#the nursing student in me actually said out loud “the nurse who manage to get and IV in adam's tiny little bee vein is an absolute icon”

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

in case anyone was curious about my emotional state: i just cried while watching the Bee Movie.

#bee movie #<- the 2007 one with jerry seinfeld of all people #look!! the airplane scene is emotionally charged and very heart warming!!! #the nursing student in me actually said out loud “the nurse who manage to get and IV in adam's tiny little bee vein is an absolute icon” #every time i reference the fact that i'm in nursing school #i fear that some of you will think i fit the former high school mean girl stereotype #i can assure you that was not the case #i was Weird as hell #these tags got derailed LMAO

[fanofstuff02]

PRISON AU IT IS!

AU by @rius-cave , although I added my own thoughts into it (For example, her idea was that Lute helping Adam but I wanted it to go more like the actual show, where I think Lute wouldn’t help Adam if he was a sinner.).

Tagging you @fightinsoda and @foreverpeachy2010 , hope you don’t mind.

Everyone’s roles:

People who’s in prison:

Lucifer: You’ll see

Husk/Hunter (I’m basic): Tax evasion/illegal gambling

Angel Dust/Anthony: That guy has a mafia family

Alastor: Spilling government secrets on radio (Still a serial killer)

Sir Pentious: Illegal weapon posession

Vox: Fraud

Valentino: Do I need to say something

Adam: Framed with murder

This is an all male prison yk

People out of prison:

Charlie: Law student

Emily: Also a law student

Vaggie: Fired cop

Lute: Cop

St Peter: Cop

Sera: Judge

Nifty: Canteen lady

Rosie: Prison nurse

Velvette: Crime partner of Vox, but managed to dodge going to prison

Do police officers can both patrol and do wardening? I have no idea. But this goes like that.

Also, sorry if this doesn’t has that much details. I tried not to copy @things-arent-what-they-seem66 ‘s fic. The next chapters will be better I swear.

ENJOYY!!!!

Also, I’ll post the new chapter of my favorite au a few hours later.

“Dad..?” A little kid came out from behind the desk where she was hiding and looked to his father. Why was his dad covered in red? And why wasn’t the person she didn’t knew moving? “Is he okay?”

“Don’t worry sweetie. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine He can’t-“

“Stay away from her.” A slightly scared, but determined voice came from behind. “Charlie, come here.”

“Lily, you have to listen! He was going t-“

“I don’t care. Charlie, don’t go near him.” Lilith pulled her daughter to herself harshly and took her arm into her hands.

“I want to stay with daddy!” She fighted against her mother’s grip but she was too strong. Lilith gave Lucifer one more disgusted look and rushed to outside.

“LILITH!” Lucifer yelled as he wanted to go after them, but he froze when he heard someone shout.

“Stay where you are and raise your hands up in the air!” A police officer walked inside and pointed his gun to him.

Lucifer, who was still in shock, did what he said. He handcuffed him and guided him to a police car. He saw multiple polices around. Lilith was talking to one.

“I heard the intruder coming in. It was at my daughter’s room but instead of calling you, my husband decided to play the hero and end him himself. I’m hoping you will put an end to this.” Lilith’s eyes met with Lucifer’s, but she cut the eye contract. She couldn’t look him in the eye. All she saw was a murderer.

“I understand you ma’am. I hope you can get divorced easily.”

Lucifer then looked at his daughter. Oh, he could do anything to go near her, wipe her tears away, hug her and calm her down. Instead, he could just look at her. She teared her gaze from the stone floor and looked at her father. And at that moment, Charlie understood that her father wasn’t a monster like mommy said.

Lucifer only thought about how he failed as a dad while he was taken to prison.

— Today —

“Rise and cry you freaks!” Lucifer woke up with someone running their baton on the bars. It was loud.

“Mmmhm, that’s right! Get the fuck up before I make you.” He said.

Ah, of course. Officer Kadmon. A.k.a. the world’s biggest piece of shit. On his daily wisit.

“That mother fucker.” His cellmate groaned.

“Indeed.” He got up and grabbed one of his rubber ducks. Those always calmed him down.

“Whats the matter Morningstar? *random surname*? Uncomfortable?” Kadmon laughed at them, stopping at their cell.

“Nah, it’s more like a hotel to be honest.” He said calmly.

“Mocking me?” He hit their bars with his baton. “Too bad you’re not on the right position to do that right?”

“Don’t you have a better job to do?” The other guy spoke, annoyed.

“Aww, you don’t want me to break your other fingers? You want me to go the fuck away?” He said in a childish voice “Guess what! This is my fucking job you horse shit!” He laughed loudly, causing even more curse words. Shove that fucking stick up to your ass. Lucifer thought and stood up. Luckily the shithead didn’t realize.

“Goodbye bitches!” He kept walking but was immediately startled when the short prisoner squeaked the rubber duck on his hands near his ears. Nah, startled would be unfair. He literally jumped.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Morningstar!?” He tried to hit him behind bars but Lucifer was fast.

“Oops.” He chuckled and went back to his bed. It was worth it.

“Oh, do you wanna lose the privilege of your sissy hobbies?! I can make that happen!” He growled.

“Sure, sure.” He played with his duck, not caring about the screaming man.

“You’ll see, bitch.” He walked away to the other prisoners. “Back in your place huh, *Alastor’s surname*? I told them specifically to keep your cell empty!” He scoffed at the prisoner at the next cell, who hadn’t been around for a while because he escaped. Hunter said that it was Kadmon who caught and brought him back. Lucifer didn’t like Alastor, heck that prick thought he was being ‘creepy’ with his boring attitude. But at least he knew where he stood. Officer piglet didn’t.

“How nice of you, kind officer.” He could literally hear the smile on his voice. “I hope you had a wonderful week.”

“I did. Unlike you, pussy!”

— Awhile later —

Adam was on night patrol with Holly. He wished it was Lute, but that gal was nice too he guessed. She might be a gay, but she was still cool. He waited outside of a coffee shop as she got them some.

He was mumbling a song to himself when he heard a human voice coming from the woods. He was saying “You don’t own me.. You don’t own me…” repeatedly. He took his gun out just to be safe, he knew what kind of creeps there were at night. He walked off slowly there. There was an old man looking at him, and he was walking near him.

“Sir? Are you-“

“YOU DON’T OWN ME!” He screamed and made a dash to Adam, causing the officer to back down and pointing the gun at him.

And thats when he heard that. Someone shooting behind. Shooting the old man in the head right where he pointed his gun. He fell down, face all bloody.

Oh no.

“Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit!” Panic rose in Adam as he understood the crazy guy was dead.

“WHO’S THERE!” He shoot his gun at the woods. He heard someone else though.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” A guy, much saner than the old man came from behind. “YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM YOU CUNT! WHAT DID HE EVEN DO TO YOU!?” He pushed him away from the old man and looked at him. Adam couldn’t do anything as he saw the cries of the man.

Oh shit.

“Look, it was-!“

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

He got up angrily, ready to beat the shit out of the police but then stopped when he saw the person had a gun. Instead, he ran to their police car in order to find another officer.

“WAIT!” He tried to track him down as he ran there. But immediately stopped when-

He heard a high pitched scream coming near him. It came from a woman who was just out of the coffee shop. She looked scared. “Officer, help!”

“No, look, it wasn’t-“

“Sir..?” Holly came rushing, she must’ve heard the woman, and froze when she saw Adam.

“Holly, you don’t-“ He tried to came closer to them but the guy yelled again.

“HE KILLED HIM!”

“I DIDN’T! Holly you have to-“ He shutted his mouth in shock as she pointed her gun at him, hands shaking.

“Don’t come any closer!” She stated. “Place your weapons infront of you and raise your hands where I can see them or else!”

“Come on-“ What the fuck?!

“If you don’t, I’ll-“

“Fine.” He did what she told. “Hey, what are you-“ He panicked even more when she reached him with handcuffs.

(Is this how this works? I have no fucking idea)

— After —

Adam was thrown to a court the following days. He came up with a lawyer, but there were evidence. The guy who saw him -he learned that it was his son- testified that it was him, and the woman did the same. And before you know it, he was charged for murder and sent to prison in an orange jumpsuit. He didn’t understood what happened clearly until he was placed in the middle of the general population of prison.

“Wait! I didn’t do that shit! It was a fucking mistake!”

“It surely was, wasn’t it, officer?” He heard voices behind him and felt all the color on his face drain away. He was fucked. He turned around only to be met with a huge group of inmates. They were almost like predators, and in this case he was the prey.

“What are you dirtbags looking at?!” He yelled, trying to keep his threatening posture. Failing miserably.

“Ohoh, a punching bag I’m looking at.” One of them said, mimicking the ex officer’s ex attitude. The others took this as a starting point and threw him to the ground.

Lucifer watched the prisoners beating the shit out of former officer. His cries and pleas were harmonic. It’d be easy to let the prisoners end him to be honest, but he knew a better way to humiliate him. Physical beating was something, but psychological beating… Its harm could never be measured. He decided what to do and jumped up his seat.

“ENOUGH!” He shouted to his fellow inmates. Everyone backed away with disgusted looks on their faces, still not wanting to let go of that fucker.

Adam heard calm steps coming near him and holding his chin. He muttered something and looked up to the other man.

Morningstar. It was fucking over.

Lucifer eyed the pathetic guy. He was either gonna pass out or puke. His face was ruined. Aren’t mister handsome anymore, he thought, he still remembered how arrogant this prick was before. He chuckled, karma had a cruel but pretty good sense of humor.

“Do you hear me?” He asked.

“Y-yes.”

“Then listen carefully.” He whispered sharply. “Because I will only speak once.” He grinned to the scared man.

“I am offering you a deal. You will be protected from physical harm, no one here dares to cross me. In return you’d give me your full obedience. You’ll be mine. You will always do what I say. Deal?”

“I-“

“Okay, then I’m leaving y-“

“Deal.” He quickly said, hating the sound leaving his lips. He didn’t wanna do this, all of his cells hated this. But this was his only chance. He could still hear the wolves. Cops weren’t welcome inside bars.

“Excellent.” He cupped his cheek.“Now get up. You need treatment. Rosie will do.” He held his hand out. Adam barely stood up but that was it. He passed out to Lucifer’s arms. He groaned, this guy was fucking heavy. He just let him slip and left him on the floor. He could call the nurse later.

“This mean we could end him now?” One of the prisoners asked with hope.

“No. Everyone, listen!” He called out to the crowd at the last part. “You will not be hurting him from that moment. I agree,” He raised his hands as he heard objections. “He deserves it. But I am just saying you can’t physically hurt him.”

“And why would we feel the need to not do that?” One particular inmate spoke. One inmate with a personal hatred against the former guard.

“Think about it, Alastor.” He came closer to the smiling, taller man, still keeping an eye out for his newest toy. “Humiliating him like he did to most of us is much better than simply ending that bitch, right? You must know the damage the words can do much better than everyone.” He looked up.

“You might be right. But it is no guarantee that he won’t try to hurt us.”

“Oh if he does, you are more than free to fuck him up right there. But until that happens, nobody will lay a finger on him. Understood?”

The crowd muttered yeses and okays, although not all of them looked convinced. Alastor just walked away simply. Whatever, he made the announcement after all.

“Hunter, can you help me with getting the big baby to the nurse?”

End of the first chapter! This took a lot more time than I guessed, but it was worth it!

Have a good day/night!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel alastor #Prison au #hazbin hotel au #adamsapple

[a-b-riddle]

Pen Pals Chapter One: Welcome to the Internet

I feel like most girls who claimed they loved world history either had a hot history teacher or a Percy Jackson obsession. Well, I'm not like most girls. I had both. I may have been failing math, but when I tell you I was passing history with flying colors...

It was 2009: I was a freshman in high school and at 14 years old, I was very impressionable. Full disclosure: I was not groomed. Well, by my teacher at least. My history teacher wasn't like that weird, over-friendly coach with the students. He was just hot. Very incredibly boring, but hot by my standards as a 14-year-old who up until that point had only kissed two boys, but read some very questionable fan-fiction. 

Our semester closed on the unit about World War II. It was the week of Christmas, we just finished our finals and we watched a movie I highly recommend called 'Pearl Harbor'.

That movie just kind of fueled my obsession with World War II. It's like those little kids who had a really nice nurse when they were sick and they grew up wanting to be nurses. I saw Ben Affleck in a WW 2 uniform and was fucking SET. 

Now don't get me wrong, I actually enjoyed it besides the hot actors. I loved the stories. I loved the heroes. Second Lieutenant Audie L. Murphy: The most decorated soldier of the war. He was credited for killing over 200 Germans. Corporal Desmond Doss was a medic, never picked up a weapon and saved 75 men by lowering them down from a freaking cliff. I cry every time I watch his interviews and if you want to know his full story watch Hacksaw Ridge. Then there was Private Steven Grant Rogers. Started out as an E-1 and then promoted to a O-3 (or a Captain) and was renamed  Captain America.

Just like how people think of Tom Brady when they think of the Super Bowl, I did the same thing when it came to Captain America and the war. Now, I don't want to say I idolized the man, but I did admire the hero.

My obsession made me major in History and later get a Master's in Conflict Management. Now, I was applying to one of the biggest companies in the nation: Stark Industries. Now, that was partly because I could not find a job anywhere and someone that I went to college with started working in HR and was able to get me an interview. It didn't have to do with anything pertaining to my degree, but it had been a while before I was able to find a job that paid this well. 

I felt like I was running my sponsor dry with his support and I had applied several times to multiple colleges in the city. I mean I had a freaking Master's degree with intentions of pursuing my Doctorate for crying out loud and the best I could do was be a personal assistant.

I was going to be a secretary. Nothing important, but the pay was more than exceptional. 

Stark Tower was intimidating to say the least. Over 90 floors and reflective glass windows. It hurt my neck to look directly up at it. 

When I walked into the building, security instructed me what floor to go to. When I got there, I was greeted with an empty desk. I waited several minutes downstairs before a strawberry blonde woman with cute freckles came down to greet me. "Hi, you must be the secretary applicant." She smiled. "I'm Pepper Potts. So you're resume here is quite impressive and Harrison in HR highly recommended you."

"Yes, I was so excited when he told me you had a position available."

"Usually, I would be doing the interview, but I'm afraid I have to head out on some other business, so if you want to take the elevator to floor 82, Mr. Stark will be waiting."

"Of course." I said holding a folder that contained all the documents he requested I brought in.

"Hello, Mr. Stark." I greeted.

"You must be Pepper's replacement."

"Oh," I said. "Is she not-"

"She's been made COO." He clarified. "She can't leave that easily."

"Oh, good." I said. "She seemed really sweet."

"To you, yes. To me, I can't do anything. Don't put your life in danger, don't challenge terrorists." He mocked. "She's no fun." He walked further into what I assumed was a common room of sorts. It gave no indication that he lived on that floor. There was a full bar and it looked more of a place he hosted parties. "So tell me a bit about yourself." He began to pour himself a drink. "Something that isn't on your resume."

"Um, well, I'm taking a course in French and Greek right now. Just online classes, nothing too time consuming. I prefer dogs over cats because I think that its important if you die, for your pet to at least be sad and I am the first one in my family to live in New York, that I know of. I'm the first girl to graduate with their Master's. I plan on eventually getting my Doctorate, but not for a while. I don't like hot coffee and I'm terrified of snakes."

"Who would actually prefer cats over dogs?"

"Pepper?" I asked to which he laughed, even though it wasn't that funny.

"I like you." He took a sip of his drink. "It's not liquor. Pepper has this rule that alcohol should only be consumed during certain times of the day."

"I think 9:30 on a Monday is acceptable. I was debating on getting Mimosas after the interview if it went well."

"And if it didn't?" He asked.

"I would say tequila, but I got food poisoning from the limes once."

"Really?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I had about 15 limes and felt terrible the next day."

"I prefer a good scotch myself."

"I like anything that doesn't taste like alcohol. I'm really impressed that a bottle of wine can cost thousands of dollar, but I guarantee it can't be as delicious as a Moscow mule."

"I haven't had a Moscow mule in forever." He said. "They were my go-to in college."

"Where did you go to school?" His response was to point at a wall that was covered in awards and accomplishments. "You went to Andover?" I asked looking at his degree.

"Seven years." He said. "I really liked the science department."

"I've given a few guest lectures there. It's a lovely school."

"What was the topic of discussion?"

"The North African campaign during World War 2, but specifically the Battle of Ramree Island."

"History nerd. Nice." Mr. Stark replied sarcastically when the elevator door dinged. "Speaking of historical nerds."

If my legs could have physically turned into jelly at that moment they would. None other than Steve Rogers walked in with a blonde following dutifully behind. "Tony."

"Capscicle and the ice queen." He whispered too low for them to hear.

"Rogers, meet our new secretary." Tony introduced and started to head toward the elevator.

"It is such an honor, Captain Rogers." I said taking his outstretched hand.

"Please, call me Steve." He insisted. The blonde beside him remained quiet and eyed me up and down with a stoic expression.

"Not that I'm trying to cut you off, but I'll let you two old ladies reminisce on the glory days." Tony clicked the elevator door and waited until it dinged opened. "I have somewhere to be. Congratulations. You got the job. Blah. Blah. Blah. Monday at 9, don't be late." He pressed a button I couldn't see and the doors began to close. "Or do. I really don't care, but if you're late, bring coffee."

"He's..." I began, but couldn't quite pick the right word.

"Arrogant." Steve finished.

"I was going to say interesting." I said.

"So what 'glory days' was Stark referring to?"

"Oh. I gave a few lectures about a few battles at the University he went to. Nothing exciting."

"Well Mrs.-"

"It's just Miss." I said. That was stupid. Why did I say that? That was rude to cut him off like that. "Sorry." I apologized. Why was I apologizing?

"Well, Ma'am. It looks like we'll be seeing you Monday morning. If you're late Tony gets a triple shot of espresso and a disgusting amount of sugar in it."

"Being late isn't really my style. My mother always said if you're not early, you're late." Why was a quoting my zealot mother right now. Jesus, stop it.  Not like Jesus Jesus. You know what, never mind. "I think I can find my way out." I said.

The walk back home I felt my cheeks burn the entire time. I haven't even started and I'm already flustered. Jesus, get a grip.

Suddenly my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was him.

*So how did it go?*

*I got the job* I replied back.

*That's wonderful. I'm so proud of you* I couldn't deny the pride that swelled inside of me at his praise.

*Thank you, although I did make a complete ass out of myself*

*How so?*

*Well, my new boss introduced me to one of his partners and I felt like I made a fool of myself.* I typed. *Not partner in the sexual way, but someone he works with. He called Mrs. and I corrected him and said 'no it's just MIss' like it didn't even matter, he was just being polite. Then I quoted my mother. I was just flustered, but I start Monday.*

C didn't reply after that. We were supposed to have a date tonight so I'm sure he would just finish the conversation later. I had a caprese salad, but ate mostly the mozzarella. I showered, shaved and waited until I got a notification.

 *Sorry. Something came up. Regardless, I think you'll do great.* I smiled at his message, but was disappointment that he was cancelling our date tonight. Well the closest thing we came to date nights which usually ended in me being in an unsavory position.

Initially, C and I met on a chat forum in 2016. I was working on my senior seminar and had sort of an open ended question regarding the war. It was something along the lines of taking the notion that if a war on that scale were to happen in today's world in what ways would American citizens contribute to the war effort at home? Back in the 40s most companies like Ford made strictly military equipment. It was an honor to have a government contract whereas now it's more like any other business deal.

I received a lot of interesting responses, but a user named CR0876 replied that shifting the current American ideal of self-preservation to what we had before which was sacrificing for your country was the only way in which today's America could possibly aid in a war. I messaged CR0876 to further discuss the topic. 

He wrote me: All I am saying is we now live in a day and age where you have people who won't vaccinate their children simply because they choose not to. They don't have an issue with you vaccinating your kids, but not theirs. We eradicated some of the deadliest diseases that are still present in some third-world nations and you have entitled people who don't trust science to preserve the health and well-being of not only their children, but everyone they come in contact with. The reason that our life expectancy has shot up isn't because of ground breaking medical break throughs like chemotherapy, it is for preventative measures. Getting vaccinated. Getting checkups. Wearing sunscreen. Washing your hands after wiping your ass. 

A few minutes later he sent an apology for getting so riled up in his rant and I told him that no apology was needed and I completely agreed with him. From then on our friendship started to blossom. 

Most of our conversations had something to do involving the war, but then it got more personal. I felt comfortable with him. I talked about my time at college and what I was studying. We went from a few messages a week to communicating everyday. Eventually when graduation came around, I offered him a graduation ticket. I was a little disappointed to find out it was too far for him to travel. He asked for my mailing address. That he felt guilty for missing such a big event and he wanted to make it up to me. I was a little apprehensive. I mean, we were taught to never give your stranger your address, but I was an RA in a college dorm. I would be out into the real world soon and he wouldn't know my room number or what I looked like.

So I sent it.

A few weeks passed and I got a pair of beautiful pearl earrings with a card that read. A beautiful girl always needs a set of beautiful pearls. Congratulations on all of your hard work. -C

Four and a half years later and I still have that card. We still talk about the war. I recommend him movies, while he recommends books then we both point on the inconsistencies. It was stupid, but it was fun. Now, I just sort of tell him about my day to day life and he tells me small tidbits about his. It was earlier in 2020 when the pandemic hit that things started to get... well things just changed.

I had just moved to New York in early February to start teaching at a local college. I was going to start with May-mester classes, but then Covid hit and the world stopped. 

I had moved in with little to nothing. I had a few pieces of stuff for the kitchen and a bed. It wasn't much, but it was mine and I was damn proud of it.

My pride was short lived when I got the e-mail. In a panic, I sent him a message.

Hey can you talk?

Sure. What's up?

Is there anyway you can call me? I'm kind of in a bad place right now and I really don't have anyone else to talk to. I felt guilty as soon as I hit the send button. I'm not like going to hurt myself or anything I am just super stressed and if you have the time and energy, I just need to unload some stuff.

Seconds later my phone began to ring.

"What's wrong?" He asked. I took a deep breath. I can't believe this was the first time hearing his voice. It wasn't what I was expecting. I expected almost a pompous scholarly tone in his voice. But instead he was borderline on being batman. His voice was deep.

"They rescinded my offer." I took a deep breath. "I just spent all of my savings literally to move to this stupid freaking city and they told me over an e-mail 'we are sorry to inform you that your offer for employment has been rescinded until further notice due to the impending pandemic and the unforeseeable circumstances it holds. We deeply apologize for the inconvenience and wish you the best in your future endeavors.' They said sorry and good luck." 

There was a pause and I heard him sigh. "Sweetheart, I am so sorry." 

"Thanks." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Looks like that chapter closed before it got any good. I guess I can see if maybe I can do virtual learning for a high school, but I don't know if my degree is enough. I think you need an education degree to teach."

"But you always wanted to teach college..." His disappointment matched mine.

"I know..." I looked down at nearly clear streets of New York. "But I need a job, C." I sighed. "It's either that or call my parents and I would literally rather be homeless than ask them for help."

"How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"How much was your job going to pay you?"

"80k a year starting." I said and felt another wave of nausea wash over me. 80k wasn't much to some, but it was a lot for me and it would be doing something I loved.

"Tell you what, that is about 6 and a half grand a month. I will pay you 7 grand a month if you promise me not to give up."

"What?" I couldn't believe this. "There is absolutely no way I could ever accept that kind of money."

"It's not like I don't have it, Princess." He can't be serious. That's crazy. He never mentioned having money or being well off. 

"And what do you want in return?" The butterflies in my stomach began to churn. God I hope he wasn't wanting to do anything... unethical. "Surely you wouldn't do that just because you want me to be a college professor."

"Nothing." He said. "Absolutely nothing. I just want you to be taken care of and pursue your dream."

"I really can't let you do that."

"It's only temporary." He tried to assure me, but I still felt guilty. 

"C-" He was always so argumentative and authoritative over messaging and he matched it over the phone.

"I promise." He interrupted. "It won't put a dent in my wallet."

"Only until I have a full-time job." I tried to say.

"Until you become a professor."

"No," I said. "As soon as I get a job and can support myself."

"Sweetheart, it's not polite to argue."

"I appreciate it." I said. "I really do."

"So does that make your day a little bit better?" He asked.

"It does."

"Anything else gone wrong you need help fixing?"

"No." I responded and felt like a child and and adult came up to fix the mess I had made.

"Good." I heard him sigh. "I'm glad that was easy to fix and now, that I got you on the phone... it's nice to finally hear your voice."

Chapter Two: Confessions

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #marvel #anonymous

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Circle of Khanna

Chapter 14: Reflection

A/N: When Artemis hits rock bottom, she makes a surprising discovery in the Room of Requirement. But is that really what she needs? Extended notes are available here. Warnings: discussion of death and survivor’s guilt. Description of panic attack and grief. Angst, hurt comfort.

The Valentine’s Ball left many students nursing sore heads and bruised hearts the following day. Penny, Tonks, and Artemis were all taciturn over breakfast the following morning, only Alanza wanting to engage in lively discussion, raving about her enjoyment of the previous night.

“It all was so wonderful,” she told the girls, her voice so loud it made Artemis’ head hurt. “I loved the candles and the hearts, they made the Great Hall very pretty. Oh, but the dancing, and the music. The last song especially was very beautiful and romantic.”

She hummed the tune to herself, and Artemis glowered at her silently, hoping that Alanza would soon get the idea that no one was in the mood for loud voices or humming. But Alanza continued on, as if she hadn’t noticed the look on Artemis’ face at all.

“I loved everything about the ball,” she sighed. “I just hope that Charlie will want to go out with me again. I had lots of fun with him, and he did look so handsome in his dress robes. I think that he thinks the same abut me, so he very likely will want to go out with me again, don’t you think?”

“I dunno,” Artemis muttered, still glaring at her. “He’s only over there. Go and ask him and then you can stop going on about it.”

Alanza blinked, looking almost hurt for a moment, but then she smiled brightly and trotted over to the Gryffindor table. Across the table from Artemis, Penny was looking at her with pursed lips.

“What?” Artemis asked.

“Well, that was hardly very kind, was it?” Penny told her. “She was just trying to make conversation.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve got a headache.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have had so much to drink, then.”

Artemis frowned. There was a tenseness to Penny’s voice and a look of disdain in her blue eyes that made her feel as if she were being judged.

“What now?”

“Nothing, Artemis. I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you obviously want to say something,” Artemis said as Penny sighed again. “You might as well come out with it, mightn’t you?”

“Oh, very well then,” Penny folded her arms across her chest. “I just think you’ve been behaving very unfairly, that’s all.”

“How have I been unfair? I didn’t want to have to look after Alanza in the first place!”

“Even so, you shouldn’t be so rude to her all the time. She’s quite sweet actually,” Penny told her. “And besides, I’m not only talking about Alanza. Poor Barnaby was really upset after what you did last night.”

“I just kissed him!”

“Yes, you did. After you told him last summer that you just wanted to be his friend, and then less than an hour later you snogged Diego, who you don’t even like. What was Barnaby supposed to think about that?”

“That I wasn’t thinking straight, obviously!”

“Well, he was quite upset by it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Penny tutted, “he’s supposed to be our friend-”

“I’m supposed to be your friend!”

“- and he really liked you, much more than you liked him, and he managed to get over you, and now you’ve gone and confused him!”

“Lots of things confuse him!” Artemis rolled her eyes and returned the look of judgemental disappointment on Penny’s face with a fierce glare. Next to her, Tonks had looked up from her breakfast to stare at Artemis, her chestnut eyebrows furrowed deeply. Artemis turned on her. “Don’t tell me you think I’m an awful person now, too.”

“No,” Tonks muttered. “I do think you’re acting like a bit of a prat, though.”

“Oh, great. Thanks for that.”

“Well, the three of us were meant to be going to the dance together and you sacked us off to stick your tongue down Diego’s throat.”

“I just…” Artemis was starting to feel nauseated, her palms were sweating and pulse was racing. “I didn’t mean to, I just wasn’t thinking properly because of Jae’s moonshine and because I felt… I just wanted to…”

“Look, Artemis,” Penny said quietly. “We know you’re sad about Rowan and you miss her. We miss her too, but-”

“But nothing!” her temper rapidly rising, Artemis snapped at Penny. “There is no ‘but’ to that! How dare you even-”

“Penny’s not trying to upset you, Artemis,” Tonks shook her head. “We are just saying it because we are worried about you. Because we are your friends.”

“Yeah, you’re really acting like my friends right now.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be-”

“Be what? Unkind? Unfair? A prat? I thought I already was all those things,” Artemis snarled, and got up from the table. She stormed away and out of the Great Hall, balling up her fists and letting out a strangled noise in the entrance hall outside, much to the alarm of a passing group of first years. 

She felt even more alone than she had standing on the dance floor the night before, and angry, too. Penny and Tonks were supposed to be her friends, more so than Barnaby’s and definitely more than Alanza’s. Why were they turning on her now of all times, when she was already missing Rowan? She turned back to look into the Great Hall, and saw that Penny and Tonks were now talking quietly amongst themselves, while Alanza sat next to Charlie, waving her hands animatedly in front of her as she spoke to him. Artemis half-expected him to look up, catch her eye, and pull a face, but instead, he looked directly at Alanza and chuckled. He was laughing with her, not at her.

Artemis turned away and walked down the corridor, her sense of injustice and impotence growing, gnawing at her and making her heart race and her blood run cold. She didn’t know what to do, and she had no one to tell her what to do. Penny and Tonks didn’t want to be her friends anymore, Charlie would rather spend time with Alanza, Bill was in Egypt, and Rowan was… 

She really was lost, she realised, and so when she started walking, her legs carried her to the place where all the lost things went. As she walked into the Come-and-Go Room, she caught sight of the three sided vanishing cabinet in the corner of the room, and her heart lifted slightly. With all that had happened, she had not thought to reach out to Jacob. No doubt he would have heard and left a message for her here. He was probably wondering why she hadn’t replied. He was probably worried about her.

But when she opened the cabinet, she found that it was empty. Jacob hadn’t left her anything, not a message, not a black quill, not… anything at all. After all she had been through because of him, after Rowan… 

Every single negative emotion that Artemis had been trying her hardest not to feel ever since that night in the forest was starting to swell in her, building up and ready to crash over her. Desperately, she gritted her teeth, and pushed them down, but she could not get rid of them completely. Instead, she could feel them twisting around tightening into a thick sprung coil her abdomen. And as she opened her eyes to look at the vanishing cabinet once more, the coil sprang loose. 

That bloody cabinet, she thought, her hand reaching for her wand, shaking with rage. If she hadn’t found that message in there, she would never have gone to the forest that night, and Rowan would not have followed her. If she and Rowan had never found that first black quill inside, all the way back in second year, they would never have found the first Cursed Vault, would never have gone inside and started breaking the curses. She should have stayed away from the Vaults, and she should never, never have opened that bloody cabinet. 

“Bombarda!” she shouted, pointing her wand at it. “Incendio! Deprimo! Reducto! BOMBARDA!”

She cast a flurry of spells at the vanishing cabinet, the most destructive spells she could think of. With each one her voice grew louder, her wand movements faster, herself more desperate, until she could continue no more. Exhausted, her face flushed and breath ragged, she backed away from the cabinet and slumped down against a shelf behind her, screaming silently into her hands until she could not even do that.

Artemis had been trying not to cry ever since she had returned from the forest that night, and now, at the very moment she welcomed the release of her own tears, they wouldn’t come. She felt drained, tired, cast adrift. She missed Rowan, she missed her life the way it had been before Rowan died, and she wished that she could do something, anything, to bring her back. But of course, she knew as well as anyone that wishing had never done anyone any good. Wishing couldn’t change anything.

Or could it? Artemis lifted her head and uncurled herself from the tight ball she had folded herself into, an idea striking her. The Come-and-Go Room had other names, and took different forms. Hadn’t Bill once called it the Room of Requirement? If the room could give her what she needed, and what she needed was for Rowan to come back to her, then maybe the room could make it happen.

It was worth a try at least, so Artemis stood up and left the Room of Lost Things. Once the door had disappeared in the wall, she began to pace in front of it.

I need a way to see Rowan… I need you to show me Rowan… I need to be with Rowan…

She wasn’t sure if she had been expecting it to work or not, but after a few moments of pacing, the door in the wall reappeared once more. Artemis stood in front of it, barely daring to breathe as she placed her hand on the handle, pulled it down, and pushed the door ajar.

“Rowan?”

Inside, the Come-and-Go Room was dark and quiet, vast and empty, except for a tall structure in the centre covered by a white sheet. But where was Rowan?

“Are you there, Ro?” Artemis called out, treading slowly across the flagstone floor, the sound of her footsteps echoing quietly. No reply came. Artemis frowned. Why had the room brought her here?

She was closer to the covered object in the middle of the room, and as she approached it, she could swear that it was almost calling to her, drawing her closer to it. She stared at it, and reached up to touch the fabric covering it, and pulled it off to the ground, revealing…

A mirror. A full length mirror, with clawed feet and an ornate gold frame inscribed with words in a foreign language that Artemis did not recognise: 

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. 

But it was not the words or the gold frame or the clawed feet that caught Artemis’ attention. It was her reflection in the glass, or rather, not her reflection at all, for the face looking back at her was not her own. 

It was Rowan’s.

Artemis stared at Rowan in the mirror, scarcely able to believe her own eyes. She tilted her head to the right. Rowan tilted hers to her left. She tilted her head to the left, and Rowan tilted hers the other way as well. Slowly, Artemis raised her right hand, and Rowan mirrored the movement, until Artemis’ hand was placed flat against the glass, her palm against Rowan’s palm, though all she could feel was the cool, smooth surface of the mirror.

“Rowan?” Artemis raised her eyebrows and the corners of her lips began to curve upwards. Rowan smiled back at her. “Is that really you?”

Rowan nodded, and Artemis found that she was nodding back to her, both of their smiles widening. Artemis placed her left hand to the mirror too, so that she and Rowan each had both of their hands placed against together, separated only by the pane of glass between them.

“I’ve missed you so much, Ro,” Artemis told her best friend. “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?” Rowan said nothing, but she nodded her head. So did Artemis. “Good. Well, not good. I don’t like the idea of you feeling the way I’ve felt the last two months, but… Well, you know what I mean. You always know what I mean, don’t you? That’s why we’re best friends, because we understand each other. It’s been like I’m half of a whole without you.”

Rowan looked at Artemis with a deeply sad sympathy in her doe-like brown eyes. Artemis stopped feeling sorry for herself - after all, she and Rowan were together now - and Rowan started to look happier again. Artemis smiled as she told Rowan everything that she had missed while she had been gone, about Charlie getting injured by the Chimaera, about Christmas at the Three Broomsticks, about Alanza and the Valentine’s Day Ball, and how Penny and Tonks were angry with her. She didn’t know quite how long she was there for, but when her attention was drawn away from Rowan by the sound of Peeves the Poltergeist singing rude limericks in the corridor outside, she realised that the sky outside was starting to darken. She waited until Peeves had gone before turning back to Rowan.

“I’m going to have to go now. People will wonder where I’ve gone. They might come looking for me. But I’ll come back.”

Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Rowan and walked back across the empty room to the main doors. Before she left the Room of Requirement, she turned back and told Rowan again:

“I promise you I’ll come back.” 

In the last two weeks of February, the winter frosts finally eased, allowing the third Quidditch match of the season to take place without Artemis either playing or watching, though the news of Hufflepuff’s triumph over Slytherin did not pass her by. She was not the only one missing out on Quidditch; Charlie Weasley was forbade from playing with his own team in the first weekend of March by Madam Pomfrey. However, Gryffindor’s loss to Ravenclaw did not serve to dampen his spirits: he and Alanza having now officially become a couple following their date at the Valentine’s Day Ball, and giving Artemis yet another reason to resent the new girl.

The aftermath of the ball’s events was still affecting Artemis’ day-to-day life: Barnaby was once more avoiding her, Liz Tuttle was constantly throwing dirty looks her way, along with several girls in her year who had at some point or other had the misfortune to date Diego Caplan, and even Penny and Tonks were still being more distant with her than they usually would be. This bothered Artemis a lot less than she thought it would, but then, she no longer felt lonely or lost, not now that she had a way of being with Rowan again. 

Artemis hadn’t told anyone about the mirror in the Come-and-Go Room, but since she had found it, she had been spending more and more time sitting in front of it, talking to Rowan, or even just looking at her. The last few visits, Artemis had taken to bringing Rowan’s books from the shelves of the dormitory up to the seventh floor of the castle, where she would sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror, reading out loud to her silent, smiling best friend. Sometimes this would go on for hours, with Artemis missing dinner most nights to stay with Rowan. She had even started getting up early in the mornings to see Rowan before classes, and had been late for several lessons since she had discovered the mirror. She didn’t care. When she was with Rowan, she felt calm. It was as if everything that had happened in the past few months was just a dream, and it was just her and Rowan, together again.

“‘I’m afraid I can’t explain myself, because I’m not myself, you see’,” Artemis read aloud, having gone up to the seventh floor one lunchtime in the second week of March. She paused, looking at the illustration on the page of the small blue book she held in her hand. “You know, reading this reminds me of the time Ben was missing, and we snuck into the Slytherin common room using the Shrinking Charm. You remember that, don’t you?”

She looked up from the book at where Rowan sat opposite her within the gold frame, expecting her to smile and nod in reply, but Rowan wasn’t looking at her. Behind her silver glasses, her eyes were fixed on the door.

“Is someone coming?” Artemis asked, and Rowan shook her head. “No? Then why -” 

Artemis turned her head towards the door, and stopped speaking immediately when she saw what Rowan was looking at. Or, rather, who Rowan was looking at.

“Charlie, what are you doing here?” 

“Looking for you,” said Charlie. He was leaning in the doorway, staring at Artemis with his red eyebrows knitted together and a wary look in his eyes. “You didn’t turn up for Charms or Care of Magical Creatures, so I tried to find you.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, and he tilted his head slightly, still staring at Artemis. “Who are you talking to?”

Artemis swallowed, and looked at Rowan from the side of her eyes. Rowan blinked. The two of them stood up.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone? Not even Bill or Alanza?” 

“I promise.”

“Okay,” said Artemis, and she gestured towards the mirror. “Come and look.”

Charlie breathed deeply, and walked over to her. She stepped sideways slightly, so that there was room for him to stand next to her in front of the mirror. 

“Aright, I’m looking,” said Charlie. “What am I looking at, exactly?”

“What do you mean? She’s-” Artemis looked up at Charlie’s face. He looked a bit confused, but not amazed, or even surprised. She frowned. “You don’t see her, do you?”

“See her? See... Rowan?” Charlie’s eyebrows raised momentarily, before furrowing again as Artemis nodded. He looked at her, at the mirror, and then back at her again. “No, Artemis. I don’t.”

“But she’s right there, she’s looking right at you.”

“I don’t see her. I’m sorry,” Charlie shook his head. “Is this where you’ve been disappearing to the last few weeks? All those times you’ve missed breakfast, or been late for lessons?”

Artemis glanced at Rowan. They’d been caught out. She nodded, unable to look Charlie in the eye. She heard Charlie swear under his breath.

“I think we should go,” he said, softly.

“You can if you like,” Artemis replied, still looking at Rowan. “I want to stay here a bit longer.”

“I really don’t think that’s-”

“I really don’t care what you think.”

Charlie took a step forward, placing himself between Artemis and the mirror. Rowan looked at Artemis over his shoulder.

“Artemis, look at me,” said Charlie, his voice firmer than before. “Stop looking at... her. Look at me.”

Artemis looked up at him. His face was serious, earnest. He leant in towards her slightly, so that his eyes were level with hers.

“This isn’t right,” he told her. “You, coming here, it’s not good for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not. If you really thought that it was, you wouldn’t have kept it a secret,” Charlie shrugged. For some reason, that annoyed Artemis. “You’d have told-”

“Told who, Charlie? Penny and Tonks are too busy making potions and they think I’m a prat, and Bill’s not even in the country, and I barely recognise Ben anymore, and-”

“You could have told me.”

“Yeah, right,” Artemis scoffed at him. “When am I meant to tell you anything anymore? You never want to see me.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“It’s completely true, Charlie. You only ever want to spend time with Alanza.”

“That’s...” Charlie sighed, and ran one hand through his hair, pausing at the nape of his neck and scratching nervously. “Artemis, you wanted me to spend time with Alanza.”

“I wanted you to keep her out of my way. I didn’t want you to get off with her,” said Artemis, “and I definitely didn’t want you to ignore me whenever you’re with her.”

“I don’t ignore you, it’s just very hard to hold a conversation with both of you at the same time when you’re so intent on making her feel unwelcome.”

“She is unwelcome.”

“Artemis...”

“She is sleeping in Rowan’s bed, Charlie.”

There was a moment of complete silence, and Artemis glared at Charlie, who looked down at his feet and nodded slowly.

“Oh,” he said.

“Is that all you have to say?” Artemis snapped, and Charlie shrugged his infuriating shrug again. Artemis narrowed her eyes at him. “She is sleeping in Rowan’s bed, and every morning when I wake up I look over and I think that it’s Rowan, back in her bed, and every morning it isn’t Rowan, it��s her.”

“I didn’t realise that,” said Charlie, gently. “Artemis, look, I know-”

“No, Charlie, you don’t know,” Artemis said, her voice rising. “You don’t know anything. How could you? You’ve never lost anyone. You’ve never had anyone leave you, or die, or kill your best friend. You don’t even have a best friend, you just have a brother, well, good for you, your brother cares about you, and your mum cares about you, and you have so many people around you that you want to be alone, and you’re going to bloody leave too, as soon as you get the chance.”

“That’s not fair at all.”

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FAIR!” Artemis shouted. “If things were fair Rowan would be standing here, and not me. She was the clever one, she was the thoughtful one, she was the one with plans and people who loved her and wanted her to come home. And now she’s never going to go home again, or see her family, or do any of the things she wanted to do, or anything because she’s...” Artemis took a shaky breath. Charlie didn’t move an inch. “She’s dead, and it’s all my fault, and I thought she was gone for good, but now she’s here, and I can make it right, I can make it up to her if I just come back here and be with her-”

“That’s not her, Artemis. It’s just-”

“It is not just a mirror! It’s Rowan!”

“No, it’s a reflection of Rowan, and it’s bad for you,” said Charlie. His voice was calm, but it didn’t make Artemis feel calmer. If anything, it made her feel even angrier. “You need to leave the mirror alone, and you need to stop pointing your wand at me.”

Artemis hadn’t even realised that she was pointing her wand at Charlie, but she didn’t lower it.

“You need to stop telling me what to do,” she told him. “You need to leave me and Rowan alone.”

“I’m not doing that,” Charlie said, very quietly, his eyes flicking from Artemis’ face to her wand and back. “Please, just put your wand down, and listen to-”

“I’m done listening to you,” Artemis growled, stepping towards Charlie and holding her wand in a combative position. “Go away, Charlie, or I’ll-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Artemis’ wand flew from her hand towards Charlie, and he caught it in his left hand. Her eyes grew dark.

“Give that back.”

“No.”

“Give me back my wand.”

“No.”

“Charlie, I swear to Merlin...”

“I’ll give you back your wand when you stop being like this,” 

“I’m not being like anything, I just want to be with Rowan.” 

“That is not Rowan.”

“Get out of my way!”

But Charlie would not give Artemis back her wand, and nor would he get out of her way. He stood stock still between her and the mirror, not reacting even when she shoved him gently, and again, harder. Nor did he relent when she balled her hands up into fists and pummelled them against his chest, screaming wordlessly until her breath caught in her throat and a great tremor shook all the way through her and her knees felt like they might give way and she couldn’t breathe and… and…

Just as she felt like the world was slipping away from her, Charlie wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her in towards him, holding her tightly against his body. Her eyes were closed, and her face was damp, and her whole body was shaking, but Charlie did not let her go, even as she struggled against him, still weakly trying to hit. His grip tightened and as the fight drained out of her, she broke down with great racking sobs, crying desperately into the wool of his jumper as he held on, steadfast and stoic, the movements of his chest guiding her own weak breaths.

As she felt the storm inside her subside, the pressure with which Charlie held her against him began to ease, and she was back there, in the Room of Requirement, its high ceiling above her head, and the flagstone floor beneath her feet. 

The room was silent, eerily so.

“I miss her so much,” she whispered, eventually.

“I know you do.”

“And now she’s here, and I know you think it’s just a mirror, but it’s not. Just because you can’t see it, that doesn’t mean it’s not real. I’m not seeing things, and I’m not lying.”

“I believe you,” Charlie smiled sadly. “You can see her and I can’t. But think about it, this is the Room of Requirement, right? Maybe the mirror is just showing you what you need to see.”

Artemis frowned, saying nothing.

“Maybe,” continued Charlie, “the mirror is showing you Rowan so that you can say goodbye.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can.”

“No,” Artemis shook her head. “I can’t just leave her here. She’s my best friend.”

“And you’re hers. Think about it. If things were the other way around, would you want Rowan to stay stuck in here day after day? Would you want to keep her trapped like this?”

“No.”

“So, what makes you think she would want the same thing for you?” Charlie shrugged, and Artemis found herself unable to answer his question. “You can do it. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” Artemis admitted, blinking back a fresh round of tears. Charlie smiled.

“You’re Artemis Hexley. Who do you think you are?” he said, and as Artemis’ lips twitched, he let go of her, and held out her wand. “Here. I’ll wait outside for you.”

Artemis took back her wand, and Charlie moved out of her way. In the mirror, Rowan was still smiling, though there were tears in her eyes.

“Is it true, Rowan?” Artemis asked her, having heard the door shut behind her. “Do you really want me to leave you here?”

Rowan’s smile didn’t slip as she slowly nodded her head.

“You don’t mind?”

This time, a shake of Rowan’s head. Artemis stepped closer to the mirror.

“Well, just because I’m leaving, that doesn’t mean that I don’t care. You’ll still be my best friend, always, and I’ll be yours, right?” 

In response to Artemis’ question, Rowan nodded again, and the two of them placed their palms against the glass. 

“I am so sorry about everything. I should never have… I feel like this is all my fault.” 

Another shake of the head. 

“No, it is. But I hope that you can forgive me, one day.”

The look in Rowan’s eyes was all the answer that Artemis needed.

“Yeah, fine. You already do,” Artemis smiled as Rowan nodded her head once more. “I love you.”

Artemis pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, and so too did Rowan. When she spoke at last, her breath fogged up the glass between them:

“Goodbye, Rowan.”

With the last shred of resolve she had, she stepped away from the mirror, turned around, and left the Room of Requirement without looking back. Outside, just as he had said he would be, Charlie was waiting for her. As she shut the door behind her, they made eye contact and walked away down the corridor without saying a word. When they reached the stone bridge, stepping outside to feel the cool night air and the moonlight on their faces, Artemis paused, looking out over the Black Lake. 

“You alright?” asked Charlie, and Artemis hummed in response. “Yeah, wrong choice of word. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Artemis said. “I’ve been so horrible to everyone. Alanza and Barnaby-”

“They’ll come around.”

“- and you.”

“I’ve already come around.”

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that. I didn’t mean what I said, I just was hurting and I… I’m sorry,” Artemis sighed. “Thank you for not leaving me.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your Common Room.”

Artemis shook her head. “No. I’d like to stay out here for a moment before I go back.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Charlie offered, and when Artemis shook her head again, he frowned. “You sure?”

“I won’t go back there, I promise.”

“I know you won’t.”

“Goodnight, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled and looked as if he was about to turn away, but he paused, and told her: “It’s not true, you know, what you said. I do actually have a best friend.”

“Yeah, I know. I forgot about Jae because I was angry.”

“Jae’s not my best friend, Artemis. You are,” Charlie said, simply. Artemis bit her lip and frowned, and he shook his head. “It’s alright. I know I’m not Rowan. I’m not trying to be Rowan, it’s just… Well, it’s just how it is. Anyway. Goodnight.”

With that, he cleared his throat, and walked away. Artemis turned her face from him, a strange kind of calm washing over her as she watched the way the moonlight reflected on the gentle ripples of the lake below. She pulled out her wand, and tried to think of something happy.

“Expecto patronum.”

A tiny wisp of silver issued from her wand, the same shade of light as the full moon looking down at her. She shivered slightly, feeling as if the moon wasn’t the only one watching, and then she noticed a shape at the edge of the lake. She squinted, and saw that the shape was that of a wolf, bathing in the moonlight on the lakeshore. But the moment she locked eyes on the creature, it turned tail and ran away, presumably running home to its den, where its family would be waiting for it. Back in the Hufflepuff dormitory, Penny and Tonks would be waiting for her, and Artemis realised suddenly how much she missed them.

And so, she turned away from the Black Lake, and went back inside the castle that, despite everything, was still her home.

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #charlie weasley #penny haywood #nymphadora tonks #alanza alves

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/18/2022: BLOODLINE (2018)

Spoilers be here.

Sometimes I have to include a movie in my Blogtober program just to be like, "Have you guys seen this shit?!" BLOODLINE is a real oddball, and even if it isn't going to be my favorite discovery of the season, it's the kind of thing I love to stumble upon: A thriller starring a known Hollywood quantity that offers a perplexing blend of ponderous philosophizing and lowdown sleaze.

Seann William Scott, whose name I have been misspelling, plays Evan Cole, a caring social worker who counsels at-risk high school students in the suburbs. At home, his gorgeous Italian wife Lauren (Mariela Garriga) has just given him a little boy, whom he also councils out loud at night. Evan is so devoted to the young because of his own abusive childhood, but social service and fatherhood are not the only outlets for his lingering angst: He is also a serial murderer who takes out his rage on the school district's bad dads.

By now you may feel like you have a handle on the tone of this thing, but it's actually very slippery. Having read the plot summary, I wondered if I were watching the wrong movie when it begins with a graphic shower scene at the end of which a hot, naked nurse is brutally slashed to death by an unseen killer. But no, soon enough we're introduced to Evan's world as expected, where the children of pedophiles, selfish drug addicts, and violent bigots are are surreptitiously freed from their torments by their righteously indignant guidance counselor. The film's CHILD'S PLAY-like color palate enforces a sense of stunted youth, as Evan is most confident in the company or service of children. Meanwhile at home, he struggles with the tension between his wife and his mother Marie (the inimitable Dale Dickie), who battle for supremacy over both Evan and the baby.

The extreme violence with which Evan dispatches a series of cartoon bad guys seems to stand in ironic juxtaposition to the his infantilized status at home, but actually, all this material is a part of the same continuum. The ultimate question of BLOODLINE is not about whether Evan can grow up and manage his subverted frustrations in a more mature way before he gets in too much trouble; it's about whether Lauren is going to be able to get with the program, as she slowly begins to realize what's going on. As it turns out, Evan and Marie are both serial killers, her career having started with Evan's bad dad. Therefore, innocent Lauren is the aberrant one, and her aversion to violence translates to disloyalty to the family—even disloyalty to her husband's whole ethos, which requires him to abandon her and their baby at night to "help" other families. Lauren doesn't have the benefit of Evan and Marie's solidarity, as she is said to have no family at all, having survived her youth by doing things no one dares to mention. Suddenly, it starts to feel like it's really Evan's beautiful young wife who has lost the plot, lacking the philosophical fortitude and sense of commitment enjoyed by her husband and mother-in-law. From there, the movie proceeds accordingly.

I'm not totally sure what BLOODLINE wants from me. It seems to make the mistake of hanging its entire existence on an ironic twist to which all other narrative elements are subservient. The ostensible hero needs no character arc as long as the point of the movie is just to make sure everyone else is on his side. All the gesturing about familial integrity seems kind of silly when it's interspersed with spurting gore effects (and a particularly hilarious and audacious "live birth" scene), and it becomes less and less convincing as the family takes the lives of less and less guilty victims. It's as if TEXAS CHAINSAW has been transplanted to the 'burbs, and the audience is meant to hope with all our hearts that they get to preserve their way of life. With all that said, I have the impression that BLOODLINE would work better as a comedy instead of being so relentless grim—something I practically never prefer! But in the meantime, I enjoy the feeling of being baffled, and of being led to this bizarre conclusion.

#blogtober #blogtober 2022 #bloodline #2018 #henry jacobson #william honley #Avra Fox-Lerne #seann william scott #dale dickie #Mariela Garriga #horror #slasher #thriller #serial killer #serial murder #vigilante

[surferspider]

ISSUE #001: A PROLOGUE, PROTRACTED

tl;dr: on the cusp of college-connected change as they come to the age where childhood ends and endless disappointment begins, earth-45013’s versions of ben and richard parker discover the existence of alchemax. content warnings for swearing, spiders, blood, mentions of drowning and death, physical aggression, and brief potty humour, because if a sibling relationship is going to be realistic…

(also bendis speak + claremont narration. send help.)

BRUCE Palmer would have died for his brother. In the same vein of sibling sentimentality, he was determined to kill his brother. There. Then. On the crowded beach with the picnic sponsored by the nursing home. With the glorified barbecue stick Rafferty had glued that stupid cardboard parasol on during his class for the industrial arts instead of, he didn’t know, actually completing the woodworking project Mr Smith assigned every year to every student who dared to breathe in the general direction of his whittling course. If the pathetic timber slice was stable enough to support a patchwork canopy of paper mache, it was sturdy enough to stab the precious baby boy of the family in his fifteen-kilometres-thick skull. A fifteen-year-old was leagues across from a baby, in Bruce’s humble opinion, and that line of thinking among many, many others would be reflected in his prison-call hesped for the mourning period. And the radius of bloody sand kids would be making urban legends on. 

Focus on the here and now.

“Get your official, wonderful Super Sackman wares here. Catch the current Quirky Quartet comics before they blow up into pee-nomenal popularity.”

One of the comics, inked on the same paper mache that made up Rafferty’s deprived excuse of a vendor, flew straight into Bruce’s face. He stomped forwards onto a conveniently dramatic twig.

“Oh, good grief and grawlixes, something’s really blowing up,” Rafferty said, continuing to exchange crude paper bag masks with his bright-eyed, barely-toothed clientele. The boy hadn’t expected Bruce to show up to any of their regular haunts just yet, even if skipping his last few classes on parents’ night was blase past both their limits. Half his mind believed Bruce might’ve still been at his graduation ceremony, the festivities lasting as long as necessary for the Southern hemisphere to congratulate him with cake and handshakes and internships at Oscorp Industries. Seriously. Internships.

Bruce peeled the paper off to reveal the trademarked Palmer scowl. He slammed it on top of the parasol, which spasmed in response. “You think?”

Rafferty punched him in the gut. Something about his salesperson act made him a lot better at punching. “Hey, that wasn’t alliterative.”

“Your face won’t be alliterative when Mum’s done with you.”

“I’ll still be the spunk of us, though.” Rafferty grinned. His chin was still the teensiest bit lacerated. 

The less work for an infection to crawl in, the better, Bruce thought. He managed to think better than to say it out loud, though. According to the studies he’d done in the past week, empty nest syndrome was the second leading cause of death among younger siblings. You know, aside from their older siblings and parents, who were, based on empirical evidence, currently hysterical as they dressed up for parents’ night.

“What is this? What are you doing?” Bruce asked, waving the soggy, sorry cover of Quirky Quarter’s seventeenth issue in the stifling summer air. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have gotten more revenue on a weekend?”

“Yes. The elders love me, champ. They say I’m a grown brain betwixt their sagacious calibre and their bodily prowess.”

“Marjorie needs new diapers! Raffy, cuddlepie, won’t you get some from the duffel there?”

Rafferty included two entirely new teeth in his gnashing smile, saluting Marjorie’s screeching sister as he marched to the bag. Bruce followed, footsteps heavy on squishing piles of seaweed and less describable matters from the great brine, and then felt severe regret for that decision. Surrounded by flies and paper plates on the abandoned table, the duffel was home to a variety of incontinence pants, including full ones. To his credit, Rafferty didn’t seem bothered until he picked up a very full one. Bruce stifled a snort behind his already-pinched nose.

“Hey, you can’t deny they love me,” Rafferty said, tossing the fresh underwear to Bruce’s hand. Allegedly fresh, anyhow. There was still a touch of moisture in the critical areas. Whatever. Bruce was never going to get the chance to wear them, if Rafferty and his antics had their way around his pulmonary health.

“Maybe not, but I cannot believe you put so much effort into making these failsafes in case of your disownment. Which is definitely going to happen, by the way, unless you show up this evening in a graduation gown with a Guttchalk medal and a few billion dollars.” 

“Eh, been a long time coming. Either the disowning or the medal.” Rafferty shrugged, hauling the duffel bag over his shoulder. Said shoulder sagged and popped in protest. Evidently, spending all his waking and sleeping hours either drawing, surfing, or arguing with his family wasn’t enough to get him more than a sliver of muscle. “I hate you, you hate me. I thought you’d be glad to see me out of our prestigious mansion.”

They approached the site of the picnic, sidestepping sharp, multicoloured wrappers for brands they couldn’t afford. There was something poignant, about how all those puckering strangers getting sand in their unflattering prescription glasses got along better than Bruce and his family these days, however happy most of them claimed to be about his admission to the University of Melbourne. Guess who the exception was?

“None of that now. If you went, neither of us would get to enjoy having a real, individual room for once,” Bruce replied, appealing to worse sensibilities. “Mum might even have it rented to Mr Tommasi.”

“No. No. Don’t even joke about that. You’re a horrible person. I reckon that guy’s a reincarnation of Peeping Tom from Coventry,” Rafferty said, making a great show of choking on whatever saliva managed to pass down his toothpick throat. “Look, just… could we leave all this stuff about Mum and teachers behind?”

“What, in the five minutes of past since we started talking?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Bruce said. “You cut class. You almost made her start a search party. You’re selling half-made comic books about a ‘superpowered’ unit of scientists with unrealistic hairstyles on the seashore to hospice escapees.”

Rafferty shoved the duffel bag on Marjorie’s table harder than strictly need be, expression taut. Right on cue, a miniature tornado spun the amateur writer’s precious works to the farthest corners of the continent.

“Pissing pufferfish,” Rafferty cursed. Thank Garpike that Marjorie hadn’t taught him any real expressions of vulgarity yet.

“See, even the winds want you to go to the conference. It is fate. Destiny. Whichever one you pretend to be in those comics,” Bruce said, slapping his brother’s back into a somewhat acceptable posture. “Mum knows that you are smart. Would it kill you to act like it until you get to college?”

Rafferty bit his lip so hard that he could taste blood. It was becoming a nervous habit, with the sheer quantity of SeriousTM talks they were having about his future. He was smart. More importantly, he did not have the immaculate patience needed to hear another gang of academic geriatrics insist otherwise, erasing all hopes of a decent future. Most importantly, he wanted to hear that compliment from his brother. One first and last time, before they were going to be separated for good by the real world.

He smiled again. “But does she know I’m smart enough to find a brand new waterfall in the park rainforest?”

Bruce’s jaw unhinged. One muscle and destroyed molar at a time, he shifted it back into position. He was an adult. An effigy of maturity. He was not going to be some gullible enabler to Rafferty’s self-effacing delusions. He could not, would not, break his mother’s trust in him. In them. “You’re lying to me.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Are?”

“Not. Oh, fuck me dead.”

“There are totally mermaids willing to do that, where we’re going,” Rafferty said. “They’ve got real low standards, only having these tiny algae-covered rocks and mutated fishing spiders for company. That’s how I got my first girlfriend.”

“You are totally lying now,” Bruce chuckled, the sound of bemusement coming out on its own accord. In his defense, the grannies nearby were cracking up, too, though perhaps not for the same reasons. Marjorie’s pruned hand reaching for the duffel bag solidified that hypothesis into fact.

“Yes, I am. Nobody could ever, ever have standards low enough for you,” Rafferty proclaimed. Bruce thought of May Riley—valedictorian May Riley, going to university overseas May Riley, nuclear power plant princess May Riley—and flinched. “But I promise you there’s a new waterfall. There’s this gorgeous rock face around it, cracked like some Renaissance-level mosaic. You know how tall the trees are near Ditko’s Grotto? Imagine those trees’ grandparents, strong and towering dancing in the wind. And the cool, salty wind splashes cool, crystal water on your feet as you treat yourself to dozens of berries, sweet and sloshing in your mouth like hypnosis if it was liquid.”

Bruce sighed. Weighed his options. Resolved to get Rafferty into a first grade creative writing class one of these days. Ran a calloused hand through tangled hair. “Fine.”

And so Rafferty bolted through the spinning driftwood gates of the nature reserve, kicking sand upwards of Bruce’s dress shirt. A race, then. Bruce sprinted close behind, bounding across the beaten sandstone path with each wind-shocking stride, getting closer and closer to his brother’s slow, inelegant, scrawny figure, so easy to despise in close quarters but regard with wonderment when it was running like a wild animal. A hundred thousand ultra-saturated hues of vegetation and bark and red flags marking safety blurred to become nature in abundance. 

They skipped across streams and stone and leaped past logs and piles of leaves. Logs hirsute with moss dropped into mud at their precipitate pace. The deeper they went, the fresher and wetter the mud, wildly splashing over unruly, virulent roots, encroaching on the territory of saplings whose necks snapped under their feet. After hours spent in clinical, cerebral rooms with metallic air and metallic people, Bruce was happy to be free, in spite of such liberty being weighed down by his worries about parents’ night.

Bruce slowed. Parents’ night. He gulped. Better to not think about it. Best not to think. He stepped forward onto a pile of verdant leaves. He did not step forward with his best foot, and the ground gave way to colloidal clay in a vivid russet. Oh, a brilliant plot twist. It was his death all along. Creative enough to be in a Quirky Quartet comic strip, that was for certain.

The first reaction from the boy he’d cooked for, cleaned for, been a punching bag for? Laughter. “How’d you fall down a hole that tiny?”

Bruce swallowed down a quip about their ambiguous parentage and gestured to the leaves surrounding him. “It might have been a trap.”

Rafferty kneeled down. There was a thin rope tied to a peg, but nothing else that suggested the presence of some incompetent poacher. “For what, bonehead?”

“Little brothers who keep asking questions instead of helping their Vogal laureate older brothers out of quicksand.”.

“Well, then, it’s not very effective.” Rafferty stood up, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Oh, great, now Rafferty was thinking. Enter hearse. “That’s not quicksand.”

Bruce tried to throw a wedge of sediment at the bastard’s face. His throwing arm being stuck underneath liquefied doom was not helping the situation. “Then why am I sinking very quickly?”

“Because you’re moving at all, maybe? But the texture’s wrong.” Rafferty’s eyes disappeared into a frown. Bruce was just waiting for the evil cackle, and the scenario would be complete. An evil scheme Marjorie’s anus would be proud of, concocted between all those skipped classes and accomplished by his very own greed. “Try standing up.”

Bruce rolled his eyes so far back he could see his brain disintegrating at the very suggestion. If he was going to be humiliated into perishing, he was going to make it as guilt-inducing as possible. One leg after the other, he pushed downwards. The pressure was pounding, throbbing, dull in some places and sharp in others. It almost felt as though there was something the size of his hand wrapping itself around his ankle, skittering across his shin with prickling legs. The surface was developing a swampy, bubbling tone directly above where he’d felt the crawling sensation. He thrust his foot down the final distance, and found that he could, in fact, stand up.

“That was not quicksand,” Bruce said, releasing himself from the tenuous grasp of the wet dirt. Take that, spectral scythe-wielder breathing down his neck wherever he went, whether that be interviews with college admissions officers or the rainforest housing sixty different kinds of bats and all kinds of gruesome endings.

“Man, you’re getting old.”

“If you do not wash my shirt until it shines later, I am telling Marjorie you said that, you age-treacherous dipstick. Where to next?”

A flash of green light burst from underneath the mud. Bruce’s eyes were screwed as shut as he could manage, but there remained coruscating streaks of viridescence, blinding, burning into his retinas. An intangible substance felt acrid in his nose and mouth, as though something rancid had entered the atmosphere and was currently spreading itself across his interior flesh. When he tried to cough, he couldn’t open his mouth, his jaw too heavy and slow, the hinges of his bones anaesthetised. But there was still such serrated pain shooting through his head–

A shove. “Um, hello, Earth to granddad. You going back to the chemist for your meds or going with me to the best waterfall ever?”

Bruce opened his eyes. No more pain, no strange phenomena obstructing his senses. Just them and the rainforest. It must have been global warming. “Sure.”

Regardless of the alacrity with which Bruce composed himself in a series of clothes-destroying motions, Rafferty must have detected his discomfort with the situation, because he took the lead with the same bulk of hesitation dragging his feet down. Their track twisted and turned at every opportunity, with their seamless weaving through the thickets slowing to account for the labyrinth of strangling vines they’d stumbled into. At several points, Rafferty’s incessant excuses about having travelled the path, which was a term being used in the loosest possible manner, became far too convincing for Bruce’s liking. In their childhood, he’d been tasked with yanking Rafferty’s gangling limbs out of pudding and vending machine slots. In the bowels of their present scenery, he was wrenching the boy from thorns and woody stems crackling like lightning around their ankles and precious heads of hair. He supposed he couldn’t complain. It’s not as though he knew any better.

“I forgot to tell you about this part.”

Bruce tilted his head, careful to not get any more of his luscious locks snagged on the congregation of withies to their side. In front of them was the clearest land they’d ever come across in the reserve, with even grass and minimal puddles. The view would have been idyllic if not for the blanket of translucent snow over everything in sight. Considering the sweltering temperatures of the summer, though, it couldn’t be snow, sleet, or graupel. The greyish fabric of indescribable matter threaded together from the branches of trees above them. In the centre, a congregation of dark forms jumped.

Spiders. Gigantic spiders with legs thick and black enough to be leeches, fattened glossy abdomens infested with boils, and beady eyes that shone with intelligence or hopelessness. Gigantic spiders that were inching towards them with clicking, hungry chelicerae.

“They’re alive?”

“For now.” Rafferty’s voice already spanned five octaves, as the synagogue choir had been delighted to discover. Nevertheless, it cracked into an operatic soprano as he attempted to explain himself. “It wasn’t this bad before. I think it’s happening all over the eastern states. Something to do with, um, hurricanes. Past fifty years, climate change changing things. Jonah from school told me it happened to his vacation house in Victoria over the electricity poles and fences. It only took a few days for them to blow away again.”

“I trust that Jameson kid as much as his so-called moustache could throw him,” Bruce said. He proceeded to whip his head around, creating a fault line in his collarbone that would haunt him for millennia to come. “Wait, a few days?”

“A few days.”

Bruce’s eyes must have fallen out of their sockets and done an Irish jig as he bled out on the lush, arachnid-covered ground.

“A really few days, I swear. Like…” Rafferty bit his lip. The scabbing ruptured anew.  “Eighteen at most.”

“I’m going home. I’m going home right now. I’m going home and telling Mum you were devoured by a pack of wild spiders that are going to be the harbingers of the apocalypse because there wasn’t enough meat on you to be considered a proper sacrifice.”

Rafferty dragged him closer and, with surprising force, shoved him to face the spiders as a kind of meat shield. He did implicate himself as having more meat, when push came to shove in the literal sense. “We’re so close. At least stay to see them season me.”

Before Bruce could formulate any further arguments, he was face down on the floor, eyelids and mouth covered in webbing. He scrambled to get back onto his feet, launching his arms to what could have been his sides or the abyss at the edge of reality or both, but couldn’t land on anything other than a spider leg. A spider leg without a spider body. Oh, this was it for him, and he didn’t even get the grace of insulting Rafferty’s insensibilities one last time. He tripped over his own feet, landing in a patch of gossamer layered with a profusion of webs to the point where it felt solid. No, no, no. He had so many more professors to bribe with his kale and broccoli muffins. He had so much to tattle on Rafferty for. He had so much life left to waste.

Unable to spend his last moments without sight or one last jab at his mother’s amazing prodigal fuck-him-dead son, he tore at the adhesive sewing his lips and eyes shut using his jagged, dirty fingernails. His breath came in short, loud bursts as he looked straight ahead. Safety taunted him from too many feet away. Then again, being negative one million feet in the spider flood would be too close for comfort for Bruce ‘Built a Makeshift Flamethrower in Science Class to Kill the Daddy-Long-Legs in the Cafetorium’ Palmer. And as the cherry on top of the suffering sundae, Rafferty was right beside him wearing that idiotic grin of his.

“Race you there.”

An announced race? A momentous occasion. A tempting offer. “Prize?”

“Not being pushed back in the spider pit.”

Bruce demolished the disgusting track no matter what skin-prickling obstacles stood in front him. His shoes tore through webs and their spinners alike, a sickening crunch and splatter of clear fluid against his ankles alerting him to when the latter occurred. Which was every other millisecond, between him and Rafferty, who congratulated himself with every corpse left in the forest ground. The flat ground led to a short hill, a stream cutting the spiders’ tyranny short. They both fell in face first. The Palmers’ misfortune was able to bend gravity as well, apparently. They stood up, flicking the gravel on their faces onto each other’s clothing.

“Wasn’t that fun?” Rafferty asked after shaking his so-incredibly-empty head dry, holding his fist out.

Bruce made no effort to disguise his trembling. He did, however, return the fist bump. “No. We see this place the one time, and after that, I turn Oscorp into a demolition contractor so I can replace this entire area with a trashy shopping centre full of people who will sell you basic necessities at five hundred times their regular price.”

Rafferty gave him a two-fingered salute. “Aw, aren’t you sentimental?”

The remaining terrain was clear and flat, to Bruce’s (and, if either of them were to be honest with their observations, Rafferty ‘Stole His Brother’s Flamethrower to Kill the Googly-Eyed Clay Ant Model From the Kindergarten Arts Display Because He Mistook It for a Spider’ Palmer’s) unadulterated relief. He was on the verge of frolicking as he crossed yet more puddles and pebbles. The trail was so easy to follow that an armoured truck could have navigated it without issue.

They noticed the tire tracks at the same time. Rafferty noticed the armoured truck first.

Armoured was doing the truck a grand disservice, in reality. Truck was doing whatever it was a terrible insult, presumably punishable by being blasted with whatever came out of the massive mechanical cannon on top. Geometric plates in camouflage print lined its surface area, an exoskeleton somehow unblemished by the daggers of overgrowth encompassing every other area in the rainforest. The sole element ruining the vehicle’s stealthiness was the series of pulsating green veins running between the plates’ gaps. Bruce blinked once, twice, thrice. It must have travelled backwards from aeons into the future. Just fifteen years ago, the country’s military had been stuck with rusty museum fare to fight their battles, and now wheeled tanks could take casual strolls through the park without anyone noticing.

And where was his brother, the science fiction connoisseur, the superhero superfan? Rafferty was working on puncturing the truck’s tires with a stick shorter than his forearm. Bruce swore, there and then, that he wasn’t even going to attempt coaxing the cretin away from his grave.

“What are you doing?” Never mind, he was going to attempt it, and he was going to do so with incredible volume.

Rafferty glanced at Bruce before continuing to press and prod at miscellaneous bumps on the truck’s side. “Checking if we can steal anything.” 

The truck’s posterior doors unfolded in a brief series of whirs and ticks to reveal a laboratory. A more experimental configuration of alien-looking apparatus next to pedestrian microscopes, weights, and friability testers. Bruce had seen the same brands during his tour of his college, but he’d never seen test tubes containing black, metallic materials that slithered around the truck’s interior without kinetic influence. Were there magnets nearby? In the tubes, even? That didn’t justify the physics-defying acrobatics of the substance, combining and separating after forming polygons as if sentient. But obviously they weren’t sentient. There had to be someone controlling them with a remote of sorts. There had to be someone watching them.

Watching them. Shit.

Someone in a lab coat was approaching them at a stroll. Bruce recognized the placement of the pockets, the pompous aquamarine detailing on the collar and cuff. It was one of the tenured professors at the college, the one who had boasted about being the chief of neurosurgical oncology at an American hospital. She was holding a radio transceiver. 

Grabbing his brother’s arm, he hissed, “We need to go.”

The prospective burglar remained immobile, transfixed on the body leaping to Bruce’s wrist. Bruce looked down to find a redback spider with a sticker reading 45001 on its abdomen fording the back of his hand, rearing its head. He did not understand why he stared at the number. He had another hand, twitching next to him, conscious and usable. Yet even as its legs needled past his palm, he was still, staring, still staring. If it was labelled, it was important. If he killed it, there would be consequences. He was smelling the smell from the quicksand hallucination.

“–eed to go!”

Rafferty smacked his hand, cracking his wrist and annihilating the redback’s form into a snarl of sparking wires. The professor was yelling something at them, and Bruce made note to drop her class as soon as his entrails got back to campus. An engine revved in the distance. Underbrush gave way to rock staircases as the harshing wind ripped through their lungs, and the rock was soon gashed and waterlogged, cut in places where even the most harrowing weather couldn’t reach. They were approaching a body of water at last.

“Have to tell you the truth,” Rafferty gasped out. “There’s no new waterfall.”

“What?”

“No. New. Waterfall,” he said. “Lied to you. Your fault for believing me.”

“No.”

“New waterfall, you’ve got it.”

“No.”

“New waterfall, we’ve been over this.” “You’re not funny.”

“And I’m not joking.”

It was a tragic production, yet Bruce sensed a laugh writhing in his chest. All of that time, mocking Rafferty’s deficiency in sense and committing such a grievous offence as enjoying himself for once, had led to a waterfall bereft of the water, full of the fall. Rafferty was rambling on. He was vehement, urgent, carving chasms between them. The noise shot into empty space, a vacuum without anything to carry his waves of nothing. Why was he talking? What was he saying? Why had he lied? Why did Bruce care?

There was no time for answers that Bruce had the patience to accept. Rubble crashed onto metal from metres away. Rafferty, cherished by the prophets of the Genesis flood as one of their own, reaped what he had sown, received what he wanted, never to experience hardship alone. Conviction crashed into postulation, tyres slashed through mud behind them. Between whatever greenhouse gases were combusting in the engine and the hot air escaping Rafferty’s mouth, breathing was impossible. The trees couldn’t breathe, either. They’d been turned to stumps, most of them. Bruce turned around. There was a rope bridge hanging from the cliff face just beside them.

“Bridge,” he said, breathless in spite of all the time they’d stood doing nothing but breathing. “Go.”

Rafferty wavered. Then they hurtled towards oblivion for the five hundredth time that afternoon. 

The sun was no longer thrashing their eyes, but in its place came shadows from the truck and the towering sets of trees across from them. Smears of purple obscured parts of broken planks and frayed cords, blurring the line between the unstable from the demolished. Bruce wheezed and hacked as Rafferty’s elbows knocked into his spasming diaphragm. Why were there so many of them? Why was he smelling the quicksand again?

The truck was no longer following them. That was fine. That was good. His eyes were assaulted with darkness, shooting upwards from the shadows of the bridge, and then they were on the other side of the bridge, Rafferty waving goodbye to the gaudy professor. That was neither fine nor good. Bruce was to be a college student, though. It would be prudent to acquaint himself with passing out every now and then. Fun fact: coping with humour was a Palmer family pastime. So was being a horrible person.

Whooshing water seeped through the soles of Bruce’s shoes. Rafferty elbowed him (two elbows, then, thank God) and together, they shut the hell up to look at the waterfall.

They didn’t deserve to see it. There was beauty, and then there were the cascades of hydrous heliotrope before them. Its plunge pool swallowed up an untold amount of land, white froth covering clear waters. Motley birds, large and small, soared at their arrival. They were disturbances in this place that was unfettered by civilisation’s progress. Expunge the excavations of unnatural evolution, preserve

“Let’s split up.”

Bruce choked out the question forever to be asked of Rafferty’s behaviour. “Why?”

“So only you’d get killed if the truck came back,” he said. “Because we’d have more of a chance to find the way back to the beach. And because you’d only slow me down.”

The beach. Of course. Environmental hedonism knew no bounds. Every syllable he coveted the courage to put into speech came to fight on the tip of his tongue. Rafferty had never cared for the park, or the adversity faced by activists on a global basis as a result of mass ignorance to the carbon footprint of their favourite corporation, or Bruce’s feelings, which didn’t mean to exist, with Bruce being a permanent role model/servant/adult to his beloved, sacred baby brother. Every syllable lashing out from between those bloody teeth was a performative, a means to an end. Rafferty was obsessed with good stories, with good times, with good jokes. Bruce’s fault for believing him. Of course. Air was not welcome in his lungs. He nodded.

“I’ll go left, you go right?” You’re always right. 

Rafferty nodded back. “Right. Don’t tell Mum a thing.”

The badinage was no bandage. He pushed Rafferty into the lake. Volleys of aquatic thrusts embraced Rafferty’s flopping figure in a way Bruce could have never done. That was the best decision he had ever made. That would have zero negative consequences for their dynamic, aside from their dynamic being extinguished. That would be fine. That would be good.

“Do you like being lied to about something you find important, Rafferty?”

Bubbles popped in silence. An ungrateful, petty slippery dick until the end. That was right, two could play at wrangling wrasse names into vulgarities. A few more steps to his right, and he would be free to rehearse his posthumous offerings of peace in peace.

Rafferty staggered onto shore, prying Bruce’s heel from its socket.“Something’s pulling me back down.”

“Are you lying to me?”

A jetstream of water spewed out Rafferty’s mouth mixed with a quarter-formed scab.

“I will take that as a yes. Thank you for your time.”

“No, please, there’s something on my leg pulling me under. Bruce, wait!”

Classic Rafferty, offering basic decency on the condition that he was in life-threatening circumstances. Bruce looked back to find no signs of life in the lake. He squinted. Rafferty knew how to swim, but he didn’t know how to dive any further than he could drown. Rafferty could be drowning. Rafferty could be lying. His hands were sticking to his sides with sweat. Was he actually going to kill his brother?

Bruce took the plunge, eyes wide open. The novelty of the aquamarine waters fled when he saw Rafferty blind and flailing. A scorpion with the breadth of his brother’s chest had latched itself onto the bottom of his leg, dragging him down as it luminesced in the dits and dahs of a code they had no time to decipher. Stroke after stroke cleaved through the surface of the water as Bruce went deeper. With great power came great responsibility. He would not allow himself the responsibility of having murdered his brother.

Rafferty was wrestling with the scorpion–metal, order Eurypterid, supposedly extinct over four hundred years ago–and losing. Its chelipeds extended at freakish velocity, claws snapping at Rafferty’s panicked face. Bruce plummeted past biting hydrilla to use all his strength for a better cause. His corneas were being scratched past their limits, but he had to focus. In one painful pull, he put the scorpion under his arm, letting it create gashes in his stupid fancy dress shirt for as long as it took Rafferty to get back up. Which was awfully long, but he wasn’t about to complain.

The surface was a blessing neither of them deserved. Yet, they sprawled across the rocky soil, drenched in confusion, denial, and a radioactive, mutated horror show version of happiness.

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry too.”

“I hate you too.”

Voices homogenised until the commotion was nothing more than croaking chuckles. Bruce stood up. The beach beckoned them.

Karma got to him first. Electricity shot through his veins, causing him to drop the scorpion. On its shining back was a black emblem, some kind of arrowhead, possibly an initial. Underneath it was text so sans serif it might have come from the same era as the truck: ALCHEMAX. A speaker buzzed to life.

“You have activated the self…” a robotic voice stuttered, pronouncing each vowel as though it was contractually obligated to pronounce all the other vowels in less than a second. “destruct mechanism of this device, created by Doctor Rushwell. Have a nice death.”

Neon numbers flashed on the belly of the scorpion: 18,396,036 seconds. There was a smiley face in the middle of the zero.

Bruce blinked. “That’s seven months.”

Seven months to figure out what Alchemax was, who Doctor Rushwell could be, and why his professor had.

“Then we come back here in six months and thirty days.”

Without awaiting approval, Rafferty shoved the scorpion down his shirt with a satisfied flourish. It was best to let it be. Him coming home with a baby on the way was more plausible than the majority of their day’s affairs.

Rafferty sighed wistfully. “I’m so dead.”

“No, we’re so dead.”

It was the closest they would ever get to saying they loved each other.

. . .

PORTER Palmer was going to die, and his uncle was heading the guillotine. Which, by the way, was a primary subject of his next test in social studies, which, if you even care, was scheduled first thing Monday, which was a period of time starting in approximately seven hours and fifty-one minutes. And Porter was going to spend seven hours and fifty minutes of that preparation time in the middle of a nature reserve with nothing save a flashlight and a protein bar. And the protein bar was banana flavoured. The inhumanity was unbearable.

The situation had escalated at an unprecedented rate. On the alleged authority of his uncle’s ruptured eardrums, the silence of a child reading up on the constitutions of circumflexing, decapitated clergy was nothing short of deafening. Responsibility rang in those bald cochleas like a curse, and scholarly success was worthless to a man who had dropped out of the University of Melbourne to become a genuine washed-out documentarian. Now his uncle was capsizing their seaside property, filling up antediluvian backpacks with knicknacks of nothing.

“We’ve both gone there tons before,” Porter said. He had prepared his speech for hours at that point, and he was going to make his uncle listen to his pleas if it was the last thing he did.“I just think that, respectfully, in the grand scheme of the universe, there’s, like, such little point in seizing me from my studies that your sojourn’s tip is comparable to the teeth of a whale shark. Pointless.”

What remained of his uncle’s eyebrows ascended to what remained of his uncle’s hairline. The reaction was unmistakable as an admittance of defeat. In twenty-three short words that he would regret shortly, the old man’s pride became comparable to the teeth of a whale shark: vestigial. Maybe the joke had overstayed itself within Porter’s archives, but with options so scarce to begin with, could you blame it?

A smile. Humoured in loss, that was the Palmer motto. “This is a new place.” 

Pissing piranhas. The reaction was not a permanent sign of surrender, either. Porter fiddled with the systems in his occipital lobe, the ones in charge of matching the angle of a philtrum or the curve of the spine to those unpleasant, twisted ailments called feelings. It had to indicate desperation, a corrosive emotion. Desperation led to deflection, and deceit was deflection’s secretary of state, like Jean-Frédéric de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet had been for a short period of time in the eighteenth century before he was sentenced to death in 1794 for his support of the monarchy.

Porter adopted a firm position on the dull-getting-duller point: arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “Then I don’t think it exists.”

“New to you, Port. Your dad discovered it when we were younger. He loved it there.”

Ignorance was the bane of any scientist, and against his better judgement, Porter wanted to be a scientist. The abstraction of his parents’ pasts and personalities, their ultimate goals and unfulfilled dreams that would be imposed on him via football camp or creative writing classes, didn’t bother him, exactly. But there was still curiosity. On some level, he found that he disliked knowing more about species that died over thousands of years prior to humanity’s existence than his parents, who died some number of years ago that would be, in tandem, too much and too little, if he ever found out. 

Porter looked at the crooked canines that glinted in the blue of his nightlight. Uncle Bruce was lying, as he had been about inventing the adage about the moral culpability of those in power, which was an adage nobody listened to anyways. Lying seemed to be a relevant theme in revolutionary politics, so, respectfully, whatever.

The arms dropped. He cleared his throat. “Then there’s a marginally greater possibility that I will like it there.”

#>> hammerhead; headcanons #me when i spend 12 hours writing abt my character's extended family instead of writing my character

[deluluass]

Then, the dam breaks.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; dacryphilia; mild infantilization

Kuroo's not a bad person. 

Not even by a long shot. "Bad" is willfully stretching out a leg, hidden like a predator among the bushes; hungry for an unknowing soul who's naively secured with their surroundings and the crack that resounds when face finally meets floor.

Or, murder! Murder is bad, he believes.  

No, Kuroo isn't capable of any of those things. He might seem like he has a mean streak about him. What, with his sharp tongue and that incorrigible self-satisfied smirk (according to Yaku) and his words that may or may not sting like a backhanded slap sometimes. But that's all in good humor. 

Well-deserved, too, when given to the right asshole. And if he does manage to get under the skin of the wrong person, Kuroo's not above offering an apology. 

And he means it. (Occasionally.)

There's no pleasure to be had, if anyone would ask. Because, again , he's not a bad guy. He's sly: he knows that much, though he wouldn't taunt someone into visible pain just for the thrill of it.

There's a method to all this. A purpose. Not a profound one, but a reason all the same. 

So he has to admit he's feeling kinda lost figuring out why, of all people, it just really had to be you. 

There wasn't much of an option to begin with.

Art clubs had already been full. The other ones, you weren't much interested in. And by the time you realized your homeroom teacher would stop at nothing to remind you that this year was your last chance to do something other than study and prepare for exams, for once— well, it had already been too late to reconsider joining those.

Then a flyer was handed out to you.

"V-volley," the boy trailed off. 

Try as you might but you couldn't recognize him. A feat, that, considering his blond mohawk that you could spot among a crowd of thousands. 

He seemed like he'd caught a nasty spell that prevented him from meeting anyone's eyes, even as you deliberately searched his face for any sign that he'd explain himself to you. Surely, he must have a lot to say after he'd outright ambushed you from entering the cafeteria. 

"You...want me to join?" 

You were on the verge of asking for more details, focusing on the black cat (though it didn't look like it) drawn on the center of the curiously damp paper, only to find out that you'd been conversing with an empty hallway. 

A soft grumble left you. 

"Weird," you concluded, barely a whisper. "Weird, weird, weird ."

You were the volleyball team's manager since then. 

"She's not much of a talker."

Lev hunched to his knees again, sounding very much like he's running out of breath.

It should've been Kuroo's cue to gently ( gently) tell him off, that Nekoma's ace would handle a minute of catching a ball with their face with much more tenacity than he does, or that Nekoma's ace shouldn't have to catch the ball with their face in the first place, period.

" Zoning out already, Ace? " he'd planned on jeering, but instead he followed the direction of the overgrown 10 year old's gaze. 

Someone was talking to you. 

Apologizing , was more like it, if the other student's incessant bowing until his torso fell from his body was any indication. You were outside of the gym, clipboard tucked under an arm, so it was impossible to catch a word you were saying.

Not that you were saying much. Or anything at all. You only nodded. And nodded again. And after what seemed like the world's loudest "I'm so sorry, senpai!",you immediately went back inside to refill the water bottles lined atop the bench. 

"Hey," Kenma sighed, the ball in his hand aimed for a toss. "Focus."

And the cycle of Lev being an utter disappointment to the blond setter continued. 

Kuroo let out a noncommittal hum, eyes never leaving you, trailing like a lost pup as you handed out water bottles to Nobuyuki and the others. 

"Not a talker, huh," he muttered to himself. 

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three, maybe? Kuroo could scarcely remember for how many days you'd been showing up to this sweaty pit to perform your duties. On the dot. Always. Without fail. 

What he does remember was the first day.

Chin up; head held high. You strutted into their lives as if you were leading an entire militia to battle and had no time to waste.  

He teased you for it when you'd already busied yourself with clean up duty a few minutes after your (short) ( extremely concise) introduction.

("Slow down there, general," he told you with a wry chuckle. He expected any reaction from you, really.)

(He just didn't expect you to actually slow down on your cleaning and pick up on the Coach's remaining paperwork right then and there, going through it like a forest fire.)

It would take him a few more days to realize that that's just how you are. 

Even when you rejected a tongue-tied Yamamoto when he tried to ask you out. For a meal. With the other boys, of course.

Even when you took a hurtling ball to your leg and lost your footing and had the whole team scrambling for a stretcher, only for you to stand on your good leg, tell everyone "I'm okay," and walk to the nurse's office on your own.

(Kuroo doesn't think he's seen someone limp with so much grace before.)

His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Water . Water was what he needed. 

Right. 

You didn't see him coming from across the court. You were sitting on the bench and your back was turned, scribbling on that clipboard propped on your lap, yet— like clockwork, your idle hand shot out to give him the last bottle to your left before he could even finish asking for one.

He felt his lips curve as he muttered his thanks around the lid.

"Say," Kuroo began.  

You were reading the things you wrote back to yourself. 

"Mind telling me what was that about?"

You paused. You blinked up at Kuroo. 

The attention hits him like a freight train. 

That clear as summer sky gaze, unclouded and bright. 

It's nuts how unreal it felt. How can something so elusive be now all on him. 

(Just for him.)

"Earlier," he added, licking his lips and feeling silly for the way his chest tightened. "Seemed kinda intense."

"He borrowed my notes," you said. Then back to the clipboard again. 

Kuroo made himself comfortable next to you, elbow propped on his knee as he rested his chin against an open palm.

"Got a test coming up?"

"Cram school. He's in the same class."

Of course .

"Of course," Kuroo grinned. "What happened? Heard the guy apologize to you like you were about to kill him."

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to find it as funny as he did. Pity. 

He sighed.

"Nothing too bad, I hope."  

The noise of ballpoint pen scratching against paper halted. 

From way at the back, Lev was prattling Kenma's ear off again. Kuroo guessed they were about to leave, walking away from the court, away from the gym and to god knows where. The whole team, too, for that matter.

Everyone seemed to have gone, diminished in that second. He couldn't hear them anymore, didn't bother to see if they're still there.

He was looking at you, after all. Really looking at you. Your grip on the pen was a tad severe, he thought; fingers determined to squeeze the ink out of the barrel. 

Your face betrayed nothing. Indeed, anyone could spare you a glance and immediately guess that this is just another empty chat between acquainted individuals, conversation just for the sake of it. 

Kuroo wasn't just anyone, though.

Chin up and head held high; as you'd always done. But Kuroo's close enough to see it now, unlike before: the gulps you take in between breaths; the falter in those eyes that only ever looked forward.

Chin up and head held high, but Kuroo sees now that the neck he could easily break with one hand is so tense it's essentially a string pulled too tight that's on the brink of snapping. 

Oh.

"Oh," Kuroo whispered.

Oh .

"He lost it didn't he?" Kuroo realized. "Your notes."

And it did snap.

"Just..!" You looked down and bunched your pants in your fist. "No. Of course not. It's nothing," you huffed, putting the ball pen's cap back on. 

You were leaving.

Kuroo stood up.

"You look upset, manager-san," he said softly, his larger frame blocking your attempts of escape. "It is bothering you, hm?"

"My notebook got-got ruined, sure," you said. "But juice stains aren't bothering me, Captain ."

There it is. You were meeting his gaze again. 

" Too late for that ," Kuroo thought. There's a stutter to your words when there had been none. 

Your arms are trembling and you look  uncomfortable. He should stop. He knows he should stop , but whatever it is he said is chipping away at that impenetrable wall and he doesn't get what's happening now but damn, damn if that tingle running down his spine doesn't feel so fucking good. 

"My bad," he chuckled. "Sorry."

He raised both his arms in a show of defeat. 

"I'm- it's fine," you said through gritted teeth. "If you would just— excuse me."

Kuroo shrugged a shoulder. 

"Sorry about your notes, still," he said. "Must've been important to you. We all know how much you take your studies very, very seriously." 

Kuroo smirked. "You shouldn't have let him have it then." 

That made you stop in your tracks. 

"What do you mean?" you sought, confusion breaking your voice into what sounds like the smallest it's ever been.

Kuroo felt his breath catch in his throat.

"He needed my help, though," you rushed. "I can't just turn people away." 

"Really?" Kuroo sniggered, eyebrows lifting in fascination. 

"Could've sworn you were good at it," he said; whispered it so lowly, you couldn't have heard it. But you did.

You heard him, all right. Loud and clear.

Because it was just like watching someone take a bullet to the heart. 

First, the disbelief. 

Skin, muscles, and ligaments weren't made to be broken like that. A person wasn't created to bleed to death. And when it happens, well, all one can ask is: how could someone hurt me like this? 

So you stand before him, immobile, disbelief written in those wide eyes, because how could he hurt me like this?

Then—

Then, the dam breaks.

Kuroo doesn't think that you know it; that you're gaping at him with tears streaming down your face; that you're falling apart and stripping yourself bare the more you try to temper those quivering lips with that cute little nibbling you do.  

Kuroo doesn't think you know it, too.

That no one has ever been as beautiful as you are, right in that very moment.

You're not a good person.

Not even by a long shot. "Good" is an open hand, warm and soft and prepared to accept anyone in need of it. It's many things, goodness, but it most certainly isn't a dismissive attitude towards a well-meaning person who only wants to get to know you.

You hadn't gone this far in your uneventful life ignorant of what people say behind your back. "Frigid" is one. "Indifferent" on a good day. "Bitch" when someone feels like being mean. 

It's not like you're mad or anything; not as if you'd built up some sort of resentment within you that now you've settled for being perpetually friendless. You have plans, is all. You just can't afford to be a constant helping hand when you've got so much to do.

So you take it. 

Be a sport about it, was what you've always been told. Stiff upper lip, as they say. You remain silent about it and you endure and maybe you shed a few tears later as you lie in bed and maybe you entertain the possibility that you'll never see the end of this loneliness. 

But that's neither here nor there.

The point is, this time shouldn't have been any different.

(But sometimes even the strongest walls can crumble. All it takes is one crack, then the rest would follow.)

It was a bad day. 

You woke up late. You messed up the tally in the first set of practice games. You forgot the homework you'd stayed up all night to do. 

And the person whom you've lended your notes to for the college entrance exams lost it. 

He lost it. Conveniently just a month before the actual thing. 

"I- It's nowhere to be found, senpai," he explained. "I tried looking for it everywhere but- but I.." (You don't remember the rest.)

It's fine, you told yourself. You're fine. You can do something about a little inconvenience like this. You always have.

But then Kuroo Tetsurou asked. 

He's an amazing captain; even someone like you who only had a rudimentary knowledge at volleyball could understand the level of skill it requires to do what he does on the court while still managing to reign in the polarizing characters in this team together. And like most people, Kuroo Tetsurou has never cared for you. 

That's what you'd always thought, concerning him. Even when there had been times when he'd let slip what he thought about you. ("You're so cold, manager-san," he pouted once after you'd refused to eat with Yamamoto and the others.)

So it blindsided you, to say the least. 

The way he looked at you, as if he's privy to your darkest secrets, like he's seen you at your lowest and somehow knows you more than you did. 

When he'd jabbed and poked at what you'd only later realize was already a festering wound. (" It is bothering you, hm?" he said.) And before you could think about telling him to stop, to please, please let it go, it had already happened.

(" Could've sworn you were good at it ," he said.) 

This isn't news to you. Besides, there have obviously been worse digs. 

But hearing it from people who think you're not listening and being told about it to your face are two vastly different things. 

(Maybe it's because deep inside you'd always hoped that not everyone disliked you. That even though you're not a good person, you're not entirely bad either.)

Right in front of you, swift and without warning, he spoke only the truth.

You just weren't prepared for how deep it could cut. 

"I have to go," you murmured.

It took you a few seconds to realize that you'd been crying. And when you did, you immediately wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, turning away from him and the others still engrossed in their drills.

You let your feet do the thinking, allowing it to take you wherever they wished to go ( not here. not here. anywhere but here ), finding it impossible to do so yourself when your vision is clouded with welling tears. 

You moved forward, never once looked back, until you ended up inside the stark darkness of the gym's forgotten neighbor. 

The shed has long been abandoned and had nothing but dust, a couple of furniture in disrepair, and the occasional bug to keep it company. It was good enough for you. You didn't need much anyway.

Except for silence. 

The breaths that you'd desperately tried to control shook like dried leaves hanging onto frail branches, much like your legs, eventually collapsing at the slightest gust of wind. 

All you needed was silence.

Crouched down, the feeling of bones reduced to jelly was a lot more palpable. And despite the pins and needles that you know would eventually appear like a vengeful mistress, you stubbornly pressed your knees closer to your damp face.

Stuttering inhales and short-lived exhales  soon enough filled the gnawing emptiness of the shed as you count back to the moment you'd started the day to when your classmate told you that he'd lost your notebook to when you'd been told of how much of a shitty person you are and you wonder how you would've changed your decisions and how could it have gotten to this point how could it go wrong like this what did I do what did I do wrong what went —

"There you are."

You clamped your mouth shut, clenched your teeth so hard to stop their chattering. How useless. 

The creaking noise of the door being closed— punctuated by the sound of the latch clicking, rendered that effort futile. 

Kuroo Tetsurou locked the door.   

"C-can you," you panted. "Can you please leave."

"I need some time alone," you said, every beat of your heart like the ticking clock of a time bomb. "Please." 

You waited for him to do as you'd told. Maybe what happened earlier was a mistake, a slip of tongue that hurt more than it should've, and he's here to apologize. Of course. That's it, isn't it? Why else would he be here?

"I- If you want to say something, we can- we can— later." 

It was as if the entire world had gone still. He said nothing; neither could you hear any hint of movement. You turned around.

"C-captain..!"

He was right there. 

Right in front of you, crouched and staring right back at you. His face a hair's breadth away from yours. 

Your legs shot upwards. 

"What are you- ah !" You hissed, feeling every cell in your body being incessantly pricked. Finding it impossible to stand on your own, your hands scrambled to get a hold of something, anything, maybe the almost dilapidated table behind you— only to be caught in between large, strong arms.

"Careful, now," he murmured against your neck. His scalding breath like frostbite, chilling you down to your bones until you were numbed from the pain.

He slithered a hand around your waist. With blood thundering to your ears, you bit back a shriek and pushed him away with all your might. But have you forgotten? Despite that indolent swagger of his, you've witnessed how this boy pushes himself to exertion for each match and beyond. What made you think you could win against him? 

And when you attempted to open your mouth and yell, he effortlessly covered it with a palm while hauling you towards the table. The thing rocked under your weight. It is amusing, what the fear of falling does to you. One moment you're thrashing your way out; the next, you're holding onto your tormentor for dear life.

"No one's gonna come for you." He shushed you like how one would when placating a rabid animal. "You really believe they would bother? With an attitude like that?"

Down, down, his hand sank to your thigh, kneading the aching flesh until all you could do was mewl out a hoarse, "S-stop. I beg y-you."

Because it's all that's left for you. No one's going to save you. Or maybe someone would. But, who? And would they, really? 

(Go on, then. Try. See for yourself.)

"Kuroo-san," you whimpered. " S-stop ."

(Would they even believe you? It's your word against his. Him . Their beloved captain.)

"Tetsurou," he only said, dipping his hand lower, wrapping your freezing legs around him. "Say it."

He's everywhere. Lips tracing your chin, teeth grazing your throat; all the while your weak, pathetic arms stayed on his shoulders, thinking he'd regain his senses because he has to. He has to. He's not a bad person. He wouldn't hurt you, not in that way. 

Even when rough palms are already caressing the sides of your breasts and you feel a bulge rutting against your stomach, hot and rock hard and large, his hands grabbing your ass to bring your crotch closer to his—

"Cap- Tetsurou!" You cried, trembling hands back on his chest as you sobbed and pleaded please, please, let me go, I won't say anything, I-I'll keep quiet .

He did stop. But he didn't let you go. (You're a stupid girl if you think he would). Instead, with a forefinger under your chin and a thumb on your lower lip, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze. 

And when your murky vision adjusted to the shadows, the heart that wanted to escape from your chest ceased its clamoring, arresting your breath with it.

The afternoon sun peeked through the crevices of the shed's wooden walls. Red-orange light revealed a pair of iris swallowed by blown pupils, only for it to pass and shroud him back into the darkness. 

"Say it again," he whispered, deep voice cracking. " Tetsurou . My name."

You tried to speak and protest once again but only a croaked snivel left you, your babbling becoming less coherent when he began planting soft kisses on both tear-streaked cheeks. 

"You've been all alone, haven't you? Keeping everything to yourself all this time."

He kissed your forehead and it was so tender you wanted to die. 

"My strong, brave girl," he breathed. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. I- I-"

You heard him chuckle as he pressed his forehead to yours, felt it crease on your skin. "I love you."

No. No, no, no . You shook your head and closed your eyes and prayed to anyone who's listening. 

"I love you," he repeated, strongly now, as if he only realized it this time around. 

And then he kissed you. Just a peck. And then he kissed you again, deepening it to probe a wet tongue into your mouth. And the hand sitting lax on your neck felt like a gun to your temple.   

You remained just as you were, like a plaything to do with as he pleased, as you felt calloused fingers creep inside your sweaty shirt.

"Such pretty tits," he grunted as he raised your bra over your breasts to brush your nipples, rolling and pinching and pulling them with his thumbs.

He muffled the noises you made with his own mouth still when he continued fondling you. You soon enough tasted the salt off of his palm when he left your lips to lick and pepper bites on your neck, on the valley and mounds of your breasts, sucking and lapping the stiff peaks until he was satisfied.

You tried counting, one to whatever. And when that did not work, you tried biting your own tongue to rid of the heat you fear would burst in your belly. 

All that went to waste when he reached inside your pants. 

"Not- not there!" you gasped, breaking your silence and wriggling out of his grasp.

He cooed. "You'll feel good. I promise."

After hooking long fingers over the hem of your panties, he briskly parted the hair and lips underneath to pull the thin cotton over the folds, over the throbbing nub trapped in the middle. 

"Your pussy's so wet, sweetheart," he sighed, the tip of his middle finger drawing light circles on your clothed clit. 

It was so lewd and dirty and the fact that your panties were soaked with slick was enough to burn you with shame.

"You like it, hm?" 

Perhaps you whimpered out a meek "no." You couldn't tell anymore, heaving out while he continued to toy with a sore nipple as he rubbed your slippery cunt, preying on your puffed out, swollen clit.  

"Feel what you do to me." He squeezed your wrist and forced your shivering hand on his crotch. "Take out my cock, baby," he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck.

"Tet-Tetsuro…san," you cried. "I can- I can't."

"Yes. Yes, you can ," he said, not halting the ministrations between your legs. "You're a big girl."

As if held by a string, he guided you, wrapped his hand around yours as he— as you stroked him, scorching and thick, up and down, just like that . 

"Good girl. My good little girl," he groaned, parting your panties to the side to tease your dripping hole. 

You wept harder, the inevitable only a few seconds away from you. A single finger, at first. And when he added a second one, you realized you preferred having a hand on your mouth than his lips on yours.

(Because then you wouldn't have to think of an excuse why you're suddenly swirling and brushing your tongue in time with his.) 

For a while there had been nothing but the sound of two wet lips pursing against each other (along with those embarrassing squelching noises). 

He treated you as if you were made of porcelain, your plush walls stroked oh so gently as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he ended the kiss and removed your hand from his cock, spit and pre-cum connecting you to him, he still handled you as if you would break at the drop of a hat.

That's why it snuck up on you, what happened, after he brought his mouth to your ear.

"Don't scream," he whispered. 

Then, he rammed his fingers in your mouth. 

You tasted yourself as he forced you on your back, slamming you down on the dirty table yet still carrying your weight all throughout, never letting go.

The bitter acceptance of it— that what began earlier can only conclude to this , did not prepare you for the feeling when he finally thrust himself into you.

They say it shouldn't hurt at first. If it does then he's doing it wrong. 

You hardly know if it's relief or horror that dawns on you when you realize how he stretched you out so easily, despite his size. Because, by all means, this should be wrong. This is wrong. 

"Gonna ruin you," he panted. "Gonna ruin you and— fuck put you back together myself."

He grinded his cock inside you deep and slow and when he hit that spot you couldn't control yourself from jackknifing so hard he had to hold you down. He does this mercilessly, pace growing more delirious until you're nothing but a choked and sputtering fool around his fingers.

"I won't ever leave you. I’m here," he cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your face as you bawled and shattered in his embrace. "I’m here ."

"So cry all you want."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #dark content haikyuu

[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating. 

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance. 

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #fanfic #fanfiction #tog #throne of glass #modern au #professor au #college au #sjm #snacmc collab #snelbx x tacmc collab

[tpwkjerii]

fool’s mate

there’s only one way to lose a game of chess in two moves, and hwang hyunjin managed to figure out how to (subtly) steal your heart with exactly two moves.

pairing: student!hyunjin x student!reader

warnings: fluff, some cursing, y/n likes reading & books, y/n is kinda a teachers pet, y/n is kinda mean, hyunjin is a simp

genre: high school au, fluff, minor angst if you squint, kinda enemies to lovers and fools to lovers

word count: 4.1k+

a/n: first hyunjin fanfic pls enjoy loves!! also a big happy birthday to hyunjin! send him some love if you can :’) xx

Hwang Hyunjin was an asshole. Or at least he was in your eyes.

Why he decided to bother you every morning without fail? You didn’t know. Usually, you brushed it off in favor of talking to your friend Mina, but this morning you couldn’t. Why?

His clumsy ass spilled warm coffee on your white uniform blouse. Now you were sure he didn’t mean to do it on purpose since he never resorted to any physical annoyance, but after the morning you had (let’s just say you shared some rather unsavory words with your project group members), you could only place the harsh blame on him.

You cursed at the same time he apologized, shooting up from your seat with dark brown coffee dripping down your shirt and onto the table.

“I’m so sorry! Really! Sorry!” Hyunjin said frantically, his hands desperately grabbing onto napkins and awkwardly pressing them onto your chest as a futile attempt to pat away the mess.

“Really? You’re sorry?” you huffed, extremely agitated. To make matters worse, everyone was watching your interaction with Hyunjin, and they were all laughing.

Who were they to laugh at your misery? Even Mina was stifling a laugh! Your friend Mina!

“I meant to give the coffee to you and I tripped over your bag! I didn’t see it I swear!” Hyunjin explained, although it did nothing to calm you down. He faltered over his words when his fingers accidentally brushed against the exposed part of your chest, and you ignored the way it made your heart skip, instead choosing to verbally attack him again.

“You expect me to believe that, Hyunjin?” you exhorted dryly, watching as his long black hair shook rapidly while he nodded.

“Yes because it’s true!” he cried, shrivelling inside when you only scoffed and pushed him away.

Your teacher coughed awkwardly once Hyunjin returned to his seat, gathering everyone’s attention. Well, everyone except Hyunjin, who was staring at you like a kicked puppy.

“___, why don’t you take a trip to the nurse’s office, I’m sure she has an extra shirt for you,” your teacher instructed you, sympathy evident in her voice.

Your face burned red as you nodded and stood up, hating the way everyone looked at you and your coffee soaked shirt. Damn Hwang Hyunjin. You all but ran out of the classroom, and left just as Han Jisung leaned over to Hyunjin and said, “I told you she wouldn’t like the coffee.”

Thankfully, you ended up getting a new (and clean) shirt from the nurse, and you were in a much better mood once lunch hour arrived. Everything was going well as you walked out into the courtyard with Mina. You had your lunch in one hand and drink in the other, ready to replenish yourself after long hours of boring class. In the moment, you thought that the worst of your day was truly over.

But, of course, you were a fool to think that you could ever have a truly good day.

Hyunjin and his group of friends walked up to you, their own drinks and foods in hand. Instinctively, you put a hand up, saying as he approached, “If you’re thinking about spilling another drink on me, don’t.”

At your snarky comment, Hyunjin winced and his shoulders visibly sunk. The sight was so sad it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

“It was an accident! It really was!” Hyunjin defended himself weakly, obviously ready to continue but stopped when one of his friends - Seungmin, you recognized - cleared his throat and elbowed him. With Seungmin’s interruption, Hyunjin remembered why he approached you in the first place, and his entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders lifted, chest popped out, and an effortlessly beautiful smile took over his face.

Looking unimpressed, you gestured at him to continue. “I don’t have all day, Hyunjin.”

He nodded, and confidently asked, “___, how do you feel about accompanying me to Yellow Wood Cafe after school?”

You furrowed your brows at his proposition and stifled a laugh at the way his friends reacted to his request. If you looked closely, you could see Felix mutter “that’s not how we practiced.”

“As much as I would love to go and get another coffee spilled on me,” you started dryly, and Hyunjn visibly deflated as he realized you would never let that go, “I have Book Club after school.”

At that, Hyunjin’s face contorted into one of confusion. He swore he double - no he triple checked that you would be able to go today. According to the club website and a trusted source, Book Club wasn't supposed to meet again until next week.

“I thought we weren’t going to meet until next week?” Seungmin asked, thankfully voicing Hyunjin’s concerns. Although it wasn’t because Seungmin could read Hyunjin’s mind, but because Seungmin (aka trusted source) was also in Book Club.

You nodded at Seungmin, and Hyunjin ignored the jealousy he felt when you smiled at his friend, informing him of the board meeting that the club was having.

Hyunjin slapped himself internally. He forgot you were the vice president of Book Club. How could he forget such a crucial detail?

Seungmin nodded in response, and you took the newfound and rather awkward silence among the group as the chance to leave. “Sorry, Hyunjin. I won’t be able to make it today,” you said with a twinge of actual sympathy.

Once you were gone, Hyunjin sadly walked away, his friends in tow. As they sat down at their usual table, a light bulb emerged and lit up in Hyunjin’s mind. He had a plan.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin started, effectively capturing his friend’s attention, “you play chess, right?”

Seungmin nodded, sarcastically stating, “I’ve only been in Chess Club for two years.”

Hyunjin grinned, “I know I know. Anyways, what’s that one thing called? The one where you can win a game of chess in only two moves?”

“Fool’s mate?”

“Yes!” Hyunjin exclaimed, now having the attention of his entire table (and directly surrounding ones). “I know how to woo Y/N with only two moves.”

“Who uses the word woo anymore?” Jeongin said, his face scrunched into a grimace. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that when she hates you?”

Hyunjin frowned at his younger friend. “She doesn’t hate me. And it’ll be simple, just listen…”

Move 1: King’s Pawn to E5 — Avoid Y/N (“absence makes the heart grow fonder or some shit like that, right?” - jisung someone)

Expected Response: Y/N will start to realize that she actually likes Hyunjin and his presence.

4 days.

It had been 4 days since Hyunjin last talked to you. Were these arguably the best 4 days of your life? Absolutely.

No coffee spills. No obnoxious locker slamming (yes, Hyunjin had the locker next to yours). No yelling across the classroom. Just pure, unadulterated peace.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. Did you know what that certain something was? Yes. Did you want to admit it? Fuck no. There was no way you actually missed Hyunjin’s presence, no way.

As you walked into the classroom again, your eyes reflexively darted to the corner where Hyunjin and his friends always sat. As usual, Hyunjin was sitting on the table with Felix at his side, Jisung and Seungmin were sitting in their seats, and Jeongin was leaning against Seungmin’s shoulder. Normally, Hyunjin would see you enter, shout your name, and gesture for you to sit by him.

However, it’s been nearly a week since the last time he did that. The first day, it was a relief to not have the entire room’s attention on you at 7:50 AM. Now, it was slightly irking.

For a split second, as you walked to your seat, you made eye contact with Hyunjin; and for a second, you thought everything was about to return to normal. But instead of calling you out like you thought, he looked completely past you and waved at the person behind you.

It took almost all of your control to maintain a neutral expression and not turn around to see just who that person was.

Begrudgingly, you set your school bag down on your table and sat down in your assigned seat. With two minutes before the bell, Jeongin runs out of your classroom to go to his and Mina walks in to take her seat next to you.

“What’s got you so upset?” she asked, faux innocence laced in her voice and a knowing look in her eyes. Mina caught on easily two days ago when you accidentally let slip a hurt expression when Hyunjin ignored your greeting.

“Shut up,” you muttered, hearing her stifled laugh as you took out your notebooks.

Luckily, your first few classes passed by rather quickly. For once, your groupmates actually contributed and spared you the trouble of doing all the work. Soon enough, it was lunch period, and you and Mina found yourselves walking to your usual lunch spot.

As you approached your unofficially-claimed bench in the courtyard, you eyed Hyunjin’s unusually quiet table. On a normal day, they would all be very loud (at this point, everyone knew what Jeongin’s scream sounded), but today they were hunched over the table in what appeared to be a deep discussion.

With this newfound silence, you could actually hear the wind rustling the trees and the light chirps of the birds. It was relaxing and peaceful, exactly as you thought lunch should be. For a second, you let a smile grace your face and forgot about how you missed Hyunjin’s constant annoying presence.

Of course, good things can never last long for you because soon enough, it was too relaxing. The birds’ light chirps became annoyingly loud and the blowing wind just became an inconvenience as your hair kept flying into your face regardless of how you angled yourself. And then, as if the clouds opened up and shined a ray of the heavens onto the planet, you heard his laugh.

The laugh, which you previously associated with pure anger, filled you with a surprising warmth. Any negative words you had for mother nature fell silent on your tongue as you shifted your gaze to look at Hyunjin. You watched as he tilted his head back, a harmonious laugh erupting from his throat as his eyes crinkled into beautiful half moons.

You found yourself hypnotized by him as he calmed down and leaned back, running his hands through his long, black hair with a content expression on his attractive face...

You stiffened as he turned and met your gaze. Hoping that he didn’t see the intense blush on your face (he totally did), you quickly looked away and grabbed Mina’s arm, effectively startling her.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Mina asked, slightly choking on her lunch as you rushed her to stand up. “You didn’t even touch your food!” the disgruntled girl continued as you dragged her away.

“I-it doesn’t matter,” you stuttered, praying for the heat across your face to go away. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Well I haven’t,” Mina muttered.

“Mina,” you started, whirling around to stop both of you in your tracks once you were out of the courtyard and in an empty hallway. She looked at you expectantly, her feet tapping impatiently. “This is an emergency,” you stressed.

Mina looked both unimpressed and concerned. With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Emergency meaning what, exactly? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?”

You groaned and looked down at your feet in embarrassment. Raising your hands to your face, you sighed as you mumbled, “I… I think I like Hyunjin.”

Pretending that she couldn’t hear you and deciding to make you more miserable than you already were, Mina held back her laugh and said, “You what? I didn’t quite hear that.”

Suppressing a loud groan, you begrudgingly repeated, “I think I like Hyunjin,” a hard annunciation following each word.

“Ah,” Mina laughed. “I thought so. We all did.”

You shot up, making direct eye contact with the girl in front of you. “What do you mean?” you asked, your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Mina laughed again, saying, “You know, you’re pretty blind sometimes.” With that, she started walking away, only picking up her pace when you started following after her.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” you shouted after her, groaning internally as she broke into a full on sprint.

Move 2: Queen to H4 — Invade Indirectly spend more time with Y/N by attending the same activities (“but hyunjin you hate readi - ” “shut up jeongin”)

Expected Response: Y/N will realize that she loves doing stuff with Hyunjin and will like him more.

“You joined Book Club?” you asked the long-haired newcomer, trying to control the shakiness in your voice and thanking god that you were sitting or else your weak knees would betray you.

Hyunjin nodded, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. “Seungmin,” he paused, pointing to Seungmin, who waved from the door, “suggested that I pick up a new extracurricular.”

You raised your eyebrow pointedly. “And you chose Book Club?”

He nodded proudly, hoping that he didn’t appear as nervous as he felt inside.

“Hyunjin,” you sighed, and he ignored how the way you said his name made his heart feel like it was about to collapse after a marathon, “the only books I have ever seen you read were all for class.”

“And they were all great!” he lied through his teeth, but painted on fake enthusiasm in hopes of convincing you. Evidently, it worked as your confused gaze dropped and you shrugged.

“If Seungmin thinks you’ll enjoy it then I guess you’re free to join us today,” you told him, your voice soft and lacking the usual bite it had when you talked to Hyunjin. Your gentle tone shocked everyone in the room, who all expected you to kick Hyunjin out instantly and permanently ban him from the back library office the club met in once every two weeks.

“Oh,” he said, his lips parting in shock and his heart pounding wildly as you gestured for him to take the empty seat next to Seungmin. “Thank you,” Hyunjin managed to breathe out, turning around to walk towards the open seat with a hand dramatically clenched over his chest.

“Alright,” the sound of your voice again startled Hyunjin, who barely sat down. You stood up from your seat, a book in hand and a friendly smile on your face. “Hopefully everyone finished the last book, which was recommended by Sunwoo,” you announced, smiling as you lifted up the book 1984 and gestured kindly towards Sunwoo, a boy in your class.

Hyunjin ignored the twinge of jealousy as you nonverbally praised Sunwoo for his book choice. He could choose nice books to read, too.

“Usually Joon leads the discussion,” you continued, and Hyunjin recognized the advanced Literature TA’s name, “but seeing as both him and Haechan aren’t here, I’ll be leading the discussion for today!”

Hyunjin felt his heart swell at the proud grin on your face as you talked about your passions. To be honest, he hated reading and would prefer to be at the dance studio with Felix for extra practice, but being here with you made him quickly forget about those two things. He would read 1000 books if it meant he got to spend more time with you.

In the front, you animatedly led the discussion, willing yourself to not stare at Hyunjin and lose your train of thought. It was harder than you thought it would be to ignore the way he casually ran his hands through his hair and how he pushed up the sleeves of his uniform shirt. It was enough to make you both curse and thank Seungmin for bringing him today.

After ten long minutes of discretely ogling Hyunjin while attempting to lead the discussion on a book you barely managed to finish in time, you were finally able to sit down. Everyone else was deep in conversation, and mostly everyone had their attention off you. Key word: most.

Hyunjin kept an unreadable gaze on you while, shockingly, participating in the group discussion. Your eyes clashed with his, and you found yourself struggling to breathe properly as he mentioned his favorite part of the book.

“When Winston and Julia realized they liked each other and took the risk to be together.”

At his words, your breath stopped. The intense gaze he held on you and the slight shakiness in his voice led you to assume that Hyunjin was feeling the same way as you, and that his sentence was just a shove — a way of indirectly putting his feelings into the air. You knew that your relationship wouldn’t be nearly as risky as the two characters’ of 1984 and that you and Hyunjin were far from the two, but somehow, Hyunjin’s words managed to excite you.

Was it a risk to open your heart up to the person who used to annoy you to no end? Was it a risk to like someone at all? Years of building walls and pushing people away were crumbled by a beautiful boy with a smile that took your breath away. You didn’t know what this meant for you, but one thing was for sure: for once, you hoped that Hyunjin didn’t stop hanging around.

Soon enough, Book Club was over, and you all but ran out of the library. With your backpack securely on, you put in your earphones and began the usual walk to Yellow Wood Cafe. It was a usual tradition to meet Mina, who was really your only friend now that you were thinking about it, after Book Club to do homework and eat together.

With music playing loudly in your ears, you failed to notice Hyunjin and Seungmin behind you; conveniently, both of them were also headed to the Cafe to visit their friend who worked there. Or, at least Seungmin was — Hyunjin had an ulterior motive.

After a short eight minute walk, which was all taken up with you screaming internally over your newfound feelings for Hyunjin, you arrived at the bright storefront. Through the decorated glass walls, you saw Mina sitting at your usual table, her neck craned down to copy notes. You walked into the store with a happy smile and headed straight for the empty seat across your friend.

As you set your bag down, Mina looked up, and her smile turned into a mischievous grin when she moved slightly to the side to see the familiar faces that entered behind you.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, your brows furrowed together as you turned around.

You recognized him instantly and you quickly whipped around, hoping he didn’t see that (he definitely did). “Oh my god,” you whispered, your eyes wide in panic, “I can’t believe he followed me.”

“Follow?”

You inhaled sharply, hesitantly turning around and gasping when you saw how close Hyunjin was standing to you. His head was craned down to look at you, and there was barely a foot between your faces.

“___, I didn’t follow you. My friend works here and I wanted to pay him a visit,” he told you, waving to the guy behind the counter as his evidence.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded, your voice uncharacteristically shaky. “Well, I take my words back.” You subtly cleared your throat and turned back around, hoping your face didn’t appear as warm as it felt.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, causing you to stiffen slightly, and asked, “Want a drink? My treat.”

“N-no thanks,” you managed to reply, internally cursing at the stutter. How did Hyunjin somehow manage to completely dissolve your composure?

You didn’t even get to think about the answer to your question as Hyunjin said, “I insist. You usually get a Jasmine Green Tea with boba, right?”

“How do you know my or -”

“Hey Changbin, can I get a Jasmine Green Tea with boba and a Brown Sugar Milk Tea with boba?”

You watched as Hyunjin inserted his card into the chip reader and took it out, the receipt proof that he really did get you a drink.

“Er - thanks,” you mumbled as he approached, feeling incredibly awkward. By now, Mina had moved to talk to Seungmin since they shared the same math class, but you didn’t miss the way they eyed you and Hyunjin.

If any of your awkwardness was showing, Hyunjin chose to ignore it as he seemed as cool as ever. “No problem,” he said, his hands moving together to clasp each other tightly. “Since I got you a drink,” he started, his voice wavering slightly, “I was wondering if we could talk? Just for a few moments?”

Your eyes widened and you felt your heart pick up its pace. “Just us two?” you asked, your voice mirroring your shock.

With his nod, you slowly walked towards an empty table with him and awkwardly sat down at one of the sides. You kept your gaze firmly on the white table in fear of looking up and losing what was left of your composure. Silence prevailed for a few seconds until Hyunjin spoke.

“I know that we haven’t been on the best terms the past year,” he started, and you nodded at his true statement. “I did a lot of things that I didn’t realize really bothered you -” you thought back to the amount of times he would purposely distract you in class and randomly hug you when he was sweaty from dance or swim practice.

“- but I really did those things you get your attention,” he paused, causing you to look up just as he looked down bashfully, “which didn’t work out too well when I really thought about it. And I know that now you probably think I’m annoying -” your breath hitched and you stopped yourself from blurting out ‘not anymore’ “- but I still want to let you know how I feel.”

He looked up, and the genuineness in his eyes made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest. “I…” he weakly started, “I don’t know if anything changed how you felt this week but I know that I’ve liked you since you stood up for me last year.”

Right, you thought back to the time when you and Hyunjin were mere classmates (basically strangers) and you defended him from an older student. You couldn’t stand to see them abuse their authority as your elder (by only one year too), and decided to use your influence as a teacher’s pet to teach him a lesson. It was safe to say that Hyunjin was never bothered after that.

“After that I just wanted to be around you more,” Hyunjin continued, “but you usually kept your distance from people and I was stupid and couldn’t think of better ways to get your attention than annoy you.” The long-haired boy in front of you was blushing now, and his hands were clasped together so tightly you had to fight the urge to reach out with your own and relax him.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I’d really appreciate it if you gave me the chance and allowed me to take you out on a date -”

“Yes,” you said instantly. But Hyunjin, amidst the panic of his mind, seemed to hear something else as his face immediately fell and he instantly moved to stand up.

“I guess I expected that - wait, yes?” He plopped back down on his seat ungracefully, shock absorbing his features as if a light had turned on in his brain and properly registered what you said.

You nodded, a bright red blush staining your cheeks. “Yes, you can take me out on a date, Hyunjin.”

“Is this a dream?” Hyunjin asked, the shock still clear on his face as he held back an excited smile.

You shook your head with a small laugh. “Nope, completely real life, I’m afraid,” you answered, gently pinching his hand for extra emphasis.

Hyunjin broke into a large grin and moved to cover your hands with his own. “I’ve dreamed about this moment,” he shyly admitted with a bashful blush that slowly spread across his face, “and I didn’t think you’d ever say yes.”

You took a second to admire his smile and how his eyes seemed to shine even in the cafe’s fluorescent lighting. Hyunjin really did have the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“I’m curious,” you started slowly after collecting yourself. He nodded, a silent gesture to continue. “Was this a plan? The past week, it felt different, and that’s how I started to realize…” you paused, a blush spreading across your face, “I liked you.”

Hyunjin’s smile never faltered, and he tightened his grip around your hands as he asked, “have you ever played chess?”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #hyunjin #happy birthday hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #lee felix #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #high school au #stray kids high school au

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

#kim jisoo #jisoo kim #jisoo #jisoo x reader #kim jisoo x reader #jennie kim #jennie #jennie x reader #blackpink #blackpink fanfic #blackpink imagines #blackpink oneshots #blackpink headcanons #park chaeyoung #rosé #lisa manoban #blackpink scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #angst #fluff #college au #enemies to lovers #let-them-read-fics #kpop #blackpink x fem reader #jisoo turtle rabbit kim #jennie kim x reader

[mxtcha-tea]

and that's how i met you mother

✎desc; love at first sight with shiratorizawa (honestly, not all of them are love at first sight but ignore that)

✎pairing[s]; shiratorizawa 3rd years x f!reader (separate)

✎genre; fluff, crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; just an excuse for me to write lovesick boys💗 (I can’t do Shirabu, Kawanishi and Goshiki’s part cause I ran out of ideas🤸‍♀️🚆)

Ushijima

It would just be a normal day in his class, learning and stuff like usual

Then after the teacher finished explaining and hand out the tasks, he'll went through his pencil case and couldn't seem to find any pen

Ushijima frowned at that and looked throughly in his pencil case but with no luck, there's none

He swore that he had put some inside, maybe his mind slipped a little?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention as he turned his head around to make eye contact with you

You're holding out one of your pen to him with a neutral look,

"You can have it," Ushijima look at you surprised, does that mean he can just take it from you? That's a little absurd

But he didn't question it and nodded, slowly taking the pen from your hand and continue studying

The pen doesn't really sit right in his hand, it's not being his and literally someone else that he doesn't have the chance to talk to

He'll spare a glance at you every minute (ngl, he's complimenting your side view internally)

And when you caught him looking at him, he'll just blink and slowly look back at his work with a light blush on his cheeks

(Istg it's so cute)

After the class ends and before you can leave for lunch, Ushijima caught your attention first,

"Here, thank you for lending me this. And unfortunately, i can't take it from you"

You're just looking at him with a dumbfounded look before taking the pen from him,

"Ah, no problem, um..." "Ushijima Wakatoshi"

You nodded at that, scratching the back of your head "...Ushijima. And it's [y/n]"

Both of you are just standing there in front of each other but it's not awkward, surprisingly

It's as if you two are waiting for one of you to speak and end the convo

(Spoiler alert; none of you wanted to end the convo since both of you find each other interesting)

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your pen a little, "Okay, see you after this, Ushijima"

He nodded at that and with that, both of you went to your separate ways

'[Y/N], YOU AWKWARD BASTARD! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, I BET HE THOUGHT THAT YOU'RE WEIRD NOW!'

Ushijima's just walking towards the gym with a fairly visible blush across his cheeks as he look down

"Ushijima..."

"[y/n]..."

"I guess he's fine..."

"I guess she's fine..."

Ushijima Current Mission!

Trying to figure what other scenarios he can drag you in to have a convo with you again

Good luck Wakatoshi~!

Tendou

You and Tendou have talked with eachother a couple of times but it's nothing more than that

And Tendou actually want to talk more with you (at first for friendship points but y'know...)

Today, you look more beautiful than ever to him today

It's not like you're not beautiful every other day (he thinks you're pretty so that's why he kept on having a convo with you)

And he caught into that

Somehow, he can't help bet stare at you in a distance and he tried his best to avoid getting caught

(Tendou's scared that you find him creepy for looking at you all the time and he don't want that thought to flood you mind)

Then, you came to him to explain about the work your science teacher gave since she's absent for the time being

And you can bet that he doesn't hear a single thing you said because he's too focused on yourself

It's kinda like in those scenes in manga where the main character stare into the main interest

The main interest looking as beautiful as ever with flowers around them

Pretty eyes, angelic face, kissable lips

For him, you're perfect and he even thought that you might be an angel in disguise

No matter how you even see yourself, he would always think that you're fascinating, adorable, enticing—

"Tendou, are you okay?"

The redhead snapped out from his thought and got caught by you

By now, his face is literally mocking his hair color as he chuckled nervously,

"Ah, I'm fine! It's just that..."

He was about to stop mid sentences but thankfully he still got that crumbs of courage and just goes with it,

"...you look pretty today,"

Tendou said with a closed eyes smile, peeking an eye open and trying to see your reaction (ngl he's nervous)

You blinked

Before you literally exploded at that which is what make him surprised in his seat

You fake coughed, looking away and avoiding eye contact,

"Thanks...."

[love meter +10!]

If this is an actual manga or anime, there could've been hearts dancing around him

Timeskip to Tendou at his home and squealing quietly to himself (he can't let his family hear him fanboying for someone in his school lmao)

"We're totally going to marry 3 years from now on~" he says to himself in the mirror with so many confidence

(I just love it when Tendou act like that, let him have his moment)

"Haha, thank you gods for creating me and [y/n] in the same world,"

Tendou's Current Mission!

Getting to know you better and give tons and tons of compliments, just like in the simulations! Specifically otomes and dating games

Try your best Satori~!

Semi

It was another day, another practice session

Except that it went longer than Semi expected, he managed to run from the gym to the main entrance

But before he can even put on his shoes, heavy rain started pouring down

He look at the dark grey sky, resting his forehead onto the shoe locker with one shoe already in his foot while the other in his hand

Sighing, Semi thought about asking to come with Tendou and Yamagata since he didn't bring his umbrella

But on second thought, he realized that they prolly forgot theirs too

And all 3 of them have to run under the rain again like last time

Yamagata and Tendou: "We can avoid the rain if we're fast enough!"

He shivered at that their words and the thought of getting terribly sick again

And before Semi's brain can process a strategy for himself, he was caught off guard when an umbrella was opened next to him,

"Ah sorry,"

In those few seconds, everything went slow motion when your eyes catches his

(He swore it felt like in the anime)

He can feel his cheeks flushing a little but thanks to the wheater, it's not obvious

"Hello?" Semi snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head before focusing on you again,

"Sorry, sorry, um—" "You don't have an umbrella?"

He blinked, shaking his head slightly

It's a pretty peaceful staring between you two with the rain hitting the ground as background sounds

Until you lift your umbrella up, and pointed at the small spot next to you with your thumb,

"Here, I'll help you,"

"Eh?"

Semi was flabbergasted a little at your statement but would he decline it?

Of course not,

"Just tell me where your house is then I help you go there,"

And that's how he find himself back at his house's entrance with you in front of him,

"And that's why I just let you walk with me for the afternoon,"

"Is that so, oh wait! I haven't known your name, and you prolly haven't known my name either..."

He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you with a smile,

"The name's Semi Eita, thanks for the walk back home,"

Your lips parted a little before in turns into a tooth rotting smile,

"[y/n], no problem and thanks for the company, Eita,"

An arrow pierced through his heart as his face is literally the color of Tendou's hair

And just like that, you left him on the entrance with a funny expression upon his face

Cutting the scene to Semi punching his pillow (rip pillow)

"You already caught me off guard already but you really had to look at me like that...."

Semi's Current Mission!

Try to find you the next day after first period and try not to be awkward with you and his convo after the eventful day

You can do it Eita~!

Yamagata

Let's just say that,

Yamagata went through the late anime girl scenario

But with his toast falling down from his mouth while running towards his school

And his stamina almost running low despite being a volleyball player and a libero

(His house's prolly far from his school, cut him some slacks sheesh)

He's pretty much stumbling a lot when he enters the school and speed walking up the stairs

Some of the students look at him weirdly but that doesn't become his main concern because a strict teacher is going first

Yamagata's almost there, almost reaching his classroom's door

But god had other plans and place an invisible rock in front of him

And as you can tell, he slipped on it and now facepalming the floor

(The sound is so loud my lord)

He groaned, shaking a little while trying to sit up from his position

The male look up and is now face to face with you, who's looking down at him

Okay he might be delusional from the impact but is he actually looking at an angel right now?

"Dude, you okay? That's gotta hurt from the sound that it made—"

Your words drowned inside his mind as he widened his eyes with pink tints decorating his cheeks

'This...THIS IS IT!'

"—also I think your nose is bleed—"

"PLEASE MARRY ME!!"

You flinched at that but keep a calm face, a little bit concerned that he may hit his head too hard

While Yamagata is just having heart eyes for you, sparkles around him after saying those words almost too confidently

He doesn't know what's in him that make him think that you're the one,

But he definitely can feel it

You sighed, crouching down while searching through your pocket and pulling out a small pack of tissues,

"I think we're going so fast right now but no, maybe 5 years later or never,"

"Does that mean you agree??"

"I don't know, you're handsome but also stupid, a himbo I think,"

You wipe away the blood dripping down his nose, taking his arm, opening it and put the bloodied tissue on it before closing it, giving a light tap,

"Now go to the nurse office,"

"Will you be there for me?"

"No,"

You help him stand up, dusting his shoulder and walk away as if nothing happened

Yamagata watches you from the distance with a lovesick smile

Tendou laughed behind him with Ushijima and Reon next to him and Semi looking at Yamagata, confused,

"Hayato, I have no idea if you had your alarm on but you just came to school during recess,"

"She's perfect...also, I think I need to go to the nurse right now cause my head hurts,"

Yamagata's Current Mission!

Marry [y/n]

Have fun, Hayato~!

Reon

(He will have the best love at first sight cause I say so)

It was the school festival and it's lively in every corner of the school, the outside, inside the classrooms, even the hallways

Reon had just finished his part of his classroom and now can walk around to enjoy the festival

Honestly, it's a pretty normal day to him despite being the school's festival

The students of Shiratorizawa has always been this lively so it's good that they can be keep the atmosphere as how it is like any other days

Since the others are still working on their parts, Reon was all by himself

Sure, the quiet sounds without Tendou, Semi and Yamagata is fine but he prefer it being loud anyway

A short of way to fill in the boring silence

But what's the bad thing to enjoy the peace once in a while?

So he take a small walk outside the Shiratorizawa building

Stalls decorated the outside with students busy serving the customers

He was greeted by some of them as he greeted them back with a warm smile

Hands inside his pocket while looking at the sky every few seconds

Baby blue sky with fluffy white clouds, it is the spring afterall

It was at that moment where he turn his head around and caught your eyes

It was something between those few seconds that a lighting strike between the string connecting you two for a second

Reon knew he did from the moment you two clashed with each other so suddenly

It was...not love at first sight exactly,

But rather, familiarity, like,

'Oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you,'

The staring prolly lasted more than he expected before you snapped out from your thought, shaking your head,

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." "But you didn't do anything?" He rose an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly and watch your panic slowly dissolves

"Well, technically yeah but It was bad of me to stare off at you like that,"

He chuckled, your heart clenching at that,

"Don't worry, I think I did it too...maybe both of us did,"

"Ah, yeah! Probably..." you fiddled with your fingers, visibly nervous facing him since he's basically a stranger even tho being in the same school,

"Reon Oohira," "Eh?" You look at him with confusion at first, while he just offers you a smile,

"My name, since we have...how to say it, meet each other? And I don't want to make you uncomfortable after all that so I think it's best if we introduce ourselves,"

Your heart's basically beating out loudly that you'll afraid that he'll hear it

But, that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

You mirrored his smile, this time more confidently than before,

"[y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you Reon!"

"Please,"

Reon put his hand onto your head, "Just call me Hira,"

You fainted

"She's interesting, I love her,"

Reon's Current Mission!

Get to know you better and honestly, there's nothing else to do after that other than asking you out

You'll do great, Oohira~!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu crack #shiratorizawa #shiratorizawa x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou x reader #tendou satori #semi x reader #semi eita #yamagata x reader #yamagata hayato #reon x reader #reon oohira

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #professor steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #college au #steve rogers #captain america #student reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #word is that we might work it out #attached #attached: word is that we might work it out #anika ann

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch. 11)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Invisible Ties

Next Chapter: Goldenrod

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Additional notes: This is so funny but I made a mistake in assuming the previous Goodwill event was held in Tokyo. Rewatched JJK and found out it was in Kyoto so I had to rewrite it XD.

Chapter 11: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He brought out a short table and you had the meal side by side.

It was grilled salmon and miso soup. You both stole glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.

A domestic life with Noritoshi. Yeah you could get used to this. "Thank you for the meal Noritoshi." You smiled and offered to wash the dishes.

He stood behind you in the small kitchenette as you did, humming softly to yourself. Noritoshi was holding your waist gently and leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Thumbing small circles into the sides of your hips.

You quietly smiled at yourself, not expecting Noritoshi to love physical affection this much. After washing the dishes, you laughed as you placed your ice cold hands on his neck, forcing him to let go of you and flinch back with a frown.

Leaving Noritoshi’s dorm after breakfast had terrible timing apparently. You bumped into Todo senpai on your way out.

“Ah.” You both stared at each other for a bit. Noritoshi was still behind you, the door to his dorm room open. It didn’t help that you had your pillows and blankets in your hands.

And you were still in pajamas.

“So is this like a thing now? Congratulations on getting together.” Todo smiled down at you.

“Ah uhm- we- I- “ You stuttered, but Noritoshi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him.

“Yes we are dating. And what of it?” He stared Todo down. You were flustered but incredibly pleased upon finally hearing a solid label between the two of you.

Todo just grinned. “So you actually have decent taste in women huh Kamo?”

“The best.” He replied dryly. You flushed and whined at Noritoshi, pawing at his robes. He just pulled you closer and hid your face in his chest.

“Didn’t know you had this shy side Tsuchi chan.” Todo was laughing. He bid both of you goodbye, and by the end of the day the entire campus knew both of you were dating.

But of course the both of you didn’t know it yet. “So…. you’re my boyfriend now Toshi?” you reached up to twirl his hair in your fingers as you made your belongings float in midair.

His eyes sparkled at the nickname. He leaned down close to you, “So it seems. Are you unhappy?”

“No. I’m happy.” You leaned up to press your lips against the corner of his.

Noritoshi sent you off, only letting you go after he had gotten a huge hug from you with a deep kiss to the cheek. He realized with a small jolt that he was pretty much touch-starved (no surprises there).

Wishing for more of your hugs and kisses already, and you just left for a few moments. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

Later that day, you bumped into Miwa as you were leaving your dorm. It was the weekend so you all had no classes and missions. She hesitantly called out a “Congratulations. You finally got together with Kamo senpai yeah?”

You looked at her in surprise. “How did you-”

“Todo senpai.”

“That man really doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

◇◇◇

It was a different experience, having the other students tease the both of you about your new relationship as a real boyfriend and girlfriend. You felt weird by calling him your lover.

"I called it!" Mai proudly smirked down at you. "We all did Mai chan." Momo senpai giggled, bumping her hip with yours as you looked shocked over the bets they placed.

Noritoshi always had a soft smile for you. He recently managed his time better, finishing his studies very early so he could spend more time with you.

Not shy to take your hand whenever you meet in the hallways and drag you for a picnic under the huge Plum Tree or just to hug you quickly before going off to a mission.

You were more open, hopping up to him in the hallways and greeting him cheerfully. ‘It was nice’, you thought to yourself.

Ever the overthinker, you at times think of the secrets he mentioned having. Probably personal matters he wasn’t ready to talk about. That’s fine, you had your own fair share as well. Time will heal and bring whatever it may to the both of you.

◇◇◇

The Kyoto-Tokyo sister school goodwill event was drawing near. You and your fellow first years wished all your participating seniors good luck.

“I heard they also have a Special Grade 1st year student in Tokyo Tech.” You perked up at that, “Is that so?”

“I highly doubt they’d come though. Just like how you aren’t participating, Tsuchi. Usually 2nd and 3rd years are the ones participating. It is going to be held here in Kyoto Tech since we won last year.” Todo grinned.

You wondered about that.

◇◇◇

Just a few days before the goodwill event, Utahime texted you and said Noritoshi was injured from a mission. So of course you flew as fast as you could to his room, where he was being treated.

"Noritoshi!!" You wheezed out, entering his room in a burst of wind. You had come back from a lunch date with an old classmate from elementary.

You hurried over to his bedside and looked him over. He slowly turned to you, eyes widening. He smiled, "An angel is here."

You flushed and laughed out loud, "Noritoshi you've lost it. It's just me. Y/n." You brushed some stray hairs out of his face.

He continued staring at you dreamily, “Angel”. You were all dressed up, face fully made up. Rouge lipstick with a light touch of blush on your cheeks. You had your round shades on, prettily framing your face.

He used a free and uninjured hand to reach and cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch before pushing his arm back down. "You need rest." You said gently.

You placed your hands over his chest and activated your reverse cursed technique. He groaned as he felt his skin stitch back together. "Shhh, it will be fine."

He wasn't that badly injured thank goodness. “Angel, have you seen my y/n? I miss her.” He whined. You patted him on the forehead and shushed him with a quick kiss.

Why was he behaving like this?? You turned to the nurse packing their things from the corner, “I put him on anesthesia. He will be loopy for a bit.”

“Ah.” This might be a little bit fun. “Toshiii~ It’s me y/n how could you not recognize me?” You pouted. Noritoshi pouted and whined in return. The nurse pointedly ignored both of you and quickly left the room.

He stared at you with the biggest eyes he’s ever made, seemingly thinking hard. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll lose brain cells.” you whispered.

“Hold me.” He demanded not unlike a child asking for candy. And so you sat beside him and held onto his hand. You watched as he fell asleep, clinging onto your hand.

This loose-tongued and childish side to Noritoshi was just too adorable.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi stirred awake, seeing you so close to him. You were laying on top of his chest, one hand holding onto his.

He stared at your profile half sprawled over his blanket and reached to put a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly. Then let his hand rest on the back of your neck while tracing small circles on it with the pad of his thumb.

You were so sweet on him. It was a wonder to Noritoshi, who felt as though he was always lacking in physical affection. To see someone sincerely take care of him without requesting anything in return was refreshing for a change.

He watched as you stirred, then your hand tightened in his and you brought it close to your lips, all while you were still fast asleep. Noritoshi’s eyes twinkled. What were you dreaming about? Was it about him?

He watched as you slowly woke up. “Mmmm Toshiii~” you blearily reached out for him. You were able to wash up and change your clothes while he was asleep.

He pulled you into his bed, making your half sprawl over his lap. “Why didn’t you get in bed with me? Surely your back must hurt? It’s late now, sleep with me.” You looked at the clock and to your surprise it was indeed late. 2am.

“Okayy” you were still whiny, half asleep, and slightly grumpy from waking up. You both settled in the bed and fell asleep holding hands.

◇◇◇

It was finally the day of the Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill event. You were all out, 1st, 2nd and 3rd years with Utahime sensei and Principal Gakuganji, waiting for the Tokyo group to arrive.

Then you felt this ominous presence from afar. You took a few steps back, cursed energy flaring and winds whipping around you. Everyone looked at you in concern and Noritoshi whispered as he squeezed your hand, "Angel, you okay?"

You still found it funny how he now takes to calling you his angel when it’s just the two of you after you told him about his embarrassing moment when he was loopy on sedatives.

You stared off at a distance. "Everyone... Something… big is coming." You didn't realize that you felt Rika's presence from afar. Everyone tensed and looked in the same direction you were as the Tokyo participants came.

There were some really loud 2nd and 3rd years, but the one that stood out was a rather reserved boy with black hair. He had a Katana bag hooked over one shoulder. And a massive curse looming over him. ‘How is that thing not exorcised yet?!’

"Yooooo Everyone from Kyoto hello!!"

That voice. Your eye twitched. "Nice to meet you all again." Gojo Satoru cheerily yelled. Introductions were exchanged. The group challenge on the first day is Capture the Flag. The details for the individual battles tomorrow are yet to be announced.

Everyone was surprised to hear that the first year, Okkotsu Yuuta, the special grade cursed human, was participating to even out the numbers.

Based on that amount of cursed energy…. Tokyo school might win this year, you thought grimly. 'As long as there are no casualties please.' You prayed to yourself. You wished Noritoshi good luck with a quick hug.

After the participants were dismissed and released to their positions, the Kyoto 1st year's followed the two principals and Utahime sensei.

"Neko-chaaaan! How cruel, you don't wanna greet me?" His damn voice was so fucking loud everyone in the vicinity turned to Satoru.

(His nickname for you was cute but the story wasn't. When you were 4 years old, the Tsuchi family cat always ran away from you. You tried to be more catlike to befriend it, which Satoru found hilarious. Ergo, he started calling you Cat or Neko chan.)

Your eye twitched again as always does with Satoru. "Toru nii, it's been a while." You said, looking at the man leering down at your figure. He pulled you in for a side hug and ruffled your hair. "I missed you loads, it's been a while huh. How's school?"

"Not too bad." You fixed and patted your hair back down, aware of the eyes on you.

"Mmm, I bet." His bright blue [six] eyes could see the red strings linking your pinky to Noritoshi's. "You got a boyfriend by any chance y/n?"

You stopped at that and looked up at him. "Did Hiroki tell you anything?" "Nup" he always pops his P's obnoxiously.

You looked to the side and murmured "I do."

"You have a boyf-ooms" You slapped your hand over his mouth, floating up to his height. You could practically see his blue eyes gleaming behind those white bandages. "Keep your voice down dimwit." You hissed.

He licked your hand. "You're gross as always Toru," you wiped it on his sleeve as you walked on air to match his height.

"You should have told me you got a boyfriend. Anywayss, my students are gonna kick ass. Yuuta is pretty strong and he's the type to go all out you know?" He nudged you.

"Noritoshi and the senpais won't go down without a fight." You said. “Heehhh, is that so?”

You caught up a bit with him, making small talk as you made your way to the viewing rooms.

◇◇◇

Miwa later pulled you aside, "You know Gojo Satoru?! Isn't he, like, super famous?!"

"Uhhh?? He is?? … uhm I don't know. But we are family friends, he's like a brother to me really." You said confusedly. "The Tsuchimikado and Gojo clans always got along. His dad and my dad are friends."

"Ahhh I see." She nodded. She was still unfamiliar with the Great 3 clans and minor clans of Jujutsushi so it was understandable for her to be curious.

The rest of you filed into the room. The teachers allowed all of you to watch on the screens, so that you can get familiar with the goodwill event.

"Psst! Y/n sit beside me." You laughed as Satoru eagerly patted the seat beside him, sounding more like a teenager than a teacher. You scooted over to his side as he brought out snacks, chips, and popcorn. You stared at him. "You think this is a movie?"

"It's free entertainment." He shrugged.

And the event started. You all watched on the screens as both schools fought against curses while defending their home base flag and trying to take down the enemy's flag.

Todo, of course, was on the front lines, recklessly plowing into Tokyo high's home base. Hakari, a 3rd year, was facing him off, somehow holding his ground against him.

Noritoshi was following Momo around, taking down curses and stopping the other team's students from charging in.

But before they knew it, Yuuta was on the other side, flag in his hands. It wasn't a quick match but a rather rough one. At the very least, no one was injured badly.

Your eyes watched Okkotsu’s movements. It was very obvious he was new to fighting, but his brute force of cursed energy played well to his strengths. You were looking forward to tomorrow's matches.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #blood bound #red strings of fate #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi fluff #gojo satoru #miwa kasumi #todo aoi #jjk x y/n #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi headcanons

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 1

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Mentions of suicide

I wanted to provide some ~variety~ so I'm doing another novel. I'll give a warning that the first few chapters are kind of intense and I'll keep the TWs updated as they come and put a TL;DR at the end if there's anything too graphic.

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 - The Beauty in Red

Song Qingshi is dead.

After his death, he came to in a strange space, and in the space, there was a sphere randomly flashing red.

The sphere said that he is a book-transmigrating system from a high-dimensional world. There was a xiania novel called "The Exceptional Furnace", which was about to be plagued by readers' resentment due to the tragic fate of the protagonist, causing problems in that world. It needed to find someone who is familiar with the tropes of these novels and someone with the power to change and repair the body and mind of the protagonist, and fulfill the readers' wishes - change the fate of the protagonist, dote on him, and let him live the happiest and most fulfilling life □□ □□□□□

The information in the system came intermittently, and in the □□ there were incomprehensible, alien-like characters.

Song Qingshi suffered from Lou Gehrig's Disease during his lifetime and devoted himself to studying medicine to try and save himself. He was a medical student who studied and experimented frantically every day and never wasted time reading novels.

In terms of emotions, he is even more obtuse. Although he is very handsome and has an attractive and obedient personality, due to his physical problems, even the school bully treated him like a precious thing. With all the excessive loving care and sympathy, not only did he never have a crush, but he also suffered from a slight fear of talking to strangers.

This was the worst soul for this task.

Song Qingshi didn't know how he was picked up by the system. He had read Marxist philosophy novels in vain. But from his messy information and analysis from the system's explanation, as long as he accepts the task, the system will send him to the virtual book world, give him a healthy body, and he will come back to life.

After Song Qingshi realized this, he was ecstatic. A healthy body is was his biggest desire. Not to mention the fact that the system only asked that he take care of someone. Even if the system had asked him to swim through seas of fire, he would have accepted still.

Because of this, he ignored his conscience, structured his response, and lied for the first time in his life: "I have read tens of thousands of books that I have memorized. I have extensive medical and nursing knowledge, have taken a psychology course as an elective, and I could solve all the physical and mental sufferings of the protagonist. And love. . . I have lots of experience with love, I know how to communicate, absolutely, I. . . can definitely accomplish these tasks!"

If there was any blood that could exist in a soul, he would definitely be flushed.

The system didn't notice his lies. It registered the identity of the task performer, and sent a series of garbled commands, mixed with all kinds of chaotic and disorderly information into Song Qingshi's mind, sending waves of discomfort through his soul.

Suddenly, the system let out a sharp alarm and the data transmission was cut off. Song Qingshi's vision went black, and his soul drifted away towards a bright white light. . .

. . .

When Song Qingshi woke up, he found himself lying in the woods, surrounded by the faint fragrance of various herbs. He squinted his eyes and looked towards the dazzling blue sky. There was a gorgeous golden luan bird dragging its long tail feathers, letting out a loud caw as it flew past, with countless immortal birds following it.

Was this the world from the novel?

It seemed too real. . .

A soft breeze blew across the forest, shaking off the dew on the trees. The dew fell onto his pale fingertips, bringing a slightly cool feeling. Then, all the memories of the original body flooded into his mind like a tidal wave, trying to merge with his own soul - this body was also called Song Qingshi, the master of the Medicine King's Valley, and the most talented medical immortal and pharmaceutical expert in the immortal world. His medical skills could heal the dead and revive bones, and the spirit pills he cultivates were considered treasures by every cultivator.

However, the original body's temperament was extremely troubling. He rarely left Medicine King's Valley at all, never made friends, and had no interest in matters other than medicine and alchemy. When a patient sought him out, he only looks at their temperament and never asked their identity. When he was in a good mood, he treated mortal beggars. When he was in a bad mood, regardless of the identity of the visitor, he would turn them into flower fertilizer for his garden. He often used living people to test medicines. Cruel, but because of his Nascent Soul cultivation base and various skills with poisons, the immortal sects didn't dare provoke him easily, only secretly calling him troubling behind his back.

Cultivators in the immortal world had long life spans, and the knowledge and memory of this original body had for its hundreds of years of cultivation had not arrived yet. Various data fragments of the system rushed in frantically, with countless garbled codes, tearing the original body's memory into a mess, leaving Song Qingshi at a loss. It took a long time before he managed to figure out his current situation.

This was Golden Phoenix Mountain Manor, the most luxurious place in the immortal world, where there are rare and exotic animals and countless immortals and beautiful concubines.

The owner, Jin FeiRen, was also a great Nascent cultivator. He was a true romantic, an excessive spender, and had friends from both the immortal and demonic cultivation world. He was a well-known figure.

The original body had always been cold, obsessed with his work, and never touched either men and women. Today's arrival was accidental. The Manor Lord Jin wanted to give him Ten Thousand Year Snow Ginseng to exchange a batch of medicinal pills for him. The original body had recently been lacking Snow Ginseng to make his medicines, so he agreed to the deal.

Since Snow Ginseng grows in the secret realm of the snow mountains of the Jin family. If you wanted to get the ones with the best medicinal properties, you needed to pick them at night and preserve it with a special refining method. Therefore, the original body came here to pick it personally, and Song Qingshi somehow ended up here.

Then, Song Qingshi was sent here by the system. . .

Where was the protagonist? What does he look like?

Song Qingshi wanted to ask the system to ask for more information, but the system seemed to disappear. The materials it sent not only contained no plot points from the novel, but also very little character information. There were garbled characters everywhere, even though the protagonist hadn't been introduced yet. Song Qingshi got dizzy going through all this information before he found some descriptions in the copywriting introduction: the best physique, unmatched beauty shou X□□□□□ gong, procured by trickery, sadomasochistic, □□, □□, □□ There were only three texts that could be read clearly: Banquet of Bea□□□.

. . .

If this were someone who often read these types of novels, they would immediately recognize that this situation was problematic.

Song Qingshi, however, didn't recognize any of this as problematic. He believed that this was a test given by the system to assess his reasoning skills and ability to do things. Song Qingshi was very accustomed to being assessed like this. Usually, when he and his teacher started developing a new drug, he often didn't have any prior results in his hand. It required some experimentation and to experience many errors and difficulties in order to reach the final result. Most of the time, that result was not what they were hoping for.

Many pharmaceutical companies invest billions or even tens of billions in drug research. Scholars have spent decades trying, right until their hair turned grey, only to fail during their clinical trials.

Therefore, every drug researcher is a strong man who has experienced many battles, repeated defeats and never-ending setbacks.

These questions from Teacher System were not difficult!

Scholar-Tryant Song expressed no fear! He will definitely find the correct answer and live up to the teacher's expectations of him!

Song Qingshi thought about the information he was given, determined the goal of the protagonist, and then quickly understood the key points of the novel: the protagonist will appear at the Banquet of Beauties, it will be a male, homosexual, unmatched beauty, superb body; a pitiful character with a tragic fate. He needs to save the protagonist, give him the greatest care, heal his physical and mental health, and then help him find happiness and joy!

During Song Qingshi's time, respect for sexual orientation was written into the law, and same-sex couples could get married.

He once found a novel lost by a rotten girl classmate, titled "His Evil Majesty's Spoiled Husband". On the cover was a handsome and domineering man in a period costume holding a beautiful woman with long hair with a super flat chest. He didn't understand it, and returned the book. When he asked curiously, his classmates told him what Danmei was, and told him that the beauty on the cover was actually male. The beautiful male was the "shou", and the domineering one was the "gong". So Song Qingshi is confident that he would easily distinguish between the gong and the shou in the novel. He would never mistake the gong as the protagonist.

He had thought it through and the direction of problem-solving has been determined. All that was left was to wait for the Banquet of Beauties to start the exam.

Song Qingshi's spiritual sea gradually became clear. The soul and body were merged and became flexible. He sat up with his hands cautiously, took off his shoes, raised his feet, and tried to stretch the toes that had been stiff for many years. The white and round toes curled happily. Song Qingshi stood up shakily, briefly walking forward a few steps with hands and feet before finally remembered the walking posture of a normal person, and his movements gradually changed from jerky to steady. . .

Under his feet was soft green grass and moist soil.

Outside the forest was a calm river. Song Qingshi stepped into the water and took a handful of cold river water to wash his face, confirming that he was not in a dream.

Tears fell out of extreme joy, and the big tears fell onto his palms. His hands couldn't stop no matter how much he tried. The river calmed down from the slight disturbance, and the reflection of the boy's figure appeared.

Song Qingshi was surprised to find that the body given to him by the system was very similar to his high school appearance; he was not very tall and significantly thinner. He wore a Daoist cultivator outfit made of many layers of snow-coloured cloud brocade, wrapped tightly around his body. At first glance, all the layers of clothing gave the illusion of a frail man.

His thin hair was simply tied up with some loose hair dangling freely. His appearance may be related to immortal cultivation. He is a bit more refined than his original body, with a cold, pale complexion and clear eyes. Because he often blocks out the world and focuses on his study, he feels a bit dull and extremely gullible, leading many unlucky ghosts to think that the original was harmless and would become the fertilizer or poison tester.

. . .

After Song Qingshi vented his emotions and saw the red-rimmed eyes in the reflection, he was a little embarrassed. He hurriedly lowered his head and fetched water, trying to wash away the tears on his face, but behind him came the sound of fine bells and ridicule.

"It's useless to commit suicide. It will only cause you needless pain. If you are still not reconciled, you can try and sink slowly to see if you can succeed."

Surprised, Song Qingshi turned around and saw the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life.

There were trees full of peach blossoms, and under the tree was a beautiful young boy in red. Who knows how long he was watching Song Qingshi stupidly crying. The young man's appearance was blooming, like a scroll of rich colours and ink, painted with all the romantic colours of the world. The warm jade-like skin, the most beautiful thing about him were the dark golden phoenix eyes under the crow-feather-like eyelashes. He resembled a noble and dignified phoenix in the sky, but there was an extremely gorgeous red tear-shared mole under the corner of his left eye, desecrating his nobleness. The dignity of his appearance was crushed, and the phoenix rejoined the mortal world, turning into a creature stained with flattery and seductiveness which made people feel unbearable tempted.

His long hair was untied and hung casually around his waist. The ends of his hair were slightly curled, his feet were bare, and he was only wearing a red dress made of shark silk. The shark silk was as smooth as water, clinging to his body, covering all the desirables underneath.

Song Qingshi did not think anything blasphemous, but because he was caught crying, his social anxiety became more intense. After a long pause of building courage, he stumbled and said: "I, I just..."

His hesitation became reluctant approval in the eyes of the beauty in red.

There are dangerous monsters and birds everywhere in the immortal world. Cultivators were equipped with spiritual auras and keen senses, and can easily detect the wind and grass around them. Even the minor cultivators in the time they were establishing their cultivation base would not miss the sound of mortal footsteps with bells, let alone the Nascent Soul cultivators. If they release their spiritual thoughts, the smallest creatures on the mountain would not escape their attention. Except for Song Qingshi, a newly-born soul who had just arrived in this world, and was still very unused to spiritual power and these world conditions. . .

The beauty in red had completely misunderstood, thinking that Song Qingshi was also a mortal. There was only one use for such a beautiful mortal in Golden Phoenix Manor. He clarified: "A new slave?"

Song Qingshi looked up in amazement. He wanted to ask questions, but his eyes fell on the beauty of the red dress. There seemed to be some strange bruises on his neck as if it had been bitten by a mosquito, but it seemed that it might be something else. He took a few more secretive glances, trying to determine what they were.

The beauty in red noticed his curious glances and his heart grew upset. With growing malicious intent, a very gentle smile appeared on his face, and he said in a sincerely blessed tone: "Don't stare, you will have them soon, too."

Song Qingshi was very sheltered before transmigrating. He had never encountered malice and did not understand the mystery behind these words. Although he thought this blessing was a bit strange, he still answered politely: "Thank you."

The beauty in red choked hearing this answer. He was stunned for a moment. He looked at Song Qingshi up and down like a fool, and found that the person in front of him was clean and his skin was free of any injuries. He had never experienced the ravages of hell in his eyes. He was pure.

This discovery made him feel pity for the heart that had been tempered by suffering. He retracted his sharp malice and said softly, "After tonight, you will know that death is a luxury." He turned slightly to his side, looking at the river's flow. He warned, "When I first came here, I tried to commit suicide many times, but it was useless. We are slaves who are branded with the Acacia Seal. Our spirits belong to our master. So long as the master doesn't allow it, we cannot die, even by our own hands. . .

The beauty in red was silent for a long time. He slowly stretched out his hand and stroked Song Qing's hair that was soft as the fur of a small animal.

Song Qingshi saw several red rope marks on his pale wrists. He realized that this was pain that the beauty wouldn't want to be questioned about, so he pushed down his curiosity.

The fingertips of the red-dressed beauty slipped from his hair to Song Qingshi's delicate face, watching his innocent expression. He held his hand there for a moment before putting it down, conflicted. He didn't want to say any more. Since he didn't know those nightmarish experiences, it was useless to say anything more. Being able to preserve this kind of innocence, it was one more moment of happiness for him. Finally, he sighed, "You look good, but unfortunately the more your looks improve as you grow, the longer it will be until you're freed. . ."

Song Qingshi was puzzled: "What do you mean by 'freed'?"

"You'll know soon." The beauty in red's expression suddenly relaxed. He glanced around carefully, then stretched out his index finger and tapped his lips lightly. With a voice so light that he could barely hear it, he said ambiguously, "Tonight I will be freed. . ."

The beauty in red turned around with a smile and, with a crisp ring of the bells, turned to leave. His steps were a bit unstable, and each step was strenuous, like a mermaid walking on the tip of a knife in pain.

A pair of exquisite gold shackles were exposed on the beauty's ankles under the red clothes. Each of the shackles was decorated with an exquisite bell. The middle was connected by a slender golden chain. When walking, the bell shook slightly and made a clear and sweet sound, just like a tethered bird.

The golden chain dragged across the grass, and a few drops of blood dropped onto the green leaves.

Song Qingshi mustered up the courage to overcome his social anxiety, and shouted to the beauty who was about to leave: "Are you. . .injured? I, I know medical skills. . . Do you need me to treat you?"

The beauty in red turned back, looked at him for a few seconds, and he couldn't help but smile. This time the smile finally reached his eyes, like a ray of golden sunlight breaking through the clouds, dazzlingly beautiful. He shook his head towards Song Qingshi, and gave himself a sincere blessing: "I hope you have better luck tonight."

He turned his head, and the sunlight in his eyes disappeared in a flash, as if it had never existed, only the dark clouds that would not retreat.

Having endured these nightmares for years, he has long learned not to remember the kindness of others, and not to care about being offered charity from others.

He walked alone in this prison without stopping, step after step, wearing those painful shackles.

#mistakenly saving the villain #chinese bl #english translation #论救错反派的下场 #song qingshi #chinese novel #mistakenly saving the villain translation

[owl-with-a-pen]

Kara had been putting on a brave face all afternoon. Alex figured it would have been a little more obvious to everyone had it not been for the fact that they all were.

Each of them had been affected by the Phantom’s fear visions to some degree, but in typical Super Friends fashion, they’d found the remedy to those fears in each other’s company.

It almost felt too normal, gathering at Kara’s apartment, playing board games, eating and drinking, laughing and pretending that the last few weeks had been nothing but a bad dream.

Nothing was that easy, though, no matter how hard they tried. After all, it didn’t escape Alex that Lena had more than overindulged in her fair share of scotch since her arrival, or that Nia had practically remained glued to Brainy’s side the whole afternoon, fiddling with the life projectors beneath his shirt as they lay curled against each other on the couch. Brainy held her just as tightly in return, as though he was afraid to let her go. It was clear he was way more on edge than normal, hyper-aware of his surroundings, startling at just about any loud noise. So much so that the pop from the champagne cork earlier that day had very nearly sent him reeling right out of the room. After that, Alex had put the group on a strict twist off cap rule for any future bottles that were to be opened in Brainy’s presence.

Alex knew that Kelly had seen something awful there as well, but her girlfriend had been doing everything to keep the morale of the team boosted, instead assuring her that she was working through it on her own terms, and that she wanted Alex to feel comfortable talking to her about her own nightmare as well.

As much as Alex wanted to take Kelly up on that offer - right now - sitting there with her friends, drink in hand and her sister’s head resting on her shoulder… this was how she was getting by. She didn’t need to talk it out, at least not in that moment. Being in the presence of her family, feeling the soft fibres of Kara’s cardigan between her fingers, this was more than enough to keep her fears at bay.

But, she knew that Kara was struggling.

Despite the strength Kara was trying desperately to maintain, Alex could see the strain behind every smile. Even now she was home safe, decked in sweats and curled up under her favourite blanket, it didn’t take from the fact that whatever she’d seen in the Phantom Zone still lived within her. Providing all the comforts in the world wasn’t going to change that.

Still, having a chance to focus on family, junk food and stupid card games was at least beginning to alleviate some of the tension in the room. By the time day rolled into night, the laughter they shared together felt that much more genuine, and Alex was even able to goad Kara into a very competitive, high-stakes game of Trivial Pursuit.

Brainy and Nia won, not like the room stood much of a chance against a twelfth-level intellect who had also taken the opportunity of studying even more pop-culture references since his stint in 2009. But, with the alcohol running through everyone’s systems, the match had been closer than any one before it.

Eventually though, it was time for the Super Friends to head home for the evening. Well, everyone apart from Alex. She’d been pretty clear from the moment game night had been proposed that there was no way in hell she was leaving her sister alone that night.

If anything, Kara had seemed relieved at the idea. Alex knew she was still processing everything that had happened, but the horrors of that place were still fresh on her mind. Maybe she hadn’t been alone, maybe she had found family along the way, but that didn’t take from the awful things Kara had witnessed, even with her father at her side.

Alex wasn’t sure what to think of Zor-El quite yet. J’onn had given him a place to crash at the Tower while he gathered his bearings on Earth, and she knew he’d likely be contacting Argo very soon with the news of his survival. Kara hadn’t spoken much about her father since getting back, but then again, she’d spoken so little about her time in the Phantom Zone that Alex didn’t think it strange. She was looking to move past this.

They all were.

Just… moving past it wasn’t going to be as easy as they were hoping for. Kelly was already trying to encourage everyone into a group session to talk things out, although the bottle of wine she’d toted had probably made her sound a little too eager about the idea at the time. In any case, Alex hadn’t missed how Kara had shrunk into the sofa at the suggestion, or how quickly she’d diverted the subject before Kelly had a chance to go into any details.

She’d have to talk to someone eventually, and privately Alex hoped that Kara might let her in. Since Brainy and Nia had gone back in time, Alex couldn’t help but fall back to those years when she’d left Kara behind for college, how anchored she’d still felt to her sister’s life even from miles away. There were times she’d blamed Kara for everything in her life that wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t take from the moments, however small, where things had been just that.

Perfect.

The longer Kara had spent in Midvale, the more she’d opened up about her home world. Alex had found the topic all kinds of uncomfortable at first, serving as yet another reminder that she was responsible for this alien tween that had somehow stumbled into their lives, disturbing her otherwise normal existence. But, Kara had been able to fill every one of her stories about Krypton with such wonder. Even when she hadn’t been fully confident with English, she’d still managed to describe her planet with such passion that Alex could even imagine those great glass spires for herself, could see the vast cities that glimmered in the distance from Kara’s old bedroom window.

Kara had never managed to get through one of those stories without crying.

Alex could still remember clambering over to Kara’s bed in the dead of night, bundling her adopted sister in her arms, expecting it to feel so alien, so wrong. But, it hadn’t. If anything, it had been the most natural thing in the world.

She’d whispered to her then, rocking her, telling her oh so gently that everything would be okay.

Kara had believed her every time.

Now, though?

Now, Alex wasn’t so sure.  

Once the party disbanded, neither one of them had the energy to say much to each other, but that didn’t matter. Sharing one another’s space was more than enough. Assuring Kara that she wasn’t alone tonight - that was enough. It had to be.

When Kara headed to bed, Alex set about making herself comfortable on the couch, curling beneath the duvet that Kara had left out for her.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, which only made it all the more alarming when she was suddenly jerked awake some hours later.

Alex’s throat was dry, and there was a crick in her neck where she’d been lying awkwardly across the sofa’s arm. She groaned out, raising her hands in a half-assed defensive stance that would have been way more threatening had she actually had a firearm to grab a hold of and not a medium sized throw pillow.

“Alex?”

Kara’s voice, trailing feebly in the dark. Alex blinked, finding her sister’s bright eyes staring at her in the dim setting of the apartment. Even with no visible source of light, they still managed to shimmer, like tiny beams of sunlight had been captured within her irises.

“Hey,” Alex managed, clearing her throat with some effort. She frowned, reaching for her sister’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Kara’s lips trembled into a weak smile. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“Figures,” Alex said, noting the state of her sister’s hair. It was tied up into a messy bun that had clearly fallen victim to Kara’s violent tossing and turning habit. Alex forced herself into a half decent sitting position, glancing towards the kitchen. “What d’you think, will tea and honey cut it?” she asked, feigning a dramatized yawn. “Or, do we have to pull out the big guns?”

Kara’s smile widened. “Oh, big guns for sure.”

“Hot cocoa it is.” Alex grinned. “You can boil the water.”

                                                          ---

Ten minutes later, Alex found herself sat on Kara’s bed, legs crossed as she nursed her piping mug of hot cocoa, enhanced with a generous splash of whiskey. Kara did the same, taking a sip before she closed her eyes, leaning her back against the head rest.

“Oh Rao that’s good,” she murmured.

“Y’know, I think I’ve even improved upon mom’s recipe,” Alex mused. “The student becomes the teacher, or whatever.”

“Don’t tell Eliza that, she’ll kill you.”

Alex pulled a face. “God, never. She’ll take that recipe to her grave.”

Kara chuckled, sobering slightly. She pressed her lips together, staring down into her mug. “I missed this,” she murmured. “When I was… trapped there… everything felt so bleak. Like the world was trying to suck the happiness right out of me.” She shuddered, tightening her grip around her mug. “I tried to hold onto happy memories, the taste of my favourite foods, anything that’d keep me grounded. But, the longer I was there, the more I thought I’d never find that happiness again.” She breathed out sharply, forcing a smile. “That I’d never taste hot cocoa again.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like,” Alex said softly. “I mean… we were only there for a few hours and look how badly it affected us. You were there for weeks and I—” Alex choked, shaking her head. “Things got pretty bleak here, too. And, well, let’s just say I didn’t need a Phantom to start losing hope.”

“Alex-”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex said automatically. “So don’t you dare go apologising for this.”

“I- I wasn’t.”

Alex gave her sister a pointed look.

Kara’s face fell. She shifted uncomfortably, drawing her knees up towards her chest. “Okay, maybe… so maybe I was. But- I don’t know what else to say, Alex! I am sorry. Sorry any of this happened. That we lost each other.”

Again.

“We always find our way back,” Alex said firmly, pressing the warmth of her mug against her chin retrospectively. Her lips curled. “That might as well be the Danvers’ sisters motto at this point, right?”

Kara snorted into her own mug. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“We could make t-shirts.”

“Okay, that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But you kinda love it, right?”

Kara’s nose crinkled when she grinned, one of those classic Kara smiles. So simple, so easy, as though she wasn’t holding the weight of the world on her shoulders at any given moment.

It didn’t last long, but when Kara looked back up at her, Alex thought that a little of the pain behind her eyes had begun to ease.

Then, Kara yawned.

Alex’s smile faded. “Okay, you really need to get some sleep.”

Kara bit her lip, glancing away. “I know. I just…” She blinked with a sudden revelation, turning back to Alex in the same motion. “Would you stay?” she asked impulsively, patting the sheets at her side. “Here, I mean. While I sleep? Like old times?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Alex said, already scooting over towards the empty space. “Of course I will.”

                                                           ---

The last time Alex had laid in Kara’s bed, she’d been alone.

When the wound had still been fresh, her heart was so heavy that Alex had needed to feel Kara there with her somehow. She’d used the spare key to get inside, curling up beneath her sister’s sheets, still smelling of Kara’s watermelon shampoo, and hugged her pillow close to her chest, burying her face into the soft cotton.

Now, Kara lay at her side, and yet Alex still had to fight to prove to herself that this was real. That Kara was home. 

She hadn’t told anyone about what the Phantom had showed her just yet - not even Kelly. To think how terrified she’d been of not being the first face that Kara saw, that somehow her stubbornness might ruin everything, that to get Kara back, she’d have to sacrifice herself, because it was her job as the older sister. Even when she’d faced those fears, when she’d chosen to let herself go to keep Kara safe, it didn’t take from the horrible all-consuming vacuum that had surrounded her. The unforgiving, ice cold chasm of space that had crushed her body the moment she’d been pulled from the ship’s sheild. 

But, when Kara had barrelled through that door, Alex had seen her light at the end of the tunnel. When Kara had wrapped her arms around her, nearly forgetting her own strength, squeezing the breath right out from Alex’s lungs, her fears had all but evaporated alongside it. Instead, she’d only hugged her sister tighter in response, whispering nonsensical reassurances into Kara’s ear as she’d crumpled beneath the weight of everything she’d seen, breathing heavily into Alex’s throat.

Now, Alex ran her fingers through her sister’s hair, tugging the elastic out so that she could knot the blonde strands into loose plaits. She’d taught Kara how to braid her hair in a similar fashion when they’d been kids, playing with her hair for hours in front of the mirror, going through every style she could think of in some of her mom’s old magazines. Alex had never been a big fan of dressing up, but Kara had been so excited to learn about Earth fashion and Alex had been seldom to disappoint.

It wasn’t long before Kara relaxed into the gesture, her back curving against Alex’s chest as she sank deep against her pillow, pressing her face into it with a soft exhale.

Alex didn’t know what kind of nightmares Kara had faced the last time she’d fallen asleep, but she vowed that she’d do everything in her power to give her sister the peace of mind she deserved.

When Kara finally began to doze and soft snores escaped her lips, Alex wrapped her arms around her front, burying her face between her sister’s shoulder blades.

She was warm in her arms, solid and real. Alex could feel every rise and fall in Kara’s chest, could hear the steady rhythm of her pulse beating against her forehead.

The girl of steel had always needed to appear unbreakable to everyone, but what people rarely thought about was how that so often extended even to Kara Danvers. After all, it would be Kara Danvers, not Supergirl, who would be turning up at CatCo in the next few days, pretending as though she’d been out getting the scoop of the century.

No one outside of her family knew what she’d been through, and so none of them would offer her the proper time she needed to heal.

And, as much as it hurt, Alex knew that by tomorrow, Kara would already be flying around National City again, reassuring the world that Supergirl was still there for them all.

But, in small moments like this, Kara could at least let her guard down. She didn’t need to be anyone’s saviour right then. She was Kara Danvers, Kara Zor El. And at the heart of it, she was still Alex’s little sister. No matter what happened, nothing would ever change that.

Maybe she couldn’t protect her sister from whatever tomorrow brought with it, but she could make damn sure that not a single nightmare touched her tonight.

That would have to be enough.  

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl season 6 #danvers sisters #kara danvers #alex danvers #kara zor el #6x07 #my writing #this might turn into a whole fic for mini chapters surrounding a bunch of character interactions in the aftermath of 6x07 #mostly because i rEALLY want to explore every angle of that SO. BAD. #so. if i do get the time for it stay tuned i guess.

[mrs-hatake]

The beeping of the monitor sounds faint compared to the loud beating of your heart. it booms loudly in ear, blocking out all of the sound in the room except for the machine and the sound of his breathing.

You can’t tell how long it has been since he’s been admitted in the hospital but you’re aware it has been a long enough time develop a sour scent to your body and a thin layer of grime.

“You should head home. Clean up and get proper rest.” For the first time scene you’ve been the esscentric blond, it’s the first time you hear him speak in a quiet tone of voice.

“‘m fine.” You mutter, voice sounds rough due to the extreme dehydration and remaining silent the second he was placed in this hospital room.

“You’re not fine.” Mic stresses, eyebrows scrunching up in worry. “You look like you’re about to pass out!”

Turning to glare at him, you reply with a harsh voice. “I don’t care.”

And, it’s true. You don’t care. This war you’ve all fought in was ridiculous at best. Many people have died-one of them being your best friend Nemuri- and children were injured. And for what? For justice? For control of power? Well, whatever it was, in this time and moment, you’re certain that it didn’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore when the love your life is currently lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Shouta wouldn’t want th-”

“Don’t.” Tearing your eyes away from Mic, you lower your head and allowed for your oily hair to shield your face away from his sympathetic look. “Just...Don’t.”

Several hours have passed since the small you had with Mic and he is still in the room with you. You deduce that he is here in the room with you to watch over the both of you and to make sure you wouldn’t pass out from extreme exhaustion.

The monitor continues to beat and you continue staring at Shouta.

And you pray.

You pray with all your heart for Shouta to live. To live and to keep his promise of him marrying you. Suddenly, the ring feels heavy on your wedding finger.

Sighing, you close your eyes for just a second. And in that short amount of time, several images flash behind your closed eyelids rapidly.

Images of you and Aizawa working in the same hero agency. Of nights where the both of your were stuck in stakeout and undercover missions.

The image of him resigning from the hero agency and being hired to work as a teacher at U.A was vibrant and it made you smile. He had been so excited to start a new life and teach future heroes everything that he knew about life.

You can see the images of Shouta asking you to be his, the many makeshift dates in his living room because you were too busy as a pro hero to make it on time for proper dates.

That rare time you actually managed to go on a picnic date and everything was like perfect fairytale until it started raining. You could vividly hear Shouta laugh at your luck and could almost taste his lips that kissed you.

But the one that stood out the most was the time after the League of Villains had attacked the students of U.A and Shouta had almost risked his life to save his students.

You knew of the dangers of being a pro hero, he knew it. But you didn’t think that being a high school teacher would endanger his life. Which was way you begged for him to retire with you, to leave everything behind and live a quiet life.

Shouta had refused and, instead, had pulled a velvety box from his pocket had asked for your hand in marriage. It was a shock, because you didn’t think that Aizawa would be the kind of man who wanted to seattle down and have kids. He didn’t live for the thrills either but marriage required a lot of responsibilities and efforts for it to be successful.

And when you voiced out your thoughts, Shouta just chuckled and delicately kissed your knuckles. “Almost dying made me realize how I can’t live a life without you.”

So, naturally, you said yes.

“Y...N.”

Snapping your eyes open, you sit up straight in your chair and stare at the bed.

Did he just?

Slowly, Shouta’s closed eyes opened before instantly closing again at the harsh glaring lights before they carefully reopened again.

“Y...N.”

Holding back the tears, you rush to his side and gently hold his hand in his.

“It’s okay, baby.” You say through chocked back tears. “I’m here.”

“Nurse!” You heard Mic call in the distance for a doctor.

“I-” Aizawa tried to speak but he coughs due to his extremely dry throat.

“Shhh.” You shush him as you kiss the top of his head before getting up to pour him a glass of water and refilling it once he emptied the glass.

After the doctors had examined Aizawa and had assured that he is completely fine and just needed plenty of rest and for his wounds to heal, you finally give in to the screams of protests from your exhausted body.

“I’ll wait for you.” Whispered Shouta as he gladly welcomes your lips against his.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one final smile from your badly beat up finance who had a big bandage wrapped around the side of his head, you exit the room and head home to finally shower and sleep.

Come morning, Shouta will be awake in bed and waiting for your return.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa x y/n #bnha spoilers #bnha 298 spoilers