#staring at my book case wanting to die before i have to attempt to pack and move All The Books

[outarou-mikado]

Need to start gathering a group of friends made up of strong tall women because I am small and struggling to carry items.....

[wri0thesley]

i know we all love toji being nasty, but i'd love to see a (slightly) sweeter side of him and the reader as mamaguro, if possible?? maybe featuring the reader in his lap, the first time toji's ever really wanted to really do right by his partner... the ability of a man like him to have a softer side has plagued me ever since akutami said he mellowed out with his wife 😭

saying the important things - toji x fem!reader (2.1k)

toji’s not the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve. but he’ll try, for you. 

warnings: none! reader is mamaguro and uses fem pronouns, pregnancy is briefly talked about. this is just soft honestly

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Megumi is sleeping.

He lays in his crib, his chubby cheeks squished against the soft mattress, his hair dark and messy. At times like this, you can see so much of Toji in him, and it makes your heart ache. You can’t believe that you helped create something so perfect – from his tiny face, the tilt of his nose, the perfectly formed fingers and toes . . . You find it hard to believe that Megumi could really be yours.

“You’re starin’ at the kid again.”

Toji’s voice comes from behind you and startles you – you jump, guiltily turning to see your husband. His voice is dark and rough, but as you see him you realise that his face is anything but. Oh, sure – he has a scar bisecting the corner of his lip, muscles rippling out of a tight black shirt. But the look on his face is peaceful, and as he meets your eyes it just seems to fade into something even more so.

“You come stare at him,” you say, “you’ll understand why.”

He makes a little huff of amusement – but Toji Fushiguro is under your thumb, so he humours you by moving forward. Big arms wrap around your waist, making you feel safe and held in his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder, sharp green eyes on the messy-haired bundle of wonder sleeping in the crib that you’d watched Toji build with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

(“How hard can it be?” He’d asked you. “S’flat pack, right? Guys who aren’t half as smart as me do it--”. In the end, it had taken six and a half hours and Toji had had to physically pick you up and sit you down on a chair because you couldn’t stop bending down to help. He’d placed his hands on his hips and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re gonna get yourself stressed, sweetheart, and it isn’t gonna do any good for the kid.” You hadn’t expected Toji Fushiguro to be the over-protective kind . . . but you’d be lying if you said that his pout and furrowed eyebrows weren’t adorable).

Megumi’s eyes had turned the same shade of green as Toji’s around the five month mark, for the record.

“We did a good job, huh?” There’s a hint of pride in Toji’s voice that he does his best to dampen down – he’s trying to be cool, even now. Your hands come to rest over his own, where they’re clasped onto your hips.

“I think we did a great job,” you tell him, and snorts out a little laugh against your neck that tickles, making you bend back into sub-consciously. “No, really. I think he’ll fetch a high price on the black market. Look at all of that hair.”

“Takes after me,” Toji tells you. “I think I’d fetch a high price too.”

“You know you’d fetch a high price,” you say, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. You find yourself on your tip-toes just so you can feel a little closer to equal to him. “You’re a wanted man, Mr Fushiguro--”

“You’re a wanted woman, Mrs Fushiguro,” He says, bending his head – and his lips brush across yours, and you feel your entire body fill with the heady knowledge that he wants you. You know it – he makes it clear in the gentler way he holds you against him, his attempts to do chores around the house, the way his fingers entangle with yours when you’re out doing grocery shopping as a little family. But there’s something that you can’t quite express that feels all the more special about the embrace and the words when you two are on your own.

It hadn’t always been like this.

When you’d first met Toji, he’d been all dark flashing eyes and dangerous smile and tugging hands, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flirted and charmed his way into your life. His voice had been dark and deep, he’d winked at you and made insinuations and insisted, occasionally, that this wasn’t a relationship so much as a mutually beneficial arrangement--

Until someone else had flirted with you in a club and Toji had grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, arm wrapping around your waist. Perhaps you’d been trying to make him jealous – you’d long ago accepted that your crush on Toji and desire to make him yours officially were going to come to a sticky end, seeing as he seemed to value his freedom so highly – but you hadn’t expected it to work.

He’d murmured into your neck that night that you were his, forever, and he never wanted to see someone else’s hands on you again--

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend, finally, then?” You’d asked, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the scar on his lip. Toji had grinned at you, dark and deep and dangerous but warmer than you’d ever seen it. He’d held you that night like he’d just realised how precious you were.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said to you in response. “Hell. Y’can call me your husband if you want.”

You had laughed and thought he was joking.

“Maybe I’ll try that after a proper proposal,” you’d said, tapping his nose. You’d expected him to grab your hand before you could make contact and pin you underneath him, tell you off for being so cheeky – but instead, the pad of your finger had made contact with it and you swore you’d seen a dark flush dust his high cheekbones.

You’d figured that was the end of it, until two weeks later he’d pulled out an expensive-looking ring whilst the two of you watched a movie.

“Well?” He’d asked you, looking almost uncomfortable – almost afraid that you might say ‘no’. “Whaddya say, angel? Gonna try callin’ me husband now?”

And you had.

He’d confessed everything to you before he’d asked about taking your name. His exact line of work, why he wanted to leave his old surname behind – and though you know you shouldn’t have, you’d simply taken it in stride. If this was what it took to have him, you would accept it; it had been too long, and you loved him too much, to simply walk away. You’d found out you were expecting Megumi six weeks before the small wedding and had told Toji immediately.

He’d seemed scared, but he’d seemed excited to – whirling you around like you weighed nothing before he anxiously put you back down and stepped back.

“That’s fine, right?” He’d asked. “I dunno much about kids. I haven’t hurt ‘em or anything, have I?”

He’d made a real effort around the house whilst you were incapacitated by your pregnancy, too – sometimes too much of one, as he batted away your attempts at cooking or cleaning with an insistent ‘I can do it, sweetheart!”. You’d let him make mistakes – honestly, a couple of disasters notwithstanding he’d made a decent effort.

You’re not afraid to leave Megumi alone with him, though Toji still hasn’t quite mastered the life skill of ‘talking to my baby as if he is my child and not simply a friend who I want to slightly intimidate’.

Sometimes you see Toji sat in an armchair with Megumi in his arms, a tiny hand wrapped around Toji’s massive thumb, and you think you could die from how much you love them both.

“C’mon,” Toji murmurs, breaking the kiss. “He’s fast asleep.”

You let yourself be dragged over to said armchair in the corner of the room, next to the little case of children’s books you and Toji had chosen for him

Megumi likes dogs; he claps his pudgy little hands together whenever one is introduced in the bright colours and flat pages. At nine and a half months, he had furrowed his little face and pronounced; “Gog. Goggy.”. Toji had grabbed the cheap camcorder that he’d been recording as many milestones as possible on and tried to bully Megumi into saying it again, but all of the footage he’d actually gotten was you laughing in the background as Megumi attempted to cross his chubby little arms and look at his father in disapproval. He had not said ‘goggy’ again until you had thoughtlessly picked up a little pair of black and white stuffed dogs whilst in a toy-shop with him to show him. Toji had had to go back to the shop ten minutes before closing to purchase them, and even now Megumi tucks them under his arms when you take him out in his pushchair.

You let yourself, too, be pulled into Toji’s lap as your husband gets comfortable, readjusting your body so he can wrap his arms around you and you can bury your face into his neck.

He smells like cigarettes and your laundry powder, familiar and comforting.

He takes a deep, pleased breath that makes the muscles in his throat ripple – you bring up a hand and trace them, fingertip lodging in the hollow of his throat for a moment before your hand moves down to rest over his clavicle, and then where his heart is beating steadily under his clothes and skin.

“You feelin’ me up, baby?” He asks with a smirk. “Y’can just ask, you know--”

“I’m feeling your heartbeat,” you say to him, listening to his pulse in his neck. “I think it might have stopped. We should look into it.” “Is this because I made that joke about the black market? Babe, you’d never let me fuckin’ sell our kid--” “Don’t swear around Megumi,” you say, automatically, your eyes swivelling to Megumi’s crib without moving your head from its comfortable position. “You’ll give him a dirty mouth.”

“You love my dirty mouth,” Toji purrs, the arm around your waist pulling you in tighter and closer. Heat rushes to your face and you give him a headbutt in the neck that’s half affectionate and half warning.

“Not now,” you say, sighing comfortably. Toji is warm and solid and always there for you. “I’m too comfy.”

“Ah, far be it for me to interrupt your nap-time,” he teases, but he pushes a kiss onto your forehead anyway. “Hell, I could go to sleep here myself. Nobody said havin’ a kid would be this much effort.”

“Everyone said it,” you say, stifling a yawn. “You just didn’t believe them.”

He snorts again.

“Y’got me there,” he says. “Wouldn’t change him for the world, though.”

“You’re just saying that because he takes after you,” you smile against his skin. “If he looked like me and acted like me, if he was sweet and demure--”

This gets another laugh from Toji, who knows exactly just how not sweet and not demure you can be.

“I’d love him even more, probably,” he says. “We’re gonna have some fuckin’ blow-ups in the future, sweetheart. Good job you’ll be around to sort out your men, right?”

The arm not about your waist moves so he can cup your face now, tip your chin up towards him. His eyes are still very sharp, but they’re softened with love as he looks down at you. Toji gives you these moments in the quiet of night – when he’s not formerly-of-the-Zenin-family, when he’s not the ‘Sorcerer Killer’, when he’s not an assassin-for-hire – when he’s just Toji Fushiguro, your husband and father of your child. You treasure every single one of them and hold them close to you like a precious pearl, stringing them onto a necklace of memories you’ll cling to forever.

“I’ll be around forever,” you tell him. “If I die, I’ll come back to haunt you and tell you what a shitty job you’re doing on the PTA.”

He snorts.

“Don’t even joke,” he tells you with a flickering smirk – but that smirk quickly drops away to be replaced with a look of intense solemnity. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Are you getting soft on me?” You ask, but the hand tipping your chin up does a little jerk.

“Please,” Toji says, a little softer now. “Let me tell you I love you and mean it.”

Sparks fly all through your stomach, your heart twisting in your ribcage. You rarely see this kind of gravitas on his face – he rarely takes this tone, almost needy as he implores you to listen.

“I love you too,” you breathe. “You know that.”

He pulls you into a kiss that knocks the breath out of you, that makes you feel like you and Toji and Megumi are the only real people on Earth and everyone else is an imitation.

“Yeah,” he says, gruff. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearin’ you say it, though.”

[jisungful]

abandoned.

summary :: breaking into an old abandoned elementary school isn’t always the best idea.

pairing :: chenle x gn!reader x jisung (platonic)

genre :: horror/thriller

warnings :: all characters are kind of dumb (first person to die in a horror movie type beat), breaking and entering, implied serial killer!au, murder, blood, descriptions of gore, psychotic actions, character death, all that stuff :D

word count :: 2.4k

a/n :: as I was writing this, I practically scared myself D: also the ending is kinda rushed but oh well

The end of the school year was supposed to be fun, full of surprises, and that one surprise was Chenle clinging onto you like a koala with a tree. Up to this point, you hadn’t thought of how much of an interesting boy he could be--but him giving you physical affection? You could never believe it.

Chenle let go of you before saying, “Come to the library with me and Jisung,” His hair was messy, as well as his uniform shirt. You assumed he just went around hugging other people besides you. He grinned at you, “We’re planning to do something fun as a celebration for the last day of school! Let’s go!” He grabbed your wrist tightly, but not enough to cause circulation loss, at least. You began contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to follow suit of the boy, knowing him. Nonetheless, you were curious.

You both arrived at the library, seeing Jisung already sitting at one of the tables reading a comic. Sitting down in front of the boy, he closed the book once he felt your presences. He greeted with a small smile, you and Chenle doing the same. “Alright listen,” Chenle started, clearing his throat before broadcasting the plan aloud, “We’re going to go to my elementary school—but with a twist.” He grinned before continuing, “It’s been so long since I’ve been there, so it’s abandoned now and I’m pretty sure no one monitors it anymore. Although... it is still intact so we need to break in.”

“Woah, wait, we are not going to break into an elementary school.” you cautioned.

Chenle rolled his eyes and rested his palm on his jawline. “It’s not like it’s haunted or anything. As I said, no one monitors it anymore--you guys just aren’t fun.”

Jisung clasped his hands together before letting out a sigh, “I thought you were joking at first and just wanted to go and play on the playground or something. But seriously?” He shuddered slightly, subconsciously flipping the pages of the comic he was reading earlier. You nodded at him before returning your gaze back on Chenle. All that was written on his face was smugness.

“We have to try it once. Think about it! It’ll be fun, you know? It’s like in movies, we just have to be cautious of our surroundings.” Chenle assured.

You can’t believe you’re doing this. You really can’t. It was 3 fucking am and you decided it was a great idea to go along with Chenle (out of everyone else in the world) and his plan to break into his old elementary school just for fun.

You packed your backpack with a few essential items: a flashlight, a few bottles of water, a baseball bat, and a crowbar. You kept it unzipped at the top so they could all fit, keeping your phone in your spacious hoodie pocket. You put on a mask and a beanie to keep yourself covered in case of security cameras. You put on your backpack, adjusting to the heaviness. If you were being honest, you had this rush of nervousness flowing through your body, the fear of not knowing what will happen to the three of you once you break in and enter the abandoned building. Nonetheless, you head to your front door to walk to Chenle’s house as the three of you decided to go to beforehand. Step by step, your body grew warmer as anxiety rose. It hadn’t hit you that you’d never done this before--you were always the type to stay in and not go out doing reckless activities; but here you are, doing that exact thing.

Immediately as you stepped on Chenle’s rug that was placed in front of the door, it opened, him now in front of you. He moved aside for you to enter the place. “You got everything?” He questioned and you nodded. “Jisung’s not here yet, so I guess we have to just wait.”

You both sat on his leather couch, staring down at the empty mug with thoughts roaming your brain. It wasn’t breaking in that was scaring you--but the thought of getting caught and living with the guilt that you had done something illegal was. Attempting to engage in conversation, you spoke, “How did you even come up with this idea?”

Chenle chuckled lightly, fiddling with the watch on his wrist. “It just came to my head out of nowhere, I guess.”

Hearing the sound of knocking on the door, you stood up abruptly, Chenle following after. You both headed to the front and opened it for Jisung. “You have everything, right? We should go now.” Jisung nodded and let out a breath he was previously unknowingly holding.

You three went inside of Chenle’s car, with Chenle driving and Jisung and you seated at the back. You took off your backpack and placed it on the floor of the car, the weight removed gave you sudden relief on your shoulders. Jisung plugged his phone into the aux cord and played soft, lo-fi music to soothe the nerves that were getting to you unknowingly.

You sighed, laying your head on the headrest of the car seat, looking out the window. It was a rather peaceful night despite what you were going to do in a couple of minutes—stars beginning to deem visible across the vast, dark sky, with only a few cars passing by in which you could count with your fingers. That was when you felt eyes boring into the back of your head, and you turned to see Jisung staring at you. You furrowed your brows and muttered a ‘what’. “I’m nervous, Y/N,” he breathed out, fear clearly laced in his voice.

You bit your lip. “It was Chenle’s idea, we can blame him for all of this.” you joked.

The elementary school definitely does not look as you expected--before coming, you imagined it to be completely abandoned, having growing moss on the walls, windows that were broken or punched, or even having “caution” tape around it. You guess it only happens in movies. But this school looked almost normal, for some reason, with only overgrown trees around it as the leaves fell on it. You let out a soft sigh, relieved that it looks fairly approachable and safe to go into.

“This is crazy, it’s been so long since I’ve been here. Let’s go!” Chenle beamed. You looked at Jisung for a moment, giving him a reassuring smile and a nod before putting on your heavy backpack and exiting the car as he did as well.

The three of you stood outside of the back door of the building, looking around for any suspicious cameras though found none. You pulled your mask up further before checking on Chenle and how he’s putting up with his attempts at opening the door. “I can’t find any key,” he grunted. You offered him the crowbar that was hanging off your backpack, and to your luck, it worked on opening the door. Jisung let out a surprised sound as he stood behind you.

The back door led to the gym in which you stood. It was empty, except for the lone basketball that sat in the middle of the vast room. The lights didn’t work, so you came to the conclusion that it would be best to use your flashlights, instead. You followed Chenle as he was the only person that knew the way around this place. He went toward the door which led to the hallway of the school, which connected to the many classrooms. The atmosphere felt terribly dismal, and it didn’t leave you with a good feeling. You couldn’t help but focus on the smell that hadn’t been freshened up for years.

“This is my 4th-grade classroom,” He slid open the door and across the room were sprawled out desks and chairs--it was like a forest, avoiding all of these objects just to get to the other side was like a journey in itself. In the back of the room were stapled class pictures of old students and teachers on a corkboard. Chenle desperately searched for the photo with him in it, searching across what seemed like around 10+ photographs. “Ah, here’s me!” He said, gesturing for you and Jisung to come to him. He pointed to his 10-year-old self, shining a flashlight on it to show it clearer. “It’s crazy how it’s still here.”

“You were cute,” Jisung commented.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” Chenle scoffed jokingly. He removed the photo from the corkboard and shoved it neatly into the small pocket of his backpack, thinking of showing it to his parents later today once he figures out a good enough excuse to where he found it.

You yawn, eyes getting tired minute by minute, second by second as you continue your journey throughout the huge school. You entered room 3B, which seemed like a music room—chairs stacked in 5’s, music sheets laying on the scattered desks, posters of musicians and guitar and piano chords on the walls begging to fall down to the ground as the tape holding it up collects dust. A piano lies near the corner of the room and Chenle sits on the bench that stood in front of it. He plays a mellow tune as you and Jisung look at all of the instruments that were isolated in a metal storage cabinet. You take out a recorder and try to remember the notes of the infamous ‘Hot Cross Buns’—however your memorization skill isn't the best and you end up with random noises. Jisung laughs at your attempt and you laugh back, putting the instrument back to where it was placed. You head towards Chenle, who was heavily concentrated on playing the song that was on the sheet on the music desk. You listen to the pretty sounds until he stops for a moment.

“It sounds beautiful,” you say.

Chenle chuckles before standing up and ruffling his hair, “I know, I’ve been playing practically since birth, you know?”

You both stood there, the moonlight reflecting on your skin through the thin glass. You turn your head, “Where’s Jisung?” You had thought the boy would follow you when you were walking toward Chenle—but he didn’t. There was no third shadow moving alongside yours and the boy beside you; the atmosphere grew cold. You beckoned Chenle to come with you before walking towards the classroom door to once again enter the hallway.

“Jisung! Are you an idiot? Where are you?” Chenle shouted out loud but there was no voice that followed. A curse word was muttered, you begin scrambling out of the music room to find the 5’11 boy that suddenly vanished into thin air. You knew how afraid he was during the car ride here and you never thought you would leave him alone like this. You stuck by Chenle’s side as you searched through most of the classrooms in the building.

No sign.

You were startled as you unlocked the door to the janitor’s closet, shining your flashlight down the stairwell that was somehow built in the tiny room. “Chenle, come here,” you beckoned. He rushed to you quickly; his eyes widened once he saw what was hidden inside the room.

“I’ve never seen this before,” he chuckled, “Maybe Jisung went in here, but for what?” You shrugged at the boy’s assumption, furrowing your brows before stepping in. Jisung was always curious about the world—you might think it’s his first life and he’s fascinated by every small detail that the universe could give him. Though, you would never expect that he would be curious about this particular stairwell.

A horrid smell hit you both once you reached halfway down the staircase. You muttered a curse word, “Fuck. It smells rotten in here,” Chenle agreed, nodding at you. You continued your way down to see Jisung’s body lay flat on the floor like a ragdoll. You took in a sharp breath as you quickened your steps down to see six other bodies lay in front of him. You rapidly shout out the boy’s name as you frantically attempt to shake him awake, wishing in the back of your mind that he hadn’t ended up like the bodies that were obviously sitting beside you.

Jisung groaned, sitting right side up as he held his head. “What happened to you?!” You question, helping him stand up. He looked around the room once more before taking two steps back when he watched the dead bodies lay on the floor.

He shook his head rapidly as his hands held onto your wrist. “I-I just saw that and I don’t know what happened but…” he shut his eyes. “I should’ve stayed with you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” You hear footsteps nearing you, both of your heads turn to the sound.

“Jisung!” You yell out. You froze once you see crimson flow out of his neck. Your eyes follow the holder of the knife’s arm to his face slowly. You stared with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Chenle, what the fuck are you doing?!” you breathed out.

Chenle tilted his head back with a slight close-lipped smile, enigmatic. Your eyes filled with tears as you watched Jisung’s blood drip, his arms holding onto what he thought was his best friend. “It’s so fun doing this!” he giggled, eyes crinkling through his smile. He pulled out the knife before quickly stabbing it back inside Jisung’s neck. “Is little Jisung whimpering? I’m just playing with you!” His psychotic laughter soon filled your ears and your breath quickened once you watched as Chenle stabbed him in the stomach laying on top of Jisung, a dark red pours onto the floor steadily. You wanted to look away but your body could do nothing but be full of shock.

Chenle’s head jerked toward your direction. You gulped as he stood up to walk toward you with an innocent smile. Once he cornered your back to the wall, he dragged the knife covered in blood along your jawline. You winced as the sharp blade cut through your delicate skin, you clutched onto nothing making your knuckles turn white. “P-please…” you whisper.

His smile dropped once the knife entered the side of your torso. “Now, you two can be with me forever.”

[bbrandy2002]

Fearless

Chapter 4: See the Lights, See the Party, the Ball Gowns

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow​.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

The girls spent their first morning in Cordonia with their respective sponsors, getting the first glimpses of courtly life and preparing for the Masquerade Ball taking place that evening. As much as they wanted to get out and experience all that this little Mediterranean country had to offer, there was just so much to do and little time to do it. 

That morning, while Alyssa worked diligently on learning the steps of the Cordonian Waltz and etiquette with Rashad, Maxwell finally got Riley out of bed in time for a late breakfast. This included meeting his brother, Bertrand, who was none too thrilled with the former waitress from New York. Riley discovered rather quickly that the duke was nothing like the free-spirited Maxwell; if ever there was a picture display of a killjoy, she was sure his scowling face would be plastered dead in the center.  

The day kind of went by in a dizzying blur, especially for Riley, who spent most of it either being lectured by Bertrand, or raiding the kitchen for stress snacks with Maxwell. And as far as anyone knew, Liam was still unaware that the quirky, raven-haired beauty he’d met two nights ago and never expected to see again was in his country, in his palace, and was about to come face-to-face with him.

If she didn’t die of anxiety first. 

Neither of the girls saw each other until much later that afternoon when they linked up in Riley’s room before heading to the palace's salon for last-minute hair and nail appointments. 

Later on in the boutique, Riley sucked in a deep breath and held in her stomach while Alyssa stood behind her, fighting to zip the back of the angel-themed costume she chose for the Masquerade Ball. 

Actually, "chose" was a loose description in this case. The ensemble was one of the last two dresses in the palace's boutique, and Maxwell insisted Riley wear it instead of the more provocative red devil attire to make herself more appealing to the King and Queen. The Beaumont sponsee didn’t give two shits at that moment about impressing the monarchs; her major concern was how she would fit that size-four dress over her size-six body. 

“What the hell did you eat, Ri? This zipper is not budging an inch," an out-of-breath Alyssa groaned as she attempted to pull the tight fabric closer together.  

Steadying her feet firmly to the ground, a jostled-around Riley answered quietly, in a still manner, so as not to undo what little progress her friend had already made, "You know I'm a stress eater. I've experienced many emotions since we left yesterday, and food therapy helps. And your judgment is making me hungry again, so thank you for making it worse."

"I'm not judging you; I'm simply stating a fact: Your ass won’t fit in this dress."

Riley straightened up a little higher, hoping to thin her lean frame out more. "Well, it's gonna have to," she scoffed. "I can't be the only suitor at this ball without the proper attire."

Alyssa tugged harder in frustration. "You know, it might help if I could remove the price tag from the zipper."

"Perhaps." Riley sideways glanced at the two inattentive boutique cashiers before turning her head slightly over her shoulder to acknowledge her best friend in a hushed tone. "But then I wouldn't be able to return it in the morning. $700 for a damn dress is highway robbery, and I won't be a victim to this place's jacked-up prices." She glared back at the fashionably dressed women running the register and hollered out, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Shhhh!" Alyssa's face burned with embarrassment while she smiled sheepishly at the bewildered ladies. "Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You mean aside from the usual things that are wrong with me? I'm a nervous wreck, Lyss. Liam still doesn't know that I'm here. I'm about to go wine-and-dine with snobby rich people, while my socially awkward-o-meter is on red alert. And Maxwell's brother didn't like me. How am I supposed to impress Liam, the press, this council, and his parents when my own sponsor hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Alyssa replied. "Suck in your stomach a little more ... Rashad told me Duke Beaumont is high-strung and takes all this court business very seriously. If you ask me, give ‘The Brows’ some time. I know he'll love you. And Liam already does!" Alyssa stepped back in delight after tirelessly sliding the last bit of the zipper to the neckline. "Voila! I got it."

Riley stiffly turned toward the full-length mirror -- her insides feeling like they would pop right out of her -- and surveyed the finished product. "Not bad, not bad. A slight muffin top on the sides, and my ass cheeks are packed in tighter than my family around the dessert station at a buffet, but ... I think I can get by with it." Turning to face Alyssa, she lit up with anticipation. "Okay, now it's your turn."

Alyssa plucked the bright red dress off the rack and headed inside one of the many dressing rooms. A moment later, she emerged with a beaming smile on her face and held her arms out to the side to do a show-offish twirl. "So, how do I look?"

"Oh my god, Lyss!" Riley clapped excitedly. "You look so hot in that! That color of red really suits you too. Although, you might want to cover up the girls a little more; I've never seen your boobs look so huge."

"Wha --" Alyssa glanced down at her fully rounded chest, a substantial portion of which was spilling out over the top. She crossed her arms over her breasts in horror. "OH MY GOD! You're right: They're enormous in this thing. I can't go out there like this! They'll be stuffing dollar bills into my cleavage and begging for a lap dance!"

"Well, just ... try to tuck them in," Riley suggested, demonstrating her advice on herself. “You know, the way guys tuck in their junk.”

Alyssa shook her head adamantly, attempting to slide the top of the dress up higher. "I don't think that'll work. It's already extremely tight."

“That’s what he said,” Riley quipped with a snicker, much to the chagrin of her longtime friend, who simply blinked back. “Wow, not even a smile. Come on, Lyss, it’s not that hard.”

Alyssa grinned despite herself, “That’s what she said.”

Riley stepped closer, reaching out to grab a portion of the garment covering Alyssa's bosom, and declared, "Alright, If I can squeeze my fat ass into this dress, you can cram those giant melons into yours. So, get to pushin’, girl.”

-----------

After 10 minutes of stuffing uncooperative breasts into a gown, Alyssa and Riley stepped out of the boutique and made their way to the bottom of the main staircase outside of the ballroom, where Rashad and Maxwell were waiting eagerly for them. 

A grim-faced Rashad approached the pair as they neared. “We were beginning to worry about you two. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.” He reached out and greeted Alyssa with a friendly kiss to the cheek as Riley made her way up to Maxwell, who did the same.

“No troubles,” Alyssa assured him, before staring down at her chest to make sure certain parts were still contained inside her dress. “Just some slight wardrobe issues that I think we’ve taken care of.”

Riley frowned, rubbing a soothing hand over her squeezed-in stomach. “Let’s just say we both feel like canned biscuits.”

“And I’m petrified of canned biscuits!” Alyssa shrieked, then spoke in a lower, punier voice in Rashad’s direction. “They make that popping sound that scares the hell out of me.” He nodded sympathetically at her admission, having no clue what canned biscuits were.

Maxwell let out a chuckle. “Either way, you both look awesome! Like two totally righteous peas in a pod and all that jazz.” He peeked over at Riley, who wasn’t appearing too sure of herself, or of anything for that matter, knowing she’d spent most of the day in a subtle panic. While she steadied her breath, he looped his arm through hers and leaned over. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go in there like the boss you are and knock them all dead. I just know it.”

Riley swallowed thickly, “But Liam --”

“Will be over the moon with excitement to see you again. Do you think I’d go through all the trouble of trying to convince you, and then Alyssa, to come all the way here -- not to mention, facing my brother’s wrath -- if I didn’t believe Liam would want to see you again?” Riley half-shrugged, but Maxwell could tell by the little glimmer of hope he caught in her eyes and the slight curl at the corner of her plush pink lips that she knew it was true. “If he’s not happy about seeing you, I’ll book you on the first flight back to New York, and you can punch me in the gut or something. But I can tell you with certainty: No man goes out with a woman and keeps his friends up most of the night talking about how amazing she was if he doesn’t want to see her again.”

Riley could feel a tinge of pink color her cheeks and looked away for a brief moment, knowing he was right. She was about to see her prince again. Simply knowing how happy Liam was when they parted ways that night made her heart flutter. The blushing suitor peered back at the towering man on her arm and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Max.” 

As they both stared straight ahead at the set of double doors where Alyssa was making her grand entrance into the ballroom with Rashad, Riley pointed out, “You realize if you had said all that stuff to me this morning and five bloated pounds ago, I wouldn’t have cried to you all day over pints of ice cream, half a sheet cake, and a bag of Mini Snickers?”

Lord Beaumont grinned without looking at her as the orchestral music inside erupted through the newly opened threshold that awaited their crossing. A gleam of anticipation glistened the cobalt hue of his eyes.”That’s our cue. Time to look alive, Twinkle Toes, it’s showtime.”

__________

It felt like a million pairs of eyes bore through Riley when the announcer spoke her name out to the guest in the ballroom. In reality, few paid much attention to the young woman dressed in pure white, from the feathery halo perched above her fancy swept-up hairdo to the tiny heels that sparkled like glittery specks of fairy dust on her feet.  

As Maxwell ushered her proudly through the spectacular crowd adorned in the finest silks and chiffons, faces concealed behind extravagant masks similar to hers, and opulent table spreads of gold and crimson, Riley searched the four corners of the room for one particular set of the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered -- she had Liam’s memorized by heart. However, the only ones she recognized came from her smiling best friend, standing casually beside the Lord of Domvallier at the bar, keeping her word to watch out for her. With a subtle grin from Alyssa to convey she had her back, the whirlwind of fear and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed Riley quickly dissipated into thin air. 

Baby steps.

While Maxwell and Riley headed to the center of the ballroom to meet up with Bertrand, across the way, Alyssa ordered a cranberry vodka from the bar. She was wearing red and needed a drink that matched perfectly with the fabric in case of accidental spillage. As the bartender poured her glass, she tore her vigilant gaze from Riley when Rashad’s cell rang. Seconds later, he covered his phone lightly with a palm and lowered it away from his ear to speak with her. 

“This is my client in California. Will you be okay for a little bit while I take this out on the balcony?”

Alyssa nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Is there anything I should be doing while you’re gone?”

“Try mingling with the crowd. Get to know the other suitors. The best way to help Riley tonight is to get a feel for the competition. Figure out who you can potentially get on her side and who is going to cause her trouble.”

“With all due respect, this isn’t Survivor.”

Rashad grinned before excusing himself. “We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the social season.”

What is it with all the Debbie Downers here? He sounds just like -- Before she could finish that thought, a stroke of irony occurred when she caught the denim-clad Drake, standing out like a sore thumb, making his way up to the bar. She quickly spun around on the barstool and hovered over her freshly poured beverage. 

Tapping the bar's woodgrain top, Drake called for, “The usual,” before plopping down on the stool next to her. His woodsy scent filled the air and wafted in her direction; she wondered if he’d even recognize her.

Pressing the rim of the glass to her lips to take the first nervous sip of her drink, she wondered why she even cared if he did.

Alyssa set the vodka cranberry down on a cocktail napkin at the same time Drake reached for his tumbler of whiskey. A brush of their hands caused them both to retreat away before he bowed his head respectfully to her. 

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Drake was quick to apologize. He never knew which stuck up nobles would have an issue with a commoner’s simple touch.

Alyssa lifted a brow and smirked in response. “So you do have manners?”

He’d recognize that wily voice anywhere. Grumbling, Drake responded. “Aww, hell! Pipsqueak? Is that you?”

“Hello, Sunshine.” She dimpled.

Drake shook his head. “I should have known. Of all the damn people in this room, I still managed to find you.”

“I would call that a very lucky day for you then.” Alyssa lifted her drink and tipped back a gulp. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t you have some royal cows or chickens to herd around or something? Who wears denim and jeans to a fancy ball?” 

She would if she could get away with it.

His tight shoulder muscles bounced slightly with disingenuous laughter as his chestnut eyes took in her sultry devilish costume. “I could ask you the same about your own clothes. Suitors are supposed to dress up for these things. Not come as themselves.”

Offended, Alyssa arched back contemptuously. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“If the horns and pitchfork fit.” Drake retorted. He motioned with his glass across the room. “By the way, you see that blazing redhead who just stole your little friend away from Maxwell?” When Alyssa snapped her gaze protectively in that direction, he continued, “That’s Olivia. You might want to check in on … what’s her name again?”

“Riley ...” Her tone was resentful. He knows damn well what her name is. 

“Whatever. Just trust me on this, if the two of you know what’s good for ya -- and I’m betting you don’t -- you’ll stay as far away from Olivia and the rest of these social-climbing fuckers as possible.” His mood suddenly shifted as he drained his drink, then slammed it on the bar top, motioning with his hand to the bartender for another.

Alyssa was quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the immense throb of protruding veins in his forearm as he nursed his drink. “What climbed up your ass and died? Why are you even here if you hate everyone so much? 

He quickly snapped. “I’m here for Liam!”

“Well, I’m here for Riley!” The two of them glared at each other in a tense showdown that neither was willing to back down from. After a beat, Alyssa’s determination weakened somewhat; confrontations made her jittery. 

And with him in particular.

Letting her shoulders slump, Alyssa let out a soft breath as she relaxed. “I’m trying to give her some space … but do I need to go check on Riley?” The question was asked sincerely. 

Drake turned his head back, his vision crossing the vast expanse of the room and landing on a perturbed Riley in conversation with Olivia. He scowled, recognizing the expression impressed on her face all too well. “We’re outsiders, Alyssa. You. Me. Riley. That’s the only thing they’ll ever see. It’s the only way they’ll ever treat us.” He shifted to face Alyssa again. “Take that for what you will. If she were my friend … I would.”

_______

Riley shook her head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m supposed to kiss the king’s shoe. That’s weird, creepy, and-and- unsanitary!” She nodded toward a masked couple standing before the seated king who bowed, curtsied, and then exited to the left. “They didn’t kiss his shoe. I think you’re full of shit.” 

“Riley, Riley, Riley.” The duchess shook her head with an exasperated tone. “Those people are well-established and highly-regarded members of the court … you’re not. And while I admit it’s a rather unorthodox Cordonian royal custom, it’s part of our tradition that the newest members humble themselves before the king in an act of deep respect and reverence. I’m actually astounded Maxwell never bothered to tell you.” She flipped back a thick curly-q strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Riley hesitated. “I guess I’ll keep it in mind …?”

“Great!” Olivia wrapped a firm hand around Riley’s wrist and pulled her toward the throne where the king sat. “You’re so lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d have looked utterly ridiculous.”

“Wait! Where are we going? Riley demanded, her feet barely able to keep up with the brisk pace. 

“To present you to King Constantine.”

“But I need to wait for my sponsor!” Riley protested. She struggled to break free, but the redhead’s clawlike grip was surprisingly strong. 

“Every second counts, Riley. These women have all known Liam for years. The early bird gets the Crown.”

“But I --” Panicked, Riley scoured the room for the Beaumonts and found them standing near the hors d'oeuvres table embroiled in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

“What the fuck?” On the opposite side of the ballroom, Alyssa spotted Olivia hauling Riley across the floor. Before Drake had the chance to warn her this wasn’t good, an enraged Alyssa was already sliding down off the barstool, stampeding off in hot pursuit of finding out what this redheaded troll was doing with her best friend. 

And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, feeling frustrated beyond comprehension, Drake followed right on her heels.

Coming to a screeching halt before the raised dais, Olivia thrust Riley forward, who nearly tripped from the momentum into the bottom step at the sudden stop.

It took every ounce of restraint Riley had not to turn toward the woman who had forcibly dragged her across the room and to stick a pair of size-seven heels straight up her ass. She, however, liked the pretty, sparkly shoes she had on too much to ruin them … and wanted to end the evening outside of a hospital bed. “Asshole,” she muttered almost soundlessly.

“Your Majesty,” Olivia smirked. “I would like to present to you the suitor House Beaumont has chosen. Lady Riley.”

Riley gave her a cursory glare. It was the moment of truth. She plastered on her best smile for the King, who regarded her with a nod. 

Just … just do it. “Your Majesty.” Riley dipped into a low curtsy and held it in place for several seconds before contemplating the validity of Olivia’s outlandish claim and swallowing hard. “Here goes nothing.”

Placing both palms on the plush red carpeting that laid at the feet of the King, she lowered herself slowly until her knees rested on the top step.

“What the hell is she doing?” Alyssa questioned as she desperately weaved around a sea of faces, dodging server trays and tables along the way. “And where the hell is Maxwell?”

“I don’t know ...” Drake answered, practically pushing her even more quickly through the crowd, “ … but you better move faster. There’s no damn telling what Olivia told her to do.”

Riley paused briefly, staring at the simple black shoes that almost resembled a shiny boot. She wanted to be kissing Liam right now, not his father’s old fricking foot. Worst vacation ever.

Lowering her head gradually toward Constantine’s shoes, she scrunched up her face and reluctantly puckered up. 

Out of nowhere, a body with the vigor of a wild stallion in full sprint barrelled into her side, sending Riley hurling across the dais and causing her to land face-down on the marbled floor below.

"What is the meaning of this?" An enraged Constantine bolted up, his ire focused on Alyssa, hunkered down on all fours at his feet, striving to catch her breath.

Maxwell and Bertrand heard the commotion and came rushing to Riley’s side when they realized it was her sprawled out and jerking on the floor.  

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," an apologetic Alyssa said as she reached up for the hand Drake was offering. The King's glare at her was nerve-wracking as he waited for an explanation -- until Drake stepped up in front of her, blocking her view of the incensed monarch. "I can explain."

"I hope you can, young lady." Constantine glowered, baffled as to why Drake Walker was still standing between them … and mirroring every movement she made. When she shifted, he shifted. When she moved her arm, he did the same. Was this some type of game?

“Uh … um.” Alyssa's mind raced with excuses. She couldn't very well tell him the truth and make Riley or herself look bad -- she was still a representative of Duchy Domvallier. There was only one thing she could think of to say as she whipped around Drake and pointed at him. "This man pushed me!"

Drake's body stiffened at her accusation. "The hell you talking about?" 

She covered her eyes with a hand, pretending to sob. "I was on my way up here to pay my respects to you, sir, when this man ..." she paused to take in a fake stuttering breath, "... came out of nowhere and pushed me from behind. I tried to stop myself from running into anyone, but I couldn't. Too much momentum." Alyssa lowered her hand and stared at a wide-eyed Drake. "I’m just a small person, mister. Why would you do that? Why? What did I ever do to hurt you?"

"I never --"

"Drake?" The King eyed him sternly. "Is this true? Did you push this young woman?"

Drake’s defensive stance was no match for Alyssa’s pleading eyes, begging him to save her from this. “Please,” she mouthed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I … I’m sorry, Sir. Lady Alyssa’s extremely long dress was dragging the floor and I stepped on it. When I lifted my foot off, she ... I don’t know … flung forward. I tried to grab her before she went flying, but she got away, and that must be why she thought I pushed her.” Drake lowered his gaze to Alyssa. “You really shouldn’t shop in the adult section, miss.”

“Is it possible you were mistaken, Lady ... Alyssa?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is surely possible,” she agreed in a rehearsed-sounding tone. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“Well, then.” Constantine's contented glance drifted to Drake. “It’s good to know you didn’t push an innocent suitor on purpose, Drake. But just know this … I’ll be watching you.” 

“Looking forward to it, sir. Thank you, sir.” Drake quickly bowed his head as Constantine returned to his seat to greet the next guest. He grabbed Alyssa’s elbow and rushed her off to the side of the dais.

-----------

Maxwell knelt beside a disheveled Riley, helping her rise to her feet and dusting her off. 

“Lady Riley,” a scowling Bertrand glared, “what on earth is the meaning of this? The glory of House Beaumont is on the line tonight, and you’ve already made your first blunder. I told you, Maxwell, this was a mistake.”

Slightly dazed, Riley stumbled while massaging a sore wrist. Inclining her head so she could see him under the halo that drooped over her eyes, she retorted, “I was shoved, Berturd. It’s not like I did this on purpose. And thank you for your concern; I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shoved? By whom?” The three of them turned to see Alyssa and Drake scampering off to a corner. “It was Domvallier’s suitor?” Bertrand asked incredulously. “This is preposterous! It’s beneath Lord Rashad’s character to have his suitor and Drake Walker sabotage ours. I will have to go over there and put an end to this travesty at once.” 

“NO!” Riley and Maxwell barked.

"Bertrand. Why don't you let Riley and I handle them while you play damage control with the King? Unless ..." he smirked. " You want me to smooth things over with His Majesty? I have a lot to say about how Twinkle Toes just SAILED through the air at warp speed --"

"Dear God, no, Maxwell! There will be no need for your … input. But, you two, get results from Drake and that suitor. No funny business," he warned.

The two of them nodded in understanding. As soon as Bertrand turned his back and marched away, they both gave a knowing glance to the other before rushing over to Drake and Alyssa, who had just made it to a far corner of the ballroom, 

Alyssa yanked her elbow away from his vice-like grasp. “I believe we’re out of the clear; you can let go of me now.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something, ‘cause you need to know it ... “ Drake swallowed thickly, his rounded eyes focused squarely on the woman who’d just thrown him under the bus to King Constantine. He spoke as if he had something caught in his throat, “You--your-- uh -- ”

“And who made these damn shoes, anyway?” Alyssa complained as she hiked up the lower part of her dress and stepped out of her heels. Her already short stature lowered several inches. “They clearly hate short women and feet. Seriously, who thought walking around like a newborn calf was sexy?”

“Alyssa,” Drake tried again to speak through a strained voice, “You need to listen --”

“Hey!” Riley interrupted as she and Maxwell stepped up to them. “Why’d you push me off that stage thingy? And OH MY GOD, ALYSSA! YOUR --” Maxwell slapped a hand over Riley’s mouth, knowing exactly what her big mouth was getting ready to loudly announce.

Her frantic muffled words continued to blabber through his tightly clasped hand.

Alyssa gave him a confused look. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“Just stopping her before she told everyone within earshot ...” he paused fleetingly, lowering his gaze from the muddled expression on her face to her chest. “Your bosoms … well, they have emerged.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” a flustered Drake said as Alyssa let out a gasp and looked down. “You’ve been ... exposed … since --” He was quickly cut off again by her tiny wail as she fixed herself and dashed out of the ballroom, mortified, her arms crossed over her chest.

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

Riley tapped lightly on the women’s restroom door. “Lyss? You okay in there?”

“No!” Her pouty voice rang back. “I’m the laughingstock of this entire court.”

Maxwell chuckled, hollering back. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lady Alyssa. I’ve already got that title covered in spades.”

“You two need to get back to the ball,” Drake said gruffly, referring to the girls. “Liam will be arriving any minute.”

“You’re right. There are probably five people in there who still haven’t gotten an up close shot of my breasts.” Alyssa swung the door open, bitterly hitching up the front of her dress as she stepped out, and glared up at Drake as she walked by. “And you let me walk around like that!”

“I did not!” He flushed a deep, dark red. “I told you, that’s why I was standing in front of you, so no one would see … ugh, fuck it. Just -- let’s go, okay?” 

A remorseful Riley hugged Alyssa. “I’m so sorry my dumb ass was what caused this to happen to you. Thank you for making sure I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alyssa squeezed tighter. “It was way better that it happened to me than you. We can definitely have a good laugh over this by the time I’m, like, 150.” When they let go of one another, she smiled at her friend. “Come on, we have a ball to get back to. And you have a prince to dazzle.”

“Oh, you guys go on ahead. I need a minute to straighten up.”

Drake, Alyssa, and Maxwell headed back inside while Riley spent a few minutes in the bathroom wiping away the dust off her dress and getting her hair back in order as best as she could. Plus, she just needed a moment to herself; it was the first time since she woke up that morning that someone wasn’t hovering over her shoulder or trying to impress someone. There also were some major jitters happening knowing the Prince was arriving at any second.

Stepping out a few minutes later, Riley headed back down the hallway, hopeful she still appeared as presentable as when she arrived earlier. 

Dotted along the walls that trailed back to the ballroom were portraits and artwork of kings and queens. Judging by the large periwigs, justaucorps, and stockings over breeches depicted, obviously they were quite old. One particular painting caught her attention enough to halt her steps before she plastered on a naughty grin.

“Ohhhh, what do we have here?” Riley snickered, leaning in closer to get a better glimpse. “I see London, I see France, I see a very hung King without his pants.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and spoke as if she were Scarlett O’Hara herself. “My, my, my, Fabian, I haven’t seen a lot of those, but I do declare, you put all the Yanks I’ve been with to shame. I’d be remiss to not ask if you were generous enough to pass on certain sizable traits, say to … Oh, I don’t know, the current Crown Prince?”

“Frankly, my dear … I don’t think he gave a damn,” a deep voice quipped over her shoulder.

Riley spun around, her body crashing into the portrait and causing it to rattle against the wall and lean heavily. Her face burned red-hot as soon as she heard his voice, even though every ounce of blood in her body seemed to rush to her wobbly feet. Liam reached out, grasping hold of her arms to brace her as she stared back, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, at his half-masked face, smiling warmly. “L-L-Li --”

“My sincerest apologies if I startled you, my lady. Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry, and surely no one in all history had ever been as embarrassed as she was at that moment, but she managed to answer feebly, “I think … I pissed my pants.” They both looked down at the floor simultaneously, relief washing over them that there were no puddles. Riley closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Liam chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes glued to her flustered face. “You’re just as beautiful as you were that night in New York, Riley Brooks.”

“Wait … you know that it’s me? Are you surprised? Are you upset? Do you think I’m some creepy stalker now? I swear I’ve never even touched a weapon.”

“Really? What happened to your bag of Chinese throwing stars?” Liam teased lightheartedly. Riley tilted her head in confusion. “You remember, the ones you were going to throw at me in the alley outside of your bar --”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” she laughed awkwardly as the memory came to her. “Yeah, I may have embellished the truth there a bit. Twenty-pound hams seem to be more my weapon of choice.” Riley hung her head. Why the hell did I just tell him that? When Bastien cleared his throat and gave Liam a pointed look, Riley knew their time was short. “I know you have to go, but I just need to know something: How did you know I was here? Maxwell tried to get in touch with you and never heard back. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me showing up here.”

“I’ve been quite busy since leaving New York with preparations for the social season and the Masquerade kicking off this evening. But it was Drake who came pounding on my door this morning to fill me in. You can imagine my surprise when he told me that you were here, and, I quote, ‘brought her small aggressive friend with her as guard dog.’”

Riley smirked with a shrug. “Can ya blame a girl? I came to win. Besides, I really like you, Liam.”

He smiled. “I really like you too, Riley. But this isn’t New York. As much as I wish we could just pick up where we left off two nights ago, this entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to give my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen. From now on, everyone will be watching you and ... Lady Alyssa.” Liam paused to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. “You actually got your friend to pose as a fake suitor and somehow convinced an honorable and highly dignified member of the court to sponsor her?”

“Yeaaaah, I still don’t know how the hell I did that. I should get extra points for my manipulation skills”

Liam laughed. "I believe you mean, negotiation skills."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, those too."

Already well past the time to make his grand entrance, Bastien approached Liam to give the final warning. Liam acknowledged him and turned back to Riley. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me. But until then …” He pressed her willing body against the wall, tracing the back of his forefinger along her velvety cheek. “ … just know how very, very, happy I am to have you here, Riley.” His lips were fire and ice when he leaned down to meet her equally fevered ones in a lingering kiss. And she melted right into him.

With that, Liam was whisked away by the head guard and made his way into the ballroom. As a panting Riley brushed her fingertips over the tingling in her bottom lip, she felt so many things all at once: relief that he was happy she was there and already knew everything regarding Alyssa, and that same exhilarating bliss that swept her off her feet two days ago when they shared their time together. But he was abundantly clear, this wasn’t New York anymore, and he still had a duty and obligation to Cordonia regardless of his apparent feelings for her. 

Riley let a puff of air and pushed her backside off the wall to return inside. Just as she did this, the crooked frame bearing the likeness of the late King Fabian she admired earlier fell from its hook and crashed to the floor, causing the ancient glass to shatter beside her. With her head shrunken into her shoulders, Riley slowly peeked out one eye and saw the damage. Glancing down one end of the hall to the other to see if anyone saw her, she glanced down at the shards and still fully intact artwork. Normally she would have hightailed it out of there, but she couldn’t help herself from giving her destruction parting words. 

“I guess you’re not … hung anymore.”

Then she bolted the hell out of there.

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

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[spinaroos-47]

Escapade - The Owl House Oneshot

Synopsis: Hunter has his first flight with Little Rascal, still on uncertain grounds with them, slowly building an agreement.

Alternative title, local witch almost gets punted into the ground/treetops

---

The past few days had been tense ever since the little cardinal flew into his room. If Emperor Belos found them... He did not want to think about it.

But they could be the key to solve Belos' ailment. Palismen were wild magic, he could study about this, find more with them, hidden from the Emperor. The tough part would be convincing him...

And the little rascal was showing themselves to be a trouble maker. Always trying to run away from the castle and into the forest, trying to hide themselves on the hoodie of his uniform when he went out of his room to do anything. So many close calls, where everything could be discovered and ruined.

— Alright, palisman. — Hunter was sat on the bed, staring at the cardinal in front of him, staring back, curious. — You keep trying to escape, and almost getting us caught, but you... you are my palisman now, and I want to learn more about wild magic. We need to sort this out.

It felt a little silly, explaining all this to the small bird, but they hadn't taken their eyes off of Hunter, as if they understood every single word. He squeezed his hands, that ended up resting on his legs, looking away from the palisman.

— We're both risking a lot either way. At least you- Wait!

The cardinal had taken flight and went out the partially open window again, making Hunter almost throw himself into the parapet, reaching out. He stopped when he saw the red bird staring back at him. They hadn't flown away. They were there, tentatively near Hunter, but too far away to reach.

— Wait...You... aren't trying to escape? — his hand fell to rest on the exterior wall, still leaning on the parapet. The palisman looked as if they were waiting for Hunter to catch up, still staring at his eyes.

He turned to look onto the forest far away, near Bonesborough. The cardinal followed his gaze, and returned to looking back at him.

— Do you want me to go there? — He asked, hesitant, and the little bird chirped as if agreeing. He got up slowly, pondering about the possibility. — ...Alright. I think I got it. Just let me prepare for it.

— If we are going there, then at least I'll want to take the most out of this trip.

Packing up what he thought could be useful, he stared at the Golden Guard uniform, stopping himself, second guessing this decision. It wasn't what Belos would want, and the discovery that he had a palisman would be bad news for both of them.

...But he needed to learn more. For his uncle. He still packed the outfit, just in case. Another possible humilliation for not being recognized was out of the question, in case there was a need for that. But this could be also an advantage, not being recognized could help him blend in and not be caught, and be seen as a regular witch with their own palisman, and not the Golden Guard with a creature he shouldn't have.

And then a notebook, a cloth mask, some bandaids, everything he could need, inside the bag.

Lastly, he picked his staff, and the palisman's too. He felt them still staring at him out of the window, almost as if expecting him to get only one of the staffs, their staff, not the mechanical one.

— I am not taking any risks. I know how to handle this one better than yours. — He looked back at the cardinal. — If we're in an emergency, this could be of more use to us.

He was ready, although still slightly hesitant.

Sitting on the staff, halfway out of the window, feet resting on the wall, he looked over his shoulder, to his bedroom, to the door.

— ...We won't be gone for too long. It will be okay, they won't even notice we're gone. — He muttered, more to himself than anything. His stomach felt empty, still staring at the door, as if it would open at any moment. Just one wrong step and everything would crumble...

— No. — He shook his head, returning to look straight ahead. — This will be fine. We won't get caught.

The cardinal propped themselves on his shoulder, getting comfortable there, happily chirping.

They flew high, to avoid being spotted by anyone, they could see the entire forest from there in all its glory. He looked at the cardinal, unsure.

— Where in the forest do you want us to go?

The palisman moved to the front of the staff, observing the scenery, until they turned to one side and pointed their beak to there, turned back to face Hunter and then back to the spot, gently singing.

Hunter followed their directions, curious. As they went farther and farther into the forest, hovering so low they were almost touching the soil, he slowed down his staff, looking around. It was far from Bonesborough, out of reach from anything of the emperor's coven, and everything else, it seemed.

— I've never been to this part of the woods before... Is this where you came from?

They shook their head, letting out a small thrill, before perching on their staff. He stopped, hesitantly planting his feet on the ground.

— Is it here then? — He took the palisman's staff out of his back, wanting to confirm with the little rascal. They flapped their wings, happily singing, almost seeming like they were smiling. — Alright...

He put his bag near one of the trees on the small opening they were in, together with the mechanical staff. The sky was blocked by the folheage but enough light passed through to let them see with clarity.

— So...what now? — He asked, with the palisman's eyes at the same height as his, expecting something to happen.

And it did.

The palisman joined themselves with the staff and opened their wings, lifting Hunter off the ground with a single flap, making the boy shriek as they jolted upwards.

— Wait! Stop! — He was holding the staff for dear life, legs dangling as the ground became farther and farther away from them while he desperatedly tried to make it stop going higher and higher. The staff got slightly tilted, leading them to the trees, leaves and sticks hitting Hunter on the way, as he still tried to change it's course.

After getting back to a clearer part of the treetops, he managed to prop himself in the staff, holding it, as they plummeted to the ground, with no signs of stopping.

He closed his eyes tightly and made a sharp turn, making the staff stop abruptly, throwing him on the ground with a resounding thud, right on his back. His breathing was quick, heart still racing, eyes wide open now that he was amidst the grass and dirt.

Hunter turned his head to the palisman, who got out of the staff, hopping near his head. They looked...guilty, as Hunter slightly got up, supporting himself on his elbows.

— ...You did this? — His eyes were still wide open, impressed, leaning more towards the small bird, who hesitantly nodded. He laid his head down on the grass again, pondering. — ...So you wanted to show me what you can do?

The palisman nodded again, having laid down on the grass too. Both stayed there, quiet, as Hunter recovered, looking up at the leaves, messy hair and with some folheage and sticks stuck here and there, face scratched.

— ...You haven't done this in a while, have you? — He muttered, softly stroking their head. The only response he got were low chirps, closing their eyes as he pet them. — Were you abandoned?

He paused, slightly retreating his hand away from them. How could someone abandon such palisman? He roled to his side, reaching out his hand to them again, who hopped on his fingers, being brought closer to his face.

— You missed doing that, didn't you? We...we can come back here tomorrow to try this again. Earlier this time. I don't think it'd be a good idea to try this again now, but we could stay here a little longer, make it worth the travel. We still have about half an hour until the sun sets.

He got up, sitting on the ground, reaching for the bag, searching for something there, until he found the notebook, showing to the little rascal when they started looking at the pages, perched on his shoulder.

— It's not as much as I would have wanted... but it's all I know for now about wild magic. I shouldn't be doing any of this, but... Belos will die if I don't do something. I need to find a way, even if he doesn't agree with it. I'll... I'll see how I will bring it up.

He slowly flipped through the pages, filled with names of books, mentions of magic usage during the Savage Ages, even some attempts at the glyphs that human made, although to little success, he couldn't remember them that well. Picking up a pencil, he started to write.

— Palismen are a source of wild magic. It keeps Belos alive. That... That I know well. — He turned his gaze away from the cardinal for a moment, hesitant. — But there must be another way. It's becoming unsustainable, there must be some other solution. A permanent one.

— ...I don't fully understand why he declares that all wild magic is harmful. You...you aren't dangerous, or malicious. It hurt many people, but you haven't done anything really bad yet. It did made that to him, but how come everything related to it could bring the same harm? — He sighed, resting his chin on his hand, looking at what he wrote.

Running his eyes through the page, he was gently tapping the pencil on it, analyzing. The small bird perched themselves better on his shoulder, slowly closing their eyes, as he read and and re-read the pages on the notebook, planning what to do.

Some minutes later, not very far from there, as it slowly got darker, some soft rustling could be heard.

— I think we should go. — He got up, gently scritching the cardinal's chin. Picking up his things, he looked back at where he heard the rustling, slowly approaching it, staff in hand and with the mask on. — ... But it doesn't hurt to check what's making this sound.

Pushing away some branches and leafs, there it was. The Owl House. Belos ordered him to keep an eye on its inhabitants, the human being one of them, and there he was, right near it.

— I didn't know we were this close to it. Why was she on the nest with you and the others if it's this far from Hexside? She didn't have any staff, and i don't think she went there walking. — He wondered, watching the lights inside the house turn on, sillhouettes on the eye window moving. — Did you have anything to do with this?

The palisman perched on his arm, also looking at the house, letting out low chirps, ignoring his question. They were starting to get tired, and so did Hunter. It had been a long day. He sat on the staff, giving one last look at the house.

— We should go. It wouldn't be a pretty sight if the door spots us.

With a long sigh, he took flight once again, carefully avoiding the patrols in the sky, quickly gaining speed once they were close enough to the castle, sprinting to the window. It wasn't worth the risk to dwell on the sky near the building, even him being the Golden Guard, things could be easily mistaken from that far away, and he shouldn't be out at this time. Getting caught wasn't an option.

Sitting on the bed, he gently placed the sleepy rascal on the makeshift nest he made for them, on the bed, near his pillows. Picking up the notebook, he stared at it, before hiding it under the pillow. He couldn't risk it being found. It was already hard to hide the more risky books, switching the hiding spots every so often, but losing the notebook would mean having to start from scratch all over again.

...But maybe it would be the best. To forget everything about it. To get rid of the palisman. Burn all evidence of the glyphs he saw. But it hurt to consider doing it. He already knew so much, but not enough. Just a little more, just a little more was what he needed.

And the palisman... They might have been a risky creature, but even on just these few days with them, he grew attached. They would greet him every morning, before and after any patrols, missions, meetings or training. They were always there. They made the days less lonely, the nights less silent.

They could help him with magic, he could find out more about palisman magic, how it works and maybe could be a failsafe if the other staff couldn't help him. The thought of all the possibilities overwhelmed him.

He looked back at them, who was already fast asleep. Hunter smiled weakly, laying on bed, staring back at the ceiling. His back was still sore from the incident, pulling out the sticks from his hair. He stopped when he touched the burnt loose strand.

Kikimora had started to be more ruthless towards him, more than the usual. She would try to do it again, there was no doubt about that. But the palisman would make things even more dangerous. She couldn't possibly know he was who fought her in Latissa, he was safe about that, but she would put her claws on any dirt she could have on him. He had the dirt on her, the failed assassination, and he wasn't afraid to use it if needed. He just needed to play his cards right.

Things had reached a precariously stable situation, or so it seemed. There was so much at risk, and the Day of Unity inched closer and closer, Belos' got worse and worse, a new rebellion was starting to get on the radar of the coven, with a head witch being rumoured to be among the traitors.

He had to continue it. He couldn't afford to avoid it.

But at least he had a little company during that, a solace for the hard times to come.

And every help would be needed.

[amjustagirl]

The sky of the sky (of the tree called life)

Pairing: Suga x reader

AO3 Link Here:

Summary: She doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class.But then he hits her in the face with his friendship and she starts to get to know him - through the smallest things, in the littlest ways.

Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I wrote and initially posted as a lone (AO3 link (was still getting the hang of Tumblr lol). Lifted the title from ‘I carry your heart’ by E.E. Cummings. Anyways - this is my humble attempt at a fic, my love letter to one Sugawara Koushi. 

Ume doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class. She doesn’t take much notice of anyone really, not when her mind is consumed with thoughts of college prep and exams and chores, so he remains a stranger, even after weeks of sitting next to him in class.

Still, he greets her every morning with a pleasant ‘Ohayo’, and doesn’t take offense when she merely responds with a small smile. He offers up his notes without comment when she asks to check her English notes against his, and even occasionally slips her a banana from the stash he always seems to be carting around. His grades are decent and his homework is always submitted on time so he’s popular with their teachers, even though he seems to spend most of his break time sketching what looks like volleyball plays or buried in heated discussions with Sawamura.

Overall, he seems like a nice boy - if a little obsessed with volleyball.

She looks at her lunch box in dismay. There should be food in it, rice and tamago and fish that she most definitely packed last night, but her lunch box sits on her desk, clean and empty. She groans, glancing at the clock. Five minutes after the lunch bell. She ponders on whether to wait until dinner or be jostled to death by a thousand teenagers, but then her stomach growls, loud enough for Yuna-san in the front row to turn and stare at her, so she supposes there isn’t much of a choice.

As she approaches the canteen, she can hear the usual bustle and sound of too many students trying to feed themselves in too small a space - but then she hears a shrill shout - ‘cream buns for sale’, and the immediate cacophony of excited shouts that follow makes her think that her chances of getting food in the next half hour plummet to precisely zero.

Her assessment is right, but that doesn’t stop her mouth from dropping in horror as the canteen practically descends into a warzone, her schoolmates collectively losing their minds. The girls’ tennis team looks like they’re leading a charge through the left, but they’re being resisted by the concert band. The volleyball boys’ team seems like they’re causing plenty of chaos down the centre. Sawamura-san, engaged in a vigorous shoving match with the basketball captain, and Azumane-san - the large, quiet boy she shares home economics class with, cowering while trying to swim through the crowd with a feral looking boy perched on his back.

She apologises silently to her stomach and turns to head back to class.

‘Imai-san!’ Sugawara waves at her from the back of the crowd. ‘I’ll help you get some buns! What do you want!’

‘Oh – two buns, any flavour?” she calls back, a little dazed. He answers with a cheerful thumbs up.

She watches bemusedly as he expertly weaves his way through the crowd to Azumane-san, gesturing wildly to the little boy on her back, before combining forces with a bald boy to shove Azumane-san bodily through the crowd to the front of the queue. The boys grab armfuls of buns each, elbowing the displeased soccer team in the face.

Sugawara spins around, and there’s a glint in his eye that she can recognise from far away (courtesy of being an older sister to two troublesome younger brothers), but her legs don’t move despite her mind hollering at her danger, danger, Imai Ume, even as he raises his arm to toss the buns to her.

One bun lands neatly in her hands. The other smacks her right between her eyes.

She yelps, hands clapping over her face, checking to ensure her glasses are still in one piece. A curry bun may be relatively light and fluffy, but it still hurts when used as a flying projectile.

She hears footsteps clatter towards her. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry - please don’t cry!” Sugawara says, his voice high pitched in worry, hovering next to her awkwardly. “Daichi will never let me get over it if I make a girl cry.’

She snorts despite the sting between her eyes. “It’s fine, Sugawara-san. Thank you for helping get some food’.

‘Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the nurse’s office just in case!’ he fusses, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other nervously, ‘I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I missed that toss, I should just resign from the volleyball team already - ‘

‘Eh eh eh? Suga - what’s this talk about resigning from volleyball!’ The small, feral boy from earlier leaps onto Sugawara’s back.

‘How can you resign? This is the year we’re making it to Nationals!’ the bald boy rounds up the rear, yelling at Sugawara indignantly.

‘I missed a toss at my classmate, I’m no longer qualified to be a setter.’ Sugawara wails, unfazed by the weight of his two juniors on his back. ‘I should just die now’

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE ASAHI NOW EH, DRAMA QUEEN!’

She takes advantage of their chaos to slip back to class. They don’t get a chance to speak to each other again for the rest of the day, kept busy with classes on calculus and chemistry for the rest of the afternoon. But the next morning he crows a loud ‘Ohayo’ at her, and she smiles at him, wider than she did before. 

----------------------------------- 

Spring passes into summer surprisingly quickly, and Ume slowly, but surely, gets used to hearing the song of the cicadas in evenings instead of the rumble of cars in the streets, to the uphill bike commute she takes to ferry both herself and Yuji to school and kindergarten respectively.

Becoming accustomed to something doesn’t mean liking it though. She remembers her mother saying that things would be easier when they move to Karasuno from the city. That living with family in a close knit community like Karasuno means more hands on deck to keep their family afloat. For the most part, Ume supposes her mother’s right. Her grandparents are sweet and try their best to help out, if a little too old to chase Yuji around the house or fetch him up and down the mountain to preschool every day. Their neighbours always offer them too much food, and their grandchildren provide Yuji with enough entertainment most evenings for Ume to catch up with schoolwork and revision.

But sometimes, after she’s corralled an unruly Yuji to bed, and shooed a sullen Keiji to sleep, and she herself can’t fall asleep because the cicadas are too damn loud, Ume wonders if her mother uprooted them to Karasuno so she could run away from the fact that she’s stuck raising three children alone, disappearing off on such long business trips that Yuji doesn’t even ask her anymore if their mama’s coming home.

Thankfully, Yuji, with the short memory of a six year old, finds living in the countryside a joy. He joins the neighbour’s children in catching cicadas, and when she tells him that it’s cruel to catch animals for sport – even ones as annoying as cicadas, he laughs and promises that he always lets them go.

Keiji, though, remains quiet and withdrawn, hiding in the bedroom whenever he’s home from school. She tries chatting with him at the dinner table but her efforts are usually met with the surly silence of a thirteen year old. So she doesn’t push him too much, too fast - she already asks too much of him as it is, sharing most of the chores and supervising Yuji so they don’t become a burden to their grandparents.

So it’s a surprise when Keiji asks if they can head to the park for a picnic on a clear summer’s day, but she agrees immediately, swallowing her shock, making sure to pack onigiri and fruit and strapping Yuji to her bike. It’s strange when Keiji drags them all over the park looking for the perfect picnic spot. It’s even stranger when he decides that the playground, full of shrieking children, should be the appropriate spot for a picnic. But there’s a tree for shade and it’s convenient enough for her to watch Yuji while he runs loose in the playground, so she holds her tongue and spreads their picnic mat on the floor.

‘Can I get us some ice cream?’ Keiji asks.

She’s about to tell him to wait til he has proper food in his stomach before moving on to dessert, but catches sight of Keiji staring at the ice cream stand intently, hands in pockets, cheeks flushed pink. She follows his gaze. The ice cream stall looks fairly old, run by an oba-chan and a young girl with short hair and a cheerful smile. Oh.

‘Why don’t you go get an ice cream for yourself? Yuji and I can get some later’, Ume replies, busying herself with the picnic basket to hide her smile.

She settles on the mat, back against the tree, setting her textbook on her lap. The summer air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight shining through the leaves dances on her skin.

‘Hey Imai!’ Suga stops to greet her, hand raised in a friendly wave.

‘Hello!’ she waves back. ‘No volleyball practice today?’

‘No - we have a mandated break on Saturday afternoons’, he walks over to her. ‘Despite what my unruly kouhai think, overtraining causes injuries. Besides, we need time for summer homework’.

She nods, noticing the stack of books under his arm, and before her brain processes her sudden impulse fully, she asks ‘Do you want to join me? We can share the mat’.

He blinks at her, and she cringes internally, expecting him to politely decline. He may chatter at her absentmindedly about his team, and she may share her notes with him when she notices he’s distracted, but it’s not as if they’re friends outside of school. To her surprise though, he agrees easily, kicking off his shoes to join her on the mat. They sit together in silence, absorbed in their respective work. The sun is warm but the breeze is cool and crisp, so it’s comfortable and altogether pleasant.

‘Onee-chan’, Keiji calls, running back over. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Suga and drops into a slight bow before turning to his sister. ‘Can I have my onigiri? I want to pass it to my friend.’

She opens her mouth to nag him to make sure that he has lunch, but promptly shuts it. Instead, she tosses him two onigiris - hers, and his. ‘Make sure you eat, Keiji’, she calls, and he’s off, running with the wind.

‘Hey, Imai, I packed too much food. Share some of it with me?’ Suga offers mildly. She’s about to say no, thank you politely, but her stomach growls - traitor, and he just chuckles at her, snapping his lunchbox open and pressing half his sandwich into her hands. She thanks him, taking a bite and has to stop herself from moaning in delight because it’s full of egg mayo and chicken katsu and it’s so, so good.

‘It’s delicious, right?’ he says, grinning around a mouthful of his half of the sandwich. ‘You can’t study on an empty stomach, that’s against the law’.

She laughs at that and splits her stash of strawberries and watermelon with him.

Later, she shocks herself again when she tells him as he’s about to leave that she’ll probably be at the park again next Saturday - and he’s welcome to join her if he pleases. She wonders if he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but he shoots her another smile and agrees.

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

She packs two extra onigiris next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. She also starts including peaches from her grandparents’ farm because she learns that he has a weakness for them.

Keiji ignores Suga for the most part, leaving for the ice cream stand as soon as they arrive in the park. Yuji, on the other hand, soon learns he can get Suga to do whatever he wants if he pouts long enough. Suga, for his part, does not help, often buying the little boy far too much mochi and ice cream.

‘Stop it Yuji.’ Ume says wearily. ‘Suga needs to study and you’re distracting him’.

‘But he’s the only one I know who can push me hard enough on the swings’, Yuji whines, scruffing his shoes into the ground.

‘It’s fine, I’ll take it as my break’, Suga says, smiling kindly down at the little boy. ‘Shall we see how high you can fly, Yuji-chan?’

She watches, shaking her head as Yuji cheers, dragging Suga off in the direction of the playground.

‘You seem good with kids’, she remarks when he returns - thankfully after a short while since Yuji, with the typical attention span of a six year old, is quickly distracted by the other kids playing a game of tag.

‘You think so?’ Sugawara responds, turning back to his books. ‘That’s good to know. I’m planning on going to college to train to be a teacher.’

The image of him dressed in a rumpled shirt and tie greeting his class with a cheerful ‘Ohayo’ every morning flashes in her mind. She imagines him smiling wide and indulgent at his student’s pranks, listening patiently to his students’ questions and problems, diligently pouring over his students’ assignments late into the night.

For some reason, her heart clenches. She doesn't know why.

----------------------------------- 

‘Tohoku Medical school?’, he asks, eyeing the flyer sticking out of her bag.

‘Mm.’ she mumbles, distracted by the peach juice running down her hands. Then she realises what he’s just said and wrinkles her nose. ‘The entrance exam is hard though. Not a lot of people pass.’

‘Ugh, stop that, your grades are so good- negativity begone!’ He nudges her teasingly with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

‘Why, though?’ he asks, before quickly adding. ‘If you don’t mind saying’.

She’s about to rattle off her prepared answer of heeding the noble calling of saving lives and making a difference one person at a time, but for some reason, she doesn’t.

Instead, she jerkily answers - ‘My dad was a doctor’.

She can feel him raise his eyebrows at her use of past tense (and not present tense) and suddenly the peach in her hand doesn’t seem as appetising as it was before.

‘Cancer’, she finds herself saying. ‘Last year’. She looks down at her feet, refusing to see what she expects will be pity in his gaze.

But he doesn’t say anything. He leans his shoulder against hers, and they stay that way for a while.

She doesn’t protest this time when he comes back from the ice cream stall with far too much ice cream, and the tightness in her chest dissipates as she watches him let Yuji flit between his chocolate and vanilla cones like a honeybee, even though she knows she’s going to have a hard time putting the little boy to bed tonight.

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

'I like Suga-san very much.' Yuji declares later as she tucks him into bed.

'So do I', Ume says. So do I’.

The call of the cicadas don’t seem as loud, and she falls asleep easily that night.

 -----------------------------------

‘You should be studying’, she reminds him, playfully rapping on his knuckles with her pen.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, looking up from his sketches on volleyball plays. ‘A couple more minutes and I’ll get back to work’.

She shakes her head indulgently at him. ‘You spend far too much time on volleyball as it is’.

‘I suppose I do’, he hums, busy drawing indecipherable pictures in what she’s termed his volleyball notebook.

She’s suddenly reminded of Yamada and Takashi, the two basketball idiots in her class, goading Suga about ‘being a loser for losing his starting position to a first year’. Sawamura usually erupts in anger when he hears them as he’s wont to do whenever he encounters the basketball club, but Suga, for his part, only responds with a serene smile.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks, before she can stop herself. ‘Sorry’ she says frantically, as her brain catches up with her mouth. ‘That was rude of me’.

He breathes a rueful laugh through his nose. ‘It’s fine, I’m not offended’. But he stops his scribbling, and his mouth slants downward in a way that Ume doesn’t quite like.

‘It’s worth it’, he then says, voice quiet but full of conviction. ‘It’s worth it to play with my team. I want us to keep getting stronger, I want us to keep playing together, and I want us to go to Nationals and win’. He gazes into the distance and smiles, bittersweet. ‘And everything else doesn’t matter’.

It’s her turn to lean into him with her shoulder.

‘I’ll bring Yuji to watch you at the finals’, she says. ‘And we’ll watch you at Nationals on our TV’.

He laughs and she smiles, wide and bold and bright.

---------------------------------- 

Sugawara spends their lunch breaks talking about his team’s latest exploits all the time. She laughs when he tells her about the hijinks that the team constantly gets up to, from setting fire to the Vice Principal’s very obvious toupee, to an all out prank war with the basketball team featuring copious amounts of dead fish and paint bombs. She particularly enjoys Suga’s impression of Nishinoya’s ‘rolling thunder’ war cry, and rather suspects the whole team is intent on driving Sawamura into an early grave.

Despite having a tendency to smile indulgently at his team’s penchant for chaos and hellfire, it’s clear that Suga cares deeply for each and every one of his teammates. He broods about Tsukkishima’s lack of ambition and desire to bond with the team, Yamaguichi’s lack of confidence, Kageyama’s and Hinata’s inability to communicate like regular human beings. Even when he jokes about Ennoshita’s latest attempt to evade Sawamura’s talks about ‘passing on the captainship’, she can sense the undercurrent of worry and concern.

Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to give tutoring Tanaka and Nishinoya a go, after he explains that they’ll end up missing the Tokyo Training Camp that Takeda-sensei went through so much trouble to arrange. She also tells herself that the reason she’s doing it is because Second year Math is covered in the university entrance exams - and absolutely not because Suga practically lights up with relief when she waves his thanks away.

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

Tanaka and Nishinoya remind her of Yuji and even Keiji (well, before), rowdy and loud and full of boyish mischief. They fall out of their chairs when they notice Kiyoko-san walk by the classroom deep in conversation with some boy, and she has to rap them on their knuckles with a pen to get them to focus on solving question number two - please and thank you - before they settle back down.

Still, they’re surprisingly attentive and almost respectful even when she’s trying to impress upon them the dryer points of Math, so it’s easy to become fond of them. They get through vectors after she likens the trajectory of vectors to the movement of a volleyball. Statistics were a struggle, but fortunately, volleyball statistics save the day. Calculus seems to be the biggest hurdle, but she’s hopeful they’ll get it, once she finds a way to relate it to volleyball or better yet, convince them that differentiation and integration are very, very manly pursuits.

That said, it doesn’t help that the basketballers in her class seem to have a deep rooted grudge against the volleyball team - though from Suga’s stories, the animosity is probably mutual. Yamada in particular seems to take special pleasure in taunting the two boys.

‘Eh, Baldy! Y’all lose another game yet? I saw you guys crying the other day after school’.

‘They’d probably win more games if chibi-chan here grew a few inches’, Takashi, his fellow basketballer sniggers.

‘Ignore them’, she tells the two growling boys firmly. ‘You don’t need to get kicked out of your team for starting a fight with these guys’.

‘Awww… are you two kouhai hiding behind your female senpai? ’ Yamadai jeers, leering at them. ‘What losers, just like your Suga-senpai. Heard he got turfed out of his starting position by a first year’.

At that, Tanaka and Nishinoya practically levitate out of their seats as one, snarling ‘Huh?!!! You fucking -’

‘Bit rich of you to pick on them, eh Yamada?’ Ume interrupts. ‘I heard Ono-senpai say last week that if you fail your tests one more time, you’re going to get kicked out of the basketball team. Who’s the loser now?’

‘Bitch!’ Yamada growls, hands slapping his desk.

‘Maybe you’d have a better shot at passing your exams if you spent your time studying instead of disturbing others - who unlike you are actually working hard,’ she adds, smiling at him sweetly.

Thankfully, Takashi has some sense of self-preservation and drags Yamada kicking and screaming out of the door. Tanaka and Noya swivel their heads towards her, twin expressions of shock on their faces.

‘Holy shit, that was so manly?!’

‘Imai-senpai, you’re almost as cool as Kiyoko-senpai!’

‘Yeah - almost as good as the time she ignored us when we asked her to marry us.’

‘No - better, but not as good as the time she slapped me’

‘Thank you’, she responds dryly. ‘Can we get back to differentiation, please?

‘Yes, Imai-senpai!’ They snap into a salute.

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

‘I hear from Tanaka and Noya that you’re very manly’. His eyes twinkle at her.

‘Psh’, she says airily. ‘They exaggerate’.

But she laughs when he slips her half his sandwich as thanks.

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

Noya and Tanaka pass their exams (by some miracle, thank god), and they graduate from her tutoring sessions.

She passes her exams too, tops her cohort even.

Her classmates start to take more notice of her, requesting for copies of her notes and tutoring sessions on topics they don’t really grasp. It's not really that much of a problem to just have an extra set of notes for her classmates to copy (she learnt her lesson when Takashi spills juice all over her precious biology notes - an accident, of course), and extra tutoring sessions are a good way for her to revise what she previously learnt - so she doesn’t really mind.

Of course she knows they think they're picking her brains and hard work, but it's not as if she minds. They're reasonably polite when they approach her, and she can pretend she doesn’t hear them gossip about her behind her back (that her parents are rich enough to send her to not one, but two cram schools, that they must know the principal who leaked the exam topics to her somehow).

Still, she can’t help but feel a spike of irritation when Yamada manages to corner her alone in class one day after school.

‘Oi, Ikai. Can you give me a copy of your math notes? I hear they're pretty good.'

She blinks innocently at him. ‘My notes cover whatever sensei taught in class if you were listening’. Which he probably wasn't, considering he seems to spend most of his time tossing spitballs or bouncing a basketball obnoxiously against the wall.

‘Tch.’ He leans towards her. ‘Come on, don’t be a stingy bitch. Just lend them to me for a bit.’

She narrows her eyes at the audacity of this bugger. 'No.' she says simply.

'Eh?' Yamada glares down at her.

'Did a basketball hit you too hard in the head yesterday? I said no.' She turns her back on him, packing her school bag, keeping her sharpest pencil in her hand, just in case.

He takes a step closer towards her, both hands heavy on her desk. 'But you share your notes with everyone else!’

‘Well, yes - but that’s because they're tolerably polite when they ask, and unlike you, they actually get my name right.’

He slaps her table hard with his hands. ‘Stop being a bitch, just give me your notes already'.

She should just give him what he's asking for or placate him with the promise that she'll give him a copy tomorrow - but she suddenly feels so sick and tired of giving more and more of herself - to her mother, her brothers, her classmates, and now this rude asshole - and she's so done, goddamnit.

'No.' She snaps, lifting her chin defiantly at him. 'What are you going to do about it?'

He snarls, grabbing hold of her wrist. 'Stubborn bitch, just give me the notes already!'

'Let go, pig!', she shouts, trying to wrench her wrist away, mind whirring to calculate the force and speed needed to shove her pencil into his face. His grip tightens, and he digs his nails into the thin skin of her wrist.

He smirks down at her. She tries not to flinch.

'Hey, Imai. Got worried about you when you didn’t turn up at the library.' Suga calls out, loud and clear from the door. Ume exhales a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as he walks deliberately towards them.

‘Yamada-san. I always knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know you stooped so low you’d bully a girl’.

Yamada takes a half step back, but does not release her hand. 'Piss off, Suga. It’s none of your business'.

‘Perhaps’, he responds, humming diffidently. ‘But I thought I should remind you that if you get just one more strike on your disciplinary record, you’re off the basketball team’. His mouth stretches into a semi feral smile. ‘For good.’

Yamada coils back, looking as if he’d like nothing better than to strike Suga in the face, but then, seemingly thinking the better of it, he drops Ume’s wrist and smirks again. ‘We were just having a friendly discussion, eh Imai?’

‘Remind your thick skull to keep it that way.’ Suga says, meeting Yamada’s glare with an even gaze of his own.

Yamada looks away. 'Tch. I can't be bothered with you dumbasses', he sneers, stalking out of the class.

‘Are you ok?’ Suga asks her immediately, glancing at her once over, stopping short when he spots the red welts ringed around her wrist. ‘Did he do that to you?’ he asks, voice dangerous.

‘I’m fine.’ She follows his gaze and yanks her sleeve down, hiding the marks from view. ‘It’s nothing.’

He opens his mouth, about to insist that it is very much not fine, but she cut him off quickly. ‘Really! It’s my fault he got annoyed with me. He wanted a copy of my notes and I was very rude and didn’t want to give them to him,’ she laughs awkwardly. ‘Besides, it’s a good thing you stepped in when you did, or I’d have gotten into more trouble - because I was about to stab him with my pencil’.

Suga’s mouth drops open. ‘With your what?’

She unfurls her palm to show him her pencil, pink and sharp but altogether unconvincing.

He bursts into cackles, wheezing. ‘Maybe Tanaka should’ve taken his time to get me. I would’ve liked to see you try to fight Yamada with that’.

She snorts. ‘I’m just glad Tanaka showed some self-restraint and didn’t jump Yamada himself.’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s because Ennoshita was there to stop him.’ Suga says wryly. He drops his gaze back to her wrist. ‘But seriously, if I’d known he hurt you, I’d have jumped him too’.

She looks at him sharply. ‘Suga… If any one of you get suspended, you can’t play in the Inter High Preliminaries.’

‘Not if we don’t get caught for it’. He gives her a zen smile as she splutters in shock. ‘Anyway, don’t you usually leave school to pick Yuji-chan up by now?’

‘Oh no, Yuji’s probably waiting for me!’ She cries out in alarm, dashing across the classroom.

At the doorway, she comes to a pause and turns around. ‘Suga!’

‘Mm?’ He tilts his head at her.

She smiles shyly. ‘Thanks’.

He smiles back. 

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

She ends up preparing a copy of her notes for Yamada anyway. He’s stubborn and stupid, and she figures that Suga’s interference, while welcome in the moment, is only likely to spur him on to pester her again. But when she walked into class the next morning, Yamada is nowhere to be found.

‘Did you hear Yamada-kun got caught with the vice principal’s burnt wig in his locker?’ she hears Yuna whisper to Mizuki before the bell rings.

‘Oh no! Is he in a lot of trouble?’ Mizuki gasps.

‘I don’t know, but I heard from Takashi that he’s been suspended from the basketball team indefinitely!’

‘No! Don’t they have a game next week?’

Ume looks over her shoulder at Suga, sitting with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

‘I may have mentioned to Noya what happened with Yamada-san. Tanaka, of course, was very happy to help out’, he says simply when she corners him after school.

Yamada does return to class eventually, but he refuses to even look in her direction for the next month. She figures she’d much rather not press for answers she suspects she wouldn’t like. Instead, she spends the night cutting out twelve crow charms from black felt with the help of a very eager Yuji, hand stitching each member’s number in white thread and leaving them in Suga’s bag for him to find.

 ------------------------------------

She sneaks Yuji with her when the school buses students in for Karasuno’s match with Shiratorizawa.

They all watch with tears in their eyes when the final whistle blows and the boys win.

‘Congratulations, Suga’, she tells him the next day and adds. ‘I think Yuji’s found a new way to fly’.

He grins at her, his eyes burning proud and bright.

 ------------------------------------

Fall fades into winter. The days start looping, one after another.

Wake up. Get Yuji to kindergarten. School. Homework. Pick Yuji up. Make dinner. Pack leftovers for lunch. Do laundry. Revision. Tuck Yuji into bed. More Revision. Sleep.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

She curses when the cock crows every morning, and falls asleep before her head hits the pillow every night, so she wonders how he manages to survive with practices lasting daily into the night. Or maybe he doesn’t, she thinks to herself, watching the shadows beneath his eyes grow, grey and dark.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks. (Do you ever regret it, she implies.)

‘Yes.’ he says. (At least I hope I don’t, he sighs.)

 ----------------------------------

 She notices immediately when his seat is empty. Sawamura tells her it’s to be expected, Suga always catches a cold in winter.

‘I don’t mind helping to bring his homework to him’, she volunteers. ‘You’re going to be staying late in school for practice anyway’. She avoids Sawamura’s knowing look as she writes Suga’s address down, his homework tucked safely into her bag. 

His mother beams, surprised and delighted when she appears at their door. She’s promptly shooed upstairs, and Yuji is lured into the kitchen with promises of mochi and ice cream. She knocks on the open door. He’s crouched on the bed, watching a replay of Karasuno’s finals match against Shiratorizawa.

‘Hey. I brought your homework.’ She frowns, noting the paleness of his face despite the redness of his cheeks. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

‘I’m watching the match to fall asleep!’ he says defensively.

‘The match is at least two hours long! If you’re well enough to watch the match, you’re well enough to do your homework’.

‘Give me a break’. He groans, sneezing into the crook of his elbow. ‘I’m dying here’.

‘I’m pretty sure you can’t die from a common cold’ she says dryly.

‘Says the one who wants to be a doctor’, he playfully responds.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t argue with me. Get some rest. You don’t have much time before you head off to Tokyo for Nationals, and the Center Shinken* is just after that’.

His smile drops, and he suddenly looks troubled. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

(For chasing too many dreams?)

She blinks, confused by his change in mood. She glances at the Miyagi University of Education pamphlet pinned to his wall - only one in three applicants get in. She furrows her brow, thinking about him spending every lunch break, every afternoon and night in their rundown school gym, even as everyone else is spending their days buried in schoolwork and revision.

But then she hears the echo of his words - It’s worth it. I want to play with my team, the cries from the huddle of boys, the memory of him holding a trophy under bright lights and her face softens.

‘Where’s all this self-doubt coming from?’ she says lightly. ‘You already achieved your dream of going to Nationals with your team. Now all you have to do is pass one exam.’

‘As if it’s so easy!’

‘Well, it’d be easier if you rest up so you can get back to work faster!’

‘Ugh, spoilsport’, he pouts at her.

‘Onee-chan’, Yuji pipes up, poking his head into the bedroom. 'Obaa-san said it's time for Suga-san to eat his medicine and take a nap.'

‘Hello, Yuji-chan!’ Suga waves at Yuji, who gives him a gap toothed grin in response.

‘You should tuck him in and tell him a bedtime story’. Yuji tells his sister seriously. She chokes and thinks she should have taken the chance to dump him under a bridge when he was a baby.

Suga laughs so hard he wheezes. 'I won't mind a bedtime story' he chokes out.

Both boys turn to look at her expectantly. 'Fine.' she says, relenting. 'I’ll tell you a bedtime story if you promise you'll try your best to go to sleep'.

They grin and settle down, Yuji on his sister’s lap, Suga laying against his nest of pillows.

She begins telling them a story she’s told Yuji many, many times these past months - about a kind-hearted Prince in a kingdom troubled by a yearly winter plague, who set out to find the cure for this illness, flowers that bloom on the highest of mountains in the deepest, darkest winter days. A Prince who tries to scale the mountain to find the cure, year after year, but is thwarted by blizzards and avalanches and snow monsters.

A small smile grows on his lips as she describes the Prince’s companions - the stalwart captain of his guards, the burly woodcutter with a heart of glass, and he stifles a laugh when she recounts how the Prince manages to trick his frosty hearted little brother to join them along the way. His breath evens out when she reaches the end of her tale, when the Prince and his companions scale the mountain and look down on a field of flowers, green and gold.

'And they lived happily ever after?' Suga murmurs, half asleep.

'And they lived happily ever after' Ume agrees.

She pulls his blanket up under his chin as he slips into sleep, hesitating as warmth furls and unfurls in her chest, before brushing her hand tenderly against his cheek.

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

Third years are released from school for self-study.

She works alone at home. The winter days grow long and dark and hard.

(Her heart clenches. It starts to ache.)

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

They graduate on a spring day, a shower of pink and white petals blessing their way. He catches up to her in the hallway after the graduation ceremony, hand at her sleeve.

‘Congrats on Tohoku’, he tells her, bright eyed. ‘I knew you could do it’.

‘Congrats on MUE’, she responds with a laugh. ‘See - you weren’t crazy after all’.

‘I suppose I’ll be seeing you around Sendai City? Your campus isn’t too far from mine.’

She opens her mouth to tell him not to be silly - Sendai City is nothing like Karasuno town, a million people within its bounds, and the probability of them meeting randomly on the streets is very, very small, but her throat suddenly becomes dry.

‘Suga’ she begins, balling her hands into fists.

‘Mm?’ he beams at her, brighter than the sun, and it’s all she can do to not to look away.

‘Thank you’, she says quietly. ‘For bringing some light into my life’.

‘I should be thanking you’, he replies earnestly. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me this past year. I don’t think I’d have passed my exams without you’.

“No, Suga,’ she says. ‘I mean - I like you’.

‘Oh.’ he breathes. ‘Oh’.

‘I like you’, she repeats, her voice growing stronger. ‘Because you were kind to me when there was no reason to. You bought bread for me, even if you ended up throwing it in my face. You stole and burnt a wig for me, just to put Yamada in his place. You spent your summer days buying Yuji too much ice cream, swinging him so high he thought he could touch the sky.’

‘I like you, Suga,’ she says finally. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’

He stares at her, eyes wide. A few beats of silence pass.

‘I’m sorry’. He grimaces. ‘I don’t know what to say’.

‘It’s fine’, she finds herself saying. ‘It’s ok’.

(Her heart clenches. She wills it not to break.)

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

Ume does not look back. Her bag is packed, and she leaves for Sendai City that week.

Her apartment is small, but she shares it with a few other girls. At night, she re-acquaints herself with the sound of cars rumbling on the street. The song of the cicadas haunts her in her sleep.

(Her heart clenches. She does not break.)

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

Suga prides himself on being relatively observant and good with things like subtlety and tact and feelings - things that volleyball obsessed idiots like Daichi wouldn’t even notice if it hit him in the face.

He observes people and notices things, the way Kiyoko isn’t as indifferent to Tanaka as she seems, the way Yamaguchi’s serve suddenly improves when Yachi shouts ‘Gambatte’, the way Yui’s vocabulary immediately regresses whenever she’s talking to Daichi - though to be fair, he’s certain the only person in their level to not know about Yui’s crush on Daichi himself, so maybe that doesn’t count.

(‘I like you, Suga,’ he hears her say. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’)

But then his brain short circuits and stutters to a stop, and it’s all he can do to watch dumbly as Ume turns on her heel and walks off, head high, back straight, he wonders if he’s not much better than the rest of them after all.

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

‘Imai Ume said she likes me’. He finds himself telling Daichi, as they walk home from school, pork buns in hand, for the very last time.

Daichi grunts something unintelligible through a mouthful of pork bun.

‘Use your words, Daichi’. Suga can’t help but snark. Daichi grumbles and swallows.

‘Yes. I knew that already’. Daichi says simply. He starts on his second pork bun.

‘What?’ Suga retorts. ‘What do you mean you know? How did you know?’

This time, Daichi chews and swallows before he responds. ‘It was obvious to me.’ He turns to look at Suga squarely. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

(‘I’m Sugawara Koushi! But everyone just calls me Suga’. // ‘Imai Ume. It’s nice to meet you.’)

To be honest, he didn't think much of her at first when she joined their class. She had a habit of keeping to herself, never lingering in class before or after lessons, eating lunch alone at her desk, nose buried in a book, but he was brought up with good manners - so he kept greeting her every morning until her small nods turn into quiet smiles.

Of course, he just had to embarrass himself by hitting her in the face with a curry bun (Noya and Tanaka will never let him live it down), but in hindsight that probably kickstarted their friendship. And he’s very grateful for it. She's always passing him copies of her notes for lessons he’s missed or summaries of exam topics she thinks might come in useful, all painstakingly handwritten and colour coded - and even gives him the go-ahead to share it with Daichi. She volunteers to tutor Noya and Tanaka, and he’s sure that it’s in no small part due to her effort that they pass and get to attend training camp.

Yet he’s never considered her more than a friend. Right?

Right?

If he analyses the case of how he feels about one Imai Ume carefully, sifting through the puzzle pieces one at a time, he realises that he's not quite right.

There are little things that come to mind. Like his heart skipping a beat when he hears her laugh for the first time. The flush of his cheeks when he finds out she actually brought Yuji to watch their games. The rush of pride and joy when she tells him ‘I think he’s found a new way to fly’.

And maybe there are bigger things. Like the burst of blind panic in his chest when he hears Tanaka shout for him. The burning urge to break Yamada’s jaw and wipe that smirk off his ugly face when he sees red marks marring her skin. The cold satisfaction in his chest when he (and half the volleyball team) strike that bastard exactly where it hurts.

He remembers the sunshine dancing on her skin, the warmth of her shoulder pressed against his. The touch of her hand ghosting against his cheek. The faint memory of a fairytale about a Prince who gave his all and finds everything he set out to seek.

('And they lived happily ever after?' he asks // 'And they lived happily ever after' she agrees.)

The puzzle pieces fit. It finally clicks.

‘Shit,’ he swears, dialing Daichi’s number.

‘It’s midnight’, Daichi mumbles, voice rough with sleep. ‘What could you possibly want from me?’

‘I like Ume’, Suga says - and just saying it feels right. ‘I like her, Daichi’.

He hears an almighty yawn - and then he can almost see Daichi smile.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

What is he going to do about it?

Get hold of one Imai Ume and tell her that his mouth moved faster than his brain (and heart), of course. 

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

But what can he do about it?

Not very much, as it turns out.

For starters, he realises they’ve never exchanged numbers. He never felt the need to, they were classmates, no, seatmates, so she was always there, like the sun and stars in the sky.

He tries to find where she lives by asking around but soon meets a dead end. Karasuno Town isn’t large by any measure, the main shopping street fanning out into a smattering of small rural neighbourhoods. But he knows for a fact that Ume stays with her maternal grandparents, and she’s never once mentioned their surname, so he’s left with little to go on.

‘At least I know she’s moving to Sendai City’, he mopes to Daichi over a steaming bowl of ramen.

Daichi, probably tired of the number of times he’s heard him repeat this, just slurps his noodles noisily.

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

He and Daichi rent a flat from a little old lady who pats their chests and pinches their cheeks. It’s halfway between their schools, five minutes from the convenience store, and the rent is pretty cheap.

They soon settle into the rhythm of university life. They cycle to school in the mornings for lectures, struggle with tutorials, and fight over chores. Their social life isn’t too shabby either - they both make plenty of friends and even join volleyball teams.

Still, Suga can’t help feeling like something’s missing. ‘Someone, not something, you dolt’, his inner voice tells him, sounding suspiciously like Daichi.

He starts seeing the ghost of her everywhere.

He stares when he sees the slant of her shoulders in his classmate in the front seat. He crashes into Daichi when he thinks he hears the birdsong of her laughter float down the street. He picks up a habit of doing a double take at almost every girl he meets.

‘Stop it’, Daichi tells him crossly. ‘People are going to think you’re some kind of freak or pervert.’

He tries, he really does. But then months pass, and he starts to think that maybe Sendai City, with its million residents and a million more trees, might have hidden her out of his reach.

 ---------------------------------- 

Summer arrives, and he returns home to Karasuno. He and Daichi and Asahi find themselves back in the school gym often, and he finds himself being dragged into practice match after practice match with his unruly kouhai. It’s a good way to spend his holidays, but he can’t help thinking if there isn’t a route he hasn’t explored yet.

‘No, Sugawara-kun, I can’t give you the contact details of our alumni, even if they’re your old classmates’, Takada-sensei says indignantly. ‘And don’t even think about breaking into the staff room at night!’

Eh. At least that was worth a try.

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

Tashiro senpai means well, he really does. But Daichi lets it slip that he’s been moping over some girl (‘For months!’, he roars), so on a Friday night, Suga finds himself thrust head first into a party at Tashiro’s apartment, surrounded by way too many people and not enough food. Daichi’s chatting with Yui (Go, Yui!), and he doesn’t know anyone else, so he doesn’t say no when Tashiro pushes cans of beer and cups of cheap spirits into his hands.

He’s a few months short of being able to legally drink, and it’s the first time he’s drinking outside his family home - but well, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him. Soon though, the living room feels far too warm and the music is far too loud, so he figures he may as well seek fresh air and whatever refuge he can get on the cramped balcony beyond the kitchen.

He leans his forehead against the bannister. Gah. His head hurts. His stomach churns.

A raindrop splatters on to the back of his neck, then another, and soon he can hear the gentle patter of rain against the roof. He rights himself with a groan, and begins to head back inside. As he slides the glass door open, he turns and sees the silhouette of a girl emerge into the balcony, two apartments down, clearing her clothes from the laundry rack.

He stops. He can almost hear Daichi roaring at him at the back of his mind, but Suga can’t help but stare and think ‘there’s something awfully familiar about that girl’, but then - hasn’t he thought that about almost every girl he’s bumped into these past few months?

She takes a step forward and her face is lit by cheap fluorescent lights. He can see her clearly now, recognises the tilt of her chin, the curve of her cheeks and - by god, it’s her. His legs move and he lurches to the edge of the balcony, shouting her name like a loon.

Their eyes meet.

She yelps. And promptly drops her laundry basket, scrambling back inside.

He dashes back into Tashiro’s living room and trips into the corridor, ignoring Daichi’s shouts as he slams his fists into her front door. Her door remains stubbornly closed, and he keeps yelling, keeps beating her door. He can hear Daichi follow him, and he’s certain he’s going to get a bollocking tomorrow morning, but he doesn’t care, he’s finally found her in the midst of a million people and a million more trees and nothing else really matters.

The door swings open, and Imai Ume stands in the doorway looking livid. ‘My roommate is this close to calling the police,’ she hisses.

Daichi yanks him back with his shirt and snaps into a low bow. ‘Sorry for the trouble caused’, he says, and adds - that sly dog, ‘He may have drank a bit too much Umeshu’.

‘For God’s sake, Sawamura’, he faintly hears her squawk. ‘Can’t you take care of him a little better? He looks like absolute shit’.

Suga stares at her glassy-eyed. All he wants to do is to take her hand and tell her all the things he’s dreamt of saying these past few months (starting with I’m sorry I was an idiot- and ending with I missed you) - but his mind is suddenly foggy and his ears are ringing and his stomach keeps bloody churning and he suspects his body might have just given up on him completely.

‘I told you’, he manages to say. ‘I told you we’d see each other again’.

He pukes at her feet and promptly passes out. 

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

When he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, and he knows because he’s pretty sure it’s trying to stab him between the eyes. He flops over to his side.

What happened last night?

He cracks an eye open. He’s pretty sure he isn’t wearing his own pyjamas. The sweatshirt he has on is a touch too snug, the pants a touch too short - so definitely not Daichi’s either. He can’t be in Tashiro-senpai’s room either, because one, he’s pretty certain floral bedsheets aren’t his thing, and two, if he squints, he can see a pile of medical textbooks in the corner that definitely does not belong to him.

He groans, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, groping bleary eyed for his phone.

- You have 7 messages! -

[Daichi, 12.48am]: You are a very lucky man [Daichi, 12.48am]: Imai didn’t call the police on you [Daichi, 12.49am]: I had to clean up your puke [Daichi, 12.49am]: Wanted to lug you home but you’re heavier than you look [Daichi, 12.49am]: So she said to leave you and walk Michimiya home [Daichi, 12.50am]: Figure you’ll thank me anyway [Daichi, 12.51am]: Stay safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

‘You have got to be kidding me’, he moans. Fuck. His head still hurts.

Ume pokes her head into the room. ‘Oh, you’re awake. Feeling better?’

He snaps his head up and immediately regrets it. ‘Ow’, he whines, dropping his head in his hands.

‘I guess not’, she says. ‘Here’, she pokes him in the side. ‘Spare toothbrush. Wash up, and I’ll get breakfast ready so you can eat some meds’. She tugs him to his feet and pushes him into the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting Ume again would be like. Getting piss drunk, puking at her door, and passing out in her bed? He’d take getting arrested over this any day, he thinks, moping to himself. Not to mention Daichi's probably going to kill him when he gets back. He shudders, then winces as he splashes cold water into his face.

Ume waves him into the kitchen. ‘Sit’, she says, and so he does. She sets a bowl of rice and fish and miso soup in front of him. ‘Eat’ she says, sliding a bottle of aspirin and a cup of hot tea at him. His stomach still hurts, but he's not about to let her effort go to waste.

‘Ittakimasu’, he says, putting his hands together, inclining his head slightly. Ume nods and sits across him, sipping her tea.

‘Thank you’, he says contritely. 'I'm sorry for the trouble I caused last night'.

‘It’s no problem. I managed to convince my roommates you were just a drunk ex-classmate, not some rapist or serial killer so they let you in', she hums, amused.

He groans. ‘I’m so sorry’.

'It's fine', she says, waving him away. 'I think Sawamura was a lot more mad than my roommates, since he had to clear your mess and then wrangle you into clean clothes’.

‘Well I think Daichi got to walk Michimiya home last night, so I don’t think he’ll be too mad’, he says drolly. She laughs at that, turning to clear the dishes into the sink.

‘Hey, Imai’. He takes a gulp of his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

‘Mm?’

‘'I - I missed you - you know, as a friend', he stammers at his hands. 'And I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could catch up over dinner sometime this weekend?'

She stills for a few seconds. 'I don't think it’d be a good idea to do that', she finally says.

His heart clenches. He wonders if he’s too late - if the distance that Sendai city with its million people and a million more trees has put between them is too great, if she no longer remembers their shared smiles and golden summer days. But then he sees the stack of blankets tucked into the corner of the couch, sees the food she must have woken up early to make, and wonders how his past self could have been so blind.

‘Imai’, he says. She keeps her eyes resolutely on the dish sponge in her hands. He exhales, and tells himself that it’s his turn to be brave. He takes a step towards her.

‘Ume’, he repeats, taking her hands into his. ‘Look at me’.

‘Stop it Suga! My hands are soapy’, she cries.

‘Nevermind that’, he says stubbornly. ‘Listen - I’m an idiot - and a coward. I meant it when I said I missed you, but I didn’t mean it as a friend’.

‘Wha-’, she begins to say but he cuts her off.

‘I like you, Imai Ume’, he breathes, bringing her hands close to his face. ‘I really like you - as a boy likes a girl. I want to keep holding your hands. I want to see you again - see you everyday, if you’ll let me'.

Her eyes widen, then she blinks slowly - once, twice, thrice.

‘Do you mean it?’ she asks, her eyes meeting his, and he’s struck by the thought that the stars in her eyes are so bright they can light up the night sky.

‘Why would I lie?’ he answers. ‘I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day for the past six months, hoping desperately to see you again.’

‘Oh', she breathes. ‘Oh’.

She gives him a look so full of affection and warmth - like sunlight breaking through the rain - that he knows he was right to be brave, knows that the past six months of searching and dreaming and longing hadn’t been a waste.

‘So… I take it you want to see me again?’ he asks cheekily.

‘Maybe’, she says, but her voice is teasing and she leans on to her toes to press her lips gently against his cheek.

‘I - I take that as a yes?’ he stutters and hates himself for flushing a bright pink, but refuses to release her hands.

‘Let me wash my hands first. Then - yes’, and she laughs, wide and bold and bright. 

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

Coda

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

 He opens the door and smiles at what has become a very familiar sight these past few weeks - Ume fast asleep at the kitchen table next to a half empty pot of tea, head pillowed against her textbooks. Usually, he’d just scoop her up and put her to bed, but they’ve not had much time together this week, what with him running all over the prefecture with his fledgling team for practice matches, and she with work and exams, so he decides to be a little selfish.

‘Ume’, he calls, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Dearest. Wake Up.’

‘Mmph. Five more minutes. Go away.’ She mumbles, pushing his hand away.

‘Ume. Ummmeee,’ He drags out her name, finding extra syllables where there were previously none until she stirs, grumbling incoherently and he has to stifle a laugh when she swipes her hand across her mouth.

‘Oh! It’s you. Welcome home’, she folds herself upright, rubbing her eyes slowly. ‘Where’s Yuji? How was the match?’

‘Of course it’s me – who else would it be?’ he chuckles. ‘I dropped Yuji off at Kei-kun’s place for a sleepover with the team, they promised not to stay up all night eating junk and watching crappy movies but I don’t believe them. The match was great - we won! Yuji-chan did really well, he earned quite a few points and saved a few balls. You would’ve been proud of him. I know I was.’

‘That’s good, I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it tomorrow when he’s back.’ She nods towards the fridge. ‘I made mapo tofu for dinner – not too spicy though, your stomach will thank me after that long bus ride back.’

He hums a thanks, sliding the plate into the microwave, narrating a play by play of their match today, stopping only when he hears a loud yawn.

‘Go to bed, Ume’, he frowns at the lines of exhaustion on her face. ‘I shouldn’t be keeping you up, you have a morning shift tomorrow.’

‘Mm – I will, later. Was waiting for you. Mm’ not that tired,’ she protests, but then yawns again so widely he’s pretty sure he hears her jaw crack.

‘Bedtime, sleepyhead’, he says teasingly, lifting her into his chest.

It’s a testament to how tired she is when she doesn’t try to swat at him as she usually does, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. His breath hitches, and he wants nothing more than to hold her close and hide in bed preferably forever, but reminds himself that they’re adults now (with awful things like jobs and responsibilities and worse, bills to pay), so he settles her onto their bed, tucking the pillow beneath her head, the sheets under her chin.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll catch up properly on the weekend’, he whispers, pressing a kiss into her dark hair.

‘Mmph, love you’, she mumbles, half asleep.

‘Love you too’, he shuts the door with a click, a soft smile on his face.

He’s mentioned off-hand to her before that they’re lucky to be this happy.

‘It’s not all luck’, he remembers her replying. ‘Happiness isn’t easy to come by. It’s a choice. It takes effort and hard work to earn that choice, and you need to take the time to build it up, brick by brick, piece by piece.’

He used to wonder what she meant by that - but six years in, and he thinks he finally understands what she means.

She’s meticulous in the way she makes him happy - the way she catalogues his quirks and deals patiently with his follies. How she knows to always leave food in the fridge for him after work so he won’t get cranky. How she tries her best to stay up and listen to him complain about his frustrations with pushy parents or irresponsible kids, how she tries to watch every one of his (and Yuji’s) games should time permit. He can see it even in the way she smiles indulgently when she sends him off with Daichi and Tanaka for izakaya and drinks.

For his part - he wonders if he does enough. He wakes up early most mornings to hitch a ride with her to work so they get a chance to chat about their day. He buys flowers from the florist down the street for her every week, and slips sandwiches and post-it notes in her work bag when he knows she’s had a long shift. He holds her close when she collapses on the couch, boneless and exhausted from a hard day.

He thinks about the life they share - weeknights spent sitting together, him sketching lesson plans and volleyball plays and she reading up for exams and work cases, weekends spent in grocery stores and parks and volleyball games. Six years together - they’re happy, and they show it in the quietest of ways.

They’re driving back to Karasuno this weekend - ostensibly to celebrate Keiji’s birthday and meet a couple of friends. But he’s conspired with Keiji and Yuji so he can sneak her away to the park for a picnic under the tree where they share memories of long, quiet talks and golden summer days. He’s hidden her ring in a picnic box full of homemade onigiri and sandwiches, strawberries and peaches.

He plans to go down on one knee and ask if she’d like to continue working on being happy with him forever.

He hopes she’ll say yes.

(She does.)

[supersupernaturalimagines]

Christmas Delights

Pairing - Jack Kline x Reader

Summary - The holidays are approaching, and knowing that Jack hasn’t ever really seen just how excited people get for the holidays, you decide to take him on a special supply run. 

Word Count - 1,767

Warnings - None! Except it’s November 1st, and I’m already posting a Christmas story. 

“Now what’s the rule?” 

You let out an annoyed sigh as Dean held the keys to the Impala in his grip, waiting for your response before he gave them to you. “Don’t do any damage to Baby whatsoever or there will be hell to pay.” You answered. 

“Continue . . .” Dean said, gesturing for you to do so. 

“Don’t mess with any of the music or radio presets.” You added, crossing your arms over your chest as Dean still held the keys out of your reach. 

“And . . .” He said. 

“Oh my god, are you serious? Jack and I are not going to do anything -”

“I’m ready!” Jack interrupted you, joining the two of you in the kitchen, his bright smile easing up your mood instantly. It was so easy to make him excited. Even if all you were doing was going on a supply run, he was eager to go. “Are you ready to go?” He asked you, moving to stand at your side. 

You glanced over at Dean who was still looking at you, this time with a little smirk on his lips. “I promise all right!” You said, snatching the keys from him, and grabbing a hold of Jack’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Jack looked confused at Dean’s amused look and your words, but let you lead him out the kitchen and into the Impala. As soon as the two of you were alone, you felt your annoyance vanish as Jack began to tell you all about the latest book he had been reading. You had taken it upon yourself to catch Jack up on popular culture, and he was taking to it well. So well in fact that there had been times when the two of you had stayed up talking late into the night about his favorite things. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had woken up on the couch with your favorite blanket thrown across your body after you had fallen asleep talking to him. 

There was no denying that the two of you were close anymore, and because of that, you liked to team up, whether it was hunting or going shopping. So when it was your turn to go into town and get supplies, you asked him to come with you. He agreed at once. He loved to explore the towns that you were near and human behavior whenever he got the chance, so you knew that he would enjoy this trip in particular. “Wow . . .” He said when you pulled to a stop, staring out the window. 

The whole street was covered in flashing lights and decorations ranging from wreaths to fake snow around some of the lamp posts. All of that seemed to pale in comparison to the large tree that stood in the center of the square. That wasn’t what was holding your attention though. 

Jack’s eyes were wide in wonderment as he gazed around, attempting to take everything in from the car window. The smile that lit up his face was brighter than any of the lights flashing outside. It made a smile form on your own face, his excitement contagious. “What is all this?” Jack asked you, tearing his gaze away from the window to look at you instead. 

“Remember how I told you that the holidays were coming up?” You asked him, then nudged his shoulder. “Humans tend to go all out for that sort of thing. Wanna take a closer look?” You asked, gesturing outside. 

You didn’t need to ask him twice. Jack almost leaped out of his seat, and you struggled to catch up, trying not to giggle at how excited he was. As soon as you met each other at the front of the car, he took your hand in his own. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“You’re welcome.” You replied, a genuine smile on your face now as you looked at him. “Now let’s go check it out before Dean thinks we’ve been gone for too long.” You said, tugging him forward and towards the Town Square. 

While the holidays hadn’t been your thing in a few years, it was a whole different thing experiencing them with Jack who had never seen something like this. Instead of being filled with memories that upset you, it was as if you were seeing everything from a whole new perspective, just like Jack was. He asked question upon question for you to answer, and you loved how happy he seemed to be. 

Happiness was a rare commodity for hunters after all. 

“Did you celebrate the holidays when . . .” He trailed off, and you knew exactly what he meant. 

You stirred your hot chocolate with your tiny spoon, poking at your marshmallows while you contemplated your response. “We did . . . what I remember was nice. A lot of family time. Relatives you saw once or twice a year all sitting around a table and catching up . . . looking at the Black Friday ads . . . all the old traditions you know? Along with some of our own.” You added. 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Your own?” 

“Like . . . my mom did this thing that I thought was weird as a kid. I thought that everyone put a star on top of the Christmas tree.” You gestured toward the large tree at the end of the street, sparkling bright in the night with its large star on top. “It was what I always saw on TV, and that seemed to be what friends always had talked about. My mother on the other hand, insisted on a ribbon. A very large ribbon that took up way too much space and distracted from the tree all together. Of course now I realize it was more common than I thought, but still. It was our own.” 

When you glanced back up at him, you noticed that he was smiling at you this time, in a way that made your heart do all sorts of funny flips and flops. 

“What?” You asked, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I like when you talk about your family, and it makes you happy. You aren’t usually when you’re talking about them.” He answered, his words honest, and unaware of the brief stab of pain they caused. 

It was hard to remember the good things after having to watch them die so brutally, so when you talked about your family, he was right, you weren’t happy a lot of the time. Now that he had mentioned it, you didn’t want it to happen again. You didn’t want a guilty emotion to ruin such a fun night for Jack. “You want to go for one more walk around before we leave? Dean’s going to think we’re up to something if we stay out too much longer.” You asked, changing the subject. 

You couldn’t miss the concern that flashed on Jack’s face at your clear avoidance at the subject, but you were relieved when he didn’t pry, picking up your now empty cup and putting it in the trash can behind him as he took your hand once more. “I’d love to.” 

As the two of you walked around the tree once more, the memory of your earlier conversation faded to the back of your mind, Jack’s warm body next to yours as you nestled your head against his shoulder, happy and content again. 

____________________

Over the next few weeks, the days began to melt together as they often did when your little ragtag family were working on cases. It seemed that you were finally getting a break though after you woke up at a reasonable time without Dean or Sam banging on your door to get packed. Taking your time, and enjoying the deep sleep you had just woken up from, it took you a few moments to notice the present on your bedside table. 

As soon as you did, you sat up so fast you almost had a head rush, tears flooding to your eyes. 

There, taking up almost your whole nightstand, was a large bow. It was misshapen in some places, and covered with cartoon drawings of penguins, Santa Claus, elves and reindeer, but there was no mistaking what it was. 

Or who had made it for you. 

You grabbed the bow and ran out of your room, hurrying past Sam who was reading, Castiel who was watching television, and almost colliding into Dean who was carrying a large plate of pancakes. “Hey! Watch it!” He called after you, his mouth full of food. 

Ignoring him, you didn’t stop until you found yourself in front of the place you knew that Jack liked to frequent and opened the door, biting your lip to control your tears when you saw what waited for you. 

“Surprise!” Jack yelled, excited. “Merry Christmas!” 

He had decorated the whole room with different colors of string lights, some large and oddly shaped and some small with flashing lights. There were also various plants, and ribbons hanging around in red and white, but the main feature of the room was the tree. It was rather small for a Christmas tree and leaned sideways somewhat, but you didn’t care. It was perfect. 

And waiting right at the top was a large space set aside for what you were sure was the bow in your hand. 

You couldn’t control yourself. You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. Almost as soon as you had done it, you realized your mistake and pulled away as your cheeks flooded with heat. “Jack, I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking I’m just . . .” You gestured around the room. “This is so sweet of -”

This time you were the one surprised with a kiss. Jack tugged you back into his arms and was kissing you a lot more thoroughly than you had ever expected him too. Not that you were complaining. His lips were soft and smooth as they moved with yours and it felt like butterflies had erupted all in your stomach as his hands caressed your back in such a gentle touch. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh and try to move closer, feeling happier than you had in ages wrapped up in his arms with his lips pressed against your own. 

The kiss had to end at some point though, and the two of you were breathless by the time that it did. There were matching smiles on your face as you looked at each other, and then Jack spoke up. “So, do you like it?” 

Your smile widened as you answered him with another kiss.

[scarasimplysimping]

These Books Of You

Xingqiu x Adepti Reader

Sypnosis: A boy of noble blood and disciple to the Guhua Clan, Xingqiu has been reading books of the heroic adventures of an elusive adepti, [Y/N] ever since he was a little boy.

Now a bit older, he sets everything aside in a journey to meet you.

(A/N): I planned to put it all in one post but like it wouldn't fit. Part 2 link below.

"How long will you stay with me?"

"Forever."

Liar.

It was midnight. All of liyue was quiet and asleep except for a certain room where you could here the rustling sound of packing made by a young man eager to leave before dusk.

"Are you sure about this?" Chongyun asks, catching his breath after climbing his friend's window.

"Most definitely!" Xingqiu says excitedly as he picks out the books he would be bringing.

Chongyun furrows his eyebrows, "You don't even have a plan!"

"These books are my plan," The dark haired boy says in a wise tone.

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

Xingqiu chuckles in response.

Chongyun begins to rant again. "Where will you go? Where will you search? What will you eat? What if you get mugged?"

Xingqiu laughs harder, "My friend, I appreciate your concern but I assure you. Nothing you say will change my mind. I will search all of Teyvat if I must."

"What if they don't exist? What if it's all fiction? Mere children's fairytales."

This makes Xingqiu stop in his tracks, contemplating the possibility for a few moments before coming to the conclusion, "They are real. I can feel it."

"And what of your family? Your brother?"

"I've left them a letter."

"What will they do with the letter? Teach it chivalry?" Chongyun says sarcastically.

Xingqiu does not bother to reply.

The exorcist sighs in defeat, "Xingqiu, if you don't come back alive, I will kill you."

"Then perhaps it's best if I don't come completely," He teases.

"Then I shall kill you right now and you won't get to leave at all."

The two friends bicker like this for a while until it is time for one's departure.

"Be careful, Xingqiu," Chongyun bids.

"I will. Make sure my family doesn't do anything rash while I'm gone."

The light haired boy rolls his eyes.

"Dear Chongyun, If in any case I don't come back, know that I've always appreciated your friendship."

And just like that, Xingqiu climbs out the window and disappears into the dark of night.

In the early afternoon, you sat peacefully, having tea with Cloud Retainer and Zhongli atop of Mt. Aozang. The breeze was nice and so was the view.

"It's a shame only we came to this tea party. It's been ages since we've gathered with the adeptus," The geo archon spoke.

"This is not a petty tea party. One has called a meeting to discuss the next move regarding a matter of great importance," Cloud Retainer retorted.

"And what might this matter be?" You ask while slouching on your seat, showing no interest.

"One has come to notice that ever since the incident of Osial's return and defeat, mortal's have come to One's domain asking for favors or offering goods much more times than One is comfortable with. The mortal, Aether has also-"

Cloud Retainer could not finish because the sound of your intentionally loud sigh interrupted her.

"Is the almighty Cloud Retainer scared of mortal affection and admiration?" You tease. Even Zhongli could not help but smile a bit.

Cloud Retainer threw you both a look that.. well you could only assume was a glare since she was in the shape of a bird after all.

The light-hearted argument continues until you here a soft grunting from a distance.

You all pause, listening as the voice becomes louder and louder and then, you see a hand grip the edge of the mountain, then another. A dark blue haired young man lifts himself up and throws himself onto the mountain surface, panting heavily.

"Oh.. Sweet.. sweet ground.," He says. You can almost hear him thank the Archons that he's made it this far.

"And what is your purpose of interrupting an important gathering?" Cloud Retainer's voice boomed.

Xingqiu blinked a bit before remembering why he was here in the first place. Quickly, he got up and bowed, still woozy from all the climbing. "I've been traveling for two days, seeking an adepti. I've heard that there's another adepti who lives here and I respectfully ask guidance in my journey," he says, still in a bowing position.

Zhongli recognizes him, "Xingqiu, are you not a little to far from Liyue Harbor?"

Xingqiu, in turn also recognizes the man but dares not question Zhongli's purpose. His only concern was finding you. "Please don't tell my family, Mister Zhongli."

You decide to entertain the mortal, "Well Xingqiu of Liyue Harbor, which adepti is it that you're looking for?"

Only then does he make eye contact with you, Xingqiu is taken in by your beauty. He stares a little too long before answering, "The heroic (Y/N)! The legendary adepti of great legends! They who saved thousands of lives and vanquished thousands more foes!" He says enthusiastically.

You are dumbfounded, never have you been sought after by a mortal for your heroic deeds. This was new. "And where do these legends come from?" You ask nervously.

"The books I've read! I've read every single one of the books that mention them."

Conveniently, you remember that time, thousands of years ago where you saved a family of writers who thanked you relentlessly and swore they'd write of your heroics.

While you are contemplating, Cloud Retainer speaks, "Look no further, mortal. The one you seek is here," She gestures to you.

You glare at her. "Is the mighty (Y/N) scared of mortal affection and admiration?" She mocks.

Xingqiu stares at you, trying to imprint this moment into his brain. "You... you weren't what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting exactly?" You ask, offended.

"To be honest, I assumed you looked like a bird or fox! I was not expecting someone human and... beautiful." He says almost absent-mindedly.

Beautiful? As in attractive to a mortal's eyes? How dare he use such methods of flattery.

"How long will you stay with-"

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Zhongli and Cloud Retainer decide it was best for them to leave, they quietly dismiss themselves and leave you alone in this awkward situation.

The young man before you just stares at you with dazzled eyes.

"Now that you've found me, what do you plan?" You finally question.

Xingqiu stops for a moment. He didn't really think this far and didn't expect to find you so soon.

"I want to be your friend," Xingqiu blurts out.

You are again, taken aback by his straight-forwardness.

This was unnecessary. A mortal of such fleeting lifespan. How would this benefit you? This wouldn't benefit him either; you think to yourself. This is nothing but mortal entertainment. You had no interest in entertaining a mortal at your expense.

"I have no need for mortal company," You say firmly, all your nervousness replaced with a cold gaze.

"Please? I've dreamt of meeting you my whole life-"

"And now you have. Go."

"I swear to the Seven Archons I shall serve you well-"

"No!" This time, you raise your voice. "Go home," and with that, you vanish into thin air.

Xingqiu is sad and dejected,  even on verge of tears but he does his best to keep it together. "Very well," He quietly whispers.

Xingqiu, climbing down the mountain is several feet away from the ground when his mind wonders back to you and the harsh rejection. "Well it's not like an adepti to mortal friendship is common anyway. At least I got to meet them," He says, trying to look on the bright side. He assures himself that he will return.

Tears start bluring his vision and he takes a wrong step, causing him to plummet down and make a loud thump sound.

He groans in pain. For the most part, he was unharmed except for his right hand which was twisted in a weird position.

"Drat! Xingqiu, how pathetic can you be? You fall and just had to break your right arm, you're sword hand!" He scolds himself.

The good part of this was that it was nightfall now, if he was lucky, all the hilichurls around the area would be asleep and he could avoid combat.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans as he sees a hydro abyss mage that he could have sworn was not there before. And the abyss mage sees him.

Xingqiu curses and tries to make a run for it, but as he was still limping from the fall, the mage catches up to him and teleports in front of him. Xingqiu stumbles backwards. In a desperate attempt, he shouts your name. But the abyss mage wasn't going to wait for you to show up. The young man suddenly feels himself getting drowned. So was this it? Rejected by a childhood dream, almost fell to his death and was currently being drowned? What a weird day. What a sad way to die. It's almost poetic. Xingqiu was slowly beginning to lose consciousness, coming to terms with this tragic death when he felt the bubble burst, quite literally.

He fell to the ground, the last thing he saw was the vanishing particles of a defeated abyss mage and what appeared to be a silhouette of a person- Xingqiu was saved!... and falling unconscious.

After you rescued him, you hurriedly brought him to Wangshu Inn, blurting out to Verr Goldet that you almost let a mortal die.

You paced back and fourth at the terrace. While the vigilant yaksha, Xiao watches you with annoyance.

"What if he dies?" You ask frantically.

"You dressed his wounds quiet well. He won't die unless someone comes in and murders him," Xiao says as if trying to be comforting.

Xingqiu awakens from his slumber, body still aching. A cast of bandages was made in order to support his broken arm.

The door slowly opens, you walk in with some hot soup and set it on the bedside table. It didn't take him long to realize that you were the one who saved him.

"You're awake," You state the obvious but almost sigh in relief. "Despite the attack, you managed to go almost unscathed.. except for well, your broken arm."

"Thank you... You really are my hero," Xingqiu says, once again beaming at you.

"Don't come back to Mt. Aozang,"

"Wait- what?" His face falls. And all the feelings of being rejected earlier come back.

"If...," You hesitantly start, "If you must see me, then I spend one night a week at the statue of Pervases." This was a lie, of course. But you were willing to do as you said if that meant the mortal, Xingqiu would stop going through such dangerous measures in order to meet you.

As if like a switch, his bright smile returned almost instantly. "My liege, you won't regret this!"

"Drink your soup and meet me at the terrace when you're prepared to return for Liyue Harbor." You don't know why you say what you say next but it felt right, "and call me (Y/N)."

You shut the door behind yourself quickly, leaving Xingqiu alone in the room, euphoric.

"You should not get too close to mortals," Xiao warns once you reach the terrace.

"I will not."

"In the thousand that I've known you, never once have I seen you prepare soup for a mortal.. or immortal."

"That means nothing."

"And I suppose your made up visits to the statue of Pervases mean nothing as well?"

He had a point there."Don't eavesdrop on my conversations, Alatus."

He glares at the sudden mention of the name. "Their lives are fleeting, (Y/N). The peace at the end of their journey is just a thousand years of grief for us if we so choose to befriend them. I just warn you because I care for you," Xiao says before vanishing from your sight.

He was right. You knew that. Of all the adepti, Xiao knew you the most. He was there when the mortal part of you was taken away in exchange for eternal life, after all.

You loved once. But that did not end well.

"How long will you stay with me?"

"Forever."

Liar

Never again.

Shortly after Xiao's departure, Xingqiu arrives with that ever so charming smile.

Charming? Did you just think that? Right after promising yourself to solitude? Oh dear...

"I've prepared! Will we go on foot or will you fly us there? I must warn you I get motion sick-" He stops talking when he notices you taking steps toward him. You put a hand on his shoulder and Xingqiu's mind goes blank. Was this approval? Mutual admiration? Were you friends now?

"Close your eyes," You tell him.

To which he obeys without hesitation. He's read enough romance books to know where this is going. Xingqiu would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous but at the same time he was extremely excited. His train of thought is cut short when he feels a harsh gust of wind blow his way.

"You may open them now."

He does and to his surprise, the both of you are back at Liyue Harbor, specifically the bridge.

"We... teleported?" He asks, embarrassed of his thoughts just moments ago.

You nod. "This is as far as I'll go. Make it back to your residence carefully and get some rest."

"Can't you come with me?"

"No."

"I have a friend who-"

"No."

"We can grab some countryside delicacy-"

"No."

He sighs in defeat, "But I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"

"Perhaps."

Xingqiu, in a moment of elation and not thinking properly, abruptly takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles.

Realizing what he had done the dark haired boy glows red as apples and lets go as quick as he took hold of you. "W-well... good-bye then."

The boy leaves you dumbfounded once again.

Part 2

V

[unrelenting-jazz-hands]

He picked the wrong seat.

(This is something that’s been floating in my head. I love college!AUs and I’m just happy to be here. I like the idea of Levi studying to be a social worker and Hange being a behavioural Neuropsychology prof/researcher. plus Hange would have rats... this fic is just a place for her to have rats and rat friends.)

He didn’t know it when he first sat down on the couch, but he should have known it when a woman in maroon sweatpants staggered up to his couch.

She placed the tower of books and papers she was carrying onto the couch with a grunt that let on how heavy the pile had been. She shook out her arms before sitting on the other side of newly formed blockade. Levi glanced her way and leaned over to throw a scowl, to make sure she knew the disruption was not appreciated.

But she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

And she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

"Hange! Hey, Hange! There you are, why didn't you answer your phone?" A young man jogged over to the woman sitting on the couch next to Levi.

Levi's scowl deepened, and he glanced at his watch, not for the first time in the last 15 minutes. His own class finished over an hour ago, but Isabel's lecture wouldn't be finished for another 45 minutes. It was getting late, and as the air grew colder, the nights were getting darker. He didn't like the idea of her walking home alone at this time of night. Furlan thought he was being dramatic, they weren’t on Understreet anymore.

The kid approached the couch and dropped his bag unceremoniously at her feet. He looked a little older than Isabel. Fuck, he was dreading the day she introduces some dumb boyfriend to him.

The woman slowly looked up and seemed more startled than she should have been to see the kid in front of her. She blinked and looked at her watch.

"Oh, it's 6:45 already? Hey Jean! Sorry, I lost track of time." One of her hands was still on the stack of books that was starting to lean just a little too much for Levi's comfort.

He shifted away and glanced around the room. The atrium was busy and noisy. There wouldn't be anywhere else to sit this side of campus on a gloomy September night. The choices were to either sit here or to stand somewhere like a weirdo. He grumbled to himself and looked back down at his notes.

Jean shrugged, "All good, Hange. But, where's your phone? You didn't see my messages?"

Hange looked down at the report in her hand as though she expected herself to be holding the phone. "Oh... I thought I had it." She attempted to pat down her jacket pockets (of which there were far too many) and then tried to use her foot to move her bag towards her.

Glancing up at the kid with a slight frown, "what's up? Why? Did something happen at the lab?"

"No," Jean said with smile, "Armin was just asking what time he should tell his tutorial the kick-off party starts. And then just to say that the slides for the lecture tomorrow look good."

Levi watched out of the corner of his eyes as Jean bent down to help the woman check her bag for her phone and mumbled, "We really should get you a case you can clip to your belt or something…"

"A-ha!" Hange raised a fist clenched around a flip phone, and then suddenly, she was holding it with two hands.

Her pile of books had had enough and was about to topple over when Levi's arms shot out to steady the tower before it collapsed on the brunette. She hadn't even noticed.

He didn't mean to catch the books before they fell. He really hadn't planned on moving at all; the books weren't even falling his way. It was her own damn fault if she didn't notice. But, his body was just too used to moving quickly to catch pictures, mugs, and lamps before they could reach the floor. It wasn't a coincidence that they didn't have many breakables in the apartment, what with the way Isabel was constantly twirling around and Furlan's sleepwalking.

When Hange did notice, a few seconds later, she let out a startled yelp and attempted to use her whole body to steady her library.

"Shit, no! That's making it worse," Levi said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He steadied the pile again and kept his arms holding it up for a while longer before shooting a glare to the airhead next to him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hange said with a laugh. She grinned at him from around the books, "thanks a bunch, though! Wild reflexes!"

He rolled his eyes, "You just weren't paying attention."

She raised an eyebrow and cracked a grin, "what? Were you staring at me?"

Levi felt his cheeks go warm and diverted his gaze from the woman's laughing eyes.

"No, I wasn't," he said curtly, "I was just sitting in the fucking danger zone."

He made sure the books were steadied before he picked up his notebook again.

The kid in front of them coughed and shifted around uncomfortably. "Thanks, man," he said while giving Levi a quick once over. "If those textbooks go down, all the paper she's stuffed into them would have ended up everywhere. It took hours to match the notes up to their text pages again."

Jean reached over and started restacking Hange's stuff on the floor while she held on. She still looked like she found the whole thing much too funny for Levi's liking. He decided not to look her way.

"You should really organize your shit better," Levi mumbled, keeping his eyes on his paper.

Hange leaned her head back against the couch, "aww, man... that's what everyone says. I've tried, guys! It just never lasts." She let out an exasperated sigh.

Jean muttered something too quiet for Levi to catch, but Hange nudged him with her foot and shot him a look.

"Well, enjoy carting around half the library then..." Levi shot her way and that, he hoped, was their last interaction.

Hange looked down at Levi's open binder, which was neatly labelled and visibly well organized.

She let out a small "huh," before turning her attention to the kid again.

"Alright, Jean! Well, the kick-off party starts at 8:30 at the Wallflower. I'll head over after my lectures and locking up the lab." She frowned, "wait, why wouldn't people join? Puppy therapy is always super busy."

Jean sighed and leaned his head to the side, "yeah, but Hange. I mean, the hype just isn't the same with rats. Plus, the lab is intense and the hours for the regular meetings are kind of random."

Levi frowned at his notes. What the fuck? Fucking weirdo...

Hange sighed, "yeah, you're right." Then shot him a bright grin, "But! I swear I'm about to get a big grant to really kick it all up a notch! We're really getting somewhere, and we can maybe take on a few more assistants next semester to help with all the data entry that's going to need to happen!" She was basically bouncing.

She paused and looked around the room quickly before returning her fiery gaze back to Jean, who was looking a little frazzled.

"And get this, Jean Boy, I've been working on something with Moblit. I can't get into it right now, but it could be really big if it all goes according to plan. Like really big!" She was bouncing again. Her hand gestures were getting more exaggerated and much too close to Levi's personal space. He decided to just lean away and scowl instead of getting dragged into another conversation.

Jean narrowed his eyes, "Wait, like big for you and research nerds or big as in normal people big."

Hange grabbed his hands, "like brand new wing big. Like the Rat Pack Club goes on vacation big."

Levi was still looking at his notes. He had to admit he was starting to be a little more curious than he was annoyed. She was trying to whisper but wasn't doing a very good job at it. God, it was like she didn't know how to be quiet.

"Wait, so this is something you're working on with Dr. Berner? I thought you were still heartbroken from him switching labs," Jean asked while trying to take his hands back. "Is he back?"

Hange shook her head, and her smile dimmed a little, "no, my ride or die still over at the Medical Imaging Lab in the comp sci building." She perked up and continued on, "But! It may have worked out for us in the end!"

Jean looked a little less tired now, "huh... well, when can you tell us about it? Who knows about it?"

Hange let out a low chuckle, "uh, well, don't tell anyone. It started as just a little side project for Moblit, Nanaba, Nifa, and me. We didn't expect it to really go anywhere. So keep it to yourself, for now, I'll let y'all know when I can."

Jean nodded. He looked determined and, suddenly, a lot younger than he had a minute ago. He gave a mock salute, "you got it, Doc!"

Hange mirrored his salute and gave him a wink. "Awesome, ok! Oh, also, did you have any questions about tomorrow's lecture?"

Jean shrugged and shook his head, "nah, I looked it over, and it's pretty chill. Cog Psyc was a fun course."

Levi glanced up and looked at the top right corner of his notes. Intro to Cognitive Psychology.

"And that's exactly the vibe we want this semester! Fun!" Hange exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Yeah… ok, fun. I can do that," Jean mumbled. "I'll tell Armin," he said as he turned to go. The kid waved lazily over his shoulder, "See ya tomorrow, Hange!"

"Get home safe, Jean! Tell Sasha and Connie I say hello," Hange waved to the back of the kid's head before leaning back and slouching down.

"Rat Pack Club goes on vacation. Ha! Take that monkey brain," Hange muttered with a smile. She closed her eyes like she getting ready to take a long nap in the middle of the atrium, which was getting less busy as time went by.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and shot up and turned to face Levi with a much-too-bright smile, "I forgot to introduce myself!"

She stuck out a hand that was covered in ink smudged. Levi felt the corner of his lips fall and held back a snarky comment; he really was trying to be less pissy, as Isabel put it. He sighed and reached out to shake her hand. He had hand sanitizer in his pocket.

"I'm Zoe Hange, but please call me Hange! Nice to meet you, and thanks for saving my books!"

Levi nodded, "Levi." He went to take his hand back, but the weirdo was still shaking it.

"You're taking Psyc 221 tomorrow, right? That's awesome. I hope you're ready for a heckin' good semester, Levi!" Hange was still shaking his hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, it sounds great," Levi mumbled as he jerked his hand away from her grip.

"Is this your first semester here? Transfer student? Do you live on campus? What courses are you taking?" Hange kept going as though he looked happy to be there instead of inching away and gathering his papers to leave.

"Second semester here, transferred from Wallrose College," Levi muttered. He didn't want to admit it, but Hange's enthusiasm was putting him on edge. What the fuck was she on?

Hange nodded enthusiastically, "That's great! Welcome, and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask! I'll be your lecturer for PSYC 221. My lab's down in the Neuro wing, so feel free to stop by if you have any questions!" She pointed down the hall that had a staircase at the end of it. "I always really enjoy having some older students," she continued, "at least someone to make eye contact with when the kids make a reference I don't know." Hange smiled at him before rummaging through her pocket and proceeding to hand him a business card. He didn't want to take it, but he also didn't want to piss off his professor. Fuck it, whatever.

"I know what you mean. My younger sister is always trying to get me to do these stupid fucking dances for TikTok or whatever the fuck," Levi grumbled out as he looked over the card. His eyes flicked upwards to meet hers.

"rat_attack2000@maria.edu?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't let it leak into his voice, but, shit… She had to be a few years younger than he was, and she was a professor and director of a research lab. He didn't want to say he was impressed, but he was. But she was also a fucking weirdo.

Hange nodded and smiled widely. She reached back into her pocket, grabbed the card back from Levi, and scrawled something down with the newly retrieved pen. The pen was labelled, pocket pen.

"Yeah! It's the email address for the club I started with some students. My research lab has been doing some behavioural studies with rats, and it's hard not to fall for their little paws and their little eyes. So, every now and then, we get together and hang out and chill with some rats. This Friday, we are having our kick-off party. You should stop by!"

Hange handed him the card back. It had a time, a date, and an address.

"This is more of a social gathering at a bar near campus, not really a regular meeting. It's mostly just a bunch of research assistants and a few of us old folk having some drinks," Hange shrugged, still smiling. She wasn't done, "the usual meetings are chilling with the rats and throwing around ideas. Sometimes the students pitch us some experiments, and then we give them feedback."

Levi didn't think he would go. To the meetings or the party tomorrow. Hell, he knew for sure he wasn't going to go. Still, he nodded and muttered out a half-assed, "sure."

"Plus! The kids don't stay too long at the parties. They eventually head out after a few drinks to the next destination to get trashed where their profs can't see them. So it's only rowdy for a little while. It's been a while since I made it to the second location. I'm not that old, but I'm not that young anymore." She laughed lightly, and Levi was caught off guard by how pretty the sound was.

"I can't Fridays," Levi said as he pocketed the card, "I work Friday afternoons."

Hange nodded, "It's 8:30 to late-thirty, so stop on by if you want! Or if you know someone who'd-"

She was cut off by someone dropping their bag onto Levi's lap.

"What the fuck?" He started, looking up with a scowl. Of fucking course it was Isabel. He looked at his phone and saw 5 missed calls.

"Dude, what's the point of having a phone if you never answer it," Isabel said with a little more sass than Levi was used to. His brow furrowed. He'd ask about that later.

"Don't be a shit," he said gruffly, but still more gently than his usual tone. She made him worry like that. "My phone was on silent."

"Hi! You must be Levi's sister! He mentioned he had a younger sister." Hange stood up and grabbed Isabel's hand with a smile, "I'm Hange. I'll be your brother's professor starting tomorrow. Should I be keeping an eye on him? I feel like he's going to give me a hard time." Hange gave Isabel a wink and a smirk, which the younger girl returned. She looked a little less tense than she had a minute ago.

"Pfft, Nah. He's pretty bland." Isabel replied and shook Hange's hand with significantly more enthusiasm than Levi had. "I'm Isabel. Thanks for engaging with Mr. Grumpy here. He usually just sits there like a weirdo."

Levi stood up and thrust Isabel's bag back into her arms, "Ok, time to go." He turned on his heel and started walking away at a brisk pace.

Hange shouted out, "bye, Levi! See ya tomorrow!"

Levi waved over his shoulder but stopped when he didn't hear Isabel following behind him.

Isabel was still standing next to Hange, who was staring at her pile of books. He groaned and made his way back to the couch as Hange leaned down and tried to pick up the stack.

He placed a hand on Isabel's shoulder and attempted to steer her away.

"Isabel let's go," Levi said.

The young lady shook her head, "Nah. I'm catching a ride with some friends. We're gonna go get some food before heading home! So don't worry about me!" Isabel gave him a look and gestured towards Hange, still mapping out a game plan. Levi pretended not to notice her look and shot her a glare of his own.

"Isabel. Dammit, why did you tell me that before I stayed till the end of your classes?"

Hange let out a chortle and glanced up at them, "Ha! Classic. Have fun, kid!"

"Well, since you don't need to worry about me," Isabel said sweetly, "you're free right now. Hange, let Levi help you with this!" She shoulder-checked Levi and stuck out her tongue at him with a grin.

"I'm sure she's fine," Levi said.

"Oh, man! I would so appreciate it!" Hange all but yelled, standing up suddenly. Her head smashed right into Levi's chin, making them both groan and bring their hands up to their respective injuries.

"Dammit, four-eyes. Be fucking careful," Levi growled. He shot Isabel a look, but it didn't stop her giggling. He was losing his edge.

"Ok, bye! I have my phone, and it won't be on silent!" She waved and hurried off in the direction of the exit. There was a group of girls who waved, laughing, before walking off together. Levi let out an exasperated sigh, but he was happy to see she was making friends. She deserved it.

Groaning, he looked back down. Hange… was just sitting on the floor, next to her pile of books. No, she wasn't just sitting there. She was reading a book.

"Yo, four-eyes. You want help or not."

"Hmm?" She looked up as though unsure of who was talking to her. She blinked her big, brown eyes and then smiled. Her lips formed a little oh, and though she only just remembered where she was. "Oh, yes! Sorry, I got side-tracked there for a minute. How's your chin! I'm really sorry about that!"

She stood and reached out to touch Levi's face.

He took a step back, "You were just touching the floor. I don't want you touching my face!" He felt his cheeks warm up a bit and shifted his gaze. He picked up most of the stupid, fucking books.

She chuckled and reached down to pick up the rest. She looked at him with a grin and replied, "that's a fair point, Shorty."

"Shorty?" Levi all but dropped the books. "Whatever, Four-eyes," he said and stormed away.

He heard some undignified sputtering as she tried to think of a comeback. He smirked. Good, she should feel bad.

"You just called me Four-eyes? What, I can't call you Shorty?"

"Not when I'm doing you a favour," he shot back. " And after you try to break my face!"

"No! Come back, Shor- Levi! I mean... I mean, come help me, Levi," she sounded whiney. He wasn't sure if he liked that sound.

He turned around and saw her trying to pick up the stack again. He let out a sigh and dragged his feet back to the fucking weirdo, again.

"Oh my fucking god… Why do you even have this many books with you?" He said gruffly as he took an armful of the offending items.

"Research!" Hange exclaimed as though it was obvious. She started to walking away at a surprisingly fast pace.

"What the fuck, slow down, weirdo," Levi said. In-fucking-credible.

"Well, come on then!" Hange said, glancing over her shoulder. "My office isn't too far away."

It sure felt like it was, though.

After winding their way through the halls and then down several sets of stairs, Hange finally unlocked a door and turned on the lights of her office. It was absolutely filled with books, with stacks of papers covering every surface. She shuffled into the room, stepping over a few plastic boxes, and placed her cargo on her chair. It was the only surface that had any space. Hange motioned for Levi to hand her his share, which she placed on the ground, next to the chair.

"Fuck, Hange. How the hell do you ever find anything?" Levi said, unable to hide the growing frustration from his tone. He didn't like clutter, and he really didn't like this room. "This is a fucking mess."

"Oh, it's not that bad! I can find what I need eventually!" She waved her hand and flicked off the lights. Hange picked up two plastic boxes, letting out a small grunt as she did so.

"Alright! Let's head out. Close the door, would you?" She nodded to the open door.

"What's in the boxes?" Levi asked, shutting the door. He had no idea why he was still here. Why was he still here, talking to this lunatic. God, he shuttered thinking of the stacks of paper in that little office.

"Oh, just old notebooks that I need to shred, some speakers I need to donate, and then a lot of rat food to bring to the shelter."

He had forgotten about the rats.

He looked over at the tall, lanky woman. She was obviously struggling. Shit.

"Give me those," he muttered as he took the boxes from her.

She let out an audible sigh as she shook out her arms, "oof, thanks a bunch! Ok, it's over this way!"

Levi glanced her way, "what is?"

"My apartment!"

He felt weird about this. He didn't know this person. Well, he did, or he would know her. Tomorrow, anyways. It still felt weird. He wasn't sure he really knew why. He nodded silently and followed her.

He paused when he looked down.

"Are you wearing fucking crocs?"

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Too Good At Goodbyes [Song] [Request]

BTS X Fem!Reader

Seokjin: I know you think I’m heartless, I know you’re thinking I’m cold

You were trying to focus on not crying but it was hard not to when Jin was breaking up with you in front of the boys. All six of them were staring between you as you attempted to walk out of the living room and go to his room, you wanted to get your things and leave as soon as possible.

"Don't walk away from me!" You looked up at the ceiling trying to stop the tears from gushing down your face but they went anyway,

"Jin! She's trying to stop you from fighting in front of us." Namjoon said, they all felt extremely uncomfortable with everything going on in front of them and anyone within their right mind would be. Nothing had even started the fight he just started breaking up with you, telling you it was what was best and that you should leave.

"I'm leaving like you wanted me to." You whimpered going into his bedroom and ignoring as he called for you to stop what you were doing. You began packing up everything you'd brought with you that night - you were supposed to be sleeping over at the dorms to have a nice evening with him and the guys but it wasn't turning out that way.

"Stop it!" He yelled pulling the bag from your hands and putting it onto the floor behind him, the mixed signals were starting to play with your head and made you want to scream at him.

"I'm doing what you asked me to!" You whimpered at him turning to look at him and show him how much this was starting to upset you, being told to leave and then stay. It was messing with your head too much,

"I just-"

"You just what?! Do you want to breakup or do you want me to stay with you Jin?! Is it that hard for you to think of an answer?!" He understood why you were yelling at him he'd be yelling at him as well.

"You think I'm being heartless and cold but I'm doing this for your own good." He truly was, he knew it was going to hard for you to adapt to their lifestyle and he wanted to protect you from the hate that was probably going to come along with dating him he'd seen it with other couples within the industry.

"My own good? Jin! You hurting me isn't helping at all...What's going on with you lately?" You'd been together for two years and it was getting to the point where he was doing this once a month, wanting to call it quits and end things or he'd distance himself from you telling you it was for the best only to come back to you and beg you not to leave him. It was starting to give you whiplash.

"Your mood swings are so bad lately Jin I'm getting whiplash, tell me now. If I leave am I gone for good or are you just going to come crawling back to me and beg me not to go?" He looked at you and realised the consequences of his actions. He could finally see that it was really hurting you to keep doing this back and forth all the time.

"I don't want you to get hurt when we have to out our relationship...I wanted to break things off so you wouldn't get hurt by everyone else but then I can't- I can't be away from you I love you too much I thought it would be easier to come across cold to you to make things easier but I can't do it." He broke into tears and you wrapped your arms around his head and brought it to lay on your chest, telling him it was okay.

"I'm fine Jin, you don't have to protect me from anything...As long as you're there I can handle anything." You whispered to him as he began explaining everything about what he'd been doing to you.

"It's not fine I hurt-"

"Jin...Please, you were trying to protect me I get it okay? Just don't do it anymore...No more breaking up and begging me to stay. I can't-"

"I won't." He whispered bringing your head to lay in his chest this time.

Yoongi: Every time you walk out the less I love you

You kissed Yoongi's cheek as you sat up in the bed, he was getting up early to head out with the boys. He'd invited you to go with them but you already had plans with your own friends and he said he understood that.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" He quizzed watching as you threw yourself out of the bed and began to get yourself ready for the day. You were heading to the beach so you had a long drive ahead of you.

"I promised Josh and Maria I'd go with them, maybe another time?" You questioned thinking it was no big deal, you'd been dating for three years you could spend time away with other people it wasn't a big deal but Yoongi didn't seem to think about it that way.

"Josh? I thought he was dating Jihoo?" He was trying to act as though he wasn't double guessing everything but you shook your head at him,

"They broke up last week, we're taking him to the beach to cheer him up." He mumbled something under his breath but you ignored him as you went into the bathroom to get ready.

"Why do you have to go?" He questioned when you came back out of the bathroom, you frowned at him as you placed a bag onto the bed and began to fill it up with three books, the second one in case you didn't like the first and the third one in case you got bored of the second one.

"Because he's one of my best friends?"

"He just wants to fuck you." You rolled your eyes, he'd never liked you and Josh being as close as you were no matter how many times you told him that you and Josh were just friends he would never let it die down.

"We dated in school, we broke up. Yoongi, I love you." You were being as nice as you could about all of it as you could but you always explained this to him and he never listened.

"Whatever. Go out and fuck him see if I care!" That was a full 180 from him just saying that Josh wanted to fuck you but now he was accusing you of sleeping with someone else.

"Yoongi what are you talking about?" You questioned putting down the bag you were holding and waiting for answers but he shook his head at you throwing the covers off himself.

"Go and fuck him, I don't care anymore. If you're going to sleep around your might as well tell me to my face though." Your mouth fell open as he sat there accusing you of being a cheat, he'd never done this before it was always Josh that he blamed.

"Yoongi!" You yelled tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to scream at you,

"I should have listened to the boys sooner! You're nothing but a slag that sleep around with everyone she can." You couldn't believe what you were hearing from him,

"Is that really what you think of me?" You questioned looking at him as he packed up a bag to get ready to leave,

"It's what everyone thinks of you." He grumbled zipping up a bag and throwing it over his shoulder, you stared at him while you cried watching him walk out of the door like he did every time you both had a fight like this. Leaving you to break down into tears crying about all of the things he'd said about you that time you fought. You quickly text Josh and Maria that you couldn't make it and that something had come up instead.

(X)

Yoongi made his way back into the house silently thinking you'd be in bed but he was surprised to find you on the living room sofa watching something on the TV, it was like you hadn't heard him come into the room either because you ignored him.

"Babe? How was the beach?" You wanted to turn around and yell at him for what he'd done that morning as if he could walk out on you and everything would be fine as long as he came back to you but the moment he called you babe you turned to mush in his hands. Willing to go back to him no matter how much he hurt you, you loved him and sure every time he walked out it made you love him a little less but he was yours...He was the one for you.

"I'm sorry about this morning, no one thinks that about you." He mumbled coming over to the sofa, he lifted up your legs so he could sit down and he laid them over his legs.

"I never meant it-"

"You never mean it, you just walk out and expect me to be forgiving." Your voice broke as you tried to be as calm as you could about this but it was hard when every fibre in your body was hurting, telling you to run away but your heart was telling you to stay.

"I won't do it again, we'll sit and talk it out like adults." He'd been talking with Namjoon about everything that had happened that morning, he realised that he was overreacting and had to leave you to give you space.

"Stop walking away every time we fight over something..." You begged him and he nodded, kissing your forehead as you sat up on the sofa to greet him.

"I promise." He whispered to you, taking your hands in his and running his fingers over your knuckles.

"I promise." He repeated when you looked at him, he wanted you to know he was being serious and that he wasn't going to walk out the next time that it got hard again.

Hoseok: Every time you hurt me the less that I cry

"You okay?" Jimin asked when he came into the dance studio, you nodded your head even though you both knew it was the biggest lie you'd ever told in your life. Hoseok had just been screaming at you for the last ten minutes about how 'incompetent' you were and how he never wanted to speak to you again. He never meant it...or at least he told you that he didn't mean it when he came back to tell you he was sorry. It was the same after every fight you'd had, he'd shout things he never meant and come back begging you to forgive him, that all the things he said were from blinded anger.

"You're not crying this time," Jimin said trying to search for a positive side in everything like he always did. He'd heard the fight from down the hall and wanted to make sure that you were okay before he went to yell at Hoseok for the things he'd said.

"What started it this time?" You shrugged your shoulders and looked at the food that was on the floor, and up the dance studio mirrors. Everything was covered and you were going to be the one to clean it up since he'd walked right out after throwing it and yelling at you.

"I brought him lunch but it wasn't good enough? Threw it at the mirror and kicked off about something," You whispered, you knew that Hoseok would never actually physically hurt you but it still hurt you emotionally whenever he fought with you or yelled at you the way he did.

"Hoseok is just-"

"Stressed out with the new comeback, he didn't mean it? He's just having a hard time? I've heard all the excuses Jimin you don't need to make them for him. Can you go and make sure he's calming down though?" He nodded and left the room while you began cleaning up the food and throwing it into the nearby bin that was in the room.

(X)

Hoseok walked into the studio in silence watching as you sprayed the mirror with window cleaning and began wiping it down with a piece of kitchen roll.

"What did you do? Rob a cleaning lady?" He tried to joke but he could tell by the look on your face that you weren't in the mood for his attempts at making you laugh about this.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't Hobi, don't say sorry when you don't mean it." You whispered grunting a little as you got up from the floor, you put all of the cleaning supplies back into the bucket you got it from and tried to remember which cleaning lady you'd actually borrowed it from.

"I mean it and you know I do, I never meant to yell I'm just-"

"Stressed? Overworked? Tired? Not getting enough sleep? Which excuse are we going to go with today because I've heard them all Hoseok." You were at the end of your rope with him and he knew that Jimin told him that he could see it in your eyes when he tried to talk to you.

"I know and I am sorry, I mean it this time. I've been speaking with Jimin and I'm going to take some classes on how to relax and take my anger out on something else instead." You looked at him, your facial expression softened the moment you locked eyes and could tell he was serious about changing his ways.

"Hobi-"

"No I mean it, I never should have snapped at you and I promise it'll never happen again." You shook your head at him and walked closer to him,

"Don't make promises you can't keep...Just promise me that we'll work through it together." You whispered looking up at him and placing your hand on his cheek, he nodded desperately and promised you it over and over again.

Namjoon: I’m never gonna let you close to me, even though you mean the most to me

Your laugh was like music to Namjoon's ears, you, Jungkook and himself were all sitting in his studio joking about old times you had with Jungkook while waiting for your food.

"That'll be the food, I'll go." Jungkook got up and walked out of the room while staring at his phone, you were left alone with Namjoon again. You hadn't been left alone since you'd shared a kiss one-time last week, it was no secret that both of you had a crush on one another, neither of you went to any extent to hide it but you weren't going to act on it.

"Do we talk about it?" Namjoon questioned looking up at you awkwardly after the kiss had happened you walked out on him leaving him in his dorm room alone without knowing what he was supposed to do. He didn't know if he was supposed to call you, chase after you or give you space so that's what he did. He gave you space and you never spoke about it again. You were never alone in a room long enough with him to talk about it, you'd always made sure one of the boys was with you so you didn't have to talk to him about it.

"Namjoon-"

"Jungkook told me about your past and I want you to know I'd never do anything to hurt you." You blinked at him and made a mental note to smack Jungkook for spreading around your personal business as if it was his to share with everyone, Namjoon smirked as he knew what you were thinking.

"I'll hold him down while you smack him." You let out a giggle at how well he knew you already in such a brief period of time, you face fell flat though once you remembered what was happening. You didn't want to lead him on when you knew you were never going to let him get close enough to you.  

"You did it again," He whispered moving his chair closer to you and hoping Jungkook would take his time bringing the food up,

"D-Did what?" You whispered already knowing what he was talking about and he sighed taking hold of your hand, you stared at the way they linked together. You looked so perfect in his hands like that and Namjoon felt the same way, he just wished you'd trust him enough to know he was never going to do anything to hurt you, not now not ever.

"You pull away, you do it a lot. You'll laugh at something or you'll kiss me and realise you can't deal with it and run away...Pull away or ignore the feelings you're truly feeling. I can see it in your eyes that you like me." Your eyes darted up to look into his and he sighed knowing that you were struggling to deal with everything in your head and heart.

"I know how hard it can be to get over someone in your past but you can't let past experiences cloud your new ones." He was so wise, why did he have to be so wise when it came to things like this? It made you want to grab him and kiss him all over again, the first time you'd kissed him was because he'd been talking to you about something you had in common. It made your heart skip a beat that someone was finally taking an interest in you and you just kissed him.

"I can't let you get close Namjoon, you mean too much to me already and if you leave-"

"I won't leave." He linked his pinky with yours which was normally something you did with Jungkook when you asked him to keep a promise with you.

"I won't leave if you won't."  He whispered to you, you thought about it some more. If he was willing to make this promise when he barely knew you and was willing to take a chance you were too.

"I won't." You whispered looking from your fingers to his eyes not noticing how close you were until he gave you a small kiss on the lips.

Jimin: Baby we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad but it’s true. I’m way too good at goodbyes

Jimin was watching you as you stood at opposite ends of the bedroom to one another, he was watching you closely as you started to pack up your clothes into a bag. You'd done nothing but bicker all morning about what was going to happen between you both, someone had caught you together and was threatening to expose you. If you didn't end things now it would only get messier for everyone on later.

"You don't have to do this, we could just fuck everything and be together." He told you, he didn't want you to leave he wanted you to stay with him and admit that you were in love even though you told him that love wasn't something you were capable of.

"You know I don't do relationships." You mumbled going into his en-suite and looking for all of your things if you got it all now you wouldn't have to come back and look into his eyes at a later date. You knew this was killing him but it was for the best.

"That's bullshit and both of us know it!" He yelled at you, the bag slipped from your shoulder onto the floor as you stared at him. He'd never yelled at you both unless it was in the bedroom,

"What do you think all of this has been?!" You knew he was annoyed you could tell by the redness in his face as he yelled at you, flinging his arms around to exaggerate how he was feeling in that moment.

"It's been fun but we're not a couple-"

"Were you sleeping with other people?"

"No, but-"

"Were you seeing other people? We went out on dates, we celebrated anniversaries, what do you think that is Y/n?!" You stumbled over your words as you tried to go against what he was saying but you knew he was right, you knew what it was with Jimin but neither of you put labels on it. Labels were scary to you and if people knew what you were that was it, everything was over.

"We don't stand a chance Jimin," You knew that your manager and his manager would never allow it to begin with so there was no choice in what was going to have to ultimately happen between you both.

"Don't." He begged as he watched you picking up the bag from the floor and grabbing your keys,

"Y/n please," His voice was breaking as he begged you not to leave him there but it was the only way this would world.

"Jimin we won't work out there, in here it's different but out there-"

"I can deal with everything, the hate, anyone who says anything wrong about us I don't care. You're mine and I'm yours." Your eyes began to tear up as you heard him begging you to stay by his side, you wanted to. Everything in your body was telling you to stay there but what if it all went wrong? What if your managers forced a breakup? All of the what-ifs were running around so fast in your head you could barely think of all the good between you and Jimin.

"Stop thinking about everything that could happen and think about us, what is happening." He whispered to you pulling the bag from your shoulder and throwing it onto the double bed in the room.

"Think about the good between us...all those happy memories...We won't label us, we'll keep doing what we're doing." He promised you, that boy could sweet-talk his way out of a police cell you were sure of it.

"Nothing will change." He assured you running his hand over your cheek and kissing you softly.

Taehyung: Cause every time I open up it hurts

Taehyung noticed that you were doing it again, it was your sixth date and he'd finally started to get you to open up to him about things but the moment you realised what you were doing you shut back up like a clam and just asked Taehyung about himself. This wasn't how it was supposed to work if you were going to get into any kind of relationship he had to know more about you. He looked down at your hands that were linked together, everything about you and him made sense and you knew that but being with him in a relationship was different. Relationships meant the chances of getting hurt were increased,

"We should talk." The three simple words that could have meant anything but in your world they meant the worst was coming. Your fingers unwrapped from around his and you stared over at the river knowing what was coming.

"Look...I get it. It's not me it's you, you can't do it. I get it. I've heard it all before." Taehyung listened to you as you stared off into the view not looking at him, it pissed him off more than words could express. He at least wanted you to look at him while you accused him of walking out on you.

"What are you talking about?" You slowly turned on your heel to make eye contact and he waited for an answer from you, shaking his head as he waited.

"You're not ending this-"

"I don't even know what this is," He said as he gestured towards you both. He took hold of your hand again and held it up in front of your eyes,

"One minute I think we're a couple and the next you're shutting me out and pulling away from me like I did something wrong." You blinked at him, you knew what you'd been doing it. You did it all the time with every person you met it was a force of habit.

"Tae I'm sorry," Your voice fell into a whisper as you tried to talk about it but it was hard for you to do this sort of thing, open up to someone new. You were always scared it would have the same outcome as all your other previous relationships and friendships.

"Do you want to talk about it? Clearly, something is bothering you," You felt the tears well up in your eyes, he sounded like he really cared which made it harder for you to talk to him about but you knew you had to do it. You could tell that it was hurting him that you were keeping something from him,

"I want you to know that it's not just you that I get like this with..." He nodded along and walked with you towards some seats, he wanted you to sit and talk properly about this since it was something clearly worrying you.

"I don't let people get close to me...Every time I tend to open up to someone they give me a reason why I shouldn't have and I know I shouldn't judge new relationships on old ones but it's hard not to-"

"When you've been hurt so many times it feels like it's a curse?" He physically watched as your shoulders relaxed and dropped, you hadn't even noticed the tension that you'd been holding in them until now but Taehyung knew exactly how you were feeling. He'd been there a million times with people in the past as well,

"We have to try and accept that not everyone will do the same to us and we have to keep trying," You stared at him as he began explaining everything he'd been through in the past with ex-partners  and then it was your turn to express what you had been through,

"It just seems that everyone I let into my life walks out once I open up to them...I don't want that to happen with you I really like you Tae." You admitted to him and he smiled - god that smile could knock the wind right out of your chest.

"I really like you too and I want you to trust me enough to know that I won't walk out on you...I know it'll take time but-"

"I trust you." You promised him as you tried to think of where to start with everything.

Jungkook: Every time you leave me the quicker these tears dry  

"It's nothing Jungkook! He's coming around for some tea!"

"Conveniently when I'm not home though! He still loves you, can't you see that?!" He yelled grabbing his car keys and walking towards the front door and walked out, just like he did after every small inconvenience that came into your relationship, as soon as there was the smallest sign of hardship he was out of the door in record time. Today you didn't even get into a fight he just bolted the moment he knew something was going to happen, you were left crying on the doorstep as he got int his car and drove off like you were nothing to him. That the four years you'd been in a relationship was nothing but the second he was gone and you realised he'd come back the tears on your face dried. If you cried every time he was going to leave you over something so small you'd never stop crying, he always came back to you.

"What started it today?" Your best friend - Will - asked while you sat on the sofa having a hot drink together, you rolled your eyes.

"I'd only mentioned that you were coming over, it started with the whole you're secretly in love with me and he walked out before a fight could even break out." You assumed that no fighting was better than having a screaming match for all of your neighbours to hear but you hated that he wasn't there with you right now fixing it. Will's hand fell onto your knee and he began soothing you that way, you stared at his hand.

"What are you doing?" You asked when he shifted himself closer to you on the sofa you were both sitting on but he held his finger up to your lips shaking his head,

"It's fine, he's not here. It's just you...and me..." You groaned pushing him away from you and putting down the hot drink onto your coffee table not caring that the liquid and hit your hand.

"What the fuck!? You think you can just kiss me because me and Jungkook had a fight!?" You yelled at him looking at him as he got up to his feet trying to calm you down but there was nothing he could say or do to make you calm down right now.

"I know you want me too, I see it in your eyes-"

"What you see is the look of 'Holy shit my boyfriend was right' Get the fuck out of my house!" You yelled at him pushing him towards the exit of your house while you grabbed your keys on the way, you had to find Jungkook and tell him he was right in the first place.

"Please don't make me leave," Will begged but you pushed him out of the door and went over to your car so you could get out and find Jungkook faster.

(X)

Jungkook's eyes filled with panic when he saw you rushing into his studio and crying, he placed down the guitar and rushed over to you cupping your face.

"You were right, he's in love with me and he tried to kiss me but I stopped him. You were right and I should have listened to you but I didn't." You sobbed hysterically and he shook his head at you bringing your head to rest on his chest as he swayed you back and forth.

"It doesn't matter that I was right, are you okay? Did he hurt you or something?!" He was ready to find Will and beat him up for what he'd tried to do but you shook your head.

"I kicked him out and came to find you I had to tell you." You swallowed the lump in your throat and he kissed your cheeks promising you that it was okay,

"D-Don't walk out on me again Jungkook, I'm sick of you always running away from me...Leaving me." He nodded in agreement promising never to leave you like that again.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | i

genre: vampire!jaehyun [ mature | angst | smut ]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

“father, i dreamt about a boy

his hands, bloodied

eyes like the shot of dawn

with the rebellion in his mouth

he tried to conquer

the moon

with the venom of his prayers

he tried to

search for a god

pray tell me father,

how do i love him

with no flesh, all blood

heaven help us,

how could he love me

if i am the sun?”

— jungcity, bane of the devil // i

Raindrops danced in the air as they fall from the clouds with the squalling winds intensifying the impact of it against the glass window panes. The murmurs and complaints filled the whole room, your classmates begging your professor to turn off the air conditioner. Your mechanical pencil lay forgotten above your table as you stare at the horizon from your seat beside the window. Oh, how you longed for your bed in this cozy weather.

Seven a.m. to seven p.m. class should be classified as a mortal sin— you could not, in the life of you, understand that type of abomination. It is cruel beyond reckoning. Especially when you sit on a room of thirty people, doing nothing as the heavy drops of rain and the cool atmosphere it provides slowly lulls you to slumber.

The only thing that prevented you from doing so was the loud slap of your professor’s hands on table, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. “Alright! Stop chattering!” He yelled as he raised a piece of paper in the air.

You slumped back in your seat. Here we go again. Every time your professors raise their hands while holding papers, you could not help but release a groan.

“Here is the plan for your next plate,” he started. “Photocopy it, take a picture of it, it’s up to you.” He then handed the papers to the student in front. You stared as your classmate’s face crumpled into a grimace while he skimmed the document. That— without a doubt— would also be your face once you get a hold of the plan.

“Just like the last time, bind your A3 papers with two fasteners. There must be a separate sheet for the front page. And please,” the professor exhaled, “Please don’t forget your names! How would I give you a failing grade if I don’t know who you are.” The groans rose up again from the students, your own commixing with the chaos of curses and prayers and the laugh of your professor.

“Hey, hey! Haechan!” You grabbed your friend’s shirt as he scurried off to your classmate in the front row. “Take a picture and send it to the group chat.”

He snatched his shirt away from your grasp while glaring at you, “I know! I know! Wait here.” Then he pulled out his phone, waving it onto your face before dashing to your classmate who has the plan.

You fished for your own phone inside your bag when a boy sat in front of you. He rested his arm on your table and propped his chin on his palm. “Damn, I’m surely gonna die before this semester ends.” Mark groaned, his eyes looking at your table.

You chuckled from your seat, “Three major plates to go, buddy.”

“I’m gonna sell my soul to Satan so I don’t have to do any of this bullcrap.” Haechan threw his phone on to the table. Luckily, you caught it before it slid down and shattered on the hard floors. He let out an infuriated sigh before grabbing one of the chairs and sitting on it beside your table.

“It’s that bad?” Mark grimaced as he pressed the power button of Haechan’s phone. The light of the screen illuminated his soft features in an instant, “Wow. Your phone’s brightness could blind a person,” Mark stated while blinking rapidly.

Haechan said nothing as he leaned his head on your table. You peek at the phone yourself, Mark slowing down his scrolling as you leaned closer.

“Five-storey residential? What?!” You exclaimed. Tons of plates are slowly piling up to you bedroom. Your drafting table could not even hold them anymore, they are littered all over the mattress and the whole place. As your eyes scrutinized the image of the plan, Mark let out a curse as he read the requirements of the residential building.

“Oh, no. The measurements are given,” Mark exchanged glances with you. “I won’t do this shit.” Then the phone toppled over the table again after Mark threw it. Haechan snatched his phone back with a special glare meant only for Mark before laying his head back on the table.

The rain continued to ravage the roof and the ground as the three of you rested your heads on your desk. Chatters and the shuffling of drafting materials once again dominated the whole room, with a few of your classmates cursing at the back as they play their online games.

“I had at least thirty-minutes of sleep today,” you declared. Your eyes feels heavy and your body seemed to be softening and turning into jelly by the sleep deprivation.

“Wow. I didn’t even have a blink of sleep myself.” Haechan mumbled, face still covered by his arms.

After your heavy nap, the three of you woke up with red-rimmed eyes. If you could continue sleeping in your room until tomorrow, you would. But of course, that is not possible.

Your classmates started to pack their things as the professor came back and dismissed the whole class. It has always been like that; your prof giving yet another plan and then dismissing the whole class two or three hours earlier than the scheduled time. You would have not attended today’s class if not for the other plates that needed to be submitted.

Despite the sullenness of your house because of your brother’s absence, you still wanted to go home and nap. It does not matter if you have mountains of plates to do, what truly matters is you, going home to the tranquility and safety of your house before midnight. It was a habit you’ve grown accustomed to since the untimely death of your parents.

Your path goes different ways from Mark and Haechan. That’s why you sat alone in the bus as they stand in the waiting shed while waiting for theirs. Both of them waved at you, mouthing the words ‘take care’. You answered them with a slight wave of your hand before putting on your earbuds.

The rain has calmed down already, leaving the stores drenched, the highway splotched with circles of rainwater. Yet the lightning still dominated the skies, white lights flashing like roots reflected in your irises as you stare at the bleakness of the heavens through the bus’ windows. The speed of the vehicle made everything blurry; from the blustery wind slapping against the trees to the lights from different stores. They filled your sight as the music continued to blast in your ear.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, stopping the music. You glanced at the screen and saw your brother’s caller ID. Johnny. Automatically, your brow shot up to your forehead. He has been away for two weeks now, doing God only knows what on the other side of the ocean. Of course, your big brother calls every night to check up on you. But tonight, he called earlier than usual.

You attempted to slide the green button when your cell phone flew away from your grasp, your head hitting the seat in front of you, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Loud protestations echoed from the students and elders alike, their own faces bedraggled as they recover themselves from the impact of the bus drawing to a halt.

“What happened?” An elderly woman asked, her hand on the middle of her chest while breathing heavily.

“There’s a person who crossed the road.” The conductor explained, but his words sounded unsure.

The woman’s eyes widened, “Is the person alright?” She stood up from her seat, one hand grabbing the railings in front of her.

“That’s what we’re confused about, Ma’am. The person is nowhere on the asphalt. He ran with a dashing speed… it’s impossible.” You didn’t know if it was amazement or fear that was laced with the conductor’s voice, but his statement caught your attention nonetheless.

The nagging curiosity inside your chest spreads like wild fire. If ever your intuition is right, you have to find that person or whatever that is. A speed like that could only be achieved by one creature. Your brother might call you a freak or a delusional little girl again, but it might be the only way to get answers. Answers that he did not bother to find when your parents died.

The truth is, years ago, your parents had their inopportune death. But the authorities has not yet to find the murderer. How could they? When there was no DNA in the crime scene but your parents’. How could they? If the murderer was not even a person to begin with.

Deep in your heart, you know. You know the world is enfolded with mysteries that a human mind would not be able to perceive. Cloak-and-dagger as it is, you understood that reality the moment you saw the two dots that were obviously from a penetration of fangs embedded in your parents’ necks.

‘Vampire! Vampire!’ was your unending scream at the morgue. Since you were only a little girl back then, no one paid attention to you. Not the policemen, not even your brother.

It did not surprise you when everyone called it a hopeless case. In their eyes, it was. But in yours, it’s not. Ever since your parents were murdered, you have been drinking the myths and lore of vampires. Day and night you devoured books, watched vampire sightings, studied their strengths as well as their weaknesses. It simply was a thirst you could not quench.

It was like that until you started college. You could not simply search for a free time to indulge yourself about those undead, blood-sucking creatures any longer. But every articles, every information, were still plastered to a blackboard inside your bedroom. A reminder of what you have been sleuthing for all your life.

Yellow lights illuminated the pool of waters on the asphalt road. You tiptoed as to prevent your shoes from getting soaked. Plastics, styrofoams, as well as vegetables skins from the uncollected drenched trash bins littered all over the street.

At long last, the shadow of your apartment appeared. Darkness invaded the vicinity, a quiet reminder that there isn’t any person present inside. You pulled out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, ten missed calls from Johnny were displayed in the notifications. Frustrated from what happened inside the bus, you continued to ignore his calls earlier, despite your phone vibrating continuously.

Your phone’s flashlight casted a white light upon the dimness. Keys in your left hand, and your phone in your right, you struggled to jam the keys into the hole. When the gates finally opened, you sent Johnny a text that says you’re already home.

“At long fucking last.”

Your phone went flying to the grass yet again as you saw a figure looming in the shadows. A silent curse slid past your lips as you hurriedly picked it up, dead and wet grass sticking onto the screen. Once again, you pressed the flashlight button to see through the darkness.

And there, in the corner near the door, a man with a bloodied face stares at you with a cigar in between his lips. Spontaneously, your heart thudded frantically in your chest. You wanted to shout, but the scream bubbled out in your mouth and then nothing came out.

“Who are you?” You managed to ask.

The man didn’t answer. He pulled something out of his pockets. You took a step back. Only when he struggled to light his cigarette you realized it was only a lighter. His hands continued to shake, and you have no idea why haven’t you screamed for help yet. They say curiosity killed the cat. Right now, you do not doubt the saying as your curiosity ascended your fear.

“Care to light this for me, kitten?” He stretched out his hand to offer you the lighter. His endearment catching you like a deer in the headlights.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? All bloodied?”

The man sighed and started to light his cigar again. “The name’s Jaehyun. I’m friends with your brother, Johnny.” He offered you the lighter once more, “Now, will you light this up for me? As you can see, I’m shaking and bleeding.”

After his last word, you glanced up and down his body, the light of your phone following your action. And then you saw as blood poured out from a wound on his side. You hadn’t noticed it earlier because of his black shirt.

“What— I don’t— are you alright?” What stupid, stupid question. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Is this why your brother were so eager to call you? Because apparently, his friend stands bloodied in front of your doorstep.

“I feel like shit but I’m alright.” Smoke puffed out of his lips as he succeeded in lighting his cigarette after numerous attempts. “Won’t you open the door?” He nudged his head to the direction of the door. You blinked and felt the keys in your palms again.

“Tell me what’s happening first.”

It’s cruel, but if he manages to stay alive while blood gushes out of his stomach, you believed he could concisely explain to you what’s going on.

“Women are so fucking difficult,” he mumbled. “I will tell you everything once we’re inside and you’re stitching up my goddamned wound.”

“What?!” It was a scream more than a word. “Listen, I don’t know how to stitch up—”

He cut you off, “Well that’s a pity.” Then he threw away the bud of the cigarette to the ground. “Listen, I’m going to pass out anytime soon,” then he licked his lips, “Better open this door so we could get to business.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything to me.” It’s childish and you feel pathetic, but you said it anyways. Perhaps this man in front of you has a bottle of conscience in his system despite his unkempt look.

Jaehyun only looked at you, face impassive. “You’re not my type.”

You choked on your own saliva. “You’re unbelievable.” You ignored his smirk as you sauntered up to the door. Both of you were enveloped in a silence, the only noise coming from the keys jamming into the keyhole.

Another darkness greeted you as you opened the door, you searched for the switch with your sweaty hand. The metal tang the keys left on your palm wafted your nose, making you feel gross and dirty.

You wrenched the keys out of the hole as the light finally infiltrated the living room. Your brow shot up when Jaehyun made no move to enter the house.

“Invite me first,” he stated.

If you could raise your brow higher, you would. His question was unexpected for someone itching to enter your house mere minutes earlier.

“Come… in?” You reluctantly offered.

There was mischief and bad news in his eyes as he stepped inside the house. “So the authorities would say that you invited me willingly.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” You demanded, gripping the doorknob tightly.

He only winked at you. But you are not having any of it. It was a bad idea inviting this stranger inside.

“Get out.” You ordered. Jaehyun attempted to say something but you repeated the words with enough ferocity. “Get out!”

He held up his hand, his right pulling out something from his pockets again. A paper.

“Here.”

You stared at the paper for a good two minutes before you snatched it away from his hand.

This is to certify that the apartment owned by Johnny and Y/N Y/L/N has been sold and therefore owned by Mr. Jung Jaehyun.

No. No, no, no. The paper must be a trick. It’s probably a forged paper made by this man in front of you to take his advantage and trick you.

“This is forged.” You balled the paper and threw it his way. Jaehyun picked it up with bloodied fingers. His shirt was now saturated with his blood. But you could not bring yourself to care now that he poses a threat to your safety.

“Forged? Do you not recognize the lawyer who signed this paper?” He started to flatten out the paper again. “The best in town. You could go to his office right now to inquire about this. But I won’t waste money if I were you.”

For the second time that night, you snatched away the paper from him. It was completely crumpled, but the texts printed out were still glaring at you. You skimmed the printed letters with your head spinning, eyes only stopping when you see three signatures below. One for your brother, one for Jaehyun, one for the attorney. It was signed by a pen, that much you’re sure of. Being an architecture student familiarized you to different type of pens. You’re certain they had used a ballpoint pen to sign the contract.

Still, you went dumbfounded as you let the realization hit you. Your brother, Johnny, just sold your apartment for this blood soaked guy in front of you.

“Since when?” You asked through gritted teeth, not looking up from the papers.

Jaehyun let out a frustrated sigh, his hand clamping his wound. “Since last week.”

“Will you…” You sighed, it was so difficult to get the words come out, “… will you let me stay the night? I promise I’ll go first thing in the morning.” Your hand which is holding the paper shook. Mixed feelings of anger, shame, and confusion swirled in your head.

Jaehyun waved his hand before sitting on the sofa, his bloodied hands imprinting the arms of it red. You bit back the anger as you realized that you have no rights to be angry.

“You could stay the night, of course.” He reclined his head, “But stitch me up first before you go packing.”

How had he managed to stay alive with the loss of too much blood, you have no idea. But you shook your head and declined him again, “I don’t know how. You might get an infection.”

“Needle… I need a needle,” He breathed and shut his eyes, you panicked as you thought he passed out already. But then he opened his one eye and fixed it to you, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Why don’t we just go to the hospital?”

It was embarrassing that you only thought of the idea now. But Jaehyun only snorted, “Trust me, that’s the last resort you’d think of if you truly knew me.”

There is no point talking to him. His mouth pours metaphors you could not be bothered to comprehend. So you trudged the distance to the small drawer laying just below the television and grabbed the sewing kit inside.

You laid it on the table. Jaehyun groaned before grabbing the needle and the thread. He does not look pained. He looks more tired. And only when you were sitting beside him you noticed how pale he appeared to be. His lips looked wan, his face pallid.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hos—”

“No,” was his monosyllabic reply. You didn’t press any further.

Jaehyun started to insert the thread through the needle, but like his dreaded attempts to lit his cigarette earlier, his aim to get the thread through the little hole went in complete vain. “Fuck,” he muttered as the pin dropped on the floors.

“Let me.” You finally offered before picking up the needle and seizing the thread from his grasp. With your one eye shut close, you dampened the needle with your tongue before thrusting it through the hole. In a blink, you succeeded.

“Here—” You were cut off once again when Jaehyun’s body fell back on the sofa. His eyes closed. The nervous and shock kicked in your stomach as you leaned closer to him but felt nothing in his chest. He doesn’t look like he is breathing, too.

“Oh my God, don’t fucking die.” You repeated the words as you grabbed your phone and dialed nine-one-one. Sweats started to form in your forehead, your own heart beating in a panic-stricken rhythm.

The ringing stopped, and the voice of the person from the other side greeted you calmly.

“I— there’s— I—” Your words are incoherent from the panic that is vibrating from your head to your toes. The person tried to calm you down but to no avail. You inhaled and exhaled, mind blank. “I—” Then a hand grabbed your wrist. You jumped in your seat, only to see Jaehyun, wide-eyed looking at you.

“I told you, no doctors.”

“But— how— what?” How is he alive?

“I am fine. Just really need to stitch this up so I could recover easily.” Then his eyes started to lose their life again.

“Don’t! Don’t sleep! Stay awake!” You screamed at him. Jaehyun began to lose consciousness again. The forgotten thread and needle was back on your hands in an instant. Loud sets of profanities reverberated from your mouth as you lifted his shirt. You exhaled as you saw the long laceration starting from beside his navel to his waist.

“I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.” You swallowed, praying that his innards won’t slide out of his stomach. Where did he get this wound?

“You have no other choice, have you?” He whispered, voice straining. “Just close it and stitch it. I won’t scream,” he expressed.

“That’s not my problem! What if.. what if I’ll make it worse?”

“You won’t.” Jaehyun looked at you with hooded eyes.

This is not what you’ve expected to come home to. The schedule was to go home, eat, shower, and start your plates. Stitching up a long god-forsaken wound wasn’t on your to-do list.

You closed your eyes, trying to inhale and exhale. When you felt like your mind was clear of worries, you finally opened your eyes and started to hold Jaehyun’s skin. The tang of blood filled the whole room, your fingers sliding as it touched his bloodied skin. You let out a breath before clamping the open wound with your fingers, your other hand working its way to pierce the needle into his skin.

Goosebumps ran down your spine as you felt the needle pierced his flesh. White thread came out red as you pulled it to fasten his skin back together. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you pushed on with your work. With each pierce and puncture, your tension and the shaking of your hands lessened.

“Are you okay?” You asked Jaehyun when you were finally in the middle of the wound. He did not utter a word ever since you started; not a protest nor a painful scream.

“Yes… it does not hurt.” His voice came out as a whisper that you doubted his answer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“If I am in your position right now, I would’ve screamed like hell. Imagine, we didn’t use any anesthesia, but you still managed to look comfortable and calm,” you mumbled, trying to keep Jaehyun awake.

“Do you wanna know why?”

“Why?” A small chuckle resonated from your throat then. Jaehyun popped an eye open, and you waited for some dramatic lines like ‘I’m used to the pain’ to escape his lips, but his answer drew you to a sudden halt instead.

“Because I am a vampire.”

previous | next

[meowmerson]

Waitwaitwait does this mean we gonna get head boy/head girl part two AND three?????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do u kno what happens when i try to only write smut i end up with 7000 words and still no smut i hate myself anyway heres part 2 to the head boy head girl thing and i still haven’t gotten to the smut part IM SORRY

I will post these all together once its complete so ppl can read them all together lmao

--

“So, Hermione,” Lavender started as if she was going to say something of value, but when Hermione raised her eyes from her schoolwork, Lavender said nothing at all. Instead she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione knew immediately what she was implying.

“Stop it.” Hermione snapped.

Thankfully, she stopped the hideous eyebrow-waggling, but she did not drop the subject. “I’m just saying, you and Tom have been spending a lot of time together, and you haven’t even—“

“Lavender, I swear to Merlin—“

“Haven’t even said anything about it!” Lavender bulldozed over Hermione’s interjection, and Ginny, who was painting her nails bright shades of Red and Gold for the upcoming Quidditch match, nodded solemnly along. “I mean come on, You can’t leave us hanging like this.”

“I’m not leaving you hanging.” Hermione said firmly, putting on what Ron often referred to as her Mum-voice, “There is nothing to hang on, because nothing is happening, Lavender.”

“Yes, Lavender,” Ginny interjected, arranging her face into a scowl and mimicking Hermione’s tone of voice, “Tom only sometimes sticks his hand up my skirt in Potions class—“

Hermione sputtered furiously, and Ron—who was nearby playing a game of chess with Harry—groaned.

“Riddle has never, not once, stuck his hand up my skirt anywhere, let alone in the middle of class!” Hermione protested, turning a furious glare on Lavender, “Stop making things up!”

“I saw it!” Lavender insisted.

“Can you lot talk about something other than Tom Bloody Riddle for once?” Ron griped.

“Tom and Hermione are dating?” Harry asked, clueless as ever, as Ginny roared laughing.

“Aw, shit,” Ginny said after she calmed down, staring balefully at her nails, “I fucked it up.”

“Give me,” Lavender said, sliding off the couch to sit by Ginny and grabbing her hand and the bottles of nail polish.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, dating Tom Riddle!” Hermione protested, feeling very much like a broken record at this point.

“Then why was his hand up your skirt?” Lavender asked.

“It was never up my skirt!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I know what I saw!” Lavender snapped.

“Aw, shit—“ Ginny said, pulling her hand away and holding up her index finger to show Lavender had accidentally swiped the red all the way down to her second knuckle, “Lavender what the hell?”

“Sorry,” Lavender shrugged, unbothered in the face of Ginny’s ire, and she added, “Just got so hot and bothered thinking of—“

Hermione knew what she was going to say, and had heard enough, so with a groan, she rose to her feet, packed up her parchment, and stomped out of the Gryffindor common room.

“So,” Harry spoke up as she was on her way out, “Are they dating or not?”

—

Tom Riddle had never, not once, stuck his hand up Hermione Granger’s skirt.

He did often have his hand on her arm when they walked together, as they sometimes did when he descended upon her like a vulture and she could think of no rational reason to tell him to fuck off. He did, at times, let his hand very briefly settle against the small of her back if he was saying goodbye, or saying hello, or brushing by her in the corridor. And perhaps, once, when he was sitting by her in potions class—as he had taken to sitting by her in every class they shared together, which was most of them—he may have very briefly, and very innocently, laid his hand on the bare skin of her thigh where her skirt had ridden up, just to get her attention as he pointed toward an ingredient on the far side of their table that he wanted her to pass to him. And maybe, maybe she had flinched a bit violently, and hurriedly fixed her skirt as she stood, and maybe she moved so quickly that he didn’t have time to retract his hand before she was already standing, stepping away from him, and maybe his fingers trailed down her thigh very, very slightly as he pulled his hand away, and maybe Hermione noticed the look of unrelenting glee on Lavender’s face as she gaped from across the room.

But he had not put his hand up her skirt. Lavender had a disgustingly over-reactive imagination. And Hermione certainly did not at any point think he was trying to put his hand up her skirt, absolutely not, that is not at all what went through her head when she first felt his fingers brush her inner thigh.

It wasn’t even her thigh really. Barely. It was closer to her knee, really, and she didn’t think of it often. She didn’t.

She thought, more often, of Malfoy. He had returned to his usual self, he muttered under his breath when she answered questions in class, called her a know-it-all, cornered her, Harry, and Ron in the corridor with his cronies when he was in the mood to start a fight. But he hadn’t called her a mudblood in the weeks following the incident, not once.

And she still couldn’t figure out why.

She knew how, that was easy to figure out. Obviously Tom Riddle had either threatened or tortured him into refusing to use that work against her, but she still wasn’t sure why. Similarly, she wasn’t sure why Tom Riddle insisted on being around her as often as possible.

He sat by her in class, sought her out in the library, he made conversation during rounds which they completed together every night. She entertained his peculiar behavior, but she didn’t try to piss him off anymore, not with the memory of Malfoy standing in front of the Great Hall, head bowed, contrite, directly following her disagreement with Tom the night before.

She just wanted to figure him out. Sometimes he would say something benign, something ordinary, something she had heard a thousand times before, like “you are an extraordinarily bright witch, Hermione,” and she would find herself so desperate to know what he meant by it, because it wasn’t like him to mean exactly what he said. She wanted to crack open his skull and peer into his mind, dig deep into is psyche and unearth all his little secrets, find out why he was the way he was, find out what he was doing, find out what he wanted.

She heard a knock on her door, and she looked up from her book. She felt her heart race for no logical reason, except for the fact that he had never once knocked on her door before.

“Yes?” She called, and glanced at the clock. It was too early for rounds. He didn’t answer, clearly preferring for her to open the door instead of speaking through it. She frowned, but stood and opened the door nonetheless.

“Hello, Hermione,” He smiled.

“It’s a bit early for rounds.” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He said, still smiling, but it felt a bit more mocking now, “I was hoping you might join me for tea before our rounds today.”

A bit strange, but the request was not entirely out of nowhere. She had gotten used to his attempts to be in her company at all hours. Still, he had never actually invited her to do anything, had only ever sidled up to her in open spaces whenever the opportunity presented itself. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said, and gave her an innocent sort of expression, one that suggested he had no idea why she was asking that, “Just in want of your company.”

There was a small, double-sided smile on his face. Hermione wish it didn’t make her heart race.

“Fine,” She agreed, knowing she should say no, but unable to recall the reasons she should say no for.

They sat on the two armchairs by the fire, and for some reason Tom knew exactly how she took her tea (strong, milk, no sugar) and Hermione was mildly interested to see he took his tea black, no sugar. For reasons she refused to think about, she filed that little tidbit of information away, in case she needed it later.

“Has Slughorn invited you to his upcoming party?” He asked her.

“Obviously,” Hermione said, taking a sip of the tea he had prepared for her. Perfectly made, just like everything else he did.

“Perhaps you would like to go together?” He asked her.

It wasn’t surprising, or at all strange, for him to ask her. She knew he would. But she is still struck by the strangeness of the situation, of their situation, and so she hesitated. She wasn’t used to being on Tom’s radar. She had been battling against him for the place at the top of their year ever since she started at Hogwarts, but he had never really given her more than a glance outside of classes. She had expected that to change, at least a little bit, once they were forced together as head boy and head girl, but this was…

She knew it stemmed from their argument, from the first (and only) night she had seen him truly open, honest, and angry, but she couldn’t understand how point a lead to point b.

He could be covering his tracks, she thought suddenly. He could be luring her into a false sense of security, presenting himself to her and everyone around them as nothing more than a besotted classmate, so that when she one day meets her untimely demise, he is the farthest thing from a suspect.

A foolish plan, though, really, because she wasn’t a simpering idiot who would drop all her suspicions just because of…

But she hadn’t mentioned her suspicions on a long time, she realized. She held on to them, clutched them close to her chest, ready to brandish them the moment she finally could and say ‘look, look at him now, see him for what he truly is!’ But she hadn’t voiced her concerns to any of her friends for weeks, nearly a month now. If she were to die tonight, for example, it would seem to her friends that she had dropped her suspicions long ago. And Tom wasn’t foolish enough to leave any evidence if he decided to off her.

It struck her suddenly, that she hadn’t watched him while he was pouring her tea.

She glanced down at her cup, already a quarter empty, and then back at him. He quirked a brow, and it was then she realized she had never answered his question.

She cleared her throat, her heart suddenly racing in her chest, “Slughorn actually suggested that to me.” She said.

“He suggested it to me as well.” Tom said, smiling kindly, and Hermione looked at her cup of tea again.

She felt hot, but that could be because of the fire, or because of her fear, or because of the way Tom Riddle tilted his head and observed her under dark lashes. She willed herself to calm down, paid close attention to any symptoms of poison, but felt none.

Don’t be ridiculous, she suddenly chastised herself. The stupidest thing he could do would be poison her in their shared common room.

“Is that why you’re asking?” She asked, slightly breathless in her panic. She hadn’t quite calmed her heart down yet, and couldn’t distract herself from searching for symptoms of poisoning in her body.

“No,” He said, sounding genuinely surprised by her question, “I ask because I would like for us to go together.”

Hermione tapped her finger against the rim of her mug, “Well,” She started, and readied herself to lie through her teeth, “I’m afraid I already asked Ron if he would go with me.”

Tom got a very particular look on his face then, as he often did when she did something to go against what he wanted. He went very still, and his face went very blank, his eyes dropped to watch her finger tap against her mug over and over and over, and she watched his jaw twitch.

“Ronald Weasley.” He said darkly, and suddenly Hermione wondered if it was a mistake to say that. She thought of Draco Malfoy, shaking in an abandoned classroom, terrified out of his mind, and started turning over things to say to fix the dark look in Tom Riddle’s eyes as he said her friend’s name.

“I don’t appreciate Slughorn trying to set up his students as if it is any of his business,” She said, watching his expression closely, “And I had a feeling you might ask me.” Tom finally looked up, met her eyes again, a curious gleam in his eye. “I’m sure it isn’t a mystery to you as to why I might not want to accompany you anywhere.”

His jaw twitched. It might’ve been the wrong thing to say. “I had thought we might be passed this.” He said, “After all the time we have spent together.”

Hermione still didn’t take another sip of her tea, even though she had gone this long without any reaction, and she was passed the panic that said that Tom Riddle might be poisoning her,  but she kept it in her hands regardless. “What is the point of this, Riddle?”

“The point of this was to ask you to Slughorn’s party,” Tom insisted, “Only for me to discover that you have, for some incomprehensible reason, decided to go with Ronald Weasley.”

“Ron is my friend.” Hermione said firmly. “Why are you so angry, Riddle?”

Tom blinked, then he turned and set his mug of tea on the table to the side. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched her very closely, “I’m not angry, Hermione.” He said calmly.

She was forgetting herself again. She tried to remember Malfoy, trembling, afraid, she tried to think of Ron, and the situation she was putting him in, but Tom Riddle was so confusing, and she couldn’t figure out just what the hell he was after, and it infuriated her. She put her tea on the table as well, and mimicked his posture. “Well, I am.” She said.

Tom tilted his head, just a little, like he often did when something fascinated him. After a moment of observing her, he said, “You have such a Gryffindor approach to things, Hermione. I do find it refreshing.”

He certainly had a way of knowing exactly what to say to piss her off. “Why are you following me everywhere?” She demanded, “Why are you always asking me questions? Why are you asking me to accompany you to party?”

“I seek you out because I enjoy your company.” He answered quickly, and though his response seemed candid it still felt like a farce, “I ask you questions because I find you fascinating. I am asking you to accompany me to Slughorn’s party for the same reasons.”

“I don’t trust anything that you say.” Hermione snapped, and Tom Riddle smiled wide. She hated when he smiled like that, it showed off his straight, white teeth and dimpled his cheek. She felt that smile deep in her gut.

“That’s why I like you.” He said.

Hermione grit her teeth, “You know what?” She said, “You can do rounds by yourself tonight. I suddenly feel exhausted.”

She stood without another word, stomped off to her room and shut the door. Tom didn’t stop her.

—

She did go to bed early, but her sleep was far from restful, and when she woke, it was due to images of Ron shaking with wide-eyes, terrified, writhing under Tom Riddle’s wand. She snapped up in bed, chest heaving as if she had just been drowning, gulping in lungfuls of air and clutching her wand tight in her fist.

She had to check on Ron.

She crept out of her room without even checking the time, but given the dark common room, it must be late, definitely late enough for Tom to have finished his rounds and returned to turn off the lights. Enough time for him to torture Ron into submission.

She hurried through the corridors, peering around corners like a paranoid idiot, until she made her way to the Gryffindor common room. She ascended the stairs to the boys dorm as quietly as she could, found the 7th year dorm room, and crept inside.

It was dark, and all the boys were asleep. Most had pulled their curtains shut, save for a few, but she had to peek through every curtain until she found Ron’s bed.

He was fast asleep, peaceful, and as far as she could tell, unharmed. She realized then that her hands were shaking, and she didn’t know what to do next.

So she crawled into his bed, sat at his feet, her wand held tight in her hand.

She couldn’t even use the excuse that she was overreacting, not exactly. She knew that Riddle was capable of causing great harm to people, Malfoy was a perfect example, and for all of her accusations, Tom had never once denied it. So he might want to harm Ron, he might do anything if he felt it would get what he wanted.

It would help if she could figure out what he was trying to do. If he was trying to earn her trust, to erase her suspicions, then harming Ron would make no sense. But if he was trying to control her, to manipulate and silence her, then of course he would hurt her friends.

He wouldn’t do it in the Gryffindor common room, this she knew. It didn’t make her feel better, and it didn’t convince her to leave.

Unfortunately, Ron chose that moment to wake up. It happened slowly, and Hermione still wasn’t quick enough to leave or hide. His eyes fluttered and he shifted in his sleep. His ankle kicked her side, and in his half-asleep state, he felt her out with his foot for a moment as if trying to figure out what was on his bed. She didn’t move, and didn’t say anything, just sat there and watched him wake up, knowing he was going to think she was crazy.

Blearily, once he realized he could not figure what was on his bed just by foot-sight, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

He flailed, his arms getting caught up in his duvet, and he screamed.

“Shh!” Hermione snapped, holding her hands out as if to forcibly make him remain still, but she didn’t actually touch him, “Shush, its just me!” She kept her voice low, as quiet as she could, and Ron stared at her as he cowered against his headboard, his face twisted into confusion and incredulity.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed.

She realized she had no rational answer. “I….well—“

“Why are you sitting on my bed in the dark watching me sleep?” Ron squeaked.

“I was not watching you sleep.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh right okay—what were you doing then?” Ron hadn’t calmed down, and didn’t seem like he would calm down any time soon, “Plotting my death?”

“No!” Hermione objected.

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing?” He asked hysterically.

Hermione hesitated, “I…uh…” Then she sighed irritably through her nose, “I know you won’t believe me, but Riddle—“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ron interrupted, “You gave me a fucking heart attack in the middle of the night to tell me about Tom Bloody Riddle?”

“Ronald, listen—“

“You’re bloody mental!”

The curtain was thrown open, “Hey, what’s going on—“

Ron screamed again, and Harry jolted, staring between Ron and Hermione with confused eyes, his glasses askew.

“Weasley, will you shut the fuck up?” A voice snapped in the dark, Hermione was pretty sure that was Seamus.

Harry crawled in and pulled the curtain shut, and Hermione cast a quick Muffliato. “What’s going on in here?” Harry asked, still glancing between them as he straightened his glasses.

“Hermione has lost her fucking mind!” Ron threw his hands up.

“I have not!” Hermione snapped.

“Yeah, uh,” Harry tucked his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees, “What are you doing here, Mione?”

Hermione considered lying, but she remembered the fear she felt drinking that cup of tea, the fear that she might die without her friends knowing her suspicions, so she was honest. “I just thought…Riddle freaked me out, I thought—“

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ron muttered.

“—I thought maybe he would do something to you, Ron.” She finished.

“We’re still on that?” Harry asked, sounding more confused than exasperated as opposed to Ron’s huff.

“Yes,” Hermione said firmly, “Yes, we are.”

“And this couldn’t wait until the morning?” Ron griped, “You know, after sleep?”

“Why would Tom want to do something to Ron?” Harry asked.

“Because I told him that Ron and I are going to Slughorn’s party.”

“You what?” Ron whined.

“We’re going.” Hermione said firmly, and give Ron his due, he didn’t argue on that point, just turned his eyes to the ceiling and silently resigned himself to his fate.

“Why would you tell him that?” Harry asked, looking increasingly confused.

“Because Riddle asked me, and I needed a reason to say no.” Hermione explained.

Harry, somehow, looked even more confused. “Ok, wait, so…you and Tom aren’t dating?”

“No, I am not dating Tom Sodding Riddle!” Hermione exclaimed.

“She’s lost it,” Ron whispered to Harry, clearly aware that Hermione could hear every word he was saying, “She’s lost her damn mind.”

“Fuck you, Ron.” Hermione snapped.

“Well,” Harry said brightly, “Since we’re all up, how about a trip to the kitchens?”

Hermione scowled.

“What do you say, Head Girl?” Ron asked, “Gonna deduct house points?”

“Let’s just go to the kitchens.” Hermione sighed.

They didn’t really understand, when she tried to explain it. And every time she said that she couldn’t understand what Tom was after, they exchanged this look like they thought she was being dense, and then refused to explain to her what they were thinking.

—

It wasn’t precisely that Tom and Hermione didn’t speak in the time between their conversation and Slughorn’s party, but they certainly didn’t talk any more than absolutely necessary. Tom didn’t spend quite as much time with her, but that was mostly due to the fact she spends nearly every waking moment with Ron, much to Ron’s annoyance.

“Mione,” Ron said once, standing in front of her from her seat on the grass nearby where Quidditch practice was taking place. She looked up from her book. “Wouldn’t you rather read that in the library?”

“Wouldn’t you rather mind your business?” She asked brightly.

He huffed, and leaned forward to speak quietly, “Hermione, I know you’re going through like a mental breakdown right now—“

“Ronald—“ Hermione started warningly.

“—But you’re really screwing with my game, you know?”

“Your quidditch game?” Hermione asked, confused.

“My lady game!” Ron exclaimed, then hurriedly quieted himself, “No girls will talk to me because they all think you’re into me now.”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t see why that would deter anyone who really wanted to be with you, Ron.”

“It does when they’re all afraid of you.” He insisted.

“No one is afraid of me, Ron.” Hermione said, turning back to her book. Ron just huffed again and dropped the subject, returning to his game.

Tom and Hermione still did rounds together, but their conversations were all surface level. They talked about classes, they talked about books. They never mentioned Slughorn’s party, not once.

He also had ceased the unnecessary touching, although he continued to sit beside her in classes.

Hermione thought perhaps it was a change in tactic, and continued to follow Ron around no matter how many times he called her a paranoid guard dog.

—

Slughorn’s parties were always a bit stiff, and a bit awkward. Hermione had been invited to them every time they occurred since her third year, and there were never more than about 15 people, guests included, so it was near impossible to avoid anyone if they were there. She kept this in mind while standing by Ron at the side of the room, her eyes constantly searching for Riddle, who had yet to make his appearance.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Hermione said quietly to Ron as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I hate these stupid things.” Ron grumbled.

“Stop being such a baby,” Hermione said, turning to face him and eyeing the sad state of his dress robes. She sighed through her nose and moved to stand in front of him, tugging his robes into place so that he looked like less of a mess.

“Stop mothering me,” Ron said, pushing her hands away.

“I am not mothering you,” Hermione argued, “I don’t mother.”

She straightened his collar.

“Stop doing that!” Ron said, slapping her hand away. She punched him in the arm as revenge and he winced and stopped battling her as she straightened up his robes.

“What is this?” She asked, fingering a stain on his collar.

“I had a snack before I came.” Ron shrugged.

“You’re disgusting.” Hermione said, pulling her wand to clean that spot on his collar, “I can’t believe you are willing to be seen like this.”

“At least my hair doesn’t look like—“ Hermione glared up at him and Ron snapped his mouth shut with a clack, before opening it again to say, “—like a uh—beautiful fluffy cloud.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You can stop fussing now—“ Ron said, reaching up to bat her hands away again, and this time she caught his wrist.

“I’m not fussing,” She said firmly, and glanced briefly around the room, “I’m—“

She saw Tom Riddle in the far corner of the room, by the refreshments, and who should be on his arm but Pansy fucking Parkinson.

“Ow, Hermione, stop—“ Hermione jerked her attention back to Ron and realized she was digging her nails into his wrist. She hurriedly let go, and Ron rubbed at his now sore wrist, “No need to injure me just because your boyfriend—“

“Not my boyfriend.” She muttered under her breath.

“—found himself a new girl.”

She glanced back over to Pansy and Tom. Tom patted Pansy’s hand on his arm as she laughed at something that probably wasn’t funny, she had never heard Tom say anything funny in her entire life.

“Being a bit obvious, Mione.” Ron chided her.

“Obvious?” Hermione said, turning back to Ron, “Obvious how?”

Ron fixed her with a knowing look.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Hermione said.

Ron kept looking at her in exactly the same way, even waggled his eyebrows a bit as if he thought that might drive the point home.

“You look like an idiot.” She told him.

When everyone sat around the table, it was about as awkward as it usually was, with the added bonus of Parkinson glaring at Hermione every time she spoke. Tom Riddle watched her as well, but Hermione had never been able to pick apart this particular gaze so she didn’t trouble herself with trying now. Ron kept fidgeting in his chair, to the point where Hermione had to reach over and pinch his knee to remind him to sit still, and he made a very rude face every time Slughorn tried to speak to him, as if he would rather be beaten by the Whomping Willow than have to speak to anyone present.

Hermione was a bit distracted, to be honest. Every time Pansy laid a hand on Tom’s arm, or leaned over to whisper in his ear, she felt her fists curling.

Pansy and Hermione had never really got along, much in the same way her and Draco never got along. Pansy was Slytherin, pureblood, privileged, and a bitch. Ron used to joke that if Pansy wasn’t such a racist piece of shit, he thought her grade of bitchiness would go well with Hermione’s, and Hermione had responded to that with a smack on the head.

That was the only reason it grated on her so much to see her here. It had nothing to do with the fact she came with Tom Riddle.

“How long do these things usually last?” Ron asked quietly at her side, and Hermione almost jumped. She had nearly forgotten he was there.

“No much longer,” Hermione said, turning to look at him, “You look like you’re enjoying the food at least.”

“The only bearable thing about this.” Ron confirmed, but Hermione was focused on the sauce at the corner of his mouth.

“Wait,” She said, and reached out to wipe her thumb across the sauce.

“Mione—“

“Shush, I’m just—“

He reached out and grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks until she jerked away. “How’s it feel when someone randomly grabs your face, huh?”

“You had sauce on your mouth.” Hermione pointed out, “I was being helpful.”

“I already told you to stop mothering me—“

“I’m not mothering you, and it's still there, let me—“

She picked up a napkin and dipped it into her water, reaching up to wipe his mouth as Ron made a very childish face. Hermione laughed, because he was being ridiculous. Sometimes she really felt like he hadn’t aged since he was twelve.

“There,” Hermione said, setting her napkin down. “Now stop pouting.”

“Not pouting,” Ron said, “Just didn’t want to come to this fucking thing in the first place.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and made the mistake of looking across the table.

Tom Riddle was watching her, face blank, jaw clenched. She met his eyes on accident, and then found she couldn’t look away. She observed the tense line of his shoulders, the very slight downward turn of his lips, and she wondered what had caused his sudden change in mood. He had been perfect a moment ago, smiling and charming and at ease, and now he glowered at her in a way only he could, the type of glowering that wasn’t glowering at all unless you knew what you were looking for.

It made her heart race, it made warmth spread from her chest up to her cheeks.

She suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and desperately wanted to leave.

“Excuse me,” She said quietly to Ron as she stood, “I need the loo.”

Ron, already distracted by dessert, waved her goodbye without a word.

Hermione hurried out of the room and into the corridor, felt her anger and her unease buzzing beneath her skin. She just needed a moment outside of the room, away from Tom Riddle and his disconcerting gaze, away from Ron who kept looking at her like she was over-reacting, like there was something she didn’t understand, away from Pansy Parkinson who drifted between glaring and staring smugly over at her from across the table, probably with her hand on Tom’s knee.

It was her stupid crush, her ridiculous little fixation, rearing it ugly head again, and she knew it. It was her least favorite part of herself, her obsession with Tom Riddle that never seemed to die no matter how many reasons he gave her to hate him. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what it felt like to fancy someone, she just didn’t understand why her heart was so steadfastly focused on a man who, as far as she was convinced, tortured his fellow students in empty classrooms at any given opportunity.

She took a deep breath, let it out through her nose, slowly. She tried to calm down.

She felt a hand on her arm and somehow knew who it was before she even turned around.

She jerked away, turning to face Tom Riddle head-on, and for a single moment, neither of them said a thing.

“Pansy Parkinson.” Hermione commented, unsure why that was the only thing she could think to say, “Interesting choice.”

“She wasn’t my first choice,” Tom pointed out, “But you knew that.”

Hermione grit her teeth.

“You and Weasley are quite close.” Tom said, his tone was light, but his gaze was not.

“He’s my friend.” Hermione spat, “I trust you are unfamiliar with the experience.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time with your friend.”

“It’s none of your business who I spend my time with.” Hermione snapped.

“Try as I might,” Tom said cuttingly, his voice so sharp she nearly flinched at the sound. She hadn’t heard him speak like this in a while, “I cannot seem to shake your suspicions, Hermione, I wonder why that is?”

“Because you are a liar.” Hermione said.

His jaw twitched, and he took a step closer, but they were already close enough, so that single stride brought him far, far closer than she felt comfortable allowing him. But she didn’t move away, and she didn’t push him back. “A liar?” He echoed, and he spoke so quietly, but she could hear him so clearly in the silent corridor. She was aware, suddenly, just how alone the two of them were, and that familiar feeling of panic began to well up in her throat.

“Did you think I would just forget?” Hermione asked, and willed her voice not to shake, “Did you really think that I would forget about Malfoy just because you follow me around, and compliment me, and flirt with me, like suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore?”

Tom’s brow twitched, and while he hadn’t quite reacted in the same way he had that night, all wild-eyed with a twisted sneer, she could still tell he was angry. “Malfoy again.” He said, in that same dark tone that he had said ‘Ronald Weasley’ the other night. She gritted her teeth, watched as Tom took a single step away from her lifted his hands in a sort of helpless gesture, and said simply, “I fixed him.”

Hermione stared, and stared, and stared for a moment more. She didn’t understand why every time they spoke, she always came away more confused. But before she had the chance to ask what he meant, Tom was already continuing.

“My methods are unimportant,” His brow quirked upwards, but not in a sarcastic way or a combative way, his expression was a beseeching one, like he wanted her to understand, “He upset you, so I fixed him.”

Hermione felt her heart lurch, and then race, “The first time,” She said, “The first time I found you—“

“Was nothing.” Tom finished for her, and then a bit more severely he said, “I may be a liar, Hermione, but I have not lied to you in a long time. Ask me.” Hermione watched him warily, and he said again, “Ask me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asked, and it wasn’t really what she meant to ask. She had a hundred questions, she wanted to know exactly what he did to Malfoy, she wanted to know how many people he had hurt, she wanted to know who else he was planning on hurting and intimidating, but Merlin, the way he looked at her made her desperate to know what he was thinking, what he was hoping for.

He smiled then, just a little, like he was pleased with the question she chose but also maybe a bit in awe of her. It was the wrong thing to ask, she knew it. It was a selfish and foolish thing to ask him. But it drove him closer, he closed the distance between them, watching her closely all the while, until he stood just in front of her, with only their breath between them.

His fingers found her wrist, barely touching, just hovering featherlight over the skin. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” He chided gently.

She might’ve had a come-back or a follow-up question, but the feeling of his fingers on her arm was distracting in a humiliating way. She felt something curl in her belly, and heat seemed to expand from her stomach clear into her fingers and toes in an instance, sudden and violent and overwhelming. It wasn’t fair that she felt like that form nothing more than the barely-there brush of his fingers against her wrist, just like she felt it when his hand found her arm, or her back, or her thigh.

“Why did you follow me?” She asked him, because she needed to know, because she still didn’t understand what he wanted from her, what his plan was, and even knowing he would just lie to her face she hoped she could read between the lines, finally get a small look at what goes on in his labyrinth of a mind.

“Because if I had to watch your friend,” He spat out that word as if it was a curse, “Shove more food in his gaping maw knowing that he has somehow managed to commandeer all of your attention, then you really would have something to guard him from.”

“And what would you rather I pay attention to?” She asked, and Tom’s fingers circled to the underside of her wrist, drawing down until they met her palm, holding her hand so gently she almost wondered if she was imagining his hold. His thumb brushed across the top of her hand.

She didn’t realize it, but she had been staring squarely at his mouth as he spoke, and had been for a while. When she noticed, she raised her eyes to meet his again, but he was staring at her lips as well.

She should stop this. She should snatch her hand away, she thought, but as she had that thought his fingers glided further down, until he had threaded his fingers between hers and pressed his palm against hers. She should push him away she thought, but he was already stepping closer, his free hand raised to curl his fingers under her chin, to tip her head back. She should tell him to get away from her, she should tell him to get out of her face, to never touch her again.

But his lips already met hers.

It was so soft, so gentle, so light, and still, she felt it like a slap. She felt so hot, and all her blood seemed to rush to her legs as if ready to run, it made her lightheaded, it made her unable to think clearly, so she let him kiss her, relished in the softness of his lips against hers. It felt new, it felt innocent, and his thumb dragged up the length of her index finger as their hands remained interlocked, his other hand shifted to cup her jaw, his thumb sweeping across her cheek.

She jerked away, and she didn’t think it was fair that she could feel so breathless when he had barely touched her. She stared into his eyes, glancing wildly between them, desperately trying to regain control of her actions, but all she could feel was the tingle of her lips, his hands on her skin, and all she could think was how disconcerting it felt now, to know what it was like to be kissed by him and find her lips suddenly bereft.

His eyes were so dark, and she was sure they weren’t usually this dark, weren’t usually this black, but his pupils had swallowed up whatever color there usually was. She wished she could read him better, wished she could understand the flexing of his jaw, the pucker in his brow.

“What…” What are you playing at? She was going to say. What are you doing? What is the point of this? But she didn’t have the chance to ask, because he closed the distance between them again, but this time it wasn’t a feather-light caress, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t kind. His lips met hers and it was hard, it was sudden and startling and rough. She let out a sound, muffled against his lips, purely out of the surprise of the onslaught of sensations that it caused, her whole body tensed up as if preparing to take a hit. His hand slipped from hers so that he could slide it around her waist, his fingers digging into her back to pull her closer, his other hand threading into her hair. Her hands floated helplessly at her sides for a moment, she was too engrossed in the sparks that went straight to her core with every stroke of his lips against hers, and it wasn’t a constant decision to meet ever press of his lips with her own.

It wasn’t until his lips parted and she felt his tongue against hers that her hands finally sprung to life, she clutched at his arms, felt the tense and release of his biceps as he wrapped his arm fully around her waist, and she couldn’t understand how every stroke of his lips sent such a violent spark of heat straight to her core, she couldn’t remember where they were, or what they had been doing, or why it had taken so long to explore this feeling.

His hands were constantly moving, like he needed to touch every part of her. They went from her hair, to her throat, her shoulders and her sides and her back until they firmly grasped her waist and pressed her firmly against the wall of the corridor. Every stroke of his hands she could feel straight to the marrow, every sensation echoing in her core. His teeth caught her lower lip, scraped against the sensitive skin and then soothed it with his tongue, his fingers kept a bruising grip on her waist. It was nothing like the first kiss, gentle and soft and controlled, and she got the feeling he might feel just as out of control as she did, judging by the way his fingers dug warningly into her waist when she tried to arch her back.

It was too much. It was too much and she thought of Malfoy, and Ron, and all the other nameless unknown faces that saw the wrong side of this mysterious boy.

She pushed Tom away, and she was struck by the look in his eyes, a bit crazed, a bit wild. His brow was twisted in confusion, maybe a bit of anger, his lips were parted and swollen and wet and the only other time she had seen him with an expression so clear and unguarded was when he was angry. But this was different.

His hands were still on her, so she pushed him away again, further this time. She was well aware of how breathless she was, gasping for air like a fool, and suddenly his face was shuttered again, his brow uncreased, his mouth a straight, stern line.

“Hermione,” He started, and Merlin it sounded like a warning, like a threat, and she shoved him once more just to shut him up, just so she didn’t have to hear him speak so quiet and low and heated.

She tried to leave, and he reached for her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, but she jerked away. She glared at him as viciously as she could manage, and then she turned and fled, fled like a coward because she couldn’t trust herself to say anything, knew she would sound like a breathless fool if she tried.

She didn’t even stop at Slughorn’s party to collect Ron. She fled all the way to the Gryffindor tower and didn’t look back.

—

“And then she fucking ditched me to go make out with Tom Riddle in the corridor—“

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped as Lavender started screeching with delight, “I did not—“

“Don’t lie,” Ron thrust a finger in her face that she immediately slapped away, “I saw him when he came back, I know what it looks like when someone gets back from a good snog.”

“Can’t hide it anymore!” Lavender said in a sing-song voice, kicking her feet excitedly on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room.

“It is just like Hermione to snag the hottest boy in school and then run away.” Parvati grumbled.

“Remember Viktor?” Padma said.

Parvati sighed wistfully, “Do I ever.”

“I didn’t run away—“ Hermione tried to argue.

“Can’t believe you chose to hide in Gryffindor tower instead of getting dicked down by Tom Riddle.” Padma said.

“Tom Riddle,” Parvati repeated, and shook her head as if she was disappointed.

“So,” Harry finally interjected from where he was sat beside Ron, staring between them all, “Tom and Hermione are definitely dating now, right?”

Ginny finally exploded into the laughter she had been holding in throughout the whole conversation.

[hazbincalifornia]

Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.

Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.

Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.

Wordcount: 2075

The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.

Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in. 

“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”

“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”

“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”

“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T’ in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”

“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.

____________

She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.

The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.

It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.

Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.

“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?

It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside? 

She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.

“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”

“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!” 

It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her. 

“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.

“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”

Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”

“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”

“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”

“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.

Some things never changed no matter where you went.

____________

The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister. 

dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you

dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say

Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’

dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still

Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.

“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”

“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”

“Well well well!” 

Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one. 

It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”

His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?” 

“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”

“Er- yes!” He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.

“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”

“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.

“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”

The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”

Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”

“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”

“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.

“Little wrench! How dare you?” 

“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.

“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”

“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”

“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”

Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”

He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss.  ”

Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”

[boymeetsweevil]

Heat Index

Grouping: Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 2700 exactly!

Warnings/Themes: use of toys, mutual masturbation?, tae has a sweat kink probably

Summary: The town being in a heat wave puts Tae’s in a bit of a love drought. But even still, he makes do and (kind of) does you.

Another drop of sweat rolls down Taehyung’s face. It makes his nose itch with the gentle grazing sensation and falls on the cardboard flap in his hands. The sweat darkens the area it lands on and he stops for a minute to take in the perfectly circular shape haloed from the way the drop burst on impact. Normally he wouldn’t be so interested in his own sweat, but he feels as though his thoughts are slowed and dulled by cotton. It’s the heat.

“I’m really sorry, Tae,” you apologize as soon as you return from your kitchen, a single plastic-wrapped treat in hand. “They’re not putting in the AC until tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” he says pleasantly while taking the popsicle from you. But it’s not really fine.

The heatwave terrorizing your town has been going on for almost 9 days at this point. He’d volunteered to help you move in, only for the weather to put a halt in your plans. But after the 4th day, you couldn’t put it off any longer and had to go meet the movers at your new place. Taehyung being the chivalrous boyfriend that he was—or that he wanted to be—kept his word despite the warnings from various weather people on his TV telling him not to leave his own air-conditioned apartment.

Though it might seem as though his priorities aren’t in place, Taehyung would honestly admit that the worst part about the heat wave was the lack of sex that came rolling in with it. With your new place being on the other side of the city and with the both of you relying primarily on public transport to see each other, your sex life seemed to be dwindling—no—frying in the sun. So, when you brought up the move yesterday he figured he’d just be helpful with unpacking until the AC installation finished and then suddenly become very helpful with packing you full of him. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

He bites at the popsicle forlornly with his back teeth. You have your own popsicle that’s a subtle pale green. It’s lime. Your favorite. Even if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you loved all things citrus, he’d still know you were enjoying the lime pop. The way you happily slurp around the cylinder while leaning on one of the larger boxes makes for quite the mirage in Taehyung’s sex desert. Your back is arched elegantly so you can peer out the window on the opposite wall and admire the much better view you have in your new space. And your skin looks iridescent with the sheen of sweat the weather has lovingly draped upon you. Then you catch a stray juice trail about to run onto your hand with the flat of your tongue and chase the flavor all the way to the top of the popsicle and Taehyung suddenly needs a plan B fast.

You jump with a shriek when your neck meets something shockingly cold and wet. Turning your head, you see that it’s just your boyfriend running the edge of his snack along the place where sweat was collecting like a pretty dew on your skin. His tongue follows the sticky path he just made, causing your eyes to flutter shut on their own before you fight them back open.

“What are you doing, that’s so...gross,” your breath hitches when he bites down at the intersection of neck and shoulder.

“Nothing.” The popsicle descends again to follow the same trail he made but, this time, you only flinch a little. “Just enjoying my snack.”

“Am I the snack?” You give him an unamused look.

“You’re always a snack, baby.”

“Sorry,” you’re not sorry but still remove his hand from your shorts with some care, “but I draw the line after 80 degrees.”

His hand only retreats a little and ends up sitting on your stomach, laying like a hot coal there. You can feel the arousal twisting your insides and raising your temperature like it does. The only problem is that this time you really can’t afford to get any warmer. You’re sure that you’ve already sweat out all the important things in your body and if you so much as look at Taehyung the wrong way, you’ll become a puddle that’s 20% you and 80% limesicle.

“But it’s been so long.”

The tip of his nose reacquaints itself with the shell of your ear. The heat of his front does the same with your back.

“You won’t die. Back off and help me with these other boxes. There might be a fan in here somewhere.”

The promise of a fan measures up fairly well against the promise of (sweaty) sex and he immediately hunts for the scissors he was using to open more of the boxes. With the blades in hand, he cuts through the tape holding yet another wardrobe box closed with hope as his only means of staying cool. The flaps reveal no spinning blade treasure—only kitchenware that you promptly scoop up and rush out the room with. Taehyung stares dumbly at your fleeing back, slick and bare besides a black sports bra, before cupping himself lightly. It’s just to take the edge off, his thinks to himself.

After the kitchenware layer, the box is rather oddly packed. There’s a bunch of hangers, which he promptly puts into your closet, and some knick knacks he knows you plan on putting on your bookshelves once they have books on them. There’s even some winter clothes that he’s fairly sure should have gone in a different box while you were packing them. Before he can dwell too much on your lack of packing skills, he reaches the bottom of the box, which contains yet another box. It’s a simple shoe box. Which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if you were a shoe fan like some people he knew. However, you aren’t a shoe fan. In fact, all of your other shoes were jammed into the bottom of another box that had been opened earlier. So why do you have this shoebox here?

Going solely off intuition and knowledge about you after nearly a year together, he’s guessing there’s just some random sentimental things inside that you didn’t know where to put. If that’s what’s inside, he knows he shouldn’t peek, but he’s curious to see if anything to do with him is in the box. He pulls the lid up daintily, like the secrets won’t escape if he’s gentle, only to slam it back down as soon as he eyes the contents.

Well, he supposes sex toys could have sentimental value. But they don’t have much to do with him.

He lifts the lid again now that he’s certain nothing in the box can tell on him. With the sounds of you organizing your kitchen as his personal soundtrack, his begins rifling through the box. There’s a few bullets, what he thinks is a dildo but it’s covered in scales and has a few unnatural bends in it, some beads of varying sizes, and a classic hitachi among other things. Some of them he’d seen before, and some he hadn’t. Perhaps some of them kept you company before he started to. After a few thoughtful moments, he grabs one of the toys before replacing the lid and stashing the shoe box.

You’re almost finished sorting through all the different families of silverware you’ve collected over the years, when two hands land on your unclothed waist. The feeling of his palms on your sweaty skin has you squirming a bit.

“On a scale of one to ten, how wet are you,” Taehyung whispers in your ear.

“Your romance never ceases to amaze me.”

“Sorry, but...is it really just me?”

His forehead bumps against the back of your head as he takes in the way you look in shorts and a sports bra. It’s an understated look, to say the least, but he’s always loved the way you look with sweat on your skin.

“No,” you groan when he presses an open mouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “But it’s just too hot to be doing cardio for no reason.”

His tongue darts out and flicks at your lobe, sending a quick blitz from your core out to your extremities. A small gush of arousal rushes down and you squeeze your thighs together in a stubborn effort to keep calm.

“What if I told you it’s not too hot?”

“You found the fan?” You turn around in his arms with shining eyes and he feels like an ass for not being able to say yes.

“No,” he grimaces. He attempts to wrap his arms around your waist placatingly, but you brush him off partly in anger and partly because you’re overheated. “But, if there’s no cardio needed, is it really too hot?”

“No cardio?”

You eye him suspiciously but let him drag you by the wrist back into the living room. Clearly he’s emptied out and flattened several other boxes since you took all your mismatched forks to the dining room for sorting. Only a few boxes remain unopened. The question of what he’s planning is still lingering when he pulls you over to a little setup that looks like he wrapped something in a pillowcase

“I don’t get it.”

“You will,” he grins boxy reassurance at you before sitting before the bundle on the ground. You follow suit while he unwraps it to reveal a vibrator you hadn’t used in a long while.

“What’s the joke, again?”

“It’s not a joke,” he whines, “This is how we can be lazy and get off.”

“I never really liked that one. I got it for free in a raffle in college and it was weirdly shaped so I couldn’t really get it to work.”

“Please? I swear I can make this work.”

You’re really tempted to say no. There are several drops of sweat actually rolling down your back as you ponder having an orgasm in your now-90-degree apartment. It seems ill-advised and like more work than Taehyung is marketing, but he also makes a convincing case. The convincing case being him and the fact that he still manages to look nearly edible in the middle of a heat wave.

His hair is flat and darkened against his forehead, heavy and saturated with sweat after brushing it back with his hands. The summer sun has darkened him slightly, making his skin appear more radiant in combination with the layer of his light sweat. The fact that he’s been shirtless and handsy all day only works in his favor. You sigh in defeat.

“Fine.”

His expression brightens considerably and he scrabbles up to rest his weight on his knees and heels to tug off his shorts to reveal the simple black briefs he had on underneath. He returns to a reclined position before snatching up the vibrator. You don’t get much warning and only barely get your own shorts hanging off one leg before he’s switching the toy on and nudging it between your thighs.

“So how did you—Oh!”

He has it angled differently than you did the times that you used it, and you wonder through the vibrations traveling over you if it's actually supposed to be for someone else to use on you. The thought dissipates quickly with the sudden wave of acute pleasure that creeps over you. It’s the type of feeling that has you almost smirking to yourself as you bite your lip, eyelids drooping closed as you hum to yourself. Taehyung lets out a sympathetic moan when you start rocking your hips against the device ever so slightly.

When your underwear is wet enough that he can feel it dampening the tips of his fingers near the toy, he removes it from your center. Your breath catches in your throat in a needy scoff that he ignores in favor of placing the still pulsating toy over his own crotch. There’s a small wet spot darkening the material of his briefs where his swollen head lays tucked up. He’s never really ever used a vibrator, but he figures it can’t be too different an experience. But when he touches it gingerly to the base of his clothed erection, the vibrations knock his breath out his lungs.

“Fuck, oh my...god,” he chokes out. Greedily, his finger twitches to kick the speed up a half unit. The increase has him nearly drooling within seconds and creates a steady dribble of pre-cum. “Shit, that feels good.”

“Share,” you snap at him after about 90 seconds of neglect to you dripping center.

“Make me,” he mumbles before massaging the toy up and down his length, ripping a gasp from his own lips.

You don’t take kindly to Taehyung hogging the vibrator. So you kick off your panties the rest of the way and decide to sit on the toy to get some action where you can. Before that, though, you do him the service of tugging his briefs down until they bunch around his knees. Once you’re settled, you’ve effectively trapped him where you want him. On the floor with the toy nestled between your folds and his shaft.

With your added weight and the return of your subtle hip rocking, the vibrations feel more intense for the both of you. You hiccup above him, hands coming out to brace your weight on his chest. It’s the only point of contact between you besides where your pelvises are slotted together. Naturally sweat begins to pool in the small spaces where you’re both joined, but it’s minimal and you don’t care. Especially not after Taehyung’s clumsy fingers knock the pulses into one of the different pattern modes. The steady buzz between your folds becomes a sudden tangle of tiny bursts. The pleasure hits you in matching percussive beats and you curl over Taehyung helplessly as the first wave of your first orgasm hits.

His eyes are squeezed shut because he’s not accustomed to the intense vibrations, but the sound of your moans let him know that you just came. He’s quick to follow with a few shallow thrusts that have you instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips to maintain your balance. The low, drawn out sound of his groans is accompanied by his large hands coming in to lock at your hips, grinding you down against him, soaking him further with your arousal. His holding you down has you squealing and squirming with oversensitivity at first. But when he doesn’t let go even after he spurts onto his own chest, you feel the familiar curls of pleasure behind the acidic overstimulation. Your nails scratch a fiery trail down his chest, somehow further raising his internal temperature as you both struggle in the silent endurance competition.

Who can last against the toy longer?

With gritted teeth and a river of sweat dripping down from his forehead, Taehyung taps out first. He switches the toy back down to its lowest setting before letting out a bark and squeeze at the flesh of your hip in a silent surrender. Your breathing is harsh and you’re so exhausted that you don’t even bother to use the muscles in your thighs to get off him. Instead, you nudge the toy out from in between you and let it clatter to the floor between Taehyung’s thighs while you recover still in his lap.

“That was fun,” you pant after a few minutes of silence. The sweat cooling in the space between you and Taehyung makes you finally scoot off him and onto the floor.

“I told you it would work. We didn’t even have to move that much.”

“That’s also true.” You watch him use the spare pillow case to wipe off the tacky cum on his stomach. “I never doubted you for a second.”

“You definitely did!”

“I whined about how hot it is. I didn’t say I thought your plan would fail.”

“I guess.” He lays star-fished out in the middle of your sparsely decorated living room before popping his head off the ground. “We really do need to find that fan, though.”

[when-they-write-stuff]

Is there any chance you can spoil us with a prompt #7 pretty please 🥺

7. “Oh my god, you’re in love with him/her.

- -

It started with the little things.

That’s what Derek insisted, at least, and he would die before admitting otherwise. Because when he’d come back to Beacon Hills and met a pair of idiots in the preserve; one with a stupid crooked jaw and another with a stupid pale face, Derek hadn’t expected to ever like them. Or tolerate them.

Or ever care about one of them on a slightly greater level than the other.

That was stupid. Derek had never expected it.

So when he came to the realization that he might care, watching Stiles attempt to balance a spoon on his nose while Erica and Isaac made bets, Derek nearly snorted water out of his nose. He received more than one strange look for that.

It started with the little things— like Stiles being an idiot— that made Derek realize he might care. And things proceeded to go downhill from there.

“Derek,” Stiles said one day, bursting out onto the porch while the others trained. “I need to borrow a shirt.”

Derek turned around and nearly choked on his own breath. Because Stiles— idiotic Stiles— was standing bare-chested in the sunlight, waving his soaked shirt through the air. 

Derek’s heart leaped into his throat and the others promptly stopped training, turning to look at them. The others just looked confused, but Erica was staring with a scarily intrigued look on her face. A slow grin crept across her face.

“What,” Derek managed to get out, and Stiles rolled his eyes, gesturing to his bare chest. As if Derek hadn’t already noticed it.

“Lydia doused me in dish soap. I need to borrow a shirt.”

“W-why.”

Stiles gave him a disbelieving look. “Because, Sourwolf, I’m sticky and smell like oranges. Do I need to spell this out?”

Derek stared in silence. He was doing his best not to look at Stiles’s bare chest; but when had the idiot gotten muscles? Last Derek remembered, Stiles had been all skin and bone. The universe was working against him. 

Derek was pretty sure his face was bright red. Stiles arched a brow, studying his face. “Are you alright, Derek? Are you having a stroke?”

“Upstairs,” Derek said, the words sticking in his throat. “Second drawer of my dresser.”

“... So you’re not dying?”

“Go put a shirt on, Stiles!”

Stiles blinked in surprise and threw his hands up, turning away with words ‘crazy grumpy alpha werewolves’ muttered through the air. Derek physically forced himself to turn away and saw his pack staring at him in confusion.

His face burned hot. Derek crossed his arms with a glare. “I didn’t tell any of you to stop.”

The others jumped back into it, but Erica was smirking at him. Derek glared harder and let his eyes flicker red, but beta only snorted and winked at him, before turning back to Boyd. Derek frowned even deeper at that.

Stupid Stiles. What was even happening here? Derek didn’t like it.

It kept happening. 

Derek didn’t mean to make a fool of himself, but then Stiles came into the room hollering “I’m a gorgeous beast who deserves to have sex!” and the next thing he knew, Derek was on the floor.

It all happened so fast, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He’d been minding his own business, making a cup of coffee, and half-listening to the rest of the pack talk about their love lives (gross) when all attention turned to Stiles. Who apparently— not that Derek cared— was severely lacking one.

“It’s because it’s Stilinski,” Jackson said, and Derek could smell Stiles’s indignation at that. “Of course, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“Or a boyfriend either, you asshole.”

Derek nearly spilled his coffee. Erica jumped into the conversation, sounding amused. “That’s not helping your case, Stiles.”

“It is too. It just means I have more options.”

“To get rejected by?”

“Shut up, Jackson. You’re an asshole and I hate you.”

Erica said something else that Derek didn’t catch and he tried to focus on his coffee, nothing else. But then he heard Stiles jump up and, as the boy stalked from the living room, hollered at the top of his lungs; “I’m a gorgeous beast who deserves to have sex!” and it was all over for Derek.

He thought he might’ve stumbled over his own feet. Possibly because he was trying to escape the kitchen as fast as possible. It didn’t work.

Instead, he ended up on the floor with coffee everywhere, and the pack gathered at the doorway of the kitchen looking concerned. Except for Erica, who was grinning. And Jackson, who looked douche-ily amused. 

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles said, peering down at him. “Are you alright down there?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, shoving himself to his feet. He didn’t even try to clean up the mess or explain himself, stalking from the room. The stares of the pack followed.

Derek was so done with everything.

By the third time, Derek wasn’t fooling anyone. At least, not Erica, but he didn’t think he’d been fooling her from the start.

It was all Stiles’s fault. As usual.

This time, all it took was a simple translation. The monster of the week was some sort of mythical creature that none of them knew about, until Lydia found an excerpt on the thing written in polish. She sighed in frustration and glanced around the room, offering it out.

“Anyone know polish?”

And, as Derek watched dumbfounded, Stiles proceeded to take the book from her hands and recite the passage perfectly. They all stared at him for a moment and when Stiles looked up, noticing the silence, his face turned red.

“What?” he said, closing the book. “My mom taught me a few phrases when I was a kid and I’ve been teaching myself ever since. I know all the curse words, listen to this—”

Derek fell off the side of the couch.

Stiles reciting a bunch of swear words in polish really shouldn’t have made his heart pound so hard, but he had feelings for an idiot, which must make him an idiot, so of course it did. Derek didn’t realize he’d been slipping off the cushions, staring at Stiles’s mouth in surprise, until after he’d dropped to the floor and everyone was staring at him.

Derek blinked a few times. Then he shoved himself up and stumbled from the room, face hot. He thought he heard Stiles call his name, but ignored the boy, focused on getting out.

Out ended up being out of the house, out. Derek couldn’t think clearly until the evening air hit his face and the door swung closed at his back, surrounding him in silence. Calming, comforting silence.

Until Erica followed him outside, at least. Derek clenched his jaw and glared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge her. But Erica didn’t seem to care, stepping to his side with her arms crossed.

“Why are you being more of an idiot than usual, oh Alpha mine?”

“Go back inside.”

“Derek, I swear to god, even I’m embarrassed for you. Have you suddenly lost control over your feet? Are you dying? Because everyone has noticed it and don’t even think none of us have realized how your scent keeps changing whenever Stiles is—”

“Shut up,” Derek said, cutting her off. Erica dropped her arms and stared at him.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You’re in love with him.”

“I am not.”

“That’s what it is,” Erica said, eyes wide. “I couldn’t place it and I know for a fact none of the others have either. You smell like flowers, Derek, flowers. Because you’re in love with him. You’re in love with Stiles.”

Derek gritted his teeth harder together and didn’t answer. Erica snorted softly.

“It’s about time.”

This time, it was Derek’s turn to stare at her. The blonde-haired beta rolled her eyes and looked exasperated.

“Seriously, Derek? Have you not realized what Stiles smells like every time you’re around?”

Derek actually had. Lately, he’d focused too hard on what Stiles smelled like; cinnamon and species and fall leaves— he blinked before his mind could wander, Erica’s words sinking in. “Wait, what?”

“You’re both so hopeless, I swear to god.”

“Does Stiles like me?”

“Are you serious? Did you just ask me that? For fuck’s sake, Derek, Stiles is in love with you. He has been long enough for everyone else to know. Even Jackson, and he lives in his own head.”

“Stiles… likes me?”

“Oh my god,” Erica said with a groan. She grabbed his arm and opened the door, where the rest of the pack was standing in the hallway and staring at them with round eyes— of course, the idiots had been listening in. Only Stiles looked confused, looking between Derek, the pack, and then back. Erica shoved him forward. “You two, talk. Everyone else, out.”

Erica could be quite terrifying when she wanted to be. No one else needed to be told twice, filtering out of the house. Stiles looked even more confused.

“Derek?”

Derek shuffled his feet and glanced toward the door again. Erica pointed to each of them and then smirked, blowing a kiss goodbye, before turning out the door and vanishing. 

Sometimes, Derek hated her.

“Derek?” Stiles said again, sounding even smaller this time. Derek took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself down before turning to Stiles. The boy was looking at him with round amber eyes and he smelled like cinnamon. Cinnamon and spices and fall leaves and—

Derek took a nervous step backward and lost his footing, falling hard to the floor.

From outside the door, he heard the sound of resounding groans.

 - -

This one was so much fun. I saw the prompt list and was 100% hoping someone would ask for this one. I hope you enjoyed!

(Support your overcaffinated (so much so) student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[chatoyism]

First Impressions ➺ Changbin

; summary: you’re a simple lady. you see a guy that smells like suspicion and your interest in him immediately fades away. while thats the case most of the time, one guy in particular sticks out, but according to your friend, what they appear at first may not be what they truly are once you get to know them.

; genre: romance, fluff

; pairing: seo changbin x fem!reader

; word count: 3.6k

; warnings: nothing to warn about

; notes: this piece of cringey fluff was written during pre-debut stray kids which means a lot of the assumptions and basic info in this story was run on a baby changbin image. enjoy!

You were one of those types of people who wasn’t interested in relationships and dating. 

Finding a loved one while you studied at your school was never your first priority.

It was so common nowadays to find one of your best friends or plenty of your class mates from science and maths class to walk around the campus grounds with arms linked with another guy. Whether they walked through the corridors hand in hand, leaning against the wall with one earbud in each ear, or a small peck on the lips you’d catch in your corner of your eye, most, if not all of the people you knew were in a mutual romantic relationship with somebody else.

Many of your friends have considered putting you up in a blind date in hopes of finding the right person for you although you gladly objected. They’ve always wondered why you didn’t want to date anyone, if not for a fact, many guys at your school had wanted to talk to you, only to realize that you weren’t interested in getting a boyfriend yet.

You weren’t the idealist of girls. You had your flaws here and there and didn’t hesitate to show those who wished to get you to tell them that they were wrong and need to pick a better woman. You were a little introverted, you were pretty great at most things and you wouldn’t consider yourself the highly educated one.

One of your worst flaws would be your clumsiness. Whether you tripped and flung your books out of your hands, trying to carry a load of paper only to drop them in the campus fountain, you were trouble but no one would really believe it behind that innocent face of yours.

If anything, if you were to search for the perfect guy, nothing could beat the odds of an intelligent, gentle, caring, handsome and happy guy. Anything below that, if they fought a lot with people or misbehaved many times, they were immediately checked off your list.

You just didn’t think you were ready for that ideal man of yours to fall in love with a less than perfect madame if it ever came to be despite your high expectations never being reached. 

There was indeed one of those guys in your school, roaming around the corridors with a blank gaze and dark clothes as if to put of the “bad boy” image. Many girls loved him, but he treated them like a pile of trash.

It basically meant he was single as well.

You couldn’t help but doze your restless mind into a sense of peace and calmness, resting your chin on the palm of your hands, only to get a set of snapping fingers in front of your face bring you to reality.

You shook your head, looking around before finding your class mate and best friend Chaerin snickering and letting out a deep sigh.

“You keep daydreaming like a fool Y/N.” She protested, as if lecturing you like a teacher. “It’s like you’ve been sent to a fantasy land and found your love at first sight.”

“Don’t be crazy, I was just really tired and needed some rest and that was all I got.” You told her back, placing your soft and smooth hands on the table in front of you and brushing your thumbs against one another.

She happily joked, giving you an, “I-know-what-you-were-thinking” look and playfully slapped your shoulder.

“Don’t play sassy on me Y/N. I know you were definitely thinking of something and someone so you can’t hide behind your crab shell forever.” She gave a small smile of mischief. “I know what you were thinking and don’t hold back.”

“No, you don’t. I told you before and a million times more, I have no interest with anyone and I will not be set up in one of your blind dates again. I said to basically everyone in the school that I can only begin to date someone only after I graduate.”

Chaerin settled back on the backrest of her chair and pleaded like a little child. “Come on! Graduation is so far away! You need to get a boyfriend already!”

“Look Chaerin, I’m not going to deal with boys again and I will repeat, I will NOT date anyone only until the end of gradu—”

You raised your finger at Chaerin and stared into her eyes with a fierce look of frustration, only for the school bell to ring across the campus and stop your conversation mid-way.

Without a chance to finish your sentence as soon as the bell went, you heard a loud shriek or a bundle of screams of some sort roaring through the corridors closes to the table you sat at. Watching in horror along with Chaerin as a stampede of girls ran to crowd a certain student, they screamed out their name, attempting to get closer to them as they made their way through with the exception of females crowding the whole place. It almost felt like a concert, noises thrashing everywhere like fan girls as they followed the person.

“Changbin! You’re so handsome!”

“I’ll give up my boyfriend for you!”

“You are so talented, you’re so handsome, I think I’m going to die!”

“Marry me Changbin! I’ll cook for you, love you, I’ll do anything to be with you!”

“I’m right here Changbin! Notice me!”

Watching as they all followed him through the corridor, with all the loud noises and voices of the females screaming into your ear, you knew exactly who it was that they were following.

Seo Changbin, that “bad boy” you were mentioning before.

Losing your focus on the crowd of girls, you shook yourself awake when you notice Chaerin began to pack her stuff away and head to her locker, you looking up and grabbing your things behind her.

“They’re pretty desperate to be with such an ignorant guy like him,” You could only mutter underneath your breath, walking to your locker beside Chaerin’s and unlocked it, only to have a mountain full of books fall right onto your face.

Crashing to the floor and regaining your senses, some students who were retrieving their items for their class giggled and laughed at you on the floor, making you look at Chaerin who could only giggle softly at your face on impact as she bent down to help you pick up your books.

“And that’s why you don’t bad mouth handsome people.” She sniffed and grabbed a mound full of your books, stuffing it safely into your locker as you could only let out a shy chuckle. You rubbed your nose in pain and picked up the remaining books, pulling out your history books for class later before closing your locker.

“He’s not that handsome to me, he’s just a show off and doesn’t look too good in school. I mean, he wears dark colours all the time underneath his school uniform and he has this grim expression on his face 24/7.”

“I’m not to keen about that, but you say what you wanna say. He’s still single you know so he may be your future husband.” Chaerin let out a sneaky smirk in the corner of her lips as you furrowed your eyebrows, grasping your books in your arms.

“It seems like this is where we depart. I’ll be off now Chaerin!” You could only answer to her, waving to her with a grin as she smiled and waved back, heading in the opposite direction to your classroom as her back turned towards you.

Letting out a general sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely walking by yourself towards your class. Step by step, you’ve almost yearned for company ever since people started to get their boyfriends and girlfriends. If not for such a surprise, all of them were paired up with each other for every class. With the tap of your shoes clapping against the tiled floor, you were met with the door of your history class, opening it wide and being greeted with a bunch of familiar faces.

Behind all of those recognizable faces was one you had never wished to see.

Seo Changbin.

“I’d like you all to make sure the notes you have taken are placed in a good spot. Please don’t lose those notes as they will help you a lot in the upcoming test that will happen in the next month or so.” Your history teacher, Mr. Lee had explained to the class as soon as the bell had gone and students were already up to pack their things.

As a small smile grew on the corners of your peach coloured lips, you closed your books and packed them into a neat pile with your pencilcase and other belongings, leaving them on your desk as you began to pull out your phone to text Chaerin.

CutieChu: Will you be free at 2:40?

Holychae: I don’t think I can today. Jisung planned on taking me to the nearest cafe earlier after school so I won’t be able to meet you. I’ll meet up another time, maybe next week

CutieChu: that’s alright I guess. Im a little occupied today so I probably wont make it either

CutieChu: See you next week!

Holychae: bye~

Within a few seconds, Chaerin had replied with the most expected response you knew you would’ve gotten. Chaerin had a close relationship with her boyfriend Jisung and she never spent time with him a lot. You known about the distance between them after she told you whether or not to break up to spent more friend time, but you knew that her love for him meant a lot more than your friendship bond.

Slipping your phone into the pocket of your skirt, you noticed only a few students staying in to copy their notes on the board or to chat for a few minutes before heading for home. It was spacious but otherwise, only a few intended to stay for the time being.

Grabbing hold of your books and pencil in the other hand, Mr. Lee had stayed for a little while before leaving.

“I’d like everyone but Changbin and Y/N to stay inside the class please.”

With all the remaining students who were talking to each other finally exiting out the classroom, you were in utter shock when your history teacher had called out your name along with your long time distant classmate.

You placed your books on the desk, in absolute shock as you glanced over at where Changbin was sitting. With his back resting on the chair, legs crossed over the top of his desk, he pressed his fingers on his phone screen multiple times as if he was texting someone.

It was hard to imagine a good person from his image. His dark clothing was worn everywhere, his black hair ruffled to look messy and untouched, the way he sat in class the whole time writing in his small note book to make it look like he was studying was making your first impressions on him a lot more frightening.

“I know what you are thinking Y/N.” Mr. Lee chuckled, snapping you out of reality when you turned to him and noticed a smile on his face.

“You’re not in trouble of any kind. You have done absolutely nothing wrong to get yourself here.”

“Why am I staying back?” You could only asked up quietly, seeing that it was just you, Changbin and Mr. Lee listening to your voice. If you had spoken in a higher tone, you could tell that Changbin would look down on you and left the room because he didn’t want to here your ignorance.

You watched as he peered over at Changbin for a few seconds, before turning to you.

“I kept you both in here because as per usual, we have a new list of students who need to stay back every class for that week to clean up the classrooms. Seeing that it is indeed Friday today, we need a new list of students and it turns out that both of you will be cleaning the room for today and next week.”

Without thinking, your mouth opened wide at the words he had spoken to you, jaw dropping in disbelief as you had forgotten about the clean up duty students.

You had to be paired with him.

Mr. Lee didn’t hesistate to smile at you both before walking towards the tall locker in the back of the room, pulling out his keys and opening the doors to reveal two tall broom sticks, two mops, two pairs of gloves and some sponges.

“Here are the equipment. So I’ll be leaving you both to it, and I know you both will do a great job at this. I’ll return to this room to see if it’s spotless within 20 minutes.”

With that being said, Mr Lee turned to both us with deadpanned expressions on our faces as he nodded in approval, opening the classroom door and leaving, closing it behind him.

Obviously worked up in the current situation you were in, you couldn’t help but sigh loudly, pulling out your chair and let your face slump down right on the surface of your table.

“I was paired with him… the school’s bad boy…”

Getting right into work, you didn’t want to waste time and immediately thought about home, keeping your hopes up and lifting your head off the table. Before you could stand up to head towards the open locker for the cleaning equipment, you’re eyes landed on Changbin who was still in his seat, texting as usual and often writing in his notes, growling roughly with earbuds stuck in his ears.

“Guess he’s not cleaning. Extra minutes for me, I guess.” You sarcastically cheered yourself in a whisper tone in hopes of not letting Changbin hear you over the music in his ears. 

Shaking his head to a constant beat, you stood up from your seat and walked over to the equipment, grabbing only one of the brooms in the locker before closing it, starting your clean up and turning around, only to be faced with contact almost like a broad chest.

“Sorry, I just thought, you might’ve gotten the broom for me…” You heard a masculine voice deeply apologies to you. You looked up and widened your eyes at the sudden appearance of Changbin where you accidentally bumped into his chest earlier, out of his seat and apologizing with an empty expression.

“A-Ah, sorry about that, I didn’t think you’d be cleaning with me…” You looked down and shuffled around him, making him question your move.

“Did you think I would leave the classroom and ditch you here while you clean by yourself?” For the first time, you looked up and noticed Changbin chuckling lightly at your cute reaction to his question.

He seemed almost like a totally different person.

As the colour red began rushing up to your cheeks, Changbin smiled and pulled out the earphones and stuffed them into his pockets before grabbing a broom.

So he wasn’t listening to music at all… He was just pretending.

“So, what are you waiting for?” He asked, looking at you with these soft beady eyes that you had never seem from him, almost so mesmerizing to look at as you stayed silent for a few seconds gazing into his complexion before nodding in shyness.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you were in one side of the room brushing up the dirt and dust particles into one pile while Changbin was in the other brushing the rocks and paper balls rolled onto the floor and into the bin. Expecting a foul language conversation from him of some sort of a snarl and him dropping his broom in frustration, he seemed to just keep his concentration on the cleaning, never going rough with the equipment around the room and brushing off any dust like a gentle touch of a paw.

He was almost treating everything like a baby, a fragile thing that shouldn’t be harmed in any way. The way his actions had surprised you completely, you instantly regretted thinking of him differently, as the boy who would steal girl’s hearts and trash them later or to treat girls like slaves and do the work for him.

It wasn’t long before you noticed Changbin seeing you space out and looking at him with gentle eyes, he stopped mopping the floor and looked at you with concern. Although you didn’t realise being in such a dazed state, Changbin walked over to you and waved his hands in front of your face.

“Umm, hello? Is earth communicating with you? Y/N to earth?” Changbin waved his hands in front of your vision, only for you to snap into reality with surprise at finding Changbin unbelievably close to your liking, making your fall back and slip under your own foot.

“Changbin!” You could only let out a cry as you felt yourself fall down and get in contact with the ground, noticing him widening his eyes in shock and dropping his mop.

Thinking that your head with come in contact with the floor made you surprised when you felt a hand go underneath them and hit the floor instead of you. Gaining your senses back after your clumsy performance, you tried to pick yourself up, only feeling a heavy weight keep your down on the floor.

Without noticing, Changbin arose from your body, letting his hand continue resting underneath your head as he looked at you with worry and concern. It was a side of his image that made him so different.

“O-Oh my goodness, a-a-are you alright Y/N?!” He let out a cry, looking at you with concern.

“I-I’m fine right now, I’m not hurt.” You stuttered, immediately sitting up and looking into his eyes that looked deeply at yours.

“I’m sorry I scared you earlier, you just spaced out and I tried to get you back to reality until you suddenly slipped.” He confessed and helped your sit up, resting his hands on your back and caressing them lightly. “I shouldn’t have done that, you could’ve hurt yourself very badly…”

“C-Changbin… I’m fine right now, you don’t need to worry about me.” You reassured him, getting up and using the table as support, picking up his mop and passing it to him.

You watched as Changbin looked at you worryingly and had these puppy dog eyes as if he knew you didn’t mean it.

“If you need the nurse, I can help you…”

“Please Changbin, I was just staring at you for too lo—” You quickly covered your mouth as soon as you realised what you said.

“You were staring at me?”

Immediately shaking your head, you tried to take back what you meant but it only resulted in him giggling it out like a little cute child.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in me for someone who doesn’t want a boyfriend until they graduate.”

You froze for a second and noticed him winking at you before resuming his mopping.

“I-I-I ummm…” You tried to find some way to get him out of it.

“It’s okay. You may as well tell me now so then I can see if I have a chance or not.”

Looking at him with confusion, you only understood what he meant when you backed away and saw him face look at the ground with his hands rubbing his nape.

“W-Wait…” You stuttered. “You like me?”

Changbin lifted his chin and looked into your eyes with sincerity. You noticed them, the way they glittered suddenly, the beauty they had in them that you never noticed before. His smile even, it was perfect.

“I’ve liked you for awhile now. You see…” Changbin began to blabber, turning his back to you and mopped the floor while he talked.

“We’ve been in the same history class for the past year now. It’s easy to notice you because you seem so different from everyone else in the class that you’re so distinguishable. You shine from all the other girls that try to get my attention. I don’t talk to those girls because of one reason.”

“I want to talk to you more.”

As you were listening to him speak, you dropped your mop out of your hand in pure astonishment.

“I-I-I just didn’t know whether or not you would accept me for the person I am because I wear dark clothes all the time or the fact that I’m so expressionless and empty when I walk around. I just feel so lonely and I only got to smile a little when I saw you.”

“Changbin…” You muttered his name, making him look up at you.

“You could’ve told me all of this before I got to know you, I was scared to talk to you, even look at you because you were so different from everyone and you looked like someone who could ruin a girl’s life if they ever had a relationship… It should be my fault I doubted you…”

You looked down at your feet, twirling the sole of your shoe on the tiled floor as you waited for his response.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to make you feel welcomed.”

You didn’t get time to think properly when you noticed a pair of shoes in front of yours and two arms wrapped around your body tightly, bringing you closer to their chest.

With your head close to his heart, you listened as his heartbeat was pounding roughly, almost at an inhumane pace as you tugged your arms around his waist.

“That’s how much my heart is beating for you right now. It’s hard to describe so this was all I could do…”

You closed your eyes and immersed yourself in the deep hug, feeling Changbin’s hands rest on your hair and patting it softly.

“So, will you forgive me for being so distant from you?”

“Of course Changbin, you’ve become a new person.” You smiled and pulled away, taking a look at his smile.

“So what does that make us?”

“I think ‘in love’ will do.”

“Sounds perfect.”