#like it’s very evident that since coming back from school my skin has looked Considerably Worse and it’s very disheartening

[alittleemo]

.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

a kiss from the moon | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you're also Park Jimin's best friend since preschool. Shit.

warnings: language; alcohol consumption; pining; JK gets distracted by (your) tits during his quest, typical; non-idol!BTS - purple-haired!Jungkook x sleepy af, noona!reader, ft Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung radiating big soulmate energy; childhood friends-to-lovers

yes, it's JK from the 'Butter' beach photos

--

“I love you!”

You lifted your head out of the mountain of pillows, groggy and hazy, squinting at the moonlight filtering through the floating curtains. The night breeze was warm, drifting in softly with the low hum of cicadas. But what was that other sound? That other sound was familiar, wasn’t it?

You heard your name being shouted, followed by, “Wake up!”

You made a face and stumbled out of the bed, sticking your head out of your bedroom window, your own hair flying back and smacking you in the face.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?!”

“Get down here!”

You put on your best disgruntled expression and peered down at the form on your front lawn, shoving your own hair aside.

“What are you going on about?” you muttered, seeing Jeon Jungkook looking up at you, puffing his cheeks, long wet purple hair fading to gray because of the chlorine from swimming all night at that party Park Jimin had invited you to earlier today, to which you had responded, no thanks, I’m going to sleep all day, I worked three double shifts in a row and I have zero desire to be flung into your family’s swimming pool at this time, but I will acknowledge that your offer is very generous, and then promptly passing out for a good – you glanced at your phone with the pink bunny case Jungkook had given you two summers ago – ten hours and it was still not enough for you to comprehend why your best friend’s best friend was standing on your front lawn yelling at your parents’ house that you were watching for a month while they were in Italy getting drunk on far too expensive wine and eating cheese they probably couldn’t pronounce.

Jungkook was shirtless, clad only in orange swim shorts and sandals like a fucking hooligan. He was clutching a plastic red Solo cup and he threw it at the house, yelling your name again.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t litter, you idiot!” you bellowed back, throwing yourself away from the windowsill and crawling on the floor to your bedroom door like the evolution of mankind, making it from all fours to two legs by the time you got to the stairs – good thing too, you might have broken your neck if you were still disoriented – and you dragged yourself downstairs, yanking your white slip dress straight. Not your choice of pajamas. Your mom’s, who told you to be more ladylike, whatever the fuck that meant, and who also informed you in the same breath that it was your only choice of pajamas since they donated all your clothes from high school.

Awesome.

You go to university and your parents yeet all evidence that they had a child and go vacationing.

Good for them.

You wrenched your front door open and shoved your feet into your dad’s giant brown sandals and clapped your way over to the pink-faced, mildly drunk, shirtless man in swimming trunks on your front lawn.

“It’s two in the morning. Why are you standing here drunk and professing your love like some kind of deranged Romeo?” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Why aren’t you at Jimin’s?” You spied the red Solo cup and picked it up, whipping your head back to Jeon Jungkook.

He was staring at you with his mouth open.

Charming.

He didn’t say anything for a good ten seconds.

“Alright, fine, let me call my loser of a best friend and tell him to pick up his loser of a best friend, so I can go back to sleep,” you muttered, about to turn around.

Jungkook seemed to sputter back to life. “Wait, um, noona–”

“He speaks! He’s not dead.”

“A… Ah… Um…”

You squinted at him and reached up to knock the side of his head. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

Jungkook blurted out, “I love you.”

His breath smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Yeah, I got that. You also said that when I got you through your Chemistry and World History exams. Both times. You also say that to like, what, six of your guy friends? Don’t get me started on the amount of times you’ve said it and thrown up in my lap right after. Don’t do that this time,” you added sternly, prodding at his chest. “I’ve got one set of pajamas because my mom forgets that human beings change clothes, so throw up on the grass.”

“Uh… that’s pajamas…?”

“Lady pajamas,” you grumbled sarcastically, lifting the lid and chucking the crumpled Solo cup into your parents’ trash can. “Since I’m not lady enough apparently according to my mom, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure giant band t-shirts are completely unisex but, whatever, it’s just a dress, not a big deal.”

“Um.”

You looked at Jungkook, who looked back at you, who put your hands up and gestured him to say something, who in response rose his hands and flapped them in confusion, giving you absolutely zero helpful communication. The movement reminded you he had gotten his right arm and hand tattooed in the last couple years, the black ink standing out against tan skin. You hadn’t seen him too many times during your university years, too busy completing research papers and staying late nights in laboratories, only to now end up working on hospital software and sitting on your ass all day. Life, eh? These past three days were spent on working through bugs for the next software update and you had maybe lost all social skills as you attempted to unravel lines of code that you stared at for forty-eight out of the past seventy-two hours.

Fun!

“Do you need a cookie? A shower? The Bible?” you offered, waving your hands. “Maybe tell me why you’re here, yes?”

He was staring and you realized you were slightly bent over in your gesture, your breasts firmly pressed into the cups of the slip dress. You straightened and Jungkook’s wide dark brown eyes went back to your face.

“I… I didn’t realize you had come back, noona.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told Jimin last week. He said he was hanging out with you and Taehyung. I figured he’d just tell you guys then.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, gray-purple hair flying about. He pointed to the left, where Jimin’s house was several blocks over. “He only mentioned it just now, when he was throwing up in the bathroom from doing eight shots in a row because Taehyungie dared him.”

“…. Maybe he needs the Bible…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then the realization hit you.

“Did you walk here from Jimin’s and straight up abandon the party?”

Jungkook tilted his head and thought about it. “Yeah.”

You looked around to find the camera and see if you were being pranked, but there was no camera because this life wasn’t purely for entertainment, right? Nah, this wasn’t The Matrix.

Mhm.

“Hah, well, what’s wrong? Are you upset I didn’t go to the party or something? I had three double-shifts this week, I wasn’t going to be any fun passed out before actually drinking–”

“Yoongi-hyung was passed out before drinking.”

“In some ways, I swear that guy and I are the same person,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really banked on Jimin not being an airhead, but once again he is, so maybe I should reconsider him as my best friend…”

“Noona, I…”

You looked up from your mental consideration of Park Jimin’s pros and cons, the first pro being he punched that ex of yours that cheated on you with some Tinder hookup and that was already enough to stop contemplating, so you blinked at Jungkook curiously, looking into wide brown eyes, long strands of ash-purple floating around his handsome face from the night breeze, brushing against his parted lips, highlighting the mole underneath them, placed perfectly in the center like a kiss from the moon itself.

“Can I take a shower and sleep it off here?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, sure. You can borrow my dad’s clothes. You should call Jimin though. You don’t want him to panic that he lost you.”

“Y… Yeah, okay…”

-

Jeon Jungkook really thought he could say it this time.

Collected all his courage and ran, ran as fast as he could, couldn’t believe Jimin had neglected to say she was coming home over the summer for more than a day, days without her reminding Jungkook that he was a coward for not saying it when he could have, having lost his most important person in the world because he was too afraid of telling Park Jimin that he was in love with his best friend.

He remembered that smile wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, sitting on Jimin’s bedroom floor, crushing all of them at UNO and cackling as Jimin blew up for ending up in last place for the third time in a row, yelling that the game was rigged, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her tonight.

And he didn’t.

He remembered her saying to Taehyung that she just wasn’t into girly things. They were having this argument over pizza and Taehyung was waving his around saying she should at least try a dress on every once in a while, never know, might actually like it, and her rolling her eyes as she shot back that she didn’t have to do anything just because it was stereotypical for her gender. Taehyung told her to stop using big words and waved his hands, accidentally flinging his pizza slice into her lap, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her after we clean up.

And he didn’t.

He remembered seeing her prepare to leave for university once again, holding a small package from the internet and handing it to her, a small but practical belated birthday gift, both of them surprised when she opened it, not the matte black phone case he had ordered, but somehow mixed up with a pink bunny phone case that had no business being owned by someone who didn’t like girly things.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order this–”

And she laughed, shaking her head. “That’s okay, I gotta go, thanks anyway, Jungkook!”

The years went by and every year Jungkook told himself, this is the one, and every year he just couldn’t say it.

He thought he could say it now, drunk and furious at Jimin for not preparing him for this moment, but on his way here Jungkook figured that perhaps this was preferred, that maybe it was better that he couldn’t sit around nervously overthinking what to say.

But, of course, the problem was…

He had already said it in a platonic way.

Shit.

He really fucked himself throughout the years.

Jungkook sighed, now wearing borrowed clothes, holding the note of her handwriting as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

I washed your shorts and they’re hang-drying now. You can sleep in the guest room. I left a glass of water and some hangover meds. If you need anything, I’ll be asleep but you can attempt to wake the dead if you want.

He walked down the hall, towel around his shoulders. Her bedroom door was open. He stood outside the entrance, sighing, seeing her sleeping form and her bedside table, her phone sitting on the charger.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized that pink bunny phone case.

-

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Probably at her parents’ place, confessing his love,” Kim Taehyung snickered, picking up the beer bottles left behind next to the pool.

“Hah, of course he would leave without cleaning up,” Park Jimin grumbled, pushing the recycling bin along as Taehyung tossed each bottle inside.

“You think he’s gonna tell her?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Jimin muttered, shoving used napkins into the bag hanging off the side of the recycling bin that he was going to toss into the trash later. “I had to find out from you. I think he’s hopeless. Why does he like her anyway? She’s fun to be around, yeah, she’s good at school, yeah, knows a lot of random facts, yeah, if you get into philosophy with her like Namjoon-hyung does, you begin to question humanity and reality, yeah, but other than that…”

“You hitting on your best friend, dude?”

“I mean, she’s kinda hot, she wouldn’t say no to me.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jimin smacked him in the ass with the recycling bin.

“Anyway, he’s probably just standing in her bedroom creepily watching her sleeping.”

-

Jungkook stared down at her sleeping form.

He looked up, looking out the window into the late, late night. He was tired, and yet he couldn’t sleep, too busy wondering.

I don’t deserve her if I’m not brave enough to say it.

“Jungkook?”

-

You squinted at the large form in your bedroom.

“Why are you just staring moodily out the window?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack…”

“Noona, do you know what the worst feeling in the world is?” he asked softly, still looking out into the warm night.

You grunted and scrunched up your face. “Stepping on a Lego?”

You heard Jungkook laugh and you smiled a little despite your groggy state, hearing a little bit of his old self, the younger Jungkook hanging out with you, Jimin, and, later, Taehyung, the four of you getting up to no good. Somehow, in the past few years, he had gotten quieter and quieter, at least around you, but then again you only came home to visit for a day or two before going back to university.

“Have you ever been in love, noona?”

“Yeah, with the red bean popsicles they used to sell at the ice cream trucks, but then they stopped, those assholes, I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life,” you grumbled, remembering the day where the ice cream man told you they were sold out and your young teenage heart shattering.

“I love you, you know.”

Was this a fever dream? Why did he keep repeating himself? You looked over to his back, still looking outside onto the street, the street where you all used to run and laugh every summer, pretending you were surviving in the wild and not in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, sitting around sipping lemonade and complaining about the heat even though you all could have gone inside, lighting sparklers at night and seeing whose would last the longest even though such a thing was only based on chance anyway.

“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he added quietly.

“The worst thing I’ve ever heard was accidentally hearing Jimin jacking off. Twice.”

Jungkook finally turned around, giving you a disgusted look. “What?”

You placed a hand on your face and sighed heavily, trying not to remember. “For some reason he thinks the bathroom isn’t echoey or something, like, at least do it in the shower, so the water masks the sound…” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, I would much rather hear you say you have love for me than listening to Jimin getting off.”

“I don’t have love for you.”

You raised your hand from your face and shifted your gaze to him, half-smile lingering on your lips from remembering Jimin’s carelessness. You made eye contact the second the words left his mouth, those brown eyes shrouded in shadows, but still so clear, a little helpless, a little sad.

“I’m in love with you,” Jungkook whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

A soft breeze swept through the window, lifting the purple-gray strands from Jungkook’s face, revealing his lost, desolate expression.

The cicadas hummed.

A car alarm honked loudly, screeching through the night.

Both you and Jungkook jerked to face the window. You bolted out of bed and you both threw your hands onto the edge of the window, yanking it shut, wincing at the loud noise.

“Ah, jeez… what the hell…?” you groaned, slumping to the ground.

“What’s with people…?” Jungkook muttered, falling to the floor beside you, yanking the towel off his shoulders.

-

“Fuck, I pressed the wrong button!”

“Taehyung, what the hell, turn it off!”

“I was just trying to put the tangerines your parents gave me in my car!”

“I don’t care what you were doing, turn it off!”

-

“Anyway, sorry, you were saying something important and you got interrupted by some dumbass,” you sighed, nudging Jungkook with your shoulder.

“Uh… well, that was it…”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “What, that you’re in love with me?”

“Y… Yeah?”

You blinked some more.

“Not the, want to go to the arcade and see who can get the highest score in PAC-MAN or go watch shitty action movies and rate the unrealistic plot lines or dare each other to eat whatever expired delicacy is in Taehyung’s fridge, kind of love?”

Jungkook made a repulsed face. “I regret eating that tofu. Don’t think I can ever look at uncooked tofu without gagging a little now…”

You leaned over and caught his eye.

“Do you mean the… want to date and get married and make babies, kind of love?”

His lips parted and the moonlight lit the small mole placed perfectly underneath his lower lip.

A delicate kiss from the moon itself.

Then you realized he was staring at your tits.

You yanked the neckline up a little and Jungkook started, looking back up at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you in a dress, sorry, I’m being really rude–”

“It assures me that you’re at least interested in the making babies part,” you chuckled.

His ears turned red and he reached up to cover them, trying not to look down. “S… Sorry…”

“So…?”

He chewed on his lip, messing with his earrings with his fingertips. “Um… yeah, that kind of love. The latter kind.”

You lowered your hand. “You’re not messing with me, right? I swear, if this is one of Taehyung’s elaborate ideas to mess with me, I’m going to ki–”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, purple hair flying about. “I’m not joking around. I wanted to tell you for a long, long time, but…” His eyes darted about, panicking a little, before looking back to you helplessly. “You’re Jimin’s best friend, besides Taehyung, and what if… what if you thought I was gross or something and then I don’t think I could hang out with you guys anymore, but then you went to that prestigious university far away and I thought, I’m so stupid, I should have said something, anything, but every time I could even think about it, I didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed right…”

He let out a big sigh and tapped his head against the windowsill, closing his eyes.

“Also, I said it before and threw up in your lap right after, so that kinda fucked me up.”

“Can’t say I was really feeling the romance, yeah.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d date you though. For real.”

Jungkook removed his hands and blinked at you. “What?”

You chuckled. “Why are you acting so surprised? I’m not going to date Jimin, blergh, I’ve known that guy since I was in preschool. I’m not dating Taehyung, I’m pretty sure he’s on a different brainwave than other human beings.”

You smiled at him and turned around to pick up your phone, holding it up.

“I don’t like girly things or cute things very much, but I kept your gift because it was from you and, funnily enough, I think it made me realize that I was rejecting femininity because society puts such a negative connotation on things young women like and because my friends growing up were primarily male, thus I wanted to seem cool or relatable so I rejected stereotypically feminine concepts…”

“… What?”

Now it was a confused what.

“Uh, never mind,” you laughed awkwardly, putting your phone back on your nightstand. “Anyway, Jungkook, you made me realize things about myself, and I love being around you, but I thought a handsome guy like you would want to date a pretty girl, and I’m not really that.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in the world. No one could ever be prettier than you.”

You felt your neck heat. “Yo, don’t inflate my ego when it’s not the truth,” you chuckled sheepishly, waving a hand. “You’ve been drinking anyway. Alcohol makes everyone prettier.”

“It’s the truth.”

Was he drunk or were you drunk? Why was Jeon Jungkook getting closer?

“Would you really date me?”

You stared into those chocolate eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I would.”

And you leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened, staring at you and you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, inhaling his scent, memories of hot summers and mirthful laughter filling your head, standing beside Jungkook and kicking Jimin and Taehyung’s ass at table tennis even though Jungkook was doing most of the work, finishing a movie together after Jimin and Taehyung had passed out on the couch on top of each other and talking excitedly about it until you both fall asleep, getting lamb skewers after Jimin and Taehyung went off to eat ramen in a huff, unable to agree on the same meal as a foursome, but it was fine, no, better than fine, perfect even.

Because you were with Jungkook.

You broke the kiss and opened your eyes, smiling at him.

He blinked slowly, looking down at you.

“Noona…”

His hand raised, fingers spreading out longingly. You quickly reached up and pushed it back down.

“Jungkook, I swear, I do want to touch you in a less than holy way, but maybe not when you’re wearing my dad’s clothes, including his underwear, because that’s really fucking weird.”

Jungkook looked down at the brown t-shirt and beige shorts. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“You know, come to think of it, I feel like Taehyung has slowly stolen Jimin from me over the years, so maybe this was fated…” you mumbled, remembering at the moments you had shared with Jungkook were because your other two friends had abandoned you.

“I feel you, sometimes I feel like a third wheel…”

-

“I’m so sleepy.”

“I’ll tuck you in first, but I’m going to get us some water so we don’t die tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, Jimin, bring another pillow please.”

“Hah, fine, but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow…”

--

masterpost

[kopikokun]

Request 21: Haechan + “How did we get here?” (58) + “Are you high?’ (93) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

pairing; haechan x reader

genre; fluff, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers au

warnings; mentions of unprotected sex

The first thing that jolts you awake isn’t the numbing cold prickling your skin, nor is it the familiar sensation of having the duvet tugged away from your sound asleep body, no, it’s the abrupt animalistic snore in your ear.

You scramble into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard and legs tucked. Your heart lurches in your chest and you place your fist to it like that would do anything to calm its hammering. This paralysing fear only worsens the headache you’re currently experiencing. Cold sweat runs down your back as you face the person—or entity—that had just created that horrid sound.

With the strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and his smooth golden skin illuminated by the fresh morning sunlight pouring through the blinds, Donghyuck looks beautiful, no, ethereal, nestled away beneath the covers. Your cheeks begin to grow warm. It’s unfair really, how nice he looks, peacefully asleep (besides the trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, that is). You can’t believe a sound that unholy came from someone who looks like that.

Your eyes dart warily across the interior of the room. Muted grey walls surround you, pictures of varying sizes hanging precariously from nails. A shelf lines the wall to your right, the first and second shelf packed with books of different kinds. Most of them, you recognise, are ones you have too. The college listed them as mandatory and you remember grumbling to Donghyuck about the ridiculous cost of them. On the right of the bookshelf sits a table, crowded with notebooks and eraser shavings. A laptop is half open on the table and there’s a single sticker beside the mouse pad. A familiar photo of you and Donghyuck from high school rests against the wall and past you smiles at you. You’ve been here before. Even though Hyuck just moved in with his best friend Mark last week, you’d been here twice, not including now. Since you’ve known Donghyuck, which was in like kindergarten, his room had somewhat become yours and vice-versa. You turn to face your childhood friend beside you.

Your heart rate begins to accelerate. Why are you in the same bed as Donghyuck? And where the fuck are his clothes?

You vigorously shake him awake, unable to hide your fret. “Hyuck!” He mumbles something in his sleep. “Hyuck! Wake up!”

Donghyuck groans, eyes squinted as they’re immediately greeted by the blinding sunlight flooding the room. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow.

His eyelids are still droopy and you frown. “Are you high?” Some stoner friend of Hyuck’s had come over last night and you wouldn’t be surprised if Donghyuck had taken a hit.

He shakes his head slowly, hair sticking out in all possible directions. “No, I’m just- I think I'm just hungover.” You visibly notice the way the early morning grogginess leaves him and is replaced with a feeling of bewilderment. “Why are you in my bed?” His head swivels to scan the room, face contorted into one of confusion. “How did we get here?”

You disregard his concerns, because both of you being half-naked is far more concerning. You decide to leave that mystery for later. “Hyuck, why are you naked?”

As if he’s just realised the fact, Donghyuck shields his bare chest from your eyes with his arms. “I’m not completely naked! I’ve, uhh,” he lifts the covers, peeking beneath them, “I have some shorts on.” You roll your eyes. That doesn’t help in the slightest. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, trying to process what’s going on and what on Earth happened yesterday. All you can recall from last night is showing up to Donghyuck’s party, the both of you immediately scurrying to the alcohol and downing anything you could get your hands on. Everything after that has now become one of Mother Nature’s greatest mysteries.

You try to come up with a logical explanation with all the evidence presented to you. You’re in bed in only an oversized shirt and your underwear with Hyuck, and he’s half-naked. You two had gotten absolutely thrashed last night and had no semblance of an idea as to what had happened. Did you two… No, you hadn’t… But, maybe you two—

“Did we have sex last night?”

You flush a deep red. You didn’t expect Donghyuck to bring it up so casually. You bite the flesh of your inner cheek. “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

Donghyuck huffs. He flops back onto the bed, clasping his hands atop his toned stomach. You haven’t seen him so… exposed before. The last time you had was probably five years ago at your ex-boyfriend Jeno’s pool party. He’s definitely more well-built now, an ab-line beginning to reveal itself. Donghyuck’s cheeks seem to be adorning an adorable pink tint too. “Me neither.”

Seeing his nonchalance, your shoulders loosen considerably. You let your head fall back onto the headboard, stretching out your bare legs. The movement catches Donghyuck’s eye, but he swiftly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we did.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck nods curtly. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” you pick at your nails, “cool.”

Donghyuck glances to the bedside drawer and then to the rubbish bin. “Did we, uhm, did we at least use protection?”

“Well, shit, I hope we did,” you fiddle with the edges of Hyuck’s covers, “I mean I really like you but I wouldn’t let you raw me the first time we have sex.” You can feel his intent stare, his eyes boring into you, making your skin crawl with unease. “But I’m on the pill, so I should be fine.” Hyuck still hasn’t let up, probably because his childhood friend of fifteen hears just confessed to him. “Follow me to the store to get a morning-after pill, okay?”

Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh, yeah, totally.” You’re praying he doesn’t bring up what you just said.

“You like me?”

Damn.

“Well, yeah.” You tack your gaze onto the ground.

Donghyuck, being the cheeky little bastard he is, shoves his face in your line of sight. He grins, planting both of his palms on your cheeks, forcing you to face him. “Say it again.”

Your face grows crimson. You feign ignorance, averting eye-contact. “Say what again?”

“Don’t act dumb,” Hyuck says, smiling coyly. “Say it again and look at me while you do.”

Your stomach twists, a sudden wave of bashfulness crashing into you. “Hyuck…”

His grin grows wider, a hint of amusement present. “Come on, baby. I won’t ask you again.”

Your face is a deathly shade of red now and the tips of your ears are burning. “I like you.”

Despite the fact that you are experiencing such a nerve wracking ordeal, the half-naked boy before you laughs. He’s delighted. “Say it again.” At your pout he giggles. “Please?”

“I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you, Lee Donghyuck.” You furrow your brows. “Happy now?”

Donghyuck has to stop himself from kissing you right there and then. “Very.”

“Now say it back.”

Instead, he satisfies his urge by pecking your forehead. “I like you too.”

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Both you and Donghyuck’s gazes immediately snap towards the door where a disgruntled Mark is leaning against the frame. Mark’s usually all bright smiles but right now, he looks disgruntled. He’s probably crazy hungover.

“I’ve only brought you in here half-an-hour ago Hyuck, and you can’t even keep it in your pants for that long?”

Donghyuck tilts his head in obvious befuddlement. “What do you mean half-an-hour ago?”

Mark scoffs. “I carried you in here? Half-an-hour ago? Because you were passed out on the floor? And I’m a super nice best friend?”

“So, I’ve only been in here for half-an-hour?”

Mark groans. “Are you still drunk? Yeah, I just said.”

“But why are we half-naked?

“You don’t remember?” Mark runs a hair through his disheveled hair, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. “While we were cleaning up, you spilled a drink on yourself and puked on her, dude. Man, you must’ve been really drunk.”

“So then me and—”

“Anyway, can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to facetime my girlfriend.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Looking like that? You look like shit.”

Mark scowls. “Fuck off, asshole. I should’ve just left you on the floor, prick.”

As he storms away, Mark mutters a string of curses under his breath. You and Donghyuck sit in silence again, letting all that information which was unceremoniously relayed to you sink in.

“So, we didn’t fuck?”

“I guess not.”

Hyuck smiles slyly. “You want to right now?”

You reply by whacking him square in the face with a pillow as his laughter rings in your ears and Mark yells at you two to shut up.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Unexpected

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco is met with something unexpected one morning, something that changes his life for the better.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of the dark mark, angst, mentions of the war, anxiety, scars, fluff, kissing

Draco was sat peacefully on the back patio of your shared cottage, looking at the beauteous rolling hills just beyond the backyard and the vibrant flowers clustered all around the house. A fog had settled in the early dawn hours, blanketing everything in a cloudy haze. He was having his usual tea as he so often did when he had the chance. Though he usually liked to spend his free mornings wrapped up in your embrace, not that it was really an option because you always had a tough time letting him go. But he had been an early riser and he felt compelled to enjoy the quiet Sunday morning outside.

This hour was always the most peaceful, the only sound having been the doves cooing and the breeze blowing through leaves. Though as much as he loved the tranquility, he hated it all the same when his mind sat in silence for too long because it inevitably lead him astray. Everything came to haunt him eventually if he let himself be alone, it always does. It’s gotten better with time, though the war was still too fresh, everything was still too new for things to not creep up on him. In those moments when he felt he had enough, he’d come to you and things would lessen.

It was when he was sitting out there that morning that it had happened. A cat, fur colored with splotches and stripes of gray and black and white, had nonchalantly walked out from the blooming row of hydrangeas along the cozy home. It startled him immediately, nearly causing the hot tea to spill over the edge of his mug and onto his hand.

He uttered a soft curse into the air, any traces of sleep disappearing from his body as he watched the animal with a cautious glare. He was never really fond of cats, having never forgotten being swatted at harshly by Filch’s, followed by a very unfriendly hiss. Though he will admit it was almost certainly because he’d been taunting the poor feline. It was definitely the cause. Regardless, he hadn’t taken to them very well but was fortunate enough to keep from crossing paths with any, until now that is.

It inched closer to him, far closer than his liking and he found himself sitting a little straighter in his chair, scooting back a bit as if the action would help his cause.

“No, off you go,” Draco shoos softly, gesturing for it to go somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The cat had of course paid him no mind as it wound up at his feet, making figure-eights as it wove around his ankles and walked right overtop his bare feet. Every few moments it’d stop its movements and rub its whiskered face against his leg, sniffing him a bit as if to see if Draco had been a threat or not. Though he had thought the small creature was rather threatening. He’d fought in a wizarding war just seven years ago, he even had the most excruciating dark magic inflicted upon him to the brink of death, yet he feels this rather small cat just might be the death of him. Even more so at its next move.

The cat effortlessly leaps up onto his lap without a care in the world and a small gasp leaves his lips, his arms raising higher as the plump little animal leaves muddy paw prints on his pajama pants. He’s tense as the very tips of its hooked claws poke his thighs, but he makes no attempts to shoo it away this time. It’s a rather uncomfortable feeling, but he feels it’d be far worse if he tries to usher the animal off his lap, so he stays put much to his dismay.

“You’re rather bold, aren’t you?” He mutters softly, still cautiously stiff but not nearly as much as moments before.

It looks up at him at the sound of his voice, round green eyes seemingly sparkling up into his. Then, without warning, the cat nudges it’s pink nose against Draco’s. The action was abrupt and rather forceful, the friendly gesture smushing the tip of his nose and nearly causing his tea to spill over the ceramic edge again. He sets down the mug all together by that point, feeling another soft nudge to his cheek when he turns his head away briefly.

It was purring, that had to have been a good sign, right?

The remaining tension was starting to dissipate from his body as he realized the animal was rather fond of him. At least it seemed to be. A small smile pulled at his lips as he ran the tips of his fingers between its ears gently and hesitantly, the cat leaning into his touch almost instantly and pressing it’s paws on his bare chest to brush against him some more.

“You are bold. Quite like my girlfriend,” he chuckles, thinking fondly of you curled up in bed inside the house. A few minutes ago he’d been just short of petrified, and now he’s found himself talking to an animal that has absolutely no idea what he was even saying.

It settles back into his lap, perched on his thigh as it’s attention was promptly pulled to his arm, almost drawn to it. The small creature sniffed at the mark forever imprinted on his pale skin, one he’d rather not look at ever again if it were possible. He felt it had been bad enough that his chest was riddled with pale pink scars from a fateful encounter in his sixth year. In one way or another, there was always going to be something that would serve as a permanent reminder of his past decisions. They’ve faded considerably over the last few years, even the mark, having been inactive and weaker with the Dark Lord gone. He’s grateful for that, for its appearance to be less harsh and hard, he’d been grateful that it’s constant burning had since gone away. But regardless, it still remained and it still taunted him every time he spared a glance. He swears he can feel it from time to time.

It’s still one of his biggest regrets, one he nearly lost you over in more ways than one. You had almost left before he’d had a chance to explain himself, and even then you were wary. He didn’t blame you, it was perhaps one of the most vile things to be associated with in the wizarding world. But the conflict swirling around his every decision, the fear behind every confident string of words he spoke, was very evident. And you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

That’s the very reason he’d almost lost you once more. Your unwillingness to let the war conclude with him on the wrong side of that ruined courtyard proved to be one of the most dangerous things you could have done. It had showcased his true vulnerability for the entirety of the school to see as he quietly pleaded for you to stop speaking against the Dark Lord, to stop being so brave for just this once. But you hadn’t, you were unwavering and it had just barely worked out for the better. If he let his mind wander too far into what could have happened to you, the churning in his stomach would surely have made him sick.

His thoughts had been interrupted by a hiss, causing him to tense once more at the unfriendly sound. The cat had been focused on the swirling mark still, it’s back arched and ears pointed back defensively.

“I don’t like it either,” he sighs, turning his arm over in quiet humiliation.

At the sound of his voice, the feline’s attention is stolen completely, visibly relaxing once more as its soft purrs sounded again.

He had the nagging feeling to go inside and find his way back to you, if only to make sure you’d still been there. He felt it was the only thing that could ease his mind at that point because he wasn’t able to clear his head on his own any more. So, he carefully nudged the cat and it promptly hopped off his lap much to his surprise. However, the curious gaze was something he’d expected.

With a glance behind him, it had been quick to follow after his strides, taking two steps for every one Draco had taken to reach the back door.

“You can’t come inside,” he chuckles, though his words didn’t mean a single thing as the splotchy cat nearly pushed its way right between his ankles to do so. “Maybe some other time, alright?”

And with that, he closed the door behind him and set off to find you.

—

“Dray?” You call out curiously, turning to find him already seated at the small kitchen table.

He hummed into his mug tiredly as he took a sip of his morning coffee, and you took a seat on the edge of the wooden tabletop. A smile was tugging at your lips as you looked at him and he raised a curious brow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’d be cat treats in the cupboard, would you?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest after you set the small bag down.

“I don’t believe I would,” he answers, hiding his smile behind another sip lengthy of his drink, though you didn’t miss the way the very tips of his ears burned pink as he eyed the bag. It was more than noticeable against pale shade his hair.

You squint at him in disbelief as you nod, amusement lacing your features and he knew in that very moment you wouldn’t let this go. So he sighed, resting his chin in his palm as he tried to remain stoic. If only for the sake of his own future embarrassment.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you laugh, running your fingers through the tangles of platinum dipping down over his forehead.

“I most certainly am not,” he argues. He may have been good at being deceptive with anyone else in the world, but with you, he didn’t stand a chance. He never did.

“I suppose this means a stranger has left a bowl of last nights dinner on the patio then,” you quip with a smirk, standing to your feet and turning to walk towards the back door.

A warm hand was quick to envelope your own and whisk you back into his chest with ease, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lips that press to yours sweetly in a valiant effort to pull your attention from your current curiosity to him instead. He thought it just might have been working when you settled you arms around his neck and relaxed against him, quieting you for a moment.

His kisses continued to the corner of your mouth, pressing sweetly to your flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he held you closer. You knew just what he’d been up to with this, he wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out, but you could let yourself bask in his affections for just a minute more. Or maybe two. A soft bout of laughter fell from your lips when his own had brushed over the underside of your jaw, a spot he knew all too well and the jovial sound made a warmth bloom across his chest. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, but his attempts to distract you seemed to have had its hold on him more so than they had you.

“Draco,” you murmur, stifling your giggles as he lifts his head and looks at you briefly, breathlessly. You lean on your toes and find his lips once more, tasting his coffee and more prominently the cream and sugar, his soft laugh evident against your mouth as he melts into you. You always have that effect on him whether he admits it or not. “Nice try.”

He’s too caught up in a blissful daze to keep you from slipping out of his arms, leaving him to stare after you with kiss swollen lips and a racing heart as you skip to the back door. He soon comes to his senses, however, but he’s a moment too late as he watches you step outside the door.

“Darling wai—”

He cuts himself short at the sight of the portly little cat seated contently on the cracked stone patio, more so at the taunting smile you’d given him. One that softens when your gaze returns to the tricolored cat nudging it’s adorably fluffy face against your hand.

“I…I’ve never seen her,” he sputters as he scratches the back of his neck, internally kicking himself because how could he know that if he’d never seen her. His statement was further disproved when the friendly feline pauses her actions in favor of falling at Draco’s feet. It was his voice. The very sound of his voice never failed to capture her attention at any given moment.

She stares up at him expectantly with big green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of the beloved owner she had so carefully chosen. He couldn’t deny the way his heart melted, or the soft smile fighting desperately to pull at his lips.

“What’s her name?”

“Pearl.”

His response was spoken without a lick of hesitancy and he’s quick to realize his mistake, eyes widening and cheeks flushing a pale scarlet. No amount of sweet talking or loving kisses could get him out of that one. He huffs out a sigh and bites the inside of his cheek as you laugh softly, a triumphant smile on your face and you cross your arms over your chest.

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighs softly and allows his shoulders to slump in his obvious defeat. Now the love of his life had the means to tease endlessly him over this, and he knew you’d take the opportunity with open arms. When he opens them again your smile is soft, and he feels the sweet creature looping around his feet again in hopes of gaining his affections. For that, he’s quick to bend over and scoop her up, and she assumes her rightful position in the crook of his arm. Her eyes fall closed in a matter of moments now, soft purrs escaping her as his thumb brushes along her face tenderly. He could deal with the pesky white fur clinging to his navy sweater later.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the precious sight, and you didn’t have it in you to tease him about it quite yet. That could wait. For now all you wanted to do was gaze at your love, who’d been cradling quite possibly the cutest cat you had ever seen. It was a sight you never expected to see, not after Crookshanks clawed him fiercely, and not after Filch’s cat had spat a hiss at him. You could have sworn he’d stay at least ten feet from the nearest fanged creature. But you supposed you were wrong in the best of ways.

“Can we keep her?” He asks softly after a while, blinking at you with pleading gray eyes.

There hadn’t been anything to think over at that point, not with the way she nestled into him with a certain familiarity that was too sweet to break. It was clear that Draco had grown attached, and she must have meant something to him because he’d never been keen on them, or any animal for that matter. It hadn’t been a question when he dipped down and planted a soft kiss on her head. Or at the sight of the blush pink bowls stolen from the kitchen cabinets, always full of food and water for the last two weeks. You’ve caught sight of the pudgy little animal in the gardens, and she’s undeniably sweet. It seems as though your answer was very clear.

“Of course we can,” you smile, and his mouth hangs agape as he looks up at you once more, almost in disbelief. “What? You couldn’t possibly think I’d say no, could you?”

The smile on his face is nothing short of adoring as he takes a moment to process your response. With careful movements, he sets Pearl down on the cushion of one of the lawn chairs gingerly much to her dismay, but she quickly lets it pass as she curls up with a yawn. He crosses the gap between the two of you in no more than two strides, taking your face in his hands before pressing his lips on yours. His tamed excitement had poured into every brush of his lips, one hand dropping from your cheek to snake around your waist and press you closer to him.

Draco wasn’t one to be outwardly expressive of his excitement, preferring to hold it in for fear of it being stolen from him if he lets it show. But it was easy to tell he’d been struggling to contain such a feeling, his kiss and loving embrace sending you stumbling backwards a step or two. He nearly swept you off your feet. He parted from your lips with the softest of grins, kissing you once, twice, three more times before a content sigh fans warmly across your lips.

“I love you, you know,” he nearly whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bounce between yours with sincerity.

You smile brightly, bumping his nose with your own as you find his lips again. Of course you knew. He might not have spoken it aloud as often as he felt like he should’ve, and when he did it was ever so quiet just for you to hear. But his actions always spoke louder than words. His kisses always assured you of such, not that you needed convincing.

“I do happen to know,” you breathe against his lips, laughing softly at the way they chased yours for more. “I love you, Draco.”

The moment of bliss within your own little world was soon interrupted by the softest of meows, little spotted paws standing firmly on Draco’s shoe. He let out a laugh and swept her up, her nose pressing to his cheek in an affectionate nudge. He found himself lucky to have not one, but two things to love, and they’re just as fond of him.

Draco doesn’t know how he’d deserved such a thing, but he’s promised himself to never let go of this unexpected joy.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @dracosaurusrex @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[punkpresentmic]

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt. 5  — 1,  2,  3,  4

Hizashi goes into school the next day, starting his morning as usual by grabbing a cup of coffee. Nezu meets his eyes there in the teacher’s lounge, holding his gaze, nose twitching. Hizashi smiles, wishes him good morning. Nezu does the same. They go about their days. 

After school, Hizashi sets out to pick up Eri as scheduled, but she’s not in her room. A quick call to Nemuri reassures him that Eri is with Nezu; they’re having a tea party. 

Nemuri was also under the impression that she was supposed to watch Eri this afternoon, which is odd because Hizashi knows it’s the opposite—it’s his day. 

They go together. They’re greeted warmly. Nezu mentions that he wants to talk to him, so Nemuri takes Eri with a small joke about how ooh someone’s in troublleee!

Eri doesn’t like this joke.

The two gone, Nezu offers Hizashi a cup of tea, has him sit. Nezu asks the same question as before: “What do you know about Eraserhead’s motivations, Yamada?”

It’s the same answer as before: honestly, nothing. 

Nezu hums, interested. “I was reading back through Eraserhead’s resignation letter:” Hizashi’s skin prickles as he places the creased letter on the table between them. Nezu’s up to something here & he doesn’t know what. Nevertheless, Nezu continues,

“I must resign my position at UA on the grounds that I am the UA traitor. I willingly supplied the time and location of the USJ incident. Though I was not at the time aware of the connection to the League of Villains, I am guilty of continuing my arrangement after it became clear. It was my ongoing secret communication with my contact that was responsible for the Vanguard Action Squad receiving the location of the training camp, leading to the injury of several students and the kidnapping of Bakugou Katsuki. There was a failed attempt at a subsequent deal prior to the events at Kamino Ward. I maintain my arrangement with my contact and the League of Villains. I have provided evidence of my communications to remove suspicion that I am writing this against my will.”

It hurts to read, it hurts to hear, but Nezu reads through it all again anyway before tucking it away. He already knows Hizashi practically has the thing memorized, that Hizashi tore through it & the evidence over & over, his denial strong despite it, imploring that the investigators consider that Shouta wasn’t a criminal, that he must be held under some kind of duress, that he wouldn’t just do this... “His letter to you is of course more regretful, as you’ve seen.” 

There’s a standoff of sorts as they look at each other. Nezu sighs. “I’ve already expressed my concern about Eraserhead taking advantage of the connections he’s built here. Yamada, it’s clear to me you still have a… significant amount of trust remaining in our Eraserhead. I want to discuss—”

“ —That’s not fair,” Hizashi cuts in. “Nezu, that’s not fair. He’s my husband. Yes, we know what he did. & we don’t know why. Asking me not to trust that he has good reasons for—”

“—Yamada. He is the legal definition of a villain. I am not asking that you refuse to forgive him for what he’s done. I am asking that you think very… carefully about how you proceed with your own actions involving the ex-hero Eraserhead, especially when we are as of yet in the dark about his reasons.”    

A spike of adrenaline shoots through his blood. He feels caught. Is he caught? In an instant of panic he realizes he can’t lie to Nezu. But he gets a hold of himself, pushes his glasses up with a showman’s laugh. “I’m not sure what you mean, principal—do you have something else you’re not telling me?”

Nezu’s eyes sparkle. “Do you?” 

His mouth is dry. “Are you insinuating something, Principal Nezu?” 

Nezu clasps his paws on the table. “Yamada, we don’t have to do this. I can quite literally smell him on you.”

It’s like a punch to a gut. He sucks in a breath. He’s quiet for a long, long time. Finally, he takes a long drink of tea. “So you definitely knew about us way before we started telling people we were together, huh?”

“You were never particularly subtle.”

Hizashi gestures with his tea cup, sits back with his legs out in front of him. “So what now, Nezu?”

“What indeed,” Nezu sighs, taking a sip of his own tea. They sit for a long moment. “For me, this confirms Eri’s story. He wanted to take her with him?”

“He did. He said he wanted to help with her Quirk. I told him no.”

“& Eri has not reported a visit since.”

“She hasn’t been having issues since,” Hizashi points out, despite himself. “But I think he… saw reason.”

“So you are likewise confirming multiple unreported visits with Eraserhead,” Nezu notes. Hizashi winces, doesn’t deny it. “This is a major security breach, as we are being visited repeatedly by an undetected villain—whether or not this is one we trust is not the issue at hand.” 

There’s a pause. Nezu meets his eyes. “Are you willing to assist with bringing him in?” 

Hizashi saw it coming. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “He’s after something, Nezu. I don’t know what it is. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“But you trust his judgment,” Nezu finishes for him. ‘Despite everything,’ goes unsaid.  

Hizashi taps the side of the teacup w his wedding ring. “Through the good, the bad, & the ugly hair days, principal.”

“Even recognizing that this is a reasonable plan to bring him back, to bring justice to the situation, to return safety to UA, & potentially find out once & for all the reasoning behind Eraserhead’s actions?”

“You know I want him home. You know I want answers. You know I want these kids to be safe.” Hizashi leans forward. “But I love him. & your way won’t bring him home. It could land him in Tartarus. That’s not justice. & that doesn’t feel like assuring any safety for my students. & it can’t ensure those answers. We don’t know what he’s dealing with.” He shakes his head. “I can’t do that to him.” 

“I figured as much.” 

Hizashi stands, legs shaky. “Now if you don’t mind, principal; it’s my day with Eri.” 

“I do not think,” Nezu stops him without looking away from his tea, “that you have fully thought through the consequences of siding with a villain, Yamada. That’s not how this works.” Nezu stands too. “I called Kayama here for a reason.”

Hizashi’s heart is in his throat, pulse rising like a scream. “Don’t do this. The kid’s already lost so much.” 

“I don’t disagree.” Nezu’s tone is exhausted. “I have a duty to those at UA: to keep this school safe from villains. That is the first and foremost thought around which I must make my decisions.” 

Eri. Hizashi could throw himself under the bus here. Easily. His conduct hasn’t exactly been the shining picture of heroism lately. But he can’t do that when Eri is in the mix. Shouta’s leaving hit her so hard. He can’t let her lose anyone else. She can’t go through that again. 

& Shouta... Shouta trusted him to look after her, not to stick up for him when he made his own choices.  

Nezu sees his indecision. “Will you accept the conditions to help us if Eraserhead is given a chance?” Nezu asks. “I am not able to grant him full legal immunity, but I do have significant say about what happens at our fine school. My input on the investigation holds considerable weight. If you agree to assist us, this exchange stays between us, business can continue as normal until Eraserhead is located, & when that happens… We will do what is in our power not to treat Aizawa Shouta as a villain. We will hear his side of the story.” 

Hizashi looks away. Bait. They want to use him as bait to capture his husband. 

Nezu steps forward, unafraid. He sets a paw on Hizashi’s arm. “Yamada,” he says, “Let’s bring him home.” 

Hizashi is just in time for the tea party with Eri & Nem.

(pt. 6)

[asteriismos]

get lucky - richie tozier

warning(s) : innapropriate relationship, stepbrother! richie tozier, hate sex, smut, richie being an annoying stepbrother, college! losers, for some reason all the losers are in california i dont know 

words : 3.6k

request(s) :

If you don’t have anything against step-bro fics can I pls request stepbro Richie smut that ends with them getting caught😳👀

hate sex smut imagine with richie pleaseee?🥺🤧

you hated how much your mother was in love with wentworth tozier. and you hated it so much that you were dreading summer break, because over winter break the two of them had gotten married and it was the first fucking time you even met the man. wentworth was a dentist, which was oh so evident by the way that he literally stared at your teeth the second he greeted you, but he seemed nice enough. 

even though you met him the night before they were tying the knot in their relationship. your mother has never been the best with giving you information on her life, which you didn’t really mind considering you were off in college worrying about college things. 

but the worst thing about your mothers marriage to wentworth was not the fact that her last name was now tozier ( which you questioned was even a real last name or not ) or the fact that now you had to get to know an older man that wasn’t your dad. it came in the form of your new stepbrother, richie tozier. 

if there was one nice thing you could say about richie ( and trust me, for you that was hard ), it was that he could be funny. key word ‘could’. but it wasn’t funny when he would pick at every single thing that you did, constantly teased you for all the little things. it pissed you off more than you could even explain. you swore that you were so close to punching him in the face at the little reception after the tiny wedding, when he kept pushing your buttons for no goddamn reason.

you’re such a prude y/n!

do you ever stop complaining?

richie had already drove you up the fucking walls after one night of being graced with his presence, and you had absolutely no idea how you were going to handle an entire summer with him. 

you lived in california, you had all your life. so it was natural for you to apply to colleges there or around there, not that money was really an issue because your mother worked for a very large law firm and made a lot of money. that’s why you were able to stay at the dorms for school, not seeing your mother except for when you were there for holidays. your childhome was big, but it now felt considerably small now that your new family members moved in. 

it seemed like everywhere you went in your house, richie ended up there, talking to you and breaking the peace between you two constantly. 

that’s why you made it your mission to avoid him as much as possible. you had dealt with boys like this before, if you just didn’t give them any attention, they would get bored and go off to do different things. 

except richie didn’t seem to be getting the memo, the lack of attention made him just seek out for it even more than before. 

 today was one of those instances, where you were sitting out by the side of the pool alone. your mother and wentworth were in one of the rooms upstairs painting it to make it a new office space for her. the color was some ugly green color and when wentworth asked if you wanted to help, you shook your head and said pass. sunbathing sounded better than trying to get along with your new family. 

your eyes scanned over the words of your book. you had promised your friend ( who was an english major ) that you’d read it, even though it was a little weird. it was lolita by vladimir nabokov, about some guy who fell in love with a younger girl. 

“an erotic novel, nice.”

you glanced up from your book to be met with richie, eyes through his glasses staring right at yours. they trailed down to your lips, and then down farther, but he quickly composed himself and looked instead at the book, motioning to it. 

you scoffed. “not really. it’s honestly weird as hell.” your eyes went back to reading the words, hoping that he would get the memo that you didn’t want to talk to him and he would go away. 

but he didn’t, or at least if he did he dismissed it, pulling off his shirt and setting it down on the beach chair next to yours. from behind your sunglasses, you watched him strip down into just his swim trunks, thanking god that the sunglasses shielded your eyes from his vision. he couldn’t see that you were borderline checking him out. 

it was wrong. you were convinced that there was a special place in hell for people who thought that their step siblings were hot, but nonetheless you still did it anyways. 

now he was talking, but because of your staring you didn’t catch the first part of what he was saying. richie’s mouth was moving and all you were thinking about were his lips trailing down . . .

“ . . . if you wanted to go with me?” richie finished, giving you a confused look when all you gave back was a blank stare. your brain tried to figure out what he had said before you tuned in, or try and make up an excuse about why you weren’t listening. you figured that telling the truth about you checking him out and thinking about him eating you out for hours. 

you pushed your sunglasses up to your voice and squinted at him, “what’d you say?”

richie gave you yet another confused look, shaking his head and saying, “i asked if you wanted to go to this frat party that me and some of my friends are going to.”

“why would i do that with you?”

richie laughed. “i literally just explained that. did you go braindead for a whole minute? my dad and your mom want to have a night to themselves tonight at the house and want us gone. do i need to elaborate or can you read through the lines?”

you cringed outwardly and inwardly, shaking your head. “no, i get it. gross, okay yeah fine whatever i’ll go.” you’d do whatever you needed to do to get out of the house to not have to deal with whatever your parents got up to.

-

the music blared loudly in your ears as you walked into the rather large frat house. you looked around at the people in the entrance way, seeing that there was a mixture of boys and girls, and definitely a lot of people here. it would be hard to keep track of everyone in the group that you came with. 

richie picked up three other people that apparently have been his friends since childhood. you felt incredibly out of place as they all talked to each other in the car, you kept your arms crossed in front of your chest and basically pouted in the passengers seat of your stepbrothers car. even though you had agreed to go to this thing, you were still mad that you were going with richie. or were you?

“can you at least try not to act like such a prude while we’re here? jesus y/n you look like someone killed your cat,” richie said, jokingly poking the small of your back. you yelped, jumping forward and glaring at him. 

you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey! lay off richie, god.” his friend beverly, who had firey red hair and seemed to be the only girl in their little group, said. she pulled you close to her by the side and gave you a kind smile. “don’t let him get under your skin, y/n, if you can believe it, he teases the people he loves.” 

“no thanks,” you joked, walking beside her with the rest of the group following to the kitchen to get drinks. you took one of the red solo cups and took a sip of the concoction in there. it tasted like strong beer, maybe a hint of vodka? it was all masked with a cherry aftertaste. it surprisingly wasn’t bad for something made at a frat. 

they all followed suit, one of the members of your tiny group ( who’s name you learned to be stanley ) cringed after just one sip of the drink. you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a cocky smile. “can’t hold your alcohol stanley?”

richie pushed into your line of vision, “no, he’s just a wuss.” stanley squinted at your stepbrother and pushed him in the shoulder lightly. “am not, beep beep richie.” 

you cocked your head to the side in confusion at the saying. beverly, stan, and mike all just laughed. richie did not, instead he huffed and stood there like a pouty child. the saying seemed to shut him up, maybe you’d have to use that on richie so he would shut the fuck up once in a while when he was annoying you. 

the party raged on, more and more people started to pour their way into the large house. you found a place on the dancefloor with beverly, dancing with her to the loud upbeat music that played. every once in a while mike would come over and dance with you two and you would smile and laugh with your newfound friends. richie would come over once in a while, make some snarky comment your way, then leave. 

the one person who you haven’t danced with is stanley, who was standing on the outskirts of the party. he sipped at his drink idly and ran a hand through his curls. from time to time a girl would come over to him, and he would pass them up, 

it intrigued you. 

you walked over to stanley and gave him a smile, looking around at the crowd and pointing at richie. “so why do you guys say beep beep richie?”

stan laughed, taking a sip of his drink. the smell of alcohol became that much more prevalent as some coated his lips. “when we were younger and richie would talk too much, we would all go ‘beep beep richie’ to get him to shut up. we don’t use it as much anymore because we grew out of it. but it works from time to time.”

you nodded, smirking. looking around the room, your eyes caught richie, chatting up some girl. from time to time his eyes would look across the room at you. and when he saw that you were talking to stan, he squinted through his bottle cap glasses. sticking your tongue out at him, you turned your attention back to stan. 

“do you wanna dance?”

and he didn’t get the chance to say no, because you were already pulling him out into the crowd of people dancing. you took his drink from his hand and set it down, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

you both rocked to the music, hips swaying to the beat. you turned around so that your back was facing him and reached behind you to grab his hands, putting them on your lower waist. then you made eye contact with richie, who was basically staring you down at this point, and grinded your ass into stans hips. 

you heard a gasp from behind you that was no doubt stan, but both of you were too intoxicated to really think anything of it. he instead moved his hips against you, hands running up and down your body. your eyes never left richies, watching him completely drop his drink onto the girls’ shoes he was talking to. then he was walking closer and closer to you, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you slightly away from stan. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” richie asked you, his eyes dark with anger. he looked genuinely upset, and to be honest he had no right to be. he wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t even really your brother. so if he was trying to play some sort of ‘overprotective act’ it wasn’t working. 

you just gave him a little smile. “just dancing with stan,” you slurred. “jealous much?”

richie didn’t answer, only laughing a little bit at how drunk you actually were. he gave stan a look and shrugged his shoulders, “she’s really drunk, sorry. i should get her home. can you guys find a ride?”

the rest of the night is blank in your memory. 

-

you woke up to the sound of dishes clanking downstairs in the kitchen, causing you to groan once your eyes were opening. the very obvious hangover that you were experiencing was hard not to feel.

still dressed in last nights clothes, you tried to recal what had happened last night to get you this drunk. all you could remember was drinking some kind of random drink from the party and dancing with richie’s friend stan. the rest was pretty fuzzy. 

eventually you made your way downstairs, seeing that it was richie who made the noise in the kitchen. no one was in sight. you looked at the clock and it read that it was 2 in the afternoon. some night it must’ve been.

“good morning, here’s some asprin,” richie said to you, passing over the small bottle across the kitchen counter. 

you nodded a thank you and reached to grab a glass of water. “where’s my mom?”

“beach day,” richie replied, shrugging his shoulders. “so are you and stan like a thing? because i did not see that coming.”

you groaned, “do you have to talk so much? I just woke up and i don’t need you blabbering. and so what if i like stan or not, it’s not like you’re the one to control me.”

“yes I am.”

you scoffed, actually laughing at what he had said just a second ago. he thinks he can control you? as if. 

“you’re a fucking dick richie. i’m sorry you’re jealous of me dancing with stan last night. sorry you didn’t get your dick wet because of me,” you said, taking the glass of water up to your room and giving him no more of your attention.

as soon as you closed the door and set the water down, you heard the door to the room open and close again. “jesus fucking christ rich, get over it. you’re an asshole.”

“you’re such a fucking brat, you know that?” richie said to you, pushing you onto your bed and immediately coming in between your legs. his hot breath fanned your face, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips and trailing down your neck. 

teeth bit into your sensitive skin, breaking the blood capulets on your neck and creating purple splotchy marks all along it. you moaned out at the feeling, pushing your hips against his hips in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure that was falling in between your legs. 

he laughed along your skin. “needy. all for me? for your stepbrother? don’t you think that’s a little wrong, y/n?” he kissed all the way back up to your lips, your bottom lip coming in between his teeth. 

he pulled it away and let go, letting it snap back against your mouth. you whined, hands flying to the black tufts of hair on his head. richie kissed you, stifling any more whiney noises you made. 

his hands came down and pushed the end of your shirt up just enough to expose your breasts. the cold air brushed against them and you shuttered. richie palmed at them, still kissing you. his hands were big enough to fit all around your breasts, and his thumb came to pinch your nipple. 

you yelped, pulling away from him and staring daggers at him. “that hurt.” but you fed into his touch, your own body going against your mind. you involuntarily pressed your chest against his hand. 

he only chuckled, giving you that classic richie grin. 

“doesn’t look like you mind much, sweets,” he said, one of his hands going down and slipping underneath the fabric of your pants. 

richie’s fingers grazed along your clothed clit, a smirk growing on his face when his fingertips pressed harshly on the wet spot that was in them. instead of teasing you like he usually would’ve, he just hooked the fabric away, sliding his finger along your slit. 

you moaned at the contact, pulling his hair with a force that probably hurt. he didn’t seem to mind, giving his own moan while pushing one singular finger into you. 

his finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. he could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving. 

richie had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all. 

“i want to hear you beg for it.”

“for fucks sake, richie,” you said, eyes opening to look at him. 

his chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “beg. or i’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”

for a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please richie. fuck me with your fingers. stretch me out. i need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down. 

“good girl.”

he spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. his thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. 

for some reason the thought of richie being your stepbrother was hotter, and made you almost even more wet. your arousal slicked the inside of your thighs while he kept his pace. 

your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you. 

soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. richie kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your breasts to give you more hickies there. you didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them. that fucker. 

you took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment richie wasn’t touching you at all, which made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. you heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough richie was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. you took no time to push your pants and panties down onto the floor.

you gave him a look when he aligned in your enterance. he was thick, which now made sense as to why he fucked you with three fingers, even though he was still way bigger than the width of three fingers. 

all you could think about was him filling you up and fucking you until you saw stars. 

richie pushed into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, tight and wet. he couldn’t believe that he took this long to fuck you. but now all that pent up tension was coming up right now, richie was already so wound up from hearing you beg for him. 

once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. you hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. he buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it. 

his hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. he shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly. 

your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood. you scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust, the shirt pushed all the way up to your neck was getting soaked with your own sweat. the heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

he grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. you were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm. 

“richie, i’m going to cum,” you moaned out. 

“I know baby, let it out for me,” he responded, hand falling down to your clit. 

that sent you over with a scream, the coil that had been winding in you finally snapped, sending you over the edge flying. 

with his thrusts helping you ride your orgasm out, you felt completely fucked out. mind blank, legs starting to hurt from the angle he was holding them in. soon his thrusts faltered and he was cumming, hot liquid shooting through you. he pulled out and gave you a goofy look, pulling up his boxers and searching for his pants on the floor. 

you closed your legs, feeling some of his cum fall down into your thighs. you pulled your shirt back down and put your panties on. 

right as you were about to say something, your door opened. 

it was your mom and wentworth, looking at both of you with shock in their eyes. 

oh fuck. 

“you two,” your mother said, almost too angry to speak. “have a lot of explaining to do.”

[masjestickingdom]

My Little Secret

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst 

Summary: Your older sister Janet and you have been close since the moment you were born, according to your parents. Even after you had your fair share of clashes like all siblings, you loved each other and wouldn’t wish for any better. Just one problem: you were a terrible sister with a terrible little secret. 

Note: I’m back! I hope this makes up for my long absence, but the new school year has been killing me. I would like to think that I will update soon, but it seems like that will be impossible. I will try to update whenever I can. 

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    “Excitement” wasn’t the first word that popped in your mind when your sister called you. No, it was the last word you could think of. The nervous tone that occupied her voice when she invited you over to her house messed with your mind. Normally, you would have dreaded visiting her, but that tone had you considering to move to another country. You loved her and was lucky to have a thoughtful, understanding sister like her. In fact, you were too lucky to the extent that you felt guilty for not being able to be more to her like she was to you. But more than that, you were guilty of falling in love with her lifetime partner. And you couldn’t fall out.

    Before you knew it, the clock struck five and you were already making your way across your sister’s lawn. Once you rang the doorbell, your fingers anxiously drummed against the skin of your protected legs.

    “Oh, God,” you murmured as you felt your heart thumping louder and louder, mimicking the intensity of the nearing footsteps. “Please let it be good news.”

    The warm evening breeze met your face as the front door swung open by none other than your sister’s husband and the love of your life Jung Jaehyun.

    “Hey,” the beauty greeted with a warm smile, his dimples now visible. “Glad you could make it.”

    You took a whiff of his honey-like scent as you hugged him, a hug that he initiated and broke. “Well the news sounded important.” You took a moment to note the black-haired man’s uneasy eyes before you continued, “Can I trust that it’s good news?”

    Jaehyun simply gestured you inside and said, “I hope it is.”

    The house was as boring as it always was: homey and clean. The only new embellishment was the carpet that Mark and Doyoung, Jaehyun’s friends and now housemates, ordered for the dining room. The walls were still plain but not naked. There was no evidence of food in the kitchen. The living room was spotless. It was suffocating.

    “So where’s the missus?” You asked, scanning the crazily clean house with your busy eyes.

    A light chuckle left Jaehyun’s lips and you immediately regretted accepting the invitation. Yes, you were that in love with Jaehyun. You were hopeless. You fell in love with him the moment your sister introduced him to you as her boyfriend in your junior year of college, and every living moment with him was sickening because you were reminded that you were in love with your sister’s boyfriend-turned-husband. That went on for you for five years. After five years of living in absolute chaos, you were halfway into your twenties, a time of learning and growth. Unfortunately for you, there was no learning anything other than the fact that your heart was set on one person and that you were a horrible person.

    “She’ll be here soon,” the golden man replied.

    Even though there was a considerable distance between you and him, you could smell his strong natural honey scent, and it bothered you greatly.

    “Picking up Little Jae, isn’t she?” You said, turning your back to the man, whose eyes grew slightly troubled, to scan the pictures that laid proudly in an organized fashion underneath the floating living room television.

    Jaehyung, whom you called Little Jae, was the joy of your sister and Jaehyun and was another source of misery for you. He had his father’s brown eyes in the shape of his mother’s double-lidded, doe-like eyes. His hair was curly, which you had no idea who he inherited that feature from, resembling the curviness of fresh lettuce. Without a doubt you swooned over your adorable nephew, but he was just another reminder that your sister and the love of your life were really starting to have a little family of their own. And you were entering your thirties, miserable and broken and rejecting every single one of the happy family’s frequent invites to dinner.

    “Sorry,” you would tell them. “Maybe next time.”

    There was no “next time”. Not even once. The guilt sank in the first time you lied, but you had gotten used to it. Still, you were never relieved of it.

    “Hey, maybe you can stay over for dinner,” Jaehyun spoke as your eyes jumped back and forth from the unchanging, jolly family pictures. “I’m sure that Jaehyung would love having his aunt stay longer.”

    A little needle pricked the side of your heart, provoking you to spill your darkest secret. At once, an unsettling thought seeped into your mind: Jaehyun suspected that you were intentionally staying away from Jaehyung, but you were certain that the reasons were unknown to him. Or at least you hoped.

    “You know I love him, but I can’t stay to eat,” you said, lying through your teeth. “I’m leaving on a business trip tomorrow. My boss wants me to look over a couple of files before we leave.”

    You did have a business trip. It just wasn’t until the following week, so you were technically partially telling the full story. The depressing photos somehow helped the lies formulate in your mind quicker. Each photo followed the story of Jaehyung’s life, from when he was born up until his third birthday party. It was a way for his parents to “look back at the photos and see just how big he’s grown”, according to your sister. Reliving the moment she told you that over the phone made your stomach churn.

    “Have you guys chosen which photo to frame from LJ’s fourth birthday party?” you said, the words flowing out of you like water, shaking off Jaehyun’s suspicion. “I personally liked the one with the clown in the back. Everyone loves clowns.”

    Harmonious melody filled the room, closer to you than you realized and to which you stepped a few steps to the left.

    “You hate clowns,” Jaehyun exclaimed.

    “No, I’ve grown fond of them,” you corrected, not daring to spare a glance at the dazzling beauty. “They’re not at all creepy.”

    Evidently, you were able to hide your feelings even when you were alone with Jaehyun. So what was the problem? You could hide your feelings forever and no one would know. 

    The music of the keypad reached your ears, giving you time to mentally prepare yourself for the worst part about getting together with your sister and Jaehyun.

    “Auntie!” left the voice of a squealing little boy.

    “LJ!” you exclaimed, your voice mirroring that of the little boy.

    No, engulfing your adorable nephew in a soul-crushing hug wasn’t the worst part. It was the sight of your sister and your crush exchanging a short but warm kiss, their arms wrapped around each other’s torso. You wanted to bolt out of the room.

    As you pulled away from Jaehyung, he looked at you with big, sparkling eyes.

    “Is auntie having a sleepover?” he asked.

    A slithering, intense sensation, otherwise known as guilt, settled in your stomach.

    “I’m sorry, little one,” you answered as your hands found their way to his soft, chubby cheeks. “I have work to do.”

    The sparkle in his eyes slowly withered and his lower lip jutted out. “Auntie always has work.”

    You couldn’t lie: that stung. You didn’t think he would care, but he noticed your unimportant absence from his life the past couple of months. Apparently, you weren’t as invisible as you thought you were to him.

    To fill in the silence that overpowered you, your sister pitched, “It’s because Auntie’s very important to the company.”

    A small smile rested on your face. It had been too long since you last stepped into your sister’s house. Before you stood up to greet your sister, you promised Jaehyung that you would stay for longer the next time you visited. With that simple remark, the excitement in his eyes reappeared. As he left to wash his hands, your sister practically jumped on you, squeezing your waist tightly.

    “I’m so glad that you could make it,” she said, crushing the life out of you.

    But you sensed the tension in her voice. “What’s the thing you have to ask me in person?”

    Your sister immediately released her hold of you and offered a nervous smile.

    “Want to get to that now, huh?”

    With a small nod in response from you, your sister motioned you over to the living room area. It wasn’t one second into silence once you were all seated and you could already feel the tension heightening. Leaning back into the couch, you let your eyes wander to Jaehyun’s hands reaching out to your sister’s, to which you quickly averted your eyes to your sister’s, fearing that one slip would give you away.

    “So what’s up?” you asked less cheerily than you wanted.

    You watched your sister glance at her husband before her eyes landed on yours. She was sitting a few feet away from you, but her eyes radiated with such anxiety that you felt obligated to send an encouraging nod.

    “Come on, it can’t be that bad,” you said, the words secretly meant for you more than for the couple.

    Once she cleared her throat, your sister started, “You see, I’m leaving on a business trip for a month. I’m gonna be out for a couple of weeks, so I want you to do me a favor.” After a short pause and briefly examining any change of emotion in you, she continued, “I want you to look after Jaehyung.”

    A questionable expression immediately appeared all over your face as you leaned forward, wondering if you heard the right thing.

    “What?”      

    Jaehyun’s melodious voice filled your ears, drowning the sound of Jaehyung’s loud stomping in the background. “We figured Mark and Doyoung could help take care of Jaehyung, but you know their schedules are unpredictable.”

    A small, nervous smile appeared on your sister’s beautiful face. “What do you say?”

    Forcing yourself to pry your eyes from hers, you hoped to ward off the burdensome guilt that silently crept up on your shoulders. To your luck, your eyes landed on Jaehyung. He was playing happily with his toy truck, driving it back and forth with his mini hands.

    “Jaehyung’s really excited to spend a few weeks with his favorite aunt,” your sister tried to appeal.

    “I’m his only aunt,” you plainly replied, shaking your head. Mustering the courage to direct your gaze at Jaehyun, you asked, “And what will Jaehyun be doing?”

    “It’ll be the first time Janet will be leaving me with our child,” the golden boy explained. “I would feel a lot better and safer if I had someone help me.”

    That hit home. The growing guilt in your heart clouded your thoughts. You couldn’t dare say yes in fear that you would only do it for the wrong reason, to spend time with Jaehyun which was ironically the reason why you avoided meeting the happy family in the first place.

    “So I’ll be babysitting two babies.”

    At that, your sister’s face brightened. “You’re not immediately rejecting it.”

    Meanwhile, at the irresistible call of his name, Jaehyun left his spot next to your sister to fulfill his son’s desire to play airplane.

    You took that chance to relax and calmly tell your sister, “You know I love Jaehyung.”

    “But?”

    “You’re asking me to do something that I can’t do,” you revealed.

    A sudden gloom took over your sister’s face very noticeably. “Why can’t you do it?”

    You tried to reason with her in the most convincing tone you could. “You know that I’ll be swamped with work. I can’t possibly help look after Jaehyung when I have my own agenda to carry out.”

    The room hushed, the sounds of Jaehyung’s laughter far off in the distance.

    “Why do you always reject opportunities to hang out with Jaehyung?”

    And time stood still. You swore you felt your heart stop beating for a second.

    Wracking your brain for excuses, you quickly spat out, “Janet, you know the work I do demands a lot of my time.”

    The look on your sister’s face made you sick to your stomach. You were the worst aunt and sister to exist. Okay, you weren’t the worst aunt and sister in the history of the worst aunts and sisters, but you were horrible in comparison to your upbeat, supportive parents, sister, and relatives. In your family, you were the epitome of inadequacy, and it slapped you in the face, written in big, bold words on your forehead, when you witnessed the look of despair in your sister’s expression. The strings of your heart tugged.

    “Janet,” you called out softly.

    “Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly, avoiding your gaze.

    Sometimes, you couldn’t believe that she was older than you. She was never a strong-headed older sister. She was more of the gentle and calm type, which complemented her inherent happy- spirited nature, which was why you were known to be the firm one of the both of you. But she always managed to bring out the little, soft, immature child trapped inside of you.

    “Janet, you did nothing wrong,” you exclaimed. “Don’t let this situation have that thought ever sneak into your mind like that again.”

    “Then why don’t you accept our invitations?”

    The lying thread you held on to slightly slipped from your grasp. Slightly. With a heavy heart, you cautiously told her this:

    “I’m single.”

   You simply confessed that you were reminded of your singleness. That, you being single, you were. However, you were more shallow than that, but she didn’t need to know that. Especially not after when the life in your sister’s eyes came back, lit brighter than before.

    “How about we set you up on a date?”  

    Of course, that was the moment your golden boy conveniently decided to return with his son’s hands soundly wrapped inside of his.

    “A date?” the father echoed, occupying the empty seat he left, with Jaehyung seated on his lap.

    “She’s been feeling lonely,” your sister explained vaguely.

    A deep frown rested on your face. “Hey, don’t make me sound desperate.”

    Jaehyung squirmed his way out of his father’s lap and hopped over to yours, melting your heart yet weighing you down.

    “Actually, there’s this fundraising event our company’s hosting,” Jaehyun said, looking at you with the softest, encouraging eyes you had ever seen. “I could introduce you to someone there.”

    Of course, there was no spark. After all, you weren’t his girl. He belonged to the girl who shouted, “Honey, that would be great!”

    You didn’t want to be with anyone. You wanted to be with you-know-who, but the one guy you so badly were in love with was taken. In fact, you loved him so much that if you couldn’t have him, you wanted to leave the world as your single self.

    You zoned out from the side conversation your sister and Jaehyun were having, not really listening to your sister bombard her husband with questions about the eligible co-workers. Jaehyung played with the fabric of your jeans, scratching his nails against them back and forth. You took a deep breath in to calm your mind, but you instead smelled the rubbed scent of honey from Jaehyung’s hair. Before you knew it, your hands were delicately brushing through the soft curls. You listened to Jaehyung happily hum to a familiar tune. It was the song you used to sing to him before you started rejecting the dinner invitations. An overwhelming wave of nostalgia swept over you. The red thread began to become even looser.

    Right then and there, it became clear to you: you loved your sister and Jaehyung, but you had to move on from your forbidden love. It wasn’t fair for them, the sweetest people you knew, to have a liar in their lives. The least you could do to start moving on was to go to that one event.

    “Alright,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll go.”

    The tension in the room that was present the moment you arrived vanished.

    “And you’ll take care of Jaehyung?” your sister asked with expectant eyes.

    “I’ll take care of Jaehyung.”

    A sudden squeal escaped from your sister’s innocent mouth as she rushed over to you, attacking you with a hug and leaving Jaehyung with no choice but to return to his father before he could be crushed. You let your sister embrace you, swaying your bodies side to side, and inhaled her citrus perfume. Everything was gonna be fine, you told yourself. Everything was ought to be fine.

    “Do you want to stay over for dinner at least?” your sister asked, pulling away from the warm embrace. “I have ingredients for pasta.”

    Torture found itself on your lips as you said, “I have a business trip to prepare for tomorrow.”

    When the time came, you hugged everyone goodbye--even Jaehyun. It was without a doubt hurting you, but you knew that it was the first step: if you wanted to move on, you had to accept Jaehyun’s presence without calculating possible slips. Before they could see you out, Jaehyung had already caused trouble by spilling tomato sauce all over the kitchen floor. You smiled at the couple insistently and shooed them away, telling them that you would go on ahead, but before you closed the door, you couldn’t help but look back at the small family. They were laughing off Jaehyung’s mistake, wiping the sauce over each other’s face. Jaehyung shrieked when your sister began tickling his tummy while Jaehyun attacked his neck. And you shut the door quietly behind you. 

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Update: My Little Secret (Part 2) is out! Check it out here. 

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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

CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot. 

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead. 

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects. 

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear. 

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders. 

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton. 

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay. 

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman. 

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes. 

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?” 

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to. 

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.” 

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!” 

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks. 

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding. 

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy. 

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session. 

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon VIII

Jason is a CEO: Part VIII

Push (should defs listen with earphones at an insane volume at 1am- i’m not talking from experience)

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

This is a helllllaaaaa long chapter y’all. I just couldn’t bear to cut it. Please enjoy.

push it

push it

back up on me

make me believe you want me

-Enrique Iglesias and Lil Wayne

Friday arrived with bright blue skies and an icy winter wind. Jason breathed in the crisp air, letting it flow through his lungs as he slowed to a walk. He hadn’t gone on many morning runs since, well since Luke, and he missed the quiet of the streets and the fresh smells of Bakery Avenue. His anticipation for the night was lightning crackling under his skin. They had signed the contract with Harley Davids yesterday, but today he would have to call Octavian and break the news. He didn’t want to have that conversation but being the CEO of the company meant dealing with the highs and the lows. He was buttoning his shirt when his phone dinged on the side table, so he abandoned the task, letting it fall open, and opened his messages.

Zoe: open up ;)

Jason: Like emotionally?

A knocking echoed through the apartment and he raced to open the door. Zoe stood on the other side laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes. She looked ethereal. A white dress hugged her figure and the gold jewellery hanging from her neck rivalled her glow. He just stood there watching her, enraptured in everything that she was. Finally she stopped giggling, taking deep breaths to calm herself, and looked up to see him staring.

“What?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

She smiled at that, “And you’re hilarious.”

“What are you doing here?” He grabbed her hand and pulled them together.

“I came to visit before you rushed into work. I’m off today because your lovely assistant is taking me out before tonight. I don’t have party clothes,” She scrunched her nose.

“Oh Haze didn’t tell me she was taking today off?” He frowned.

“I think she’s playing hookie.” Amusement danced on her lips.

He laughed at that, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be tell her boss­–”  He gasped, “Your hands…”

Zoe looked up at him innocently, fingers roaming distractedly on his bare torso, “My hands are what?”

“Cold,” He breathed, “Your hands are cold.”

“You don’t seem to be that upset,” She said cheekily, looking down at his rising evidence.

“Little minx!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her into the house.

Her laugh was music in his ears, a song he wanted to hear on repeat. She threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged gently so he was looking up at her.

“You’re cute.”

He buried his nose into her neck as she slowly slid down his body and onto the fleece rug of his bedroom, “You’re cuter.”

“Wanna play a game?”

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the gleam in her eye, “What game?”

“How late can we make you for work?”

His eyes blazed, blue becoming impossibly bright, “Let’s find out.”

And then his lips were on hers, like the beginning, middle and end. She was soft and supple and melted against him in a way he had never known. A low moan dragged from his throat as she sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, and then eased the sting with a swipe of her tongue. They explored each other languidly, relishing in the feel of whatever bloomed between them. Without breaking contact they moved towards the bed and fell onto those white sheets, smiling into each other.

Jason walked into his office building with a Cheshire grin on his face and the halo of someone who had been properly–

“Mr Grace!”

He turned around to see a girl coming towards him, sneakers squeaking incessantly against the marble.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“I’m just passing on a message from Aphrodite’s Armour. Drew and Silena would like to take you up on your offer to find them a replacement for the time they’re gone.”

“Oh of course! I’ll call them immediately. And your name Miss?”

“Lacy,” She beamed, “Nice to meet you Mr Grace. I’ve heard so much about you.”

He smiled, studying the girl, who was starting to look younger and younger with every passing second. “All good things I hope?”

“Absolutely. Drew and ‘Lena talk about you all the time. They say you’re the nicest man they’ve ever met.”

“Well thank you kindly. How do you know the ladies?”

“Oh I’m Drew’s little sister. Well half-sister on my mom’s side but you know what they say, ‘the blood of the convent is thicker than the water of the womb.’ She honestly means more to me than just a sister anyway.  I’m visiting them before school goes back next week. They’re a little busy today. Two ladies, oh they were gorgeous you know,” She nodded her head vigorously, “Anyway they came into the shop about a half hour ago and they’ve been there ever since.”

Jason had a feeling he knew who it was, and a lopsided smile crept onto his face. “Thank you very much Miss Lacy. Please tell your sister and her fiancé I will get on finding them a temp as soon as possible. Do you need a ride back to the shop?”

“Oh no thank you sir, Drew’s allowed me to explore the city for a little, while they’re busy.”

“Oh,” He looked at her thoughtfully, “Well do you need a guide?”

Her eyes lit up, “Mr Grace but aren’t you so busy?”

“I am busy I’m afraid, but I was thinking of someone more your age who can show you all the cool spots.”

“Oh,” She hummed, head tilted in consideration, “Okay Mr Grace. Who is it?”

“Why don’t you come up to my office and I’ll give them a call. You can also call your sister and tell her the plan?”

“Sounds good! Do you really have candy in every office? And do you always celebrate valentine’s day by giving all your employees roses? Isn’t valentine’s day just the loveliest concept Mr Grace? A whole day dedicated to anything and everything you love. There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved. George Sand. Delightful isn’t it? And did someone really bring a pinata to work to hit whenever they were stressed? And do you always wear fancy clothes? Do you like jeans Mr Grace? Oh I have so many questions.”

And before Jason could answer any of them, she was already onto the next.

“Oh wow is that a whole room just for board games? And how come this room is green and this room is red? Why do you have a wall of hand-prints? Do you celebrate Easter by hiding eggs? You know, Mr Grace, I’ve always admired you. When Drew told me you were starting a business to help communities, I immediately wanted to use you for my project at school. I’m taking economics you know?” Her brown eyes looked up at him then, and he opened his mouth to answer her, only to be led astray.

“I want to start a dance school when I’m older. I believe dance is the movement of the soul. Isn’t that the most lovey thing you’ve ever heard? When you dance your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It is to enjoy each step along the way. Wayne Dyer said that. Dancing is a bit like life isn’t it? In that funny way that it’s not about the end it’s about the moments, the journey.”

“Indeed Miss Lacy.” He nodded at her, thinking about the words.

“Wow Mr Grace,” Her eyes were wide as she took in his office, “This is beautiful. I don’t know how anyone can be unhappy when you have a view like this.”

“It’s certainly difficult,” His lips twitched as she walked around the room; dragging her fingers across the white couch and studying the bookshelf opposite with trinkets from his travels and various books, both fiction and non.

He sat down at his desk and quickly called who he needed to before handing the phone to Lacy to call Drew. When that was done, she went back to looking at his things.

“Books are mirrors; you only see in them what you already have inside you. That’s from The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruis Zafon. Do you like to read Mr Grace?”

“Yes, do you?”

She nodded, then shook her head, then scrunched her nose and flopped down on the couch. “I love the idea of reading, you know the cup of tea, and the rain, and getting lost in a completely different world, but whenever I sit down to actually do it– I just can’t seem to get past a couple sentences before my brain is thinking about something else. Silena, oh I adore her Mr Grace. She’s just the nicest lady and she’s so patient with me even when I ask her a million questions, I’m so glad I get to call her my sister-in-law. Anyway she tried to sit down with me and read but I just couldn’t do it. Even Uncle Charles has tried, and you know he has all the patience in the world, but I think after twenty minutes even he was starting to lose it. So you see I think there may be something wrong in my brain.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” He gave her a small smile.

She sat up suddenly and looked directly at him, “You don’t?”

“Not at all. Some people can sit down and read for hours and some people can’t, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them.”

“Even if they’re like me and they want to read?”

“Even then,” His smile was wider now, “Have you tried audiobooks?”

“No?” Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she hung off the edge of the couch in anticipation.

“A narrator reads the books and you just have to listen to them. Like how people told you stories when you were younger.”

“So you mean I can listen to them and do other things at the same time? Like dance? Or draw? Or schoolwork?”

“That’s exactly it. People listen to audiobooks on the train, in the car, when they’re exercising.”

“Mr Grace!” She jumped up and slammed into him, “Oh you truly are the most wonderful man! I am so glad I met you. To think if I hadn’t, I’d be suffering forevermore.”

“I’m glad I could help,” He laughed, returning her hug. “And look here are your personal tour guides now.”

In walked Jake Mason and Kayla Knowles, two of the students in a school he funded and some of the brightest kids he’d ever met.

“Oh wow, I love your hair!” Lacy exclaimed, pointing at the green streaks in Kayla’s bright red locks.

“And your shoes are to die for!” Kayla squealed, pointing at Lacy’s sneakers, decked in paint splatters and writing over every inch of the canvas.

Jake Mason, a usually shy person immediately gravitated towards Lacy’s bubbly aura and in a matter of moments the three were chattering away.

“Alright little ones, I’ve got work to do. Don’t get into too much trouble and if you need anything you call me okay.”

“Sure Mr Grace.” Came the chorus of replies and then the young teens were bounding out of his office and into their adventure.

Jason on the other hand had a less than ideal quest to complete, and traitorous Hazel had ditched him for a shopping spree. He had a good mind to hide her stash of chocolate as payback.

He took a deep breath and dialled the number to Titan Industries.

“Titan Industries, Mr O’s assistant, how can I help you?”

“Hello sir, it’s Jason Grace from Anemoi Empire. Could you put me through to him please?”

“Just a moment.”

And then he heard a click and the oily voice of Octavian crackled through the phone.

“Ah Mr Grace, I was expecting a call.”

“Octavian, I hope you are well. I’m just calling to say we won’t be contracting with you. It has been a,” He swallowed, forcing the next words out, “A pleasure, but we have found someone who better suits our interests.”

“Well,” the sharpness is a knife Jason can feel resting on his cheek, “I certainly didn’t expect this. I hope you know what you’re doing Grace.”

“Yes Octavian. Again thank you for your patience and I wish you all the best for the future.”

“Goodbye Grace.” Was the icy reply and then his phone beeped with the end dial-tone.

He rubbed a finger across his brow and took a deep, steadying breath. At least that’s over. Now to finish up some admin and get out of here. He had friends waiting for him.

***

“Jason!” Zoe squealed, crashing into him.

“Hello my stella,” He hugged her and then pulled her back to stare, devour.

A soft-cream satin dress draped over her, like it felt privileged to be there. It cut off at mid-thigh and left you no choice but to drag your eyes down till you were met with the ribbon straps of her matching shoes. She had taken out her braids, and her hair, tightly coiled, was now cropped closely to her head. She looked unbelievable and he told her as much.

“You ready to go?”

“Hell yes! I want to meet your friends.”

“I’m glad you’re excited. I’m sure you’re going to hear embarrassing stories about me all night.”

She grinned at him, “All the better.”

They arrived at Trepsichore, or Treps to the locals, where the lively sound of chatter and music were already weaving through the atmosphere. The gang had started coming to this place the day it opened, and they still haven’t found a better club; although they could be biased since it was owned by Connor Stoll, a good friend of theirs.

“Oh Leo, I am leaving you for Jason’s lady.” Annabeth Chase stood up from her stool and walked around to greet them.

Zoe laughed, and embraced the blonde, “Jason would it be rude if I agreed. You won’t take offence, will you?”

He feigned hurt, pouting at them and pulling Leo towards him, “I think they’re dumping us Firefly. Wanna get married? At least we won’t break each other’s hearts.”

“I’m down buddy, anything for you.” Leo cupped his cheek and brought their faces together.

“Didn’t we promise we’d never do this again?”

“Yes but that was before our girlfriends decided to leave us for each other.”

“Are we interrupting something?” Hazel Levesque giggled, as she and Frank saddled up to their table.

“Annabeth and Zoe are leaving us for each other,” Leo sighed.

“Oh yes I do agree. Frank darling you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Frank gave her a sordid smile, “Please leave me, wouldn’t mind a bit.”

“Oh gods we’re going to be all alone because our girlfriends love each other more than us.” Jason groaned, looking between his friends.

Annabeth swung her arm over Zoe’s shoulder and grabbed Hazel’s hand, “It was inevitable; you can’t expect me to give up my chance with someone who looks like they could murder me and kiss me with the same degree of passion.”

“Hello, hello everyone!” Reyna waved, tugging Percy behind her.

“Hello babe,” Hazel kissed her cheek, and hugged her counterpart.

Everyone took their turns saying hello and just as they were settling in the last of the group made their way to the table.

“Di Angelo,” Leo spotted them first.

“Sorry we’re late everyone. School meetings ran a bit overtime.”

“Is that code for you two were fooling around in the supply closet again?” Jason teased.

Nico blushed a bright red and Will laughed.

“We aren’t teenagers anymore Grace.” Black eyes narrowed at him.

“Oh to be that young and free again,” Leo sighed, flinging a hand over his forehead.

“What on earth was going on before we got here?” Percy asked, motioning between them.

“Annabeth and Hazel are leaving us for Zoe,” Frank said, rolling his eyes teasingly.

Reyna pouted. “You guys started a girl gang without me?”

“It’s more like a cult if you ask me,” Leo mumbled.

“A sapphic group is the preferred term,” Zoe interjected.

“GAY!” Nico grinned at them.

“Well that’s not a surprise to anyone.” Annabeth laughed, “And of course you’re part of it Reyna. These boys can form their own group if they want.”

“How is it six against four and we’re still losing?” Percy mused.

“It always happens like this.” Leo flashed him a look, “Their badassery outweighs us ten to one every time.”

“And don’t you forget it Valdez.” They all chorused.

The night went much the same way, ribbing at each other, reminiscing, telling embarrassing stories. Jason couldn’t help but stare at his friends, at these people who he loved with every part of him. They all burst into laughter at something Nico said, and he felt his soul bloom, felt his lungs expand, and his heart grow to the point of pain. Besides his sister he did not have any family so to have found one, chosen one, was a feeling he wanted to immortalize in his bloodstream, let it be the magic that sparks the stardust in his veins.

“You ready to dance pretty boys?” Reyna smirked, grabbing Zoe’s hand and sashaying to the floor.

Leo’s excitement was infectious, “Coming? My Latino ass needs to move.”

Frank started saying no almost immediately and Nico firmly agreed but Will insisted they at least hang around on the side of the bar closest to the floor. Jason followed the rest of them to where the life of the club was thrumming between writhing bodies. A bass boosted version of Push by Enrique Iglesias started playing and the roar that went up was deafening. Annabeth grabbed Hazel, Zoe and Reyna and started dancing– grinding on each other and body rolling. Their hair was wild, their cheeks flushed, and their bodies moving to every beat. Jason stared at Zoe, her head thrown back as she grabbed Reyna’s ass and pulled it flush against her. He realised with jarring clarity that he was starting to fall for her, fall deeply, exhilaratingly.

Before he could think on it, Percy grabbed his hand and pulled them together. Those green eyes, bright with laughter and alcohol, looked into his as they matched each other hip for hip, step for step. That swimmer’s body rolled into him and he laughed, gripping the man’s hips and swaying them.

Percy grabbed his neck, half whispering half shouting into his skin, “You got moves, white boy.”

“Years of spending time with Leo.” His lips brushed against his dance partner’s ear.

Percy’s smile was wicked as he turned around and pressed his ass up against Jason’s front. Their friends hollered, pretending to throw money and wolf whistling as they writhed against each other. Gods Jason loved to dance. The strobe lights flashed across his vision as his eyes fluttered. The music raced through his blood, setting everything on fire. He could live in this feeling. Liminal space.

When the song transitioned to the next Zoe pulled him away and they had their own session. Mostly it involved being pushed up against the wall and devouring each other. He really shouldn’t have had this much tequila, but Hazel’s puppy-dog eyes were impossible to say no to.

“Seeing you and Percy was hot as fuck.” Zoe breathed, chest heaving.

“You enjoyed it?” He smirked, grabbing her hips and flipping their positions so she was against the rough brick. He marvelled at the difference between her and Luke. Luke who would have been angry, jealous, hateful; who would have dragged them home and lectured him about it. He banishes those thoughts. Tonight was about having fun, about celebration, about the goddess in front of him.

“Hell yes! And your friends are pretty cool.”

“I think they like you better than me.”

“Well I like you better than them,” She winked.

“Good to know,” His smirk was delicious, “Now, where were we?”

“As lovely as this is, I really need to go to the bathroom before I burst.”

He laughed into her, and let her go, watching as she murmured something to the girls before they all traipsed off.

“They seem to get on,” Nico observed, nodding as they disappeared behind the doors.

“I’m glad. I knew they would, but there’s always that little seed of doubt, you know?”

“Yea,” His friend nodded, floppy black hair falling into his eyes, “She’s great. We all love her.”

“I think me too.” He confessed.

“Really?” Nico peered at him then, trying to gage something under the streaking lights, “Since when?”

“Since a couple hours ago maybe,” He laughed, “I don’t know. It may just be the tequila talking.”

“Alcohol doesn’t create feelings, just amplifies what’s already there.”

Before he could reply a heart-stopping scream sounded from the far side of the club, near the bathrooms. He flashed a look at his friend and then they were both sprinting towards the source where a crowd was forming. He pushed his way to the front and nearly hurled as he took in the scene.

There lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood was Zoe Nightshade.

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

I’M SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME?!?!??!?!

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​

@leydiangelo​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@msdrpreist​

@sparkythunderstorm​

@nishlicious-01​

@lucyisblue​

[strawbrieshortcake]

Falling For U

Song: Falling for you-Mxmtoon, Peachy!

Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Warning: My shot at writing and angst, swearing, fem!reader :)

A/N: Feel free to listen to the song while you read! Happy birthday hajime!

I was hanging with you when I realized I didn’t think it was true, I was surprised 

.

It was the practice match with Karasuno when Hajime realized what he felt towards you. The bubble of feelings that were held strong in his chest everytime he thought about you. Or the clamminess in his hands when you would talk to him, the hitch in his breath when you would get close enough for him to smell of perfume you would put on in the mornings. You were around him all the time, being friends with him and Oikawa, while also being the manager of Aboa Johsai’s volleyball team. It was hard not to feel pulled in by you. It was hard to be far away.

It was confusing for him, really. Brush the thoughts away, continue practicing, win, and continue with the day. This was a normal occurrence for him. You were just a close friend since middle school, nothing more nothing less. But when the feelings get so strong, it’s hard to brush them off. Why can’t you get off my mind-

“Iwa-Chan! Why do you look so mad? Is it because we lost? Aw! It’s okay!-”

“Shut the hell up shitty-kawa” Hajime remarks coldly kicking the rocks beneath his feet on the sidewalk, as Oikawa screeches almost hitting the side of the building.

“Guys! Can we not?” You sigh before continuing to walk just to show your frustration to the two boys in front of you. The walk continues in a comfortable silence (only because you glared at Oikawa, giving him the shut the hell up look), but you pipe up again.

“We may have lost, but it was just a practice! So don’t feel too bad Iwa! We will have them next time!” You chriped, running in front of the boys, the sunset hitting the back of your head giving you a warm aura outlining your body. A goddess Hajime thought as he looked at you as his face flushed in a light pink, painting over his sun kissed skin. Oikawa gave you a genuine smile, then joined you in trying to make Hajime feel better about what they thought was over the loss, but in reality over you.

When I found out I’ve fallen for you

.

I didn’t want to believe my feelings for you

I didn’t want to believe that I could lose you

It was a week after that practice game when Hajime realized how much love he felt for you. It was a normal day, you were hanging out with the other third years during lunch. You were sitting across from him at the table, Oikawa standing behind you, Hanamaki on your left side and Matsukawa on Hajime’s left. Hajime was eating his food, not as engaged in the conversation as you and the others were.

“So what are you gonna do after we graduate y/n-chan?” Oikawa questions while trying to shove Hanamaki so he could sit next to you,slowly twirling his finger around a piece of your hair. Haijme’s eyes meet yours as you think of an answer, and you smile at him. Once again, you made his heart flutter.

“Oh, I’ll probably stay here to help out with the market my family owns, remember?” You say as you continue to eat your lunch. Oh y/n that was one thing Hajime loved about you, the fact you were so kind and considerate. As long as he has known you, you never once changed your mind about what you wanted to do. Your family owned a small market/cafe near the school, you always wanted to make it bigger, more customers so your family wouldn’t be in debt due to all the bills. If only Hajime could be the one who helped you with that dream.

“Aw! Y/n-chan! You’re so cute! Always wanting to help others!” Hajime noticed the way your eyes sparkled, the way your face slightly flushed into a soft pink. He wanted to have that effect on you, but he decided to stay quiet. He won’t lose you, or at least that's what he wanted to tell himself.

If I told you just how I felt

.

But I can’t help it, I’m falling for you,

and I can’t quit it,

‘cause I’m stuck on you

Two weeks after your eyes sparkled, Hajime told himself he would be the person to make you do that. Outside of volleyball of course. Your eyes would sparkle for volleyball,when your favorite artist released a new song, and when you would gush about your favorite show’s new episode. He has never seen a person's words make your eyes sparkle.

Now you were at practice, filling out paperwork on the gym’s floor next to the door. The boys were in the middle, working on the drills the coach assigned.

“Okay, I’ll give you five” The coach left the gym, doing who knows what. I can do it Hajime silently thought to himself before carrying his legs towards you, one stop at a time. Each step was filled with so much force, he felt like he could split the ground to two. Your eyes met his again, but no sparkle.

“Hey Iwa! What’s up?” You ask before sitting up to face your body completely towards him.

“Nothing...just wanted to see what you were doing.” He coughed out before joining you on the ground. He turns his head to face you, before realizing how close he seated himself to you. He could practically feel the warmth your body radiated, but he didn’t mind, only if it's you. He could hear the snickers in front of him, only to give a slight glare to Matsukawa and Hanamaki. You turn your head towards him and you grin.

“Iwa, you’re sweaty and smell bad” You snicker, returning back to your work. But you didn’t move away, Hajime did. You glance towards him once more as he gets up and walks away, his stomach doing flips and turns mumbling a small “shit” under his breath. Only if you knew.

And it might be pathetic

and you might be skeptical

but I just want to be with you

“Are you okay Iwa-chan?” Oikawa laughed at his ace, only to get hit by a volleyball, it made you laugh. Hajime wondered if that laugh was for him.

Please tell me girl, could you get a clue? Or come through cause I just want to be with you

.

I’m scared of telling you how I feel

It was the day before finals when Hajime realized how scary it could be to love someone. How scary it is to love you.

You were giving the team a speech, mentally preparing them for the next day. You gathered them in a circle, Hanamaki on your left, Hajime on your right, and Oikawa next to Hajime.

“Okay, everyone. It’s been a good year for us! I want to let each and everyone of you know how proud of you guys I am. You guys are the best team I have the privilege of managing. It’s definitely not easy to do. You know those crazy Oikawa fans I have to deal with, or to set up practice games with other schools, but I will never regret a single bit of any of it. You all are my boys, and I love you all very so much. Even if it means I have to deal with your crazy shit you guys pull, I would do it forever. So let’s win nationals! Let’s go out with a bang!” You yelled putting your hand in the middle, the rest of the team followed suit shouting cheers. Hajime placed his hands on top of yours, looked at you, your eyes finally sparkled. Maybe he shouldn’t be so scared. Loving was a beautiful thing.

.

After the speech you all went to your family’s shop to get some dinner, a small ritual you would do after practices and sometimes games. Everyone left one by one till it was only Hajime, Oikawa and you. The three of you walked out, under the stars. The boys decided to walk you home, because who knew when the next time you guys had a night out after volleyball practice would be. You all fell under a comfortable silence, you walked in front of the boys.

“Are you guys excited?” You spoke softly, turning around to face the captain and ace. Hajime could see the air come out of your lips due to the cold night.

“Of course y/n-chan” Oikawa smiled at you softly, taking your hands and playing with your fingers, it was a habit for you both to be affectionate, but this was different. It made Hajime’s heart hurt.

“What about you Iwa-chan? Are you excited to beat everyone?” He asked quietly, smiling at Hajime who has now stopped walking.

No. Not like this. I was going to tell you, why couldn’t this wait? Why now? They’re just friends, right? Millions of cruel thoughts raced in his mind, mixed emotions hitting him left,right,up,down but the worst was yet to come. Anger and sadness fueled him now.

“Haji?”... He didn’t respond to you, it was almost like he was looking past you. He was clenching his fist so hard, his knuckles were turning white.

“Hajime? Are you okay?” The concern in your voice is evident. Hajime knew he shouldn’t feel upset, he knew that. But how could he feel when two people he cares for the most are together? It’s not confirmed but anyone a mile away could tell without a second glance what's happening between the setter and manager. He shouldn’t want to punch Oikawa as much as he wants to right now. He didn’t know the feelings he felt towards y/n, so why must Hajime feel like he is the one at fault?

“I’m going home, I’ll see you both tomorrow. Sleep well.” Hajime turned the corner, the yellow lights of the building escaping his vision. If he were to stay any longer, who knows what he would have done, scream his anger away? Punch his feelings out? Or should he just take it out on the volleyball at his house? He drowned out the calls of Y/n and Oikawa.

Maybe it’s better if I just try to conceal the truth,

for me and for you

“Tooru, is Haji okay?” Your eyes widen at the sudden disappearance of your close friend.

“It’s okay love, maybe he had to do something?” Oikawa would be lying if he said he knew what was wrong, I mean who would’ve guessed that the short-tempered ace would ever fall in love with the soft spoken manager of the team?

“Oh, I’ll text him when I get home. Would you like to maybe watch a movie or do you think you’ll be too tired?” you replied, trying to get your mind off of the situation. Oikawa takes your hand fully, bringing it up to his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat.

“One movie should be fine y/n-chan” He smiled, one more before leaning in close to you, closing the small space and taking your lips between his. You smiled grasping his hand and sliding your fingers between his. Little did the both of you know, Hajime stayed at the corner of the building, watching, trying to deny his suspicions. He begged and prayed to be wrong, and in the end he was right. At least he got to see your eyes sparkle one last time, even if they were never meant for him.

I’m still falling for you

[saintheartwing]

The Karma Circle: Sister Dearest

Welcome, children. Welcome…to the KARMA CIRCLE.

I take you to a simple town with simple people. McKeesport. A quiet town, filled with quiet people, kindly people. Away from the hustle and bustle of the big city of Pittsburgh, Dibbun Membrane lives with his sister and his father, having been at long last freed from his greatest concern: an annoying alien that finally blew himself and his base up, leaving a VERY helpful and playful robot behind for Dib to play with.

And Dib looks upon this new companion as a true comfort, for his father is never, ever around when he needs him, and his sister is beastly and cruel. Dib ¬simply does not have it in him to fight back against her, for she terrifies him to the very core…

Even more so than the haunted house by Emmett's Pond. He passes it by every day on his way back from school...unaware that that which is dead does not lie still. It lies in wait. Seeking what it lost.

…and it will soon strike. For the Piper is about to be paid.

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

Throughout the town's history, several fires tore through McKeesport. The greatest of all took place on May 21, 1976. Fire had spread from the town's most enormous department store downtown, fourteen buildings going up in a blaze. Striffler's Funeral Home, Kadar's Clothing Store, Oddo's Hobby Shop, the Coney Grill Restaurant…

And the Emmett Family home. It had been especially tragic…a young, sweet child had run out of her burning family home after the flames had spread, rushing away desperately to get help, for there were only two ways to get to town, one by the road, the other by a small lake that led to another road into town. She'd supposedly been trying to get help, for the first path was alit with flames, and had hoped to cross the lake…only to drown in the middle of the lake instead.

The poor little girl had failed her family, and legend had it that she still cannot rest. At sunset, you'll see the smoke drifting through the trees though it's been a CENTURY since she drowned…and if you're wise, you'll RUN! For that's when her ghost rises from the dark lake in which she'd drowned. She searches and searches for her baby brother, her father, her mother, but will never find them…and you had best take care she doesn't find you.

Dib believed in ghosts, of course. He was twelve years old and had seen more than most his age. He'd seen demons and spirits flying through the skies. He'd seen beings from beyond the stretches of Earth. And his new "little brother" of sorts, his best friend and confidant, was a robot with a head full of garbage, paper clips and-

"Ba-doompa-doompa-bubble gum! Ba-doompa-doompa-bubble gum! Ba-doompa-doompa-bubble gum! I'm gonna buy some bubble gum!" GIR the robot sang out, waving his tiny little robot hands in the air, his cyan eyes glittering as he bounced about the kitchen, Dib smiling a bit as he munched on his "Choco-Flakes" cereal.

There was an article in the paper about someone supposedly seeing the "Departed Soul of Emmett Lake". And, of course, it had the famous rhyme that you were meant to sing as you ran by it, the magic charm. "Departed Soul of Emmett Lake, Come not Night for Mercy's Sake! For when the sun hangs in the sky then we shall safely pass you by".

Gaz probably believed in ghosts too, deep down. But she didn't know nor would she have cared about the haunted lake. Gaz didn't care about much that didn't immediately gratify her, like a Poop Cola or "Piggy Hunter May Cry 5". It was, in a way, amazing that Gaz could be so different from their mother even though the two were almost equal in appearance to their respective parents. Dib had his father's scythe-like hair and pale skin, and both had their mother's amber/gold eyes…but Gazlene, unlike Peggy Membrane, had eyes sharp like a hawk, her arms thin and her expression usually bitter, and when she DID smile, it was a grin like stretched elastic.

She only ever really smiled when Professor Membrane was in the house. Then she'd call Dib by his actual name and would calmly smile over at Dib in a faux-friendly fashion. But once their dad had left, the smile would vanish, she'd punch or hit him somehow for taking a soda she felt belonged to her, or would, occasionally, lock Dib in the cellar for taking what she felt was a slice of HER pizza.

Not that Dib and GIR really minded being in the cellar too much. Because Dib had just decided to move a great deal of his stuff downstairs, including a Papier-mâché version of people's heads, toy soldiers…GIR liked to play with the red ones…and a Tallest Red and Purple series of puppets that GIR had made. GIR especially liked to act out the "what happened when the Tallest decided to check that odd speck in the distance out the window". The "odd speck" turning out to be a tiny black hole. Zim, watching it all from his end, had evidently been mortified. Maybe THAT'S why he hadn't been paying attention to the explosive experiment that finally did him in!

"What the hell is that? That's gotta be the weirdest thing I ever seen in my life!"

"Man what the hell IS that?"

"Say Red, think we oughta check that thing out?"

"I dunno, Pur, why not-AAAAA! AAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAA!" GIR cried out, waving the Red and Purple puppets about in the air as Dib held up the black hole he'd made from Papier-mâché as GIR "tossed" the puppets through it. There came a loud KLOKKA-KLOK and the doorway opened up, Gaz glaring down at them.

"Shut up. You'll make me lose my concentration on Vampire Piggy Hunter X." She snapped, slamming the door shut as Dib glared up at her as she re-locked the cellar door. Good thing he'd snuck down some circus peanuts today.

"I could cut her up into little pieces and feed her to Mr. Tiddles." GIR cheerily offered, Dib frowning a bit.

"For one, Mr. Tiddles has been dead since Gaz sacrificed him to get those gummy bears that feed on human flesh." He sighed. "And TWO, I'd just get sent to prison. Everyone knows I hate her…they'd blame me for sure." He mumbled, taking his glasses off and rubbing some gunk off of the lenses.

"Can'tcha…y'know…just tell your dad she's a meany head, Mary?" GIR asked, scratching his bucket-esque head as Dib shook his head back and forth.

"Dad wouldn't believe me. She always acts reaaaal nice around him and she doesn't leave bruises on me that leave actual marks. Besides, I don't think he WANTS to believe me. He wants to believe his children get on just fine so he can just keep working at the lab." Dib insisted, shaking his head again. "She'll be back in ten minutes. Remember, look SAD." He insisted, GIR taking his lips and turning the smile into a deliberate frown. "Good. If she thinks we're having fun down here, she'll just think of a worse punishment. Probably one that'll hurt."

"Like…goin' down to the lake?" GIR mumbled out, eyes widening slightly in fear.

"Zim told you about it?" Dib asked, raising an eyebrow up in the air…and though GIR was silent…Dib could guess what the answer was.

…

…

…

…then came September, and Professor Membrane had to be called away to a peace conference at the United Nations. Dib, of course, had tried to beg to come with him, but Professor Membrane had just good-naturedly laughed and patted his son on his head, saying Gaz would take good care of him before heading out the door. Gaz had IMMEDIATELY barricaded Dib in his room and he'd been almost without food had he not thought to keep Premium Saltines and peanut butter cups under his bed. Why? So she could eat all the pizza and keep HIM from taking it.

"I'm wise to all your tricks." She told him calmly. "And don't complain. Whiner." She'd added, slamming the door in his face when he'd asked to use the bathroom. Good thing the window could be opened enough.

"I wonder why Memby never notices the rose bushes under your window don't ever bloom." GIR asked as Dib did his business and then closed the window, Dib sighing as he plopped down on the bed and glanced over at the calendar on the wall.

"Oh. Good! Tomorrow's Wednesday!"

Indeed. The next day was Wednesday, and that meant that Gaz was chatting it up with her friend Tak, another Irken alien just like Zim had been who'd been considerably more…calmed down…over the years. With Zim dead, what psychosis she'd had had faded a bit into just occasional coldness and vaguely British snarkiness that always manifested whenever Gaz was compelled to drag Dib along with her to Tak's house down the street to play "Grand Theft Piggy 5: New Pork City" in Co-Op. Tak and Gaz both seemed to be made of the same material…that is, a big block of granite left in the middle of a Minnesota winter.

But hey, GIR and Dib could sneak Reeses Pieces from a small glass cup that Tak kept by the living room cupboard whilst Tak and Gaz played before Tak's big screen TV and they could ignore the nasty comments the two girls would sling their way whilst carjacking little old virtual ladies.

"Honestly, my brother is SUCH a whiner." Gaz muttered. "He keeps insisting I can't take the car. That "I'm too young". I could drive it just fine."

"You ALWAYS walk here?" Tak asked.

Dib paled. Oh crap. Ohhhhhh crap.

For you see, there were two ways to get to school AND to Tak's house, which was right BY the school. One was by the hill, and the other…well…the "shortcut" by the lake. The haunted lake.

"Yeah, it's a long walk up the hill to get to the stupid school-" Gaz mumbled as GIR's mouth hung slightly open, finally processing what Gaz and Tak were about to say, his eyes becoming tiny pinpricks. Oh no. Ohhhhh no!

"Why don't you just take the shortcut through the woods? Y'know, the one that has the lake nearby?" Tak asked.

"Huh?" Gaz blinked, pausing the game and putting the controller down as she scratched the purple hair atop her head, her amber/brown eyes turning to look at GIR and Dib as her tone became quiet and dangerous. "You KNEW about a shortcut?!"

"Everyone in town knows. Lemme guess. You didn't tell her about the shortcut because you're scaaaared of da spooooky ghoooosties!" Tak said, throwing her head back and laughing hysterically, antennae flopping about as GIR clung tightly to Dib, letting out a panicked squeak. "I'm sure your sister will be happy to cure you of such a silly fancy. It's just an urban legend. Supposedly this young girl's family burned to death and SHE drowned in the lake, and should you see smoke rising from the woods, you'd best RUN! It's all so silly." She said, her voice as sweet as honey from a wasp.

"You're a bad, BAD girl! You won't make us go past the lake! Not at sunset!" GIR yelled out.

"A GHOST? Really?! You didn't tell me about this shortcut because some GHOST is supposed to haunt it?!" Gaz snapped. "Gimme a break, like I should be scared of a stupid specter." She muttered, folding her arms across her chest and shaking her head back and forth. "While I'm doing IMPORTANT things you're picking your nose, laughing on how you make me walk three miles every day just to get to school! And all cuz of some dumb urban legend! Lemme guess, a headless lumberjack'll pop outta the woods and cut my head off?!"

"I wish." Dib muttered.

Gaz IMMEDIATELY launched the wireless controller she had in her hand at him and it smacked into his forehead, a bloody cut trickling down it as he flopped to the ground, Dib glaring triumphantly up at her as he picked up his dropped-down glasses. "Now I've got a cut, a scar to show Dad when he comes back." He told her.

"Shut up or you'll get worse than that!" Gaz told him sharply, grabbing him and GIR by the wrists, dragging them out of the house, heading for the woods…heading for the lake…

As sun was beginning to set, crimson rays being cast overhead. She continued dragging them along the path, over dead leaves and fallen sticks, a long shadow being cast behind her smallish frame, the setting sun glowing almost as brightly as her hateful eyes, the dark pond slowly coming into sight off in the distance.

"Maybe she's a witch?" GIR whispered to Dib. "You think she's a witch?"

"Shhh!" Dib hissed back. The charm. The magic charm. "Departed Soul of Emmett Lake, Come not Night for Mercy's Sake! For when the sun hangs in the sky-"

"What're you two whispering about?" Gaz snapped out.

"Nothing!" Dib said quickly, gulping a bit as the wind began to wrap itself around him, digging its claws into him.

It was no good. The charm only worked during the DAY, when the sun was up and now the sun had fallen past the gnarled and now-barren trees, the sky looking like it was lit up with burning flames as…as pale wisps of smoke came curling and creeping under the ground, like blind fingers searching…

"The smoke. The SMOKE!" Dib whispered out, eyes widening in horror. "The smoke from the burning house! It was there!

"Are you kidding me?" Gaz groaned, rolling her eyes. "Seriously? Smoke?!" She muttered, dragging them towards the lake, GIR trying to break free in desperation before Gaz tossed him away, shoving her brother towards the lake, sticking his head down towards it, shaking him a bit. "LOOK!" She yelled out. "There's nothing there at all! It's just mist rising off the water!"

She was looking at Dib when she spoke…and did not see what was rising out of the reeds nearby, making it's way towards her as she glared back at GIR, who was gasping in horror at what drew ever-closer. Something dark and wet and tiny, a figure made of rotted-away flesh and water and reeds. Greenish/brown muck clung to the decayed flesh and slightly-cracked bones, a frog stuck in one eye, calmly breathing and staring back from the empty socket. Its eyes were silver like the scales of a fish, it's mouth turning from a slight smile to a furious, baleful glare as it saw Gaz shake Dib again, threatening to drop him in the lake as she yelled at GIR.

"WELL?! You cowards, I can't believe you're scared of some stupid girly ghost, there's nothing-"

The ghost GRABBED her, Dib breaking free and scrambling back as Gaz and the figure went into the lake an instant later, dark water frothing about as the two figures struggled, snarls and screams filling the air, Gaz and the figure sinking down in a boil of bubbles.

"G-g-g-g-g-GHOST!" GIR screamed out, Dib and GIR immediately racing off down the path, heading for home as fast as their legs could carry them, but GIR's leg had been injured when Gaz had thrown him, and there was a KRAKKA-KRKK sound as he fell to the forest floor, letting out a yelp. Dib quickly knelt down by him, trying to help GIR up as they heard the bushes and bramble being pushed aside, the two rooted to the spot in sheer terror, white nests of toadstools around them as they clung together in fear…

And then Gaz burst through the bushes, looking…oddly nice. She'd evidently run so fast her clothes had dried on her body, and her cheeks now had a bit of a blush to them, her hair now falling around her head almost like a halo as she blinked a bit at the sight of the two.

"Are you alright, guys?" She asked.

…GUYS?!

"That was an awful stumble, huh? Oh and look at you, Dib, you're shivering!"

DIB?! Calling him DIB and not "Hey, you"?

"Lemme give you a piggyback ride, GIR." She offered, helping GIR onto her back and cheerily smiling at Dib. "I think there's some pizza left over I can heat up at home, okay?" She asked Dib as she calmly walked off down the path, whistling.

WHISTLING!

"Who are you and what have you done with Gaz?" Dib muttered a bit, walking alongside her, scratching his head in surprise.

…

…

…

…true to her word, Gaz heated up the leftover pizza in the microwave and poured them all some Poop Cola, breaking out the big, fizzy straws from the cupboard, smiling as she watched them eat, staying silent before heading to her own room, Dib and GIR going back up to Dib's room, the two sitting on Dib's bed as Dib nervously chewed on his lip, glancing over at GIR.

"Did…did that just happen?" GIR asked. "She's all…y'know. Cheery."

"Yeah, it's weird." Dib murmured, scratching his head in confusion. "But…you saw it, right? At the lake?"

"Yes. And she fell in, right?" GIR wanted to know. "I don't get it, why…why's she being so nice? It's weird, Mary. Really weird. She's so different!"

"I thought she'd be dead, but…" Dib trailed off. "…I hope dad comes back soon." He finally sighed. "Hopefully things'll be back to normal soon."

And so the two went to sleep, GIR plopping down in the corner underneath a poster of the X-Files whilst Dib laid back in his bed, listening to Gaz walk about downstairs, slowly and uncertainly, as if she'd lost her way.

Within a few days though, it became clear Gaz had changed since falling into the lake, as if all the unpleasantness had been washed right out of her. The house was now bright and cheerful, Gaz now happily sharing her pizza and soda with the two and never raising her voice. She let Dib play with her Game Slave and even Tak didn't seem to mind this new Gaz as much, because this new one was far more cooperative in co-op. She doodled with Dib during the evening, chatted with him as they looked at old corny B-movies on the TV. And above all, she never ever hit them or yelled at them anymore!

Dib and GIR started calling her "Gazzy", and Dib would stargaze with her on the roof of their house at night, looking up silently at the stars, resting one hand atop hers as they contemplated the majesty beyond.

"Dad's gonna be home tomorrow." Dib said one night. "You remember, right?"

"Yes, Matthew."

"It's just "Dad", really."

"Alright. Dad."

"…how long will you be staying?" Dib wanted to know, tilting his head slightly to the side as Gaz rubbed her chin and raised an eyebrow up.

"However long would you want me here?" She wanted to ask. "If…if you wouldn't mind, could…" She began to say before Dib smiled, patting her on the shoulder.

"I want you to stay with us." Dib insisted. "Okay?"

"…I'd like that." She admitted with a smile, wrapping her arms around her brother and hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Dib." She said, a single tear trickling down her cheek and onto the roof below.

…

…

…

… it was about two years before Dib made his way back to Emmett's Lake, going in broad daylight on a sunny Saturday in June, down the winding forest path to the dark lake where tragedy had struck o'er a century ago. The lake was peaceful now, tiny little tadpoles flittering about as butterflies flew overhead. He calmly sat at the end of the lake, on a tree stump as a water boatman skittered across the lake, leaving behind a small silver wake as Dib waited.

Sure enough, a few bubbles began to rise up to disturb the surface of the quiet water, small fish darting away as a scum of mud and filthy rose up slowly from the bottom of the lake, taking the vague shape of someone all-too-familiar who was scowling angrily.

"Dib, gemme out! She took my body that stupid little bitch! Look, if you bring her down here, I'll give you fifty bucks! I'll bring you chocolate every day to your room for breakfast, I'll-I'll wash your feet and never yell at you again, I promise, I-"

"Goodbye, Gaz." Dib firmly remarked, sitting up and walking away.

And that was the last time Dib ever walked by the lake ever again.

[mazurah]

do you have any headcanons about alteration magic? i feel like due to game balancing limitations, it wasn't as powerful as it actually could have been in-universe. thoughts?

I’ve been sitting on this ask for more than a week trying to figure out how to answer. Yes I have Alteration magic headcanons, but a lot of them aren’t technically mine. 

First off, you’re absolutely right. Alteration is much more powerful in the lore than it is ingame. The Ayleids, who invented Alteration magic, could shapeshift.

There does, however, appear to be evidence that, just as the Psijics on the Isle of Artaeum developed Mysticism long before there was a name for it, the even more obscure Ayleids of southern Cyrodiil had developed what was to be known as the school of Alteration. It is not, after all, much of a stretch when one considers that other Ayleids at the time of Bravil’s conquering and even later were shapeshifters. The community of pre-Bravil could not turn into beasts and monsters, but they could alter their bodies to hide themselves away. 

⁠— Daughter of the Niben

The closest things we’ve ever seen to that kind of magic (not counting things which aren’t actually school-of-magic spells, such as the Wild Hunt, vampire transformations, and werewolves) are spells like oakflesh, which isn’t exactly what I would call shapeshifting. Shapeshifting implies that you’re actually changing your shape, not just changing the consistency of your skin, so I think it’s more likely that the Ayleids did things like make their limbs look like branches to blend in with forests. 

And then there’s that one NPC in Skyrim, the Face Sculptor, that will straight up let you open the character creation menu and change anything about your appearance except your race or sex. (What, no sex change option? Transphobic!) You can’t tell me there’s not Alteration magic involved in that somehow (although I would certainly listen to a case for Restoration.)

There’s also a spell (actually a greater power) that got cut from Skyrim called Polymorph Skeever which lets you turn yourself into a skeever. It was never implemented in the game, but it exists in the code, so I think it’s safe to say that it’s a valid piece of lore. Polymorph spells do exist! There’s even more of them in ESO.

So do I believe that a master Alterationist could potentially turn somebody into a chicken? It’s quite possible. Are we ever gonna be able to turn NPCs into chickens? Not without the Wabbajack. They gotta balance the game somehow.

To be honest, this is a limitation to magic in general, not just Alteration. If I was really a master healer, what’s to prevent me from healing somebody’s mouth closed? Or casting a spell that causes my enemy to have a heart attack? There’s all kinds of things I would love to be able to do with magic that I can’t because of game limitations, like casting a spell to send me to Oblivion so I can go exploring, or conjuring a Dremora or Winged Twilight to ask them about themselves (both of which exist in the lore.) Or using levitation in Skyrim. *sigh*

Back to Alteration though. If you want to know about Alteration in general, the lore book you should be reading is Reality and Other Falsehoods:

It is easy to confuse Illusion and Alteration. Both schools of magic attempt to create what is not there. The difference is in the rules of nature. Illusion is not bound by them, while Alteration is. This may seem to indicate that Alteration is the weaker of the two, but this is not true. Alteration creates a reality that is recognized by everyone. Illusion’s reality is only in the mind of the caster and the target.

To master Alteration, first accept that reality is a falsehood. There is no such thing. Our reality is a perception of greater forces impressed upon us for their amusement. Some say that these forces are the gods, other that they are something beyond the gods. For the wizard, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the appeal couched in a manner that cannot be denied. It must be insistent without being insulting.

To cast Alteration spells is to convince a greater power that it will be easier to change reality as requested than to leave it alone. Do not assume that these forces are sentient. Our best guess is that they are like wind and water. Persistent but not thoughtful. Just like directing the wind or water, diversions are easier than outright resistance. Express the spell as a subtle change and it is more likely to be successful.

⁠— Reality and Other Falsehoods

This is a great start, but it doesn’t help us understand what it would be like to use Alteration on a daily basis, and that’s where headcanon comes in. I headcanon that people have different ways of conceptualizing spells, and this can result in different teaching styles. Sometimes the differences are cultural. But ultimately, it comes down to how good you are at envisioning the changes you want, how much you believe the changes can/should/will happen, and how good you are at willing those changes into existence. How to Disappear Completely by @chameleonspell contains an excellent illustration of what it’s like to try to learn Alteration and navigate the cultural differences between teaching styles as a novice: 

Iriel had studied Alteration. Had, at one point, thought he might specialise in it. It had sounded so impressive, when he first attended lectures at the Crystal Tower: change the world! Bend the physical realm to your will - sorry - your Will! Then he had attended classes, and spent months learning about counter-aetheric force (the academic term for what ordinary people, who didn’t understand these things, called gravity) and formulas to calculate water pressure and wind resistance. Altmeri magical tradition demanded that students first master the theory. You had to learn the rules before you could break them. He might be allowed to actually alter things in a few years, if he studied hard and passed the exams.

Things were different when he transferred to Cyrodiil. There, the Professor of Alteration was a steely-eyed Imperial known to students as The Cliff, due to her threats to throw students off one, if their problems with levitation persisted. Necessity focused the mind, she said. Alteration was all about willpower and belief. She didn’t hold with teaching the physics of it. You are a mage, she would roar. You make your own physics! Your mind will do battle with the Aurbis, and if you are worthy, the Aurbis will bow before you!

She was rumoured to be working on a transmutation spell that would change lesser substances into gold. They said she spent her nights concentrating on a rock on her desk, glaring the resistance out of it, molecule by molecule. When she looked at him, Iriel could believe it. But, struggling to levitate a feather on his own desk, he hadn’t felt that engaging the universe in mental combat was ever going to be his forte. It was so much bigger, and more experienced than he was, so much more self-assured. There were thousands of years of inertia behind its processes, grinding like endless Dwemer machinery. His will, even capitalised, was too weak a spanner to jam into those works. A minor blip in the rhythm, at most, and it’d be crushed as the gears churned on.

He’d found himself returning to the equations he’d been forced to memorise at the Tower. He’d discovered, to his chagrin, that the Sapiarchs had been on to something, at least to his Altmeri-educated mind. If you wanted to change something, it helped to understand the thing you were trying to change. Staring at the feather, he had realised he didn’t need to do battle with the entire Aurbis, he only needed to fight the air immediately around the object he wanted to move, convince it that local relative masses were very slightly different. The Cliff had been right about one thing: it was about belief. And Iriel found it considerably easier to believe things if he could construct a veneer of logical process, however flimsy.

He’d balanced the feather on his finger. It barely weighed anything. Using the standard formula, it couldn’t be constrained by more than a quell of counter-aetheric force. He had repeated the incantation, but instead of trying to command physics as a whole, he’d merely suggested a minor adjustment to the relative densities of feathers and air, just within these few square inches.

The feather had shot upwards and lodged an inch into the plaster of the ceiling. He’d blinked, brushed the dust from his hair, and began recalculating the ratio. An hour later, he’d floated up to retrieve it himself.

⁠— How to Disappear Completely, Chapter 93: force by @chameleonspell ​

(That entire work is amazing and contains so many headcanons and extrapolations of lore I couldn’t possibly begin to summarize them if I tried. You should read it.)

The thing about Alteration, and to a lesser extent, all magic in general, is that to perform it, you must wrestle with the very nature of the universe. Alteration, at its essence, contains what could potentially be understood as the fundamental principle of magic: to perform it, you must impose your Will on the world around you. When you perform it, you change the world. 

This is not without consequences. I headcanon that the greater skill a mage has with Alteration, the more trouble they have with distinguishing what is real and what is not, and with maintaining control over the reality of their personal environment. This is a headcanon I garnered from reading the works of @troloputo2012, and to some extent, @chameleonspell.

The advanced alterationist starts with sensory issues, since they start being able to listen and see the mechanisms of this world (also the plane where spirits and magic roam, that occupies the same place as this Mundus, and being this over saturated with information can be overwhelming), and slowly, they start having trouble attaching to reality and they can’t go back to their normal life as before; many have grounding sensory “mechanisms” to wake up, but many don’t because sometimes nothing works … .

Many experts get tired of constantly wrestling with existing or fail because their will is not strong enough, just give up and vanish, or they get consumed into their own reality and are unable to follow the currents of the world and time … .

To be able to live correctly and master alteration, one must have considerable willpower, or it’ll consume you. You learned to use alteration to weaken reality for you, now you must use it to also reinforce reality (for you start to unconsciously exist in weakened reality you created for yourself) to live.

— Alteration is not as harmless as it seems. by @troloputo2012

So a master of Alteration who fails to have enough Willpower to maintain their own existence might even disappear completely (a concept very similar to the tenuously canonical concept of Zero Sum, wherein a person truly perceives the nature of the universe, sees that they are a figment of the Divine Dream, confronts the concept head on, and fails to assert that they still exist, thus ceasing to exist.) Sure, a master of Alteration can change reality to an amazing degree, but there is a danger; there is a price.

Finally, I have a headcanon (which I’m pretty sure isn’t actually my idea, but I’m not sure where I picked it up) that schools of magic are more like philosophical models for creating spells rather than rigid expressions of natural law. Ultimately, almost any spell could potentially be created using almost any school of magic, but depending on what the spell does, it may not be a very good spell. It might use too much magicka, or it might be insanely hard to cast, or it might take a really long time to conceptualize the spell in that school of magic so nobody bothered trying to make the spell in the first place.

This is an easier idea to apply to Alteration than it is to some other schools like Conjuration (like, what am I gonna do, conjure healthy body parts for a dying person?) but it can go a long way to explaining why some spells change schools between games. For example, there are a few Alteration spells (mostly resistance spells) that get moved to the Restoration school of magic between Morrowind and Oblivion. If you’re looking for an in-universe explanation for this, perhaps spell researchers developed more efficient spells using the philosophy of Restoration, and the magical community had come to accept them as the norm by the time Oblivion began.

So yeah, there’s a lot of overlap between schools. In fact, there are documented arguments between mages about the similarities and differences between schools:

The School of Alteration is a distinct and separate entity from the School of Destruction, and Bero’s argument that they should be merged into one is patently ludicrous. He insists — again, a man who knows nothing about the Schools of Alteration and Destruction, is the one insisting this — that “damage” is part of the changing of reality dealt with by the spells of Alteration. The implication is that Levitation, to list a spell of Alteration, is a close cousin of Shock Bolt, a spell of Destruction. It would make as much sense to say that the School of Alteration, being all about the actuality of change, should absorb the School of Illusion, being all about the appearance of change.

⁠— Response to Bero’s Speech

While I believe that Alteration is an insanely powerful school of magic in the right hands, it’s probably still easier to heal someone using the principles of Restoration than it is to do it using the principles of Alteration.

Feel free to add your own headcanons, I love having discussions like this!

[x1-imaginesreturns]

The Key to a Curse - Dohyon Quantum Leap Part 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Dohyon x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,977

Notes: Ahh! It’s been too long since I’ve posted for Quantum Leap, but here we are with the new part! I’ll get back to my regular schedule after this, sorry for the long delay!!

Song Recommendation: Run Away - TXT

Quantum Leap : The Beginning

You and Aoi stared at him in silence for many, long, drawn-out seconds, before you silently exclaim, “182 years?! What the hell are you in here for?? And how are you even alive for that matter?” Aoi nods with you, gaping at the boy.

By his young appearance, you would have never guessed he had been alive for that long. Nothing about him seemed overgrown or gross either, his chestnut hair perfectly surrounding his face and his skin looked as if it had recently been washed.

He laughs slightly before answering, “Isn’t it obvious?”

His amber eyes flash, the pupils of his eyes dilating down to look reptilian, and a small puff of smoke came from his nose. “I’m a dragon,” he says, “And you humans seem to think we’re extinct. Course… maybe sending me to this school wasn’t the best idea, but we’re very much alive.”

“And who are you two exactly? I haven’t seen anyone in over fifty years,” he finishes. You and Aoi look back and forth between each other before you answer, “We’re students here. But… neither of us are under the effects of the mind control.”

Dohyon’s eyes narrow at you skeptically, and you start stumbling over your words as you attempt to give him an answer, “W-well… They thought Aoi here was a girl, so the serum didn’t work on him,” you continue, hearing Aoi snort in frustration behind you, “And I-”

You cut yourself off, unsure of how to explain your situation. “I… I come from another world. In fact, I just got here last night. I woke up in someone else’s body… and well they just happened to be the daughter of the Principal and have the exact same name as me.”

Your lips shut tight, and you’re confused as to why you just spilled your new life story to a dragon boy who’s been stuck in a closet at the end of a forbidden hallway for 182 years. But your wide eyes continue to look into his as he contemplates the situation. He breathes in deeply before asking you, “And what exactly is your name?”

“W-well… my name is y/n.”

Dohyon’s entire demeanor freezes, and his eyes widen considerably. He stands up, walking forward until he’s right in front of you. “Is that really your name?,” he asks seriously, his yellow eyes glaring deep into yours. 

You hear Aoi step forward next to you, before you see him push Dohyon back slightly. “Hey don’t get so close to her! You’re gonna scare her,” Aoi says defensively, “And plus, what’s with that question? Of course that’s her name. She wouldn’t just lie to a dragon’s face! And don’t think that all humans are so ignorant to your species existing.”

“It’s okay Aoi,” you say calmly, placing one of your hands on Aoi’s shoulders, “And yes, y/n is my real name. It’s my name in the world I come from, and it’s the name the person I have taken over has as well.” 

Dohyon’s eye twitches and for a split second, the entire room fills with a tri-colored light. It all absorbs back into him, and he quietly says, “Do you mind closing the door behind you?” You and Aoi look at each other again before Aoi turns around and closes the door.

As he makes his way back, Dohyon says, “If you’re here already… that means we haven’t delayed Talo and kdqmbg for long enough. Can I see your bracelet?”

You hold up your bracelet immediately when you detect his rushed tone and wild eyes. He examines it only for a second before letting your wrist go. “That’s strange… that’s the charm I… things weren’t supposed to start already! I’ve only been in here for 182 years, but this process was supposed to happen long after 1,000 years had passed…”

He trails off, starting to pace back and forth across the room. Aoi quirks an eyebrow up and asks, “Mind explaining to us exactly what is going on? You’re leaving things very vague for us over here.” Dohyon stops and looks at you both before answering, “I can’t explain everything right now, especially to you, y/n. I need more evidence to figure out if my hypothesis is correct. But that’s not going to happen until I’m set free.”

“So…, do you two mind helping me get out of this prison?,” he asks finally, but Aoi immediately counters back with, “Well, you can just walk out the door now, we’ve unlocked  it.” Dohyon starts chuckling at Aoi’s remark before he says, “If it was that simple, I would’ve walked out of here the last time a student came in here to release me.”

“Someone else has tried before?,” you ask curiously, “Why didn’t they get you out then?” Dohyon sighs quickly before answering, “The school or some student caught him, because he was slain and soon enough the keys were returned to me, and an even stronger magic-lock system was put on my door, and the doors that will help me escape.”

“His name was Gunther by the way,” Dohyon finishes, his eyes clearly reflecting deep memories. “So how exactly do we get you out of here?,” Aoi asks, clearly not noticing Dohyon’s inner turmoil, “Since the previous person that tried got killed, I’m quite reluctant to help you in the first place.”

“Well, it’s for our sake in general. If I don’t get freed and find the answers I need… then most likely everyone in this world will die,” Dohyon states, a serious air filling the room, “And it’s for y/n. She’s in the most danger here… but at the same time… her bqmlakntcgq is the whole reason all of us are getting into this mess anyways.”

“My bqmlakntcgq…?,” you ask confusedly, “What did she do?” Dohyon just sighs at your question and answers, “To be honest, I don’t think you’re ready for the answer to that question yet. In fact, y/n, I’ll tell you right now…”

“Forget everything you’ve been told. Your entire life… has been a lie. An illusion of sorts.”

The entire room freezes for a second and you ask desperately, “What do you mean? I don’t understand any of this! Why am I so important? What has my family done? What have I done?”

Dohyon’s face softens with sympathy, and he says, “I hate not being able to give the answers y/n, but I think you’ll understand the best when the truth reveals itself. Which… I have a feeling that the truth will appear very, very soon.”

“But we will discuss all of this later,” Dohyon says, turning around to walk to the back of the small room, picking up a small box, before walking back to where he was standing formerly. “This,” he starts, “Is the only item that can leave this room. And when I open it…”

He trails off, opening the old and rusted box to reveal a set of three keys. The first one was decorated just like the one you had used to open the door, except the bitting cuts were clearly different, this time more round in shape. 

The second key was more rusted than the box it came in, but it had hundreds of elegant dragon scales carved upon the shaft and bow of it. However, it had no bit, and the shaft just ended in a strangely shaped point. 

The third and final key was made out of some sort of colorful gemstone, and wasn’t smooth in any sort of way. The bow was quite round, but from attached to both sides of the circle was a diamond-shaped piece of ordinary stone. The bit was also made of this stone, and was quite square compared to the other keys.

“These three keys will aid my escape,” Dohyon starts, once he thinks you’ve examined each of the keys, “Each one opens a certain door in the school, which will lead you on a quest to find one of the key that open the invisible locks on the door.”

“Only I can see these locks. There are five locks on the door in total, one key from the dragon head key room, and two from the other key rooms,” Dohyon says confidently, “And then of course, you have to unlock the physical door too. Make sure to not lose the door key.”

“I can’t offer you much help in actually finding the rooms and keys themselves, besides the first one,” Dohyon says, walking back to where he got the box from, “Gunther only told me what room the first key unlocked, and I carved it on the wall behind where the box was.”

Dohyon kneels down, using his magic to hold up a small flame before reading, “Room 57’s closet, which is in Ravinder Tower,  is where the first puzzle awaits for you to complete. That is… if you’re willing to set me free from this place?”

Once again, you and Aoi share a look. His eyes are doubtful, and he looks over the keys in the box once again. Before waiting for him to give you any sort of answer, you say…

“I’ll help you escape Dohyon.”

Aoi’s eyes widen immensely, a few flabbergasted noises leaving his mouth,  and Dohyon flashes you a charming smile. “Good to know. How about you Aoi?,” Dohyon asks, tilting his head towards him. “I-I’ll help!,” he cries out, before his cheeks turn slightly pink, “But don’t think I like you or anything dragon boy… I’m only doing this because y/n seems to like you.”

Aoi lets out a small ‘hmmph!’ sound and turns his head upward haughtily before you look back at Dohyon. He walks back over to the two of you and hands you the box of keys. “Be as safe as possible, will you? I don’t want the same thing that happened to Gunther happening to you. In fact… it is quite imperative that neither of you reach an ill fate.”

You nod confidently and say, “Don’t worry too much. Aoi here is the master of sneaking around the school, and I have a favor to ask of you, in fact.” Dohyon gives you a perplexed look before asking, “And what kind of favor would you need to ask of a dragon who’s currently stuck inside of a small room?”

“For every key we collect for you… will you answer one of my questions that I have? You know, about why I’m so important and how exactly you know my bqmlakntcgq and all that?,” you ask kindly and Dohyon sighs before answering, “Yes. You have my word that I will answer ONE of your questions for every key.”

You smile gratefully, before motioning to Aoi to open the door again. 

“We’ll back soon then, with the first key!”

~~

After you and Aoi trudged back to your room with the box of keys, the two of you immediately fell into deep sleep, no dreams even daring to bother the two of you that night. And when you woke up, the box of keys was still right on your desk, exactly where you had placed them last night.

Aoi didn’t wake up too much longer after you, and upon noticing the key box on your desk, he remarked, “Oh, so it wasn’t a dream?” Which sent you into a giggling fit, and Aoi simply sighed at your antics, slipping into the bathroom to get changed.

“So when are we going to go over to Ravinder Tower?,” you called out to him as you were slipping your skirt back on. “Probably tonight,” Aoi exclaims back, “Dragon boy seemed to be in quite a rush to get his answers or whatever, so we should at least respect that or something…” You quickly throw on the rest of your outfit, and Aoi asks through the door, “Can I come back in the room?” 

“Yep!,” you answer back and walk into the bathroom after Aoi exits. You look right into the mirror, and shudder quickly before popping in the red contacts Aoi had given you. You brushed your hair quickly, and stormed back into the bedroom to grab your bag.

Aoi was already ready to go, so the two of you headed out towards Aeron Tower, where both of your first classes were. You had History of Magic Beings, while Aoi had History of the Dark Arts. After these classes, you and Aoi wouldn’t see each other until lunch, which is when the two of you planned to sneak into the staff room to pick up extra guard uniforms, which would definitely help the two of you if you got caught for some reason.

The first class seemed to pass by very slowly, but soon enough you were walking out into the school courtyard for your class called “Recreational Magic”, which definitely had you feeling quite nervous, as you knew for a fact you wouldn’t be able to pull off anything remotely magical. 

But you still walked out there, only to see Dongpyo and a few other kids milling about the lawn. An older lady, who was clearly the teacher, was sitting across from you and the other kids, simply reading a book. 

And as the large school bell chimes echoed throughout the school, the teacher didn’t even look up. All of the kids who were out there immediately starting pulling magic out of them, setting off huge bursts into the sky or creating shapes and figures with their magic.

But after a few minutes of just watching everyone do their magic, you simply plopped to the ground, unsure of what to do with your current situation. As soon as you did, though, someone kicked your back, causing you to fall forward from your position, and yelled, “Hmmm, what’s this?? The daughter of the principal herself sitting down during a magic class?”

As you slowly stood up to face them, dusting yourself off as you got up, you immediately saw it was Dongpyo himself. You froze on the spot as he stormed over to you, getting right into your face. Of course, you immediately saw his glowing, red eyes, but unlike everyone else’s they had a yellow ring outlining the pupil of his eye.

However, you had no time to dwell on it, as Dongpyo jeered, “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? If you’re not going to play by the rules, I’ll give you a little taste of what the principal did to that new f̷̡̠̣̫̲̙͎͍̙̬̝̖̀̔̈̃̔̆̽̓͜͝r̶̭̣͂́̀͐̓ỉ̷̧̱̹̻̹̗͙̜̭̰̜̹͍͔̈͌͑̃̌͗̌̉̾̾͝ê̶̺͎͇̩̥ņ̸͇̗̖̫͉̹͚͉̥̘͍̙͖͐̎͊͐̚͜͝d̷̢͔̹̼̳̠̰͔͙̥̎̂̒́̏̑̔̊͑̐̀́͜͠ͅ of yours.”

Just as Dongpyo pulled his hand back, a blue energy charging in the palm of that hand, you somehow fell through the ground and into a hole. You spiraled downwards for quite a while before it opened up into a magenta-colored space, small gems floating in the corners around the room.

“Hello?,” you called out confusedly, “Is anyone there?” Your words echoed in the space around you, and just in front of you, a figure started to appear. He was tinted magenta, but his hair was clearly black, and his eyes were glowing a bold green.

He also wore the school uniform that you were wearing now, but he also had a beanie on his head. “Hi, I’m Gunther,” he says, “I’m the person or thing, I guess, who saved you from the mind control yesterday. And yes, I am the dead spirit of the last person who tried to save Dohyon. How I ended up in this bracelet, I have no idea.”

“But I don’t have much time for introductions, so just know that I’ll be guiding you along your way to rescue Dohyon. I know more about freeing him than most people do, anyway. But I’ll also be lending you my powers… so I’ll save you from whoever that was up there,” he finishes, flashing you a quick smile before you’re thrown back up into the real world, right where you left off.

You cross your arms to protect you from the blow, and just as Dongpyo lurches forward, a barrier appears in front of you, completely reflecting his attack. And as you look at your arms curiously, you knew this was definitely Gunther’s work.

As the dust from Dongpyo’s strike clears, you immediately see him smiling at you. “Looks like she does have something in her after all,” he states cockily, before murmuring, “Too bad it’s not really her own.”

He simply laughs before turning back to the people he was with before. ‘What the hell even just happened,’ you thought to yourself, ‘And who is controlling Dongpyo? This doesn’t seem like the behavior of someone who’s just under the effects of the mind control…’

~~

Finally, after what felt like forever, lunch finally arrived, and you met Aoi exactly where you planned to meet in the first place. It wouldn’t be unusual for the two of you to sit together, as the rule was that you could only sit with your roommates. 

You told Aoi everything that had happened already, including how you had met Gunther and your strange encounter with Dongpyo. Aoi took a few minutes to contemplate over everything before suddenly saying, “We’re definitely up against something bigger than what we think, that’s for sure. And I bet you anything… dragon boy knows something about it.”

“Like think about it, he clearly was a student here, and they found him out for being a dragon. Whatever, I can guarantee you that instead of locking him up, the would’ve put him in some sort of display or would’ve gone on a search to find more dragons.”

“Whoever locked him in there knew exactly what they were doing. I guarantee it,” Aoi says, pausing for a second as you nodded at his comments, “You know what… why don’t you use your question that you get from the key we’re finding tonight to ask him about it?”

You nod enthusiastically. “That will probably get me some of the answers I want anyways,” you state, looking Aoi in the eyes, “Well, looks like we got ourselves a date with Room 57 tonight!” Aoi giggles at your cheer, and raises his glass of water up to you secretly.

You clink your glass against his, and the two of you share a smile just as the bell rings.

~~

You and Aoi had long slipped out of your school uniforms by now and had finished the few assignments that had been given to you today. And now, the two of you were scrambling around your dorm room, packing light bags for the journey ahead. You had already checked if you had the spare key to Room 57 that you swiped from the key room last night on the way back to your room last night, along with the key that would open the closet.

Aoi wasn’t so much packing as he was pacing around the room, muttering random, incomprehensible things to himself as he did so. And soon enough, he stopped on the spot and asked you, “Are you ready to go? Now’s the perfect time to go.”

The two of you had agreed to go a little earlier than last night, as Ravinder Tower was the one all the way across from your tower, Tenzin Tower. You slipped out of your room just as you did last night, and right as you got into the main hall, a strange magenta pattern appeared on your hand.

Aoi immediately turned around to raise an eyebrow at you, clearly asking ‘what is this?’. As the two of you kept walking, you pointed to your bracelet, indicating that it was probably something that Gunther had done to protect you both.

He nodded before pulling you along at a quicker pace. No guards seemed to be in any of the halls at all, and a slight feeling of dread and anticipation filled you as you edged closer and closer to Ravinder Tower. 

Soon enough, you and Aoi were stalking up the stairs of the tower, heading straight towards Room 57. Aoi had already told you that it was a potions classroom, so you weren’t surprised when you saw the cauldrons that sat in the room, and the herb shelf that was behind the teacher’s desk.

And to the left of the teacher’s desk was the closet door. It was made out of very dark wood, and it hadn’t been smoothed out, giving the door a texture that almost looked like a flowing river. The doorknob and keyhole were made of the same material that the dragon key was, and even the bolts on the door were made of the gemstone that made up the dragon’s eye.

You sighed silently, before stepping ahead of Aoi and inserting the key into the keyhole. You slowly turned it, feeling its inner mechanisms come undone before there was the reassuring click as the key settled into its final position. The door creaked open as you pulled it, and you were met with a cramped room, which was definitely only big enough for one person to be in.

Aoi saw this and nodded, motioning for you to go forward. As soon as both of you feet were on the floor…

The surface dropped from beneath you, and suddenly you were falling with the entire room itself. Everything hit the new floor with a loud crash, and you immediately heard Aoi cry out from above you, “Y/n! Are you okay?”

As you shakily stood up, clutching your spinning head, you yelled back, “Yeah, I’m okay! Is there anything new up there?” Just as you say that, three panels on the opposite side of the room fall forward, revealing a small crawl way.

“No!,” he yells back down, “What’s it like down there?” You turn so you’re facing the hole and quickly yell back, “A small tunnel has appeared, I’m gonna go down it! Wait for me to come back up!” 

Just as you start crawling forward you hear Aoi cry back, “Don’t go in there just ye-,” but as you find yourself entirely in the hole, his voice completely disappears. Figuring there was no reason to go back now, you continued inching yourself through the cramped tunnel. Your only source of light guiding you were small, glowing mushrooms that grew all along the enclosure.

After what felt like twenty minutes, you finally noticed a different kind of light ahead of you in the tunnel. And as you finally reached it, you fell forward once again, falling straight onto a wooden floor. You stood up, clutching your head, before realizing that the light was coming from a candle that lay on a table in the center of the room.

Slightly underneath the candle’s stand lay a note, which read…

Here lies the tomb of the ancient dragon king

His son is trapped in the castle near

The bloodline flows even as time continues

One secret heir

Within the books upon the shelves

Lay one secret after another

That only a descendant of the council can discover

And if you seek the key

Summon the friend that lies within yee

‘Within… me?,’ you thought confusedly, ‘Who’s inside of me?’ A poof of magenta smoke went off next you, and a familiar voice chimed, “They mean me, of course.” 

Floating next to you now, was Gunther, an adventurous smile plastered on his face. “W-what the-?,” you exclaim, blinking your eyes a bit to make sure you’re not seeing things. “You’re definitely not seeing things, y/n,” Gunther says teasingly, “Sorry… I should probably mention that I can hear your thoughts.”

“You can?!,” you exclaim loudly, and Gunther giggles, “We can continue to talk about what I can and can’t do at a later time,” he says, “But for right now, it’s my job to help you find the key. I only have some idea of where to start, as they changed it all up after they found me out.”

He flies forward, snapping his fingers as he does so, somehow managing to light up the room. Right in front of the table you’re at, there’s a huge statue of a dragon, fire coming out of its mouth as it attacks a guard, who is blocking the fire with his shield. Around you are thousands of shelves of books, each one different in shape and size. 

Gunther suddenly floats back, perching on top of the dragon statue with a worn down book in his right hand. He drops it down onto the table, and he flips the pages until he suddenly stops, pulling the words off of the page, somehow rearranging them into the shape of a key.

He drops the newly formed key into your hand, letting your examine it. The letters were clearly still imprinted on every part of the key, but each word was crossed over with so many others that it was hard to make out exactly what it said. The key was also smooth, and the bit carving was quite sporadic. You looked back up at him and asked, “How… how exactly did you do that so quickly?”

“Well, if you were like me and had to figure out the entire puzzle by yourself over a few different nights, you would’ve had to flip over the letter you just read to find the set of numbers,” Gunther starts, a smirk already present on his face, “To have to go over there to find the old poster that has the cypher to the numbers, to then find the books that each number is for, to then take the seventeen clues you are given to find the final book, which when you recite the puzzle, gives you the key.”

“But since this room knows me and knows I’ve already figured it out, it just led me straight to the key,” Gunther finishes, jumping down to sit on the table right next to you. “That certainly is… a lot,” you say astoundingly. 

Gunther nods before bouncing up again, causing you to turn around to face him. “To be honest y/n, I’m surprised Dohyon actually asked you for help first. When I first found the key, it was just lying about in Aeron Tower, which is where my dorm was. When I touched it, the mind control on me completely slipped away from me.”

“I instantly had a feeling that this key was for one of the doors in the Forbidden Corridor, so when I opened Dohyon’s door to find him in there, I was shocked,” Gunther continues, “Dohyon was also extremely shocked, but quite refused to say anything on why he was in there or how I could help him escape.”

“Over and over, he kept telling me, ‘you’re not the one who can help me.’ or ‘there’s someone I’m specifically waiting for.’ Of course, I couldn’t help but feel a little dejected at these remarks, but after enough nights of me pestering him, he finally agreed.”

“And now that I’m thinking about it y/n, you’re definitely the person he’s been waiting for. But I think you are here at the wrong time,” he says seriously, “I think something has gone terribly wrong. I mean, I’m technically back in the world! It’s nice to have a physical form and all of that again… but it just feels wrong. I think you’ve tinkered with something that wasn’t ever supposed to be messed with.”

“But what do I know?,” Gunther jokes, clearly trying to get off of the serious subject, “I’ll return into your bracelet now, I think Aoi’s starting to panic up there.” And just like how he appeared, Gunther poofed back into your bracelet, disappearing entirely.

Knowing you couldn’t dwell on what you just learned here, you headed straight for the crawl way, and scurried back towards where Aoi was. As soon as you emerged back into the room you had crashed down in, it lit up, the pieces of the room floating upwards, bringing you along as it put itself back together. 

You blinked a few times before Aoi rapidly flung open the door, to see you standing there, brand new key in hand. “Oh my goodness y/n!,” Aoi says, stepping forward to fling his arms around you, “I was so worried! But you’ve got the key… should we go to Dohyon’s now? Or tomorro-”

“Tonight,” you said firmly, “Gunther appeared down there to help me and now I have more questions than I did last night. And we’ve got to get them out of him somehow.”

~~

You and Aoi storm back down the main hall towards the Forbidden Corridor. You knew that packing the key to his door was going to be a good idea, and it certainly was, considering you were too desperate to wait another day to ask him one of your questions.

Aoi would probably be upset if you didn’t ask the question he wanted to ask, so you figured you’d just get the next two keys easily, that way you could then start asking the questions that mattered to you.

Soon enough, you and Aoi were blazing into the corridor, key in your hand, ready to open the door. You undid the lock quickly, taking it out of the keyhole as you and Aoi slipped into Dohyon’s room once again, silently closing the large door behind you.

The room was lit up with the beaming moonlight, and Dohyon sat on the chair in the center of the room, exactly like he was yesterday. “I presume you got the first key?,” Dohyon asks, holding out his left hand, clearly indicating for you to give him the key.

You squeezed it in your hand, and exclaimed, “I’m not giving you this key until you answer my question.”

“Who and what are we even up against? What’s the point of even setting you free?”

~~

(Part 1)(Part 2)

[writemoment]

The Feeling Of Comfort

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 1/1

Summary: With all the misfortune in the lives of the Baudelaires, could they perhaps stumble upon the first comfort since this series of unfortunate events? What more could happen when unexpected feelings arise from a book-smarts boy in glasses?

Pairing: Klaus Baudelaire x Reader

Warnings/Rated: Light fluff in unfortunate circumstances

Word Count: 1,920

To say the Baudelaire children, now orphans, have had a difficult time since their parents perished in a fire, along with their home and everything in it, would be a dramatic understatement. However, to say the Baudelaires are in the midst of a series of unfortunate events would be more appropriate to help you understand a fragment of the unmentionable horrors they've experienced.

From the moment they were delivered the tragic news of their parents passing to the very act of being delivered to one of the most despicable beings alive; Violet, Sunny and Klaus have experienced little to-no comfort in their lives.

Little did they know that while they sat outside vice principal Nero's office at Prufrock Preparatory School, a girl their age roamed the halls, soon to change their streak of uncomfortable disappointment.

Y/n was a very nice person, though she preferred to keep to herself most of the day. Having been sent to Prufrock after her mother passed, she felt her father has long forgotten her as he was unable to stop mourning.

That fact alone brought great sadness to Y/n that could be seen on occasion when her eyes glossed over, but she believed in moving forward as to not dwell on what could not be undone.

With books tucked snugly against her chest, she made her way through the halls toward the library to trade out the hardbacks she carried. As Y/n grew near, she heard light chatter coming from the entrance. Once in view, she saw the delightful Miss Olivia Caliban speaking with three students she did not recognize.

"Hello, Y/n!" Olivia greeted with a wide smile stretching her face. After greeting her back, she was kindly introduced to the three new students.

"I'm Violet Baudelaire," said the girl with long brown hair, "and these are my siblings Sunny and Klaus." Sunny was an adorable toddler, babbling something of a greeting and Klaus wad a handsome young man with glasses resting on his pleasant features.

Y/n was slightly taken aback by her thoughts but recovered quickly. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, Baudelaires." Though she tried hard to bury the butterflies in her stomach - a phrase in which meant she felt nervous at her unexpected feelings toward Klaus Baudelaire - Y/n felt her face flush as she shook their hands.

Y/n wasn't one to get easily flustered, so she was unsure how to go about the situation. I guess we'll never know for sure since their time was interrupted by Carmelita's tapping and frilly, energetic appearance. "Time to go, cake-sniffers."

They all went their separate ways after a vocal goodbye and a slight wave. As Y/n walked away, Violet smiled to herself as she saw Klaus look back to watch the girl disappear.

"She was nice." Violet declared after settling into the orphan shack. Sunny smiled up at her two siblings, acting as a part of the conversation.

"Yes, she was." Klaus agreed. He thought back on their encounter and how calm he had felt in the presence of Y/n. A calm, in which, he hadn't felt in an awfully long while.

As the Baudelaires laid down for the night, thoughts of curious awe kept intruding Klaus' mind as he was eager to know more about the girl with the books. The very idea surprised him, fore he had not expected such emotions to greet him - especially not at Prufrock Prep. This he could not understand, which frustrated Klaus. He was used to having vast knowledge and thrived on understanding.

Somewhere in the grounds of the school, Y/n sat staring at an open book, not grasping any of the information because she, too, had her mind on something else far more fascinating.

***

The next morning was filled with anxieties for the Baudelaire orphans as each of them were separated before being thrusted into new and peculiar environments.

The education offered at Prufrock Prep was one that didn't make sense at all to the three siblings. By the time lunch arrived, they were all tired and filled with confusion. Surely nothing would go right in their lives, it seemed.

Y/n sat at her usual spot, occasionally nibbling on her lunch, with her attention drawn into a novel. Though she was alone most of the time, she didn't feel alone when she read.

I don't think I can adequately describe the relief that flooded the faces of the Baudelaires at the familiar sight of Y/n. After their day of desperate attempts at finding any sort of sense, they knew that they would find a warm and friendly greeting from their new-found acquaintance.

Having sensed someone looking at her, Y/n glanced up to see the three standing with thoughtful smiles. "Afternoon, Baudelaires! Would you care to join me?"

"Please." Answered Klaus, his voice alone bringing a shy smile to the young woman's face. They all took a seat beside Y/n, plopping down with an audible exhaustion.

"Tough day, I assume?" Y/n's voice is soft and empathetic as she invites the siblings to share.

The moment Violet opened her mouth to speak, two more figures appeared and halted her speech. Y/n vaguely recognized them as the previously new students but didn't know them well.

"Isadora, Duncan- it's so nice to see you again." Violet says happily. Klaus and Sunny beam at them as well, clearly having met them.

"The same to you, Baudelaires. Mind if we join you?" Duncan asks, sitting across from the occupants. "Hello," they greet, "we're Duncan and Isadora Quagmire."

Y/n introduces herself before Violet returns to her words about the day. She listens closely as they explain the nonsense of class and the outrageousness of having toddler Sunny work in an office. As if she detected stress, Carmelita prances over to ridicule the table.

After effectively irritating the group, she leaves with more pep in her step and an annoying laugh. "You guys are orphans as well?" Violet asks, curiosity evident.

Nodding, Duncan replies, "Our parents perished in a house fire."

"Along with our brother Quigley. We were triplets." Isadora says sadly.

"Our parents perished in a fire, too." Klaus tells them.

They begin speaking of other things as Y/n feels misplaced, returning to her lunch. Klaus immediately took note of this and he blocked out talk of the orphan shack as he stared at Y/n.

Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she aimlessly fiddled with her food, the conversation of lost patents ruining her appetite. "Are you alright, Y/n?" Klaus asks, feeling the change of mood.

Y/n looked up and met his concerned brown eyes. With a tight-lipped smile, she nodded. Klaus was not convinced and rightfully so- Y/n was not alright because she, too, did not have parents. Even then, she did not share this with her new found friends.

They both were snapped back to the conversation when violet's voice rang, "Everyone empty their pockets, please."

And so they did.

Paperclips, lint and miscellaneous items were scattered atop the table. All of it completely underwhelming until Klaus and Isadora pulled out matching brass cylinders. They clicked together like missing pieces because that's exactly what they were.

"We should talk."

Everyone agreed with Klaus. Well, except Y/n who was extremely lost. Deciding this was her cue to leave, Y/n gathered her things before standing up. As she was walking away, she felt a gentle grip on her wrist. Klaus now stood beside her with his brows furrowed.

"Why are you leaving?"

They were out of ear-shot from the table. "It seems that something personal is going on and I wanted to give you space." Y/n's words brought warmth to Klaus' chest and his touch sent tingles through her arm. No one has shown any concern for the Baudelaires feelings since the beginning of this whole ordeal and have since forgotten what it felt like to be around someone considerate. It brought the feeling of comfort in which Klaus hadn't realized he craved like a person dying of thirst.

"You don't have to leave," Klaus offered but he felt her mind had already been made up.

Y/n smiled at him softly before saying, "I'll be in the library if you need me. Best of luck to you, Baudelaires and Quagmires."

Klaus watched her walk away and he longed to follow her, to talk with her. However, there were more pressing matters to attend to with the Quagmires and the completed spyglass. He returned to the table and tried to focus despite the rapid beats in his chest.

***

Y/n spent a lot of her time reading in the library but, today, she couldn't seem to focus. Her mind brought flashes of her childhood up. She smiled sadly as she remembered her mothers laugh, matched with her fathers smile. When her mother passed, she hadn't realized she would lose her father too.

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and she loathed the puffy feeling her eyes felt. "Y/n?" Startled, she whipped her head around to see Klaus Baudelaire standing behind her, eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

Her fingers fumbled to swipe the wet streaks from her skin, embarrassed at being caught so vulnerable. Klaus steps in front of her before lowering himself to eye-level.

"Have you ever been haunted by a ghost with a beating heart?" Y/n asks, opening up for the first time in a long while.

Klaus knows that she's not asking a literal question, so he shakes his head before waiting for her to continue. Y/n scans Klaus' face and sees his undivided attention as he waits patiently. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, she feels she can trust him and talk to him with ease.

"My mother passed away a year ago," she takes a deep breath, "It was sudden and completely unexpected... My father and I were in mourning but I kept trying to move forward like my mother would want. My father did not."

Klaus frowned as he listened, her words struck the familiar sadness inside him. "He couldn't even stand to look at me. Soon after, he could no longer take care of me. He sent me here and I haven't heard from him since." Y/n's voice was angry, but mostly heartbroken.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to feel like I was comparing." Y/n admitted, feeling silly and small for her emotional spew.

Truth be told, Klaus was absolutely smitten with the intelligent and uncertain girl that sat before him. He felt a surge of emotion toward Y/n as she searched his features with kind, frightened eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I can't imagine how you must feel. Please know that there would never be judgement from us when you have something to say."

In that moment, Klaus Baudelaire and Y/n didn't have to worry about the tragedies that would arise that afternoon when called to assembly. They were unaware that Count Olaf was creeping on the grounds of Prufrock Prep or that Y/n would be taken by him along with the Quagmires in mere days. All that mattered was the feeling of comfort they both shared as their hands connected in the quiet of that library.

Klaus Baudelaire had faced many terrifying situations over the past weeks, but nothing scared him more than the thought of losing Y/n along with those he cared about most.

Masterlist Here

A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry for being MIA for so long, it's been hectic. I've missed you all and look forward to writing again. Hope you enjoyed this oneshot! Requests are open! - Ellie-Mae

[an-otome-cally-correct]

Sating Curiosity

Going to hell for writing it, going to hell for sharing it. If you wanna read more of my stuff, then check here. Note: Spice

Shakespeare knew full well what it meant to be curious. He always had been, after all. Maybe not in the way most people would be - seldom did he find people who shared his interests, unfortunately - but he was curious all the same.

Curious as to what circumstances could lead a man to break character, to break routine, to break expectations - to break, break, break.

And right now?

“...Would you let me bite you?”

Shakespeare was curious as to what could have possibly made Vincent, of all people, make such a… peculiar request.

In his long existence, Shakespeare had come to understand that if one wished to know, one had to ask. And so, he asked - asked what had spurred the other man to ask him of such a thing, and Vincent graciously explained, the pale skin of his cheeks gradually flushing red as he did so.

It was always a pleasant sight to see the painter so flustered. Frankly, Shakespeare wanted to watch him for just a bit longer, but when he found out that his dear friend’s curiosity had been brought about by a certain, shameless flirt of a writer who just so happened to drop a few questionable comments- Needless to say, the playwright wasn’t surprised.

That said, he respected Arthur Conan Doyle as a peer. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said the other way around. If Shakespeare was to say anything about him though, it would be that the way he hung around Theodorus had piqued his interest. But that was for another time.

For now, he still had to resolve the matter at hand.

Vincent was patiently waiting for a response, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze pointedly turned to somewhere else. As embarrassed as the painter was, Shakespeare could not see any sign of him taking his words back, and so he thought over the request.

Would he let Vincent bite him?

He could see no repercussion that he deemed too unpleasant. Then again, some would argue that his standards were a tad bit skewed, but that was beside the point. After some consideration, he couldn’t come up with a substantial enough reason to turn Vincent down - not that he needed any. If he decided to say ‘no’ he doubted Vincent would press the topic, but now that he had begun to mull over it, Shakespeare would be a liar if he was to say that he wasn’t curious as well.

Shakespeare had bitten others before. Granted, they were human, and not fellow vampire. Maybe one of these days, he would have Vincent return the favor in kind, but to be bitten? Aside from when the Count had turned him - that moment of his life was regrettably all a blur to him now - he had never been bitten again. Of course he knew what a vampire’s bite could do to its victim, but he had never known how it felt exactly.

And since it was Vincent…

Shakespeare decided it was high time he found out.

“I see...” he hummed, leaning back against his seat. Vincent’s gaze snapped back to him, his posture stuff and his face an endearing red, and Shakespeare allowed himself a moment to appreciate the wonderful expression he wore before continuing. “And you thought I was the most appropriate person to turn to?”

Vincent didn’t answer immediately. “There was no one else I’d rather ask, except you.”

Shakespeare arched an eyebrow. It was an interesting response, and he would have loved to pick apart his words, but that would hardly change the nature of his answer.

“Very well then.”

It took Vincent a moment to process what he had said, and when it finally dawned him, his eyes grew wide and his jaw went slack. It took him another second to compose himself, suddenly wary. “...You would really let me bite you?”

“Didn’t you come here, expecting that I would?” A guilty expression crossed Vincent’s face, and Shakespeare couldn’t help but chuckle. “Frankly, I’m curious as well, Vincent. So.. how would you suggest we go about this?” Already, he had a finger hooked onto his scarf to undo it - it would no doubt get in the way - but to his surprise, Vincent stopped him.

“I’ll… Please allow me to do it.”

This time, Shakespeare couldn’t help but comment. “Well aren’t you full of surprises today.” Vincent froze, a certain kind of fear evident in his eyes - a fear of rejection. Briefly, he considered the advantages and disadvantages, and when he found no difference, he let go of his scarf. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

With his approval gained, Vincent got up from his seat and settled beside him on the couch, his movement still stiff, but carrying an unprecedented determination. It was an intriguing thing to watch, his mismatched eyes never drifting away from those brilliant eyes, up until the point when the painter lightly took hold of the lapels of his coat.

Right then, Shakespeare felt his heart trip on its rhythm.

“Are you sure about this, Will?” Vincent asked, his voice laced with genuine concern and his face far too close for Shakespeare to doubt otherwise. “If this is in any way uncomfortable for you, then-”

“It makes no difference,” he cut in, shrugging.

It truly didn’t.

Even if the warm breath gently sweeping across his skin was enough to singe him. Even if the soothing voice in which he called his name did nothing to quell the ever increasing beat of his heart. Even if the scent, his scent…

Had Vincent always smelled so… sweet?

Shakespeare caught himself before his mind could wander any further, and schooled his features before the other man could figure out his thoughts.

“It makes no difference,” he repeated, but in the back of his mind, Shakespeare could hear a small voice asking whether it for Vincent’s sake- or his own. “It’s just but a simple bite.”

“A simple bite,” Vincent echoed, nodding, before he began to push away the coat from his shoulders. Slowly, Shakespeare eased himself out of it, and once the piece of clothing was safely put on the coffee table, Vincent turned his attention to the vest and scarf.

With every button Vincent undid, with every piece of clothing he peeled off, Shakespeare found it more and more difficult to remain composed as he anticipated the other man’s every move. It was far, far too seldom that he see the painter in such a state, and the unusual situation they had found themselves in brought about an unexpected thrill. Even more, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug, knowing that all of this, only he would get to see - only him.

Before long, he could feel Vincent’s breath against his neck, scorching every inch of skin possible and drowning him in that sweet, sweet scent of his.

“Please be gentle,” he chuckled, as a joke.

Vincent didn’t think it was.

“I will,” he promised, earnest, before pressing his lips against his neck in a kiss - soft, sweet, and most of all, unexpected. Before Shakespeare could ask - what that was for, what that meant, what that was - he felt a sharp pain, and instead of words, a quiet gasp slipped past his parted lips.

His whole body tensed as Vincent sank his fangs into his skin and began to suck his blood. The pain was hardly anything he couldn’t handle, but whatever illusion Shakespeare had of being in control was completely shattered when the sting gradually faded away, replaced by an overwhelming heat that flooded his veins, setting aflame every part of his body until he was raw and trembling. Shakespeare realized just how quickly he was coming undone, and in an effort to hold onto what little was left of his composure, he took a deep breath-

Only for it to come out as a heady moan.

Both he and Vincent stilled at the sound that escaped him, neither one entirely sure what to do. For what seemed like an eternity, all Shakespeare could hear was his own thundering heart, his own ragged breathing, his own swirling thoughts that wanted more, more, more.

But then, Vincent pulled away and met his gaze, and Shakespeare found himself looking at eyes that were the most brilliant shade of blue he had ever seen, burning with a fire that he wanted to keep all to himself.

“I… I think we should stop here, Will,” Vincent breathed, his voice thick and heavy with a hunger much more carnal than a vampire’s thirst for blood.

Shakespeare couldn’t help but smile.

This was proving to be a very interesting turn of events.

Shakespeare reached out a hand, wiping away the blood that stained Vincent’s lips with his thumb, the other man’s eyes growing wide and his face flushing a deeper shade of red. “But do you want to stop?” With a quiet chuckle, he licked away the red liquid from his finger. “Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

In the span of a few seconds, a myriad of emotions flashed across Vincent’s face before he answered in a shy, quiet voice. “...No.”

Pleased with his answer, a smile settled on Shakespeare’s features as he gently drew Vincent’s face closer to his, until the distance between their lips barely existed. Were it any other person, he wouldn’t have let any of this happen, but since it was Vincent-

“Then have me any way you will, until you are.”