the hospital, Peter. Because Doc Ock almost killed her. And it's very clear that you're in love with her. What are you doing?

(He's poly, he's poly, he's poly! I need to write a poly fic, don't I?)

In #129, we see Einstein.

(He's actually a clone of Mark Twain. Sure.)

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Discord Fic Swap Links (5)

As previously mentioned, my Discord hosted a fifth Fic Swap. I have finally gathered all of the fics and writers involved and I wanted to share them with everyone.

So enjoy some wonderful writing and lots of love 🥰

All are Spencer/Fem!Reader fics unless stated otherwise.

SFW Fics

@broken-stardust wrote... One of Those Days. GN!Reader. Spencer rescues Reader during a bad day.

@omgbigfluffwriting wrote... Motherly Instincts. You hated Strauss but she had an unquestionable maternal instinct. That’s why you later named your daughter after her.

@reidgraygubler wrote... Spencer Through the Looking Glass. Spencer ran out of contacts and has to use his glasses.

@reid-me-a-story wrote... A Day Without You. In which Spencer has a question for Reader.

@specialagentsergio wrote... Point of View. Spencer has a hobby you didn’t know about. Not only is he a scientist, he’s an artist, too.

@thesassmisstress wrote... The Risk He Took. The story of how the risk Spencer took and bonus of how the team realized they aren’t as observant as they claim to be.

@writing-in-april wrote... Lost. Chip Taylor/Male!Reader. Reader has lost something precious to them, and someone unexpected finds it.

NSFW Fics (18+, MINORS DNI)

@andiebeaword wrote... Let's Make it More Obvious. Adrian from Endings, Beginnings. Adrian thought the love of his life just up and dumped him. As he two finds himself getting closer to Reader, things go wrong. Fast forward five years; Adrian and Reader are engaged and Daphne appears.

@aperrywilliams wrote... Fantasies About You. Professor Reid finds a notebook full of graphic sexual fantasies written… about him. When Reader shows up to retrieve it, he confesses (and acts upon) his own fantasies.

@/babyleaf (AO3) wrote... Peaches & Cream. When Spencer returns from a case he’s so busy that Reader can’t get his attention fast enough.

@fortheloveofcriminalminds wrote... Red Light. In which Spencer is a camboy.

@imagining-in-the-margins wrote... Icarus and the Moon. Spencer and Unsub!Reader have had a not-so-friendly rivalry that turns even more dangerous when they start to fall in love.

@kirencer wrote... Neon Nights. Chip Taylor/Male!Reader. The red echoes off of his cheekbones and eyelids in hollow waves. Chip whispered my name brokenly — my tongue ached to say his in return.

@mercy-burning wrote... Mechanics. There’s something wrong with Spencer’s car, and the one person willing to fix it happens to be his biggest downfall.

@omgbigfluffwriting wrote... World Enough. Reader’s not sure why the universe is throwing a certain lovable doctor at her. Why hasn’t she recognized it for what it is?

@ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff wrote... Mythological Metaphorical. Male!Reader. Spencer receives an accidental submission from one of his college students. Unfortunately it reveals that his student is aware that Spencer is a vampire.

@ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff also wrote... Safety First. Raymond. Even when finally having sex with the person he desires most, Raymond keeps protection as his first priority.

@reidetic wrote... Pathos. Ralvez/Reader. Reader has always loved things that come in threes.

@reidgraygubler wrote... My Darling. Reader stumbles upon one of Spencer’s darkest secrets.

@reid-me-a-story wrote... Best Friends. Reader goes undercover for a case with Spencer. She was going to tell him something but she gets interrupted. Will reader be able to keep her secret when she’s alone with Spencer?

@thesassmisstress wrote... The Exceptional TA. You have a crush on your TA, Spencer Reid, and he’s not that reluctant to start something with you.

Thanks friends! I hope to see you all next time ❤️

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[bffsoobin]

amortentia

↳year six potions class was never particularly exciting to you- as a Slytherin with much more interest in Transfiguration- but alas, it’s required to graduate. You thought the class couldn’t be any more of an inconvenience, but upon being paired with infamous Gryffindor Beomgyu, you find yourself proven wrong.

➤ gryffindor!beomgyu xslytherin!reader, harry potter!au, enemies to lovers, a little slow burn, fluff

Word Count: ~11k

Requested?: kinda? anon requested a Beomgyu oneshot with no specifics and I spit this out of some depraved, Harry Potter obsessed corner of my mind.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual e2l arguments, swearing, usual Gryffindor-Slytherin insults and tension 

A/N: I hope the anon who asked for a Beomgyu oneshot is happy with this!! I finally felt like I had enough time to write a proper hogwarts au so here it is! Also I purposely avoided using any professor names that are clearly linked with the actual Harry Potter series purely because of timeline continuity! Bonus points if you can guess who Georgiana is related to before I point it out :) ALSO this is so long and I feel so rusty so I hope it’s okay lmao

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The sound of your quill scratching against parchment filled your quiet corner of the common room, allowing you a feeling of solidarity and peace you’d been craving since you arrived back to the castle a few days ago. Of course you’d been excited to be back, sharing the meal in the Great Hall with all of your friends happily as you watched the wide-eyed first years get sorted into their houses. It was hard to believe that 6 years ago that had been you waiting to find your place within the walls of Hogwarts. 

As always, the buzz of the beginning of a new year wore on your nerves. Despite your love for your friends, their energy was- in your opinion- completely draining. You much preferred the moments of quiet serenity that the stone laden dungeon common room afforded you. The last few embers of a fire lit hours before winked at you from across the room, tempting you to raise your wand and reignite them. After a moment you decided against the movement, as you were presumably the only one awake at this hour and the light of the cedar scented candle you’d brought down with you from your suitcase provided enough light for you anyway. 

The scratch of your quill stilled as you flipped to the next page, careful not to accidentally bend the corners of the book you’d just purchased. Several detailed diagrams detailed the process of transfiguring plants to inanimate objects to animals then back to plants and you felt your heart swell with excitement. Transfiguration was hands down your favorite subject, and you’d been craving to learn this process in particular since it had been mentioned offhandedly in class last year. You scrambled to pick up your quill, happy that you’d splurged for the instantly refilling model as ink flowed flawlessly against the parchment. 

A sudden crash from the entrance of the common room popped your comfortable bubble of silence harshly as you clambered for your wand. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, annoyance and surprise mixing to raise your voice considerably. For a moment you heard nothing as you advanced closer to the door, keeping the three wide stone steps between you and who- or what- ever was behind the door. The door shook a few times before finally flying open, revealing three very normal looking boys stumbling through the threshold. They were all hanging on one another, stumbling over their feet as they pushed into the common room. You recognized the one in the middle instantly as Choi Yeonjun, fellow Slytherin and current Head Boy of the house. He was a year older than you but you knew him well for his infectious laughter and notoriously good grades despite never studying. His cheeks were flushed and his feet unsteady, but he held a charming grin through it all. The identity of whoever was supporting him on the left was a mystery to you, but the boy supporting him from the right sent alarm bells off in your head. 

“Beomgyu?” Your voice left you before you could rein yourself in, and you would have cringed had it not been for the hatred brewing under your skin. Here he was, the one person you tried to forget existed every single summer. And he had been part of the ruckus that pulled you from your reading. He didn’t say anything as the three boys stumbled past you, dumping Yeonjun onto one of the soft black leather sofas. 

“Hello?” You felt like you were in some kind of time warp, somehow totally invisible to the three of them as they sorted themselves out; Beomgyu and the other boy straightening out their clothing and Yeonjun lolling his head back on the cushions with a content sigh. 

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Beomgyu finally drawled, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his robes, layered over a sensible gray wool sweater and black uniform slacks. His striped red and gold tie hung off of his neck slightly, obviously having been loosened at some point in the night. He donned the same Head Boy pin Yeonjun did, but in the same colorway as his robes and tie. Loud, obnoxious, attention seeking red and gold.

“Hey? How about instead of “hey” you tell me why the hell you’re barging into my common room at some ungodly hour of the night! Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Head Boy?” The unidentified boy behind him froze as his eyes widened, apparently feeling the sting of your icy words much more than Beomgyu. He just lifted a lazy eyebrow, guiding his annoyingly confident gaze over your body. Fucking Gryffindors and their confidence. It was suffocating. 

“Well you see, Y/N. Yeonjun here can’t handle his fire whiskey for shit, and we were all just having a little start of the year party in the Room of Requirement. So me and my friend here,” he motioned vaguely to the cowering boy behind him- who you now noticed looked like he had just entered his fourth year- “decided to be so kind as to bring him back.” 

You said nothing for a moment; simply simmering in your hatred for him until he spoke again. 

“By the way, what are you even doing up so late? You’re not a prefect...so shouldn’t you be up in bed like the rest of your little friends? What’s so secretive that you have to be up in the middle of the night for it? Are you doing something...evil?” He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you and bringing his mouth level with your ear. You cringed at the closeness, clenching your hands into fists until the crescents of your nails indented your skin. His voice had lowered like he was telling a secret, as if Gryffindors even had the capacity for maintaining privacy. “Are you being naughty?” 

You huffed indignantly, finally finding the strength to shove his shoulder away harshly. The skin of your cheeks was certainly flamed, but you hoped he would chalk it up to annoyance and not the intoxicating scent of his woody cologne.  

“If you must know, I was up studying Transfiguration. I was trying to enjoy some piece and quiet until you came busting in.”

Beomgyu stepped around you and made his way for the table you’d previously been sitting at. To your delight he refrained from touching anything, but he stared at the set up for so excruciatingly long that the mystery boy awkwardly slipped out of the dungeon without a word. 

“We start classes in about 5 hours,” he suddenly remarked. His voice made you jump a bit, since you’d become used to the regained quiet. “Why the hell are you already studying? And a subject we’ve all already taken? Any other Transfiguration courses would just be electives, and with how much you care for your class standing I would have assumed you’d be learning ahead on Potions.”

“Well first of all, I’m not exactly studying. I’m just reading. I bought the book myself because I-” you stopped and heaved a sigh at the scrunch of his eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t understanding the concept of reading just for the fun of it. “I’m not studying for Potions because I despite it. Plus, how much is there to study? The book literally spells out every ingredient and procedure. There’s no thinking to be done, and hardly any magic.” Beomgyu’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline comically. 

“Hardly any magic? My god, maybe I was right to peg you as the pessimistic type. Must be hard to feel anything akin to hope down here in your-” he glanced around your common room again, eyes catching on the darkened green and black decorations, the window offering a view of the sparkling Black Lake shrouded with pine trees. “In your dungeon.” 

His use of the word bothered you greatly. Even though you knew it was geographically true and had even used it yourself; something about him coming in unannounced and uninvited to insult your home inspired fresh anger in your stomach. 

“Get out,” you spat, ignoring the way a half-dozed Yeonjun jumped at your voice. With all your might you pushed at Beomgyu’s broad shoulders, willing him out of your sight for at least a few more hours. 

“Oof, must have hit a nerve there, huh?” He continued to speak casually as you pushed him, walking backwards up the steps with an annoyingly perfect accuracy. Once he was finally stood in the threshold of the heavy door you heaved a sigh of relief as you swing it closed.

“Bye bye! Don’t ever fucking come back!”

——

You only managed about two hours of sleep after the Beomgyu drama, but luckily for you the three other sixth year girls you were rooming with had been smart enough to buy and stash away some caffeine potions. They had none of the enjoyable taste of coffee but three times the effect, and soon you felt back in top shape to head to class.

Pushing through the masses of clambering students with a practice eased, you caught up to the familiar frame of Georgiana, one of your oldest friends. She was a Ravenclaw, but you’d ridden together on your very first trip on the Hogwarts Express and stayed close friends since then. She greeted you easily, giving you an award winning smile as she pulled you by the arm of the robes to sit on one of the surprisingly empty stone benches lining the halls.

“Let me see your schedule!” She had to yell just to be heard over the mumbling of the crowd, but you heard her well enough to produce a folded piece of parchment that you carried despite having memorized it. Georgiana’s eyes flitted over it carefully, comparing it to her own schedule which laid open on her lap.

“We’ve got...Herbology 3,” she ran her finger down the parchments a few more inches, “Transfiguration of Aquatics...and NEWT prep together!” You groaned loudly, a feeling of anxiety weighing down your bones as you rubbed your fingertips into your temples.

“What’s up with you? Over me already?” She giggled, leaning back against the wall and handing you back your schedule.

“No, it’s just...if you’re the second class for Herb 3, Aquatics and NEWT prep, that means I have to pray that the second house in Potions isn’t Gryffindor.” You leaned back against the cool wall next to her, pouting in self pity until you saw the grim look on her face.

“What?” You sat up straight again as if a fire had been lit under your ass. Georgiana looked as if she was holding in a laugh and a grimace at the same time while you begged her to give up whatever information she was holding back from you. Her hand hovered over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wavering smirk running across her lips. 

“Okay, don’t freak out.” She began, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Well now I’m definitely going to since you lead with don’t freak out! Should I freak out? What about?”

“I already compared schedules with Soobin,” she said gently.

“Okay, and?” You knew of the sweet Hufflepuff, had sat next to him in a few classes and seen him hanging out with Yeonjun on occasion, but still had no idea why she was bringing him up now.

“And him and I have Potions together.” In the split second it took for the words to process you saw her flinch, clutching at the fabric of her robes over her chest in anticipation for your angry outburst.

“Of course! Of course I have to get stuck with them for Potions class, out of all the other houses. Merlin really has it out for lately you know, I didn’t sleep very much last night, had to pay Melinda 10 galleons for one of her caffeine potions-“

“I can tell,” Georgiana supplied. You grimaced at her and immediately shut your mouth, sensing your rapid talking was quickly becoming over the top.

“Georgie, if I have Potions with him-“ you didn’t even have to specify who you were speaking of before she was rolling her green eyes into her head.

“If you have Potions with Beomgyu, you just need to ignore him. He loves to push your buttons, Y/N. When will you realize that? And you push his back and you both get a good cat-and-mouse feeling that every teenager wants. Maybe if you stop entertaining it, he’ll take it easy on you. Need I remind you of the time you were actually friends with him? Didn’t swear he was the spawn of Satan after every conversation? I even remember in second year when you had a crush on him and made me-“

“Okay!” You replied curtly, gathering your books and parchment back into your arms. “I’m going now! Class starts in,” you pulled back your robe sleeve to look at a watch that clearly was not there, “10 minutes, and I like to be early!” Easily, you slipped into the throngs of students, leaving Georgiana behind with a sly grin on her face.

——

You arrived to the Potions room before any other student, forcing you to idle awkwardly in the small space between the door and the first brewing station. A few of the cauldrons bubbled idly, breaking up the silence of the room with the low hum of white noise. The arched ceilings only amplified the absence of noise- even the never ending buzz of students passing through the hallways was somehow muffled to silence inside the walls. 

“Ah!” The professor bellowed, waving at you from the opposite end of the room where he had been straightening out some piles of parchment that you could only assume were homework papers. “Hello there, you must be quite eager to start the day!” You could feel the skin of the back of your neck heating up as the rotund man approached you gleefully. 

“Oh, um, yes sir. You could say that...” you mumbled, clutching your stack of books to your chest protectively. The man smiled at you kindly but you could still feel the heavy weight of awkwardness seeping into your bones. He opened his mouth again- making another attempt at small talk to which you cringed. As much as you respected the professor on the basis of his knowledge, your ability for any small talk, especially Potions related, was extremely lacking. 

“You must’ve done quite well on your OWLS to be here, yes? Only those with the highest scores can be registered. The class can be quite challenging, but if you’ve got your affairs in order I reckon you’ll fine.” He paused, likely sensing the blankness behind your stare as you nodded politely. “Ah, all things you already know I’m sure. Are you excited to get started with the class?” 

You frowned, holding back your natural instinct for brutal honesty. How on earth could you let this gentle old man down gently? 

“Of course she’s excited! Aren’t we all?” Beomgyu was in the room now, apparently, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm around your shoulders. The loose fabric of his sleeve collided with the side of your face, blinding you for a second. You stumbled on your feet from the jostle, trying to shrug away from the warmth and overwhelming scent of his cologne. Beomgyu never was aware of his own strength as he held you steadily against his side as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“Oh my! So nice to see such great friends between different houses! Back in my day, as I’m sure you know, there was so much hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins...never would have seen a pair of friends like the two of you!” The professor seemed genuinely delighted, oblivious to the way you tried to wiggle out of Beomgyu’s hold. You offered the professor a plastic smile as more students filed in. As soon as the portly man was otherwise occupied, you stomped the heel of your sneaker into Beomgyu’s foot with all the might you could gather. 

“Merlin, ouch!” He recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm from around your frame to clutch at the foot you’d hopefully bruised. “I’ve got Quidditch practice after lunch today! How dare you!” 

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t need your feet for Quidditch, Choi. Serves you right for violating my personal space. Next time it’ll be worse than your fucking toes.” You hissed the words lowly, just enough that he would be able to hear them but without alerting your nearby classmates. 

“You two, there!” The professor suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your stupor to see he was pointed an aged finger at you and Beomgyu. “Since you were first in and seem to get along, I’ll have you be partners on Station 1.” A few confused whispers passed through the classmates behind you and your face fell at the implication. Potions partners with Beomgyu? For the whole year?

He seemed similarly stalled, not moving a single inch away from the front of the room until the professor cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Right, sir, of course,” Beomgyu nodded, rushing over to the furthest of the high-top tables; unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain of his newfound limp. With a satisfied feeling in your chest you followed closely behind, finally unloading the weight of the books in your arms onto the table. 

——

“How much worse could it get?” You groaned, laying your head in your arms at the dining table. 

“Well, you could be sick, or failing a class, or not have any friends, or have lost your books. Hell, let’s not forget what it must have been like to go to school here at the same time as Harry Potter. I mean, no final exams for a few years, but at what cost? Grandpa Ron always tells me about-” 

“Oh, good Merlin, Georgie, that’s not what I meant.” You picked your head up from the table and scanned the bustling hall. A large plate of sandwiches laid in front of you but your appetite was diminished in the presence of your stress. “I mean, how fucked is it that I have to spend every first period for the rest of the year brewing Potions alongside Choi? It’s bad enough that I hate Potions already, and now I’ll have to deal with his stupid, righteous, Slytherin-slandering ass!” You slammed your hand into the wooden table, shaking the plates and glasses near you under the force. 

“Careful there,” Georgiana scolded around a mouthful of bread. “Just keep your head down, don’t react to him like you always do,” she paused to gulp down a sip of pumpkin juice, “he’ll give up eventually.” You heaved a heavy sigh, propping your chin onto the palm of your hand and scanning the Great Hall. Masses of students bustled around, sharing meals and laughing or gathering over homework problems. You weren’t quite sure who or what you were looking for, but all you found was a rowdy group of forth year boys sitting atop one of the tables, casting small hexes at one another and their lunches. You rolled your eyes at their antics before resigning to picking at the few fries on your plate. 

“And if he doesn’t?” You mumbled, casting a pointed glare at a seemingly distracted Georgiana. It took her a second to shift her gaze back to your face, clearing her throat as she narrowed her eyes towards you. 

“Sorry?” She asked, pulling a section of crust off of the third sandwich she’d picked up off of the platter. 

“If he doesn’t give up? What am I supposed to do then?” The thought of living out the next two school years with Choi Beomgyu as a constant annoyance settled a pit of rage in your stomach. Georgiana was quiet for a moment, flicking a few locks of curled, fiery hair over her shoulder. 

“Then you get back at him.” She shrugged. “You know you get a discount at the joke shop. Just go down there and pick up some puking pastilles or something.” She looked up again suddenly, eyes shimmering and focused intently on something behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on the spot, wondering if there was something of interest outside of the window, only to be met with the sight of Soobin standing mere feet away, hand stalled mid-wave. It didn’t take a genius to notice that the Hufflepuff was staring intently at your best friend, and she was happily returning the sentiment with a goofy grin on her face. You whipped back around to face her, leaning across the table as if the action would provide any secrecy with him so close. 

“Are you and Soobin...” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she swatted at your shoulder. Her cheeks blushed rosy as she whispered back, “He asked me if I’d want to hang out when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Her voice shook as she spoke but you frowned instantly. Of course you were happy that he had finally manned up and the two of them were on the way to something akin to a date, but...

“First weekend Hogsmeade is our tradition!” You shouted, abandoning any secrecy you might have thought you’d maintained from Soobin. 

“Y/N, please!” Georgiana hissed, glancing up at Soobin with an apologetic smile. “Just once. You can still come along, maybe you can bring someone too?” She offered, trying to placate your irritation. Her eyes continued sliding between you and Soobin as she waited for your response. You sank back onto the bench quietly, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Fine.” You sighed. “I guess I can try to think of someone.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she stood from her seat and gathered her books back under her arm. She rounded the end of the table quickly, meeting up with Soobin just behind you. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated, Weasley!” You yelled after her even though she had turned her back to you. She stalled in her lockstep next to Soobin just long enough to turn her head and throw you a middle finger. 

——

The day of your Hogsmeade visit came quicker than you anticipated, and of course you’d failed to find someone to fill the empty spot that would prevent you from third wheeling. Everyone you asked had either been otherwise busy, sick, or already going into Hogsmeade with other friends.

Georgiana, being the wonderful friend she was, made sure that you hadn’t felt left out on the walk into the village. Soobin was surprisingly good at keeping conversation despite his shy appearance, and the three of you had managed to share lunch and a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks before Georgiana began giving you pointed glances. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recognize what her hand signals and mouthed words were conveying, but once you did you had excused yourself to wander the shops alone in a bid to give the lovebirds some privacy.

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, and as such the streets were lined with witches and wizards of all ages. Large throngs of students and families passed you by, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a fish swimming upstream as everyone pushed by. When you’d first stepped out you felt odd walking the cobbled street alone, considering you’d never made a solo trip to Hogsmeade for as long as you’d lived. Something about it was quite relaxing, though, as you realized you could enter any store and stay for any amount of time. 

Once you’d wrestled your way through another group of oncoming students, you spotted an endearing baby blue storefront with deserts on display in the window. Many of them appeared to be muggle creations, and your mouth watered as you caught sight of a tray of fudgy brownies with a thick layer of chocolate icing. Your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach; so despite the fact that you’d just had lunch you find yourself stepping into the sweet smelling shop. An expansion charm helped stretch the store far beyond its dainty storefront, and you were met with the sight of even more display cases and tiered plates full of sweets. 

A few other wizards mulled around the store, debating which treats to pick up and pack into the little green pastry boxes which were stacked at the entrance in a never ending supply. You balanced one of your own between your hands as you gathered up treats, sure to grab three of the very brownies that had brought you in to begin with. You packed in a few cookies that you found on a shelf near the back of the store and began to weigh your options between purchasing what appeared to be a type of muggle cake with specs of color floating about the white batter or a more familiar looking pumpkin pastry dusted with powdered sugar. You contemplated the two deserts for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing if you were in the presence of company.

“Wrackspurts on the brain?” A rush of hot breath inches away from the shell of your ear had you reeling, clutching your box of precious deserts to your chest. Of course you’d immediately identified the voice; you were just hoping that you were wrong as you shot daggers into the boy who’d spooked you. Beomgyu looked beyond pleased with himself: a hand cocked on his hip, fake glasses perched at the very end of his nose to perfectly top off the outfit he’d chosen. His robes hung open, one shoulder almost devoid of the fabric as it drooped onto his back. The maroon turtleneck he wore struck a perfect contrast with the golden undertones of his skin and matched impressively well to the emblem on his robes. He had tucked the turtleneck into the waistband of a pair of light wash jeans that made it hard not to marvel at the shape of his waist. The scent of his cologne was faint, overpowered by the sweetness of the shop, but you were picking up overwhelming scents of-

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He scrunched his nose as he studied you, waving gingerly like you would have at a child.

“Oh! Uh, I’m here, I’m here. What the hell do you want anyway?” You turned your attention back to the two pastries you’d been considering before his sneak attack in an attempt to keep yourself from looking back at his form.

“What’re you doing here alone? Out of friends? Did ya bore them all to death?” He had rounded to the opposite side of the table, forcing you to look at him straight on.

“I walked into Hogsmeade with Georgiana and Soobin, if you must know. They wanted some time alone so here I am.” You glanced up again to see him leaning casually against the table with one arm bracing his weight.

“I just have to point out that you’re also alone, Beomgyu. So I’m not quite sure why so keen on bashing me.” Your eyes skate over the deserts one final time before you decisively package up a slice of the muggle cake. The urge to celebrate the small victory was squashed by Beomgyu’s scoff.

“I’m here alone because I chose to be, not because my best friend is on a date and didn’t want a chaperone. Don’t you find that a little embarrassing?”

To be honest, you hadn’t considered it that way. You knew that finding a person to keep you from third wheeling had been your responsibility. But maybe he had a point. Although he was a constant nagging force, Beomgyu was insightful and intelligent. He’d helped you in class many times back when you were friends. Nervously, you nibbled at your bottom lip and considered his words carefully. Did Georgiana find your presence today embarrassing? She was surely too nice to tell you so, and there was no denying the tension in her face while she waited for you to leave The Three Broomsticks earlier. Your normally stoic face must have betrayed you, conveying that you were starting to feel hurt at the words that suddenly seemed to make so much sense. 

“I was joking,” Beomgyu spoke up suddenly, rounding the table to once again be next to you. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, Y/N. I’m beginning to worry for your sense of humor.” He picked up a couple of cookies with careful dexterity and settled them into the palm of his hand. 

“Of course,” you concluded bitterly, taking a step back in a bid to get to the counter and buy your treats. “Must be my broken sense of humor and not just the fact that you’re an ass.” His face twisted unpleasantly as you stepped further away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you were already pivoting on the balls of your feet to make your way toward the front of the shop. 

——

The evidence of the first frost of the season crunched underneath your feet as you hurried to class. As someone who prided themselves on showing up on time for classes every day, you were particularly embarrassed to have woken up with just twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of potions. There was no excuse, either. You had simply stayed up too late studying for the NEWT practice exam and forgot to set your alarm before lying down.

To make matters worse you’d greatly underdressed yourself, underestimating the absolute chill of the morning when you had peeled out from the window. Only now, as you found yourself feet away from the classroom did you feel the icy temperature begin to bite into your exposed skin. Your cheeks were numb with cold, and your hands shook as you pushed them under your arms for some amount of warmth. Luckily the classroom was warmer when you finally got to it. Guiltily, you grinned at your professor as he notably marked your attendance onto the scroll of parchment. 

“Rough night?” Beomgyu asked under his breath as the professor launched into the lesson for the day. You kept your back turned to the boy in favor of writing down the list of ingredients that was being provided to you. A firm poke in the middle of your back had you turning on your stool, already silently fuming as you came face to face with Beomgyu. 

“What?” You mouthed, trying your best not to alert your professor that neither of you were paying attention to him. 

“You look awful,” he mouthed back, pulling the most exaggerated gagging expression you’d ever seen in your life. Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab him by his necktie and slap him across his annoyingly perfect face. Instead you threw up your middle finger boldly, practicing a muggle tradition that wizards had become quite fond of. Beomgyu feigned shock, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to faint right there at his stool. 

“-so you’ll be using this combination of potions for the group project, due in one weeks time.” Your professor concluded. Wide eyed, you spun back around on your stool only to see the words previously written on the board disappear with a flick of his wand. A group project? Potions, plural? You’d only taken notes on one mixture, and you were sure that Beomgyu hadn’t taken any notes at all. Although maybe the group project wasn’t among your table mate? Your heart fluttered as you prayed for that to be the reality, scanning your classmates to see if anyone got up to switch seats or combine tables. 

Not a single soul moved. 

“Guess it’s just us.” Beomgyu drawled from behind you. 

“Did you take any notes?” You asked, fear running through your veins. If both of you were clueless, you’d have to ask the professor to explain everything to you again, which would only implicate the two of you for not paying attention to begin with. 

Beomgyu shook his head and shrugged much too casually for a student who was in the dark about an entire project. 

“I’ll just ask someone. Hey, Art-” 

“No!” You scrambled for a rolled piece of parchment to hit him on the arm with before he could finish his shout across the classroom. “Please, do not scream across the room that we don’t know what we’re doing.” Your cheeks were flaming, anxiety and exhaustion building to a dangerous level in your bloodstream.

“Awe, are you ashamed to admit you were too busy talking to me to pay attention?” Beomgyu cooed, cradling his chin in his palms.

“No. I’m embarrassed that we’re the only ones not starting the work,” you glanced pointedly to all of the other tables where your classmates were hard at work on...something. Every table housed a slowly bubbling cauldron producing a steady stream of light grey smoke. The cauldron resting on the table between the two of you was alarmingly quiet, your stores of provided potion ingredients remaining untouched. 

“Alright, Y/N. How about right now we work on the one you wrote down,” he points a finger at the parchment containing the list of notes you managed to take, “and I’ll talk to someone about the rest. Since you’re too proud to ask for help.” Without waiting for you to process the words he gripped the parchment between his fingers and pulled it toward the middle of the table. He mumbled a simple aguamenti under his breath and the cauldron filled with the perfect level of water. He then scrutinized the words for just a moment before he began to collect ingredients with a practiced ease, barely even glancing at the labels of the hefty glass containers. You’d never seen him quite as focused in a class as he was at the moment, his nimble fingers uncapping lids and measuring precise amounts of lacewing flies with a delicacy you never would have expected to come from the hands of Gryffindor’s star Beater. 

One after the other, ingredients fell into the wrought iron cauldron, changing the color of the mixture from clear to an odd, murky green. You scrunched your nose in distaste but Beomgyu was nodding to himself in satisfaction, his fluffy hair bouncing back off of his forehead. 

“Stop staring and start taking notes, Y/N.” His voice was casual but his lips were twisted in a smirk as you scrambled for both an excuse and a fresh roll of parchment. 

“I wasn’t,” you defended as you begin to scribble out notes against the parchment, refusing to meet his eyes as the shame of being caught red-handed crawled up the back of your throat and stung behind your eyes. He simply hummed in acknowledgment and tossed in a few leaves of a plant you didn’t have time to identify into the bubbling mixture.

——

Impatiently, you tapped your foot against the stone floor. It echoed a sound that would have been satisfying in its consistency if it weren’t for the annoyance running through your veins. Beomgyu had promised to meet you in the west corner of the library today, at a prompt 7pm, in order to finish synthesizing your plan for the Potions project. You checked the clock on the wall again just in case you had somehow misread the hands only to find them confirming your suspicions. Beomgyu was blowing you off. He had suggested the time and place himself, and yet he couldn’t even have the decency to show up. 

Anger blossomed in your chest as you stood to gather the things you’d brought along. Your chair scraped on the floor and attracted the stares of a few other students put you paid them no mind as you swore under your breath. 

Of course Beomgyu had stood you up in the face of an important project. He was probably laughing away to his friends in the common room, boasting about how he’d left you sitting in the library like a fool. Once again he had proven himself to be an utterly useless and annoying human being that you wished you had never even met. Your teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your bottom lip so hard that blood pooled on your tongue, the bitter tang snapping you into action. The route to the Gryffindor common room was a familiar one, and the hatred brimming inside of you made your legs move even faster than usual, swearing under your breath as you finally came face to face with the portrait keeping you from entering the room. 

“I don’t have time for any password- please just let me in. I’m looking for someone.” Your words came rushed, obviously annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Now, you know that isn’t how this works, dear,” the painting asserted, crossing their arms to mimic your own stubborn pose. “I can’t let just anyone into the room. I’ve got,” the portraited stopped dead in its tracks and began counting on its fingers silently. “I’ve got 30 students inside right now, and it’s my job to protect them.” Your fists clenched at your sides over the stubborn portrait, fingers itching to grab your wand and level a badgering curse against the damned painting. It must have read the anger on your face as you fiddled with the fabric of your robes, as it’s booming voice came again; 

“Tell me who you’re seeking, and I can tell you if I’ve seen them!” With your fingers still curled around your wand, it took a fair deal of restraint to leave it in your robe pocket. After a deep, steadying breath, you looked back up at the portrait. A beat of silence passed before you slathered on a sweet smile, clearing your throat to quell any remnants of your frustrated growl. 

“I’m looking for Choi Beomgyu.” 

The portrait took a moment to contemplate your words, squeezing its eyes tightly and tapping its fingers as you assumed it searched the students inside the Gryffindor common room and dorms. 

“He’s not here.” It finally concluded, snapping its eyes back open to peer down at you again. Frustration flamed your skin red all the way to your hairline. Hogwarts and it’s grounds were extensive, and searching for him would surely take up your entire night. 

“I did happen to see out Quidditch players heading down to the pitch around 5 o’clock, though.” Not needing any further ceremony, you turned on your heels and made your way toward the exit of the castle. The corridors were fairly empty, and the few students still milling around were quick to step out of your way as you hurried through them, robes flowing out behind you. Silently you thanked your lucky stars that no professors had been around to inquire about why you were rushing out of the castle in such a haste. 

As soon as you set foot outside, you regretted not stopping by your dorm first to grab your coat and scarf. It had been three days since you woke up to the first frost, and the temperature had only continued to drop into frigid numbers. Even in the limited light provided by the setting sun you could see your breath fogging ahead of you. Cold air curled around your body, seeming to seep underneath your skin with a harsh ferocity. For now you simply tucked your hands deeper into the fabric of your robes, hoping that the heat of them in conjunction with your brisk pace would keep your body warm enough.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was deceptively far when you traveled alone. Normally you were so distracted by conversation with your friends and the last minute bets between houses that you didn’t have time to mull over how many steps it took you to arrive at the stands; but today you were nothing short of pissed at how far away the compound had been built. Every step you took sent a shock of cold through your feet, your toes completely numb no matter how much you wiggled them inside your sneakers. The trees shuddered with you as you passed them, leaves spiraling to the ground as they finally give in to the pressure of the cold and resign themselves.

Finally you passed through the solid wood of the viewing stands, coming face to face with the expanse of the pitch in front of you. Totally empty. Not a single soul was to be found warming up on the grass or running practice games in the air. Upon listening, you couldn’t even hear any distant chatter that would indicate the team being huddled into the locker room.

“Shit!” A new wave of frustration crashed through your mind. Had you passed them on the way over? It was plausible that they had taken a different route back to the castle and your whole trip had been in vain. Exhausted, you leaned against the wall and listened to the whip of the banners against their metal poles, the clinking of their bindings matching with the steady, loud beat of your pulse. Just as you were about to turn and head back for the castle in your freezing shame, you heard another sound. This one was different, less uniform, almost like a grunt of exhaustion followed by a heavy thud. Your freezing feet moved almost without you to follow the noise. A vicious wind whipped your hair, mussing it up so badly that you had to stop in your tracks to gather it all back into place. You hazarded every step you took, unsure exactly where the source of the noise was coming from other than somewhere behind the stands. On your next step you heard the noise again, much closer this time, and the excitement of being close to solving this mystery had your footsteps speeding up.

Just as you rounded the curving stands, you spotted the culprit, still a little hard to make out due to the distance you had yet to cover, but the colors and shape of a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform were clear. Upon further inspection, it became obvious that the heavy thud you’d been hearing was a the heavy iron Bludger cracking against the magically reinforced bat. There were only two Beaters on the team, and one of them was the very man who’d forced you to walk into the frigid night. You continued your steady approach to the figure, morbidly curious over who it was that was out here pushing themselves to practice alone in the freezing cold. 

“Hey!” You yelled as you edged closer, hoping to give whoever it may be a fair warning that you were approaching. Within three feet of the body, there was no mistaking it to be Beomgyu. 

“Choi!” You raged, yelling much louder than required for him to hear you. The Bludger was sailing far away from the two of you with a strong hit as you closed the distance almost all the way. “I know you can hear me, asshat.” Beomgyu kept his eyes on the iron ball, effectively ignoring your words. In disbelief you glanced back and forth between his face-seeing the way his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Bludger came closer by the second. 

“Is this where you’ve been all night? Playing Quidditch while you were supposed to meet me in the library?” A strong gust of wind knocked the air out of you, shivers running down your spine as you waited for any response from the boy. The Bludger came whistling back toward the two of you, and in the split second you had the foresight to step back he had tensed his shoulders, gripped the end of his bat and took another strong and precise hit against the Bludger, sending it even further away than the last one. 

“Lost track of time.” He supplied absentmindedly, turning his head to regard you with lazy eyes. 

“What?” You seethed, stepping forward again, placing yourself in front of his frame in hopes of appearing somewhat intimidating. “You lost track of time? Let’s talk about the fact that out project is due in four fucking days, and all we have to show is a single god damn Potion. This was your responsibility,” you pushed your pointed finger into the front of his uniform, the fabric giving way to allow you to feel the firmness of his chest underneath. “I trusted you with the single task of making sure that we could figure out the rest of this project, and you fucked up!” Tears of frustration rimmed your eyes as the worry of failure overwhelmed you. As much as you hated Potions, you’d be damned if Choi Beomgyu became the reason you do poorly. 

“Listen, I seriously did just forget,” he pushed at your shoulders forcefully, to which you planted your feet into the ground harder. “Seriously, Y/N, I forgot! Now move!” 

“No! You are not,” you grabbed at his forearm and pulled it off of your shoulder, “going to blow me off again! We are going to work on this project right now, even if its the last thing I do!” 

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking move!” He yelled, finally managing to uproot your feet and push you off to the side with so much force that you landed flat on your ass, the cold hardness of the ground knocking the breath out of your lungs. From the ground, you watched helplessly while Beomgyu scrambled to grab his bat in time to hit the whirring Bludger. He was a quick enough thinker to see that there was no way he’d make the move in time, so he simply did the next best thing- turning his back to the ball and ducking his head into his chest, covering the back of his neck with his arms. 

With a sickening crack, the Bludger made foul contact with Beomgyu’s back, striking just below his left shoulder blade. The force knocked him forward, his hands barely catching himself as he met the ground harshly. He cried out in pain, the sound bouncing around the stands and piercing your veins. In a hurry, you crawled toward his heaving body and urged him to sit up with the guidance of your hands. 

“Are you okay?” The words rushed out of you in a hurry, panic crawling up the back of your throat at the shine of tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. 

“Wh-what the hell do you think?” He groaned, body shaking as he struggled to even take a breath. 

“Okay, right. Dumb question. Let’s get you to the infirmary, yeah?” His legs shook as he got them under him, something akin to a baby deer taking its first few steps. Instinctively you shot out an arm to steady him, looping your arm behind his back as effectively as you could given the height difference and placement of his injury. 

“Merlin, I think I broke my shoulder blade,” he groaned, stumbling across the uneven ground with trepidation. 

“You didn’t, I watched. It actually hit right below your shoulder blade, so if anything it’s just bruised, and you probably won’t even need a bone-healing spell, so recovery should be little more than some Devil’s Claw for the pain and-” 

“Did someone cast a babbling curse on you? Merlin’s beard. It’s bad enough that you got me hit to begin with, and now I have to listen to you run your mouth!’ His voice was still pinched with pain, an octave lower than normal as he gritted his teeth. The two of you finally reached the threshold of the castle, encapsulated by the warmth of the torches littered all inside. 

“I’m trying to help! Did you ever consider the fact that if you had showed up to our scheduled meeting time, you could have avoided being hit. I could have avoided freezing all of my extremities off, and I wouldn’t have to be helping your ass to the infirmary.” 

The noise of your bickering outside of the infirmary wing attracted the nurse to the hallway, who furrowed her eyebrow in silent question over the two of you. 

“He got hit by a Bludger, ma’am,” you supply as soon as you see her. Her eyes widen instantly as she rushed forward, helping you guide Beomgyu into an empty cot. She shooed you aside as she fretted over him, asking questions about the incident in a low, steady tone before nodding seriously. Without any kind of warning, Beomgyu was pulling the fabric of his uniform over his head, leaving his top half bared to you. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat nervously. The nurse was too busy prodding at the blossoming bruise to have heard your stutter, but Beomgyu was nothing if not aware. 

His dark eyes found your form standing just a few paces away, staring unabashedly at the faint hint of his abs that had become visible. 

“Somethin’ you like?” He drawled playfully, snapping you out of your reverie. 

“Merlin, no.” You sneered, hoping to cover the thickness of your tone as you swallowed hard. “Just trying to decide if I should tell the Quidditch team to get their backup trained for the game tomorrow night.” Beomgyu’s face fell at the implication of your words and a sting of regret struck your heart. 

“There will be no need for a backup, dear,” the nurse cooed, shuffling her feet as she gathered up a few healing supplies. She offered a bottle of innocent looking clear liquid to Beomgyu and he drank it instantly, grimacing at what you assumed to be a foul taste. “Now, dear, if you don’t fancy seeing your boyfriend in more pain as I heal him-”

“Please. He is not my boyfriend. I just helped him get here. I’ll be going now, anyway. See you tomorrow?” You asked pointedly, hoping he would understand your incessant need to finish the Potions project. He nodded slightly, and you scanned Beomgyu’s form one more time before excusing yourself to the nurse and scurrying back to your dorm. 

——

“I better hear a thank you.” Beomgyu asserted as soon as he slumped in the seat across from you. He had been so quiet in his approach to the table that you hadn’t heard him until now, rocketing your gaze up towards him from the pages of your Transfiguration book. 

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, relieved to see that he had been healed and able to return to classes just the morning after the Bludger hit. You schooled your features into cool indifference as soon as you saw his mouth twitch up at the sound of his name. “For what am I thanking you? Withholding information about the project?” 

“No,” he shook his head, springing a few carefully parted hairs loose from their spot. “For- number one-” he paused dramatically, drumming his bony fingers against the edge of the high-topped table, “providing you all the information for finishing this project.” Out of seemingly nowhere he produced a thick roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal a step by step explanation. Pages of carefully written instructions went into great detail on every step of the potions that needed to be made. A sense of relief and happiness washed through you, enough to make your hands curl into excited fists as you beamed. 

“Turns out our Seeker is good at more than catching a Snitch. She got the highest marks in this class last year, and agreed to share the notes with me.” 

“Thank you, Beomgyu. Seriously. I was beginning to worry.” 

“I know, I know. It feels good to be your savior, Y/N. Oh, which reminds me of reason number two; the fact that I spared you a Bludger hit last night.” 

“I thought we’d already covered this. Most of that encounter was your fault. Plus, your little shove left me with a bruise of my own on my ass.” Pouting, you shifted your weight in an attempt to alleviate the pain against said bruise. 

“Just admit it, Y/N,” he leaned forward, his face mere inches from your own so as not to be heard by anyone around. “You’re indebted to me. Two times over.” He was cocky, but you had to admit he had a point. As much grief as he had caused you, he had saved you from both a failing grade and an injury in just under 24 hours. 

“You’ve got a point.” Beomgyu shrunk back into his seat, cocking his head to the side as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. It seemed like he was waiting for a witty remark or some kind of argument to his words, but you kept a sure, steady gaze on him instead. Either your eyes were playing tricks on you or there was a slowly building flush of red blooming from under the collar of his cable-knit sweater onto his cheeks. Against your will, your mind reproduced the image of his bared chest from last night. 

“What do I owe you?” The question rolled off of your tongue like butter as you took the chance to lean forward to him, balancing carefully on your stool with your elbows planted onto the table. 

“I-I just,” Beomgyu frowned at his stutter, apparently upset by his own lack of confidence. His mouth opened and closed again in quick succession and you grinned wider. Another teasing lilt was right at the tip of your tongue, but the booming voice of your professor cracked the tension wide open and had you sitting back on your stool. 

——

Two days later, you stand behind your stool in Potions class, wringing your hands together nervously. Your portly professor had spent all morning swirling around the class, leaning over the cauldrons and vials present at every table. He muttered a few things to every pair of students, nodding along as they explained their approach to him. It seemed as if he were grading on the spot, since you caught a glimpse of a quill gliding over a small strip of parchment. 

Finally the elder approached your table, bushy eyebrows pinched into one another as he had already begun to scrutinize the potions laid out for him. He said nothing as he approached, quietly appraising your work. One by one, he picked up the vials one by one, peering through the clear bottom and giving them an experimental swirl. He hummed happily to himself and your heart soared. Across the table you noticed Beomgyu looking equally pleased. The professor set down the vials one by one before leveling his gaze onto you. 

“How do you think you did?” He questioned, producing the same thin strip of parchment you’d seen him use at other tables. Palms sweating, you stole a glance at Beomgyu who gave you an encouraging wave of his hand. 

“I think we did quite well, professor. It took us a bit to get the whole project together, but I feel confident in our end results here.” Nervously, your eyes skated down to his quill, tapping against the parchment rhythmically. 

“Well, I think you did quite well, the two of you. These potions are near perfect. Couldn’t make them any better myself.” It felt as if the air had been sucked from your lungs, shocking you beyond belief. Never once in your life did you think you’d be receiving such high marks in Potions- especially with Beomgyu as your partner. Your professor marked a delicate “A+” on the small strip of parchment. 

Beomgyu threw a triumphant fist in the air, wiggling in his spot with pure excitement. Your professor let out a belly laugh, spinning around to address the entire class. 

“I didn’t want to advertise this since I wanted you all to put in your best, pure efforts to the project. But, now that I’ve reviewed everyone’s work and determined the best,” you swapped a look of confusion with Beomgyu, both assuming that he was referring to you. “I am offering an award to our friends at Station 1!” He motioned to the two of you wildly, robes flailing as you ushered to the front of the room. Your peers glared at the two of you, but you were too far onto cloud nine to care. 

“Good thing I got those notes, huh?” Beomgyu muttered to you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Good thing I spent all last night making sure we actually had the potions to present.” Keeping your voice low and level to keep him from sensing just how grateful you were for his efforts. The class murmured lowly, surely trading snide remarks about the two of you until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

From the pocket of his robes, the professor pulled out two small, clear vials. One was pressed into each of your palms, and you stared up at him with confusion. Maybe this was a sign you should have paid more attention to the types of potions around you.

“Luck potions, please use them carefully” he supplied helpfully, swirling back around to face the entire class. “Now, who’s willing to take a photo of me and our winners?” The professor bellowed, producing an old film camera from somewhere and brandishing until someone shuffled off of their stool.

——

Fresh, fluffy snow floated down in gentle waves outside the window. It was the thick of winter now, and despite your best efforts to bundle up you were still huddling into yourself for warmth as students shuffled into Potions around you. Everyone seemed especially lethargic, yearning for the break from classes that Christmas promised. You laid your head onto your folded arms, feeling just as exhausted as the atmosphere suggested. 

Sleep had been evading you lately, annoyingly deceptive as you would lay down in bed tired only to be kept awake by your racing mind for several hours. Somehow settling into your arms in this classroom was the most content you’d felt in days. And then you felt a firm push at the back of your head. There was no mistaking who the perpetrator was, especially as you heard the scrape of a stool directly across from you. 

“Good morning to you too, Beomgyu.” He was perched perfectly on his stool, eyes wide and bright. For as long as you’d known him, he had thrived in the cold and the snow. “You are obnoxiously cheerful. God damn Gryffindors.” 

“Not my fault you’re such a grouch. But I guess it is true that snakes don’t like the cold.” 

“Do you ever let up? Or do you get pleasure out of ruining my mood every single morning?” 

A grin cracked his lips as a short laugh bubbled through. “Thinking about my pleasure, are you? Concerned I’m not getting enough? I can assure you that-”

“Okay, gross. Stop. Enough. You know that isn’t what I meant.” Quite honestly, you had no time to endure his usual teasing so you simply turned your body away from him, idly watching the professor gather his things at the desk. 

“Right, let’s get going! We need all the time we can manage today!” He seemed more jubilant than usual as he centered his own cauldron onto the middle of his desk. “Today we’ll be making love potions. Amortentia, you may know. If you’ll open to page 104, you can find the procedure. It is important to note that this potion cannot make anyone truly fall in love, but it does create a strong attraction to whomever you make with it in mind. Of course, the full effect doesn’t apply unless it is consumed. Today we will simply be brewing it for practice. If done correctly, the potion will emulate-” 

“The scent of what you find most attractive,” you muttered absent mindedly, reading directly off of the page you had open in your lap. 

“Exactly, miss Y/N. Your potion today will smell like what you find most appealing.” He nodded proudly. A feeling of anxiety rose in your chest as he rattled on. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of the type of scents that would come from the potion. You were quite fond of some scents in candle form, but you wouldn’t classify them as...attractive. Even more worrying was the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to reveal this concoction in front of Beomgyu, who took every chance presented to torment you. Your professor clapped his hands together, marking the beginning of your working period. 

The instructions were simple enough, so you took extra care to be sure that the   measurements were as perfect as you could get them. The room was shrouded in a hushed silence that indicated everyone was working hard on this. After all, this was the most exciting potion that’d been offered to you all year. 

“Can’t wait to see which poor dude you have a crush on,” Beomgyu chuckled as he stirred his pot exactly three times counter-clockwise. 

“Could say the same for you! I seriously petty whichever girl you’ve been fancying. Imagine being at the receiving end of your...ick. You’d better tell me who it is so I can send them a warning.” You stirred your pot the same way he had, watching the mixture turn to a stereotypical bright pink. The instructions lead you to allow the mixture to culminate for exactly two minutes before any results could be sought. 

The students who happened to work faster than you were already taking a sniff at their potions and recording the scents on their parchment, some pairs gossiping amongst one another about what they smelled. A clank of metal had you whipping your head upwards, locking eyes with Beomgyu as adjusted his small cauldron to bend over his potion. Since it wasn’t your own, there was no scent for you to distinguish, but you watched the way his eyes widened in shock for a second. 

Unfortunately you had no time to process his expressions before you had to examine the contents of your own cauldron. Before you could even take a deliberate sniff, your senses were rushed with a mix of sweetened musk, a wood that seemed somewhere between cedar and mahogany, and an addicting citrusy undertone that you eventually recognized as bergamot. You placed it immediately.

“Merlin, Beomgyu. Could you refrain from spraying your cologne right now? Why are you even carrying it with you in the middle of-” The words died in your throat as you realized how incriminating your words had become, seeing as Beomgyu had nothing but his quill in his hands. A feeling of sickness rose in the back of your throat as he let out a hearty laugh. 

“My cologne, huh? I actually didn’t even have time to put any on today,” he peered over at your parchment, his height allowing him to easily read the fragrance notes you had scribbled before complaining. “But those are the exact notes of what I wear.” 

Your cheeks flamed, the heat radiating so fully through your system that you felt yourself begin to sweat despite how cold you’d been before. There was no worse fate than this, you decided. Amortentia had betrayed you, putting you under the mercy of Beomgyu’s knowing stare. Fuck, did he really have to find out now that the smell of his cologne secretly drove you crazy? That as much as you hated the way he teased and antagonized you, somewhere deep down you’d never quite lost the crush you developed in second year? 

“I was beginning to think you might’ve had a crush on me, Y/N. Isn’t that so sweet! The stony little Slytherin finally realizing that she’s attracted to me...this is quite the revelation!” Beomgyu lamented, obviously overjoyed at the new ammo he could load into his teasing. 

As much as you searched, you could find no words to defend yourself, as the proof was truly in the potion. A bit defeated, you sunk back into your stool, content to bury your face into your hands until your next class began; but at your new level you could see Beomgyu’s own piece of parchment scrawled with what he had smelled. Reading them upside down was a bit of a challenge, but he was too busy complimenting himself to recognize your analytical stare. Written in a neat list were the scents: sage, some type of berry (juniper?), eucalyptus, something woody (cedar?). 

Your heart stuttered, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out and give yourself away. Skillfully you held it back, cursing to any god or deity who might be listening. The notes matched up exactly with the perfume you wore every single day.

——

“You asked him why he sprayed his cologne?” Georgiana gaped at you across the table in the Great Hall. The two of you had joined up for lunch just hours after your Potions class disaster.

“Yes, but that’s not all! Just before I melted into a puddle of my own dispair, I saw his list, and I swear to Merlin it’s the exact notes of my perfume! Look,” you produced the travel-sized bottle from your pocket, flipping it to the back label and listing off the exact ingedients.

“Wow,” Georgiana nodded, sinking her teeth into a piece of pizza. “That’s quite remarkable.”

“Why are you not giving me more of a reaction?” You whined, stomping your foot against the floor petulantly. She raised an eyebrow high, taking a few more chews at her food.

“You want me to be honest? Or nice?” She asked, weighing the invisible options on her hands in front of you.

“Honest, I guess.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d pick that one. You see, my sweet Y/N, the two of you have been dancing around this for years. Even though you renounced him all those years ago, I still talk to him on occasion. Not to mention he’s friends with Soobin, so I’ve been provided with some...insider information. To be honest, Soobin and I have both been waiting for the day the two of you finally stopped bickering and like...made out.”

Your face twisted unpleasantly, shocked at her words. “Insider information?” You croaked, creases forming in your forehead. Georgiana smiled devilishly and you swore you could see red horns rising from her fiery hair.

“Beomgyu talks about you all the time. Apparently, back when he was dating Klara, he would often talk to Soobin about how she never bantered with him like you did. They broke up because he kept comparing her to you. Told Soobin that he’s had a crush on you just as long as you have, but he thought you thoroughly hated him.”

“He has a crush on me?” You sputtered, stomach twisting into knots somewhere between disbelief and excitement. Georgiana full on laughed upon seeing your face, the cackle permeating through the air and turning heads.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to bring it up. If he’s got a crush on me, he can bring it up.” You suddenly decide, finally indulging in the pizza that had been waiting for you since you sat down.

“That’s my girl, stubborn to the very end.” Georgiana grinned and offered her hand for a high five that you eagerly returned.

——

The weekend brought you a much needed break from both schoolwork and all things Beomgyu related. Christmas break was fast approaching, and all of your professors had surprisingly laid off on assignments. It seemed as if they were just as tired of grading as you were of doing the work.

Unsurprisingly you found yourself in the library, sitting underneath the twinkling of the fairy lights set up especially for the holidays. Most other students were out socializing, so the room was pleasantly vacant. As a result you were able to settle into one of the plush velvet couches that were usually occupied.

After roaming the aisles you’d found an anthology of wizard poetry that piqued your interest. Settling beteeen the cushions of the couch with a book made you feel the most at home you ever had, cracking open the delicate binding and balancing the book in your stomach as you began to read.

There was no way to tell how long you’d been reading, but by your estimations it was only about 20 minutes before someone was looming above you. Startled, you lifted your gaze over the book to see none other than Beomgyu standing before you. He was decked out in a sage green sweater paired with slightly oversized beige slacks. He had forgone his robes, but his Head Boy pin still shined on the breast of his shirt. Typical.

“Can I help you?” You asked, finally sitting up to regard him.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said simply, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. You blinked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you poked, slipping your book shut dramatically. “Did you want to ask me something?” Beomgyu licked at his lips before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

“Merlin, why do you make everything so hard?” He groaned and seemingly became so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ornate rug under his feet. Seeing that you’d riled him up so much by doing practically nothing sent excitement through your veins. As much as the bickering annoyed you, there was no denying the thrill you felt when giving him back a taste of his medicine.

“What exactly am I making so hard? I don’t even know what you’re here for. To be honest I’m shocked you managed to find me in the library. I figured you would start to burn at the door and have to find a different way in.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at his pillowy lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.” He finally began to reveal the award winning smile you’d come to know whenever he teased you. “I know what Georgiana told you.” His voice was low, so quiet that if there had been any other souls in the library you’d have missed it.

Your eyes flew open and he flushed instantly. “You two aren’t exactly quiet at the Great Hall, and I’ve got more than a few friends.” It was your turn to flush red, wondering just how many conversations between you and Georgiana had been overheard by other people. 

“So you know that I said...” 

“Why do you think I’m here? All it took was me knowing you also...you know,” he picked at the nonexistent loose threads in the carpet. Honestly, you were shocked at how reserved he had become in the face of this confrontation. All traces of his usual confidence seemed to have vanished in the moment. 

“I do like you, Beomgyu. I had a massive crush on you in second year, but then we got into that fight and-”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he countered animatedly. “You just never understood my humor. All this time, I was hoping that you would catch the hints.” 

“Hints?” It felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head with how wide you held them. “You call those hints? I’d call those lackluster clues, at best.” 

He was quiet for a moment, examining the smirk on your lips carefully. In a moment of impulse you slid off of the couch to sit opposite him on the floor, knees touching. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping at his thighs nervously. “Didn’t know how else to go about it.” 

“That’s okay, me either, obviously.” A rueful laugh escaped your lips, and he returned one just as easily. Up this close, the planes of his face were defined by the delicate light provided from the fairy lights. Shyly you shared glances, neither of you knowing quite how to deal with the charged anticipation in the air.

“Will you...come to the last Quidditch game tomorrow?” He finally spoke, snapping your attention back to him.

“Only if I don’t have to wear one of your ugly jerseies.” Feeling bold, you leaned forward just a few inches, beginning to close the gap between you gradually.

“Fine,” he acquised, leaning forward just the same as you had, his breath fanning hot over your face. “In exchange for not wearing a jersey, how about you...” he tapped at his lips cheekily. A surge of excitement tumbled through you.

“That’s a shit way of asking me to kiss you for the first time, Choi.” Nevertheless you leaned forward further, bumping your nose against his own before you finally pecked him firmly on the lips. You felt ridiculously shy, like you were having your first kiss all over again, but Beomgyu smiled reassuringly, pulling your hands into his own and linking them together. The touch encouraged you both, and your lips collided with more assurance than before.

The faint scent of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips, and you wondered how many bottles he’d drank before finally deciding to come find you. Finally you both sought a new breath, taking a moment to close your eyes and collect yourself. When they fluttered back open you saw Beomgyu staring back at you intently, pupils reflecting the strands of lights strung above you.

He mumbled something so quietly that you couldn’t even hear it at your close distance.

“What was that?” You asked, wondering if you’d caught the end of a charmingly romantic thought.

“I said you’re in need of practice.” He smirked, leaning back of his hands cockily.

“Fuck you, man,” you slapped at his shoulder with a firm clap. He gasped, a hand covering his heart as if he were being sworn into a committee.

“Already? I didn’t take you for such an impure heart!” Another hearty laugh bounced around the library and you ducked your head into your hands, resigning to the fact that you were stuck with him.

[magalidragon]

a lesson of hate and love | a Professors Jonerys smutty fic 

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY @youwerenevermine​! Th is fic probably means nothing because you’ve seen so many sneak peeks of it because I was so nervous about finishing it, but yay here we are, I finished!  Hopefully you like it, it’s got Professor Jon and I know how much you like him, hee hee.  And he even writes poetry!  Plus enemies-to-lovers.  Bonus.  Enjoy!

She pushed open the door to the lecture hall, hearing his rough, Northern accented voice before she saw him, turning a corner from the alcove behind the stadium seating in his preferred hall, and paused just slightly set back in the shadows so he couldn't see her. She eyed the students sitting at rapt attention, most of the girls drooling at him-- and some of the boys too for that matter-- while he walked back and forth at the lectern, unaware of anything but himself. Because he's a selfish ass, she commentated in her head, narrowing her eyes at the image cast on the large screen tugged down over the dry erase boards.

As a rule, he didn't use slides, but only showed photographs. It was actually a style she preferred as well. Slides distracted. She squinted at the image, which she recognized as a painting in the Westeros Metropolitan Art Museum, depicting the legendary Battle of Winterfell, with two dragons battling in the air above a fiery, unnecessarily dark battle scene below. The painting had undergone several reconstructions and refurbishments and yet it was always so bloody dark, like the painter could only see through a dark blue filter. Ridiculous.

The object of her hatred paused, gesturing to the painting. "As you can see by this crude caricature of the battle itself, the dragonglass arakhs the Dothraki used were somehow no match against the White Walkers and the wights, which we know from the memoirs of what I can only imagine was a useless Maester whose name is not even worth mentioning…” He took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses on his nose, continuing with some point she absolutely knew she disagreed with because she’d heard it before.

It was his argument that the dragon fire during the Battle of Winterfell did not do as much damage as the weaponry, which was his preferred field of study. She could not disagree more. Dragon fire was the purest form of a weapon. Dragons were weapons. All the texts pointed to them doing the most damage. She felt a muscle in her jaw tick up to her eye, which also twitched.

It was all because he’d stopped halfway across the classroom, holding his hands up while he ranted about the battle itself, pausing to question the students. His nose wrinkled at an answer he disagreed with, but he said nothing, allowing the student to state his argument. He leaned against the table in front, crossing ankles in front of him and arms over his chest. She could have vomited; he’d chosen a navy sweater with bloody corduroy elbow patches and a pair of steel gray trousers with his favored Chelsea boots. Underneath the sweater’s neckline, she spotted the thin silver chain he wore which she knew held a small dragonglass pendant that had a wolf’s head carved in it.

Glasses on his nose, his gray eyes which matched the color of a sky before a storm, and his black curls in their usual little knot at the crown of his head, his jaw swathed in stubble, he was a walking advertisement for Hot Professor.

She shifted on her feet, her heels echoing in the small alcove. It drew his attention, his gaze darting towards her. Momentary surprise flickered on his face, until his narrow features pulled into a sourpuss face. He smirked. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst. Welcome Dr. Daenerys Targaryen. She must have wanted a refresher on simple Northern history.” He cocked his head, smiling now; she glowered. “Or did you get lost looking for your latest dragon skeleton? When was your last dig? Three years ago?”

Asshole. “Two months ago, but you must have forgotten because you were buried in a snowdrift up in Hardhome on that hunt for a dagger that ended up being a fantasy.” He slammed his brows together and she chortled, glad she got a swipe in. He hated being reminded of that wasteful search for a dragonglass dagger belonging to some famous Northern King that hadn’t even existed.

Jon growled under his breath. He shot a snarl at the glass. “Lecture over,” he barked. “I want your papers in my mailbox by the end of the day Monday, no exceptions.”

“Dr. Snow are you still holding office hours today?” a young girl asked, batting her bright green eyes.

“Yes Myrcella.”

“Oh good I think I…” At Dany’s pointed look, the young woman swallowed hard and hurried off without a word. The rest of the class got the hint and ran off without a look back.

Jon smiled at her. “Daenerys. What do I owe this displeasure?” He checked his watch. “It’s still daylight hours, shouldn’t you have turned to dust? Isn’t that what happens to witches?”

“That’s vampires you dick.”

“My mistake.”

“Well you know all about mistakes, seeing as your research is riddled with them.”

He rolled his eyes, going to the laptop on the lectern, closing the powerpoint. “Enough foreplay. What do you want?”

[whoppert]

Sunna 3 (loki/reader) (stephen strange/reader)

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4007 words

warnings: none

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The story continues with Stephen Strange . . . .

The name’s Doctor Stephen Strange M.D., Ph.D, actually.

Well, and Sorcerer Supreme.

Master of the Mystic Arts.

Cleaner of cosmic messes and

Cosmic Mess, himself.

I almost pull a muscle trying to look positive as I left her at the Sanctum. She definitely recognized my hesitance. Finally, after a month of avoiding her I had rallied together a plucky enough attitude to be able to sit quietly in her presence. I thought maybe it had been long enough that the sight of her wouldn’t twist my heart into a million pieces.

I had been wrong of course, but since when does anything go right for me?

Didn’t matter if I was a surgeon or sorcerer, it's all the same to me, the only thing I ever botched was my love life.

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Surprisingly, the basilisk ends up being the high point of my day.

Wong hadn’t been kidding about a beast downtown. We portal behind a food truck, but Wong's already taken off so I'm following, but I can't see anything and I can’t hear anything unusual in the sounds of the city.

Of course, it wasn’t until I make it around the corner that the giant snake comes into view. Easily twenty feet long, green and blue, but in the light of the setting sun, the scales shone a bright turquoise, easily scaling its way down a building. It wasn't particularly girthy, so to speak. Like a very large python. Judging from the trail behind it and the way the garden balcony wilted and died as it slithered through, the poisonous energy it radiated wasn’t purely an aesthetic choice.

I guess this thing isn’t in a very good mood.

"How does a supernatural snake even find its way to Greenwich Village?"

"Don't look in its eyes," Wong ordered bluntly.

I tear my wandering gaze away, the glimpse of the snake’s striking golden lamp-like eyes filling my body with adrenaline.

"What's it going to do?” I joke, watching the snake tongue flickering in the air as it tasted the rich, smog-heavy scents of the city. “Turn me to stone?"

"Probably."

"Awesome. Awesome."

"Any ideas?"

"What did the kid in Harry Potter do?"

"I haven't seen it."

Great, because how could this day possibly get any worse? Hmm, what would Stark say if he was here? Probably, ‘you got this Steve Urwin.’

There are times in life when having a photographic memory really sucks (like when you walk in on your college roommate getting pounded by his lit professor, not speaking from personal experience or anything) but it sure is helpful when it comes to situations like this, where you needed to quickly recall everything you’ve ever read about a monster. Preferably, before it eats you.

Basilisk… name originates from the Greek form 'basilískos', meaning ‘little king’. According to Naturalis Historia, by the questionable Pliny the Elder, this thing is supposed to be tiny, spanning the width of two adult hands. He was right about the trails of scorching poison at least.

The snake is making its way down the building towards the sidewalk, where the people are. Together, Wong and I jog underneath it and try to encourage it down without looking in its eyes, which is easier said than done. The bonus however, the crowd parts. They walk around the two crazy men yelling at nothing.

Pliny had claimed that the smell of a weasel was enough to kill a basilisk.

“Dammit, fresh out of weasels,” I finish aloud. "Shit."

Suddenly the snake drops into a large coil on the concrete. Wong and I are saved by our reflexes, but before I try to trap it with magic the snake squeezes itself between a tree and a garbage can, knocking the can over in the process, trash spilling all over the pavement. The rolling receptacle is narrowly avoided by a suit talking into an ear piece. No one was gawking at the beast, no one even seemed to notice it.

“Even a New Yorker would take a second glance at a basilisk,” I muse. When I check, I can only see the snake with my third eye. "They can't see it."

It isn’t uncommon for normal people to miss magic even when they are literally surrounded by it every day. Most people’s brains can’t process it without developing trauma from the experience, so the prefrontal cortex tends to filter out the stuff you can't explain.

Even if the people around us haven’t noticed the snake, we can, and judging from the way it steadied its head to examine us, it finally gave us the time of day. The snake hisses and slithers off down the street.

“For fuck’s sake,” I groan. Moons of Munnopor, I’m an idiot. I hadn’t let my lack of sleep get this bad on purpose, but even I have to admit that going a month without sleeping wasn’t the smartest idea, but my cognitive reasoning was impaired. Thank Agamotto for Declaran Energy Elixirs and caffeine.

The New Yorkers are oblivious to the jade green monster sliding on its belly amongst them, but they sure can see the two men in robes and a cloak. To avoid mass-panic, using magic to trap this thing was a no-go until we can find a private place where passersby won’t be in the line of fire. There are some positives that come from the public's inability to see the snake though, it rendered the snakes

I jog carefully after it, trying not to let it out of my sight, but no matter how close I manage to get, it was always just quick enough to evade me, and it doesn't taken me long to lose track of how many blocks we ran just trying to catch the beast. It's been forever since I last went for a run and I can feel the burn.

The snake slows only once on our journey, pausing to swallow a pigeon whole. The feathers of the bird are quickly regurgitated, leaving a young boy, the only person who seemed to have noticed, tugging nervously on his father’s jacket. If the boy can see the snake, then the snake can make eye contact. I take the opportunity, sprinting straight at the snake, almost getting hit by a town car as I leap into the street without looking. I ignore the horn, leaving Wong behind me to apologize.

The boy's dad, looks down confused when he realizes his kid is missing.

Shrinking back away from the snake, the boy has finally caught the attention of the animal, who slithers up to the child, rearing its head, fixing its rising gaze on his shoes, then his pants and dinosaur tee shirt and-

"Hey," I yell, waving my arms in the air. "Hey! Over here!"

I get everyone's attention, but most importantly, I get the kid's attention for a second. Long enough for the boy's father to gather him up in his arms.

The snake senses me closing in and twists into the open doors of a building. It's dragged me all the way to Clinton, and in my sleep-deprived state, my patience is wearing thin. I need to catch this thing. Bursting into the building after it, I catch a hint of emerald green as the snake disappears up the stairwell.

I really needed to take up jogging again.

The only open door from the stairwell leads tp a law office, ‘Nelson and Murdock’ said the newly-etched gilded door plate, and from the sounds of the commission, the basilisk has wormed its way inside.

Cautiously, I step into the small greeting area, just as a man flies out of his office, slamming the door after him. He doesn't even take a second to breathe before he's noticed me.

“Ah, are you after the snake?” he asks, “cause it’s in there.”

"Strangely enough, I am actually after the snake, thanks."

I didn’t have time for further chat, instead opening the door to the adjacent room.

Nestled amongst moving boxes on the desk is a massive fucking snake, coiled and hissing at me. My line of sight almost catches on those golden orbs. It spits at me, but at this point in the life throwing up a shield is second nature, and thank goodness for that. The acid in its venom eats away at the box that caught the ricocheted droplets. I'm not willing to risk indirect eye contact through a reflection but...

The snake rolls its long body out, pushing the last of the steaming box off of the desk, and filling the space on top of the wood almost entirely, before rearing up to eye level.

“No you don’t.” With some concentration I thicken the shield until it is opaque, and then twist my hands, turning the shield into a two-way mirror. I can see the snake, but the snake could only see itself.

I am a genius. Problem solved, the snake will see it's own reflection and turn itself to stone.

Only the snake never stops launching its entire body against my shield.

New problem: Plan A failure, so Plan B it is (there is no Plan C).

“Hey there, little guy.” Shield stays up as I take another step closer to the beast, despite its obvious aversion to my life. Stray droplets of acid melt tiny holes in my trousers. “I need you to come with me, and if you’re not going to play nice, PETA is going to end up making a video about me for their social media. And it will go viral.”

The snake swivels attempting to go under my shield.

I do the only logical thing and summon a weasel with a portal to the woodlands and open up a hole in the shield, tossing the poor mammal at the snake.

When nothing happens I dare to look, only to find that the pigeon from earlier had only been the entrée.

Yikes, sorry weasel.

I am too tired for this. I'm to stupid when I'm sleep deprived. People depend on me. I'm an idiot.

It takes me several seconds to close the hole in my shield and in that time the snake pulls up, rearing back on its spine to stare into my eyes. The movement is so quick I can't save myself.

A prominent wave of nausea washes over me. Terrible feeling, but I feel nauseous all the time, it's part of the toll magic takes on me, so I'm a little surprised when I realize I haven't actually turned to stone.

Springing at my shield, the snake launches at me, hitting the orange, attacking again, and again, and again, and again, biting and spitting, with no regard for its own skull. I definitely do not want to see what those fangs could do to human skin.

I lengthen the shield, curving it over the head of the snake and behind it and in my state it took all my concentration just to keep the shield from disintegrating. The snake begins thrashing in every direction in an attempt to escape, but I manage to seal it on all sides. The dome reducing in size until the snake was forced to coil tightly on the desk, subdued.

“Hello there,” I sigh, finally safe enough to approach the animal. I press my palm against the curved pane of magic.“Where did you come from?”

But in response the snake just bares its fangs at me.

A moment passes, before I am rouses by the sound of voices in the reception area, and Wong, who was breathing heavily, joined me in the office.

“You couldn’t let me know where you’d gone?” he snapped, irritated.

“Had a job to do.”

Wong sighed impatiently, but stepped forward to examine the creature. “It’s a baby.”

“So that’s why it didn’t turn me to stone when I looked in its eyes.”

“You- I told you not to do that!”

“Eyes are the windows to the soul, and we were bonding, Wong. I think it likes me.”

The snake hisses on cue.

"You could have been killed-" Wong started.

"I know, I know."

“Oh, good,” owner of the office, the man from earlier, steps into the room, hands nonchalantly slung inside his pockets. “You got it! I really didn’t want to deal with that thing myself. You make a hell of an animal control.”

I process the man’s dark sunglasses and, with a start, realize that he is blind. In the face of all the New Yorkers that hadn’t seen a giant snake weaving through them, of course it was a blind man who had noticed it.

"Thanks, I'm volunteering for the local shelter."

"Local shelter has robes and cloaks as their uniform?" I barely have time to look confused before he taps his ear, adding, "I can actually hear the extra fabric when you move."

"Huh."

Wong lets out a noise like a deflating balloon from where he stands studying the snake. “Strange, we have to get home. Now.”

I looked at him, eyebrows raised, “I don’t think-”

"The snake is from Svartálfar."

"Remind me where that is again-?"

“This is a juvenile Svartálfar Basilisk, it can only have come by way of Asgard,” Wong interrupts, muttering some incantation that I can't hear over the sound of blood in my ears.

The snake was a diversion.

Without a word to the man from the office, I use my sling-ring to create a portal, on the other side of which was the house’s foyer.

The Sanctum Sanctorum felt empty of people. Something was wrong.

I called her name, and called it again and again, louder each time, but I was met with nothing but silence. I checked all the common areas of the house by teleportation, eventually finding a trail of magic from the library.

According to the laws of Mystic Arts, all magic and magical beings leave a residue behind, a vestige like some esoteric GPS tracker. I could feel her where her magical trail lingered in the library, probably from our earlier translation exercise, but there was a fresh trail laid over it and it reeked of the Prince of Asgard.

The trail led upstairs, but I came to a grinding halt outside of her room, empty, the door wide open. Dread began to seep into my blood as I noted the remnants of Loki's seidr hanging like a fog in the air, the spot on the floor containing textbook shards of telepathy magic. What had he done to her?

“She’s not here,” Wong was at my side in seconds, the basilisk forgotten.

"Her trail of magic leads here," I say, "it doesn't leave this room." Everything is very far away right now. "But she is not here."

I’m an idiot, my mind begins to whir uncomfortably; considering every possibility. I left her alone. Alone with him. He created a diversion- what could he want with her? I can barely think over the rush of expletives in my thoughts.

A presence behind us shifts, and Wong and I both turn ready to fight, rings of orange around our wrists.

From the shadows of the room, Loki steps into view, hands raised in peace.

“Where is she?” My sentence slid through my teeth.

Loki, being faux cheerful, ignores my question, “Strange, how did your mission go?”

“Where is she?”

I begin to step towards him, prepared to force an answer if needed, but Loki steps back a few paces with a defeat-ridden gesture.

“She left, about an hour ago,” Loki offers the information like he might actually be remorseful. “I thought it best to let her go, she was, uh, none too pleased with me.”

“Alone?” Wong asks, voice deep.

Loki nods.

Neither Wong nor I have moved out of our defensive positions. Red. Everything around me was turning deep shades of scarlet and crimson and growing impossibly hot. “What did you do?”

The corners of Loki’s mouth tug downward. “Recently I was visiting… an acquaintance, Nightmare. Anyway, while I was in the Dream Dimension, Nightmare received a report from one of the dream construction sites about a foreign dream, forced into the network-”

“All dreams originate from the network,” I interrupt, “get to the point.”

“Normally, yes. With some persuasion Nightmare mentioned that there had been a series of dreams transplanted into the network from some outside source. Odd. He’d never had a problem before.”

My gut knows where Loki is going with this, and all my hot anger shifts until I was frozen in my spot. I could have been swallowed up by the ground and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.

“So I asked him just who had been the recipient of these dreams, and when he said it was you, well, it piqued my interest.”

Heat swept across my face, and I watch as his eyes zero in on it, like a predator stalking its prey.

The grin from the god reveals white, straight teeth. He was ancient. He had been navigating these kinds of power plays for a thousand years, and Loki knew that he had shifted the power. Sacred Vishanti, Deathless Vishanti, protect me. Loki knows about my dreams.

There was no reason Loki had needed to report to me upon landing in the city to catch his prisoner… if he even had a prisoner to catch. A trick, it had all been a trick.

“So, you went into her mind to see if she had any knowledge of these dreams, but she didn’t,” I spat. The way that he had looked at her that day… Under normal circumstances I might have rolled my eyes, said a little quip and portalled the bastard to kingdom come, but I just froze, like I was frozen now. I remember being annoyed. I remember a flash of insecurity when Loki spoke with her, the way he looked at her like she was something to be stolen, something to be fucked. I remember the strong desire to beat him to death for it.

Loki nods. “She doesn’t know, I didn’t reveal your secret to her."

There it was, I suppose, conformation that she isn't behind these dreams. Nightmares.

"Really, you should thank me!”

“Stop speaking, Laufeyson.” Wong’s deep voice is the only thing anchoring me to the realm at this moment. “Why are you doing this? The snake, forcing yourself into her mind- I assume she was not willing.”

The dream I'd had the night after she and Loki had met had been one of the worst nightmares I had faced. Worse then anything I had seen even in real life. I had watched her die - not for the first time - but it had been so violent, so sharp and in focus and real. Slaughtered in her bed, and I was unable to stop it, unable even, to look away. Torture.

“Very few are awarded their soulmate on such a silver platter, Strange. Not only did you manage to discover her, you’ve been dreaming of her since before you even met.”

When I awoke from that dream, I couldn't stop my body from moving, and then I was halfway down the hall, padding shirtless and with bare feet, and then outside her door with my palm against the handle when I hear it. Gentle breathing. It had just been a dream. Just like the others.

There was a moment of silence, and then the dam broke, the rage courses like a floor through me; thrashing through me like the snake Loki planted; and in parallel to those minutes after I had awoken from my dream, I was mobilized.

“And you stayed here so I could kill you?” I hiss, releasing a wave of magic that should have blasted Loki back to the icy wasteland from whence he came.

The magic ripples right through him.

“I did not stay,” Loki replied, the illusion flickering, “but she interests me, and for her own safety, I thought it best to let you know.”

I haven’t slept in a month because every time I blink I find her mangled form behind my eyelids. Had Loki influenced that dream subconsciously? Perhaps Loki, himself, was involved in the dreams productions?

"Be gone, giant."

Loki looked as though me might hiss at me, himself, but a movement from Wong banishes Loki's visage.

“Don’t think about the dreams right now,” Wong mutters, as though I could push them from my mind at will. “We’ve got to go find her.”

Outside, we split up, both going in different directions to cover more ground. There was no trail. Nothing to indicate where she had gone. Nothing, period. It was like her magic had retreated deeply within herself, traumatized from Loki's violation. Wong and I had agreed to meet back in two hours at 11pm to regroup.

It feels impossible. The natural magic already present in the city is making it even harder to find her trail.

Deep breath, my inner voice commands. Find her, then panic.

My tracking spell bounces back to me like some preternatural form of echolocation, and there is nothing on it to indicate that it had found her.

If she’s hurt, I am going to lock Loki in the basement and let my friend down there enjoy him.

My mind replays the signature of magic I had found in her room. I can read it, I know he had trapped her against the floorboards of her bedroom, I know that he restrained her-

I grit my teeth. Stay calm. Just think about finding her.

Using a location incantation, I call to her in my mind, the basis for the spell centered around a memory of her, and I search for her magic, like I had done those months ago when I had sensed it walking past the museum. We’d chatted briefly, with me pretending to have an interest in Babylonian art, but I had been truly starstruck. In front of me was the woman I had dreamt about for half a year, and she was real, not just a trick of an ill mind.

This time the spell lets me know, that she is still far, but I am moving in the right direction, the trail fading in and out. I portal now, following the trail, uncaring of how the people around me react.

If she’s hurt, it’s your fault, the thought pierced through my concentration and the incantation breaks, forcing me to start over. She’ll never want you now, Stephen. How would you feel if you found out your soulmate, someone who was supposed to love you, had left you alone with a wolf? I start the spell again. You fell for Loki’s trick and now you’re paying the price. I start again. Hope she hasn’t been kidnapped, between the concerning lack of magic, and the probably disorientation, she wouldn't stand a chance. Some freak probably followed her into an alley. You hold back when you train her to fight, Stephen, you disadvantaged her in a real fight. You’ll be lucky to find her alive. This time I stop when I start again, pressing my hand against the brick of a building, something to ground my mind amongst its panic. If she only knew, knew that your dreams had made you search for her, that finding her in the museum hadn’t been a coincidence, she’d be horrified. You moved her in with you to keep her safe while you figured this out, but maybe it was you that she needed to be protected from. Images of the last dream flashed into my mind’s eye, broken bones and blood and gore in all its glory. That oppressive, villainous evil that had been hurting her to punish me for my moral failings, physically ripped her into two pieces along the vertical access of her body, guts connecting each half.

Stop, I demand of my mind. The spell bursts outwards, unable to be contained, the wave of magic exploding from me.

The magic returns seconds later, with just the hint of her on it.

I run east.

With that, we return to our hero . . . .

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[claudemblems]

Uhm hello! How's it going? I'm back! I don't know if i can request something again but if i could, could i get a continuation of Yuri with a tomboyish s/o? Like after the timeskip they reunite and it's all tearful bc yuri thought that s/o died? Bonus points if s/o saves him from an attack with a naginata (and she grew even a little!). Thank u! Have a nice day/night! -DoumaIsTrash

Hey friend!!! Thank you for requesting <3 I didn’t end up making Yuri get attacked directly, but reader does come to the rescue of the Ashen Wolves gang. I hope these headcanons will suffice (and I apologize for the fact that they’re so long but if you know me by now you know that I do not know how to write small requests lolol). Enjoy your dose of Yuri content 💖

Yuri Reuniting with Tomboy!Reader Headcanons

War had devastated Fodlan for the past five years, and it was only inevitable that everyone had returned home to fight for their territories.

Yuri had been doing his best to look after Abyss and supply his people with the food and shelter they needed, but that was a tall order for a man that was short-handed.

Just as the war had finally begun to take its toll on the Abyssians, news of the Professor’s return and the promise of a reunion brought all of the students back to Garreg Mach.

Yuri was naturally relieved to not only have more manpower but to also see his friends again, all who were now grown up and making their own futures for themselves. 

However, once they arrived, he was quick to notice your absence. That’s when he realized he hadn’t heard a single word from you in the past three years. Not one letter, not even a note sent by a messenger bird.

When he asked the other Ashen Wolves about your whereabouts, the grim looks on their faces spoke for themselves. 

You’d been missing for three years, and everyone believed you’d lost your life while defending your house from the Imperial Army. Everyone had known except Yuri.

His legs nearly gave out from under him as he steadied himself against a wall. No, there was no way you could have died. You were the strongest and most resilient person he knew. You wouldn’t let death claim you so easily.

That night Yuri spent clutching his old journal to his chest, not ready to open it to a new page to write your name in it. The little sleep he did get was full of nightmares, all of them about you and the horrific ways you might have died with no one there to save you.

He awoke to the sound of the monastery’s bells chiming loudly, the Ashen Wolves rushing into Abyss and telling Yuri to prepare for battle.

A group of bandits had made their way in and were looking for valuable loot, some of which they’d been led to believe could be found down in Abyss.

With half of the students and staff guarding the monastery and the other half defending Abyss, there were plenty of weak spots for the bandits to exploit, but Yuri refused to allow any of them to get close to his people. He’d already lost you; the innocent Abyssians would not be next.

Despite his efforts, the bandits only pressed in closer and closer. Yuri was running out of time. Any further into the area and they’d break through his formation.

But that was when the war cries of a woman sounded behind the bandits, and one by one men began to fall, unable to face the champion charging at them.

She’d finally broken through the group and stood with a look of triumph on her face. It took only a single moment for Yuri to recognize the hero: you, his lover, the person dearest to his heart.

You were alive.

Without hesitation Yuri ran towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your bodt, unable to hold back the tears falling from his eyes. “[Name]...” he whispered, voice breaking as he hugged you even tighter. “You’re here.”

You returned his embrace, forehead resting against his, tears falling down your cheeks as you watched Yuri openly sob for the first time, all because he missed you so desperately. 

It didn’t matter to him how anyone viewed him at that moment. All that mattered was that you were alive. You were there in his arms. He wouldn’t have to write your name in his journal with the dead. There was still a future ahead of you.

“I suppose you have a good reason for making me believe that the treasure of my heart was dead.” “I didn’t intend to imply such a thing, but yes, I do.”

You had explained that you’d been in hiding, running covert operations to eliminate as many Imperial forces as possible. They were the ones that needed to believe you dead, not your friends.

“We’re going to talk more about this once we finish fighting,” Yuri stated, drying his tears with the back of his hand. “I need your help. I’ve been short one tall, tomboyish warrior.”

A tearful smile made its way on your face. “I will gladly lend my strength to you again, and my utmost affection.”

You, indeed, had a lot to exchange from your years apart on the condition that you both promised the rest would be spent at each other’s side.

[grunklefidds]

i was thinking a lot about fiddleford's family last week, so here's a dump of thoughts (headcanons i guess) about his ex-wife and tate

ideas abt emma-may dixon (formerly mcgucket):

She's also Appalachian (I think this can be inferred with some confidence from her name lol)..... from Kentucky maybe.

She's an ecologist who studies sediment transport in rivers. She's a uni professor (has been at same place since the 80s) bc that is largely how getting tenure works as far as I'm aware.

        -Tate's thing in this doc about being ashamed of being Smart and his choice to... run a fishing supplies shop are only partly because of complicated feelings about his dad. He saw the sort of social circles that come with academic/research work and NOPED out of there.

She went to the same college as Fiddleford and Stanford, and is about the same age as them (give or take 2 or 3 years). She and Fidds started dating near the end of their time there and got married maybe two years later (Tate was born shortly after that... he'd be 5ish while F was first in Gravity Falls).

        -She and Ford met a few times but Ford was too self-absorbed and focused on his studies to really make any close friends during college aside from F. Maybe they hung out in a group once or twice.

She and Fidds had a pretty solid relationship before he disappeared. They both liked nerd junk. Lots of cheesy humor in the air. She's occasionally frustrated by him running off to the garage to work on something for hours on end without pausing to deal with stuff around the house or telling her at all where he is, but it's not a huge thing (and she gets very into her own work too, for that matter).

She's generally a sweet person if pretty achievement-oriented and a bit high-strung. Always gives students extensions if they ask for them.

She tried to make things work w Fiddleford for maybe a year after he started really losing his grip (he stopped calling home and it freaked her out), she made weekend trips up to Gravity Falls while a friend watched Tate and tried to spend time with him, and tried to coax him into coming home. At some point Fiddleford didn't recognize her until after she burst into tears because of something odd/callous he said while disoriented. That wasn't the turning point for her but it was close to it. She divorced him maybe a year and a half after he stopped calling home.

    (Side note: why didn't Fiddleford go home after leaving the portal project...? I get that he wasn't in a calm state of mind at the time but being in the town at all was clearly causing him a LOT of stress. Mr Hirsch answer me this.)

She remarried maybe 8 years after that. Tate does not get along well with this stepdad.

      - She's also divorced this guy by the time canon rolls around. Bad luck with men in general :(. She has a good network of close work friends at least.

Tate moved to Gravity Falls when he was about 24 and occasionally updates her on how Fiddleford is doing when he calls home. It's never a pleasant time for either of them.

-I vaguely like the idea of Tate being at least somewhat involved in the Society of the Blind Eye and not knowing anything about his dad's role in it (since it had been years since Fiddleford was actually coordinating anything by the time he moved there, I imagine). Just a little jumping-off point for angst lol.

She still lives in California. She's possibly still working during canon but is probably retired in 2020.

After Weirdmaggedon, Fiddleford reaches out to her (eventually. he waits a while on this lol) and they work back up to a friendship that's not particularly close but still solid. Regardless she's RELIEVED to hear that he's more lucid through Tate, even before he reaches out himself.

Neither of them tell her most of the long story of what happened w Fiddleford (she picked up some fragmented context while trying to keep things together in the 80s but he was already so scattered that she doesn't know anything about the portal) or what happened with the town in general or what caused Fiddleford getting healthier. This is in part because of the 'lets not talk abt it lol' ordinance, in part because Tate couldn't really properly explain if he tried and in part bc Fiddleford REALLY struggles to recount the early years with the memory gun even on good days. This frustrates her but she gets that it seems to be mostly because of the difficulty in saying the thing and not because they want to keep things from her.

          (extra:) She ends up meeting Ford along with Fidds a few years after Weirdmaggedon and she's like Oh My Goodness Stanford Pines where have you been all these years! I havent heard anything about you since that project you wanted Fiddleford on :D and he's like 😶

(bonus if F and Ford are married at this point. or if it occurs AT their wedding haha)

[innuendostudios]

The newest installment of The Alt-Right Playbook - Endnote 4: How the Alt-Right is Like an Abusive Relationship - is a little different. This installment was presented live at Solidarity Lowell, and includes a bonus Q&A section. This video expands on the ideas put forth in How to Radicalize a Normie.

If you would like more videos like this to come out, please back me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

He is intriguing, yet unpredictable. He demands unconditional loyalty. He seems to have an intuitive understanding of what people want to hear but no actual empathy; he treats others as simply bodies or objects. And he’s surrounded by a network of subordinates but the personnel is always changing.

Does it sound like I’m describing The President? Because these are, according to Alexandra Stein, qualities of a cult leader.

Hi. My name is Ian Danskin. I’m a video essayist and media artist. I run the YouTube channel Innuendo Studios, the flagship endeavor of which is currently The Alt-Right Playbook, a series on the political and rhetorical strategies the Alt-Right uses to legitimize itself and gain power. And, if that sounds interesting to you, and you haven’t already, please like share and subscribe.

The most recent episode of The Alt-Right Playbook is about how people get recruited into these largely online reactionary communities like the Alt-Right, a subject which, as it turns out, is real fuckin’ hard to research.

What I want to talk about with you today is how I go about studying a population that is incredibly hostile towards being studied. It involves finding the bits and pieces of the Alt-Right that we do have data on - the pockets of good research, the outsider observations, the stories of lived experience - as well as looking at older movements the Alt-Right grew out of, that have been extensively researched, and spotting the ways the Alt-Right is continuous with them, and trying to extrapolate how those structures might recreate themselves in the social media age.

So it’s… a lot. And, in the process of researching, I found a wealth of interesting perspectives that, by focusing the video on recruitment specifically, I barely dipped a toe in. All that stuff is what I’d like to get into with you today. But I’m trying to thread a needle here: you don’t need to have seen my video, How to Radicalize a Normie, to follow this talk, but, if you have seen it already, I will try not to be redundant. This talk is one part making my case for why I think the conclusions in that video are correct, one part repository for all the stuff I couldn’t get into, and one part how I’ve come to look at the Alt-Right as a result of this research, including some pet theories I wouldn’t feel right claiming as truth without further research, but I do think are on the right track.

This talk is called Isolation, Engulfment, and Pain: How the Alt-Right is Like an Abusive Relationship. We’re going to cover a lot of ground, from information processing to emotional development, but we’re necessarily also going to cover racism and violence and abuse dynamics. So this is an introduction and a content warning: if some of these subjects are particularly charged for you, no offense will be taken if you at any point leave the room. I have to research this stuff for a living, and it is rough, and sometimes I have to step away. We don’t judge here.

Now. Requisite dash of self-deprecation: don’t give me too much credit for all this. I am proud of the work I do and I think I’m genuinely good at it, but much of this video was compiling the work of others. Besides research I had already done and my own observations, the video had 27 sources: three books, five research papers, six articles, one leaked document, three testimonials, four videos, four pages of statistics, and one Twitter joke. I also spoke to four professional researchers who study right-wing extremism and one former Alt-Righter.

Without all their hard work, I would have nothing to compile.

OK? Let’s begin.

We’re gonna center on those three main texts: Alt-America by David Neiwert, a history of the Alt-Right’s origins; Healing from Hate by Michael Kimmel, about how young men get into (and out of) extremist groups, be they neo-Nazi or jihadist; and Terror, Love and Brainwashing by Alexandra Stein, about how people are courted by and kept inside cults and totalitarian regimes.

I began with Kimmel. The premise of Healing from Hate is that extremist groups tend to be between 75 and 90% male, and that you cannot understand radical conservatism without looking at it through the lens of toxic masculinity. Which makes it all the more disappointing that Kimmel has been accused by multiple women of bullying and harassment. I found the book incredibly useful, and we’re still going to talk about it, I just need to caveat here that retweets are not endorsements. Also, if I spoil the book for you then you don’t need to buy it, give your money to someone who isn’t a creep.

Kimmel’s argument is that extremism begins with a pain peculiar to young men. He calls it “aggrieved entitlement.” I call it Durden Syndrome. You know that scene in Fight Club where Tyler Durden says, “We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires and movie gods and rockstars, but we won’t, we’re slowly learning that fact, and we are very, very pissed off”? Yeah, that. As men, the world promised us something, and the promise wasn’t kept.

Some men skew towards social progressivism when they realize this promise was never made to women, or men of color, or queer or trans or nonbinary people, and recognize the injustice of that. Some men skew towards economic leftism when they realize that every cishet white man being a millionaire rockstar movie god is mathematically impossible. But they skew towards reactionary conservatism when they feel the promise should have been kept. That’s the life they were supposed to have, and someone took it from them.

Hate groups appeal to that sense of emasculation. “You wanna feel like a Real Man? Shave off your hair, dance to hatecore, and let’s beat the crap out of someone.” Kimmel notes that the greatest indicator someone will join a hate group is a broken home: divorce, foster care, parents with addictions, physical or sexual abuse. The greater the distance between the life they were promised and the life they are living, the more enticing Real Masculinity becomes. Their fellow extremists are brothers, the leaders father figures.

The group does give them someone to blame for their lot in life - immigrants, feminists, the Jewish conspiracy - but that’s not why they join. They’re after empowerment. According to Kimmel, “Their embrace of neo-Nazi ideology is a consequence of their recruitment and indoctrination process, not its cause."

But once an Other has been identified as the locus of a hate group’s hate, new recruits are brought along when the group terrorizes that Other. Events like cross burnings and street fights are dangerous and morally fraught, and are often traumatic for a new recruit. And experiencing an emotional or physical trauma can create an intense bond with the people experiencing it with him, even though they’re the ones who brought him to the traumatic event in the first place. The creation of this bond is one of the reasons some hate groups usher new recruits out into the field as early as possible: the sooner they are emotionally invested in the community, the faster they will embrace the community’s politics.

This Othering also estranges recruits from the people they are supposed to hate, which makes it hard to stop hating them.

So there’s this concept that comes up a lot in my research called Contact Hypothesis. Contact Hypothesis argues that, the more contact you have with a different walk of life, the easier it is to tolerate it. It’s like exposure therapy. We talk about how big cities and college campuses tend to be liberal strongholds; the Right likes to claim this is because of professors and politicians poisoning your mind, but it’s really just because they’re diverse. When you share space with a lot of different kinds of people, a degree of liberalism becomes necessary just to get by. And we see that belief systems which rely on a strict orthodoxy get really cagey about members having contact with outsiders. We see this in all the groups we’re discussing today - extremists, cultists, totalitarians - but also religious fundamentalists; Mormons only wanna send their kids to Brigham Young. They are belief systems that can only be reliably maintained so long as no one gets exposed to other people with other beliefs.

So that’s some of what I took from Kimmel. Next I read Stein talking, primarily, about cults.

Stein’s window into all of this is applying the theory of Attachment Styles to what researchers calls totalism, which is any structure that subsumes a person’s entire life the way cults and totalitarian governments do. Attachment is a concept you may be familiar with if have, or have ever dated, a therapist. (I’ve done both.)

So, for a quick primer:

Imagine you’re walking in the park with a three-year-old. And the three-year-old sees a dog, and ask, “Can I pet the dog?” And you say yes, and the kid steps away from your side and reaches out. And the dog gets excited, and jumps up, and the kid gets scared and runs back to you. So you hold the kid and go, “Oh, no no no, don’t worry! They’re not gonna hurt you! They were just happy to see you!” And you take a few moments to calm the kid down, and then you ask, “Do you still want to pet the dog?” And the kid says “yes,” so they step away from you again and reach out. The dog jumps up again, but this time the kid doesn’t run away, and they pet the dog, and you, the kid, and the dog are all happy. Hooray!

This is a fundamental piece of a child’s emotional development. They take a risk, have a negative experience, and retreat to a point of comfort. Then, having received that comfort, feel bolstered enough to take a slightly greater risk. A healthy childhood is steadily venturing further and further from that point of comfort, and taking on greater risks, secure in the knowledge that safety is there when they need it. And, as an adult, they will form many interdependent points of comfort rather than relying on only one or two.

If all goes according to plan, that is Secure Attachment. But: sometimes things go wrong when the kid seeks comfort and doesn’t get enough. This may be because the adult is withholding or the kid doesn’t know how to express their needs or they’re just particularly fearful. But the kid may start seeking comfort more than seems reasonable, and be particularly averse to risk, and over-focus on the people who give them comfort, because they’re operating at a deficit. We call that Anxious Attachment. Alternately, the kid may give up on receiving comfort altogether, even though they still need it, and just go it alone, developing a distrust of other people and a fear of being vulnerable. We call that Avoidant Attachment.

Now, these styles are all formed in early childhood, but Stein focuses on a fourth kind of Attachment, one that can be formed at any age regardless of the Attachment Style you came in with. It’s what happens when the negative experience and the comfort come from the same place. We see it in children and adults who are mistreated by the people they trust. It’s called Disorganized Attachment.

According to Stein, cults foster Disorganized Attachment by being intensely unpredictable. In a cult, you may be praised for your commitment on Monday and have your commitment questioned on Tuesday, with no change in behavior. You may be assigned a romantic partner, who may, at any point, be taken away, assigned to someone else. Your children may be taken from you to be raised by a different family. You may be told the cult leader wants to sleep with you, which may make you incredibly happy or be terrifying, but you won’t be given a choice. And the rules you are expected to follow will be rewritten without warning.

This creates a kind of emotional chaos, where you can’t predict when you will be given good feelings and when you will be given bad ones. But you’re so enmeshed in the community you have noplace else to go for good feelings; hurting you just draws you in deeper, because they are also where you seek comfort. And your pain is always your fault: you wouldn’t feel so shitty if you were more committed. Trying to make sense of this causes so much confusion and anguish that you eventually just stop thinking for yourself. These are the rules now? OK. He’s not my brother anymore? OK. This is my life now? OK.

Hardly anyone would seek out such a dynamic, which is why cults present as religions, political activists, and therapy groups; things people in questioning phases of their lives are liable to seek out, and then they fall down the rabbit hole before they know what’s happening. The cult slowly consumes more and more of a recruit’s life, and tightly controls access to relationships outside the cult, because the biggest threat to a Disorganized Attachment relationship is having separate, Securely Attached points of comfort.

And at this point I said, “Hold up. You’re telling me cults recruit by offering people community and purpose in times of need, become the focal point of their entire lives, estrange them from all outside perspectives, and then cause emotional distress that paradoxically makes them more committed because they have nowhere else to go for support?”

Isn’t that exactly how Kimmel described joining a hate group?

Now, these are commonalities, not a one-to-one comparison. A cult is far more organized and rigidly controlled than a hate group. But Stein points out that this dynamic of isolation, engulfment, and pain is the same dynamic as an abusive relationship. The difference is just scale. A cult is functionally a single person having a very complex domestic abuse situation with a whole lot of people, #badpolyamory.

So if we posit a spectrum with domestic abuse on one end and cults and totalitarianism on the other, I started wondering, could we put extremist groups, like ISIS and Aryan Nations, around… here?

And, if so, where would we put the Alt-Right?

Now, I have to tread carefully here. There are reasons this talk is called “How the Alt-Right is Like an Abusive Relationship” and not “How the Alt-Right is Like a Cult,” because the moment you say the second thing, a lot of people stop listening to you. Our conception of cults and totalitarianism is way more controlled and structured than a pack of loud, racist assholes on the internet. But we’re not talking about organizational structure, we’re talking about a relationship, an emotional dynamic Stein calls “anxious dependency,” which fosters an irrational loyalty to people who are bad for you and gets you to adopt an ideology you would have previously rejected. (I would also love to go on a rant puncturing the idea that cultists and fascists are organized, pointing out this notion is propaganda and their systems are notoriously corrupt and mismanaged, but we don’t have time; ask me about it in the Q&A if you want me to go off.)

So I started looking through what I knew, and what I could find, about the Alt-Right to see if I could spot this same pattern of isolation, engulfment, and pain online funneling people towards the Alt-Right. And I did not come up short.

Isolation? Well, the Alt-Right traffics in all the same dehumanizing narratives about their enemies as Kimmel’s hate groups - like, the worst things you can imagine a human being saying about a group of people are said every day in these forums. They often berate and harass each other for any perceived sympathy towards The Other Side. They also regularly harass people from The Other Side off of platforms, and falsely report their tweets, posts, and videos as terrorism to get them taken down. (This has happened to me, incidentally.) I found figureheads adored by the Alt-Right who expressly tell people to cut ties with liberal family members.

We talked before about Contact Hypothesis? There’s also this idea called Parasocial Contact Hypothesis. A parasocial relationship is a strong emotional connection that only goes one way, like if you really love my videos and have started thinking of me almost as a friend even though I don’t know you exist? Yeah. Parasocial relationship. They’ve been in The Discourse lately, largely thanks to my friend Shannon Strucci making a really great video about them (check it out, I make a cameo, but… clear your schedule). Parasocial Contact Hypothesis is this phenomenon where, if people form parasocial feelings for public figures or even fictional characters, and those people happen to be Black, white audience members become less racist similar to how they would if they had Black friends. Your logical brain knows that these are strangers, but your lizard brain doesn’t know the difference between empathy for a queer friend and empathy for a queer character in a video game. So of course the Alt-Right makes a big stink about queer characters in video games, and leads boycotts against “forced diversity,” because diverse media is bad for recruitment.

Engulfment? Well, I learned way too much about how the Alt-Right will overtake your entire internet life. There was a paper made the rounds last year by Rebecca Lewis charting the interconnectedness of conservative YouTube. (Reactionaries really hated this paper because it said things they didn’t like.) Lewis argues that, once you enter what she calls the Alternative Influence Network, it tends to keep you inside it. Start with some YouTuber conservatives like but who’s branded as a moderate, or even a “classic liberal.” Take someone like Dave Rubin; call Dave Rubin Alt-Right, people yell at you, I speak from experience. Well, Dave Rubin’s had Jordan Peterson on his show, so, if you watch Rubin, Peterson ends up in your recommendations. Peterson has been on the Joe Rogan show, so, you watch Peterson, Rogan ends up in your recommendations. And Rogan has interviewed Gavin McInnes, so you watch Rogan and McInnes ends up in your recommendations.

Gavin McInnes is the head of the Proud Boys, a self-described “western chauvinist” organization that’s mostly known for beating up liberals and leftists. They have ties to neo-fascist groups like Identity Evropa and neo-fascist militias like the Oath Keepers, they run security for white nationalists, and their lawyer just went on record that he identifies as a fascist. And, if you’re one of these kids who has YouTube in the background with autoplay on, and you’re watching Dave Rubin? You might be as few as 3 videos away from watching Gavin McInnes.

There’s a lot of talk these days about algorithms funneling people towards the Right, and that’s not wrong, but it’s an oversimplification. The real problem is that the Right knows how to hijack an algorithm.

I also learned about the Curation/Search Radicalization Spiral from a piece by Mike Caulfield. Caulfiend uses the horrific example of Dylann Roof. You remember him? He shot up a church in a Black neighborhood a few years ago. Roof says he was radicalized when he googled “Black on white crime” and saw the results. Now, if you search the phrase “crime statistics by demographic,” you will find fairly nonpartisan results that show most crimes are committed against members of the perpetrator’s own race, and Black people commit crimes against white people at about the same rate as any other two demographics. But that specific phrase, “Black on white crime,” is used almost exclusively by white racists, and so Roof’s first hit wasn’t a database of crime statistics, it was the Council of Conservative Citizens. Now, the CCC is an outgrowth of the White Citizens Councils of the 50’s and 60’s which rebranded in ‘85. They publish bogus statistics that paint Black people as uniquely violent. And they introduce a number of other politically-loaded phrases - like, say, “Muslim fertility rates” - that nonpartisan sites don’t use, and so, if Roof googles them as well, he gets similarly weighted results.

I have tons more examples of this stuff. I literally don’t have time to show it all. Like, have you heard of Google bombing? That’s a thing I didn’t know existed. The point is, the same way search engines tailor your results to what they think you want, once you scratch the surface of the Alt-Right they are highly adept at making it so, whenever you go online, their version of reality is all you know and all you see.

Finally, pain. This was the difficult one. Can you create a Disorganized Attachment relationship over the internet with a largely faceless and decentralized movement? I pitched the idea to one the researchers I spoke to, and he said, “That sounds very plausible, and nearly impossible to research.” See, cults and hate groups? They don’t wanna talk to researchers anymore than the Alt-Right wants to talk to me. Stein and Kimmel get their data by speaking to formers, people who’ve exited these movements and are all too happy to share how horrible they were. But the Alt-Right is still very young, and there just aren’t that many formers yet.

I found some testimonials, and they mostly back up my hypothesis, but there’s not enough that I could call them statistically significant. So I had to look where the data was.

My fellow YouTuber ContraPoints made a video last year - in my opinion, her best one - about incels (that’s “involuntary celibate,” men who can’t get laid). Incel forums tend to be deeply misogynistic and antifeminist, and have a high overlap with the Alt-Right. If you remember Elliot Rodger, he was an incel. Contra’s observation was that these forums were incredibly fatalistic: you are too ugly and women too shallow for you to ever have sex, so you should give up. She described a certain catharsis, like picking a really painful scab, in hearing other people voice your worst fears. But there was no uplift; these communities seemed to have a zero-tolerance policy for optimism. She likened it so some deeply unhealthy trans forums she used to visit, where people wallowed in their own dysphoria.

And I remembered the forums I researched five years ago in preparation for my video on GamerGate. (If you don’t know what GamerGate was, I will not rob you of your precious innocence. But, in a lot of ways, GamerGate was the trial run for what the Alt-Right has become.) These forums were full of angry guys surrounding themselves with people saying, “You’re right to be angry.” And, yeah, if everywhere else you go treats your anger as invalid, that scratches an itch. But I never saw any of them calm down. They came in angry and they came out angrier. And most didn’t have anywhere else to vent, so they all came back.

I found a paper on Alt-Right forums that described a similar type of nihilism, and another on 8chan. What humor was on these sites was always shocking, furiously punching down, and deeply self-referential, but it didn’t seem like anyone was expected to laugh anymore, just, you know, catch the reference. I found one testimonial saying that having healthy relationships in these spaces is functionally impossible, and the one former I talked to said, yeah, when the Alt-Right isn’t winning everyone’s miserable.

So I think it might fit. The place they go for relief also makes them unhappy, so they come back to get relief again, and it just repeats. Same reason people stay with abusers. I wanna look into this further, so, I’ll just say this part to the camera: if there are any researchers watching who wanna study this, get at me.

Finally, I read Alt-America by David Neiwert, a supremely useful book that I highly recommend if you wanna know how the Alt-Right is the natural outgrowth of the militia and Patriot movements of the 90’s and early 2000’s, not to mention the Tea Party. Neiwert also does an excellent job illustrating how conspiracism serves to fill in the gap between the complexity of the modern world and the simplistic, might-makes-right worldview of fascism.

Neiwert also provides an interesting piece of the puzzle, suggesting what people are actually looking for when they get recruited. He references work done by John Bargh and Katelyn McKenna on Identity Demarginalization. Bargh and McKenna looked at the internet habits of people whose identities are both devalued in our society and invisible. By invisible, what I mean is, ok, if you’re a person of color, our society devalues your identity, but you can look around a room and, within a certain margin of error, see who else is POC, and form community with them if you wish. But, if you’re queer, you can’t see who else in a room is queer unless one of you runs up a flag. And revealing yourself always means taking on a certain amount of risk that you’ve misread the signals, that the person you reveal yourself to is not only not queer, but a homophobe.

According to Bargh and McKenna, people in this situation are much more likely to seek online spaces that self-select for that identity. A fan forum for RuPaul’s Drag Race is maybe a safer place to come out and find community. And people tend to get very emotionally tied to these online spaces where they can be themselves.

Neiwert points out that the same phenomenon happens among privileged people who have identities that are devalued even as they’re not actually oppressed. Say, nerds, or conservatives in liberal towns, or men who don’t fit traditional notions of masculinity. They are also likely to deeply invest themselves in online spaces made for them. And if the Far Right can build such a community, or get a foothold in one that already exists, it is very easy to channel that sense of marginalization into Durden Syndrome. I connected this with Rebecca Lewis’ observation that the Alternative Influence Network tends to present itself as nerd-focused life advice first and politics second, and the long history of reactionaries recruiting from fandoms.

So I can see all the pieces of the abuse dynamic being recreated here: offer you something you need, estrange you from other perspectives and healthy relationships, overtake your life, and provoke emotional distress that makes you seek comfort only your abuser is offering. And I found a lot more parallels than what I’m sharing right now, I only have half an hour! But the thing that’s missing that’s usually central to such a system is, an abusive relationship orbits around the abuser, a cult around the cult leader, a totalitarian government around a dictator. They are built to serve the whims of an individual. But I look at the ad hoc nature of the Alt-Right and I have to ask: who is the architect?

I can see a lot of people profiting off of this structure; our current President rode it to great success, but he didn’t build it. It predates him. It’s more like Kimmel’s hate groups, which don’t promote an individual so much as a class of individuals, but, even then, their structure is much more deliberate, designed, where the Alt-Right seems almost improvised.

Well… one observation I took from Stein is that cult recruiters often rely on two different kinds of propaganda: the winding diatribe and the thought-terminating cliche. The diatribe is when someone talks at length, sounds smart, and seems to know what they’re talking about but isn’t actually making sense, and the thought-terminating cliche comes from Robert Jay Lifton’s studies into brainwashing. So, I went vegetarian in middle school, and, when I would tell other kids I was vegetarian, some would get kind of defensive and say things like, “humans aren’t meant to be vegetarian, it’s the food chain.” Now, saying “it’s the food chain” isn’t meant to be a good argument, it’s meant to communicate “I have said something so axiomatically true that the argument need not continue.” That’s a thought-terminating cliche; something that may not be true, but feels true and gives you permission to think about something else.

Both these techniques rely on what’s called Peripheral-Route Processing. So, I’m up here talking about politics, and, Solidarity Lowell, you are a group of politically-engaged people, so you probably have enough context to know whether I’m talking out of my ass. That’s Direct-Route Processing, where you judge the contents of my argument. But if I were up here talking about string theory, you might not know whether I was talking out of my ass because there’s only so many people on Earth who understand string theory. So then you might look at secondary characteristics of my argument: the fact that I’ve been invited to speak on string theory implies I know what I’m talking about; maybe I put up a lot of equations and drop the names of mathematicians and say they agree with me; maybe I just sound really authoritative. All that’s Peripheral-Route Processing: judging the quality of my argument by how it’s delivered.

Every act of communication involves both, but if you’re trying to sell people on something that’s fundamentally irrational, you’re going to rely heavily on Peripheral-Route tactics, which is what the winding diatribe and the thought-terminating cliche are.

I noted that these two methods mapped pretty cleanly onto the rhetorical stylings of Jordan Peterson and Ben Shapiro. But here’s the question: cults use these techniques to recruit people. But can I say with any confidence that Jordan Peterson and Ben Shapiro are trying to recruit people into the Alt-Right?

The thing is, “Alt-Right” isn’t a term like “klansman.” It’s more akin to a term like “modernism.” It’s a label applied to a trend. In the same way we debate the line between modernism and postmodernism, we debate the line between Right and Alt-Right. People don’t sign up to be in the Alt-Right, you are Alt-Right if you say you’re Alt-Right. But the nature of the Alt-Right is that 90% of them would never admit to it.

So are Peterson and Shapiro intentionally recruiting for the Alt-Right? Are they grifters merely profiting off of the Alt-Right? Are they even aware they’re recruiting for the Alt-Right? Part of my work has been accepting that you can’t know for sure. It would be naive to say they’re unaware; when they give speeches they get Nazis in their Q&A sections, and they know that. But how aware are they? I suspect Shapiro moreso than Peterson, but that’s just my gut talking and I can’t prove it. Like 90% of the Alt-Right, it’s debatable.

I don’t know if they’re trying to be part of this system, I just know they’re not trying not to be.

A final academic term before we say goodnight that’s been making the rounds among lefty YouTubers is “Stochastic Terrorism.” There’s a really great video about this by the channel NonCompete called The PewDiePipeline. Stochastic Terrorism is the myriad ways you can increase the likelihood that someone will commit violence without actually telling them to. You simply create an environment in which lone wolf violence becomes more acceptable and appealing. It mirrors the structure of terrorism without the control or culpability.

And I hear about this, and I look at this recruitment structure I see approximated in the Alt-Right, and I remember something I learned much earlier in my research, from Bob Altemeyer in his book The Authoritarians. Altemeyer has been studying authoritarianism for decades, he has a wealth of data, and one thing he observes is that authoritarianism is the few exerting power over the many, which means there are two types of authoritarians: the ones who lead and the ones who follow. Turns out those are completely different personality profiles. Followers don’t want to be in charge, they want someone to tell them what to do, to say “you’re the good guys,” and put them in charge of punishing the bad guys. They don’t even care who the bad guys are; part of the appeal is that someone else makes that judgment for them.

So if you can encourage a degree of authoritarian sentiment in people, get them wanting nothing more than to be ensconced in a totalist system that will take their agency away from them, putting them in the orbit of an authoritarian leader, but no leader presents themself… can you just kind of… appoint one?

Like, if you don’t have a leader, can you just find yourself an authoritarian and treat him like one? And, if he doesn’t give you enough directives, can you just make some up? And, if you don’t have recruiters, can you find a conservative who speaks in thought-terminating cliches just because he thinks they win arguments; find a conservative who speaks in meaningless diatribes because he thinks he’s making sense; and then maneuver those speeches and videos in front of people you want to recruit? If you’re sick of waiting for Moses to come down the mountain with the Word of God, can you just build your own god from whatever’s handy?

Every piece of this structure, you can find people, algorithms, and arguments that, put in sequence, can generate Disorganized Attachment whether they’re trying to or not, which makes every part plausibly deniable. Debatable. You just need to make it profitable enough for the ones involved that they don’t fix it. This is a system created collaboratively, on the fly, with the help of a lot of people from hate movements past, mostly by throwing a ton of shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. The Alt-Right is a rapidly-mutating virus and the web is the perfect incubator; it very quickly finds a structure that works, and it’s a structure we’ve seen before, just a little weirder this time.

I’ve started calling this Stochastic Totalism.

Now, again, I’m not a professional researcher; I do my homework but I don’t have the background. I have an art degree. This isn’t something I can prove so much as a way I’ve come to look at the Alt-Right that makes sense to me and helps me understand them. And I got a lot of comments on my last video from people who used to be Alt-Right that echoed my assumptions. But don’t take it as gospel.

Mostly I wanted to share this because, if it can help you make sense of what we’re dealing with, I think it’s worth putting out there.

Thank you.

[19mrs-barnes17]

Wedding Guest

Summary: Bonus Theme Day - Wedding Date

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: little steam

Word count: 1,683

A/N: A bonus fic for theme weekend! Enjoy!

~

You had developed a habit of always checking the plus one box, just in case. Life had been a swarm of weddings as of late and you were feeling left behind. Usually you would bring some friend who was free, but this time you knew you couldn’t. This was a family filled wedding which meant that if you didn’t bring an actual date you’d be interrogated all night. And you’d rather be asked pleasant questions about a fake relationship than be scolded for wasting a chair and being alone. So, there you stood before your best friend, your eyes begging her to accept the invitation.

“What’s in it for me?” Strands of her fiery red bob were slipping from the scrunchie, her brow arched. 

“Free food and an open bar?” 

“Boy you really do know how to treat a girl. I’ll do it.” You nearly tackled her with a hug, her arms wrapping around you as you thanked her profusely. “Yeah, yeah. But you have to wear the dress if I do.”

“That old thing?” She leaned against the door frame, smirking. “Yeah, ok. Then I get to pick your dress.”

“I’m glad we could come to this arrangement. Come on in, sweetheart.” Shaking your head at her laughter you follow her to her closet and get to work.

In the passing weeks you and Nat forged a solid story, planned for any questions that might arise, and booked your flight. The plane ride was fairly standard, the two of you watching movies off your laptop. Soon enough it became time to introduce her to a family member, and of course it had to be the most guilt tripping one of them all. Your niece. She had run up to you in the airport and wrapped her arms around your legs. 

“Aunt Y/N! Is that your girlfriend?” She peeked around you at Natasha with curious little eyes, smiling when Nat squatted down and waved. 

“Hi there. My name’s Natasha but you, you can call me Nat.” Her gentle smile seemed to coax Lyla in, her small frame emerging from behind your legs. 

“I’m Lyla. I’m 6 and a half.” Your attention was torn from the adorable scene to the group approaching you. 

“Isaac!” In mere seconds you practically tackled your big brother to the ground, his wife laughing as you pulled her in. “Marie you look better. Healing okay?”

“The surgery went well and the doc says I’m recovering quickly. Enough that I might dance at least once tomorrow night.” Her daughter came running back, latching onto her leg like a leach. “You actually brought a girlfriend home?”

“I know, we’re gonna be swarmed.” Nat caught up, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended toward your family.

“You must be Isaac and Marie, right?” She turned to you feigning the guess, a soft smile dancing on her lips. “I did my best to learn names beforehand.”

“You found yourself a clever one, eh sis?” Isaac smiles shaking Nat’s hand, his eyes still cautious. Marie linked arms with Nat and led her toward the car, Nat glancing over her shoulder at you with a sweet smile. “Finally bringing someone home, she must be important.”

“She’s been my best friend for years, I trust her. And I trust that meeting you whackos won’t deter her.” Isaac smiled before tossing you over his shoulder, your screams turning into giggles. 

“You still walk too slow.” 

“We passed the entry exam. Get ready for the next level.” She shook her head at you and mumbled something along the lines of ‘I used to be a spy you know’. “I come from a family of therapists and professors. They eat bullshit for breakfast.” 

Nat sat in the middle seat of the back of the van, her fingers intertwined with yours as the hour long drive began. The ride consisted of sing-a-longs, in which only your niece participated. If you didn’t know the words to every song in Cinderella, you did now. The parking lot of the hotel was packed, you recognized 70 percent of the cars from family and friends. Nat carried both your bags and rejected all offers of assistance.

“She’s pretty independent.” Marie shook her head, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“You should have seen her when I moved in. Helped me carry every box and sent the boys to pick up lunch. You should have seen their faces.” You laugh as your thoughts go back to the day you moved into the avengers facility. She had given the guys one look and they went scurrying out the door.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Y/N. She seems to suit your temperament very well.” Perhaps she did, but that was what had made the two of you such instant friends.

Every waking moment around your family with Nat felt suffocating, they all seemed so proud of your choice. Apart from your Aunt Dinah that is, she was a little stuck in the wrong part of history and never approved of your life choices. She was quite vocal about it and Natasha was not very happy to find this out. In fact, she seemed to up the fake romantic touches whenever your aunt was near. While it made you smile to see her so furious, it also meant a lot more touching than you had planned on. Skin to skin contact with Nat had you questioning your relationship and on a few occasions forgetting it was fake. You thought you could be stronger than all those fake couples in the movies, however, it turned out you were just as susceptible. 

The day of your younger brother’s wedding had arrived and you could not be more grateful that this charade was coming to a close. Pretending to be in love with someone really does a number on your emotions. Hours spent readying the room and double-checking that everyone was being prepped, everything was underway. Tonight you would dance with Nat a few times before saying goodnight and heading back to the hotel. Easy peasy. 

Oh, sweet jesus. Not easy peasy. In no way would her being close to you in that dress be easy peasy. You felt rather compelled to jump her right then and there, which was rather problematic. Even worse your sister-in-law saw the look you had on your face when Nat rounded the corner, it was definitely lustful. You couldn’t hide it.

“Someone’s getting lucky tonight.” Marie smirked as she nudged your arm, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You both look fantastic.” 

“Marie!” You whispered, shooting her a warning look before turning back to face Natasha. “Wow, I told you that was the dress.”

“Then was it your intention to make all the men in the room drool? If so, you’ve done splendid.” One of your cousins was staring at her with a look that you wanted to smack from his face. She moved closer, whispering so only you would hear. “If not, I can only assume it was because you wanted to see me in this dress.”

She wasn’t wrong, you had always wondered about the black gown hanging in her closet. All that she had ever said was that it was for specific missions. By this point you were beginning to gather what sort of missions she utilized its stun capability for, and you were flush in the face. My god, you had done this to yourself.

“Why choose this dress for me? And why it was your stipulation?” Nat smirked and gestured that her lips were sealed, linking her arm with yours before leading you into the elevator. 

Eyes followed the pair of you everywhere, the entire event someone was gawking at her or staring incredulously at you. The entire thing made you squirm in your skin, far too much attention was being placed on the two of you. However you took this opportunity to become even more physical, partially to send the onlookers’ gazes elsewhere and partly because you needed to know whether her flirtation was real or had limits. Your hand rested on her exposed mid-thigh, her hand soon covering it and moving it upward. Either this woman was the queen of acting or she wasn’t having to. Dancing was even more intimate, no matter the speed of the song she was close to you. Her hands roaming and eyes flirting. This was send your gay heart into a panic, you had absolutely no idea what to do with this kind of attention. 

“I need to ask you something and I need an honest answer.” Nat’s hands rested on your lower back and yours at the nape of her neck. Her eyes met yours and with a nod of her head her attention was yours. “Is this even fake anymore?”

“I was wondering when you’d finally ask.” She smirked, something hidden behind her eyes. “I’m not sure it ever was. Maybe when we arrived, but not for long.” 

“So you felt the same? This whole time?” She nodded, arching a brow at you. “When did you?” It was a vague question, but she knew the answer you were seeking. 

“New Years.” The drunk kiss, well half drunk apparently. Only you were tipsy, Nat barely buzzed when you pulled her in for the midnight kiss. It had been passed off as nothing, but it seems both of you knew it was so much more. “Care for a redo?”

“What?” 

“Kiss me while everyone is watching.” Your eyes glanced from hers to her lips, heart racing in your chest as you pulled her into a kiss. Deeper and deeper you fell into the kiss, soon breaking to move it elsewhere as the song ended. A round of goodnights and you were on your way back to the hotel, in the elevator, and behind a closed door. Nat had pushed it shut with her back and you were quick to pounce, tongue sliding in. Your body was coursing with adrenaline as things began escalating and your mind slowly turning to putty. “Seems Marie was right after all”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @asphalt-cocktail​ @gstran18​ @cantnkrusshedevil​

[lillupon]

Hey! I'm the anon who sent in the ask on Friday or Saturday about losing AEV and going on a whole ordeal trying to find it again. I'm also the one who told you the name of Grind by abnegative. I didnt think that I'd be sending this many asks in but then I read chapter 11 of Aev and I had so many things I wanted to comment about. So here we go, this is gonna be a long one.

1. Let me know what you think of Grind when you finally get around to reading it. I love it a lot and I'm constantly re-reading it.

2. Mr. Jeon and Mingyu are so awkward together. It's so cuuuute!!! I wonder what's gonna happen to get them past that barrier. I dont want any spoilers but it's fun to imagine all the different scenarios that could happen.

3. I wonder what mingyus reaction would be if he found out that Wonwoo prepared himself in the shower and with the clothes he picked out hoping that ~things~ would happen. I like to think that he'd be sooo turned on at that tidbit of information. Also seeing wonwoo in casual clothes AND without the scent blockers! Mingyu is definitely wrecked. I'd love to see his pov for this scene.

4. Mr. Jeon telling Mingyu to call him wonwoo!!!! Yes please!!!! I've been waiting for that moment to happen! I thought it would happen the 1st time they had sex but this is better! They've finally crossed a line that was definitely there. Before it was obvious that they definitely were not just teacher and student but this has solidified that.

5. The way wonwoo smashes their lips together at the very end of the chapter! Yes!!!! I would loooove more of Wonwoo initiating things!!!! It does things to my heart ♡♡♡♡

6. I love how they're scenting each other and at 1st I was like that's fine cuz they dont go back to school for a few days but then I remembered that mingyus sister is in wonwoos class and could possibly recognize the smell. Theres definitely a chance of things going wrong there.

7. Also sims anon was so accurate! I love it. And sims anon updated their twitter!

8. The more I think about it the more I want to see a spinoff entirely in mingyus pov! That would be amazing.

9. I started drawing fanart of chapter 11... I don't know if I'll get around to finishing it. I hope I do, so you can see it. Right now the proportions between the boys and the car is all wrong

10. OMG I CANT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT THIS. The day after I 1st started reading aev I had a dream about it. Except wonwoo was a professor and mingyu was a college freshman. Wonwoo ended up going to an outside restaurant bar after school to get a drink. He thought he wouldnt see any of his students because none of them were of legal drinking age yet, but Mingyu showed up. Wonwoo sighed in disappointment that he wasnt able to get alone time but Mingyu turned to him and said "dont worry, I'm not here to bother you." Then he turned to the bartender and just said "the regular please." Wonwoo watched as Mingyu began pulling notebooks and textbooks out of his bag, along with a few worksheets. The bartender returned with a glass of ice water and Mingyu said "Thank you" with a smile to him. Minuets passed and Mingyu was working on homework while Wonwoo stole a few glances at him every now and then. After a while Wonwoo noticed that Mingyu was struggling with something, so he moved over to sit directly next to Mingyu and said "What are you stuck on?" Mingyu explained what he wasnt getting and Wonwoo was able to help him out. Eventually they both had to leave, Mingyu left 1st and then Wonwoo a little while later. But the following day, they found each other in the same position. This continued for weeks. The two of them would meet after school at the outdoor restaurant bar and wonwoo would help mingyu with his homework. Eventually the conversations would shift and become more personal. They got to know each other outside of a teacher student relationship. One day, Mingyu didnt have any homework, but he still showed up. Wonwoo bought him an alcoholic drink (the bartender let it slide becuase 1, he knew mingyu and 2, it's illegal for people underage to buy alcohol but it's not illegal for them to drink it). The two ended up having a bit too much, they let their gaurds down and one thing led to another. They ended getting a taxi back to wonwoos house.

And then I woke up... but it was very heavily implied that once they got to wonwoos house, they learned the intricate details of each others bodies.

Anyways... that's a lot... sorry. I guess if I'm gonna keep submitting things I might as well have a sign off sooo

Sincerely, 🦊anon (fox anon) (she/they)

Hi and welcome back, fox anon! 

1: Yes, I will let you know if I get around to reading Grind. I had someone recommend it to me again yesterday through twitter DMs! It must be very good, but I haven’t been in much of a mood to read or write lately. But I hope other folks will check it out if they have the time and are looking for something to read.

3: “I wonder what mingyus reaction would be if he found out that Wonwoo prepared himself in the shower and with the clothes he picked out hoping that ~things~ would happen” reminded me that I FORGOT TO POST THE BONUS FOR THIS CHAPTER! Ahh thank you. It’s a small crumb that I decided to remove from the final version; I’ll get it up shortly (´ ∀ ` *). But yes, haha, Mingyu would be extremely turned on at the thought of Wonwoo preparing and pampering himself for their carpark date.

6: Yes, Wonwoo’s pheromones will be on Mingyu after all that scenting and sexy times (it probably drives Mingyu crazy, being able to smell Wonwoo’s slick on him). However, no one actually knows what Wonwoo smells like! So they won’t be able to associate the omega pheromones on Mingyu with Wonwoo.

7: Yes, simsminwon is spoiling me with AEV content omg my eyes have been blessed... IT FITS AEV TO A T  (╥ω╥) (╥ω╥) (╥ω╥)

8: It would be pretty fun(ny) to see the contrast between Mingyu and Wonwoo’s point of view! The moment when he realises that he has a big fucking crush on Mr. Jeon would be so cute ;-; Like, he’s probably thinking about Mr. Jeon all the time, even when he’s with Momo! I’ve tried writing some major events in Mingyu’s POV, but I haven’t really done that lately; I haven’t been doing much reading or writing in general lately, haha.

9: GASP (♡°▽°♡) FANART?! I’m also really hoping you’ll finish it, fox anon >.<!!! I would love to see it.

10: I LOVE THIS! Lmao! What is Mingyu doing, working on assignments at a bar?! Dude, I wish I could have some minwon dreams. A pity you woke up before they banged  (; ω ; )ヾ(´∀`* )

See you around!

[dontcallmecarrie]

One Step Forward...

just realized that while I have quite a bit on Tony’s time in college for BDEL, it’s pretty general so here’s an attempt to remedy that. Bear in mind that there’s a timeline squish going on, otherwise things won't make sense.

. 

Tony looked around the enormous lecture hall with wide eyes, practically vibrating in his seat. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn't care: his shiny new student ID was burning a hole in his pocket, his messenger bag was a near-clone of his neighbor’s, and in the next few minutes he’d start on the next chapter of his life. 

This was the first time he’d set foot in an institute of higher learning, for the express purpose of learning. Sure, he still had to lay low, since Tony Stark was still #1 on America’s Most Wanted Missing Children [even if his twenty-second birthday came and went months ago, take a hint already Howard], and living with someone still getting used to the world after an involuntary ice nap, but...for the first time in his life, he could let loose. 

Could finally poke at some of the things he’d been itching to try with like-minded individuals, could research and leaf through theses and journals without having to sneak around anyone who might be curious as to what a ten-year-old was doing with a textbook on fluid mechanics.

Child prodigies were easy to pick out; enterprising college students, though?

When everyone was broke and scrambling to stand out, especially in a university big enough for some of its courses to have upwards of 300 students, while also having some cool-sounding research going on? 

Nobody’d look too closely at some freshman asking too many questions. 

That’s what he was counting on, anyway. 

The professor strode up to the podium, and Tony straightened up in preparation for his first day of college.

.

Mistakes were made.

Many, many mistakes were made.

.

Tony walked out of the latest round of exams with a bounce in his step, already thinking about whether or not he’d be able to make it to the guest lecture in time to find a seat...only to pick up the dark muttering of some of his classmates. 

“Ugh, that was brutal and I think there was a typo somewhere in there because how—”

“—had like one slide covering it during lecture, why was it—”

“—an I’m going to fail, this stupid class is going to tank my GPA, fu—”

Some were almost in tears, some were fuming. More than a few were bleary-eyed, clearly having pulled an all-nighter cramming for the test that made up a good chunk of their grade.

Tony tried not to feel too guilty about wrecking the grading curve because he had no doubt he’d aced it, and had done the extra-credit question too just because he could and it’d seemed like a fun thought exercise.

Then he checked his watch, bit back a curse as he clutched at his messenger bag, and started to jog towards the building he’d seen on the flyer about public health talks.

.

Culver University had several of the typical crypids for a college campus: that one bookstore five minutes away with just about every book under the sun, that hole-in-the-wall restaurant that somehow managed to avoid getting written up for health code violations, that one professor who was always listed on the roster but hadn’t been seen since the first day of class.

However, not three months into the new academic year, a new cryptid was being added to the roster: Caffeine Rush Undergrad. 

.

If Tony hadn’t known just what the hell he was doing, he would not have managed to secure a space for his research project. As it was, his obvious interest and experience in computer programming had been a plus, so even if he’d had to bullshit his way out of declaring a major while also convincing everyone he knew what he was doing— it was worth it. 

He now had a bench dedicated to his work on cloud computing, and even if Culver didn’t know his end goal was getting JARVIS even more mobility than before on top of seeing what else he could do with what resources he now had at hand, well...this place was a goddamn candy store, alright?

Also, as a bonus he was now a familiar face to several departments he hadn’t quite gotten around to checking out, including a free pass to continue arguing with that one philosophy chair whenever office hours were slow and his code was compiling.

.

Caffeine Rush Undergrad had a name, presumably.

However, when looking at short freshmen and transfer students and seeing the only one in the room who looked actually excited about the upcoming exams, well...it was hard to remember to ask. 

. 

Tony met Bruce Banner and Betty Ross after he found some of their publications, and his glee at discovering that they were working on something a few wings away from his own bench was...something. 

Not explosive, because he knew better than to attract the wrong sort of attention, but something. 

Sure, they’d eyed him suspiciously at first, but after seeing he knew what he was doing and that he had no interest in stealing their research, they got along swimmingly!

Well, at least they didn’t treat him like a younger sibling the way Foster and Selvig did, anyway.

More like a second set of eyes, and even if Tony didn’t entirely get the finer points he was able to follow along well enough. Kind of like the way Bruce was a great rubber duck whenever he shared what he was doing with JARVIS, even if he sometimes seemed more than a little amused by the comparison. 

.

Caffeine Rush Undergrad was like a goddamn puppy, all wide eyes and running around all the damn time, leaving behind towering stacks of books whenever he went to the library and sneaking into lecture halls for classes he wasn’t even in just to ask the speaker questions later.

It was impressive. And exhausting, and intimidating, especially when word got out that Caffeine Rush somehow had managed to secure a research position in one of the most competitive programs on campus.

...and then he disappeared after the Green Incident, which only cemented his notoriety.

.

Tony had two coffees in hand, one for Betty and one for Bruce, and nearly dropped both the moment he glimpsed General Ross in the hall, headed towards—

Oh.

He turned on a heel and ducked into the nearest office he could find, before Howard’s old golf buddy could spot him and risk putting two and two together.

.

“You didn’t tell me your old man was Thunderbolt Ross.” Tony said as he passed over a cup of now-lukewarm coffee. His voice wasn’t accusing; he was better than that. But his hands were this close to shaking, and there was a tension he couldn’t shake because he’d foolishly, naively assumed he was safe here, why had he—

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, eyes sharp and damn it he was slipping if some civilians could see it. 

“Nothing.” Tony plastered on a smile, and shoved his cup in his direction as he mentally readied himself as to what he’d need to do now because if his mom hadn’t picked up chatter then they were okay, but...

Oh, right. 

Geez, seeing Ross had really shaken him up. But his family was safe, and he had a plan and a story and he could bullshit with the best of them, he just had to get a grip.

Deep breath, steady hands. DUM-E was pressing against his leg in his messenger bag, while Butterfingers was a comforting weight in his jacket pocket. He could handle this. 

“Nothing,” he repeated to their disbelieving looks, “it’s just that my mom was a... Vietnam protestor. She broke a lot of shit, and... may or may not have several warrants with her name still out there.”

He hated lying to his friends, but his family was on the line. Uncle James was still living with him, his mom didn’t need any more stress than she already had. 

Also? It wasn’t actually a lie. Technically, his mom was a kidnapper. Jury was still out on the treason charges, though, because enough people counted her as a whistleblower that Howard hadn’t been able to get those charges to stick.

Bruce relaxed, but frowned in concern. “You recognized Betty’s father from that?”

Tony didn’t hide how awkward he was feeling now, after the fact. Especially because it was the truth, in a way. If only even weirder.

“There’s a strong resemblance going on, and he...mayormaynothavebeenlookingforherpersonally.”

Misleading? Yes. Did he regret it? Nope.

Betty shared a look with Bruce, then looked at the doorway and blanched before surging forward and shoving him behind her desk.

Fortunately, Tony knew enough to roll with it and so ducked and curled himself the best he could just as the footsteps got louder and General Ross’ voice came from the doorway.

“Oh, almost forgot— Banner? What are you doing here?” 

Bruce’s shoes had a very distinctive squeak whenever he shifted his weight nervously. Tony’d noticed it before, but never quite like now.

“Hello, General Ross—” He started, before Betty cut in.

“Dad? I wanted to tell you this in person. I have a boyfriend.” She must have gestured or made a face, for the choked noise coming from Bruce’s side of the room and how did he get himself in these situations, seriously?

[msiconoclast]

Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:  Lim Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience.  A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist).  As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials.  Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal.   And some are destined to be both.

A/N: Whew, this took longer than I expected.  Enjoy!  Read the prologue first if you haven’t yet: Again - Prologue

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Lim Jaebeom first showed up in your life the summer after sophomore year.  You were nineteen at the time and life was still full of glorious possibilities. 

Before you learned his name, he had been "hoodie guy from film class". 

Hoodie guy almost always showed up to class late, often with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for days.  His usual attire of oversized hoodie, shorts, and sandals suggested that he'd probably just rolled out of bed and come straight to class.  He would inevitably fall asleep in the back row and start snoring at some point during lecture.  You had to physically move to the front just to block out the noise and catch what the prof was saying.

Yet somehow, he managed to be the professor's favorite student.  

The thing is, when he wasn't nodding off, hoodie guy was apparently Ebert incarnate.  He was usually quiet but whenever the class discussion came to a halt, he would always make a comment that somehow managed to cut straight to the heart of the film.  The class would give collective pause over his flash of brilliance and then resume in excited debate in a new enlightened direction.  On the few occasions when the professor decided to read out excerpts from written assignments, you knew.....you just knew that they were always from hoodie guy's papers by the smirk on his face.

In other words....the guy was annoying as hell.

Look, you loved movies and film class was sacred.  It was one of the few classes you actually enjoyed outside of your major.  How dare this guy just waltz into class in his pajamas and proceed to wax philosophical on “French New Wave” while the rest of you barely understood what the films were trying to convey?  Was he some kind of silver screen idiot savant?  More importantly, why was he trying to ruin the curve for everyone?!

Needless to say, by the time the semester ended, you were more than done with hoodie guy’s antics.  If you were to never see him again, that would be absolutely perfect.

Life, unfortunately, had other plans for you.

As spring eased into summer, you decided to take a job at Joe's on Third to supplement your non-paid internship at the local paper.  Joe's was your home away from home as a student.  Cozy and airy, it had the perfect ambiance and was never too packed.  As a bonus, they served a mean grilled cheese among a small menu of comfort food classics and you would get fed every day you worked there.  It was going to be tough balancing the two jobs but all things considered, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.

When you showed up at seven for your first day at Joe's, the place was still empty.  The only sound came from behind the counter where someone was grinding coffee beans.  A tall figure with an enviable head of hair was rustling around getting the goods ready before the morning rush.  As you got closer, you noticed that he had more than a few piercings, one in particular under his right eye.  You never really found facial piercings to be attractive on men but there was something oddly intriguing about the look on him.  It gave him an air of nonchalance.  A rebel without a cause.

He was so concentrated on his tasks that he didn't notice you until you tapped on the counter in front of him.

"Shit....oh...."  It took him a moment to collect his thoughts until a look of recognition registered in his face.  "You’re Y/N?  I'm Jaebeom.  Call me JB.  Joe said I'm supposed to set you up on your first day."  

Hoodie Guy?

The second he opened his mouth, it dawned on you that this was no stranger.  Though you never cared to study his face, you had memorized hoodie guy's voice by heart.  And while this clean shaven, well dressed man in front of you looked nothing like the guy who always buried his face in his hoodies, the voice was unmistakable.    

"Intro to World Cinema.  Were you the one who got the only A in class??"

Confused, he raised his eyebrows and tried again.  "Uh, I'm supposed to get you trained on your first day and make sure you can..."

"I'm asking if you were in Intro to World Cinema last semester?  Didn't you always wear a hoodie to class and nap in the back row?  Were you the jerk who ruined the curve for everyone and got the only A on the final paper?

He stared at you as if you were nuts.  But you didn't really expect him to protest innocence.

"I was in that class too and would've gotten an A if it weren't for you!  Instead I got a B+.  First B+ in two years of school!!"  The words flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself.  Oh, you knew it was petty but your indignation had been brewing for weeks.

He squinted his eyes and continued to stare at you.

Ding! 

Somewhere in the back, a toaster went off.  This seemed to snap him out of his trance and you watched as confusion dissolved into amusement on his face. 

He cleared his throat: "Well...Miss B+....we got twenty minutes until open.  If you want to keep this job, I suggest you get going and put all the baked goods out." 

Not waiting for you to respond, he turned towards the kitchen. 

Just before disappearing into the back, he suddenly swung around and grinned`: "Yeah, I got the A.  And you were the girl with the pencil hair bun who always sat in the front."

So he did recognize you.

Asshole.

The first week of your new job breezed by without much of a hitch.  You'd worked restaurant jobs before and a cafe was a piece of cake by comparison.  What surprised you was how efficient JB was at the job.  You just couldn't stitch together the image of him snoring in class with how professional he appeared at the cafe.  Not only was he efficient, he also seemed to be preternaturally friendly towards everyone who walked in.  Loud teenagers, moms with screaming babies, post-breakup girls drowning in their brownie-a-la-mode, he handled each and every one of them with calm and kindness.  Yet, you wouldn't exactly call him a "people person" since he never voluntarily took up small talk with anyone nor did he socialize much with the other staff.  It seemed that JB simply existed comfortably in the backdrop of the cafe’s inviting atmosphere and treated everyone with the same distant warmth.  

After the awkward initial encounter with JB, you maintained a precarious distance towards each other.  You were still reeling from the embarrassment of your outburst, and he must have decided to steer clear of stirring up the "crazy" in you again.  In fact, he treated you just like any other member of the staff, as if the incident never happened.  If anything, you two developed a satisfying partnership of sorts.  When the cafe was busy, you teamed up to keep the orders moving and the kitchen hot.  When there was a lull, you gave each other plenty of space.  You would work on your articles for the paper while he pranced around behind the counter scribbling down notes on little pieces of paper.

Mid-afternoons were usually the slowest at the cafe.  You savored these moments when time seemed to pass by as slowly as dust particles that swayed in the summer sun.  It gave you a strange sense of privacy even if you were sitting in a cafe full of people.   Sometimes, when you were feeling really wild, you'd stealthily switch the cafe jazz that droned on in the background to your favorite soundtracks.  None of the cafe patrons seemed to mind as long as it was something mellow.  The one person who did take note though was JB.  

"Is that 'Before Sunrise'?"   Um hum.

"That sounds like 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'?"  Yup.

"Oh, 'Midnight in Paris'.  The gypsy jazz is cool."   Totally...

Either this guy had seen every movie under the sun or you two just happened to have very similar tastes.  What was most curious was the fact that these were all movies that any other guy would scoff as “chick flicks”.   Not the type of entertainment that you’d expect a “rebel without a cause“ to seek out.

"So did you actually watch all of these movies?"  You had to ask him one afternoon.

"Hmm......yeah."  He waved one of the little pieces of paper he was scribbling on: "They help me with my songwriting.  I......heh, need inspiration and I like movies that provide different perspectives on the concept of love. "

So that's what he had been working on.  Song lyrics.  You weren’t entirely surprised since half of the population in LA were trying to make it in Entertainment in one way or another.

"Why do people write so many love songs anyways?  Loneliness is totally underrated."

"Because almost any emotion that music can express can be related to love.  It's universal." he said

"Yeah?  And what have you learned about love in all your movie-watching and song-writing experience?”

"The heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love."

“Her”.  Nice..... another sentimental fool.

The best thing about working at Joe's was the weekly closing party.  Every Friday night, the staff would string up lights around the back patio and put on a little dance party while closing the cafe down.  It was an unspoken rule that whatever bottles of wine were open by the end of the week was a free for all for the party and the beer taps were open until dry.  Quite a nice little perk for the employees. 

You had always enjoyed yourself at these parties.  Most of the part time staff were kids who went to the same school, people you had seen around campus.  It was where the staff really got to know each other and sometimes, got their hands on each other.  And it didn't take long for everyone to get comfortable and really let loose.  It was also funny to see how people changed when they were drunk.  The shy introverted ones would surprisingly become super hyper while the normally outgoing ones often ended up bawling their eyes out in the corner by the end of the night.  Nothing short of human theater.

The first couple of times you'd joined, you were still careful not to drink too much.  You wanted to make a good impression and actually get to know everyone.  But by the fourth closing party, you were well on your way to earning the title of dancing queen.  See, alcohol also had an intriguing effect on you.  It helped you break out of your usually calm shell but it also had a tendency to make you more than a little flirty.  And on this particular night, you were definitely feeling the love. 

The theme for the night was 90s jams and you had been showing off your moves on top of one of the patio tables for the last 45 minutes.  But it was nearing midnight now and most people were either too drunk or too tired to be dancing and you were starting to feel the early signs of a crash yourself.  It was then the bass thumping hip hop switched over to a slow and smooth R&B song that you had never heard before.  There was something seductive about the way the singer cooed out the words.

"Girl it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Said if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me baby,

You've already got me right where you want me baby

I just want to be your man

How does it feel

How does it feel

Said I want to know how does it feel

How does it feel

How does it feel"

As you spun around on the table, you noticed a pair of gaze that fixed steadily on you as you swayed your hips slowly to the beat.  You couldn't make out the expression on his face but there was an intensity in his gaze that made your body heat up.  The thought that you had a captured audience turned you on and prompted you to run your hands across your body.  As you felt your body heat up more and more, you reached for the glass nearby and took out an ice cube.  You desperately needed to cool down.  Holding the ice cube in your mouth for a second, you then started to run it against your skin.  Trails of ice water trickled down your neck, your collarbone and pooled where your cleavage had shown through your shirt.  The song was pushing towards a crescendo and the singer's falsetto was ringing in your head.  It grew louder and louder until the lights started to spin. 

Dizziness took over.  Suddenly, you felt yourself lose your balance and stumble towards the ground.

Black.

And the next time you opened your eyes, a familiar face was just inches above you.  The owner of the gaze had his arms propped up beneath you while they supported your weight.

You could feel his breath on your face and for what seemed like an eternity, you simply stared at each other.

Finally, you ended the silence by flashing him the brightest smile you could muster and pointing at his nose: "I forgive you!!!...Hoodie guy!"

The corners of his mouth curved up. 

"You're pretty cute, B+."  He chuckled.

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